When Eastern Petroleum closed a number of gas stations on the East coast, Guy Winslow bought the one where he worked, took out the pumps, re-named it the Modern Garage, and went into auto repair full time.

Guy was a good mechanic and made a success of the business. He was also a gay pedophile, and the fact that teenaged boys like to hang around garages worked to his advantage. It was easy to grope a boy down in the grease pit ("just fooling around", of course), for example.

From groping, it was a short step to comparing male equipment, from there to jerking off together, next to jerking each other off, and finally to a blow job from Guy Winslow. All of this was accompanied by an interminable monologue about sex, a subject of infallible interest to teenaged boys.

Most of the boys took all of this "dirty stuff" lightheartedly and casually without getting uptight about it. A few were upset and never returned to the Modern Garage, but kept it to themselves. Eddie Haswell, however, felt defiled by it and guilty about letting Guy take liberties with him. Finally, he spoke to his father about it, and told him the names of the other boys whom he knew to have been molested by Guy Winslow.

Bill Haswell knew the fathers of the other boys. They were variously bowling buddies, golfing buddies, drinking buddies, hunting buddies, lodge brothers and what-all else. After assuring Eddie that he would see to it that nothing of this sort ever happened again, and taking considerable thought as to just what to do about it, he finally invited the fathers of four of the boys: Micky Spellman, Tom Crow, Matt Auchinlech, and Ben Demian to visit him to discuss "a matter of importance concerning our sons' welfare."

All of them responded and met with Bill in his rec. room. "We're all good friends, but I think you realize that this is more than just a social visit." he began. "I'll get to the point immediately. Guy Winslow is a pervert who has been messing around with my son and your sons. I don't know how you feel about this, but I don't want to involve the police because I don't want to embarrass and probably disgrace Eddie. I think we can handle this ourselves and in such a way that Guy Winslow won't ever even so much as look at another boy."

"What do you have in mind ?" asked Scotty Auchinlech. "Well, I've thought about this at some length." said Bill. "Of course, we could just cut his balls off, but that's not as effective as it used to be. He could get hormone treatments and be up to his old tricks in a couple of weeks . Cutting his dick off is too dangerous. He could easily bleed to death before he could be gotten to a hospital. I don't want anything to do with murder.

I've figured out an agonizing way to ruin his dick, balls, and prostate gland beyond repair, using his own electric welder. I've got everything that's needed, and it isn't much: a piece of 1/4-inch copper tubing, an old 6-volt battery ground strap, and two nails. With these and his electric welder, we can electrocute his cock, prostate gland, and balls and burn out the nerves to his prick so he'll never be able to use it again for anything but pissing. I hardly need to say that it'll hurt far worse than anything he's ever experienced or even imagined."

"There's no danger of killing him, is there ?" asked Mr. Spellman. "He might go into shock." answered Bill Haswell. I think that a whiff of oxygen would bring him out of it. Does anybody have any ?" Mr. Spellman nodded. "My father used it for his emphysema until he died last month. I have an unused cylinder and a spare mask."

Bill smiled. "Then, I think we have nothing to worry about.

I'm sure you all are wondering exactly what I have in mind for our pederast mechanic. The copper tubing was cut with a tubing cutter, so it has a smooth rounded edge at the end. I'll push it up his dick until I meet resistance. That's where his prostate gland is. Then I'll put the other end of it into the welding rod holder. The nails will be pushed through the ground strap a couple of inches apart, exactly where depends on how big Winslow's balls are.

Then the nails will be pushed into Guy Winslow's balls; the ground strap will be wrapped around his bag and the ends clamped together with the ground clamp of the welder. When the current is turned on, it will flow through his dick and prostate gland, down the cords, and out through his balls. The current passing through his prostate gland will stimulate the erection nerves which are wrapped around it. He'll get a terrific boner which will stay hard until the nerves burn out.

Then his dick will flop down permanently limp. By this time his balls and prostate gland should be pretty well fried and it'll be time to turn off the current."

Mr. Demian raised his hand. "Just how much current is there ?" Bill reflected for a moment. "Well, most arc welders produce between 40 and 50 volts, but the current depends on the electrical resistance it's passing through and I don't have any idea what that would be.

Obviously, while all this is going on, he'll be screaming bloody murder, so we'll have to gag him. We'd better tie his hands behind his back, too." " I gather we're going to do this at the garage, but when ?" asked Mr. Crow. "Guy closes the garage for business at 6:00, but he's never out of there much before 7:00. I don't think he locks the door until he leaves. We should be able to just barge in, jump him, gag him, and tie him up."

"But the whole front of the office is glass." objected Mr. Crow. "Surely we'll be seen ." Bill shook his head. "Nobody lives around there. There's nothing but factories and warehouses on that stretch of Rte. 37, and very light traffic after 5:00, mostly 18-wheelers. He turns off the outside lights as soon as he's closed for business.

Are you willing to try my plan, or does someone have a better one ?" Nobody did and it was agreed to carry it out on Wednesday, an especially low-traffic evening.

