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At the age of 17, Jasin was the youngest of our five children. His older brothers and sisters had all left home, except for Doug, our oldest child who was still living at home and attending a local city college. All our children had gone into or were pursuing conventional careers – Julie was getting her real-estate license, her younger sister Debbie was studying for her law degree and our middle child John had entered the Navy. But young Jasin was different – even when he was an infant, we knew his destiny would not be like our other children. So it was no surprise when he announced to us, at five years of age, that he was going to become a priest. From the very first time we brought him to church, he seemed to almost enter a state of trance – he would study everything, and everyone around him. We knew before long that the Church might be his calling, and we enrolled him in everything from Sunday school to Boy’s Choir. But now Jasin was becoming a man. His 17 year old body was becoming muscular and defined, and his walk was becoming confident, and almost cocky. The girls in school noticed as well, as he frequently received calls from admirers and want-to-be girlfriends. Though Jasin took the calls, and was indeed even a flirt, he always kept the girls at arms-length. He spent most of his time with the other boys, participating in after-school athletics and hanging out at the local arcade on weekends. But when it came to drinking and other typical teenage male behavior, Jasin kept his male friends at arms length as well. He would typically be home by 9pm on a Saturday night, just as his friends would be gearing up for an evening of revelry and drinking. My wife and I had watched Jasin as his boyish, rounded build slowly melted away to reveal a very handsome young man. His lean muscular figure, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes served him well, as he became popular with almost everyone at school and was a favorite with the teachers as well. And from the stains on his bed and in his underwear, we knew his sexual anatomy had sprung to life as well. In fact we had to learn to ignore his almost constant erections we saw beneath his clothes, and the sticky mess my wife often found in the underwear in his dirty clothes hamper. We never brought this up with him, and he probably thought we didn’t even notice. It was hard to ignore though, when my wife peeled back his sheets to find them practically stuck together around the area where Jasin’s sleeping crotch had lain. She called me in, and I examined the pool of semen, which was almost a foot across and soaked deeply into the mattress below. As always, we peeled the sheets off and washed them up, without mentioning a single word to Jasin. Jasin’s bathroom had an entrance from his room, and the room where his sister used to sleep. One morning my wife was cleaning, and accidentally walked in on Jasin as he was taking a shower. He could not see or hear her through the steamy frosted glass, but as my wife watched she could see him playing with what she described as an enormous looking erection. She could see him making humping motions in the air, and moan as his hand went up and down the length of his manhood. As she described what she saw to me, it dawned on us that Jasin was going to turn 18 in less than two months – and that by this time next year he would be away at the Seminary. We realized that our young boy was becoming a man, and would probably never come back once he had left our home. And we realized how the young boy who would be a priest had turned into a handsome, sexual young man, and we wondered if he would be able to remain faithful to the church. I mentioned to my wife how wonderful it would be if we could only roll back time to when he was twelve, when his features were still boyish and plump, a child still more interested in cartoons and toys than after school sports or talking to girls. My wife said “If only he didn’t have balls, he’d still be like he was at 12, and I’d sure have a lot less laundry to do …” and then started to laugh. A light went off in my head, as I repeated what she said “If only he didn’t have any balls …”. We looked at each other for a moment, as her eyes looked at me as if to ask, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? What if we could get rid of his balls?” I turned my head to the side slightly as if to answer … yes, I thought, maybe we had a chance to turn back time.
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