Last Night as Man and Wife

by justoneguy

By law, married males with at least one child must enter a lottery, to see which of them would be castrated. Over population of the world was the main concern, and since the Green Party too power, the environment trumped all other national concerns. At first, males just had to get vasectomies. But vasectomies were easily reversed, and it soon became clear that most men were breaking the rules. So the only alternative was castration.

The lotteries worked on a sliding scale. The more children a family had, the more likely the male would be required to be castrated. Most males were castrated around the age of 30, according to health statistics. And by the age of 40, 30% of males no longer possessed the testicles they were born with. Those types of numbers were generally enough to lower the population of humans enough so that the spotted owl would be safe forever.

I am a cutter. My job is to castrate those males who have “won” the lottery. I am a 35 year old married woman. My own husband had a vasectomy before we were married. He never wanted to be entered into the lottery. I didn’t really want kids either, so it worked out for us. But most young married couples want kids. And in the genes of every male, I think, is something that tells them “it won’t happen to my balls.”

That must have been what the young couple I would meet today thought. It is rare for a couple as young as these two to win the lottery. The husband was only 23 and the wife 22. They had been married for about a year. She became pregnant only a few months after their wedding night—so his name was entered into the lottery early. Still, the system is set up to nut males with larger families (or at least older), so this kid was really unlucky.

The first thing I do when I get the name of a lottery winner is contact the wife. I inform her of the lottery results and ask her where the nutting will take place. The wife, after composing herself, will often ask to meet with me in private. This particular family is Joseph and Heather Kalli. Their newborn son they named Kevin. Heather was understandably upset when I first spoke to her. After all, she was a relatively new wife, and she loved not just the personality of her husband, but his masculinity as well. Often, as the age of the lottery winners goes up, I find the wives less upset by the gelding that is to take place. I guess by that time sex has become more of a chore. But this was a young woman, and the pleasurable feelings of her husband’s hard member inside of her was still new and exciting. I met her at a mall food court, so we could talk about what was to come.

“Many wives do not tell their husbands what is going to happen,” I told her.

“Really?” Heather said, dabbing her eye with a tissue. “That sounds cruel, to not tell him what is going to happen.”

“I often find that if the man just goes to sleep and wakes up without his gonads, there is less stress for him. The idea of losing his masculinity is far worse and more stressful than the actual fact of it. Once it is done, he will have no choice but to accept what has happened to him. After all, he is a citizen and this is his civic duty.”

Heather dabbed her eyes again and blew her nose. “I can’t imagine how that is true.”

I put down my sandwich and placed my hand on hers. “Trust me Heather. I have done this many times. Joseph is very young, which will most likely make things slightly more difficult for him. But men are men, and once his mind is not awash in testosterone, he will adjust to his new sexless existence—because he will have to.”

At that moment, a teenage walked up to take away Heather’s tray and wipe the table. He was probably 16, the age when a young male must register for the lottery (although he is not officially entered until he is a father.) Both Heather and I glanced at his ample manhood, which was evident in his jeans, which were a little too tight. I wondered to myself, would that kid lose his manhood at some point? When you are a cutter, it is the kind of thing you think about. When he left, I looked back to Heather.

“What about my sexless existence,” Heather said, perhaps a little too loud for the food court. And she started to cry again.

“Your life won’t be sexless, dear,” I said, patting her hand again. “You will still want sex, and you will be fulfilled. Just not in the way you have always thought of intercourse with your husband. Once his masculinity is out of his system, Joseph will not have a sex drive, but he will still have a drive to please you as the wife he loves.”

Heather looked down at the now clean table. “He goes by Joey,” she said.

“Joey will still want you to feel pleasure, Heather,” I said. “And there will be a lot he can do to give you that pleasure. Many gelded husbands use strap-on dildos to simulate intercourse for their wives. And don’t forget cunnalingus. Joey will still pleasure you in all these ways—all the more so because he is no longer focusing on achieving his own pleasure. And, look at it this way—you will never have to perform fellatio on him.”

“But I like giving him pleasure,” Heather said. “I like fulfilling his need and hunger for sex.”

