In my mid-50s, I had done it all. Sexually, there was no other sex encounter I could experience or dream about. And the more I pursued various scenarios and situations, the more bored I got with sex. After a failed marriage, and assorted straight, gay and bi ordeals, I really had no desire anymore for sexual experimentation.

There had to be something more, I was convinced. The only thing I had never done was go beyond my life-long fantasy and obsession with castration and do the real thing. After years of play, even fantasies were boring. Fearful that I might go all the way with castration play, I ceased playing around with that after our divorce. Maybe it's because a person slows down a lot in his 50s, but the whole idea of sex was easily put on the back burner these last several years. And especially after that encounter with the luscious hot babe at the bar that night, when I was unable to get aroused, erect or perform, I decided it was time to "hang up my guns."

Then a decree went out by the government. All males 40 and older were to report to the "Reduction Center." Men of my generation were accustomed to the "Induction Center," wherein we were processed for the military draft, but the Reduction Center was quite different. It was all volunteer, but what we were to have "reduced" was our manhood. Men who were no longer sex-able, were permitted to report for voluntary castration at no expense. The rationale for this policy was that reduced sex-ability, libido, and arousal would reduce sex crimes among the aged population who had already "had their fun," leaving the "sexploits" reserved for the younger generation.

Whatever the reason, when I was contacted by the reduction center, my long-dormant penis and sexuality suddenly jumped to life.

When I reported in, there were a half-dozen other men my age there. One man was ready to lose it all because he was impotent. Another man with a small penis said he wouldn't miss it at all. Another guy, slightly younger than the rest of us, said he was granted a special dispensation in that he was to be castrated more than a decade before he was eligible for it. Still another man confessed as we all sat in the waiting room that he was obsessed with sex and sexual thoughts and feared molesting children. He was eagerly anticipating the moment his offending organs would be sliced off.

In return for our reductions, each of us would be the beneficiaries of a government pension for the remainder of our sexless lives. This would go a long way to meeting my financial needs, I concluded, and I wasn't using my balls or penis anyway (except to pee), so I volunteered to be castrated along with the others.

When the receptionist called each of us in separately, I was eager to not only hear about my emasculation, but to anticipate it, welcome it, fantasize about it, and experience it. This would be a life-long dream come true!

I undressed and was administered an enema by a cute nurse and a handsome 20-something male orderly. Then my pubic hair was shaved off, and I was led into a large room where the rest of the men were permitted to "do" themselves one last time. I vastly enjoyed the experience of watching the others, but I was unable to cum even though I was rock-hard for the first time in months, and excited beyond description. I just couldn't produce that last climax! Just as well, I thought, I won't miss them I guess.

We were lined up in order, and the castrations took place in alphabetical order. Ahead of me were about 50 men. The castrations took place in a stall wherein we were strapped. Our heads, legs, arms and torso were all strapped in. We were placed in a kneeling position on all fours. Our banded nut sacks were pulled tightly backward an inch or two past our naked butt cheeks, and placed into a slot that clamped them down tight. As I watched the men ahead of me losing theirs, I took note that their scrotums were pulled so tight they shined! There seemed to be an erotic brutality in all this.

Each man was asked if he had any final words before his balls were cut off. Many of them said nothing. A few of them bid their testicles "fare well," and some of them commanded the castrators to "cut them off!" Some of them now asked to keep them but it was too late.

It seemed like an eternity before the line dwindled down. The man in front of me was a fine specimen of manhood. He was in really good shape for a middle-aged man. When he knelt in the castration stall and was strapped in, he began to struggle. The handlers had to expedite his emasculation in order to keep him under control. Apparently he had some second thoughts. I watched as his banded ball bag succumbed to the blade and dropped into a bucket of balls beneath him where they landed with a wet, meaty plop. He groaned in pain, or was it ecstacy? I was the last in line.

Now it was my turn. I had opted for a mild sedative minutes before all this started because I wanted to remain calm, but I also wanted to feel what it was like to lose them.

