My Ordeal

That was when I really fucked up. I had been going with this girl for about eight months. Nothing too serious, but we had a good time. Her name was Alicia, and she was a knock-out. Long red hair, aquiline features, hazel eyes, a VERY nice bust, and a twat that was pretty much a perfect mold of my penis. We both knew that the relationship wouldn’t be enduring, but we enjoyed each other personally and sexually. Because of the nature of our relationship, we both had fun outside of the couple. She sort of had a "bad" reputation, and I knew that she did it with more than a few of my frat-buddies and teammates. It really didn’t bother me much, though, because I got around myself.

To be totally honest, I was using her as a cover. I’ve known that I was gay for quite sometime. Well, I’ve known it deep down, even if I’ve never really admitted it to myself until recently. I knew subconsciously that I liked guys, and as a youngster, I’d had a couple of pubescent flings with buddies. There was this one guy I used to wrestle naked – winner got to fuck the looser. However, as I said before, I got around with the ladies to maintain appearances, or whatever.

Well, back to the story… It was Friday night. My last class was finished, and as a senior, I didn’t have to work out with the team over the break (truth be known, I was supposed to, but I sort of excused myself). I knew that my presence wouldn’t make any real difference – I never was that good. Just a hobby for me, I guess. Well, anyway, I had just finished my last practice before the break, I had showered in the locker room. I walked across University to my favorite bar, the Purple Porpoise. It was a pretty happening place late on Fridays, but at this time, it was pretty fucking dead. I walked in an ordered a pint of Bass.

As I awaited the beer, I took a look around and saw these two really hot girls sitting at the corner table. They both sort of had that waif look going – it turned me on big time when girl looked like young boy. Once the beer floated over my way, I headed into the corner table to strike up a chat. It turned out that the girls were local high school students, and they were both very interested in me. That much was clear. One kept stroking my leg with her hand, the other had her hand on my butt.

Once I found out that they were just teenie-boppers, I decided to split. Later that night, I ran into the girls again at my frat-house. I was surprised to see them, but Josh (one of my good buddies) had met up with them shortly after I had left the Purple Porpoise. He introduced them, and I acted like I hadn’t met them that afternoon. Their names were Kate and Lacy. Then came the big surprise: Josh had convinced them to attend the party, but only on the condition that they could bring their brother along. His name was Peter, and he looked a little over-awed by the whole SAE experience. He was 18, and sort of reminded me of male forms on ancient Greek urns. He was blond, and about six feet tall. You could tell by looking at him that he had a nice body under that polo shirt and tight pair of jeans. He was just the type that I jerked off to every night before falling asleep – just the type that I thought of while I was poking some drunk bitch. After we met, he sort of stuck to me like glue. Of course, I was more than willing to keep him company – I kept taking mental snapshots to keep my jerk-off material current. We were standing in the taproom, right next to each other at the bar. Each time one of my sweaty buddies rammed his way through the crowd to get a new pitcher, Peter got shoved up against me. The scents that wafted up to my nose from his body began to intoxicate me even more than the heat and the beer.

I knew that I had to get out of there before I did something stupid. Alas, I wasn’t quick enough to avoid disaster. I had ditched the kid down stairs, but by the time I got to my car, Josh came walking up with Peter in tow. He asked if I were heading over to Alicia’s. When I answered in the affirmative, he said that Peter lived on the way. Josh probably wanted me to drop the kid off so he could score with the two waifs, who knows. Well, at that point I had been sucked in. There was no way to say no without looking like an asshole.

Peter got in the car – unfortunately, my air was broken – and we both rolled down our windows. We carried on the sort of idle chit chat we all do from time to time. You know: "It’s too damn hot. I can’t believe it’s like this already. It’s only March." Finally, after what seemed like about an hour, we got to his house. It was a big place, and all the lights were off. Pete asked me to walk him in – the house was on the north west side of town, where police protection was a bit sparse. There’d been a couple of bad muggings in that part of time, so I agreed.

Once we got up to the door, he told me that his parents were out of town on business; he obviously wanted me to come in. I don’t know what I was thinking, It’s pretty clear that I wasn’t, but I followed him into the house. I wasn’t that drunk, but my appetites just seized control. I basically threw him against the wall and began to kiss his mouth fiercely, my hands sliding up and down his taught young body.

We did it, we did a lot. I can still remember his smells and tastes as they were yesterday. It had been the first gay sex I had had in over three years, and we both enjoyed it greatly. We both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I must have basically passed out once I was spent. I was awakened very violently sometime later. Time passes undetected when one is out cold. When my vision coalesced into something I could understand, I began to get very afraid.

My body was secured somehow to a metal examination table. It’s as if I were actually in a doctor’s office. The room was plain white and well lit. Peter was tied and gagged in a chair next to my table, and I noticed that my mouth, too, was packed full.

