Note: Although this story is written in the first person, it is not autobiographical.

This is a work of fiction. The characters in it are figments of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, places, or events, is purely coincidental.

I had no inkling of impending disaster when I came home from school at about 3:30 on the afternoon of September 28, 1934. It was Friday and I was looking forward to the weekend.

My father called to me from his study. "Robert, come in here. I have something I want you to read."

Uh-Oh, "Robert" That didn't sound good. I'm Robert only when I'm in the dog-house. When I went in, Dad was at his desk. He handed me an opened envelope with a letter in it. I noticed the name on the return address on the envelope: Merrill L. Stark.

Merrill Leominster Stark was my gym teacher. Now, why would he be writing to my father ? The letter revealed the answer immediately.

Dear Mr. Endicott,

I have observed something concerning your son, Robert, about which I feel that I must inform you. After every physical education class, Robert emerges from the shower room with an erection which he did not have when he entered it. It seems to me that the only reasonable inference which one can draw from this fact is that Robert finds the sight of the naked bodies of his classmates sexually arousing.

It is not my place to suggest how you should deal with this situation, Mr. Endicott. I leave that matter entirely to you. However, I felt it necessary that you be informed of this matter because of its serious implications.

Yours Truly,

Merrill L. Stark,

Instructor of Physical Education

While I was reading this letter, I could feel my ears burning and I was sure that my face must be scarlet with embarrassment. I handed it back to my father silently.

He asked me quietly "Has Mr. Stark drawn the correct inference from his observation ?"

I couldn't think of any other plausible explanation for my having a boner every time I got out of the shower, so I nodded and said "Yessir." I knew that I shouldn't stare at the other guys in the shower ; I knew I shouldn't let my gaze linger on their big cocks because I'd get horny, but I couldn't help it.

Put a normal 15-year-old boy in a shower room of naked teenaged girls. Could he keep from staring at them ? Could he avoid getting a boner ? Well, it was just as natural for me to get horny looking at naked guys as it would be for him to get horny looking at naked girls.

I'd already realized that I was queer. Well, now Coach Stark had discovered it, and now Dad knew. The question that really worried me was what did he intend to do about it ?

"As Mr. Stark said in his letter, this matter has serious implications. Therefore, I think that you should have a talk with Dr. Hall about it. I have made an appointment for you at 5:00. I did not feel that this should be discussed on the telephone, so he knows nothing about it, yet." I just nodded and went up to my room.

My thoughts went back to a conversation I'd overheard in McGuire's Blacksmith Shop a few weeks ago. By 1934, B. L. McGuire's Blacksmith Shop was an anachronism. There was almost no business for a blacksmith and none for a farrier.

I think he kept it open as a hobby and to meet with his old cronies there. I used to lurk in the darkness behind the forge and evesdrop on their conversations. The speech of the old men, in an old time "Daown East" accent, was very salty and the discussion was very frank, not the sort of thing a teenaged boy should hear.

On this particular day, I had just sneaked in behind the forge, out of sight but within earshot, when I heard the cracked wavery voice of Lem, a 90-year-old Civil War veteran say, "Saaay, I heerd tell young Tawmmy Williams folks gawt him cahstrated. Izzat true ?"

"Ayuh", replied an oldster named Frank. "Had to. Faound aout he was a cawksuckah." I don't know the name of the man who answered Frank's comment. He added "Ayuh, that's what they oughta do t' all them nahncy boys, cut their balls off."

"Yer roight" answered Frank. "Th' Lord give a man balls t'make babies. If he ain't a-goin' t'use em fer that, he oughtn't t'have em."

Somebody I couldn't see said "Well, ya could say that abaout Cat'lic priests, too."

Frank replied "Y'think I don't ?" Everybody but me busted out laughing. I was trying not to attract any attention to myself. (Though McGuire is an Irish name,

old B.L. was a Presbyterian like my folks.)

