Moslem Circ

When I was born, my father praised my mother for bearing him a son. They had migrated to the Philippines in search of a better living. I began masturbating by age 6, rubbing my genitals against my mattress sheets at night. I didn’t know to hide my activity, and soon my mother caught me. When my father came home he slapped me and told me that pleasuring one’s self was abomination to Allah. He forbade me to wear my pants and underwear the whole next day in order to shame me in front of my mother and the neighbors who came over sometimes. He told me if I was ever caught masturbating again he would circumcise me immediately.

Later that year after I started school, I met a Catholic boy who turned out to be a neighbor. He was 12 and I had turned 7. I would go to his house after school and on weekends. His father had magazines with pornographic pictures which I knew would be offensive to my religious family. My friend was uncircumcised like I was, and he made me stroke the head of his penis with his foreskin. He taught me to masturbate with my hand so I could pleasure myself more quietly. He also made me put his penis in my mouth and suck on it. I began to wish that he could be a father to me. I began to fantasize about living with him and his family.

I began stroking my penis every night after going to bed. I would stroke it until I couldn’t stand the intensity of the sensation, even though fluid never came out of my penis like it was starting to for my friend. It wasn’t long before my father caught me.

He began yelling at me after he flipped on the light. I was blinded, and I began to cry. He violently threw my mother out of the house to spend the night with a neighbor. He took extension cords and tied my wrists and ankles to the bedposts. He said that under Sharia law he could cut my hand off but that he would only remove my nasty foreskin.

He left my room to get a knife. I was so scared I urinated on myself and soaked my bed. I didn’t know what my father would do when he saw that. He returned with a small knife that my mother used to cut vegetables which he had spent a few minutes sharpening. Instead of being angry, he was amused that I had urinated on myself. He laughed as he wadded a sock into my mouth and secured it with white bandaging tape around my head. He said that his father had removed his foreskin at 8 years old with his shaving razor. He told me that removing my foreskin was required to make me acceptable to Allah, and that it would keep me from defiling myself by masturbating.

My father had never circumcised anyone before, and with my kicking and muffled screaming it took an eternity. There was blood everywhere, especially on my father’s hands. He began by taking my penis in his hands and pulling down my foreskin to cut around the shaft on the inside. He kept losing his grip on it and had to retract my foreskin several times, each time with a bigger gash and more blood. Finally, he cut all the way around. Then he repeated the process on the outside. The outside gashes didn’t line up with the inside ones and he pulled and ripped and sliced my foreskin off so that my skin was very jagged. He ended the ceremony by taking my bleeding penis in his mouth and sucking the wound to cleanse it.

When he was finished, his mouth was as bloody as his hands. He told me sternly through blood stained teeth that if he ever caught me masturbating again he would cut the rest of my penis off. Thankfully, that was Friday, the holy day, and I spent the weekend recovering. My mother returned the next day and took care of my wound, bandaging me and allowing me to use the bathroom in a mixing bowl so that I would not have to walk around. She changed my sheets and turned the wet, bloody mattress over for me, though it soon began to stink.

The next week, I went to school, but had to return early. I had a high fever, and my mother made me bathe in ice water to keep my testicles from being damaged and making me infertile when I grew up. My penis had red streaks and was sore. By the next Friday, the holy day, I passed into unconsciousness. My mother had to fight my father to take me for emergency care. She became fierce for her child.

My penis was dark at the tip. The doctor insisted on removing the discolored portion of my penis. I woke up sedated with a tube between my legs. My mother was crying at my bedside. The doctor had removed most of my shaft. He said it was impossible to tell how much of my penis would grow when I began puberty. He was merciful to me and left as much as he could. He recommended testosterone shots when I got older so I could grow as much as possible.

I spray everywhere when I urinate now. I still stroke my friend’s penis and suck him until he ejaculates. My mother and I were taken in by his family since the local government brought child cruelty and practicing medicine without a license charges against my father. He is being hidden by the minority Moslem population.

I look up to my friend to be my father now. We’re both older and he likes to play with the penis stub that I have grown over the past 10 years. I fantasize about him being a father to me and slicing off the rest of it. I convinced my mother to buy him a straight razor for shaving to celebrate his birthday.