No Turning Back

I looked down my naked body until my eyes reached my crotch. Even in the early light, the sight of my confined ballsack was a shock. The green band was still on, compressing my scrotum into a tight bundle. The skin of my ballsack had turned nearly black. My sleep-deprived brain recognized that my life had changed forever. I had made myself into a eunuch.

It all began a few weeks before my 18th birthday. That’s when I discovered the Eunuch Archive completely by accident. It seemed like all the desires I had bottled up inside me sprang into reality. As I read the stories about castration, my heart pounded. So I wasn’t the only one who felt this way!

Ever since puberty, I began playing with my balls roughly. I would put rubber bands around my sack until it turned purple, then squeeze and slap my balls. Then I would jack off. It never took more than a few seconds before I shot my wad.

I started taking a small knife to bed. After tying up my sack, I would gently push the point of the blade into the tight skin. The sharp pain would make my cock jump. Once I even penetrated the skin, causing a few drops of blood to ooze from the cut. My cum spurted all over my chest. I was never so excited.

But now the Archive became the center of my sexual activity. I would spend hours reading the stories about men losing their manhood. Whenever a guy lost his balls, my cum would shoot. Sometimes I’d masturbate four or five times in a day while on the computer.

I loved reading about the burdizzo clamp, and about cutting the sack open and plucking the helpless testes from the victim. But for some reason, banding stories would make me the most excited. The idea of an elastrator drove me insane with desire.

As the months went on, the need to make the fantasties into a reality began to grow. I put rubber bands around my sack as I jerked off to the Archive stories. At first, I’d leave the bands on for only a few minutes, but then I began stretching out the time, watching my sack turn a deeper and deeper shade of purple. I’d finally cut the bands off after about half an hour, when my sack had become cold to the touch.

At some point, I knew that there was no turning back. I would never be at peace until I took the next step. I knew it was my destiny to become a eunuch. The only question was how to do it.

One day, I went into a farm implement store and bought an elastrator and box of bands. That was the most exciting day of my life. Experimenting with the silver handles, stretching the prongs and slipping the band onto the device, made my heart beat wildly.

I lay on my bed naked, and carefully squeezed my sack through the elastrator. When the band was released, my body jerked. I watched with fascination as the sack turned darker. I had intended to go all the way, but the growing pain in my crotch made me chicken out. I snipped the band with a pair of scissors, freeing my balls to a mixture of relief and disappointment.

For the next few days I was tormented by my failure. I knew that I had to go through with it, but I also knew that I lacked the courage to go all the way despite the pain.

Then, an online chat I had with someone on the Archive gave me the idea I was looking for. Pete said that if I could manage to restrain myself after being banded, I wouldn’t be able to stop the castration. Handcuffs would force me to watch while my manhood slowly died.

A leather store in town gave me what I needed. I purchased two pair of handcuffs, one for each hand. I hurried home, and attached one pair to each bedpost. I stepped back and looked at the bed, wild with excitement. This would be the day that I went all the way.

Pete said he would help me make it happen. My parents were away for the weekend. I told Pete that I would leave the front door unlocked. He would arrive in the morning, and free me. By then, my balls would be dead.

That afternoon I put the keys to the handcuffs on top of my dresser, then stripped and lay down on my bed. I put a green band on the elastrator, then put it down next to me. I took my left wrist and put it inside the handcuff dangling from the bedpost. With my right hand, I snapped it shut. I tugged a few times to make sure that I couldn’t get loose.

Now the time had come. I worked my scrotum through the opening in the elastrator, then released the band. As my sack was compressed, my cock sprang to life. I frantically jacked the shaft, thinking that this would be my last ejaculation as a complete man. My sperm shot over my chest and stomach in one of the most intense orgasms I ever experienced.

Then I maneuvered my right wrist into the handcuff. It took some doing, but I was able to snap the cuff closed. Now, there was no turning back.

I watched as my sack throbbed, the green band choking it into a tight little package. It immediately turned darker from the blood trapped inside. The pain gradually began to grow, spreading out into my abdomen and stomach.

After a half hour, I was in real discomfort. If I hadn’t handcuffed myself, I would have cut off the band and freed my balls. But now all I could do was watch as my sack turned a deep shade of purple, and the pain pulsed through my body.

I was sweating profusely, turning from side to side. The enormity of what was happening made me feel like I had made a terrible mistake. Did I really want to lose my manhood? I began to cry from the pain and anxiety.

Gradually, the throbbing began to subside. The sun was setting, and the room became gradually darker. I tried to sleep, knowing that my balls already were past the point of no return.

When Pete arrived the next morning, he released my handcuffs. We both looked at my sack. “They’re cold as ice,” he said, cradling my scrotum in his hand. “You’re a eunuch, guy.” I smiled and watched as he cut the band. My sack was free, but it was dead. Nothing could ever bring it back to life.

A few weeks later, my sack dropped off. Today, I’ve healed up nicely. My body has gone through a lot of changes, too. It’s really difficult for me to get an erection, and even when I cum it’s not like before. My jizz is clear. I’ve noticed that my nipples have gotten larger and much more sensitive.

I’m glad I castrated myself. It was difficult to do, but it was the right thing for me. I was born to be a eunuch.