https://groups.google.com/g/alt.sex.stories.gay/c/ymQ7cwzpwfM/m/ePi1gSAUU-UJ

by Geoffrey Francis

19th July 1984 will stay in my mind forever because that was
the date on which I was sentenced to 12 months in a Youth
Detention Centre. You might wonder why such a relatively
short sentence should be so indelibly marked in my memory. It
was not the detention itself that made such a mark, although
that was bad enough, but what the warders and senior inmates
did to me during that year.

I had been foolish, I know, to pick a flashy red Aston
Martin with a numberplate like TED 1 as my joyride vehicle,
but I needed to impress the girl I was dating at the time. I
had just turned 16 and she was nearly 17, but we both looked a
year or so older when dressed to go out on the town. It was
not the first time I'd 'borrowed' a car and I was quite adept
at driving, although I say it myself. Had I stuck to Ford
Escorts and Minis I would probably have got away with it; even
an Aston Martin might have been OK with a nondescript number,
but what do I do? I nick a car from one of Radio London's top
DJs, so naturally there's a hue and cry as soon as he comes
out of the studio after his show. Admittedly he first thought
it might have been towed away by the fuzz themselves - after
all, he had left it on a yellow line with the back wheels
overlapping the zig-zags of a pedestrian crossing. It took
the pigs about an hour to determine that they didn't have it
and to put out an alert to all patrols about it.

I'd put the car safely in an NCP car park whilst Julie and I
went to the cinema and on to a restaurant for something to
eat. It was just my luck that the driver ahead of me leaving
the car park should have a row with the attendant about
payment, and drew a knife on him. The attendant must have
pressed a panic button or something because before I knew it
there were pigs everywhere. I couldn't reverse because other
drivers were directly behind me, so it was not surprising that
one of the boys in blue noticed the car they'd so recently
been told was on the stolen list. My date and I were whisked
off to the local nick where we were separately questioned for
what seemed like hours.

They let Julie go after taking a statement from her. Both
of us had been searched, but only I had anything suspicious on
me - a bent paper clip which I had indeed used to open the car
door. It was the first time I had been caught doing anything
wrong and, if you've never been arrested before, that first
time is most frightening. Everything is so strange. The
procedures are designed to put you at a disadvantage from the
very start. You don't know all your rights, so you can't
object to anything from a point of strength. It was like that
with the strip search which they decided to carry out on me;
they had no right to do it, not without a senior officer's
authority and good reason to suspect I was hiding something,
but I didn't know that, so had to submit to it.

I was taken from the relatively comfortable interview room
down to a cold basement room where there was a medical type
couch in the middle of the room and powerful lights above it.
Three officers had accompanied me, all seemed to be little
more than my own age but were probably in their twenties. We
entered the room, which had a solid door and no windows, and
the men closed the door which locked automatically. I was
ordered to remove my shoes, socks, shirt and trousers. I was
reluctant to remove my trousers, but at least I still had my
underpants. The pigs examined my clothes carefully to see
they had no hidden compartments. I was then ordered to sit on
the edge of the couch facing them.

The men took hold of my feet and proceeded to pull my toes
apart rather roughly to see that nothing was concealed between
them. Satisfied with my feet, they turned their attention to
my mouth. I was told to open it wide and immediately one of
them put a metal instrument into it to hold it wide open.
Fingers went into my mouth and prodded all around. The gag
device was removed and they examined my hair, ears and nose.

I was then made to lie flat on my stomach on the couch. An
arm went under my legs and jerked them up into the air, whilst
two other pairs of hands swept my briefs down off my bottom.
I was naked. Since puberty I'd never been naked in front of
anyone else, other than my classmates in the gym showers. I
felt horribly exposed, especially as they were now pulling me
up into a kneeling position with my head on the couch, legs
well apart and my bum high in the air. My bum cheeks were
pulled apart and I could feel them staring at my most private
little hole. "Looks OK there" was all that was said. I was
pulled flat again and then rolled over for them to prod about
at my balls and pull my foreskin back to see there was nothing
under it. They left the foreskin back and made me get off the
table. I was given back my underpants and then led almost
naked along the stone corridor to a cell where there was a
sort of bed with one rough blanket. "Get a good night's
sleep", one of them said, "you'll be in court early tomorrow."