I happened to look down, though, and saw that I had a boner, so I snuck out through the back of the shop into the alley behind it. After looking around to be sure nobody could see me, I unbuttoned my fly, took out my cock, and jerked off to get rid of my boner.

I got the impression from that conversation that it was pretty much the usual thing to castrate queers, and I suspected that Dad and Dr. Hall would want that to be done to me. Although all I'd ever really done was jerk off, I enjoyed that very much and wouldn't want to give it up.

Well, I didn't have a long wait to find out. Soon enough we were in Dr. Hall's waiting room. Dad went into Dr. Hall's office to show him the letter and they talked for a while. Dad came out and said, "Alright, Bobby, he wants to talk to you alone.

He figures you'd be less embarrassed if I wasn't there." [Oh, so I'm Bobby gain, hm.]

Dr. Hall motioned me to a chair and asked me, "Bobby, do you masturbate ?"

"Yessir, I do."

"That's alright. Most boys do. What do you think of when you masturbate ?"

"Handsome, naked, well-developed men and guys my own age."

"What do you imagine yourself doing with these young men ?"

"Masturbating them, being masturbated by them, kissing, and rubbing our bodies together until we shoot our sperm."

"Have you ever actually done these things ?

"I met a young man in the park in July and we masturbated each other, but I haven't seen him since."

"Do you have any sexual interest in girls ? "

"No, sir. I think they're pretty, but they don't excite me.

"Alright, Bobby, I want to show you some photographs. I had to clear them with your father first because they're rather pornographic, but your reaction will tell me a great deal about your sexual inclinations. Go into the ante-room over there to the left and remove all of your clothing. Then go into the treatment room and sit on the table."

The "treatment room" is his operating room and the "table" is his operating table.

I'd be all ready for castration once I'd reacted to the pictures. I did what he told me to and waited for him , seated on the operating table, bare-assed.

Dr. Hall came in carrying two manila envelopes. From one of them he removed 3

8X10 glossy prints and handed me one. It was a picture of a very pretty girl with long dark hair and dark eyes. She had a beautiful face and a classic female shape: narrow shoulders, wide hips, shapely legs, and, especially, huge tits. I appreciated and admired her beauty, especially the big tits, but it didn't excite me, neither did the slit in the midst of the pubic hair between her legs. So, that's what a cunt looks like, eh ?

The second print was a close-up of her cunt and she was holding it open with her fingers. I had never seen anything so disgusting or repulsive in my life. I hastily laid that print face-down on the first one.

In the third picture, she had her finger in the top of her cunt. From the look on her face, I guessed that she was in ecstasy, and I realized that this is how girls jerk off. I knew that they did, but I could never figure out just how. I'm sure it was a very sexy picture, but it didn't do anything for me.

Dr. Hall put the prints back in the envelope and pulled three other prints out of the other manila envelope. The first was a full-length photo of a young man of about 20. He had curly black hair and the face of a Greek god. His shoulders were very wide and muscular, and his chest was muscular too, with a small patch of hair on it.

His sides tapered down to a very narrow waist. There was a line of hair running from his cock up to his belly-button. He had a wide triangle of curly black pubic hair, and, out of the middle of it, sprang the biggest cock I had ever seen. None of the boys in my gym class at Wilber High had anything like that ! But, they were all only 14-15 years old.

Behind that huge cock hung a pair of balls as big as plums . I didn't look down, but I could feel myself getting a boner. I was in no hurry to set that picture aside, but Dr. Hall handed me another. It was of the same young man, from the side and with a boner. The thing stuck up over his belly-button at an acute angle to his belly.

By this time, I knew I had a boner and I was feeling that funny sensation in my balls and crotch that usually meant that I was going to cum. I was breathing hard, starting to sweat, and beginning to feel shaky. I didn't want to let go of that picture, but there was a third one to see.

Oh, Lordy ! In the last photo, my Greek god had been joined by another very handsome well-hung young man. They were hugging and kissing and had ahold of each other's boner. That did it. My cock erupted and spurted a couple of tablespoonfuls of thick lumpy gism onto the floor. Well, that left no doubt about whether I was queer.

