Janitor

NONE ENTERED BY AUTHOR

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	I heard about Joe being hired before I met him.  I was 
hanging out in the breakroom and a few of the office women were 
talking about him.  "He's huge," they'd say.  "Did you see his 
arms?"  "Or the lump in his pants?"  They seemed pretty enthralled 
with him, so I needed to see this guy.
	I passed by him a floor down; he was walking somewhere very 
intently.  He seemed to take up the whole corridor, and I felt 
myself compelled to move aside even though he had plenty of room to 
pass.  I watched him coming and going, and the hags upstairs had 
been absolutely correct; the guy was gorgeous.
	He was immensely tall, like 7 feet or so, but unlike most 
taller guys he was not an ectomorph - instead his body was packed 
with muscle.  His arms pulled at the shirt he wore and his biceps 
nearly tore it.  His chest jutted out in front of him and the crease 
of his breastbone was clearly visible even in the coveralls he wore. 
 His thighs and ass made the coveralls equally tight down below as 
they did above, and as I gazed at him walking off I could see the 
muscles in his ass flex and loosen with each step.  He wore his hair 
long and pulled back for work.  It was dark brown and wavy, and 
complemented his tanned skin.  His eyes were bright and green, and 
his expression fierce and intense, and his package was indeed rather 
impressive.  It gave me the idea that he wore a jock, though.
	I was taken right away with him; but was sure that like all 
of the best guys, he was straight.  He would be a pleasure to look 
at, I knew, and over the next few weeks I made it a point to stay a 
little late on days when he was assigned to clean my floor.  I got 
up the balls to say something to him once.  He replied but with such 
a tone that let me know our conversation had ended.  His voice was a 
deep baritone, and hearing it only made me want to hear it more.
	Then, one night I was staying late again, pretending to 
work, and in the middle of vacuuming the area right outside my 
cubicle he stopped and looked at me.  I got really worried; sure 
that he had noticed me looking at him and sure he would pound me to 
the ground.  I'm a pretty well built guy and all but nothing 
compared to him.
	I looked up and met his gaze, pressing myself into my seat 
under the pressure of his eyes.  "You enjoy looking at me, don't 
you?" he asked.
	Without any conscious thought I answered truthfully.  "Yes."
	"You want my cock in you?"
	My own jumped in my pants.  "Yes."  Again without even 
thinking.
	He turned around and walked off, and something told me to 
follow him.  He walked into the broom closet - actually pretty big; 
the size of a small office, and shut the door behind me.
	Once inside he just kicked off his shoes and stared at me.  
I went to him and peeled his coveralls away from his body.  Beneath 
them he wore only a tight pair of boxer briefs, which outlined a 
fucking huge cock.  I tugged them down and Joe's penis sprung free, 
erect and gigantic.  His balls hung low in their sac and matched the 
rest of him.
	Joe literally tore my shirt off while I hastily undid my 
pants.  My cock was out as well, but seeing it next to his made me 
feel ashamed.  Joe kissed me roughly, gripping me around the torso, 
and I could feel the bulge of his biceps while I was in his embrace. 
 He cock dug into my belly.  He didn't seem too interested in 
kissing, and to be honest, neither was I.  He bent me over, and I 
relaxed, preparing to try and take him.
	God, it hurt, but it hurt in such a nice way.  My ass felt 
like it would burst, but it was so full.  He was barely halfway in 
when he hit my prostate, and the shoved further into it.  It was 
awesome, but at the same time a little terrifying.  I tensed up for 
a moment, and he slowed, allowing me to take him a little more 
easily.  I loosened up soon, and he resumed his fast pace, pounding 
me.
	During all this time I completely ignored my cock.  Usually 
I liked to jack myself off but this time I didn't really care about 
it - what the hell use was it next to a monster like Joe's anyway?  
I wanted to get off, sure, but didn't really consider it useful.  
Essentially, I was Joe's woman, and liked it that way.  His scent 
filled the room, the odor of sweat and manhood, and me?  I was just 
some warm body, barely male, with an available hole.
