“Ben and I are getting up a party to check out that new Mongolian BBQ place across from the campus Saturday night? Wanta come?”

“The bring-your-own-meat place?”

“That’s the one. Seven o’clock?”

Greg could hear Alan’s challenging grin in his voice. His mind raced. He’d been hearing stories about the place. It was apparently cutting quite a swath among the campus jocks. Literally. He felt his dick stiffen against his fingers and his heart speed up.

“You still there?” Alan asked impatiently.

Greg found he had to choke down a sudden obstruction in his throat before he could answer.

“Uh, sure,” he finally managed. “Okay, Why not? Count me in. Want to meet there?”

After he put down the phone, Greg sat for a minute, trying not to think. His 7-inch dick was a steel spring tenting up the right leg of the loose sweat pants. A wet spot had appeared in the cloth at the tip of the bulge. Heart racing, he yanked down the waistband and hooked his fingers under the cockshaft. The smooth skin was burning hot over the rigid core. He tugged it out, scraping the head on the elastic and getting pre-cum on his fingers. It shot almost as soon as the head came free, pumping out several wads over the sweats, tee shirt and even the chair. When he could breathe again, he eyed the mess with dismay. Fuck it! Now he’d have to clean it up.

He had no trouble finding the place Saturday. It was on University Drive a couple of blocks west of the main entrance to the campus. It was a new-looking plain, one-story building, painted grey, identified on the windowless front wall with back-lighted Chinese characters in gold and “Dragon Mongolian Barbeque” in much smaller English words below. The porticoed entrance was from an almost full parking lot at the side. He sat in the car for a moment, fighting down apprehension. His junk was a tingling lump in his pants. He sucked in a deep breath, got out and headed for the door. Beside it was another lighted sign which read, “Sorry, Male Only”. Three college-age guys were ahead of him at the door, chattering excitedly. The place was obviously busy, and for a wild moment, he almost hoped Alan had forgotten to make reservations.

Inside, there was a typical restaurant check-in podium and a large warmly-lit waiting room with a muted gold carpet, classic Chinese landscape paintings on the walls and benches upholstered in dark maroon sailcloth along two sides. There were a number of people waiting, mostly college types talking animatedly among themselves. He spotted Alan, Ben, Ted and Leo all sitting together at the back. Ted was the first to notice him, waving and smiling. Greg waved back. When the trio ahead of him finally confirmed their reservations and went to sit down, Greg found himself facing a smiling young Oriental-looking maitre d’ in a skin-tight short-sleeved green leotard who asked his name and then, politely, “You understand, sir, you must provide own meat?” He glanced inquiringly at Greg’s crotch.

Greg, by now extremely nervous, stammered that he did. He had just realized that the “leotard” wasn’t cloth but some kind of body paint. The first give-away was the visible fine detail in the pointed nipples on the young duy’s lightly-defined pecs, then when he stepped back from the podium and turned to indicate where Greg’s party was sitting, Greg saw that there was nothing between his equally explicit navel and his crotch but taut skin. There was no bulge where cloth might have been stretched tight over a small package; there was nothing but smooth, hairless skin with a little raised bump right at the bottom. Greg’s own crotch seemed to catch fire at the sight. He found himself swallowing hard a couple of times as he walked stiffly over to join his friends. His dick had become an iron bar poking down the leg of his jeans and his face was burning. He wished he’d worn underwear.

They had barely time to greet each other and allow Alan and Ted to joke delightedly about Greg’s very evident erection when another flat-groined green-skin appeared, called Alan’s name, and smilingly waved them through another door. Inside was a grey-walled and carpeted room with grey steel lockers and a row of pale grey cabinets or cases, about four feet high, three feet wide and two feet deep, ranged along one wall. These had large, crotch-high oval openings in front ringed with what looked like big soft-rubber grey lips. They had control panels on one side with green and yellow monitor lights. A trio of naked men was exiting by another door. A happy-looking pair of 30-something guys were getting dressed.

