NONE ENTERED BY AUTHOR
A - H I - P Q - Z Newest Files
Prick Shift, Part 1
Drake sat impatiently in a chair in front of a desk
watching a large, white-uniformed, woman judge as she
logged into his personal file on her desktop computer. He
expected to see some facial reaction, at least a raised
eyebrow, as she perused the file, but her expression
remained impassive. She retained the all-serious-business
frown she had worn when she greeted him and asked him to
take a seat. Perhaps she already had read too many other
files that were far more interesting than Drake's.
"My condolences on the death of your older brother,"
she said in a rather matter of fact way, not even looking
away from the screen.
"Thanks. I miss him a lot, your honor," Drake said.
"How did he die?"
"He was probably eaten by sharks while he was scuba
diving in the Caribbean," Drake said.
"You say 'probably?'" She finally looked up at him
with her brown eyes. Her black hair was neatly combed and
coifed. Her judicial personality exuded efficiency.
"That's what everybody figures. They didn't find
much, just his tank and mask and a swim fin. There was
nothing left of him to bury. He and his girlfriend were
diving together and got separated after they saw a bunch of
tiger sharks. She made it back up to the boat just in time
to see the sharks having a bloody feeding frenzy. She told
the police later that Darren had shot himself in the foot
with his spear gun while he was trying to shoot at the
sharks. He clouded the water with his own blood. It had to
be my brother Darren they were eating."
"What a horrible way to die," she said with a slight
shudder. This was the only indication so far of a human
response from her.
"There were just us two boys in the family before he
died. No girls. He had just turned twenty," Drake
volunteered.
"Thank you. I can read. Your brother is deceased,
and you are now the legal male child of your parents.
Otherwise you wouldn't be in my office taking up my time,"
she said rather sharply.
"I'm sorry, your honor. I don't mean to sound stupid.
It's just that - "
"I know. The government now owes you a penis, and
you're excited about having one again, aren't you?" she
said with the faintest hint of a smile.
Drake hesitated a moment before he spoke, pushing back
a lock of blond hair that always seemed to be falling over
his left eye. If he said the wrong thing now, permission
for a penis transplant might be denied. "I would be lying
if I said I wasn't. But Darren is dead, I'm eighteen now,
and I think I can use a penis in a responsible manner," he
said, trying to sound sincere.
"How, by getting some young woman pregnant with an
unwanted child?"
Drake's blue eyes flashed a look of resentment.
"Sorry. That just slipped out. You don't have to
answer. Forgive me for that unprofessional lapse." She
smiled now, showing two rows of perfect teeth.
The smile relaxed Drake somewhat. "I'll answer the
question, your honor. The answer is no. I'm gay.
Nobody's ever going to get pregnant from me," he said,
showing his most dazzling smile.
She laughed nervously. She was clearly disarmed if not
charmed by this tall, handsome youth.
"You're a very fine-looking young man and no doubt
intelligent. Your sexual orientation makes no difference
as far as the law is concerned. You have good
qualifications and no criminal record. You have excellent
high school grades, probably because you didn't have a
penis to distract you from your studies. Permission for a
penis transplant is granted after you select a suitable
donor. I only have one other question."
Drake's smile was now completely genuine, showing his
delight. "Sure. What else can I tell you, your honor?"
"When you were fourteen your penis was given to an
older man, also a second son, who became eligible to have
one because his brother died. He cut off your manhood.
Besides the physical pain, it must have been agonizing for
you psychologically. My question is, doesn't it bother you
at all to take a young boy's penis from him, knowing he may
have to live with a one-inch stump for the rest of his
life?"
"Of course I feel bad about it. But I didn't make the
laws. If the cut-off cocks weren't transplanted, they
would be thrown away. I think it's good that I can have a
penis again, even if I have to take one from a kid. I was
just a kid when mine was taken from me, and I've done
without one for four years myself. The kid would still
lose his dick, whether I took it or not. And who knows?
Maybe he'll get lucky one day, lose his brother and get a
new dick, too. That's why we're allowed to keep our balls,
just in case that happens."
The woman's smile faded abruptly. "I see. Your idea
of getting lucky is to lose your older brother."
"I didn't say that!"
