The Anniversary Gift
A /meat/ tale
The nacalaeknir stood still. His hands fixed above his chest, mixture of distilled water and salt flows down his elbows and drips to the floor.
Tlafrithr turns around and with a gesture, he orders his servants to ready the materials. His apprentice and his sholo.
Once Tlafrithr feels the the moisture on his palms evaporating, he begins to focus on his client.
A man, sitting on a stool of brick and wood. In front of him is the surgery table. Standing up at his groin.
He was naked. Neither a shred of rag nor garment on his skin. Which too has just began to dry up from his salt bath.
His phallus lies on the table.
The subject of today's rite of ryona. A husband to receive the rite as a gift, paid to by his wife, to celebrate their biennial matrimony.
Tlafrithr takes a deep breath. The strong scent of burning copalli fills his lungs.
"The procedure will begin shortly, young man." Tlafrithr explains.
The man nods back. Tlafrithr stares deeply into his eyes. Not a vision of fear. Not a vision of worry. Only one of wanting.
"For what are we awaiting, blessed grafter?" A gentle feminine voice asked from beyond the room. The wife of the man sitting in Tlafrithr's domain.
"My helpers are bringing out the flesh as we speak. For if we bring the flesh out for a prolong period, it will perish."
"Such curiosity. In what ways does one keeps flesh alive so long?" Asked the young man, in reply to his spouse.
"If you wish to know, I have had a chamber built beneath my domain. The room began with walls of clay and brick. Once it is dry, we laid on top of that a thin layer of clay mixed, with in it grounded teotehuilotl of the island of the bone people. Once it is dry, we laid on top of that another layer of clay. With the final layer, we draw upon the walls, in a blessed dye of achiyotl with minute drops of slave blood of bone people, the heathen writings of their religion. Once half a metzi passes, the chamber shall be as cold as a gentle wind and snjor. A perfect chamber to keep the living flesh longer. A process taught to us by our great Rikitnahualli, in their divine journey of discovering new knowledge."
"Such an intricate and beautiful process, blessed grafter."
Before Tlafrithr could reply, he hears a call from behind. His servants have return from the chamber of coldness.
Two clay pots in each pair of cloth covered hands. Frost adorns the surface of the pots, vapor sublimates, a gentle aura of coldness emits from them.
He orders for the pots to be laid onto the operations table.
One pot was dyed huitzcuahuitl. Of flesh and veins. One pot was dyed nextic. Erectile tissue.
The apprentice twists and opens up the tightly sealed pot of flesh and veins. Inside, the mass of flesh lies without a speck of frost nor sign of damage.
Crimson and rich in aroma, yet barely alive.
She takes a flask made of tehuilotl upon Tlafrithr's shelf of various tools. The flask is tightly sealed with a clear fluid inside.
Tlafrithr softly whispers his prayers to the gods as the apprentice shakes the flask. In a mere instant, the fluid inside began to glow a faint pink, warming up his hands.
Carefully, she gently pours a ladleful of fluid into the pot. The frost on the pot's surface slowly melts away as the fleshy mass inside starts to pulsate at a slow and steady pace.
She repeats the process again with the pot of erectile tissue.
The fleshes will be ready, thawed and fed, by the time Tlafrithr is done with the procedure.
He orders his sholo to carry the tray of bronze that houses his tools. The sholo nods. She grabs the tray and carries out his duty, standing still by the operations table, readying for any commands of his master.
"The fleshes are now being fed" Tlafrithr tells the client and his spouse as he inspects his tools.
"Grafter, your prayer was the most poetic that I have heard of any ticitl I met in my life."
"My words sincerely, for in my stead this duty is not of profit nor fame. It is the life of an artisan. I am no different from those who strike steel and blow glass. For flesh is my clay and ichor is my dye. With the duty of the artisan, my prayer goes specifically to my patron; the ocelotl artisan of blood and flesh, AwA. The Aeshi of whom I was born with the blessings of."
"Then allow me to become your work of art, grafter."
