The Final Exam

The lights snapped on at the same moment as the rising bell began its clangorous ringing. Hagar, known to us as ‘Hagar the Horrible’, stood with one hand on the light switch. He had been the boarding house monitor for longer than anyone could remember. A gloating smile hovered around his ugly mouth, part smile, part sneer.

‘Razor packs and towels on the way to the showers, boys,’ he said with ill concealed glee. Hagar hated boys and looked forward to this day each year with eager anticipation. It was what made his otherwise boring job tolerable.

We had guessed what Hagar’s presence meant even before he spoke as it was most unusual for him to be up so early. This was the day we had dreaded ever since our arrival at the boy’s academy nearly four years before. We knew the day was close as although there was no fixed date this was about the time last year that the senior boys had been ‘done’ and had moved on to other schools. His words however sent a tickling chill to the balls of the 36 boys in the senior dorm. The dreaded day had come. Morning erections were lost in an instant and a sudden quiet descended on the group as we struggled out of bed in the early morning dark, shedding our pajamas and making our way naked towards the waiting figure at the door.

For four years we had gone through the same morning ritual of rising, stripping and showering, knowing, but at the same time conveniently forgetting, that one day this routine would be dramatically different. We had entered the Academy four years before, a group of 36 boys, all strangers and all just past our tenth birthdays. Our parents had no choice about which academy we attended. Uniformity of age at intake was the defining criteria and so our birthdays were all within the span of a few weeks. Until the age of ten children lived with their families, soon after their tenth birthday they moved to their assigned academies where they would live for the next four years, except for the brief holiday periods that they would spend at home. During those four years their abilities and shortcomings were noted and at the conclusion, major life decisions were made. For girls it was about career options, social roles, further education and fitness for childbearing. For boys, the most mind-focusing decision was whether or not they would be castrated at the age of fourteen or whether they would remain ‘entire’ and join the select breeding class. Of course other decisions would also be made with regard to further training and appropriate social roles but these always seemed insignificant in comparison. At the boys academies there was constant talk and crude jokes about what lay ahead for most, which helped to cover some of the real anxieties that were constantly with each boy about what chance he had of escaping such a fate.

The transition from the liberal society of the second half of the 20th Century to the highly regulated policies of the early 21st was, once initial resistance was overcome, quite rapid. In the early years of the new millennium there had been progressive breakdown in social structures and erosion of traditional and cultural characteristics as globalization swept the world aided by the ‘information highway’. In the atmosphere of radical change that followed, the rational and un-emotive arguments of the Social Darwinists were compelling and they found little opposition to the introduction of their policies of social engineering. Identifiable as core problems behind the disintegration of traditional society were issues of violence at a domestic, social and national level; overpopulation; competitive consumerism; and environmental destruction. Males were identified as the most frequent offenders in all these areas and, common to all men, was the issue of aggression, which clearly related in various ways to testosterone levels. The simple solution therefore was seen to be the timely removal of the major source of testosterone, in the majority of males, leaving them sterile and with a sex drive more in keeping with their female partners. After all, farmers had been doing it for years in the name of good animal husbandry, and now that human beings were clearly seen as genetically and biologically programmed, social issues playing only a small part in behavioral development, why not ‘manage’ the major social problems in the same way. The powerful male sex drive and its associated aggression may have had an important part to play in propelling mankind to the top of the food chain. But, now we were there, shouldn’t we use our intellect and knowledge to make sure we stayed there, rather than destroy our world and everyone in it by aggressive competition. Or so the argument went.

To carry out the castration at 14 allowed a reasonable degree of physical and sexual development to occur so that sexual function and infertile ejaculation could continue at a reduced, level but the more aggressive and competitive drives would be curtailed. Men and women would be more evenly matched in their sexual needs, reducing tensions in partnerships and making both parents more inclined to devote their energies to the task of raising their children and being useful and productive citizens. The proscribed number of children were then conceived by artificial insemination, the sperm being provided by those few males who had shown sufficient desirable characteristics to be left entire.

