017 – Manhood Revitalization Services

version 1.1

Brad really couldn't get out of Jenny's place fast enough. He wasn't physically rushing, and there was nothing strained in his departure. He was simply hyper aware of her presence.

He was walking a fine line on this case already. If things got any more personal, he might have to request reassignment. It would not be the first time. In fact it was expected in cases where the parties involved had too great of a connection with an investigator. So far he was within the realm of ethically acceptable, but he did have to resist giving Jenny a hug and offering her consolation and . . . 'Fuck I've got to be careful." he muttered.

He arrived back at his home at 9:40 PM. He hit the can, grabbed a drink from the fridge and quickly scrolled through the news headlines first.

"Al Qaeda Prisoners Awoke 1 year Ahead of Schedule"

Prisoners on the space ship circling the solar system apparently awoke 50 weeks ago, or 1 year ahead of their anticipated potential landing date.

It is unknown why they awoke out of their hibernation early. Scientists are scrambling to figure out what could have caused this and how or if they might have survived in a space ship with minimal support for this extended period of time.

There was a hydroponics module on the space craft, an independent scientific test designed to grow manna, a type of glucose rich algae based material that some scientists believe was used by ancient Hebrews that wandered the desert with Moses after fleeing an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh Horemheb, who had succeeded Pharaoh Tutankhamun. It is likely that the manna machine was stolen from the Egyptians of the time.

A manna machine discovered 900 feet below ground in Nova Scotia in 2030 was reverse engineered and sent on this space ship to test its capability to progressively generate more nutritional food stuffs over a 50 year period in the confines of space.

"The world is just too fucking weird sometimes." Rubenz said aloud. Then he toggled over to check his account balance.

Today's Earnings $53,254.43

Account Balance $53, 290.78

"Fuck Yeah!" Brad said aloud as he saw the bounce in his income.

It was probably from whatever viral video craze was taking place after his p3nis fuck up. Brad wasn't really embarrassed by much, especially when he might be able to retire early because of it. He did like being a detective and hoped that wouldn't get fucked up, at least not before he could help Jenny.

Jesus stole my Sk8board started playing on his cell phone.

"This is Detective Rubenz."

"Detective, I'm connecting you with Dr Razel Tulley at Walter Reed Medical Center Research and Development Unit." the automated voice said.

"Hello, this is Colonel Tulley, may I ask whom I'm speaking. Please also state your credentials and security key?" stated an extremely sultry voice with an even more authoritative tone.

"Certainly, this is Detective Brad Rubenz, Atlanta Metro Police, my security key is Java Hector Java Eight Tree Symmetrical Four Seven Eight." stated Rubenz mechanically.

"Confirmation received. How can I be of assistance Detective?"

“I need your assistance with some background information relating to a homicide investigation. A local distributor of prosthetic devices named Terrence McBoyd was murdered in his warehouse earlier this evening." Rubenz said.

"Terrence, Terry McBoyd was murdered?" Colonel Tulley stated.

"Yes Doctor, I mean Colonel, um how exactly do you prefer to be addressed?” Asked Rubenz.

"Colonel Tulley or Colonel will be fine Detective Rubenz."

"Certainly. Given your initial response, I take it you were aware of or possibly knew Terrence McBoyd? What if any type of relationship did you have with the deceased?"

"My company, Haifan Incorporated, works in a joint venture with the research department of Walter Reed Medical Center. Our joint venture licensed the rights to manufacture and distribute prosthetic devices worldwide. In essence Terry McBoyd managed the exclusive license."

"How exactly is your company partnered with Walter Reed in relation to this license?" Rubenz asked.

"I do want to cooperate but I am unable to be specific for legal reasons. Let us just say that my company and Walter Reed Medical Center share portions of the rights to the patents surrounding the prosthetics licensed to McBoyd." stated Tulley.

"Are you trying to say that this is some sort of national security issue or a legal non disclosure agreement. I assume it is not patient confidentiality... "

"I can say that It is one part national security and one part legal, but I will cooperate within the bounds that are allowed me." Tulley confirmed

"Understood. Are you familiar then with Mr McBoyd's , uh. level of internet fame?" asked Rubenz.

"No, I'm afraid I am not."

"Mr. McBoyd was apparently known as the King of the Whack Jobs. Can I assume that you know what a 'Whack Job' is? After all, we're talking about one of your um, inventions Colonel?"

"Yes, I am aware of the meaning of the slang term 'Whack Job'." Colonel Tulley stated with a glint in her eye that could easily be a smile of humor, or an inviting, faux tell conjured on demand to pull her feeble minded prey in for the kill. Rubenz had a feeling that she could have made a great actor a hundred years ago.

“Can you describe for me in layman's terms why prosthetic devices designed by the government trigger a super orgasm when they are cut off of a person? Is that really a necessary byproduct for a government developed prosthetic?" Rubenz asked.

"Of course, when we first designed the protocol for our prosthetic devices we focused on fingers, arms, feet and legs. The level of sophistication involved in managing these devices as if they were the real thing requires something akin to tactile sensory feedback. In a few of our early devices, we realized that if a device was 'injured' it triggered a sensory perception far stronger than a similar injury might cause.

“If we turned the intensity down during pain events, it turned the volume down across the board in the mind, so that a user could not feel pressure from a slight amount of heat, or the touch from the edge of a piece of paper.

“We couldn't find a way to modulate the extreme without impairing the ability of the device to appropriately sense base level activities. We couldn't subject our patients who had previously endured so much personal trauma already to a level of pain amplified falsely by our devices. So instead of modulating the pain down, we created an inverse of the event. Instead of pain, we opted for pleasure. It was an imperfect design. For prosthetics that did not involve sex organs, the pleasure was not sexual in nature. It was more akin to receiving a quick deep muscle massage.

“Later when we moved into sexual organ prosthetics, we, well we went too quickly. Our test subjects for the early devices seemed like representational examples, but as it turned out they were actually outliers. We were a few years into creating prosthetic P3nises before the situation came to our attention.

“We have not yet found a better alternative to the design dilemma but we are working on it very closely. In medical terms, we look at this as a side effect and not a life or system threatening problem at that.

“I can’t wait to hear the medical disclosure at the end of your future television commercials.” Rubens said dryly. “In fact, from my cursory review of Mr. McBoyd’s business, it would seem that this design issue is actually very good for business. I just visited a warehouse full of millions of P3nises.” Rubenz stated flatly.

“Oh, that was you.” Colonel Tulley said in a suddenly knowing way.

She seemed to blush a bit. Maybe that was the wrong description Rubenz thought. He had this growing feeling that he was misreading her body language, but couldn’t quite figure out why that was. Regardless, he didn’t respond, just let her pregnant-pause extend and grow a bit further, until she continued.

“I believe I saw you on the news a short time ago Detective. However, the volume was down and your face, was, it was slightly obscured.” Colonel Tulley seemed to be regaining her composure and that look of a predator was evident again.

