This story is fiction. It is a sequel to Texas 1956, a novel-length examination. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. It's copyrighted 2021 by The Jordan Project, all rights reserved outside of Nifty. The reader comes first, so I live for feedback. Please take some time to provide it to TBTop@protonmail.com. What worked, what didn't work.
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TEXAS, 1957 - Chapter 2
"I see that your suspicions were correct," the German doctor told the two deputy-reservists when they met to discuss the matter. "It will soon be time to move to the next step."
He held up another vial and explained that it was the Management formula, but altered to increase feelings of humiliation and shame.
"The sexual stimulant is doubled, and the chemistry is altered to more directly link the stimulant to the humiliation and shame, and to the admiration and attraction to superiors," the doctor said to the deputies. "There is also a truth serum, and it will make the queer eager to confess, to accept your authority, and to seek your approval."
The deputies had arrived just after their shift, and wore their sheriff's uniforms to the meeting with the doctor. Their uniforms clung like paint, the shirts tan, and the pants tan with a wide brown stripe up the side. Thomas "Brick" Gilroy was chiseled out of one muscular stone: his complexion and flat-top crew cut dark, his chest covered with a thick carpet of chest hair. He walked roughly on thick legs, his swagger jerking him from one side to another. He had an aggressive, dominating manner, and a gruff, gravelly voice to match.
Jake Haskins was a bit leaner and an inch shorter. Sandy brown hair, V-shaped torso, square jaw, blue eyes. Both men were in their motorcycle gear, their spit-shined black boots, gleaming brightly, with tall heels and pointed toes in the cowboy style. Their duty belts were held up by black straps over their shoulders, with sidearms and handcuffs attached.
"The formula will make him mentally fragile," the doctor said. "He will be especially sensitive to ridicule, and hungry for reassurance. You should use both of those to eliminate his resistance."
"And then what?" Haskins asked.
"In Germany, the SS executed any queers in their ranks," the doctor replied. "I argued against it, but I was overruled. They thought my approach was too soft, which was not true. In the case of the queer guard, I hope to continue my research that I was unable to do with soldiers in the Third Reich."
The reserve deputies were on duty for the weekend, and accompanied Jensen on his surveillance rounds.
"Kind of grim duty, I'd say," Brick remarked. "Patrolling to see if this or that queer is yankin' his crank."
"Someone's gotta keep 'em under control," Jensen said, contemptuously. "Give these faggots an inch and they'll take a mile."
"Doctor Joe has been on us about that," Haskins replied. "He looked at the records and says that most of the problems come from 10 or 15 queers, and he wants us to lock 'em into dick cages that would keep them from getting hard. He invented 'em during the war but didn't get a chance to use 'em. Sounds like a good idea."
"I thought that was already happening," Jensen said. "I haven't seen it, but I've heard about it."
"There's been a little of it, but the doc wants to expand it to any prisoner who gets caught beatin' off, and maybe even all the queers," Haskins said. "It would make this job a whole lot easier. Not only that, but it'd keep them queers away from their dicks. Long overdue, I'd say. Wouldn't you, Tom?"
"Yeah, I'd have to agree with ya," Jensen replied, taking care not to equivocate and draw any suspicion. "At least the ones who can't control themselves. If we can't just cut 'em off, a cage is about right, I'd say."
War is best known for its tragedies wreaked on the innocent, but much lesser for its way of thrusting Men out of obscurity and into good fortune. Joachim Schmidt was one of the latter, and his rise could be seen as the result of chance and luck. There were certainly elements of both, but the latter was much more a result of Herr Schmidt's use of his abilities and advantages as it was the consequence of random fortune.
When he eventually arrived in an American P.O.W. camp in Texas, his reputation had preceded him. Joe Schmidt, as he quickly came to be known, had performed critically valuable service as a spy for the Americans, sometimes at great personal risk, and had only narrowly escaped exposure before being whisked out of Germany late in 1944.
"Watch everything but say nothing," his father had said repeatedly after the National Socialists took over, so his son had only watched as a crowd of Nazi thugs locked the doors of the shop run by his kindly Jewish neighbor before setting it on fire with him locked inside. He would never forgive nor forget, and resolved to bide his time until the opportunity was right.