I knelt as instructed. They strapped me in. The two male orderlies were just going throught the motions and I realized that they weren't regarding my castration with the same care, anticipation and observance that I was. When I was finally secured, they aggressively pulled my banded ball bag backwards past my butt. I felt then that they would pull them right off if they kept tugging at them. I felt the cold steel of the clamp against my vulnerable testicles, and heard and felt the sharp report of the device as it was secured around my soon-gone manhood.

They asked if I had any last words to say for my departing balls. I gave a rehersed narrative about my balls. "I am soon to lose my power, my pleasure, and my delightful pain. I have nurtured these testicles all my life. I have enjoyed them, I have used them for exquisit sex, I have allowed women to get sexually gratified with them, and have even fantasized about having them castrated. I will mourn their loss, but I have willingly consented to surrenduring them for one final act of heightened excitement. I only wish I could cum one last time, because I didn't get to a little while ago."

That said, I nodded to the castrators. I was ready. There I was, naked and bound, agreeing to my masculation willingly. My balls were tightly secured between two metal rails, clamped down and awaiting the release of the blade. As I anticipated what was about to occur, I could feel my last reluctant, shy orgasm begin to well up inside of my shaved crotch area. My penis began to get hard. Just as I was about to ask the castrators for time to get off one last time, the phone at their work station rang. One of the men answered it. I only heard his end of the conversation.

"Really? Okay, but why?" He hesitated, listening to the voice on the other end. "But we only have one more to do and he's already to be cut." More hesitation, and then he hung up and said to his associated,

"That was the supervisor. He said no more castrations for today."

"Did he say why?"

"Yeah," the first guy answered, "it has to do with their paperwork. We're supposed to wait til tomorrow."

As I listed to the castrators talk, I began to realize that I was being a reprieve. The hope of my castration was now being deferred. Even though I had willingly submitted to this procedure, I was going to be allowed to keep my balls for one more night! Now I realized that I was going to be able to have my final orgasm after all! I began to imagine what fantasies I would enjoy as I contmeplated losing my balls. I allowed myself to think and dream of all sorts of methods and ways of having them sliced off so that I would spurt a giant, powerful last cum in preparation for my real castration tomorrow! Even though I volunteered for this, the act was going to be deferred to tomorrow! I harbored desires and dreams that I would get my last climax after all, but only after I had allowed my undisciplined mind to wander all over the sexual landscape as I built up to my eventual orgasm and shot a final, historic, indescribable load!

As my mind was lost in reverie about my reprieve, I wasn't listening to the castrators talking between themselves.

"Well, I know that we were ordered to stop the cutting, but this guy is already prepped and ready." The other castrator must have nodded. The first guy continued. "Look, his nut sack is already turning blue from the banding. His nuts won't last until tomorrow as it is. I think I'll just go ahead and remove them and we'll falsify the paperwork tomorrow."

Panic flooded my mind. Was he serious? Was he going to openly disobey his supervisor? Yes I had consented to this. I had agreed to be castrated in exchanged for a pension, I now wanted to keep my manhood if only for one more night so that I could have one last orgasm! My mind screamed my desire to keep my balls, my testicles, my nuts, my gonads for a little longer.

I started to open my mouth to beg for my balls, but then I heard some metallic clanking, and then I heard a "whoosh" at the same time I felt a minor stinging in my banded scrotum as the blade sliced through it. I grunted, flexed my body, tightened my butt cheeks, and let out a groan. the deed was done. I was a voluntary eunuch. Just as my banded, shiny, tightly taute ball bag dropped into the ball bucket to join the others, I felt a huge splash of sperm shoot from the tip of my powerfully-aroused penis! It was agony and ecstacy woven together. I realized that my emasculation was so final, so powerful, so decisive, so longed for, so imagined, so fantasized about, and so real now, I shot another drop of precious sperm, and then I relaxed as the inevitable sank in.

The castrators unfastened me, and led me to the recovery room with the other new-made eunuchs. We stayed the night and were attended to by nurses and orderlies.

The next day I was allowed to go home, and soon after that, I began receiving my pension. What of our balls? We learned later that they were ground up and added to energy drinks to be consumed by young men in the prime of their sexual lives. We eunuchs were going to vicariously living out our sexuality in the lives of these young men. If I had my balls, I would have climaxed again after I learned that.