“I thought up the Cock-Lock while in prison,” I told the guy sitting next to me at the bar. “I was doing a nickel for Armed Robbery, and being as how I was just a scrawny eighteen-year-old kid I quickly became ass candy for at least a dozen bigger and stronger lifers.”

“The hell you say!” He replied someone nervously, sliding his bar stool a little father away from my own.

I eased his mind, temporarily at least, by springing for another round, and then continued my story. “Yeah, well, Andre, this huge tattooed biker, had a thick, stubby dick with a wide mushroom-like head and narrow neck that gave my ass a double whammy when it entered and exited, and a guy named Luther’s sharply upturned cock was impossible to deep throat unless we were sixty-nine,” I informed him, matter-of -factly. “The other guys had their own individualities, and after a while I could easily identify my individual tormenter just by the subtleties of his cock as it slid down my throat or into my asshole.”

“No shit?” My drinking buddy for the evening asked.

“I started working on the design as soon as I was paroled, and even the prototype, which had a bunch of crude mechanical micro-switches, rejected every cock but my own. It also had a vibrating stimulation device that would instantly bring even the most senile or impotent cock on the planet to full erection. Once the patent was secured development funding became available and I was able to hire a techno-geek to help with more sophisticated solid-state sensors and a stimulation device that stopped short of causing the user to pop his rocks.”

“Who the fuck would stick his tool into a box with a bunch of wires and who knows what the hell else?” The guy inquired.

“Well, it didn’t look like just a plain old box,” I explained. “Taking the advise of a friend, I made a bunch of different face plates for it, some resembling men or women with their mouths open, others depicting pussies of various shapes and sizes, and even a few tight little adolescent asses. I took it back to the prison and had over a hundred men try it out, and it refused to open for any of them until it had been programmed to accept their cocks. The only thing that needed work was the stimulation device: It was so damn good that a bunch of the cons blew their wads and I had to keep cleaning the goop out of it so it wouldn’t short-circuit.” Imagining a bunch of horny cons getting their rocks off in a mechanical cunt brought a smile to my companion’s face.

“I thought it was a hell of a good idea, and although it worked perfectly none of the lock manufacturers showed interest. The all tried it out, of course, dropping their pants and sticking their dicks into it, and they seemed to get a big laugh out of it, but none wished to purchase the patent rights so I finally took it overseas.”

“The Sheik that I approached agreed to buy it if I would make a few modifications. It seemed that he wanted to use it to guard the bedroom of his mistress when he was out of town, and he demanded to know who all had came calling during his absence. It wasn’t much of a modification, to be sure, and being as how he wanted the blowjob faceplate it was easy—just add sharpen the edges of the opening and add another solenoid.”

“So, what the hell are you doing here?” He asked, eying my shabby clothes and obvious poverty. “I mean, hell, you should be on East Street.”

“No shit!” I answered. “I made the modifications that he wanted and went back to him. I dropped my pants, plugged in, and showed him that it worked perfectly. I then programmed it for him, or more specifically, his cock, then erased the program for my own cock from the memory. Only problem was that I fucked up. I erased his program instead of my own and the first time he tried to use it the thing sensed an intruder and lopped his cock off short. I’ve been hiding from the unlucky son-of-a-bitch ever since.”

The guy laughed, finished his beer, and went down the bar to shoot the shit with one of his buddies. I could tell by the way he laughed that he thought the story was a crock of shit. They all do. Well, fuck them. I have the proof. I grabbed the Cock-Lock just before I fled and it still had all seven and a half inches of the Sheiks former pride and joy wedged into the interrogation chamber. I still have it, picked in a jar of formalin, and I keep it in the same safe deposit box that houses the prototype Cock-Lock. Someday I’ll sell them both and make a fortune.