This is a work of fiction. Copyrights for it are held in the United States, Great Britain and the European Union. If you are under 18, scat.

He came across the gravel and stared into my eyes. All I wanted was some sign, some way to make him understand that it would hurt both of us, I would do nothing to him I would not do to myself. He seemed...pensive, not apprehensive but thoughtful and then, the miracle I hoped might happen, he reached up and slid the glass away and offered me his best tentacle. With my eyes I tried to signal gratitude. Working quickly, I injected myself with Heparin, placed the catheter in my penis, plotted the incision line, had the receiving vessels ready and then cut it off making a conical reception hole for his tentacle.. I almost fainted but I could not give myself a pain suppressant if I could do nothing for him.

It was hard, I was in great pain but I managed to carefully cut his tentacle off a bit above where it joined his body. So little time, racing, pain, I took my penis and began the rigorous task of suturing my sexual organ to where his arm had been and, with the last of my strength, attaching his tentacle where my penis had been, making sure I found the neural canal, the urethra and three principle blood lines...I couldn't even hold up to see if there was blood flow and collapsed.

Time. How much time had passed? I was wet, on the floor, naked but....the tentacle showed signs of blood flow, no tissue rejection, for an animal as intelligent as the octopus their anatomy is amazingly simple, it's what they can do to and with it that is amazing. Fluoresce in coherent patterns that have meaning, control the phosphors on their skin that allows them to change colour quickly to immediately blend in with their surroundings if they were pursued or felt threatened.Their large, bulbous bodies could slide through impossibly small places and now, as I raised my head to look in his tank, he was using two other tentacles to display what had formerly been my penis, as if he knew and understood. I staggered up and used my hands to show him, or I think I was showing him, his tentacle attached to me. And when I touched it....I could feel my hand or I could feel the pressure or the sensation of touch. How I wondered if he could feel the same or have the senses that I had. Stunningly facile, an octopus is able to use a tentacle as the most delicate of probes, especially when hunting for clams, lobsters or other shell fish.

The initial step was done, I had butchered both of us in the oddball notion that-Jesus, this is so selfish-that men could, for their pleasure, cut off their cocks and have it regrown for them by an octopus and as to the men accepting a tentacle....I could find no studies that suggested what might happen to a tentacle that was attached to another species, out of water and was suffused with what to it was alien blood. My cock...I had to give him something, it was only fair. I knew he could regenerate a new arm but..I'd cut his off as I had cut mine off, the only parity was to allow him to have mine. Surely it would die but...if it did not...I could not even grasp the permutations of what it would mean if he could accept my organ, nurture it, save it for me and beyond that...

I moved my cot into the small lab where the tank was, only went out at night to get food-for both of us-and minded his health in so far as we knew anything about the internal problems that might trouble him. Being there, next to his home if something were to go wrong I would try to .... I didn't know what but if he died then so I would have to also. In his tank, in his element. Two dead things finally not quite able to accept the differences.

But as the days spiraled out, we were living, continuing to accept a part of another. At six weeks I found I could get a form of erection and had control in a limited way over the suckers on the underside of his arm, my arm, our arm. In the tank, my penis had seemed to grow a bit, no longer just hung like a freshly caught piece of vermin on a fence. It seemed to.....move in concert with the other seven or at least it tried. The glans would make an effort to secure itself was longer. The arm I'd removed was about eight inches in length, my penis perhaps, flaccid, five and a half inches but now-I measured, it was approaching seven inches and there were indistinct circles on the under side, vestigial suckers or were they vestigial? Was my cock growing the ability to clutch things? His arm, attached to me frequently circled about, fondled my testicles, seemed puzzled by the hole that was my navel, would lie straight down and almost flatten itself when relaxed.

More time. How much, I do not know, things inside were of such importance that I measured how time passed in events, in lengths of accomplishments not just simple minutes, hours and days. I'd slip into his tank and we'd be together, fondling each other. Some times he'd take several of his arms and do what seemed to be a full body examination of me which I interpreted to mean I should do the same. He was fascinated with my testicles, seemed to sense my pain when they were either wound too hard or pulled away too far. The first time Dave-I gave him my name-found he could cause an erection, then, somewhat after that, if other tentacles stroked it, it felt...good. Or seemed to. His phosphors arranged themselves in color and designed that had previously been observed as indicating comfort, perhaps pleasure when mating or consuming food. There was no sperm to be ejected, a problem we both faced. His arm had found that stimulating my testicles sent pleasures through a neurological system but also led to frustration as it seemed to know something more should have happened.

And I began to wonder....I knew the male planted eggs in the female using a tentacle. Did that equate to a human male ejaculating? There was only one way to find out and that was to find a female octopus that was in the mating stage.

I drove to the bay, quietly and out of sight put on my wet suit, flippers the rest of my SCUBA gear but found a problem; Dave's arm was too big to fit and so I made an opening and let it swim in the water. I'd chosen a time to enter when the sun was coming up and life on the sea bottom was beginning to move. Suddenly Dave's arm jerked me, stiffened and seemed to indicate a direction. I followed where it was leading and under a ledge was...a female octopus already surrounded by suitors but I frightened them away, Dave drew me along and went for her, inserting his arm in her chiton, releasing, or seeming to release sperm to fertilize her eggs. At least some wisps of milky white slipped out of her...what other conclusion could I reach? Whether it had actually done so or not....I felt powerful, like a stud who has conquered a mare.

