Ian’s bony limbs reached to pick up one of the magazines. His creamy child-like index finger brushed over the cover showing a brown-eyed girl about to fellatio a man. Ian’s lips parted mysteriously, and I felt a vague tingling in my loins.

“Oh, dear god,” I thought to myself, or was that Ian?

He grabbed another; two women on the cover tangled together like snakes, staring at Ian with fiery eyes. Another – a woman with dark eyes and a soft expression gazed out from the page, cherry lips parted, her body hard and the color of bronze. Her perfect roundness sent a jab through Ian, and I felt it. He dropped them all to the floor breathless, his eyes locked blankly on the wall, lost to himself, his innocence blasted away by a radiance so bright it left only a trace of his primordial self, oozing toward the floor to merge with all the brazen women in their silk coverings, photographed years ago, in rooms with lights and men with cameras attempting vainly to recapture this moment, when they were young, still boys, seeing the awesome beauty of women for the first time, and totally subsumed by the shock of their instinctive unformed desire.

After a moment, Ian blinked his pale green eyes and looked down at the magazines. I counted twenty-two in all. He scooped them back into the box haphazardly then took them all outside. I followed him into his bedroom. He stripped naked, limb by limb, then stared at himself in the mirror; his body traced a delicate line from his feet to his head. His finger-like toes gripped the carpet as he stood, his belly and organs splayed out, and his fingers caressed the length of his chest, worked their way down his entire center, through the tangle of hair at his groin and smoothed over his growing pink effulgence.

You humans are lucky. All us cats have is this spiny little thing that’s built for a single purpose. We can’t lay claim to the multi-purpose nature of the human erectile appendage. Few things in nature are quite so varied and prodigious… well, unless you’re a horse, or a rhinoceros, or something like that.

I watched for minutes as Ian fumbled around with it, like a puppy with a bone. He praised himself through the mirror, eyes dilated, striking one pose after another, as if mimicking those women in the magazines.

Then he sat down on the edge of his bed, holding himself with one hand while reaching for one of the magazines. He pulled it open and quickly flipped through the pages. All the while the sparkling intensity in my head grew until it almost filled the space between my ears so that I could hear it crackle, while underneath that sound, the drumming of Ian’s heart grew louder and more rapid.

By now his penis seemed huge, intensely red, and the tip of it glistened with a kind of dew. I had never seen this before, and Ian seemed transfixed with it. He brushed it off with his fingers, then teased out its viscosity, staring intensely at it. He tested it with his tongue. I watched, perched on his dresser, as his face began emanating a rose-colored glow that radiated from his core and spread outside his skin as he studied the goo between his fingers, sensing its importance but not knowing what it was as he gripped himself ever tighter. The thing expanded. The head turned purple.

As I studied, I could clearly see Ian was weighing in his mind how to proceed. He studied the shadow of his engorged cock on the wall and listened as the growing fire in his loins whispered there was a reward yearning to be released, if he only knew how to unlock it.

He stood again, admiring himself in the mirror, his legs and feet planted like tree roots in the floor. He grabbed himself again, and driven by the growing fire in his body, began pulling; slowly at first for several minutes, then gaining speed and intensity until he was fast hammering down on himself. His face became red and furious. I laughed. He looked like a crazed albino monkey whipping himself half to death.

This went on for half an hour. Over several desperate attempts the boy became frustrated and exhausted. He doubted his senses. Was he doing it, right? What was wrong? His fiery loins goaded him, like a master whipping a slave. His pleasure tormented him, consumed him, and seemed without end. If only he could bring this fire to some ultimate cessation he would find relief.

He flailed again, and stammered around the room like a drunk man, at one point tumbling off the bed and nearly knocking over the lamp on his bedside table. He wound up on the carpet. He seemed lost with the futility of his efforts, until finally the fire rose from the base of his spine, radiated through his anus, and spread all the way down his toes. I watched his body grow flush, his muscles tense. His neck strained and became red, as the fire lurched its way up his root and finally exploded out of him. First semen ripped out of the boy and sent him arching backward on the floor, shocking him with spasms. He cried out in pleasure, amazement, and disbelief, afraid he had possibly done something to hurt himself.

He sat up, feeling triumphant, and studied the pearly goo spattered on his legs, chest, and belly. The fire at last was beginning to dim. Relief and new knowledge spread over him like a blanket. But lingering doubts began to mount. As his erection faltered then disappeared, his penis was left horribly enlarged. It laid still red, gross and fleshy against his leg like a cancerous tumor – an unsightly side effect of too much self-flagellation.

“Holy shit! What have I done?” Gripped by the terrifying certainty he had broken himself, and that his penis would never be the same, Ian stood, staring at himself and shaking. From this moment his life would be an aberration. His doctor would laugh at him. His school locker-room appearances would make him the subject of endless ridicule. His mother would be ashamed. He would never have a girlfriend. He would never be a man. Out in the world, no matter how he dressed, he would never be able to hide the fact of his stupidly self-inflicted deformity.

“Don’t worry,” I said back to him, “my first human used a suction pump. Poor fellow couldn’t go two weeks without making himself look like some freakish anthropoidal elephant. It’ll return to normal in a day or so. So just relax.” Ian locked eyes with me, amazed. “And congratulations!” I mewed, “You’re a man, now.” I sat up straight with tail curled around my haunches, purring and regarding Ian rather proudly, I have to say.

Ian gaped incredulously, no longer worried about his deformed dick. He was staring at me. “Simon…” he said, lifting a trembling finger in my direction. “You can talk??!”

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