“Heather, I know this is difficult.” My tone was sterner now. “But there is nothing you or I can do about it. In time, you will adjust—just as Joey will adjust. The best advice I can give you now is to make the most of this weekend. Where would you like to go?”

Heather dried her eyes and seemed to compose herself. “There is a little hotel on the south side. It is where we first made love. We haven’t made love since Kevin was born, because I have been so sore. I told him that I felt better now and that I wanted to spend the weekend with him at the hotel.”

“OK,” I said. “You two kids spend all day Saturday making love. I will set up the special equipment that you requested. On Sunday morning, I will arrive. After it is done, we will move Joey back to your house.”

Heather nodded. “I won’t tell him. I think you’re right. The stress would ruin our last weekend as man and wife.” She stood up and walked out of the mall.

* * *

I arrived at the hotel at 6 a.m. on Sunday morning. It was a quite morning, with a cool breeze and moisture in the air. The hotel was nice. I walked into the room that adjoined Heather and Joey’s suite. There, I found the equipment I had set up on Friday. It was a video recorder that was wirelessly connected to a tiny camera hidden in the mirror of the suite next door. It had been Heather’s request to record their last night of love. I flipped the monitor on, and there they were. I could see Joey asleep on the bed, a smile of contentment on his face. Heather was lying next to him, her head on his chest, which rose and fell under her cheek with each of his breaths. But her eyes were open.

Curiosity overrode ethics, and I hit the playback button. The camera would still record, but I wanted a taste of what had happened the night before. When I hit play, I saw Heather and her man in the passions of love. There were lying on the bed, and Joey was on top of her, humping with abandon. His lily white butt rising and then tensing on the down stroke as he pumped his masculinity rhythmically into his wife’s body. Heather had her knees up around her man’s hips, and her own rocking motions matched her husband’s aggressive thrusting. Joey’s back was smooth and muscular, the strength and broadness of his shoulders contrasting sharply with his wife’s small petite frame. I could see Heather grabbing his shoulder blades between grabs at his humping behind. Joey’s butt was thin, but I could tell Heather liked to get her hands on it as he humped. I wasn’t surprised Heather asked for the recording option for their last night together as man and wife. I could very easily imagine her, in the months to come, pleasuring herself to the sight of her man pumping her and stretch her with his hard prong—remembering the time when he was a man and could pleasure her as a man. Perhaps, when her husband became accustomed to his new sexless state, they could watch it together as he humped her with a strap on dildo—mimicking the lovemaking he is no longer capable of while watching it on video.

I fast forwarded a bit, and suddenly Heather was on top. Joey was using his fingers to massage his wife’s clit as she rode him like he was a stallion. I got a good look at Joey’s face. He had strong chiseled features and dirty blond hair. He was clean-shaven except for subtle hair around his mouth. He was in the early stages of growing a goatee, I could tell. It was perhaps only one or two days of growth, and the goatee was no where near filled out. So far, it was just stubble around his mouth in the outline of a goatee. I remember Heather telling me when I first met her concerning her husband’s lottery win that he was trying to look older now that he was a father. This goatee must have been part of that attempt. Too bad it would never grow thicker and fuller after today.

His eyes looked up at his wife lovingly, and then back down to her clit lustily as he watched his male tool appear and then disappear inside her over and over. She had her hands on his strong pecks, balancing herself against his strong frame as she rode her man. They were the model young couple: attractive, healthy, interested in each other’s pleasure and in their own.

I flipped the monitor back to display the current shot. Joey was still in the bed, but the place beside him was now empty. I heard a faint knock on the door connecting to two rooms. It was 6:30 am, the time Heather knew I would be waiting. I opened the door. Heather was wearing a hotel robe. Her hair was combed just enough to get out the “sex tangle” look that women often get after a night of lovemaking. She was nervous, I could tell. She didn’t know what to say, so I started. In a low whisper, I said, “what time did you feed him the pill?”

I had given Heather a pill to mix in his drink the night before that was timed to his body and metabolism to knock him out this morning. “10:00,” she said. “I had to wait until after we…” she paused, not wanting to admit that they were making love at the time I told her to feed him the pill. “I tried to do it on time, but he held out so long, trying to hold out for me, that I didn’t have the heart to stop him.”

