Mykola Dementiuk books and e-books, in-print or out-of-print, look under Amazon for those currently available

Holy Communion is a rite-of-passage novel that follows a seven-year-old boy's first communion preparations and celebration. Throughout the four-day period the boy deals with cruel nuns, sadistic babysitters, his mother's unfortunate accident, a drunken father, plus a pedophile or two, but finds a way to cope in the midst of so much tragedy-first by indifference, later by defiance and rebellion. He also discovers that his urban surrondings in New York City give him autonomy, comfort, and satisfaction. Holy Communion is full of the boy's dispair and self-questioning, along with the author Mykola Dementiuk's powerful insights into the human condition.

"Mick Dementiuk writes stories of the day when Times Square was all about sex, drugs, and cold spit ... about coming of age inside the just-burgeoning hardcore movie houses of the 1960s. It's... vivid. Harsh, real, and yes, erotic." -Susie Bright. 

Here is a landmark book - the first print publication of seventeen stories by Mykola Dementiuk, one of the most distinctive voices in queer literature. Sixteen were published individually on the web as short ebooks; "Missy the Sissy" has never appeared anywhere before. Included are: "On the Prowl," "Times Square Cutie," "Eighteen Today." "Trio At the Movies," "Love for Sale" and a dozen others. Times Square Queers also features a moving and penetrating personal introduction about growing up queer in the 1960s, amid the sleazy porn theaters and bars crowding Times Square that had become a gay mecca. 

"Mykola's stories of ... the delights and depressions of young men living difficult lives in imperfect times... do a magnificent job of drawing us into the character's heads." Bibrary Bookslut. 

Mykola's New York is "...very gritty, with a cosmopolitan impersonality about it; impersonal relationships, impersonal sex, and the-devil-take-the-hindmost ethos. [His work is] eagerly recommended." -Gerry B's Book Reviews.

No one has ever chronicled the sexual adventures and misadventures of Manhattan's gayest men like Mykola Mick Dementiuk.

'Mick goes where others seem afraid to go—to the dingy and dirty side of New York City, to the world of hustlers and drag queens and those somewhere in between and he never fails to give us a good story. Dementiuk does not hold back and he writes about everything and is eroticism is quite bold." -Amos Lassen

“I recommend Mykola Dementiuk … Mick has been called “the bard of 42nd Street … his works are not for the squeamish nor for those who insist on fairy tale endings … he’s more a shot of Jack than a sip of champagne.” -Gay Book Reviews

LAMBDA LITERARY AWARD WINNER BEST GAY EROTICA

“Mykola Dementiuk goes where others seem afraid to go.” –Amos Lassen

It’s New York City in the 1950’s when Timmy discovers his own sexuality. But he’s aroused by men and women, which confuses him. Then Timmy meets Dickie, who likes to take young men under his wing, and Dickie's current young protégé, Shelly. But Dickie is abusive. His attraction turns to Shelly, but who wants nothing to do with him.

Timmy is also seduced by an older Polish woman, an acquaintance of his mother’s. Confused by his own desires, Timmy returns to his favorite activity – cruising the pathways of NY City’s Tompkins Square Park. Will Timmy accept his sexuality without fear or shame? Or does he risk losing himself to his own hungry desires?

“Dementiuk does not hold back, and he writes about everything, and his eroticism is quite bold. I believe that it is his boldness that makes Dementiuk such a wonderful read. We read it and it is over and we move on except for one small it is not easy to move on because everything is so real – and he never fails to give us a good story.” –Amos Lassen

An astonishing novel about the fate of gays, gypsies, Jews, and other outsiders under the Nazi regime that is a metaphor for the inevitable fate of all outsiders under the rule of dictators, whether of the right or of the left.

