"When i left I was just a little swollen," he'd told me. "And by the time we landed..." The guy was clearly in pain, so I admitted him and started him on an antibiotics course, then did some biopsies. I went to him, trying to seem authoritative even though I was only a few years older than him, and told him that gangrene had set in in his genitals. The infection had destroyed them, anyway, but the gangrene could spread and kill him.

At the time, I thought it was a shame that a cute young recruit like him had to lose his manhood. He was crestfallen, having hoped that this would all go away, but took the news bravely - no freaking out, no whining. We did the surgery the next day, and from the first cut I made into the man's groin, all I could think about was the power I was holding over him. Even thought the infection had really emasculated the soldier, I was the one actually severing his cock and balls from him. I got a huge hard-on through my medical scrubs, and had to hide it from the nurse the rest of the surgery. It went swimmingly, no problems. I'd reviewed the procedure in my textbooks the night before, and when I was done had him sewn up all nice and smooth.

As soon as we'd finished I headed straight for the showers, found a stall, and jerked off twice. I couldn't stop thinking about it...I wondered what it would be like to take a healthy set, not some swollen diseased one, and then in the shower couldn't stop thinking about doing it to the other men who came in. My cock stayed embarrassingly hard.

The soldier came in for his follow-up a month later. I got him in the exam room and had him drop his pants, this time grateful that I'd had the foresight to wear a cup under my pants today to hide my boner. He was healing beautifully - his new pisshole was perfect, and he reported no problems using it, even if he wasn't too happy about having to piss like a woman. The Y-shaped incision leading up from it was now bright pink against his skin, still tan from his stay on that island, and didn't even look like it would scar too badly. He'd been using the scar-reducing tape I'd given him and been getting sunlight on it.

The entire time I was talking to him, I just enjoyed looking at the guy. i couldn't get over how much better he looked with that nasty diseased package attached to him. He seemed streamlined, sleek. He'd even mentioned himself how much different it felt when he was swimming or running. "The hot flashes were pretty bad, and I kind of tire out easily," he told me, and I put him on a hormone replacement regimen.

After that, castrating men became an obsession of mine. It was all I could think about, every time I had some young buck on the exam or operating table with his pants off, that it was right there, and it would be so easy to just go ahead and remove it...so easy. And they'd look so much better afterward... I knew I had to do it again, and hatched a little plot.

I chose my targets after a month of keeping an eye out. All three were well-built, muscular young studs, each with an impressive tool between his legs. I'd seen each in the base gym, and all several times. Bodybuilding is my hobby, so I'm a the gym a lot, and wanted to make sure I picked guys I'd be running into often, especially in the showers, if possible. Each of the three I chose was at least as big as I am, buff studs all. I figured three was going to be the most I could away with over the next year, and once I had my targets chosen, it was time for the next step.

I checked out the oncology center and managed to get ahold of a culture of cancerous penile and testicular tissue cells. My plan was to "find" a lump on each of the three men, pretend to do a biopsy, and substitute the cancerous cells for the real ones. I would have a bulletproof diagnosis in each case, and all the medical evidence I needed to justify the complete removal of all three men's genitals.

I called each of them in, saying we'd found something odd in their blood work and wanted to run more tests. I practiced my routine, and it only got better each time. The first visit, I'd say we found cancer indicators in their blood. I would do a thorough examination, and claim to find a lump in one of their testicles. I'd always invite the soldier to feel for it, and, since there wasn't a lump there he'd say he couldn't feel it. I'd tell him that I could, I was an expert in these things.

I'd take a tissue sample to do a biopsy from the penis and both testicles, explaining that if it was in one testicle, it might already be in the other, or in nearby tissues. Once done, I'd send the soldier on his way, telling him we'd have some results in a few days, and in the meantime to try not to worry about it. When I'd call them back in a few days later, the poor buggers would be so anxious to find out what the deal was that they seemed relieved when I settled the issue.