	He shot a load into me, filling me with goo, and then 
another, and another before he finally calmed down.  I still hadn't 
cum yet but was rock hard and ready to.  I grabbed my dick and 
started pulling like mad but it felt sorta numb, and I lost the 
boner when Jack got dressed, so stopped trying.

	Wednesday night fuckfests developed into our weekly ritual, 
and every time it was the same.  He simply looked at me right and I 
knew what he wanted.  We'd do it in the closet, in the elevator, in 
a cubicle...everywhere.  I didn't really care about getting caught; 
I knew Joe could protect me.  Every time I'd get a boner but not cum 
from it, and after a few weeks I didn't really care anymore.
	Then, one Tuesday I had to stay late.  I was working on some 
stuff and got kinda hungry so headed down to the break room to get 
something out of the machines, when what do I see but Joe plugging 
one of the kids from the mailroom!  I just stood there in awe.  The 
kid was sweaty and panting, and when Joe came he let the kid fall 
from his cock.  He then looked at me and I knew what to do.
	After he was done with me he left.  Only when I was putting 
my pants on did I notice that neither I nor the other guy had ever 
really had a woody.  The whole time he'd fucked me I never got even 
a little bit stiff.  I didn't really mind - I was starting to think 
that I was really here for was a hole for Joe, and it didn't really 
bother me.  I stopped for a moment and concentrated, trying to 
figure out how I felt.  
	The really weird thing was when I woke up a few days later 
and didn't have a boner.  Every day since I was fourteen I'd woken 
up with morning wood, but there it lay, limp.  When I was in the 
shower then it occurred to me that I hadn't had a real boner in a 
long time, either when Joe fucked me or otherwise.  As soon as the 
thought of Joe crossed my mind, I decided I didn't really care, 
though.  The thought came back to me that I didn't really need to 
get hard anymore.

	A few more months passed, and through all that time not once 
did I get hard.  I didn't even think about sex unless it was with 
Joe, or want it unless it was with him.  It was kind of a nice 
feeling, really.  It was sometime during this period that I decided 
to ask Joe if he wanted me more permanently.  I knew I wanted him, 
and to be his.  Still, I wanted to be good for him.  He was a big 
guy, so I decided that I needed to be at least in good shape when I 
asked him.
	So, I threw myself into working out.  By summer I was in 
great shape, trim and with some decent definition creeping into the 
vast white expanse of my torso.  The day finally came for me to ask 
him.
	Wednesday.  I worked late as usual.  He came to me, as 
always, and upon looking into his eyes I lost all control over 
myself.  He led me off somewhere and took me, again and again, until 
he was spent.  He turned to walk off, and I stopped him.
	"Ummm...Joe?" I asked him.  He stopped.
	"Yeah?"
	"Um.  Well, we've been doing this for awhile now and, uh..."
	"Spit it out, dude."
	"I was wondering if you'd...well, want to make this a more 
permanent thing."
	He stood there nude, like some god.  I was almost afraid to 
look at him for fear his expression would be mocking.  "Like what?" 
he asked.
	"I want you to own me," I blurted out.
	He just stood there for a minute.  I couldn't really look at 
him, and just kept my eyes downcast.
	"Is that it?" he said.  I got confused.  "I'm surprised it 
took you this long."
	"What?"
	"After a little while nearly every guy says that to me, and 
the ones that don't want to but don't have the balls."  So what is 
he going to do then, I thought?  If all kinds of guys say this to 
him then I didn't think I had much of a chance.
	"But Joe...you have to take, me, please!  I can't stop 
thinking about you...I can't even get hard for other guys.  Hell, I 
don't even get hard for you any more, but I need you.  I don't...I 
don't..." I had a hard time saying this.  "You're such a..a man that 
you make me feel too inferior.  You make me almost ashamed that I 
can't live up to you.  When I'm with you I don't want to be a guy 
anymore.  I don't want to be a woman or anything, just...just not a 
guy."
