The Specialty Shop

By Rob Cole

The old town near the spaceport had a look about it that the guidebook called "Earth medieval," reflecting the 200 years or so that the colony had been out of contact, during which it had backslid both technologically and—-from Lt. Jeremy Chad's viewpoint anyway, sociologically. A matriarchy, for god's sake!

Like most spacers, he had little use for women in the first place. Using artificial wombs for reproduction was fine, but the idea of "functional males"-—whatever that meant-—being second-class citizens set his teeth on edge. Not to mention the discomfort he was feeling right now from the chafing, pinching uniform and especially the tight strap under his snug uniform pants confining his normally free genitals so the locals wouldn't be offended by any hint they were there. Everybody said his permanently depilated penis and testicles, with the gold P.A. and the little ankh tattoo on the shaft, were unusually attractive. He was always getting compliments on them. And here in this backward place he was supposed to be ashamed of them?!

After jerking the little one-man floater-cycle around and around through the maze of narrow, winding, poorly marked streets under the hot bluish sun for some 45 minutes, cursing to himself for the last half of that, he finally found the little shop. At least he thought it was the one. Alex had said it catered mainly to off-world tourists, but if that was the case, why was it so hard to find? And the little blue and yellow sign said just "Specialities," if he was reading it correctly. The hypno program was better at imprinting spoken than written language, and his brain was giving him significance on one level and meaningless squiggles on another. It didn't help that even if he was reading the sign right, it gave no hint that it sold what Alex said it did, and he wasn't at all sure Alex wasn't having him on. Though it did tie in with the bit about prejudice against "functional males." He parked the floater, set the hold-fast, and went in.

The place was small, not more than three meters wide and five deep. He was the only customer at the moment. The air was cool and had a faintly flowery odor. Old-fashioned glass-fronted cases, along with a few stasis cases, were arrayed on a blue-and-yellow-tiled floor, displaying a bewildering array of stuff, much of it in garish colors. Yellow walls bore glass shelves with more stuff, along with holophots, local calendars and old-fashioned 3-D posters. He recognized some virt games, a few interesting small light sculptures, and items of local clothing. The stasis cases held unfamiliar food items, candies, fruits and things. But most of the stuff was plainly in the category of tourist schlock.

He wandered around for a couple of minutes, not seeing what he was looking for. As he reached the back of the store, a good-looking young male sales clerk, brown hair cut in the typical local boxy style and wearing a yellow unisex coverall also typical of local fashion-—such as it was, looked up from a very modern data terminal and gave him a professional smile.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Uh . . ." Jeremy almost lost his nerve. Finally he blurted out, "I don't know. I, uh, was told that you, uh, sell, uh, male genitals here." He felt his face go red. It didn't help that in a literal translation of the local language, "male genitals" would be "vestigial male appendages," and carried the connotation of a mildly obscene joke.

The clerk looked suspiciously like he was suppressing a grin. Grey eyes flicked up and down the lieutenant's trim body, which somehow made Jeremy feel indecently exposed-–maybe in a perverse way because he was completely clothed. On his home world and most other places he'd been, healthy young men typically went nude in casual circumstances anywhere it was warm enough, except for footwear and decorative items such as the open vests he liked. They certainly didn't cover up their best assets.

"Yes sir, we do," the salesman replied blandly. Right over here."

He led the way to a small stasis case. "I'm afraid all we have at the moment are these testicles, though."

Jeremy stared. Among other things, the case held a small open box holding a pair of undersized but obviously human balls in a rather shriveled looking scrotum, with a grinning buffoon face and a line of script on the inside of the raised lid. He couldn't quite make out the script, except it was obviously off-color humor. As unimpressive as the balls were, it was still a shock to see them displayed like this. It gave him a funny sensation in his crotch.

It took him a moment to find his tongue. "How much?"

"Twenty-five dinar."

Which was only about 40 credits for some poor guy's nuts. Even so, they weren't what he'd been hoping for. Emboldened now, he asked, "You do sell, uh, penises too?"

"Oh, yes, sir. They're a very popular item with off-world visitors. We just happen to be out."

"Oh." Jeremy had been looking forward to the expression on Luke's face when he showed him what he'd bought for dinner.

"Well . . ." he considered the testicles again.

The clerk didn't say anything for a moment. His voice was hesitant when he finally spoke.

"I, uh, do have a complete set hanging, if you'd like to see them."

"Hanging?"

"Yes, sir."

"I thought you said you were sold out."

The young clerk looked faintly uneasy. His eyes flicked toward the front door, back to Jeremy.

"We ARE sold out of regular stock. But we're not very busy and if you've got a few minutes for processing, I could, as I said, offer you a complete set."

His meaning communicated to Jeremy almost as if they were reading each other's minds. The lieutenant found himself staring at the crotch of the yellow coverall, which showed only a slight bulge.

"Yeah," he said uncertainly. "I would like to see them."

The sales clerk glanced at the door again, then ran a forefinger up the almost invisible seam over his crotch, exposing a tight pouch strap like the one Jeremy was finding so uncomfortable. He did something with this which also caused it to open, and pulled out the contents. Jeremy found himself looking at a rosy pink, smooth-skinned penis of quite respectable size, with a long foreskin covering the glans, and large, close-drawn testicles much more appealing than those in the case. The whole was hairless, and looked clean and healthy. The penis began to swell as he looked at it. The lieutenant felt his own penis stiffening against the restraining strap.

The clerk pulled back the foreskin, exposing a flaring velvety glans, and held his genitals out on his palm, smiling now. The penis stiffened rapidly until it was a good 20 centimeters long.