Early the next morning I was brought a good breakfast of
bacon and eggs, with toast, marmalade and tea. I had just
finished this when a Sergeant brought my clothes back, ordered
me to dress and go with him. I was taken to the interview
room where a solicitor was waiting. I was formally charged
with several offences including stealing the car; driving
whilst under age and driving without insurance. I was then
left alone with the solicitor. He asked me about my
background and past history. When he was satisfied that this
was my first arrest and that I really had actually been caught
red-handed, he advised me to plead guilty and to ask for two
previous offences to be taken into consideration. "You might
get just a driving ban", he said, "or at the worst I should
think a ban and about 40 hours community service." I believed
him and pleaded guilty in the Juvenile Court. He asked that
two specific previous offences be taken into consideration.

I don't know whether the Magistrate had a bad night, or was
just the vindictive type, but to my shock (and the slight
surprise of the solicitor) he sentenced me to 12 months Youth
Detention with hard labour and a three year driving ban. Back
in the cells, my solicitor told me that he could appeal to the
Crown Court but if we lost that then the sentence would be
likely to be doubled. He advised against an appeal but said,
"It's up to you. Do you want to take the risk?" I decided to
again accept his advice and take the present punishment. That
was probably a mistake, but it seemed sensible at the time. I
was kept in the cells at the court until the late afternoon
when six of us were put into a van and driven off to the
Detention Centre.

The Centre was miles from anywhere and surrounded by flat,
open countryside which would give little cover to anyone
trying to escape. We drove through big iron gates into a
courtyard. The gates were shut behind us and a warder
accompanied the van through the next set of gates into the
main reception area. We were made to get off and go into the
building to our left. The reception clerk called out names
and, when the boy concerned confirmed his presence, checked
the offence and sentence details. The boy's finger prints
were taken, after which he was given a card with a number on
it and led over to the other side of the room where mug shots
were taken. This happened for each of us. We were then taken
one at a time into another room where we were ordered to empty
our pockets and then strip completely. All our possessions
and clothing were listed and we had to sign the list.

Unless you've experienced that sort of nakedness, you can
have no idea how embarrassing it is to have to strip like
that. You also feel totally vulnerable. I was then ordered
to stand near one wall with feet together and hands by my
side. Much to my consternation, more photos were taken of me
in this naked condition. One of the warders instructed me to
accompany him to the baths. I was not even to be allowed
privacy in which to bath. The water was cold and the warder
even soaped my back, bum and genitals; squeezing the balls
tightly as he did so, but worse was to come. I was then led,
still naked, into the cell block where I was handed over to
three 'trusties'. Instead of taking me straight to my cell,
they took me first to a large room where the senior inmate
was. On the way I heard one say to another, "Good, I see he's
not yet Circumcised, that will be fun."

When we got to the room, I was held from behind by two of
the lads whilst the senior one came and pulled my foreskin
about. He was very rough with it and stretched the frenum
almost to the point of tearing it. The senior boy and another
put on rubber gloves and this other boy held my foreskin
right back. The senior one turned to a shelf and plucked a
bunch of stinging nettles from a vase there. He applied them
to my bare glans and the inner surface of my foreskin. The
stinging started at the first slight touch and got worse and
worse as he rubbed them over every part of my soft, sensitive
knob and inner skin. By the time he had finished there were
little bumps everywhere on my tortured member and the pain was
almost unbearable. They then proceeded to wank me, increasing
the pain so that I cried out in agony. My torturers laughed
and one said to the others, "It's so much more fun with the
UNcircumcised isn't it. They feel it so much more on their
soft flesh." I thought, "evil bastards" and collapsed with the
pain in my prick.

I awoke again locked in a cell. My cock hurt like hell as
the poison from the nettles still worked its evil on me. I
began to wonder why both the coppers and now these inmates
mentioned Circumcision so much. I'd only seen one cut cock
in all my years, and that belonged to Issac Horrowicz who had
been in my class in primary school. To me it was just one of
those funny customs of the Jews: nothing to do with English
boys. But of course I was wrong and soon to learn
differently. Over in the corner of the cell was a pile of
prison clothes and I eagerly put a covering on my nakedness -
ah! that was better.

A gong sounded somewhere in the distance and a warder came
along unlocking the cell doors. "Meal time", he said and
strode on. I followed the other inmates along corridors and
down stairs to the dining hall. The menu on the wall
proclaimed the meal to be sausages and baked beans. There was
one very small sausage and a mountain of baked beans. I have
never been really fond of baked beans, but had to eat them or
go hungry. I could see some of the other boys, who'd been
with me in the coach, dotted about the room. I wondered if
they too had received the stinging nettle treatment. I was to
learn later that they had.