"You have testicular cancer in both testicles," I'd tell them, "and it does appear to have spread to your penis. At this stage it hasn't gone any further..." His face would go pale, and his eyes would glaze over, his mind swimming with the ramifications of what I was saying.

"Now, we could try chemotherapy, but the best chance you have for survival is to have the cancerous tissues removed," I'd tell the guy. He might ask about some other treatment, but in the end all three came around and to accept that the best thing to do was to go ahead and have it all removed.

These surgeries I'd had a bit more time to plan and prepare, and this time I'd done more research on penectomies. Unlike the first soldier, i went all the way to the root with these three, removing their cocks completely, all the way to the root, and sewed 'em up nice and tight. The new technique I'd decided to try involved making a teardrop-shaped incision around the genitals instead of the Y-pattern, and when closed left only a single vertical row of stitches that was much smaller. When they healed, the scar would be almost completely unnoticeable, and by the time I'd unmanned all three, I'd gotten really good at leaving only the slightest trace that anything had every hung between the man's legs.

I'd worn a cup again for each surgery, my cock hard as hell inside its plastic cage as I turned these three studs to steer. The power trip, the rush of doing this to another man, had my heart pounding so hard I could feel my pulse in the throbbing of my erection. Once they healed up, seeing any of them nude, these magnificent, muscular studs, completely smooth between their legs gave the same rush. They looked better, so improved. I took photos of each of them, telling the soldiers they were for a medical journal, and their faces would be cropped out, but in reality were jerkoff material for me, and I used 'em.

From that point on it just grew and grew. I wanted desperately to "improve" more men, and was trying to come up with some way to do it without getting caught. My residency was coming to an end, and I had done well enough that I'd have my choice of a number of assignments. One in particular caught my eye...the base doctor on the island that first soldier had been on, the one with the ball-and-cock-destroying infection, was retiring.

It was a small base in the South Pacific, mostly a bunch of warehouses, with a staff of 200 men, and acted as a supply and refueling depot. The island was part of a small archipelago of four islands, each within easy swimming distance of one another. It looked picturesque, but they had a hard time getting good doctors to staff it, and was considered a problem assignment. It wasn't that it would be all that difficult - more likely pretty dull - but that there were a number of unusual conditions to the job.

Apparently the island was home to a particularly pernicious variety of lice that could carry a number of nasty diseases. As a result, anyone posted there had to be hairless, and that meant completely hairless - no eyebrows, even. Speaking of nasty diseases, the island had plenty, but most of them were easily cured with antibiotics. It was hot and sticky most of the year, it was dull, and there was nowhere to go on leave. The nearest inhabitant island was a long ways off. What with the isolation, the lice, the infections, and the weather, few men volunteered for the assignment. As a result, most of the troops assigned to it were problem troops themselves, given the assignment as punishment. Discipline was difficult - not exactly the sort of thing most officers would go for.

But, to me, this assignment looked perfect. An island full of young, horny men, sweaty most of the time, with the very good chance that I'd manage to find a way for that infection to find its way into the vulnerable cocks and balls of some of them. I didn't mind the no-hair rule; I've shaved my body since I started getting body hair, both to make my muscles stand out better and just because I like it that way. I usually left my actual pubes, but having them smooth wouldn't be all that bad, and I look pretty good with a shaved head.

So, a few months later, I spent almost a week in jeeps, planes, and trucks, eventually arriving at the tiny little island that would be my home for the indefinite future in a cargo jet. I rode up front with the pilot, as they didn't usually have passengers on that run, and was only too happy to escape his constant chattering about TV shows and fart jokes when we finally set down.

Doctor Furrow, the retiring base doctor, met me at the airfield. He was deeply tanned, still in good shape for an older man. We shook hands, and he gave me a little tour of the base. There wasn't much - all warehouses and a few sturdy buildings housing the refectory, gym, dormitories and such. The heat was punishing, and i was glad to see that the base commander apparently wasn't too strict about staying in uniform - most of the men were working in shorts, boots, a layer of sunblock, and nothing else. It was strange at first, stepping into this world where all the guys were skinheaded and smooth-chested. At first, i had a hard time telling people apart, but I got used to it pretty quickly.

