| This morning Joe brought his cock into 'Show and Tell'. 'Show and Tell' is Miss Kadowski's idea. She says it will give us zest. That is her word. Miss Kadowski is our teacher from America. Joe has his cock in a velveteen covered watch case. He opens up the lid, a shit-eating grin splashed across his face, and two girls in the front row squeal. I don't know why, I doubt it's the first time they've seen Joe's cock. Joe is a Jack-the-lad and is usually found at the back of the class stringing farts together like washing on the line. "Well?" says Miss Kadowski. "Well?" says Joe. He looks puzzled. I imagine that at this point Joe thought he would have been told to sit down having scandalised the morality of a young generation. "You've showed us," says Miss Kadowski, "and now I want you to tell." "This is my knob," says Joe. "I can see," says Miss Kadowski. She lifts her glasses and squints her eyes. "Just. But I want more." "Know what you mean miss," says Karen. A few people laugh at this but I don't. My eyes are fixed on what Joe is holding. "Go on," says Miss Kadowski. Joe coughs into his rolled up hand. "Me and my knob," he says, "we go back a long way. Usually I don't keep it in a watch case. Usually it's between my legs. I use it to wee out of and when it gets big I use it for other things." "Opening bottles, miss," says Karen. "Thank you," says Miss Kadowski and Joe saunters back to his place at the back of the class. This is where the lads sit. Joe high fives some of them and low fives others. He is pleased with himself. At break time everyone rushes out. I notice that Joe has left the watch case on his desk. I take it and slip it into my back pocket. It fits snugly there.
The next day we are called into a special assembly. My Dowes, the headmaster, says that a boy has lost something very important. He uses the word appendage several times until a sixth former puts up his hand and asks exactly what is meant by appendage. At this point Miss Kadowski jumps up and says it is a pencil case. A golden pencil case which is very valuable. Rumour has it that Miss Kadowski hasn't told the head the exact nature of the theft. It isn't that she is afraid of the word penis, in fact, it is a word she uses regularly; it is more that she doesn't want it known amongst senior management that she uses such utterances. It would be against school policy. After the assembly we file out. I go into the boys toilet and lock myself in one of the cubicles. I have Joe's cock in an old fag packet of my mum's. I have placed cotton wool on either side of it to hold it snugly in place. "Oh willie," I say, "what am I going to do with you?" I lift the packet to my nose and inhale deeply. It is the most masculine of odours, urinous and baccyful.
At night I sleep with the cock gripped in my hand, with my thumb in my mouth, so all night the flower of foreskin is pressed against my nose. There is nothing sexual in this, it is more of a comfort. It is different now. I remember Joe's cock when it was attached to his body. After PE I would glimpse it, hanging and heavy, and I would imagine taking it in my mouth. Some evenings I sit with it at my desk when I should be doing my homework. I pull back the foreskin and then almost daring myself I run my tongue around the blue head. I feel silly doing this but later when mum brings me a cup of tea I can't resist dipping the cock in the tea and then letting the drops fall from it into my open mouth. Once I got halfway down the cup doing this before it got too disgusting. The tea, not the cock. I hate cold tea. In November one evening I am passing the joke shop when I notice something in the window and I have to go inside. "I'll have one of your willie warmers," I say. "What size?" says the man behind the counter. "Large," I say. "They only come in one size," says the man. "Then why did you ask?" I say. Sometimes I don't understand adults and I know that they are distrustful of me. Grunting, the man comes from behind the counter and reaches over some boxes to the tray of willie warmers. I take a long time deciding but really I know which one I want straight away. Its design is that of a little poncho in a crazy threaded pattern of reds and yellows. "Do you have a small sombrero that might go with this?" I ask. "Your girlfriend Carla Fuentes is she?" "I don't have a girlfriend," I say. "The sombrero?" That night I dress up Joe's cock and I sneak downstairs and take the castanets off the wall. We went to Spain once when dad was around although I don't remember it now. I hold the castanets in one hand and the cock in the other and wildly I spin around the room. Eventually I get so dizzy I have to lie down on the sofa.
Everyone has noticed the difference in Joe. The other lads have started calling him Cockless Joe. This apparently is in reference to some film. I haven't seen it. Joe's mum has started making him wear a skirt. It doesn't suit Joe because he still has short boy's hair and hands that always seem to have scabs. He sits with legs apart and still farts as much as he used to. I heard that he can't pee standing up. That's something I'd like to see. The doctor's have said that they can make Joe into a girl by giving him some kind of hormones but they can't make him back into a boy. Apparently a penis is difficult to build. Joe's parents are considering moving away to start a new life with their son who will now be their daughter. I wonder if Joe will grow his hair or if they will buy him a wig. One day I find myself in the dinner queue behind Joe. He is holding his tray but he is just standing there staring into space. The queue ahead of him has moved on. I don't know if I am more surprised that I ask Joe if he would like to come to tea or if he is more surprised that he says yes.
My mum isn't the best cook in the world but Joe makes all the right noises. He burps loudly and then slaps his stomach. "Why don't you two boys go play in your room?" my mum says and we go upstairs. Joe looks funny sprawled on my bed in his skirt. His legs are hairy where they stick out from the hem and they are dented from years of scrapes. Joe always used to play football during breaks and this involved a lot of falling over. I mill around the room a bit and then I sit down on the bed. "Can I see?" I ask. "What?" says Joe. "You know," I say. "Are you funny or something?" says Joe. "I'll show you mine," I say and this seems to win the argument. I lift up Joe's skirt, thinking how much easier this is than trousers. He has got white boys pants on and they are stained yellow in places. Putting my fingers under the elasticated waist I ease them down over his narrow hips. The balls are still there. They are larger than mine and hairy. Above the balls however, is nothing. No volume anyway but a hairless slit. Joe's eyes are locked on some spot on the ceiling and I can see his stomach going up and down. Knowing that it will be ok I lower my hand towards the slit and rub my fingers around the edges. I feel Joe's body stiffen but in a pleasurable way. I look up and I see Joe is looking at me. "That's the funny thing," he says, "I can still wank. No one's asked me that. People seem to think that it's worse than it is. That's the hardest thing to deal with." "Can I watch you pee?" I say. "Only if you go first," says Joe. I nod my head and then we go into the toilet together. I will tell Joe about his cock one day but not yet. I know that when I do he'll think it's the funniest thing. I'm sure of it.
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