This makes the third conclusion to "Final Night" to hit the Eunuch Archive. Two other writers have done their own very readable endings to my previously-unfinished story (see elsewhere in the archive). These have both been known as "Final Night Part 3".

So to save confusion, let's give this "official" version the original title, which I like but Bryan changed before he posted it (as is an Editor's right). I always called it "Last Night Day", perhaps because it has a kind of ring to it, like "Hard Day's Night" or "Dog Day Afternoon".

[Ed. Note: I didn't change the title because I didn't like the original one, but because at the time I must not have noticed that it even HAD an official title :-) My apologies :-))}

Obviously, there's lots of new stuff here in the later parts, but the whole thing has been revised, so there are subtle differences even in the first few pages.

Enough! Let's get on with:

Last Night Day

The heavy wooden door of the clinic swung open. I was about to come face to face with Nurse Anderson, one of the best known of the local circumcision practitioners, and the subject of many a darkly whispered rumor among the schoolboys and girls of our neighborhood. Of course, this sort of talk was strictly forbidden - we would no more discuss Nurse Anderson's dread occupation than we would farting or getting horny or cheating at examinations - not in front of adults, anyway. But we all knew what she did, and though no-one ever admitted it, we all walked in secret terror of her knife.

We called her 'The Witch', as if she could remove our genitals at a distance, by simply looking at us or by muttering some satanic charm.

Once I found her standing right behind me in the queue at the checkout of the local supermarket. I couldn't get out of there fast enough! I just plunked down my money and somehow managed to walk almost normally to the doorway, where my nerve broke completely and I fled in white-faced panic.

I don't know what I thought she would do to me. My parents had given me no reason to think they intended to geld me anytime before I reached puberty (I was only about seven at the time), and looked at rationally, Nurse Anderson was hardly likely to simply "do me" without being asked - apart from anything else, you had to make an appointment and her fees were high. No, I was just being childishly stupid. But like all the other kids, I was terrified of her, and no-one laughed at me for running away; any of us would have done the same.

I hardly slept that night. Every time I'd drop off I'd wake with nightmare visions of ... visions of I'm not sure what. It always involved knives and burning irons and me holding myself still like a hypnotized rabbit while she fixed me with her eyes and did ... whatever it was she did. But I simply didn't know what she did to little boys like me behind that heavy wooden door, and it was all the more terrifying because of it.

I think that was when I started masturbating, as if rubbing my little penis in the dark would make the terror go away. I learned not to think about it so much after that, and the other kids too, I think. I know I stopped whispering 'Witch alert!' like the little kids did.

Of course, I more-or-less knew she'd castrate me one day - I knew the name for it now - but that was a long way away, sometime off in the far future, and overlaid by all the day-to-day drama of boyhood: school sports, exams, summer at the beach, arguments with my stupid little sister, getting up in the dark to deliver newspapers, high school, more summers, my first three pubic hairs, discovering girls (or looking at them differently anyway), winning a prize for mathematics, smoking a secret cigarette. I was all of a sudden 13, going on 14, with a month, a week, and then just one more day to go.

When I got home from school, Mum had a big roast dinner cooked for my Last Night, and a birthday cake, and then I was allowed to go to my room early, with a pair of my sister's panties to masturbate into, and little presents from each of the family to help make the night a success.

Mum gave me a book of soft-porn stories, kind of mushy and romantic but beautifully bound in hand-tooled leather and probably quite expensive. Poor old Mum, she tries so hard to do things right for us, but it was really rather tame stuff. My Dad (Mum's divorced, but he keeps in contact) sent a small, sealed package from South-East Asia, where he's working right now. And my sister said she didn't have her present yet (the panties didn't count, everyone gets panties) but she'd drop it in a little later. Mum looked scandalized at this. I could see that Kylie (that's my sister, Kylie) was going to really catch it later - Mum was furious. And then she realized exactly what Kylie had said - the bit about dropping it in later.

"That's way out of line, Kylie" she said. "He's entitled to have the whole night undisturbed, especially by you. Now you just get up and get that present (and it had better be a good one!) and bring it down here right now! And if I so much as hear that you've ..."

"It's OK Mum" I interjected, "I don't mind, really I don't. I've already got Kylie's panties, still warm from - " Wow! What was I saying?

"Her pussy, Son. Touching her pussy." Mum can be very blunt sometimes.

"You needn't worry about Kylie coming anywhere near your room tonight - I'll see to that. You should have been entitled to a present from every member of the family, and you are certainly entitled to be left alone in privacy - to masturbate. Kylie's has treated you very badly tonight - but you're right to treasure her panties. She's got a sweet little organ, so breathe in that scent and think about her damp little pussy tonight." (Wow! Mum talking like this?!)

"It's OK Mum, really. Kylie can just knock on my door." I held up Mum's leather-bound romances. "I'll be reading these."

I surprise myself sometimes - this was rather clever of me. It left Mum feeling good and it got Kylie out of trouble - us kids have got to stick together. As I left to go to my room I could see Mum was thinking I'd be schmaltzing around wasting my one and only last night with those tame old stories of hers and jacking off into Kylie's panties. (That old thing with the panties! God! You'd think they'd think of something different. I mean, everyone gets a pair of panties. If you haven't got a sister it's your cousin, or your next-door neighbor. I bet you when I turn 21 my folks make speeches and give me one of those big cardboard doorkeys wrapped in silver foil. No imagination.)

Anyway, I actually figured that there might be something pretty special in that small, heavy package from my Dad. As for Kylie, well she was all right as far as sisters go, but hardly the stuff of sexual fantasy. And whatever it was she was supposed to give me, I didn't think I'd miss it much. Still, the panties looked nice. I'd always thought of Kylie as a skinny flat-chested kid, but Mum was right. I sniffed them and there was a definite tang of ... something exotic. I unfolded them and found the silky crotch and sniffed that. Stronger now, and, to my surprise, very sexy. Just hours ago this black cotton had been touching my sister's - what was it mum had called it? A "sweet little organ". Already my hand was rubbing my cock. In a few moments I had my pants off and was avidly masturbating. Engrossed in the faint-yet-pungent fragrance and thoughts of Kylie's "damp little pussy" (what did it look like? Did she have any hair on it yet?), I drew back and looked at the crotch again, but if there were any telltale pussy stains there the black fabric was keeping Kylie's secrets.

"You won't see much. They were just for Mummy."

Oh my God! It was Kylie. I'd clean forgotten to lock the door!

"Don't stop because of me. These are for you." She said, sitting down on the edge of my bed with her skirt riding up above her thighs and starting to pull her knickers down. She had to lift herself half off the bed again to get them off and gave me a magnificent view of her upper thighs and bottom. She seemed totally unfazed by the fact that I was naked from the waist down and had been masturbating when she came in.

"Did I smell good?" she asked, glancing at the black panties in my hand and slipping a pale baby-blue cotton pair off over her long, thin legs. "These should be stronger." She had a patch of black hair at the junction of her thighs, which was soon hidden as she lifted her knees to reach down to her feet. She paused her to look me in the eye and smile at me, confident of herself but perhaps a little nervous, before she bent to pull her right foot out of the leghole of the pale blue panties, completely exposing herself to me again in the process. With her leg skewed like that I couldn't miss seeing that she had a dusting of short, wavy black hairs all the way down between her thighs, and her pale pink pussy-lips pouted through, moist and wrinkly.

Without releasing it, I was rubbing my cock again, and I couldn't take my eyes off her crotch. It must have been all over in seconds but like a freeze-frame movie there were successive moments that seemed to last forever; her thigh crooked, a pause while she fiddled with her panties and I pumped away on my dick like crazy. I felt a gentle disappointment as she finally succeed in unhooking her knickers from her foot and closed her legs, and then a last wild surge of lust as she lifted her other leg, and once more exposed her little pink vulva for me.

