Betrayed

The pre-dawn fog clung to the murky waters of the Satchwan River refusing to abandon its serene and genteel embrace. Callahan, ignoring the familiar surroundings, entered the pristine glass and steel monolith. He nodded to security as he briskly traversed the spacious lobby while intently concentrating on his destination. As he passed the expanse of the moon-shaped reception desk, he winked at Patty. She sat amidst her domain, her head encompassed by the slender, black wires of a telephone headset and one delicate, well- manicured finger poised above another flashing, red light. She smiled at David.

At the express elevator, he pressed the button. He released his hold when the circular object acknowledged his request by illuminating. David glanced at his Rolex, his twenty-seventh birthday present from his wife, then up at the floor indicator. At that moment, the display revealed thirty-four. It changed rapidly.

+++++++

When David Callahan left his house this morning, he told his wife and son he'd be away for awhile on a new project. He assured them it would only be four or five days, at most. He didn't know for certain: there was never information to be shared with his family. He never knew what his mission would be until he was briefed directly before beginning it.

The previous evening he'd spent playing with his ten-year-old son. Mary sat peacefully watching and wishing this moment to never end. She desired her husband's strength and security to be with her every night. The times she spent alone, worrying about his whereabouts, made her almost frantic. But, when they were together she'd put those lonely feelings in the back of her mind and refuse them their morbid desire to consume her happiness. She never knew when he'd be stolen from them, taken away to a job she knew nothing about. But, she trusted her husband. She knew his work was clandestine: she knew from the beginning. She loved him.

The phone would ring, rousing her from a peaceful warmth and the security of happy days and dream filled nights, of the summer sounds from the loons on the lake and the crickets and frogs singing their love and desire for companionship. He'd leave to answer his call of duty to the evil necessity of money. She and her son would be left to their own resources; physically whole, but feeling emotionally invaded like an important piece had been ripped from their delicate souls.

Mary came to get Josh from the tub. "Okay, fellas. Bath time is over," she laughed as she stepped into the bathroom.

"Oh, mom," father and son complained in unison. Mary regarded her two men, laughing, as Josh splashed his father's face. David dunked his son in retaliation, but Josh came back quickly to splash again so that his dad would dunk him once more. "I've never known someone who liked having his head shoved under water as much as this guy," David playfully commented of his son. While Mary thought of how much Josh's resemblance to his father was remarkable, she said, "Hey, guys. Someone's going to have to clean up this horrible mess, and it isn't going to be me." Josh was a miniature version of his daddy.

Mary took a towel from the shelf, pulled it open, and leaned over to retrieve her son from between her husband's legs. As she raised him from the bath water, David lowered his body into a reclining position and watched his wife gently drying his son. He hated the times he had to leave them, but the pay provided them with many luxuries: luxuries to which they'd become too accustomed. In just a few more years, he said in his mind, he would have enough saved for them to continue their lifestyle, and he'd never have to be away from them again. As Mary began drying her son, Josh complained that he was able to do this himself. She granted him his independence and she and David watched as their joy clumsily attempted to rid his young body of the water that had eliminated the dirt and sand he'd accumulated during a hard day's play. They giggled silently as he became entangled in the oversized towel. Mary finally snatched him up and trotted him off to his room. On her way out, she turned to David and said, "I'll be back to dry you next."

"So, the only porridge she liked was the baby bear's, and the only chair she liked was the baby bear's, and the only bed she liked was the baby bear's, so she fell asleep in it and had the most pleasant dreams," Mary told her son as she tucked him under his Dragonball Z comforter. "That's it?" Josh said perplexed. "You know this story, Josh. I've told it to you a hundred times. You and daddy have had a very busy day, and now it's time for bed." David had entered the room wrapped in a towel. Mary kissed her son then David leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. As his dad and mom turned away, Josh sneakily grabbed the edge of his daddy's towel. As his daddy walked toward the door, the towel fell on the floor. Josh quickly tucked his arm under his comforter and tried to not giggle. David spun around and pounced onto his son's bed and began an intense tickling frenzy that had Josh jumping and kicking and squealing at the top of his little lungs. "Stop it, David. I just got him tucked in. You'll get him all hyper, and he'll never fall asleep," Mary said.

