My name's Wayne, and at the time I was a senior studying mechanical engineering at the University of Florida. I had a hot girlfriend, Stephanie; she was a grad student in marine biology who lived in an old house with two other chicks. Those girls would host some epic parties with beer, pot, Ecstasy, and whatever else they could get their hands on. The good times flowed like water. And after the partying, Steph and I would get it on the rest of the night, usually starting with a blowjob and ending with Steph handcuffed to the bed riding all nine inches of me till the cum gushed out of me like a river, and I was left exhausted and panting like a dog in the July sun. Some nights she'd invite her roommates to join us. Life was great, but it wasn't to last.

It was the Sunday of Steph's twenty-fourth birthday, and it was the middle of Florida's hurricane season. We were two days into a tropical depression that had dumped so much rain on mid-Florida we were afraid the gaters would float into the house. The biggest news story around was that they expected the rain to go on for another day or two, and that roads would be shutting down later tonight. I hadn't yet bought Steph's present, so I rushed around as the weather report ended, then headed out into the rain to try to get to the mall before things closed down. As I was leaving, the second story of the night was that a football player had been found mutilated in the shower room of his high school. Tragic, but I had a mission, so I didn't stick around for the details, just grabbing my phone and heading out into the storm.

The rain was falling in buckets, and the wind was horrible. I was stupid to be out in it, but as a gallant young stud, I had to get Steph a present. Happily the mall wasn't very far from her house, and I knew exactly what I was going to get her. I parked in a small lake that had formed in the mall's parking lot, then rushed inside to get out of the storm.

Almost nobody was around, proving that only an idiot would be out in this weather, but since I was already here, I walked around the various shops that were still open. I lucked out; Spencer's Gifts was just the store I needed. I headed to the back, where the keep the sex toys. I had debated getting her edible panties, but had instead decided that it was time for her to start having some fun with me. I found a male chastity device with a lock that looked like it might fit all of me in it without cramping me if I got hard with it on, and I also picked up another pair of cuffs that she could use to chain me up and "torture" me when she'd like. I got semi-hard just thinking about the fun we'd have later that night.

I paid the guy at the counter just as he was getting ready to close up for the evening; he gave me a good look over, his gaze lingering near my crotch. I realized you could make out my erect package underneath my tight shorts. Dude was probably gay, but I'm fine with that if they leave me alone, so I just smiled at him and headed out to the food court because I was just about starved to death and there wasn't much food at Steph's place. I scarfed down a slice of pizza with one of the biggest vats of Diet Coke you can imagine. The guy from Spencer's walked over to the table and asked if he could eat with me. He was tall, tan, and lean, with black hair in kind of a Beetle's cut, with a stupid "Hi my name is Clark" name tag on. I said sure, and made a place for him, and he sat and we talked about football and micro-brews. My gaydar was going off majorly when finally a big, black security guy waddled over to us and said we should head home; they were shutting the mall down. I told Clark to have a good night and walked to the back entrance where I'd parked.

Little did I know I'd owe Clark my life, though some days I wonder if I'd rather have lost it instead.

Anyway, the tub of Diet Coke was working its magic on my bladder, so I ducked into the men's room at the entrance. It was pretty dark - two of the lights were out, so there were shadows over the stalls. I made out some boots under one stall, and the guy in there gave a "courtesy cough" to let me know he was there, so I didn't pay him much more attention than that. I strutted over to the urinals and dropped my Spencer's bag to the side. With my shorts pulled down with one hand and my 9-inch cock in the other, I let loose the warm release that gushed out and down the drain. And that's when it all happened.

I heard a flush from the stall, and then some kind of ticking sound. I didn't pay it much attention, as I was pissing a huge stream and was kinda occupied with that.

In my peripheral vision I saw a blur wearing a raincoat and carrying something toward me. Then something hit me like lightning. There was a popping sound, and with each pop a painful jolt of electric current ran down my back into my toes and back up again. Pop pop pop, and I was moaning, piss flying everywhere, and I'd nearly passed out from the pain.

My attacker ran an arm around my chest while holding a damn stun gun against the small of my back. My brain was on fire, and my body was thrashing around. The attacker leaned me down, and that's when I felt her titties against my back. They were big and firm, but I didn't have any time to appreciate them before I saw a big ass knife go after my dick. My attacker was muttering something about my "dirty rapist cock," as she held my dick in her gloved hand and started slicing it off, right at the root. I couldn't believe what was happening - MY DICK WAS BEING SLICED OFF! I tried to stop her - I work out, I'm a pretty muscular guy, but my body still wasn't working. There wasn't a damn thing I could do but moan and cry and try to squirm away from the most intense pain I'd ever felt in my life.

I don't know how it happened, but my nuts must have had a mind of their own and known it was all over for me. I suddenly had a massive orgasm. My giz and blood shot out of my mangled cock just as the bitch gave the final two slices that cut away my whole dick. This seemed to really piss her off, as she screamed, "Rapist! Bloody rapist!" Then she grabbed my nuts and with a single violent cut sliced my whole manhood off, balls, scrotum and all. Blood shot out everywhere, and I could feel myself dying. It was surreal, since at the same time I was gushing blood and spasming from the electricity of the stun gun, what used to be my manly package still thought I was orgasming, even though there was nothing left to come out of the hole in my groin.

The bitch standing over me, holding my balls, sack, and dick looked down at a clock around her neck and stopped its ticking. Then she just sighed, turned away, and said, almost sadly, "57 seconds." As she was walking to the exit, she kept slicing my dick into tiny little pieces. Then she stopped and cut my cock head off and into four bits, which she threw on the floor and stomped into bloody purple mush. She put my sack and what was left of my mangled penis in her gym bag, then threw her blood and cum-soaked raincoat in the trash and just walked out as I was screaming and thrashing there on the floor.

I should have bled to death and died, but a few seconds-that-seemed like hours later, I heard the door open up. I thought she'd come back to finish me off, but instead I heard a man scream and rush out the door. Clark had followed me into the men's room, probably thinking he could cop a quick feel and maybe get a hand job from me, but instead called security, the cops, and an ambulance. He and the fat security dude rushed back in and tried to stop the bleeding, and Clark tried to look for my penis.

But all they ever found was the squashed and mutilated cock-head. Steph tried to be a trooper, but without a cock I couldn't really ever please her, and without my balls we had no future - she wanted kids and deserved a real man. Clark and I became friends, seemingly connected together by tragedy, but I don't know how much longer I can be his friend. He keeps making advances on me, and even though I'm a dickless, ball-less eunuch freak, I'm not gay.

I was the second of five guys attacked by the serial mutilator that summer, and only one of two to survive. The FBI and the local cops talked to me once I was stable in the hospital, and sometimes they even come by to see if I've remembered anything more. But really other than the pain, the image of my cock falling away from my body, and that strange, sad "57 seconds" she said after she'd un-made me, I've got nothing left of my former life.