Shacha

    Shacha had wanted it for as long as he could remember.  Even when he was a kid -- really a kid, maybe five or six, not fourteen like he was now -- he had wanted it.  Then he'd wanted to be rid of all his male parts, his cock and his balls, but since puberty -- since his balls had begun changing him from a boy to a man, since the hormones from his balls had started to flow -- that had changed.  Now, he just wanted his cock cut off.  He liked the feeling the hormones from his balls provided him.  He liked being turned on.

    And, he was a typical boy in that respect, too.  He jacked off all the time, at least two or three times a day.

    Why? you might ask, would a boy -- a fourteen year-old boy that liked jacking off, that liked being aroused -- want to have his cock cut off.  Even Shacha couldn't have answered that question.  He didn't know why.  He couldn't have put it into words, but he wanted it.  He was obsessed with the idea of having his cock cut off.  He was afraid he might regret it afterward, but that didn't matter.  It was something he had to have done.  Only then could he stop thinking about having it done, about how it would feel to have balls, but no cock, to want to jack off, but not be able to.

    Would he be able to cum after his cock was cut off?  If he let some other boy fuck him once his cock was cut off, would he cum, squirting out the pee hole the doc was going to make him between his legs, somewhere below his balls?

    Sometimes Shacha would push his cock to one side, hiding it with his hand, so he'd have some idea what he would look like with just his balls, but no cock.  It wasn't the same, of course -- he knew it'd be different when his cock was actually gone -- but it gave him some idea what he'd look like -- just his ball sack with its two occupants, hanging from a patch of pubic hair -- two balls, without a cock to hide behind.  God -- the thought of it turned him on.

    Now, it was going to happen.  In an hour -- two at the most -- Shacha would no longer have a cock.

    He'd often thought about cutting it off himself -- taking a knife and slicing it off -- but he'd never been able to go through with it.  He'd cut his cock -- just a little -- more than once, but he'd never been able to do it any real damage.  He didn't know what had stopped him.  Maybe it was the fear that he might bleed to death, and Shacha didn't have a death wish.  He didn't even like to hurt himself -- nothing other that his cock, that is. 

    Shacha liked hurting his cock.  He could find all kinds of ways to hurt it, rubber bands around it, until it grew numb -- scalding water run over his cock until it was red -- sore to the touch for days afterward.  But none of that was enough.  Nothing he'd ever done had killed his cock, so a doctor would have to cut it off.

    Besides, he didn't want to have a dead cock cut off in some operating room where they'd put him to sleep first.  He didn't want to wake up to find his cock gone.  He wanted to watch while the doc cut it off.  And he wanted to feel it.  He wanted his cock to feel it.  He wanted it to hurt.  It wouldn't be the same to have his cock cut off, if he didn't feel it -- if his cock didn't feel it.

    Oh, don't get me wrong.  Shacha knew his cock wasn't a separate entity -- that it was a part of him.  He knew that in his head -- in the rational part of his brain that thought -- but not on the emotional level.  There, his cock was alive, a creature separate from him, a parasite that fed off his blood, a creature that had a mind of its own.  Didn't it get hard, whether he willed it or not?.  Shacha -- the real Shacha -- had no cock.  He'd been born without one.  This cock he had now was just some parasite that had attached itself to his groin.

Anyway, Shacha had told himself that so many times he had come to believe it.

* * *

"Are you ready?" Doc asks me.  I nod.  "And you don't want any anesthetic?"  I shake my head.  "It's going to hurt.  It's going to hurt a lot."

    "I know," I finally say, my voice little more than a croak.  "I want to feel it.  I want to feel you cut it off."

    "I'll have to strap you down, then.  You won't be able to hold still, and I can't have you moving.  There's a lot of blood vessels I have to cauterize.  Can't have you bleeding to death, can we?"

    I shake my head again.  Although I want to speak, talking like it was nothing to me to have my cock cut off -- something that concerned me not in the least -- I can't.  It feels like something is stuck in my throat -- fear, I guess.  I am afraid -- afraid of the pain -- afraid that I will regret it afterward.

