Jake Hanson’s dick was not just long and thick but a deadly weapon. A vicious python loaded with steaming venom, Jake’s perfect member gave both pleasure and pain to anyone foolish enough to tease it to climax. In his life, he’d been fucked over by one too many selfish twats, and he derived a certain pleasure from dispensing his own special brand of karmic justice to those who truly deserved it…

“Shit, man! Your hole is fuckin’ tight!” Stale breath garnished with cilantro panted across Jake’s face. “I love me a tight one…” a pair of cracked lips pressed against his mouth “…know what I mean?”

Jake waited until the lips slid to his neck before grunting, “If you’re through, would ya mind yankin’ that midget stick outta me?”

“Nah, I wanna stay inside you…case I get hard again.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still hard, but I’d rather jerk off’n lie here waitin’ for you t’ catch second wood.”

Jake reached for the pack of cigarettes on the bookshelf beside the bed. Shit, only a couple left. He worked one out with his thumb and index finger as he scooped up a lighter with his other fingers. Wonder what time the liquor store down the street closes?

“Oh, it ain’t gonna take long.” Yellowed teeth nibbled Jake’s ear. “I bet you kiss me again I’ll shoot ’nother load!”

“Sorry, amigo, I had Mexican for lunch, an’ it ain’t sittin’ too well.” Jake slid the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and flicked the lighter. A green flame flared from the metal dragon’s head and ignited his smoke.

“What, I ain’t good enough to fuck again?”

“Honestly? No.”

“Huh?” Paco lifted his head, his lip curling. “Man, fuck you!”

“Nah, I’m way past done.” Jake blew out a cloud. “Don’t mean t’ be mean, but I think you should leave.”

“You goddamn skank!” Paco rolled off Jake and threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Why’d you bother askin’ me over if you wasn’t inta me?”

“Pity, maybe?”

“Fuck you! You’re the one needs feelin’ sorry for! Look at you! Who the hell’d want your ugly ass?”

“A lot of people, actually. But I stopped keepin’ track ’bout five years ago.”

“Yeah, right!” Paco pulled on his pants. “All you goin’ on is that monster cock…an’ it ain’t even all that!”

“No, it’s not…” Jake looked at his lap. “There’s a helluva lot more t’ life’n what this thing can bring me.” He wrapped his fist around his semi-erect penis. “Shit, there’s a fuckin’ war goin’ on, an’ all any of us care ’bout’s gettin’ laid.”

“You wanna do somethin’ ’bout the war, why don’t you sign up for the fuckin’ army ’stead o’ pickin’ up guys on the Internet an’ not givin’ ’em what they want?” Slipping on his shirt, Paco stormed out of the apartment. “Fuckin’ skank prick!”

Yeah, right. Jake frowned as the front door slammed. Fuck me ’n’ my prick. An’ fuck all you goddamn self-absorbed losers. The world’s goin’ t’ hell an’ none of ya give a shit. Propping his head against the wall behind his bed, he closed his eyes and massaged his shaft. You’d think these pricks could pull their heads outta their holes for just one minute an’ realize what’s really important…

His fingers stopped short of bringing him to climax. Not since those first anonymous trysts he couldn’t get enough of when he first came out—back when naïve romanticism made him mistake raw lust for intimacy—did he ever regret indulging the desires of his dick. Yet something about the men he’d been meeting lately made him feel like he deserved being labeled a skank. In a world growing more incomprehensible day by insufferable day, he found himself fighting a losing battle against the uncaring dregs who only added to the confusion. No matter how disenchanted he became, like a fool he kept on fighting. He had to. He had to believe there was more to life than mindless drugging and fucking.

Really, though, is it all my fault my life’s so fucked up? Jake let go of his cock and sat up. With all the lowlifes out there pretendin’ t’ care about people just ’til they get what they want…it’s like they’re a fuckin’ disease. His eyes narrowed. An’ we all know the best way t’ cure a disease it is t’ get rid o’ it. Rip it out an’ crush it an’ flush it down the sewer like yesterday’s dump…

Jake took his cigarette out of his mouth. The paper had burnt itself halfway down. Ash flaked onto his lap, singeing his naked thigh. “Shit!” He brushed away the soot, stabbed the stub on the bookshelf, and reached for the wallet next to the pack of smokes.

Fuck th’ nicotine. I need something stronger. He opened the wallet. I just hope Pete’s got some fresh-cut an’ not some dried-out shit he—

His jaw dropped. The pouch that just a couple hours ago had been stuffed with tens and twenties was now completely wiped clean. “God-fuckin’-dammit!” He hurled the wallet across the room. Fuck! That damn thievin’ prick musta lifted it while I was takin’ a piss! He jumped off the bed and went to the closet. Fuck all this feelin’ sorry for myself. It’s time someone started wipin’ the disease out before it spreads!