Every boy in the dorm was well familiar with the history and rationale behind the laws that permitted the officers of the Ministry of Social Control (MSCON, referred to by some as “Ms. Con” and regarded as a massive con-trick perpetrated by the feminists) to carry out their tasks, but not one was thinking of those issues on that fateful morning. Thoughts were of one thing only. Or two, to be pedantic. Would they soon be losing their balls or not? And if the answer was ‘yes’; then how? Rumours and myths about how the castrations were carried out ran rife through the school at this time of year. As the senior boys were segregated from the other students after being ‘done’, and then shortly afterwards were trans-shipped to other schools, and as older brothers were strictly enjoined to not discuss their own castrations, it was difficult to know exactly how it was done. There were always enough boys from farms to provide lurid details of how it was done to different animals, but the only thing we knew for sure was that when the senior boys were taken into the gym, where it was done each year, there was a lot of yelling and swearing.

But on that morning as we each took our package from Hagar and headed for the showers he said in his sneering voice, ‘Shave everything from navel to knees.’ Fear clutched at me again as that did not sound good. I had had surgery two years before for suspected appendicitis and remembered being shaved before the operation. Shaving suggested cutting, and the mere thought brought a distinct tingling sensation to my ball bag and it shrunk up against my body as if desperately looking for somewhere safe to hide.

Soon all thirty six of us were under the showers, sharing three or four to a shower as was usual, and lathering up with the antiseptic soap that was in our shaving packs. Despite our uniformity of age there was considerable discrepancy in physical development. Some boys had reached full adult size, with balls that bulged their ball bags, stretching them tight when they were drawn up and hanging low and heavy when relaxed. Others showed hardly any development at all with small pink ball bags, tiny penises and little or no body and pubic hair. Showering together was a daily routine so we were all well familiar with each other’s genitalia. As usual the small underdeveloped boys came in for some cruel jibes. ‘Careful you don’t shave them off by mistake! It wouldn’t matter though, you’re going to lose them soon anyway’, said a confident cocky boy to one of the underdeveloped boys, clearly believing the myth that “size matters”. Some boys just stood looking numb and holding on to themselves as if somehow that could save them from what was to come. A few were having a surreptitious wank in a corner of the showers clearly feeling the need for one last experience as fully intact males.

Most of us were in that stage of development where the balls grow fast, bulging and stretching the pink scrotal skin that has yet to darken into its adult form, and sexual arousal is an instantaneous event at the merest hint of a sexual thought. The pubic hair is soft and straight and there is little or no hair on the scrotum or body. We were in that transition from being pre-pubertal, passing through the stage where our body characteristics were more like those of girls, before becoming fully masculine, hairy and muscular. For most of us this is where our development would remain.

I edged over to my friend Peter and said softly so others would not hear, ‘Well, I guess this is it. Good luck. Whatever happens I hope it turns out the same for both of us.’

‘Yep, so do I,’ he responded, ‘I don’t want to be separated from you.’ We were evenly matched in most things and so it was probable that we would be dealt with in the same way. I looked at his developing balls and cock, now shaved of all remnants of hair and looking smaller and less developed. I knew every crease and curve of them well, the darker seam that ran down the middle of his ball bag, the slightly larger left ball unlike my own which was larger on the right. His medium sized penis with its remaining ring of foreskin, legacy of a poor circumcision that left him looking half circumcised. An appearance that was lost in a flash as his penis leapt to attention at even the gentlest stroke from me. As it often had. For some time, as soon as the lights were out in the dorm, I would silently creep to his bed and we would comfort each other in a way that boys have done for hundreds of years. In the warm, dark space I would fondle his balls and cock until I felt him shudder as he spurted into my hand. He would then return the favour by doing the same for me. Thinking of the times we had jerked each other off brought a familiar sensation of arousal and I felt my penis begin to swell slightly and my balls draw up tight. Now was not the time for expressions of love between us so I turned away from Peter. My partial arousal had not gone un-noticed and Davidson, an arrogant bully, was quick to try and make me squirm. ‘Getting excited at the thought of being cut eh, Herman? Turn you on does it? What do you think the knife’s going to feel like eh? I’ve heard about weirdos like you who get off on thoughts of being done. Lucky I won’t be, not with my equipment’. I turned and walked away from him as I had long ago learned that the best way to deal with the Davidsons of this world was to ignore them. He clearly thought he would be one of the chosen ones as he was one of the first to reach puberty and therefore was one of the most developed boys in our group. What he didn’t seem to realize was that intelligence and general character counted for at least as much, if not more, than physical prowess.

