Flashes of Eternity

"Girls, girls!" the lecturer interrupted the class. "Let's hear what our castrated friend here has to say. I'm sure this will provide us with a.. unique.. insight."

All eyes were on me. Obviously, it would be difficult to hide a secret of that magnitude, especially in a place pretty much controlled by one of the Prophet's puppets.

I knew the unfolding scenario all too well.

"Well," I began after taking a deep breath.

I was sure I represented the innermost fantasies for many women in the class.. a closet dominatrix bent on humiliating anything with a penis, perhaps? There was me, a perfect example that fantasy was no longer an impossible, if not deviant, construct. It was right here, right in front of them.

I kept imagining how many copycats of the Prophet could there be, coming alive, in that very classroom. A scary thought indeed.

With that in mind, I finally said, "I'd rather keep my manhood than trade it for a pussy pass."

The situation was so surreal most women did not utter a single sound.

"Thank God there are no men here," I thought to myself. "Women seem to be more civilized in handling sensitive matters. Unless you step on their toes, that is."

Little did I know; girlish hell was about to break loose.

"The Prophet," one woman almost yelled as if nobody could hear her. "He probably was a psychopath, you know!"

"She's right!" another one quickly added. "People think they're axe-wielding maniacs but this just isn't the case!"

For some strange reason, I imagined my manhood transforming into a literal cock and flying away. Just do not ask me why.