|
Jack awoke to a blistering headache. "Ugh," he muttered under his breath. He stretched out a bit under the covers, giving his sore muscles some small relief. Last night had been crazy; most everybody in his little play club had been over for a sex party. Jack had done massive amounts of various substances, and most of it was just a blur to him now. He slowly sat up, his head pounding and the light leaking in from around the drapes making his head hurt. "Man," Jack thought, "What did I do last night?" His place was trashed - funny smelling puddles, empty tubes of lube and used condoms everywhere, as well as cigarette butts, roaches, a pipe or two, pillows...random shit from the party the previous night. Jack sat on the side of his bed and sighed, not looking forward to the cleaning job he'd be doing later. Jack stood up and stretched, reaching his arms up over his head. He was in damn good shape, with a well-toned body and bulges everywhere. He kept his body completely smooth at all times and had since he was twelve, never having liked body hair. What was on his head was clipped short in a conservative hairstyle, and he wore a short, trimmed beard. As he surveyed the damage, Jack again wondered what had gone on last night. He thought back...there was plenty of whipping, the sling got used pretty heavily, he remembered. Some knife play, now that he thought about it. Yeah...he remembered a bunch of them in his bedroom, he was on the bed, and they were getting pretty heavily into it, cutting into their flesh a bit and cauterizing it. Maybe three or four guys if he remembered right. The cuts on his chest stung a bit still from the cautery iron. They'll make good scars, Jack thought, idly feeling them with his fingers. He had plenty of others on his body - he'd been into knife play for years, making small little cuts on his own sometimes. It wasn't the crazy teenage girl kind of cutting; Jack didn't have any emotional problems - he just relished the pain. And the scars. His torso and upper arms and legs all had the pale lines of healed slices crisscrossing them, the marks of years of cutting. He stretched again, feeling a little better, and felt an ache now from his crotch. "Ugh," he muttered aloud, and reached down to rub himself a bit. His hand ran down over his shorn public mound, over a smooth bump, and onto his balls. That doesn't feel right, Jack thought, and looked down. There it was. A little, maybe half-inch lump, smooth and purple on the end, lightly scabbed up, with a little hole in the center. "Shit," Jack muttered. How had that happened? Jack looked around on the floor, kicking some random clothes...where was it? He needed to see it. Jack cursed himself silently for the drug abuse... "How could I have let somebody cut my dick off?" Jack wondered. He briefly wondered if it could still be reattached, but knew there was no way now, not after at least ten hours. It was gone, and gone forever. Jack found his penis just under the lip of the bed. It was still hard, but cold and turning a nasty yellowish color. He looked at the end of it and found it to have been cauterized shut, same as his stump had been. He went and sat on the toilet, relieving his bladder. It stung a bit coming out of the stump but the plumbing all seemed to work. Jack stared at his cock as he went, shaking his head. "How could I have been so stupid?" he thought. His groin seemed to strange now, with that little scarlet lump right above his balls. Jack finished his business and stood up. "Well," he thought, "the deed's done. Guess I had better get used to it." With that, he dropped his severed cock in the toilet and flushed, watching it go down with the pale yellow water. After a quick shower and shave, Jack had gotten dressed and was walking out to get some breakfast at the corner deli. After one flight of stairs he had to go back up and stuff his crotch with toilet paper; the brushing of the fabric against his stump. It was still pretty sore even with the toilet paper, so after buying his breakfast Jack headed straight home and took his pants off. Once he'd had breakfast and a cigarette, Jack got to wondering what really had gone on last night...okay, so who had all been there? He picked up the phone and dialed Sam's number. Sam was a guy he'd met at the gym one day when they had been checking out each other's scars in the shower. Neither had noticed