Date: Sun, 14 Jun 2020 22:23:55 -0700 From: Jason Ford Subject: The Deal, Ch. 12 The Deal Chapter 12: The Removal By James Forbes This is a 19-chapter series of (partly) fiction created for the entertainment of interested adults, partly based on my experiences as a youth. Please read no further if you are underage, if this is illegal in your area, or if you are offended by explicit sexual stories. Names and locations have been changed. This would have taken place in the pre-AIDS era. The main focus is on physical and psychological domination, submission, various punishments and kink. If you enjoy this kind of story, please show your appreciation by making a donation to Nifty Archives. Go to: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. And if you need a good sub in the San Diego area, or have comments on the story, contact me at jasbike1@gmail.com. The night before my final appointment with the doctor, I couldn't sleep a wink. I was glad the whole ordeal would be over soon, and since the doctor had done everything possible to me in the first four appointments, I wasn't that nervous. Scott had arranged the whole thing as revenge, and most of the soccer team and Scott witnessed the doctor's "medical procedures," which I had been gullible enough to trust, as it was needed to join the soccer team. The doctor had spread my ass with a metal tool and looked inside with a camera, electrified my dick and balls as some sort of twisted truth detector, stuck a tube into my dick to drain me of pee, then filled my ass with my own piss as well as the soccer team's. Worst of all, some sort of ointment had, over two weeks, denuded me of any man hair except for a pitiful tuft above my dick, which had shrunk. I was resigned to one more exam and showed up on time, as instructed. "James, come in. We need to talk. I'm sorry about all you've been put through, but there really was a medical need. I stand to make a lot of money if this `reduction treatment,' as I call it, actually works. It will be as big as Viagra, which helps men attain erections. Today's exam will be quick and easy, as long as you cooperate." I'd finally had enough and decided it was time to stand up for myself. "Look, doc, let's just get this shit over with. I'm tired of being used. Finish your medical study, but no one is laying a hand on me today. I'm done." The doctor stood up, and grabbed my arm. "I was afraid of this. A side effect of the treatment is increased sperm production, out-of-control hard-ons and sex drive, and heightened aggression. We're going into the examination theater one last time, and I don't want any more lip." I tried to wrench my arm away, but the doctor was much bigger than me, and stronger. He practically dragged me into the large operating room I dreaded seeing after all that had happened there. "Strip, and make it fast. Like I said, just cooperate and this will all be over shortly." I broke away, and ran for the door, but it was locked. The doctor grabbed me, twisted my arm behind my back, and pushed me up against the mirrored wall. He flipped the light switch he had revealed at the previous appointment, which turned the mirror into a glass wall. Sure enough, there was Scott and a half dozen of the soccer players watching the whole thing. The doctor tore off my t-shirt, then ripped my pants down to my ankles. He kicked my shoes off, and pulled the pants off. "I tried to do this the easy way, but no, you had to resist. This is happening, with or without your cooperation. Now. Arms up, and stand back from the glass." At his mercy now, in only underwear and socks, there was little choice. "One last time, stand in front of the boy poster that matches your body." With that, he grabbed my tighty-whities and pulled them down, then quickly unwrapped the medical gauze that was around my dick and balls. What I saw was a shock: an even shorter dick, small, rounded nuts, and no hair whatsoever. Not even the little patch at the base of my dick that had been there a few days before. I didn't even match the poster of 13-year-old, which at least had some body hair. Reluctantly, I sidled over to the final poster on the wall, the one on the left, of a pre-pubescent boy. "This is the final success of my experiment, James. Let's measure that penis of yours. Last time it was 3.1 inches, and now, let's say, 2.8 inches soft. This poster you're next to is that of a typical 12-year-old boy." I felt nauseous, and hung my head, as if my not seeing the boys on the other side of the glass somehow meant they couldn't see me. The doctor slipped my socks and underwear off, leaving me naked in front of all the boys, whose mouths were open in disbelief. Grabbing a warm wash cloth, the doctor wiped all the ointment away from my clean, smooth crotch, which made my dick jump to attention. "Oh, good," he said. "We can measure it hard, too. A 12-year-old might have a penis that is 4 inches long when erect, on average. Yours is...3.8". Oh my god, my dick was now shorter hard than it was soft only two weeks before. "Keep standing right there, James, hands way up high. Good. I need to take several photos for my study. And spread your legs as far apart as you can." The doctor walked slowly around me, taking overall shots and close-ups of my pits, legs, ass, and crotch. "I see something that has been concerning me, though. Your foreskin looks longer now that your penis is considerably shorter, and it has become more