By justoneguy

The young man stood silently and straight as a stone in the small white cube or a room. He didn’t know that he was watched of course. So he made no attempt to play to those viewing him—either for their sympathy or their mercy. In fact, he wasn’t even aware that he needed either. The small room was a dressing room, walls a neutral cream. The door was slatted like a shutter, and there was a wide space between the bottom and the floor. It might have been a space large enough for the young man to crawl through, if his shoulders and chest had been less developed. Still, he might have been able to slither his body through that space, if he had thought to try—if he had thought he needed to try.

But he was just there to model. He had never tried modeling before, but the school bills were piling up. His girlfriend has suggested that he give it a try. He worked out quite a bit, although he played no organized sports on campus. He had never thought of himself as vain—he worked out mainly because it relieved stress. The strength of body that it also brought was more of an added bonus. Besides, while he was developed and strong, his stomach flat, his chest and shoulders broad, he was by no means the biggest and most developed guy at the school gym. But when his girlfriend made the modeling suggestion, it had struck him out of the blue as an excellent idea. He was pretty fit, and his face was strong and confident and handsome. Why not make some extra money, since little effort would be required.

The small modeling shop had opened on the main strip of the small college town several months ago. Perhaps driving by it every day on the way to campus had given his girlfriend the idea. When he arrived that morning, he could tell that the offices were sparse. There was a rug on the floor, and a few lamps and tables and chairs, but they didn’t seem to specifically match each other or form a coherent style. They were nice enough and well kept, but chosen and arranged in a less than thought out way—as if thrown together from whatever nice furniture and fixtures were at hand. The walls were bear, except for large photos of previous clients blown up and lining the walls.

“Can I help you?” the woman receptionist had asked. She was an average woman, her red hair pulled back in a work-a-day scrunchy to keep it out of her face. She wore glasses low on her nose, but never seemed to actually look through them. The young man guess that she was in her early thirties. He made a split second assessment that she was nice looking enough but was too old to be of interest to him sexually. Not that he had walked into the office with any intentions—but that is the kind of assessment every 20-year-old male college student makes when he walks into a room.

“My name is Adam Kelley. I made an appointment for today. An interview, I mean.” The young man’s voice was masculine, but still carried the hit of high-pitched excitement of youth. He was keyed up. He wasn’t sure what to expect from this place or this job. But he knew the money was good.

“Yes, Mr. Kelley. Everything should be ready for you. Go on to the back.”

Adam walked down a short hallway painted in the same light cream as the rest of the office. It led toward the back of the building and was lined with picture after picture. Adam noticed that more men than women were depicted in the images. But all were about the same age as he was, some a little younger looking, some a little older. Some were black and white, and some were in color. But he definitely felt that he fit in with their look. It looked like there was going to be some money in this for him after all.

The hallway opened up into a studio, a brightly-lit room, with lights covered with umbrellas and large black camera equipment standing like statues of technology. Everything, the lights, the cameras, seemed to be pointing to a small couch in the room. It was the only furniture and was a neutral tan in color. On the couch sat Danielle and Paul. Adam had met them before, on the day last week when he first came and interviewed. Paul was in his late forties; Danielle was about the same age as the receptionist. Paul was a regular aging artist type, with graying hair in a pony tail pulled back tightly from a slightly balding scalp. He was well into developing a middle-aged gut, wearing out an out of date Hawaiian shirt and tan pants. He stood to greet their latest client.

“Hi Adam, looks like you’re right on time.” His voice was a deep and seemed to well from the pit of his protruding stomach or through his heavy and leathery lips, which were twisted into a smile. He extended his hand toward the young man, who gripped it firmly.

“Good to see you again Paul,” Adam said. He generally addressed those older than he with more formality, but Paul and Danielle had been insistent that he be more casual. It would help during the photo shoot if they all acted as well known friends.

“We’re all ready for you,” Danielle said, standing up from the couch and joining Paul. She smiled broadly, the classy red lipstick she wore glistening in the heat of the lights. Diamond earrings hung from each of her earlobes. She had naturally blond hair, which showed only the smallest hints of white strands. Her face was smooth, unwrinkled, and not overly made-up. She wore a robe of deep crimson, matching the color of her lips. Her eyes were blue. They looked over Adam with a sunny cheeriness that put him at ease.

