Exploring, Part 22 By Jackinnm@yahoo.com
Jim and I had gone to bed after viewing other TV stations to get more details. Information was sparse at that stage. We got up early and I picked up the newspaper from outside my door.
The following morning Jim and I had built up a more complete picture of the attempted shooting from reading the newspaper than that delivered by the TV bimbos. The gunman, Charles Colt, had told the police that the doctor was the anti-Christ and that he'd received a divine commandment to shoot him. Jim had promised to do a bit more digging when he got to his office, and when we met for lunch he had more to add to the story:
"I checked out this Doctor Butcher, and he's got an interesting history. For a long time he's been the director of a free clinic down in the inner city. This means that all of his patients are indigents, most are poorly educated, some are illegal immigrants, and many of those don't speak English well. I got this information from one of the nurses who works there."
"Now one strange thing that happened at that clinic was that whenever a parent brought in a sick boy, for whatever reason, Doctor Butcher had the boy drop his pants so that he could check him for a hernia. What he was really checking for was circumcision. If the boy still had his foreskin when he arrived at the clinic, he usually wouldn't leave with it."
"How did he get away with this shit?" I asked.
"It was easy," Jim answered. "If the boy was there for a tonsillectomy, Butcher would snip off his foreskin while he was under the anesthetic. If he had to have a broken arm set, he'd sedate him heavily, and circumcise him as well, using a local anesthetic on his penis. Even if the kid was brought in for a bloody nose or a cold, Butcher would tell the parent that his foreskin was too tight, or something, and do a circumcision."
"That's awful," I said. "So this guy Colt was about to shoot the right target, but for the wrong reason?"
"Looks that way," Jim replied. "Colt is a nut-cake, right from the start. Maybe it's a lucky thing, too. The only guy ever caught with these shootings turns out to have a totally unrelated motive."
"That's sure to deflect the police investigation," I said. "They won't make the connection between the shootings and circumcising doctors."
"Now there's more to the story, a lot more," Jim continued. "A lot of the treatments and operations Butcher performed at the clinic were unnecessary. He was just doing them to collect Medicaid payments. You know that today hardly any kid gets his tonsils out. Almost all the kids who came into his clinic underwent tonsillectomy. It looked strange when all the kids in a family needed their tonsils out at the same time. Then there were other cases. One woman brought in her young son, and since she was an immigrant the boy hadn't been circumcised. Well, it turned out that she had four other sons, and Butcher told her that he needed to check them as well. Would you believe that he circumcised all five of them the same week? One he diagnosed as phimosis, and another with balanitis. He clipped another to treat his bedwetting, and he had the balls to put down that he circumcised the two oldest boys for masturbation."
"How did he get away with this shit?" I asked.
"He did for years, but recently someone at the Medicaid office was reviewing his paperwork, and thought it odd that so many members of the same family needed the same operations at the same time. They're going to start an investigation on him."
"Well, didn't he stop doing circumcisions when these shootings started? Was he totally stupid?"
"Oh, yes, when he got the word that circumcisers were being shot around the country, he stopped doing them, but he didn't let up on other treatments and operations. So he's going to get investigated anyway, unless someone else knocks him off."
"I think once they do the investigation, he'll be a prime target for someone when it gets into the news," I suggested.
"I think so too," Jim concluded. "I wouldn't place bets on his life expectancy either. But there's more. I decided to dig into his background. Butcher originally hails from Virginia, and I checked the medical database there. Would you believe that he got his medical license revoked in Virginia almost 30 years ago, and for what?" I sat speechless for a moment, stunned. Finally I asked:
"Okay, for what?"
"It turned out that one fine day he'd just finished circumcising a baby. He had his dick out and was beating off while looking at the kid's bandaged penis. The medical director of the hospital happened to walk in and saw this. This guy hates unprofessional behavior with a passion, and he reported him to the medical licensing board. They yanked Butcher's license right then."
"Served him right," I said. "But how did he get licensed in Seattle, then?"
"Each state has its own medical licensing board, and they don't talk to each other much. Also, there's no national clearing house to keep track of disbarred doctors. That's why a lot of doctors who get their licenses yanked move to another state and obtain licenses there."
"I've heard of that happening," I said. "We've had several doctors right here with a drug problem who had had their licenses pulled in another state for the same problem."
"That's how the system works, or rather, doesn't work."
"That's depressing," I said as I got up. We had to get back to work.
Two weeks later Jim asked if he could come over that evening. As it was a Friday, I thought that we'd be able to have a pleasant evening together as we did not have to work the next day. As I grilled steaks on my patio, Jim gave me the latest news:
"It just came over the wire before I phoned you this afternoon. Doctor Butcher was set for a hearing with the state medical board. It was all over the news. He was driving there when his car ran off the road and hit a concrete wall at 80 miles an hour. He was killed instantly and the car burned."
