Physics Teacher Loses it All

Pushy Pederast is Punished

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Dr. Whiting sat back in his chair, looking at his student, Mark 
with a measured gaze. “You’re here, Mark, because I want to discuss 
your grade in physics this term.” “Dr. Whiting, I thought I was 
doing pretty well this term. I got an ‘A’ on my first physics 
quiz.” “True, Mark, but it’s your next grade that I’m concerned 
about. There’s something I need you to do.” “Well, O.K. Dr. 
Whiting. What is it?” “You understand, Mark, that if you fail 
physics you won’t be allowed to graduate this year?” “Yes, Dr. 
Whiting, but I didn’t think I was doing badly at all.” “This isn’t 
something you need, it’s something I need, Mark. I’m going to be 
direct. You’re the captain of the football team and, frankly, 
you’re quite a hunk, Mark. You turn me on and I want to have sex 
with you.” Mark was shocked. Here was Dr. Whiting, probably over 
forty telling him that he wanted to have sex with him. “Well, Dr. 
Whi -Whiting,” he stammered, “ I really don’t want to have sex with 
you.” Dr. Whiting smiled unpleasantly. “Now Mark, I don’t see as to 
how you have any choice in the matter. Either you give me exactly 
what I want or I’ll fail you in physics and that will be it for 
you, academically. You won’t graduate. In fact, I have in mind that 
you should be coming to my office several times a week for physics 
tutoring. That’s when we’ll have sex. Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it 
pretty soon after we start.” Mark was thinking of a way to get out 
of there before Whiting started to think now was as good a time as 
any to start. “Dr. Whiting, my Dad was supposed to pick me up five 
minutes ago. I told him I was meeting you after school in your 
office, so I better run down to meet him.” “Very well, Mark, but 
remember, I expect you here on Wednesday at three o’clock. If you 
tell anybody about this, I’ll deny it and get you expelled for 
telling lies about me. Wednesday, three o’clock. I’ll see you 
then.” Mark got up, repeating “Wednesday, three o’clock” and 
quickly left Dr. Whiting’s office. Geez, am I in a fix, Mark 
thought. That pervert sure has me by the balls. He’ll want me to 
suck his cock and take it up my ass for sure. I have to graduate. 
What am I gonna do? I’m not gay, and even if I did go that way, it 
sure wouldn’t be with Whiting. Yech! What a thought. Mark ran down 
the stairs and out the door. He didn’t stop running until he got 
home. That night, after he went to bed, Mark began to sweat. 
Finally, he got up and went downstairs to his Dad. “Dad, I have to 
talk to you. It’s important. Just the two of us, O.K.?” “Let’s take 
a walk outside so we won’t disturb your Mother,” his Dad 
said. “Son, I could tell something was bothering you a lot this 
evening at dinner. Let’s talk about it.” Mark quietly and rapidly 
told him what had gone in in Mr. Whiting’s office that afternoon. 
His Father looked concerned and then took Mark by the shoulder. “I 
believe you, son. I’ve met Dr. Whiting and it’s obvious he’s not 
too interested in women. That’s no problem, but his trying to 
extort sex from you is another matter.” Mark’s Dad, a police 
captain who had retired early to spend more time with his three 
children had a plan. “Mark, I want you to go in to see him on 
Wednesday, at three on the dot. You’ll be wearing a wire and 
carrying a sensitive recording device in your briefcase. You ask 
Whiting just what he wants you to do and why. Two detectives and I 
will be listening and recording your conversation outside his 
office. . We’ll come through the door before he has a chance to 
touch you. Then we’ll deal with Dr. Whiting in – he hesitated – an 
appropriate manner. Now, let’s go in and get some sleep. I’ll set 
things up with the my friends in the department tomorrow.”
Mark was very relieved. “OK, Dad. I didn’t know what to do.” “Well, 
son these things happen and have to be dealt with. I’m glad you 
came to me for help instead of trying to handle it on your own. 
Good night.”
The two detectives came over on Wednesday morning and wired up 
Mark’s school briefcase, so that everything would appear normal to 
Dr. Whiting. “You can set this down anywhere in his office, Mark. 