“We sure are ready for you,” Paul said, a jolly laugh causing his body to jiggle under her shirt. He slapped his hand hard on Adam’s arm. We thought we would start with the underwear shoot. We turned the heat up a little to make you more comfortable, and with the heat of the lights, you should be OK. But we’ll have to guard against sweat. You’ll find the underwear and a towel in the dressing room. Go get changed, and we’ll be ready for you when you come out.”

Danielle smiled again at the young man, and then turned away to prepare the couch and equipment. Adam nodded to Paul, and turned toward the dressing room. He felt a little nervous then, as he stepped into the small room. But the money was good, he told himself, and they seemed like nice people. They wouldn’t pressure him. If he didn’t like the underwear shoot, he could just not come back. At least he would have the money from today’s shoot. Maybe he would take his girlfriend out to a nice place that night. It had been a while since he had the spending money to treat her.

The dressing room was small. And inside he found the white boxer briefs and a cream-colored towel waiting. He closed the door and locked it. There was a small stool in the room, with the clothes on top. And a full length mirror on one of the walls. Adam could hear Paul and Danielle chatting quietly out in the larger room. But soon the mumbling of their conversation was drowned our by the rustling of his clothes. He removed his white T-shirt and blue jeans quickly, his mind focused on the shoot to come and not on the actions of undressing. He wore boxer shorts, black with small yellow squares. But soon he shed them as well, folding and stacking all his clothes and putting them on the stool.

He didn’t know that he was being watched. The mirror was 2-way. Paul and Danielle were on the other side, taking in their subject. They viewed Adam in his natural state, taking in the lines and forms of his body. His shoulders were broad and strong, the muscles of his arms moving and budging as he folded his clothes. His hair was brown, cut close to his head, almost a shaved look. His face was shaved clean, his jaw strong, his features handsome and sharp. His stomach was flat and trim, his waist still having the compact and narrow look of youth. As he stood collection his clothes and arranging them, they got their first good look at what made Adam a man. He had a large and broad tangle of dark brown sex hair that form a triangle up to his navel. His pubic hair was so thick that they couldn’t see any flesh through the coarse curls. And from that hair—the sign of his potency and maturity as a human male—hung the organ of his sex. His penis hung like a human sausage from his groin. The skin of its smooth shaft was milky white, a shade or two whiter than the skin of his body. Near the end, the cream flesh changed to a darker pink-brown as small wrinkles of skin folded around the mushroom tip. Adam had clear been circumcised, almost certainly as an infant. The tube of his manhood bobbled and swung between his legs as his body shifted. It seemed to be weighed down by the plump soft-pink tip that pointed like a pendulum down tot he floor. It seemed to be heavy and light at the same time—heavy because of the way it hung, light because of the easy way it moved with even small movements of his body. Behind his hanging hose they could see the outlines of his twin testicles—the power source and power center of his manhood. The bag looked brown tan in the shadows of his groin. The smooth edges of his oval globes stood out on either side of his hanging sausage, which often came to rest in the small cleft the roundness of his orbs left in the center of their loose sac. Small, but long, thin straggly hairs dusted the tan skin of his scrotum. His testicles had the heavy hand and plumpness of maturity, but still with the tightness and strength of youth. His manhood was framed by his strong masculine legs, which were planted firmly on the cheap gray carpet of the dressing room. And his legs were strong, muscles budging as he balanced on one foot and slide the white boxer briefs on and up.

When Adam raised the waistband of the boxer briefs around his waist and felt the cotton band snap around his skin, he stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself. Casually, he adjusted the meat of his manhood inside of the tight white fabric. His organ was outlined in the briefs, his dick turned toward his left leg, the flare of the circumcised head making a distinct outline. He stood as still as stone, looking at himself in the mirror, evaluating his looks and the task that was ahead. Paul and Danielle watched him with satisfaction. It had been an excellent choice—well worth the months of waiting. There was still time to back out, but it was no longer necessary. They had found their latest star.