At the end of the meal one of the warders called out a set
of names and told us to stay in our places. Everyone else
left except the six of us. We were marched off to the
barber's to get our hair cut. I was very proud of my fine
wavy brown hair, and had spent pounds on having it styled in
accordance with the latest fashions. The prison barber simply
ran his clippers all over it, close to the scalp. All I was
left with were a few millimetres of the spiky part near the
roots. Next stop was the medical centre, where once again we
were made to strip naked in the ante-room, our clothes being
taken to another room. I could see that all but one of the
other boys had a foreskin. My penis looked to be the biggest,
and with a nice long covering on it. The one roundhead in the
group looked so different from the rest of us. His penis was
not very long, but the knob seemed enormous. There was then a
somewhat raw looking area running back about a third of the
way down his shaft to a ragged, dark brown line which
encircled his member. I envied him the size of his knob and
wished that mine were so large, to be better in keeping with
the seven and a half inches that I packed when fully on the
horn. It was now my turn to go in to the doctor.

The last time I'd seen any doctor, apart from getting my BCG
jab at 14, was when I left the infants school so I didn't
really know what to expect. There were two warders in the
room with the doctor and one of them weighed me and measured
my height. The doctor then tested my eyes using one of those
funny charts with random letters of differing sizes. I could
even read who printed it, so he pronounced my eyesight as
perfect. My ears, nose and throat were next examined and a
swab was taken of my saliva. The doctor made a point of
noting that I still had my tonsils. Heart and lungs came
next. I've never managed to understand why doctors keep their
stethoscopes so cold. I'm sure he must have had it resting on
a block of ice just before putting it to my chest.

I was now asked about vaccinations and the doctor sought out
and measured both my Smallpox scars and the little lump where
I'd been given the BCG two years earlier. "When did you last
have polio and tetanus jabs?" I was asked. I couldn't
remember, so he injected my right arm with pink polio vaccine
before making me bend over to receive tetanus jabs into both
my bum cheeks.

I was made to lie on my back on the couch and my legs were
pulled outwards to hang over the edges near the bottom. My
manhood was thus readily accessible to him. I couldn't
properly see what he was doing, but suddenly a pain like red
hot coals shot up into my groin; followed quickly by another.
As those pains subsided a bit I felt a dull throbbing ache in
both my balls from where he had pulled them down and
compressed them. "Firm, well developed gonads", he commented
casually to the warders. As he said this, he seized my
foreskin and shot it backwards. The frenum was again nearly
torn with the force of it. As he touched the bare head, all
the discomfort of the dormant nettle poison came flooding
back. The penis was measured in great detail and I was then
told to turn over onto my stomach.

I was made to kneel just as the filth had placed me for
their examination - head on the couch, knees pulled wide
apart, and bum high in the air. The doctor parted my bum
cheeks, which were now beginning to sting a bit from the
injections he had given earlier. I thought back to the police
inspection of my bum and expected no more. Then it happened.
A finger was shoved into my anus. I cried out with surprise
as the sphyncter muscles were rudely stretched open. The
finger explored inside me for a while and was then withdrawn.
"It seems normal", came the doctor's voice from behind me,
"but I think we had better open him up just to be sure."

"Open me up!" Surely he wasn't going to cut my arse open?
No, he didn't quite do that, but might as well have done for
the pain of what followed. One of the warders picked up a
metal contraption from a nearby table and I felt the cold
steel being pushed as far as it would go into my arse. There
was then the sound of a handle being turned against a ratchet
and I felt a really strange sensation as the cold air rushed
into my previously very warm hole. Soon my bum felt as if it
was being torn apart - the gadget was stretching the sides
outwards well beyond the point to which they had ever gone
before. I started asking them to stop, but I was soon in such
pain that I couldn't let out much sound other than sobbing. I
just caught sight of the face of one of the warders; he was
smiling. Eventually they decided they could see far enough
into my anus and stopped stretching it. Several fingers were
placed inside and scraped around the tender membranes before
being removed, followed by the spreader.

