Chapter 1: Awakening

I felt a sharp pain across my back and cried out. My cry was answered with another blow from a lash.

“Move along, Boy. Hold up the line and I’ll skin you alive.”

I glanced at him, seeing perhaps, the ugliest, most fearsome, man I’d ever seen. A long, puckered, scar ran from the edge of an empty eye socket to the corner of his mouth. That side of his face sagged. He spoke out of the opposite side of his mouth. He was clad only in a filthy loin cloth. But he wore more than I did.

A rope ran through a ring on a collar around my neck to that on a boy about my size ahead of me. He hadn’t looked, when the man had spoken to me and had struck me. He was naked. I was, too.

Not only was I naked; I had no cock or balls. I stared at my crotch in amazement. I had pubic hair, but where my cock had been, where my balls had been, was a red, puckered, scar. The wound wasn’t yet completely healed. It hurt with every step I took.

I must be dreaming.

I had been in bed listening to one of John Norman’s books about Gor, the counter earth visited by Tarl Cabot, I’d downloaded onto my iPod, wishing I was a tarnsman of Gor, but if I had fallen asleep and was dreaming of Gor, this dream had gone seriously wrong. I wasn’t a tarnsman; I was a captive, probably a slave, and I had been castrated. They had even taken my dick. Looking down, I saw the quill of a feather protruding from what must be my pee hole.

If I pinch myself, I’ll wake up.

I tried it – twice – it hurt each time, but I didn’t wake up. My back hurt where I’d been lashed; my crotch hurt where I’d been cut; but I didn’t wake up. I don’t ever remember feeling pain in a dream without waking from the dream; but this dream continued.

A hot sun, bigger and redder than I remembered, beat down on my naked body. If it weren’t a dream, I would have been burned by that sun, especially those places the sun didn’t usually reach would have been, but my body, in the dream, was tanned a deep brown, a deeper brown than it had ever been. Even that part usually covered by my swim suit was tanned. It was as if I had never worn clothes or, at least, as if I hadn’t worn clothes for a long time. I had no tan lines.

I felt my hair brush against my face, but I always kept my hair short, a half inch long at the most. In this dream, it hung to my shoulders. Why was it long in this dream? Why did this dream seem so real?

I sometimes have vivid dreams, but even while in the dream, I know it’s a dream. Dreams change: one moment I’d be one place, and the next, I’d be somewhere else. That wasn’t happening in this dream. I stared at the bare back of the boy in front of me; I sensed that there were more boys in line behind me; but I didn’t dare turn around to look. Somehow, I knew that would earn me another lash from the beast that walked beside me.

This had to be a dream. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I often fell asleep listening to books on my iPod, and the book would often intrude on my dreams, but then I would awake.

I didn’t awake, though, and I remembered nothing in any Gor book about castrated boys. It was women in Gor that were subjugated. I had often jacked off pretending I was a tarnsman of Gor that could have any woman he wanted. Instead, if this were Gor, I was still a boy; and I had no dick or balls. I couldn’t even jack off; I certainly had nothing to offer a woman.

Urine ran down the legs of the boy in front of me. I realized there would be no bathroom breaks, that when I had to pee, I would pull out the quill and let piss run down my legs. Looking down at my legs, I could see tracks already made in the dust that covered them by other times I had let piss run down my legs, knowing that’s what had made the tracks, even though I couldn’t remember doing it.

Hearing a noise, I glanced to the side. A warrior, wearing brass and leather armor, riding a giant lizard, rode past us. Wherever I was, it wasn’t Earth.

When we came to a waterhole, we stopped, and they let us drink. Even though the water was muddy brown, I drank. Besides the boy in front of me, six boys and five girls had been in line behind me. The girls, the oldest probably sixteen or seventeen, were naked, but none had suffered mutilation as had the boys, none of which had cock or balls. Some had fresh scars like mine; some had been long healed.

As I looked at one of the naked girls, the prettiest one I thought, I felt a hardening in my groin. That portion of my cock, that part beneath the skin, had stiffened. I looked down expecting to see a hard cock, but nothing protruded from my groin. I only saw a bulging scar.

She smiled at me, giving me a wry smile, which only raised one corner of her mouth, a smile that didn’t extend to her eyes. I smiled back. She seemed familiar. I felt as if I knew her - or that I should know her. Her gaze strayed to my groin. She knitted her brows and slightly shook her head, a sad expression on her face. Did she know me? Did she know the boy I was in this dream?

I didn’t understand what was happening.

