From The Eunuch Archive- Jack's First Castration

From The Eunuch Archive



Submission Date: 2006-09-19By: Macky

\[Gay\] \[Testicles\]- Fiction



Since his Army days, Jack has dreamed of castrating men. Now a friend asks for help, and makes him an offer he can't refuse.







Jack's First Castration - 1



My new clients usually ask me the same three questions: When did I first do it? How did I come to do it? And, how many have I done? There is a fourth question they seldom think to ask: Why? They likely assume that they already know the answer. I can say that they are only half-right. Sure, I enjoy it and find it exciting. Who wouldn’t? But helping my clients achieve their long sought goal, to reach peace with themselves and become who and what they are meant to be, that is my true reward. So, perhaps, I can answer all these questions by addressing the second. If you understand how I first came to do it, all the other questions will be answered as well.



First, I should tell you a little about myself. My name is Jack. When I was nineteen, I went and enlisted in the Army and trained as a medic. When assigned to my unit, I often became the first person our troops would consult about certain, rather personal medical issues. I would clear them on for treatment, as needed, but often I would hear the same refrain. “I don’t know how I let myself get into a situation where I could get something like that. I really hate getting all crazy and out of control. I know what could be done to stop it, and it doesn’t seem so bad to me. But I can’t let my buddies find out I feel this way; I’d be outcast if I actually ever did it. So, I suppose, I simply have no choice but to keep getting crazy and getting into trouble.” And, I guessed, they were right. Surely, nobody actually ever does it. It is impossible, so I put all thought of it completely out of my mind.



Eventually, like forever, I got out of the service. I then studied for my nursing degree, finally graduated and landed a position at a small community hospital; it is located in a town in California’s Sierra foothills. Our hospital serves both our town and its surrounding rural areas. It has a small nursing staff, a few general practitioner doctors, and one surgeon. Anyway, I love the country lifestyle and have settled in here. With a small inheritance from my grandmother, I bought a secluded twenty-five acre heavily forested property outside town. What this town doesn’t offer, however, is much in the way of a social life.



Well, the idea planted in my head during my military days never really went away. Sometimes, when I had a slow night shift, I went to our medical library to look up anything I could find on operations to the genitals, particularly concerning removal of the male organs. About this time, some six years ago, the hospital took on a new surgeon, Dr. Smith. Somehow, and I can’t really explain it, he must have noticed my reading material. Anyway, he always then made sure I was on staff whenever an orchidectomy, or similar operation, was to be performed. Generally, the hospital would see several such operations a year, mostly to older men in order to retard prostate cancer development. Dr. Smith made an effort to instruct the nurses about the fine points of the operation. Usually, it was just a simple removal of the testicles and often a replacement with matching prosthetic ones, so that to all appearances, nothing was noticeable.



Occasionally, we had more interesting cases. One man in his late thirties had developed nodules on his testicles; this time the doctor removed the entire ballsac. Dr. Smith was in fine tutorial form during this operation, and seemed pleased that I took especial interest in the proceedings. We also did one penectomy - on an elderly man whose organ had developed tumors. Dr. Smith also was very instructive this day, perhaps also in response to my interest.



I was very pleased with the interest Dr. Smith showed in me, but I simply figured the tutorials were meant to help me assist better in the OR. I never figured that I would ever have a chance to do such an operation myself, though I was becoming confident that I could. But such things just aren’t done, and nobody would ever want such a thing done on them, anyway. It turned out that I was quite mistaken.



In a small town, the few gay men that there are usually become friends and socialize amongst themselves. None were ever quite relationship material for me (the few possibilities I had all lived too far away for it to work out), so I simply accepted the single life here in the country. Still, I became good friends with several local men; we’d get together at the local bar for a few drinks after work, or dinner out, and maybe a fishing trip, but seldom much else. One such friend is Dave, a nice man in his mid-fifties. We’d often hang out together after work, talk about anything that came to mind, and generally have a fun time. We slept together a few times - Dave is a very sensitive, submissive bottom - all very pleasant, but nothing too special. Mostly, we just decided to be friends.



Anyway, one evening Dave and I met for drinks. I’m not quite sure how the subject came up, but I suppose I mentioned how Dr. Smith behaved during the orchidectomies, and how I really liked the experience this gave me. At this point, Dave asked, “Do you think you could do it?”



“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m sure I can. I’d really love to, but I don’t expect that I’ll ever get the chance. Who would let me?”



Dave paused for a moment, then hesitantly said, “I was just wondering if ... if you would be willing to castrate me? I’m sure you could do it safely.”



