When he woke, he found himself in the familiar surroundings he'd grown accustomed to over the last few days… or had it been weeks? He couldn't be certain. But something was different, for when he tried to move his arms and legs he couldn't. Looking down, he realized he was lying prone strapped to a table, wrapped tightly in what must've been several rolls of duct tape. He could see that he was naked, courtesy of the pillow beneath his head, and that his legs were spread a part in a 60-degree angle, fixed to a workman's sawhorse on either side. In his mouth, a rubber ball-gag, secured with leather straps. A sheen of sweat coated his brow as fear penetrated every nook and cranny—down to his very core.

"Good evening, Paul."

His blood curdled at the sound of that familiar, metallic rasp. Paul tried to move so that he could see the demon behind him but found he couldn't turn his head more than an inch on either side.

"Paul I must commend you. You've come such a long way on your journey, and you've worked so very, very hard. Tonight, I am going to help you with your transformation."

Shivering, Paul tried to speak, spitting unintelligibly around the gag. He heard the sound of squeaking wheels rolling across the dirt floor behind him. He watched through his peripheral as Dr. Lecter, clad in green surgical garb, pushed a metal cart to the far side of the table, stopping at his feet. Paul froze in horror—what is happening?!… Wait what—what's he doing? Oh God… Oh fucking-shit-Christ God, fucking shit God oohhhh Christ oh fucking Goodddd...

Humming, Dr. Lecter began setting up his workstation, carefully laying out his tools. On the table beside him he placed a large rectangular mirror, positioning it so that Paul could see. Once finished, Dr. Lecter plugged a bag of saline solution into an IV that—Paul noticed—had already been inserted into his arm. Retrieving the folded chair, he seated himself in the space between Paul's legs, taking care to adjust the mirror so that Paul's view would not be obstructed.

Staring directly into his undercarriage, Paul could barely make out the tip of his own penis, so far had it retreated into himself. He was sweating profusely now, muttering desperate pleas into the gag. Dr. Lecter donned a pair of latex gloves, snapping the cuff against his wrist.

"If you're being honest with yourself, Paul, I think you'll find these have been nothing but a distraction."

He gestured to each of Paul's testicles with the scalpel. Paul was beside himself now, crying loudly, his chest heaving… heaving… He thought he might throw up… wished he would throw up. If he could do that it would be over... please God... God…. PLEEASSEEE…

"And we wouldn't want anything distracting you along your journey to becoming your purest self, now would we?"

Tears streamed down his face as he screamed in gut-wrenching desperation. I'll do anything God I'll do anything oh God… OH GOD PLEAAAASE…

Dr. Lecter smiled. "That's what I thought."

Dr. Lecter injected a syringe into Paul's nether region. He decided in favor of using a localized anesthetic, having determined the risk of losing consciousness would be too great without. And it wouldn't do for him to miss the show…

"Listen carefully, Paul." Dr. Lecter paused, locking eyes. "I'm going to begin now. Don't look away, or I'll be forced to remove your eyelids."

He held up a small pair of sewing scissors for effect before donning his surgical mask and positioning the light.

"Okiedokie..."

Down to business, Dr. Lecter made the first incision, splitting his scrotal sac down the middle. Paul screamed, thrashing helplessly beneath the gag. Humming, Dr. Lecter exteriorized the testes from the sac, splaying them in his hands. Paul's eyes rolled back, as he bucked in a seizing, retching motion.

"Paul… Paaauuuul…"

Dr. Lecter picked up the sewing scissors, snipping them curtly in the air. Paul opened his eyes widely, all red and puffy.

"Do pay attention."

Wasting no time, Dr. Lecter cut the vas deferens, separating the testes. He removed each testicle—plopping them one by one into a mason jar containing a liquid that smelled like vinegar. Staring at the remnants of his manhood, Paul sobbed—big salty tears streaming down his face, while Dr. Lecter took care to remove the excess skin before stitching up his empty scrotum. He allowed Paul the kindness to indulge himself in a moment of silent self-pity. Checking his watch as he sewed the last stitch, he assessed the localized anesthetic would be wearing off shortly. Dr. Lecter walked to the workbench and retrieved the pair of garden sheers.

"What should we do about your penis, Paul? I bet you'd like to keep it, wouldn't you."

Dr. Lecter's voice cut through the depths of human misery like a blade. He had thought… he had thought it was over!? He wrestled against his bonds with every last ounce of strength he possessed, screaming with renewed vigor against the gag, words that sounded like 'No… pleeeaaaassseee, PLEEAASSSE NOOOOOO'!

"Shall we flip a coin?"

Dr. Lecter walked in circles around the 'operating table', idly tossing a quarter into the air and catching it in his palm. Paul struggled hopelessly against his bonds… begging… SCREAMING apologies into the gag, making promises to GOD IN HEAVEN— He would repent his sins, he would be a better man… he would make it right.. make it right to allllllll the women… ALL of them. His wife—God his fucking twit, sandbag of a wife—what he wouldn't give to even fuck her again. Fuck'er one last time, say he's sorry, sooorrryyyyyyyyyyyyy…

Dr. Lecter flipped a quarter into the air a final time, smacking it on his arm.

"Do you think He's listening, Paul?" Dr. Lecter grinned, eyes glistening. "Heads or tails?"

Sobbing, Paul pleaded incomprehensibly.

"I'm sorry Paul I can't understand you. Did you say tails?"

Eyes bulging, Paul screamed against the gag… 'Nooo, NOOOOOOOOOOO'! Dr. Lecter lifted his hand, smiling as he showed Paul the coin.

"Heads, I'm afraid."

With one cut, Dr. Lecter cleanly severed Paul's penis, waving the sad flesh in front of his face before placing it in the jar. He closed his eyes and listened to the high-pitched scream that followed—surely testing the limits of human capacity, sweeter than any song. But alas, there was more work to be done before daylight. Dr. Lecter filled a syringe and injected it into the IV port. As the sedative took hold, Paul's last conscious thought was of how the blood spurting from his loins looked almost like an ejaculation.

Dr. Lecter placed the jar in the cooler he'd brought from the house. Picking up the cranial saw, he set himself to the next task…

And that's it, dear reader… ta ta for now… ;)