I looked up at Dr. Hall, managed a sickly grin and said "I guess that settles that, doesn't it ?" Dr. Hall nodded and said, "The first thing I want you to know is that it isn't your fault. You can't help being attracted to young men any more than most young fellows your age can help being attracted to girls.

Something went wrong in your sexual development and you had no control over it. Unfortunately, most people don't understand this..........or want to understand it.

Most normal males regard homosexuals as contemptible, disgusting, and loathesome. Some hate them and and will even murder a homosexual upon discovering him. So, discovery is one of the things which you have to fear.

Already, your body has betrayed you to your gym teacher and probably to several of your classmates. It is unlikely that your erections in the shower have gone unnoticed by the other boys.

The other, even more serious, matter which you must fear is arrest. Although you have not yet tried any of the other acts which homosexuals indulge in, you are likely to, if only out of curiosity. You must understand that these acts are illegal, often collectively referred to as sodomy, although, strictly speaking, the word "sodomy" should be restricted to anal penetration.

Trials for sodomy are sensational and scandalous. At the very least, you and your family would be disgraced. If convicted, you could be sentenced to several years in prison. There is no confidentiality in prison, and it would not be long before the other prisoners would know the nature of your offense.

Beatings, abuse, and even murder by other prisoners are not unusual for homosexuals in prison. Unless something were done to prevent it, homosexuality would doom you to a fear-ridden miserable life."

I sighed and asked "But, what can be done ?" Dr. Hall paused a moment before answering. "First, let me tell you what can not be done. Your sex urge cannot be re-directed toward its proper object: the female. Many attempts have been made to accmplish this; none has succeeded.

Some homosexuals have been trained to have intercourse with females. Some of them have even married and begotten offspring. However, they are still homosexual.

Consciously or unconsciously, they resent being obliged to have sex with women when they still lust after men. They tend to cheat on their wives with other men and, owing to their resentment, make abusive husbands and fathers."

I nodded and said "I can see where this is leading. My attraction to men can't be converted into one for women, but it can be wiped out by castration. That's what you're driving at, isn't it ?"

"Yes," agreed Dr. Hall. "It would really be the best thing for you. You cannot hope to encounter much understanding or compassion as a homosexual, but eunuchs are usually pitied by our society. You would no longer need to fear betrayal by embarrassing erections at the wrong time and place. You would look upon attractive males as you now look upon women, with admiration and appreciation, but not with lust."

"Alright, so castration would wipe out my sex urge; what else would it do to me ?"

"Actually, it would eradicate only about 95% of your sex urge, but what little remained would be easily controlled. Your voice has already changed, so it would have no effect on that. Do you shave yet ?"

I shook my head. 'Then you never will. Two things a eunuch does not need are a razor and an athletic supporter." I thought "It'd be just like Mr. Stark to make me wear one anyhow."

"You have no hair on your chest and almost none on your abdomen, though your calves are hairy. What body hair you have, except for pubic hair, will fall out. Your pubic hair will uncurl and become fine and straight like a woman's. There will probably be some hair in your armpits also.

However, you will never become bald. You'll have a fine head of thick hair until your dying day. You will lose upwards of half of your strength and stamina, some of which you can regain by suitable exercise. Unless you adhere to a diet low in sweets, fats, and starches, you could become grossly obese. There is a possibility that you might grow small breasts like those of a girl of about 13 or 14."

Except for the tits, none of that sounded exactly awful, but I thought of something else to worry about. "Look, Dr. Hall, if the boys in the showers have noticed my erections, wouldn't they also notice it if I didn't have any testicles ? How would I account for that ?"