    But, in spite of my fear, I know I'm going through with it.  I've wanted it too long to turn back now.  Being cock-less is my destiny.  Having my cock cut off might not make me happy, but -- if I keep it -- I'll never know, will I? I'll always wonder.  I'll go though the rest of my life, thinking about nothing but having it cut off.  At least, once Doc is though, I'll no longer wonder.

    You might wonder why Doc is going to cut me, a fourteen year old boy.  I can hear you say, No doctor's going to cut off a fourteen year-old boy's cock.   Well, he is a doc -- a veterinarian actually -- and he is going to cut off my cock, and I'm not going to have to pay him anything.  I guess -- as much as I've always wanted to have my cock cut off -- he's always wanted to cut off a boy's cock.  Fate somehow -- fate and the Internet, lol, -- brought us together.

    On a penectomy site on the Internet -- a site where guys talked about their fantasies of having their cocks cut off -- I constantly said I intended to have mine cut off.  When Doc found out I was only fourteen, he said he'd do it.  The only thing he wants for it is my cock.  He wants to keep it as a souvenir.  Hell, he can have it.  After it's cut off, I never want to see it again.

    You notice I never use Doc's name.  I don't know it.  All I know to call him is Doc.  But I guess that's best.  I imagine he could spend some serious jail time for cutting off the cock of a fourteen year-old boy, even if the boy wanted it. 

    Funny thing is, Doc and I live in the same town.  After we made the arrangements, he picked me up at the park in a van he rented or borrowed.  He blindfolded me and brought me to his office.  Nothing on the walls has his name on it.  I don't know what his name is, and I don't know where we are.  We could be anywhere in the city, and it's a big city.

    I chuckle.

  "What's funny?" he asks.

    "Nothing really," I answer.  "I was just thinking about all the dogs that must have lost their balls on this table.  Now, I'm going to lose my cock on it."

    "I could cut off your balls, too," he says.  "Wouldn't you rather have it all gone?  You'll look weird with balls, but no cock, but you'll really be hot, smooth."

    "No," I said, "I want to keep my balls.  You promise you won't cut off my balls?"

    "I promise, if that's what you want, but I still think you'd look better without them."

    "Tell you what," I say, "If I decide later to have them cut off, you can do it."

    Doc starts setting out his instruments; scalpel, clamps, sutures.  Everything he needs for the operation.

    "I'm going to have to tie you down, now," he says.  "Once I start cutting, you're going to beg me to stop, but I won't.  Once I start, I'm cutting it all off.  Are you certain you don't want an anesthetic?  I could just give you some shots that would deaden your cock.  You'd still be awake -- able to watch.  It just wouldn't hurt."

    "No," I say,  "I want it to hurt."

    "OK.  It's your cock."

    "Not for long," I say, making a small attempt at humor.  "Soon, it'll be yours."  He smiles and nods.

    I lay back and he begins strapping me down.  I wonder if he'd stop now, if I asked him to.  I'm almost tempted to ask, but I don't.  I bite my lip and let him tie me down.

It was done.  Doc had turned away, carrying my cock in a bowl.  It no longer belonged to me.  It was no longer attached to me.  It would never get hard again.  My cum would never shoot through it again.  I would never be able to jack off again.  If I someday had another orgasm, my cock would play no part in it.  I'd have to find another way to have a climax.

    It had hurt.  God damn, it had hurt.  And Doc was right.  I had begged him to stop.  "I've changed my mind," I had screamed.  "Don't cut it off."

    But doc paid no attention to my screams.  He kept cutting.  He cut -- then paused to cauterize a leaking blood vessel -- then cut some more.  It didn't take him long -- I guess -- although -- at the time -- it seemed to take forever.  He slid my cock off the catheter he had in it, then placed it in a bowl. 

I don't know which hurt the most, the cutting or the cauterizing.  Both hurt -- both really hurt.  But, it's done.  My cock is done for.  I no longer have one -- just two balls hanging from my crotch.

    Doc isn't finished.  He's going to stitch the skin together over where my cock was, then he's going to make me a pee hole between my legs, below my balls, between them and my asshole.  I'll have to pee sitting down like a girl.  He's going to give me a shot first, so I don't feel it.  That's OK.  I just wanted to feel him cut off my cock, and that was enough pain for a lifetime.  I don't want to feel him make me a pee hole.

