Tuesday, July 17, 1883 was the worst day of my life. I had had no premonition of disaster. In the morning, Mrs. Wilberforce had stopped at the house at 10:00 in her carriage to take Mother to a meeting of the ladies of the church. Father, of course, was at the office. It was the upstairs maid's day off. All-in-all, it was a perfect opportunity for me and my friend, Sidney, to meet in my bedroom for some fun.

I had no inkling that Father had left some important papers in the library, immediately adjacent to my bedroom. Probably because, at the time, Sidney and I were occupied with kissing and fondling each other's privates, I did not hear Father's buggy enter the yard, nor him come upstairs.

Inasmuch as there ought to have been no one upstairs but us, Sidney and I were taking no pains to be quiet. By the time he had located the papers and placed them in his brief case, the sounds which Father heard proceeding from my bedroom were of an unmistakeably sexual nature: heavy breathing, moaning, sighing. I was , by then, buggering Sidney and, Father, upon pushing open the door uninvited and without knocking, beheld us both with our trousers and underpants down around our ankles. I had seven inches of rigid flesh firmly ensconced in Sidney's rectum.

We had been caught in flagrante delicto, very flagrante, indeed. Father shouted "WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS GOING ON HERE ! ? Sidney screamed; I gasped. "Er, I'm....afraid... it's... self-evident...sir." I stammered. I had never seen Sidney move so fast. He pulled up his pants and underpants, darted around Father, and ran down the stairs, taking them three at a time from the sound of it. "Well, Everett, what do you have to say for yourself ?" asked Father in a menacing tone. "Er....nothing....sir." was the best I could manage.

Father's face turned a very unbecoming shade of purple and he growled at me "Go into the bathroom and wash your private parts. Then meet me here." After I had done so, he motioned me down the stairs and, as he followed me, said "Go out and get into the buggy." I did, and I did not ask him where we were going. As we turned away from downtown and toward the outskirts of town, I began to wonder just where we could be going.

Dobbin would not be hurried and so, some twenty minutes elapsed before I came to a horrible realization of our destination. The buggy slowed and turned into a wrought-iron gate in a high brick wall surrounding several buildings. The sign over the gate read "State Hospital and Asylum for the Insane", Father gave his name to the gate-keeper and added "I am delivering a prospective inmate to be committed." I felt faint and made no outcry or comment, so shocked was I by this turn of events.

There was a sign over a door reading "Admissions". Father stopped the buggy there and, as I alighted, took me by the shoulder and hustled me in through the door. He asked the first person we met "Where will I find the Superintendent ?" The man replied "Second door on the right." Stencilled on the glass of the door was "Jeremiah L. Cunningham, Superintendent."

I could still not believe that Father was committing me to the insane asylum for what I'd done with Sidney. We entered the office without knocking. The man at the desk, presumably Mr. Cunningham, looked up with a trace of annoyance on his face. Father introduced us. "I am Darius Hawthorne and this", he said in a tone of utter disgust. "is, unfortunately, my son, Everett. I have come here to commit him."

Mr. Cunningham regarded me with professional detachment and asked "For what ?" Father replied "For sodomy. I caught him in the act this morning with a young man whom I take to be somewhat younger than he." Mr. Cunningham considerd the matter for a moment and inquired "Do I assume correctly, then, that your son is a minor ?" Father nodded. "He was nineteen four days ago."

Mr. Cunningham motioned us to a couple of chairs. "You are, of course, within your rights to commit him for sodomy. However, I beg leave to propose an alternative. You may not have considered all of the ramifications of commitment. First, bear in mind that it is a matter of public record and that there is a certain stigma attached to it.

If you were to attempt to keep the fact secret, you would soon find that you had woven a tangled web. His absence would have to be accounted for and there would always be the possibility that someone who knows you might visit this institution and see him here.

If he were committed here for sodomy, I should be obliged to have him castrated as soon as possible for the protection of the other inmates. It is that which I would propose as an alternative to commitment. If he were castrated, he would soon become impotent and, therefore incapable of committing sodomy and the desire to do so would be eradicated or very greatly reduced."