"Have you had mumps ?" asked Dr. Hall. "Yes, when I was four years old, back when we lived in Ohio." Dr. Hall nodded. "Then none of your classmates would know if you'd ever had them." I agreed. "No, that's right"

"Then, that's your explanation. If and when I operate on you, you'll be out of school for two weeks and excused from gym for another two weeks. Your story will be that you caught mumps and and thought it was just a sore throat until your testicles swelled up and ached. After 3 days in bed, you developed a high fever and upon examining your testicles, I found them to be suppurated, i.e. filled with pus, and had to remove them. "

I thought for a few minutes and finally said "Alright, I can see that castration would be the best thing for me. When can I have it done ?" Dr. Hall said "It'll take about an hour. I think it should be done right now. Get it over with."

Why did I agree to castration so quickly and with so little fuss ? For two reasons; first, I couldnt think of a really convincing reason why I should not be castrated; second, I was a minor and it really didn't make any difference what I thought or said. Dad and Dr. Hall would do what they thought best for me.

Dr. Hall told me to stand up and clipped off my pubic hair and then shaved the pubes with one of those new electric shavers. After he'd washed the area with warm water and tincture of green soap, he disinfected it with iodoform and had me lie on the table. He put a large gauze pad over my mouth and nose and dripped chloroform onto it while I tried to count slowly to ten. I think I just barely got to seven.

When I woke up, I felt nauseated. My bag stung and burned like fury and there was a dull ache in my groins like what I'd feel if somebody grabbed my balls. I didn't bother to look down. I knew that I had no balls, I'd probably never get a boner again and I could never jerk off again.

In a few minutes, I was able to get up again and get dressed. I felt very weak and all done in. Dr. Hall told me "Surgery of any kind is a shock to the body and the nervous system. In our colorful medical jargon we doctors call it an insult to the body. Your body, and especially your nervous system has been grievously insulted and you're feeling the effects. In a couple of weeks, you'll recover some of your strength.

You are to go home and go straight to bed, leaving it only for calls of nature. Stay there for the next week. After that, you can be up and about in the house. Take only sponge baths and wipe your behind backward, so as to keep the dressings clean. I'll drop in daily to check your dressings and, if necessary, change them. In two weeks, I'll remove the stitches from your scrotum. Then you can take tub or shower baths.

You can then return to school, but are to be excused from gym classes for the next two weeks. During that time, you are to refrain from strenuous activities such as running, jumping, climbing, wrestling, dancing, golf, tennis, baseball, football, basket-ball, heavy lifting (no more than 15 pounds) and especially bicycle riding and horseback riding."

Every little bump the car hit on the way home hurt. After I went to bed, I took a couple of pills Dr. Hall had given me for pain and they helped a little. I really needed that week of bed rest. I felt all washed out, weak as a kitten. I guess my body really resented the surgical insult.

I didn't really miss my balls until I got up at the end of the week. I'd never paid much attention to them while I had them, but I sure noticed they were gone when I walked around the house and there was nothing down there bumping into my thighs.

I missed my Boy Scout meeting on Thursday and Mr. Whittaker, my scout master, dropped in on Friday evening to see if I was alright. Dad told him that I'd been very ill and had had surgery, and asked him to come back on Monday. When he did, I was sitting up in an arm chair, still feeling weak.

I told him my mumps story and he told me that his brother had had the same thing happen to him at age 22. He was engaged to be married, but the mumps put the kibosh on that. Mr. Whittaker was very sympathetic and I wondered how he'd have acted if I'd told him the truth.

A week later I went back to school. A few kids asked where I'd been and I told them that I'd been very sick with the mumps. So, I planted the seed of an explanation in case my gym classmates noticed that I was nutless when I resumed taking gym classes in a couple of weeks.

On my way home, I stopped at the five-and-dime and bought a yard of black crêpe and a card of black push-pins. I had stopped down at the gym locker room long enough to retrieve my jockstrap from my basket and take it home. When I got it home, I pinned it up on the wall in my bedroom, draped with black crêpe. Under it, I put a small card on which I had lettered in my best calligraphy "In loving memory".

