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Kids these days have access to protective equipment that didn't exist except for professional athletes when I was a kid., Nobody seemed to think that kids playing in a sandlot baseball game might get hit "down there." I was sixteen, an excellent pitcher, fair batter, and a very fast runner, important before there were designated hitters. I have a picture of myself at that time in my bathing suit. I had very wide shoulders, a wasp waist, muscular chest and arms, hairy legs, hair on my chest.That was only two years ago. Next to me is a mirror. The reflection shows a soft-looking young person with a hairless chest, belly, and legs, wide fat hips, thick thighs, and a big fat behind. I have a boy's penis and a loose empty scrotum. When I run, my thighs rub together, my hips sway like a girl's, and my big fat ass jiggles.I have barely half the muscular strength I had when the picture was taken. So, what happened ? I was pitching a pickup game with a few friends in the park. They didn't make cup jocks for kids in those days. All I was wearing under my pants was boxer shorts. I pitched my fast ball. Jerry Mahoney sent it right back at me at about 150 miles per hour. Just then, a reflection from the windshield of a passing car dazzled me. I didn't see that the ball was coming back at waist level. I didn't notice it until it crashed into my groin, smashing my balls out of existence. There was an instant of absolute total pain. I couldn't scream; I couldn't even breathe. I could swear that my heart stopped for a moment. What a shame it started again. I remember collapsing on the ground, puking, and squirming, then darkness. I didn't hurt much when I woke up. There wasn't anything left to hurt. The doctor tried to break the news to me gradually, first that I would never have any kids, then that there wouldn't be any point in getting married, then I'd never be strong enough to play baseball again, and so on. Well, it was all true. I'm a fat, sexless, feminine-looking weakling, and I wish I were dead. |