I'm Not Crazy

By Allen Baker

That's what he kept saying.

"I'm not crazy. I'm upset. I'm not crazy. I'm shook up. But who wouldn't be. You would be if ... They shouldn't have ... I hope they don't ... I'm not crazy. I'm just frazzled, tired."

I was sorry I'd opened the door. But he woke me from a nap on the sofa. And on a calm spring afternoon in the mountains, why would I hesitate to see who was knocking. I had opened the door and there he was. Torn t-shirt, dirty jeans, barefoot, and handsome. He didn't even act crazy until I had already let him inside. And even then, not right away.

I probably would have thought him acting strange sooner if I hadn't been so taken with his looks.

And that reaction was what was distracting. There I was a married guy with a wife and two preschoolers at home. Maybe a week hunting in the mountains and being on your own in an isolated cabin is what prompted it. But never before having been attracted to a man, my reaction to this guy was unsettling to say the least. He was drop-dead gorgeous. The most startling blue eyes set above the prominent cheek bones of a cover-boy model. Fly-away blond strands nearly shoulder length, framed the tanned, masculine chiseled cheeks and dimpled jaw. His wide, muscular shoulders pushed out the corners of the tee that was stretched by rugged pecs that just wouldn't quit. Inwardly I was drooling and couldn't understand why. I was shocked to find that I was even taking peek looks at his crotch! What was I thinking?

"I'm lost, not nuts. I'm just lost. Separated from them. Maybe they'll find me. I hope so. No! I hope not. I hope ... I don't know. I'm not schitzo or nothin'."

The more he denied it, the more I was sure that he was off his rocker. I couldn't make head nor tale of his rambling. I tried to get him to sit and calm down. He sat but like a jack-in-the-box was right back up and roaming, pacing. Finally, under the pretense of getting him a glass of water, I got to the kitchen and called the local police. As usual in this podunk area, there was no one at the station, but I left a message on the machine. Sooner or later they'd show up. I just hoped I could contain this guy until they did.

I walked back into the room with the glass of water just in time to see him shred his t-shirt off his body. He didn't take it off - he tore it off.

"Hot. It's hot in here. I'm ok ... ok . Just hot. Not nuts. No, not crazy. They did this to me, but I'm ok. Hot. Ok."

I was staring at the thick rings in his nipples when he started to undo his pants. It was spring, not sweltering summer. Late afternoon and soon in need of lighting the fire. Definitely not hot in the cabin at all. What was this guy's problem?

"So hot. Damn it, burning up. They did it on purpose, you know. Tried to tell me I wanted them to, but I didn't. I don't think I did. I wouldn't. That'd be nuts. But I'm not nuts. No. But it's ok, sure, ok. I'm ok now. Lost, but I'm alright. Hot."

And before I could stop him he was out of the jeans and they went flying into the fireplace. There he stood in boxers. My mouth was suddenly dry. I gulped at his glass of water, but couldn't take my eyes from that plaid material, visualizing what they hid. Did his crotch match the rest of his physical perfection? I took another gulp of water and stumbled toward the bedroom. "Tell you what, I'll get you a pair of my running shorts. They are cool, and you'll be more comfortable in them."

I felt my way across the bedroom in a haze, all the while visualizing the man in the next room. All the while listening to him mumble and rant and verbalize nothing. Who was he? Where did he come from? Was he dangerous? When would the police arrive? My mind was a whirl of questions. But I avoided the main question: why was my cock hard as a rock?

I picked up the running shorts from the floor where I had dropped them earlier and headed back to the main room of the cabin. At the door I stopped in my tracks. He had his back to me and still had the boxers on. Over his head. He talked through the fabric as I stared as his slightly rounded, smooth-skinned ass.

"Hot. Boiling hot. Not used to clothes any more. Not used to ... I'm ok though. I'm just hot, not crazy. I've not flipped. They said I flipped. No, just hot. Tired and hot."

Finally I tore my fixated gaze away from his butt and tried to talk with a calm voice. "Ah, here. Put these on. They should be cool."