"The soldiers on this base seem to be in pretty amazing shape," I commented aloud. Almost all the guys we'd passed were well-built, better than the average grunt. Furrow explained that there wasn't much to do here other than work out, read magazines, or surf, which was how the base commander wanted it. The men were strongly encouraged to make use of the exercise facilities, and considering that the winner of each month's base arm-wrestling contest got out of any and all chores for the month, the men had good reason to exercise.

Doc Furrow led me to the medical facilities, which were about what I expected. "So how much longer are you staying?" I asked him.

"I leave on the cargo transport tomorrow," he told me. "Everything's ready for you, and the nurse can help you get caught up on current patients." The nurse, by the way, was an incredibly hunky Iowa farmboy - short, thickly built, and with the palest blue eyes. He immediately went onto my mental list of men who needed improvement. "As it happens, the only official acts I have left to do are your induction procedures," he told me, smiling. "Now get your clothes off and hop up on the table."

It was a little strange, being the one examined instead of the other way around, after the whirlwind rush that was residency. "Glad to see you've already shaved," he told me, noting my stubbly body, "but you're going to have to do your head, too. Little buggers only need a tenth of an inch and they grab right on."

"Huh? Oh, right - actually, I shave my body anyway. I wanted to do my head before I got here, but I didn't have anywhere I could do it in the plane," I told him. "I could use a shower after this anyway, I planned on doing it then."

He smiled. "Good to hear. Let me save you some time..." he pulled a jar out of a cabinet and handed it to me. "This depilatory works really well. My own concotion, takes the hair right off without burning, and it doesn't grow back for awhile. Nurse makes up a batch once a week, but watch him - you get the proportions wrong and it'll burn your follicles out. Hurts like hell for a few minutes, and it never grows back. Some of the men do it on purpose, though, if they get sick of having to shave all the time." I accepted the bottle with thanks, making a mental note to get ahold of the strong stuff.

Furrow took my height, my weight, blood pressure, blah blah blah, all the usual stuff. He stuck his finger up my ass, and seemed pleased that it gave me a boner, and one i wasn't shy about. "My, you keep yourself in good shape," he commented. "No steroids or anything, I hope."

"Of course not," i answered, a little indignant. "Hard work and perseverance. You should know that, you look pretty thick under there yourself, Doc." I wasn't flattering him; Furrow wasn't as wide or bulgy as me, but sometimes when he moved I could see the outline of hard muscles under his lab coat.

"Well, I'll need to get all your measurements," he told me. That was when things first got really weird. Furrow started at my feet. He had me stand straight up, feet shoulder-width apart, and started having me flex various muscles while he measured me, flexed and relaxed. At first I just thought it was strange, but he kept complimenting me as he did it. "My, very good biceps, Doctor...yes, excellent tricep separation, like your calves...Good tone..." He kept scribbling in a notebook as he took his measurements, and pretty quickly I figured out what was going on.

He was down on one knee, measuring how far around my thighs went, when I said, "Wow, Doctor, I almost feel like you're...worshipping me," I told him. If he was into muscle worship, he'd pick up on it, and if not I could play it off as a joke. All the attention he was paying to me was turning me on, and my cock was at half-mast.

"Major Daniels has me track the muscular development of all personnel on base, but I certainly appreciate a good physique, Doctor," he replied. "And you have an...excellent physique." He brushed his hand along the length of my cock, and it grew to full erection, nice and full. His eyes looked up at me, and he lightly kissed the head of my cock. At that point, there was no confusion about what was going on.