Rubenz feigned slight embarrassment, cleared his throat and said, “Yes, I have also had opportunity to experience your handy work this evening. So tell me have the men of the world actually lost millions of penises. Are prosthetics that much in demand that millions of these items would need to fill a warehouse? I do not seem to recall any news stories to that effect lately?” Rubenz wanted to see how Colonel Tulley would do if she were playing defense. This was supposed to be a basic background discussion, but he sensed there was more to it.

“As the CEO of Haisham Inc and the leader of the project at Walter Reed Medical Center, I can confirm that those devices were not officially licensed. We have already submitted a patent and trademark dispute, and we are taking other steps as called for in our license to the late Mr. McBoyd’s company,” stated Tulley.

“Which company are you going to seek that claim against Colonel?” Rubenz asked again hoping to put her on the defensive. “And how long have you been familiar with More Cox 4 U?” he added as an afterthought.

“Excuse me Detective, we learned of More Cox 4 U Inc tonight from the news following the viral video report featuring yourself. We followed up by performing a due diligence search on the product ID’s on the packing material featured in the video, which led us to More Cox 4 U Inc and from there we traced the company to Mr. McBoyd.”

“Since you are filing licensing claims then, are you saying the P3nises distributed by Terrence McBoyd were black market items, and the man who was supposed to manage your worldwide prosthetic license was found in a warehouse, that we have confirmed he owned and managed directly, filled with blackmarket items?”

“That is our preliminary view,” stated Colonel Tulley.

“As a medical Doctor, Colonel, can I ask you a question about your prosthetics, specifically, what happens when a person wearing a prosthetic expires while the prosthetic is still connected?” asked Rubenz.

“Our trials and clinical testing did not include testing the devices through the process of the host’s expiration or death. However, as a doctor here at Walter Reed, I have seen far too many soldiers and veterans die, and a few of those included good people that were wearing one of our devices. The device requires a very small amount of energy from the person that wears it to maintain a connection. When a person dies, the processes of the body begin to fail. This includes the micro amounts of electricity that flow through the body. The prosthetic is designed to use more of its own power to maintain connection for a short amount of time. As the electricity inherent in a living person starts to fail, the energy level sometimes pulsates up and down. The swings down, trigger the device to work harder, and the end result is something similar to a repeated suction from the device. Once the prosthetic is removed after such a situation, it can sometimes leave traces of a suction mark on the body, similar to a subcutaneous hematoma caused when the lining of the blood vessels are slightly damaged and blood escapes into the skin. Most people refer to this as a hickey. I cannot say if this occurs with our prosthetics universally nor over what time interval as we usually remove the prosthetics of our patients after they decease and sometimes before if we are treating them here.

A warning light indicator flashed on Brad’s phone indicating that their allotted interview time was almost up.

“Thank you for your time Colonel. I may need to follow up with you as the case continues, although I will endeavor to minimize any distractions possible. I would ask, that if you are aware of any information, even casual considerations, that you feel might be pertinent to the demise of Mr. McBoyd, please feel free to contact me or send them through the formal post interview communications medium. Specifically, I would like to make a final request for a copy of the license agreement that Mr. McBoyd was responsible for prior to his death. I will need it for my investigation and I suspect IP Vice may need to review it as well.”

“Of course detective, I will provide you with any information or assistance that I can,” responded Colonel Tulley who had that predatory look in her eye again.

They signed off, and Rubenz sighed it was going to be a long night. He went to take a shower and think. The crime scene Bots had cleaned him up, but he still felt the need to shower. At the last minute, he detoured and decided to run on his virtual tread mill for a few miles. While he was running he started reviewing the available virtual crime scene, in a cursory inspection to regain a sense of the place and the ordering of the items in the crime scene.

After he determined that he had a good sense of things and he had run for about 50 minutes or about 11k, he then finally headed for the shower to clean up and decompress.

The time was a little after eleven PM. He would need some rest before tomorrow, but there was still some work to be done while the case was very fresh in his mind. He set his alarm for a 45 minute power nap and killed the lights in his bedroom.

Continue to Next Chapter - 018 – Al Qaeda Eunuchs in Space

013 – P3nis Packaging is Good for the Environment

version 1.2

"Well, that's something that doesn't happen at work every day," Brad said to himself, check that, said to the world as he mentally reminded himself that everything was now live.

He took a deep mental breath, something that gave him a half second to recompose himself without the visible stress relieving sigh that he wanted. It was something that every detective was taught in Public Relations 201 for days just like this when they would be working a case in front of a live audience of 1 to 21 billion people.

He purposefully did not move so as not to corrupt the crime scene any further. He quickly looked at the remains of the pallet in front of him. Then, he scanned up. The two pallets stacked on top of each other and on top of the pallet on the floor together had all collapsed on each other.

He looked closer at the pallets to the immediate left and right of the collapse. One looked fine, but the other showed just a slight bulge in the side facing the aisle and more of a bulge on the side facing the collapsed pallet.

He triggered a flashlight with his phone and studied the spot closer. It appeared that the pallet in the bulging area was slightly damp . . .

"Scene Bot, secure this pallet with reinforcing support materials, and cover it in crime scene protective film." Rubenz ordered. The material, shrink wrap like substance that held the pallet and its boxes together was slightly wet and seemed to be corroding before his eyes like watching a slow motion acid eating a whole in the material.

The Bot lightly maneuvered up on extended legs, moving over to the pallet and began to spread a wide filmy substance over the affected area. It then proceeded to essentially blow dry the substance, which Brad new from experience meant that the area was being sealed air tight, or at least as much as possible from one side. After that was accomplished the Bot, began to swath the entire lower pallet in the same filmy material. The second Bot, moved further down the aisle simultaneously, and came back 45 seconds later with 4 large corner braces for the pallet. These were attached to each corner and the filmy material was applied again.

Brad turned further to the right and with his phone scanned a bar code on the pallet adjacent to the recently secured damaged pallet. He queried for details on the packing materials.

Quickly a layman description of the purpose and chemical properties of the packing materials were read off to him by his phone:

"Industrial strength packing materials contain no dangerous chemicals or biological agents. All materials are super bio degradable, designed to degrade into a water soluble substance unless a proper reagent is applied within 15 seconds to halt the process. The most common reagent is made of a simple mix of water and detergent. In the presence of water alone the material will disintegrate in approximately forty five minutes unless a counter agent is applied to re-enforce the packaging."

Rubenz considered, it was standard packaging material, literally designed to be washed down the sink if necessary for smaller consumer boxes, or down an industrial sink for a pallet. In short it was good for the environment.

But something had triggered the slow disintegration of the packaging. He glanced around and with a mental 'of course' realized that it must be the faux blood that had sprayed from the P3nises littering the floor.

He scanned the bar code on one of the P3nis pedestal or holders or stands, whatever they were called, he identified one that had not disintegrated when the pallet container fell apart. The P3nises were apparently packaged for consumer display in what appeared to be a clear plastic stand, leaving the majority of the penis itself completely exposed. There was a small red arrow that said try me pointing to a red contact sensor that seemed to be wired to the underside of the P3nis that sat upright as if ready for battle like a good little soldier.