“How was it?” Ben asked one of them. “Awesome,” he said. The other just grinned broadly and shook his head.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” the attendant was saying to Greg’s party. “Please remove all clothing and place it and valuables in any open locker, then press thumb on yellow pad. Locker will open again only to your thumb print. Take pair of cloth slippers from rack, then step up to one of the processors and press genitals into receptacle. Erection is good, but not required. If not circumcised, best to skin back foreskin.”

Alan and Ted laughed at that.

“Ted and I am already shaved,” Leo pointed out.

“Processing units do basic preparation of organs,” the attendant explained. “Not just remove hair. Not to worry, only slight discomfort.”

This only made Greg more nervous. But Alan said cheerfully, “Well, we’re here.” He, Ted, and then Ben started peeling out of their clothes. The three of them were in their early 30's and in reasonably good shape. Leo and Greg, both in their 20's, exchanged glances, eyes flicking down, and Greg saw that Leo’s off-white chinos were also bulging down one leg. With Leo’s chocolate skin, he couldn’t be sure but he thought he was blushing. They smiled sheepishly at each other, and started stripping, too. Leo’s dick popped out thick and hard, tight foreskin still partially covering the surprisingly pale head, and he swatted it and laughed self-consciously.

When Greg pulled his pants down, his dick shot up at a 45-degree angle despite his nervousness, balls drawn up against the base as they always did with an erection. He kept his scrotum shaved but had not thought to remove the patch of soft brown hair over his dick. Feeling very exposed, he put his clothes in the locker, did the thumb-print thing, pulled on a pair of slippers and stepped over to one of the processors, dick jerking from side to side. The soft rubber ring had a pointed tongue sticking out at the bottom, evidently to go between his legs. He straddled it, leaned forward and maneuvered his jutting dick into the opening. Part of the front panel moved down slightly to adjust for his height and his organs were sucked in, pulling him tight against the machine. The processor hummed and clucked. He felt multiple tiny stings, followed by the weirdest sensation as if his bladder was being sucked dry, then a flash of intense heat that faded before he could react to it, followed by a spreading warm glow as, unknown to him, sophisticated drugs worked their way into his blood, designed to alter his endocrine system and reduce his body’s need for testosterone. Then the processor released him. The whole thing had taken about 20 seconds.

All his pubic hair was gone. The skin of his junk was an almost uniform pale pink except for the mauve of the cockhead. His dick felt as if it were still rigid but when he looked, he saw with surprise that it was actually just arcing out full and heavy, testicles hanging heavy and loose between his legs. Both dick and balls looked substantially bigger, as if they’d somehow been plumped up. Everything tingled slightly. He grasped the dick and rubbed the head with his thumb. It wasn’t as sensitive as it had been, and the shaft didn’t stiffen in response. Experimentally, he grasped his dangling balls and squeezed them together. He felt his fingers on his scrotum, but all he felt from the testicles themselves was pressure. He squeezed harder, grinding them together, and succeeded only in producing a slight ache.

“Numb on the inside and sort-of live on the outside,” Alan was saying off to his right. He sounded fascinated. “Wish I had a pin.”

Ted laughed. Greg glanced his way and saw him trying to stroke his dick with a couple of fingers and his thumb. “But it won’t get hard.”

“Interesting,” said Leo, who, like Greg, had thrust an erection into the processor and gotten a turgid dick back. He sounded put out.

Ben was just examining his junk and not saying anything, his expression unreadable.

The attendant motioned them toward the far door. “All set, gentlemen. Enjoy your dinners.”

They entered a large dining room, again with dull gold carpet and subdued lighting. Pools of amber light picked out individual tables covered with shining white tablecloths, most of them occupied. Against a far wall was a large exhaust hood over a stir-fry grill presided over by a man in white apron and chef’s hat, at which several naked men were standing. Talk and laughter overlay unobtrusive instrumental soft rock. The air was just warm enough to be comfortable nude, and smelled faintly of cooking food and spices, male bodies, and perhaps a hint of semen.

As they stepped into the room, a blond young man materialized beside them, this one in gold below the neck, also with a flat groin.

“Evening, gentlemen, I’m Tim. I’ll be your waiter. Party of five?”

“You don’t look very Chinese,” Ben observed, causing Alan to roll his eyes.