the other looking at him for a few seconds, and after that Jack introduced himself out the locker room. "Hello?" Sam answered. "Hey, Sam, it's Jack." Jack tried to sound upbeat. "Oh, shit, dude, how are you doing?" Sam sounded very concerned...so at least he knew what happened, Jack thought. "Uh...okay, I guess, considering...listen man, what happened? I can't remember much." "Shit," Sam repeated himself. "Okay, um, it was like this...it was real late, like right before sundown. A few people had gone home already, right? So it was like, um..." Jack remembered why he didn't date college guys. "Me, you, Gabe, Erik, Hank, and uh, Keith, I think." All of those guys he'd named I'd known for awhile. This made me feel a little more comfortable; at least with that crowd this wasn't likely malicious. Somehow that made it feel a little better, you know? "So like, we were all hopped on...oh hell, even I don't remember that. You had more than I did, that's for sure. Anyway, that guy, Hank..." Now I knew how'd this had at least come off; Hank was way into fantasizing about having his dick cut off. "So like, Hank was kneeling on the kitchen floor and Erik had the knife to him. Hank said, 'Pull it.' We were all like getting into it, you know, but just playing around, and Hank was like, 'No, for real. Pull it. Cut it off, I'm ready for it.' We all looked at each other, and man we were on a lot of shit, but we all nodded, man. "And he did it, dude. Erik pulled the knife down and Hank's dick came off in his hand, right? So like, blood's going everywhere and Gabe whips out the cautery gun and seals him up right away. Hank's all kinda breathless and shit and Erik and you were talking him through it." Jack was starting to remember some of this now. Vaguely, but he had a vague recollection of talking Hank through some blood...then he remembered Gabe down between Hank's legs. Okay, he thought. Now it was starting to come back. "Hank was going on and on and on about how great it felt to finally do it, and then Keith was like, 'Okay, do me.' So Gabe finished cleaning Hank up and we washed him off and all and said what the hell, right? And we were all getting into it, like huge boners, man, it was hot!" Yeah, Jack thought, I remember that. That was hot. His stub grew firm at the thought of it, and he could feel the familiar swelling down deep in his crotch that once heralded an erection. He looked down at his balls, naked without their commander in chief, and his grave still ruddy with scabs. He sighed. "So Keith slaps his meat down on the cutting board and hands me a cleaver, right? So I place it by sight, you know, and slide it across a little to give him a little sting, right? Then just a quick up and chop...and it came right off. I nearly came right there, dude, it was amazing." "And then he did you, didn't he? I kind of remember now," Jack finished. "Well, no, actually, I chickened out." Sam's voice took a downcast sort of turn. "I did have him cut the head off, though. I'm kinda glad I didn't go further though, you know? It's sore as hell, though...but yeah, so anyway," he continued, his voice perking up a bit, "So we got me all done with and cleaned up, and, man, I didn't see who cut you...it was right after Gabe was done with me, and I was a little, you know, freaked out. Still kinda am..." his voice trailed off a bit. "You all right?" Jack asked. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just, uh, getting used to my new dick, I guess. Nothing like you, I bet, though!" he joked. "I mean, uh..." "Heh. Don't worry about it," Jack said. "I kind of like it in a way, and even if I didn't, it's not like you made me do it or anything. Are you happy about the head and all?" "Actually, yeah," Sam asked. "I'd thought about it before and stuff but never really. I'm glad I did it and all, it's like I said, it'll just take some getting used to." Some getting used to was right, Jack thought, looking down at himself again as he hung up. No sooner had he put the phone down than it rang again. The caller ID said it was Hank. "Hey, Hank," Jack answered. "Hi, Jack. Uh, hey, listen...um, about last night..." Hank stammered. "Yeah?" "Um, well, did you find...uhhh...my penis? When I woke up this morning I realized I had yours." Oh, no, Jack thought. "Um, are you sure you have mine?" "Mine didn't have a meatotomy." Crap, Jack thought. "Crap," Jack