Michael discovers a VCD of Sam's penectomy and finds his own sexual desires beginning to awaken immediately after his own castration.
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FOR YOUR OWN GOOD 6
Michael stuggled towards consciousness, vaguely aware that he
felt as if he were swimming. The surface seemed far away, however,
and no matter how he struggled he could not seem to reach it. He
heard voices. He felt what he thought to be pain. Still, he
labored. It was as if he were deep underwater and continuing to
swim upwards. He could see that surface, but try as he might, he
couldn’t reach it. He had no idea of how long he had been trying,
but he couldn’t quit. Only one thought burned in his mind as he
continued to stuggle – and that thought was, “I don’t belong here
and I have to make someone believe me.”
All of this went on and on in Michael’s mind, although his
body lay in a bed in the ICU under Ned’s watchful eye. He seemed
to hear that voice, among many, but he couldn’t be sure. If anyone
would believe him, Ned would. Michael continued to climb, his
mind’s eye fixed on that shiny surface to high above him.
Ned sighed and turned off his computer, coming to the decision
that his paper on the pros and cons of adolescent castration could
wait. He checked over the remaining two boys in the unit, then sat
down heavily in the chair next to Michael’s bed. The boy hadn’t so
much as twitched in three weeks, and Ned was beginning to worry
about bedsores and muscular atrophy on top of everything else. The
small incisions in Michael’s scrotum had healed over into bright
pink and fine lines, and the angry red welts that had been so
evident on the sides of his buzzed head were faded away. Only a
small bump remained under his left ear, and it too was healing.
Once again, as he become accustomed to doing so often, Ned ran a
hand absently over Michael’s blonde head. The boy’s 00000
initiation buzzcut had grown back out surpisingly fast, and was out
to almost ½ of an inch. He figured that as soon as the boy was on
his feet, he’d be paying the staff barber another visit. Ned
looked over the various tubes and lines that were tending to the
comatose boy’s bodily functions, then rose to double-check the
others. The three boys who had been in the ICU when Michael had
arrived had since been discharged and replaced by two new ones.
One of them, however, was a recurring customer.
The first was an older boy, who, according to his chart, was
16 and very healthy. He was also very black. Although Ned was not
by nature or upbringing a racist, he shivered at the thought of the
forced penectomy the teen had made to endure. He was reminded of
Sam as he checked the wound and the catheter. Seeing that
everything was going normally above the untouched and rather large
balls, Ned moved on. In the next bed was the case that really
bothered him.
Cheng had arrived a week before, soon after the boy with the
other boy who had undergone a full genital emasculation had been
discharged. Although under the care of neurologist and several
others, Cheng had been placed near Michael and Ned for the
familiarity. He was merely asleep and not unconscious, so Ned
moved carefully. He checked his watch, and decided that it was
time for the boy to wake up. In the ICU, there were no
transceivers in the pillows, no ULF generators, and no ‘therapy’ of
any kind taking place. “At least they can sleep and heal up
naturally,” he muttered. But Cheng, as Ned knew well, wasn’t
healing up. He was only getting worse. Slowly but surely, the
Asian eunuch was losing his ability to function on his own. There
were gaps forming in his memory, his motor skills were degrading,
and his speech was beginning to slur. Ned gently shook the
sleeping boy by the shoulder, remembering with stark clarity the
screens he had seen detailing the condition. In the past few
weeks, he had read everything he could find on what was happening
and the symptoms he could see. Although not a neurologist by any
means, he understood enough. He had seen the effects of
the ‘therapy’ and the ULF punishments go wrong before, but never
this fast or this severe. Cheng was going to die a slow and
painful death, and Michael – if something were not done and done
soon – was going to be right behind him.
“Good morning,” Ned said as Cheng slowly opened his eyes, not
realizing where he was. “Do you know where you are, Cheng?”
The young eunuch looked around the room slowly, then his gaze
fell upon Michael. “Yhes,” he replied softly.
“Headache or anything?” Ned asked.
Cheng shook his head. “Nho, bhut I-I-I g-ghotta p-pee bahd.”
Ned noticed the slur and the pronounced exhaling “H” sound
immediately. The stutter was also getting worse. He pulled Cheng
into a sitting position, then watched as he swung his legs over the
edge of the bed. He was naked, and Ned gestured to his robe at the
foot of the bed. “N-nho t-t-thhime,” Cheng replied, shakily making
a run for the bathroom. Ned shook his head. In spite of what was
happening to him, Cheng didn’t seem to be the least bit upset about
it. When he returned from the bathroom, Ned noticed that his gait
was uneven and jerky. The eunuch paused by Michael’s bed and
absently slipped into the white terrycloth robe that Ned handed
him. “Hhas h-he bheen uh-whake yhu-et?” the eunuch stammered, “I
muhean s-s-shince I ghot h-here?”
