by

Girl-psp

When my wife came home that evening, she had a jeweled ceremonial dagger with her. She took it out of her purse and set it on the kitchen counter with a wicked grin. She obviously wanted me to inquire about it, so I raised my eyebrows at her and asked, “What’s that for?”

She giggled, running her hand lightly over its length. “It’s a little something we whipped up at the meeting. I’ll show you in bed. I think you’ll like it.”

My wife’s a witch, so I know what a ceremonial dagger looks like, although I had never seen one so ornate and studded with gems. She’s not the evil kind of witch from folklore with a wart on her nose – she’s actually really nice looking, with large firm breasts and a beautiful face. Nor can she make things appear when she twitches her nose – magic doesn’t work like that, although I’ve known her to accomplish some amazing things at the weekly meetings of her circle. Which was where she’d been today, incidentally.

“In bed?” I asked. “It’s magic for sex? But I’m not having any problems.”

She laughed again. “I know that, silly. This will make it even better.”

I generally have dinner ready when she gets back from her meetings; she’s always hungry afterwards, and sometimes she can be pretty tired out, too. I set the dishes of food out on the dining table and started cutting the roast.

“How’s a knife going to make sex better, honey?” I asked.

She was digging into her salad vigorously, and I had to wait a moment before she could answer. “Well, I guess I ought tell you a little about it so you won’t freak out.”

She paused a moment, thinking, before going on. “It’s enchanted. Those stones on it are actually controls. It can be made so that if you use it to cut something off, it grows back almost immediately, but as the opposite sex. So if I cut off you penis, it would grow back as a clit. Or I can adjust the settings so it heals up like you’d been born without one, and then make it grow back later, if I want.” She grinned.

It took me a moment to fully understand what she was saying, and I felt my cock harden abruptly to its full length as I saw some of the possibilities. I swallowed with a click.

“Is it safe?”

She took another mouthful, chewed and swallowed.

“Oh, yes. It’s made so it can’t do any serious damage – if you tried, you’d just regenerate. I’d like to start out somewhat slow with it, though. I’ve got a fantasy in mind I’d like to do with you tonight, then tomorrow we can try some other things. Okay?”

I nodded eagerly.

I barely noticed the rest of dinner, my penis remained rock hard and throbbing, and there was a feeling of giddy excitement in the pit of my stomach. I kept on snatching glances at the knife while I ate.

Soon my wife finished, and picking up the knife, smiled seductively at me and walked off toward the bedroom. I followed eagerly.

She set the knife down on the bedside table and turned to me. “Lets start off normally. Try not to orgasm too soon, okay? You’ll know when I want you to.”

I nodded and started to undress her. As I said, my wife is really nice looking. Five feet nine inches, one hundred and five pounds, blond hair and green eyes, nice big breasts, narrow waist above good hips and a nice ass, and a really pretty face. Even without the thought of the knife the sight of her really turns me on, and as she pulled down my pants my penis popped out erect and purple with bulging veins, at least nine inches long.

She grinned at the sight and ran her hand down its length, then looked up at me as she guided it into her wet pussy.

“This is the last time you’ll ever be inside me,” she said, and I felt my cock get even harder at the thought.

I held back and controlled my urge to ejaculate as I thrust into her, and after a bit I felt her stiffen and moan in her orgasm. I started to cum, then, too, but she reached down and pressed my urethra closed at the base of my cock.

“Wait,” she panted. “One moment more.”

She moved her other hand over to the table and grasped the knife, then brought it down and laid the edge against the base of my throbbing cock. Oh my god! I thought. She’s really going to cut it off! Her other hand felt like it was red hot on my cock’s flesh, and knew I was seconds away from an orgasm.

“Quick!” I gasped.

She looked me in the eyes for a moment, then pressed down hard with the knife against the very base of my cock. It went through with almost no resistance. There was no pain or blood, although a shock passed through me as the delicate nerves were severed. I felt my cock go suddenly numb, the feeling of her hand gripping the throbbing shaft gone, and as she lifted my severed penis away from my body I saw the skin around my suddenly exposed pee hole heal up in an instant. My groin above my balls was flat, just the slight mons of my pubic bone remaining. I came a second later, whitish sperm shooting out of the little hole in my crotch onto her hand holding my severed penis, the orgasm oddly spread out and defuse. She dropped the cock on her stomach with a wet little thump, and wrapping her legs around me, gripped me tightly against her as she also orgasmed again, my penis pinned between us like a bar of warm steel, the pressure pushing the head of my severed cock into my bellybutton.