Of course, when I started taking gym again, Mr. Stark noticed that my cock was flopping around loose in my shorts and asked me why I wasn't wearing a supporter. I told him "Because I have nothing to support, Sir." I was surprised that he didn't demand that I wear one anyway. He watched me coming out of the shower and realized that I had told him the truth.

Most of the other boys didn't seem to notice that I had no balls. I didn't call attention to the fact and nobody asked me about it. I guess the word gradually got around, though. Knowing that I'd been out with the mumps, some of them probably put two and two together and got five, as I intended them to.

As far as I know, if any of them noticed my boners in the shower room before my absence, they didn't connect them with my nutlessness. Certainly, there was nothing to remind them of my shower room boners. I never had a boner again after I was castrated, not even in the morning.

I didn't really grow any noticeable tits. I'd have been very embarrassed if I had. The general hairlessness of my body didn't attract any attention either. I guess it's true that after the curiosity about what other boys have peaks at about age 13, normal boys don't pay much attention to each other's bodies.

I discovered, that, although I couldn't raise a real boner, jerking off still felt very good, about the way it had before puberty. Because I couldn't come off, there was nothing to bring the pleasant sensation to an end. I could make it last as long as I wanted to rub my prick. Soon, I was jerking off whenever I could find a moment of privacy. There was nothing to show what I had been doing.

If Dad and Dr. Hall thought that castrating me would do away with my attraction to men, they were very wrong. In late October, I was taking a walk in Kenny Park and met the man I'd jerked off with there four months ago. He recognized me immediately. We exchanged first names and I learned that his is Gilbert.

He asked me if I'd like to fool around again and I told him. "I don't know how much good I'd be. My old man had me castrated and so, I can't get a boner or come off any more."

Gilbert was shocked. "How horrible !" he exclaimed. "But, there are other things you could try that I'd bet you'd enjoy and which don't require using your prick at all. Have you ever sucked a cock or been corn-holed ?" I told him that I hadn't but didn't think I'd enjoy them.

"If you've never tried them, you have no basis for saying that. If the other fellow's cock is clean, there's nothing unpleasant about sucking it. If it isn't too big and he is careful how he uses it, it doesn't hurt to take it up the ass . In fact, it produces some extremely enjoyable and exciting sensations."

"The voice of experience ?" I asked. "You'd better believe it !" Gilbert replied. "Look, I had a bath this morning and I haven't pissed since. My cock is circumcised, so there's no foreskin for nasty smegma to accumulate under. Why don't you just try sucking it ? If it's distasteful to you, stop."

I didn't find the thought of sucking a cock all that disgusting and, of course, if I didn't like it, I'd never have to do it again. So, I agreed. Gilbert unbuttoned his fly and pulled out his cock and balls and I squatted down in front of him.

Gilbert already had a boner and, as soon as I took it into my mouth, the sensation aroused happy and contented feelings in me. I wonder if they weren't memories of sucking my mother's nipple when I was a baby. Gilbert told me to wrap my lips over my teeth and lick the head of his prick. I quickly found that I actually enjoyed sucking his cock. I felt kind of dreamy and contented. I think I could have done that all day if it didn't make Gilbert shoot.

Gilbert didn't warn me when he was about to come off. Suddenly, there was a warm liquid spurting into my mouth, and it was back to Mommy's tit for me. I sucked it in greedily and swallowed it, not even paying any attention to the taste at first. When I finally did notice it, I found it to be neutral, neither delightful nor disgusting.

As Gilbert's cock softened, I made sure that I got every drop out of it before I let it flop out of my mouth. "I got the impression that you enjoyed doing it." said Gilbert.

"Yeah", I replied "kind of comfy and cosy, not thrilling, but nice."

Gilbert asked me "How much longer can you stay here ?" I thought it over. "Easily a couple more hours."

"One , or even less will suffice to 'recharge my batteries'." said Gilbert. "I know where there's a park bench in a laurel thicket. We can sit there and fool around until I get a hardon again. If it's thrills you're looking for, being cornholed is where you'll get 'em."