    It was his idea to make me one between my legs.  I just thought I'd have one where my cock was, but he said, "If I do that, you'll pee all over your balls every time you pee, and it'll be hard to direct your piss into the toilet.  This way, your piss will shoot down into the toilet.  You might have to hold up your balls to keep from pissing on them, but that'll be easy for you to do."

    I'll be glad to have the shot.  My crotch hurts like hell.

    There's some blood running down my ass now -- I can feel it -- but it's not too much.  He was able to stop most of the bleeding.  "You'll be OK," he told me.  "Most of it's just seepage.  It'll stop."

    God!  Are my parents going to freak when I come home without a cock.  I guess they'll never have grandchildren now.  I'm their only kid.

    But, I would never have had kids anyway.  I don't like girls much, and the last thing I want is kids.

    Maybe they won't even know.  Neither my mom or dad have seen me naked in years.  If I don't have any complications from this cutting, they might not ever find out.  I'll just have to hope I don't get sick and have to go to a doctor -- a real doctor, not a vet like Doc.

    No tight pants around my parents, though, and no trips to the bathroom in my underwear.  They might notice I no longer have much of a bulge.  My cock was no monster, a little less than six inches when hard, but it definitely added to the bulge in pants.  I won't have much now.

    No more jacking off.  What's that going to be like.  Fuck, hurting as I am, it turns me on to think about it.  Imagine  -- wanting to jack off -- needing to jack off -- but having no cock to jack off with.  I wonder if I'll be able to cum rubbing my bare crotch?  I read on the Internet that some people could cum without rubbing their cocks.  I guess I'll find out.

    And if I can, the cum will come out between my legs, out my pee hole.  Won't that be weird?  I wonder if it'll shoot out?  Do you need a cock for that?  Will it just kind of ooze or dribble out?   

    The thought of cumming without a cock excites me.  If I didn't hurt so much, I'd try it now.  But, it'll probably be a while before I'll feel like trying.  I imagine I'm going to be sore for some time yet.

    I'm not going home tonight.  I told my parents I was going camping with Michael, and that we'd be gone for a week.  Michael knew I was getting my cock cut off.  He thinks I'm crazy, but I think it turns him on, too. 

    Maybe I'll let Michael fuck me after I'm healed.  Maybe I can cum with his cock up my ass.  He has a big one, at least seven inches long, and I've heard some guys can cum by having a guy's cock stimulate their prostate.

    It's not like we're queer for each other.  We've jacked off together -- sometimes we do each other -- but we've never sucked each other off, or anything like that. 

    I think he'd fuck me, though.  He got hard every time I talked about having my cock cut off -- we both got hard actually -- and we'd usually end up jacking each other off.

    Yeah, he'll fuck me, if I ask him to.  I'm sure of it.  And I'll ask him.  I know I will; if for no other reason than to satisfy my curiosity.

    I can't believe it's over and done with: my cock is gone -- cut off -- lying in a bowl, shrunken, pitiful, little cock.

    Did I do the right thing?  I don't know yet.  It's too late to worry about it, I guess.  It's done.  I don't guess Doc would sew it back on, if I asked him to.  He probably couldn't, anyway.  He's just a vet, after all.  I imagine it would take real skill to sew a cock back on, so it would work at least.  Besides, he did all that cauterizing.  That's sealed most of the blood vessels and burned through the nerves. 

    Even if I wanted my cock back, I certain he couldn't do it.

    Besides, I don't want it back -- not yet, anyway.  I might want it back tomorrow or the next day -- or next week or next year -- but it's gone for good.

    Doc turns around.  He has a hypodermic in his hand.  He's going to give me a shot to deaden my crotch, then make me a pee hole.

* * *

Picture this: it's my first day of school, between second and third periods.  I have to piss.  I walk into the boy's bathroom and walk up to a urinal, as I've done probably hundreds of times before.  I drop my pants and push down my drawers.  Fuck!  I can't pee at a urinal anymore.  I don't have a cock.

    I'd gone to the urinal out of habit, forgetting for a moment that I couldn't use it.  Pulling up my pants, I glanced at the guys next to me.  Had either of them seen?  I'd pulled my pants down past where my cock used to be.  All I have there now is a pink scar half hidden by my pubic hair. 