Ned shook his head. “He hasn’t regained consciousness since
you had that last episode that you don’t remember.”
Cheng sighed and sat down on Michael’s bed, taking the
unconscious boy’s hand in his. A lump rose up in Ned’s throat, and
he had to look away. It just wasn’t right. Looking at these two,
he kept thinking how the punishment certainly did not fit the
crime. Cheng – emasculated and dying, and Michael – not much
better off; castrated while still unconscious from the ‘treatment’
he had received for his second psychotic episode. He wondered what
it was about these two. Such serious side effects were uncommon;
that was why the ULF punishments worked so well. He also wondered
how Sam and Joey were getting along, with two of their roommates
gone.
There was a chime sounding, dragging Ned from his reverie.
The door opened, and one of Cheng’s neurologists entered with a
wheelchair. “Time for today’s testing session,” he said flatly.
Ned watched as Cheng sighed and patted Michael’s hand before
releasing it. Obediently, he sat in the chair and allowed the
doctor to fasten the seatbelt. “B-bhe bhack ihn uh f-fhew,” Cheng
said via way of goodbye. Ned watched as the young eunuch let the
door terminal scan his ID, and then they were gone.
There was a face beyond the surface. Michael could see it as
he journeyed slowly upwards. He could hear a voice as well – a
small and unbroken voice calling to him. “Cuh-mon,” it said, “c-
cuhm bhack.” He realized that is was Cheng. Then he noticed the
feeling – his hand was warm. He tried to look at it, but he
couldn’t see it. All he could see was the surface. Then the voice
was leaving, fading off. His ascent speeded up. The surface was
approaching faster now. He would break it at any time, he knew.
He also knew something else – they had hurt him. He wasn’t sure
how, but he knew that he was hurt. Badly. There was also
something wrong with Cheng’s voice. It wouldn’t be long, he knew…
Ned left to go in search of breakfast once a guard arrived to
take over for him. He was off for the rest of the day and that
night, but he didn’t want to go home. For some reason, despite his
clinical detachement, he wanted to be there when Michael awoke.
The cafeteria was just emptying out when he arrived. One of the
last boys leaving turned and saw him, and spoke briefly to the
guard at the door. The huge black man nodded as the boy pointed at
Ned. He followed to where Ned has sat down. It was Bolton, with
Joey in tow. “How’s Mikey?” the pale boy asked softly, his eyes
betraying the pain that voice didn’t. Ned nodded to Bolton and
looked down at his plate, carefully avoiding Joey’s gaze. “Still
out,” he replied curtly.
“’k,” Joey replied, turning to go.
“Dammit anyway,” Ned heard Bolton say as the both headed for
the door.
Ned picked at his breakfast, not really having any appetite
for it. He hadn’t meant to be harsh with Joey; in fact, Joey was
the last inmate he would have spoken to in such a manner. Although
he had experienced no ill effects, Ned could tell that Joey had
been completely and totally broken. He didn’t look for the boy to
remain incarcerated for much longer, although he didn’t know how
long the boy’s sentence was for. Joey was so self-effacing, so
meek and quiet, that he was very easy to overlook. Even when he
was subjected to his routine physical exams, he never complained or
offered any resistance. He never even made more than a whimper
during the more intimate parts of the exams. Most boys, Ned
thought with a wry grin, hated the exams and usually bitched the
whole time. Of course, they knew that they could get away with
it. One had to agree, also, that the exams weren’t the high point
of anyone’s day. He pulled out his small planner pad and checked
the date. “Damn, Thursday already,” he complained to himself. He
also noted that he’d be seeing Joey later in the day. He sighed
again and gave up on breakfast. Slowly, with his head down, he
walked back to the ICU.
His hand was warm again and the surface was nearer. He felt
something brush his head. The surface was shining brighter now,
and he almost felt as if he were being pulled towards it. Closer
it came. It was almost tangible. Eternity could have passed for
all he knew; time itself was meaningless. And then suddenly he was
there. He broke through the insubstantial barrier which held him
with an explosive intake of breath as his real eyes popped open.
The light was blinding. He closed his eyes and groaned. His
entire body was screaming in pain, each and every muscle feeling
like it was knotting up. He remembered the aches and pains from
the last time he had had the flu; this was ten times worse. But
through the pain, he felt the warmth on his hand and head. He
forced his eyes open again. Slowly they focused on the round and
slightly yellow face staring down at him. Cheng was sitting on the
edge of his bed, one hand on his head and the other holding his
left hand tightly. His teeth were shining white, and all of them
were showing. “H-he’s uh-uh-whake!” the eunuch shouted.
