Dear Diary

Oct1, Dear Diary, 

Today I saw Mom castrating a bull. I thought it would be scary, because Mom told me to look away. I peeked, though. It wasn’t scary at all. In fact, it was quite captivating. Seeing Mom’s deliberate, capable hands so easily remove the thing’s sexuality. Afterwards, Mom said she did it to make him calmer, gentler. Honestly? That sounds like she did the fella a favor. I couldn’t help but think of the bull as the lucky one.

Oct4, Dear Diary,

I still can’t get the image out of my head. I keep replaying it over and over. I must have touched myself to the memory at least 5 times. My balls really ache, and I know what they’re aching for. Even seeing mom cutting up some green onions with a scissors sets me off. Part of me hopes she doesn’t notice and read my mind. Another part of my hopes she DOES notice.

Oct5, Dear Diary,

Mom asked why I was acting weird lately. I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about? What was I supposed to say? God I never felt so embarrassed. But you know the weird part? Getting embarrassed was kind of a turn on, too. Realizing that felt even more embarrassing, if that makes any sense.

Oct9, Dear Diary,

Mom had to geld another bull today. This one struggled a lot more than the last one, almost like he knew what was about to happen to him. I found myself wishing I could speak cow. I would tell him to just let it happen, his life will be so much better.

As she struggled to hold the bull steady so she could cut his nuts off, Mom’s boobs jiggled quite a bit. This turned me on a little, but then got me into this kinda philosophy mode. If I ever did get castrated myself, would I still get turned on by boobs? 

Was that part of my mind controlled by hormone levels, or at this point, had my brain made the connection between bouncing breasts and sexy so many times that it would keep on going, even without any T left in the tank? And if I did find boobs sexy without a sex drive, what would that even feel like? Like appreciating a fine work of art? My mom’s generous curves certainly looked like they belonged in a Renaissance painting. 

Oct12, Dear Diary,

I asked Mom today if she ever wanted to be one of the animals on the farm. She said no, she likes being the one to take care of them all. That was a very Mom answer. She’s always like that. I wish she could take care of me forever. I gotta find some way to bring it up, or I’ll go nuts. Haha, get it? Look at me, trying to make a diary laugh to break the tension in my own inner monologue. I’m really pathetic, huh?

Oct17, Dear Diary,

Mom asked me to open a pickle jar she was having trouble with. It came off super easy in my hands, which made me feel real good - for about 2 seconds.

Then, she said “Oh, look at you, you’re getting to be such a big, strong man!” 

I don’t know why, but suddenly I felt like throwing up. Then the pickle smell hit me and that didn’t make things any better.

I thought about it for a while when I was cleaning the barn, and looked at the two bulls just peacefully grazing. I realized I didn’t want to be a big, strong man. I wanted to be docile, gentle little eunuch.

Oct18, Dear Diary,

Mom complimented me on how good a job I’d done cleaning the barn yesterday. She said it was such a relief to have someone so useful to help for a change. 

I had a sudden thought. Without T, my muscles would probably atrophy a little. I’d be less useful around the farm. Then again, Mom didn’t have T either, and she managed to get by on her own before I was born. Still, wasn’t helping Mom out more important than my silly fantasy?

“You know, it’s gonna be awful lonely around here when you go off and start a family of your own one day,” she said, kinda whistfully.

It was sad thing to hear and horrifying to think about. Why would I ever want to leave? I loved my life here.

But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized we didn’t need to worry. Wiithout my balls, I’d be physically incapable of starting my own family. There’d be no reason to ever talk about me leaving her. 

This really is the best thing for both of us.

Oct29, Dear Diary,

Mom asked what I wanted for Christmas and I just blurted it out! I can’t believe it! I just said “I want to get castrated,” without even thinking about it.

Mom thought it was a joke and laughed. Then she saw how red faced I was and realized I was serious.

She was smiling a little, which I wasn’t expecting. She asked me how long I’ve been thinking about it. I told her the truth, since she gelded that first bull. I’ll never forget what she said next. 

“I had a feeling something was going on, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

That certainly perked my ears up! I asked her what that meant. She said she’d talk about it in the morning, but she said was very proud of me and gave me a little kiss on the forehead.

I couldn’t stop replaying that conversation in my mind! That phrase “get my hopes up” was wild. I touched myself thinking about that, and the feeling of her lips brushing against my forehead, until I was really raw.

Oct30, Dear Diary,

Mom said she was totally on board! She said was so excited to get me neutered. Honestly, I feel like I’m dreaming. She said she was thinking about all last month, just like I was. Great minds think alike, huh? But she said she wanted to do some research last nite to give me some options. 

First, she said, she could take me to the doctor and have it done there, which was the safest. No way, I said. I want her to do it to me.

She could do it with a knife or scalpel, which obviously appealed to me a lot. Anything involving cutting sounded good, since that was what she’d done to the bull. Mom agreed, saying it was  “really romantic - kinda like cutting the umbilical cord.” 

But she also said that since she’d never done a human before. Surgery on a person was more high risk than an animal. Mom said she wouldn’t enjoy it if she knew there was a risk of complications. And, she added, she really wanted to enjoy it.

I wanted her to enjoy it too. After all, she can’t neuter me twice!

She mentioned a burdizzo which, like, crushes the blood vessels in the balls and causes them to just dissolve into nothing. That sounded fun. There was also a really tight band you can wear on the scrotum that does the same thing. But she said her favorite option was an injection, called Neutersol. It caused the balls to dissolve, and much faster, too. It was safer, and it also was more of a guarantee than crushing or banding. 

More of a guarantee of what, I asked.

Of fully neutering me, she said.

I think that was when it hit me. Not only was Mom really gonna do it, but she wanted to make 100% sure my balls were 100% gone. My heart leapt into my throat. This was really happening!

Nov2, Dear Diary,

When will the stupid package get here? Every day of being a fully intact man feels like torture, knowing I’ll get to be a eunuch soon.

Nov3, Dear Diary,

Finally the Nuetersol arrived. Mom and I were practically squealing when the brown cardboard box was tossed onto our front porch. Mom ordered me upstairs and onto my bed. I pulled off my clothes. Mom hopped onto the bed too, and for a few blissful seconds, rubbed her large chest into my face.

“Mom?” I aksed. 

“I just wanted your last memory fully being a man to be a good one,” she said with a wink. I thought about how I’d had that mental debate with myself about boobs. Damn, Mom really was a mindreader, huh?

Mom hiked down my underwear and spread my legs.

“You ready, honey?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” I said, my voice breathless.

She jabbed the syringe into my balls and pressed down. It hurt, but only a little. The tiny little thunk sound of the syringe being depressed and destroying my manhood - honestly, that thunk was the sexiest sound of all time.

My scrotum felt warm at first, then cold. Mom grabbed my sack, and I could feel my balls starting to shrink away at her touch. My boner slowly wilted, too, though a dribble of precum remained on the tip, the last little drop of manhood that I had left. Suddenly I felt like I had to close my eyes.

When I woke up, my scrotum was all shrively and small. I felt around. There was nothing left inside. And I’ve never felt happier.

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