I was down on my knees now and all of a sudden I could smell it. Her scent, already familiar to me from masturbating over her knickers just a few minutes ago, was stronger and sweeter in the flesh. As I breathed it in I came. Explosively. She finally had her knickers in her hand ready to give to me, and I was already squirting my sperm on my bed, on the floor, all over her legs, everywhere.

As the last spurts gushed and dribbled out over my hand she gently held the panties to my face and we shared a long, sad moment as she let her pussy disappear by the simple geometry of closing her legs, and I breathed once more her musk and sweat and rut, and felt my semen drip, drip, dripping. I think in that moment we were both very conscious that I was going to be castrated in the morning and that this was both a first and last release.

I kneeled there without moving for quite a long time, with my head cushioned in my little sister's lap, her still holding her pale blue knickers for me and gently stroking my hair. It was only early yet, I had plenty of time to rest and come again before morning, probably several times. After all, the whole point of this Last Night ritual was for me to come as many times as possible, to squeeze a whole lifetime's sexual pleasure into one short night. But the main event was over. Nothing could be as explosive, as complete an experience as this had been.

Kylie was going to leave soon after, but not before we opened my Dad's mysterious parcel. As I had guessed, it was an Asian porn book: full of color pictures of a couple of teenage girls, sisters, if the text could be believed, and very explicit. They had a boyfriend, of course, and there were pictures of them doing things with him that I hadn't known were possible.

Kylie was particularly impressed with one shot where he was lying on his back and the two Asian girls were squatting on him, the younger one on his long, thin cock, fucking him, her sister just a tantalizing inch above his face.

"For a boy, that must be heaven" she said. She was getting turned on by it as much as I was. She kept shifting around. "Which would you rather, looking at the pussy and licking it, or having a girl squat down with your penis inside there?"

I kept trying to answer, but I couldn't make up my mind. And the fact that Kylie seemed to sense exactly what turned me on, even share in it, added to my excitement.

"You've never fucked a girl, have you?" She asked. I shook my head. "I can't do it for you, because I have to stay a virgin till I'm circumcised, but you can lick my pussy if you want to."

"Oh God, yes."

"Lie down and I'll squat on you, like the girl in the picture."

Part Two

And now I was there. At the clinic door, 14 years old today, and wishing my mother would let go of my hand. I knew I was going to have to face "The Witch" and this was the moment. Somewhere deep inside me the old nightmare visions were churning again, stronger than ever.

But the girl answering the door was only Briony, her redheaded daughter. Briony was a couple of classes above me; she must have been about 16 or 17, and I had a kind of crush on her. (Mind you, when you're 14 and full of hormones you get crushes on just about everyone!) It's not like we were special friends or anything but we knew each other by name and said "Hi" if we ran into one another. And more than once, seeing her at the pool or at school sitting against the sunlight in her thin summer uniform I had noticed her legs or furtively admired the curve of her firm, lightly-freckled breasts. Of course, boy-like, my standard reaction to a pretty girl was to turn my back and pretend to ignore her most of the time, or perhaps to try to see down her top, but I'd sometimes fantasized about her.

But here, under these circumstances, this was different. I knew Briony, I went to school with her. I didn't want her hanging around while I was being castrated. It was bad enough just having her answer the door - she barely glanced at me and spoke directly to my mother, but she knew what I was there for all right.

"I hope you don't mind, Mrs. Johnson, Mummy's ill."

"Oh." My mother was obviously a bit put out by this.

"Can I help?" Briony asked.

"No. I don't think so. He's just turned 14 and .... I've brought him here for ..."

"Castration?"

"Yes. For castration." Mummy agreed. "It's his birthday. "

"You'd better come in", said Briony , turning and leading the way down a passage to a waiting room.

In here she seemed older, more authoritative, and even my mother seemed less prone to treat her as a mere schoolgirl. I wished I'd spent more time looking at her sexy little body - even now the subtle twitch and rotation of her bottom through her floor-length white cotton skirt was magnetic.

"Mummy got trouble with her back again." Briony said. "She won't be doing clinics for a while, maybe Tuesday or Wednesday."

"It's his birthday," my mother repeated "And it really ought to be done today."

She was too polite to say so, but what she really meant was that I had already been given a traditional last-night send-off: allowed things that I would never normally be allowed, and that ...

It's hard to explain. Your Last-Night is supposed to be the most intense sexual experience of your whole life - possibly the only sexual experience of your whole life - and you just can't give your son a Last-Night and not cut his things off, it's... It would be kind of like inviting everyone to your wedding, and opening all the presents and then saying you're not going to get married after all, but thanks for the presents. It's just not done.

Mother didn't say all that, of course, but we knew what she meant sure enough.

Briony gestured towards a couple of high-backed chairs, inviting us to make ourselves comfortable. "I haven't quite got my certificate yet, but Mummy said I could do any snips that were needed. I've done most of it already. And castrations are easy."

We were still standing.

"What do you mean, easy?" Mother asked.

"Well, they are much less difficult than circumcisions. With circumcision you have to be very accurate, especially for female circumcision. I know how to do them too, but castrations are easy. I've done them at school, and I've helped Mummy lots of times."

"It seems that we don't have much choice, Briony. Very well." My mother agreed and, turning to me asked: "Are you willing for Briony to take your manhood?"

I thought I couldn't be more embarrassed than I already was: it was bad enough having my mother take me by the hand and lead me up to Circ-Nurse Anderson's clinic in broad daylight - would people think she was holding my hand so that I wouldn't cry, or to stop me running away? Either way, it was humiliating. But it was much worse to find a girl like Briony here and talking so calmly about castrating me, and it was simply unimaginable that, instead of being done by an impersonal adult like Nurse Anderson, I would have Briony looking at my private organs as she prepared to - how had Mum put it?

"Are you willing for Briony to take your manhood?" Her words still hung in the air, filling me with horror, and shame, and a squirming, gnawing terror of exposure. I felt like Mum was asking me to consent to having this girl see right through to all my most secret things, like this was stripping me of my last hope of dignity and privacy.

Briony was smiling at me, standing half-facing me with one hand on her hip and leaning slightly toward me - an almost tarty smile, as if she had been cool and professional to impress my mother, and now she was going to use her slim, sexy body and the promise of her half-exposed, freckled breasts to convince me.

Was I willing for Briony to take my manhood?

Hell no! I wasn't willing for anyone to take my manhood!

But, like thousands of boys before me, I didn't have a choice. It had long since been decided that I was going to be made a eunuch when the time came, and today was my 14th birthday.

I still hadn't answered mummy's question. I don't know what would have happened if I'd said no. I guess she would have taken me across town to try and get me in at some other place, maybe even the public clinic where the poor people go. The last thing I wanted was the shame and horror of being castrated. And I knew I could never look Briony in the eye again after giving up my manhood to her. But there was something darkly, secretly attractive about the idea too.

"Yes." I blurted.

"Very well" my mother agreed, "that's settled then. When can you start?"

"As soon as we've sorted out the details, Mrs. Johnson. Perhaps he could undress and wait for me in there." Briony suggested, indicating a white-painted door which I assumed lead to the actual surgery. Mum agreed, and they told me to go in and strip myself naked and then lie down on the table and wait. I did this, knowing that there were only minutes now before the operation began. I could half-hear the conversation out in the waiting room; they were settling money and signing forms. I wondered if I should take this last opportunity to play with myself. There was a full-length mirror opposite the circumcision table and I paused to take a long last look at myself before I lay down.