	"Well, we can solve that problem."
	"What?  How?"
	"You'll see.  Stay late Friday, I'll fix ya."

	All that night and the next two days I wondered what he 
meant.  Did he mean he'd somehow unmale me?  I didn't think it was 
really likely he could do such a thing; I mean, I didn't really know 
what it took to castrate somebody.  Oddly, the idea sort of appealed 
to me.  What better way to give up what little masculinity I had 
than to get rid of the organs defining it, right?
	I convinced myself that he'd never actually be able to do 
something like that, though - surely it was major surgery, and hell, 
not to slight Joe but he was a janitor, after all.  Still, the idea 
was appealing, and I could barely concentrate imagining Joe taking 
my manhood from me.
	Finally five o' clock rolled around, and I stayed where I 
was.  I tried to read email or surf the web but I couldn't really 
concentrate well on anything.  At long last Joe walked in.  His 
expression beckoned me to him and I followed him into the janitorial 
closet.  We both got naked, and I stood there staring at his chest 
move in and out as he breathed.  God, it was a lovely sight.
	"Here," he tossed me a little bag.  "Shave your pubes off." 
 I opened the bag to find a razor and cream, and went to the low 
sink in the closet normally used for filling mop buckets and such.  
I started to shave off the hair surrounding my limp dick, wondering 
if this was all he meant.  When I finished, I looked very boyish - 
without the hair, my cock looked smaller, sorta.  It had had hair 
since I was fourteen.
	"Rinse off really well."  I did.  He dried me off and then 
spread this orange crap all over my crotch that smelled like shit.  
Next he pulled out a needle and stuck me with it right above my 
cock.  Numbness spread throughout my groin, and standing up felt 
weird.
	"What are you going to do?" I asked him.
	"You said you didn't want to be a man anymore, right?" he 
asked.
	"Well, yeah."
	"I'm making you not a man."  He pulled a sealed catheter out 
of his duffel bag and started pushing it up inside me.  I wondered 
to myself if this was what I really wanted.
	I'd been thinking about this all day long; hell, it was a 
pretty cool fantasy.  But did I really want this done to me?  The 
thing was mostly useless, just a lump of flesh that didn't really do 
much.  I didn't do anything with it anymore, and all it did was 
cause me pain.  Why not let him take it?
	Once the catheter was in he asked if I could feel my cock at 
all.  I nodded no.  "Okay then.  Let's do it."
	"Have...have you done this before?" I asked.
	"Remember the guy in marketing you saw me with?" he asked.  
I nodded.  "He was number eighteen.  Don't worry."  Joe pulled on 
some rubber gloves.
	Eighteen?  Holy shit!  Joe pulled a scalpel out and broke it 
from its sealant.  "Hold still and stand straight up," he ordered 
me.  If the marketing guy was eighteen...they couldn't all have been 
from this company.  He pressed the knife into my skin, and bits of 
blood welled out.  
	I was starting to worry.  Would I still get to be with Joe 
once he cut my cock off?  What happened to all the other guys?  Did 
he just take their maleness and leave?  I considered stopping Joe 
until I looked down.
	He had finished.  My cock had come off at the base, and was 
lying on the floor next to us.  Joe was now just using a small 
cauterizer to seal off blood vessels.  I felt weak, and wavered a 
little.  I had just allowed this man to cut my dick off!  No, not 
allowed...he had pushed me into it.  Yeah, that was it.  No, I 
thought back, no it wasn't.  I had wanted this, so now would have to 
live with it.
	Joe took some time sealing off the vessels, then cleaned the 
wound, sutured it shut, and cleaned it again.  Next he put some pads 
over it and started cleaning up around us.  All that I had now was a 
pair of balls hanging down and a plastic tube for a penis.
	"You can piss by working the valve on the catheter.  After 
the stitches fall out you can pull out the catheter.  The stitches 
should stay in for about ten days.  You should be okay after that.  
Do you want your cock?"
