My cock was pressing against my sweat pants. He looked at it, and then…looked me in the eye. He smiled, wrapping his hand around my cock’s end. “Oh, shit,” I said.

“It’s hard,” he said, “except for the end. That’s soft.” He rubbed his thumb over my cock’s end, and slowly pulled down my sweat pants. My cock, pulled down by the elastic waist band, popped free. He dropped my sweat pants down around my ankles. Reaching over, I unbuttoned his pants, dropping them down around his ankles. We were both naked from the waist down.

He had a little pubic hair. In the shower I hadn’t thought he had any, but he did, a little triangle of fine, blond, pubic hair. You had to look close to see it.

I could see his pee hole, up where his cock had once been. I couldn’t see a scar. If he’d had one, it had long since disappeared. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d been born that way.

He wrapped his hand around my cock. “It’s big,” he said. “I can’t even get my hand around it.”

That was the truth: he couldn’t. His hands were smaller than mine; I could barely get my hand around it.

“How do you masturbate?” he asked.

“I don’t masturbate,” I said. “Masturbation is a sin.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “They call you Masturbator, because you are. If I had what you have, I’d probably masturbate. The assholes masturbate.”

“Who…what? You don’t mean those guys like Stephan, do you?”

“Of course.”

“How can they masturbate? They don’t have dicks,” I said.

“They stimulate their prostates. That’s how semen is collected from them, and after one of them has his semen collected, he learns how good it feels. Of course, no one admits to it, but I know.”

“I thought masturbation was against the law,” I said. “Why don’t they get arrested?”

“Because of who they are, and because most people don’t believe a boy without a penis can masturbate. People around here don’t have much of an imagination; around here, it doesn’t pay to have much of an imagination. Show me how to do it.”

Placing my hand over his, I moved it back and forth, until he had the idea. It didn’t take long; I came, moaning, “Oh, oh, oh.” My eyes rolled back in my head.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

I shook my head, not in negation, but to clear it. “Does what hurt?”

“When you squirt like that. Does it hurt? You moaned like it hurt.”

“No, it doesn’t hurt. It feels good,” I said.

“What does it feel like?”

“God! I don’t know. It’s like this pressure builds up down there,” I glanced down at my groin, “that you know only coming will cure. Sometimes I like to delay in, hang on the edge, rubbing my dick, but trying not to come, but I can’t ever last long. It feels too good; I shoot.”

“And that feels good – shooting?” he asked.

“Fuck yes,” I said. “It’s over too soon. I wish it would go on and on.”

“Are you a homosexual?” he asked.

“Fuck no,” I said.

“Your thing gets hard when you’re around me. It got hard in the shower when you looked at the other guys.”

“None of you are guys.” I regretted saying it as soon as I had. I liked Joshua. He was damn sure the closest thing I had to a friend in this town. “I mean…you’re not…well, you don’t have cocks and balls. You kinda look more like girls than you do guys.” My cock was getting hard again.

“What do homosexuals do with each other?”

“They suck cock and fuck each other in the ass,” I said.

“Is that what you want to do to me? Do you want to fuck me in the ass?” I nodded. He looked at my cock. It was hard. He touched it: got some of my spunk on his hand; put his hand to his nose and smelled it. “It smells funny,” he said. “Sorry, you’re not putting that thing up my ass. Was that masturbating?” he asked. “Is that how it’s done?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Animals don’t do it,” he said. “At least, I’ve never seen any do it. Sex seems to be just for procreation for them. I wonder why humans are different. What makes you want to do it?”

“My balls, I guess. Haven’t you ever read about it? You can read about it on the Internet. Isn’t that why your church cuts off kids’ balls, so they don’t get turned on?”

“And you can read about that on the Internet?” he asked. “You have access to that kind of information back where you lived?”

“Yes…don’t you?”

“No,” he said, “it must be blocked. I think the church only lets us see what they want us to see. There are really not many of us in California?”

“There’s more all the time. A year or two ago, there were only two or three Nutters at my school. When we left, there were seven or eight in my P.E. class and probably between fifty and a hundred in my school.”

“He smiled, “Is that what you call us, Nutters?” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, “The Holy Nutters.”

“Why?”

I was a little embarrassed to answer. “It’s kind of a play on words. “Holy, because you claim to be holy, and Nutters because you nut kids – that means you cut off their balls – and because most of us think you’re nuts – well, not you; I don’t mean you’re nuts but your church; we think your church is nuts. You think it’s nuts, too, right?”

He looked away, pausing for a moment, like he was thinking. “I’m not sure you’d understand,” he said.

“Try me,” I said.

“Gillis is wrong thinking he’s Christ reborn. He’s right thinking this is the end of times, but he’s wrong to allow some to procreate, him and his chosen few. If this is the end of times, no one should. All males should be nullified. Gillis can’t be Christ, and his sons – those he’s allowed to keep their genitals – can’t be Christ.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because…God has no need of genitals. God doesn’t fuck. Having them disqualifies Gillis. Do you think Jesus had genitals?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “He was a guy, wasn’t he?”

“No,” said Joshua, “he was God - on Earth in human form - but that doesn’t mean he was male; that doesn’t mean he had genitals. I think it was evident that he didn’t. Actually, I know he didn’t.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I can’t tell you,” he said. “You’re not ready. Someday, you might be, but you’re not yet; but let’s look at it from a practical perspective: Jesus never married, and given the time in which he lived, he would have. No unmarried thirty year-old man would have been respected. There had to be a reason he wasn’t. If he were a nullo, if he were like me, he couldn’t have married, could he?”

“That’s pretty thin, don’t you think?” I said, not knowing why I’d been drawn into this conversation. I wasn’t even sure the guy ever existed. What he said made sense; I didn’t know anything about the time of Jesus, but if he what he said were true, it made sense. The kid was smart; I had to give him that. I could tell by listening to the way he talked he was smart.

“It’s only part of it, only backing up what I know,” he said.

“There you go again,” I said. “What do you know, and how do you know it?”

“You’re not ready,” he said.

“How do I get ready?”

“Become a believer,” he said.

“I thought you said you didn’t believe in the Church,” I said.

“I said I didn’t believe in Gillis’s church; I don’t believe he’s the Redeemer. I believe in the true Redeemer. When you do, you’ll know all I know.”

“Who is the true Redeemer?” I asked.

“It’s not the right time for you yet,” he said. “When it is, you’ll know.”

Jeez…the kid was freaking me out. I liked him; I liked him a lot; but he was a little weird.

I heard the front door open. “Oh, shit! My dad,” I said, jumping up to shut my bedroom door. I grabbed my sweats and pulled them on; He pulled up his pants. We were sitting on my bed, when Dad opened my door.