He focused his youthful attention on his studies of ancient history, psychology, and chemistry, and soon his intelligence attracted attention. By 1942, he had been one of Germany's youngest university graduates, entrusted at the age of 22 with a laboratory and a small staff, and tasked with the development of drugs that might eradicate what the Nazis regarded as the scourge of homosexuality.
By the accident of his genetics, Schmidt possessed another advantage that would have been useful anywhere, but was especially valuable in his time and place. The Nazis had developed a racial taxonomy that elevated his morphology to an exalted position, and in addition to his appointment to the research laboratory he found himself pictured on propaganda posters featuring the ideal Aryan: blond, blue-eyed, tall, strong, handsome.
His minor fame as a propaganda icon brought him into contact with senior Nazis, all the way up to the Fuehrer himself, who he met in late 1942. The meeting with Hitler only confirmed his suspicion that his country's leader was a reckless adventurer, and the advances made to him by one of Hitler's adjutants hardened his view of homosexuals, whose weakness and deceit made it imperative that they be controlled. He resolved to reach out to the Americans, while continuing his research on the homosexual problem.
Before the war interrupted his supply of chemicals and labor, he had developed a mixture that unmasked homosexual desires, and despite his opposition to putting them to death he supplied it to the SS, and was responsible for nearly 100 executions, which he justified by his opposition to the Nazi regime.
He also designed a device to encase male genitals. It prevented erections by means of a metal tube extending into the wearer's urethra, along with a chemical that would reduce the size of the wearer's penis and testicles while keeping them intact. Schmidt was aware of the use of castration, but regarded it as a crude and ineffective tool when used on queers who had reached adulthood. Moreover, his study of ancient history had told him of the danger of eunuchs, who were responsible for the corruption and fall of many Oriental empires.
"Between death and castration, if they were the only choices, I would recommend execution," he had said. "Removal of the testes renders a male incapable of productivity in anything more than the crudest sense."
From time to time, the doctor would meet with the senior guards to discuss the prisoners and their management. The latest gathering was attended by the two sheriff's deputies and the reservist who worked at the lumber company in town, two active-duty guards.
"I will start by reviewing the point of our research," he said. "We focus on the passive queers. They are are weak and they will spread their weakness if not identified, trained, and managed. I presume that everyone here agrees that they cannot simply be allowed to spread their corruption."
They smiled and nodded in agreement, and Schmidt went on.
"It is important to realize that we cannot eliminate the desire, and I don't know if we should," he said. "Homosexuality is a complicated phenomenon, and if we were to eliminate it, we might make a terrible mistake and eliminate other traits that are valuable to society.
"We have little interest in eliminating the active version. The penetration of a weakling by a strong Man is an age-old tool of conquest and discipline. To use an old saying, we do not want to throw out the baby with the bathwater."
Sergeant Shane Jordan, a tall and powerfully built reservist from town, spoke up.
"Why not just cut their nuts off and be done with it?" he asked. "I understand it's been done."
"Yours are the words of a conqueror, so it is with some reluctance that I will tell you why we cannot," Schmidt replied, with a smile, speaking with a mild West Texas twang that he'd picked up. "If we were in the ancient world, I would support it. In addition to being a chemist, I am a student of psychology and history, and in the ancient world castration was an effective tool, but not for our purposes.
"The castration of an adult male, when it includes removal of both the testes and the penis, prevents reproduction, which was why it was employed. But castration renders the castrated males useless for any productive purpose. Ancient conquerors wanted this, but we do not. We want to preserve the queer's ability to work productively and even lead a satisfactory life within the limits that are necessary.
"Homosexuality is illegal and unacceptable and pathetic, which makes the queer go to great lengths to disguise it," he said. "No one wants to make a false accusation, so a careful queer can often evade detection. And many queers hide it from themselves, which presents an even bigger issue.
"But I have solved that. Through chemistry and the application of psychology, I have designed a way to detect 95% of the passive queers, including those who have suppressed their inclinations even from themselves. There can be an art to it, depending on the queer and the circumstances. In many cases, there's no need for chemical assistance. But in those cases where a queer is hiding his desire, it is a useful and accurate tool.
"We have devised a family of chemicals that go under the name, Correctol. You are familiar with some of the formulations, but not all of them. The basic Supervision formula is unchanged, but I have introduced two variations, one to be used for identification, and the other for confrontation and training. The Management formula has been changed, but not fundamentally.
