By justoneguy

Travis was on his way to high school, walking along the country road. Of course, it wasn’t so much a country road anymore. A junction to I-994 had been completed a few years after Travis was born, and the old dirt road had been paved over. Now, cars whizzed by on the two lane road, crossing between I-994 and state highway 42. The heavy traffic was one of the main reasons Travis still walked to school, even though he was a Senior and could park on campus if he wanted to. But with so many cars passing in front of the school in the morning, driving his car would actually add about 10 minutes to his trip—and that was 10 minutes he would rather spend sleeping in the morning. Besides, he liked a smoke in the morning. And the old dirt driveway across the street from his high school was the perfect place to sneak a smoke before heading to class.

Travis’s backpack was heavy. The straps were over both of his shoulders, the heavy pack slumping down on his lower back. Travis was a senior, but he wasn’t the biggest or strongest guy in his school. The backpack certainly felt heavy to him, and he adjusted the straps on his broad but not overly muscular shoulders several times as he walked down the road. He was about 5’10, but he hoped to grow a few more inches before he graduated this year. At about 140lbs, he was a thin young man, but with a muscular frame and very little fat. He was particularly proud of his flat stomach and the lines of muscle there—not that he had worked out to achieve them. It was just youthfulness and an active life that kept him trim and fit. He didn’t realize it, but most likely the beer drinking lifestyle of college would give him the belly he would take into middle age. But he never thought about things like that. Right then he was thinking about his clothes. He was wearing jeans and a green T-shirt, and already he was starting to get cold. He should have worn a jacket. It was late October, almost Halloween. Hopefully it would be warmer in class. Fortunately, he would be going home right after school. Travis didn’t play any sports at his school, but he often stayed after to hang out with friends in the parking lot. Not today, however. He wanted to maximize his time at home before his parents got home from work. Heather was coming over.

Heather had been coming over a lot in the last few weeks. At first they just watched TV with his friend Brian. But after a few days, Travis had asked Brian to hang back and stop coming over after school. He was getting strong vibes from Heather, and he had high hopes that if he played it cool, he would soon make his first score. Of course, he didn’t tell Brian it would be his first score. Travis, like the other young males at his high school, liked to talk big about their experiences—without giving too many details that could be verified. He was considered kind of a stud at his school—or as much of a stud as a guy who didn’t play sports could be considered. He had the good looks of his face, his dark eyes, and his fit body to thank for the good opinion of the girls at school. But in reality, he had only kissed 3 girls when he started his senior year, and had only touch one pair of breasts in his life. Since then, he had hung out with Heather a lot, and had felt her breasts through her clothes quite a bit on the den couch.

Just yesterday, after school, Heather had taken off his T-shirt, and he had taken off hers. He had felt her titts through her bra, and she had laid her head on his naked chest. They lay there all afternoon, her head on the smooth skin of his chest, the silky cotton of her bra covered breasts resting against his flat stomach. He had an erection the whole time. And, for the first time in his life, a girl had touched it. After laying on top of him for over an hour, talking and giggling, Heather had reached out and felt the growing bulge in his jeans. All that time, Travis had been praying for her to touch him, to take the playfulness to the next level. And now she was. She must have noticed it for some time, but only gotten up the nerve to touch it as time went on. She had felt the wide cylinder of firmness that stuck out under the denim of his pants, and pushed her palm up and down on it a few times. Travis shifted his body under her, and her breasts compressed on his stomach a little. He put his hand on her hair and started to stroke it. “Huuuhhhhh,” he had breathed a little whimper as he felt another person’s hand on his male pole for the first time in his life. To Heather, it was the most masculine sound she had ever heard. And then she unbuckled his jeans and stuck her hand inside. “Nnuuaahhhh,” Travis moaned softly as he felt Heather’s smooth, warm hand touch the naked throbbing helmet of his manhood. He looked down and saw the large bulge her hand was making in his jeans as she dug inside his pants. Then he closed his eyes again and lay he head back on the couch pillow, his right hand still fumbling with her hair. But he brought his left hand up and began to feel the plump softness of he breast as it rested on his stomach. And then Heather moaned, ever so slightly. She had her hand rapped around the shaft of his organ, feeling its smooth hard curves. The skin of his shaft was tight, and as she pulled her hand back and force, it became slick with a little fluid. She had never felt anything like it, a living body part so unlike any part of her own body. The tip of his stinger was plump, and she made an extra effort to brush over it as she stroked. She could feel the tangled forest of his pubic hair against her fingernails, the rough cotton of his boxer-briefs against her knuckles, the warm soft hardness of his manhood against her palm.