We resumed our trek. The guards had stood over us as we had drunk at the waterhole, and none of us had spoken. None of us spoke as we walked; somehow, I knew, if I did, I would be beaten. Toward night, we camped at another waterhole, one apparently often used by groups such as ours: an enclosure of thorn bushes was nearby. After we worked at repairing and reinforcing it, earning us many pricks and scratches from the sharp thorns, we were herded into the enclosure.

We were fed for the first time since I had arrived. I was famished, but all we were given was watery gruel and pieces of hard cake made of some kind of grain. Upon biting into the cake, I found it was inhabited by some kind of worm. While I picked them out, glancing around, I saw that none of the others bothered. Each ate his or her cake worms and all. At least, I assumed their cakes also had worms.

After having eaten, one of the girls walked to the far side of the enclosure, squatted, and took a shit. I felt my face burn, embarrassed for her or embarrassed that I would soon need to shit in sight of the others. I didn’t even like to pee at a urinal with someone standing beside me. I usually went into a toilet stall, if one were available. There were no toilet stalls here.

It didn’t seem to concern her, though. After finishing, she walked back to sit down with the others. I noticed she didn’t bother to wipe her ass; but there was really nothing for her to wipe it with. Feeling mine, I realized it was crusted with dried shit. I was filthy; and parasites, brown bugs of some sort, crawled on my scalp and hid in my pubic hair. I wondered if I – this boy – had ever bathed. I wasn’t a cleanliness freak; my mom often had to bug me to take a bath; but I would take one, now, if I could.

After looking around – I guess to see that none of the guards were around – the pretty girl I’d noticed before stood and walked over to where I sat off to myself.

“Tyl…”

That wasn’t my name, which is Tyler, but it was close. For short, I’m usually called Ty.

“What?”

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you sitting over here by yourself?”

I thought of various answers: I don’t know any of you. I don’t know where in Hell we are; I don’t know what the Hell I’m doing here; Is this a fucking dream? But instead of using one of them, I shrugged:

“I don’t know.”

She sat down beside me, putting her arm around me. Overcome, I sobbed, my body wracked with them.

She hugged me.

“What’s wrong, Tyl?”

Between my sobs, I uttered, “What happened to me?”

She seemed confused.

“What do you mean?”

I glanced down at my crotch. Her gaze followed mine.

“What happened to me; what happened to my stuff: to my cock and my balls?

“To your what?”

She seemed puzzled.

“You mean to your snake and your eggs?”

Apparently here, they didn’t call them cocks and balls; but I could see where snake and eggs might be slang for them. I nodded.

“Has the sun addled you? Don’t you remember?”

I shook my head.

“The slavers cut them off. No boy is allowed to keep his snake or eggs. It was a shame. You had a nice one. You had it inside me often enough.”

Shocked, I looked at her.

“I did?”

“Of course. Don’t you remember that, either?”

I didn’t remember. I’d never fucked a girl. I’ve never even touched a girl’s tits. This was the first time I’d ever seen a real girl – if these girls were real – naked. I shook my head.

“That’s what got us sold into slavery. Because I let you fuck me, my father would never be able to get a bride price for me, and your father couldn’t afford it, so your father gave you over to my father to sell to the slavers. My father cut you himself, sealing the wound with a hot iron. How you screamed.

That was one thing I was glad I didn’t remember.

“How long ago was that?”

“The sun has addled your brain, a little over two moons ago.”

That didn’t tell me much; I wasn’t sure how long it took this planet’s moon to go around it.

“How many days?”

She shrugged. I saw her counting on her fingers:

“Forty – fifty – I’m not sure.”

“How long since we…?”

“Since we fucked?”

I nodded. She held up a hand, the fingers spread.

“A handful of days before. My father caught us doing it and kept us tied up in the root cellar until the slavers came.

“How big was it?”

“What?”

“My cock – uh – my snake.”

Her eyes opened wide.

“You don’t even remember that?”

I shook my head. The one I remembered – Tyler’s cock – had been shy of five inches long. I’d always wished I had a longer one. She held her hands a measured distance apart. It looked to be about seven inches, the best I could judge. I duplicated her measurement with my hands.

“That big?”

She nodded. Shit! I’d had a seven inch cock, and I’d fucked her with it; but I didn’t remember shit. I remembered being me – Tyler – back in my world, but the first thing I remembered about this world was when the slaver had struck me with his whip.

I no longer thought it was a dream. It had gone on too long; and it was too real to be a dream. It was too consistent to be a dream. Dreams changed from moment to moment. I had plodded along all day following the boy in front of me without anything changing, without being transported to somewhere else, except by my own feet, which ached from the exertion.

“What’s your name?”

A look of shock crossed her face.

“You don’t even remember that?”

“I don’t remember anything. It’s like I just woke up in another body. I don’t belong here. I don’t even know where this is. What world is this?”