He reached up and pulled the fly of the boxers apart to peek over his shoulder at me. If I hadn't been so shaken already, it would have been totally laughable. But the laugh died in my throat when he turned to walk over to take the shorts from me.

My knees gave way, and I dropped into a chair as I saw his crotch for the first time. Shock. Nothing else can describe it. Total shock. "What? You don't ... Oh my god! How?" Suddenly, I was sounding as senseless as he. There he was, totally nude except for the boxers over his beautiful face. And between his navel and his knees there was ... nothing! No dick. No balls. No sack. But there wasn't a pussy either. Nothing. I've never seen such nothing. I know my jaw hung open.

He laughed. "See, I'm ok. I'm healed. No hurt. I'm ok. Just hot. Very hot. I'm not nuts. I've no nuts. I'm not crazy. Just ... I'm ok. Will they be here soon?"

The question jolted me back somewhat, though I still couldn't keep from staring at that totally smooth, empty spot between his legs. He must have heard my call to the police. But he didn't seem concerned that they would be arriving. I stammered a bit, but made no real reply to his question. I couldn't force my eyes away from his altered crotch. And he noticed it.

"I'm hot. Not ... Just hot. Need to cool off. Please help. So hot." As he spoke he moved closer to stand between my knees. He placed his hand on the back of my head and brought my face closer and closer to that wonder between his thighs.

I breathed deeply and got no hint of male musk. No smell of female juices either. He had no smell. Neutral. Neuter. I had no thought, just lust. Shocking. Lust. I let my tongue slide out between my lips just as he pressed my face to his body. I licked. Smooth. Clean and velvety. No stubble, no hair. Just fine, clean, uninterrupted skin. I tongued it, cleaned it, bathed it. My saliva lathered it and soon his whole area dripped. And his babble continued, but changed.

"Yes, I'm not nuts. I'm no nuts. I'm hot, you are cool. Yes, help me. Yes, this is what ... Just hot ... Just lick. Oh, yes!"

He pulled me to my feet, and I kissed my first man. I no longer had a mind, just a raging dick with thoughts of its own. I found my arms wrapped about him. His hands were trapped between us, but they weren't still. They fumbled at my jeans front and tore them open. I trembled and sighed. I began to wriggle out of them as he tugged my shirt off over my head. Soon I was as naked as he was. We now had one set of cock and balls trapped between us. Rubbing against our stomachs. Both of us moaning and kissing and pulling and hugging. Both of us lost to our sexual ardor.

We dropped to the floor and his mouth found my dick. He swung into a sixty-nine over me, and I stared at a wondrous sight. Before me was a crevice that housed his man tunnel. And just beyond it was another smaller opening. Just a dimple. Nothing like I'd ever seen, but I knew immediately what it was. His redesigned piss hole. I tongued them both as he slobbered over my prick, preparing it.

Suddenly he rose and swung about to face me as he lowered himself onto my rigid dick. No pussy had ever been as tight as that hole of his. My cock had never felt the delight of such pressure, such manipulation as his talented ass hole undulated and milked my plundering rod. I was panting and sweating and groaning in the luxury of sex. His eyes rolled back in pure bliss as I pounded up against his prostate. I reached up and grasped those tit rings to twist and pull. His head dropped back and he purred and grunted. Our noise was loud, primaeval, and earthy. We rode each other into climax. Mine was mind sparkling and wet and deep and gushing. His was dry and shuddering. Both were exhausting and wonderful.

He dropped toward me and braced on his arms with his head lowered, surrounded by his tussled long hair. We both panted and heaved in our afterglow. Neither spoke. Eventually, my softening prick retreated from his ass with a plop. He suddered and threw back his head to fling the hair out of his face, and opened his eyes.

His body went taught, his eyes grew large. And he began to babble again. "Here. Not lost. I'm ok. Not hot. Not nuts. They're here."

Immediately, I realized that sometime during our heated encounter, the door must have opened without my hearing. Oh shit. The police. I had called the police and now what would I do? What would they do? I scrambled out from under him and grabbed for clothes to cover my nakedness. But too late, they had obviously witnessed most of it. I whirled to confront them with excuses, explanations. But the words died on my lips. It was not the police.