After she had stroked his member for about two minutes, Travis’s hips began to move under her, slightly up and down, the cushions of the couch shifting a little under his butt. She could feel his chest rising up and down under her head and could hear the beating of his heart. “Huuh, Huhh, Huhh,” he moaned with each breath, the lips of his mouth parted just enough for the sound to escape and to draw in another burst of air. He was beginning to feel the feeling that all males desire, especially young inexperienced males. He knew that his balls were tight up against his body and could feel the pressure of the pleasure building up behind his virile fruit. “Do you like it,” he whimpered softly, the breath of his words blowing a few strands of her hair.

She wasn’t sure what to say, so was so caught up in the moment, and the strange and powerful feeling of his manhood, and the feeling of his hand on her breasts, his hips moving under her. “Yes,” she breathed softly, softly blowing the curls of dark brown sex hair that lead from his navel down his flat lower stomach and into the darkness of his jeans. “It’s a big one.”

She felt Travis’s strong body shift powerfully under her, his chest sucked in air and his muscles stiffened. “Nnuuuaaaghhh, huh, huh, huh.” And then she felt his organ spasm under her palm, and the dark tightness of his underwear filled up with slippery hot fluid. Suddenly, her hand in his pants was awash in slick warm spunk, the seed of Travis’s young manhood. His breath was quick and strained; he panted under her, ruffling her hair with his hand and breath. And then he relaxed.

“Wow,” she had said. She raised her head from his chest and looked at the boy she now considered her boyfriend. Travis seemed exhausted, his head lying back on the pillow, his eyes relaxed but closed, his mouth hanging open. She pulled her hand up out of his warm and slippery jeans and rested it on he flat stomach. She shifted her body on the couch and leaned over to kiss his still panting mouth. He returned her kiss, and their tongues met inside the warms of their mouths. They kissed long, saliva spreading over their lips. But finally Heather pulled away and sat up on the couch, her legs falling behind the cushions. “We’ve made kinda a mess,” she said, giggling.

“Yeah,” Travis said, seeming a little distant. A large dark wet spot had formed on the front of his jeans. He sat up on the couch and kissed Heather again. Then he rested his forehead on hers and played with her hair again. “I guess I better get cleaned up. My dad will be home soon.”

Then Heather had left—less than 30 minutes after his first orgasm with a girl. He was a little disappointed that she didn’t stay. He had a fantasy in his mind that she would want to shower with him. But she hadn’t volunteered, so he didn’t mention it. Travis stood in the shower and let the warm water run over his body, rinsing the sweat away. As he washed the globs of semen from his sex hair, Travis felt like he was living a dream. He could still smell Heather’s hair, and his dick still felt the tingle of her touch, although it was now soft and dangled in the warm shower spray. He had masturbated that night thinking about what had happened—and what might happen the next day. And again this morning, he awoke with an erection and quickly jerked it off before getting out of bed. Now walking to school, he thought about Brian and his other friends, and what he would tell them if they asked how things were going with Heather. He always thought that the first thing he would want to do if a girl gave him a hand-job or a blowjob would be to brag to everyone he knew. But now that it had actually happened, he seemed a little nervous about it. Sure, he wanted to brag and tell them how much she was into him and how good it felt. But now that something had actually happened between him and Heather, it suddenly felt very private to him, as if it was a secret that only he and she shared and that he shouldn’t betray it.

But, even though he would feel guilty about it later, he knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to resist telling Brian—especially what she had said about the size of his organ. Travis had never thought of himself as particularly hung. He never thought of himself as small either. He had never thought much about the size of his manhood at all, other than a few quick glances at the health books to find out what the average penis was. But Heather’s breathy words about his cock being a big one pounded in his head with pride. As he walked, the thought of it gave him a stiffy. And he slyly adjusted his hard cock in his pants so the cars passing by wouldn’t see his bulge. She had said he was big! It didn’t occur to him that his dick was the first one Heather herself had seen or that she didn’t really have anything to compare it to. She had thought it was big, so it must be. With his 6” x 5” erection pointed up to his belt buckle and bulging in the front of his jeans, Travis smiled to himself on his way to school.