I understood. Joey certainly was a caring lover—as I could see from the video. It was touching that he would want to keep from orgasming as long as possible so that his wife would be sexually fulfilled. I’ve gelded many other husbands who were not as accommodating. “It’s ok Heather. But since you gave the pill to him late, it will be nearly 7:00 before it takes affect. That gives us thirty minutes to wait.”

Heather nodded nervously. “What should we do?” she whispered,

I looked to the monitor, to her 23-year-old husband asleep contently on the bed after a night of lovemaking—his first such night in months. His masculine face was calm and peaceful. One arm was thrown back over his head, showing the thick tuft of hair under his arm. His other arm was lying over his thin stomach. “Go to him,” I told Heather. “Go to your husband and give him one last moment to revel in his manhood.”

She smiled meekly and nodded. I closed the door behind her and watched on the monitor as she stepped back to her side of the bed. She slid in under the covers, and Joey’s sleeping form adjusted to her arrival. The arm over his head moved to rub her shoulder as he drifted lightly out of sleep for a moment. Then his arm lay back over his chest as his mind returned to the dream that had been interrupted. I sat on the bed in my room and watched the monitor closely.

Once under the covers and beside her sleeping man, Heather gently pulled back the covers from his body. He was sleeping nude, and his body shifted on the bed as the covers were pulled away. His body was lean and fit. He was generally hairless, but I could see a spot of straggly little hairs growing between his firm pecks—the start of a hairy chest that in the next few years might have grown into a masculine fur on his chest. Other than that, the only hair on his body was on his lower legs, under his arms, and around his masculine equipment. His manhood was framed by a crop of sandy blond sex hair, which was neatly trimmed into a fair sized bush. A trail of hair rose from his pubic area up his belly to his navel. After removing the cover, Heather leaned on her side next to his left hip. His sleeping sex organ hung limply over an average pair of balls. She took her sleeping husband’s member in her hand and kissed its pink head gently. Then, she took the entire soft tube into her mouth and sucked hard, pulling her head upwards and allowing his member to slide between her lips. The tube of male flesh stiffened quickly in her mouth, and her husband’s sleeping body stirred as the pleasure hit his dreaming mind. Heather sucked his member briskly, using her hand to jack the shaft she was not able to take into her mouth.

After a few minutes, Joey sleepily opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was his stiff manhood in his wife’s mouth. His body stiffened, his head lying back on the pillow, his eyes closing as the wave of pleasure washed over his waking mind. “Ohhhhhhhhh, baby,” he groaned.

Heather lifted her mouth from her husband’s phallus, but continued to stroke it with her hand. “Just lay back, baby,” she whispered lovingly. Joey didn’t need to be told. He was already stretching his powerful male muscles as his wife worked on his pole. I could see his straining erection now. It was average in length, but seemed a little thin in girth. Of course, I’ve seen a lot of penises in my line of work—certainly more than this young wife had seen. I’m sure Joey’s thinnish prick satisfied his woman as much as she needed—especially given the tenderness and skill he had displayed in their lovemaking the night before. Still, the thought occurred to me that Heather might realize what she’s been missing when her husband has to start humping her with a strap-on rather than what nature gave him.

His precker was circumcised, and Heather was able to suck it only a little past the prominent brown circumcision scar in the middle of his member. She teased the pick spear tip of his manhood with her tongue as her hand worked his tool down at its base. Joey moaned and groaned under her oral manipulation, often stretching his neck or the muscles in his strong hairy legs as the waves of pleasure washed over his male body. His breathing was fast and uneven. I could hear him breath fast with little moans escaping his throat followed by periods where he held his breath—which were often followed by deep moans of thanks for his wife’s efforts. “Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhh goddd,” he groaned. “Ohhh that feels so good.”