Vienna Dolorosa takes place during a one-day time period - March 12,1938, the day Hitler invades Austria - in an Inner City hotel managed by a transvestite and doubling as a brothel for men who like boys dressed up as girls. old from the perspectives of various hotel personnel and guests, brothel employees and clientele, a talkative Viennese official, German police, Nazi SS, and a darling street boy Petya. Not for the faint of heart, Vienna Dolorosa includes

“A look into the bizarre side of things, never mentioned due to the major events occurring otherwise. "Vienna Dolorosa" is a novel about Hitler's invasion of Austria, as told from the perspective of a transvestite brothel in Vienna. An unusual story filled with unsavory characters and the grittier aspects of humanity, "Vienna Dolorosa" is a skillfully written and intriguing tale, sure to please historical fiction lovers looking to read something different.” -Midwest Book Review

"100 Whores" documents Mykola Dementiuk's trysts with New York City street hookers during the 1960s and 70s in vignettes of one or two pages. Other stories in the anthology include five short whore stories plus "The Christmas Whore," a novella with an O. Henry ending. These additional stories come from the author's experience and psycho-sexual imagination, and we can live vicariously because of his realistic portrayals of the seedy side of Manhattan.

New York City in the late 1960's. Just in his twenties, Billy has left his life on the streets behind and now works in the stockroom at Doubleday's on 5th Avenue, a job he's held for over a year. But when he meets his supervisor, Timmy Jennings, at a Times Square movie theater one Friday night, what does the man think of Billy's life of easy sex? Billy's world is rocked when Timmy seduces him in the movie theater, then brings him home. Can Billy settle in with Timmy, his lover and protector, in his new home? Will he be able to manage his promotion to bookstore clerk even as it pulls him away from his friends in the stockroom and ensnares him in the tangle of egos and emotions on the sales floor? And can he come to grips with his newly-admitted queerness and let himself love Timmy?

A graphic dark, coming-of-age story set in New York's infamous Times Square during the 50s and 60s.Introduced to sexual feelings at an early age, protagonist Richard Kozlovsky continues on a path shared by many children who have been touched in a sexual way by an adult, a path of frequent masturbation, exhibitionism, and other precocious sexual behavior. Ricky grows up in spite of his hard life in a Catholic school, teasing by his classmates, and trying to survive on the streets of Manhattan with sexual predators at every turn. Frequenting the Times Square movie theaters as a teen, Ricky finds a way to supplement his meager existence and later meets the women who will introduce him to the world of women, intimacy, and love. In between he questions his sexuality: is he a faggot? is he a whore? where does he fit in?

It's love at first sight when Vinnie sees Sissy Godiva -- who used to be his high school classmate, Joey. She’s feminine and beautiful in her fluttery halter tops, tight leggings, and beehive hairdo. Vinnie sees her everywhere he goes in the Lower East Side that free-love '60s summer. He's half in love with her, though he isn't queer, “no stinking way.”

He tells his neighbor, Mr. Phillips, about her during one of their afternoon jerk-off sessions. When it turns out Mr. Phillips knows Sissy, Vinnie invites her over so they can all jerk-off together -- just three guys doing what they have to do, right? No touching. No emotions. Nothing “faggoty.”

But Vinnie finds himself being pulled closer and closer to Sissy, hanging with her and her trannie friends, visiting the Giddy Up! gay bar with her, having sex and waking up naked beside her in the East River Park. Sissy’s mercurial temper doesn’t make her easy to get along with, and Vinnie isn't a queer.

Are Vinnie and Sissy meant for each other? How can Vinnie keep her when everybody in the Lower East Side wants her? Is he just infatuated -- or is he really queer?

"There was a time (and still is) when gay men who frequented public bathrooms looking for sex were known as 'Tea Room Queens'. There is something exciting about the danger of having sex in a public place, and Mykola Dementiuk tells us all about it.

"That period of wild bathroom sex is somewhat behind us and one of the reasons could be, like Dementiuk says, the [comparative] lack of public bathrooms today. There was a time when bathrooms were used for more than just the calls of nature and people would come in, do what they had to do, practice a little masturbation (either alone or with someone else) and then disappear in to the city. Words were not spoken, nor did they have to be. There were men who would make the rounds of the bathrooms ('tea rooms') every day and usually without the need to actually use the facilities. There was something about the danger and the anonymity that turned people on.