The sound cut through Michael’s ears like a hot knife. “Not
so loud,” he whispered, his throat thick and his voice
struggling. “Why I think you’re right,” Michael heard a familiar
voice reply. It was one of Bolton’s relief guards, who was heading
for the intercom to page someone.
“Yh-uu ghon’ l-lhiiive?” Cheng asked, his smile still flashing.
“What’s wrong with you’re mouth?” Michael groaned, desperately
wanting a drink.
The Asian eunuch shook his head. “D-dhunno,” he replied.
Michael could hear the guard paging Ned and someone else whose
name he didn’t recognize. With a shudder, he also heard the
name ‘Ames.’ He also heard the coarse voice reply – “Keep him in
bed, give him some water, and send for a nurse. Ned’s off duty and
I’m busy with something.” That voice that would tolerate no
foolishness. Ames’ voice. Michael thought that he heard a whimper
in the background. A few moments later, the nurse arrived. It was
a male nurse, but he looked to very capable of handling any trouble
that might come his way. Michael suspected, as the man adjusted
his IV and shot something else into it, that the nurse also could
double as a bullyboy or guard if need be.
“That better?” he asked as the new medicine his Michael’s
system.
The howling pain in his muscles began to subside. “Thank
you,” Michael breathed with a sigh of relief.
The nurse smiled and offered him a glass of water, via Cheng,
who had seemed to have taken up residence on the edge of Michael’s
bed. Michael took it with his free hand and drank it down. Cheng
passed him another, which he drank. “Nhot s-s-hhooo fhast,” he
stammered.
“Good advice,” the nurse agreed, hefting Cheng up by the arms
and redepositing him on his own bed, “and more good advice is that
YOU take a nap.”
Cheng, still smiling, disrobed. His emasculated state was,
for him, obviously not a cause for embarrassment. Michael winced,
however, as he felt himself getting hard as he glanced at the Asian
eunuch’s smooth and empty crotch out of habit. Something wasn’t
right down there and his blood ran cold. With his arm that didn’t
have the IV hooked to it, he pulled back his cover. His small
penis was standing upright, and there was a tube coming out of the
end of it. Michael let out an explosive sigh of relief. The nurse
and guard both laughed. “What’d you think they did, cut it off
while you was out cold?” the guard asked. “You never know in this
place,” Michael replied, his head clearing and the pain subsiding.
Satisfied and relieved that his penis was still there, Michael had
overlooked the fact that his scrotum was empty. His nurse and the
guard exchanged a look, but neither of them said a thing.
“How you feelin’?” the nurse asked.
“OK, I think,” the boy replied, “Other than everything hurt
before YOU showed up.”
The guard was jotting notes. “No headache, nothin’?”
Michael shook his head. “My fingers and toes are kinda numb,
but I think I feel alright.”
Then he sneezed.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded, his free hand going to
his face to feel the NG tube and tape on his cheek.
“Feeding tube is all,” the nurse replied, “We should probably
take that out soon.”
Michael thought for a moment. “How long was I out?” he asked.
“Can’t tell ya that,” the guard replied, “but it was a long
time. Just ask yo’ little buddy here.”
Michael looked over at Cheng, who had since covered up and was
leaning his head up on one arm to stare at him. His grin was like
the sun coming up. “L-lhong t-t-thiime,” he replied.
“What IS wrong with your mouth?” Michael asked again, but the
nurse answered for him.
“Cheng’s got a small speech problem. His last sleep time
stuff didn’t agree with his brain too well and messed something
up. They’re trying to find out why and that’s why he’s here in ICU
with you.”
Michael nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Cheng shrugged, still smiling, and laid his head down. He
sighed, and fell asleep.
“Now,” the nurse said softly, “I CAN tell you that your little
friend isn’t in too good a shape and I’m not talkin’ about his
lack ‘o parts down there. It’s in the common database, so you
could read about it in class, I’d think. Something isn’t right
with him. One too many of those ULF shocks or something, but it
messed up his brain and he’s been getting worse since you’ve been
in here. I’ve been in and out with Ned and the other doctors while
you’ve been out, taking turns taking care of you and him and the
others who come and go. You know what I’m sayin’?”
Michael nodded. “Side effects, they told us in health class.
Is he that bad?”
The guard was nodding and Michael turned his gaze to
him. “He’s dying.”
Ned was angry when he arrived home and found a message on his
answering machine. It was from Ames. “Mikey’s awake and you
forgot about Joey. Can you come back in, Ned?” BEEP. Rewind.
“Shit!” Ned articulated, running back out to his car. It
seemed the demands of the Institute for Organized-Thinking and
Rehabilitation, or IO for short, never left him alone. Fortunately
for him, it was spring and his classes at school were nearly out.
