The Sewing Machine

One day I finally couldn’t contain myself anymore and I blurted out how I wanted to be castrated. She was somewhat shocked, and gave me the initial excuse that it wouldn’t work and that she couldn’t do it. Then she said that there’d be no way to do it because the plant runs twenty four hours a day. But I insisted and reminded her that the plant closes on Sundays for maintenance. I also reminded her that after the maintenance, no one was there Sunday nights. She still was unsure about what the machine would do to my scrotum. But she said she’d think about it. As she was thinking, I suggested a special plastic type thread, which she agreed would certainly hold things together. Then she asked, “How can we get you into a position where I can clamp your balls?” It’s easy I told her, and showed her how I planned to sit. I have to be sitting on top of the table. Then you can swing the arm of the machine over and pull my balls into the clamp. My wife still didn’t think it was possible, so I told her, “Let’s just try it first, to see if it will work or not.” She agreed. So the next Sunday, we waited in the parking lot until everyone had left and all the lights had been turned off. She took out a key that she had gotten from one of the maintenance men, and we walked in. Her working area was in the corner of large room with only one window, which we covered with dark plastic bags. We turned on a small desk light and another halogen light that we could spot on the table and on the machine. We disinfected everything that we could with a clorox solution. I got a chair, covered it with a clean sheet that we had brought, put it up on the table, climbed up and sat down. My wife got her sewing machine ready, swung it over towards me, and to her surprise, she was able to adjust it perfectly, right up to my balls. She actually turned the machine sideways so that my balls could be pulled vertically through the clamp. It was warm and my balls were hanging low. She asked me how much she should pull through? I said as much as you can! So very slowly and carefully, with her left hand she pulled my balls down into the clamp and with her right hand, she quickly pulled the clamp shut! It hurt terribly and I yelled! She was about to release it when I told her that I was all right, I could take the pain. After being reassured, she manually checked the position of the needle aligning it with my scrotum.

Since the sewing machine was computerized she then asked me, “What stitch would you like? I told her it was her choice, but I preferred a heavy one, I wanted to be stitched over and over. I wanted to feel the needle puncturing my sac as many times as possible. She looked and found one that stitched a 1/8 inch almost solid band. Then she asked me, “What speed should I set it, there are 30 choices, from extremely slow to blinding speed fast?” I said, “extremely slow!” I wanted to watch and feel my balls being sewed up. Then she said what I’d been waiting so long to here, “It’s ready to go, all I have to do is push this button and it’ll sew your balls and sac shut!” But she said, “It’s going to hurt you know, we’ve got to get you something for the pain. We’ll get some and come back next week,” she said. But I was prepared. I had sent away for some topical numbing spray and I felt that was all I needed. So I told her, “We’re all set, everything is ready, no one is around, let’s do it now! I asked her to the spray out of my pocket, which she did. Then she asked me again, “Are you really sure about this? There’s no going back, once I push start, it won’t quit until it’s finished.” Delirious and consumed with the thought of being castrated, I assured her I was ready for it. So she sprayed my scrotum and we waited about 15 minutes for it to take affect. The pain from the clamping subsided, then she lifted my bluish balls and I could barely feel them or her touch. I was ready! I told her, “Go ahead, hit the start button!” Looking a little scared, I assured her that it would be all right and urged her to go ahead. She turned away from me and hit the button. The machine began to stitch, ever so slowly. I was immediately shocked into reality, instinctively, I reached for my balls, but the machine had them and wouldn’t let go. At first, I bit down hard on my lip. I could feel every puncture, every stitch, then I kind of got used to it. I could bare the pain. Finally, my wife turned around and we watched together as the machine very slowly stitched my sac shut, tight and firm. In and out, puncture upon puncture, it was exhilarating. My fantasy was coming true, I got a terrific erection. But then the needle pierced one of the cords of one of my testicles. I wasn’t ready for the sharpness of the pain, but before I could say anything, it pierced it again and then again. I was moving all over the place but the machine wouldn’t stop, slowly it punctured the cord again, and then again and again. I writhed in pain, but finally it passed over the sewed up cord and kept going it’s merry way. I was perspiring heavily and I was grabbing the arms of the chair so tight, I thought they’d break. My wife kept asking me if I was all right, I mumbled something, and then the needle pierced the second testicle cord. Again I wanted to scream, but I didn’t, in about two minutes, the slow piercing needle had effectively sewed that cord tight and moved on. Really, the tight pattern of the needle’s stitches had severed the cord, in fact, the stitches were the only thing holding it on. I breathed a sigh of relief and the pain subsided. I asked my wife how she thought it was going. She said, “It’s unbelievable. Your scrotum and your balls are being stitched completely together just like the leather on a pocket book. She said, “You’ve got another half inch and it’ll be done.” I didn’t want it to be done, even with the pain, I wanted to experience it all over again, but a few moments later she yelled, “That’s it! You’re done!” The machine stopped, and my wife and I just looked at each other.