I was quite a pretty child, not bony and gawky like so many 14-year-olds. Not tall, and certainly not muscular, but slim and rather graceful in my movements. My smooth, thinish penis was of medium size, much bigger than it had been before I began my puberty a year or so ago, but still less than half the size it might have grown to if allowed to mature completely. It hung limply from the middle of my little patch of soft, light-brown pubic hair. Flaccid like this it was perhaps two inches in length. I wasn't excited at this point, more just wishing that I could have had a little more time, and that I could have watched it grow to full manhood. My balls had swollen quite a lot in the last few months, almost as if they knew how little time was left for them to serve their function, but as I looked in the mirror at them for the last time they were no longer full and round, but small and shrunken with cold or fear.

I wondered what my cock would look like afterwards, without my swollen balls to push it up and out, and I reached around behind myself to pull my scrotum back between my legs. In the mirror my reflection now looked like I was castrated already. I still wanted a big, hard adult cock, like Kylie had talked about last night when she said what turned her on - I hadn't known that girls could masturbate until she talked about it - but I guessed I could live with what I already had. It looked kind of neat like this, no balls, no wrinkly scrotum, just my smooth, circumcised penis sticking out.

The sound of approaching footsteps brought me back from these reflections and I dropped my hands and guiltily laid on the table just as the door opened. Briony was still talking to my mother.

"Yes, but that was just a circumcision, and he would have been very small. He's older and bigger now, and there is a lot more tissue to be removed." (I didn't really understand this but it started my stomach squirming again.) "It's not absolutely necessary, Mrs Johnstone, but for a castration we recommend that the boy stays here overnight. You can visit him here this evening if you want to, but he'll be sleeping off the anesthetic - it's better not to move him till about this time tommorow."

"He'll be all right?"

"He'll be fine."

"And you want me to come back in the morning?"

"Yes please. Just before lunchtime. Now: the actual operation, Mrs. Johnson. You're sure you don't want to stay here? No? "

"No." I saw her eyes furtively drop to my cock. "No, I don't need to watch it." She'd not seen me naked since I was six or seven, and she'd probably not seen a man of any age since then either - and I sensed a hidden lust in her, perhaps it was just the sight of my penis, but perhaps there was more to it than that - was it sort of a power thing? To do with ordering my manhood removed? She wasn't about to tolerate any nonsense, but there was genuine sympathy in her expression too.

"James? You be good Son. I'm sure Briony will be very efficient, and as gentle as she can. You be a big brave boy and do exactly as she tells you."

I nodded but I suddenly didn't want her to go yet. Now I was scared, knowing she was leaving me here to have my balls cut off, and trying not to tremble. She turned to leave but Briony called out to her.

"Oh, Mrs. Johnson?"

"Yes?"

"Just to confirm? I'm going to use a Rand-Martin crimper tool to take off the testicles and scrotum?"

"Yes, Briony. Nurse Anderson said that the crimper was very good these days, She said it's very quick and..." (she looked back at me and her voice dropped conspiratorially) "... almost painless."

"Uh-huh." Briony made a notation on the clipboard she was holding. "And you want me to remove the penis too."

"Yes please."

This was a complete and total shock to me! I couldn't believe what I was hearing! I sat upright, and started pleading.

"No! Not my penis. Please don't take my penis!"

Briony simply ignored me.

"Do you have a preference for any particular method Mrs. Johnson?"

"No. You decide."

"Fine. We'll make it the snips then," said Briony, marking her clipboard again. "Some people think the snips are a bit old-fashioned but Mummy says they are still the best. So, that's a crimping tool for the testies, and then the snips for the penis. Am I to give him an orgasm?"

"No. There's no need for that. He had all that last night."

I couldn't wait any longer. I burst out, pleading for my birthright.

"No! Please don't cut my penis off! I want to keep my penis! Why are you cutting my penis off?" I babbled on in a state close to terror.

"Be quiet James. Briony, do you want me to stay here until you get the straps on him?" Mother asked.

"Oh, I don't think I'll need to use the straps. Leave it to me. I'll call you when we're finished, just to let you know everything's OK and you can bring a car to collect him in the morning. He won't want to walk for a couple of days."

Mother looked at me doubtfully from the doorway. "You do exactly what Briony tells you, James."

I tried one more time. "But why? I don't want my penis cut off! I don't understand! Why? Why are you cutting my penis off too?"

Mummy didn't answer at first. She looked at me for a long time before she finally said, "Because I'm your mother, and it's my choice. I know it's hard for a boy to loose his penis, but that's what I want for you. I want you to have your penis off. You be good."

That was all she said. She looked at my soft, half-grown manhood again, then straight at me for a frozen moment before she left and closed the door.

She should have warned me. Now I was stunned and close to panic. Should I try to run away? Briony couldn't stop me, I thought. But where could I go? How long could I escape for before they tracked me down and cut my dick off anyway?

Briony must have seen the plans half-forming in my mind as clearly as if I had spoken them aloud. Perhaps she was used to seeing boys react to the shock of loosing their penis.

"You don't need to run" she said softly, "I'm not going to cut it off straight away. Just your testicles, that's all."

"But what about my penis? Mummy told you to cut my penis off. You're going to do it, aren't you?"

"Only if you ask me to. I won't cut it unless you ask me to. I promise."

I believed her. I didn't understand why Briony had given in so easily, but I trusted her word. I heard my mother's heels clicking down the corridor and then the heavy wooden street door bang closed. Briony and I were alone and I was suddenly very conscious of my nakedness in front of her.

"Now", she said reasonably, pulling up a chair to sit down beside me, "I promised not to cut off anything you don't want me to cut. Tell me why you don't want me to take your penis."

I didn't know what to say.

"Well, what use do you think you would have for a penis, if your mummy let you have one?"

I was puzzled by this line of questioning, and mulish in my refusal to admit the inevitable.

"Tell me what you want it for, James."

"For sex, of course." I mumbled finally.

"Sex with girls?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Not with other boys?"

"No!"

"Not for masturbation?

"No!" I cried still more hotly - and quite untruthfully this time.

"You don't masturbate?"

"No!"

"So it's just for your girlfriend. No other reason?"

I shook my head. I didn't know where this was leading.

"Have you got a girlfriend James?"

"No." I was sullen.

"So you want to have a girlfriend and that's why you want your penis. Is that it? Because you think having your penis will help you to get a girlfriend?"

She glanced down at my naked crotch. Her words were twisting everything. This wasn't making sense at all. Confused and frustrated, I just said "Yes."

"You know, James, most girls prefer boys not to have a penis." Briony asserted. "Believe me, it's not just any girl who can marry a boy with no penis at all. You'll have your choice if you play your cards right. Even the most beautiful girls."

Did she mean herself? After all, she wasn't that much older than me. For a moment I wondered if going out with Briony might almost be worth it.

"Haven't you ever noticed how much harder it is for a girl to find a castrated boy to go out with - a completely castrated boy, I mean - than boys where the job is only half done?"

I'd never heard anyone say this before, and I denied it to myself but I knew there was some truth in what she was saying. I didn't care though. It wasn't the point.

"And James, there's a reason for this: taking a boy's penis away makes him more understanding. He doesn't have sexual needs of his own anymore, so he's much more attentive to a woman's needs - and I probably shouldn't tell you this, you're too young, but a boy with his penis removed gives great head, just the best. You know what that is?"

I nodded, involuntarily glancing down at her loins as she sat there beside me, imagining a hairy red pussy under her white skirt and panties - I could just see the line of her panties through the skirt.

With the memory of Kylie's pussy last night fresh in my mind, I tried to imagine the smell and taste and feel of Briony's cunt, her intimate lips and little clitoris. She obviously knew what it was like to have her pussy licked, and I felt a sudden stab of lust, and envy for whoever she was going out with. An older boy, I guessed - or one with no penis?