Boys had finished showering and shaving and were standing around wondering what would happen next. Now we were all shaved it was surprising how much more evenly matched we were in terms of development. A disconcerting discovery for some of the bigger boys who were invested in the ‘size matters’ myth. We were not left to wonder for long as Hagar burst into the locker room with an armful of black briefs which he started tossing to each of the boys at the same time shouting, ‘Come on, come on, we haven’t got all day you know. Get these briefs on and line up in alphabetical order so we can get you over to the gym’. We struggled to pull up the tight elastic briefs, but once they were on they offered some sense of protection to our otherwise vulnerable balls. I wondered why they bothered to provide them but there was no time to think much about it as we hustled into single file and Hagar began to read out the names of each boy in order. As each name was called the boy began the slow walk down the corridor to the door of the gym. It was no use thinking of escape, or of running and hiding as we had all been told in graphic detail about the fate waiting for those who tried to dodge this final examination and its outcome.

As Peter’s name was before mine in the class order he began his solitary walk before me. As he moved off our eyes met and I gave him a silent thumbs up sign which he acknowledged with a barely perceptible nod. We both had good reason to think we were ‘in with a chance’ as we had excelled in most things over the past four years. We knew that whatever criteria was used by the MSCON examiners we would be near the top, even in the ‘size matters’ area, although we did not believe for a minute that it would. How wrong we were but in a way we could never have guessed at the time.

As I came through the door a powerful hand gripped my left arm and before I could even register what was happening a steel handcuff was snapped onto my left wrist, the other ‘cuff being closed over a metal bar that ran across the back wall of the gym. I had always wondered why that bar was there and had decided it was for some kind of gymnastic routine. Now I knew differently. Now that I had been made fast to the bar I had time to look around and think about what might happen next. The man who had cuffed me to the bar was going back to his position by the door to grab his next victim. The boy behind me had already been grabbed and was being led to the bar. These men were big and strong, definite gym junkies, with bulging muscles, naked and with oiled skin but wearing only skimpy briefs and rough, tight fitting gloves, on each hand. They could grab you without difficulty but if you tried to grab them to struggle free there was not a chance that you would succeed. Some boys did try to wriggle free but the ‘catchers’ were all but indifferent to the boys’ struggles. I took in the fact that there was little in the way of a bulge in their briefs and realized that they had been through this process themselves and were clearly committed to making sure no one got away. I had learnt enough basic biology to know that these guys must be getting hormone shots to build the sort of muscles that they had and no doubt that was what kept them motivated to do their job well.

Thirty six canvas and wood cots were lined up in four neat rows across the floor of the gym and we looked at these with foreboding. “The Man”, the principal of the school, was standing to one side with a man from MSCON. A chart trolley was between them and in it I could see the files that contained all the reports and performance results that had been compiled on us during our four years at the school. We called him “The Man” not knowing for sure whether he was or not, (people did not disclose their genital status), and he was generally well liked by the boys. He did the best he could for us knowing that very few of us would be selected to remain entire. He was fair and used punishment rarely, believing that each boy had a talent of some sort and it was his job to create the environment within which that talent could flourish. Today he looked sad as he had come to know each of us well and he knew that for the majority of us today would be an ordeal we would remember for the rest of our lives.

By now all thirty six boys had been cuffed to the metal bar and we stood silently, and very nervous waiting to see what would happen next. I became aware of a sensation of heat building up under the black briefs, which must be made of some sort of thermal material, and that it was not altogether unpleasant. In fact it was beginning to get me turned on and by the look of the bulges that other boys were displaying I was not the only one. The three near naked attendants had now gathered at the end of the bar and were beginning to un-cuff Adams. I thought how typical of the efficiency of MSCOM that three attendants and one official could totally control all thirty six of us so that it was pointless to even struggle. A smooth operation indeed!

