If your balls don't require a milk crate for support then just step aside.
It sat in front of him, on top of a pillow that rested on a milk crate. He sprinkled baby powder on it — what looked like a huge watermelon encased in a compression bandage — but the unmistakable smell of urine couldn't be completely smothered.
Hard to believe, isn't it? 47-year-old Wesley Warren Jr. said in the poorly lit apartment. “It’s freakish.” What sat in front of where Warren was seated in shorts — what is actually attached to him — was more than 100 pounds of scrotum, the protective sac of skin and muscle that contains his testicles. “It’s not easy to get around,” he said, standing and groaning as he lifted his scrotum off its makeshift pedestal and carefully let it hang almost to the floor. “It makes me stay in most of the time.”
If there is a more unusual medical condition afflicting someone from Southern Nevada, the medical community or patient hasn't come forward with it. Daily bouts of depression — “I want to have real friends and a relationship with a woman” — throw him into the depths of despair. “But I’m not suicidal. I’m too strong for that.” His penis is so buried in his scrotal tissue that he can’t direct his urination and often sprays the area around him.
He also told — to more laughter on the set — of how he can’t sit down for a bowel movement and must catch it in the same kind of pail used in casinos for coins. “I don’t like being a freak, who would?” Warren said. Many people have reached him through his email address.