Brad thought about that for about 10 seconds, he wasn't exactly sure what that was there for, but he had to find out.

"Review the integrity of all the pallets within range of this crime scene. Then proceed to do a progressive survey of the pallets within 20 meters of this area as well. We can't have pallets crushing us, the evidence or damaging more property." Rubenz ordered the crime scene bots.

Each Bot began reviewing the integrity of each pallet immediately surrounding the crime scene area and within about two minutes they were both moving down the aisle in opposite directions reviewing additional pallets. As they surveyed, they adjusted their sample size up and down as they found necessary based on the results the survey revealed about the integrity of the pallet containers.

Rubenz suspected there would be no further problems, but he primarily needed the crime scene Bot cameras pointed away from him, even if it was just temporary.

He reached out and touched the sensor pad. Instantly, he could feel his penis, correction his P3nis growing hard. The P3nis in the stand was even more erect and lengthening a bit. The simple touch on the sensor pad gave him the sense that he could feel every area of the P3nis as if it were his own and attached and hard wired into his nervous system. It was eerie, but it sure as hell worked well too.

This crazy plastic pedestal with the P3nis sitting on it was just like one of those old kids toys, with the 'try me' button. Once you touched it, you instantly knew just how well this product worked. There was no doubt after feeling it, if you wanted a new P3nis, an extra P3nis . . . well this would confirm you had found what you were looking for.

He removed his finger, which was much easier than removing the P3nis from his forehead. He had had a slight feeling of apprehension that his finger would be stuck, but no worries after all.

He looked back to his phone and realized that the bar code information had been scrolling on a loop. He reset it and learned that the plastic base, contact sensor, even the wires were also made out of the same super bio degradable material.

So as soon as the liquid from the penis probably had come into contact with the pallet, it had proceeded to eat through the shrink wrap, the pallet boxes and supports and the plastic pedestals themselves, unleashing about 600 P3nises to come raining down on the crime scene.

That was a little convenient Brad thought.

"The remaining pallets have been secured. Two pallets required slight reinforcement, but all others should not fail unless acted upon." stated the crime scene Bot.

"Terrific", Rubenz mumbled to no one but the world.

"Re-initiate crime scene analysis but start with an area including my person and work out in a radius away from me until this recent spill of . . . products has been removed. Once this is secured again, then continue where you left off," Rubenz Stated and then added a query, "Please confirm that no information from the previous analysis was lost, and please state whether the crime scene analysis will be degraded due to this subsequent event."

The crime scene Bot rapidly stated, "No information was lost, and the possibility of crime scene degradation is less than 0.0001389 percent. That figure will likely adjust downward once the review commences again and the new data is correlated from the point at which the previous analysis left off.

Continue to Next Chapter - 014 – Al Qaeda in Space

012 – Live Sh1ver

vers 1.2

Something caught Brad's eye just in the corner of his vision on the right. He turned slowly to take in whatever it might have been without missing anything. He always did this out of habit, thinking that if you jerked your head when something caught your peripheral vision, you were more likely to lose focus on whatever it might have been.

As he turned his head, he could have sworn that one of the shrunk wrapped pallets stained with blood had moved just a bit. He stared at it for a full sixty seconds, but it didn't move again.

The crime scene bots hadn't cleared this side yet. They were still working the left side which had a deeper layer of debris even though this side seemed to have received the larger amount of blood, faux blood splatter.

He looked forward at the victim again, at the pile of sliced 'P3nises' or was it 'P3nes'? Now there was a stupid question. The plural of penis was penes, but was the plural of the trademarked brand P3nis, P3nes or P3nises?

He looked forward some more and imagined how things might have unfolded. The murderer/torturer/sex worker or whatever they were, must have grasped the majority of the P3nes with their left hand, and cut with the right hand creating a rupture on the victims left side which splattered to Rubenz right.

Then the severed P3nis must have been tossed or dropped in a leftward direction.

Thinking about the mechanics of this movement, made Brad think the perpetrator must have been right handed or ambidextrous. Regardless the crime scene bots would confirm before long, but it was good to have a feel for these things yourself. It gave Rubenz a sense of job security as if he were a half step and a half a brain process ahead of the crime scene bots.

He caught some movement towards his right again, turned slowly and as he turned he was pretty sure that a different shrink wrapped pallet had moved, not out into the aisle but down slightly, although that was impossible as the pallet base was already sitting on the floor.

Just then his phone went off playing "Jesus stole my Skateboard" again. He looked at the screen it was Captain Bruhaus.

"Sir, this is Rubenz." Brad said. He was hoping a more formal tone might help calm the Captain down a bit. He really didn't need the distraction of a pissed off superior at the moment.

He turned back towards the victim as the phone switched into video mode.

"Got some bad news for you Rubenz. Crime scene video feed on this one is going to be released real time under the Transparent Sunshine Law. The DA just lost a hearing with Judge Riccenbaur. Three different news organizations, paparazzi types all, filed for the video/picture feed release.” the captain said.

“We tried to stall, just following procedure, but you know how it is. The freedom of the press is rarely abridged, especially in a murder investigation involving sex, celebrities or politicians and looks like we have all three here. Apparently this Terry asshole was a bit of a Whack Off celebrity. Can you believe this shit? It’s bad enough people have been finding new ways to fuck themselves with and endless number of substances for the last few millennium and now some asshole has to go invent new body parts to get fucked by and with and ultimately dies from it too.” the captain finished in a huff.

Anyway, stay on your toes. The feed has been buffered and will probably go live soon. Check that, we are live now. We will monitor the video feed audience analytics on the different networks looking to identify any audience members that might interact with it in case the perpetrator is the braggart type that likes to talk to people on the net about their crime after they committed it. But all you have to worry about for now is not fu… breaking protocol on live video!

"Yes, Captain. I will, be careful. Everything has been by the book so far," Rubenz said as he thought he saw a twitch in the pallet again. "Captain, I need to sign off, something . . . "

Before Rubenz could complete the sentence, it seemed like an avalanche of penises came flooding down around and on top of Rubenz. They were everywhere.

Rubenz looked up and could see them falling out of pallets to his right. Some were falling into the aisle where he stood. As he panned down again, he could see the majority were falling straight down crushing the pallets below them that seemed to squish, almost disintegrate.

The pallet walls, the rigid structure that held the pallet together, including the shrink wrap seemed to be dissolving.

He looked up again, just as a rather fat penis tumbled down. The base hit him smack in the forehead.

The god damn thing just stuck there and then all of a sudden Rubenz was aware that he could feel himself getting a hard-on, on his head. Holy shit! The P3nis was alive and on his head.

'RUBENZ!!! What in the great world of fuck are you doing?! Get that damn thing off your head." Captain Bruhaus was shouting.