	I just sort of stared down a little, still in shock.  He 
asked again.  "Do you want your cock?"
	"What? Oh...uh...no.  Just...just get rid of it."  I don't 
know what he did with it; I slipped back into my shocked state and 
stayed there until I felt Joe's cock slip between my cheeks.  He 
shoved himself into me, over and over again - I could tell all this 
had turned him on as well.  My balls slapped against my legs but 
were still numb.  
	The strangest thing was, I was really enjoying this, more 
than I had in a long time.  I didn't have to get a boner to enjoy it 
any more; the pressure all left when my cock did.  I settled down to 
enjoy being ridden, and this time, I came three times into the 
little plastic tube.
	After it was all over we cleaned ourselves up and I emptied 
out the catheter.  I went home and just lay in front of the 
television all evening long.

	When I awoke the next morning I had a monster piss trying to 
come out.  I headed for the bathroom and instinctively reached for 
my groin, expecting to find a cock there.  Instead, all I got was a 
thin plastic tube.  I turned the valve, and watched the urine stream 
out into the toilet.
	Walking hurt pretty bad if I took big steps.  My crotch was 
badly bruised, and any movement that put any sort of pressure on it 
hurt.  I had to take little baby steps everywhere I went.  Since it 
was the weekend, I mostly just lay in bed trying not to move.  I 
looked at the cut, and it was pretty gross.  The blood had scabbed 
up around the stitches and turned black, so it looked like I had a 
big black line where my cock should be, with a plastic tube running 
out the front.
	Sunday I awoke with a tightness in my groin.  I lay for a 
moment before I realized what it was: my morning woody, back but 
with no cock to get hard!  I had read that much of a guy's penis was 
inside his body, so it only made sense that it might get erect.  The 
feeling only reminded me further what I had really lost.  I looked 
down at my groin and realized for the first time, really, that I 
would never have a cock.  I could never fuck anything again, only be 
fucked.  But that was okay, as long as I had Joe...  I didn't have 
to be a guy around him, didn't have to fulfill any real sexual role. 
 I could just sort of be there.
	I stumbled to the bathroom, and discovered that I had healed 
somewhat - the bruise looked worse but hurt less.  I could still 
only walk in baby steps.  I was sure to keep the whole area cleaned 
and disinfected with some Merthiolate I had lying around.  
	Monday I called in and told them I had a really bad groin 
pull.  I figured this would be good so when I went back if I limped 
then I'd have a ready excuse.  I could walk a little better.  
Tuesday I could take short steps but still walk almost normally - I 
just looked like I was taking my time going anywhere.  I went ahead 
on in to work.
	I walked into the office and over to my cube, saying hi to 
people, and wondering just what they'd think if they knew what had 
happened.  I could imagine them whispering to each other at the 
water fountain or over the coffee machine - "Hey!  There's the guy 
with no dick!"  I knew they weren't really, but it made me feel a 
little paranoid.  What if they tried to check out my basket and saw 
it was smaller?  What if somebody bumps against me and feels?  What 
if...I shook my head and put those thoughts out of my mind. If they 
did, I'd just get a rep for having a really small dick, and I didn't 
really care if that happened.
	Wednesday I felt even better, and the bruise had turned 
green.  This was my usual day to stay late, so I did, waiting around 
for Joe to show up.  I waited a good hour after when he usually came 
up, but he never showed.  I got a little worried, but just figured 
he'd gotten tied up with baby puke or something and took off.  
	By Friday I could almost walk normally, and had gotten used 
to the feeling of not having a cock when I walked.  I was kind of 
getting to enjoy it, even.  On the way home I passed a really hot 
guy with his shirt off, and suddenly realized how very horny I was - 
a whole week without cumming; I was about to go nuts!
	The problem was that I had let all my relationships atrophy 
while Joe was fucking me, so I didn't really have anybody I could 
call.  That, and did I really want them to see me with a green 
crotch and no penis?  It suddenly hit me how much I really needed 
Joe.
