The Tank

Shawn Davis awoke first.  He was lying on a metal surface and had no idea where he was or how he'd come to be there.  He'd been walking home from a movie with his friend, Kerry Brand.  That was the last memory he had.  Wherever he was, it was dark-pitch dark.  He could see nothing.  Feeling a constriction in his testicles, he reached for them.  He was naked!  There was something attached to his balls-a metal ring around the base of his scrotum.  It fit tightly, pushing his balls to the bottom of their sack-tight enough that it caused a dull ache in his balls.  Feeling the ring, he found that a cable was attached to it.  What the hell was going on?  How had he come to be there?  Where was he?  Where was Kerry?  Hearing someone moan, he crept forward on his hands and knees toward the sound.  He'd only gone a few feet when his hand encountered someone's leg-someone's bare leg.  It's owner moaned again.  "Brand," he said.  "Is that you, Brand?"

Sliding his hand up the leg, toward the moan, he encountered the cable once again.  Following it, he found that it was connected to another ring-around someone's balls.  Curious, he cupped those balls in his hand, feeling the the ring with the tips of his fingers.  "What the fuck?" he heard.  "What the fuck are you doing?  It was Kerry's voice.  "It that you, Davis?"

"Yeah," answered Shawn.

"What are you doing, feeling my balls?"  Then he realized that he was naked, that something was attached to his balls.  He, too, was groggy.  He had a headache.  It was like the hangover he'd had from the one time he'd gotten drunk.  Feeling the metal floor, he asked, "Where are we?"  He realized that there was more wrong than his friend touching his balls.

"I don't know," said Shawn.  "I just woke up."

"What's that around my balls?  Did you put it there?"

"No," said Shawn.  "It's some kind of ring-with a cable attached to it.  I've got one around mine, too."

Following the cable with his hand, he found that it passed through a large ring on the floor before it ended at his own balls.  He pulled on the ring, finding that it was firmly attached to the floor.  He was about to tell Kerry what he'd found when he heard the sound of gasoline engine being started.  The sound was muffled somewhat, as if there were something between them and the engine. 

A light, suspended from the ceiling, came on.  There were inside a large metal tank, identical to many that were scattered around East Texas where he lived, residue of the oil boom which had occurred years before.  There was an oily slime on the floor and the smell of oil in the air.  He had climbed on some of the old derricks and had even climbed into similar tanks.  Sure enough, there was a ladder attached to the interior wall of the tank.  The glare of the light obscured the top end of the ladder, but it should end at a hinged cap which would cover the entrance to the tank.  He hoped it hadn't been locked.

But, there was a more immediate concern.  The cable which was attached to both his and Kerry's balls, ran through a large ring which had been welded to the floor of the tank.  Neither of them were going anywhere until they freed themselves from it.  There was only enough slack in the cable for each of them to stand.

"What the fuck?" each of the boys said, simultaneously.  Then, hearing a noise-the sound of someone climbing the outside ladder on the tank, Kerry put his finger to his lips, urging his friend to be quiet.

They heard the tank cover being lifted, but couldn't see past the glare of the light.  An object was lowered-a small hunting knife attached to a string.  It was swung out and dropped between them.  Kerry grabbed it-ready to defend himself against the unseen danger.  He was the stronger of the two boys, athletic and popular-the natural leader.  No one came down the ladder, however; but, a man's voice spoke.  "That knife's for you to free yourselves-the only way you can.  You can't cut the cable with it-or the rings around your balls.  One of you will have to sacrifice his balls for you to get loose.  Only one.  Then you can pass the cable through the ring and climb out of the tank.  The cover will be closed, but not locked.  It's up to you to decide who will lose his balls.  Will one of you volunteer, or will one of you cut off the other's balls?  It's up to you-but you don't have all night.  When I climb down, I'm starting up a pump, which, within a few hours, will fill the tank with water.  It's your choice.  Either one of you loses his balls-or you'll both drown."

"Let us out," shouted Shawn.

"Why are you doing this?  Who are you?" asked Kerry.

The only answer was laughter.  A hose was lowered down beside the ladder.  They could see the hands of the person who tied it to the ladder.  They heard the cover being closed-then heard the steps of the man climbing down the outside ladder.  In a moment, water began gushing out of the hose, spreading across the floor of the tank-toward the boys.

"Shit," said Shawn.  "What are we going to do?"