Finally, she unclasped the clamp setting my balls and scrotum free. She swung the arm of the machine away and we examined the machine’s work. It was a perfect 1/8 inch stitching that looked surreal. By scrotum and balls were so tightly sewn together in a horizontal line, I could never have removed the stitching. My balls were done for and my wife was amazed. She said, “Who would have thought that my machine could do this kind of thing!” We talked about it and looked at it for what seemed like an hour. There was hardly any bleeding, but I could tell that my balls were dying or about dead. I think the puncturing and piercing of my cords shut off the blood flow completely. Then my wife said, “Now what? Are you going to leave them like that?” No I told her, you get to cut off the sac and testicles! She grinned and said “Really?” Still thinking about my fantasy, I told her to get her long scissors, which she did. Then I reminded her to be careful so that she didn’t cut any of the stitches. She nodded in agreement, and then just as she was about to start cutting, she asked me if I could feel any thing down there. I said, “Not below the stitching.” Then she took a long breath, and placed her scissors carefully below the stitching and began to cut. Blood started to flow so she placed a small tupperware bowl under my balls. She resumed cutting and then one of the testicles plopped out into the bowl, splattering her with some blood. She was taken aback by this for a moment, looked up at me smiling, and continued to cut. She grabbed the scrotum and held it until she had cut through the cord, then she pulled it out of the sac by the cord, and held it up to me to see. She commented that it looked funny, not what she expected. Then she asked me what to do with it. I told her I didn’t care. Since she was a shy person, I never expected what happened next. While I was watching, she dangled the ball above her mouth, head back. Then she licked her lips, slowly and purposefully, and lowered it in.

I just about died, I couldn’t believe that this was my wife, who was usually not into kinky things, but she was turned on by castrating me. She didn’t swallow it though, but put it back in the bowl, saying, “I’ve got special plans for them and your scrotum.” She went back to cutting and finally she said, “One more snip and your castrated completely!” And with one more snip, I was! She put the cover on the small tupperware bowl, cleaned me up, although there wasn’t much to clean, and helped me off the table. We got home about 3am and I started to have some weird feelings. I suspected that it was testosterone withdrawal, and over the next few days I had hot flashes and mood swings galore. I was a mess. To top it off, about a week later, my wife brought home a small change purse that she had made. She said, “Feel how soft and smooth it is, isn’t it wonderful?” She rubbed it against her cheek and then she rubbed it against my check. Then quite matter of frankly said, “It’s your scrotum!” I made it. The girls all love it and want one of their own. But I won’t tell them where I got it! Without a word she stuck it down her pants, saying, “I’m keeping it in a safe place, up in my vagina!” Who is this woman I said to myself?

Well after healing up, the stitched up area fell off cleanly and I was left with a beautiful scar; a reminder of were my testicles and balls once hung. I finally went to the doctor, who didn’t ask many questions. I got some testosterone and my old friend has come to life again, which my wife is grateful for. As a lasting tribute, she keeps my balls in a sealed jar on her desk at work. It gets her excited when she looks at them and remembers!

My wife works at a factory making women’s pocket books. She operates an industrial type sewing machine that can stitch leather in all types of positions and in all types of ways. It’s so maneuverable that she can turn it in almost any direction. It also clamps pieces of leather together and then stitches them in place. I’ve watched her use it countless times and am always amazed at how she can turn and move it into tight and difficult positions for sewing. This machine gave me a great idea and I wondered about it for months. Since I always wanted to be castrated, I thought that this machine might be the way to go. My wife had known about my castration desire for years, and she was good at pretending. But after several years her good intentions were no longer doing the trick. No matter how well she pretended to castrate me, it no longer satisfied me and I told her I wanted to be castrated for real. She was hesitant and wanted me to be sure. She also wanted me to go to a surgeon to have it done, if that was what I really wanted. But I didn’t want to be castrated normally. I wanted an unusual castration, something different, something that turned me on, which is what this sewing machine did for me. I started fantasizing about being castrated by it. I’d dream about my wife setting it up and clamping my balls in the machine. I envisioned the machine perforating my scrotum and balls hundreds of times in a few minutes. I saw the needle powering it’s way in and out leaving a wonderfully stitched ball sac behind. Finally, I saw my wife unclasp the clamp. I could see us both examining the work of the sewing machine and then I could see my wife taking her long scissors, and slowly cutting off my balls, leaving a perfectly stitched remnant behind. But what would she think of my fantasy?