"The new formulas are aimed at those queers in hiding. The Identification formula, as with all versions of Correctol, heightens the senses. It greatly reduces his inhibitions and give him a dream-like sense of well-being. It includes a powerful sexual stimulant, a chemical that compels the subject to be truthful, and another ingredient which generates strong affection, especially when the subject is praised.
"Identification must be combined with appropriate psychological techniques. The hidden queer will be highly reluctant, even under the influence of Identification, to act on his desire with more than one person present. You must remember the purpose of this stage, which to encourage the queer to reveal himself.
"Your job is to be friendly and to give him permission. And once he's done that, to engage him in a conversation about his desires. Don't argue or reproach. Get him talking. The more he does and says, the better."
"The other new formula, Confrontation, is different. Identification is designed to be relaxing, but Confrontation will make him emotionally fragile. He will be especially sensitive to shame, ridicule, and rebuke, and even more hungry for reassurance. You should use both of those to eliminate his resistance. The formula retains the truth-telling element along with his strong general attraction and the specific positive reaction to praise. The sexual stimulation is neutral.
"Psychology is vital at each stage. In the confrontation phase, the hidden queer will often want to deny his desire at all costs, to the point of inventing elaborate justifications for the behavior that led to this stage. Many of them will even deny that they acted on their desires, which is why photographs and recordings are useful when Identification is one-on-one, which is almost always necessary."
"But I thought you said the formula has something in it that makes 'em tell the truth," one of the reservists said. "So how are they gonna deny it?"
The doctor smiled thinly and spoke.
"The confrontation phase is harsh by design. It is a sort of basic training, where he is broken down. The queer will be exposed not just as a shameful pervert but as a liar and a weakling, but as an undisciplined, chaotic inferior in need of supervision and control. His justifications must be shown as a ridiculous masquerade for evasion, and further proof of his inferiority and need for training, discipline, and supervision.
"This stage should include both psychological and physical pressure to establish the contrast the queer and his trainers. Nakedness is an effective physical tactic, along with restraints, strapping and flogging. Your goal is the queer's breakdown and surrender, and ideally his fervent request for guidance and training. I would add that the new formulations greatly enhance the subject's reactions to both praise and rebuke, so in the confrontation, training, and management phases, you will have great control over the queer's mental state.
"Confrontation and training blend into one another at the transition point, which occurs when the queer has been made to realize what he is and that he is too weak to control himself. He is dishonest, untrustworthy, and corrupt, and cannot be allowed to spread his infection.
"How good of you decided to favor us with your attendance," the doctor said as Jenkins entered the room, his tone mildly sarcastic. "Is this what we call your half-hour grace period?"
"Sir, the notice said to be here at 1330," the staff sergeant protested, sheepishly.
"That was what it was at first, but I moved it. You must have received the wrong notice," the doctor replied, knowing that he had planned it that way.
"Let me review what we are doing here. I have spent 15 years studying the nature of homosexuality and methods of identifying, confronting, training, and managing the unfortunate males afflicted with a desire they cannot control.
"To be clear, we have no intention of altering or interfering with the penetration of males by Men such as yourselves, for purposes of conquest, discipline, training, and management. My work is aimed at the passive queer who has lost control of himself. You are here to execute the methods I have devised, in consultation with me.
"As you know, the guards here have wide authority and discretion, so long as there are no serious injuries. You are not required or asked to be informants on each other, but there is an exception. We cannot have known queers supervising the queers here."
"Why would a queer want to guard queers?" one of the reservists asked.
"That is an excellent question, and the answer is complicated," the doctor replied.
"Most people think of queers as effeminate, but there is another type who is both masculine and powerfully drawn to masculinity. My studies show that the military draws them, especially those specialties that require strength and discipline. In many of these cases, someone with those desires will join the military in hopes that the discipline will eradicate what their desire and their shame.
"These latent queers will very often be the harshest toward known or suspected queers, going out of their way in the matter. They are displacing their own deep fear of their own nature. This can be useful, until the latent queer is no longer latent but becomes active, and then spreads his weakness and corruption like a virus. This is a very serious matter, and can undermine all of our efforts."
"How can we know?" Shane Jordan, one of the reservist guards, asked.