    The guy on my right is glancing in my direction.  I don't know whether he noticed or not.  I'm not about to ask.  Would he really believe his own eyes anyway?  He was in my gym class last year.  He probably saw me naked every day.  I had a cock then.

    I pull up my pants and go into a stall, where I can sit down to pee.  I'm glad the stalls have doors on them.

    It's been six weeks since Doc cut off my dick.  I'm pretty well healed.  He gave me some antibiotics, so I didn't get an infection.  There's a puckered, pink, scar where my cock was, but -- given time -- I don't think I'll have much of a scar, and my pubic hair will cover most of it.

    My parents don't know I no longer have a cock.  I always wear baggy pants when I'm not in my room, and like I said, they haven't seen me naked for years.  I think it's funny.  Their son doesn't have a cock, and they don't even know it.

    Am I glad I had my cock cut off?  Most of the time, I guess.  I know if I still had it, I'd still want it cut off.  That doesn't mean that there's not times I'd like to have it back.  I haven't been able to cum, since it was cut off.  I've had a couple of wet dreams, waking up to cum gushing out my pee hole, running down my crack.  I can't get myself off, though, and -- fuck -- I'm horny all the time.  Sometimes, I think I'll go crazy from it.

    But -- in a way -- that's cool, too -- to want to jack off -- more than anything -- but not to be able to.  Weird, I know, but I guess I'd have to be a little weird to want to have my cock cut off in the first place.

    I wonder if Doc kept it, like he said he was?  I wonder if my cock's floating in some jar in his office -- or whether he took it home with him?

    I think I'm going to let Michael fuck me.  I'd like to see if that'll make me cum.  I haven't let him yet.  He and his family were away on vacation during the last weeks of summer, and I was too sore before.  He's never even seen me without a cock.  I had bandages on when I stayed at his place after my operation.

    Doc was right.  I have to hold my balls up when I piss to keep from pissing on them.  At least I don't have to shake the last drops out of my pecker any longer.  I just wipe my pee hole with some toilet paper, and I'm done.

    Fuck!  Gym class.  What the fuck am I going to do about gym class?  We have to dress out in shorts, t-shirt, and gym shoes and wear fucking jock straps.  There's no fucking privacy in the dressing room.  Even the toilets don't have doors.  And guys are always fucking horsing around, snapping a towel at your balls, or something.  Shit -- shit -- shit.  I didn't think about fucking gym class, when I let Doc cut off my cock.

    I'll tell the coach I don't feel good today.  Maybe he won't make me dress out.  That might work today, but it won't work every day.  Fuck.  They're going to know.  Everyone's going to fucking know.  Maybe I can tell them I had cancer or something and had to have it cut off.  I'll still be a dickless wonder, but maybe they won't think I'm crazy.  Maybe if they think my parents already know, they won't tell them.

    Am I crazy because I wanted my cock cut off?

The coach said I'd have to go to the nurse first to get out of dressing for P.E., and I don't have a fever, so it probably wouldn't have worked.  I told him I had a headache, but he said I had to dress anyway.  I don't have to play, but I have to dress.

    By the time I return to the locker room, though, the other kids have already changed.  I have it to myself.

    Turned, facing the wall, I have just taken off my pants and underwear.  "Hurry up, Atonally," I hear someone say.  I recognize the voice, that of Bret Spicer, one of my friends.  Bret had been at my house one night when I was chatting with Doc about his cutting off my cock.

    "You'll never fucking do it," Bret had said.

    "Yes, I will," I had answered.

    "Bull shit.  No fucking way"

    "Just wait.  You'll see."  Well, this was my chance to show him.  I turn around, pulling up my shirt.

    I don't think it registered at first.  Possibly because Bret expected to see a cock on me, it took him a moment to realize I no longer had one.  After a long minute, he said, "Fuck me!  You did it!  You had your cock cut off."

    "Yep."

    His mouth hung open.  I noticed another reaction: he had a boner.  It pushed out the front of his shorts.  A fucking boner.  I'll never have another one.

Bret kneels down to have a closer look.  "How do you pee?" he asks, when he sees there's no opening where my cock used to be, nothing there but pink skin and a scar.