	With no Joe handy I needed to improvise.  I had some pornos, 
so dug them out of the closet and blew the dust off them.  I watched 
them for a bit, getting hornier and hornier, unsure what to do with 
myself.  I played with my balls, and that felt really great, but I 
just couldn't manage to cum with them.  Next I tried lubing up my 
thumb but that just didn't work at all; it wasn't nearly big enough 
and the damn nail hurt.  I don't own a dildo, so had to find 
something to substitute...
	I hate to admit it, but I ended up using the plunger.  It 
was kind of thick and definitely long enough, if not very flexible. 
 With enough lube it slipped in, and I was good at loosening up 
after being fucked every week for six months by Joe's monster 
schlong.  I pushed myself up and down on the plunger, watching some 
guy get fucked on TV, playing with my balls, until finally the 
catheter filled up with hot white goo.
	Most of the stitches fell out sometime while I was asleep 
Saturday night.  I went ahead and pulled out the rest Sunday 
morning, and by that time my crotch was only slightly sore and a 
little bit yellowish.  My pubes had started to grow in and had 
gotten all spiky, but were fortunately past the itchy stage.  I 
could walk okay, too, but didn't want to try running.  That night I 
went ahead and pulled out the catheter right before I decided to try 
and piss.  My first try was a disaster; the urine just sort of 
dribbled out and down my leg.  Next I tried sitting on the toilet 
and leaning way over, and that worked okay.  In the mornings I took 
to just pissing in the shower as that was the easiest way.  I felt a 
lot less irritated with the catheter out.
	By Wednesday I was all healed up, but again, no Joe.  My sex 
drive had returned with a vengeance, and I was dying to get fucked 
somehow.  I was getting really worried; had he taken off now that he 
had my dick?
	On the way home I stopped off and purchased a nice dildo - 
self lubricating, pretty big.  It was the cast of some porn star's 
cock, and a pretty nice one - all the veins and everything.  Kinda 
gross, really, but it did the job.
	At work I asked what happened to Joe, and the word was that 
he had quit and moved on.  I didn't believe it the first few times, 
but everybody seemed to think the same thing, and I sure couldn't 
find him.  My heart fell and with it my mood.  Fine job he had done 
on me - cut off my penis, then jet?  So here I was, a dickless 
wonder without him to fuck me.
	I got really depressed for a few days.  I was screwed, and 
unfortunately not literally.  What the hell was I supposed to do 
now?  I took to moping a lot.  People at work noticed as well, and 
one guy suggested I try working out again to take out my aggressions 
or whatever.
	That sounded like decent advice; at least it would give me 
something to do.  I went back into it, and he was right - my mood 
improved, even if my situation didn't.  I wouldn't shower at the gym 
anymore, not like this, but I didn't mind looking.  As the weeks 
passed, I threw more and more effort into my workouts, and they 
became my personal life.  I also learned to deal with my dickless 
state better, finally really coming to accept it.  I sure regretted 
having it removed, but, as I came to realized, not having a dick 
sort of made me hot property, too...
	Think about it.  Here's a guy who can only be a total bottom 
- I have no dick to fuck with, therefore I must be fucked all the 
time.  Lots of guys would be cool with that, right?  If they could 
get past the fact that I didn't have a penis then it wouldn't really 
be all that big a deal.
	With that realization came a certain pride in knowing that I 
was the only guy around that didn't have a cock.  Joe had said he'd 
cut off the marketing kid's too, but he quit about a week after Joe 
did.  So then I was the only man I knew without a penis.  Well, man 
may not be the right word, but nothing else really fits.
	Finally the day came when not having a penis got to be such 
a natural idea that I just forgot about it, and stripped naked to 
shower in the gym.  I didn't even consider what people might think 
until I saw some college kid staring.  Shit, I thought - this poor 
kid'll probably freak.  I kept going, trying to pretend like nothing 
was wrong, but noticed that this kid had a giant hard on looking at 
me.  He tried to hide it but didn't do a good job as he kept turning 
to look at me.  I gave him a show, soaping up and washing, 
pretending I didn't see him.  When I was done I dried off, dressed, 
and left, feeling elated.  I had actually given that kid a hard on 
because I couldn't get one myself!