He sped back to the Institute with the hints of a plan forming in
his mind.
When Ned arrived, he found Michael sitting up in bed with a
box of Kleenex at this side. The boy was vigrously blowing his
nose and digging at the nostril where the NG tube had been
inserted. There was also a tray on the table next to his bed,
bearing evidence that he was eating solid food again. His IV was
still inserted in his back of his hand, and the slight glaze to his
eyes gave mute testimony to the fact that almost nothing would
bother him at that point in time. Ned sighed with relief. Michael
looked up over his Kleenex and his eyes widened. “You’re back
among the living, I see,” he offered.
Michael nodded.
“So what do you remember?” Ned asked, sitting at his desk and
turning on his computer.
The boy thought for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I had
that first episode you told me about. I got checked out. I went
back to the dorm and class for a few weeks, and they told me I had
another one. Then I woke up here and nobody will tell me how long
I was out.”
Ned entered Michael’s statement and thought for a
moment. “Nothing else?”
The boy shook his head. “What’s wrong with me, Ned?” he asked
in a pleading tone of voice.
“You aren’t responding well to the therapy and conditioning
your brain’s been getting. They say they’ve got it straightened
out, but we’ll have to wait and see,” the soon-to-be doctor
replied, gesturing at Cheng, who was still asleep.
Michael caught the look and glanced over at the sleeping
eunuch, who had been still for most of the day since his return
from his latest tests. “He can’t talk right, Ned, and he isn’t
moving around too good.”
Ned nodded. “He’s in bad shape, Mikey. Now, if you’ll excuse
me, I have to go look in on Joey and give him his usual exam.”
“Him and Sam ok?”
“They’ve missed you. Joey was asking about you the other
day,” Ned replied. “And,” he added, as he got up to leave, “you
might not want to, but I think you need to try and get some real
sleep. It looks like you just ate a big meal, and now would be a
good time. Being unconscious isn’t the same as just getting some
good, REAL sleep – if you know what I mean?”
Michael nodded. “One thing before you go?” he asked.
Ned turned back and cocked his head.
“Why are you going to take this tube out of my penis? I don’t
like it.”
Michael fell asleep shortly after Ned left. There was a music
CD playing in the computer, which had been left on. From what
Michael had learned in class, he doubted that the version of
Windows 2000 it was running would let him into anything, and the
catheter was anchored to a collection bottle on his bed so he
couldn’t go far from it anyway. He fell asleep listening to the
soundtrack from “1492 – Conquest of Paradise.”
When Ned entered the exam room, he turned on the computer
terminal that was networked to the one in the ICU ward and took a
peek at Michael and Cheng through the webcam. Although it was late
afternoon, both boys were asleep. He worried about leaving the PC
on, wondering if Michael would find it, but dismissed it for his
duty at hand. Joey was sitting naked on the exam table, and even
though the room was very warm, he was shaking. “I’m sorry, Joey,
but you know it has to be done, right?” Joey nodded, looking down
at his bare feet. Joey didn’t talk unless he just had to, and
almost never made eye contact. Ned worried about him a great deal,
despite the fact that he tried hard not to become attached to these
boys who were obviously incarerated for a reason. He couldn’t
remember what Joey had done, though, and made a mental note to find
out. He glanced back the screen from time to time as he went over
Joey as he did all the boys in his care every other week, but found
nothing wrong. For that he was grateful. Joey flinched and tried
to pull back when Ned began his exam of the young eunuch’s nether
regions, however. It was obviously a very large source of
embarrassment for him.
Ned paused to glance at the monitor again, and saw Michael
stirring in the small window that was open to the webcam. He
wasn’t awake, however. He turned his attention back to Joey. As
he examined him, he noted how the eunuch’s scrotum has shrank up to
almost nothing and the scars were very nearly gone. He noted the
boy’s penis size vs. age, and asked Joey some very intimate
questions, all of which the boy answered with a flaming face and
shake of his head. Joey said nothing, and never made eye contact.
He gently did the rectal check, noting that Joey showed only very
slight signs of arousal. When he was finished, he glanced back at
the screen then told Joey to head for the bench in the shower
area. Joey didn’t move. He just sat there staring at the floor.
“Please, Joey, just go,” he said.
Slowly the young eunuch rose and pulled out the bench, then
came back to dig the red bags and tubing out of the drawer as Ned
sent a message to the terminal in the ICU. Unbeknownst to anyone,
the 1492 soundtrack that was playing dropped in volume and a small
window opened that said “MIKEY – CLICK HERE, NOWHERE ELSE.” Then
he went through the job of filling the bags and mixing the
cleansing solutions. When he was ready to proceed, Joey had
stretched out on the padded bench on his left side. Ned noted that
his eyes were shut tightly, but brimming. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Joey didn’t answer immediately. He only sighed. “I HATE
this,” he murmured, as if afraid to say it too loudly.