There were rubbers on the ground and even a discarded pair of girl's panties in the thicket. We kicked them into the underbrush and sat down. That was when I had my first kiss. It was a long one because neither one of us wanted to stop. I hadn't known until then what a real kiss is. We hugged and groped each other, but Gilbert's cock didn't get stiff yet, though it did swell up.

Gilbert opened his fly again and pulled out his cock. I fondled it, stroked it, and rubbed it. We kissed some more while I was working on his prick. Finally, it got hard. Gilbert took his pants and undershorts off and told me to do the same. I was a little scared that we might be caught bare-assed in that thicket.

Then, Gilbert told me to lick his cock all over and get it really wet. When it was, he had me get down on my knees at the end of the bench and bend over it so that my chest and belly were resting on it and reach back and hold the cheeks of my ass apart. "Once I'm inside you, you can reach forward and hang onto the bench."

I felt Gilbert's wet prick against my asshole. He didn't shove it in but just pressed

until my sphincter relaxed. Then he slid his rigid cock into me nice and easy. It felt tight in there, but it didn't hurt at all.

It felt strange and exciting to have part of another person's body up in amongst my bowels. Gilbert began fucking with long, slow, easy strokes. I had never imagined that could feel so good. He rubbed the head of his cock against a sensitive spot inside and I gasped. "My God, what's that ?"

Gilbert laughed. "That's your prostate gland. It's very sensitive and even though you have no balls to make it very active, you may shoot out a little clear prostate fluid when you have your climax."

Gilbert speeded up the pace of his thrusting. As it got faster and faster, I felt the familiar sensation of sexual excitement mounting in my body. I began to feel as if I was going to come off. I knew that I couldn't without balls, but it sure felt that way.

Suddenly, I got that wonderful feeling that I'd heard called the orgasm and I felt a few drops of liquid dribbling out of my prick. I was fairly sure that it was not piss.

Then Gilbert began to shake and moan. His boner got harder, bigger and hotter inside me and I felt him flooding my bowels with his gism. I gasped and said "WOW ! I had no idea it felt like THAT "

"Well, now you do." said Gilbert. "So, you see that being castrated wasn't really such a disaster as you may have thought it was. You can still enjoy sex; you just can't use your prick for it."

I saw Gilbert a few times after that and had great fun with him, but one day he told me that he was being transferred to Oregon. I never saw him again. Fortunately, by that time, I had found that another man whom I had long known was only to happy to provide me with sexual pleasure.

On a weekend Boy Scout campout in the Spring of 1936, I was sleeping in the same tent as our scoutmaster, Mr. Whittaker. I had a crush on him and I had toyed with the possibility of either jerking him off or blowing him after he fell sleep. It was a hot night in may and we were both lying atop our sleeping bags in just our undershorts.

I pretended to be asleep and Mr. Whittaker quietly slid his undershorts off and began to jerk off. I jumped up, put my mouth on the head of his cock, put my left hand over his mouth to muffle any outcry, and began sucking. Mr. Whittaker didn't offer any resistance. He let go of his boner to give me access to the whole length of it.

I took my hand off his mouth and all he did was sigh.

I gave him the best blow job I knew how to (and that was damned good). I guess he hadn't had sex in a long time because I was hard-pressed to get his whole load down. We kissed for a while and he whispered to me "We shouldn't be doing this, you know."

"Then we'll just have to be discrete," I whispered back. "The age of consent is sixteen in this state, so, at least, I'm not legally a child. I think that, technically, this isn't even a homosexual act. We're not the same sex: you're male and I'm neuter."

Mr. Whittaker laughed softly. "Are you a Catholic ?" he asked. "No, I'm a Presbyterian, Why ?"

"Because you'd make an awfully good Jesuit."

My affair with Mr. Whittaker lasted until I entered college where I learned that homosexuality in the college community is nowhere as rare as it is in the general population.