She moaned and spasmed a few more times, then after a minute her grip relaxed and gradually her breathing grew calm. She was asleep. The meeting must have taken a lot out of her.

I gently pulled out of her grip and stood up beside the bed, looking at my severed penis lying on her stomach. It looked even bigger now that it wasn’t attached to anything. With each breath she took, my penis rocked back and forth, the head extending up past her bellybutton seemingly almost to the under swell of her breasts, the base resting on the top of her pussy slit. She had really done it. She had cut off my cock. I was no longer a man.

I shifted my eyes to my crotch, where my stomach extended down flat to where my balls hung alone between my legs. There was no sign I had ever had a penis, just the tiny round pee hole.

The sight brought a surge of lust and excitement and I lowered my hand and rubbed the skin around the pee hole. It felt no more sensitive the rest of my body, and after a bit I squeezed my hanging balls in frustration, feeling a dull ache of pain.

I needed to take a leak. Perhaps that would release some of the hornyness.

I started to walk toward the bathroom, feeling only my balls move between my legs, no sensation from my cock because I didn’t have one any more, then paused and went back to my sleeping wife. My cock was still lying on her belly, huge and purple, the skin at the base all healed up around the hole, so that if you didn’t know better you’d think it was perfectly natural and had never been attached to anything. It was at least ten inches, thick and covered with steams of white cum. It must have engorged even more with the excitement in the moment she cut it off.

I picked it up and pressed the base to my groin, hiding the severed end with my hand. It looked so natural, just as I had seen it a thousand times before, but it was no longer a part of my body. I took it away and turned back towards the bathroom, turning it over in my hand and examining it as I walked. I had never seen it like this, of course, and it looked new and strange, the large purple bulbous head shiny and stretched, the foreskin held back by the lip of the glands, and I had never seen the seam on the underside so clearly. It was growing cool to the touch, but still looked alive, the veins in its surface bulging, the color a healthy pink and purple. The knife must have some sort of preserving affect, I thought.

I washed my cock off in the bathroom sink, feeling another surge of excitement and frustration as I rubbed it in the warm water without feeling even a twinge of sensation, then set it beside the sink and sat on the toilet to piss. It was impossible to stand, of course.

I started to let go, and a dribble of warm fluid arced out of the hole where my cock used to be attached, and down onto my ball sack.

“Damn!” I said.

I didn’t like pissing on my balls. It annoyed me. I fact they annoyed me. They throbbed with blue balls, a frustrating pulse, and I couldn’t seem to get off without my cock attached. I wished I could...

An idea came into my mind, and I shook off my balls and stood, wiping them with toilet paper, before walking back into the bedroom. She had said it was safe. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness, then I saw the knife and picked it up, being careful to touch none of the jewels, and walked back into the bathroom with it.

There was a way to get rid of the frustration in my balls, and be able to take a leak without the indignity of dribbling all over them. It would be kind of cool, too.

More throbbing of blue balls, and I winced in frustration and pain. They weren’t much use any more attached. Totally useless in fact.

I pulled my nut sack out away from my body as far as I could, my hand looped around it above my balls, placed the knife against the base, and sliced it off. As before there was no pain, and pulling the sack away from my body, I saw the cut ends heal together turning the ball sack into a rough oval. I set I down on the counter beside my penis and looked at my groin. It was now empty and smooth, the only sign of my balls a slight depression in the skin.

I chuckled and ran my hand over it. It felt very odd, as though my cock and balls were totally numb, but the truth was much weirder. My genitals were completely gone, sitting on the counter top in front of me. It solved my blue balls problem, anyway.

I sat and a took a piss, the feeling strange because I wasn’t going through my penis. I would never urinate through the penis I was born with again, the organ which had grown large between my legs as I became a man. Never have sex with it again, either. Damn this was odd. Exciting though, too. If I’d still had a cock it would have been rock hard. Just like the one lying in the counter, I thought, and laughed.