Two men stood there in white slacks and white t-shirts. They both had shaved heads and beards. They were uniform in appearance and dress. And they were grinning. Not shocked or offended by what they had witnessed. Amused.

The closest one spoke as they moved into the room. "I see you and Jerry have been getting along just fine. We needn't have worried a bit about him. It was nice of you to entertain him until we could get here."

Still in the fog of after-sex and stunned by both my actions and the arrival of these strangers, I had no response. But the whole time, my friendly visitor rambled. "Hi. I'm ok. I'm not crazy. He made me not hot. I'm fine now. Not lost."

The second of the two set a black medical bag on the coffee table and pulled out a syringe. "Here you go, Jerry, this should calm you a bit." Jerry stood and held out his arm to him and willingly awaited the shot.

The first man just grinned at me and stared up and down my revealed body. I had no idea what to say, so I remained silent until he spoke.

"Clyde, I think this guy just had the experience of his life. Well, mister, did you?"

"Um, well ... I... we ... I mean."

He laughed. "Don't worry, Jerry had a real good time. No harm done. Is Jerry the first nullo you've done it with? It's really hot, isn't it?"

"Um, yes." I didn't know if I was answering his first or second question or both.

Then he shocked me by reaching out and grasping my genitals through the shirt I held in front of me. "Think you'd like to be like him? It's really wild isn't it? I bet that's what got you all hot and bothered – thinking what it must be like to not have a cock or balls. I bet that's what got you out of those clothes so quick."

I tried to think. Is this what had grabbed me about Jerry? As I fucked him, I had fantasized my own crotch looking like his. Suddenly I realized I was hard again in this stranger's grasp. And he knew he had guessed right.

He chuckled and gave my swelling package a playful squeeze. "We can help you with that. We can make it real for you. You do want that, don't you."

He had said it with such assurance that all I could do was nod. Then I was appalled by that action. Was I insane? Half an hour ago I was a straight man with wife and kids. Now I had just had sex with a man. Well, sort of a man. And here I stood with my privates in another guy's hands agreeing that I wanted to be castrated and more? Damn. This just could not be. But it was happening. And suddenly, it felt right. Good. Natural. And as exciting and hot as hell. I smiled and hesitantly nodded again.

In a daze, I dropped the concealing shirt. The two men guided me back across the coffee table. From the medical bag they pulled all sorts of devices and equipment. Then I couldn't see any more, because they had Jerry straddle my face. I buried my mouth between his pressing thighs and bathed him once again, glorying in his smoothness. I felt a sudden pain in my balls. And then another around the base of my cock. The men explained they had just banded me. That my cock and balls were dying. Soon they would grow numb. They'd die. Then they would remove them for me and sew me shut. That did it. I was instantly hard again.

The men chuckled. "Look at this, Clyde, he's hot and ready for his final orgasm as a man." As he spoke he dropped his pants and lifted my legs. I kept my mouth busy on Jerry as I felt a cock prod between my ass cheeks. Remembering how much Jerry had enjoyed my plowing him, I tried to relax and accept it. My head reeled with new pain as my butt received my first dick. Then I felt Clyde slide his mouth down my swelling cock. I was awash with feelings and emotions and cascading thought fragments. It was too much, too intense. I came almost immediately and passed out.

When I awoke, my head was fuzzy, and I had no energy to move. I was alone. Jerry and the other two were gone. Through the open door, I could see that their vehicle was no longer in sight. There was a band-aid on my arm where they'd given me a shot of some powerful painkiller. I was woozy and could hardly raise my head. Below my navel was a mound of bloody cloths. I pulled them aside and gazed in wonder. Nothing there. I was Jerry's twin. And I had a rush of euphoria.

Then I heard boots on the wood porch. I pulled my head up to see if they had come back. Instead, I saw two new people move into the doorway. Uniforms. The police had finally arrived, and so I needed to explain. "I'm ok. Just ... No nuts. Not nuts. I'm not crazy. No, just ... I'm not crazy."