It turned into a full-on muscle worship session, something I enjoyed immensely. I'd had lovers who were muscle fetishists before, but never really been worshipped before. Furrow was a pro, too, stroking my ego as he stroked my cock, controlling the situation, and me. He took a lot of his little measurements, felt me up a lot, and eventually sucked me off.

Once we were done, we cleaned up and got back to the real exam. "Thanks for indulging me, there," he said. "I'm under orders to measure the young men on base, but it's not often one of them enjoys it so much." He explained to me the system he used to keep track of all the various measurements Daniels had asked for, and the report format for giving him the monthly "physique reports," as Daniels called them. Each soldier had his picture taken, front and back, with each set of measurements, and Daniels reviewed them. Along with the arm-wrestling tournament, the Major gave out token awards to the men with the best improvement or overall development. "And if you see a red mark here," he took a red pen and made a slash mark on one corner of my chart, "then that's a soldier who enjoys a little worship along with it," he told me. I got it all down pretty easily.

"Well, we're almost done. There's just one other base regulation you'll need to be brought into compliance with." Doc Furrow pulled out a tool that I recognized.

"You have to circumcise me?" I asked, a little incredulous.

"Afraid so. Base commander's orders," he told me. "All base personnel get a nice and tight one."

Well, i figured, this is the Army, after all. Orders are orders. "You'll be performing a lot of these," he explained to me as he put the bell over my cockhead and pulled my foreskin up through it. "Less and less of the boys assigned here are at birth." He yanked the skin up as far as it would go, until it was painfully stretched.

"Man, Doc, you gotta pull it so tight?" I asked.

"The commander ordered they be as tight as possible," he explained. Noting my look of discomfort, he added, "Don't worry, you'll like it once you get used to it." He rubbed his own crotch. "It'll loosen up a little as it heals. Now hold your breath."

I sucked in a breath and he hit the trigger, carving my foreskin off and leaving me with the skin stitched up underneath a tight plastic ring. "The ring will come off in a few days," he told me, "So just keep it clean until then."

After the physical I limped into the showers and scrubbed myself down with depilatory, taking care to avoid my injured dick. The stuff went on with a pleasant burn, and when it came off felt like liquid heat, all tingly and hot. I got out and took a look at myself in the mirror, freshly shaven and circumcised. I struck a few poses, admiring myself, if thinking I looked funny without eyebrows.

Doc Furrow left the next day, and I took the day to get set up and ready for business. A few soldiers trickled in in the afternoon, mostly with minor cuts or the sniffles. I was looking forward to spending some time on the beach, tanning my scalp to match the rest of me, and cursing the heat, when Major Daniels, the base commander, walked in.

He cut an imposing figure in his camo wife-beater undershirt and BDU's. He was smooth as the rest of us, a square-jawed, hardnosed officer in his late thirties or early forties. He was in excellent shape; I could see the ripple of his abs through his undershirt, and his arms looked to be nearly as big as mine. His voice was deep and commanding, authoritative. I thought he was sexy as hell, and my poor sore cock was rubbing against the inside of my uniform pants.

"Doctor, I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet you yesterday," he greeted me. "Been busy, but I figured I'd come on in for my physical early, kill two birds with one stone. I trust Doctor Furrow has told you everything you need to know?"

I nodded. "I believe so, sir." I winced as my cock shifted in my pants. "Why don't you come on back to the exam room?"

He followed me back, noticing my slight limp. "Something wrong, Doctor?"

"Oh..." I answered, "Furrow circumcised me yesterday. I'm sore as hell," i told him.

Daniels smiled for the first time. "Wondered if he'd try that. He was so happy when he talked me into that one." He started pulling his boots off.

"The base regulation?" I asked.

Daniels dropped his pants and looked me right in the eyes. "I'll be frank with you. The circumcision rule is bullshit; Furrow just has a fetish for doing it."

"So you just...let him?"

"I liked the idea. Keeps 'em cleaner, which is important down here."

"Right, like with the lice," I said.