Tim pretended surprise. “What, you’ve never seen a blond Chinaman?” He smiled. “Actually, the owners are Chinese but not all the help. If you’ll follow me to your table.”

As Tim led them across the room past tables of diners, Greg felt very exposed with his turgid dick bobbing and heavy balls brushing his legs, but his nervousness was fading rapidly. He concentrated on the view of Tim’s lean, essentially naked ass, but his attention was almost immediately diverted by a couple of young guys carrying plates of food, returning to their tables from the stir-fry grill. Even in the subdued lighting, he could see that their bobbing dicks were quite innocent of testicles. The sight brought a throb to the base of his dick and it felt like it had gone rock hard again but he could see, looking down, that it hadn’t. He was obscurely relieved.

Tim got them seated at a large table with a warming dish in the center that turned out to contain steaming wild rice when Alan lifted the cover. There were both chopsticks and a fork at the five place-settings.

“When you’re ready,” Tim said, “just go on over to the grill. We recommend you start light with balls and do cocks for a second course. Does everybody understand how stir-fry works?” They all nodded. “Good. Would any of you care for one of our special cocktails first?”

“How about it, guys?” Alan asked.

“I don’t drink,” said Leo.

“We can make them non-alcoholic,” said Tim.

“Let’s do it,” said Greg, speaking up for the first time. He was beginning to feel a euphoric calm. “Might as well do the whole thing.” Everybody nodded, including Leo.

Tim spoke into what looked like a large watch on his wrist. Moments later, a tall, handsome young Hispanic, light blue below the neck except for his hands, appeared with a serving cart. Unlike all the staff they’d seen so far, he sported massive genitals, blue like the rest of him. Ben whistled. The testicles were the size of small navel oranges, bulging out the lower end of a thin sac in which the sperm cords stood out thick and conspicuous on either side, all hanging well down from eight inches or so of thick, hard penis jutting up at a sharp angle from his hairless groin. But the dick ended, not in the usual pointed or helmeted head, but abruptly in a thin, flat silver cap with a curved pouring tube projecting from it.

He said his name was José, and as everybody stared, mesmerized, he quickly sorted out which of the restaurant’s several varieties of more or less exotic alcohol each wanted in his drink–-except plum juice for Leo. Lining up five cocktail glasses, he held the first up to the curved tube in the cap of his penis and squeezed the base of the cockshaft with thumb and forefinger. His hips twitched, the shaft pulsed, and about a tablespoon-full of thick white fluid squirted from the tube into the glass. He filled the glass the rest of the way with the saki Alan had ordered, stirred the mixture with a glass rod and set it in front of him. Immediately, he repeated the performance with the other four glasses, never changing expression. Then he inquired blandly, “Will that be all, sirs?”

“Gawdamighty!” Ben said reverently. Leo stared at his cloudy plum juice. “That was semen, wasn’t it?”

The blue man gave Leo a professional bartender’s smile. “Sí, señor.” He cupped his enormous balls lightly with one hand. “Produced by these, sir. Certified clean and pure. Would you like another shot?”

Everybody had tasted his drink now but Leo, who finally took a cautious sip of his. “Yes.” he said, “I think I would. Just to see that trick again.”

José took Leo’s glass back, squeezed the base of his penis, squirted another dollop of semen into it, stirred it, and handed it back. “Anything else, sirs?”

“You don’t still pee from it?” Leo persisted.

“No, señor. From back here.” José fingered a spot behind his balls.

As he wheeled the cart away, Ben said into the awed silence, “That was almost worth coming here for, just in itself.”

Alan laughed. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry.” He got up and headed for the grill. The others pushed back their chairs and followed.

Again they passed several tables with men eating and talking. They paid little attention to his group. Greg was still self-conscious about being naked in public, but mostly he was focused on the sensations produced by his balls brushing against his legs and thinking about what was about to happen to them. If he didn’t look down at his crotch, he could swear that his dick was sticking up like a flagpole in anticipation. But when he looked, it was still just arcing out plump and heavy, bobbing from side to side as he moved. He was pleased without knowing why. Just go with the flow, boy, he told himself.