One day I finally couldn’t contain myself anymore and I blurted out how I wanted to be castrated. She was somewhat shocked, and gave me the initial excuse that it wouldn’t work and that she couldn’t do it. Then she said that there’d be no way to do it because the plant runs twenty four hours a day. But I insisted and reminded her that the plant closes on Sundays for maintenance. I also reminded her that after the maintenance, no one was there Sunday nights. She still was unsure about what the machine would do to my scrotum. But she said she’d think about it. As she was thinking, I suggested a special plastic type thread, which she agreed would certainly hold things together. Then she asked, “How can we get you into a position where I can clamp your balls?” It’s easy I told her, and showed her how I planned to sit. I have to be sitting on top of the table. Then you can swing the arm of the machine over and pull my balls into the clamp. My wife still didn’t think it was possible, so I told her, “Let’s just try it first, to see if it will work or not.” She agreed. So the next Sunday, we waited in the parking lot until everyone had left and all the lights had been turned off. She took out a key that she had gotten from one of the maintenance men, and we walked in. Her working area was in the corner of large room with only one window, which we covered with dark plastic bags. We turned on a small desk light and another halogen light that we could spot on the table and on the machine. We disinfected everything that we could with a clorox solution. I got a chair, covered it with a clean sheet that we had brought, put it up on the table, climbed up and sat down. My wife got her sewing machine ready, swung it over towards me, and to her surprise, she was able to adjust it perfectly, right up to my balls. She actually turned the machine sideways so that my balls could be pulled vertically through the clamp. It was warm and my balls were hanging low. She asked me how much she should pull through? I said as much as you can! So very slowly and carefully, with her left hand she pulled my balls down into the clamp and with her right hand, she quickly pulled the clamp shut! It hurt terribly and I yelled! She was about to release it when I told her that I was all right, I could take the pain. After being reassured, she manually checked the position of the needle aligning it with my scrotum.

Since the sewing machine was computerized she then asked me, “What stitch would you like? I told her it was her choice, but I preferred a heavy one, I wanted to be stitched over and over. I wanted to feel the needle puncturing my sac as many times as possible. She looked and found one that stitched a 1/8 inch almost solid band. Then she asked me, “What speed should I set it, there are 30 choices, from extremely slow to blinding speed fast?” I said, “extremely slow!” I wanted to watch and feel my balls being sewed up. Then she said what I’d been waiting so long to here, “It’s ready to go, all I have to do is push this button and it’ll sew your balls and sac shut!” But she said, “It’s going to hurt you know, we’ve got to get you something for the pain. We’ll get some and come back next week,” she said. But I was prepared. I had sent away for some topical numbing spray and I felt that was all I needed. So I told her, “We’re all set, everything is ready, no one is around, let’s do it now! I asked her to the spray out of my pocket, which she did. Then she asked me again, “Are you really sure about this? There’s no going back, once I push start, it won’t quit until it’s finished.” Delirious and consumed with the thought of being castrated, I assured her I was ready for it. So she sprayed my scrotum and we waited about 15 minutes for it to take affect. The pain from the clamping subsided, then she lifted my bluish balls and I could barely feel them or her touch. I was ready! I told her, “Go ahead, hit the start button!” Looking a little scared, I assured her that it would be all right and urged her to go ahead. She turned away from me and hit the button. The machine began to stitch, ever so slowly. I was immediately shocked into reality, instinctively, I reached for my balls, but the machine had them and wouldn’t let go. At first, I bit down hard on my lip. I could feel every puncture, every stitch, then I kind of got used to it. I could bare the pain. Finally, my wife turned around and we watched together as the machine very slowly stitched my sac shut, tight and firm. In and out, puncture upon puncture, it was exhilarating. My fantasy was coming true, I got a terrific erection. But then the needle pierced one of the cords of one of my testicles. I wasn’t ready for the sharpness of the pain, but before I could say anything, it pierced it again and then again. I was moving all over the place but the machine wouldn’t stop, slowly it punctured the cord again, and then again and again. I writhed in pain, but finally it passed over the sewed up cord and kept going it’s merry way. I was perspiring heavily and I was grabbing the arms of the chair so tight, I thought they’d break. My wife kept asking me if I was all right, I mumbled something, and then the needle pierced the second testicle cord. Again I wanted to scream, but I didn’t, in about two minutes, the slow piercing needle had effectively sewed that cord tight and moved on. Really, the tight pattern of the needle’s stitches had severed the cord, in fact, the stitches were the only thing holding it on. I breathed a sigh of relief and the pain subsided. I asked my wife how she thought it was going. She said, “It’s unbelievable. Your scrotum and your balls are being stitched completely together just like the leather on a pocket book. She said, “You’ve got another half inch and it’ll be done.” I didn’t want it to be done, even with the pain, I wanted to experience it all over again, but a few moments later she yelled, “That’s it! You’re done!” The machine stopped, and my wife and I just looked at each other.