And when he reached the old dirt driveway across from Clarksdale High, he turned the corner out of habit. Dried brown leaves blew down the dirt path that served as driveway for the Fuller House. The driveway was lined with trees on both sides, thick underbrush and unkept growth. The driveway led to an old ranch-style house that could be seen from the road. But the yard was always a mess, and the dirt drive that led to the house was always clear enough for a car to pass through—but no cleaner.

Travis reached behind to his backpack and pulled it around to his side. He unzipped a pocket and pulled his pack of smokes. He put the cigarette behind his ear and then hiked the backpack onto his back again. He fumbled in his pocket for a small green lighter. The fluid level could be seen through the clear green plastic, and it was obviously low. But it would light this cig for him, and that would get him through ‘til lunch, when he and his friends would be standing in the dirt driveway together, in a circle, probably talkin’ about his hand-job.

Travis had started smoking in 10th grade because he thought it made him look cool. And despite what the government anti-smoking ads said, it did make him look cool. He turned an easy corner in the dirt driveway, about two and a half car lengths from the road, where the trees and brush would block the view of him from the road, and he lit his smoke. He heard the morning birds chirping in the underbrush and the cars swoosh by from the road. There was a cool breeze, so he held his hand up over his mouth as the cig lit, and he took a drag. He dropped the lighter back in his front pocket and adjusted his crotch again. His dick had gone soft again and now felt awkward pointing up in his underwear. A quick tug on the crotch of his jeans and if fell back into its natural position. Then Travis took his cigarette between his fingers and took another drag. He turned his head up to the sky and exhaled a small cloud of smoke into the air.

And then the Shape struck.

Travis saw only a quick movement from the corner of his eye. The only thought he had time to think was simple curiosity at something out of place and unexpected. The Shape was fast, much faster than one would thing something that big could move. And then the back of Travis’s head exploded in pain. He hadn’t even seen the swing. For a moment he seemed to be blind; he didn’t know where he was. Then he felt the hard dirt ground slam into his side. A sharp pain shot up his arm from his elbow. He face fell into the dirt and in inhaled the dust of the driveway. Travis’s chest felt hot as he coughed up the dirt from his lungs. He turned his head up from the ground and the darkness of his vision exploded into the bright light of the sun. Nothing was in focus, but suddenly the black Shape filled his vision—two massive shoulders of black. “Wha,” he said through coughs. But the Shape struck like lightning, and the left side of Travis’s face exploded in pain. He hadn’t heard a sound, just the hard smack of the Shape’s iron fist on the bone of his left cheek, and his face slammed back down into the dirt.

Travis’s mind was utterly confused. He had never been in a fight or even been hit on purpose. He wasn’t quite sure where he was anymore, or what day it was. He had no rational thought, only pain and confusion. But the Shape was still at work. Its teenage prey seemed helpless, spread on the ground. The Shape leaned over and grabbed him by his shoulder. With a mighty heavy, it swung Travis over like a rag doll, his limp arms and legs spread out on the ground.

Travis didn’t know it, but he was now looking up at the sky. All he understood or saw was a blurry blaze of light. Everything seemed to be moving fast and slow at the same time. When he tried to move his own limbs, they seemed so heavy and moved in slow motion. But the massive dark shape standing over him seemed to move with the speed of a snake, unmovable, unstoppable. Travis was now face up on the ground. The bookbag was still strapped to his back, and seemed to prop up his upper body. In a daze, he looked down and saw his legs spread out on the dirt, his arms limp at his side. The shadow of the shape was over him. His swimming eyes looked up to the Shape’s pale featureless face. Then he felt a might jerk on his body. The Shape grabbed the front of Travis’s jeans, its mighty hand gripping the buckle of Travis’s belt. Travis felt his lower body being raised from the ground. With a jerk of his mighty arm, the Shape ripped the belt from around Travis’s hips and slung it aside. Travis tried to raise his hands, but they felt weak and heavy at his sides. Then the Shape reached out for him again, this time gripping the top front of Travis’s pants. Travis’s butt was pulled from the ground. The ripping sound of fabric breaking filled Travis’s ears—it seemed to be the only sound in the world. And his ass feel back down to the ground. Travis sat unmoving, his back propped up by his bookbag. And he stared down at his body. The Shape had ripped the front of his jeans, the button on top of the fly was gone, the zipper a tangled mess. His fly was spread open, the gray cotton fabric of his boxer-briefs visible underneath. He then saw the Shape’s mighty hands reach down again, and he felt their grip on his hips. The shape heaved again, and Travis felt a whoosh of movement. His jeans and underwear were pulled from his hips in a powerful jerk. They gathered in a bundle around his ankles, the dirty white of his sneakers visible beneath. Travis felt the cold hard dirt of the driveway against his ass. All this had happened in less than 15 seconds.