The grill was behind a glass-shielded counter holding a stack of white plates and an array of chopped vegetables and sauces. At the entrance to an aisle set off by a guide rope was another processing unit attended by an Oriental-featured man in dark red, his groin also smooth and flat. The chef stood at the grill in his long, white apron, stirring the contents of a large wok, his exposed back and lean buttocks also red. A white placard mounted chest-high on the first post holding the guide rope read:

RECOMMEND BEGIN

WITH BALLS, RETURN FOR COCK.

ENJOY!

Two nude diners were moving down the counter ladling their selections onto the plates in their hands. Three others stood off to the side at the end of the counter talking as they waited for their food to cook. Two of them had no balls, the other neither balls nor penis. In the subdued light and from a dozen feet away, the latter’s bare crotch showed only slightly shiny skin with a small bump at the lower end, just like Tim and the other restaurant staff. Without the body paint, the effect was even more arresting. Greg stared, fascinated and wondering how it had been done. He supposed he’d be finding out.

“Hello, guys,” the attendant greeted them, surveying their crotches. “Ready to cook balls?”

All five of them shifted nervously. Ben finally spoke up. “Uh, this isn’t going to hurt, is it?”

The attendant grinned, showing even white teeth. “No, sir, to the contrary.”

Alan, who had led the way to the grill, asked, “What do I do?”

“Spread feet a little, pull up cock by head and hold.”

Alan complied.

“Ah, nice big ones,” the attendant exclaimed.

He pulled a thick, stainless steel cylinder, about a third larger than a beer can, out of the top of the cabinet on a long, flexible black hose. It was open at the end. He fitted this over Alan’s hanging testicles and pressed a button. Lights blinked on the control panel. Alan gasped and went rigid. “Fuck! Oh, fuck!” he grunted. He sucked in his breath, then blew it out again. “Whew!”

The attendant took a plate from the stack on the counter and held the cylinder over it. Alan’s balls plopped onto the plate, the sac bloodlessly severed right under the cock. “Here you go, sir.” He held out the plate to Alan, who took it, looking dazed.

“So, what’d it feel like?” Ben demanded.

Alan gave him a glassy-eyed grin. “What a kick!”

“Good or bad?” Leo put in, impatiently.

“Good! Wow!” Alan stared at his dick which he was still holding with his left hand. A bead of cum or pre-cum glistened at the tip. Where his ball sac had been was only a seared-looking area at the base of his dick. He let the dick drop and prodded his balls on the plate with a finger. “Way cool!”

“Who is next?” asked the attendant, smiling around at them.

Leo stepped up, frowning. He gasped and his eyes went wide when his testicles came loose.

Greg stepped up, and experienced a slight sting followed instantly by an intense orgasmic surge centered in his prostate. His gaze locked on his balls as they plopped on the plate.

“WOWEE!! Balls away, Maude!” Ted sang out as his came off.

Ben just giggled, sounding slightly hysterical..

Alan picked up his balls from the plate by the cut end of the sac and dangled them. “Would you look at these puppies! And they’re heavy, man! I never realized I was carrying all that weight around between my legs.”

Ted held his sac up and jounced the balls up and down. “So are these. Anybody want to trade?”

“Let’s mix ‘em all up and get them cooked together,” Ben suggested. “So’s we won’t know whose we’re eating.”

“Can we do that? Sir?” Alan raised his voice, directing the question to the chef.

“Yes, sir?”

“Can we mix up all our balls and cook them together?”

“Sure, sir. “I need to mix all veggies and sauces together, too, that each of you pick. That is okay?” They all agreed. “Just hand plates to me.”

They watched as he sliced open the five scrotums and extracted the testicles and sperm cords. He trimmed off the cords and brushed the empty sacs and cords off the carving board into a waste receptacle. Then he cut each of the testicles in half and dumped all the pieces into a wok with the veggies.

“That okay?”

“Perfect,” said Ben. The others agreed.

“When you come back around, I’ll do penises same way if you want.”

It took about 10 minutes for the stir-fry with their testicle chunks to cook, during which two more guys stopped at the entry station, then came on along the counter with their dicks on their plates, loading up with a second round of veggies. Though they’d just been pruned, there was no sign of a wound where their stuff had been, just smooth pinkish skin. Greg was incredulous, but none of his friends seemed to notice. The chef divvied up the contents of their wok onto their plates and they took them back to their table.