A man in surgical greens was standing against the far wall with his back towards me. He was arranging instruments on a cart, instruments that I could no see because the cart was level with the table. When he turned around, the familial likeness was obvious between him and Peter. This must be Peter’s father. He walked stiffly over to my table, as if he were trying to control his rage. With him be brought the cart covered with instruments. As I looked back to Peter, I realized that he was in wheelchair. His father then pushed the chair up to my table. Peter’s face and torso were level with my crotch, which I noticed was the only part of my body not covered with green cloth.

I began to get the picture, and terror filled me. I began to struggle, but each time I moved the bindings seemed to dig into me that much deeper. Peter’s father walked over and put a hand on my shoulder, "Son, don’t struggle. IT will only make it more difficult for you. I promise, you won’t feel a thing. I hope you realize that I do this only for Peter’s sake. I have tried for over a year to show him the error of his ways. I want Peter to see what I will do to him the next time he has an indiscretion." My body broke out into a cold sweat. Tears were beginning to well up in my eyes. Again he said, "Worry not, little man, I’ve given you a spinal block and three different locals. You won’t feel a thing."

With that, he turned to inspect the surgical areas. He positioned a mirror so that I could see his progress. His gloved hands grasped my flaccid penis. The six fat inches of vasculature and skin sat limp in his hand, then he pressed it back against my belly. He roughly began to manipulate my testicles to expose the underlying tissues. He took a straight razor in his right hand and began to shave off my pubic hair. The process took about ten minutes.

He walked back tot he wall and donned a new pair of gloves before returning with a brown bottle and a number of sponges and clamp like scissors. He squirted the brown liquid over the newly shaved area and used a number of the small sponges to scrub at the bare skin. After another ten minutes, he again changed gloves and returned.

He again took my penis firmly in his hand, and with the other he smacked Peter hard across the face and shouted, "WATCH."

He returned his interest to my penis which was gripped firmly in his left hand. In his right, he held what appeared to be a twelve inch metal rod. Slowly, he began to twist the rod into my urethra. As he did so, he casually mashed my foreskin back and forth over the glans of my penis. Since Peter had again averted his eyes from his father’s display, the older man took more drastic action. He quickly picked up a scalpel and flared open the pucker of my foreskin. With two quick slices, he circled the blade around the flanges of my head, then tugged free my foreskin with his fingers. After he freed the loop of skin from the rod, he began to wipe it across Peter’s face to gain his attention. Peter quickly began to cry.

This seemed to anger his father, so he returned his attention to my cock. With his left hand, he grasped my penis directly behind the loop of missing skin. With one swift yank, he pulled the column of skin down the shaft of my penis. As I looked down, I saw my penis naked of it’s skin, naked of all it’s skin. The veins feeding the spongy structures of my manhood were clearly visible. The older man began systematically to use a small stapling device to close off the vessels along the right side of my meat. As he finished the process, the right half of my exposed penis began to change color slightly, to a darker red-purple.

He applied the same scalpel again to the incision where he had taken my foreskin. This time, though, he applied more pressure to the blade, forcing it down behind the flange of my head until the blade made contact with the metal rod. He followed the ridge of my helmet head across, down, and around until he completed the circuit. As his right hand lay down the scalpel on the cart, his left tugged at the head of my penis. The lump of tissue and skin slowly slid apart from the shaft of my penis and up the rod. As it slipped off the end of the rod, he laid it gently on the green cloth covering my chest.

He returned again with the stapling device to the left side of my headless shaft. After completing that side, he again used the scalpel. Repeating the circuit of the blade around the base of my penis, he slowly pulled it from the steel rod. All that remained of my beautiful eight inch uncut penis was a three inch loop of loose skin folded neatly around a metal rod. The man took out a pair of scissors and began to cut away all but and inch of the loose skin, the he carefully stitched the skin onto the exposed edge of my urethra that protruded around the metal rod. Once the new piss pucker was finished, he removed the rod and replaced it with a catheter which emptied my bladder into a plastic bag.

He again washed the surgical area in brown liquid, and wiped it off. Then a thick bandage was applied to the incision area.

All I remember after that was the man’s hand holding a white cloth over my mouth. When I awoke I was laying in a alley way off of Main Street. I was fully clothed and really stunk of puke and body odor. My car was at the corner, with a ticket on it for illegal parking. To tell, the truth, I was so hung over, that I didn’t think about the last evening’s events. I guess that I thought they were really just a dream.

I drove back to my place, opened the hatch and took out my gym bag, and took the quick steps into my apartment. I realized that I was supposed to meet Josh at noon for our trip to the breach, but I need to do a quick load of laundry first. I decided to toss in my work out clothes because they would be really funky by the time I returned from Crescent beach. I unzipped the bag and pulled out my umbros, gray t-shirt, and my jock. It was then that I noticed that my jock was wrapped around a small package wrapped in butcher paper. As I unfolded the paper, I broke out into a cold sweat. There lay the remains of my glorious cock: a shriveled severed cock head and the badly mangled meat of the shaft. I quickly unzipped my jeans and felt the smooth white gauze bandage, slid to the floor, and wept. Though I joined the ranks of body modifiers against my will, I have come to accept it, even have come to appreciate it. In fact, I now seek someone to finish the nullification process that Peter’s father began.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Eric S****