said. "Uh, oh. Crap?" Hank asked. "You're not gonna believe this," Hank told him, holding a hand to his forehead. "What?" "I found it on the floor of my bedroom and thought it was mine..." Jack started. "Yeah?" "...and I, uh, flushed it." "You flushed it." "I flushed it." "Oh." "I'm sorry," Jack apologized. "I didn't realize it was yours, and I didn't see any point in it...it was all black and stuff. I didn't know." "Well, I guess that's okay. I wasn't really wanting it so much as just wanting to know what happened to it." "Oh, that's a relief," Jack said, suddenly relaxing. "I felt so bad all of a sudden there." Hank laughed. "It's okay. I'd been trying to get rid of it for years. So how are you doing?" "I'm okay," Jack croaked in the phone as he lit another cigarette. "A little freaked out, not exactly happy with myself, but I'll deal with it." "You sure?" Hank asked, sounding worried. "Yah, yah..." Jack answered. "It's kind of hot in its way. Guess I'll just have to be a permanent bottom now, yah?" he joked. "Heh, yeah," Hank laughed with him. "So how are you doing?" "Pretty sore," Hank told him, "I'm sitting on the couch with my pants off." "Hah! Yah, me too," Jack told him. "I walked to the deli with my crotch stuffed; it helped a little." "Yeah, I'm gonna limp down to the store and get a catheter kit, some gauze and a bunch of tape. You really ought to put one in, too, until it heals, so it doesn't scab over," Hank advised. "Yah, good thinking," Jack thought. His had been a little scabbed over... "You talked to Keith?" "No, just Gabe. You won't believe the ideas in his head." "Really?" "Yeah. He wants my balls once I heal up some. Yours too, if you'll let him take 'em. He got so off on all this shit last night, especially cutting you - he tried to talk Erik into it for the longest time. Hell, he gave him a ride home, for all I know they did it. Doubt it, though, Erik's not the type." "Yah. I dunno about getting my balls cut off," Jack answered. He wanted _something_ down there... "Yeah, me either. I dunno. I've been thinking about my dick so long I never really gave it much thought. But yeah, Gabe's all wanting to go kidnap homeless guys and cut their cocks off. He's gonna be insufferable until he gets off this kick," Hank warned. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to know about. You sure you'll be okay?" "Yah, I'll be fine. Can't wait to see what looks I get in the gym." "Me neither," Hank laughed. "Okay. Be sure to get that catheter." "Will do." "Oh, and what do you want me to do with your cock?" Hank asked. "Disposal, trash, feed it to the dog?" "Only if he's being good. Otherwise, hell...toss it in a sewer grate. I'm still worried yours is going to clog the toilet." "Was it still all hard? Yours is." "Yah." "Okay. Later on, man." "Bye." Jack put the phone down. Ugh. A catheter. That meant he had to move. It took a few minutes, but he summoned the will to get up, get dressed (stuff his crotch), and get out the door. There was some chain pharmacy thing up the street; he could just take the bus... Jack stood there for about five minutes waiting. If he didn't move, his stump didn't hurt too badly. It sure felt weird with it pressing into the front of his underwear and jeans. Jack had had to stuff almost half a roll in there so it was full enough for the tension to keep it all from falling down his leg. "That's something I'll have to think about too..." Jack thought. New underwear. The bus came and Jack limped on. He felt a lot better seated; the paper didn't rub against the end so bad. The bus let him out and soon enough he was back on the couch, naked, a tube of lube in one hand and a plastic tube with a metal wire in it in the other. "Okay, lube up the end..." Jack read the instructions aloud. "Slide it in." He sat back on the couch, held the end of the catheter at the hole in his stump, closed his eyes, and gently pushed. It pulled at the scabs as it went in and hurt like hell. Jack caught his breath, slowed down, and started again slowly. After a seeming eternity he felt some pressure as the end of it pushed up against his bladder. He relaxed his muscles, like he was pissing, and slid it in the rest of the way. "Heh," Jack sighed aloud, relaxing for a moment. It was in. Now to pull off the guide wire. He gripped the end and whipped it out quickly. "Ow!" It stung the inside of his bladder briefly. Didn't