"Besides", she added, "making love to a boy who hasn't got his penis anymore is very, very sexy. Do you know what it's like for a girl? No? I'll tell you about James."

"When you go out with a boy and he hasn't got a penis, all the time you know - everybody knows - that he can't have sex with you - he can't fuck you - and sooner or later you know he will have to kneel down in front of you and give you pleasure with his lips and tongue. That's so sexy."

Again, I looked at her crotch and tried to imagine kneeling down and licking her pussy. It was a powerful image and I felt it stirring somewhere in my loins.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you James?"

I think I nodded.

"For a woman, being pleasured is much more important than just having a boy's penis inside her."

I couldn't accept that. She was lying! She had to be lying!

"No! It's not true! Girls like boys with penises, they are always talking about how big boys dicks are!" I burst out. "My sister told me. She did! We talked about it last night and she said that what turns her on the most is a boy with a cock, a really big cock. She said most girls won't admit it but they really like to look at a boy's penis, and hold it, and maybe even suck it, and she said that that's what she thinks about when she plays with herself!"

I shouldn't have said that, it could get Kylie into a lot of trouble, but Briony seemed to pay no notice.

"Sometimes, yes." she reluctantly admitted. "Some girls do."

She stood up and reached down to my groin, grasping my flaccid little penis and holding it up in her fingers. "But this is hardly big, is it? I like you, James, and I don't want to hurt your feelings - but it's very small. I don't think many girls would care much if I snipped it off."

"It's not that small! It just hasn't finished growing yet."

"OK" she said with decision, "let's get serious about this."

She let go of my penis and twisted to sit sideways beside me on the circumcision couch. I could smell her clean skin, perhaps just a touch of perfume.

"I'm going to castrate you today, aren't I, going to snip your testicles off and make you a eunuch. You know that, and you have to accept that, don't you. "

"I guess so."

"You don't have any choice, do you."

"No."

"You've had your Last Night, your mother has signed the forms, in a few minutes I'm going to take your testicles" (she matched movement to her words by gently grasping my ball-sack) "and cut them off before they make your penis get any bigger."

This close to her, her touch was exciting me. How could I ever face Briony at school or in the street if I'd let my penis get erect while she was getting ready to castrate me? She'd think I was ... I don't know, sick or something.

But there was no doubt about it: she was going to cut my testicles off, any time now, and she was still waiting for an answer. Slowly, I nodded and whispered. "Yes. You're going to cut my ... things off."

"So your penis won't grow, will it?"

"No."

It's never going to grow any bigger than it is now, is it?"

"No." I was almost crying.

"It's going to stay small and - frankly James - unattractive."

She was telling the truth. I believed her.

"There's nothing too much wrong with your penis, James, but it's just too small. It's not going to excite any of the girls at school. Or me. Or your sister."

"But I can still have sex with it! Some girls won't mind."

"Who? Stella Jackson?"

Stella was generally considered the ugliest girl in school. She was short, fat and pimply, with thick glasses and an ugly braying laugh, and no personality at all.

"Would you like to fuck Stella with it?"

"No! Yuk!"

"What about Hillary Livingstone? She might have you... Or she might not."

Hillary was, if anything, even more repulsive than Stella. Going with her would be ...

And being rejected by her ...

I started to see Briony's point.

"I'll find a girl somewhere." I insisted.

"You might too. You're a good looking boy. But even if you do, what are you going to do with her? Even if she lets you have sex with her sometimes, you're not going to feel much. Your little penis is just too small. And it's circumcised. Did Mummy do that?"

"I don't know. I think I was just a baby. I guess so."

"It looks like one of Mummy's ones. She's very thorough." She used a fingernail to lightly trace around the neat little line of my circumcision scar, showing me how I'd been cut right up close to the glans. "This part here, where she's cut it away, makes it easier for boys to masturbate, it's quite difficult to get it all so neatly. So even though you still have your penis, you won't enjoy sex with a girl much."

Seeing that I didn't understand, she asked sympathetically "Haven't you ever felt inside a girl's pussy, James?" She was more friendly now, less the cool, logical nurse's daughter, and I felt that I had to answer her question honestly.

"No. Never."

Briony slid herself down to the end of the bench and spun round, lifting her feet up to sit cross-legged on her heels. She pulled the hem of her long cotton skirt up over her legs and ran the flat of her hand across the smooth red silk of her panty crotch.

"It's very soft in here, James, and if the girl feels horny she gets wet and slippery, and her vagina opens out to receive a penis."

But I wasn't really listening. I tried to keep looking at Briony's face, to meet her eyes, but I kept glancing down at her pale upper thighs, at the two or three tiny reddish hairs escaping from the side of her silk panties, at her barely hidden sex, and trying to imagine the "softness" inside. How was it soft? I remembered my sister Kylie's wetness last night, and the tantalizing hint of a greater hollow at the entrance to her vagina and, to my sudden horror, I realized that my penis had started moving by itself, swelling, creeping up my thigh, standing half-erect, and to my shame I saw that Briony had seen it too. Oh God, I thought, how could I face her at school after this?

But she made no comment, just held her finger and thumb up in a circle to illustrate her point. I couldn't help looking at her panty crotch again, the concave hollow at the inside of her thigh where the bright red fabric lifted clear and her pubic hair escaped.

"For a boy, being inside a girl's vagina feels wonderful - if you he has a penis like this."

She held the ring of her fingers up to indicate a girth of two or three inches, and then poked the index finger of her other hand through the circle, thrusting it back and forwards in the middle without touching. "But a little one like yours ... you won't feel anything."

I glanced down at myself, at my little, stiff penis. It was standing up hard now and, to confirm the lesson, Briony leaned forward to slide the ring of her fingers up and down over it, still without any contact. Just occasionally, about every third stroke, she feathered the merest hint of a touch onto my shaft or the sensitive part under the head.

"You see? It excites you, but it can't satisfy. Better not to have it at all."

She leaned forward to cup my balls again, her hand warm and comforting, her scent subtle and musky, her voice low and inviting. "Let me take it off for you, James. Just lie down, relax, and I'll show you what we do. I won't cut yet, this is just so you can see how easy it is."

So I let her lay me down with my head propped up on pillows so I could see, and my sex pointing up in the air on an angle while she gathered her collection of tools. With her palms she gently pressed outwards on the inside of my thighs and, uncertainly, I spread my legs for her, feeling very vulnerable. There's something very intimate about being touched on the inside of your thighs.

"You're sure you won't cut?" I asked uncertainly.

"Not yet. Just relax."

She picked up the crimping tool and explained to me how it worked. "It goes on high up here above your testis, and it squeezes very tight. It cuts off the blood supply and then I press down the red lever to release the blade. It's spring-loaded, and it cuts them instantly."

All the time as she was talking she was gently kneading my scrotum, making my penis leak tiny drops of salty fluid. At last she took it in her fingers and her touch was heavenly.

"Now, do you want me to take this too?" She asked seductively, gently stroking it up and down. "I can make it good for you."

She was deliberately using her body to tempt me now; her left hand was slowly undoing the buttons down the front of her shirt. Already she was open almost to the waist and she tugged the front aside exposing her freckled chest and thin white lacy bra. I certainly didn't want what she was talking about, but I didn't want her to stop either.

"There's lots of different ways," she said "but the snips are the easiest. They are very simple. I just take your penis in my left hand like this, and fit the end of the snips over it like this, all the way down here to the base, so there's no stump left over."

With her other hand she was stroking me again.

"Then, when we are ready, I just squeeze - and snip it off. Simple."

Somehow, she made it sound attractive. But there was something else.

"Will it hurt?" I blurted.

"Not for very long. You will be a bit sore for a few days afterwards, and you will have to pee through a straw while it heals, but you'll feel perfectly OK in a week or two. "

"But what about ... when you .. cut me?"

