Not because there was no heat in the Brooklyn loft, but because Mangina was approaching me with a bucket of hot wax. With the precision of a surgeon, Mangina then lifted the heavy bucket and poured the wax onto my love cave. It was hot but thanks to the aloe coating my skin, not sizzling. I lifted my head slightly and watched it dry, noticing the many other prosthetic vulvas hanging from his wall. Within minutes, we had a cast with which Mangina could make several wearable Manginas. At this point, you might be wondering exactly who or what Mangina is.