"Goodnight, buddy. I love you," David told his son as he stood from the bed then leaned over to snatch his shanghaied towel from the floor. Mary was already out the door. She yelled back, "You'd better have picked that up. I'm not your maid." David winked at his son, turned off the light, and pulled the door to behind him.

David entered their bedroom with the towel over his head vigorously drying his hair. "Mary, I was thinking," David began as he pulled the towel from his head, then stopped dead. Mary was lying on the bed. She had removed her clothing. Her legs lay open, exposing her smoothly shaved and sexually swollen lips. "It's my time, now," she breathed.

She watched longingly as her husband's penis rose. Mary had always been in awe of it's firmness and length. It had a perfectly formed, thick shaft that curved slightly upwards. A smooth, bulbous head capped the end. Two very large, low-hanging balls were suspended from it's base, covered in a hairless, thin sack. Mary could see the thick vein that traveled down the top side ending at the slightly darker line that encircled the luscious tube, the only evidence remaining of the surgeon's presence. The line separated the tan skin from the slightly more reddish hue that began one-quarter of the way down her lover's cock and ended at the flaring of the mushroom shaped head. Mary always admired how David took excellent care of his body. At twenty-nine, his body remained as buff and firm as when they'd met in college when they were eighteen.

No one could eat pussy like David, the evidence of his love for this pastime. Whenever Mary had her legs opened and inviting, David performed his job without complaint. He lowered himself to his knees on the floor beside the bed. Grabbing his wife's bottom, he pulled her to the edge. The swiftness and intensity of the action made her body blush. He opened his mouth and engulfed her entire sex. His hands traveled to her pert breasts. His large hands and long fingers completely encompassed her ample boobs and began kneading their spongy mass. His manliness consumed her as she drifted into the bliss of her first orgasm of the evening.

David's tongue entered her hole. It reached into her depths and tasted her soul. It traveled up the slit and titillated her enlarged bud. As her clit exited it's hood, he gently bit down and sucked the little nubbin. Mary arched her back stifling a scream. David continued working his wife's pleasure bump until she begged him to stop, when the orgasms became too intense for her to tolerate. He greedily swallowed the juices that her love canal emitted.

Licking his way up her supple belly, he finally encircled one nipple and drew it into the wetness of his mouth, feeding on her. He sucked. His large, hairy body lowered onto her petit, hairless form, and his engorged penis found her wet slit. He entered her slowly so as not to be overwhelmed by her warmth and tightness. The thickness of his inflamed organ spread wide her rosy tissues. David fucked his wife.

Josh stood at their bedroom door. His mommy and daddy were doing their mommy and daddy thing. He watched daddy's butt going up and down moving daddy's stiff wiener in and out between mommy's legs. He listened to their heavy breathing and the moans that escaped their bodies and the wet, slapping noises. Josh was entranced by the way his daddy's balls were bouncing around. When his daddy stiffened and his mommy arched her back and daddy squeezed her more tightly, Josh left to get his own drink of water instead of disturbing them for help.

+++++++

The elevator doors opened, and David stepped onto the plush, mauve carpeting. "Top floor," he spoke while sitting himself onto the soft cushions of the couch. The doors closed, and the elevator began it's fifty story climb to the top of the Organization. David checked his reflection in the gold framed mirrored walls. He straightened the knot in his silk tie, a Christmas present from his son, then checked to make certain his short hair contained no strays. He smoothed the hairs of his light brown goatee as the doors opened. He arose and confidently walked into the opulent surroundings of the director's office.

"Mr. Callahan, thank you for joining us," Mr. Jorgenson addressed David as he stepped from the elevator. David confidently approached the expansive, mahogany desk and shook the extended hand. "Please sit," Mr. Jorgenson motioned to an empty chair in the front of his desk. Before taking his place, David looked at each of the other men present and nodded. They were all new faces to him, but this wasn't unusual. The Organization had many employees.

Mr. Jorgenson removed a photo from a file on his desk. David watched in silence. Mr. Jorgenson took a few moments to look at the photo. He then looked into David's eyes and extended his arm across his desk. David leaned forward and took the photo. He scrutinized the face in the picture. "David, we're sending you to the New Turkey Detention Center. You'll be taken in as a prisoner. That man," Mr. Jorgenson continued, nodding at the photo David was holding, "is the man you must kill. He was an informant whom must now be eliminated."