“Gor, of course. Where else could you be? There is no other world.”

It was dark; stars were out. I pointed up at them.

“What about out there? Don’t you think there are other worlds out there?”

“Where?”

“Around one of those stars? There are hundreds of billions of stars in hundreds of billions of galaxies; hundreds of planets have already been discovered around many of them. There has to be a billion, billion planets in the Universe.”

And there are other Universes, too, I wanted to tell her; because I must have come from one of them; but she put her hand over my mouth, looking around, obviously frightened.

“Hush! That’s blasphemy. If the slavers hear you say such, they’ll leave you behind impaled on a pole; if the Priest Kings hear you, you’ll burn. Gor is at the Center. Those are just lights hung in the sky by the Priest Kings to point our way at night. See…there’s the Sheppard.”

She pointed to a particularly bright star.

There were constellations; but I didn’t recognize any of them; and I knew many of the constellations back on Earth. I knew those of the Northern Hemisphere, anyway. These weren’t any of the constellations seen from there.

I pulled her hand away wanting to argue with her about the makeup of the Universe; but seeing how frightened she was, I didn’t. What did I know, anyway? How could science explain how I could be lying in my bed back on Earth one moment and be in another body, one stripped of its cock and balls, the next? It was beyond any scientific explanation I knew to use. Maybe Gor was the center of this Universe; maybe there were Priest Kings, and they had brought me here.

What were the Priest Kings? I was only on book two of the Gor books, and Tarl Cabot hadn’t yet met up with the Priest Kings; but was this the same world? Men and boys were slaves on that world; but were they castrated? I hadn’t seen any mention of it; but perhaps Tarl Cabot hadn’t considered it worth mentioning.

Whoa! Here I was talking as if a book of fiction was real; but then…here I was. I wondered what I looked like; did I resemble myself back on Earth? Was my body back on Earth? If this one once possessed a seven inch cock, it wasn’t mine.

I was thinner than before, but if we had been traveling through these waste lands for weeks, as we seemed to have been, given as little to eat as we had today, I would necessarily be thin.

As I said before, my hair was longer than I kept it; and it was lighter, but it could be bleached by the sun. My pubic hair, although filthy, was as I remembered it.

None of us carried a mirror; none of us carried anything. We had no clothes or shoes, not so much as a rag to tie around our heads to keep the sweat out of our eyes. The brown, muddy, waterholes had reflected no images. My face felt familiar to my hand, but I was feeling that face with his hand. It only makes sense that it would feel familiar to his hand.

When I opened my mouth to speak, I realized I hadn’t spoken or heard English. The language was too guttural for English. Yet I understood and spoke the language without thinking about it. The only English word I’d spoken was cock, for which there didn’t seem to be an equivalent in the Gorean language, and she hadn’t understood the word. If there was a technical word for penis, I hadn’t yet heard it. Each time, she had referred to it as my snake.

If my snake hadn’t slithered off to some hole, as dirty as she was, as dirty as I was, if I still had it, I’d want to put it in her hole. It wasn’t fair: to be in this body, the body of a boy that had fucked her; to not be able to remember it; and to have no cock with which to do it again.

“You never told me your name.”

“Alisha.”

As she said it, I kissed her.

Her tongue snaked its way through my parted lips. Although I’d never frenched a girl back on my world, this boy – this body – knew what to do with his tongue. It battled hers, attacking, overwhelming hers, then retreated, allowing hers a victory. She pushed me onto my back and slid on top of me. She ground her crotch into mine. If I’d had a cock, no doubt it would have slipped inside her. I wished I still had one.

Her breath came faster and faster; she was almost panting.

“Oh…oh…oh…ohhhhhhh.”

The last was almost a scream. Back home, I’d seen porno flicks of a girl having an orgasm. I figured she was having one. Afterward, she rolled off me, lying at my side, sheltered in the crook of my arm.

“You can still do it. Even without a cock, you can still make me cum.”

I didn’t say it, but I hadn’t done anything. Really, all she had done was use me to masturbate, but still I was a little proud that she had cum. It was my first time to see anyone cum, and even if it had been little other than masturbation, she had used me to do it. If I still had balls, I might have cum. It had felt good.

Damn! I wished I still had a cock. I wished I had access to this body’s memories, so I could remember what it was like to fuck. Unless I somehow awoke from this dream or was transported back to my world – to my body – I would never know what it was like to fuck. I couldn’t even jack off.

At least, now that I didn’t have balls, I didn’t need to jack off like I had needed to do it before. Until today, since that day I first jacked off, I don’t remember ever going a day without doing it.