Adam strode from the dressing room wearing only the white boxer briefs and carrying the small towel. He self-consciously tried to seem confident and prepared. Paul and Danielle were in the photo room waiting for him, but he was surprised to find things arranged a little differently. The couch was apparently a pull-away bed type. It had been unfolded and covered with clean and ironed gray sheets. Gray pillows lined the top, and the sheets were pulled down as if ready for bed. Paul was preparing the cameras. He turned to Adam and smiled a big toothy grin. “Great, great. Wow, young man. Look at you. I wish I was still a young man, with my looks still intact.” The man took his gut in both hands and shook it under his shirt, chuckling deeply and loudly. “Like I told you, I’ll shoot with multiple cameras. It makes everything go easier and faster. We won’t have to stop for different setups. Stand beside the bed for starters.”

Adam walked beside the bed and stood a little uncomfortably, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands. The change in the room—the couch to a bed—had taken him a little by surprise. He suddenly felt a little less confident about his decision to model. He had met with Paul and Danielle a few days before, and they had gone to dinner together to raise their level of familiarity. But now that he was standing there, in just underwear, the bulge of his manhood prominent in the stretched white cotton of the briefs—now he felt on edge.

Danielle circled the room, the crimson robe flowing as she walked, her blond hair loose and falling about her shoulders. Adam traced her steps, feeling more comfortable looking at her than at Paul and his cameras. He knew that was the point. Danielle did look good—clean and elegant—even though he normally wasn’t attracted to older women. Adam heard the snapping of pictures and Paul worked the cameras.

“Flex for us, Adam,” Danielle said, her voice casual.

Adam smiled, his checks flushed red. “Ummm, Ok.” He held his arms up and flexed. His biceps bulged strongly and the muscles of his forearms became rigid and defined. He turned and flexed the back of his arms for the camera. Then his chest and his stomach. His build was impressive, but not professional. His flexing was what a young man might do in front of a mirror or in front of his girlfriend. Paul snapped pictures none stop, but said nothing. Adam could hear the auto cameras set up around the bed clicking and winding. Danielle circled around the room slowly, outside of Paul and the cameras. She looked at him and looked away as she moved. More and more, Adam followed her with his eyes, turning his head when she walked behind him and waiting to see her emerge on the other side. He turned and flexed his back for the cameras. His skin was cream with a hint of tan in the lights. The white of his crisp boxer briefs glared in the light making the pigment of his skin seem deeper and richer.

“You’re back looks so strong,” Danielle said as she circled. “I’ll bet your girlfriend loves to cling onto those shoulder blades.”

Adam’s checks flush crimson again, but he smiled broadly. “Yeah,” he said.

“Tell us a little about yourself,” Danielle said. Her circles had now brought her closer, inside the ring where Paul and the cameras continuously shot. But she was still several feet from Adam and the bed.

Adam stood by the bed, his arms moving uncomfortably as he stood. His legs shifted with nervous energy. He found that he couldn’t stop smiling in his nervousness. “I’m 20 years old. I go here to….”

“Don’t name the college. They’d sue us if we used their name,” Paul said. His abrupt statement caused a slight ripple in Danielle’s elegant flowing, but her course was soon corrected.

“Ok, sure,” Adam said, smiling broadly, looking suddenly towards the cameras instead of at Danielle. “Um, I work out a lot, I guess.”

“Do you play any sports?” Danielle asked.

“Naw,” Adam said.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. We’ve been together for about a year.”

“Is she your first?”

Adam absently scratched the left side of his chest. “No, I dated a girl in high school for a while. About two years I guess.”

“No,” Danielle said. “I meant your first lover.”

“Oh,” Adam chucked, shifting his body awkwardly. But he didn’t blush. “No, I’ve been with three girls.”

“What’s your favorite position?” Danielle was now closing the circle slowly. She was closer to the bed now as she walked. From Paul’s point of view, she now seemed to be like a shark, circling the bed and the young man, moving closer and closer. Adam could smell her perfume now. She cast a shadow on him as she walked between him and the lights.

“Um,” Adam said, absentmindedly scratching his leg through the boxer briefs. “I like doggy style the best. And being on top. Missionary. I like to be in control, I guess.”

“Where is the strangest place you’ve had sex?”

Adam smiled and chuckled to himself. “Um, I guess that would be in my roommate’s bed in the dorm. One night, my girlfriend went to this party. I didn’t go because I had to study. And she came back a little loaded and horny. And she wanted me to do her from behind. So I bent her over my roommate’s bed and we did it doggy style. Then my roommate came back and just saw my ass humping and was like ‘what are you doing to my bed….’ And then he saw Sheila and was like ‘oh man, sorry.’ And left. But he was pretty pissed that I had her bent over his bed though. Made me wash the sheets.”