I was made to get off the table and walk into the next room
to dress. Walking was very painful with my arse ring bruised
and stretched so much. The rough prison underpants chafed the
wounded skin and constricted my aching balls. It was with
great difficulty that I finished dressing and walked back to
my cell, escorted by two trusties. I dreaded the possibility
that they might subject me to another session with the
stinging nettles. Sleep came very slowly that night as I
pondered all the strange and painful things that had happened
to me.

It was still dark when two warders came to my cell the next
morning and ordered me to go with them. I was taken out of
the main block and across a yard to a dingy stone building
about the size of a double garage. It had no windows and a
heavy metal door. They unlocked the door and locked it again
behind us. The room was lit by only one small bulb and I
couldn't be sure what was in there, but it looked rather like
harness for horses. I was led over to the back corner where
there were rough stone steps down to a cellar. We went down
these and through another locked door. To the right was
another door, whilst more steps led down again. We went down
these and through a third heavy metal door, which clanged
firmly shut behind us. The room was small and even more
poorly lit than the first one, so I could only just make out a
few shapes. I was led to beside a large, angled wheel with
four spokes. There I was ordered to strip. I was, by now,
getting used to the business of having to strip frequently,
but still not liking it any the more. Whilst I was undressing
three more men appeared out of the shadows. As soon as I was
naked they seized me, lifted me up and placed me against the
wheel. My ankles were shackled to the two bottom spokes and
my arms to the top ones.

The hub of the wheel pressed into the small of my back and
my wrists began to ache as they took the full weight of my
body. The wheel was on a sort of trolley on rails and they
pushed it through a hidden door in the far wall. As we came
through that door my eyes were assailed by bright light. I
blinked a few times in the unaccustomed brightness and then
saw that we were in a very large room with the rail track
running round in a big loop. There were four other wheels
like the one to which I was fixed. Three of them supported
the bodies of fellow new inmates. The empty wheel was pushed
out to the darkened room and a few minutes later was brought
back with another boy on it. I didn't think to look carefully
at the time, but it turned out that they only had the five of
us who were uncircumcised.

Each trolley was locked to the track and a wire was run from
the back of it to a control panel. A switch was operated and
the wheels began to turn slowly so that we were turned upside
down and then back the right way. Gradually the speed was
increased until we became completely dizzy. The wheels
suddenly stopped with us all hanging upside down. We were
left upside down for about fifteen minutes and then turned
back the right way up. The blood was pounding in my ears from
where it had rushed to my hanging head. A man immediately
came in front of each of us, and through my blurred vision I
saw the glint of light on a knife blade. A moment or two
later my penis felt as if it was on fire and I yelled loudly.
As my vision gradually returned to normal I looked down at
myself and saw that the tip of my penis was bleeding
profusely. I then realised that the end of my foreskin had
been sliced off. I was furious. My long supple foreskin had
been part of my pride and joy. It made my already large penis
look even longer - a real King Dick. When erect it still
covered the whole of my glans and my daily masturbation
technique involved slowly sliding it back to the rim and then
rapidly forward again. Twenty or so strokes like this and I'd
shoot my wad good and far. Now that the foreskin stopped at
the tip of the glans, how was I going to enjoy myself in
future? I saw that an identical fate had befallen the others.
Damn these sadistic warders! We were spun again, with blood
flying in all directions from our damaged dicks, and then left
alone for a few hours whilst the bleeding stopped. The men
eventually returned, took us down from the wheels, ordered us
to dress, and took us back to our cells as if nothing had
happened. It took about ten days for the wound to heal.
Urinating was sheer hell as the urine stung the raw edges of
the severed foreskin and it couldn't be washed away
immediately. After a week the doctor visited the cell and
quickly looked at the penis, but said nothing and gave me
nothing to help the healing.

The work regime had started on the day after these initial
Circumcisions. Boys were each assigned different tasks and I
found myself having to break up a large area of old concrete
and dig it out. Every swing of the sledge hammer rubbed my
lacerated foreskin against the rough prison underpants to
increase my discomfort. The warder in charge carried a cane
and any sign of slacking brought a slash across the buttocks,
or such other part of the anatomy as he could manage to hit at
the time.