"You cannot rely on the queer telling you," Schmidt replied. "This kind doesn't think he's queer, so you will need to be observant. In spite of his effort to conceal, he will give clues: glances here and there, the way he discusses the subject, the way he disciplines the prisoners. If you suspect someone, talk to me and, if warranted, we will come up with a plan to identify and then confront him, and then train and manage."
"As far as I'm concerned, a queer guard in here ought to have his nuts cut off," Jordan said. "Hell, maybe his dick too."
"As I said before Staff Sergeant Jenkins arrived, we don't do that," the doctor replied. "Surgical castration has a poor track record, with a high suicide rate. My work is aimed at stopping the queer's undesirable behavior while preserving his productive abilities by showing him his proper place and keeping him there. It has been effective in tests over the past several years."
Another reservist, Jake Haskins, who along with Thomas "Brick" Gilroy, were sheriff's deputies serving as the county's unofficial queer patrol, agreed.
"I used to think the same as you did, Shane," he said. "But we've gotten good results doin' it with the doctor's program. The queers wind up behavin' and I think they like where they are. Takes a while, but it works."
"This training facility faced a serious problem five years ago. Two guards were ordering prisoners to penetrate them, and the complaints reached us," Schmidt said. "We wired hallways, cells, and other areas for sound and motion photography. You know about that, but what you have not known is that the disabling switches do not operate. That's how they were revealed.
"Sergeant Jordan, the program does not include surgical castration, but it deploys mechanical means that accomplish the same result while preserving the testicles that provide every male with their vital energy. The queer keeps his testicles but cannot touch his sex organ, and is made to understand that his drive cannot be used in the way he has been accustomed to using it.
"There is a contradiction there. The queer's desires are controlled and redirected, but his physiology requires periodic relief through ejaculation. This is accomplished through stimulation of the prostate, reached by entering the anus, and becomes a important tool in maintaining his place and correct mentality. Over time, he will hunger for prostate relief, but it is to be provided solely at the discretion of his superiors, and he is to be prohibited from even mentioning his desire much less demanding or seeking it."
When Schmidt mentioned the prison being wired throughout, Jensen's guts froze.
"It is time to move from discussing the program and the need to identify queers among the guards, to a specific example," Schmidt said, as he opened a large manila envelope and shoved a stack of photographs across the table toward the five guards. They nodded and laughed as they looked through them.
"If Tommy Jensen ain't a queer, then there ain't no such thing as a queer," Jordan said, his tone sarcastic and mocking. "Can't say anyone's surprised. But if this one ain't queer, then this whole place ought to close up shop and let 'em all out."
Brick Gilroy, one of the sheriff's deputies, chuckled.
"Me and Jake been doin' the county queer patrol for five years, and every last one of 'em has been a god damn liar," the reserve gunnery sergeant said, looking straight at Jensen. "Once they get caught, they wind up bein' relieved at bein' able to finally tell the truth for once, and they calm down."
The doctor smiled.
"You might think that Corporal Jensen lied when he said he's not queer, but that's not quite accurate," he said as the guards looked through the pictures. A tape recorder sat on the table, and Schmidt turned it on. Jensen looked down as he heard himself confessing his attractions to Henry, and threatening Brady.
"Did you request Men to penetrate you both orally on multiple occasions in the recent past?" Jordan asked.
"I did," he replied, recalling a time when he'd asked the same question to a kneeling, humiliated queer.
"Have you drunk the urine of Men on multiple occasions in the recent past?" Jordan asked.
"Yes," Jensen replied.
"Then that is the longest story I am interested in hearing from you," Jordan replied. "Am I clear?"
Henry laughed.
"Nothing like havin' a big military Man's big stiff rod down yer suckin' throat," he said, his voice heavy with ridicule. "Oh yeah, that's heaven! ... if yer a queer like ya are."
The doctor handed sheets of paper to Jensen, Jordan, and Henry, and spoke.
"The commandant has promoted Mr. Jordan to staff sergeant. He has released Mr. Henry and Mr. Brady, with Mr. Henry promoted to staff sergeant and Mr. Brady restored to sergeant," he said. "He wanted to have Mr. Jensen put on trial and confined with the queers in their gray coveralls, but I persuaded him that training and management would be more effective, and he could remain free but with different duties.