As Adam told the story, thinking back at the incident vividly in his mind, he felt the boxer briefs grow tighter on his groin. He was used to boxer shorts, and the briefs had felt pretty tight on his body. But now they felt very tight as his genitals swelled and filled the inner spaces. He knew that his was getting a boner, and that it must be visible through his shorts. But I guess that was the point of the shoot, the point of the conversation—to shoot him with a bulge.

Danielle’s leg brushed the corner of the pullout bed, and she walked right by Adam. He felt the swish of her robe brush the small hairs on his lower legs. The smell of her filled his nose. This was only supposed to be an underwear shoot. That had been the deal—at his insistence (and that of his girlfriend). But he was hard now. Horny. And the heat of the lights blared down on his skin.

Danielle reached out her hand and brushed his firm stomach as she walked by. Adam felt his body shiver. Paul clicked the camera. Danielle moved behind him, allowing her fingertips to trace from this stomach to his back. She tightly flipped the waistband of his briefs at his lower back before withdrawing her finger. The bulge in Adam’s briefs was now obscene. His chest rose and lowered with his deep breaths.

“Do you want to cum?” she said, her warm breath on his ear.

He nodded yes. His girlfriend wouldn’t know. He could only show her the underwear shots. He felt Danielle’s fingers on his sides, and her warm fingers slid to the waistband. The white cotton briefs dropped to the floor as she stood behind him. His erect organ sprang from its fabric prison with a pop. Adam closed his eyes and leaned his head back next to hers. Danielle rubbed her arms around his body until they met on his rock hard stomach.

Paul’s cameras clicked.

Adam felt her hands on his bear ass, on his back, on his neck, his head. His hands were at his side. It took all his self-control to keep from touching her. But he knew that he had to wait. Paul needed the shot. Danielle slipped her hand around to Adam’s front. With the butt of her hand resting against his thick pubic hair, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his raging erection. The base was thick in her fingers. She found that the tips of her fingers couldn’t touch. She allowed her hand to slide up the length of his organ, feeling its girth, the ridges and veins of his manhood, until her fingers came to rest at the bulbous flare of his helmet head, now deep crimson in color.

Adam’s organ was slightly above average—a little over 6.25” long and better than 5.25”around. Adam was proud of his organ, and he knew that it had brought pleasure and orgasm all the women he had been with. But he wasn’t vain about it. He knew that other guys were bigger just as other guys were smaller. But he thought his organ was impressive. And seeing Danielle’s smaller fingers wrapped around it made his male stinger appear all the more large. Her hands on his member made him breath faster, and he pressed his body back into her robe, feeling her covered breasts and stomach against the nude skin of his back.

He felt Danielle’s hands pressure his side and he allowed himself to be turned. “Sit on the bed,” Danielle breathed the words sensuously. He sat down and looked up at her. His eyes were bright and eager. He was a young man with his blood up. His mind and body was eager for release. “Remember what we talked about?” Danielle said.

Adam nodded. It was one of the rules of the photo shoot. If he decided that he wanted to have an intimate photo shoot, Danielle would not leave his hands free to touch her. It was a matter of control. He was only there to look handsome and provide the cameras with the essence of a young man’s sexuality. She was there to encourage him. He was not making love to her. She did not want him to get too excited or aggressive.

Adam lay back on the bed, the gray sheets soft and warm against his back. He laid his arms on the sides of the bed, and Danielle leaned over him to position them. Then she went from hand to hand and tied his wrists to the corners of the bed, where the armrests of the couch were. Adam watched as his organ bobbed in the air and then came to rest on his stomach. Danielle moved to his feet and tied them to the bed. He hadn’t expected that, but it didn’t bother him. Danielle stood before him and allowed her robe to drop to the floor. She wore a crimson silk bra underneath, and a tight silk thong. Paul snapped pictures furiously as she slid next to him on the bed. Adam’s organ still rested on his stomach, pointing up towards his chest and face. His testicles hung underneath, spilled out between his strong by immobile legs.