	After that day I started wearing a tighter pair of shorts to 
the gym, one that made it abundantly clear that either I didn't have 
a cock or what I had was very, very small.  I got a lot of looks for 
it but nobody ever said anything.  I kept showering there, too.  
Finally, somebody asked me about it.
	The guy was one of the personal trainers, a short guy with 
giant muscles.  "Okay, man, I gotta ask.  What the hell happened to 
your dick?"
	I debated making up some story, but decided to just tell him 
the truth.  "A former lover cut it off."
	"Shit!  And they couldn't reattach it or something?"
	I smiled.  "Nah, man, I let him do it."
	He was taken aback, quite literally, and just stared at me 
for a second.  "You...you wanted this guy to do it?"
	"Yeah.  Sorta.  I didn't know he was going to until just 
before he did it, but I didn't stop him."
	"Do you, ya know, like it?"
	"Like not having a dick?  Sure.  I like getting fucked.  I'm 
used to it, too.  I regretted it for awhile but don't anymore.  It's 
gotten to the point now where having a dick would seem weird to me."
	"You don't miss it or anything?"
	"Nope.  Not anymore."
	"Wow."  He turned back to finish washing up, as did I.  When 
I was nearly done, I noticed him standing right behind me.  I turned 
around.  "So you like to get fucked, do ya?"

	The trainer guy was pretty good, it turned out, and he 
seemed to like me.  His dick was really kinda small - I guess it's 
true what they say about bodybuilders, but it was big enough.  He 
really got off on fucking a guy without a penis.  I asked him if he 
always got off work at the same time.  He smiled.  "Always."
	His name was Cliff.  He said he felt a little guilty; he'd 
never been with a guy before, but had wanted to try for awhile now. 
 He had seen me in the showers a few weeks ago and noticed that 
something was amiss about me, but hadn't gotten up the balls (so to 
speak) to ask me about it until just then.  Something about the 
prospect of a guy with no dick really turned him on, and fucking 
that guy...well, suffice to say that finally gave him the balls to 
ask me about it.
	Ironically, Cliff didn't really have much to speak of in the 
way of testicles.  I asked him about it; he said it was the steroids 
he did.  His football coach in high school had started him on them, 
of all people, and he had gotten addicted to their effects.  He 
looked for another way to get their effect but nothing else was as 
good, so for now he kept on the 'roids.  I couldn't even feel his 
balls; he said he didn't really even know if he still had them.  
"Guess we have something in common, then," I joked.  "I've got no 
dick, you've got no balls."  He laughed, a little nervously.
	We fucked for a few weeks, and the regular sex was really 
starting to put me in a better mood again.  I had proven to myself 
that I really could still be sexual without having a cock, without 
being exactly, well, male.  Cliff seemed to really like taking me as 
well, and we started seeing each other socially as well.  The story 
that spread around the gym was that I'd lost it in an accident, and 
nobody really asked me firsthand about it so I didn't care to tell 
them the truth about the matter.  It was weird still; some guys 
would see me and pop little woodies.  I wondered if there was 
something inherent about the thought of losing their dick that made 
these guys horny.

	"You ever thought about having your balls removed as well?" 
Cliff asked me.
	Actually, I had, but only jokingly.  "They kinda get in the 
way sometimes.  Maybe I should get them removed."  I smiled at him.
	"No, seriously," Cliff asked.
	"Well, no, not really.  I mean, without testosterone my sex 
drive'd go away and all that, right?"
	"Well, it's not like you can't take hormones or something, 
right?  I mean, hell, my balls are gone for all I know and I still 
like to fuck."
	This was a weird turn for conversation to take.  "I guess 
so.  Why, you want to castrate me or something?"