"Single car accident or was he run off the road?" I asked.
"I don't know, Jack. The cops said the car was too busted up to be sure. The fire didn't help, either." We sat down to eat, and during the meal I voiced my opinion:
"I'm pretty sure it was no accident, Jim. I'm also sure the guy who knocked off Butcher was serious, not like that clown Colt."
"Anyway," Jim continued, "Colt has an alibi. He's been in police custody, so he couldn't have had anything to do with Butcher's death."
After dinner we went into the bedroom and stripped down. We had by now tacitly agreed on how to take the tension out of the day. Jim had his attaché case with him and he took out what I recognized as an electro-stimulator principally used for sex.
"I always had a problem with my penis not being very sensitive because I was clipped," he explained. "That's why I was searching for new techniques such as the vibrator. I also found this. It works by sending a mild electric current through the nerves in the groin area, and it gives me some terrific orgasms."
"I'd like to try it," I said. "Can you demonstrate how it works on yourself?"
"I'd love to," he replied. He removed some wires from the case and plugged them into the device, which was about the size of a thick book. "These attach to electrodes. The first goes between my skin and the head." he demonstrated it for me.
"Next is this elastic blue band that goes around the base of my dick," he said as he put it on. "Now comes this sticky gel pad I put behind my balls," he continued. "Finally there's this one, a large sticky pad I put between my ass-cheeks just touching my anus. The box has two channels. The electrodes on my dick are for Channel A, and the other two are for Channel B." He plugged in the wires and turned the stimulator on.
"I'm adjusting the pulses now," Jim said as he twisted several knobs on the control box. "I can adjust them for power level, frequency, and speed of the pulses. It's just a matter of finding what works on my dick." I noticed that Jim's prick had begun twitching slightly with the pulses, and was rapidly swelling. Within 30 seconds he was fully erect, the outline of his swollen helmet clearly visible through the covering skin. As he'd hardened, the twitches becames more pronounced.
"This feels good, really good," Jim said as he lay back on the bed. I placed a wad of tissues under his prick, which was flat on his abdomen and twitching more strongly now.
"How long does it take to come?" I asked.
"Maybe another minute, unless I want to stretch it out. I'll come fast to show you." He twisted the power knob on the control panel and the twitches became more pronounced. Now his prick was jerking up and down through an arc of 30 degrees. He turned the power up slightly.
"Aaaahhhh," he groaned. "This is going to be fast and hard. My dick's really tingling now." I saw that his prick still jerked hard, synchronized with the flashing lights on the control panel, and that his abdominal muscles were taut. His legs spread and began a slight tremor.
"More," he muttered as he twisted the power knob farther, and now I saw that his entire body was tensing, responding to the stimulation coursing through his lower body. His eyes closed, his fists clenched, and then his hips bucked.
"HUNH! HUNH! HUNH!" he cried out as I saw a thick gush of white cream pour from the puckered end of his hood. It would have shot out in a long stream if the tight pucker of his foreskin hadn't been there to slow it.
His entire body jerked as another copious gush poured from the end of his foreskin, soaking the tissues underneath. He cried out again as a third load gushed from his jerking prick. He turned the power down as a fourth eruption soaked the tissues. His head rocked from side to side as the frenzy of orgasm dominated his straining body. I saw several more loads seep from his prick with less force now that he was almost drained, and then he flipped the power switch to OFF and lay there, gasping, trying to catch his breath. His helmet was still totally covered by his long foreskin, but I could see that it was shrinking as his shaft softened.
"That was awesome," was all I could say when I though he was fully aware again. I'd heard of electro-stimulation, and had seen advertisements for the equipment, but I'd never seen it in action.
"It was pretty awesome," he replied, echoing my words. He began removing the electrodes from his body, asking:
"Ready to try it?" I lay beside him and watched as he fitted the electrodes onto my body. He placed one between my cheeks, touching my anus, and another behind my scrotum. He pulled my foreskin back and placed another onto my helmet, drawing the long hood forward to retain it. Finally he placed the elastic band around the base of my shaft, pulling it tight.
"That tight band will help your erection by constricting the veins," he explained. "Now I'll start you at a low levelo to let you get used to it." He turned on the control box and I felt a series of tingling pulses coursing through my prick, balls and back to my anus, which contracted slightly with every pulse.
"Want more power now" he asked. I nodded and he turned a knob to intensify the pulses. I felt a spasm deep inside me with every pulse, and I knew that my body was responding.