Rubenz was reaching up and grabbing his penis, ‘Jesus’ that's exactly what he was thinking, it felt like his penis, but he was also very freaked out. He was trying to pull the thing off like a suction cup off a wall, but it wasn't budging. He pulled and pulled, but it was attached solid, like it had grown there and the more he pulled on it the more erect it got, sticking almost straight up, with two meagerly haired balls, retracted up just a bit, but partially blocking his vision.

This was a nightmare.

He dropped the phone and dug in with his fingers and nails trying to get them between the balls and the skin of his forehead. He pulled and squeezed and dug, and it hurt like someone was clawing at his balls. And then all of a sudden both of his thumbs slid up underneath his balls between his forehead and his balls and the thing popped off and he threw it up against a far wall, just redirecting his aim at the last minute so that he didn't throw it straight at the murder victim.

He shuddered, closed his eyes for a three count, sighed, opened his eyes and looked for his phone. It was lying sideways in a stack of P3nises and packing debris with the camera lens pointed at a big erect P3nis.

" . . . Rubenz, you need to report into me as soon as you have a preliminary ready." said the Captain calmly. The Captain was never calm. He only spoke this way when he knew that he was in front of a large audience, which was probably the case right now. The live feed was on, but the audience size must have inflated very rapidly as the circumstances grew out of control. This entire P3nis shit storm must be live to the world and the world was probably eating it up.

"Yes sir, is that all?" Rubenz said.

There was no answer. His phone went dark as the Captain hung up.

Continue to Next Chapter 013 – P3nis Packaging is Good for the Environment

011 – The Base Falls Off <-8

version 1.1

Brad quickly resumed his review of the crime scene. He was always getting shit in the office for actually working the crime scene and not relying on the automated scene reconstructions that could be reviewed in his office or at home.

"Wastes valuable investigation time traveling to crime scenes." and "Reluctant to embrace technology to its full extant."

Those were common negative review bullets that he regularly had to defend on a quarterly basis with a discussion of his theory that working a crime scene in person gave him a greater insight, which contributed to his higher success rate. He not only closed more cases successfully, but he typically closed them 15% faster than his peers.

He'd probably get less shit, if his techniques worked for other investigators, but for reasons unknown to Brad, his peers were slower and less successful on average when they personally visited a crime scene. In fact, it was rather unusual for IP Vice to have shown up here at all. . .

What were they doing here?

Anyway, he had to regain his focus or his own speed might slow down and his next review might be less defensible.

He recalled noticing the base of the penes seemed to share the symmetrical looking pattern that formed the welts on the victim's body.

He suspected that some short circuit in the prosthetic had caused it to fail and fall off the victim once it had been severed or soon after maybe. There were no severed prosthetic members left attached to the body with the exception of 2 that were only partially severed. These were both located on the tops of his hands.

He queried for more information on the prosthetic technologies to confirm his hypothesis. He stated, "Prosthetic penis failure causes" and came up with a long list of items that seem to be mostly complaints about device failures, too hard, too soft, out of control rotation syndrome.

Jesus Christ this was a weird situation he thought to himself. He refined his search "prosthetic penis failure causes cutting".

This brought up a selection that seemed to be more on topic. The first item was a three dimensional web video tutorial "How to cut your dick off and love it!"

This was followed by a link from the manufacturer disclaiming any warranty on a penis that had been cut, severed, smashed, electrocuted, burned, melted, frozen or blown up with specially designed fireworks. Fuckin A, there were some sick people out there Brad thought as he opted for the video "How to cut your dick off and love it!"

He bookmarked the video, and then proceeded to fast forward to the actual section that displayed a penis getting cut off. A rather simple but attractive looking woman, someone that could be anyone's wife or girl friend, was teasing an average looking man, lightly rubbing his chest, then his belly, and then he reached down with lightning speed, grabbed his penis and with the other hand in a rapid slicing motion cut through the penis in one fell swoop.

A warning sign popped up on the video, 'WARNING! Rapid cutting is not advised especially for inexperienced whackers. You might miss and cut yourself or your partner somewhere that will bleed real blood. Cut an artery in your partner's leg and they could even die! For more information on accidental deaths and how to avoid them when whacking your partners penis off click here'

The video frame moved on to what seemed like a repeat of the last scene. The same woman was again lightly tracing her partner's chest and belly with a finger nail. She then reached for his penis, held it by the head of the penis with her hand leaving a few inches of the shaft of the penis exposed. She then turned the knife in her other hand in a way that the sharp point of the blade was pointed in the same direction as the knuckles of that hand, or the opposite direction that a blade would normally be pointed.

Then she hooked the sharp section underneath the arm holding the penis and lightly resting against the penis shaft itself, base of the knife blade an inch or so above the base of the penis. She then sliced pulling the knife hilt towards her abdomen and applying pressure with her cutting hand as if she were delivering a backhand blow while pulling the penis onto or towards the blade with her other hand.

The penis was cut cleanly through in one swipe and a new pop up message stated, "For maximum safety, always cut in a direction that is away from you, away from your partner's major arteries, face and hands."

The video refocused on the severed penis which spurted what looked like a lot of blood for a short few seconds and then stopped. The man who just had his penis 'whacked' looked like he was experiencing the best and longest orgasm possible. It took him a full two minutes to recover.

During that entire time the remaining base of the penis never fell off. Eventually, the man peeled the base off, tossed it in the trash, reached for another penis, connected it to his skin and then advanced on the woman who had a very happy look on her face.

Brad scrolled through some related video tutorials demonstrating other cutting techniques. They showed how a person could perform more exotic cuts, with different types of knifes from butter knives and steak knives to hunting knives and more. A few videos demonstrated devices that looked like a combination guillotine/vice that seemed to clamp down and flatten the penis for a minute or two, then release the pressure, which caused the penis to re-inflate and then a slice from the blade cut right through the formerly mutilated dick.

But in all of the cases, there was no welt left on the skin after wards.

Brad still thought there might be something to his hypothesis, but now realized he might have to check with the medical examiner to determine if it was a trait that only surfaced with a corpse that had lost his penis.

Continue to Next Chapter 012 – Live Sh1ver

009 – Penis Parts, Pallets and other P…..

Revision 1.1

Brad walked back through what appeared to be an office area. There was a guard by a door at the end of the office. There was no window on the door, but as he approached, the officer opened the door to a vast warehouse area just on the other side of the wall. This was some type of combination office warehouse space.

As he walked through the door, he was struck by the immensity of the storage area. The rows seemed to go on forever. The shelves for each row were stacked six levels high. Each level was approximately 7 feet tall, for a total height of close to 50 feet. He couldn't see the end of the warehouse as he peered into darkness at the end of the row in his path.

He could see flickering, flashing lights to his right. It was similar but not quite a strobe light effect. He recognized the neon green flashes of a crime screen scanner technician bot.

The crime scene technicians were scanning the crime scene area for future interactive play back and review both for investigators and if necessary for a jury and judge. The scanners operated in a way that recorded the position and layering of every object, speck of dust, drop of fluid or blood and much more in the crime scene area. Like an archaeologist reading the levels of silt build up over thousands of years, the crime scene scanner could identify and deduce from layers, spray patterns and more the order in which different materials or objects had been deposited in a crime scene area. This was exceptionally useful in complex areas where there was a significant amount of materials such as a multiple car wreck, the day after a riot scene, mass killings or a crime scene that had been exposed to the elements, people and animals several days after the crime had taken place.

