Yes

“Okay, okay, just please don’t crush them.” You reach into your front left pocket and pull out your phone. Sarah snatches it out of your hands.

“What’s the password?”

“1234”

“Of course it is, you fucking idiot.”

It makes you anxious to know a stranger has access to your personal phone. All of your photos, texts, emails. She kneels down so that she’s eye-level with your balls, and shifts her hand down to your testicular cords. For the first time you’re able to see how swollen and discolored testicles your testicles are. With your phone, she quickly snaps a photo of your testicles. You panic, you try to leap up and grab your phone back. This only causes more pain to your testicles, causing you to keel over on your side and groan.

Now she’s laughing at how pathetic you are. “Relax bitch. I’m not gonna send that picture to anybody. Well . . . I might, but that part’s up to you.

In your weakened, almost resigned state, you strain out the words, “Delete it. I’ll do anything.”

“Of course you will! That’s why I did it! If you want me to delete the picture, and let go of those sad-looking testicles of yours, first you’ll have to call your mom and tell her how you risked your fertility in an attempt to prove your superiority over the opposite sex. Tell her that for the past ten minutes, a beautiful girl named Sarah has had her delicate little hands wrapped around her son’s precious balls. And tell your mom that Sarah’s hands are going to stay wrapped around her son’s balls until she drives down to this campground to pick your sorry ass up. Is that understood?”