"Nevertheless, the answer you have given requires me
to attach a special condition to your transplant."
Drake swallowed hard, as though to say a silent
"oops." The judge had apparently not liked part of his
answer.
"After you select a suitable boy, you will be required
to spend tonight with him in his own house before you cut
his penis off tomorrow. That way you can learn to get to
know the boy you are about to mutilate and, as a result,
have some sympathy for him."
"But that's not fair. I didn't get to know the guy
who took my cock, and that was probably a good thing. For
a long time I wanted to kill him," said Drake, rising from
his chair.
"What's fair is determined by the law-makers, and they
have given me the right to impose this condition on you if
I see fit."
"Okay. I guess I understand, your honor," Drake said.
"Tomorrow you will bring the boy back down here; once
he is shaved and prepped, you will be given a knife. You
will cut the boy's penis off yourself. He will not be
given an anesthetic because the penis must be erect, so
that you can leave him exactly one inch of stump."
"Oh, God," Drake said, suddenly turning pale and
feeling a little nauseous. He was remembering his own
brutal penectomy.
"Think you can handle that, big boy?"
"Yes," he said weakly.
"We'll see. If you want to back out at the last
minute, it'll be possible, but at a heavy price for you.
If this is your decision, the boy in question will get to
keep his penis permanently. But you, Drake, for causing
him so much mental anguish, will allow him to cut off your
scrotum along with what's inside it."
"My balls?"
"I'm afraid so. I will give you a little device called
a clamper-slicer. Just have the boy clamp it onto the top
of your ball sac and push the button. It will take your
balls off in an instant. Detach the slicer but leave the
clamper on for a week, and your open wound will heal up.
Be sure to sew the amputated ball sac up with sutures and
needle that are provided. This will keep the balls from
falling out. Write your name in ink on the sac, and give
the balls to the boy. He will bring them to my office as
proof of your punishment, and I will give him a certificate
that allows him to keep his penis permanently as a fair
exchange. If you don't want to lose your balls, you will
have to cut the boy's penis off once you have pulled him
out of a line-up this afternoon."
"What if I back out now?"
"Fine. Just drop your pants and I'll take your balls
off before you leave. When you walked into my office today
and gave me your signed petition, I assumed you had read
the fine print. The law states that dickless males with
testicles, once they petition for a new penis, will be
sexually nullified if they fail to follow through. It's
done to prevent those who are not serious about transplants
from clogging up our system. Complete nullification is
also a convenient favor to you, since balls without a penis
are almost totally useless."
"All right. I'll go through with it."
"Good. Just take this written warrant and go down to
the line-up room on the second floor. At exactly three
o'clock, you'll be presented with four naked adolescents to
choose from who have mature penises. The boys will be
restrained and standing up in front of you. I suggest you
touch each of their penises, push back their foreskins and
manipulate them until they are erect to see their full
sizes. Masturbate them if you like to see how sensitive
they are. Make a decision about which one you want. If you
want any modifications made, like meatus cuts,
circumcision, frenum removal or rings implanted, fill out a
special form. These modifications will be made after the
penis is off and before it is attached to your stump. I
hope you pick a good dick," she said, laughing as she
handed a piece of paper to Drake.
"Thanks, your honor," he said, turning to walk out of
the room.
"Stop. You're forgetting your clamper-slicer kit,"
she said. She handed him a metal box when he walked back
to her desk.
"Oh, yeah. I may need this," Drake said, walking out
again.
As the elevator door opened onto the familiar hallway
of the second story, Drake stepped out onto the polished
marble floor. Unhappy memories began to fill his mind,
memories of four years ago. He had been a handsome, blond,
fourteen-year-old with a beautiful, long uncircumcised
cock. Escorted by his brother Darren, who was sixteen at
the time, Drake had entered the door marked "line-up room"
at the far end of the hall. Drake remembered their
conversation.
"I hope you're not scared, Tow Head," Darren had said
as they opened the door and went inside.
"Maybe I am a little. It's just that I don't want it
to hurt. I know it has to get cut off. I just don't want
it to hurt."
"Come on. Be a man, Tow Head! You're not the first
one this has happened to, you know. They probably cut off
two dozen cocks every day here. Those guys can stand the
pain," said Darren with a scoffing tone that betrayed his
lack of sympathy.
