It was a simple procedure. Excision of a lesion they called it. The removal of a small, benign tumor. It had been on my right thigh, next to my scrotum for years. At my last physical, my doctor noticed that it had changed shape.

“It's probably nothing”, he said, “but we had better have it out and have a look at it anyway.”

So, here I was, laying on the operating table in the Outpatient Surgery Department at __ _______ hospital in _______ with the surgeon about to begin. I met her, briefly, before I was prepped. She is a not stunningly gorgeous, but quite attractive black women in her mid thirties. Now, in her surgical garb, all I could really see was her eyes. She was standing between my legs, which were spread in stirrups, and testing to see that the local anesthetic had taken effect before making her first cut. She asked the male nurse, who was assisting, for the scalpel and paused for a moment.

“You know, there aren't many men who would be quite so calm with a woman between his legs with a knife”, she joked.

“I you examine my balls you'll see that I don't really have much to worry about”, I replied.

She put the scalpel back on the tray and examined my shaved scrotum. “My, they are completely atrophied. What happened?”

I have a prolactin secreting tumor, that was undetected for twelve years. That pretty well killed them. After I was treated, I went on Androgel to get my testosterone level back up and that finished them off. So, I really am a eunuch and if you cut them off, nothing much would change.”

She looked at the assistant for a moment then quietly said, “Kill the tape.”

The nurse looked back at her, with surprise in his eyes, then, his eyes revealed that he was broadly grinning under his mask. He walked to the side of the operating room and stepped on the switch that controlled the video recorder.

The surgeon looks into my eyes and said, “The girls in medical school used to wonder if we would castrate a man if we got the chance. Do you really want to loose them?”

“Sure, why not?” I replied.

“You know, your insurance won't cover it and it will take an extra twenty minutes of my time. How will you pay?”

“How about me making a date to lick you to an orgasm every week for the next year?”, I asked hopefully.

“Fifty-two guaranteed orgasms?”, she laughed, “I'll have a white guy licking my pussy in payment for my cutting his balls off. Sounds fair enough!”

“What about me?” complained the nurse, “What do I get out of this?”

“He's gay”, added the surgeon.

“I had some homosexual experiences in my early teens, so I'm not homophobic. I'm a little worried about the fact that you're both gay and a health care worker. There's more than a little exposure there.”, I offered.

“Well”, he said, “if you don't mind the taste of a condom we can work something out. Maybe a once a week threesome?”

“Agreed!”, I said.

Since there was a 'tape malfunction' the details of the operation and the view I had, twenty minutes later, of the tumor, my testicles, and my scrotum in the steel dish was not recorded. Too bad in some ways. If the tape existed, I would like to have a copy of it. The tumor, as it turned out, was benign.

I was right, it didn't make any real difference. I am still fully functional. It' more fun, really, because I have absolutely no worries about making any of the still fertile women I date pregnant. Most of them, once they get over the surprise, actually seem to enjoy a man with no scrotum hanging down. As for the 'payments' we're about half-way through the payment schedule and I'm rather enjoying licking a pussy while getting my ass pounded once a week. If they agree to it, I may extend the payments.