I was stunned. Here was this nice man I had known for years making me an offer I could only dream about. I said that I was honored by his trust in me, but asked whether he was sure that’s what he wanted.



“I’ve wanted to get castrated - well, since before I can remember. Wish it had been done to me while I was a teenager; it would have saved me a lot of grief. I probably wouldn’t have understood it all then, though. Was sure about it by the time I was in my thirties. But where do you go to get it done? I’ve just been miserable, wanting something I can’t get. Please, Jack, will you do me?”



I couldn’t say anything but “Yes.” Dave took my hand, held it gently for a moment and simply said, “Thanks.” He seemed to have tears in his eyes.



For the rest of the evening, we quietly talked about our hopes and plans. I told him that I didn’t know when we would be able to do it. I had to get supplies and set things up at my place. Dave offered to help in any way he could. We finally said goodnight; I have seldom seen Dave happier, yet more at peace with himself. I could barely contain my excitement. I was actually going to castrate a man! I couldn’t believe it. That night, after I got home, I had to beat-off three times before I could get any sleep.





Jack's First Castration - 2



The next few weeks were a busy time. Dave and I met for drinks or dinner several times, and on weekends he helped me clean up my spare room and set it up as a simple OR. I purchased most required surgical supplies from the same places the hospital got them; however, a few things, like a good local anesthetic, were hard to come by. Finally, I worked up courage to ask Dr. Smith if he would sign for them. I’m sure he knew what I intended, but said nothing as he approved my requisition, except that I should call him if I got into trouble. I figured he meant he hoped he needn’t become involved, though now I suspect he would have loved to do what I was planning, but was not prepared to risk his career for it. He also mentioned that I could take an old surgical table, which was stored away in the hospital basement.



With the table, two large moveable lamps, miscellaneous supplies, and Dave’s help cleaning and moving things, my spare room soon began to look like a right-proper OR. Dave was always eager to help, and was delighted to do anything I asked of him. From our time together, I learned more of what he expected, and would like to happen. It soon became clear that he wanted me to play a dominant role. Indeed, the more I acted as though it was my idea and desire to castrate him, giving him no choice, the happier he was. He was pleased to concede that his balls now belonged to me; I made him display my property for examination whenever we got together. Nonetheless, our prep time together made me feel a deep affection for Dave. I became determined to make his castration the best sexual experience of his life. After all, I realized that he, even if he didn’t intend it, was giving me the most exciting of my life.



After a month of hard work, everything was ready. I told Dave to plan on spending the next weekend, from Friday evening, at my place. He knew precisely what that meant, and I detected apprehension behind his eagerness. He gave no sign, however, of wishing to back out. I must admit that I felt apprehensive, as well. I thought of everything that might go wrong; but I had studied up as much as I could, so I was as ready as I would ever be. We agreed that I would remove his entire ballsac, not an entirely simple operation, but one I was confident I could perform. Indeed, Dave wished the mark of his castration to be obvious, and only sac removal would accomplish this. I couldn’t wait for the weekend to roll around.



On Friday, I arrived home from work early. Dave showed up at six, exactly as I ordered. Immediately I demanded that he strip, and told him he would not get his clothes back until all was finished. He obeyed, and stood before me with his genitals displayed for my pleasure. I closely examined his stiffening cock, and the soon-to-be-all-mine sac with its special male jewels. I made note of his dimensions, all smallish but nicely proportioned. Everything well fit his 5’ 9” 180-pounds slightly overweight frame. His five-inch cock, now standing erect at my touch, went well with his nicely hanging scrotum, about three inches down. Each of its enclosed balls was about one inch long. He always kept his crotch shaved, so its light brown hair was not in evidence. All was a creamy tan color, and the skin of his sac (my new sac) was soft and smooth. I must have held the sac in my hands for about five minutes, while I gently fingered its contents. Of course, none of this was new to me, but tonight it all seemed the most special gift in the world. Dave stood obediently, nervously watching me, but also clearly becoming as aroused as I was getting.



I stripped myself, and ordered him to bend over with his hands flat against a wall. I observed that he had lubricated his fuckhole; so without further delay, I proceeded to insert my now throbbing cock and began slowly sliding it in and out of his soft warm hole. All the while, I kept one hand firmly gripping my new acquisition with its two precious jewels. They seemed to sense that they were now mine, and would soon find their intended place in my keeping. Finally, I cummed after one of the longest, slowest fucks of my life. At the end, I jammed my cock in as far as I could go and squirted my semen deep into him. I was spent, but elated, glad that we had delayed having sex together during the time we were making preparations. This made this first fuck of the special weekend so much more satisfying. After I withdrew, I told him to turn around and lean back against the wall. I then sucked him off; he came quickly as he was still hard and excited. Obviously, he needed to cum as much as I had, and had probably refrained from sexual activity for some few days. I was glad that he was getting into this exciting scene. He was ready.