David looked again at the picture. His photographic memory had already imbedded into his mind the visage of his new project. He handed the photo back to Mr. Jorgenson and nodded. Mr. Jorgenson continued, "Once inside the prison, you'll be contacted by a man named Jack. He'll come to you. He'll provide you with any necessary materials you'll need to complete your mission. He'll also get you out."

"Doesn't sound too difficult," David said.

"Understand, David, you have a very limited amount of time. Two days," Mr. Jorgenson said while holding up two, long, slender fingers. "Only two days," he reiterated. "The New Turkey Detention Center is a very, very serious place. We can't protect you long," Mr. Jorgenson said while giving David a very serious, concerned look.

"How long has our man been incarcerated, sir?" David inquired.

"About four months, and he's already begun talking," Mr. Jorgenson responded while standing and turning to face the glass wall. He stood looking out over the river and the sprawling city.

"Well, sir, with all due respect, if he's lasted that long, I'm certain I'll be able to not get myself killed in two days," David said smiling and just a bit mockingly. He felt insulted which was the only reason why he would ever speak to his superior in even the slightest way disrespectfully.

Mr. Jorgenson turned back to look at David. The two men continued eye contact for several minutes. David desired acceptance, and he wanted his superior to feel confident in his conviction. "Let me explain. Only certain men are sent to the New Turkey Detention Center. These men have exhausted all their chances for rehabilitation. They have no possibility for parole: they will never be free again. They are there for the remainder of their lives." Mr. Jorgenson began explaining. He paused to give David time to think. He continued, "The government feels that in order to control these men in a cramped, caged environment, they must be adapted to this environment. These men are processed in a way that makes them more tolerant of the horrid conditions."

"‘Processed,' sir?" David asked.

"These men will never again have the opportunity to reproduce; therefore, those organs are no longer necessary. Eliminating them also eliminates other problems that result when men are caged together for extended periods: aggression, sexual drive, rape," Mr. Jorgenson said. "Day three is when new inmates are processed."

David watched Mr. Jorgenson waiting for the punch line of this sick joke. When no one began laughing and slapping David on the back saying, "We're just kidding, buddy. Had you scared there for a minute, didn't we?," David asked, "You're serious?"

Mr. Jorgenson nodded. David asked, "This really happens? Is this legal?"

"Few know. Those that do have never complained." Mr. Jorgenson sat down behind his desk.

David sat pondering the aspects of this assignment. "What if something went wrong?" he thought to himself. David had been involved in many missions, all were dangerous. Any of them could have resulted in death. But, to David, this fate seemed worse than death. He couldn't imagine having to deal with living as less than a whole man. Just as David decided to express his doubts, Mr. Jorgenson stood and said, "David, we have every faith in your success. We chose you because we know you're the man who can successfully protect the Organization."

+++++++

The blacked-out, sealed windows made the journey on the converted, yellow school bus extensive and miserable in the flaming heat. Even though he was entering a maximum security prison, David actually felt relief when the prison bus passed through the gigantic, steel gates. The sign read "New Turkey Detention Center - Protecting Your Tomorrows." The bus slowly rolled to a stop in the center of the compound. The new inmates peered apprehensively out the barred bus windows. Before them stood erected from dull, grey stone and steel the structure that would imprison them for the remainder of their lives. When the prison gates had closed, a steel door in the side of the imposing prison opened.

An army of guards dressed in black jumpsuits marched toward the bus. David noted that black boots, black clubs, black mace cans, and a black cap completed the guards' ensemble. "Not a bad presentation," he thought to himself.

The bus doors opened and a guard unlocked the door to the cage in which they had been sealed. He shouted, "Stand. Follow me. Single File." The inmates stood and by rows exited the bus.

"Line up facing the building," the guard barked.

On the trip to the prison, David had taken time to assess his surroundings. He had counted 40 prisoners on the bus. Now, lined up along the stone wall, a guard stepped behind each prisoner. "Follow me. Walk," was the next order. Each guard with his prisoner turned to their left and headed into the dark belly of the imposing prison.

Inside the building, they found themselves in an immense room containing a chill that clung to the air reminding David of a morgue. The door echoed shut behind them sealing them into their fate. The prisoners again lined up. Their personal guard stood facing his prisoner, cold and emotionless. "Strip," came the next order. Each inmate began removing his clothing, dropping each item into a cloth bag his guard held.