Danielle gripped his shaft at the base once more, and stroked upwards with her hand along his male spear until her fingers touched the flare of his arrowhead. “Mmmm," she murmurred, as she slowly, tentatively, slid her tongue against the underside of his young cock crown. Licking the precum off his mushroom, her mouth formed a wide O as she pushed her head toward his flat stomach, taking his the shaft of his spear into her mouth. Adam felt her slick bottom teeth against his crown as it slid past them. She held me there in her soft, warm, velvet mouth for a moment, eyes closed, with one hand reaching between my legs, cupping his still soft and dangling male fruit. For Adam, just being in her mouth was pure, buttery bliss, and he shortly felt her tongue slide along and around his shaft. Danielle slowly began to pull away from his groin, dragging her lips back over the tight, soft, and thin skin of his throbbing organ and sliding his cock along her tongue again. Then she went faster, her head bobbing back and forth along the length of his mighty penis, with Danielle sucking enthusiastically whenever his cockhead reached the tip of her tongue. The slurping sounds Danielle was making filled Adam’s ears. He no longer heard the clicking of Paul’s cameras, which captured every look on his face as it twisted with pleasure. His breathing increased steadily to the point of panting. His chest rose and fell as his body filled with quick bursts of air. His girlfriend never sucked his cock like this, not with her lips wrapped around the shaft, bobbing on his organ. She always complained that it was too thick, that it hurt her jaw to suck too much. But Danielle knew what she was doing. “Ohhhhh, ohhhhhhh, goddd,” he moaned. “Ohhhhh, that feels so good.” He eyes were closed to slits. His breath ruffled Danielle’s hair.

Danielle allowed Adam’s tool to pop free from her lips, and she ran her tongue around his throbbing and straining red mushroom, like a lollypop. And then she took him in her mouth again. “Nnuuugghhhhaahhhhhh.” His stomach tightened, and he caught my breath. Danielle felt his mighty penis jerked in her mouth, and she pulled her lips away with a “pop.” She pumped her hand as Adam squirmed and tensed his powerful body on the bed. And then his male body pumped. Five or six shots of hot male seed pulsed from his organ, making a wide arch before splattering randomly on his chest and stomach.

Danielle allowed her hand to rest on the base of his organ. Paul had never stopped clicking with the camera. And as the waves of pleasure began to recede from his mind, Adam could hear the clicking of the other cameras as he lay panting on the bed. “Oh, ohhh, ohhh, man, ohh ohhh ohhh god.” His eyes were closed, but he felt Danielle’s weight leave the bed. He opened them to see her pick up her robe and slide it back over her body. “Wow, that was something,” he said, his body still tingling and panting.

“Ok, we’re almost done,” Paul said. Adam couldn’t see him now. The sound of his voice was somewhere behind the couch. Danielle walked out of Adam’s view. He heard the running of water at the other side of the room. He heard some swishing and someone spit. “Ok, I’m ready,” he heard Paul say.

Danielle walked to the side of the bed. “Untie me. The bed’s kinda sweaty,” Adam said.

But Danielle didn’t say anything. She walked to his feet and leaned on the bed. She had something in her hands. They looked like small black rubber bands. Adam tugged at the ties of his hands. “What’s up with this? Untie me,” Adam said. His voice was slightly higher pitched now, not the deep satisfied groans of his orgasm.

Danielle didn’t say anything. Adam felt her hands, still damp with cold water, begin to fondle his balls. His nuts had pulled tight to his body during his blowjob, but they were starting to loosen up. Danielle reached around and flipped his softening organ away so it would flop up towards his stomach. She could feel Adam testing the bonds of his legs. The powerful muscles of his legs tensed and flexed—just as they had when he had cum only minutes ago. But they couldn’t move.

Adam looked down at her as she worked his nuts, gently and easily. Sweat beaded on his brow, but he didn’t understand what was happening. The shoot was over, wasn’t it. What else was there to photograph? He’d done the blowjob. That meant an extra $1000. Were they going to back out of it now? Danielle stopped messing with his balls, and he felt them come to rest loosely against his taint. Then she raised her hands, the small black bands in her fingers. Using both hands, she struggled to pull them wide and tight. “What are those?” Adam asked.

“Guess he’s never lived on a farm,” Paul said. And Adam heard the click of his camera. “Those are bands, boy. We’re going to castrate you.” CLICK, CLICK.