The flow of urine was uncontrolled and ragged, more of a spray than a stream. After I finished I stood and wiped, feeling the strange numbness feeling in my groin again, then picked up my penis. Hmmm, I thought. There is one thing I’ve always wanted to do with my dick, that I can try now.

I brought it slowly to my lips, and pressed the great dark head between them into my mouth. It nearly filled my mouth. I had washed it thoroughly, so there was no taste. It was hard and slightly rubbery between my teeth. I ran my tongue around the knob, wishing it was somehow still attached so I could feel it. When I sucked a stream of air entered my mouth, through the urethra from the cut end.

I slid my hand down between my legs, feeling a shock of surprise as I found only empty air where my penis and balls should have been, even though I was sucking on my severed cock. Damn, this was weird. Awesome, but weird.

I took my penis out of my mouth and wiped the saliva off on the sparse hair of my groin, feeling a thrill of excitement as I rubbed my dick head on the skin where the base of my penis used to be attached. Then I walked back into the bedroom and climbed into bed with my wife, setting my cock down on the night table. The feeling of walking with nothing hanging between my legs, no swaying or movement, was also strange. She muttered sleepily and turned towards me, pressing her breasts into my chest. I kissed her lightly and pushed my empty crotch into hers. Nothing touched her pussy, of course. I had nothing projecting down there that could push into her. My crotch was now as smooth as hers was. Smoother, in fact. I felt an ache of longing to be inside her, to penetrate her, but there was not so much as a twitch from my groin. There was nothing I could do about it.

*****

I woke up the next morning to find her already in the shower. She came out as I was still stumbling out of bed, feeling a sense of unreality as I saw my penis lying on the table beside the bed and ran hand over my smooth, empty crotch.

She was holding my balls in one hand. “Got frustrated and decided to make it better, eh?” she asked.

I nodded, grinning slightly.

“I’d say, ‘bad boy,’ but I guess I can’t with any accuracy, can I?”

“Nope,” I said. “Not a boy anymore.”

“I have to run down to my circle and help them get another knife ready,” she said as she threw on some clothes. “I’ll be back in a few hours, and we can try it out some more, but for now I’ve got to take it with me. I don’t want you getting frustrated while I’m gone, though, so let me give you a little something.”

She picked up the knife and pressed her thumb into a blue gem in the hilt until it glowed softly for a second, then walked over to me and drew the point down over my groin, penetrating the skin deeply in places.

“Ow!” I said, not because it hurt, but from surprise. A delicious tingling sensation spread from the cut to cover my whole body. It felt like I was being stroked all over with feathers, only better, and I lay back on the bed as a wave of dizziness passed over me.

“Don’t worry.” she said. “It won’t hurt you. Have fun! See you soon!” She paused for a moment to tweak my penis where it lay on the bed table, then walked out the door carrying the knife.

I barely noticed. The dizziness had mostly passed, and the tingling feeling had centered in my waist, hips, and chest. As I watched, my chest expanded into a pair of large breasts, and looking down I saw my hips widen and my waist narrow. My hips rose up of the bed as my ass enlarged. My groin dimpled inward where my balls had been, and a slit formed, its top a tiny nub extending almost up to where my penis used to be. My skin became smooth and silky, and as I touched my long flowing hair I saw my hands were small and feminine. I was a woman.

I slid my fingers down to my crotch and felt the slit there, lightly tweaking the nub of my clitoris at the top. The feeling was wonderful, encompassing my entire body, flowing up to my breasts. It was much better than any sensation I had ever had from my penis.

The thought made me look at the side table, and I reached out my hand, missing on the first try due to my shorter arm, and picked up my cock. It was cold, but still looked just the same as last night, healthy and erect. I put it in the space between my breasts, pressing them together on it and breathing down between them to warm it, shivering with the new sensations coming from my nipples, then brought it down between my legs. The head seemed too large to fit inside me, so I pressed the base a few inches into my new pussy and squeezed the muscles in my groin to hold it in place.

The feeling of being penetrated was amazing, an empty, aching space inside me being filled. I looked down at my erect severed cock poking out of my pussy, the head huge and purple with engorged blood, and stroked my hand up and down it as though masturbating, holding it firm with the muscles of my vagina. My hand and body were smaller, so my penis seemed even larger. I got up off the bed and walked over to the full length mirror, my breasts bobbing and swaying, my severed cock still held between my legs and doing the same, each jolt sending up a burst of pleasure from my clitoris, and looked at myself.