"Exactly," Daniels answered. "I actually had two troops die from infections they got from those fuckers. Not that I mind the shaving rule; I happen to like being smooth."

"Me too," I smiled. "Part of the reason I asked for this assignment." My eyes kept drifting down to his groin...

"Good to hear it. I was also happy to find a doctor that seemed like he'd fit in here."

We talked idly about a few things while I gave him the standard examination. He was in excellent shape, at least as good as me, with a great body overall, and he instantly went on my list of men I hoped to eventually castrate. "Muscular development is very important for a soldier," he told me, "and I should hold myself to at least the same standard I hold the men," he told me. "I'm glad to see you feel the same way."

I finished up the basic stuff, and had him turn his head to cough. I tried to get a good grip on his balls, but his scrotum was so tight it was difficult. I looked a little closer, and noticed a scar on it. "What's this scar, sir?" I asked.

"I didn't like my balls swinging so much, so Furrow did a scrotal trim when he did the second circ," Daniels explained. "Keeps 'em up nice n' tight. Don't stick to my leg at night 'neither." I've got a better solution to that problem than a scrotal trim, I thought to myself, but said nothing. "Furrow tried to talk me into making that a base reg too, but I figured that was going too far."

We finished up the real exam and went on to the measuring portion. This was the first one I'd really done, and Daniels took the opportunity to re-explain the physique reports to me, pointing out various random things he was picky about having done a certain way.

All in all it took about an hour. We finished up, I snapped his pictures for the report, and he got dressed again. "So do you intend to continue the circumcision rule, sir?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered. "The circumcision rule will continue, and i want you to keep doing them nice and tight. No play in the skin, that clear? So tight their erections are painful for awhile. These boys jerk off too much."

"Yessir."

He stood up. "Carry on, then," and with that, he walked out of the room.

About a week after I'd arrived, I got the patient i was really waiting for. I'd been hoping for a soldier to come in with the cockrot disease, and after having reviewed Furrow's files I saw that he usually got at least one or two a month. I recognized it immediately when the soldier who had it dropped his pants, but pretended not to. I took plenty of blood samples and such, asking him where he got it and all. It was still in its initial stages - the man's testicles had begun to swell a bit and he complained of aches in them, but there was no real damage yet.

I gave him a placebo and told him it was antibiotics, then sent him off, telling him to return if things didn't improve. Of course they didn't, and two days later he was back in. His balls were baseball sized already, and his penis was beginning to shrink up as the fatty tissues hardened. I gave him the bad news, that apparently this strain was resistant to antibiotics, and that I would have to remove his genitals.

I performed the surgery, stitching the soldier up nice and tight, like the others I'd done, and was quite satisfied with my work. I jerked it that night, my circumcision finally having healed up, and was having to get used to the tight skin while I stroked my meat. On such a small base, I ran into the guy fairly often. After he'd healed up and gone back on duty, he had been a little depressed for awhile, but I heard through the grapevine that since he'd started getting it up the ass from his bunkmates that he'd been better, and when his followup came around, he seemed fine. "I kinda like it, honestly, Doc. Nice and smooth, ya know?"

He had no idea how much I agreed with him. My mind was consumed with figuring out a way to do it to more of his fellow soldiers, and after some thought I came up with the plan. I made a culture of the bacteria that caused the infection, growing quite some quantity of it, and tried over the next few months to breed myself a strain of it that really was resistant to the antibiotic treatments we had on base. During that time, I'd had two more patients come in who'd caught the disease naturally, and managed to pull the same thing on them. I now had three "improved" men running around base, but was having trouble coming up with a resistant strain of bacteria.

A month after I'd cut the third man, Major Daniels came to see me in my office again. "I saw what you had to do to Private Underwood," he said to me. "Shame to put the boy through that." He didn't sound terribly sincere. "I have to say, though, he had been a discipline problem, but now he's turned into a model soldier."

"That's good to hear, sir." I wondered where he was going with this.