Adams was a small boy who had barely begun to reach puberty, and generally had not excelled at anything, so we watched with interest, sure that we were about to find out what fate lay in store for us. They led Adam’s over to the first cot and expertly flipped him onto his back, the third attendant quickly securing him there with a leather strap over his chest. The other two then released their hold on his arms and tightened two straps around each leg, one at mid thigh level and one below the knee. He was thus firmly trussed, with upper arms held by the chest strap but his forearms were free to move to some extent. As Adams was being strapped on “The Man” and the MSCOM official strolled casually over to the cot pushing the file trolley as well as another stainless steel trolley that I had failed to notice earlier. Then came the fist of several surprises for us nervous watchers. One of the attendants reached under the foot of the cot and suddenly the two legs splayed outwards, clicking into place and leaving Adams crotch wide open and fully exposed, with his legs spread far apart. The cots hinged at just below waist level and so provided perfect access to the occupant’s ‘package’. The MSCOM official reached over and picked up a pair of black shears from the trolley and with two quick snips the black briefs offered no more protection, the useless front flap was then folded down and pushed into the bum crack so that no messy accidents could occur. Adams gasped to find himself so exposed and vulnerable, as did we who were watching.

Two of the attendants now came over and began to uncuff the next boy in the line. The gym was deathly quiet and we could hear every word “The Man” said to Adams, as he opened the file that he had selected from the trolley and looked at it carefully. He then looked at Adams and said, ‘Sorry boy, they only want three or four today and you haven’t made the cut.’ Did he mean the pun or not, I wondered. He then turned to the ministry man and said, ‘At his last check-up the left was 16mm and the right 15mm.’

‘Ring him,’ was all the ministry man said after quickly feeling both balls that were drawn up tight in Adam’s sac. The attendant, who had been standing by the trolley and who had anticipated the response already had the elastrator in his hands and was stretching the small blue rubber ring before the ministry man had even spoken. Stepping between Adams’ out spread legs he slipped the ring over his balls and snapped it shut before he even had time to register what was about to happen. For a few seconds there was a stunned silence from Adams, and from the rest of us, before the pain of the ring biting into his ball bag registered in his brain. Then a loud yell came from Adams’, followed by a string of swear words that left even me impressed. Meanwhile the attendant had expertly worked the prongs of the instrument out from under the ring, and it began to do its work, shutting off the blood from his soon to be dead balls.

We all began talking at once, shocked at the suddenness of the procedure, the simplicity with which a boy can become a eunuch, relieved that there was no cutting involved, or at least none yet, and wondering just how bad it would feel to be ringed like that. Midst the anxious tumbling thoughts I found myself thinking quite calmly about the black briefs. They were not to get us turned on, although they had done that as a side effect, they were to warm up the ball bag so it would be easy to slip a ring over it and squeeze the balls into the ring. The attendant had now picked up a syringe from the trolley and had injected some clear liquid into Adams’ thigh, hopefully I thought that is some form of pain relief and a sedative. I had seen how the ram lambs began to struggle and to kick their hind legs a few minutes after being elastrated and I guessed the worst was yet to come for him, and in due course for us. Maybe? Adams was now squirming around under the straps and pumping his hips up and down as much as he could in an effort to find a comfortable position. By wriggling he could just get one hand or the other down to his ball bag but I could see he would have no chance of getting that tight blue ring off with one hand. Not without ripping his balls off in the process. I could see his ball bag was already turning a dusky purple as his balls used up the last remaining oxygen and I could see his penis was rock hard and standing straight up but without any sign of it spurting. Occasionally he would rub his balls to ease the discomfort and his little cock would bob up and down in time to his rubbing but it remained hard and unspurting. I wondered if Adams had ever spurted, perhaps he was just too young and now it would be hard for him to develop enough for it to begin. I was so caught up in watching what was happening to Adams that I almost missed Peter being led over to his cot and strapped on.