It was also important for commerce. The crime scene technicians were also responsible for cleaning the crime scene, completely and thoroughly to minimize the amount of time an area might be inaccessible to the public. The cleaning could be charged directly to a property owner or insurance company, but from the owner’s perspective, getting an asset back into use was the more important factor. The days of an area surrounded by crime scene tape for hours or days were long past.

Once forensics came in and matched up each and every item, it would be possible to identify exactly when an item appeared in its position in a crime scene.

In a classic case where more than one victim had been shot or stabbed, multiple blood drops or spray might layer on top of each other. The analyzer could identify which layer appeared first. This was very useful for crime scenes involving animals, insects, or even vagrants as well. Sometimes a crime scene needed to be rebuilt slightly if it had been contaminated by a party or object that was not party to the original crime or event.

Brad took a breath and headed towards the light. It was further than he initially expected. The massive rows looked very distant, but even after walking for 80 meters approximately he realized that he still had a way to go.


 

He approached the modern day equivalent of crime scene tape. By appearance it looked like an archaic three dimensional lighting effect almost like a hologram as depicted in classic science fiction movies of the previous century.

The effect of the lighting mechanism was one of a slightly translucent but actually opaque optical wall. It gave the impression that if you stared at it long enough, you would be able to make out the details on the other side. In fact, it was completely impossible to see through the image.

It was designed to mesmerize and captivate the attention of people passing by the scene for a few moments. A scanner would record and identify each and every person that gazed on the wall. Once identification had been confirmed and logged, the illusion of transparency would end for that individual and it would be replaced by an image that would give the viewer a slightly uneasy feeling.

The goal was twofold. First, stall the person long enough to gaze at the wall and enable visual identification of the gazer. Second, disperse the viewer after identification had been made by presenting them with a visual emotion that would repel them from the area. The result was one of almost perverse interest and repulsion.

In his training, years before, Brad had learned that to understand the phenomena might help to avoid the negative feelings, but he suspected that was just urban legend. He actually believed that these devices became more magnetic and respectively repulsive with each software upgrade. If knowledge of the process could build up some form of inoculation against the effect, then any criminal could teach and train themselves to ignore it. As it were, Brad too, always paused for just a moment just before entering despite the fact that the same device recorded his entrance into the crime scene area.

The device was trained to identify law enforcement officials and end the charade much faster, but Brad sometimes felt that this expedience was sometimes delayed so that the device could either use officers as a calibration control group, or possibly just to test their reactions to see if they might have something of a guilty look on their own faces.

Technology policing the police existed at every level of crime processing these days. You could never be too sure where it existed and where it did not exist. This type of intelligence had been blocked from his pay grade decades earlier by some accountant or CID investigator that spotted a conflict of interest.

The wall of course also warned people not to pass through. If necessary, it could actually prevent the physical movement of unauthorized personnel via biological electro-magnetic pulse wave. The same technology that could kill electronics on a battle field or after a nuclear explosion, could scramble the mental wiring of a person to turn away from the wall, like a dolphin stuns or scatters fish sub-sonically in the ocean.

As Brad walked through the area marked off for entry as if it were a large sliding vertical elevator door, the brightness of the warehouse suddenly stunned his pupils a bit. Just past the wall the level of lighting was very high. Brad realized that the shimmering light had actually been light reflected off the ceiling 50 feet up that had then bounced back down and off the aisles for 100 meters back towards the office entry.

The electronic crime scene wall didn't allow light to pass through it, but the corrugated roofing material made for an imperfect seal 50 feet above. The electronic walls were designed to go up operationally to a height of 100 feet, but the roof had foiled it. In outdoors area the electronic tape actually formed a dome to prevent helicopters, drones, and remote micro vehicles from being able to capture video or still images to sell on the WWWN, worldwide wiki news platform.

As his eyes adjusted, he was finally able to take in the crime scene and he cringed inwardly in shock. He felt a deep sense of revulsion. There was something fundamentally wrong about the images his eyes were being forced to process. There were body parts everywhere. The body parts were illuminated in a ghostly way by the standard super fluorescent lighting of this section of the warehouse, combined with the green scanning lights that were hitting every available surface almost instantly from multiple directions at the same time.

A robotic technician picked up body part after body part as the scanner instantly kept pace with this work. Each body part went into a unique evidence bag, which instantly vacuum packed upon sealing. The bag was then deposited on an inventory tray platform where every item of evidence was scanned again. This second scan was instantly indexed with the crime scene scan so that the custody of the evidence remained virtually perfect with only a fraction of a second where the item would have moved from the scene to official custody.

Brad was able to identify every body part almost instantly. They were different in size, hue and shape, but they were all the same . . .body part. Brad could see that the floor was littered with severed penis heads. Blood was everywhere, across the carton containers, pallets, the floor and a splatter pattern almost nine feet up.

There was a raised crime scene path, a transparent and firm gel that had been applied in a narrow sidewalk like path that could be traversed by foot, gurney or robot to enable emergency responders to attempt to help the victim without corrupting the crime scene further. The gel existed just above the detritus of penes cluttered on the floor like dead leaves fallen from a ghastly penis pod tree.

It reminded Brad briefly of a child hood fight he had had with a neighborhood girl. A large tree with a long flat pea pod type of seed hanging from the branches had haunted him after a slightly older girl,maybe twelve years old, had teased him that the pods were actually shriveled penis sacks that a witch had hung on the tree to scare away little boys. Brad had been old enough to know that her taunts were crap, but he had had nightmares about the concept for weeks afterwards anyway.

A month later, he had seen an elderly lady raking leaves and the pods in her yard. She had driven a riding lawn mower with a leaf bagger through the fallen pods and leaves creating a path on her first pass that looked very similar in the memory of his mind’s eye to the path that he was walking now.

Following the gel path forward with his eye, he realized the actual victim must lie several dozen feet further into this disgusting area. There must be 50 - 100 severed penises. He mentally noted that this image was going to scar him mentally for a long time, and he had instant second thoughts about his need to put up with shit like this.

Opposite the gel bridge, the crime scene robots had cleared a path through the body parts as they collected evidence. They were working their way towards the gel walk way, which allowed them to document the area while detectives could traverse the path and begin investigating the victim’s body immediately.

Brad methodically covered the path as it wound its way to the body taking in a significant amount of information, even for a human. There were a couple swerves around extra large piles of body parts. Eventually he arrived in the presence of the victim.

The victim, a middle aged man was strapped upright on his feet to a large dolly. It was unlikely the dolly had been used in the warehouse where forklifts and robots would have been used to move pallets and boxes. The dolly was more likely used in the office to move supplies.