"It was quick sex that ended as quickly as it began. It was easy enough, as we learn here: all a man had to do was go in and ...stand there. It was not long before the party would begin. Dementiuk takes us back to the golden days and captures it like it was. Like the way Dementiuk writes—a bit wild, a bit sexy and altogether wonderful."

It’s a new city, with new dreams…but will he be able to forget the old and start anew? A young man arrives in NYC and rents an apartment from Dee Dee Day…who gives him a little bit more than he expected—love, passion, sex with her…or is that with him?

Richard doesn't think he's one of those queers. Or is he?

When Ralphie kisses him in the park, then invites him home, new sensations open up in Richard's life. Soon he wants more than kissing -- he wants kissing, and something harder and stickier, too. But a young man on the verge of accepting his sexuality has much to learn about men, and there are all kinds of men in the world.

Follow Richard as he drifts from the park into the gay heart of Greenwich Village and back again. There he meets Mr. James, who might just be the man who will take Richard all the way.

Giving up the old for the new means drastic changes…a new apartment, new friends, new lovers, and maybe even, a new sex change? But has he changed that much to accept these changes so readily when he knows that there are even more drastic changes waiting for him?

 Another masterpiece of Times Square in its gay heyday by the two-time Lambda Award winning author.

I looked out the window on to 42nd Street. The crowd was still walking up and down the crazy, forgotten boulevard. Prostitutes, transvestites, hookers and hustlers of every sort, paraded and marched back and forth on the hectic sidewalk, looking for another trick as they struggled through the dawning hours.

Where would they sleep it off tonight, some shabby Single Room Occupancy where they could just pass out for a few hours of troubled sleep, or in a lavish soft Park Avenue apartment where they could relax and laze in the lovely passing warm morning hours?

New York is like that, seeming to be at one moment a successful businesswoman going after deals, while at other times a deranged whore, slut, trollop, grabbing and stealing whatever she could get from you. I suppose that's why I liked it, the uncertainty of what can suddenly happen, a kiss on the lips or a stab in the back, same difference. In the end, a shrug and another day is stretching, yawning or else going back to sleep.

I noticed the lettered reflection of the window before me, even this high up it showed off what the window contained inside but at this angle, they were all mixed up, a reverse from what they actually spelled. I smiled, the 42nd Street Club, as if someone had forgotten the Jerking-off part.

I smiled again and yawned. Yeah sure, but that's what I'm here for, Jerking-off!

 ON THE PROWL

Take a walk on the wild side with this brand-new novelette by Mykola Dementiuk, the Lambda Award winner for Best Bisexual Fiction for Times Square!  If you like your queer erotica with a taste of the darker parts of life in the Big Apple, then this is a book that will stay with you for a long-long time.  A sexual adventure with a large dash of Latino spice, ON THE PROWL is packed with wild, gender-bending characters looking for a good time ... and something more. Susie Bright says Mykola Dementiuk's Times Square stories capture perfectly "the day when Times Square was all about sex, drugs, and cold spit ... the just-burgeoning hardcore movie houses and girlie shows of Times Square in the 1960s. It's... vivid. Harsh, real, and yes, erotic, in a stomach-churning way. Genuine whoreporn from a time when things were not talked about, at all, in the twilight zone." Book reviews by Crystal describes the Times Square stories as, "Dirty, naughty and very real." 

A woman with nice big breasts is a compliment to the man at her side, but what if her breasts are even bigger than he imagined? Does the sweet compliment turn into a threatening curse? Or two threatening curses?

