Whatever happened to davis-barrett?

Following is an absolutely true story of how you can be castrated and have your penectomy too, all while keeping your equipment. You see, you get to sit there and stare at it, even using it once in a while, but to little avail. You’ll cum, but you’ll never know about it…

It was in November of 2000, shortly before writing both stories that I went to my physician with constant back trouble. Up to that point I had been diagnosed with Marfan Syndrome (a connective tissue disorder) and Spina Bifida Occulta Sacreole. The last one was explained to me as a Latin term that meant “it was a close call” but I didn’t have Spina Bifida.

So there I was, telling my physician that I was having back pain, had had it all along, and was sick of Doctors being concerned about a heart that hadn’t given me trouble in years. Marfan Syndrome caused a situation that created a heart attack when I was 18 and now, at the ripe old age of 28 the Doctors were still fucking around with unnecessary heart medications. In fact, I’d have had my nuts chopped off years before except I was concerned what the loss of testosterone would do with these specific heart medications. I’m still heartily interested in finding someone to yank these testicles from me.

Anyway, my Doctor sends me for an MRI on my lower spine, the location of the Spina Bifida lesion that I had “nothing to worry about.” Within a week of the MRI my Doctor calls me and states that I have this Lypoma (a fatty tissue tumour) on that very spot and it’s strangulating my spinal cord. Without immediate removal I will eventually, more towards sooner than later, lose the use of my legs and every point below that spot on my spine.

Trusting in the medical profession, as years ago I was a paramedic, I visited her recommended neurosurgeon for a consult. Immediate surgery was recommended as it appeared to be one of the largest Lypomas in that location and the person (such being myself) still had the ability to walk. So, I scheduled the surgery for May 16, 2001 and went about my merry way.

No one warned me of too many complications. Oh, except for that I might die or something like that. I had too much faith in the medical industry to think that I’d kick the bucket while under the knife with a highly accomplished neurosurgeon staring just above my ass at the area she was working on. So, with good spirits I went on into May with no worries.

I had a wonderful night of sex with a friend of mine a couple of nights before. He was quite an accomplished lover and a great “friend with benefits”. It seemed that we could do anything around each other, or with each other, and it only made our friendship better. He even knew that I want to be castrated and when I told him I had scheduled the back surgery he thought that I had actually scheduled my castration and was very supportive. But we had a good night of sex and physical enjoyment the 14th of May.

Surgery day came and I was not concerned. They wheeled me about the hospital and I was intrigued. The “good old days” of being a paramedic in San Francisco came back to me (hey, some people use any mechanism to cope, allow me mine). Under the knife I went.

I came to about three o’clock that afternoon. About seven o’clock the Doctor came by and told me, in the midst of the worst pain I’ve experienced to date, that the tumour was much larger that previously anticipated and that they worked to get it all (99.9% was her quote). As an afterthought, almost, she tossed out “oh, by the way, you have full blown Spina Bifida, not Spina Bifida Occulta Sacreole” and left. In my drugged stupor I remembered little of this conversation. My partner was there in the room and relayed the message to me a couple of days later.

A partner? Wanting to be castrated? Had sex with a friend days earlier? Yes to all of those. I have a partner and he’s the most wonderful man on the planet. I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the known or unknown universe. It’s just that he and I never got around to sex, we have sex with other people, and we have this beautiful life at our wonderful home, but we’ve just never got down to ‘getting it on’ between the two of us. It was a platonic friendship between two gay men that just got better over time and never developed into intercourse, it’s confusing for many people, including me sometimes. Yes, he knows that I want to be nutted, pretty much everyone I care about knows that I want to be castrated, and that’s a long story too.

On with the saga… I spent weeks recuperating at home. I had a Foley Catheter inserted up my Willy for most of that time and had many unusual sensations around that. You see, my theory is this: Yes, I had Spina Bifida all along, and it is not unusual at all for a Lypoma to form over the area where the lesion is, sort of the body’s way of protecting itself. In my case, and perhaps in others, the Lypoma was strangulating the cord and causing severed “wires” to contact with unsevered wires and gave me the ability to walk and fuck and be fucked.

So there I lay, pain occasionally wracking my body as I tried to move, but diminishing over time. I had limited sensation in my legs and limited sensation (that I now finally understood) in my genitals, but now I had extremely diminished sensation in my genitals and no sensation in my legs. Yet, after two weeks I could still walk. It’s been almost two years now and I can still walk, though only about 300 yards a day before I have to take to my sporty little wheelchair. So, I function in society normally, under circumstances that I control, unbeknownst to the casual observer. I am a fully functioning paraplegic that walks and drives and mows my own lawn. As soon as you figure it out, my Doctors and I would like to know. I suppose it has something to do with muscle memory and perhipheral vision (which I have extreme peripheral vision, I can see my legs and feet underneath me).

For two months I went without so much as a twitch in my penis, nor an “itch in my crotch” that required the usual man-handling. The catheter came out three weeks after surgery and I could sense that my bladder was full. Within two months I was up and about and I’d finally started getting my morning “wood” back and even playing with it. Before you ask; no, I’ve never had a “wet dream” in my life (that’s ok, my partner doesn’t believe me either, but it is true).