This brought tears into Drake's eyes. He began crying
and couldn't stop. The tears disgusted Darren.
"Will you stop that. You're embarrassing me. There's
other guys from school in here," Darren said sharply. They
were in a large waiting room adjacent to the line-up room.
They were surrounded by other boys his age and a few
adults. The boys names were being called, one at a time,
to walk through a door marked "preparation room" where they
would be stripped naked and have their pubic hair shaved
off.
"If you're embarrassed, why don't you just leave and
go home?" Drake finally managed to say through his sobs.
"Believe me, I would. But I promised Mom I would look
after you," Darren said.
"I won't tell her if you leave. I know you hate me
now. If you don't want to be here, then just fuck off,"
said Drake with tears streaming down his tanned cheeks.
Drake's name was called.
"Okay, Tow Head. Have it your way. Just don't tell
Mom," Darren said as he walked away, leaving Drake to face
his horrible ordeal alone.
Their mother had not been able to take off from work
for Drake's penectomy because she was a dispatcher for the
fire department and was on a rigid schedule. Her divorced
husband was not available because he now lived as a single
man in another state. The boys had seen him perhaps three
times in their young lives. Their mother suspected that he
ran off because of Drake, whose birth had created a
situation he could not handle or face. Drake was an illegal
second son instead of the daughter they wanted. Drake
shouldn't have been born, but his wife had insisted against
his wishes that the fetus not be aborted. She had given
birth to Drake knowing full well what the consequences
would be, but wanted him to live. Both parents were forced
by federal law to sign an agreement, once he was born, to
have his penis removed once he matured sexually. The
aspect of watching his own son lose his manhood was not
something he could deal with, so he deserted them before he
got a chance to know the child.
Darren, as soon as he could walk and talk, had felt
that he was the man of the house, and he was quite
comfortable in a role of Big Brother for Drake. He guided
him with a firm hand, especially after they reached their
teen years. Drake felt more or less comfortable with the
arrangement because he initially adored his brother. He
tried to please him and impress him, but had little
success. Nothing he could do was quite as good as what
Darren could do. Darren was good at all kinds of contact
sports, but Drake was not; he was successful at tennis and
swimming, but Darren thought of those as sissy sports.
Darren made a point of not making straight A's in school
because he felt that bookish guys were not popular. Drake
made straight A's and was considered a nerd.
Things went along fairly well in their home - they
both had separate bedrooms - until the day Darren walked
into Drake's tidy bedroom and caught him masturbating his
big, mature cock and ejaculating semen. Their mother had
told Darren that whenever that happened, they were required
by law to report it and take Drake immediately to the
authorities to have his penis cut off. Darren was suddenly
placed in the position of informer, and Drake pleaded with
Darren not to turn him in. He would do anything for Darren
to keep him silent. Darren proposed a deal. Drake agreed
to do all of Darren's chores as well as Darren's homework.
In other words, he became Darren's slave.
This arrangement went on for three weeks. Drake would
get home from school each day already tired, then would
have to do his own homework. On a typical week day evening
he would have to make dinner, clean up the kitchen, tidy up
Darren's room, then do Darren's homework until eleven or
so. Darren would eventually come home from his
girlfriend's or wherever he had been, plop down on his bed
and yell at the top of his lungs for Tow Head. Drake hated
that nickname, which referred to his blond hair, but he
swallowed his pride and dutifully reported to his brother's
room. When he got there his dark-haired brother would
usually ask for a foot massage. Drake would dutifully
untie and remove Darren's smelly sneakers, peel off his
damp tube socks, manipulate and rub both sweaty bare feet
in his skillful hands for several minutes, while Darren
groaned with pleasure.
Late one Friday night Darren came home wanting his
massage and found to his annoyance that his tow-headed
slave was not in the house. He searched high and low, had
no success in finding him, and finally resorted to waking
his mother. He knocked on her bedroom door.
"Mom. Where the hell is Tow Head?" he asked.
"Backyard. In your father's old camper shell. Friend
of his named Dorian is sleeping over," a sleepy voice said
beyond the closed door.