After about a month one of the warders came to the cell and
ordered me to strip. He jerked my foreskin back, tearing the
recently healed tip which then took several more days to
re-heal. I found that I couldn't now pull the skin back over
the knob because where the cut edges had healed the skin was
far less flexible than it had previously been. A week later
two warders came and pulled back my skin. Having torn the tip
again, one held the skin back whilst the second put a rather
blunt knife to my frenum. The pain was fucking unbearable
and I tried to duck away from the men. This was a serious
mistake which resulted in more men arriving in the cell to
hold me whilst the foreskin was again forcibly retracted and
the whole frenum was slowly and very painfully cut out. I was
howling with the pain and eventually passed out.

Another month passed before my sex was again assaulted.
Before dawn one morning I was taken out to the building where
the initial partial Circumcisions had been performed. There
were again just the five of us, but this time we were taken
down only one flight of stairs. The room there was the same
size as the one with the wheels in it. From the ceiling hung
various chains, ropes and leather straps. A metal rod was
fixed between my ankles by means of leather cuffs which were
attached to each end of it. I couldn't now walk nor close my
legs. A similar device held my arms apart above my head. A
hook was placed through an eye in the leg spreader and I was
hoisted upside down into the air. A heavy weight was attached
to the arm spreader so as to put my whole body in tension.

A clamp was fixed to each of my nipples, and a weight was
attached to each clamp. I erected as soon as my nipples were
clamped. The clamp was painful, granted, but it was an
indescribably erotic sort of pain. I hated it, yet wanted it
to continue - most odd.... Half an hour later my bum cheeks
were pulled apart and something was shoved inside. It was
quite soft and my bum seemed to suck it hungrily in. I now
know that it was a suppository, but at the time I had no idea.
The weight was removed from my arms and the ropes were
adjusted so that I was on my back, but with arms and legs
almost straight up into the air. This position was not
actually uncomfortable in itself, but one felt so helpless
strung up there.

As time passed I began to feel the need to use the toilet.
One of the other boys asked the warders if he could go, but he
was refused. One by one we all began to squirm in our bonds
as the desire to crap became stronger and stronger due to the
drug placed in our anus. Eventually I could stand it no more
and shit all over the floor. The other boys followed in quick
succession. The smell in the place was overpowering.

The warders then used water jets to enema us and remove all
traces of shit from our bums. These hoses were then used to
wash the floor, but we were sprayed copiously as they did so.
Soaking wet and cold, we were hoisted upright. Six fishing
hooks were inserted around the edge of the foreskin and
weights hung on these. Our positions were again adjusted so
that we were horizontal, face down and with arms and legs up
above our backs. We were then left with the foreskin and
nipple weights on for about four hours. When the warders
eventually came back each carried a pair of scissors. One
blade was pushed into the stretched opening of the foreskin
and up as far as it would go. The scissors were then closed -
part cutting, part tearing the foreskin where it got in their
way. Oh! The agony! We were then left there for several
more hours until the bleeding stopped. The weights and hooks
were removed and we dressed to be taken back to our cells.

A dorsal slit, such as we had just been given, leaves the
penis in the least attractive condition of all. It is neither
properly uncircumcised, nor properly Circumcised. The two odd
flaps of skin tend to catch on clothing and in the zip of
trousers. The top of the cut, where the two flaps meet is
constantly vulnerable to being torn. Masturbation is very
difficult and gives no pleasure: one cannot slide the skin up
and down over the knob like an uncircumcised boy does, but it
gets in the way of doing the job just with an encircling
fist. I was really despondent now and regarded what had been
done to my dick as an unwarranted mutilation. I would never
again be able to enjoy any sort of sex. I could have
understood it a bit if I was in prison for a sexual offence
like rape, but I had only borrowed a car for a joy ride.

Like the other cuts on the penis, the dorsal slit took a
couple of weeks to heal. One or other of the warders examined
it daily; morning and night. This constant handling must have
increased the time taken for the wound to heal, but it made
sure that we couldn't train the cut edges to knit together
again. The warders also ensured that they tore the top of the
cut wider open, so that there was a ragged extension of it up
the shaft to increase our pain and make the whole thing look
even less attractive.

The dorsal slit did, eventually, heal to the warders'
satisfaction and they ceased examining it. However, whilst it
was healing, we were required to do daily PT in the nude under
the supervision of the most senior 'trusties'. It was these
very lads who had given us the nettle treatment on our first
day inside. I was sure that something unpleasant would be
done to us by these boys, and it was. On the third day after
our dorsal slitting we were exercised until nearly exhausted
and then made to hang from the wall-bars. The tormentors
again used stinging nettles on the bared glans and the dorsal
flaps, but this time they followed it up with a "Deep Heat"
rub over the glans and the scrotum. The pain in both areas
was excruciating. We couldn't relieve it without falling off
the wall-bars and the one boy who did try simply got another
dose for his pains. A similar treatment was given to us every
five days until the wounds had healed.