“Ya sure ya got it t’ work? I’m not goin’ through with this masochistic shit if it’s just gonna crap out the first time I try t’ use it.”

“Really? I always assumed you had a big hard-on for S & M.” A short man with a mess of gray-peppered hair flitted about a lab table cluttered with wires and electrical tools and scribbled calculations. “I figured you love to receive pain just as much as you love to give it.”

“This from a bitch who walks around with a butt plug shoved up her intestines.” Jake pinched the man’s ass. “Surprised you ain’t tore your prostrate to pieces by now, Curtis.”

“Only because I reinforced it with liquid titanium. No matter how hard a pounding it takes, it’s always ready for more.” Curtis picked over the tools on the table. “Now where the fuck did I put that laser pen?”

“Seriously, I am kinda surprised you were able t’ finish the damn thing. Not that I ever doubted ya, but it had t’ be pretty complicated t’ get just right—even for a smart guy like you.”

“I never said it wasn’t. But when you’re under commission by the Secretary of Defense herself, you have to find a way to uncomplicate things. Aha!” He grabbed a thin metal stick off the corner of the table. “There’s the little fucker!”

Jake shook his head. “I can’t believe the government wants t’ arm the troops with shit like this.”

“Well, they’re not exactly planning on using it to the extremes you are. They’re thinking more along the lines of forearm implants.” Curtis traced the vein on his wrist. “Right here…with a pointer loaded inside a catch-pocket so they can aim and shoot.” He extended his arm and pointed his wrist at Jake’s face. “Sort of like a superhero firing lightning bolts or gamma rays out of his hands.” He dropped his wrist to Jake’s crotch. “Not quite as fucked up as what you have in mind.”

“Ya ask me, the superheroes’d stand a better chance catchin’ the bad guys if they swung their dicks ’stead o’ their fists.”

“Maybe…but it’d be a lot more painful.” Curtis cleared a stack of papers from an examining chair shoved against the wall. “Now, take off your pants and hop on.” He smirked. “I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve heard that today.”

“As a matter of fact, it’s not.” Jake kicked off his shoes and undid the fly on his jeans. He let go of his pants and they fell to the floor around his ankles.

“Wow…” Curtis gazed at Jake’s perfect cock. “Now that is a work of art.”

“Yeah, yeah, they should hang me in a museum.” Jake stepped out of his jeans and climbed onto the chair. “This ain’t gonna, like, mess it up or nothin’, is it?”

“Depends on what you consider ‘messing it up.’ If you’re talking about slicing it in half like a banana split then no. However, if you’re concerned about a little cosmetic scarring, then you might want to reconsider going through with it.”

“Scars I can handle. Leave the banana splits t’ the Dairy Queens.”

“Okay. But remember, you said it.” Curtis straddled the foot of the chair and pushed on Jake’s chest. “Lie back. Close your eyes, breathe steady, and count the number of guys you’ve fucked.”

“I can’t count that high.”

“I’ll be finished before you even get halfway. Now lie back and shut the fuck up.”

Curtis took Jake’s dick in his rubber-gloved hand. The doctor felt the warm meat against his palm, and a shiver ran over his neck. Ever since they first met in the rec hall at USC he yearned to know what it was like to have this beautiful man all to himself, but sitting with Jake in his office, with the lights low and the quiet of the night surrounding him, he felt nothing. Even though his work left little time for release, holding Jake’s perfect tool did little to arouse Curtis’s own jaded member. The two of them had changed so much since their randy college days, and the world they swore to conquer had beaten their dreams to a pulp. He learned a long time ago that instead of licking his wounds and become a slave to the world, Jake was determined to defy it. His friend had started down a path he himself lacked the strength to follow, and his curious lust would forever remain unsatisfied.

“Okay, um…” Curtis cleared his throat. “You just want local?”

Jake raised his head. “Local what?”

“Anesthesia. You want only your dick to be numb or do you want to be knocked out completely?”

“Oh…numb’s good.” Jake flexed his pelvis. His penis squirmed between the doctor’s fingers. “That way I can make sure you ain’t takin’ advantage of me!”

“Trust me, there’s no danger of that happening.” Curtis grabbed a syringe and a cotton swab from the small tray attached to the arm of the chair. He dabbed Jake’s shaft with the swab then tossed it into the wastebasket on the floor. Holding the syringe above the throbbing purple vein, he looked at his friend. “Ready?”

“More than you know.” Jake turned to the wall and let Curtis do his thing. It’ll all be worth it, he assured himself. Even if I only take out one or two, I can die happy.

“You don’t mind if I get a little white noise going, do you?” Curtis aimed a remote at the monitor on the wall above the examining chair. The screen flickered with the World News Network’s round-the-clock update on the battle raging on the other side of the globe. “It helps me concentrate if I have something to drown out the silence.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Jake looked at the screen. A fleet of American tanks rolled down a rubble-strewn street, devouring everything in its path. Somewhere European, looks like. Austria, I think…or maybe Bulgaria. Who the fuck knows? No matter where they are, they’re all screwed.