Heather took her right hand and rubbed his flat stomach, then moved up to his chest and massaged his pecks. All the while, her mouth never left his throbbing member. Joey arched his back as her hand caressed the strong muscles of his body and her tongue licked and cushioned the throbbing pink head of his masculine sword. I could see his ribs and the defined muscles of his stomach as his body strained from the amazing pleasure provided by his maleness. Heather rubbed down his love trail and then twirled the cropped hairs of his pubic area with her fingers. Then, for the first time since starting her oral activity, she caressed her husband’s balls. His ball bag was a more tanned color than the rest of his pale white body, and it still hung relatively loose despite minutes of oral pleasure. She hefted them gentle and played with them with her fingers. Then she cupped both precious jewels in her palm, wrapping them in the protectiveness of her hand, and kneaded his masculine bag in her hand as she rhythmically sucked and stroked the stalk of her husband’s manhood. “Oh god, baby, oh god, that’s it,” Joey said. It was obvious that this attention to his ball bag was particularly stimulating for him. His hips began to hump slightly under Heater’s head, and it seemed to be involuntary—as if Joey couldn’t resist the instinct to hump his pelvis as the pleasure cascading from the mushroom tip of his manhood overwhelmed his mind. But Heather was always in control. She used her left hand at the base of his shaft and her right hand as it cupped and kneaded his male bag and his precious jewels inside to control the movement of his hips, so that the humping he couldn’t control would not force his penis deep into her throat.

Joey seemed in his own world now. His head was thrown back over the pillow so that the camera saw only his neck and chin, with the sparse beginnings of his goatee. His left hand grasped handfuls of the tangled sheets and pulled at them. His right hand lay on his strong chest as it rose and fell with each gasp that escaped his mouth, which now hung open. Heather released his ball bag and stretched her hand up to touch his hand. His larger masculine hand cupped her lithe fingers and squeezed a loving thank you. Heather then pulled her hand back, running her palm against his masculine body until she felt his sack once more. His balls were now tight against his body in their tanned wrinkled sack. She kneaded his sensitive jewels gently once more—and Joey immediately arched his back sharply. “uuunkkaay, uuuunkkaay, I’mm guna cummm,” his voice strained. Heather’s mouth immediately left his throbbing member, but she increased the stroking of her hand and the kneading of his balls as his pelvis humped in rhythm with her. “UUUnnnnggggghhhhhhh,” Joey uttered guttural sounds of masculine pleasure as his body was overwhelmed by the throbbing and contracting of the male muscles deep between his legs. His head rose from the pillow and he watched his pole throb out the first squirts of his virile white seed. His wife continued to stroke his organ. I could clearly see the pink tip of his hard manhood throb with each spurt of his might seed. And then the muscles of his body relaxed. Heather’s mouth returned to the helmet head of his male warrior once the last spurt of semen left his tub. “Oh, oh, oh, oh god, baby,” he breathed as his wife over stimulated his spent phallus. He reached down and took it from her mouth, giving his own manhood a few more strokes as the waves of pleasure began to subside.

“Oh god, baby. Thank you,” he said breathlessly. His strong chest rose and feel with each of his deep breaths. His head lay back on the pillow, as if the muscles in his neck could no longer hold it up.

Heather repositioned herself on the bed and rested her head on his chest. The flood of his ejaculation had spurted up to the top of his stomach and was now pooling near his navel. “Just lay there and rest,” she said. “It’s still early. I’ll clean you up while you sleep.”

Joey closed his eyes and put his hand on Heather’s head, stroking her hair as his breathing returned to normal. I watched as his penis began to deflate from its last erection and his ball bag lowered and loosened from its firing position against his body. Within a minute, he was asleep.

Heather lay there next to him, her head on his chest, as the clock struck 7:00 am. It was time. I turned off the monitor (but not the recorder) and picked up my black bag. Then, I slipped quietly into Joey and Heather’s room. The room smelled of semen and sex. It was obvious that an evening of heavy lovemaking had passed the night before. Heather stirred when I closed the door, and lifted her head sleepily off his chest. “It is time, Heather,” I said in a normal voice.

Heather looked alarmed. “Quiet, you’ll wake him up.”

I stepped to the bed and opened my black bag. “No need to worry about that. It is after 7:00. That pill he took will keep him knocked out for at least 18 hours.”

