Cadaveric penile-allograft love story

869 word limit.

Prompt about solo act.



“It will be a little strange at first. It’s going to take some getting used to.”



Those were the only pearls of wisdom the doctor had for her. For him. Jesus. It really was going to take some getting used to.

Sam rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed, staring at that haunted face, slowly remembering who it belonged to.



He had time to get used to that face. He’d seen it enough now. Looking back at him from newspapers, magazines and TV screens. Sam was a big story these days. Patient confidentiality? Forget about it. Even the anaesthetist had appeared on “Ellen” last week. Sam was the first successful medical case of her kind. His kind. A complete reconstructive cadaveric penile-allograft. Or as one tabloid so succinctly put it. A dick transplant.



Since the operation, Sam had spent enough time staring down at this new appendage. But this was the first time he was aware of it actually waking him up.



Yet there it now stood. Proud and erect. It looked better in the mirror. Looking straight at it made it seem bigger than the bird’s eye view he usually had. Maybe more men should know that, so they could put some of their ‘issues’ into perspective.

Sam had seen enough cocks from that perspective herself, as a woman. Had held enough of them. Tasted enough of them. Back in the bad old, confused days.



He watched himself in the mirror, as he reached out now and gently cradled himself, amazed at the way the skin of the ball sack they’d constructed for him actually crenelated and drew itself in at the faintest touch.



The cock swelled and engorged itself further, seemingly aware of the attention. Sam tightened his grip, shocked at how little force it took to elicit a response. ‘My God. All those poor guys I wanked off. I must have crushed almost as many as I made cum.’



Sam loosened his grip a little and let his fingers slip down the shaft, and then chase themselves, rhythmically back up to the tip. His nipples swelled and puckered as he did this. A familiar, feminine response to any sexual contact. The hardest thing to adjust to, other than the fact he now had a cock, were the pert breasts and full hips that still reminded him of where he began. He was very conscious of not wanting to be seen as just another ladyboy wannabe. He wanted…



Oh fuck…



He…



Thoughts ran out of his head like water through bust guttering. He tried to hold onto one, any one, but they skittered away under his grasp. This was what they meant then. When they spoke about ‘the little head’ having a mind of its own. When men bemoaned their inability to control themselves.



Sam let a string of spittle roll from his lips to the tip of his penis, watching with fascination as the skin glistened even as it tightened further. His fingers now slid over his cock with silky ease. From base to tip, from tip to base. The saliva cooling and drying as he massaged it into the skin, until he had to drop more from his mouth, in the same way he would spit on some guy’s cock just before he sucked it. Because he knew that’s what they did in porn flicks, and he knew that’s what guys liked. But now he was that guy and Jesus, he liked it.



As he worked the shaft he remembered what it had been like as a woman, to have all that alien flesh enter into you. A deeper, warmer, more pervasive feeling. But nothing so intense. Nothing so entirely wrapped in need.



Sam bucked his hips upwards as he jerked off now, feeling his ass pucker up tight at the same time as he drew long and hard on his cock. He didn’t need to add spit to the mix now as he could feel a dribble of pre-cum lubricate his movements. Instinctively his fingers circled over the bell of his hard-on, teasing at the tiny, explosive cluster of nerve endings he had no idea existed there.

Oh fuck…



He kneaded his left breast with his free hand, suddenly combining those female waves of emotion with this new spark of pleasure. Remembering what it was like to be fucked, at the same time as experiencing this new sensation of fucking. Of pumping upwards, and outwards, of fucking his hand at the same time as imagining what it would be like when this cock penetrates into flesh. And then Sam can’t hold back, his head rolled loose on his spine as the throbbing member in his clutches first quivered, and then pulsed, and finally spurted a long line of thick viscous fluid over his taut abdomen, spilling upwards and onto his breasts. And with one final seizure like rapture it was over, his cock spent and Sam finally feels like… a man.





830 words.