66 pages, Kindle Edition

First published March 15, 2011

Lambda Award winner for Best Bisexual Fiction's masterpiece of Bi-Noir! Bad boy Billy is a cutie and he loves it. Women and men want him, and he wants them. In fact, Billy's gender is a bit fluid too. He's a boy when he's with his lover Rebecca; and a girl when crossdressed in the arms of a hunky man. Truth is Billy's so hot he's to die for. And before tonight is over, several will. A chance meeting with Rebecca leads to not-so-bright Billy agreeing to help her steal money from her rich older lover. Discovering his dead body, the two make away with his money. Possession of all that money makes Billy horny and he begins to make love to Rebecca. But as they finish, two of Billy's less savory male friends come by and soon Billy and Rebecca switch partners, each going off with one of the men. When Billy's two friends discover his ill-gotten loot, it leads to a moment of horrific violence. And only one will walk away to tell the tale. An unforgettable novella from the author of Holy Communion, Times Queer, and Variety: The Spice of Life. Cover art: Jade.

A walk in Central Park…ah the chirping birds, the thick trees, the ready easy sex. Now who would want to leave that, not a hard-up person, that’s for sure?  55 pages, Kindle Edition

First published March 1, 2011

All he thought he wanted that weekend was some flirting, some excitement and a little sex on the side, but he was trapped when he walked into Connie's arms. A young woman who happened to be not a lover, but a killer who used men like her empty bottles of booze, discarded as another was picked up and drained. Glug…glug…glug…

44 pages, Kindle Edition

First published October 15, 2010

Having left dangerous Times Square a young man finds living in Brooklyn more conducive to his needs until the landlord turns him into a domestic French maid…in more way than just one.

He tries having the daughter…then the mother… because mother always knows better…or does she?

76 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 2011

All students need teachers, someone to nurture and guide them as they grow up in their turbulent years. But what does a tough, NYC kid need that he already doesn't have? Perhaps a little love would be a benefit for both of them, teacher and student, both learning from one another. Is it possible for a young boy to teach and learn from his teacher? The men of Grand Street will learn these lessons, in more ways than just one. But will they get an A+ or a failing F grade? Find out for yourself in the Men of Grand Street.

First published January 1, 2012

It's the early 1970's, and adult movie houses are the go-to places for men looking for something ... different. "Pubes" loves beer and anonymous trysts, though going all the way isn't his thing. Then he meets Todd, a.k.a. "Kinky," who isn't like anyone he's ever known. The man has a few kinks Pubes hasn't encountered before now. When Pubes' drinking takes a turn for the worse, he finds himself lost and alone. Will Kinky even want him back

First published December 2, 2012

"I started going out early with girls and guys, not for sex because at that age, who the hell knew what sex was?"

With those words, Danny's coming-of-age begins. From the gloomy, stifling hallways of high school in the 1960's to the vast expanse of 1970's New York, young Danny explores the complexities of love and lust in the arms of Luba, a girl he believes himself in love with, and then in the company of various men, from whom he learns his true nature.
Raised by a poor, single mother whose upcoming marriage to a second husband threatens Danny's shaky world, Danny finds that accepting -- and ultimately embracing -- the unpredictability and promise of his future means letting go of the past and taking the leap of faith he knows he needs in his journey to maturity.

First published January 22, 2013

Another scorching story of gender-bending, sex, and the quest for freedom from the Lambda Award winning MYKOLA DEMENTIUK at his best. Turning tricks can be a very dangerous profession especially when you're a male crossdresser trying to come on to guys as a hooking female. Your outward appearance may be sweet and feminine but the masculine reality can get your face bashed in, if not something a lot worse. And passing as a female, well, very hard to do yet Connie was made for just that. Being a small framed boy at the age of nineteen and getting all dressed up she could easily pass as a hard-on inducer on the Chicago streets, the men going after her as much as she led them on. Her pretence at being naive and innocent, almost under age and pleading, "But sir, I have never sucked one before, I might do it wrong," only led her to be prodded to her knees and give them a blow-job, pretending to be tricked into doing just that for a few dollars but which was her original intent anyway, the men satisfied as they'd zipper up and scurry off while Connie would just get up and go on to the next unsuspecting customer...