    "I have a pee hole between my legs."  Propping my leg up on a bench, I hold up my balls so he can see.  Well, I've done it now.  Bret Spicer has a big mouth.  He'll tell everyone not only that I don't have a cock, but that I wanted it cut off.

    "Why did you keep your balls?" he asks.

    "I like how they make me feel."

    "What do you mean?  Why have balls, if you don't have a cock?  It looks stupid to have balls, but no cock."

    "You need balls to get turned on."

    "What are you going to do about it without a cock.  You can't jack off." 

    I'm turned on; he is, too; he has a hell of a boner.  Shit!  At that moment, I would like to have a cock.  I want to jack off.  Shit.  I'd do it in the locker room with Bret watching, if I had a cock.  I don't remember ever being so horny.  But, too, I like the feeling, that intense desire to cum, but not being able to.  No doubt I'll have a wet dream tonight.  I'm about to cream now.  Then, I have an idea.

    "Do you want to fuck me?"  He's turned on.  Maybe he'll do it.  We have thirty or forty minutes before class is over and everyone comes in from the gym.

    "You want me to fuck you?"

    "Yeah," I say.  "I'm turned on and I can't cum by myself.  Maybe I can, if you fuck me.  Don't you want to? You have a hell of a boner.  I know you're turned on."  Reaching over, I rub his crotch. 

    He bites his lower lip, then nods.  "Where?"

    "Right here.  Everyone, including Coach, is out in the gym.  We've got a half hour at least."  He doesn't stop me when I pull down his shorts.  His cock is sticking straight up, making little jerking motions.  It's not as big as Michael's, but it's bigger than mine was, probably six -- six and a half -- inches.

    I lie down on my back on the floor, raising my legs as I've seen guys do in porn flicks.  He kneels down between my legs, nuzzles his cock against my hole, then pushes.

    It hurts, but only at first.  I feel his cock press against my prostate.  His cock is hard, but so is my prostate -- hard as a fucking rock.  He cums, and I cum -- the best fucking orgasm of my life.  Spunk shoots out of my pee hole all over Bret's groin.  It shoots and shoots.  I don't think I'm ever going to stop cumming.

    We take a shower, then finish dressing for P.E.  "Don't tell anyone about my cock," I tell him, but I know he will.  By tomorrow, everyone will know I don't have one.  That's all right.  I don't care.  I want them to know.  I even want my parents to know.  Maybe, I'll tell them tonight.

* * *

You're probably curious about what's happened since I saw you last -- remember in the locker room where Bret fucked me?  I told you then that everyone would find out that I had no cock; and they did.  I knew Bret couldn't keep his mouth shut, so I told my parents that night when they came home from work.

    Boy, did they freak.  I guess I can't blame them.  I mean, what would you do, if your kid came up to you and told you he had his cock cut off.  That little revelation cost me six months worth of visits with a shrink.  Eventually, he decided I wasn't crazy -- not about anything else, anyway.  He never understood why I wanted my cock cut off.  I told him some people just didn't want their cocks; some didn't want their balls; and some didn't want either; but I don't think he ever really understood.

    My parents didn't either; neither did my teachers or the other boys.  Fuck, the boys really think I'm weird.   Most of them are in love with their cocks.  Several of them told me, "I'd kill myself, if I lost my cock."

    And, how do I feel about not having a cock?  Most of the time, I'm OK with it.  Sometimes, I wish I could have been like other boys and wanted my cock, but that's just not who I am.  I'm pretty much of an outcast now.  Most of the other boys won't have anything to do with me.  Maybe they're afraid it's catching, that they'll want to have their cocks cut off, if they hang around me.

    That's OK.  I didn't have many friends before anyway; and I still have a couple: Michael and Bret.  They're my fuck buddies.  Both of them like to fuck me.  No problem as far as I'm concerned.  I love it.  It's the only way I can cum.

    Michael's the best.  He has the biggest cock.

    Pretty soon, Michael will be my only fuck buddy.  Bret wants both his cock and balls cut off.  (Maybe it is catching, lol.)  He's coming over tonight.  I've been chatting with Doc, and he's agreed to cut off Bret's cock and balls.  Doc still has my cock in a jar, he says.  I wonder if he'll put Bret's cock and balls in the same jar, or whether they'll have a jar of their own?  A jar of their own, probably.