Once the prisoners were naked, the leader shouted, "Follow me. Walk." David was not self conscious of his body. He knew he was well built and sported impressive equipment. He noticed how some of the men seemed very degraded by being naked. "If only they knew what will happen on day three," David thought.

The prisoners were escorted into a shower room and ordered to step under the heads. The water rushed toward their naked bodies. It was very warm and soothing, but David noticed it had an antiseptic odor. "Do not drink the water," shouted the guard.

When the showers abruptly halted, the guard instructed, "Follow me. Walk." The prisoners walked single file into the next room, wet and quickly becoming cold. They watched anxiously as their individual guards approached them while pulling on rubber gloves. The guards inspected the bodies beginning with the head. They inspected the hair, in the ears, eyes, and mouth. They felt down the chest and back, pressed on the abdomen, fondled the testes, squeezed the penis from the base to the glans. They had each prisoner lift his feet. They viewed the soles, the toes. They made notes of scars and tattoos. "Turn around. Bend over," the leader shouted. Each inmate reluctantly followed the orders. The guards looked at the holes, made notes, applied lubricating gel to a gloved finger and inserted it. They searched for the prostate and massaged. The finger was removed. "Stand," came the next order.

The lead guard walked along the inmates. He made note of two men who did not have erections. David stole a glance at his fellow prisoners. Every one had a hard-on but two. The lead guard asked one, "Are you impotent?" The inmate responded, "No. I just don't find having my ass played with to be much of a turn-on." The lead guard struck the inmate in the face. The prisoner fell back, startled, with blood dripping from his nose. His guard pulled him into a standing position. "Are you impotent?" the lead guard asked one more time. "Yes, sir," the inmate responded with shame.

Cold, fear, and humiliation had caused the prisoners' erections to dwindle quickly. The guard stepped in front of the second man who failed to obtain an erection during the prostate massage. "Are you impotent?" the lead guard inquired. "Yes, sir," the prisoner quietly responded.

"Follow me. Walk." They were led down a corridor. As they passed a cell, the line would stop. Four inmates were placed in each cell. When David was locked into a cell, he immediately searched for his prison clothes, quickly discovering there were none. Each cell contained four metal-framed beds holding a sheetless mattress. There was a single stainless steel toilet bowl against one wall with a stainless steel sink beside it. "Not even a mirror," David thought.

The inmates chose a bunk and lay naked upon it. David assumed this was a temporary holding position and clothing would be provided when they were moved later to general population. David occupied this cell with three young men, one being black.

When one guy got up to piss, the others respectfully turned their heads. Conversation finally began when the black guy asked, "I wonder how long they'll keep us fucking naked?" No one answered, but it was apparent this was a concern with them all. The black guy then said to David, "Fuck, dude. I never knew a white guy could be hung like you." As the two other white guys stole a glance at David's long penis lying across his thigh, David snarled, "Well, don't fucking look at it too long." They quickly looked away.

"Chill, dude. I was just making a comment. I thought you'd be flattered," the black guy said.

"I'm not," David responded.

"Okay, guys. It looks like we may be here for awhile, so we're going to have to tolerate each other," another cell mate responded. At this point, the conversation ceased and each man lay on his bunk with his own thoughts.

David knew Jack, his contact, was already on the inside, so none of these guys was Jack. He was becoming anxious. When he began pacing the short distance in front of the bars, for a few minutes the others watched him. Then, they returned to their thoughts. No one came around, and the hours passed. David was pissed. He was losing precious time. Eventually, the lights went out.

"We don't get to fucking eat?" the black guy screamed out. Silence followed.

David slept fitfully. He dreamed of Mary and Josh. He knew they were safe, but he missed them.

+++++++

The doorbell rang. Mary was getting Josh ready for school. She answered the door, and two men were standing on her porch. Her first thought was Jehovah's Witnesses.

"Hello, Mrs. Callahan?" one suited young man said.

"Yes?" Mary responded.

"We're so sorry to bother you. My name is Chris Smith and this is Bill Jones," Chris Smith said. Bill Jones nodded. "We work for the same company as your husband. May we come in?" Chris Smith asked.

Mary immediately became worried. "What's wrong? Please come in. Is my husband all right?"