I looked amazing. I was a beautiful woman, with large breasts and a stunning body, and between my legs, poking out of my pussy, was the largest, most erect penis I had ever seen. I could say that if I still had a penis it would have been erect, but I did have one, and it was. It just wasn’t attached, completely numb as I gripped it and moved my small hand up and down its length, trying to jack off.

I pulled it out of my vagina and dropped it on the floor, then looked at my empty, female groin in the mirror, imagining grabbing the woman in the mirror and thrusting my erect – and still attached cock – into her. God was I hot! Without a doubt, completely female, and beautiful.

My pussy was dripping wet, the juices starting to run down my legs. I felt an urge to fill it, to push something into the aching emptiness in my groin. I reached down and picked my severed cock up of the floor, then put the head against the lips of my vagina and pushed it slowly in. It was too big for me to take at first, and I felt a twinge of pain, but I continued pushing slowly, lightly rubbing my clit with my other hand, and the little twinge vanished under a wave pleasure. My penis slid into me until only about an inch protruded, and as I started to gently pull it part way out and push it back in, my legs buckled, and I fell lightly to the floor, my other hand still rubbing my clit.

I must have stayed there for an hour, fucking myself with my severed penis. The feelings from my clit and vagina were much more intense than I had experienced from my penis as a man, and more distributed, radiating through my breasts and even my stomach, as though my whole body were a sexual organ, but there was no release, no burst of abrupt overwhelming sensation, no real orgasm. It just went on and on, until my female body was drained and shaking, on the brink of exhaustion.

Finally I stopped and lay there panting, my chest heaving, looking at my breasts through half lidded eyes. The feelings were wonderful, but I missed the release of a male orgasm. What I’d been doing felt like all foreplay, no reward. I missed my penis.

I stood shakily, the feeling of the weight of my breasts strange and disorienting, and looked at myself in the mirror. It was so weird. The shapely, curved flesh I was now clothed in, that I was using to breath, to think, to live, was what I had spent my adolescence and adult life imagining and lusting after. The swell of my breasts, the curve of my hips and butt, these had been the subject of a thousand fantasies, and now they were part of me, inseparable from my every movement. I dropped my gaze to my womanly crotch, and saw the base of my cock poking out between my pussy lips. I had forgotten about it and left it inside me.

I grasped the severed end and pulled. It came out with a slight sucking sound, and I saw it was covered with my juices. I lifted it to my mouth and licked them off, tasting my woman’s odor on my severed male member. I saw there was a damp spot on the floor where my butt had rested. Apparently I was a wet kind of girl. I had had a few like that in my day, with this same penis I was now holding in my hands and licking off. Now it was useless as anything except a dildo.

Frustrated, I tossed my cock on the bed and walked off towards the bathroom to take a shower. With every step I took my pussy lips rubbed together and my breasts bobbed up and down. When my wife got back I would have her regrow my penis, I decided. I didn’t like the feeling of emptiness between my legs, the ache demanding to be filled. It was worse in a way than when I’d had nothing at all there. I almost went back and put my cock inside myself again, just to make it go away.

The shower was wonderful, though. It was almost as though my skin was thinner, and the sensation was amazing as I rubbed the unfamiliar curves and swellings of my body under the stream of hot water.

Once done, I toweled off (I had worn my hair long for a time as a teen, so drying it was not as strange as it could have been) and started looking through my wife’s clothes for something to wear. I decided on a white bra and panties, and a sleep shirt. It wasn’t as though I was expecting visitors, after all.

I had a difficult time squeezing my breasts into the bra, and by the time I finally managed to fasten it, I suspected it was a bit small. At least it kept my chest somewhat under control when I walked.

The white cotton panties fitted differently than any underwear I had ever worn. The way they clasped my hips was odd, as though they might fall off if I made a wrong move. That was apparently my imagination, however, because when I stretched and bent they stayed securely in place. I didn’t like they way they felt, however. The fabric between my legs seemed to magnify my smoothness and lack of manhood.

The sleep shirt was fine, although so short that if I’d still been a man my penis and balls would have hung down below the hem. The clothing really brought home the changes I had gone through. This was all there was to my body, I was all woman.