The way the cots were arranged Peter ended up almost directly in front of me as I stood cuffed to the rail. By lifting his head he could look at me and our eyes met, a silent message of support passed between us. I could see the bulge in his black briefs as he lay strapped but still with legs together.

The all important duo were slowly making their way along the first line of cots and so far every boy had been ringed with the tight blue rings. I had noticed a variation in the pattern when they came to Davidson, who was so stunned to have a ring on his balls that he seemed almost unaware of what was happening. In a moment of quiet, between the crying, yelling and swearing of the boys who had been ringed, I had heard “The Man” say ‘Left 22, right 24.’ Then the MSCON man had said ‘Ring and cut’ and after the ring was in place the man doing the ringing picked up a black marker pen and lifting the sac had written in clear letters R/C on the underside of Davidson’s ball bag. Clearly they would be back to him later to finish the job off. Perhaps it was because if a boy was too developed then it was not good to leave all that bundle of manhood to just shrivel up and drop off. It had to be reduced in size so the process would not take too long. My thoughts were quick to turn to the fact that Peter and I were every bit as big as Davidson and as I thought about that, a clutching sensation shrunk my ball bag as I anticipated the knife cutting into it.

My thoughts were interrupted by the goons who had worked their way down the line and were now uncuffing me and leading me to a cot in the third row. Thoughts of resistance and struggle crossed my mind but were quickly dismissed as I felt the power of the grip on my two wrists and I realized how futile it would be. I turned and lay down on the cot, quietly waiting for the straps to be tightened. Peter was in the row in front and I could see that he would be the next boy to be ‘processed’. I watched with fascination and fear as his black briefs were snipped off and tucked in under him. “The Man” was talking to him at some length and then I saw Peter suddenly begin pumping his hips and beginning to squirm on his cot. My eyes flicked to the face of the MSCON man just in time to distinctly see his lips form the words ‘Ring and cut’. In no time at all I could see a ring being slipped over his ball bag and from where I lay could see those well known balls start to turn a dusky blue as his penis stood to attention above them. It seemed to be that as soon as the balls got ringed the penis would get rigid as a rod. My lip reading was confirmed as the castrator stepped forward and lifting Peter’s balls wrote an R/C on the bulging sac. Hope began to die quickly and even the sight of one of the top boys in our year being unstrapped and led off to the side door of the gym, a dazed and incredulous look on his face, did little to encourage me. I could see Peter’s ball bag turning more and more purple and watched as he periodically rubbed it to ease the pain. And then they were approaching my cot.

The black briefs were gone in an instant and although it was warm in the gym the air passing over my balls felt icy as the foot of the cot swung apart. I had never felt so exposed and so helpless as I lay there naked, legs spread wide and half erect penis and shriveled ball bag displayed to the intent gaze of the three adult men standing at the foot of the cot.

‘It’s a pity Andy, you would have been chosen on your record, and you have some fine physical attributes, but we can’t recommend you with your habit of hopping into bed with Peter every night.’

Shit! I should have known the bastards would have had night vision video surveillance in the dorms. So like the whole modern attitude where trust was a thing of the past. ‘The Man’ had turned to the MSCON official and was talking but all I took in were the words ‘…right 24 and left 22 .’

‘Ring and cut,’ was the only reply. Immediately I felt the cold metal prongs of the elastrator push against my ball bag and the rough hand of the castrator catch a fold of skin and pull it through the stretched out rubber ring. It was all happening so fast I hadn’t even registered the fact that in a few seconds I would no longer technically be a male. One finger was all it took to pop first one ball and then the other through the ring and suddenly there was a grabbing sensation somewhere between pleasure and pain. A quick flick of the wrist followed and there were my two balls on the wrong side of a blue rubber ring. The castrator turned away to his trolley but was soon back with his marker pen to write the indelible R/C on my bag. And then a shot in the thigh, and on to the next boy. But I knew they would be back..