“Be still, now,” Curtis said. “This is the most delicate part of the procedure. I can’t screw it up.”

Jake sighed. “Just hurry the fuck up.”

Curtis flipped a switch on the metal stick. The tip began to glow with a pinpoint of hot white light. He moved it in a straight line along the underside of Jake’s shaft, stopping just below the head. The skin opened up, leaving behind a thin incision. He set the stick in his lap and selected a length of wire tubing from the tray. Carefully he inserted one end into Jake’s seminal vesicle and threaded the length under the incision.

“You’re, what, nine, nine-and-a-half inches hard?” Curtis asked.

Jake smirked. “Nine-and-three-quarters.”

“Show-off.”

“You wanna be accurate, doncha?”

“Only a size queen would say that.” Grabbing a pair of wire cutters from the tray, Curtis measured ten inches of the tubing and snipped the excess. He then twisted it into a corkscrew and slid the other end into Jake’s urethral glans. “When you’re aroused, the tube will also fill with blood, which will cause it to unravel as your cock stiffens.” He gently tugged on the tube to make sure the connection was solid. “Same as when it goes soft—it’ll coil back down. If it feels uncomfortable, rub it a little to work it out.” He took the cutters and chopped the tube in half. He then picked up a black ball with a tiny hole in each end off the tray. Setting the ball between the separated pieces of metal, he fitted the ends of the tube into the holes and then tucked it against the meat of Jake’s penis. He retrieved the metal stick from his lap and pressed a button on the side. The tip changed from bright white to dull blue. He retraced the incision with the light, searing the flesh back together. Then, with another cotton swab, he smeared healing cream over the graft.

“There…” With a heavy breath, Curtis wiped his brow. “Goddamn, I can’t believe I actually did it.”

“I knew ya could.” Jake smiled at him. “Like I said, you’re a smart guy—probably the smartest fucker I know. I’d trust you with my life.”

“At least someone has faith in me…” Curtis glanced at the television. A squad of foot soldiers raced into an embassy and gunned down a roomful of armed refugees. “Which is more than I can say for the Defense Secretary. She’s threatening to cancel my contract unless the US improves his global image.”

“Man, fuck the US! Ain’t nothin’ we can do t’ save face now. If the government listened t’ guys like you more, they woulda ended the war a long time ago. Instead, we’re gettin’ our balls ripped off an’ shoved down our throats.”

“Yeah, well, it just goes to show the bastards in charge care more about proving to the rest of the world their dicks are bigger than they do about the safety of their people.”

“You said it.” Jake got up from the chair, his numb cock flicking at Curtis’s face. “But they don’t come much bigger’n me. An’ now my dick’s a lethal weapon, I’m gonna show ’em all what real fuckin’ power is.” He snatched his jeans from the floor and started to get dressed.

“Hold on a minute there, cowboy.” Curtis stood up. “It’s going to be a while before you can do much more than piss with that thing.”

“How long’s a while?”

“At least ten days. Two weeks would be better, but I know there’s no way you’ll wait that long.”

“With all the fuckin’ nut-jobs ’n’ losers out there? What d’ you think?”

“Does it really matter what I think?”

“In the long run, prob’ly not. You’re the best friend I got, you know that. But this is somethin’ I gotta do.” Jake set his hand on Curtis’s shoulder. “You got no idea how much this means t’ me.”

“Neither do you. Now get out of here, you fucking tramp.” Knocking his hand away, he went over to the examining table. “Go home and get some rest. I got work to do.”

For that night and most of the following week, Jake made an honest attempt to follow doctor’s orders, but rest was never kind to the restless. On the eighth evening after his surgery, he lay alone in his bed, turning and tossing as the fires of retribution burned hotter inside than ever before. His dick thrashed and throbbed against the fabric of his boxers—a drooling monster ravenous for revenge. I got no idea how my world got to be such a fuckin’ mess, his hand slid into his shorts and roped the monster, but I gotta start cleanin’ it up. I can’t keep lyin’ here on my ass all fuckin’ day.

Freeing his dick from its boxer prison, he ran his fingers along the length. The grafted skin was still a bit red and tender, but the metal tube had uncoiled, and it traced a perfect path underneath his hard, hungry penis. God love ya, Curtis!

With a determined grin, Jake jumped out of bed. He threw on his clothes and set out into the vicious night.

The downtown bar was dank and rank. A smog of filth hung low, swallowing the stifled strains of one-note techno and jaded laughter. Alcohol flowed in flood-rivers of denial, drowning the collective angst in a puddle of forgetfulness. It was a place that not so long ago had been a pleasurable getaway, but lately it had sunk into a dark haven for the bereft of hope…a dumping ground for those who life had given up on. When it was gone, it would not be mourned.