The Shape stood over him, its pale face betraying no emotion. But intensity radiated from its black form. Below it, spread on the ground, bewildered and helpless, as the prey he sought. Travis lay naked from his waist to his ankles. His thighs were hairless; his calf muscles dotted with fine dark hairs. The skin of his waist and thighs was pale, much paler than his lower legs and stomach. His forest of pubic hair was dark like the hair of his head, and it spread from his genitals in a diamond shape, tapering up to a line that led up into his T-shirt and beyond that to his navel. But the patch of hair that showed his maturity had not yet spread to his thighs or over his flat stomach. And from his patch of sex hair hung his precious manhood, his genitals, the parts of his sex, cold and exposed in the soft morning breeze. His penis was soft, hanging like a sausage hose from the dark hairs that crowned it. The skin of the organ was creamy white, the plump mushroom tip a soft pink. Soft folds of pink skin gathered behind the helmet head, the leftover of his infant circumcision. And beneath the limp dangling tub hung his balls, full and heavy in the blaze of the sun. The skin of his sac was a mature tan/pink. The soft velvet bag of his manhood was dotted with long straggly black hairs. Each of his twin oval balls where clearly outlined in the soft clinging of his scrotal flesh. The organs that defined his manhood were exposed and open in the morning light, and the Shape looked down on them.

In the 20 seconds since he took his last drag from his cigarette, Travis’s mind began to clear. He was still not thinking clearly, and couldn’t focus on what he saw. But his body now felt warm with fear. He held his arms up at the Shape, as if to ward off a blow. His arms felt heavy to him, but the Shape batted them away as one would the stems of a tree. The Shape reached into a pocket on his black suit and dropped a knife and a small black band into the dirt between Travis’s outstretched legs. And then the Shape bent down, and Travis felt its rough cold hands on his body, on his lower body, on the exposed skin of his abdomen. Fear raced through him, a primal urge to escape. The cold callused hand of the Shape brushed aside the soft sensitive skin of his dick, and it rolled aside onto Travis’s thigh like a soft noodle. Travis couldn’t think, but his primal mind then knew what the Shape intended to do, and his strong teenage body jerked in a spasm of fear and escape. “Urah, noo,” he heard himself say. There seemed to be no sound but what he made himself. The breeze was quiet. He put his arms up again, and tried to role to his side. He felt the bookbag propping up his back shift as he turned his body. But he seemed to be moving slow, so slow. And the Shape, towering over him, had the speed of a snake.

Travis felt the Shape grip his shoulders and pull his upper body face up again. In the rush of his fear, the muscles of his body had felt stronger and his arms less heavy. But now, in the Shape’s grasp, Travis’s body seemed as limp as a doll. Travis’s world seemed to spin for a moment, and then he felt a hard pain on his right cheek. The teen’s head rolled with the punch, the brightness of the sky blinding him, his head exploding in bewildering pain. Then he felt the Shape’s massive weight on his chest. The Shape pushed Travis’s shoulders to the ground. Travis felt the bookbag, still strapped to his back, shift down and the Shape pushed him to the ground.

“Nnnnnnooooooo,” Travis cried in guttural panic. He couldn’t move now. The Shape had pressed his shoulders to the ground; its mighty knee rested on Travis’s chest. He was pinned to the earth like a child would pin an ant. The bookbag was now under Travis’s lower back, forcing his hips off the ground. His naked crotch now pointed in the air, his legs lying limply on the ground. The weight of his shoes and of his pants gathered at his ankles seemed to heavy, Travis couldn’t move his legs. His muscles felt white with fire. He felt the cool breeze ruffle the curls of his sex hair.

And the Shape went to work. It reached for the small black band, and slipping its fingers in the ring, opened the little band wide. Travis felt its cold hand on his precious male bag once more. Electric fear rushed through his body. Oh god, his balls, this thing had his balls! He was so helpless and exposed. “NNNuuuuahhhhhh!” he struggled under the weight of the Shape’s powerful knee. “Nnnnoooo, ggguaa, nott my ballsss…” He felt tears run out of the corner of his eyes.