Kerry began sawing on the cable with the knife, but it was made of hardened steel.  He couldn't even scratch it.  After a few moments, he gave up.  The man had been telling the truth.  He wouldn't be able to cut the cable with the knife-and the cable was fastened securely to the rings around their balls.  What were they going to do?

"It's just a joke, isn't it? said Shawn.  "Someone's just playing a joke on us.  He'll come back and let us out-won't he?

"Sure, it must be a joke," answered Kerry, but he wasn't so sure.  Who would play such a joke-and how had he knocked them out and put them in the tank?  Thinking back, he remembered that he'd felt a sharp sting in his back-like a bee sting almost; that's the last thing he'd remembered.  Could it have been a tranquilizer dart-or something like it?  Even if it had been a joke, they had been kidnapped.  Whoever had done it could go to prison for years-even if he set them free.  Who would risk that for a joke?

The water had covered the floor and was lapping at their ankles.  They had some time before they would be in danger of drowning.  It was a big tank.  It would take a long time to fill.  Still, both boys looked at the water in horror, imagining it covering his mouth-then his nostrils-each imagining how he would stand on his toes in a vain attempt to keep his nose out of the water-how he would hold his breath until he his lungs screamed for air-then letting out that last breath, would breathe in water.  What was it like to drown?  Was it over quickly?  Would he suffer?

After about thirty minutes, the water was up to their knees.  It was murky, apparently from the river.  They must be near the Sabine.  Apparently, the water was being pumped from it.  There was a sheen on the surface of the water from the oil residue in the tank.  Shawn was crying.  "Help," he yelled.  "Someone help.  Get us out of here."

Kerry was frightened, too; but he wasn't crying.  He was trying to think of a way out.  It must be past midnight.  They were probably miles from a real road-one which would have any traffic.  There was little chance that anyone would come by-would hear their screams and rescue them.  Whoever he was, their abductor had planned well.  He would have chosen an isolated location.  He looked down at the knife in his hand, realizing-as the man had said-there was only one way out of the tank.  One of them had to cut off his balls.  That  was the only way they'd free themselves from the ring on the floor.  "Shut up, Davis.  I've got to think.  No one's going to hear you, anyway."

Sniffling, Shawn stopped screaming.  "What are we going to do?" he asked, looking at the water which continued to inch higher.  It was now above his knees.

"One of us is going to have to give up his balls.  Otherwise, we'll both die.

"Are you crazy?"  Shawn looked at the knife in his friend's hand, afraid all over again-this time of his friend.  What was he thinking?  "I'm not cutting off my balls.  You can cut off your, but I'm not cutting off mine."

That pissed Kerry.  Why should he give up his balls?  He had a lot more going for him than Shawn: he was the class president; he was better at sports; he got better grades; he was even a better Christian than Shawn, who had said that he wasn't certain there was a god.  If he really believed that, he was probably going to hell, anyway.  Besides, he had a girl friend.  Shawn didn't.  He needed his balls.  He'd fucked a girl.  He was certain Shawn hadn't.  Shawn had probably done nothing more than beat off..  "You think I should cut off my balls?" he asked.

"I don't know," answered Shawn.  "There's got to be some other way," but even he knew there wasn't.  There was no other way for them to get free; and the water was getting higher with every moment.

"You tell me, then." said Kerry.  "How else are we going to get free?  Do you want to drown?"

"No, I don't want to drown."

"Wouldn't you rather give up your balls than die?"

Shawn didn't want to die.  Maybe he would rather give up his balls than die, but why did it have to be his balls?  Kerry's were attached to the other end of the cable.  Only one of them had to lose his balls for them to get free.  "Maybe you can squeeze your balls through the ring."  He knew he couldn't.  He'd already tried, but the ring was too small for even a single ball to fit through.

"No way," answered Kerry.  It's too fucking small."  The water had climbed another inch.

"You could cut off your balls.  You have the knife," he said, sorry that he'd called Kerry's attention to the knife.

"Why should I be the one?  I have a lot more going for me than you do.  I have a girl friend."

"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Shawn.

"I'll bet you've never even fucked a girl.  I'll bet all you've ever done is jack off."

"Do you mean you've fucked Sharon?" Shawn asked, jealously.  The most he'd done was feel a girl up.  He'd never even stuck his finger in a girl's pussy.

"Yes, I fucked Sharon-twice.  See, I need my balls more than you."