It’s voice activated and very sensitive. Everything said in that 
office will be broadcast to our receiver outside, where we’ll be 
listening and recording. Now remember, act scared and ask a lot of 
questions. As soon as he’s said enough, we’ll be through the door, 
even if it’s locked. 
At three on Wednesday, Mark knocked on Dr. Whiting’s door. “Come 
in, Mark, and close and lock the door behind you. I think you made 
the right decision, coming to me for tutoring today.”
“Tutoring – ha!” Mark thought, setting his briefcase down across 
from Dr. Whiting’s desk. “Yes sir, Dr. Whiting.” Dr. Whiting was 
very much in charge. “Mark, drop your pants and bend over the 
desk.” “What are you going to do, Dr. Whiting?” Mark asked, 
feigning nervousness. “Mark, I’m going to put some sputum on my 
penis to lubricate it and then I am going to insert it into your 
anus.” “Fancy talk for spit on my dick and shove it up your ass,” 
Mark thought. Mark fumbled with his belt while Dr. Whiting pulled 
off his underwear – he had been sitting there with no pants and 
shoes on waiting for Mark. Dr. Whiting was breathing heavily as he 
came around the desk. “Hurry up and disrobe, Mark. I’m ready. Now 
this may hurt some, but you’ll get used to it. Just think of your 
physics grade.” The door burst open and the two detectives walked 
in, badges out. “Police.” Dr. Whiting turned white as a sheet, and 
darted behind his desk. “What do you mean breaking in here like 
this?” he blustered. Mark pulled up his pants and stepped behind 
the detectives. “Captain, come on in,” one of them said. Mark’s 
Father walked in. “Hello, Dr. Whiting. Interesting tutoring methods 
you’ve got here.” Whiting was wilting fast. The detectives played 
the tape for him. Whiting broke down and began to sob. The captain 
calmly explained to Dr. Whiting what is options were. “You can 
agree to come with us and we’ll take you to a small hospital near 
here, where you’ll be fixed so that you can never try this again, 
or, we’ll arrest you, call the newspapers and march you out of here 
in front of every TV camera in the city. You’ll be charged with 
attempted rape, sodomy and a whole bunch of other felonies. We’ll 
put you in a cell with some unpleasant convicted felons and tell 
them what you are, then we’ll walk away and let them have their way 
with you all night. That will just be a taste of the next ten years 
that you’ll spend in prison. Now, we’re not wasting any time with 
you. You have ten seconds and I’m counting. “Hospital,” Whiting 
mumbled brokenly. “Good choice. Let’s go. Now remember, you’re 
walking out of here with us, no cuffs, like a gentleman. No one 
will even suspect a thing. Just act normal, walk calmly out and get 
into that gray car parked in front of the school  Try to run away 
or give us any crap and we’ll add resisting arrest to the other 
charges, after we’ve beaten you half to death. You understand 
that?”  Whiting nodded yes.
The orderly let them into the service entrance in back of the 
hospital. The surgeon was waiting for them. He owed the department 
many, many favors and was eager to cooperate. The orderly was 
likewise inclined. Both he and the orderly had children attending 
the high school where Dr. Whiting taught. They quickly walked Dr. 
Whiting up the back stairs and into a specially prepared operating 
room. The sight of the table made Dr. Whiting’s knees weak and he 
stumbled. “Strip and get up on the table,” ordered the captain. Dr. 