Adam’s eyes went wide. His body heaved, his bonds pulled tight, the bed creaked and rattled as he struggled. “What the hell,” he said, his voice high pitched and panicked. “What?” He knew what castrated meant. He remembered in Sunday school when they taught about the eunuch on the road that converted to Christianity. It was a guy whose balls had been cut off. He remembered that the guys had chuckled uncomfortably and groaned. Some of the girls had giggled. But that kinda stuff was just old stories. Like from the middle ages and stuff.

Danielle struggled to open the bands, and then her hands disappeared. Adam felt his balls move, felt Danielle’s hands on them. She slid both bands past his balls. He felt the round edges of his orbs brush past the tense rubber. And then Danielle jerked her fingers free, and the bands slammed closed.

“Nnuuuuuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Adam’s face turned red; his entire body tensed. Paul could see the tendons of his neck bulge though the skin. His biceps flexed and his legs pulled, but he couldn’t move more than an inch on the bed. White-hot pain flooded his body. It felt like he was being kicked in the balls—not just one kick and then the pain, but one constant, long, hard kick. The walls of his stomach turned. He felt bile in his throat. He threw his head back against the pillows. His face was a mask of pain. “Aaagguuuhhhhhhhhhhh, ggooooodddddddddd!”

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK.

Adam’s body relaxed. The pain didn’t stop—it just kept throbbing and throbbing. But his muscles couldn’t stay tense forever. He lay quivering in the bed, his limbs twitching against his bonds. He felt the sheets wet with sweat against his ass, which clinched and unclinched against the pain. “Huh, huh, huh,uhuh, aarggghh!”

Two black bands were now around the neck of his scrotum, cutting off the supply of blood to his twin testicles. Danielle stared silently down at Adam’s tied off scrotum. It now bulged large and fat, the tan skin a deep crimson. Sweat glistened on his smooth skin under the hot lights. Drops ran down his sides and dripped onto the sheets as he struggled. Adam’s eyes darted around in the room, looked for someone, anyone, who would help him. His mouth hung open, his eyes squinting, as if he were screaming. But he made no sound, other than a groaning pant.

“Do you know what happens to a man who is castrated?” Paul asked. He was somewhere above Adam’s head. Adam craned his neck back, tilting his head. His adam’s apple stuck into the air. His eyes met Paul’s camera. CLICK, CLICK. “A human male that is castrated loses all sexual desire and potency. They're like dogs that have been neutered. They are tame. No need to worry about them running off looking for a bitch in heat. They're like a horse that is gelded. They don’t buck anymore—either with their riders or with a mare. How does it feel to know that you’re about to be gelded? Castrated? Neutered?”

Adam stared up at the camera. He couldn’t see Paul behind it, but he could see his pasty white fingers holding the camera in place. His chubby thumb clicked the button. CLICK, CLICK. Adam swallowed hard; his adam’s apple bobbed. Sweat ran from his forehead into his hair. “Please,” he rasped in a dry throat. “Please, please don’t, please.”

“I can understand why you are so upset. You’ve got a lot to lose when you think about it. After you are neutered, the muscles of your body will start to slowly whither away. Day by day, you will lose the masculine strength of your body; day by day, you will watch as your muscles vanish into loose skin and fat.”

Adam felt Danielle’s cool fingertips on his body, tracing the lines of his muscles on his stomach, up to his chest, encircling his nipples. He looked down at her, eyes meeting hers, pleading like a little boy for a toy.

“Not to mention the rest of your manhood. Your dick will obviously change, you know. It won’t be able to get hard anymore, of course, and will shrivel because of that. You won’t have to shave anymore. You won’t ever be able to make love to a woman. Think about having to walk through the locker room, knowing that every other guy you see will have a soft hanging bag of manhood between his legs. But you won’t. You won’t be a man anymore, will you?”

Tears streamed down Adam’s chiseled masculine cheeks.

CLICK, CLICK.

“Danielle,” Paul said in an even tone.

