"Please, Mother," I said, "can't I have my balls snipped.  I'm the only boy my age that still has any.  The other boys are making fun of me."  And that was true.  All the other boys in the neighborhood had been snipped by the time they were eight.  Here I was eleven, going on twelve, and I still had my balls.  I felt like some kind of freak.  Only little boys had balls, not boys as old as I was. 

It wasn't like I could hide it either, since boys only wore clothes during cold weather, and then only outside.  Clothes, only for girls and women, were a sign of status, and, of course boys had no status.  Once I was big enough, I'd go to live on a work farm.  Everyone knows that boys are only good for menial labor.  We aren't as smart as girls, so we can't do real work, not like women can.

I really didn't want to go to a work farm.  Most boys didn't mind going, but they had sisters, and everyone knows, sisters make life Hell for the boy in a family.  A sister's favorite pastime seems to be squishing her brother's balls.  I've had mine squished by a girl, and I tell you, it ain't no fun.  It hurts like all get out.  I'm lucky I don't have no sisters. 

I just have a brother, Jeremy.  He's eight.  My mother never had no girls.  Now, I feel sorry for her that she didn't.  No woman wants to get stuck with nothing but boys, because when they go off to the farm, she ain't got nothing.

What was bad for my mother, though, was good for Jeremy and me.  My mom treated us a lot better than the moms of any of the boys in the neighborhood.  She even gave us presents on our birthdays.  Most of my friends don't even know when their birthday was.  They sure as Hell don't get presents, not even a cake.  My mom always bakes a cake for Jeremy and me on our birthdays.

Of course, we never tell anyone.  It would really upset the neighbor women, if they found out she was treating boys so nice.  Most women only put up with their boys because the government makes them care for them until they're thirteen.  We sure don't tell no one about the Christmas presents she gives us, neither.  That'd really get our mom in trouble.

The neighbor women are always telling my mom how sorry they are for her that she don't have any girls, but I've heard what they say behind her back.  It's like women don't even see you, if you're a boy.  They talk about me and my mom, just like I wasn't there, even though I'm standing in the room with their boys.

Just the other day I was over at Jerry Brown's house.  When we walked into the house, Ms Brown and a couple of other neighbor ladies were sitting around the table.  I heard one of them say, "Well, you know she could have tried again.  You can have three kids."

"If I had two boys for my first kids," said crotchety ole Ms Wilkins -- she ain't got no boys and won't even allow none of us in her yard -- "I don't think I'd try again either.  Peggy Marlowe would probably just have another boy, and could you imagine having three boys.  Two are bad enough.  Thank God, I don't have any."

The Peggy Marlowe they were talking about -- as you probably know by now -- is my mom.  Now, I walked right past ole lady Wilkins -- God!  Don't tell her I called her that.  She'd throw me down and rip off my pecker and balls with her teeth, if'n she heard me paying her such disrespect.  As it was, I don't think she evens saw me.  Oh, she saw me all right, but to her, I just don't count.  Boys aren't really people, are they?

She must have noticed me at one time or the other, because she said, "And it's an outrage that she hasn't had that older boy's balls snipped.  How old is he now, ten or eleven?  What if he hits puberty?  Then all our girls will be at risk.

Puberty?  What the Hell was puberty?  I'd never even heard the word before.  I wish boys were allowed to read, then I could find out.  Maybe I could ask my mom.  I didn't know if she'd tell me, though.  It sounded real bad.

But I wanted to get my balls snipped.  Maybe this was something I could use to convince my mom to let me have it done, so I said, "Ms Wilkins said I should have my balls snipped so I don't hit puberty."

"She said that?" asked my mom.  "Come over here and let me take a look."

Maybe she was finally going to let me get them snipped.  I got so excited about it, I got a boner.  I'd been getting a lot of them lately.

She took hold of my dick.  "I think it has grown," she said.  Then she examined the peach fuzz around my pecker.  It wasn't all white anymore.  Some of it was beginning to turn brown like my hair.  It felt good for her to hold onto my pecker.  I kind of hoped she'd rub it a little.  For some reason, I thought that would feel good.  Maybe later, I'd try rubbing it myself.