"So it's because of some infection that you had to do that to them, yeah?" he asked. I nodded. "Well, that's a mighty shame to hear, Doc, because I'm pretty sure that I have it too."

I had him drop his pants, but saw no indication whatsoever that he had the infection, and said so. "Oh, I'm afraid you're just not lookin' close enough, Doc, I'm sure I got it," Daniels told me. "Looks to me like it's all gonna haf'ta come off, huh?"

"Uhhh...no reason, to, sir..." I'd responded.

He looked at me crossly. "Just fill out the forms like I had it, then do the op. I want it clean, doc, ya hear? No stump or nothin'."

"Y...yes, sir..." I'd replied.

"Yep, gonna have to do me up all nice and smooth," Daniels was looking at his groin, his cock growing hard as he said it. Suddenly seeming self-conscious, he looked back up at me and answered the question I was afraid to ask. "I'm gonna be here a long time, Doc, and this is a lonely island. I'll overlook the men foolin' 'round with each other, but it's not my thing. I'd rather just be rid o' what I got no use for."

I nodded and smiled empathetically, then got out my tools. He went into surgery with that nine-inch boner, and came out with stitches. He recovered without complication, and once he'd healed up complimented me on my work. "I can't even see the scar without a mirror," he said to me. I had him naked in my exam room for his follow-up, wishing i could just whip my dick out and jerk it right there. "You do good work, Doctor."

"Now," he said to me as he dressed, "I think you need to call in Corporal Rodriguez and Private Tyler as well. I saw them in the showers the other day, and it appeared to me as if they have this disease as well. Shame if it turns out to be the antibiotic-resistant kind going around."

I got it. "Yessir," I said, "looks like all the cases I'm getting lately are. I'm afraid this disease may end up infecting a significant population here on base if we don't find a treatment."

Daniels smiled. "Then I suppose it's too bad there is no treatment, eh, Doc? Now listen. If any soldier comes in showing signs of this disease, I want you to be sure to take the appropriate steps, even if the signs aren't exactly...showing, yet. Is that clear?"

Holy shit, i thought to myself. He had given me carte blanche to sexually nullfiy any man on base! I wondered if I was dreaming for a minute, but he shook my out of my reverie. "Is that clear, Doctor?"

"Oh, yes, yes Sir!" I answered excitedly. After that I had free reign to "improve" pretty much anybody on base, starting with Rodriguez and Tyler. As the year went on, I managed to take the cocks and balls off fifty men - nearly a quarter of the base's population. Having your cock off and nuts out got to be a joke among the men, and they even had a betting pool going for who was going to lose his shit next. It got to be that half the time I told a soldier that he would need to be nullified, they sighed, a few even saying something to the effect of "Finally!" A sort of fatalism grew up on base, and losing your cock and balls became a badge of honor among the men, an attitude Daniels and I fostered.

For me it was practically paradise - every time I walked into the showers, there were at least two or three smooth guys in there, all nice and hairless, no nastiness hanging between their legs. Every time I caught sight of a man I'd improved I got a swelling, and not just of pride.

Daniels liked it because it the castrated men were rarely discipline problems, and when he wanted a man done, he'd drop me a pretty clear hint. Tours on the island for were for a minimum of one year, and when we got close to the next turnaround, most of the nullified men wanted to stay on the island - a much higher retention rate than usual. After the switchover, he commented that this was the easiest one they'd ever had - they didn't have to train nearly as many people. After the personnel change, Daniels came in for his last followup appointment. "You seem to have healed up perfectly, sir," I was pleased to tell him. "And it looks great."

"Yes, Doctor, I'm quite pleased," he grinned, rubbing his groin. "Now...considering the rate of infection of this disease, I'm considering instituting mandatory phrophylactic nullification of all base personnel."

My cock jumped for a moment. I would be nullifying ALL the men on the base? This couldn't possibly be true...

"How many operations can you safely perform per day?" he asked.