Father pondered Mr. Cunningham's words for a few minutes and then inquired. "Who performs your castrations ? Mr. Cunningham answered. "Dr. Peter O. Phillips. His office is in the city. I'll write out his address for you. Dr. Phillips' practise is limited to injuries and disorders of the male generative organs, such as onanism, spermatorrhea, priapism, satyriasis, and sodomy ."

Mr. Cunningham handed Father a slip of paper bearing Dr. Phillips' address, and Father said "Thank you, Mr. Cunningham. I shall take your advice. I can see that this is a better solution to the problem than commitment." Father and Mr. Cunningham shook hands and we left.

At Dobbins' leisurely pace, the trip from the asylum to Dr. Phillips' office consumed nearly forty minutes . When we entered Dr. Phillips' waiting room, there were, of course, others there before us. At the far end of the room, beside a doorway, a young man sat at a small table on which were stacked pasteboard cards bearing numbers. As Father approached, he handed Father a card bearing the number 14 and said "When Dr. Phillips calls your number, you may enter his office."

We seated ourselves on an overstuffed love seat and waited.

Not wanting to think about what was about to happen to me, I occupied my mind by observing the other men in the waiting room and speculating about their cases. On a sofa directly across from us were two men and a terrified-looking boy of about 14. One of the men was obviously the boy's father and the other was equally obviously not. He looked mad enough to chew railroad spikes and spit rust. I suspected that he was the father of some younger child whom the boy had molested.

To their left (my right) in a Queen Anne chair sat a young fellow about my age, bent over and holding his groin with both hands, His face was greenish with nausea and wrung with pain. I guessed that he'd gotten hit in the privates very hard. To the trio's right, a young man sat in a straight-backed armless chair. He appeared very nervous and haggard. He seemed to be trying to hide an erection, and I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that he played with himself too much.

As the three on the couch were obviously together, there were really only three patients ahead of us . I'm not sure if I'd have preferred more so as to keep my manhood a while longer [for what ?] or less to get it over sooner. The door beside the young man at the table opened and a round head with a young-looking face, but grey hair, poked through it and sang out "Eleven."

The young man who was holding his groin and moaning from time to time got up, bent double and lurched into Dr. Phillips' office, retching and trying to keep from vomiting. After about a quarter of an hour, the door opened again and Dr. Phillips called out "Twelve" in a high tenor voice, slightly lower than a woman's voice. The three on the couch rose and filed in. The boy was shaking uncontrollably.

Although the wall and door were very thick, after a few minutes a shouting match started which even the wall and door couldn't muffle completely. One voice was unmistakeably Dr. Phillips' operatic tenor and the other was a rumbling bass. Suddenly the door flew open and Dr. Phillips shouted "Get the HELL out of my office ! When I want you, I'll call you." He pushed the angry man through the doorway and slammed the door.

The angry man's face was livid and he was seething with rage. He was a big bull of a man and I certainly wouldn't have had the courage to shove him out of an office.

Over a half-hour later, the door opened again and Dr. Phillips handed the man a paper sack which seemed to contain something round, like a jar. "Here is what you wanted. Goodbye." snarled Dr. Phillips. Then in a softer and friendlier tone he called out "Thirteen".

The nervous, haggard, young man jumped up, then shuddered, blushed, and softly muttered "damn". I could smell semen as he walked to Dr. Phillips' office. So, he not only masturbated too much, he had spermatorrhea. I wondered how Dr. Phillips would treat that. I also wondered what had been in the jar in the sack, though I had a terrible suspicion that I knew.

It was another half hour before Dr. Phillips reappeared. In the mean time, two other patients had arrived, nos. 15 and 16. No. 15 was the prissiest nance I had ever seen. He minced into the room , hips swaying and behind bouncing like woman's. He was in his early 20's and accompanied by a man about twice his age, not obviously related to him. Though the day was hot, no. 16 came in wearing a greatcoat which he did not remove. When he sat down, the coat seemed to stand up in front and I wondered if he had a bone-on which wouldn't go down.