Heather looked down at Joey’s sleeping face, which was still completely relaxed from his sexual release. “Are you sure it is best to do this while he is asleep. I mean… it seems kinda sneaking.”

“Believe me, it will be far less traumatic this way that if he were awake.”

Heather gently fondled his look ball bag. “I’m sure that’s true.”

“Now lets get to work honey,” I said.

* * *

Heather and I worked fast. I talked her through what I was doing, to put her more at ease.

“Should we clean him up,” Heather asked, pointing to the messy pool of semen that had collected around his navel.

“Don’t worry about that. We will give him a sponge bath afterwards. It is better to clean everything up at one time than to do it twice,” I said. From my black bag, I pulled a can of X-cream and placed it on the bed next to Joey’s thigh.

“What’s that,” Heather said, pulling her robe back on. “It looks like a can of shaving cream.”

“You’re not far from the mark,” I said, putting a pair of yellow rubber gloves over my hands. “It is X-cream. It is used for hair removal.”

I lathered a glob of X-cream on my palm and bent over Joey. With my right hand, I lifted his spent and soft penis and positioned it down over his ball bag. Then I spread the X-cream over his neatly cropped but still large bush of sex hair. “This cream will within minutes completely remove his pubic hair.”

“Will it grow back?” Heather asked, now robed and sitting on the bed next to Joey’s shoulder.

“No, it won’t,” I said matter-of-factly. “In fact, the hairs under his arms will likely fall out, as well and the hairs there on his chest.

Heather absentmindedly reached down and began to pay with the little crop of hairs between his pecks. “Joey was just saying last night how his chest was starting to get hairy. Pretty soon, he’ll look like his dad, he said.”

As the X-cream began to settle, I reached for the can. “Do you want the hair of his scrotum removed?”

Heather looked at me strangely, like she didn’t understand the question. “Oh, you mean… oh, well, no. Leave them just like the are. I want to remember them that way.”

Joey’s scrotum really wasn’t all that hairy—just some scraggly hairs. I probably would have removed them. But I suppose Heather thought they would look more masculine that way. I put the can back in my black bag and began to wipe off the X-cream. Heather was stunned as I removed the cream. Underneath, where the hair that had marked her husband’s sexual maturity had grown, there was nothing. The skin was a little pink at first, but in a few minutes it returned to a normal color. When it did, Heather’s husband’s crotch was as bold as a ten-year-old boy’s.

I think that was the first time Heather began to get used to the idea of her husband as something other than a man. It must be pretty hard to see the man that you love, that had taken your virginity with his virile penis, that had father your child by pumping his seed inside of you, laying there with a bold crotch—devoid of any sex hair. It was the first change his body would go through on its journey from manhood to eunuch.

From the bag, I pulled the elastor device. “Heather, listen to me carefully. This device will cut off the blood supply to your husband’s testicles. There are two bands that are put on simultaneously. When his scrotum and testicles are removed, I will place the knife between these bands and cut.”

Heather nodded that she understood, but I’m sure that her mind was reeling. “Will it hurt?” she asked, gently rubbing her husband’s sleeping cheek, feeling the rough hairs where he had shaved the night before.

“If he were awake, it would be extremely painful. As it is, his body will experience the pain, even though his mind is sedated. This is very important Heather. Even though Joey is not awake, his body must experience the pain of his emasculation. This might be difficult in the short term, but in the long term, it is very helpful in his mind making the transition from male to eunuch—both physically and emotionally. He will remember the pain as if it were a dream—and that memory will reinforce the truth that his manhood is permanently gone.” I positioned the elastor device around his scrotum, gently pushing them through the bands. It wasn’t difficult; his testicles were a little smaller than average. When everything was set, I looked up at Heather. “I’m ready. Tell me when.”

Heather reached her arm around her husband’s head and cradled it against her breasts. She put her arms around his chest and held him close. A tear streamed down her cheek. “Ok, do it.”