Two months passed after the healing of the dorsal slit
before the next attack on the penis. Once again we were taken
to the windowless building and down to the first basement.
This time we were kitted out with all sorts of leather straps
with metal rings and studs on them. These enabled the warders
to restrain us in almost any position that took their fancy.
Clamps were again placed on our nipples and weights hung on
them. All traces of pubic hair were shaved from our genital
area with a cut-throat razor. I was terrified throughout
that the razor might slip and castrate me. Surgical spirit
was massaged into the whole shaved area and then the fishing
hooks were again placed into the end of the foreskin flaps,
but in different locations to the previous time. Much heavier
weights than first time were hung on them and we were left for
several hours whilst they painfully stretched the skin.

The warders eventually came back to remove the hooks and
weights. They then used a scalpel to cut around the shaft
just above the point where the dorsal slit ended. This cut
was made quite slowly in several small movements. I think it
took them about fifteen highly painful minutes to cut right
round my shaft. The foreskin was pulled tightly forward to
open up this cut and expose the inner membranes, which were
then also slowly severed. By the time I was fully Circumcised
I was screaming with the agony of it all. A curved rod was
placed against the uppermost point of this cut and I screamed
again when I found that it was red hot. This cauterising iron
was rotated to seal and brand the whole cut, after which I was
left hanging from the restraining ropes, collapsed in a state
of shock. The other boys suffered a similar fate and not one
of them could prevent himself from screaming with the agony.

Daily examination by the warders delayed the healing of our
Circumcisions so that they were still very sore after a couple
of weeks, at which time we were each vigorously masturbated by
one of the older boys. This time they were under instructions
not to use the "Deep Heat" or stinging nettles on us, but only
their hands. Masturbation is normally a very pleasurable
activity, but when done to a rather raw, newly Circumcised,
penis can be a strange mixture of pain and pleasure. It feels
very, very strange having the bare glans and stripped shaft
touched, especially if you are not used to having any hand
other than your own in that area. The first few 'dry' strokes
up and down my lacerated shaft brought flooding back all the
painful memories of the many cuttings leading up to my (now)
properly Circumcised status. Each movement of the older boy's
big fist pulled the already tight skin even tighter. I was
erect very quickly, of course, but despite the pains I erected
even more under the influence of the rubbing. I did get
rather sore and eventually my masturbator noticed that my
penis was inflamed. He stopped and liberally coated it with
KY Jelly, after which his hand slid more easily up and down
and I came copiously. I was then required to jack him off
before he gave my balls a playful, but painful, squeeze and
left me alone.

At least I could now masturbate a bit again, but I had no KY
in my cell and so masturbation always rapidly lead to soreness
and I had to abandon it - often just before orgasm would have
occurred. It was very frustrating. Meanwhile the life of the
Detention Centre continued on its usual course:- Hard work
somewhere about the prison; awful food; slopping out every
morning; daily cold showers and weekly strip inspections by
one of the warders.

I'd been inside for nearly nine months before the final
phase in the Circumcision saga occurred. Once again the scene
was the sub-basement of the windowless building. This time
the boy who'd already been Circumcised was there as well so
there were six of us naked on the wheels. We were shaved
again in the genital area and then, just like the first time,
we were spun around to make us dizzy. Bright lights were
trained on our genitals. Fingers probed my testicles and then
my penis, testing the degree of looseness in my shaft. I was
brought to erection and the amount of looseness tested again.
It was not much, but they managed to find a bit there and a
black line was drawn around the shaft somewhat behind my
Circumcision scar. The boy who'd been Circumcised as a baby
was very loose, even when erect, and the line was put way back
on him.

After testing us all, our old scars were opened up and new
cuts made around the black lines. Again we were burned with
the red hot curved rods and then finally turned upside down
again until we passed out. I awoke naked in my cell with no
sign of my clothes. "Congratulations", said a voice from
behind me. It was one of the trusties. "Welcome to the ranks
of MEN. Your very full Circumcision confirms that you are no
longer a boy." I'd never thought of Circumcision that way
before, but I ALWAYS do now!