"Yes, that is very painful, just for a short time. I can give you the injection first if you want me to. But it's better if I do that right afterwards. I'll be very quick, and you will be able to feel things right up until the final moment. I think you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

She reached forward making her breasts swing gently and grasped me more firmly, masturbated me for a moment, and I nodded yes. I wanted the feel of her hand on my sex.

"I know how to give a boy pleasure. Do you want me to make you spurt before I cut it off?"

Almost, I said yes. She was squeezing me so skillfully, drawing my eyes to the pale valley between her breasts, pushed together by her bra, moving gently in rhythm with the motion of her hand.

"No!" I jumped up, stood by the table. "I don't want you cutting my penis off. It's not fair!"

She pulled the two halves of her blouse together and sighed heavily.

"Of course it's not fair, James. Life isn't fair."

I didn't mind that I was getting castrated, I mean, I didn't want that either, but, well, at least it was kind of normal. I always knew I was going to be made a eunuch.

"It's only a little penis, why can't I keep it?"

"Because your mother wants you to have it cut off."

She said more softly, "It's nothing unusual. Legally, you're still a child James. She only wants to do what's best for you." Briony ran her fingertips down my chest and squeezed my penis reassuringly, making a wave of pleasure surge through my groin again.

"Briony, why didn't she tell me before?"

"She just wanted to be kind. Some mothers think it's a mistake to tell the boy too early. If he knows he's loosing the penis, he's liable to do anything. It's kinder this way."

She squeezed again. "And if you'd known, you would have masturbated it more, wouldn't you."

I wasn't going to even try to answer that one. Briony gently touched my erection again, lightly rubbed her fingertips along the ridge just below the head. I could only just keep still, trying not to move my hips against her. I figured if I admitted masturbating I'd only make things worse.

"But why? Why does she want to cut it off?"

"I've told you how much better it is for you already. Don't you want to have a girlfriend?"

"But I want to know the reason. What good does it do?"

"It's to prevent you getting hard-ons all the time. Look at you now, you're supposed to be here to see a circ-nurse, but your penis is standing up hard and you want to have sex with me, don't you."

I didn't know what to say. She stepped closer to me and delicately wrapped her arm around to press her fingers into the small of my back, gently kneading, pressing me forward so that we were touching. She was a little taller than me, my eyes level with her lips, my upright penis nestling into the crack between her thighs, with the head touching her skirt where it rubbed against the smooth, red silk of her panties. I couldn't help myself. Involuntarily, I rubbed slightly, feeling the warmth of her body through the cloth.

"You want to have sex with me, don't you." she repeated. I guess I didn't have to answer.

"That's why we cut it off." She backed away a little and ran the flat of her hand up the inside of my legs to cup my testicles reassuringly. "That's why your mummy wants to get your penis cut off, so you don't want to have sex all the time."

I almost felt persuaded. My body and my feelings wanted to say yes to her. I half turned away, still resisting, tried to focus my thoughts.

"But what's wrong with that? Don't girls want to have sex too?"

"Of course. A girl can want it just as much as a boy. That's why so many girls have to have clitoridectomies."

"Like Kylie?"

"Probably. That's up to your mother, of course, but I guess she'll want me to cut off her clitoris; it's a fairly minor operation, we just remove the sexually sensitive parts. Now why don't you lie down and we'll get started."

"No. You made a promise."

"OK James, let's say I just cut your testis off. What happens then? Tomorrow you go home and then your mother takes you to another clinic and they cut it off there instead. Wouldn't you rather I did it?"

She had a point.

"We can do it any way you want to, James. If you don't like the snips I can do it another way, lots of other ways."

She shrugged her blouse right off now and neatly undid the waistband of her skirt, let it fall to the floor too. White bra, red panties, all soft white freckled skin and curving breasts, and I could smell the unmistakable aroma of her womanhood.

"Would you like me to use the guillotine? You have to stand up for that one; that's it on the bench over there." It was a dull silver device with a gleaming steel blade. She took my hand and, trace-like, I let her lead me over to the table.

"You stand here with your back to me while I tape your penis down to the bench, to keep it still."

It had an awful fascination and I couldn't help being drawn by it. I looked down at the cream enamelled device clamped on the edge of the table at my waist. It was spotlessly clean, of course, and had an old-fashioned look of simple practicality to it. Briony's mother must have had it since she first started practice. Mine wouldn't be the first young penis it had cut off.

I could feel Briony's warmth against my naked back, her breasts firm and soft against me, her hand warm and incredibly exciting as she masturbated me again. I couldn't see how she was going to get my penis under the blade to tape it down - it was brushing against my belly, still leaking fluid, and much too stiff to bend down flat.

"We have to make sure the boy doesn't have too much of an erection for this, so I use my hands to make you have an orgasm first. Would you like that? You would, wouldn't you? And then, when you go nice and soft, I tape it down here and ..."

She reached around past me and grasped a short silver chain dangling from the right-hand side of the machine. Her small, warm left hand gripped my little penis firmly and squeezed as she pulled the chain. There was a click and a soft, heavy thud as the blade crashed down under its own weight. That left nothing to the imagination. I could almost see my penis being chopped under that heavy silver blade and the pleasure from Briony's squeezing was too much for me. All of a sudden the head of my dick was slippery-wet inside her hand and I was humping my hips and panting with mingled lust and terror - just as she intended. If I came now I knew she would raise the blade and cut me with it, but the slippery wetness in her hand was already drops of semen and it felt so good and I moaned aloud and felt the other squirts follow as she rubbed them into my cockhead, the wetness spreading and squeezing through between her fingers.

"I want to do it to you" she whispered as my penis pumped the final squirts of sperm inside her hand "I want you to let me cut your penis off."

Perhaps it was the aroma rising from her loins behind me, or the way she held me as I came that let me sense her need, her desire. Somehow, I knew that the gift of my penis would move her in the same way that she had just moved me, and I wanted to give it to her.

"Tell me it's OK, James. First I'll make you spurt again, and it doesn't have to be the guillotine, or the snips. I want you to choose the method. Any way you want me to."

I was numb, and stood motionless where she left me. I didn't feel the terror anymore, nor the lust. I just stood, looking down at my wet and shrinking penis. I dripped, once, onto the tiled floor.

Part Three

There was a kettle on the table in the corner. Briony filled it up, plugged it in and switched it on, picked up her clothes, then slipped into a white lab-coat hanging on a hook behind the door. I admired the catlike way she moved around the surgery, not troubling to cover her near-nudity till now. Her body truly was magnificent, her back, her pantied buttocks, her long, slim thighs.

We sat, me on the edge of the circumcision table, her on a chair, and chatted. It felt quite natural to be sitting chatting over coffee - she was very good at putting people at their ease. I almost forgot the awful fate in store for me, though I wished I had some clothes on or even just a towel. I'm not sure what we talked about, nothing much important,

Eventually, Briony drained her coffee and stood up. "Shall we get on with it then?"

I'd had time to think it over and I'd come to a decision.

"No. Not my penis, Briony. I don't want you cutting my penis off! You promised!"

"You really mean that, don't you?"

"I'm not going to change my mind. I want my penis."

"If that's really what you want, James" she sighed. "But I'll have to ring your mother."

"No!" I knew what she would say! She'd tell Briony to cut it off anyway.

"It's Oak. James. I made you a promise, remember? I'll just call her and let her know. I won't be long."

Briony left me alone in the examination room while she went out to the waiting room to use the telephone. If I listened carefully, I could just hear her through the door. She was back in cool professional mode, like she'd been when we first came in.

"Mrs. Johnstone? It's about James. ... No, he's perfectly all right."

"No, nothing like that, he's refused to let me cut his penis."