"Thanks. Sorry I woke you up," said Darren, wondering
why they were using the camper shell instead of Drake's
bedroom. He then remembered that his brother's bedroom
contained only one single bed.
Thinking it would be fun to surprise or even frighten
the boys, he took a flashlight from a kitchen drawer,
walked out the back door and saw the old camper shell in
the moonlight. He walked up to its back door, switched on
his light and twisted the rusted doorknob. As the door
opened he pointed the flashlight inside. There on the
mattress he saw two naked male bodies in a perfect sixty-
nine position. One of the bodies was Drake's. The boys
were sucking each other off.
The following Monday, Darren took Drake to the City
Hall to get his cock cut off. Their little agreement was no
longer valid after he learned of his little brother's
homosexuality. Somehow it didn't bother Darren that the boy
was about to lose his manhood. As far as he was concerned,
all queers should lose their dicks. It bothered his
conscience even less to walk away from Drake and abandon
him in disgust when he started crying.
Four years later it was only slightly easier for Drake
to walk through the doorway marked "line-up room." He
forced himself to walk up to the high desk and present his
warrant to the woman behind it. She looked at the
document, then looked closely at him.
"Well, my boy, I was about to direct you to the
preparation room. When I saw you walk in, I thought you
were here to have your penis cut off, but I see here that
you've already had that done," said the woman with a smile.
Her luxuriant hair was obviously bleached.
"I guess I do look young for eighteen and you're
right; an ugly middle-aged alcoholic took my penis. I
could smell his breath while he sawed it off slow. I've
got a one-inch stump where it used to be."
"Of course. Tell me something. How did you get that
color?" she asked.
Drake was bewildered. "What color?"
"That ash-blonde hair. What brand do you use?"
"Lots of people ask me that. It's my natural color."
"You're putting me on!"
"No, I'm not, honest," said Drake, trying not to let
the exasperation surface in his voice tone. He was anxious
to get this business over with.
"Oh, how I wish I had your hair. And as far as that
goes, I'd like to be only half as pretty as you are. My
God, you even have rosy cheeks without makeup! And look at
those fingernails - just perfect."
"Thanks," Drake said, slightly redder of cheek, and
not sure how to take such compliments.
"I hope you don't mind my asking a few personal
questions. It livens up my job a little to get to know the
guys who come through here. I work an eight-hour shift
here every day. Some of the people on the staff call it
the prick shift," she said, bursting into raucous laughter.
Drake laughed politely even though he didn't think it
was all that funny. The woman finished laughing and
sighed.
"And to think that such an attractive guy like you
doesn't have a penis. What's it like?" she asked with a
childlike curiosity.
"I lost it four years ago. Before that, I had just
used it to pee through and had masturbated about three or
four times. I can barely remember now what it was like to
have one, but I want one anyhow, even though I won't use it
to have kids," Drake said with a candor meant to shock.
"Are you gay or something?" she asked with equal
candor, clearly not shocked at all.
"I am gay, but I guess I want to take advantage of my
legal rights as an only son, now that my brother is dead.
I also want to be complete physically. I don't need a cock
to produce children, but I would like to be complete, like
most of my friends, and stand at a urinal with them when I
take a piss."
"Why didn't you just get a prosthesis? It would have
saved you the trouble of a five hour micro-surgery
procedure," she said.
"That's not the same as live, human flesh."
"Live flesh that you will cut off a screaming boy,
whose young cock hasn't even been deadened against pain."
"I know. It happened to me," said Drake with a tired-
sounding voice.
"I'm sorry. Guess I got carried away or something.
You can legally take what you want, so I can't really blame
you. Go through that door and take a seat. Your four boys
will be sent onto the stage and strapped to their poles in
about five minutes."
"Thanks," said Drake, walking past the desk.
"Oh, there's a set of surgical knives and rubber
gloves on a shelf just inside the door. You'll also find a
small ice chest to put the amputated penis in."
"I won't be needing that stuff today. I'm required to
go home with the kid and get to know him better after I
pick him out. I'll bring him back down here tomorrow and
cut off his cock."
"Oh, you're one of those creeps. Maybe he'll give you
a good fuck first," she said, but Drake had already left
the room and didn't hear.
End of Part 1