The little man was tormented by a recurrent nightmare. He was lost in the middle of a vast, dark city in the dead of night. The narrow streets and alleyways were empty and there was no light coming from any of the windows in the buildings. The streetlights only gave off a dim glow. The air was cold and sharp, biting winds seemed to be blowing from all directions. He dashed madly up streets and down alleyways desperately looking for anything familiar that could lead him back to home, safety and security. He kept catching glimpses of quick little movements out of the corners of his eyes and he detected many quiet skitterings and whisperings. He had the feeling that he was being watched, stalked, targeted by a cold, malignant super-intelligence. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Finally, he stumbled out of an alleyway into a small, cobblestone square that had alleyways leading into it from all directions. He saw lights and movement coming down all the alleyways towards him. He stood frozen in terror, there was no alleyway clear that he could escape down.

He didn’t know how he was able to prevent himself from peeing and pooping his pants when he say the tall, dark figures issue forth from the alleyways. They were women, witches, dressed in long dark robes. Their eyes were red and burning, their fangs glistened, the strands of their lank gray hair turned and twisted like snakes. Some of them were holding lights. They crept towards him with their claw-like talons extended. All of a sudden they all rushed at him, some tore his clothes off, others grabbed hold of him and held him tight and kept him from moving. Others yanked his legs apart while others bent down and reached between his legs to rip and tear his scrotum off, testicles and all. The all burst into loud laughter and cackling while they passed the precious, bloody manhood around for each one to take a tiny, life-and-vitality-giving nibble until there was nothing left. He felt blood gush out from the wound between his legs.

It was at this point that he would wake up with a start and look frantically around his bedroom, his sheets damp with cold sweat. He would sigh and think, “Oh no, not again.” Then he would get ready in his dismal basement apartment for another soulless day at his job in cubicle land. He would take a shower and heat up a Pop-Tart. Later on, other riders on the subway would glance at him with curiosity, the strange little man with the disheveled hair, pale cheeks and eyes with dark rings around them. He clearly needed help.

Finally, he decided to seek help. He searched online for a therapist. He found the picture of a very pleasant, soft-looking, young lady that filled him with hope and confidence. He made an appointment.

The appointment went well. The therapist’s sympathetic manner, her office décor, everything was very cozy and reassuring to the little man. The therapist assured him that his problem was really quite common and that she knew just the specialist to help.

The therapist accompanied the little man when he went to visit the specialist. Once inside the specialist’s office, though, he began to experience misgivings. The specialist was tall, gaunt and unsmiling. She lost no time in ordering the little man to disrobe and climb onto her work table, which he did with a nervous tremble. The instant he lay back on the table the specialist quickly moved to strap him down and render him completely immobile. He began to be very alarmed and started squeaking out questions as he turned his head from side to side looking for help and reassurance.

The specialist ignored him and instead she deftly sliced open his scrotum, yanked out his falls and snipped them off with large, shiny scissors. This was so painful that the little man gave out a long, blood-curdling scream and almost passed out. This caused the two ladies to burst into loud laughter and cackling. The specialist tossed the severed testicles to the therapist who placed them on a cutting board and sliced them into little strips which she dropped onto a hot, greased skillet standing nearby.

The specialist quickly sewed up the little man’s scrotum, slapped on some glue and them undid his bonds. She told him to get down and get dressed. While he shakily got dressed he watched the therapist pour stir-fry sauce and sprinkle seasoning on the meat cooking in the pan and then begin to stir and turn it to cook it evenly.

When the little man had finished dressing the specialist told him he could leave. When he didn’t move quickly enough the specialist gave his ass a quick, hard boot that almost sent him sprawling on the floor, but he just barely managed to keep his balance and quickly exited the office and the building.

As he left the building, tears coursed down his cheeks, snot ran down his nose and he sobbed and blubbered uncontrollably. And the pain between his legs was excruciating.