I started off toward the kitchen to get some breakfast, then turned back and picked up my cock. It was stupid, but it had been an essential part of me for years, and I didn’t like to be too far away from it.

When my wife came in the door I was using my penis as a straw, the head in my mouth and the severed end in a glass of orange juice, sucking juice up through the urethra. She did a double take at the sight, then came over to try it, giggling delightedly.

“If you’d always ejaculated so sweet, I’d never have cut it off,” she said with a grin.

“Do you have the knife with you?” I asked after a moment.

“Of course,” she said, taking the head of my cock out of her mouth. Beads of orange juice dotted it. “What do you want to do with it?”

“Well,” I said. “If you don’t mind I like to have my manhood again. It might be neat to keep my body looking like a woman, but I miss my package.”

She nodded, stirring the orange juice with my penis. “Sure. I understand how it could be a trifle upsetting.”

She got up and walked back to the bedroom, and I followed as I had the night before. Once there she pulled her clothes off and then helped me out of mine, grinning broadly when she saw the filled to bursting bra I was wearing.

“I think you’re bigger up top than I am,” she said, unsnapping the bra.

She lowered her head and suckled on my nipples for a moment, leaving me gasping in excitement, then opened her purse and drew out the knife. She motioned to me to lie back on the bed as she changed the settings on the knife, pressing on the jewels in the handle until they glowed, then she used one finger to work my clitoris out of its hood and touched the blade to it. Something about the knife seemed slightly different, as though the pattern of jewels had changed, but I dismissed it as my imagination.

“You sure you want to do this?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Maybe we can try it again later, but right now I want to be a man.”

She nodded and sliced off my clit. The feeling was weirdly similar to when she had severed my penis, the same shock from the nerves, but without the feeling of pulsing excitement that had accompanied the previous occasion.

Instead of the body covering tingle that I had felt before, a feeling of heat surrounded me – for a searing instant it felt as though I was being burned alive – then the feeling snapped off. I looked over my breasts at my groin, waiting eagerly for my penis and balls to rise up out of the flatness, but all that happened was that my clit regrew, exactly as it had been before she cut it off.

“What– ?” I started to say, when she yelled and dropped the knife. I sat up quickly to see what was wrong, the surge of my breasts almost pulling me off the bed.

The knife was glowing white hot, the blade curling up and splintering, the gems in the handle bursting in the intense heat. As I watched a black scorch mark appeared around it and smoke rose from the carpet.

My wife dashed into the kitchen, coming back a few seconds later with a bowl full of water which she dumped on the burning carpet. There was an explosion of steam, and when it cleared all that remained of the knife were a few twisted pieces of blacked metal.

“My god!” I exclaimed. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Let me see if I can find out.”

She passed her hands over the knife, feeling for the traces of magic, then did the same to me. I felt a tingle emanate from her fingers as she passed them over my body. Anxiety coursed through me. Did this mean I was stuck this way, a woman for the rest of my life?

“Damn,” she said, finally.

“What’s wrong?” I asked anxiously.

“I think I see what happened here. I brought the new knife we made, instead of the old one. There is a part of the spell that protects the newly transformed person from something happening to them, like getting pregnant or hurt. When I used the new knife it interacted with the spell from the old one and drained all the power out of it, preventing any change from being made in your body.”

“What do we do?” I asked. “I don’t want to stay this way.”

“I’ll have Jane bring over the other one and see if that will work. It may not, though. The mix of signatures from the two could have formed into a new signature, and if so it will protect itself from any tampering.”

She looked down, then took my hand. Before, my change her hands used to disappear inside mine; now they were the same size.

“I’m sorry this happened. The circle never considered the possibility of this kind interference. I just want you to know that no matter what, I love you. Nothing can change that.”

She took me in her arms, her breasts pressing into mine, and kissed me deeply. Then she went over to the phone and dialed Jane.

I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to control my feelings. Normally I’m fairly calm in the face of problems, but now I wanted to burst into tears. It’s just hormones, I thought. The body may be different, there may be new hormones running through your system, but the mind is the same. In my mind, I’m the same man I always was. The mind is what matters.

I barely heard what passed on the phone with Jane, and after she was finished talking my wife came over to the bed and held me, comforting me. She kissed me again, the motion made awkward by our breasts bumping into each other. I couldn’t get used to them, like two water balloons on my chest.