Guy Winslow didn't know and wouldn't recognise any of the fathers of his playmates, but, still, they preferred to remain anonymous, so all of them wore ski masks and work clothes (without company logos, however) to the Wednesday evening raid. They went together in one car, a grungy old Chevy which Bill Haswell used on hunting trips.

The traffic was very light, and they pulled unnoticed into the parking area in front of the Clydebinder Manufacturing Company, next to the Modern Garage, just before Guy turned off the outside lights. He kept only a desk lamp on in the office. He had gone nowhere near the front door and obviously had not locked it. They crossed the darkened parking lot silently, pulled open the door, rushed in, and overpowered Guy Winslow before he realized what was happening.

He was gagged, bound, and hobbled (by taping his ankles together with duct tape) in a few seconds. Inasmuch as no one made any attempt to rifle his cash box or open the safe, he was nonplussed by their intentions. They dragged him into the service bay where the arc welder was located and pulled down his pants and boxer shorts. He was beginning to understand what was going on.

While four of the men held him, the fifth slicked up a 9-inch length of 1/4-inch copper tubing with spit and thrusted it up thru his urethra until it met resistance against the verumontanum, the protrusion of the prostate gland into the urethra.

Guy panicked when the copper tube was clamped into the welding rod holder of his arc welder. He could guess how the circuit would be completed. He tried to struggle but was held too firmly to accomplish much.

He watched sick with fear as the man who seemed to be in charge measured his balls with a machinist's scale, and forced two nails, each about 1¼ inches long through a copper braid ground strap. So far he had not been hurt, but, as the man pressed the nails into and nearly through his balls, Guy screamed in excruciating pain. Of course, he made very little sound, gagged as he was. The ground strap was then wrapped around his bag and the ends clamped together with the ground clamp of the welder.

So far, no one had spoken either to him or to each other. Now, the man who had

connected his genitals to the arc welder spoke to him. " Now then, pervert, you're smart enough to figure out what's going to happen to you when I turn on the power and it shouldn't take an Albert Einstein to figure out why this is being done to you. We're putting an end to your nasty little games with teenaged boys.

When we're done with you, you'll never get a boner again and you'll never cum again. The fun is over. I wouldn't advise complaining to the police. We might just have to tell them what you've been doing down in the grease pit. So, take your medicine like a good little boy and shut up. Oh, and by the way, except for your size and your voice, a little boy is all you'll be from now on. You'll never be a man again."

Guy tried to brace humself for the terrible pain he anticipated. When the power was turned on, he failed completely. The pain was vastly and devastatingly more intense than he had ever imagined the human body could possibly feel. His cock swelled instantly and stood erect in the biggest hardest boner he had ever seen.

And every millimeter of that immense hardon HURT unbearably.

That pain, however, was as nothing compared to the overwhelming anguish, the

excruciatingly unbearable agony in his balls. A jet of gism, as if fired from a cannon, spurted from the copper tube in his dick and spattered on the opposite wall of the service bay. Ejaculation had always before been accompanied by intense pleasure, but this time, it was accompanied by indescribable PAIN !

Guy screamed almost inaudibly into his gag. He screamed until he was hoarse. He screamed until he was exhausted by the sheer effort of screaming. And the pain went on. In addition to the wrenching, sickening, unendurable pain in his balls, there was a growing sensation of heat. Not only did his grotesquely enormous boner hurt unbearably, but it was burning inside. Back near his asshole was a growing hot globe of pain, his prostate gland, on the verge of bursting. The gism, still spurting from the copper tube in his cock was scaldingly hot.

Tears were pouring down Guy's face as he continued trying to scream. This couldn't continue. It had to end, if only with his death. Suddenly, almost instantaneously, Guy's enormous boner collapsed and retracted. This was the sign which Bill had been awating. He switched off the power. The pain in Guy's cock, balls, and prostate gland decreased immediately by orders of magnitude, but not, by any stretch of the imagination, to zero. His entire reproductive system still hurt terribly.

The copper tube was pulled out of Guy's dick, taking the lining of the urethra with it. Blood began to drip from his male organ, now permanently flaccid. Next, the nails were wrenched out of his balls, bits of cooked seminiferous tubules clinging to them.

Guy was untied and the gag removed. Inasmuch as he could not speak above a whisper, Bill called 911 for him and told the dispatcher that Guy Winslow was in the office of the Modern Garage, 2611 Spottsdale Turnpike, badly hurt. His "unknown assailants" carried him back to the office and seated him at his desk.

At the hospital, Guy told the doctors at the ER what had been done to him, but told the police nothing about by whom or why. Neither his testicles nor his prostate gland could be saved and it was several weeks before his urethra healed so that he could urinate without pain. He was, of course, completely and incurably impotent.

A disastrous theater fire in town on the same Wednesday evening pre-empted the headlines and the attention of the reporters for the local paper. Guy Winslow's personal disaster went unnoticed and unpublicised. After a 3-week closing for illness, the Modern Garage re-opened for business as usual. However, there was a sign in the office stating that, owing to liability insurance restrictions, no one but employees could be allowed in the service bays.