81 pages, Kindle Edition

First published February 21, 2013

Lambda Award winner for Best Bisexual Fiction's masterful collection, stories of certain men who used to stand around in certain locations in Times Square in the old days where they knew they could always find another horny man and instant semiprivacy just a door away in which to act out their desires. Susie Bright says Mylola Dementiuk's Times Square stories capture perfectly "the day when Times Square was all about sex, drugs, and cold spit ... the just-burgeoning hardcore movie houses and girlie shows of Times Square in the 1960s. It's... vivid. Harsh, real, and yes, erotic, in a stomach-churning way. Genuine whoreporn from a time when things were not talked about, at all, in the twilight zone." Book reviews by Crystal describes the Times Square stories as, "Dirty, naughty and very real." Art: M. L. Mars

91 pages, Kindle Edition

First published April 20, 2011

Stories of meeting in bathrooms Published June 4, 2012

Medicus Castrare, chapter 22 of Vienna Dolorosa

 Medicus Castrare 

by

Mykola Dementiuk

chapter 22 of Vienna Dolorosa

Kurt was certain he had an erection. A morning erection; he could feel the stiff penis standing up from his groin, lifting the thin sheet about him, and wondered why morning erections were always so much harder and stiffer than any he could arouse during the day.

He opened his eyes and looked across the ceiling to a small window high up on the wall. The sun shone through the window, and though its bright light fell directly on his eyes and face, Kurt did not squint or turn away and stared into the sunlight as if basking on a park bench or in a country meadow.

He certain his penis twitched again, but it wasn't morning, more like early afternoon. What time was it anyway? Noon? Three in the afternoon?

He looked away from the window and scanned his eyes across the room. He no longer seemed to be in the basement cell, but on a long table in what appeared to be a makeshift laboratory room; obviously the daisy-patterned curtains open at the window were not part of the laboratory-decorating scheme, but maybe the crucifix on the wall was. 

His penis twitched.

Kurt looked at his groin and grimaced. The sheet lay flat across his belly and dipped into the open space between his parted legs. There was no erection; there was no penis. Like people who lose an arm or leg, and years later still reach to scratch an itch on the missing limb, so, too, Kurt felt his missing penis rise up to erection again and ache to be touched; would he, too, years later, try to clasp and jerk at a memory?

He shut his eyes and shook his head from side to side. This should not have happened; not the way it did. He should not have been summarily punished; not without any legal proceedings or judicial order, and certainly not by the police themselves, no matter what Paragraph 175 of the German anti-homosexual laws stated about the punishment for homosexuals. A trial should have held where he could defend himself, protest against the barbarism, the inhumanity, and at least then, if castration had been so ordered, it could have been performed by a trained medical doctor and not by some frightened medical student.

***

Unfortunately for Kurt, the student, showing off the skills and training of the venerable Viennese medical schools, performed too ably. He had injected Kurt with enough anesthesia to ease him into an immobile physical coma, while keeping him conscious and aware of the operation he was undergoing. The student performed expertly, making his painless and almost bloodless incisions beneath the scrotum, removing the testicular sacs, gliding them delicately into a small metal bowl.

But when he tried to stitch up the wound and the police realized what he was doing, the suture was snatched from his hand and he was ordered to continue the surgery, which he protested was not necessary now that the vital sexual sacs had been removed. To his credit as a future healer, he found the personal courage of his medical ethics to stand up to the police and explain that castration did not mean the entire elimination of sexual organs, the penis and scrotum, but rather, the simple removal of the two testicles from the scrotum.

The police weren't having any medical school scheisse crap and ordered the student to get on with it and do what was proscribed by law or face the consequences of being a homo-sympathizer, for which the punishment was most likely the same, and which they certain was codified somewhere in the German law books due to arrive any day now. 

"That's what controls the sex drive," the student naively argued, holding out the metal tray and indicating the little gleaming ballocks. "He won't even get an erection now."

The tray flew out of his hands. Someone hit his head; he fell and heard the clang of metal strike the floor beside him, glimpsing a blood-veined gray ball shimmer in the tray. 