I pressed the release on the elastor and the bands snapped tight. His balls immediately bulged out as his sack expanded and turned from a gentle tan to an angry deep red. The bands are tight; tight enough to immediately cut off all blood supply and completely crush the cords that nourish this man’s tender delicate family jewels. At that moment, the fate of his masculinity was sealed. Even removing the bands would not have saved them—his testicles would still have shriveled up and died as a bulls do when they are gelded on a farm. But Joseph Kalli was not a bull; he was a man—at least for this last moment. And even if his mind was knocked out, his body knew what was happening.

The moment the bands snapped closed, Heather felt her husband’s body convulse. The powerful muscles that the night before had held her and humped over her and that she had felt tense and spasm from pleasure now convulsed in a mighty spasm of pain. His eyes remained closed but his mouth hung open, a line of drool running down the side of his mouth. His hands twitched and his legs instinctively snapped together in an attempt to remove the pain and danger to his precious family jewels. But there was nothing his body could do; his testicles began to die.

Heather held her young husband tight as his body convulsed in her arms. I think that it was more violent that she thought it would be. “It’s ok, Heather,” I said. “Joey’s body is instinctively fighting to protect his genitals. His body is hard wired to protect his penis and testicles at all costs, even if he is knocked out. Talk to him. His unconscious mind can hear you.”

Heather held him tight and smoothed the hair on his brow. “It’s ok, baby. It’s ok,” she whispered to him as his head twitched against her breast. “Be strong for me, be strong for me.”

Joey’s body broke out in a cold sweat. He urinated, but I was ready with a plastic container. I don’t think Heather noticed, for which I was grateful. It was traumatic enough for her to watch the man she had married de-sexed. No reason to see him humiliated further by peeing on himself. I could tell that the sweat was making it difficult for her to hold him close to her. Her hands were slipping on his strong chest and shoulder muscles as she tried to hold him close. I kept talking to keep her calm. “The convulsions are slowing down. As his testicles become numb as they die, his body’s natural response to protect them is diminished. His body will fight to remain masculinized until the last bit of testosterone is out of his system.”

Heather looked up at me, tears streaming down her face as she vicariously lived her husband’s emasculation. “How long will that take?”

“I will give him a shot what will make it happen in a few days,” I answered. “Heather, there will be more changes to him than just his hair. In the days after he is gelded, Joey’s body will begin to change. His muscles will begin to atrophy and he will have to try very hard not to gain weight. In addition, his penis will shrivel up from lack of use. You’ll find that in a few weeks it will come to look a lot like your newborn’s.” I could tell that this news hit her hard. Her husband’s manhood—the tool by which he had produced their son—would soon look like their newborn’s immature masculinity? It was obviously hard for her to believe, especially after having just finished sucking his rigid mature penis.

“Will he be able to have erections?” she asked, cradling his now relaxed head back to her breast.

“He will most likely have a few erections in the next few days, but they will become increasingly soft until he becomes completely impotent. I would strongly caution you not to attempt to make love again, even if his erection seems firm enough. Joey will not be able to climax, and the experience will just make it more difficult to adjust to his new life.” I looked at Heather as she cradled her husband’s head and rubbed the strong muscles of his shoulders and chest. They had been such a loving and giving couple sexually. This will be a difficult transition for them both. I checked my watch—it was time.

“Heather, it is time to cut.”

She gathered Joey’s unconscious body close to her and nodded.

I reached into my bag and removed my surgical scissors. By this point, Joey’s testicles should have been numb enough to cut. I placed the scissors between the two bands. The bit of skin there, the only thing connecting Joey to his dying manhood was between the sharp edges of the knife. I looked up as Heather prepared herself. For a moment, I looked at the unconscious man that was spread out in front of me. A great sadness hit me, more so than any other gelding I had preformed in a long time. Joey Kille was a handsome man—and a loving man. I had watched on the monitor as he had made love to his woman for the last time. He would never again feel the overwhelming desire to pump his rigid penis in and out of his woman. He would have to watch as the strong muscles of his masculine frame slowly melted away into something between a woman’s and a boy’s body. I looked at the pool of semen still pooled on his stomach. His convulsions had spread it out on his stomach, but the slippery seed was still there to see. It was his last load as a male, the last time he would feel the powerful muscles of his groin propel virile seed from his potent phallus.