Finally, she unclasped the clamp setting my balls and scrotum free. She swung the arm of the machine away and we examined the machine’s work. It was a perfect 1/8 inch stitching that looked surreal. By scrotum and balls were so tightly sewn together in a horizontal line, I could never have removed the stitching. My balls were done for and my wife was amazed. She said, “Who would have thought that my machine could do this kind of thing!” We talked about it and looked at it for what seemed like an hour. There was hardly any bleeding, but I could tell that my balls were dying or about dead. I think the puncturing and piercing of my cords shut off the blood flow completely. Then my wife said, “Now what? Are you going to leave them like that?” No I told her, you get to cut off the sac and testicles! She grinned and said “Really?” Still thinking about my fantasy, I told her to get her long scissors, which she did. Then I reminded her to be careful so that she didn’t cut any of the stitches. She nodded in agreement, and then just as she was about to start cutting, she asked me if I could feel any thing down there. I said, “Not below the stitching.” Then she took a long breath, and placed her scissors carefully below the stitching and began to cut. Blood started to flow so she placed a small tupperware bowl under my balls. She resumed cutting and then one of the testicles plopped out into the bowl, splattering her with some blood. She was taken aback by this for a moment, looked up at me smiling, and continued to cut. She grabbed the scrotum and held it until she had cut through the cord, then she pulled it out of the sac by the cord, and held it up to me to see. She commented that it looked funny, not what she expected. Then she asked me what to do with it. I told her I didn’t care. Since she was a shy person, I never expected what happened next. While I was watching, she dangled the ball above her mouth, head back. Then she licked her lips, slowly and purposefully, and lowered it in.

I just about died, I couldn’t believe that this was my wife, who was usually not into kinky things, but she was turned on by castrating me. She didn’t swallow it though, but put it back in the bowl, saying, “I’ve got special plans for them and your scrotum.” She went back to cutting and finally she said, “One more snip and your castrated completely!” And with one more snip, I was! She put the cover on the small tupperware bowl, cleaned me up, although there wasn’t much to clean, and helped me off the table. We got home about 3am and I started to have some weird feelings. I suspected that it was testosterone withdrawal, and over the next few days I had hot flashes and mood swings galore. I was a mess. To top it off, about a week later, my wife brought home a small change purse that she had made. She said, “Feel how soft and smooth it is, isn’t it wonderful?” She rubbed it against her cheek and then she rubbed it against my check. Then quite matter of frankly said, “It’s your scrotum!” I made it. The girls all love it and want one of their own. But I won’t tell them where I got it! Without a word she stuck it down her pants, saying, “I’m keeping it in a safe place, up in my vagina!” Who is this woman I said to myself?

Well after healing up, the stitched up area fell off cleanly and I was left with a beautiful scar; a reminder of were my testicles and balls once hung. I finally went to the doctor, who didn’t ask many questions. I got some testosterone and my old friend has come to life again, which my wife is grateful for. As a lasting tribute, she keeps my balls in a sealed jar on her desk at work. It gets her excited when she looks at them and remembers!