“Well it isn’t the high point of my day, either you know,” Ned
replied.
“I dunno why my dad put me in here. I wasn’t THAT bad.”
Ned sighed and lubed the nozzle and hung up the red bag on the
pole. He gently inserted the nozzle as Joey whimpered. “Everyone
says that. Michael says that a LOT, you know,” he answered,
releasing the clamp in the line and letting the hot soapy water
flow into Joey’s colon.
“My dad just hates me, is all,” Joey said, and then closed his
mouth. He didn’t say another word throughout the entire procedure,
even when Ned made him endure a fourth rinse of salt water.
In the ICU down the hall, as Ned and Bolton were seeing Joey
and Sam to bed, Michael awoke. He was a bit groggy at first, but
then heard the soft beeping. He saw the screen of the PC flashing
and squinted to read it. “Shit,” he muttered, looking at his IV
and his catheter, “Now how the hell do I GET over there?”
Ned left the dorm area with hopes that Michael would see the
screen before the psuedo-virus one of his technical friends has
written for him reformatted the CD that contained what he wanted
the boy to see. Halfway home, he thought about the catheter, and
swore. Realizing that that would probably get Michael to looking
at his crotch, not to mention keeping him by the bed, Ned swore
again. Michael would probably discover very soon what had been
done to him without seeing the movie on the CD. Then he realized
that Cheng was there, and would no doubt have to go the bathroom
and awaken shortly. That was some comfort, although he wasn’t sure
he wanted sure he wanted Cheng in on the act. However, since Cheng
was already loosing the ability to speak clearly, he didn’t think
it would matter. Not in the end.
Michael’s curiosity was aflame. The PC was inviting him to
click on it – there was something to see, but the IV and the
catheter wouldn’t allow him to get more than a foot away from his
bed. Then Cheng rolled over and began to snore softly. Michael
reached out and shook him awake, a bit embarrassed to be seen tubed
and naked, but then realized that Cheng was a fully emasculated
eunuch and probably wouldn’t mind. There were still enough
painkillers floating around in his system, and the ache in his own
groin was still subdued. He didn’t like the feeling of the tube,
however, but had yet to look below it. He was also afraid to touch
it.
Cheng rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. He looked around,
nodded to himself, then stumbled to the bathroom. He stuttered a
reply of some kind to Michael’s request about the computer, but
obviously had pressing business in the bathroom. Michael wondered
if Cheng’s lack of a penis had something to do with having to go so
badly when it hit him. He thought that that might complicate
things; after all, there was nothing there to hold when you had to
go bad. After a few minutes, the Asian eunuch stumbled back,
tripped once, and clicked the box that was blinking. He then put
on his robe and confronted the problem of Michael’s restrictions.
His brow was creased, and it was quite obviously taking everything
he had between his ears to figure it out. He was also mumbling.
“Dude, I can’t understand a thing you’re saying,” Michael
advised him, “Just help me think of a way to get loose.”
Cheng growled and then went to the cabinets. Unlike the rest
of the complex, there seemed to be no locks or hidden panels in
this room. It had obviously been designed with the idea that
whoever was to be occupying it would be in too bad of a shape to
get into mischief. When he came back, he had a syringe-like device
in one hand. He bent down to Michael’s crotch, lifted the catheter
up a bit, and then paused. His sharp intake of breath told Michael
that something was wrong. Cheng looked up at him and tried to say
something, and Michael made out the word “castrated” after much
stuttering. His hand immediately went to his penis, pushing it to
one side. He was getting an erection, which didn’t feel all that
good considering the catheter and pressed his hand against his
sac. He pressed harder. His stomach rolled and it seemed as if
the floor had fallen out from under his feet. He pressed harder,
then probed with his fingertips up into the canals. His scrotum
was pressed flat, and it was empty. There were two very small,
bright pink scars, one to each side. Cheng was right. At some
point in his unconsciousness, Michael had been castrated. He sank
back down onto the bed as Cheng inserted the syringe into the
second port of the catheter to drain the balloon that was holding
it in his bladder. “P-phuysh,” Cheng mumbled, “Iht – uhll shhlide
owt.” It did that, and it burned. Michael moaned, but his
erection didn’t falter. He touched his empty scrotum again, his
penis so erect that it hurt.
“He lied to me,” Michael breathed.
“Uhl whell, dhey c-c-chut ahwll…” but Michael interrupted
him.