Greg found he was very hungry. “Man, this is really good,” he said, scarfing it down. “I wonder if any of this meat is mine?”

“Did you jerk off before you got here?” Ted asked.

“This morning, when I got up,” Greg admitted around a mouthful of food. He had actually wanked his dick four times since then.

“Did everybody jerk off today?”

Only Ben hadn’t. “Why?” he asked.

“Then yours will be the bits with the most cum taste. Everybody else’s will taste better.”

Everybody laughed.

“We all going back with our weinies?” Alan asked.

“I sure am,” Ted said. “I’m still hungry.” He pulled up his 5-inch dick and looked at it as if he wished it were bigger.

“I dunno, this is so weird,” said Leo.

“What?” Alan teased, “Sitting here naked in a busy restaurant eating each other’s nuts?”

“I think it’s a fucking blast,” said Ted.

Leo made a face and shrugged. The others laughed.

Tim appeared and asked if he could get them anything.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ted asked.

“Sure.”

“How do you pee?”

Tim looked momentarily blank, then said, “Oh.” He touched a finger to the bump on his otherwise smooth groin where his penis would have been and grinned. “New pee hole. You can’t see it very well in this light. You guys will all get one.”

“And the, uh, gold color. Is that paint?”

“Spray-on gel. Dries into a film that sticks to the skin. Very durable, though there’s stuff to take it off. It’s just enough to qualify as clothing–when you don’t have all that junk flopping around down there, anyway.”

“Huh,” said Ted, his expression dubious.

“Honest, I came to work today with nothing else on but these . . .” he lifted a foot to display a low gold-colored boot. I love the double takes I get.”

Ted laughed. “I’d say that took balls, but obviously not.”

Tim just grinned.

“This place is amazing,” Alan observed.

“Yeah, isn’t it? The owners had this state-of-the-art male body mod shop in Hong Kong and they got the idea of trying to do something with all the junk they were cleaning off instead of just tossing it in the garbage. So they opened a restaurant there and it went so well they opened this one here a couple of months ago. I’d say it was a gamble because China’s got those strict population controls and the authorities were probably sympathetic. And of course we don’t here, not that we don’t need it. But smoothing is catching on and business has been good, as you see.” He waved a hand around the busy dining room. “Anyway, I’m supposed to ask if you want another round of cocktails.”

They all agreed. José appeared and served them with the same aplomb. As he walked away, huge balls rolling against his inner thighs, Ben observed, “I’d like to bite into those puppies.”

“Squishy,” said Ted.

“Cum all over the place,” said Alan.

“I wonder if you could O.D. on cum?” Greg wondered.

A few minutes later, Alan pointed out that if they were going to mix up their meat again, they all needed to go back to the grill together.

“It’s funny how they fixed the dicks so they don’t get real hard.” Ted pulled his up again and massaged the head with his fingertips.

“Probably so they won’t squirt all over the place,” said Ben.

“Yeah, think of the mess with all these guys.” Leo looked around the room.

“If it feels as good when it comes off as it did with the balls, I sure won’t care,” said Alan.

“Amen,” Greg agreed. “You guys all ready?”

They all trooped back across the room, dicks swinging. A diner at one of the tables held up a cooked cockhead between chopsticks, grinned at them and popped it in his mouth.

“Ready for next course?” the attendant greeted them.

He explained they had two options: “Use entire penis, including root, which gives you most meat for dinner and is neatest. This is most popular mod. Or take off just projecting portion, leaving stub.”

The five friends looked at each other.

“Using all of it leaves a smooth crotch?” Greg asked.

“Yes, sir, that is so.” He gestured down at himself. “Very nice.”

Greg pulled up his penis and looked at it, wondering how much he’d miss it. Until this week, it hadn’t been getting much use except for pissing. The stub would be useful for that. But he loved the look of the smooth crotches he’d been seeing. Now he could find out how it was done

“While he’s making up his mind, I’ll go with the stub,” said Leo.

“Yes, sir. Step up to processor, press in so penis inside. Need to strap in for this so don’t move.”