"I just made my last required donation to the sperm bank yesterday." He pulled the penis up and pointed to a small brand on the underside near the balls.

"Meaning?"

The young man looked blank for a moment. "Oh. That means it's all superfluous now and can be taken off any time."

"How much?"

"Three-fifty."

Jeremy's eyebrows went up. The price was astronomical compared to that of the testicles in the case, and he was pretty sure the shop owner wouldn't get any of it. But still, this guy was offering his sex organs for what to Jeremy was about three days' pay.

Was he expected to bargain? He tried it.

"Three hundred."

"Three thirty-five."

"Three twenty-five."

"Done."

Jeremy suspected he was still being had, but he didn't care.

"How long will it take?"

"Just a few minutes. We have a laser cutter. Do you want the penis soft or erect?"

All so matter of fact and business-like. Except that the organ in question was now rock-hard, which made it pretty clear that the guy's motivation wasn't entirely money. He was plainly turned on by the idea of gelding himself. The least I can do, Jeremy thought, is accommodate him. But what would be best? To get the penis soft, the guy would probably have to jerk off, which would give him one last orgasm. Was that what he wanted? He tried to read his expression and body language.

"Uh, erect?"

Had he guessed right? The young clerk's expression told him nothing, other than that he seemed to be enjoying Jeremy's embarrassment. "Yes, sir. A good choice. But if you give me a few minutes to get it erect again afterward, I can pump out some semen first, which you can use to make an appropriate sauce." This last was accompanied by the barest flicker of a glance down at Jeremy's crotch, where his penis was visibly pushing out the strap, and the suggestion of a leer.

He'd guessed right.

"Yes, okay, I'll take the, uh, sauce." Jeremy's face was hot and he knew he must be blushing furiously again. What the fuck was the matter with him? He was sharply aware of his own penis straining painfully against its unaccustomed confinement. What would it be like to cut it off right now?

The clerk grinned openly for the first time. "Yes sir. Give me about five minutes. He started to turn toward a door in the wall behind the counter.

At that moment, Jeremy heard the front door open. He glanced around to see a stick-dry middle-aged woman in a grey one-piece garment. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw the clerk's exposed sex organs. She looked not so much shocked as irritated and disgusted.

Looking very uncomfortable, the clerk nevertheless stood his ground. "I'll be with you in a moment," he said. "The gentleman is buying these." He gestured vaguely at his genitals.

"I see," the woman responded, turning a cold regard on Jeremy that plainly took contemptuous note of the bulge in his crotch.

Jeremy stared back, embarrassment turning to hostility. He didn't like women anyway and he wasn't one of the local males who had to put up with this sort of thing.

"Ma'am," he said stiffly.

"Well, hurry it up," the woman snapped at the clerk.

Five minutes later, the sales clerk was back, his yellow coverall closed up, looking relieved and relaxed. He held out a small clear-topped stasis box holding his erect penis and testicles on a red cloth. They had been cut off cleanly and bloodlessly well into the crotch, and in the stasis field, they looked very much alive and functional. The foreskin was pulled all the way back, and Jeremy thought he saw a sheen of pre-cum on the glans. A small plastic bag filled with a white substance, obviously the semen, was tucked under the penis.

"Satisfactory?" the clerk asked, smiling. If the smile was just a touch regretful, Jeremy couldn't be sure.

"Oh, yes," said Jeremy. "Perfect."

The clerk glanced around to where the woman was examining something on the other side of the shop and asked in a low voice, "You plan to present them to your mate for dinner?"

Jeremy was startled. "You're reading my mind."

"No, sir. Everybody knows that visiting off-world males, especially those who, uh, like other males, often find this kind of thing fascinating. That's why shops like this have started offering them."

Jeremy's jaw dropped. He finally managed to say, "And it doesn't bother you?"

"Oh, no, sir. We have what we call ‘freedom feasts'."

"Uh, I see." Jeremy didn't. But after he thought about it for a moment, light dawned. Unaltered males were second-class citizens here, so . . . "Yeah, I get it."

He laughed ruefully. "Okay, I think you were going to tell me how to cook . . ." He glanced down at the contents of the stasis box. "This."

Yes, sir." Again the clerk glanced at the woman, who seemed to be quite taken by the trinket she was examining.

"Pull up the foreskin and run an ordinary knife blade around under it to separate the skin from the penis shaft. Peel the skin back, rub ground pepper and bits of garlic or garlic powder . . . you know garlic?"

Jeremy nodded.

"Rub the pepper and garlic into the shaft and pull the skin back up. Make a small slit in the underside of the scrotum and pop the testicles out. Trim off the sperm cords and discard them. Then rub pepper, garlic and a little of the semen into the testicles, push them back into the scrotum, brush the skin with a mixture of *limoke* sauce and the rest of the semen, and roast the whole thing at low heat in an electric oven for about an hour. The flavor will be strong but interesting."

"What kind of sauce?"

"I think you call it barbeque sauce."

"Okay," Jeremy agreed in a strangled voice. He was about to cum in his uniform pants.

The woman had put down the trinket and was moving their way. The little moment of intimacy was over.

"Will that be all, sir?"

Jeremy left the little shop in high good humor, carrying the stasis box containing his purchase in a cloth bag. He was dismayed by the idea of a society in which a man would regard cutting off his genitals as a liberating experience, but it wasn't his problem. His penis continued to press urgently against the restraining strap as he thought about the look on Luke's face when he saw his mate's purchase, then about the two of them dining on the young clerk's roasted meat, then the hot sex they'd have afterward.