A pause.

" No, I'm sorry Mrs. Johnstone, I can't do that. He's consented to my taking his testicles off, and I'll be doing that shortly, but to take his penis I need-"

"Yes, it is your right, Mrs. Johnstone, and I agree, it would be the best thing for him - but I'm not allowed to do it without his consent."

A longer pause this time. I wished I could hear what Mum was saying. I opened the door a few inches. Briony was standing at the desk fiddling with her pen and clipboard. She must have seen me but she made no sign.

"It's a legal thing, Mrs. Johnstone. At the moment I only have an interim permit. My Practicioner's Certificate won't come through for a month or so yet. Until then, I can only operate with the boy's consent. ... Yes, and your's too, of course."

So that was why Briony had made her promise! I hadn't understood before. It seemed too easy. She was talking again.

"Yes, yes of course. You can bring him back to be finished off as soon as Mummy's here - she doesn't need the boy's consent, just yours Mrs. Johnstone."

Just barely, I could hear an angry squawking coming down the line.

"Oh no! There would be no charge for that."

Briony went on for quite some time, explaining things to my mum. It sounded like she had to do a certain number of "snips" - that's what she called them, "snips" - under supervision before she could be fully licensed like her mother. Or maybe it was a certain length of time.

I could see I was going to loose my penis just the same, be brought back here to be "finished off". At least that was better than loosing it right away! Maybe there would be a way out of it. Maybe Mum would change her mind; and it sounded like I'd get to masturbate it at least a few more times before the Witch got back.

And when she did get back (I decided) as soon as I knew that having my penis lopped was completely inevitable, I would tell Mum I'd changed my mind. Briony could do it if I consented. I wanted Briony to do it.

What was she saying now? I'd not been listening.

"Thankyou, Mrs. Johnstone, I'd like to, he's a nice boy."

"Yes, in a couple of months at the latest."

A pause.

"No, there's no actual need to take it off, it's very small. ... Well, technically, yes, but it's up to you."

"I'll leave it to you to let me know then. Yes, thankyou Mrs. Johnstone, eleven would be fine."

She put the phone down, sighed heavily, looked at me still standing naked in the doorway.

"I think you're going to be in trouble when you get home."

"Was she mad?"

"Ropeable! She cooled down at the end, a bit, but I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when she comes to get you in the morning."

She walked straight up to me and grasped my penis, smiled.

"Would you like me to masturbate this for you again? You might not get to keep it for very long."

She didn't though, not straight away, just went on with preparations for my castration. She laid some tools out, filled a hypodermic syringe.

"Now, I have to ask you some medical questions. They can be a bit embarrassing. OK? When did you move your bowels last? .... Yes, this morning is fine. And did you urinate before you left? ... No? Then I need you to empty your bladder for me before we start."

She led me through to a small bathroom. Once again it was filled with medical items. I'd got used to being naked in front of her but now I was embarrassed again and I stood in front of the toilet with my hands by my sides, fighting off the urge to cover myself with them, and wishing she'd leave me piss in privacy.

"I've seen boys do it before, you know."

To my surprise, she took my penis and pointed it at the bowl herself. "You'll still be able to do it standing up now, for a while, anyway. When we cut your penis off you'll have to sit down, like a girl." She meant "if" didn't she?

She tickled the underside of it for a long time. Eventually I let go and relaxed, watching myself peeing down into the bowl as she held my dick like a pencil and waved it around a little, as if to emphasize what she'd said about sitting down to piss.

She sqeeezed the last dribbles out with a practiced, milking motion, then used the tip of her finger to blot the last clear drop from the eye of my penis.

"There. Now you're ready." She let go of me and moved toward the toilet herself. "You can go and wait outside for me. I'll take off my coat and masturbate you again, then I'll give you your snip."

I paused for a moment. She was standing in front of the toilet with her lab-coat already parted and her hands at the waistband of her red silk knickers. Once again I was struck by her pale, freckled beauty, the smooth skin of her belly, the almost imperceptible joggle of her half-exposed breasts. I desperately wanted to see her pull her panties down and see her red-haired pussy, and I just stood there, torn between two impulses, knowing I should leave but standing there, watching, until she suddenly dropped her knickers to her knees and sat down in one smooth movement, apparently not caring that I was staring at her body, her soft, white thighs, her bush of bright, wavy red pubic hair.

"You want to watch, don't you?" It was more a statement than a question. There was a sound of water trickling and she smiled slowly. I stared down at the tantalizing gap at the hairy apex of her thighs, trying to visualize her pussy lips - I could hear her pee flowing through them, hissing now - and her little clitoris hidden in the hair - or did she have a clitoris? It hadn't occurred to me before. This girl, peeing so casually and naturally right in front of me was probably circumcised! At some time, maybe not so long ago, she must have laid down on the couch outside while her mother spread her legs and cut off her tiny female penis.

"You like watching that, don't you?"

It wasn't hard to work that out, my little hard-on was pointing at the ceiling.

"You're hard already. Do you like to watch girls pissing, or are you looking for my clitoris?

Slowly, very slowly, she let her legs fall apart. The sound of running urine was only dribbles now, drips. I stepped forward and made to kneel in front of her, staring at her thick red pubic hair, startlingly lush against her pale freckled skin, and so thick I couldn't see her pussy lips, just a hint of darker tissue and the wetness in her hair.

"You want to know if I'm circumcised, don't you."

She raised a single finger and touched me on the shoulder, telling me to stop it before I went too far. Then she took my penis to draw me in still closer. The smell of her was stronger, warm and rich and incredibly arousing. It would only take a few more strokes to make me come. She spread her legs still wider and I looked down to watch her wipe herself.

"I'm not going to tell you if my clitoris is cut. That's a secret for my boyfriend. I'm going to make you spurt again and you'll just have to use your own imagination."

I could feel my semen rising as she dropped the tissue in the bowl and clasped herself, massaging her womanhood, then dropped her head to wrap her lips around my penis, drawing out my semen as I humped and squirted in her mouth.

It was over within moments. She cleaned us up efficiently and led me back out to the table for my snip.

Now she'd started, it was very quick. Before I really knew what was happening, I was on the couch with a clean, white towel under my bottom and my legs spread wide. Briony, white-coated again now, was standing at my waist with a steaming hand-towel, washing my genital area. It felt good, warm and calming.

"Hold still" she commanded, and I felt a sudden sharp pain, then a much more severe, aching feeling, running deep inside my loins. I managed, barely, not to cry out. I didn't want to cry in front of her.

"I'm giving you the anesthetic now," she explained, "there's no need to wait until afterwards; you've already had your orgasm and it will hardly hurt at all this way."

The pain was gone already, just a stretching numbness, rather like how your mouth feels at the dentist. She was swabbing between my legs again, with something cold this time, antiseptic, I guessed, and then fitting the crimping tool already. With my head almost flat I couldn't see much but I knew what she was doing.

She paused, looked up at me, smiled reassuringly, and suddenly I knew that she was ready. She reached back down and grasped the handle and now it hit me - this was the moment that would change my life, this was why my penis was so small and unattractive, and would stay that way forever, this was why I'd never have the thrill of seeing a girl get excited by the size and power of my manhood, this was...

Briony squeezed and I felt a pressure, then her hand was deep between my legs, kneading. I could hear her breathing, see her chest was rising and falling further, then she stiffened for a moment as she pressed the lever to release the gelding blade.

I felt nothing.

Briony sighed and it was over. Physically, I felt nothing at all. I was strangely relaxed and sleepy. I dimly realized she had given me a sleeping drug and I was fading fast. I let my head fall back onto the pillow and the last thing I remember was her fingers brushing the inside of my thighs as she stitched and dressed my wound.

