Jefferson, Part 2

“Quit calling me Roscoe, you dickwad, and I don’t remember any bet. You just said that he would shoot off and I didn’t bet you that he wouldn’t. Just because you cream yourself every time you see a guy get his nuts cut doesn’t mean that everyone does.”

I had gotten up in the night to piss a couple of days before and had blundered into a door and bumped my nose. Nothing was broken, but now it resembled the big, red schnoz of Roscoe Wilson, the perpetually besotted old drunk who lived down the street, and Pete was rubbing it in.

The State of Jefferson always televises the mandatory castrations inflicted on sex offenders and Pete and I usually watched them. I was sixteen and had calmed down a little, but Pete had just recently figured out how to jerk off and he always got hard and sometimes even dropped his own load when they showed the close-up shots of a guy getting deballed. This one was special because both the offender and the victim were both young and from our community, so we had taped the presentation. We played it again, and sure enough Perry tented out the front of his pants as he knifed the nuts from his assailant and there was no mistaking the sudden lurch and the rapidly expanding wet spot from his orgasm.

“How’d you know he was going to jizz?” I asked my brother.

“He always pops a boner in P.E. class.” Pete answered. “All he has to do is see someone else naked and he gets it up. He and I were wrestling one time and he grabbed my balls when no one was looking, and the next thing I know he shot his wad right there. The guy is weird.”

“Oh yeah? Just what did Sanders do to him anyway? Make him suck him off or shove it up his ass or what? None of that came out at the trial.” I asked Pete, knowing that being the same age as Perry and in the same class he would probably have the straight shit.

“He won’t say, but I heard that he was begging for it. He was always looking at other guys in the bathroom even when he was just a little kid, and he was always talking about sex even before any of the rest of us knew anything about it. I’ll bet you that he came on to Sanders, and Sanders just took him up on his offer. It was Perry, you remember, that kept the pictures.”

“That may be true, but Sanders knew the law and he shouldn’t have touched a hairless little runt like Perry or you.” I told my brother, trying to get a rise out of him.

“Hey, my balls are just about as big as yours’ are and my cock is almost as long. By the time I’m your age I’ll be a lot better hung than you.”

“In your dreams, stubby. You could shove what you have into a pencil sharpener, turn the handle, and not get a scratch.” I taunted. “I have more hair in my armpits than you have on your crotch and each one of my balls is bigger than your brain.”

I stopped arguing with my brother, and got up, grabbed him, and herded him into the bathroom to give him a ‘swirly’ in the toilet bowl, but I backed off when his hollering got Dad involved.

“Leave him alone! Just because you’re bigger doesn’t mean you have to prove you’re stronger.” Dad admonished, and then asked. “I always thought that Sanders was a pretty decent kid. Do you know him?”

“No, not really. He’s a couple of years ahead of me in school and I never hung out with him. He was pretty popular though, and his girlfriend was really foxy. I guess she’ll dump him now, huh?”

“Yeah, she will. No woman wants a nutless man. Both of you boys had better watch his nutting again just to remind yourselves to never be tempted to cross the line.”

We took our father’s advise and watched the tape again, this time with the sound turned up so we could hear Sanders screams as Perry knifed away his manhood. Our repeat viewing wasn’t really necessary though, as every guy in Jefferson had been shown, told, and had even seen the actual repercussions of committing sexual abuse.

Mom and Dad had divorced a year ago and the remaining family unit consisted of three lusty males who were usually pretty open and frank with each other, but I waited until Pete left for a refrigerator raid before talking to Dad. “Is it true what they say about the work camp where Sanders will go now? I mean, ah, kids say, like, the other guys, you know, use the new arrivals like they were women?”

It was Dad’s turn to be embarrassed, and he hesitated a bit before answering. “If I were you I would concern myself more with staying out of the work camps than with what goes on inside them.”

Okay, case closed. Personally I didn’t have anything to worry about. AIDS was a thing of the past, and like most other horny adolescents I availed myself weekly of prostitutes instead of risking a rape accusation. They were cheap and plentiful, and Dad had introduced me to their pleasures on my fifteenth birthday and he would do the same for Pete in about a year. Until he reached that legal milepost Pete would have to content himself by jacking off and wondering what the real thing was like.

Pete came home from school a few days later a little bit more subdued than usual, and just before bedtime he told me that Perry had came to school proudly displaying the jar containing Sanders’ balls.

“He was showing them to everyone and describing how it felt as he cut them off. He had a boner the whole time he was talking about it, and if the jar hadn’t been permanently sealed I think he would have taken them out and played with them.”

“What did they look like?” I asked.

“Kind of pinkish gray, and sort of lumpy. Oh, and the bag or scrot thing was in the jar too, kind of floating around in the bottom. It was gross.”

“Scrotum.” I corrected him “I didn’t know they kept it too. How big were they?”

“About the same size as yours.” He answered, eyeing my body as I stripped for bed. “What really creeped me out was that he was showing them to some little kids too, and kept on telling them how good it felt to grab them in his hand and slice them off. Those guys didn’t need to see or hear that stuff.”

“I think you would be better off if you steered clear of Perry.” I counseled my younger brother. “I think he may be a little bit screwed up.”

Pete was always Mom’s favorite, and her departure hurt him a lot more than me, but I was just a sixteen-year-old dumbshit and couldn’t see or relate to what was happening to him. He grew even more sullen and withdrawn, he was a pain in the ass to be around, and his grades started going to hell too.

Another disturbing thing was Pete’s reaction to the televised castrations. All guys watch them and adolescents always get hard the first few times they see another guy lose his nuts. Pete had entered puberty a year ago and was still getting a boner every time and he even frequently shot his load, which usually only happens to young boys who haven’t seen a couple of hundred castrations. I still get a little stiff myself if the guy getting cut has a real big set or a huge cock, but Pete got hard every time.