We rested for a few minutes to catch our breath. I ordered him to shower and clean up, while I went to the kitchen to get dinner together. Dave came in a little later and stood near me while I got things ready. Every chance I got, I held and fingered the soft warm ballsac. We ate and Dave cleaned up for me, then we settled down together on the couch. I let him lean his head on my shoulder, kept one arm around his, and firmly held the ballsac in my other hand. He seemed very comfortable and relaxed, but showed some stiffness in his cock whenever I got more vigorous while rubbing his balls. I had intended that we watch some horny videos - one even made a poor attempt at simulating a castration - but we simply kept chatting about what we were going to do, and never found the time. We both talked about what it would feel like - to be castrated for Dave and the thrill of doing it for me. Dave said that the evening’s start already had been everything he could have imagined. I was pleased, and I was determined to fuck him as often as I could. I had some Viagra, if I needed help; so far, I thought I might not.



It got late; I ordered him to prepare himself for me in bed. When I entered the bedroom, he was ready. This time, I put him on his back and fucked him face-to-face. Again, I held and stroked his balls at every opportunity, cummed deep inside him, and sucked him off after I’d withdrawn. We settled into each other’s arms and, surprisingly, fell asleep quickly. I still couldn’t keep my hands off his balls, anticipating that they soon would be all mine. I reached for them every time I awoke.





Jack's First Castration - 3



The morning brought a repeat of the night’s performance. We rose late, showered and shaved, and Dave volunteered to cook breakfast. I kept my eyes on his swinging sac as he moved about the kitchen. We ate, and Dave cleaned up. I then had a special surprise for him.



I told him to shower again, and to clean himself very thoroughly. He did as instructed; meanwhile, I washed up and dressed in my surgical scrubs. When he came out, I ordered him into the OR, and to place himself face upward on the surgical table. Again he obeyed without question. I examined him once more, very carefully, and prepared to shave his genital area. I carefully shaved every inch, making sure each hair on his ballsac was removed. This seemed to stimulate him, and he got another erection. This would not do; he would have to be relaxed and flaccid for the operation. I put some lotion on his penis, and proceeded to get him off. He spurted a surprising amount of cum for someone who had already ejaculated three times within a day. I cleaned everything up, swabbed the area with disinfectant and injected anesthetic around his penis and about the base of his scrotum. I told him to lie back and relax, but to let me know when he could feel nothing from his penis and balls. About ten minutes later all was ready.



I marked out where I would cut, and reached for the scalpel. Dave simply lay back, seemed surprisingly relaxed, and stared at the ceiling. I then mimicked all the moves I would make next time - cutting around the outside of the scrotum, the tugging he should feel as I cauterize or tie off each artery and vein, and then working inward to reach his sperm ducts. Finally I would cut loose the balls from their attaching stem, and all would be freed to fall quietly into my specimen dish. I would then pull together little extra flaps of skin I would leave and suture the wound. This should leave a nice straight seam, a scar that would be small enough that any observer would need to look closely to see that his balls had indeed been cut off, rather than that he simply had never had any.



I covered his sac with a bandage and told him it was done. He gave me a nervous laugh, and I realized that the hoax hadn’t quite come off. He knew, and said he thought I really wasn’t going to do it this soon. Indeed, my intention was to do it Sunday morning. Nevertheless, this was good. I saw that Dave was completely relaxed and accepting. If I’d had any doubts about him, they were now gone. He was ready to be castrated; there was no doubt that I should take his balls.



All this got me excited again; although Dave’s cock was anesthetized and flaccid, I wanted to fuck. I stripped and ordered Dave to slide into position off the end of the table. I proceeded to fuck him with his legs up over my shoulders.



When I finished, we both needed to wash up. This time, I didn’t have to get Dave off; the anesthetic would take several hours to wear off. Now I was ready to show Dave my special surprise. I said that as how his balls would now belong to me, as he had insisted, I would need a special place to keep them. I showed him a small clear jar filled with preservative liquid. I told him they would go in here, after I had sewed up the cut area. “They are a special gift from you to me, one I will always treasure.” Dave was delighted.