I did have a few “strange” orgasms when I played with myself. I mean, I could see my hand flying up and down on my 7˝ incher, I could think of the day when some nice man would come along and take my nuts and fuck me, but I couldn’t feel anything. Well, I could feel some, I felt my hand touch my pubes every once in a while. I figure my dick got tired of being beat up and came just to get me to stop what I was doing.

About three months after surgery I ended up at another friend’s house and we got a bit frisky. One of my three favourite activities is giving blowjobs, followed shortly thereafter by rimming and being “skewered”. There I worked with all my might and to my best enjoyment on his 10 inch tool, sucking down every driblet of precum he could muster up, feeling him get larger in my mouth to my careful ministrations. I’d not lost my touch, I was horny, I was ready to go, and I wanted him deep inside of me pumping away like he’d done in the past. He’s a good top; he likes to grab my hair and drive hard and deep as much as possible before he empties his nuts inside of me. I was an attentive bottom; I’d work him over with my ass muscles and not even touch myself at all until he’d filled me up. Nothing like the feeling of a man rushing in and out of you against your prostate before you work yourself up, nothing like the feeling of a full load inside of you as you release yours.

This time though, there was a problem. I’d always had difficulty maintaining an erection. Never knew why until the day they said I had “full blown Spina Bifida”, I mean it explains a lot. My erection was cooperative, he was thrusting inside of me and grabbing my hair and pulling back, but all I could feel was his hand on my hair and my hand grabbing an anonymous semi-rigid cock. It’s an odd thought to have your hand full of a nice penis, doing what you like to do with it, but not being able to know that it was your penis, unless you confirmed its attachment to you.

Steve, we’ll protect the name of the well-hung, just kept plowing away as I wondered what he was doing. I heard the slap of his body against my ass, I imagine that his balls knocked against mine a number of times as well, but I couldn’t sense it. That threw my mind for a loop. Steve moved within the next few months to a school a long ways away and I haven’t seen him since, we write, but we haven’t had sex in over a year.

To tell you the truth, I haven’t had much interest in having a man inside of me. Well, at least not in my ass. I’d love to give a nice guy a good blowjob, but the thought of anal sex just makes me nostalgic. Back then I’d bounce and moan and sometimes scream like the best of them, but now it seems to be like “hey, call me when you’re done?”

The Doctors told me that after such a neurologically invasive procedure it sometimes takes up to a year for the system to return to proper function. Y’know, all the wires to return to their connections or settle for the fact that there just won’t be a connection anymore. Pretty much after a year, if you have no sensation, that’s pretty much the way it’s going to be from that point on.

The only things these days seem to be the thought of being nutted that gets me hard or a Viagra. But, let me warn you, you have to be mentally aroused for the Viagra to work in any way possible. There has to be some blood going to your Willy in order for it to keep your Willy at full attention. Even then, it’s doesn’t seem like a full hard-on, perhaps a 7/8ths version of it. In my case, my father being Jewish, I was circumcised (a little on the bias if you ask me) and I grew into a nice tightly-skinned pecker. Nowadays, when in use of Viagra, I have room to move with the skin.

Pre-surgery I had a good wank about two or three times a week. Now I’m wanking, without really knowing why – except for mental excitement, about two to three times a month. At first, after the surgery and when my hardons returned, I could feel my prostate pumping – though greatly diminished. Nowadays, as my cock gets tired of me beating up on it I just start breathing hard and then have a mess to clean up.

That’s the other thing; I had a thick white cream that came out in nice spurts before the surgery. These days I have an almost clear fluid, oh there’s sperm in it but not much – that shoots out in a very singular stream.

If I were a Doctor hearing about this story I’d be greatly intrigued, and as a former medical professional I kind of am. However, as the patient in this case I can assure you that this situation is as frustrating as all get out. I feel as though I have received a penectomy and I’m feeling someone else’s cock when I jerk off. However, they left my nuts behind and I’m compelled to wank because the testosterone is there and I “am a man after all” but I get little satisfaction out of it except that I don’t have to do that chore for another seven to ten days.

So, there you go, Davis Barrett had a penectomy and a bit of a castration while keeping both his cock and his balls. I get to see that I have a nice cock, I even get to see it hard, I just can’t suck on it or feel it without my hands. I get to see my testicles down there, I know they’ve got something in them (though that’s mostly faith with little proof), and I desperately want them removed from me.

It was always my intent to lose my nuts and sac. In fact, I intended to take hormones to maintain cock size and sexual interest. May still do that, sex-life is up in the air. However, I want the option of controlling my own arousal, especially if that arousal has little to do with my satisfaction. I have a friend who attempted a sex change and has no nuts; his desire for intimacy is about equal to mine. It’s not so much the fucking, sucking, and getting my rocks off any more. I’m more concerned with my sexual partner and his satisfaction.

As for those other stories, I’ve still got them, and I’m still reading and visiting here at the forum. I’ve quite enjoyed the works of Paolo and others and look forward to adding my contributions in a while. I just felt it was time to explain why I seem to have dropped off the face of the planet recently. Not to worry, I sit here a eunuch, despite my cock and balls.

If anyone is interested in castrating davisbarrett, playing around, and you live in the Pacific Northwest, feel free to drop me an email at ea_davisbarrett@eunuch.org