Dad worked long hours and I considered it my duty to mentor Pete, and I felt like I was falling down in that department, and it wasn’t until I had laundry duty that I figured out something was really wrong. In addition to the usual skid marks, Pete’s skivvies had some spots the color of old copper. I waited until bedtime that evening before confronting him. We both usually slept in the nude, but he was now wearing shorts, which I quickly grabbed and pulled down. He hollered and struggled, but I managed to get him pinned face down on the bed with his legs pried apart. A small wad of toilet paper was stuck in his asshole. This was probably why the fourteen-year-old’s vocabulary had included words like ‘buttfucker’ and ‘cocksucker’ when I was wrestling with him.

“Who?” I asked my sobbing, embarrassed bare-assed brother after I had removed the paper and surveyed his raw and bloody asshole.

“I…I…. Can’t say!” He sobbed, unwilling to rat on his rapist. I did something then that I had never done before or since. I reached between my brother’s spread legs and seized him by his pubescent balls and gave them a tentative squeeze.

“Perry!” He practically screamed. “It was Perry!”

I released him and allowed him to get his shorts back on, and then donned my own. He finally calmed down enough to tell me how Perry had wanted to suck his cock, and how he had finally relented and let him. He then told Pete that he would squeal on him if he didn’t fuck him in the ass too. Pete did it, even though he knew it was wrong. Perry then convinced Pete that there would be enough DNA evidence to implicate him, and he would go to the authorities and press charges, and eventually castrate him unless he agreed to take him in his ass.

“You should have come to Dad or me the first time he offered to suck you off.” I chastised him. “We would have put that idea out of his head real quick like.”

“But, I liked it when he did it and I liked it even more when I fucked him in his ass.” Pete bravely admitted, proving that he was at least a semblance of a man. “Does that mean I’m a fag?”

“No. That just means you’re a normal, horny guy. Wait until next July when Dad takes you to the Golden Lily, and then you’ll find out what you really like.” The extreme penalties for knocking up girls put a damper on young kids having sex, and most guys waited until they were fifteen and could go to the bordellos, although a few passed the time until that age by messing around with other boys.

“What do you think about when you jerk off?” I asked.

He broke into a little gin, still embarrassed. “A girl I know, and would like to know better.”

“How about when you watch the castrations?” I continued. “What do you think about then?”

His smile gave way to a frown. “How much I’d like to be holding Perry’s balls in one hand and a knife in the other. Is that wrong?”

“No. I don’t think it is.” I answered. “We can stop him, but it would mean two things. One, you’d have to let him fuck you one more time, and second, he would get castrated when he turns eighteen. How do you feel about that?”

“Let’s do it!” He exclaimed, as his pants started to tent outward.

It wasn’t a very sophisticated or well thought out plan that we hatched, instead it relied on the horniness that permeated Perry’s adolescent body.

Dad’s job as a cop kept him out all night when he had the graveyard shift, and that’s when Pete professed his love for Perry and made our bedroom available for a coupling. I had set up the camera earlier and then secreted myself in the basement by the monitor, and the show had just started.

“You’re getting bigger!” Perry exclaimed, kneeling between my brother’s legs. He was right. I had seen Pete naked nearly every day, but I had never seen him naked with a hard on. He wasn’t any porn king, but he had enough even back then to where he wouldn’t need to feel embarrassed when his chance came to go to the Golden Lily.

“Take it all, Perry!” Pete panted, locking his fingers behind the cocksucker’s head and pulling him all of the way onto his shaft. We had planned this move so that Perry would sense a new aggression in his partner. A few minutes later they disengaged and Perry into our bathroom to clean up.

“Here, use these.” Pete offered when Perry returned, holding out two pairs of our Dad’s handcuffs and pointing to the bedstead. “Make me feel you this time. Make it hurt, and don’t stop for anything.”

I hit the ‘record’ button, but turned my head in shame. I had orchestrated it, but I couldn’t watch the rape of my brother. I did hear him though, as he repeatedly begged Perry to stop and the scream he let out when Perry penetrated him still haunts me.

The proceedings were not open to the public and only the judge and grand jury were viewers to our production, and of course they were not told that Pete and I had stolen Perry’s video camera and set it up in our bedroom. The biggest surprise was that Perry entered a guilty plea and waived the four-year wait for his castration.

Eighteen was normally the minimum age that the punishment could be applied, but the judge agreed to his request and scheduled it immediately. Pete, the aggrieved victim, had the prerogative of taking his assailant’s balls, but Dad and I talked him out of it and let the State Castrator do it instead, although we did go to Medford to witness the punishment.

We all watched as Perry was strapped to the table and prepped. A strange thing happened during the procedure, something that was extremely rare. He had been milked an hour before, but as soon as the castrator grabbed his balls he got hard and his expanding erection pushed the piss tube condom completely off his cock. He started coming as soon as the first cut was made and continued to pour it out even after his balls had been severed. He never made a sound during the procedure except to grunt with satisfaction.

“That was weird.” Dad said afterwards. “I’ve watched a thousand of these and I’ve never seen that happen.”

“I think he’s really looking forward to being at the work camp, Dad.” Pete explained.

We never saw Perry again, but he sends us cards every year at Christmas. He bears us no ill will; in fact he thanks us for saving his life. He is living in a commune out at Fort Bragg with other eunuchs and gays and says that he loves the lifestyle.

Pete is now fifteen and madly in love with several of the honeys down at the Golden Lily, and has completely recovered from the traumatic experience of having been raped. He doesn’t even watch the televised castrations now.