He said, “I can’t think of anyone I would rather have them. They belong here. I wish I could have given them to you sooner. When I think of the years I have lost, suffered, when they needed to go, I am just happy that they are going somewhere where they cannot bother me again, and where they will be appreciated. I know the way I am meant to be, and now I have you to thank for it. This is the least I can give you. Had I only met you when I was eighteen; it would have been grand.”



I had to agree. I said, “I’d love to castrate a young guy, willing to give me everything he has. That must be the most exciting thing a man can do for another man. But for me, you are that young guy. Who else would give me this, the gift of my dreams? I should thank you.”



“Then keep them well, and think of me when you look at them. They are going where they are meant to be. I am well rid of them; they have been nothing but trouble for me.” I immediately thought of the guys back in the Army. I would loved to have castrated any one of them, if I then had only known how.



I couldn’t wait for tomorrow, when I could really do it. Here, I thought, I can castrate a man, and feel really good about it, too. I never knew it could be anything beyond just sexually exciting. Yet Dave showed me that it was the right thing to do, for him and for me. I was grateful to him for this insight. I wondered how many other men might need similar help - to get castrated before they were too old for it to really matter. I never expected to come away from this feeling good, just sexually satisfied. I could only feel greater affection for Dave; he was helping me as much as I was him.



We spent some of Saturday afternoon tidying up the OR. Dave was interested in all my surgical instruments and what each was for. I enjoyed tutoring him, especially when I could demonstrate on him how it would work. Dave got excited when I drew the scalpel across and around his scrotum and penis. The anesthetic was probably wearing off.



The rest of the day is a bit of a blur now. We fucked a couple more times; I sucked Dave off each time, and we lay about and talked a lot. I got a good idea from Dave how desperate men are to find someone to castrate them. I was glad I was doing this as safely as possible. I’d never realized, but there must be many, many men who need castration. I wondered if I could help some of them. Nevertheless, I still had to perform my first; I knew I shouldn’t get ahead of myself; Dave must get my full attention. We slept together again that night, my hand on his ballsac (mine tomorrow) and I dreamed of all the men I might castrate someday. Dave slept quietly, as far as I could tell, except for those times when I would fuck him. A couple times he awoke to find my hand had slipped away; he gently replaced it around his sac. We both knew what would happen in the morning, the fulfillment of both our dreams.





Jack's First Castration - 4



On Sunday, we again arose late. I fucked him once more, slowly and deeply, facing him with his legs up on my shoulders. I guess he liked this best; he could watch and study me. I came deep inside him, and felt moved, almost to tears, for what he was giving me, and for how much he had suffered from those things I was about to relieve him of. I kissed him, as thanks, and he smiled as though he understood.



We fixed breakfast, but neither of us felt like eating much. We puttered about a bit, but I would check on Dave’s balls from time-to-time. We both knew what was coming, without doubt, and were nervous. Finally about eleven, I called Dave to me, carefully held and examined his balls (the last time I would hold them without gloves - until they were truly mine), and told him to wash up and get ready. He smiled, said nothing, and went off. Indeed, he said nothing more to me until after all was done. I went to the OR and made preparations, just as I had the day before.



Dave finished preparing himself, but I let him wait outside the OR for about fifteen minutes. Finally, I summoned him in. He quietly climbed onto the table and assumed the position I required to work on him. He lay back, relaxed and stared up at the ceiling again. I set up a mirror so he could watch what I was doing. Mostly, however, he continued to stare at the ceiling, probably lost in his own dreams. Again, he got a hard-on when I shaved him; I got him off as before, and cleaned up and sterilized the work area. I injected the anesthetic as before, and repeatedly asked him if he could feel anything while I poked and prodded his balls. About fifteen minutes later he nodded no, and we were ready to begin.



I can still remember every move and cut, each done exactly as I had practiced the day before. I can’t speak of my elation when I made the final slice and his sac, with both of his balls, plopped gently into my specimen tray. Dave seemed to know; he let out a long sigh, the only sound he had made since we started. He knew he was now castrated, and I knew that I had done it. Now I stitched up his wound, cleaned and swabbed the area, and laid gauze and bandages over it. I told Dave to lie still, relax and dream of his new life.