He felt his trouser belt flapping open. "I'll do it!" he screamed, thrashing at the hands at his waist. "Let me go! I'll do it!"

A policeman laughed and knelt on his chest. "I'll do it! I'll do it!" he mimicked, snipping a pair of forceps before the student's face. He grabbed the front of student's shirt and hoisted him to his feet. "You do it!" he glared, thrusting the forceps into the student's groin. "Or I will!" Snip! Snip!

The student whimpered but quickly readjusted his belt, glancing at the floor for a torn-off trouser button, and spotted the mucous puddle of Kurt's testicles. One of the balls had been stepped on in the scuffle and lay smudged in a jellied pool, as the other ball, oval and gleaming, clung to its useless partner by a wrinkled whitish cord. The student gagged. 

"Do it!" ordered the policeman, shoving the student toward Kurt.

The student took the forceps from the policeman and set them down on an instrument tray next to Kurt's shoulders. "A scalpel is needed," he said coldly, holding up a thin long blade for the policeman's inspection.

"Get on with it," snapped the policeman.

The student looked into Kurt's open eyes. He knew the anesthesia was making his patient see everything in a slow dream-like uncomprehension, bewildered images seeming unconnected to other images, pointless, meaningless, as if one step behind the reality of the nightmare. 

The student bent over and examined Kurt's scrotum. A small puddle of blood had gelled under the open emptied sac. The student picked up a small towel and pushed it between Kurt's thighs.

"I'm getting quiet fed with this," the policeman glared at the student.

The student glared back at him. "The law says castration," he said firmly, picking up a sheet of cotton gauze and pressing it to the bleeding scrotum. "Not execution."

He turned his back on the policeman and looked at Karl. "I'm sorry," he said quietly to Kurt's open eyes, holding Kurt's hand and pulling it gently to the penis. The student circled his own hand atop Kurt's limp fingers and gently wrapped them around his flaccid cock. For a moment Kurt, staring at the student, held his penis, then the student let go and Kurt's hand dropped back to the side of the table. 

The student bent over Kurt's groin and lifted the tip of the penis with his thumb and forefinger, tugging at the flabby loose skin around the base of the cock. He deftly touched the sharp scalpel to the stretched separating skin and circled the blade twice, cutting into and pulling up the stretched separating skin. He wiped the bloody edge of the blade on the gauze of Kurt's scrotum, then ran the blade around once more on the skin and freed the penile-sheath from the groin, sliding the soft skin up the cock and pulling it inside out. He made a final incision at the tip of the cock to free the foreskin and held it out of the policeman. 

"Jesus Christ!" someone said, and gagged.

The student casually tossed the at the testicular puddle on the floor and leaned back over Kurt. He examined the raw penile muscle; it was small and shriveled and looked as much an object of sex and pleasure as did an aborted fetus resemble the end result of that sexual pleasure. The student sighed.

"I don't know much about this," he said quietly to himself, squinting and studying the penis. "I'm afraid I might damage the urinary tract."

He looked at Kurt; the man's eyes were open but his face had sagged into a drugged comatose indifference. He gazed back at the student as though uncomprehending and unconcerned over the entire situation; still, the student noticed a lone tear easing out of a corner of the man's eye and flow to his brown stubbled sideburn.

The student looked away, wiped the scalpel, and dipped it in a small jar of alcohol. Once more he lifted the raw penis, certain the drugged torso winced from his searing touch, then cleared his throat. Just as he had done with the covering sheath, he made a few rapid arcing incisions at the base of the groin, moving the blade underneath the cock, then quickly slicing over the top.

The blade cut easily, and the bleeding was intense, but the student wondered at his own expertise and indifference to what he was doing. They had never practiced castration, or mutilation, on the cadavers in school (the subject never came up), yet it was quite simple. Anyone with more than scant anatomical knowledge could discern the proper and improper way of going about it without inflicting too much damage.