When the two men left, Mary remained in the chair starring dazedly into space. Then the tears began and wouldn't stop. Dead. She couldn't believe this. She couldn't accept it. How could her David be dead? She wept uncontrollably.

+++++++

The lights came on, but David was already awake. He looked at his cell mates. The black guy was still completely dead to the world, lying on his back with his hard-on sticking up. "Must be a good dream," David spoke in a whisper, but the other two had heard him and snickered. They had awoken with morning wood, also. David's had subsided earlier. "If these guys knew what was going to happen tomorrow," David thought, "they'd be getting in as many orgasms as they could. Fretting over lost time, David knew he had to work quickly today to find Jack and his victim.

The guards were lined in the hall when the cell doors opened. "Follow me. Walk," the familiar order came. Everyone exited his cell and formed a single line.

The prisoners were led through a series of corridors finally stopping in a large, sterile room containing many surgical tables. "Find a table. Lie on your back. Place your feet in the stirrups," barked the lead guard. Everyone reluctantly complied. "Not another hard-on exam," the black guy behind David whispered.

David's apprehension grew. Nothing about this seemed right. He found a table and positioned himself as instructed. Each inmate was strapped down with leather straps by his personal guard. As David's heart pounded in his chest, he watched each strap buckled into place over his wrists and ankles. David tried making eye contact with his guard. Could his guard be Jack? He began sweating when he saw his guard hold up a large hypodermic needle. He debated on saying something, anything, as he watched the needle lowered to his butt. He couldn't decide what to say and he grimaced as the needle pierced his skin and he felt the pressure and a burning as the plunger was depressed and the liquid flowed into his body.

Grogginess and disorientation overcame the inmates. David fought hard to remain in his right mind, to stay in control of his thoughts. He knew he had to find Jack. He knew he had little time, so he tried asking his guard if he was Jack. The question came out slurred and unintelligible.

A man wearing a white lab coat had approached David. He had understood only the word "jack" in David's question. He responded with a smirk, "I'm sorry, buddy. We're not going to jack you off."

Panic grew in the pit of David's stomach. His mind raced, and he tried with all the strength he could muster to struggle free from his bonds. He couldn't focus. He tried screaming, but none of his body would cooperate with the scattered, hazy commands his mind was giving. Then one thought arose in David's mind. Through the fog and confusion came a certain fact. As certain as the fact they were going to chop off his cock, the realization that he'd been tricked swelled in his head. Even through the haze, it made sense. And the anger and frustration and helplessness hit him.

He didn't know how long he'd been lying on his back or even why when he regained consciousness. He looked around and fought to keep his eyes open and focused. He saw cocks and balls being lifted from men's hairless groins. They were haphazardly being dumped one on top the other on a rolling cart that David thought resembled a dessert cart one would see in a finer restaurant. He forced his head to turn so his eyes could see between his legs. He looked down. His eyes lazily followed his dick and balls lifted from his body and placed with others on a cart. The cart was pushed on.

David came around again. Lost in time, he heard men crying. He remembered. Frustrated, feeling completely violated and powerless, David cried with abandon. The organization cheated him, and it all made sense, now. The prison wouldn't put guys who had their cocks and balls cut off in with guys who hadn't. Once the "whole" men realized what would happen to them, it would be impossible to maintain control. Who would casually wait around to have his cock chopped off? How could the prison maintain order? So, if the two weren't mixed, how could he find his victim before being emasculated?

David thought the Organization better not think him that loyal. No way would he kill this guy for them after being tricked into having his manhood cut from his body. "How could they think I'd cooperate?" David thought. "What went wrong? Why did they do this to me? I was the only person besides Jorgenson and the informer who knew of the ZP7000 prgram." David then realized he'd answered his own question. The director had successfully eliminated the last two.

+++++++

David was admitted into general population. There were no prison jumpsuits. The inmates had no sex, thus saving the prison a fortune on clothing and keeping the population under control by having removed the aggressor: testosterone. But, David felt more naked then he ever had.

For a few days, David searched all the faces for his victim. He slowly realized that his victim probably never existed, and there was no contact named Jack. His anger dwindled as this realization came close to the same time the hormones in his body changed. And, he no longer cared. David fell into a daily routine in his new life as a neutered prisoner.