The Shape gently slid his fingers—and the black band—over the roundness of Travis’s balls. Travis felt his sensitive male stones rest in the cold palm of the Shape’s hand as his fingers probed the neck of his soft bag. Then, in a flash, the Shape let the band slip from his fingers. The band slammed closed around the neck of Travis’s scrotum. Two white hot pains shot up Travis’s groin, as sharp as ice picks, up into his stomach. “Ggraaaaaahhhhhhhhh,” he screamed as his manhood was literally pinched off from his body. He couldn’t move under the weight of the Shape. His entire existence at that moment was the pressure of the Shape’s knee and the white-hot pain shooting from between his legs.

I dribble of urine trickled from the pink head of Travis’s shriveled penis. Travis felt in against his thigh and thought it was blood. The Shape took no notice. It bent down for the knife. Travis couldn’t see what was happening. His vision was a blur—just the black, towering shape of the monster and behind it a blurry bright blue. But he felt the edge of the knife against his the sensitive flesh of his scrotum; he felt the stream of tears rolling down the corner of his eyes; he felt the warm trickle of liquid against his thigh. The Shape held Travis’s ripe male fruit in his hand. Travis felt his orbs resting, surprisingly gently, against his cold palm. And the edge of the knife was there, at the neck of his sac, threatening to take from him his very manhood. And then the world seemed to slow. The Shape was no longer moving faster than he was, in Travis’s mind. He had enough time to jerk his body under the weight of the Shape, but it was useless. In that second he suddenly felt like he had time to think. His mind raced. He could feel his heart in his chest. “P,p,please, please, don’t hurt ‘em. Please, god, please, not my balls. Please, don’t hurt ‘em.” He heard his own voice as a whisper over the wind.

The Shape didn’t move. Was he frozen? Time seemed to slow to a crawl. “HELPPP! PLEASE HELP ME!” Travis cried suddenly. He felt the wind rushing from his body as his voice echoed in the air.

And the Shape’s mighty arm jerked. It felt to Travis like the monster had gripped his sensitive orbs and was pulling them from his body. The horrible pressure on his chest of overshadowed by blaze of pain radiating like sun from between his legs. “UurrrrrAaAAAgggguuhhhhhhhh!” he heard himself scream. And then the pressure of the Shape’s knee rose off his chest. Travis could breath again. “He let go of them; He let go of them,” he thought over and over. The white-hot pain shot up from his groin, but he body felt free. His hands trembled in the dirt of the ground. He held his head up. And he saw the dark Shape towering over him in the warm light of the sun.

The Shape’s pasty white blank face was no longer looking down at Travis. It was half turned, studying intently something in its right hand. Travis’s body trembled; his hands felt clammy and shook in the dirt. He allowed he weigh to rock him forward, and he slid his body off the hump of the bookbag under him. He felt his naked butt rest on the ground, the dirt sticking to the sweat on his ass. He reached his trembling hand to his thigh and brushed off the dribbles of urine off his thigh. Then he reached into his crotch to cradles his aching balls. And that was when he felt it—I tight cold band, and below it, a small bit of tattered flesh. His body heaved, and a new pain—deeper, sharper—blazed from between his legs into his soul. “Nnuuhhhggnnoooooooooo,” he heard himself scream.

Then he understood what the Shape held in his hand. It was the hanging bag of his manhood—what had been in his manhood. His two twin orbs still hung in their soft protective sac, but now they hung from between the fingers of the monster who had stolen them from between his legs. The Shape seemed to forget Travis was there. It just stared with unnatural intensity on the hanging bag of flesh in his hand. It cocked its head slightly to the right, a movement that at once evoked innocence and curiosity. But then the moment passed. And the Shape tossed the useless bag of flesh from his hand. It was only interested in destroying manhood; now that they were removed from the teenager’s body, the testicles meant nothing to it.

Travis felt the heavy thud of his own severed male orbs as they landed on his naked lower stomach with a smack. He felt the two orbs that had been the source of his manhood against the smooth skin of his belly. The useless severed male meat slid down the love trail from his navel and came to rest in the thick curls of his sex hair—like eggs in black Easter grass.

At that moment, Travis’s body began to convulse. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body was drowned in a sea of emasculated anguish. He didn’t see the Shape turn and disappear into the brush.