Sure, it wasn't as though a brain tumor or cancer cyst was being sought out for removal, but then again, maybe it was. The man was a human being, but what he did with others was disgusting, and anyway, the law was the law. If the police were empowered to enforce the law, it was the student's duty as a medical practitioner to ensure that medical treatment to injured lawbreakers was dispensed as humanely as possible.

That's why he had chosen to intern in the clinic at the prison house and police station, caring for the prisoners who were constantly fighting and beating on each other and for the criminals brought in with various stabbing and gunshot wounds. This was the first time he had been called upon to create a wound rather than mend one.

But the man was a homosexual, caught on his knees with another man's penis in his mouth, in a public lavatory. If it hadn't been for his Party uniform, he probably would have suffered the same fate as his lover and been tossed out of a third-story window. The uniform saved him, but whether it would do him any good afterwards or not was in question. It was up to the student to keep him alive at least till then. 

The student cut, and wondered if perhaps, now that Austria was reuniting with the Fatherland, castration might not become a part of the medical curriculum. It might even lead to a whole new specialization. Medicus Castrare. Doctor of Castration. He might even be called upon to give the first courses. And to write the first textbook. 

The penis came off.

For a moment the student stared at the stared at the severed penis in his fingers as though surprised and unable to recognize what he was holding. Then he shuddered, gagged, and doubled over, dry-heaving and dropping the bloody cock back into Kurt's lap, where the damp warm clump struck Kurt's thigh and slipped down between his legs.

The policeman grabbed the student, spun him around and slapped his face. Kurt tried to move his thighs and shake the unbearable clump away. The policeman snatched it up and grabbed the student's throat, squeezing until the student's mouth opened and he gasped for air. The policeman forced the small red clump into the gagging student's mouth.

Kurt also gagged, and wretched, and saw the knobby bulb of th student's Adam's apple suddenly jut out over the policeman's fingers and just as suddenly ease down again as he swallowed. 

The policeman let go of the student and stared in disbelief into his open mouth. Kurt passed out.

***

When Kurt came to, he was alone, and the window seemed to be growing dark, or so he thought. Once more he glanced at his flattened groin, and he was certain of it: he had an erection. Just as on mornings he was greeted by his stiff cock boring into a bed sheet, a blanket, a pillow end, so too he was certain his penis was once more hardening and rising up between his legs.  

He squinted down at his torso. He was still clad in his Nazi Brownshirt, but his leather chest-belt was missing, the front and sleeve buttons torn off, the breast pocket gouged and ripped. Except for a white sheet covering his groin, his legs and feet were bare.

Kurt again felt the involuntary jerk of his stiff penis, and he pushed down the sheet to look. The blood-dried gauze taped under his belly button had come free in the moist tangle of pubic hairs and curled over itself, reveling the unevenly cut and blood-gelled curve of his rounded crotch.

He touched his stomach and edged his fingers down his groin, wincing at the soft clumps of gelled blood and stiff-pointed suture ends. Someone had sewn him up; the student? Unlikely, after what the policeman did. Kurt groaned and shook his head; they had probably brought in another student to finish the job. 

He moved his fingers lower and felt a few more sutures poking between the moist hairs and scabs. He reached the top of the now useless fleshy flab of his scrotum and realized he had unknowingly inched his fingers over the spot where his penis should have been. 

He screamed out. Though he had witnessed his own castration and mutilation, the anesthesia had somehow held him back from fully comprehending the reality of what was being done to him. Only now did the awareness of the barbaric loss breach into his consciousness and bestir him to anger and rage.

He screamed out again, gripping his empty scrotum, squeezing and pulling it in his fist. The sutures instantly opened, and blood splashed over his fingers and thighs.

He screamed, let go of the scrotum and slammed his fist down on the curved sutured groin. He struck once more, flinging his arm over his face and eyes, sobbing and shaking his head from side to side. 

In the doorway, a disheveled uniformed soldier stood placidly watching and stroking his own limp soft cock.

*

Read more, get the full ebook here:

Vienna Dolorosa: The Lambda Award Finalist Novel - Kindle edition by Dementiuk, Mykola. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.