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To 'complete the circle', we kept up the correspondence with the pharmaceutical company back in the states, doing tests for them. Unfortunately, the drug tests for 'brittle bones' failed, making him shorter and stooped like an old woman. The second or 'beta' drug test for chemical neutering was a success, making him utterly 'fixed' down there, his 'manly' equipment now microscopic.
After two years of this, mom and I had a house full of children (eight) while in the attached little shack there was this wizened, stooped over dwarf in a constant state of pain. I never bullied him as he had done to me over the years.
The only things besides testing he had to endure were private DVD recordings on that little 27 inch monitor. The recordings, of course, were of me servicing my wife (formerly his), making love constantly. There was that and the occasional pregnancy test (positive) and resulting swollen belly and birth date.
It was nice of me to allow him to test the final drug, one for ethical terminations for the ill. It worked. I was tempted to supply his remains to the Mexican havolinas that dotted the landscape.
Instead, I thought it only fitting to use that shallow grave he had dug for me to dispose of him. Mom thought it in horrible taste to actually make love atop that desecrated ground but found that that made it all the more exciting. So, after watching 'I Spit on Your Grave' in the little shack attached to the great house, we would dutifully have sex upon his burial mound annually to commemorate the solemn occasion.
So ended the saga.