The deceased man appeared to be slender in build, Caucasian and very pale almost on the pinkish side, rather odd for a corpse actually. The man had thinning to bald white hair, which was extremely odd for this day and age where such a deformity would typically be amended with a simple transplant procedure of new hair follicles combined with stem cells to stimulate recoloring and renewed growth.

The victim had obviously turned down this treatment, which was almost unheard of even for the deviants that like to practice extreme forms of naturalism, almost like the religious whack jobs of the former century who would turn down basic medical help and would instead chant and pray by the bedside of a child that didn't have a hope in hell of recovering without medical help.

The man seemed to have a slight indentation across the bridge of his nose with a symmetrical pair of indentations just to the side of this bridge as if two small ovoids had pressed against his skin daily for years. Brad glanced down and sure enough noticed a pair of broken glasses laying on the floor, yet another bizarre old fashioned device.

The man was not fat, but not in very good physical condition. That wasn't surprising, a person that wouldn't even have their eyes or hair fixed, was unlikely to accept treatments to improve or correct their muscle tone or mass a process that Bollywood and the military had perfected decades earlier.

The victim appeared to have pink, red welts all over his naked body. The welts seemed to be forming something akin to bruises on the corpse as the corpse lost its color. The welts were almost starting to turn purple. They had an odd circle overlapped by to other circles pattern. There were different sizes, but only 3-4 different sizes. There were dozens of these welts covering the victim literally from head to toe. There was a large welt that touched what would have been his hair line and his fore head. There were smaller patterns on the tops of his feet, overlapping his big toes.

Brad estimated his age to be somewhere in his mid to late forties, even though with the white hair and the glasses, it was a look that most people didn't accept or allow until they were at least 90 to 100 years old. Maybe he had some perverse notion of naturalism. Most people did not accept this look these days and again he was befuddled that Jenny could be married to this guy.

There was a stacked ring of body parts in a half circle around the victim from one pallet around the body and to the next body. The blood splatter almost made it look like the body parts had spilled out of the boxes shrink-wrapped on the pallets.

Each body part, a penis, had been cut off. This was apparent as the shaft of each penis had bled from the cut clear through. Weirdly, these members had a, base, where the testicles met the shaft that was flat and not bloodied at all. There was a jelly like gleam to this area. It had a skin tone color he noted in his mental report.

The bases of the penes separated from their likely respective severed shafts were scattered around the victim. As Brad looked more closely at what would have been the inside of one base . . .

Brad's thoughts were interrupted as his HUD buzzed his ear lobe. Brad hated the old fashioned heads up display video messaging device, especially when he was at a crime scene. Soldiers in old war stories, used to complain about losing their night vision temporarily when a blinding flash erupted. That was long before the invention of basic rod replacements that enabled eyes to automatically adjust to changes in light, but you just couldn't completely change the wiring in your brain to look at two different things at the same time and keep your level of focus at one hundred percent. Fortunately, this area was well lit, so his old pet peeve would not be to off putting.

Continue to Next Chapter 010 – Advice from the Rookie


[b1]Which officer? (one of the two patrol officers not detectives

007 – Need for a Penis

Version 1.2

Nicky wasn't sure what she was doing. She had always had tremendous self control, never drank much, never did drugs, never had an addictive personality. She had always been the rock in every relationship she had ever had, whether it was with Colton, her sisters, her classmates, friends and even her parents.

Her father was an alcoholic and her mother had struggled with prescription drugs, long before Colton was aware of such things, but both were better now, for the most part. They had obsessive compulsions of less destructive varieties these days. Her dad now loved to clean, while running had become one of her mother’s greatest passions.

Nicky closed her eyes and felt the receptors attach themselves again. She had Colton's Beta Penis 3.3 with the latest software update attached to the palm of her hand. She was rubbing herself slowly with her other hand as she slowly started to lick her penis, breathing in slowly and blowing out hot air on the skin of the wet member that was now part of her hand.

It didn't matter where the penis was attached. It always felt natural and a part of her. Right now, as she licked her penis and rubbed herself, it felt more natural and amazing than anything she could think of.

She started to suck, applying even more pressure to her penis, taking the penis in her mouth with more pressure, nipping it just slightly with her teeth in that way that she had learned was just right.

She was moving her other hand faster and faster as she approached the start of a nice but shallow clitoral orgasm. Just as it hit, her penis started cuming, and hard. The cum that came from the Penis 3.3 was sweet almost like the filling of a candy Easter egg.

She stopped sucking long enough to gasp and breath. She took her penis-hand and moved the head of her penis into her vagina. She started moving in a plunging motion while maintaining an amazing amount of pressure in the perfect area. She shifted it down low and then with her other hand started teasing her clitoris again. A wave of orgasm, deep and amazing, rolled through Nicky. Her back arched and she was temporarily paralyzed.

Her breathing slowed. The room stopped spinning, even though she had not noticed the movement earlier.

"Are you finished?" Colton stood there across the room. He was standing rigid in the doorway of the bathroom, the same place where he had caught her using his cock six months ago.

"Colton, I promise this will be the last time, I just needed one . . ." Nicky started to say. Then she saw what was in Colton’s hand. She screamed.

Colton lunged forward and grabbed Nicky by the wrist, the one that was still attached to her penis.

"You're damned right. This is never going to happen ever again." he said.

Nicky screamed and screamed, looking at what he held in his hand. She thought, “He’s going to kill me!”

Colton lifted his hand, holding a large combat knife. It swung down in an arc and sliced clean through her penis.

A bit of blood, or what looked like blood, squirted from the base of the penis, and the device suddenly detached from the palm of her hand.

But Nicky didn't notice any of this, at first. What she experienced was a blinding flash of light and then an amazing wave of orgasm that consumed her entire body.

Her screams of fear turned into gasping moans of pleasure as wave after wave of orgasm racked her body, past the point of muscle failure. It seemed to last for ten minutes.

Then the light returned and she could see again.

Colton looked absolutely sick. He was holding a knife blooded from cutting off his own penis.

"You are the most fucked up person I've ever met. Not even the sickest people I met in Afghanistan could compete with you. You fucking disgust me, Nicky”

He calmly walked to the closet and pulled a shirt off a hangar. He reached down and grabbed a duffle bag on the floor.

Nicky could see that the duffle bag was packed full, and wondered when Colton had packed it.

Colton walked out of the room.

Nicky heard the front door open, then slam shut. She knew he wouldn't be back. He had warned her that if he ever caught her again, he'd leave and never come back. She believed him, but she didn't care.

She had just experienced something so unbelievable, an orgasmic experience so beyond the 'real' thing that it was like the difference between a chaste hand shake and a multiple orgasm.

Nicky knew one thing absolutely and completely.

She needed a new penis.

Continue to Next Chapter - 008 – Married

005 – Rev3lation

Version 1.2

Nicky was a morning person. She had always felt more aroused in the morning, but Colton’s biological clock had spun even further out of sync with her own since he came home.