I thought about it for a moment. "I suppose...nine or ten, sir. With the occasional day in between..."

"How long to perform it on the remaining base personnel?"

It was about one hundred and fifty men. "I suppose about three weeks," I estimated. My head was swimming, but reality still managed to kick in. "But sir," I asked, "if I do all the base personnel...won't command take notice?"

"I've already spoken with command about it, Doctor. This base is necessary, but as the disease appears unpreventable, the brass went along with the decision." That was a relief. A surprise, for sure, but definitely a big load off my mind. How did I luck into this?

"I assume your nurse will be able to perform the operation on you," Daniels stared me in the eye, and got the look he wanted.

I hadn't even considered that such a rule meant that I would be nullified as well. I'd thought about it before - I kept my body looking as good as possible, and having my cock and balls removed would improve my appearance as much as it had anyone else's... I liked my cock was all, but if everyone on base was going to have it done, then, well, I could hardly hold myself to a different standard. "i can train him in the procedure," I answered.

Daniels had me draw up a schedule, and base personnel were notified of their surgery dates. I would be the last man on the island with a cock, as Daniels didn't want me out of commission for the few days it would take me to recover. The men took it surprisingly well; I suppose having seen so many of their comrades nullified had numbed them to the shock of the idea.

I had my nurse assist, and by the second week of operations had him acting as the primary surgeon for a few, to give him enough practice to get the technique right. I'd taken his cock off fairly early on, and he had told me soon after that he was quite happy to have had it done. He said he rather enjoyed nullifying his fellow soldiers; in a way, he felt like he was doing them a favor.

By the third week, he was expert in the procedure. We finished off the last of the men to be done, and at last, I was the only man on the island with a cock. Both I and my nurse were rather tired, so decided to put my own operation off until the next morning. I hit the showers, revelling in the fact that every man who came in was smooth between his legs...all nice and uniform, my own island of eunuchs.

"So what, Doc, you cut the dick off every guy on the island but you?" a voice said behind me. I turned to see Corporal Ryan chuckling behind me. He was a thick Irish bloke from Boston, and a recurring favorite in the base arm-wrestling championships, and one of the charts Furrow had marked with a red slash. We'd had a few mutual worship sessions, and fooled around now and again. He'd been here awhile, and was part of the more permanent sector of base personnel - the "lifers," they joked. I'd nullified him before the crew change.

I smiled in response, and answered, "Nah, I'm goin' in tomorrow morning."

"So this is your last night with a dick, huh?" Ryan smiled, coming in close. His skin was slick against mine under the hot water. He reached down and took my cock in hand, running his fingers along my balls.

"Yeah, it is," I told him. "Base regs affect me, too." He cupped my balls and bounced them around in his hand, kneading them a bit.

"Sounds like you oughta get some kinda sendoff, then, right?" He dropped to his knees and took my cock in his mouth, moving back and forth slowly. I leaned back against the shower and closed my eyes, enjoying the heat of his mouth on my cock, the water running down over my smooth chest... A few minutes later I shot my wad down his throat, then headed out for some food.

At the cafeteria I was a little surprised to see a group of privates at one table eating in the nude. It was a particularly hot and muggy day - I had only bothered putting shorts and sandals on, myself - but even as casual as this base often was, I thought it surprising. I was even more surprised when i ran into Major Daniels in front of me line at the refectory, himself wearing only his boots.

"Major."

"Doctor. How go the operations?"

"Well. As of this moment, I'm the only one left. I'm going in tomorrow."

"Excellent," he grinned. "Good to hear it."

"Uh...sir?" I asked. "What's up with the nudity?"

"It's hot, Doctor, and it's not like I have anything to hide."

He had a point. "You have a point," I answered, and started undoing my pants.

Daniels stopped me. "I don't think so, Doctor. I don't want to see your nasty shit. Keep your pants on until tomorrow."

I sighed. "Yes, sir."