"That just means that I need mine more.  You already know what it feels like to fuck a girl.  I don't.  I need mine so I can find out."

"What girl would fuck you, anyway?"  That was a cruel-and inappropriate remark-by Kerry.  Although Shawn wasn't as handsome as Kerry, he was a good looking boy.  He could have used braces.  His crooked teeth caused him to feel inferior.  They weren't that objectionable, but, because of them, he was shy.  That was the main problem he had with girls. 

As the boys continued to argue, the water crept higher-up to the balls, about which they were arguing-then covered them.  "Davis," said Kerry, "You're have to let me cut off your balls-or we're going to die.  You can see that can't you?"

Shawn was afraid that Kerry would cut off his balls.  The only chance he had was to get the knife away from him.  "Give me the knife.  I'll cut off my own balls."

Relieved at first, Kerry almost gave it to him, but asked himself first if he could cut off his own balls.  He didn't think he could, and, if he couldn't, Shawn surely couldn't.  "You'll really cut off your own balls? he asked.

"Yeah, I'll cut off my own balls.  Give me the knife."

"No, you just want the knife so you can cut mine off."

"I wouldn't cut off your balls," said Shawn, and he probably wouldn't have.  He wasn't as strong as Kerry.  He would have probably had to kill him first.  Beside, he couldn't have done it anyway.  If Kerry had given him the knife, they would have both died.  Shawn couldn't have cut off his own balls; and he couldn't have cut off Kerry's, even if Kerry had been willing.  Theirs had been an unequal friendship.  Shawn had idolized Kerry.  He'd worshiped him, while Shawn was just one of Kerry's many friends.

Kerry kept the knife.  The water continued to rise, covering each boy's navel.  Kerry knew he'd have to cut off Shawn's balls.  There was no other way.  He wouldn't be doing it to hurt Shawn, though.  He'd be doing it to save his life-both of their lives.  He wanted his permission, though.  "Shawn," he said, using his first name for the first time that he could remember.  "You've got to let me cut off your balls-or else we're going to die.  You don't want to die, do you?  You don't want me to die, do you?  You like me, don't you?  I'm your best friend.  You wouldn't want your best friend to die?"

Shawn did think of Kerry as his best friend, even though Kerry didn't think of him that way.  His worship of Kerry was akin to love.  Was Shawn gay?  He didn't think of himself that way, but he would have kissed Kerry.  He wished he could have jacked off with him.  He'd done it with a couple of other boys when he'd been younger, but not with Kerry.  He'd never even seen Kerry with a hard on.  All this talk about castration had given Shawn one, though.  He was glad that the water was so murky that Kerry couldn't see it.

Kerry edged closer to him, reaching for his crotch with the hand that didn't have the knife.  He felt Shawn's erect cock.  "You've got a hard on."  Somehow, the prospect of castrating Shawn had given him one, too.  "If I jack you off first, will you let me cut off your balls?"

"Can I jack you off?" asked Shawn.

That sounded a little too gay for Kerry, but it was worth it-if Shawn would let him cut off his balls.  "OK," he said.

Shawn reached for Kerry's cock, surprised to find that it was already hard.  He began pumping it-as Kerry pumped his.  Before long, both boys had shot their loads into the murky water.  Kerry, after he felt Shawn's cock subside, asked, "Now, can I cut off your balls?"

Shawn had never actually agreed to it, he told himself.  He hadn't said, 'no', but he hadn't agreed to it, either.  He'd only agreed to having Kerry jack him off.  It hurt to get kicked in the nuts.  He could imagine how much it would hurt to have them cut off.  "No," he said.

That pissed Kerry off.  "You said I could-if I jacked you off."

"I never said that.  I just asked if I could jack you off."

"You fucking queer.  You just wanted to play with my cock," said Kerry.

"You said it first.  You offered to jack me off first."

"That's only because I knew you were queer for me."

"Fuck you," answered Shawn.  "Cut off your own balls, if you want out of here."  At that point, he would have rather died than let Kerry cut off his balls.  At least, they would die together.  In a way, that was romantic.