My wife works at a factory making women’s pocket books. She operates an industrial type sewing machine that can stitch leather in all types of positions and in all types of ways. It’s so maneuverable that she can turn it in almost any direction. It also clamps pieces of leather together and then stitches them in place. I’ve watched her use it countless times and am always amazed at how she can turn and move it into tight and difficult positions for sewing. This machine gave me a great idea and I wondered about it for months. Since I always wanted to be castrated, I thought that this machine might be the way to go. My wife had known about my castration desire for years, and she was good at pretending. But after several years her good intentions were no longer doing the trick. No matter how well she pretended to castrate me, it no longer satisfied me and I told her I wanted to be castrated for real. She was hesitant and wanted me to be sure. She also wanted me to go to a surgeon to have it done, if that was what I really wanted. But I didn’t want to be castrated normally. I wanted an unusual castration, something different, something that turned me on, which is what this sewing machine did for me. I started fantasizing about being castrated by it. I’d dream about my wife setting it up and clamping my balls in the machine. I envisioned the machine perforating my scrotum and balls hundreds of times in a few minutes. I saw the needle powering it’s way in and out leaving a wonderfully stitched ball sac behind. Finally, I saw my wife unclasp the clamp. I could see us both examining the work of the sewing machine and then I could see my wife taking her long scissors, and slowly cutting off my balls, leaving a perfectly stitched remnant behind. But what would she think of my fantasy?

One day I finally couldn’t contain myself anymore and I blurted out how I wanted to be castrated. She was somewhat shocked, and gave me the initial excuse that it wouldn’t work and that she couldn’t do it. Then she said that there’d be no way to do it because the plant runs twenty four hours a day. But I insisted and reminded her that the plant closes on Sundays for maintenance. I also reminded her that after the maintenance, no one was there Sunday nights. She still was unsure about what the machine would do to my scrotum. But she said she’d think about it. As she was thinking, I suggested a special plastic type thread, which she agreed would certainly hold things together. Then she asked, “How can we get you into a position where I can clamp your balls?” It’s easy I told her, and showed her how I planned to sit. I have to be sitting on top of the table. Then you can swing the arm of the machine over and pull my balls into the clamp. My wife still didn’t think it was possible, so I told her, “Let’s just try it first, to see if it will work or not.” She agreed. So the next Sunday, we waited in the parking lot until everyone had left and all the lights had been turned off. She took out a key that she had gotten from one of the maintenance men, and we walked in. Her working area was in the corner of large room with only one window, which we covered with dark plastic bags. We turned on a small desk light and another halogen light that we could spot on the table and on the machine. We disinfected everything that we could with a clorox solution. I got a chair, covered it with a clean sheet that we had brought, put it up on the table, climbed up and sat down. My wife got her sewing machine ready, swung it over towards me, and to her surprise, she was able to adjust it perfectly, right up to my balls. She actually turned the machine sideways so that my balls could be pulled vertically through the clamp. It was warm and my balls were hanging low. She asked me how much she should pull through? I said as much as you can! So very slowly and carefully, with her left hand she pulled my balls down into the clamp and with her right hand, she quickly pulled the clamp shut! It hurt terribly and I yelled! She was about to release it when I told her that I was all right, I could take the pain. After being reassured, she manually checked the position of the needle aligning it with my scrotum.

Since the sewing machine was computerized she then asked me, “What stitch would you like? I told her it was her choice, but I preferred a heavy one, I wanted to be stitched over and over. I wanted to feel the needle puncturing my sac as many times as possible. She looked and found one that stitched a 1/8 inch almost solid band. Then she asked me, “What speed should I set it, there are 30 choices, from extremely slow to blinding speed fast?” I said, “extremely slow!” I wanted to watch and feel my balls being sewed up. Then she said what I’d been waiting so long to here, “It’s ready to go, all I have to do is push this button and it’ll sew your balls and sac shut!” But she said, “It’s going to hurt you know, we’ve got to get you something for the pain. We’ll get some and come back next week,” she said. But I was prepared. I had sent away for some topical numbing spray and I felt that was all I needed. So I told her, “We’re all set, everything is ready, no one is around, let’s do it now! I asked her to the spray out of my pocket, which she did. Then she asked me again, “Are you really sure about this? There’s no going back, once I push start, it won’t quit until it’s finished.” Delirious and consumed with the thought of being castrated, I assured her I was ready for it. So she sprayed my scrotum and we waited about 15 minutes for it to take affect. The pain from the clamping subsided, then she lifted my bluish balls and I could barely feel them or her touch. I was ready! I told her, “Go ahead, hit the start button!” Looking a little scared, I assured her that it would be all right and urged her to go ahead. She turned away from me and hit the button. The machine began to stitch, ever so slowly. I was immediately shocked into reality, instinctively, I reached for my balls, but the machine had them and wouldn’t let go. At first, I bit down hard on my lip. I could feel every puncture, every stitch, then I kind of got used to it. I could bare the pain. Finally, my wife turned around and we watched together as the machine very slowly stitched my sac shut, tight and firm. In and out, puncture upon puncture, it was exhilarating. My fantasy was coming true, I got a terrific erection. But then the needle pierced one of the cords of one of my testicles. I wasn’t ready for the sharpness of the pain, but before I could say anything, it pierced it again and then again. I was moving all over the place but the machine wouldn’t stop, slowly it punctured the cord again, and then again and again. I writhed in pain, but finally it passed over the sewed up cord and kept going it’s merry way. I was perspiring heavily and I was grabbing the arms of the chair so tight, I thought they’d break. My wife kept asking me if I was all right, I mumbled something, and then the needle pierced the second testicle cord. Again I wanted to scream, but I didn’t, in about two minutes, the slow piercing needle had effectively sewed that cord tight and moved on. Really, the tight pattern of the needle’s stitches had severed the cord, in fact, the stitches were the only thing holding it on. I breathed a sigh of relief and the pain subsided. I asked my wife how she thought it was going. She said, “It’s unbelievable. Your scrotum and your balls are being stitched completely together just like the leather on a pocket book. She said, “You’ve got another half inch and it’ll be done.” I didn’t want it to be done, even with the pain, I wanted to experience it all over again, but a few moments later she yelled, “That’s it! You’re done!” The machine stopped, and my wife and I just looked at each other.

