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The first thing I did when I regained consciousness was turn my head and see the IV line that dangled into my arm. Thats when I realized that I couldnt move any other part of my body. I tried to get up, but my arms and legs were immobile. I felt strong straps holding my wrists and ankles tightly against the table. More straps went across my chest and knees. I tried to scream, but a ball gag was pressed against my tongue, holding my mouth wide open. Saliva was drooling down the side of my face. Looking straight up, a harsh light shined directly into my eyes. I was completely naked, but the room was warm. I could hear two men talking behind me. They came around the table, dressed in white surgical gowns and masks. One of them was holding a razor and can of shaving cream. He sprayed a glob of cream just above my cock, and carefully began scraping away my pubic hair. When he finished, he began applying this brown liquid to my whole crotch area. I could feel his gloved hand carefully massaging the fluid into my scrotum. I had no memory of coming to this place. All I remembered was being in my favorite bar, and feeling sick to my stomach. I must have been drugged, but by who? And why? A tray table was wheeled up next to me. I could see several instruments, including some small scalpels. Sweat was pouring off my head, and my heart was beating wildly. His balls are nice and loose now, said the man who was rubbing my sack. Hand me the elastrator. A silver instrument with long handles was passed over to him. I could see a green band was stretched tightly over the ends of the device. He pried the handles apart, opening the band wide. With his left hand, he gripped my balls in the bottom of my sack. His other hand positioned the band around the top of my sack, close to my cock. I heard a ratcheting sound, and felt a pinch on the top of my scrotum. It tightened, squeezing my scrotum until a dull pain began spreading through my balls. I screamed silently into my ball gag. There, that went well, he said, placing the elastrator back on the table. Now, lets take a look at his penis. I could see the men manipulating my cock. Uncircumsized. Well have to take care of that first, said the other man. My body was shaking from pain and fear as they placed the clamp around the head of my dick, tightening it until my foreskin was pinched. A sharp pain let me know that a scalpel was slicing away my foreskin. I could see the bloody skin being dropped onto a tray. A clear plastic tube was inserted into my pisshole, causing a burning sensation as it snaked its way down my cock. I think a glansectomy will work just fine here, one of the men said. No need to go further than that. I saw him pick up a gleaming silver scalpel and place it under the ridge of my cockhead. With rapid strokes, he moved the steel around the glans. I could see a thin red line, marking where the final cut would be made. By now I was in total agony. My balls were throbbing, and the pain was extending up into my abdomen. My cock was burning from the cuts being made below the head. I still had no idea where I was, or why this was being done to me. All I knew was that I was totally helpless to save myself. Nice work, said one of them men, examining the incision that circled my cockhead. Time to finish the job. I sobbed and my body shook as I saw he take the scalpel and place it against the red line. Suddenly, searing pain jolted through my cock. I screamed again into my gag, my body convulsing. Through my tears, I saw him holding my detached cockhead in the palm of his hand. He placed the bloody flesh next to my severed foreskin. While he stitched up the stump of my penis, the other man went to work on my scrotum. The same scalpel pierced the side of my sack, slicing until my right testicle was visible. He fished it out of the sack, and tied off the stalk. Then he repeated the procedure on the left side of my scrotum. Now, both balls dangled, exposed and vulnerable. My penis was mutilated; now I was to become a eunuch. I closed my eyes rather than watch. With a tug and quick cut, my left testicle was freed. I could hear it hitting the plate next to me. The same feeling was repeated on the other side. Now I had lost my testicles. I wept, my body shaking from a combination of fear, anger, pain, and shame. I must have passed out. Somehow, I was back in my bed in my apartment. Everything was a blur. Was it all a bad dream? No. The burning pain in my crotch told me that it was all very real. I pulled down my shorts and saw my crotch covered in bandages. And then I noticed a plastic bag sitting on the coffee table. Even through my blurry eyes, I could see two testicles, the head of my cock, and a shriveled piece of skin. The doctors in the hospital said it was obviously the work of skilled surgeons - all done very nice and cleanly. There was no way to attach any of the severed parts. Too much time had passed. They told me that I could take hormone therapy, and they could perform plastic surgery to give my mutilated cock a more natural look. But I declined. I didnt want anybody taking a knife to me down there ever again. |