expect that, he thought. "Now to clip off the end..." He clipped it about three inches from where it came out of his stump, slid the valve on, and tightened it. "There we go," he thought, unable to shake the thought from his head that this was his new penis. Jack taped it to his abdomen and stood up, stretching. Okay, he thought, time to clean up. Now able to remember most of what had happened last night, he at least knew what were bloodstains and what weren't. A few passes through the apartment had grabbed all the trash and sex toys, then seen them safely to the trash and dishwasher, respectively. He started in on the random dishes in the sink, scrubbed up most of the bloodstains, and a few rounds of scrubbing, rinsing, sweeping, mopping, and wiping later, the only evidence of the sex party there the night before was steaming dry in the disher, and the only evidence that three men had lost bits of flesh was currently clogging up Jack's toilet. "Fuck, I knew it!" he shouted, working the snake deep in there. "Fucking Hank...goddamn well-hung bitches!" he cursed. It was kind of a shame, Jack thought to himself, not really angry. That was a really nice dick...course, so was mine...and Keith's...I wonder how Keith's doing, anyway? It took him twenty minutes of cursing to work Hank's cock back out in the toilet. He'd thought about pushing it further in, but then if he did end up having to call a plumber he would have to explain a lot of things he'd rather not have to. Unless the plumber were hot, and into it, but then, what were the chances? All pleasant thoughts quickly rushed from his head as the most rank and vile smell ever to assault Jack's nostrils invaded his sinuses. "Oh, dead God!" he shouted, throwing open the windows and furiously flushing the rank crap that had come up with Hank's dick back down whence it came, keeping it from going down again with the plunger. Jack stuffed it in a plastic bag, opened all his windows, and got out of his apartment. Twenty minutes later he returned without the bag, having tossed it under a bunch of nasty dead fish he'd seen some busboy toss out. A few hours later, Jack had just lit up a joint when the phone rang again. It was Erik this time. "Hey, man, I got just off the phone with Keith. You doing okay?" he asked. "Yah," Jack answered. "I think so. I mean, I'm not sure if I'm pissed at myself yet but I think I can deal with it." "Yeah, I figured you'd be able to. Keith isn't so good." "No?" Jack asked. "No, man, he came over here earlier. He was all pissed off at Hank at first and crying and shit." "Pissed at Hank?" "Well, Hank did cut his dick off." They both paused for a moment. "Anyway, he got over all that pretty fast...after he let it all out he said he was only really mad at himself for it, but he knew he wanted it." "That's good, I guess," Jack answered. "I remember he's talked to Hank about it before." "Yeah, but he never thought he was ready, you know?" Erik said. "I think he'll be okay; he just left a little while ago. Gabe called him while he was over here; I think they're going to go hang out." "Oh," Jack said, "You went home with Gabe, right?" "Yeah, and he tried to talk me into letting him cut my dick off the whole fucking way," he laughed. "I told him I didn' t want him to be the only one at the next party with a cock on. Then he was trying to talk me into letting him take another toe off." Erik had already cut off his second and fourth toes on each foot when I'd met him. He was a California transplant, a surfer kid who I picked out immediately walking around in sandals one day. I stopped next to him at an intersection, mentioned it, and without missing a beat he told me he'd cut them off himself. "Then it was a finger, then my balls. I was like, no, man, I'll keep everything else I've got for now, okay? I gotta admit the idea was hot, though - not more toes or anything, but like, something else, maybe. I dunno. Anyway. Too bad we can't do it again, right? If anything else that was all fuckin' hot." "Heh. Yah, totally," Jack agreed. "Oh, shit!" Erik shouted. "Keith is going over to Gabe's house!" "Yah, so?" Jack was confused. "Gabe was wanting to get all of your balls too...bet you fifty bucks he cuts Keith's balls off." "You think Keith'll let him do it?" "Oh, yeah...you should have heard him. He almost talked me into it." "You think we should let him do it? I