red the last two weeks. Does this hurt?" He pinched the foreskin, and I yelled in pain. "It shouldn't hurt that much. Get on the table so I can take a quick look." "No," I said flatly. "I'll go see a real doctor about it later." I started to pick up my clothes. I managed to get my underwear on, when the doctor came up behind me, lifted me, and slammed me onto the examination table on my back. I wrestled to get off the table, but before I could get back on the floor he had that leather belt around my stomach again. He took two more belts and strapped down each leg, just below my crotch. Then he fastened each arm to the sides of the table. "Doctor, come on. Just let me go. I won't tell anyone." "Oh, NOW you want to cooperate, James? I'm going to examine your foreskin. Just be quiet, and if you're good, all I'll do is look at it." What the hell was he talking about? Using a small, bright, pen light, he pulled my foreskin up away from my dick, stretching it this way and that, looking inside and around it. Then he pulled it back, like I do when I pee, and made marks with a pen around my dick, just below the head. Scott walked in, in full surgical garb, a mask hanging around his neck. The doctor welcomed him. "Ah! Here's my medical assistant now. Hold James' head, please." The doctor began scrubbing his hands and arms in a large sink. I'd had enough. "Doctor, whatever the fuck you're thinking of doing, don't. This is between me and Scott because I splashed—" before I could finish, Scott had taken one of my dirty socks and stuffed it in my mouth. "Shut the fuck up, Prisoner," Scott hissed into my ear. "No one can know what happened between us. One more word and I'll have him take your fucking balls, too." Too?! In addition to what? What was the doctor about to do? All washed up, with gloves on, the doctor turned around--holding a scalpel. I began screaming into my sock gag. There was no moving my torso with all the straps, and Scott held my head firm. The table was at a 30-degree incline, so I had a full view of my crotch, the doctor, and the soccer team looking on through the window. Even they looked unsettled now, and a few turned away, unable to watch, which really freaked me out. "You've been complaining of foreskin pain," the doctor began. "So you should be thanking me. Normally I wouldn't do this to a 16-year-old, but you're not really 16 anymore, are you. I mean, look at you. Not a hair in sight. Small dick, tight balls. I'll be taking away any foreskin pain, forever. Because I'll be removing your foreskin." I began to moan into the gag, and tears ran freely down my face, right in front of everyone. "There are two ways to do this. The first involves removing a swath of skin below the penis head, pulling back the foreskin, and sewing it to the penis." I screamed. "No? You don't want that? Well, there is another way, much quicker, so we'll do that." More moaning. The doctor swabbed my entire dick and crotch with a yellowish-brown iodine liquid, then placed three clamps at the top of my foreskin. Screaming now, I felt like I was leaving my body, floating above it, looking down at my captivity. He latched the clamps to hooks above the exam table, pulling my dick upright, painfully. As the doctor brought the scalpel close, I began to see stars. "In a few seconds, it will be over. I'd say hold still, but you can't move anyway. I won't lie: This is really going to hurt. I don't have any anesthetic at this office." With a few quick cuts, my dick pulled away, leaving the foreskin dangling from the clamps. My stomach churned, and I feared I'd throw up into my gag. But at least the worst was over, or so I thought. "There is some bleeding, so I'll have to take care of that, James. This should do the trick. They use it in war zones for bullet wounds and major cuts. The doctor brought up what looked to be a caulking gun, only with a small canister. "Just relax—it's only glue." What the doctor didn't mention was that it was molten hot glue. As he started to squirt it onto the line where my foreskin had been attached, it was like my dick was in flames. The room faded to a dizzying whirl of white, then all black. When I woke up, I had a sheet over me. I was untied and ungagged, and Scott and the soccer team were gone. Did I dream this whole thing? Dr. Tanner turned around. "Well, you were passed out quite a while. I have to go, but I need you to clean my instruments before you leave. Scott, my, uh, "medical assistant," mentioned other procedures he might pay me to perform on you, but that depends on your cooperation," he said. "Doctor, what did you..." I pulled the sheet down and saw my shriveled dick, it's head wrapped in white bandages. "Oh my god, no. Please put it back." "Wow, James, you really think that's possible? Besides, I put it in a jar of preservative fluid and gave it to Scott. He said he wanted it for the next time he saw you. Just keep your penis dry for five days, and let me know if there's any blood or puss. It will be really sensitive for a long time, months at least. I doubt you'll even want to masturbate." He left, and I tried to stand, but fell on the floor as my legs collapsed. Naked, I washed the instruments as best I could, clamps and scalpel. The scalpel that had actually been used on me. All my dignity was gone. Half the soccer team had seen all five doctor visits. Hopefully Scott hadn't told anyone else, like his brother Danny, or their friend Andrew.