I squeezed the scissors together, and the 23-year-old husband and father’s ball bag was sliced free from his body and fell into my hand.

Heather felt her husband’s body convulse again, but it was weaker than when he was banded. A deep groan escaped his mouth. “Uuuuuuuggggghhhhhh.” It was the sound of an unconscious male crying out against his own emasculation. “Heaath, Heatthhrrrrr,” he moaned in his fever of unconscious pain and fear.

Heather cradled her gelded man and rocked him slowly. “It’s ok, baby, be strong,” she said. It was hard to believe that this person she held was the same being that had just 45 minutes ago had grunted and moaned as his body convulsed in masculine pleasure. I held the severed bag of manhood up to look at it. This bag of flesh and the two tender orbs inside had powered Joseph Kalli’s masculinity his entire life. It had made him grow into a mature strong man; it had driven him to chase pussy and find a wife; it had compelled him to hump on top of her and fill her womb with his seed; and it had produced a son who, even though he was newly born, at that moment was more male than his own father ever would be again. That severed bag of loose balls that his wife had fondled during his last act as a man just 45 minutes ago was now in my hand.

I placed Joseph Kalli’s severed bag of balls in a small jar of fluid. I wrote his name and the date on the top. His wife will most likely buy a special jar for save it in. Many couples keep the jar in a special place in the house and look at them as the husband humps his wife with the strap-on. But if that doesn’t happen, at the very least, the jar is buried with the gelding.

I handed the jar to Heather and she tentatively took it, cradling it in her arms. “I didn’t even think about it was I fondled his balls that last time while I was blowing him. It was the last time I would be able to do it for him. He always loved for me to play with his balls, especially after he climaxed.”

I looked at the gelding that was spread out on the bed. His body was still sweaty, and his last load of seed was spilled out on his tight stomach. Hanging from his bold crotch was the soft tube of his penis. And below that—nothing. “We will need to give him a sponge bath and clean him up. He will not wake up until late tonight. When that happens, he will be very drowsy, very sore, and will not know what has happened to him. We will need to break what has happened to him very gently, focusing on his duty to the country. It will probably be a good idea to encourage him to hold baby Kevin a great deal tonight as a reminder to him that while he has lost his own masculinity, it was for a greater good. But you should not let him change Kevin’s diaper for the next few weeks until he is adjusted. You don’t want to offer him too many reminders of the masculinity that he has lost.”

Heather nodded in agreement and then went over to prepare Joey for his sponge bath. She looked at his penis for a moment and commented to me: “It already looks smaller and helpless.”

She was probably reacting to the fact that his crotch looked immature without any sex hair, but it was a sign that she was coming to terms with the fact that her husband was now gelded. What a difference from an hour ago when she had blown his stiff penis to orgasm.

As Heather prepared her gelding husband for his bath, I walked quickly back to the other room to turn off the recorder. As I hit the off button, I couldn’t resist rewinding it quickly. I hit play, and I saw Heather spread out on the bed, her hands cupping her breasts, her legs spread apart. Between her legs I could see the back of a man’s head—her 23-year-old husband, Joey. He was hungrily eating her pussy, his mouth and nose pressed to her feminine garden with eagerness. I could see the bottom of his chin had sparse facial hair, the beginnings of the goatee he would never grow. Heather moaned out his name as his tongue encircled her clit and the lips of his mouth sucked on the lips of her pussy. He really seemed good at oral sex, and it was obvious that he was eager to please her. That was good, because except for a strap-on, it will be the only way that young husband would be able to pleasure his wife. As I watched him pleasure his wife, I thought about how, when he pleasures her orally in the future, it will not be out of a deep hunger for her pussy, but only out of a desire to pleasure her in the only way he still can.

What the hell? I hit copy on the recorder. Now my husband and me have something new to watch as he pumps his long thick manhood deep inside of me.

THE END

I'd love to hear any comments. Email me. Also, the couple in the story was inspired by a real amatuer couple in a porno movie. I'd name it, but I'm not sure the site would appriciate it. Email me if you want to know. (But please at least have a little something to say about the story too.)