I still can't believe that it lead to this. All I did was post an erotic short story to an online site. It was about a man who had his genitals cooked and eaten, told in first-person in-the-moment style with the emphasis on how he felt going through the experience.
The story was liked by a few readers, it got a commendation from the moderators and that was that. Except that it didn't stop there. Things had died down and I'd thought my story was now forgotten, but someone had noticed it. Someone significant.
A person, who shall only be known as The Billionaire, had taken great interest in it. He has a reputation as the Connoisseur of Kink and one of his crew had put him onto it. He'd read it four times in a row and was so aroused by it he regained sexual function for the first time in many years.
For weeks after, he would read the story at least twice a day and climax every time. As he was doing this an idea slowly floated to the top of his mind. The thing was that though he got relief from reading my story he was still unable to find it any other way. So he decided he'd get in contact with me.
His crew had no trouble tracking me down and I found myself on the phone with him, being grilled over and over about the fine details I'd never even thought to put into my story first time around. I must admit it gave me a sexual tingle to be actually chatting to someone else, and about such a subject too but I pushed such thoughts away and concentrated on trying not to sound stupid.
I'd been on the phone with him for about half an hour when he suddenly said 'Why don't you have it done to you?'
My mind reeled and I almost fell to the floor. I made no sound because my throat seized up. It felt like being hit by a train, this one dramatic line coming at me from out of the blue. Eventually I managed to rasp out 'Let me think about it' before dropping my phone on the floor and staggering over to collapse on the couch. I didn't think I'd ever get my mind back together after hearing those unexpected words.
Exactly one week later, at the same time, the phone rang again. It was him. The truth is that I'd been so stunned to hear him say that, I'd not thought about it at all since. The previous phone call just seemed like a dream, to fizzle out in time. But now I heard his voice again and he wasted no time. 'Well?' he said, 'have you thought about it?'
'What?' I said, trying to buy time.
'What I said about having it done to you?'
'Having what done?' I gasped.
'You know damn well what I mean. Have you thought about it?' he asked again, very firmly.
'I need more time' I managed to say.
'Ok, think about it.'
Brrrrrrrrr went the phone as it went dead.
A week later the exact same thing happened only this time I'd been expecting it. I answered fluently and, although it wasn't exactly easy, I at least managed to sound composed this time. I said that it was a life-changing decision not to be made lightly and that I'd given it a great deal of thought without coming to a conclusion yet, but I felt that, if some conditions were met, there might be a chance of me choosing the 'yes' option. As I said this I felt a tingling sensation down below and shivered at the thought that my lie might not be as convincing to me as I'd intended it to sound.
Less than a week later I rang him and asked to meet face to face. His power and influence were obvious when a car arrived for me less than ten minutes later. We were in a skyscraper very near the top, with whiskey on the table and the subject of my genitals on the agenda. I told him that I loved my cock and didn't want to lose it. I enjoyed making love and nothing could substitute for that. I needed my cock to feel like a man and... his offer was strangely arousing. When I wrote my story it was about a long-standing fantasy I'd had about losing my cock and balls. I'd imagined them off in many different ways but settled on the idea of cooking them as it would last much longer. It was just a fantasy. But now, suddenly, I was being offered the chance to do it for real.
Several times I had to take a swig to stop my throat from closing up as we discussed losing my genitals for real. The truth was that ever since he'd said that one line, the idea of it had been burrowing deeper into my mind, to places where logic and common sense never went. In short, I'd become hooked on the idea. There were practicalities -- such a life-changing thing would require major life changes for it to work. Although I was getting a little giddy from the drink we worked out a package that would work for us both. I'd be paid a huge amount of money to leave my old life and start again with complete financial freedom. He said to me 'We can always get you a new one, you know. You can even have a big black one if you wish.' I looked him closely in the eyes, yet saw no glimmer that he was joking. He stood up 'Let me see it'. I quickly unzipped my pants and felt his gaze linger on my cock for several seconds. He gave me a curt nod and left, leaving me stood there.
It took a second, booze-free, meeting before things were firmed up. The whole event was planned down to the last detail, including two points where I could still back out if the whole thing became too much. There would be an audience of a hundred invited guests, the actual cooking would take place live on stage in front of them. There would be interaction and there would be a rather special raffle. There are no prizes for guessing what the raffle prize would be...
It was the night before the big event and I was at home. I wandered into my bedroom and lay down. The enormity of what was going to happen took all other thoughts from my mind yet my hand wandered down to my crotch of its own accord. It took out my cock and balls and began to fondle them, knowing that by this time tomorrow they would be in someone's stomach.
At mid-day a car came for me. No words were spoken, what could anyone say? I climbed in the back of it and was whisked off to the location chosen for the event. I was escorted into the building through a rear entrance and taken straight to the green room. There I was warmly greeted by his all-female staff and told to strip my clothes off. Some of their eyes lingered on my genitals which, as they soon informed me, would 'need to be prepared for the show'.
I felt utterly naked standing there in front of them but they gave no heed to this. I was laid on a bench and felt warmth as they washed and dried me very thoroughly. I'd not really thought about how it would feel to be in this position and I have to say no words could ever do it justice. I felt my parts being pulled around as they took off every last vestige of hair from them. They stood me up and I saw that my skin was slightly reddened from this but I felt an odd pride that it did look really good. I gulped when I realised just how important that was going to be. 'Now we have to empty your balls.' It was said matter of fact and that's exactly how they went about it, draining each and every last drop of sperm I had, and storing it in an extremely ostentatious jug. I wondered why.
If that sensation was intense it was nothing compared to what happened next. One of the women, wearing gloves, took my penis in her hand and began to baste it with a glossy liquid. 'What's that for?'
'It's a chilli infusion to make you taste great.'
That hit me. In all my years I'd never once considered my genitals from the perspective of how they might taste to another person. I felt an overpowering sense of unreality as those words screamed into my mind and was unsteady on my feet for a long moment. Someone, a stranger, was going to