"I'm afraid she's right," Mom said.  "It looks like you are about ready for puberty.  Well, we can't have that.  I'll take you down tomorrow to have you snipped."

"Hurray!" I yelled.

Jeremy had been listening.  "Will you get me snipped, too?"

"If I have to have Sam snipped," That's me, Sam. "I guess we might as well have you done at the same time."

"That's not fair," I said.  "I had to wait until I was eleven, and he's having his snipped at eight?"

"I don't really want to have it done at all," said Mom.  "I think it's a shame to mutilate boys, cutting off their balls, just because they're boys, but it is the law, so I guess I have no choice, and since I have to have you snipped, I might as well have you both snipped at the same time."

"It's still not fair," I said, "He gets to snipped at eight, and I had to wait until I was eleven.  Do you know what it's like to go around with balls when none of your friends have any?"

Now, none of my friends could have talked to their moms like that.  They'd probably have their dicks ripped out by the roots, if they did.  I actually know one boy, Harold Simmons, that had his dick cut off because he hit his sister.  His mom pulled a kitchen knife out of a drawer, whacked it off and threw it down the garbage disposal.  He dang near bled to death.

My mom's different, though.  Sometimes, she even tells me and Jeremy that she loves us.  I've never even heard another boy's mom tell him that she likes him, and the way my friends' moms threat them, I don't think that none of them do like their boys.

Yeah, I guess me and Jeremy are lucky.  Now, if she'd just go through with it and have my balls snipped tomorrow, my life would be complete.  "Will you really do it, Mom?  Will you really let me get my balls snipped?"

"We don't have any choice," said Mom.  "I think you've already started puberty; and the neighbors would have the police on me, if I allowed you to reach it."

"Good," I said.  "I certainly don't want to hit puberty."  Then after hesitating for a minute, I asked, "What's puberty?"

"That's when a boy matures sexually.  His pecker grows and he gets hair around it, under his arms and even on his face.  He becomes a man."

"Gross," I said.  "I don't want that to happen.  What's a man?"

"A man is a grown boy, one that still has his balls.  After a boy is snipped, he becomes a eunuch."

I'd never seen a grown boy, since all boys are taken away when they're thirteen.  "Will I be a you -- you-nick after my balls are snipped."

My mom smiled.  Well, it's pronounced a little differently." She spelled out e-u-n-u-c-h, but that didn't mean much to me, since I couldn't read no how.

"Eunuch."  I practiced saying the word.  I couldn't wait to become a eunuch.  I'd never heard anyone call my friends -- the ones with snipped balls -- eunuchs.  They were just boys that had been snipped.  It was nice to know there was a word for it.  I wouldn't be just another snipped boy.  I would be a EUNUCH.  I couldn't wait to tell my friends.

"Are we really going to have our balls snipped, Mom?" I asked, "You promise?"

"Yes," she said," I'll call for an appointment right away.  You'll both have them snipped tomorrow for sure."

I high fived Jeremy, even though I was still a little jealous that he was getting his snipped, too.  If I'd had to wait until I was eleven, he should have, too.

That night, in my excitement at finally getting snipped, I was having trouble falling asleep.  I had a boner, too, which didn't help.  I started rubbing on it.  It felt good, so I kept rubbing.  Then I started feeling all weird.  I wanted to stop rubbing my pecker, but I couldn't.  It was like something made me keep rubbing it. 

Then suddenly, I felt like I was going to die or something.  My pecker kept jumping in my hand.  I felt wet stuff squirt onto my stomach.  I thought maybe I'd peed on myself, but it didn't feel like pee.  It was all sticky.  I turned on my light.  White stuff had come out of my pecker and was all over my stomach, my hand and my pecker.  It scared the shit out of me.  I ran into my mother's room.

"Mom, something terrible happened.  Look.  This white stuff came out of me.  Do I have cancer?  Am I going to die?"

"No, no," my mom said, calming me, "you're not going to die.  I just waited a little long to have you snipped.  You're going into puberty."