Tlafrithr nods and grabs the thinnest knife from his tray. He has executed this rite several times before. A procedure he is accustomed to and had no difficulties with.
Swiftly, he inserts the blade at the tip of the man's phallus. Burying it barely enough to spill a single drop of heme and blood.
With a steady hand, he drags the blade in a straight line. The blade reaches the skinned region of the phallus. Easily cutting through the thin layer of epidermis of the foreskin and the rest of the genital.
The blade stops as it reaches the base at where the phallus meats the groin. The first preliminary cut.
He inserts the blade again. Repeating the same straight cut. This time, the blade passes into the dermis.
And finally one more. A shallow trench had been carved in the middle of the phallus. Dividing it into two halves.
With the last preparation cut, Tlafrithr grabs a different knife. One with a small vial of acidic and psychedelic drug attached at the back end of the handle.
He aims the knife downwards and immediately a drop of drug fluid fell from the blade.
Slowly, he buries it into the glans and, in a single rapid motion, drives the blade across the trench he had carved.
As expected, blood begins to pour out as the tissue has been breached.
The first phase is completed.
The young man however, showed no signs of pain throughout the first step.
Tlafrithr had seen plenty of souls grinning their teeth as he cuts the dermis.
Judging from the number of scars adorning his genitals, this man is no stranger to ryona displays of affection with his partner.
At least he only endured the sensation.
Tlafrithr recalled a particular client who thoroughly enjoyed the pain to the point of ejaculation.
Moving on, he grabs onto the next tool. A specialized tool crafted for this particular process.
It is a knife, with a handle that forks in the middle like a twig. At the end, connecting the two sides of the handle, lies a blade extremely thin in width. Like a sharp piece of garrote wire that cuts through flesh.
The apprentice appears by Tlafrithr's side. She carries with her an oil lamp. Its flame burning hot and bright.
Tlafrithr places the wire blade into the flames. The blade immediately glows bright red.
Once satisfied, he withdraws his arm. Returning to his craft.
Carefully he directs his hand towards the phallus, the hot wire blade directly above the bloody trench he had carved.
A swift gesture, he buries the blade down into the glans. The sizzle of burning flesh and boiling blood follows.
With extreme focus, Tlafrithr pushes the blade deeper through the trench. Maintaining his hands at the same position while moving the blade deeper towards the groin. Like a wire cutting through a block of cheese.
Blood gushes out onto the operations table with each second.
The sholo takes a wet cloth, wiping away the sweat off Tlafrithr's face.
The apprentice does it too with the client, keeping him awake and motivated through the process.
His expression displays the essence of endurance and extreme pain. His breaths were slow and hard, seeping between his tightly bitten teeth.
Not the worst of reactions Tlafrithr had seen in his career. To endure such pain, such a triumph of the ways of ryona.
The thin wire blade finally reached the end of the phallus, meeting where the groin begins.
With one thrust of his hand back, the genital body has finally been cut in half from the middle. Two crimson pink halves of tissue and skin lie separated in front of the client.
Blood, urine, heme, and various other fluids flows onto the operations table. The fluids flow down the grooves and into a hole where a vase lies. Collecting the fluids for proper disposal.
The difficult part of the rite is over. As a wet cloth wipes the last of the salt from Tlafrithr's forehead, he orders his apprentice to prepare the first flesh.
She places on the table a pan of glass and metal. She opens the pot of nextic. The tissue inside is now warm, alive, and vibrant.
With a pair of knives she cuts pieces of tissue and places them on the pan. She then places the pan onto the scale, measuring its weight. Should the weight of the flesh be less than desirable, more pieces were removed from the pot.
The weight is balanced, she passes the pan to Tlafrithr.
Gently, he grabs a piece of tissue and begins to layer it on the exposed, freshly cut phallus.
Another layer added. And another. Once sufficient flesh is placed, he binds the phallus half and the layered flesh with that of a string made of root.
Tlafilthr repeats the process again with the other half.