The next morning, I went in to have my cock and balls cut off. It was uneventful, especially from my perspective - I got up on the operating table, the nurse shot me up with anesthetic, and the next thing i knew I was in a hospital bed, bandages covering my groin. The nurse had done an excellent job, and with some careful attention I managed to avoid all but the lightest scar.

Now that all the men on the base weren't, things started to change a bit. Clothing became a rarity; even I only wore anything anymore when I needed to for sterility's sake. My uniform became my boots and little else, as it had around the base at large.

Without my testicles, my sex drive faded away, and like the rest of the men on the base, came to terms with the loss of my male sexuality. Many of the men on the base had discovered the pleasures of prostate massage, and I indulged every now and again. The orgasms were different - more whole body, and less urgent. It was like I didn't need to get off, but every now and again just felt like it.

My view of others began to change as well. Without the sexual component, I began judging the way the men around me looked using my general sense of aesthetics. Before I'd mostly noticed whether the guy had a cock or not, but now, I, like others, started to get more obsessive about my body. Daniels had continued the physique reports, but they now took on a different tone. The men I used to have erotic worship sessions with, I now would rub up against more, using our entire bodies as a sexual organ. The arm-wrestling championships took on a certain sexualized tone as well - the losers would get ribbed pretty badly. The general culture of the base came more and more to relate physical development with social status, which drove nearly every man on base to work out and push himself as hard as possible. Daniels authorized the use of low levels of steroids to keep up muscle mass, so long as they weren't sexualizing.

Discipline was no longer a problem on the island at all, as most of the men were too busy working out most of the time to get up to any trouble. Everybody had just chilled out for the most part, and arguments were more often settled by a friendly wrestling match than a fight. Daniels was thrilled, as apparently were the top brass. When the personnel transfer came around again, apparently the change in attitude in the men who had left had impressed the brass.

For my part, I was deleriously happy. I had a great life. My job was easy; it was rare somebody got really sick or injured all that badly. I poured my energy into working out, and improving my body. Once a year I got a new crop of fresh men to relieve of their genitals, and soon enough they would assimilate into the base culture, and begin to concentrate on it themselves. Soldiers would arrive sullen and undisciplined, but left well-adjusted, happy, calm, and obedient.

Daniels and i grew close, eventually coming to share a bed. We enjoyed spooning, rubbing our muscles against each other, and over time came to regard each other as partners, rivals, and lovers. We moved into the same cabin, and in the officer's physique competitions were the usual favorites. Over my time there I came to see his vulnerable side, and he mine.

All good things come to an end, however. After ten years on my island, the brass decided it was no longer necessary to keep it open, and shut the base down. Daniels, well, Mark, and I both thought it was a good time to retire - I didn't want to have to deal with a more traditional Army lifestyle, frankly, and neither did he.

We headed back to my hometown and I started up my own practice, telling myself I'd have to get used to civilian life again. Mark started a business as a personal trainer, and the two of us competed in the local amateur bodybuilding contests from time to time. Readjusting wasn't too easy - I felt cold all the time, and wearing clothing was kind of aggravating. Hair was gross; even a guy with hairy arms looked funny to both of us. At home we walked around nude most of the time, but as the months passed we readjusted.

Things were pretty dull - I was doing well and all, but did miss having young studs around all the time. I was enjoying the new life I'd made for myself, working on my house, gardening, working out, being with Mark. I still think about nullifying men, pretty much every time i see a cock, it's all I can think of. I want to remove it, to castrate the guy...to improve him.

Take you, for instance. Look at yourself. You're a good looking guy, don't get me wrong, but just think how much better you'd look without those nasty wrinkly balls, or that veiny penis between your legs. It's a simple, safe procedure. Just imagine it, son, all nice and smooth. Yeah, your cock sure agrees - I can see that tent in your pants. Trust me, son, once I'm done taking that nasty thing off you, I think you'll agree it's a real improvement.