Adam raised his head from the sweat-covered pillow and looked down. He saw Danielle raise a thin line—like a fishing or piano wire. Adam watched as her hand lowered to his groin. His soft penis lolled to one side, the pink end of his flaccid hose dropping against his thigh. His pubic hair was matted with sweat. The washboard abs of his stomach flexed and crinkled. He felt her hands handle his scrotum. They felt far away—as if they were hanging very low between his legs, far lower than was really possible. He felt the distant feelings of tugging and lifting, as if his testicles were very heavy. The movement sent a dull ache up into his stomach. He clinched his eyes shut against the pain. And the felt the wire against his balls. By the movement of her arms, he could tell she was twisting the wire around his sac, between the black bands. Then she held the two ends of the wire a part, one hand over each of his thighs. He could see the wire she clinched in each hand and knew that, in between her hands, his balls were encircled by the cruel, almost invisible line.

“Have you liked being a man? All those years, throughout your boyhood, growing up, learning about sex, starting to chase girls, getting laid the first time. Did you like being male? How does it feel to know that it is all about to end? That your manhood is about to be cut from between your legs? And there’s nothing you can do about it?”

Adam felt the filament wire brushing against his thighs. His balls ached. He was losing them; he was losing them. He was going to lose his balls. He closed his eyes tight. His mouth hung open. “Nnnoooooooo, plleeeaaaasssse!” he screamed.

And Danielle pulled the wire tight. CLICK, CLICK.

“AAUuuuuuugghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” CLICK, CLICK.

White-hot horror shot up from Adam’s groin like two cold knives stabbing into his stomach from underneath. He felt a hot ball, like a large hackey sack, against his leg, resting on the bed. And he knew that it was his testicles, his manhood. His balls weren’t between his legs anymore. CLICK, CLICK.

His eyes stared straight up to the ceiling. But his eyes didn’t see. His body shook and convulsed, twitched in sudden and painful shock. He felt someone tug at his jaw. His mouth felt distant and far away, the way it does when the dentist is working on his teeth. He felt something soft being pushed into his mouth. He felt tiny thin hairs brush against his dry tongue. He felt round edges under the softness that filled his mouth. Two firm round edges. His balls were in his mouth. CLICK, CLICK.

“That’s good,” he heard Paul say. It sounded like he was in another room. But he sensed movement over his head. "Let’s pack it up.”

* * *

The buyers filled the exhibit room. It was a small room in a dank warehouse. But they had gathered before in dumpier places. This latest exhibit was the best in years, and lots of guests had come for the viewing. And why not? The exhibits were very rare.

The blown up images surrounded the guests as their gazed and admired. Paul was standing beside a tall image of the young man standing strong and tall, his manhood slung in white boxer briefs. The row beside him showed the young man flexing his muscles, his biceps, his back, his chest. Doubtless, those muscles were gone now, hidden under layers of fat.

The next wall featured images of pleasure. The young man’s tall thick manhood buried deep into the red lips of a woman. The final image in the row showed his organ standing tall, so thick, so proud. A glob of sperm was in mid shot in the air over his body. The young man’s face could be seen, tense, but also strangely relaxed around the eyes.

And on the third row, a different set. This showed the young man’s male organs tied like fruit dangling from the tree of his manhood. Various tense and pleading head shots followed. And then the shot of his testicles hanging from his mouth, his eyes vacant and tired. It was an amazing shot, and many guests gasped as they walked by. The ovalness of the young man’s testicles was so pure. They way they protruded from his lips, the whites of his teeth barely visible around the soft flesh. Many commented on the wary, defeated look in his eyes. One woman chuckled and said that he looked like a chipmunk with is mouth stuffed with nuts. His balls looked bigger from his mouth than they had looked when dangling between his legs. Most of the guests agreed that it was an interesting example of how placement of an object affects perception.

And at the end of the exhibit, Danielle stood next to the final two images. They were blown up large and covering the wall. Both images were similar. They each were a face shot of the young man, his features strong and bold. His eyes were squinted tight, his face sweaty and tense. As each group of guests passed, she explained to them what they were seeing. One image was of the young man at the moment of the final orgasm of his life—the last time his awareness would be overcome by the waves of tense, amazing pleasure welling from between his legs. The other image was at taken at the moment of his emasculation, when the wire bit into the flesh of his scrotum and sliced his manhood from his body. Both moments were forever frozen in time—the final legacy of a young manhood cut short in its prime. Danielle smiled as the guests tried to guess which image was which.

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