"Oh no," I said, "Can we get them snipped tonight?  I don't want to have anything to do with puberty."

She smiled, one of those smiles I love her for, "No, we can't get them snipped tonight.  Tomorrow will be soon enough, but you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone about what happened tonight.  The neighbors would really be upset if they knew you were able to orgasm."

That was another word I'd never heard, orgasm.  I didn't ask, but I guessed it meant what had just happened to me.  I sure didn't want it to happen again.  "Will I still or -- gasm after I'm snipped?"

"No," said my mom, "after you're snipped, you probably won't even want to play with your pecker anymore."

"And I'm not going to die?"

"No, you're not going to die.   But, remember, don't tell anyone, not even the nurse that snips you about tonight.  That's our secret, just between you and me.  Now, go wash yourself off."

I washed off, then got back in bed.  By the time I did, I had another boner.  Without realizing what I was doing, I began pulling on my pecker again, but I stopped right away.  I certainly didn't want to have one of those orgasms again.

I woke up early the next morning.  It was like my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one.  I was finally going to get snipped.  No more balls for me.  I'd be like all my friends, no ugly balls hanging from my dick.  At the most I'd have a little fold of skin.  I couldn't wait.

Jeremy -- the lucky fucker -- was excited, too, and he should be.  He was getting his balls snipped at eight, the age most boys got snipped.  I was the freak, having to wait until I was eleven.

When we arrived at the clinic, my mom had us sit down while she walked up to the front desk. "Sam and Jeremy Marlowe to get snipped," I heard her say."

The receptionist looked over my mom's shoulder at us, "A little old, isn't he?" she said, obviously referring to me. 

Hell yes, I was a little old.  Hadn't I been telling my mom that for the last three years?   At least, it was finally going to happen.

It seemed like we'd waited forever, but at last they called out our names.  They were going to snip us both at the same time, Jeremy on one table and me on the other.  Once in the snipping room, we lay down on plastic covered tables.  The nurse gave us shots, down in and around our ball sacks.  They hurt.  Jeremy cried, but I didn't.  It was worth a little hurt to finally get my balls cut off.

The nurse didn't cut them off right away, though.  "We have to give it about twenty minutes for the anesthetic to take effect," she said, "then I'll snip them off for you."

When she came back a while later, she said, "Who's first?"

"Both Jeremy and I yelled, "Me.  I'm first."

Then I added," Me first.  I'm the oldest.  I've been waiting for three years to get snipped."

The nurse came over to me, lifting my balls and examining my pecker.  "Yes," she said, "you're over due.  You should have been snipped years before."

"That's what I kept telling my mom," I said.

"Well, let's get it done," she said.

She poked my ball sack with a pin, but I didn't feel nothing, so she made a little cut on the side of my ball sack, squeezed on my ball sack and popped out one of my balls.  It was all bloody, so I couldn't see it too well.  She tied some kind of cord around the strings that were connected to my ball, then snipped it off, dropping it into a dish.  Before long, she'd done the same to the other.

Finally, I'd been snipped.  It'd taken long enough for it to happen.  At least, I'd no longer be a freak with balls.  I was now a eunuch.  I said the word over and over, "Eunuch."

I got to watch while she snipped Jeremy.  She plopped out his balls and cut them off, just as she had mine, sewing up his sack just like she had mine.  We were both eunuchs.  I'd never been so happy.

The nurse asked us whether we wanted to keep our balls.  Jeremy asked me, "Should we?"

"Hell, no!" I said.  I'd been trying for three years to get rid of the suckers.  I certainly didn't want to have anything to do with them now.

A year has passed since I was snipped.  I was worried at first because my ball sack still looked like it had balls in it, but, "That's just swelling," my mom told me, "It'll go down." And it did.  Now, all I have is a little flap of skin hanging from my dick.

And I never get boners any more either.  Once, out of curiosity, I pulled on my pecker some to see if my mom had told me the truth about the orgasms.  She had.  I didn't feel anything and nothing shot out of my pecker.  Thank God for that.  I love being a eunuch.