Leo complied and the attendant pulled a narrow canvas belt out of the side of the processor’s case and drew it tight across Leo’s buttocks. He made adjustments on the control panel and pressed a button. The processor made muted whirring noises. Leo gasped. His body went rigid, his mouth dropped open and his face went dark red. “Fuck,” he said softly.

The attendant undid the belt, and as Leo stepped back, he reached into a slot, took out Leo’s thick five-inch penis, the foreskin still partly covering the head, and dropped it on the top plate in the stack on the counter. The cut end was seared and only slightly bloody. Where it had been attached to Leo’s body was a half-inch stub covered with a shiny pink film, conspicuous against his dark skin, with a white plastic tube sticking out another half inch. Leo scowled when he saw it and squeezed the stub with his fingertips.

“Handle carefully,” the attendant warned. “Skin is sutured over end and all covered with synthetic skin. Catheter should stay in for about two weeks until all heals. Sutures will be absorbed.”

Greg thought it looked really dorky, and that made up his mind.

“Take the whole stupid thing,” he told the attendant. As he stepped up to the processor, his dick felt again like it ought to be sticking out rigid, and it actually did seem a bit stiffer.

He felt something envelop it and stretch it forward, and once again he had the odd sensation that his bladder was being sucked dry. Something began to massage his cockhead as an intense buzzing sensation began to work steadily back between his legs. This set off an orgasm even more intense than he’d gotten when his balls came off. It exploded in his crotch like a ball of fire, taking away his breath and leaving him momentarily dizzy. He was only vaguely aware of stretchings and pricklings going on in his groin, followed by a blast of warmth. When the attendant released the belt, he swayed on his feet for a moment and the attendant put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. He looked down and regarded himself with wonder. Sure enough, there was now nothing between his legs but shiny pinkish skin and a little grommet-like thing of flesh-colored plastic about where his dick had been attached. He rubbed his hand over the area and realized he was feeling a thin, almost invisible coating, not the skin itself. A slight ridge dotted on both sides with tiny bumps ran under it from just above the grommet on down into his crotch. When he moved, his crotch felt tight and stiff.

“Synthetic skin covers sutures which will be absorbed as all heals,” the attendant explained. He pointed to the grommet. “This for urinating. Can take out when heals. Otherwise, best to take shower instead of bath and avoid hard exercise for week or so. Slow-release pain tablet embedded in crotch will dissolve.”

He held out Greg’s penis on a plate. “Very nice piece of meat. Should cook good!”

Root and all, it was twice the length of Leo’s but not as thick. The root part was seared and slightly bloody.

“Thanks,” Greg stammered. He suspected he was grinning like an idiot. Alan and Ted were grinning back. Ben was staring from one detached penis to the other. Leo was poking at his stub, still looking disgruntled. Alan put a hand flat against Ben’s bare butt and shoved him forward. “Next!”

The attendant made quick work of Ben’s dick, and then Alan’s and Ted’s. All three reacted much the same way that Greg had, and within five or six minutes, there were five dicks lined up on plates on the counter, ready for the wok. But as Greg, who’d been second in line, started to load up his plate with veggies, Leo pushed past behind him, back to the attendant.

“I hate this little stub,” he complained. “It’s ugly. Can you do it over and take the rest off?”

“Aw, c’mon, Leo,” Ted protested. “You’re holding things up.” He motioned toward two diners waiting behind them.

“It is okay, sir,” the attendant said. “Most don’t like stub after they see all smooth, and I make mistake with color. Will take only moment to fix. Just step up to processor.”

This time, Leo was all smiles when he saw his now flat groin, the synthetic skin almost the color of his real skin. “That’s better.”

“Tell cook to slice off end with sutures,” the attendant advised him, and flashed a grin, “Or get caught in teeth.”

The chef was already cutting up Greg’s dick. He sliced the head off whole and used a cleaver to chop the rest into bite-sized chunks.

“Remember, we want to mix up the pieces,” Alan called out from further back along the counter. The chef nodded. He dumped the chunks of Greg’s dick into the wok and started chopping up Ben’s. Leo, who was now last in line, explained about the sutures. The chef just nodded, sliced off and discarded what had been the stub and chopped up the rest, pulling the foreskin the rest of the way back before cutting off the head.