"How about the frequency?" he asked as he turned the frequency knob. "Tell me when it feels best for you." I felt the character of the pulses changing, and when they felt best for me I nodded.
"I've got the rhythm turned low, about one pulse per second," he said. "This should get you going and when you're hard I'll speed it up to give you your orgasm." I felt my prick twitching with each pulse, as blood poured into it. Within half a minute I was fully hard, and Jim turned up the rhythm. My prick began twitching faster, in time with the pulses, and Jim commented:
"You're really hard now. I can see your rim through the skin. Your helmet's as swollen as I've ever seen it. You're also juicing a lot, more than I've ever seen you do before." I usually didn't secrete much lubricant but now it was seeping steadily from my foreskin's tight pucker. He turned up the power and the strength of my prick twitches increased. My prick was jerking hard now, rising in a 30 degree arc as Jim's had, dropping to my abdomen between pulses.
"Just stay relaxed," he coached me. "You don't have to do a thing. Each pulse makes your cock-root contract and soon you'll be shooting your load." He placed a wad of tissues under the end of my jerking prick and turned up the power slightly.
It felt like a hot tingle was running through my helmet, shaft, prostate, and anus each time the current pulsed. I was trying to stay relaxed, but each hot pulse brought me closer to the brink, the moment of no return, and I felt my awareness of the world outside my body was fading as the magical pulses dominated my attention.
"Your cock's turning red," he said. "It's all full of blood, more than I've ever seen it before." I wasn't surprised. My prick was straining, jerking with each hot pulse that tortured my nerve endings.
"This isn't just hitting the nerve endings," he explained. "It's running down the nerves themselves, even some you didn't know you had." He was right. The sensations were intense, more powerful than any I'd previously experienced.
"Your balls are really tight," he continued. "I'll turn up the power just a bit now." I felt my prick throbbing and jerking hard, and it seemed that the fluid in my groin was boiling as I slid inexorably toward the brink. My eyes closed and I braced myself for the storm. My entire body tensed involuntarily and my world turned upside-down.
"AAAAGGGGHHH!" I heard myself crying in the distance as the root of my prick went into spasm, squirting a powerful jet of hot lava into my tube. I was utterly helpless, captivated by the intense sensations that flooded my lower body. The first load seared its way up my prick, exploding out of my straining helmet, immediately followed by another that attacked my senses and made me cry out in joyful agony.
My conscious mind was on HOLD as another wave of sensation poured through me, wracking my body and making me cry out again. Each pulse brought forth an ejaculation, draining me more thoroughly than anything else ever had. I wasn't in control; the pulses were, and each produced a searing, delightful spasm that enhanced my joy.
I was barely conscious when I realized that it was over. I was dazed, drained, and debilitated after the storm of sensations that had gone through me. Jim let me lie there until I'd recovered, and then gently began to remove the electrodes. When he pulled my foreskin back, another thick gush of white cream poured from it as he slipped out the electrode.
"I could tell that that really hit you," he said. "I don't think either of us could have another orgasm today." I nodded agreement. With difficulty I pulled myself to my feet and went to the shower, where he joined me. We enjoyed the cascade of hot water pouring over our bodies, and we carefully skinned back to rinse away the accumulation of viscous fluids underneath. Then we went to sleep cuddled in each other's arms.
Saturday morning we had breakfast together and then Jim drove home. He phoned that afternoon to say he'd been watching the news.
"They identified Butcher through dental records." I wasn't at all surprised.
"There's more, Jack. Yesterday the D.A. announced that he was dropping the attempted murder charge against Colt after a judge committed him for psychiatric treatment. There's still no word from the cops that the crash was anything but an accident."
"I guess they really don't know, or maybe they don't want to open up that can of worms," I said. "You know the cops. They're really concerned about copycats."
"Yeah," Jim agreed. "If it became public that a person or persons unknown was knocking off the doctors who'd circumcised them, lots of people would be getting out their rifles."
"So far, the only doctors killed were those who really were doing a lot of harm promoting circumcision. There are a lot of innocent ones out there and someone might make a mistake and snuff one who wasn't involved," I said.
"I know a couple like that," Jim said. "They really hate to circumcise a baby, and they'll do it only if the parents insist on it. They know that if they don't, the parents will only get it done by somebody else."
"Still, Jim, doesn't their conscience bother them?"
"Sure it does, but at least they make it easier for the baby. They make sure they use a lot of local anesthetic and they do a careful job. Other doctors don't care. They don't bother to use any anesthetic because they don't care how much the baby cries. They just chop the kid, knowing that he can't complain effectively."
"Well, I guess now we just have to wait for the next development," I said. What I really meant was that sooner or later another circumciser would meet his end.
Continued in Part 23