Head down, eyes up, Jake walked into the bar, scanning through the dank smog for the perfect prey. He hadn’t even bothered to pretty himself up. He’d put on the same grimy jeans he’d worn for the past three days and the same ratty t-shirt with permanent pit stains. His hair was un-brushed, his face unshaven, his teeth unwashed. Out of habit he ordered a double Southern Comfort from the hulking, leather-clad bartender before escaping to the back room, where a crowd of pleasure-hounds molested each other in a gross mound of sweat, flesh, and beer—hands in pants, pants around ankles, ankles over shoulders. Mouths were wide and slavering, tongues lashing for the sour taste of withered meat. Faces didn’t matter, names mattered less. All any of them cared about was the fleeting ecstasy of human acceptance that accompanied a craving fueled by self-loathing.

Jake stood in the open doorway, gazing at the display in disgust. Shit, I oughta just whip it out, beat it hard, an’ take ’em all out in one sh-

“Hey, papi, either go in or get out.” Stale cilantro breath breezed past Jake’s ear. “You’re blockin’ the fuckin’ way!”

“Sorry.” He stepped aside. “Wouldn’t wanna keep ya from pissin’ your self-respect down the—”

Jake almost dropped his glass. Standing beside him was the same sorry fuck that had been inside him a week ago—the very same bastard who robbed him of not only his cash but what little shred of optimism he had left.

“Hey, I know you!” Paco glared at him. “Out trollin’ for more trade t’ use an’ abuse?”

“I could ask the same of you. I had a feelin’ your asshole was open for multiple occupancy.”

“Only if you pass the background check. An’ like J. Lo at a Bronx Penney’s, your credit’s no good here.”

“How ’bout cash up front? Oh, wait, I already paid ya, didn’t I?”

“I got no idea what you talkin’ ’bout, so you best get outta my face.”

“How ’bout I get in your face, instead?” Jake unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock. “You suck it good an’ you can keep th’ money you didn’t steal from me.”

Paco glanced down. “What makes you think I’d do that?”

“’Cause I got a buddy in forensics who’d find your shit-crusted fingerprints all over my wallet an’ wouldn’t hesitate t’ bust your filthy ass.” Grabbing the man’s shoulder, Jake pulled him into the back room. “On your knees, bitch!”

Paco dropped and went to work on Jake’s angry cock, tickling the head with his tongue before swallowing it to the hilt. His face was like a jackhammer, pounding so hard it seemed as if the building would crumble around them. As he devoured Jake’s shaft with his mouth, his hand tugged on his heavy balls, coaxing out the hot stream dammed inside.

“Oh, fuck, man!” Jake let out a grunt. “I’m gonna shoot!”

“Do it, papi! Fire it down my throat!”

“Oh, shit, yeah! Here it comes…!”

Arching his back, Jake thrust his member into Paco’s face. His body shuddered as the most exquisite orgasm he ever experienced exploded from his loins. At the precise moment he spurted his wad, a tiny laser shot out of his dick through the metal tube. Paco’s head fell against Jake’s thigh. In the back of his skull was bored a small, barely noticeable black hole.

“Fuck…” Jake gasped. The stench of fried flesh and burnt hair mingled with the fragrance of sweat, semen, and beer. He leaned against the wall, gazing at the lifeless body with its lips wrapped around his dick. “Goddamn…it really worked...”

Jake’s eyes shifted from the dead man to the room around him. The whore-hounds carried on with their gross orgy, oblivious to the fact that a murder had just taken place. Ignorant skanks! Jake shook his head. I should just go down the line, sprayin’ my scum until every last sorry one of ’em’s a fuckin’ smear on the wall. He sneered at a sagging old man spreading his legs wide to take on two at the same time. On second thought, they don’t need my help. Their already fucked.

Jake pushed Paco’s corpse off his crotch. The dead man fell to the floor, his head between his knees. Tucking his sex pistol in his pants, Jake left the back room and made his way through the smog to the bar’s exit. The door slammed behind him as he stepped out into the night, sealing off the stale vacuum of insignificant misery.

Yep…a change is a-comin’, by fuckin’ god. Jake inhaled a deep breath of crisp air. An’ God help any fucker who tries t’ stand in my way.

As he headed down the sidewalk, he reached into his pocket for a fresh pack of cigarettes and the dragon’s head lighter. In the lighter’s green flame, he caught a glimpse of a newspaper headline in the gutter: President Cox Says War’s End Three Years Away.

Jake let out a quiet laugh. The world around him was slowly digging its grave, but his personal world had been reborn. With the power packed between his legs, he knew it was only a matter of time before he conquered both.

 

© 2005 Edward Beekman-Myers - Contributor's Bio