Despite the lack of blood flowing to my balls the first sensation was one of heat and my cock responded accordingly by getting harder than I had ever known it. I rubbed my balls but made sure that it was not enough to make me come as I didn’t want to be spent when they came back to do the cutting. Would my ball bag and balls be numb by then I wondered, or not. That thought made them tingle again at the idea of a knife point being pushed into my sac and the balls squeezed out. Strangely I didn’t feel sad as I had never really expected to be chosen and I knew that Peter and I would go on being together. Sure it would be without our balls but we were both sufficiently well into puberty to have an ongoing sex drive and we would still ejaculate but without any sperm. One book in the library that was in constant use was the one that explained male sexual physiology and the effects of castration. Every boy knew the chapter almost by heart.

So the process moved on. Boys reacted in all sorts of ways, some swearing and cursing, some just sobbing quietly, most rubbing their dying balls to ease the discomfort that broke through above the pain killer. There was a pause once they got to the end of the first round. Some boys had tried to pull their rings off but had only succeeded in making them tighter, their balls stretching their ball bags so that they had become tight and shiny but had not succeeded in releasing the vital orbs. I realized that they were making us wait long enough so that even if a boy could get his ring off it would be too late and their balls would be dead anyway. I could see Peter’s balls looking quite black but his penis was still well erect. My balls were beginning to feel cold and lifeless between my legs but if I squeezed them I could still feel pain which was not a comforting thought knowing what was yet to come.

Finally they began to release some of the boys who were just to be ringed. They hurried quickly out of the gym, glad to be free of the restraining straps but even more glad to not be among those who were to be cut as well. The man who had been applying the rings collected another stainless steel trolley from the back of the gym and pushed it over to where Davidson’s cot was jiggling up and down as he frantically tried to get free. He was shouting and swearing but the man took little notice, obviously well used to the cocksure Davidsons of this world. I watched as he first slipped a condom over Davidson’s cock, I guess it was not uncommon for boys to shoot their wad at the moment of being cut. He then sloshed a liberal amount of antiseptic solution around Davidson’s ball bag. Davidson had suddenly gone quiet as he waited for the inevitable and he visibly paled as he saw the man pick up a scalpel. As Davidson’s balls were already bulging his sac it was a simple matter for the man to cup them in his left hand and make an incision along one ball with the scalpel held in his right hand. Davidson let out a roar suggesting his ball bag was far from numb but the man showed no concern and squeezed out the left ball and snipped it off with a pair of scissors he had picked off the trolley, before repeating the process on the right. There was little bleeding because of the ring and what blood did come out was almost black. The man tipped both balls into a small stainless bucket on the trolley and moved on to the next occupied cot without saying a word to the now totally crushed Davidson, who lay there fingering his now empty and useless sac. With time the sac would shrivel and drop off, just like the boys who had been ringed, leaving a scarred but smooth surface between cock and anus.

Two more boys were cut before the castrator got to Peter who accepted his cutting without a word of protest and with a stoic resignation.

Shortly after I heard the wheels of the trolley stop beside my cot, the gym now being eerily silent. The man stepped into the space between my still splayed out legs and grasping my cock slipped a condom over my erect and throbbing penis. He rolled my balls between thumb and forefinger, squeezing slightly to judge my response. Had I cried out I am sure he would have proceeded anyway. The antiseptic solution felt cold and it ran down the crack between my buttocks. My balls ached as the castrator cupped them in his left hand as I bade them a silent goodbye. I was not expecting the searing pain, like a hot steel needle being laid on my ball bag, as he cut into the skin over my left ball, and I cried out in hurt surprise but quickly stifled my cry as I wanted to be as stoical as Peter. Nor was I expecting the stab of pain, dull, deep and reaching up into my abdomen as he snipped off the left ball and tossed it into the bucket. I caught a quick glimpse of a bluish white orb as it fell into the bucket. I gritted my teeth and bore the pain more bravely as he cut my right side and as the hot searing pain raced up my body I ejaculated again and again and again before collapsing into a state of physical, sexual and emotional exhaustion. So began the second phase of my life.