"He agreed, on the condition that you accept a reduction in rank to corporal and request training and management. The program is open only to queers, so if you want to stay out of prison you will acknowledge that. Or you can go to prison."
Changes in rank required a signature on the orders. Jordan and Henry signed without hesitation, and Jenkins signed after fretting about it for an instant.
"Faggot corporal's gonna know his place. He's gonna be a well behaved, well-mannered little fella who calls the Men 'sir' and does what he's told and says 'thank you sir' when it's all done. Ain't that right now?" Jordan asked, his tone sneering and his face locked into a teasing grin.
Jenkins was sitting on the cold concrete floor, naked with his back against the wall. Jordan stood over him in his crisp guard uniform.
"I guess so," he replied to Jordan, who had quoted him again.
"You guess so what?" Jordan snapped.
"I guess so, sir," he replied, the humiliation sinking in further.
Jordan reached back onto the table and grabbed the bottle of Sprite, now empty, that Jenkins had drunk. Smiling downward, he unzipped the fly of his trousers, hauled out his large, soft dick and filled the bottle with his piss, shaking the last drops onto the seated figure.
"Something for ya to drink," he said, grinning as he taunted. "I'm sure ya remember how good the Sprites are. Now have a taste, and look me in the eye while yer doin' it."
Jenkins followed the command, sipping the warm urine and gazing at the staff sergeant's mocking smile.
"Yer nothin' but a toy soldier and a queer faggot. And we ain't the only stiff-dick Men around here who know what ya are," Jordan said, repeating words he'd used some months earlier. "Now tell me how much ya appreciate what I gave ya."
"Thank you, sir," Jenkins replied, feeling the shame and humiliation wash over him. He felt something else too: His dick was getting hard. Everyone in the room noticed and laughed as the disgraced guard reached his full length. The doctor rose from his chair, fished a tape measure out of his shirt pocket, crouched down, and measured.
"Eight inches," he said. "Testicles to match. Not surprising, nor is it surprising that Corporal Jenkins became erect while drinking your urine, Staff Sergeant Jordan. I understand that the same thing happened when he drank Sergeant Henry's urine."
"Most of the queers are small down there," Henry replied, chuckling as he spoke. "And yeah, the queer down there got hard alright."
"Corporal Jenkins is aware of the tools of punishment, humiliation, and discipline," the doctor said. "He is not the first secret queer to request that he drink urine. He was aware of his desire, and fought against it, but once he lost that struggle, he sought punishment. Isn't that right, Mr. Jenkins?"
"Yes sir," he answered, glumly.
"At the root of your failed struggle for self-control are your large genitals," Schmidt continued. "They are desirable for normal Men but which only get a queer in trouble."
"Before I go further, there is a new step," the doctor said. "The queer must request this program. Corporal, you can go to prison or you can ask to enter training and management here."
"If I go to prison, it will be public and my family will know," he replied. "I guess I would rather stay here."
"The program is open only to queers who are out of control and request training and management," Schmidt said.
"I understand, sir."
"What do you understand?"
"I understand that I am a queer, sir."
And?
"I am out of control and want to be trained and managed, sir."
"That's a good first step but there is more," the doctor replied. "We're going to talk right now about your history as a queer, starting with when you first became aware of it."
Now the lie-prevention chemistry came into play.
"When I was a little kid, maybe 10 years old, my father caught me looking at his big dick," Jensen replied. "He gave me a whipping and said he didn't raise a son only to have him be a faggot."
"So you held it in, then?"
"Yes sir," the humiliated guard said, softly. "It wasn't that hard. The queers in school were are faggoty anyway, so I had no interest."
"And you beat them up, I suspect."
"Yes sir, that's right."
"And you kept doing that here. You have a reputation."
"Yes sir," he replied, glumly.
"All while becoming more and more interested, and eventually not being able to suppress it."
"Yes sir."
"Okay, I want to be sure you understand what the program involves," the doctor said. "I think you know much of it, but not everything. So I will explain, and you will listen."
"Yes sir," he answered.
"Just as if you choose prison, you will be forbidden to masturbate or to seek, request, or engage in sexual activity on your own," Schmidt said. "To that end, you will wear a device that will make it impossible to achieve an erection or to stimulate yourself. Along with our chemistry and other methods, you will learn your place and stay there."