Whiting removed his clothes and climbed onto the table. The orderly 
put his clothes into a bag and left the room. Dr. Whiting was naked 
on the table. Somehow he wasn’t quite so commanding. “Put your butt 
into the clamshell and your feet into the stirrups.” Whiting 
complied. The detectives strapped Whiting in and spread his legs 
wide apart. The surgeon strapped his upper body down and attached 
the heart monitoring equipment. There was a defibrillator ready and 
a number of prepackaged injections of adrenaline. Smiling, he 
said, “We haven’t lost a whole patient yet.” Whiting flinched. The 
surgeon quickly shaved Whiting’s genital area and got out his 
scalpel and surgical shears. The captain took a small cannister and 
plugged its cord into a nearby outlet. Whiting twitched at the 
sight of it. “Now Dr. Whiting, the surgeon is going to administer a 
muscle relaxant. You will remain conscious throughout the entire 
procedure, but you will be completely paralyzed,” the Mark’s father 
explained. “Please, no pain,” begged Whiting. The detectives 
laughed out loud at this. The surgeon slipped the needle into 
Whiting’s arm and soon he was lying there perfectly still. “Is the 
fat hot yet, captain,” asked the surgeon. “The light’s on, so the 
cooker is at four-fifty.” The surgeon painted Whiting’s genital 
area with antiseptic solution, then carefully cut away his scrotal 
sack, peeling it off his balls with the scalpel. Whitng’s testicles 
dangled below his ass, over the edge of the operating 
table. “Captain, you may proceed” said the surgeon, stepping away 
to make room. The captain wheeled the small deep-fat fryer on a 
table over by Whiting’s hanging balls. The heart monitor went wild. 
Whiting’s heart was beating 160, 180, 200 per minute. “ I’ll give 
him something to calm him down.” The surgeon gave Whiting another 
shot. Soon his heart was pumping normally. Whiting’s body, however, 
was covered with sweat. The captain lowered Whiting’s left testicle 
slowly into the hot fat. Despite the medication, Whiting managed a 
strangled moan. The fat boiled up as the moisture in the testicle 
was heated to steam. The captain pulled the ball out of the fryer 
and hung it, still steaming, over Whiting’s left leg. When the 
second ball went into the hot fat, Whiting’s heart stopped. The 
surgeon jump started it and gave Whiting a dose of smelling salts, 
then a shot of adrenaline. He nodded to the captain and said, “He’s 
ready.” The captain lowered both balls into the boiling fat and let 
them cook for several minutes. He was wearing long gloves to 
protect his arms against spatters. Whitings penis, legs and abdomen 
were not protected and got slightly burned by the spattering drops 
of hot fat. When the testicles were thoroughly cooked to about one-
third their original size, the surgeon cut the cords below the 
cooked section so as to avoid bleeding. The cords slithered quickly 
up into Whiting’s abdomen, as if trying to escape further 
punishement. Next the surgeon opened Whiting’s abdomen. In a 
complicated procedure requiring about fifteen minutes, he trimmed 
Whiting’s seminal vesicles away from the back of his bladder and 
removed his prostate, stitching the urethra back to the neck of his 
bladder. He checked and Whiting’s heart was still beating strongly. 
The surgeon next quickly trimmed off Whiting’s penis and re-routed 
what was left of his urethra to a small hole between his legs. 
Last, he put in two drainage tubes and cut off a two inch circle of 
Whiting’s scrotum, which he sewed over the wound to seal it 
up. “Neat job, as usual, Doctor,” said one of the detectives. The 
surgeon cleaned up and administed some additional injections to 
prevent shock and to allow Whiting to regain some muscle control. 
The captain deep fried Whiting’s severed penis, prostate, seminal 
vesicles and what remained of his scrotum, then placed them on a 
plate. Showing them to Whiting, he said “With all the cuts in 
hospitalization, we have to save on food. These’ll be your dinner.” 
Whiting just stared blankly. The orderly came in and lifted 
Whiting’s neutered body onto a gurney. “The usual room?” he 
asked. “Yes,” said the surgeon, who removed his gloves, shook hands 
with the captain and the detectives, and took his leave. Mr. 
Whiting was given his manhood to eat for dinner that night. He ate 
everything up and realized what they had done to him.
The detectives called the school and said the Mr. Whiting had had 
an attack of appendicitis and was in the hospital recovering.
After about ten days of healing, Dr. Whiting was ready to return to 
his teaching position. To everyone’s surprise, he took his 
retirement at the end of that year. To those who had known him, he 
seemed a changed man. He had certainly lost interest in tutoring 
his young male students. Dr. Whiting moved to another state and 
wasn’t heard from again.
Mark graduated with honors, and a solid “A” in physics.