He would get horny in the middle of the night just when her energy level was lowest. She could not quite work herself up to a real orgasm at 1 am. Seven hours later at 8 am she was on fire, fully awake and usually fully aroused, but Colton rarely got out of bed before 11. Even though the electronics were always on, his mental hard-on wasn't any use to anyone, until after he downed at least one cup of coffee. When he had been . . . . in the flesh, early morning ‘groggyness’ kept all systems down. Nicky knew better now and that had created more stress.

Colton had a new cock, a rocking hard cock that would literally be turned on at the push of a button located under the skin, but Colton would never go for that. He wanted to get his dick hard the old fashioned way, thinking about it, foreplay etc. Any button pushing just reminded him that his dick wasn't the real thing, but god did it look and feel like the real thing.

Today was a little different. Colton had a job interview at 10 am, his first. He was finally venturing out and towards something that seemed like the future and not the past.

Nicky was ecstatic, but when she tried to rouse Colton in a little play before he rolled out of bed, he was groggy and a little on the mean side. That was the other thing, it was one thing for him to be groggy and out of the mood when he first woke up but another for him to resonate like an asshole with an attitude.

She gave up, rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. No luck, she felt frustrated. After fifteen minutes listening to him shave, she had worked up the courage to go throw herself at him in the shower.

She quietly walked into the bathroom. She saw his leg sitting there and remembered that shower sex was not an option. His prosthetic penis just didn't work as well in steamy shower water. Something about the osmosis effect of steamed water could sometimes trigger the beta penis 3.1 to release and let go from the skin attachments.

The fucking military couldn't even pony up the money for a first class penis 5.0. She was simultaneously mad with all three of them again, the military, the government and Colton for not being careful enough in Afghanistan. He had to go and be some kind of god damned hero.

Then she saw it sitting there. It was erect as it always was in storage mode. She could tell by the outline of his body through the shower curtain that he was feeling morose again. He always felt terrible when he was reminded of losing his leg.

She just couldn't handle it today. She had been strong and supportive of him for too many days since his return home.

Today, she just needed a quick orgasm and then she could go about her day. She didn't need to absorb his problems, save that for tonight after the interview and probable failure.

She was just about to turn and walk out of the bathroom when she saw his penis again, erect. Almost without thinking about it, she grabbed it and walked out of the bathroom. It felt warm, exactly 98.6 degrees. If she was quick, she could have a quick orgasm and get on with her day.

She almost laughed to herself, happy that her husband couldn't see her. She half hopped back into bed, got under the sheets, wriggled out of her panties and started to massage herself with her finger.

She heard him in the shower and thought she'd have to speed this process up just a bit. She laid the penis beside her on the bed as she rolled halfway over to reach for the night stand to grab the pink bottle of baby oil to add some lubrication.

Just as she was reaching in the drawer, she felt something amazing. Colton's penis suddenly attached to her belly. The nano tech receptors had come into contact with the skin on her belly.

The Beta penis receptors thought her skin was the skin that should trigger attachment. They grasped and fused with her skin. Suddenly she could feel this amazing feeling as blood seemed to pulse through her veins through . . . her throbbing penis.

The penis was part of her. It was hard and it was throbbing. She touched it just at the tip and a quick groan escaped her lips. That felt amazing. She touched again and started to grasp . . . her penis with her right hand.

'Ohhhh' the word groaned out of her lips unconsciously.

That was so easy. It wasn't quite like the feeling of a clittorally stimulated orgasm but it felt just as good. She started stroking the penis with her hand lightly skimming the skin like she normally did when giving Colton a hand job. He always seemed to love it, but it didn't feel quite right.

She squeezed a little harder and started rubbing the member underneath the skin, the skin of her penis sliding just a bit as she moved up and down the shaft.

Without realizing it, she reached down with her left hand and started to touch herself. Her penis was throbbing and as she pressed and rubbed against her clitoris it almost instantly started throbbing too. She was amazingly wet unlike anything she had ever . ..

A clitoral orgasm swept over her in a wave of pleasure. She squeezed her penis even harder, jerking upwards without letting go, when all of a sudden; she felt the penis throb and squirt. She jerked again and again; and then faster and faster untilll...

Nicky could feel something sticky on her upper stomach and breasts. She opened her eyes, looking first at the penis staring her in the face still wet with cum. Then, Nicky’s turned a little to the right, and her eyes focused on the doorway between the bedroom and bathroom where she saw Colton's frozen face full of revulsion and disgust.

Continue to Next Chapter 006 – Never Again

004 – Discovery

iteration 1.2

Colton was sitting on a special non-slip chair in the shower. Showers used to invigorate Colton. Now they were just a constant reminder of the challenges that would face him for the rest of his life.

He extended to reach the soap and almost lost his balance from the seat of the specially designed chair in the shower. He started scrubbing his leg. Then for the umpteenth time, he twisted to scrub his other leg before he realized it wasn't there.

He hated these reminders.

Colton had been in Afghanistan towards the end of the 6th Deck when he had been hit by shrapnel from a grenade, which triggered the explosion at an opium processing lab. Nation building in Afghanistan had only fueled the black tar heroin industry and more war but not much else.

Colton had been a draftee. The draft had been reinstated in the 4th Deck. Men and women had given their lives fighting for their country for hundreds of years, when volunteers were called. The citizens of the USA also had a long history of dodging the draft when volunteers weren't enough.

They typically didn't mind fighting for what they believed in, by choice, but not by god when there was no choice involved. Colton's great grandfather, a draft dodger from the Vietnam era had been furious when Colton had not dodged. Colton wished he had had a better understanding of his great grandfather, who had pleaded with him to run. But dodging in the 2060’s wasn’t as easy as dodging in 1960’s.

Colton had been a black sheep. He was always out of step with his family, which itself was out of step with almost everyone. That made Colton almost normal. Now, he was normal like most of the veterans from the never ending Afghanistan war.

He was incomplete in body and mind.

He rinsed off and turned off the water. He reached outside the shower for his towel and started drying the remainder of his leg.

He had lost his leg just below the hip. He had to make sure that his leg was very dry before he could attach the prosthetic. The prosthetic looked exactly like his real leg; it even had the same birth mark on his thigh just above his knee. Full visual body scans of soldiers made it possible to create replacement prosthetic devices that were exactly the same, in appearance.

He finished drying and slid the device up next to the skin around the remains of his leg. He felt a slight phantom tingling and then the miracle, he could feel his toes wiggle at the end of the prosthetic. Every time he experienced this, . . . .

It was a miracle. One minute he was crippled and missing a leg, and the next minute he was complete.

Almost complete, he was drying the remains of his testicles, when he realized that his penis was missing from the counter.

Where the hell was his dick?

"Nicky", Colton growled.

He stepped easily out of the shower and walked into the next room.

Nicky, his hot little wife of about 5 feet and 7 inches, was lying on the bed, masturbating with his penis.

Colton was floored. She wasn't just pleasuring herself with his penis by using it like a dildo, she had it . . . She had the fucking thing attached to her belly and was giving herself a hand job, not like any of the crappy hand jobs he’d received from her. She was jerking off like she was a man!

