Thinking Inside The Box

He was awake again. He slowly opened his eyes and saw that it was light.

He was naked. Always naked. And inside the box. He didn't know the reason for either one of those facts. They were just a constant reality beyond his understanding. Sometimes he thought he remembered why... or that he used to know... and forgot... it wasn't clear.

He examined the box, though it seemed he had done so many times before. He knew somehow that he would find no openings, no gaps, no crevices. Seamless. But the surfaces were comfortable. The environment perfectly so. Room to stand and stretch. Room to lie down comfortably. But no exit. One side was crystal clear glass. He turned his back to it. He knew it couldn't be broken... he must have tried before... seemed to remember that... from long ago, maybe? He knew they could see him, those people out there... he knew that too.

But he struggled to remember why. And how long. Each day was as if it was the first, and yet as though it were one of very, very many. He couldn't remember how many.

He was completely naked. Always. He couldn't remember not being naked... ever! So why did he feel embarrassment? Was it because the others out there were not? Only him. His body was beautiful, perfectly so. He knew because he had seen it... his reflection in the glass if the light was right. And the images - he knew they were of him.

They were there now, looking at him. He could sense it by the subtle change in light, people near the glass, looking in. Eyes roaming over his naked body, pausing, curious, staring without shame at his firm young buttocks. He turned to see who was there. Not that he would know them. It was always different ones. He didn't even know who he was... did he have a name? he couldn't remember that... as if it mattered.

Women. Always only women. The glass wall faced a walkway along a street. Women, singly or in groups, would stop as they passed. Look him over as they pleased. With curiosity, or amusement. Some with studious fascination. They spoke to each other, or laughed, or pointed out parts of his body and seemed to discuss it. He couldn't hear anything they said, only see the expressions. At the moment there were three of them, apparently a mother and two daughters, it seemed to him. He sat up and they looked expectantly at him. He needed to stretch, so he slowly stood with his back to them. Glancing back, he could see them looking him over, top to bottom, taking in every detail of his physique, casually discussing it.

He turned to face them. He felt deeply embarrassed and blushed. He could see they were not. Their eyes roamed his chest, belly, legs. Then focused on his genitalia. They seemed to have a conversation about his intimate parts, in an educational sort of manner. Though he felt shame, he didn't bother to cover. He seemed to remember having done this many times. Watched by many others. It was always new, somehow, yet always familiar. It puzzled him. And often aroused him, to have them ogle his privates. As he stood naked before them, fully displayed, his penis began to stir, tingle, lengthen. The women watched intently as the pens in front of them slowly expanded, twitched, lurched upward in increments, changing as they observed it. Now it was raised to horizontal, pointing its tip right at them, the smooth pink glans beginning to emerge from the hood of skin around it. It continued to extend upward, the hood sliding back as it grew, until the bell shaped head was totally exposed to their scrutiny.

Watching them as they watched him always made him feel very aroused. he couldn't help it. It seemed that it had happened so many, many times before, but he felt as embarrassed and nervous as if it were his first time. He didn't understand why that was either.

The older woman seemed to be explaining this display of arousal to the younger two, like a mother teaching daughters, as if they had never seen such a thing in their lives. She was pointing out every detail to them, with no hint of embarrassment... just matter-of-factly. The younger two were fascinated and amused. They could see his embarrassment, and it didn't phase them at all. they studied his responses.

His penis pulsed and strained, fully engorged now. He tingled with maximum arousal. He thoroughly relished the exposure, the eager examination, the curiosity n their faces. But it embarrassed him as well. It was a sensation of vulnerability, a total negation of privacy, constantly exposed to all.

Something about it made them suddenly laugh. Had they shared a joke? They took a last look at his needy throbbing erection, shook their heads laughingly, shrugged - and walked on - leaving him gazing after them. Soon others took their place to watch him.

He knew there were images. He didn't remember how he learned that. He knew it didn't matter which way he faced. Images of his body, from any side, could be projected on screens along the wall beyond the glass. He couldn't see them, but knew they were there. He thought he recalled seeing a reflection of them in the glass of a passing vehicle... ah, that was it. There must be lenses in the walls of the box, but he couldn't find them. His body had no privacy... no way to hide it. People on the street could see him from many angles at once because of the vid screens.