I was speculating about this when Dr. Phillips called for no. fourteen, my number. Father and I entered his sanctum sanctorum, an oak-panelled office with comfortable leather-upholstered chairs. Dr. Phillips sat behind a huge, double-pedestal, mahogany executive desk. Father spoke first. "I am Darius Hawthorne and this, regrettably, is my son, Everett. I surprised him this morning performing sodomy on the person of a somewhat younger friend of his. I wish to have him castrated."

Dr. Phillips nodded sagely and then replied "I'd like to discuss his aberrant sexual practises with him, Mr. Hawthorne, and I think that he would be likely to be more candid if you were not present. Would you mind retiring to the waiting room while we talk ?" Father seemed to consider this quite reasonable, as he replied "No, not at all. I can certainly understand his reluctance to discuss such a matter before his father." He rose and left us alone to confer.

"Now then, Everett, is this this the first time that you have indulgd in sodomy with this young man ? " I answered, "No sir, we've been doing it about once a week when I'm home from school and from college for the past four or five years." Dr. Phllips thought for a moment and asked "What are your present ages?" "I'm nineteen and Sidney is eighteen."

"Do you always take the male or dominant role, or do you submit to sodomy also ?" I hesitated a moment and then said "I usually don't take his male organ per rectum, but rather per orem. I prefer to suck his member and swallow his semen." Dr. Phillips asked "When you ingest his semen, do you ejaculate even though your own membrum virile is not being stimulated ? " "Sometimes, but, more often, I masturbate while I suck his member." Dr. Phillips considered this for a moment and then asked "Does Sidney ever suck your member ?" I shook my head and said "Seldom. He hates the taste of semen."

Dr. Phillips nodded and then said "I have only one more question: Have you ever derived pleasure from being sodomised ?" I nodded. "Yes, but it wasn't by Sidney. It was in college. I got an erection while watching an athlete, a junior, exercising. He noticed it and asked me if I 'take it up the ass'. I admitted that I do sometimes. I let him do it and I thought my semen would never stop flowing.

"You may be interested in knowing that that is a pleasure which you can continue to enjoy even after castration. In the Middle East, it is sometimes called 'the eunuch's delight.' You can also derive some pleasure, though not as much as before, from masturbation. Of course, you will not be able to ejaculate, having nothing to ejaculate. The rest of what we have to discuss your father can hear."

Dr. Phillips called Father back into the office and explained to us what effects to expect from my castration. "The sexual effects of castration, which concern us most at the moment, are so well known as not to need to be belaboured. With a few weeks, Everett will become completely impotent and, therefore incapable of committing sodomy. At the same time, his unnatural lust will be nearly eradicated. At the very least, it will be reduced by about 95%, and, therefore, essentially negligible.

There are, however, secondary or collateral physiological effects which are less commonly known. I shall deal with them cap à pie, that is from head to toe. Everett, you will never become bald. To your dying day you will have a full thick head of hair. In a few weeks, you will no longer need to shave. Your body hair, that is the hair on your legs, abdomen, and chest will fall out. Your pubic hair will become sparse, soft, and straight . If you retain any hair in your armpits, it too will be sparse and soft.

Nota bene, your voice will NOT change. The baby fat, which you lost at the onset of puberty, will return, softening the contours of your body. There is about a 50% chance that you might develop small breasts. You will lose about one-half of your muscular strength. If you can lift, say, 60 pounds now, after castration you will be able to lift only about 30 pounds. The difference in strength between a man and a woman comes from his testicles.

There will also be subtle changes in your personality. Masculine traits such as assertiveness, competetiveness, and aggressiveness will be notably reduced. You will tend to be rather more submissive than dominant.

The immediate effects of the operation are those which must most concern us at the moment. Upon your return to your home, you must have a full week of bed rest, leaving your bed only for calls of nature. Take your meals in bed. Until the stitches are removed, two weeks from now, take only sponge baths. Avoid getting the dressings wet. After the stitches have been removed, you may resume taking tub baths.