“I know, everyone gets cut up some way, Sam told me,” he
snapped. More than anything, Michael was angry. He remembered
reading in some countries where they took a thief and cut off his
hand. “No, but in MY case they cut off my balls instead,” he said,
still staring at the screen. The catheter had fallen to the floor,
and Michael pulled the IV out in a rage. He jerked on his robe and
sat heavily in the chair. The PC mouse bore the brunt of his wrath
as he clicked on the dialouge box marked “MICHAEL – CLICK AGAIN.”
Two more boxes came up and the music stopped. Then a voice came
through the speakers. It was Ned. Ned the betrayer, Michael
thought, as Cheng stumbled over to stand behind him.
“Mikey,” the voice began, “You don’t have much time. There’s
a virus running off of this CD that is temporarily disabling the
viewers in the ICU and making it possible for you to view this CD.
You will see three boxes come up soon, labelled MIKEY, SAM, and
DONE/NUKE. When you view the first two, it’s imperative that you
click the NUKE box when done. This will reformat the CD and
destroy the movies. You must watch this, Mikey. I know you’ve
been put through a lot and you think you don’t deserve to be in
here. I agree. Please understand that I didn’t have any choice
when I castrated you. I know I told you I wasn’t going to. I
don’t know why, but I didn’t want to do it to you. I’ve done a lot
of boys and young men since I started here, and I have to find a
way out. I just can’t stand it anymore. Please forgive me, I had
no choice. There’s a lot they aren’t telling us. For one thing,
rub your head. You’ve got hair again. I know that’s small comfort
but I’m working on it. View the files. Be good. Ned.”
Michael clicked on the box marked SAM first. The media player
came up, and the movie began.
On the screen, the two eunuchs watched as Sam was escorted
into the ICU ward by two large guards. Ames was there, sitting in
a chair next to a converted exam bench. It was padded, looked
comfortable, but at the same time looked like a torture device of
some kind. Sam was also naked. Michael stared at the image, hit
full-screen, and looked at Sam’s uncut genitals. Even at the age
when he had been admitted – all of thirteen at the very most, Sam
was very well endowed. Michael was reminded of what some people
said about black men, and the image of Sam before his penectomy
made him believe it. Sam’s penis was semi-erect, and looked to
come up to meet his navel. His balls were low hangers, and quite
good sized. Michael felt himself flush, his hand going
unconsciously to his own crotch where his own small balls had until
so recently been. Michael guessed Sam at over 7 inches, with a
great deal of growing still left to do. The guards placed him on
the bench, and strapped him down. Oddly enough, he wasn’t
struggling. He only looked confused. Then Ames began to speak as
a doctor began to shave Sam’s nether regions.
“Ok, Sam, here’s the deal,” Ames rasped, “you are in here
until the age of 21 it says. Possible early release at 18 or 19
with chance at early graduation and guard training program aimed at
age 16.5. What do you think?”
“You want ME to train to be a guard?”
Ames nodded. “There are some minor stipulations, you
understand. Qualifications, but IF you keep your grades up,
behave, and pass the guard training program, you can get out
early. You can work off your debt to society in this way, and have
a career and good pay too. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me,” Sam nodded, “But what qualifications?”
The doctor had almost finished shaving him by then, with Sam
shooting him a quick look now and then. It was obvious that he
didn’t get it yet. Then the doctor began to go over him again as
Ames continued to talk.
“Most of the guards are former inmates, Sam. They took the
chance you are being offered. They realized that is was for their
own good, so they did it. A few regret it, but most don’t really.
Says here in your record you did some rapes, assorted other sex
crimes … hmm – you seem to like other boys, don’t you?”
Sam flushed and nodded. “Yea,” he admitted, his penis
becoming fully erect.
“That’s a real problem, now, Sam. You like to fuck other boys
and whack off, don’t you?”
Sam nodded. The doctor was done shaving him and was rubbing
his genitals down with betadyne, which blended in with his dark
skin tones.
“When was the last time you had sex or jerked off, Sam?” Ames
asked bluntly.
“Not here. Not chance. And before, like in juvenile, waiting
on trial, I was there 3 months. They made all of us wear these
jock things that locked, and you couldn’t even scratch it, man. I
dunno how long I been here, but it’s been a while. Last fuck I had
was like a month or so before I got busted.”
“So, a total of six months, give or take,” Ames noted. “Well,
the good news is you don’t have to worry about chastity devices or
your sex life anymore, Sam. We’ll cure that for you. You’ve got a
nice set of stuff hanging there, shame you cant’ use it anymore
then. BUT you did say you wanted to go in for the guard training
and early release program, so we have no choice.”
“What you be talkin’ ‘bout?” Sam demanded, seeing the doctor
approaching him with a metal tray. The doctor had masked, and was
wearing gloves. He was also holding up a long, semi-flexible tube
onto which he was applying some sort of clear lubricant.
“Oh, didn’t I mention it?” Ames asked innocently.