The water had crept up to their arm pits.  They didn't have much time left.  Kerry knew he would have to cut off Shawn's balls to save their lives.  It was a matter of self preservation.  He really had no choice, did he?  Was he supposed to let them both die-just to save Shawn's balls?  Were Shawn's balls worth both their lives?  Of course, he didn't consider that he could cut off his own.  He needed his.  He had much more to offer the world than Shawn.  Grabbing the cable close to Shawn's balls, he pulled on it.  Shawn yelped in pain-and tried to push him away-but, the more he pushed, the harder Kerry pulled on the cable.  His balls hurt.  It felt like Kerry was going to pull them off.  Overwhelmed by the pain, he swung at Kerry, but his blows were ineffectual.  Kerry ignored them.

Following the cable to the ring which was around Shawn's balls, Kerry grabbed hold of Shawn's balls, pulled, stretching his sack, then placed the knife against the ring-the edge of it against the flesh of Shawn's scrotum.  He hesitated for a moment-then pulled the knife toward him.  Shawn's balls came loose in his hand.  The ring dropped to the bottom of the tank.  Shawn screamed-unintelligible screams.  His hands went to his mutilated crotch.  Blood floated on the surface of the water.  "I'm sorry, Davis, but I had to.  Don't you understand?  I had to."

Kerry pulled the cable through the ring, freeing himself from the floor.  Grabbing hold of Shawn, he pulled him toward the ladder.  "Hang on to me," he said.  "I'll get you out of here."

He dragged Shawn to the ladder-then pushed him up onto it first.  "Climb, Davis.  You've got to help.  I can't get you out of here by myself."

Shawn was shivering-going into shock.  He could barely hold onto the ladder.  He felt like he was about to faint.  He didn't know that anything could hurt so much.  Kerry was behind him on the ladder, urging him on.  "Climb, Davis," he kept saying.  "You've got to climb."  When they got to the top, Kerry climbed up beside him, holding him with one hand, while he pushed open the cover at the top of the ladder-then helped Shawn climb the rest of the way out of the tank.

Shawn collapsed onto the top of the tank.  "Come on," said Kerry.  "Just a little farther.  You've got to climb down the ladder.  Then, I'll carry you-if I have to."  He slapped Shawn when he didn't respond, eventually getting him to the ground.  Blood was still streaming from Shawn's crotch.

Shawn fainted.  Kerry lifted him onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry, one arm around Shawn's leg, grasping his arm which hung down across his chest.  He could feel Shawn's blood running down his back.  He had wrapped the cable around his other arm to keep it from dragging in the dirt-possibly catching on something.

The overgrown dirt road to the long deserted oil well, ended at a better maintained dirt road which ran in two directions along the river.  Kerry had no idea where he was, but chose one direction and walked down the road in that direction.  The river sometimes flooded, so he didn't expect to see any houses nearby.  He walked for a long ways, but the rocks on the road hurt his bare feet.  Needing to rest, he eased Shawn onto the ground.  Shawn was no longer bleeding-but, neither was he breathing.  Kerry attempted CPR, but it did no good.  Shawn was dead.  Kerry had killed him.  Cutting off his balls had caused his death.  Kerry hadn't considered that.  He hadn't thought he would die.  He was a murderer-no better than the guy who had put them in the tank, he thought.  But, if he'd cut off his own balls, he could just as well be dead.  Wasn't it either he or Shawn?  Wouldn't anyone do the same?  He walked on, leaving Shawn beside the road.  He would tell them that Shawn had cut off his own balls, sacrificing them to save both their lives.  By the time he reached the main road, he had almost convinced himself it'd happened that way.

That time of night, the road was almost deserted.  It was several minutes before a car came by, but it didn't stop for Kerry.  Would anyone stop for a naked boy who was covered in blood?  Using his cell phone, though, the driver called 911,  Fifteen minutes later, a highway patrol officer, pulled alongside Kerry.

After Kerry and Shawn had left the tank, a figure emerged from the shadows, retrieving his generator and pump-and the TV camera from the inside of the tank. After loading his possessions in the car he'd hidden, he noting the direction the boys had taken and drove off in the opposite direction,

The story about the boys was in all the newspapers.  Shawn was portrayed as a hero who had given his life to save his friend-although the details of his castration weren't included.  Kerry had told the cops that Shawn had cut off his own balls in an attempt to save both their lives.  The knife was at the bottom of the water filled tank.  There were no fingerprints on it.  Whether or not the cops had believed him, there was no evidence to the contrary.

Three days later, Kerry received a package in the mail.  In it was a video tape-and a note.  In crude block letters, the note said, "I've sent a copy of the tape to the police."  The tape showed Kerry cutting off Shawn's balls.

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