"Yes sir."
"Staff Sergeant Henry has a house on a ranch nearby, and you will move there immediately and occupy one of the rooms," the doctor continued. "The staff sergeant is a superior Man, and will have complete authority. You will obey his rules, requests, and orders without hesitation or back-talk, and you will dedicate yourself to his satisfaction."
"Yes sir."
"You will not be confined, but you will be closely supervised and will not have any more free time than you would in prison. You will sign over your paychecks and bank accounts to him, and he will provide you an allowance as he sees fit. You will keep the staff sergeant's house clean, along with his uniforms, his boots, his truck, and his civilian clothing, and do whatever else you are told."
"Yes sir."
"There is no endpoint to the training and management program. If you still request it, you will serve for as long as he decides, as which point he can release you or transfer his authority to another superior Man, who you will obey. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir."
"And you still request the program?"
"Yes sir. Anything's better than prison, sir."
"That much is true," the doctor replied. "So you will go into the program, and learn your place, which is below that of normal Men."
"Yes sir," he answered. "Thank you for keeping me out of prison, sir."
Jenkins was now immobile on a padded chair, fastened there with tight leather straps and cuffs. His legs were spread wide as Henry used a scissors to cut his pubic hair, and then a razor to remove it. The doctor donned a rubber glove, and gave one to Henry. He picked up a tube of K-Y lubricant and used it on his fingers, then rubbed some on the corporal's anus and handed the tube to Henry.
"A queer is not a Man as we understand Men, but he is still a male and must periodically be drained," Schmidt said, his tone that of an instructor. "Since self-stimulation is forbidden, the alternative is to stimulate anally until there is a discharge."
The doctor inserted two slick fingers into the corporal's rectum and explained the technique of prostate massage.
"This can be accomplished with fingers, a rubber phallus, or your own erection," Schmidt said, his voice still clinical. "The mechanics will produce a discharge in 10 or 15 minutes. It takes longer than it does for a penile orgasm."
"Kind of like my girlfriend," Henry said.
"Very much so," the doctor said, withdrawing his fingers and bidding the guard to take his turn. "Slow and steady. Just like with your girl. A prostate discharge is very much like a vaginal orgasm."
After a time, Jensen began to breathe hard and shake.
"Look into the Staff Sergeant's eyes," Schmidt said, as the writhing corporal shot an enormous load, with squirts landing as far as his shoulders and neck. Afterwards, he lay on the chair, breathing hard.
"A well-endowed male like the corporal will need to be drained twice, or even three times," the doctor said, turning levers on the chair that raised Jensen's head and chest at a 45-degree angle while keeping his legs spread wide and his ankles high, exposing his rectum.
The doctor screwed in a stainless steel rod about 7 inches long and two inches wide, and took hold of a lever that brought the end an inch away from the corporal's asshole. He spread lubricant on the rod and worked the lever, slowly at first and then building a steady rhythm. Then he gave Henry control over the lever.
"Biology makes demands on anyone with testicles," Schmidt said. "It is unrealistic to think that a queer can simply be told to stay in control. The corporal and others have tried to do that, and have failed. The question then becomes what to do about it. We reject executions or surgical castration, yet prohibition is inadequate. So I have added a mechanical component that some of you are familiar with."
He held the device to show them. As he demonstrated the mechanics, Jensen dribbled out another ejaculation.
"The primary purpose is to prevent the queer from self-stimulation, but there are other advantages," the doctor said. "The device supports training and management by serving as a constant reminder that he is inferior to normal Men and must be under supervision even when alone."
He unscrewed the cap from a tube of lubricant and spread it on the metal tube that he then inserted into Jensen's piss hole. It went through a hole in the end of a metal cap which then attached to a large ring around the corporal's flaccid dick and balls, now shaven.
"The lubricant will shrink the queer's erection by two inches a month, so after three months he should be down to 2 inches," Schmidt said. "His testicles will also shrink. He should be remeasured and ejaculated monthly, and after about three months he should be at the desired level. The shrinkage will last approximately a year, at which point the lubricant can be applied once every six months."
Henry smiled.
"Yeah, there's no reason for this one to have a dick big enough to hold onto, even if he can't hold it," he said.