Finally, she unclasped the clamp setting my balls and scrotum free. She swung the arm of the machine away and we examined the machine’s work. It was a perfect 1/8 inch stitching that looked surreal. By scrotum and balls were so tightly sewn together in a horizontal line, I could never have removed the stitching. My balls were done for and my wife was amazed. She said, “Who would have thought that my machine could do this kind of thing!” We talked about it and looked at it for what seemed like an hour. There was hardly any bleeding, but I could tell that my balls were dying or about dead. I think the puncturing and piercing of my cords shut off the blood flow completely. Then my wife said, “Now what? Are you going to leave them like that?” No I told her, you get to cut off the sac and testicles! She grinned and said “Really?” Still thinking about my fantasy, I told her to get her long scissors, which she did. Then I reminded her to be careful so that she didn’t cut any of the stitches. She nodded in agreement, and then just as she was about to start cutting, she asked me if I could feel any thing down there. I said, “Not below the stitching.” Then she took a long breath, and placed her scissors carefully below the stitching and began to cut. Blood started to flow so she placed a small tupperware bowl under my balls. She resumed cutting and then one of the testicles plopped out into the bowl, splattering her with some blood. She was taken aback by this for a moment, looked up at me smiling, and continued to cut. She grabbed the scrotum and held it until she had cut through the cord, then she pulled it out of the sac by the cord, and held it up to me to see. She commented that it looked funny, not what she expected. Then she asked me what to do with it. I told her I didn’t care. Since she was a shy person, I never expected what happened next. While I was watching, she dangled the ball above her mouth, head back. Then she licked her lips, slowly and purposefully, and lowered it in.

I just about died, I couldn’t believe that this was my wife, who was usually not into kinky things, but she was turned on by castrating me. She didn’t swallow it though, but put it back in the bowl, saying, “I’ve got special plans for them and your scrotum.” She went back to cutting and finally she said, “One more snip and your castrated completely!” And with one more snip, I was! She put the cover on the small tupperware bowl, cleaned me up, although there wasn’t much to clean, and helped me off the table. We got home about 3am and I started to have some weird feelings. I suspected that it was testosterone withdrawal, and over the next few days I had hot flashes and mood swings galore. I was a mess. To top it off, about a week later, my wife brought home a small change purse that she had made. She said, “Feel how soft and smooth it is, isn’t it wonderful?” She rubbed it against her cheek and then she rubbed it against my check. Then quite matter of frankly said, “It’s your scrotum!” I made it. The girls all love it and want one of their own. But I won’t tell them where I got it! Without a word she stuck it down her pants, saying, “I’m keeping it in a safe place, up in my vagina!” Who is this woman I said to myself?

Well after healing up, the stitched up area fell off cleanly and I was left with a beautiful scar; a reminder of were my testicles and balls once hung. I finally went to the doctor, who didn’t ask many questions. I got some testosterone and my old friend has come to life again, which my wife is grateful for. As a lasting tribute, she keeps my balls in a sealed jar on her desk at work. It gets her excited when she looks at them and remembers!