Sam shook his head, but Ames reached over to secure a padded
strap over his forehead. “So sorry. Anyway, that’s why you’re
here, Sam. The doctor here is going to make sure you qualify
fully. To do that, he has to cut off your penis.”
Cheng gasped and Michael shivered as they watched. Michael’s
penis was so erect that it hurt. He could feel Cheng shaking as
the smaller eunuch leaned on the chair. “Dude, get a wheelchair
before you fall down.” They turned back to the screen.
Sam was struggling against his straps, but he couldn’t move.
He had been tightly secured. Ames had a cold look on his face,
totally devoid of sympathy. The doctor was saying something, still
holding the catheter.
“Really now, Sam,” Ames said, “Let’s get on with it. You
can’t get away, and if you think about it, you’ll understand why
you can’t be allowed to keep that disgusting thing anyway. I mean,
hell, by the time you hit 18, it’s liable to be over 12 inches
long, and what are you going to use that on? Oh, you’re going to
guarding a reform school for young boys and men. Bad idea, yes.
The penis has to go. It’s gotten you into a lot of trouble anyway
over time, hasn’t it? Won’t it be for your own good to lose it?”
“NO!” Sam screamed, but Ames shoved a ball gag into his mouth
and tightened it. Sam began to sob, trying to shake his head. The
doctor was injecting some lube up into his urethra, and preparing
to insert the catheter. Sam’s struggles ceased as the catheter
went in. His large and uncircumcised penis throbbed as the tube
went in, up to the neck of his bladder. As the doctor held it by
the shaft, Sam wished desperately that he could whack off. He
looked to Ames with mute appeal in his eyes.
He seemed to understand. “You wanna jerk off one last time,
don’t you, Sam?” he asked
“Mmm hmm,” Sam whined through his gag.
“No,” Ames replied. “Doctor, get the tube in and let’s
proceed. The sooner it’s cut off the better.”
Michael and Cheng watched as the screen zoomed up a bit to
show the doctor’s hand inserting the tube. Sam’s erection didn’t
falter in the least, and the doctor forced the tip up into Sam’s
bladder. The tube filled with urine as he inflated the securing
bulb. Then he released Sam’s erect penis. Michael stared at it.
It was so large. He couldn’t imagine the horror of it though. He
was suddenly glad that he had been unconscious when he had been
castrated.
They continued to watch as Sam, on the screen, stared at his
doomed organ. What they couldn’t know was what Sam had been
thinking. How would one feel – tricked into agreeing to his own
penectomy? He couldn’t move, he couldn’t call for help. Ames had
told him that in the long run, it would be for his own good. He
thought about it. He liked sex. He liked it a lot. He enjoyed
masturbating and feeling he had when he shot his load, be it into
his own hand or into someone else. And he was never going to be
able to do that again. He wondered how he could ever get off
again, with no penis to do it with. He didn’t know. And what
about his balls? His forced chastity while incarcerated had almost
driven him mad, and now he was being consigned to a lifetime of
frustration.
The doctor moved in closer, and injected something into Sam’s
groin. He made a few more injections, and Sam felt the feeling
slowly going out of his organ. It began to droop a bit. He
couldn’t help but stare as the doctor picked up a scalpel and
waited. He glanced at Ames, who was smiling. “Don’t take it so
hard,” Ames said, laying a large hand on Sam’s stomach, “You surely
won’t miss it all THAT much.”
Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the doctor began to
cut. Sam’s erection had dropped somewhat, but that didn’t seem to
matter. The doctor began to slowly cut into Sam’s penis. Some
blood began to spill, but Ames – who had since donned a mask and
some sponges – was there to clean it up. The scalpel cut in
deeper, and Sam watched in horror as the blade made its way in
deeper. It moved up and around, cutting through what had been
Sam’s favorite thing in life. The boy thought of all the times he
had jacked off. He thought of his first time and the teen from a
rival gang that he had fucked. He remembered that teen’s screams
of pain as he had entered him. The blade dug in deeper, finally
reaching the top. The doctor pulled it back, and began the cut up
the other side. He was being careful of the tube, Sam noticed. He
was moving so slowly. Still, he couldn’t pry his eyes away from
the blood spilling from the cut open base of his penis.
Once the blade had fully encircled his numbed organ, Ames
slightly released the pressure on one of Sam’s arm straps. He
leaned back. “Go ahead, Sam. Touch it. You know you want to.
You can reach it now, but only that.”