    I know this is going to cost me a shit load of trouble.  Fucking Bret won't be able to keep his mouth shut.  He'll tell everyone that I arranged it.  It's a good thing he doesn't know who Doc really is.  He'd squeal on him for sure.  I shouldn't do it, but -- hell -- Bret's become as obsessed about being a eunuch as I was about having my cock cut off.  (I wonder if I'm a eunuch?  I still have my balls.)

    I know I did the right thing.  It's better to not have a cock than go through life wishing you didn't have one.  I'm glad I kept my balls, though.  With them, I'm the same person I was before.  The same hormones are gushing through my veins.  I feel like a boy -- just a boy without a cock.  I never wanted to be a girl.

    I think Bret wants to be one, though.  That's why he wants both his cock and balls cut off.  He wants to be smooth like a girl.  Michael fucks him, too; and he cums.  I tell him he might not be able to, once his balls are cut off, but he still wants them cut off.

    We'll be a pair, won't we: a boy without a cock and a boy with neither cock or balls?

    Fuck.  I hope they won't put me in jail or juvie for arranging this.  I really shouldn't do it, but I want to watch.  Both Bret and Doc have agreed to let me watch.  Doc's going to give Bret shots.  Bret's not into pain.  He doesn't want to feel his cock and balls cut off.  He wants to watch it, but he doesn't want to feel it.

    Oh!  The doorbell.  You'll have to excuse me for a minute.  It must be Bret.  We're supposed to meet Doc online and make the final arrangements, then he'll meet us somewhere tonight, take us to his office, and operate on Bret.  In a few hours, Bret will be a eunuch.

    And, I get to watch -- cool.

    Bret and I are in front of my computer.  I'm online with Doc arranging the meeting. 

I type back to Doc.  "McConnell park at 7:00 PM.  We'll be there, waiting by the swing set and slides."  

    He types back, "Are you certain he wants to go through with it?"

    I look at Bret.  He's been watching the screen the whole time.  I raise my eyebrow.  Bret nods.  "You sure," I ask.

    "Yes," he says.

    I type, "Yes, he's sure."

    "OK," Doc types, "7:00 PM."

    It's set.  Time to go.  It'll take us about 30 minutes to walk to the park.

* * *

    It's over.  Bret's cock and balls are in a bowl on Doc's desk.  Doc made Bret a pee hole between his legs like mine.  It took a long time -- two or three hours -- but it's done.

"You did a good job, Doc," I say.  "Have you done this much?  Have you cut a lot of boys?"  I think he must have.  He's too good at it to have just cut Bret and me.

    "You two are the only boys I've cut.  I cut men.  I'm what's known as a cutter.  I don't cut them for free, like I cut the two of you.  I charge $2000 for either cock or balls, $3000 for both, so you boys are getting a good deal."

    Bret's pretty much out of it, even though the cutting didn't hurt him, since Doc gave him some shots to deaden his dick and balls.  I guess it was all the blood, cutting, and cauterizing.  I thought I was going to hurl myself, and I wasn't being cut.

    It's over, though.  Bret's a cock-less, ball-less, eunuch.  I think it's cool that he is.  Hell, he wanted it.  Besides, it's cool to know there's another boy like me, one without a cock.  Of course, Bret took it one step further; he had his balls cut off, too.  Doc asked me if I wanted him to cut off mine, but I said, no.  I like myself just like I am.  It was always my cock I hated, not my balls.

    Bret does look cool without either -- kind of like a girl without boobs.  Doc cut off his ball sack, too.

    Shit.  I'm almost tempted to let Doc cut off my balls.  They get in the way; and if I didn't have any, I wouldn't have to worry about getting hit in them.

    No -- I'll wait.  If I want to have them cut off later, I can.  I'll wait to see how not having balls affects Bret.  I like to cum.  I like to squirt spunk out my pee hole.  I'm afraid I won't be able to without balls.

    Doc's given Bret something to relax him.  He wants him to sleep for a few hours.  Rather than sit around, I have a better idea.  "Hey, Doc.  Would you like to fuck me?"

    I've never been fucked by a man.  I wonder if Doc has a bigger cock than Michael.  I hope he does.