Hell, it was worse than that, she was jerking off and fingering herself at the same time.

Colton thought he was going to be sick with the twisted feelings that flooded him as she reached climax with the same expression on her face that Colton normally adored himself, but watching her achieve that look while jerking off with his dick from across the room . . .

Next Chapter 005 – Rev3lation

003 – Ulmec Skull Suckers

Iterative update 1.4

"...Ulmec Skull Suckers. They sliced off the top of the skull, and then slurped the blood out of the brain vessels while the heart was still beating and a high priestess was going down on .. . Oh Shit, Good evening, Detective" said a police officer, just noting Brad's arrival.

The police officer’s partner stationed at the door didn't even flinch but Brad could see the woman stifling a smile in her eyes.

"Detective, the crime scene is ready for your inspection. Detectives Jambun and Scinlin are waiting for you just inside."

Brad recognized the names and frowned, "What's Intellectual Property Vice doing here? I'm H2.” H2 was an acronym for H squared or human homicide. Brad noted the first officers name tag, Stillson, as he approached.

"Detective, IP Vice was called initially when the crime scene was first identified. The victim was not initially found and this appeared to be an IP Vice crime. All the video equipment and the dismembered penises. . . ." Officer Stillson trailed off as he seemed to turn a little green while remembering the scene.

"Penes," Rubenz said, stating the plural of the word penis, correctly with the hard 'e' sound following the ‘n’ where the ‘I’ in penis normally was.

Brad had been ridiculed by a teacher in middle school for using the word penises to insult a group of 8th graders. The teacher hoping to set an example had schooled Brad on the correct plural pronunciation of penis, ergo penes for 30 minutes and it was one of those nasty childhood memories that he couldn't quite shake even in middle age when it made him half-chuckle to recall it.

"Say what?" said Officer Stillson.

"The plural of penis is penes, spelled p-e-n-e-s" said Rubenz, "But never mind you were saying?"

"I made the initial call Detective." stated Officer Hernandez, the female officer whose eyes still had that look of an inner joke. "This looked like another illegal Whack Off Video Production. Then we found the victim."

The door opened, and Detective Jambun, an unnaturally bald man in his mid thirties, who for some reason had not undergone gene therapy yet to fix the condition, looked out at Brad, and said, "Fuck! What took you so fucking long. We've got work to do and didn't need to waste our fucking time mopping up your shit. Come on Scinlin. Let's get the fuck out of here."

"Just a minute Detective, tell me what you have found here. I'm not accepting this crime scene until you get me up to speed and debrief." Brad said.

"Our report is filed. You should have viewed it already. We filed it 10 minutes ago. You being lazy again Rubenz?" Detective Scinlin leered at Brad.

Scinlin was a hard ass twenty-nine year old female detective. She had made detective faster than any other officer on the force. She had briefly worked in homicide in Brad's department. They got along together like phosphorous and water.

"I just received the call 4 minutes ago, and only the cursory first response report was included in my file." Brad said.

"Not our problem, take it up with the Captain." Jambun said as he tried to walk past Brad.

Brad didn't let him through. "Well this crime scene is still yours until I either get your report verbally or digitally. Check your phone yourself. Who is still responsible for this scene?"

Jambun looked down at his phone and said, "Shit."

Even Brad could see that the screen was still green in tint indicating crime scene responsibility had not yet passed.

"OK, asshole let’s get this over with. We have us a murder victim. One Terrence McBoyd, aka Terry. It would appear that he died due to excessive blood loss when his peter was cut off," Jambun stated using that odd and very old fashioned slang term for penis.

"What about the other eighty-six victims?" Brad recalled the preliminary report indicated as many as eighty-seven other victims.

"It was a fuck off. Terry boy was apparently the King of the Whack Jobs, literally. All those other penises lying around in that bloody mess weren't his." Hernandez said.

“Penes,” stated Rubenz.

“What?” said Hernandez.

“The plural for penis is penes, p-e-n-e-s,” said Rubenz wishing he hadn’t said a word, but it just slipped out.

"Who gives a fuck. Technically the penises probably were the victims." Scinlin snickered.

"What the hell are you two talking about? Are you saying eighty-six men were mutilated, not killed and Mr. McBoyd was the only person harmed fatally?" Brad asked.

"Brad, you are getting too old for this job. You're behind the fucking times. Didn't you hear me? Terry boy was a 'WHACK JOB'. He got his ROCKS off literally by getting his rocks cut C-U-T off.” Scinlin said with ridicule spitting out of his mouth. “Where have you been, living in a fucking hole in the ground?"

Brad was definitely a little confused but didn't want to give Hernandez the satisfaction. "I don't work IP Vice. Just what new sick and twisted shit has your department cooked up and shared with the masses lately. Trying to justify your budget again?" IP Vice had a massive corporate sponsored budget that was the envy of all other police departments short of Internal Terrorism which was funded directly by Homeland Security.

Always looking for an opportunity to show how smart he was, Jambun spoke up, "Mr. McBoyd was a sexual deviant. He engaged in a new sexual fetish called Whacking Off. Detective Hernandez referred to him in the vernacular as a Whack Job, a person that receives the cut from a Whacker, the person that does the cutting. The Whacker cuts off the P3nis of the Whack Job. That's P3nis with a three not an 'e'. A P3nis is a prosthetic device originally developed during the sixth Deck to replace damaged, mutilated, destroyed penises of veterans."

"You mean 'Penes'" Brad interjected.

"Do you want this debrief or not?” Jambun interjected. “The P3nis was developed to not only look and feel like the real thing, but to respond as well. Through a combination of biochemistry and nanotechnology it automatically electrically connects itself to the nervous system when it comes in contact with human skin. It has the ability to give the host the feeling of a fully operational penis." Jambun finished.

"He sold Plug n Play dicks, made to be Whacked Off." Hernandez spouted.

Jambun continued, "Some sick fucking house wife figured out that if you cut off a P3nis, it triggers a sensation in the brain that replicates the best fucking orgasm a person could ever hope to have. Our victim Mr. McBoyd was the King of the Whack Jobs, literally. His company mass produced and distributes P3nises around the world. He also has his own video production facility where viewers who don't want to actually experience getting their rocks cut off, can instead, get their rocks off by watching others get their rocks Whacked Off. McBoyd's moniker in this production is King of the Whack Jobs. He's had his P3nis cut off over a million times in video although most people did not know his real name."

Brad just looked at the two detectives. His phone chirped, he looked down, it was green. He had the file. This whacko fucking case was his.

Hernandez snorted, and the two IP Vice detectives walked past him to the emergency response terminal that was still open. They closed the panel and zipped away in the blink of an eye.

"Jesus stole my Skate Board" started playing on his phone again.

"Fuck," he swiped the screen, "Detective Rubenz here."

"Oh My god, Brad, Is it true? Is Terry dead?"

Brad's world just turned inside out. Jenny was talking to him, she had just called and Jenny knew about his murder victim.

Continue to Next Chapter 004 – Discovery