The five of them returned to their table with plates piled high.

Again, Greg dug in with a will. After a couple of bites, he found a cockhead in the mixture of meat and veggies and held it up on his fork. “Just for the hell of it, anybody recognize this?” he asked,

Nobody did. “When you’ve seen one cockhead, you’ve seen ‘em all,” Alan opined.

“How would you know?” Ted asked slyly, as Greg shrugged and popped the morsel into his mouth.

Alan was unfazed. “I get around.”

Ben snorted and the others laughed.

“I bet the circumcised ones are tougher, being exposed all the time,”Leo said.

“Was yours? Cut, I mean?”

“Nope. It should be all tender and succulent.”

“Dark meat,” said Ted.

Leo grinned. “Right.”

“Then maybe it was probably the one I just ate,” Greg said. “It was delicious.” He winked at Leo, who smiled back, a hint of a blush on his brown face.

Conversation lagged as they munched. Ben found two cockheads in his portion and offered one to Ted, who took it with chopsticks and stared at it.

“Hey, I think this one was mine.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because it’s got this big notch in the wha-cha-ma-call-it, the corona. I think the doc’s knife must have slipped when I was circumcised.”

“You want to take the other one, instead?” Ben offered.

“Naw, let’s see what it tastes like.”

He popped it into his mouth, rolled it around on his tongue, then chomped down and chewed. “Mmmm.” He lifted his left hand and pressed the tips of his thumb and forefinger together.

“So much for the circumcised ones being tougher,” Alan said.

A little later, Ben rubbed his stomach and said, “I don’t know about you guys but I’m stuffed.” He belched. “Jeez, excuse me.”

“I wonder if they’ve got doggie bags,” Ted said. “Where’s our waiter?”

“There he is.” Alan waved.

Tim came over to them smiling. “How’re you guys doin’?”

Ted asked about doggie bags. Tim nodded, “Sure. You guys don’t want to waste any of that good cock meat.”

He left and returned a few minutes later with a stack of Styrofoam containers.

“You’ve given us real good service,” Alan told him. “How do we tip?” He spread his hands to emphasize that he didn’t have anything on him but skin.

“When you settle up on the way out. Just write my name on the charge slip.”

“Too bad we can’t come back,” Greg said. “No more meat.”

Tim held up a forefinger, “Ah, but we’ve got an answer for that. We’ve contracted with some body mod shops on this side of the pond to supply us with their cuttings. With smoothing getting so popular, that should give us a pretty steady supply of dicks and balls; so, starting next week, you won’t have to supply your own meat if you come on Tuesday evening.”

“Won’t be near as much fun.”

Tim laughed. “Well, there’s always José and his wonder balls.”

“With the jiffy dispenser,” Leo put in.

Ted grinned. “I wonder if you can get drunk on cum?”

“With José’s stuff, I wouldn’t be surprised. By the way, you guys all gay?”

Everybody nodded. “So am I,” said Tim. “Anyway, a bunch of us got together and started a smoothies club, called the Streamliners. We have a lot of fun-–a little of this, a little of that. All nice and relaxed. No balls to cause trouble. But we’ve got some wicked electric dildoes.”

His face took on a dreamy expression. “Man!” He stared into space a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it.

“Anyway, if any of you is interested, just ask for one of our cards when you settle up. Oops, gotta go, somebody’s waving for me at another of my tables.”

Back in the locker room on the way out, they all inspected each other in the brighter light, and decided that the evening had been an immense success.

“Anybody interested in coming back next Tuesday?” Alan asked.

“Fuck, yes!” said Ted. The others all agreed.

“Maybe we can make it a regular thing,” Ben suggested, to nods all around.

“And let’s check out that club,” Alan added.

When he got home, Greg immediately stripped to admire his new streamlined shape in the full-length mirror on his closet door.

“Oh, yeah!” he said to himself. He ran a hand lightly over the synthetic skin smoothing his groin, anticipating what it would feel like “all healed,” and grinned. His reflection grinned back.