Becoming Normal

NONE ENTERED BY AUTHOR

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Becoming Normal
 
Everywhere he looked he saw it. It always gave him that anxious, 
nervous feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. It isn't even safe to 
walk the streets anymore, he thought. Someone was always wanting to 
take something from you. They wanted to steal everything you had. Was 
nothing sacred?

 

The damned signs were everywhere. Fucking, flashing neon signs 
flashing all the time, day and night. On the television, on the 
radio, always talking about it. Why the hell can't people just be 
left alone? 



He felt isolated, all alone, by himself, no one to understand why he 
was making this decision. It's my decision, he thought. I should be 
allowed to make my own decisions. It's my life, my body. What I do 
with it is up to me. No one would understand, so he never voiced his 
thoughts. 



He was becoming reclusive. He worked hard at trying to fit in, to go 
along, to appear normal. He couldn't let anyone know how he really 
felt. Eventually, it would show. Someone, sometime would see him 
naked, then everyone would know he was different. Maybe they would 
realize at work when in the bathroom. He would hold off having to 
piss as long as he could, then when he felt he was going to burst, 
he'd pray that no one else was in there. He'd pray that no one would 
notice he used the bathroom differently. 



His entire life was being affected. He had to quit the gym. He didn't 
want to be called a freak. Even his thoughts seemed to be betraying 
him. He felt different, but he also felt he shouldn't feel different. 
Why should I feel different because of the way I was born. 



The rain was getting heavier. He zipped his black, leather jacket all 
the way up and shoved his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. The 
puddles splashed over the tops of his black, leather boots, but his 
feet remained warm and dry. He pulled the bill of his cap around to 
shield his eyes from the rain pellets. 



A truck went by and he quickly stepped into the nearest doorway. The 
splash just missed him. He leaned against the door and it fell open. 
He stumbled backward then caught himself. 



"Quick, close the door," a man's voice told him from behind. 



Without thinking, he shut the door then realizing he was on the 
inside. He turned around to apologize for barging in and to excuse 
himself. The words caught in his throat. 



"Have a seat, young man. There's five ahead of you," he was told. 



He sat and took in his surroundings. There were three occupied chairs 
and three men attending the occupants. He had sat down next to a man 
who appeared to be in his early thirties. The man nodded at him and 
went back to reading his magazine. 



Each of them made eye contact and greeted him with a small gesture, a 
nod, a wink. Disbelief and fear spread through him. How could I have 
fallen into this place? He tried not to appear nervous. 



When everyone returned to what they'd been doing before his arrival, 
his eyes betrayed him. He didn't want to look, but he was. 



The three men sat partially reclined in the chairs. Each man's feet 
were strapped into foot rests atop two, tall poles extending from the 
floor. Their legs were open wide, and they were naked. They were 
having their genitals removed. 



He was frozen with fear. He wanted to run but was fascinated. His 
brain started thinking as he watched the various pieces being removed 
from the three men. 



One man was being finished. He was let up. It was all gone. Nothing 
hung there. The next in line hung each article of his clothing on a 
hook. When he was naked, he walked to the empty chair. His feet were 
lifted and strapped in place. 



"Scoot your butt down a little," he was asked. 



The electric shears sounded through the small room. The hair fell 
onto the floor and soon the area was smooth. And sooner it would be 
even smoother. 



He watched the denuded man dress and leave. He watched him for a 
sign, of some indication of how he felt. Did he feel changed? 
Different? Better or worse? As he left, in came two more men. Always 
middle-aged or younger, he noticed. Had all the old men been done 
already? Were they the first, because they felt they'd had more use 
from their equipment, a longer time they'd used it? 



Another got up and dressed, and the next undressed. Maybe I should 
stop trying to be different, he thought. Maybe I should just try to 
fit in. Another was finished, another was prepared. 



A very young man entered. "You have to be at least 18, bud, or have 
your daddy with you," he was told. "I just turned 18," he said. "Do 
you have identification, son?" He pulled out his wallet. He walked 
with his arm extended toward the man. The man took the driver's 
license. 



He watched the boy's face. The boy was looking at the half severed 
cock of the man in the chair. It hung on by the bottom half, a large, 
gaping slash exposing the inside. The sack was split open and the 
two, meaty nuts dangled. The boy showed little emotion. The boy took 
back his identification and sat down. He and the boy made eye 
contact, he nodded. The boy nodded back. 



His turn was now. He stood and hung his clothes one piece at a time. 
When he was naked, he walked toward the empty chair. What do they 
think of my cock, he wondered. His feet were lifted, and the sound of 
the shears filled the room. He had never been exposed in this way. 



It was peaceful and tranquil, the gentle humming and the blissful 
feeling of his private parts being massaged and manipulated in a non-
sexual way. He looked at himself without hair. He watched his 
reproductive organs being removed. It didn't take long. It didn't 
hurt. He stood. He still felt it there. He could clearly see it was 
gone. It was plainly lying in a bucket with the others. Maybe the 
feeling of it being there would disappear over time, a phantom limb. 
He wondered if he'd ever reach for it forgetting it was gone. 



Will I miss it, he thought. It doesn't matter. Now, I'm normal, 
accepted by society. He walked out into the rain. The puddles 
reflected the flashing lights, neon, back into his eyes.