	"I just think it would look a lot better.  Smoother, ya 
know?"
	Well, that was true, but it hardly warranted having my balls 
cut off.  Cliff kept talking.  "Besides, you said you don't like 
being a male.  Balls are a pretty big part of being a guy.  Get your 
balls removed and you really would be neutered."  Hmmm.  He had a 
point.
	"I'll think about it."  And I did.  Really...every time he 
fucked me and my balls slapped against his cock so hard I felt like 
I was getting racked up.  Every time I rolled over in bed and could 
feel them sweating against my leg.  Every time I had to adjust, I 
thought about it, and every single time I thought more and more 
about having them gone.
	Finally I just came out and told him I wanted to do it.  
"Yeah, Cliff, I think you're right.  I want them gone but I don't 
really have any safe way to do it."
	Cliff seemed happy for me.  "Hmmm.  Maybe we could come up 
with some excuse and get a hospital to do it for you."
	"There's an idea."  We sat around and thought about it for a 
bit when it came to me.  "I got it!
	"'Yeah, doc, I was in this horrible accident a year ago and, 
well, as you can see, my dick got mangled.  They had to remove it.  
The thing is, I'm horny constantly - I can't stop thinking about 
sex, and I can't really do anything about it.  I need my balls 
removed or I'm gonna go nuts!'  Think that'll work?"
	Cliff laughed.  "Oh, yeah."

	I made an appointment with a urologist.  I had a little bit 
of a problem trying to fake the fact that no hospital had records of 
this accident, so I told him it happened in Africa.  I was lying out 
my ass but they bought it, and the doc said he might be willing to 
castrate me.  "However," he added, "only if two psychiatrists 
approve you mentally sound.  Otherwise there could be some nasty 
legal problems with something like this."
	So I ended up having to do three sessions minimum with two 
psychiatrists and have them both pronounce me mentally sound.  Both 
of them worked with transsexuals, so had some idea what was going 
on, but neither of them had an easy time understanding that I didn't 
want to be a woman.  After they got that through their heads it was 
a lot easier to convince them, and both ended up recommending that 
the doc go ahead and do it.  I felt kinda bad about lying to them 
about being horny all the time, and when one of them suggested 
'nontraditional sex' I had to keep myself from laughing.  If he only 
knew.  I pretended to be Joe Straight, and it worked.
	The big day finally came.  Cliff showed up and pretended to 
by my brother.  They shaved and disinfected me, then wheeled me in. 
 I only needed a local anesthetic as in the medical sense this was a 
minor surgery.  I couldn't feel anything other than tugging, and 
nurses or doctors were in the way so I couldn't really see anything 
either.  I knew it when they got the first ball out, and then the 
second, as they lay them on a tray on my belly.  The doc snipped off 
my scrotum and cleaned everything up, and when he was done I had 
another neat line of stitches where my sac had been.
	I walked out of the hospital a happy eunuch.  When the 
painkillers wore off it really didn't hurt so much as itch.  It was 
sore for a good week and the bruising happened again.  After two 
weeks or so the stitches were out, the bruise was gone, and the only 
trace of my manhood remaining was a pinkish line of skin in my 
crotch and a very small stub.
	Cliff managed to get hormone patches for me through his roid 
dealer, so I didn't have to worry about hot flashes or anything.  I 
didn't work out for a few weeks due to the healing process, so 
didn't make it to the gym much until after my followup visit with 
the doc and he pronounced me healthy.
	I stopped wearing underwear.  It was kind of pointless, as 
the only reason I had ever worn it for was support, and I no longer 
needed that.  Again I wondered what might happen if somebody brushed 
up against me, but this time instead of fearing it I sort of wanted 
it to happen.  I wanted people to know that I had been totally 
emasculated, and I wanted them to know that I was happy that way.  I 
even took to shaving my body clean.
	I finally managed to make it back to the gym, and this time 
when I got into the shower people out and out stared.  I still said 
nothing.  A few guys looked ill, but most of them were just 
incredulous.  I