Alisha and I slept snuggled together with the others that night. It was hot during the day, but we were in the desert. The nights were cold; and we were naked. Although slavers had a fire, we weren’t allowed one.

When we were fed the next morning, and I picked out the worms in the meal cakes, they mocked me, saying I was wasting good food, protein, that I needed to stay alive, so I closed my eyes and ate the cake, worms and all.

I looked around at the other boys, all eunuchs like me. Although most were freshly cut like me, the scars on their groins puckered and red, some of the boys were long healed. One of them I had thought a girl, until I had seen him up close, close enough to see he had a scar on his groin, not a slit in it. His hips were rounded and he even had small breasts. He had pubic hair but only a small patch, a girl’s triangle of pubic hair, not a swatch of it smeared across his groin, like I had, like the newly cut boys had. I struck up a conversation with him.

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name.”

“It’s the sun. It’s addled my brain. I don’t remember many things. Humor me.”

“Rhal.”

“When were you cut, Rhal?”

“So long ago I scarcely remember it or the hurt of it, long before my snake could get its growth.”

“Why were you cut so young?”

“I was born a slave, and I was thought pretty, suitable to be a pleasure slave, as you will be. All born slaves are cut before they get their growth.”

I was to be a pleasure slave? I no longer had a cock, so I didn’t suppose I’d be a woman’s pleasure slave.

Although girls turned me on, guys did, too, I guess. I had probably watched gay porn as often as I had straight porn on the Internet. I had jacked off, bent over, my dick inches away from my mouth, letting my cum spurt into my mouth, wondering what it would be like to suck some guy’s cock, or usually, wondering what it would be like to suck Jody’s cock. He was my best friend. I don’t know whether I was his best friend, but I liked him best. We never fooled around, but we talked about how we jacked off. I would have sucked his dick.

“Have you ever sucked a cock – a snake, I mean?” I asked Rhal.

He shrugged:

“Of course. I’ve been a pleasure slave for years.”

“You been fucked, too?”

As an answer, he rolled his eyes. I took that for a “yes.”

“Do you like it?”

He shrugged again:

“Depends on who’s doing the fucking.”

“On how big his snake is?”

He shook his head.

“No. Depends on how he treats me, whether he just uses me, or whether he acknowledges that I’m more than a receptacle for his snake. That’s how most of them treat you, but once in a while you get one that treats you like you’re more than that.”

“You didn’t have just one master?”

He laughed:

“I had one master, but I was used by him, his sons, and his guests. Finally, he and his sons tired of me, so he sold me to the slavers.”

“How old were his sons?”

He shrugged:

“Different ages: from eight summers to twenty summers, I guess.”

“Did they all use you, even the eight year-old?”

“Yes. The little shit always wanted his snake sucked, even if he couldn’t squirt.”

“Did he fuck you?”

“He tried occasionally, but his snake was too small. He liked having it sucked more.”

“How about the other sons? Did you like them?”

“No, they were mean to me. They just used me; and they beat me for no reason. I was just a hole for their snakes to hide in. I hated them. I was glad when their father sold me.”

Suddenly, missing my mother and father, I asked:

“What about your mother and father? Don’t you miss them?"

I was taken from my mother after I was weaned. I don’t remember her. As for my father, I don’t know who he was.”

“Was he a slave?”

“He was no slave. He could have been the master, for all I know. No slave keeps his snake, so my father was no slave. I was got on a slave; so I was born a slave. No man claims a child got on a slave.”

“Do you think your master was your father?”

I asked this, wondering how a man could let his son be a slave, even if that boy’s mother were one.

“He might have been. Some said I looked like a son of his; but I might have been the son of one of his sons. His older son has got several sons off of female pleasure slaves that I’m certain of, and his other sons have sons among the slave children.”

“How old is the youngest one that has a son?”

He shrugged:

“I don’t know: twelve, thirteen summers, maybe.”

Hell, I was thirteen, and I’d never fucked a girl; I’d never even played with a girl’s tits; and boys here on this world already had kids by the time they were my age. They apparently fucked girls or boys anytime they wanted.

That’s why I’d dreamed of Gor, dreaming that I could have any slave girl I wanted; but something had gone drastically wrong. I was on Gor; but I had no cock. I wouldn’t be fucking anyone. I would be the one getting fucked. Was I even a boy any longer? I had no cock; I had no balls. Didn’t I need them to be a boy? No, I wasn’t a boy; I was a eunuch, a dick-less, ball-less, eunuch.

Rhal was beyond cute; he was pretty. If I had a cock, I’d want to fuck him; he turned me on, or would have turned me on, had I still been a boy. Leaning over, I kissed him on the mouth. It surprised him – I could tell – but he kissed me back.

Next: the slave market