|
I have never known what it is like to be a sexually potent male. I have never known and never shall know what it feels like to masturbate or to have sex with a woman. I don't even know from experience, what sex is all about.So, how did all of this come about ? I was nine years old and I was visiting my friend, Noel Prescott, at his home for the first time. It's a good thing that the Prescotts are well-to-do. It must cost the U.S. Mint to heat that house. Their home is one of those rambling old Victorian mansions from the Gilded Age, with twelve-foot ceilings . But, high ceilings mean high staircases and long railings, or "bannisters" as we called them. The stairs to the second story from the front entry-way were exceptionally steep. I'd estimate about 50 degrees, for the risers were about 8" high and the treads only about 6" long. I was fascinated by that bannister, steep, long, and perfectly straight, ending in a newell post. 4" in diameter and about 6" high topped with a carved pineapple (or maybe an artichoke ?) On my stairs at home, the newell post did not extend above the bannister and I could just fly off the end of the bannister and land on my feet on the floor. If I slid down Noel's bannister, I'd have to put my hands out and stop myself to avoid colliiding with the newell post. That didn't look too hard to do, so I climbed to the top of the stairs, straddled the bannister, and let go. Wheeeeeeee ! I was barely half-way down when I realized that I was moving much too fast and that I'd probably break my wrists if I tried to grab that newell post. By the time I'd figured that out, it was already too late. I ran into the newell post full-tilt. I've been told that, before puberty, a boy's balls are much less sensitive that they are afterward. If that's so, then, if I'd been older, the shock probably would have killed me. My little "pebbles" were smashed against the newell post and my little "thing" was driven back into my belly to get lost among my bowels.It hurt worse than anything that had ever happened to me before. I screamed and fell off the bannister onto the floor. Mrs. Prescott came on the run and seeing me curled up there holding myself between the legs and screaming, guess what had happened to me and phoned immediately for an ambulance. I guess she called my mother next, though I didn't hear her do it. I passed out in the ambulance before it got to the hospital and everything I know about what happened in the hospital, I was told about afterwards. Apparently, it took nearly five hours to locate my penis and bring it back out front where it belongs. Unfortunately, it was brought forward without the nerves and muscles which make it work and which had been torn away completely.All it has ever been good for since has been to pee through. There was nothing left of my testicles, so the wreckage was removed. My parents, especially my father, were terribly upset. I, of course, had no idea of what I had lost. That was explained to me when I was taught about "the birds and the bees" about three years later. At fourteen, I was brought to an endocrinologist to discuss HRT. Inasmuch as my penis is functionless and has no feeling, it was not recommended except briefly to bring about the physiological changes of pubescence, the change of voice and facial hair, so that I wouldn't differ conspicuously from my peers. I was placed on a low maintenance dose for a while, but chose to discontinue even that at 18. It's really pointless, after all. I'm not a functioning male, I can't ever be, and there's no point in pretending. |