Part Four

I was groggy in the morning, still muzzle-headed with the sleeping drug, when Mummy came to get me. I don't remember that day at all, not most of it, but I started in the surgery and ended up at home. I seem to remember Briony, very early in the morning, leaning over me and kissing me, but maybe it was a dream.

I spent the next five days in bed, feeling sorry for myself. Mum didn't say anything, but I knew she was disappointed in me. I had to know what she planned for me - for my penis, really - but she never raised the subject of having me penectomized, and I certainly wasn't going to remind her.

I figured the chances of her sending me straight back to the clinic were pretty high. On the Monday night I masturbated. Nurse Anderson was due back the next day, I remembered, so I resolved to ignore the pain in my groin and give myself as many orgasms as I could before Mummy had the chance to get my penis cut off.

It was difficult. As soon as I'd get an erection, the pain in my crotch doubled, and redoubled. But I lay there on my back, gingerly rubbing the tip of my penis, determined to ignore the ache between my legs, and thinking of the sexiest things I knew - the way Briony had pressed her breasts against me at the guillotine; the time I dropped a pencil in class and it rolled back behind me under the desk and as I bent pick it up I was looking straight up Sara Jane Peterson's skirt at her little yellow knickers (I'll never forget that sight - the prettiest girl in school sitting right behind me with her legs just far enough apart!); or Briony, smiling, sitting on the toilet in the clinic with her panties round her knees.

Was it the pain, or was this just what happened when you got castrated? Any one of these thoughts should have been enough to make me horny enough to come, but it wasn't working. I thought of Kylie offering me her pussy that Last Night, right here in this room, and that reminded me: her knickers - were they still here?

Gingerly, I got out of bed and looked for them in amongst the books and toys and discarded T-shirts on the floor - Mum had long since given up trying to make me keep my bedroom tidy. She must have taken them with her, or maybe Mum had picked them up. No! There they were, under the bed, Kylie's black cotton panties, and the pale blue silk ones she'd taken off in front of me were there too.

I lay back and sorted through the blue ones to find the magic panel where they'd pressed against her pussy-flesh, turned them inside out to see the faint, powdery-white outline of her wetness, held them to my face and breathed in the odor of my little sister's cunt, still sharp and rutty after all this time. Without releasing it, I was rubbing myself now, and my right hand dropped to wrap them around my penis. I was supposed to spend my Last Night masturbating into Kylie's panties, so maybe this was appropriate - it might be my last night with a penis. I held the other pair to my face, sniffing just the faintest tang from them as I pumped my spermless semen in the silky fabric where her female juices stained.

In the morning, I was nervous, but there was no need. Mum made no mention of the clinic, just asked me if I was feeling strong enough to start thinking about going back to school. We decided I should go tomorrow, on the Wednesday.

The first day back was dreadful. The pain had almost disappeared by then, and no-one said anything, of course, but they all knew I had just been castrated. It was common enough, after all.

I was more conscious of my sex than ever, now that there was less of it, and my shyness around girls grew even worse. Briony had made it very clear to me that my little penis was a permanent handicap and that I'd never be sexy or popular with girls like, say, Andy Ingers or Simon Blewitt.

The old taboo about discussing anything to do with Nurse Anderson's trade still held. Nothing had changed, and yet everything was different.

Gradually, I returned to life as usual, more-or-less. Sport was still impossible, but I could walk as much as I liked, and spent my lunchtimes by the river, walking, sitting, throwing stones into the water just to see the splash.

A couple of times I ran into Sara Jane and her friend Amanda, deep in conversation, talking about me, no doubt. I heard Amanda giggle when my back was turned and spun round to catch them at it. They pretended to ignore me but it didn't take me in. Once I would have laid down somewhere on the grass not too far away, so I could maybe catch a glimpse of Sara's panties, or walked slowly past just close enough to look down Amanda's top, but my heart wasn't in it anymore.

At school, I started spending a lot of time in the toilet, morbidly trying to steal glimpses of other boys as they unzipped themselves at the urinal. In the past I'd kept my eyes modestly to myself, looked straight down or at the wall in front of me as I pissed, but now I was sneaking glances to left or right, and taking note of everything I could see.

You can see quite a lot in a male urinal if you look hard enough. Most of the boys were not all that different from me so far as size went, a bit bigger usually, but no more than an inch or so as far as I could see (and all the time having to pretend I wasn't looking). I knew that some of them had been castrated, but their penises didn't seem to look any different, well, size and shape excepted, and I couldn't see if they had a ball-sack of course.

At first I wondered why I never saw a boy with no penis at all - even the three or four times I stood next to boys I knew for sure had been castrated, they each had a penis - and usually bigger than mine. It was only after a week of this half-life - hanging round in the toilet as much as I dared, somehow getting through classes, hardly speaking to anyone, going straight home from school every night - only then that I realized why I'd still not seen any boys with their penises cut off like Mummy wanted for me. There were five of them in my class and now I knew exactly who they were - because they never used the urinal. How could they? They were the ones, of course, who, every time they used the toilet, went into a cubicle and sat down to piss. Stupid! I could have worked that out by the time I was eight or nine if I'd ever thought about it. Maybe I was too afraid to think about it till now.

I ran into Briony in the corridor outside the science wing one day. Oh God! I thought I would die of embarrassment! I didn't know were to look or what to say. Should I just ignore her? Look the other way? And with all those other people round! I almost panicked.

She didn't stop, just smiled and said "Oh hello James." like she was surprised and pleased to see me.

I don't think I said anything, just maybe nodded in embarrassment. I felt weak-kneed with relief that she hadn't stopped and tried to talk to me.

I never wanted to see her again. So why, that night as I lay in bed masturbating, why did I think of her in school uniform, see the way she walked and the color of her hair?

But mostly I thought about penises. From my daytime hanging round the toilet I had slowly realized that all the different penises fitted a pattern. There were the younger boys with little penises who hadn't been castrated yet - quite a lot of these, and although their dicks were mostly as small as mine or even smaller, I could often get a good look at them. I realized that size wasn't that only thing though - Kylie had hinted that she liked some penises more than others that Last Night when we were looking at my father's book, and Briony had as good as told me that my little penis wasn't very attractive. I couldn't quite remember but she had seemed to say that circumcision had made mine less sexy than an uncircumcised one would have been, and now, as I looked at the boys around me, I paid particular attention to their foreskins (or their circumcisions).

I wished I had a foreskin, a long fat wrinkly-skinned piece of man-meat, like the one that Andy Ingers had flopped out beside me in the toilet with such casual pride. Was it just coincidence that he was going out with Sara Jane?

It was about this time that Mum suddenly told me she'd made another appointment for me at the clinic. It was at dinner time, and right in front of Kylie too.

"What for?" I gasped, fighting off a terrifying sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach. Oh God! She was going to have my penis cut off after all!

"For a check up. It's just routine. They have to make sure that your castration wound has healed properly."

I wished she didn't have to discuss this in front of Kylie. It was bad enough my sister knowing I'd been castrated, without talking about it at the dinner table. Kylie didn't say anything, but I could see she was looking at me in a funny way. She must have been thinking about me having my balls cut off, or wondering what it looked like.

Mum went on "I made an appointment with Briony for Friday afternoon, after school. You'll just have time to come home and have a shower first."

"Briony?" I'd expected the Witch.

"I can change it to Nurse Anderson if you want me to, but you seem to get along well with Briony. I think she's very professional. She's getting her certificate soon."

All that night I lay in bed, tossing and turning, masturbating, unable to sleep, thinking about the clinic, the humiliation and the pain I had undergone. Or maybe Mum had lied to me and the checkup was just an excuse to get me back into the surgery so they could cut off my penis too!

