|
No. 1. To: Rev. Mr. Alexander Wellingsworth 460 Abernathy Street Raymondville, Massachusetts Dear Father, I have tragic and distressing tidings to impart. I am writing this letter from the University Infirmary, where I am recovering , as much as may be, from injuries received in last Thursday's football game. As I know that you are aware, football is a very dangerous game. I had this brought home to me in the most disastrous fashion in last Thursday's game. Seeing an opportunity to block a field goal by Hayward, I ran toward the kicker to distract him. In this, I was successful. The ball bounced off my helmet, to the side, and out of play. Unfortunately, I had failed to take account of the fact that I was much too close to the kicker's follow-through. The toe of his boot caught me between the thighs, behind the padding in the front of my breeches. Coming upward from below, it drove my seminal glands against the pubic bone, destroying them in an instant of unimaginable and indescribable pain. I have long been keenly aware of my responsibiity to continue our bloodline and family name. Now, alas, that is impossible. I can never marry or beget offspring. I am no longer a man, only a wretched eunuch. Not for me is the joy of matrimony, the companionship of a loving spouse, the rearing of beautiful children to carry on my name and heritage. I am ruined ! The prospects of my life are utterly changed. I foresee but the tedium of a barren and loveless existence. I have lost my manhood and am rapidly losing my manly strength and appearence. Soon, I shall be a fat effeminate-looking weakling . And all of this for a mere game. I was beguiled by the motto: "Mens sana in corpore sano." Well, how sanus is my corpus now ? I know that you must be bitterly disappointed that I cannot carry on our name and bloodline, but, surely, you cannot be as disappointed as I. What now shall I call myself ? Your son ? But, sons are male and I am neuter. I am, then, Your Eunuch Scion, Jeremiah No. 2.
To: Mr. Leroy R. Tourette 14 Sycamore Street, Raymondville, Massachusetts October 13, 1893. Dearest Leroy, Well, fate has played into your hands. Ever since we were 14, you have urged me to yield my body to you, and, much though I have loved you and wanted desperately to do as you wished, I have always refused, knowing that, as the last of the Wellingsworth males, I would have to marry and try to have a son to carry on our name and bloodline. I am no longer under any such obligation. I can't marry and I can't have a son because that calls for balls and I no longer have any. I got kicked in the nuts in the annual Gale/Hayward football classic while blocking a field goal. I blocked the kick for sure, with my balls, and they got smashed out of existence. It damn' near killed me, but I'm endlessly grateful to have gotten rid of those damn'd sperm glands. Now I can't have any kids and I don't have to try to screw some girl whose cunt just fills me with disgust. Now I can let myself suck the cream out of your big beautiful cock as I've longed to do for six years, and take it up my arse as you've begged me to so many times. Tell me that you still love me, darling, now that I am free to be yours, and you'll make me the happiest eunuch on Earth. With Unending Love, Jerry P.S. For God's sake don't leave this lying around where anyone can see it.
|