mean, really, if Keith's already freaking out..." "You got a good point," Erik agreed. "Keith doesn't have a cell, does he?" "Not that I know." "I'll try Gabe then. I'll let you know what happens." "Heh. Okay." Jack was pretty sure Gabe wouldn't do anything really bad for Keith... "I mean, last night was crazy," he thought to himself, "but Gabe wouldn't do anything bad, really..." But Jack knew how Gabe got when was all obsessed about something, and knew just as well how persuasive he could be. "Hell, if I went over there I'd probably not have any finger, toes, or balls by the time I left," he thought to himself. Half an hour later he'd finished the joint and the phone rang yet again. "Hey, you should come over here," Gabe told him. "It kinda hurts to walk, dude," Jack told him. "Well, later maybe, then. How you doing?" he asked. Jack went through the routine. "Last night was awesome, man. We need to do it again soon." "Yah, I want to," Jack told him, "But it'll be a little hard to cut my dick off again, you know?" "I could take something else off, you know." "Yah, about that..." Jack started. "Keith? Eh, he's fine," Gabe said. "He's on the couch; I just got done sewing him up." "Oh, you did it, didn't you?" "Got his balls in a jar. Looking at 'em as we speak. He looks great, man, you should see it - I mean, right now he's kinda swollen and shit, but overall, once he heals up and all he's got is that little stub in there, it'll be great." "You sure that was a good idea?" Jack asked, a little pissed off. "Dude, I opened the door and before I could say a word he told me to do it. I didn't mind a bit, of course, but it was his idea with zero prodding from me." "But still, man, Erik said he was pretty broken up." "He told me that if he'd gone as far as he had, he wouldn't feel right until he finished the job. Soon as we did it he said he felt better." "Well...okay, I guess," Jack said. "So what about you?" Gabe hinted. "I don't know..." Jack trailed off, not really having thought about it either. "The idea's kind of hot, but maybe I've done enough to myself for now, man." "This is the best time! Heal it all at once instead of going through it twice! Besides, it's all more psychological this way - clean break and all. And you know you'll be begging to be fucked all the time now." "Shit, I am," Jack agreed, not having thought about that either. "But my balls? I don't think so..." He didn't want to be singing soprano or anything. Besides, even if he could only get fucked... "I like sex too much, man." "So take hormones. Come on." Gabe was practically pleading by now. "Maybe some other time. I'll talk to you later, okay?" Jack tried to end the conversation. "I'll take you up on it. Later on." "Fuck, why did I say some other time?" Jack shouted to the room. Now Gabe was going to pester him about it nonstop until he either caved in and did it or something else got Gabe's mind stuck on it. "I should just give in now," Jack muttered. "Save myself the trouble." He buzzed Erik and let him know what the deal was with Keith, leaving a message on his voicemail. "Well, now what do I do?" he wondered aloud. Usually being naked made him horny, and it was now too, but he didn't really feel all that sexual. He couldn't really leave his apartment naked...well, he could have another joint... A month later Jack showed up at a sex party for the first time. This one was more leather-oriented, so he'd worn his harness, a crotchless jockstrap kind of thing, boots, wristbands, a studded thigh band, and a collar. Before he left he'd put it all on and checked himself out in the mirror. Pecs good...arms good...legs good...ass, goooood. Jack smiled at himself. He turned back around and stared down at what he knew would be the focus of anybody's attention...he'd waxed himself the day before, and it was all smooth, his big, fat balls, full of a month's worth of cum, and his little stub, now healed and the end covered with a new, thin layer of skin, the catheter gone. Hank, Gabe, and Keith were meeting him there, and while Jack'd told him not to, he was pretty sure Gabe would stump (so to speak) for their next party...a guy at Jack's gym already wanted to go and Gabe said he'd gotten two lined up already. And Jack? Well, Gabe finally talked him into it, and it turned out he was right. The thing he couldn't understand now, was...why didn't every guy do this? |