I did as much tidying up as I could do with Dave still on the table. My big task was now to take my new ballsac, sew up its loose edges, and clean it thoroughly. Then without gloves, I held it; it felt strangely heavy and rubbery. I showed it to Dave, let him hold it one last time, and then set it on a tray on his stomach. I ordered him to slide to the end of the table, as yesterday, and I fucked him. With his balls in front of me, that were now all mine, I have to say that this was the best fuck of all. Dave was into it too, ramming his ass onto my cock as I rammed it into him. He was really enjoying this, being castrated and then fucked. Pity, I thought, he can only do this once; but, I realized, I could do it again, and again and again. How many men could I castrate? With such fantasies I cummed, deeply thrusting into Dave, as he pushed hard onto me.



I have never had a more satisfying and fulfilling fuck and ejaculation. If this is what it feels like to castrate a man, I could never do it enough. This was the first time ever that I had fucked a castrated man, and I had done it all! Totally spent, I still had the sense to clean Dave’s asshole for him, check his dressing and send him off to bed. First, though, I held my new ballsac one last time, then dropped it into the jar prepared for it. Dave watched and nodded approval. I wanted to help get him off; he must need it, but he wasn’t yet ready. I knew I could do it several more times before the day was over, and I suspected he would need to as soon as his penis came out from the anesthetic. After all, even a castrated man needs to cum.



I let Dave rest for a few hours. I knew that he would be in some discomfort when the anesthetic wore off, so it was best that he relax now. When he got up, I checked him over, then served him a small lunch I had prepared. This time, we were both hungry. The rest of the afternoon we simply lounged around together, again with his head on my shoulder and my arm about his shoulders. My other hand now had no particular place to focus on; occasionally, I’d just rub him lightly on his legs and stomach.



We told each other how much we each enjoyed the experience. I mentioned how much I wished we could do it again. “Well, I can’t,” Dave laughed. “But I’m sure that you will. There must be a million men out there who need you to castrate them. They’ll find you.” I was dubious, but hoped he was right. This got me all excited again, Dave too, so I ordered him to position himself as before on the table. I was going to give him one last good fuck. I cummed again, held my cock in his hole for maybe three minutes as he pushed hard against me with his ass. When I finally withdrew, I slowly and gently sucked him off, all the while lightly fingering around the base of his cock and over the bandage that covered the spot where his sac used to be. He finally cummed, delivering a surprising amount, which I proudly swallowed. I wiped down his fuck-hole, and told him to go cleanup before a final inspection of all we had done.



When Dave came back and displayed himself before me, I saw that all was well. I told him to get dressed, but warned that he was required to strip and present himself to me whenever he entered my house. He nodded agreement. As he got ready to go, we hugged each other. He smiled and said, “Thank you, Jack. You’ve been the best friend a eunuch can have. Just remember, to you I am no longer a man. Please treat me as such.”



I could only say, “I will.” He had given me the greatest experience of my life; I couldn’t thank him enough. I would always find time to make his new life special. With that, Dave drove off home. I sat back on the couch and thought about how lucky I was to have done something few men ever get to do. With such pleasant thoughts, and dreams of more castrations ahead, I put myself to bed, and was quickly asleep.



It turned out that Dave was right. There really must be a million men out there waiting for me to castrate them. At least, Dave seemed to know a good number of them. Within a month, I had my second client, a tall thin man in his late forties, who was a friend of Dave’s. From here, word seemed to spread. Most new clients were middle-aged single gay men, like Dave, but soon I was getting inquiries from a variety of types, including younger guys and some straights. So in the last five years, since I castrated Dave, I have performed seventy-eight ball removals. Each one is special to me, though none can ever match my first time with Dave. Most, though, have gone to join his sac in my collection. I am proud of each one of them. So, this should answer all the questions I typically am asked.



As for Dave, he seems happier and more at peace with himself than ever before. After his operation, we met for drinks or dinner every night or two. I checked his cut and bandages, and he was healing nicely. About two weeks later, I had him out to the house (he stripped for me, of course), and I removed his stitches. I then stroked him along his scar-line; it seemed very sensual, and he said so too. I ordered him to the table for a fuck. I couldn’t keep my hand away from his empty crotch. I still invite him over occasionally, to check him out and to give him a good fuck if I’m in the mood. Dave always complies with enthusiasm; he says that getting fucked feels better than ever now, and that it is best from the man who castrated him.



He has also been good at sending clients my way; he sometimes even helps me out in the OR. He’s not much use for the surgical stuff (rather squeamish about blood), but is good at comforting the guys getting castrated. The men he knows seem especially glad to have him around. I can’t lavish as much attention on my clients now as I gave Dave, but I do my best to make their castration experiences with me the highlight of their sexual lives. Still, I have to admit that there will always be a special bond of affection between Dave and me. I guess it could not be otherwise, between a man who gives you his balls, and the man who castrates him.