Dave's arm had in those few moments extended to, easily thirteen inches and seemed to be wholly in control of itself.But back in the tank? What about my penis? Regretting that I could not take the female with me, I hurried back to my lab to see what, if anything, had transpired. Stripping, I got in the tank and Dave flew through the water to me. My penis attached to him and his tentacle attached to me wound around the other seven, greeting each other, examining each other. They seemed pleased to be reunited even doing to each other what had been done to them by my hand and other tentacles, giving sexual satisfaction by stroking the other member.But they were frustrated, something was missing or, rather, something more was missing. With the experience of having just planted a seed for procreation my penis/arm knew what it formerly had that completed the cycle; My testicles. Dave and Dave's arm seemed to rub each other, phosphors blinked a code, three tentacle turned toward me and, painfully, ripped into my nut sack and took a testicle and placed it inside Dave's body cavity. The salt water seemed to slightly cauterize my scrotum and I still had one ball....

Time passed, I could no longer wear clothes in the lab save when out of stark necessity someone had to be there. When we had company, Dave secreted him self in one of his nests or under some rocks in his home and, of course, I was covered. The sight of one fifteen inch tentacle and only one ball hanging down would have been too difficult to explain indeed I didn't want to have to explain it. And then the miracle....given the regenerative powers of the arm, I seemed to grow one new testicle and then another and another...finally eight in a gigantic sack. In his home, Dave, too, had testicles descending from his center, eight balls in a sack but were they fertile and if they were, what would they produce?

Impossible I thought and yet....I prepared a Petri dish for cultivation and took Dave's arm, no my very large penis, and started to masturbate it. Apart from rubbing it or holding it, I'd never thought to use it as I would have used myself but now, I did. The tentacle/penis had grown enough in circumference that I needed two hands. First slowly, just to see if I had any sense of sexual feeling and when I did, the arm got harder and extended as if it were looking for a female. I glanced at the tank, my penis, now equally as long as his arm, was being maneuvered and the animal itself was deriving pleasure, or seemed to. And then we shot, not quite simultaneously but very close. I was overwhelmed by an orgasm in keeping with the size of all my balls and my gigantic penile arm. In his tank, Dave seemed a bit taken aback as well.

In the Petri dish I collected some of what I had ejaculated and looked at them under the microscope...wrigglers, the spermatozoa of life! And with that we'd accomplished my goal, my overly ambitious, utterly ridiculous goal.Men could now be castrated or have their penis removed almost unendingly and in what ever manner they wished knowing that it could all be regenerated again. For those who liked to be nutted, now you could so with no sense of, what? Buyers remorse? You could have a cock and balls or several cocks and balls lopped off and, eventually do it all over again. Or you could keep your new Tentenis-as I called it-and enjoy a cock like almost no other.

Over two years Dave and I experimented. Knowing that properly done, tissue rejection was not an issue, we each grew dozens of arms, dozens of ball sacs. We'd"castrate" ourselves, put in an embryonic set of nuts or arm and in time, there would be a new set ready to be removed in whatever manner one chose. The height of castration fetishism, myriad deballings and, if that way didn't suit you, then try another, just attach your volunteer balls and away you go.

In octopus years, Dave was an old man and it was clear he could not last. One day his color was slate grey and his tentacles seemed to only listlessly move.Immediately I got into the tank, settled deep enough with an air hose to be with him. I took one of his tentacles, ran it over his original and tried to make him understand my gratitude. He did.Several of his arms weakly surrounded me and then it was over. I sat there, my buddy in my arms and gave him a hug....which forced out two hundred new Daves, his final gift to me.

That was ten years ago and, as we all now know, I run a highly successful castration and penectomy service with a rapidly growing clientele. I, myself, still have Dave's original arm although I've had to do some judicious pruning. While it's interesting to have, potentially, an eighteen inch dick that can lift laptops, it's also distracting to others. I keep him around twelve inches and, in my office or my lab, generally don't wear clothes below the waist. But some days as I walk through the facilities watching our clientele have all manner of castrations and penectomies performed, I still miss my old pal and those first days when I wondered what happened. Well, now I know. Our symbol, an octopus, adorns our shops all around the world where men can come in, select a manner of excision-from fantastical to surgical-and know they can change their mind. Some have said I'm a demon, in league with Satan, dealing in unnatural things and, in my mind, perhaps I am. But somewhere in the ether I can see Dave using my cock to look for clams and shell fish as he can know his tentacle is a natural breeder and I do not think either of us is concerned with the criticisms of others. Just the other day I was "snipped" as part of a cowboy scene; I was part of a line of bull calves, was pulled forward, banded, branded and let loose. My nuts should fall off in a few days and then it will be time to have the seeds for a new pair. I wonder, next time.....So many ways I haven't tried...




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