Sam did as he was told. He reached down and grasped his
shaft, but there was no feeling in it. He was bleeding. He pulled
on his penis as is to stoke it, and watched in sheer amazement as
it slid off down the catheter. He was holding onto his own severed
cock, and didn’t know what to do. Ames then pulled his arm back as
the doctor began the procedure of the rest of the amputation. “He
has to take out the core now, Sam. We can’t have you walking
around getting hard and having an annoying stump or a hard core in
there wanting attention. When we’re done, your balls will still be
down there making all the hormones you’ll need to grow up into a
healthy and strong man and a better person, really. You’ll just be
sitting down to pee when we’re all done and you’ll have that new
urethral opening to get used to. Now, why don’t you take a nap? I
don’t think you want to see your sac slit open and everything
pushed out of the way to get the core out. Besides, it’s going to
take a while. And with that, Ames picked up a needle and injected
something into Sam’s right butt cheek. He felt himself relax and
his eyes begin to droop. The last thing he saw before he passed
out was the doctor beginning to excise the core and the catheter
coming out the bloody hole where his penis had once been.
Sam moaned once as he went under.
On the screen, Ames was telling him, “Don’t worry, Sam, you’re
really still a man you know, your balls are going to be there when
you wake up.”
The movie ended and the media player went black. Michael
noticed a strange feeling welling up inside of him, and there was a
thin clear discharge coming from his throbbing penis when he opened
his robe to check. His empty scrotum had pulled up tightly against
him, painfully reminding him that he was a eunuch. He turned to
look at Cheng, who had taken a seat in a wheelchair beside him.
Michael’s hand felt good on his penis, and he stood up, stroking it
gently. He wondered at the clear fluid at the tip. He felt
himself tightening inside, and his hand began to move. Cheng, who
had no genitals – and by choice, Michael remembered – was shaking
his head. “What?” Michael asked.
“N-n-nho, w-w-hay-t,” Cheng stammered, rolling up to the
cabinet to fish around in the drawer. He was trying so hard to
talk clearly, but he couldn’t. Michael made out the words “do it
right” and “while you CAN do it” as Cheng handed him a tube of KY
Jelly. The Asian eunuch made a few gestures that looked like
jacking off while handing the tube to Michael. He took it and
applied the lubricant, glad that the room was so warm. Beads of
sweat formed up on his head, and he remembered that he had to watch
the file behind his own name as well. But at the moment, all he
could think about was his erection. He had heard that once you
were castrated, the urges passed and after time you couldn’t get
hard anymore. And then there was Cheng, fully emasculated – no
balls OR penis. Just smooth, empty skin where his manhood should
have been. Michael wondered if he had been lied to on that point
as well. They had castrated him. They had kept him unconscious.
Would they be back to penectomize him as well, leaving him like
Cheng? And what if he got out someday? Unbeknownst to Michael, he
was labelled as HRT pending. But, not knowing this, all Michael
could do was wonder if he could get hormones someday to make up for
his lack of balls. He lubed his hand and began to masturbate.
He had never done it before, but seeing Sam’s penectomy had
aroused him even more than seeing the other eunuchs. Even though
he was one of them now, the very thought made him so hot that he
gasped and shook. He moved his hand faster, a bit more of the
clear fluid coming from the tip of his rock hard 3.5 inches or
erection. Then suddenly, Cheng’s hand was on his arm, staying
it. “WHAT NOW?” Michael demanded.
Cheng stuttered and stammerred as best he could, tears in his
eyes. Michael understood the parts that sounded like “I wanted it
gone” and “know you don’t” and “while you can”. He also made out
the phrase “Harvey did it to me” and “you can if you want.” He
watched as Cheng slowly made his way back to his bed, and
disrobed. He stood there, nude, facing Michael. Then he got into
the bed, rolling onto his stomach. He was trembling.
Michael knew that Harvey had taken advantage of Cheng in the
past, and that that was part of the reason why Sam had killed him.
A million thoughts spun through Michael’s brain as he continued to
grip his penis. He walked over to the bed, the trip seeming to
take hours. He didn’t think he was gay. He didn’t want to be gay,
but here he was. And here was Cheng, who wasn’t really a boy
anymore; that made it feel somehow as if not to be homosexual,
since Cheng technically was gender neutral and Michael still
considered himself to be male. He let his own robe fall, his mind
filled with doubts. He had never had sex before, not with a boy
nor a girl. He had never even masturbated before his castration.
How would it feel? He had heard it felt different. BUT he hadn’t
felt anything up to that point.
Finally, he reached the bed and admitted to himself that it
would feel good. He had to try before they ran out of time, before
someone caught them and punished them. Before he became an
impotent eunuch. Before the small amounts of testosterone that his
small balls had been able to give him were spent by time. He got
up on the bed with the Asian eunuch and reached down with his free
hand to touch the trembling eunuch’s face. He let Cheng lead the
way, as he wasn’t sure what to do. There wasn’t much time left for
either of them.
It began, surprisingly, with a long kiss on the mouth …