Luke had a reputation as a seducer with an eye for virgins, and  an adulterer. It was a well-kept secret that he was also a rapist. As his doctor, I knew all about all aspects of his sex life. He paid me very well to fix the gals he made into ex-virgins and knocked up. I soothed my conscience about the abortions by loathing Luke and vowing one day to castrate him.

   Somehow, he had always managed so far to buy off the gals who had wanted to rope him into a shotgun wedding. I marvelled at his luck, though, I did not expect it to last. The rapes, of course, were a more dangerous game which he played mainly for the excitement. He always wore a scarf over his face and a rubber on his talleywhacker when raping a gal.

   One morning, he came into my office looking very upset and worried. "What's the trouble, Luke ?" I inquired. "I raped a gal last night and the fuckin' rubber busted." "So ? You afraid you caught something from her ?" "No, but she went to the Sherriff right away. It's in the paper. She didn't recognize me, but she had a cunt-full of my jism. Kin they test it and tell whose it is ?"

   "Well, given your reputation, I suppose, sooner or later, they'd want to get a sample of your jism for comparison. Then they could tell if the stuff they got out of her was yours." "Kin they do that ?" "I suppose they'd have to get a court order first, but Judge Hofstetter wouldn't hesitate to issue them one. He's vowed to nail you to the cross if the ever gets you in his courtroom." 

   "Oh shit." moaned Luke. "What would they do, jack me off ?"

"They could do that or have a doctor stick his finger up your ass and press on your prostate gland. They'd probably do that because it's not a sex act, just a medical procedure."

   "What kin I do ?" whined Luke. "Well, Luke, if you didn't have any jism, they couldn't test it." "Well sure, but....." "If I was to massage your prostate gland to get all the jism out of you and then cut your balls off so's they couldn't make any more, there'd be nothing for them to test." " But, but.....I COULDN'T FUCK

WITHOUT BALLS !" "That's true, Luke. You'll just have to choose. Keep your balls and go to jail (and I can promise you that Judge Hostetter would throw the book at you)  or lose them and give the police the finger."

   Of course, I knew damned well that the police could do a DNA test on Luke's blood or skin, or almost any cells from his body. They didn't need his semen. But, I saw in this situation a fine opportunity to trick Luke into letting me castrate him. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker !

   Luke buried his head in his hands and sobbed. "My balls, Oh God, my balls Never fuck again . Shit ! I'd rather be dead." "Well, Luke, you might well get your wish. Rapists are often murdered in prison." "Oh, God. I can't win. OK, Doc, cut'em off "

   I wasted no time about it. I had Luke on the operating table and anaesthetized before he had time to change his mind. That was why I used general anaesthesia, though the operation could have been done under local anaesthesia. Once Luke was unconscious, there was no further need to hurry. Before opening the scrotum, I mader an incision in the perineum and, just to make sure that Luke would be impotent, excised the erectile nerves thus paralysing his penis.

   Then after washing and disinfecting his scrotum, I made two incisions in it, exposed his testes, and applied gut ligatures to the spermatic cords, two on each with a separation of about ½ inch between them. I laughed aloud as I severed the cords with surgical scissors. Contemptuously, I threw his balls into the waste can. "Now your manhood is garbage." I said aloud. After suturing the incisions in the scrotum, I placed a finger cot on my right index finger and vigorously massaged his prostate gland and stripped the seminal vesicles until I was sure that I had expressed  as much semen as I possibly could, the last of Luke Aitken's father-stuff. 

   Luke was heartbroken when he went home. More devastating to him than anything else, was that, despite his reputation as a ladies' man, he had done such a good job of concealing his activities as a rapist that he was not a suspect in Betty-Jo's rape.

So, he had gotten himself castrated for nothing. I never told him about hormone replacement therapy inasmuch as, after my impromptu neurosurgery in his perineum, it wouldn't have restored his potency anyhow.