He takes the tehuilotl flask and pours the glowing fluid of teotehuilotl on the the binded tissue. Although slow and subtle to the naked untrained eye, Tlafilthr is already seeing signs of growth and bind. The organ is accepting the new flesh and is starting to mold it. Changing its components to match itself. The root that binds the tissue has already grown, burying inside the fleshy mass, pulling the structure together.
Once the tissue has properly bind, he orders for the next batch of flesh.
The apprentice discards the old tray into the bath of distilled water and prepares another tray.
From the huitzcuahuitl pot, she cuts out pieces of flesh. This time the required flesh was fewer than the previous process.
Tlafilthr receives his new batch of flesh and begins the next layer of grafting.
Slowly and gently, he layers thin pieces of flesh above the previous growth.
While the previous tissue will become the structure of the new phalli, this layer will become the skin and interstitial tissue.
He ties the phalli down and pour fluid of teotehuilotl. The tissue below will soon accept its new skin.
Thirty minutes will have pass since. Enough time to allow the old flesh to accept and grow into the new one.
In that window, the apprentice and the sholo have both returned the pots back to the chamber of preservation. Ensuring the flesh will live longer for future clients.
Tlafilthr notices that the blood has stopped spilling. A sign that the flesh has now become fully contained.
He takes a piece of clean cloth and washes it with distilled water. Carefully wrapping the phalli and cleaning them.
Once cleaned, he wraps the phalli with a fresh layer of herbs and clean clay. To protect the newly grafted flesh from infection and wounds.
With the clay dried up, the rite is over.
Tlafilthr has completed another work of art. One that is still growing and healing in its cocoon for the time being.
The sholo begins to clean the room and the apprentice helps the young man to stand up from his pedestal.
He is still visibly shaken from the pain, his eyes are still bloodshot from the drug.
Carefully, the nacalaeknir aids the man to limp over to his spouse in the room besides. Quickly, she grabs onto her husband and supports his weight.
"The flesh has been applied to your husband. It will be fully grown within the next three months." Tlafilthr tells her as he writes with his brush onto a piece of papyr.
"I thank you, blessed grafter. For I will cherish this gift of yours." the woman says as she caress her husband.
"It is not me you should thank for most of the work. It is the gods who we must be thankful of. For without their guidance and powers, we would not be able to commit such works of art." Tlafilthr smiles. The young lady nods in return. Accepting the words.
"If I may, blessed grafter. I am thankful of your work." the young man explains. "For I was in your care, in the mercy of your ritual. I will not let your work go to waste."
"You are welcomed. I have written down on this papyr the ways you must take care of yourself for the next three metzi." Tlafitlhr hands over the written papyr to the couple.
"The clay must not be removed for the first week. Should it break or wash away, you may use bamboos to cover it or any covers that will stay dry. Keep the new flesh away from fluids, for if you bathe it will harm the young flesh. The new flesh and the root within must be fed once a week a cup of teotehuilotl water. Consult the local tlamacazqui or gothi to obtain some. For when you urinate, do it at a slow pace. Excessive force will harm the young flesh. You will not feel pain for the first metzi for the nerves have not grown yet. Most important of all, do not start to pleasure yourself or each other until the flesh have fully healed. Mistakes will result in a poor construction. A blunder that can only be fixed with total removal and reattachment of new flesh from nothing. I have prepared several balls of herbs that will reduce the pain and assist with growth of flesh. Simply grind one ball of herbs into dust and add a spoon of distilled water. Apply the paste onto the entire genital and leave it for a day. If you ever find yourselves empty of herbs, you are free to come here for more. I will not ask for payment."
Tlafilthr hands the couple a bag filled with tied up dried herbs. The couple nod. It will be in three months time before the young man will be able to fulfill his wife's desire with his newly given second phallus. The young man was then dressed in a patterned robe to signify he is a sacredly wounded in a rite of ryona. He will be praised by passing eyes for enduring the pain and have his flesh altered for the gods. The couple soon make their way out of the building and onto the streets.
Tlafilthr washes his hands once more of blood and other fluids.
Another satisfied client, another successful creation.
He asks the sholo of any other recipients for the ritual today.
There were none.
With that news, he lies into his hammock and relaxes.
End