He was young and virile, easily aroused, in manly prime. He had frequent vigorous arousal and no way to conceal it. And only ONE way to relieve it! He often held out as long as he could manage. Many of the women who watched seemed to know about his struggle to contain his passion, waiting and teasing him to the brink of endurance, to see if he would capitulate to his burning need and perform his pleasure before them. If he did, they could see from many angles, no matter where he turned. The way he touched himself, the jiggle of his balls, flexing of his buttocks, the spurt of pearly liquid from his prick, and the passionate expressions on his face. They saw everything. Eventually it became too intense... he had to do it... and let them watch!

*****

He knew that he was sometimes outside the box. Whenever he awoke, he was always clean and well groomed. The box was clean. He was perfectly healthy and felt well fed, though he didn't remember eating. He must eliminate, but didn't recall it. No memory of any of those things They must happen outside the box, but he couldn't remember being out of it. Things must happen during his sleep cycle. Someone must take him from the box! But he had no knowledge of when, how, or by whom any of it was done.

Sometimes the box was in a different place... or was it another box? Did he get moved to other places to be displayed? He had faint memory of other surroundings, other people, another street. Another city?

But always only women. He never saw other males outside the glass. Why?

He slept.

*****

He was awake. The light was different. Curious, he looked about quickly. The box was glass on every side, except the floor. It was in a public square or plaza, approachable from all sides. He was in a seated position against one side. No room to lie flat. Different. Had he been in this box before? can't remember.

He stood to examine his surroundings. He could be seen from all sides, without images. But they were there anyway, screens on pedestals around the plaza. He could see them... they were of him. Women were gathering to look at him, and the vid screens. Close-up views of body parts, magnified. Intimate parts. Women were perusing them like an art gallery, discussing in detail every minute facet.

Again it was only women. No male in sight. What did all this mean? What was the purpose of displaying him in such a manner in such places? And why was he always naked? Why were women always observing him, with such curiosity and amusement?

He often felt he was displayed like artwork. Was that the purpose? Were any others displayed as he was? Their reactions sometimes gave him the impression that they had never seen a man naked before! Yet there were obviously women of many ages. Mothers. Daughters. Grandmothers. All showing curiosity as though seeing male anatomy for the very first time... something totally new and unusual to them. Studying the shape, form, function of them. Fascinated by his every movement.

Today, he was aroused even more than usual. Many women he had never seen, who had never seen him, all in one place. Encircling his glass case. Examining enlarged images of his totally engorged penis. As though they had never seen one before! Not with just an erotic interest, but a more detached scientific, curious interest. As if examining a museum piece.

Suddenly a thought came to him. Historic interest? Historic and scientific interest, more even than erotic or artistic interest. Could that be it? Whenever he was aroused, they were intrigued and amused... but not aroused!

He noticed he could faintly hear sounds from beyond the box. That was new! Or was it? He listened carefully. There was a loudspeaker, perhaps a recorded voice, explaining the display to the onlookers. Faint, muffled, but he could hear bits of it.

"...final remaining specimen... kept in prime condition... former function... obsolete... physical mating process... before the breakthrough... unnecessary for us now... making such use obsolete..."

"Note the amusing physical responses... sexual appendage becomes excited... eager to perform its function... reaching a point of... loosing ability to resist arousal by the superior gender... succumbing to the need for relief... provides only an entertaining show... no other purpose now."

"...techniques of cell replication... often causes lapses of memory... now over 300 years old... may be able to get a thousand years or more... indefinite preservation may be achieved by then... continued research..."

He could gather enough bits of the narration to piece it together. He must be the final remaining male in a female world! A world that no longer had need of the male or his sexual function. Some kind of advancement had made it unnecessary, and eventually unwanted by the highly advantaged female. Woman could continue on without the obsolete male, which could not continue without Woman!

His was the last human penis! A curiosity, an amusement. Nothing more! Displayed as a relic of past history, no longer useful to Woman. She neither needed, nor wanted, its function. They found it a lark to amuse themselves by watching the arousal and intense need of the throbbing, twitching, needy male member exposed before them, seemingly begging for their attention. Amused that women of the past allowed such a silly appendage to enter their intimate parts.

His intense arousal could only be satisfied by self-relief, for the interest and amusement of the female onlooker. Kept in perfect condition indefinitely, displayed in a museum case, touring the cities of Woman, naked in his glass box, his sex like an insect under a microscope for study.

He knelt on the floor of the box, gripping his excited penis, breathing heavily after his moment of passion. His efforts left the glass splattered with pearly streaks. His private moment forever made so public! It would happen many more times.

Soon, he slept.

He was awake. He was naked. Always naked! And inside the box. He tried to remember the reason for either of those things...