NOTE: This story, though told in the first person is NOT autobiographical. All of the persons, places, and events in this story are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is wholly coincidental.

A young man, castrated for being homosexual, returns after seven years to exact revenge upon those responsible.

When I was seventeen, my father caught me blowing a friend and beat the shit out of me until I was helpless. Then he hauled me off to a vet and had me "fixed", as if I were a dog or a horse.

As soon as I was recovered sufficiently, I left home and hitchhiked to another state where I got a few odd jobs before finding permanent employment as a veterinarian's helper. I had nothing against vets just because one of them was a sonofabitch. Besides, I love animals.

Dr. Stevens and I got along well. He was young, 25, and handsome. Nutless though I was, I soon developed a crush on him which I tried to conceal from him. Since I couldn't get a hardon, at least my cock couldn't give me away. I also managed to keep him from discovering that I am a eunuch.

Dr. Stevens (by then I called him Tom) told me that I was so good with animals that I should seriously consider going into veterinary medicine. I told him that I had no money except what he was paying me and couldn't afford to go to college. He assured me that there were loans to be had and that he, himself, had worked his way through college.

One nasty winter evening, there was a blizzard and we were snowed in at the veterinary hospital. We had a refrigerator full of pizza and beer, so we had little to worry about. Besides, dry dog food is wholesome and we had a quarter of a ton of that !

After several beers, (neither one of us was counting) Tom asked me if I was gay and I admitted it. He kissed me and groped me and so found out my other secret. I told him my story and he was horrified. He had some testosterone in the fridge and gave me a shot of it. A few hours later, I felt the way I had before I was castrated and had the hardon to prove it.

Tom liked to be sucked and fucked, and now I was capable of doing both. He assured me that I would have no problem in getting a prescription for testosterone and then could become the man I ought to be.

Even though the HRT was expensive, I had some money left over from my wages which I put away toward college. Tom and I became lovers and I led a much more active sex life than I ever had when I had balls. I lived with Tom and, inasmuch as the Ag. College was only twelve miles from the veterinary hospital, I could commute and assist him part-time.

It worked out better than I had any reason to ecpect it to. I was accepted by the College of Agriculture and majored in animal husbandry and veterinary medicine.

Only in gym classes did anyone ever notice that I am a eunuch. I was the only one in the class who didn't need to wear a jockstrap.

Vets remove the scrotum as well as the balls and this made it look like the result of some kind of accident. I said that it was and didn't elaborate. Nobody who knew viewed me any differently from anybody else. The testosterone made me look and act as masculine as any other young man.

Ever since I left home, I had cherished a desire for revenge on my old man and his vet friend, Dr. Sawyer. After I got my degree, I became Dr. Stevens' associate, and I had more time to myself. I also had access to the implements I wanted to use for my revenge.

Because I could, I had grown a moustache and beard at 19 and they were so becoming (in my opinion, anyhow) that I kept them. Of course, they would be a perfect disguise if I should return to my hometown. I decided that, during my 2 weeks vacation in the Spring, I would go back to my old stamping ground and "fix" dear old daddy and Dr. Sawyer.

Although we were lovers and normally kept no secrets from each other, I told Tom nothing about my plans All I told him was that I wanted to return to my home town incognito for a couple of days. All he said was "Don't be gone too long, sweetheart. I'll miss you every minute." (After seven years !)

I used my Jeep and took only an overnight bag with me. In the overnight bag, however were a dart pistol and 6 tranquilizer darts (about 3 times as much as I should need) an elastrator with a dozen rings, and a pair of pruning shears.

Knowing that my old man and Dr. Sawyer always played pinochle and drank beer in the back room of the veterinary hospital on Saturday nights, I timed my trip so that I'd arrive just before 9:00 PM. There were no other cars in the parking lot and the lights were on in the back room as I'd expected. The odds were very good that the back door wasn't locked.

I was right. It was unlocked and opened to a push. They both looked up from their cards, startled and annoyed. Dr. Sawyer had taken his shirt off and I got him in the shoulder with a tranquilizer dart. Dad had started to rise from his chair when I shot a dart into his forearm. Both of them slumped, conscious but immobilized. They would be so for about 20 minutes, all the time I needed.

I said nothing but unbuckled my father's belt, unzipped his fly, and pulled down his pants and his briefs. There was his big beefy cock which I'd envied as a boy, and the balls which had made me. I put a ring over the prongs of the elastrator, and grasping (and squeezing) those balls, I slipped the ring over them and up close to the base of his cock. Two more rings followed it in quick succession. While his balls were dying and turning cold, I turned to Dr. Sawyer.

He was wearing boxer shorts and I found him hung like a 10-year-old. I laughed at his tiny prick . His balls were about average. I quickly snapped the three rings onto his scrotum above his nuts and went back to dear old daddy. His balls were cold. I took the pruning shears out of one pockets of my cargo pants and pruned him.

I was wearing heavy rubber gloves of the kind used in dishwashing, both so as to leave no fingerprints and to keep blood off my hands. I held my old man's severed balls up by the cords so that he could see them and then walked into the john and flushed them down the toilet.

By this time, Dr. Sawyer's balls were cold also. I pruned him and showed him what I'd done and then disposed of his nuts in the same way. Then, finally, I spoke to them. "No doubt, you're wondering who the hell I am. I'm KURT, your son." I said pointing to my father, "and your victim" I said to Dr. Sawyer.

"Don't even think about reporting this matter to the police. If you do, why, then, I'd just have to tell them about what you two did to me seven years ago. I don't believe you'd want them to know about that, would you ? You should be able to move in about five more minutes. I suggest that you put your pants on and SHUT UP."

"We're even now. Neither of you will ever see me again. You'd better just leave it that way. " With that, I left, got in my Jeep and drove to a motel about 50 miles back west and there slept the sleep of the just.