And then I'd remember Briony's warmth and sympathy, the smell of her body up close, the friendly smile she gave me in the corridor at school, and the way she had undressed for me and explained about a girl's vagina. As I lay there masturbating, I remembered the way she had pressed her breasts up against me and held me close as she showed me how the penis-guilotine worked, and most of all, how she'd let me come into her soft, warm hand.

I dreaded it, and yet I wanted the arousal and humiliation of undressing myself in front of Briony again, of her inspecting my private parts again.

More than anything, I somehow hoped that she'd take some of her clothes off for me and touch my penis again. There wasn't any reason I could think of why she would do more than maybe lift it out of the way so she could inspect my castration scar - not unless she was going to cut it off - but foolishly I hoped for more.

I'd been inside the clinic now, and at last I knew what went on in there, and the fears I'd always had were more than justified. I dreaded every part of it and swore I'd not go near it but my orgasm welled up inside me as I imagined Briony kindly letting me have one last orgasm with my little penis up inside her pussy before she cut it off. That was only fantasy, but it scared me. Did I somehow want her doing it?

Four o'clock came and I was back outside that dark wooden door, on my own this time, and hesitantly knocking. Briony answered straight away. I had expected her to be more formal, in her white lab-coat perhaps, or a nurses uniform, but she was relaxed and casual in faded jeans and tee-shirt - just a plain white tee-shirt with nothing underneath. I could see the darkness of her nipples through the fabric.

She led me straight into the examination room, sat me on the table.

I was nervous now. I mumbled out my answers to her many questions. She was working through a checklist on her clipboard, making little comments to herself as she went along.. Yes, I felt OK. No, there wasn't any pain anymore, yes, it still felt a little tender where the stitches were, lots of stuff like that. Then I had to undress and I felt suddenly self-conscious, not just about being naked, but naked with no balls, so I stood there in my undershorts, humiliatingly, there in front of the same young woman who had cut my manhood off.

Briony sensed my uneasiness, my hesitation, and let me leave my shorts on a little longer.

"Relax James, lie down and let's have a look at you."

She stood by my head, at the top of the couch, and once again I caught the faint aroma of her body as she leaned over me with her breasts and nipples inches from my face and reached down with both hands to my waistband, sliding delicately under at either side of my hip bones to lift my shorts away. She could see my penis now, lying to one side on my belly, very small and wrinkly and shrunken with fright, and I felt a secret thrill because I knew that she was looking at it. Did it mean anything to her, I wondered? Did she feel anything between her legs when she looked at the thing between mine? I didn't think so.

"Now lift your legs for me James." she asked as she pushed my undies down my legs and took them off.

Next she was gently parting my thighs to look at my castration scar, softly probing, murmuring medical-sounding comments to herself: "Yes, that's healing nicely" and "tell me if this hurts" as she thrust her fingertips into the smooth pink hollow where she'd cut my scrotum off.

I was getting erect again. I wished she'd touch it. As if she knew just what I wanted, she chose that moment to grasp it between finger and thumb, about half-way up and pull the soft, loose skin back towards my crotch.

"Have you masturbated yet?"

I was silent, transfixed with lust and shame and guilty pleasure at her touch. She looked up at me and smiled.

"Silly question. Of course you have. You don't know how long you're going to keep this for, do you?"

She meant my penis.

"And you want to make the most of it, of course. So how often do you masturbate. James? Every night?"

She was manipulating the skin on my penis now, working it up and down along the shaft, moving shorter distances as it swelled and tightened up.

"It's quite common, James, lots of boys do it, you know."

"Oh!" she murmured in sudden realization. "You think I'm going to cut it off if you admit that you've been masturbating. Is that it?"

I must have nodded or given some sign - it was exactly what I had been thinking.

"No James, you can say anything you want to to me. It's not my decision, it's up to your mother, and she hasn't asked me to, not yet. Anyway, I can't do it without your permission too, not until my certificate comes through, anyway. I just want to know how you're going. It's a part of my job, understanding my clients."

"Besides", she added with a sort of shrug, "I think you're cute. A boy doesn't loose the urge to masturbate just because he's had his balls off you know. So tell me, what do you think about when you're doing it?"

Without thinking I just blurted it out.

"You. When you ... when you ... last time I was here."

She was pleased. I could tell she was pleased. There was something going on here, more than just the medical examination.

"Would you like me to undress James? Would you like to look at my breasts, so that you can go home and masturbate? You noticed my nipples before, didn't you? I saw you looking at them."

She was right, of course. I was looking at them now, two pointed peaks of darkness through her T-shirt. I could almost see a hint of faintly darker color all around them.

She'd stopped rubbing my penis now to pull her thin shirt up over her head. I'd never seen her breasts before, not naked. Last time I'd seen that they were not especially large, on the small side really, but full and pointed under her white bra. Now they were completely naked, pointy-tipped and freckled and I gasped aloud at the suddenness with which she'd showed them to me.

She took my penis and masturbated rapidly while I stared at her dark nipples and her white bikini line bouncing up and down. I was at the point of orgasm when she stopped, picked up her clipboard, made a note "Sexual function: normal", put it down again.

"That's it James. We're finished. Congratulations. I won't need to see you back here until we take your penis off."

"But ..." I tailed off. I wanted her touch again, if only for a minute - fifteen seconds longer was all that it would take.

"You want me to make you spurt again, don't you."

I must have nodded.

"Of course you do. But there's no need for that now; you can do it for yourself tonight at home."

I was almost desperate. I was still looking at her face and breasts, those hands that gave such pleasure. She must have seen it in my eyes.

"Oh, if you need to then. I've got my report to write but you can stay and finish masturbating. I'll leave my top off for you while I do it."

I desperately wanted to, but I couldn't bring myself to masturbate in front of her. I sat on in indecision while she put her instruments away. Finally, she picked up her shirt, paused, "It's OK James, don't if you don't want to." She smiled, cupped a perfect little breast in her hand and ran her thumb across the nipple, then quickly slipped her shirt on. "Want some coffee?"

She boiled the kettle while I dressed, talking over her shoulder.

"You're really keen to keep your penis, aren't you. If you don't come back to have it snipped, then you're going to have to masturbate it. Now that you've got no testicles, that's very important. That's why I took my top off, to make you want to masturbate. But my part is finished now James, it's up to you to keep it healthy."

"Now, let me see if I can remember ... white and no sugar, yes?"

"Thankyou."

"Now tell me, what's this story I hear about Jackie Sweeny flunking Maths again?"

Small town gossip is an artform in itself.

It was nice to sit and chat with someone close to my own age - she was only three years older after all. I guess I was lonely, and she was very easy company. I almost wished she'd put a bra on so it would be easier not to look at her nipples. By the time we lingered over coffee it was getting close to dinner time, and I had homework, and I'd think about her breasts again that night in bed. As I was leaving she called along the corridor.

"James?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing on Sunday?"

It took me a while to catch on. "Nothing, I guess." Did she ... ?

"Sometimes I ride out to the caves, or go fishing." I added.

Up till recently, I'd used to hang out with Jake and Andy, maybe play touch football and stuff, but I was still a little tender from the operation and I felt kind of funny about talking with them now, I was avoiding them really, but I didn't mention this.

"I've never been fishing.", Briony hinted.

Like I said, it took me a while to catch on, but I got there in the end. I told her about my favorite stretch of river, out by the North Road, where you can nearly always find a trout or two.

We arranged to meet about ten and take a packed lunch.

"Don't come to the clinic" she said, "come the back way. Here, I'll show you."

Thanks to Bryan, who made it all possible, to all those who wrote with encouragement, and especially to the authors who wrote continuations when they got tired of waiting for mine. Keep writing guys, I enjoyed them. And thanks to Sara Jane Peterson - she was too pretty to leave out!