For a month after the operation you must refrain from strenuous exertion: no running, jumping, dancing, wrestling, climbing, sports such as baseball, football, basket-ball, tennis, golf, and ESPECIALLY no horseback riding or bicycle riding.

Now, unless you have questions, it is time for the surgery."

After all that preliminary discussion, the surgery itself was almost an anticlimax. As instructed, I walked into the operating room while Father remained in Dr. Phillips' office, removed all of my clothes and underclothes, and lay down on the operating table. Dr. Phillips came in wearing a smock like an artist's smock, and washed his hands very thoroughly, remarking "Not only is cleanliness next to godliness, but it helps prevent inflammation and post surgical fever and aids healing."

He wetted a cloth with carbolated alcohol and washed off my scrotum with it. Then he dipped the needle of a large hypodermic syringe into carbolic acid and washed it off with carbolated alcohol. He filled the syringe with a cloudy solution and told me "This is a solution of cocaine. It will numb your scrotum and spermatic cords. I prefer not to use general anæsthesia with æther or chloroform, both of which can leave the patient stupified and nauseated for hours afterward. Once the cocaine has taken effect, you will feel nothing while I operate."

He then injected the cocaine solution into my scrotum in four places and waited for a few minutes. He pinched my scrotum and asked me if I felt it. I assured him that I did not. Then he thrusted the needle through my scrotum into each of my spermatic cords in turn. The initial piercing of the cord by the needle was intensely and nauseatingly painful, but the sensation died away very rapidly.

Then, Dr. Phillips dipped a scalpel into carbolic acid, shook it dry and made two incisions lengthwise in my scrotum, one over each testicle. He drew out each testicle, clamped the cord with a hæmostat, and severed it. It was over before I realized it. The significance of what had just happened then struck me. I was castrated. I was no longer male. I was a eunuch.

I had intended to be stoical, but I was suddenly overcome with grief at my loss and bursted into tears. "I'm sorry, Doctor." I said between sobs. "Don't be" he replied." To a young man, this is a devastating loss, though, in reality, it is not as important as you imagine it to be." I was not to be consoled that easily. "But, don't you consider me to be less than a man, now ?" I inquired. "Not really,"replied Dr. Phillips. "I know better."

Dr. Phillips tied a loop of bleached silken thread about each cord, as tightly as he might. Then he heated a small cautery in the flame of a Bunsen burner and cauterised the very end of the severed cord. "This is probably redundant," he commented, "but it is 'better to be safe than sorry'. " Then he stitched up the incisions in my empty scrotum and covered them with a gauze pad secured with spirit gum,as a dressing. "I shall visit your home every third day to change the dressings until I am ready to remove the stitches" he promised.

After I had dressed, I re-joined Father and Dr. Phillips in his office, where, I presume that Father had paid him. Dr. Phillips let us out through another door than the one by which we had entered and we drove home. We did not talk. I am sure that Father realized that I was in no mood for conversation. Mother was home when we returned and wondered where we had been. Father told her that he would explain later.

I went directly to bed, and, now alone, wept my heart out. My future looked bleak, though Dr. Phillips had assured me that I could enjoy submitting to sodomy and could get some pleasure from masturbation. Maybe, I could hide my condition from my friends and my classmates at Calvinist University, though it wouldn't be easy, especially if , as might occur, I should grow breasts.

If I lost interest in sex, as I was supposed to, what would or could take its place. Wouldn't life be very empty without it ? Did this mean that I would never know love, not even that of another male ?

If some of my associates did discover my condition, what sort of plausible excuse could I give for losing my balls ? Granted, there are plenty of disastrous accidents which can befall a young fellow. But, I'd better think up a good one, get my story straight, and stick to it.

These thoughts plagued my every waking hour while by body became soft, weak, hairless and plump and I looked more like a boy, or even a young woman, than I did like a young man. Once I was up and about, I became acutely aware of the emptiness between my thighs. I had never been consciously aware of my balls before I lost them. But, I realised that that emptiness would always remind me of what I had lost.