THE END

SPECIAL EXTRA:

THE FOLLOWING IS AN EXCEPT OF A NATIONAL NEWS STORY BASED ON THE EVENTS DRAMATIZED ABOVE.

Fear Grips Small Town

Attack on teen endangers Halloween celebration

Hadloville, IL. – The small town of Hadloville was gripped with fear this week following the brutal attack and emasculation of a local teen. Travis Jordon (17) was walking to school early Tuesday morning when he was accosted by an unknown assailant. Reports from the scene confirmed that the Clarksdale High student was brutally emasculated.

“I saw him walk up the old dirt road,” said Sally Hofner, a freshman at Clarksdale High. “Some of the older kids go back there to smoke sometimes. I noticed Travis because my sister has been seeing him for the last few weeks.”

Mr. Jordon’s best friend Brian also witnessed him walk down the dirt driveway at 7:50 a.m. Tuesday morning. “He called me the night before and told me that he wanted to talk before class. He was sure excited about something. So when I saw him across the street I started to walk over. But the traffic was pretty heavy, and I couldn’t cross the street right away. It was only about a minute later that I heard him scream.”

Responding the Mr. Jordon’s cry for help, several students and a local Sheriff stationed at the school parking lot rushed across the street. They found Mr. Jordon there, his pants and underwear around his ankles, apparently emasculated.”

“This poor kid was just laying there, having heavy convulsions. You could see his… parts laying on top of him. He was none responsive, in shock. I sent a kid to call an ambulance and ran down the path. But I didn’t see anybody around. Hard to believe someone could get away that fast.”

Mr. Jordon was taken to Hadloville Memorial Hospital, where his condition was stabilized rapidly. The teenager’s severed testicles and scrotum were recovered from the scene, but could not be reattached. “We just don’t have the medical ability to reattach those particular organs,” said Dr. Robert Rubaker. “It would have been different if he’d had his penis cut off. We can reattach that. But it probably wouldn’t function again.”

The victim of the assault could not be reached for comment. Mr. Jordon was taken to his family home from the hospital on Thursday, but has not returned to school. No member of the victim’s immediate family would comment to the media.

But Mr. Jordon’s first cousin William Jordon, 19, did speak to reporters outside the family’s home. “It is pretty scary. I really feel sorry for Travis. All he said to me when I talked to him at the hospital was ‘I’m not a man anymore. I don’t have balls anymore.’”

Asked about Mr. Jordon’s mental state, his cousin responded: “He was f***in castrated! How would you feel about it? And I overhear the doctors telling his parents that they think Travis is allergic to the fake hormones they started giving him. That means that he’ll probably never get another erection again and won’t even be about to f*** a girl.”

At that point, William Jordon’s father appeared at the door of the residence and ended the interview.

Sheriff Jay Obsone’s office issued a statement this morning, warning residence to remain indoors at night and to only walk in pairs. “At first we thought that this Jordon kid must have mutilated himself. It seemed incredible that someone could do what was done to this kid in one minute flat. But there was no weapon found on the scene. We searched the underbrush all day and found nothing. However castrated this kid is still on the loose and is armed.”

Reports of an escaped lunatic from Casdune Medical Hospital also weighed on the Sheriff’s decision to rule the attack an assault. “There was a man here a few days ago claiming to be the doctor of the escaped mental patient. But, to be honest, he wasn’t really very helpful. He mostly just waved a revolver around and raved about ‘pure evil’, or something.”

The proclamation from the Sheriff means that Halloween celebrations might be put on hold for Hadloville. Local children and teens were mixed in their reaction.

“This totally sucks,” said Anthony Spivit, 13, of Levit Junior High School. “I shouldn’t have to miss out on Trick-or-Treat just because some guy got his f***in balls cut off.” His mother immediately disciplined Mr. Spivit for his remark.

But Jeff Johnson, 16, of Clarksdale High was more reflective. “I’m certainly not going out on Halloween. Jeez, I’m not risking my nuts.” Upon making his statement, Mr. Johnson’s friend Billy Dwiggins slapped Mr. Johnson’s groin with the back of his hand. Mr. Johnson immediately fell to the ground, cradling himself, and could not comment further.

Since that attack in Hadloville on Tuesday, three other attacks have been reported in areas along I-994. In each attack, a teenage male has been brutally castrated and left to be discovered by authorities. So far none of the attacks have resulted in a fatality. When asked if the attacks were related, the office of state police replied, “No comment.”

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

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