About twenty minutes later Jane came in, carrying the other knife. She looked at me without apparent surprise. Magic slows aging, and the women of the circle have seen a lot. I still don’t know exactly how old my wife is, but I’ve gathered from her talk that she was born sometime before the first World War. Jane looked at my wife, who acknowledged her glance with a nod, then set the knife on the bed table and left without a word.

My wife picked it up and held it close to my body, feeling around it with her outstretched fingers. She frowned, looked at me, then shook her head and set it back down on the table.

“Surely there must be some other way?” I said desperately.

She shook her head again. “No. Trying any other spell on you would have the same effect. If it was used from an object, the object would be destroyed, if a person tried it, they’d die. I’m sorry.”

Despite my determination not to cry, I burst into tears. I was stuck. I would never have a hard cock between my legs. Not my own. I would never be a man again.

She drew me close and I stiffened, then relaxed into her grip. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t do this to me on purpose.

“Listen, honey,” she said. “There is one thing. Only women can use the kind of magic we use. There are other traditions that men can do, but the circle is only women. It takes a long time. It would be decades before you grew skilled enough, but with practice you could become a witch. Eventually you would be able to lift the spell. It protects you, so it won’t strike against you when you work on it. One day you could be a man again, if you want. Would you like that?”

I nodded, my face buried in her breasts, tears running down my cheeks. I would work as long as it took to undo this.

After a time her comforting turned into something else. I kissed her on the lips and breasts and stomach, working my way down to her pussy, then used my tongue on her clit until she was at the brink of orgasm. In my passion I forgot what I was now, and pulled myself up her body to kiss her on the lips, pushing my groin into hers, thinking to thrust my penis inside her. But of course I no longer had one, and there was just the sensation of my pussy lips rubbing against hers.

I groaned aloud in frustration, and as she started to move down my body so she could put her mouth to my vagina I said, “God, I wish I could put my cock in you!”

She paused for a moment, then rolled out from under me and ran lightly of towards the kitchen. She came back a minute latter with my penis in her hand, sucking the orange juice residue out of it.

“Here,” she said, tossing it to me. “Use this.”

She lay down beside me, and I rolled onto her, using one hand to thrust my severed cock into her. She cried out, and I thrust it in and out like a dildo. If only I could feel it. If only...

I pulled it part way out of her and lowered myself into it until the cut end was four or five inches inside me, then clamped down on it with my vagina muscles as hard as I could and pushed it into her. It was hard keeping hold of it to pull it out, but I managed, and thrust repeatedly into her. After a while she clamped down on it, and did the same to me, thrusting the severed end of my cock into my pussy, keeping a better hold on it than I had because the head was inside her.

It was pleasurable, but hard work, difficult to get any friction, and my cock was just not long enough for both of us. Finally she pushed me off, and discarded my penis, chucking it on the floor, and picked up the knife.

“What – ?” I asked.

“Hush,” she said, and used it to cut off her clit. There was a pause, then the flesh at the top of her vagina rippled and expanded, growing out into a penis. It was somewhat smaller than mine had been, about seven inches long and a little thinner, but very nice. She still had her vagina under it, where her balls should have been, and looking closely at the penis head I saw that there was no hole in the end. It was really a giant clit.

“Okay,” she said, and pushing me down, drove herself into me. The feeling was amazing. I’d had no inkling of the difference between a dead, preserved penis, like mine, and a living, throbbing one like she now possessed. It was like night and day. As her muscular body hovered over mine, her breath coming in short gasps, drops of sweat falling from her wildly bobbing breasts, her cock thrusting into me, a tidal wave of pleasure passed through me which left me limp and gasping, unable even to control my limbs. It was a real orgasm, and the best I had ever had.

*****

That was thirty years ago. I’m a witch now and I could have broken the protective spell a long time ago. But I haven’t, and I don’t intend to. Not because I consider myself a woman; I’m as much a man as I can be, what with having a vagina between my legs. But gender is not in the body, as any transsexual who considers themselves of the other sex despite spending years growing up in the body of their birth sex knows, and having one’s body become a woman’s does not make one really a woman.

The reason I haven’t broken the spell is because in thirty years neither my wife nor I look like we have aged a day. As a witch I have something close to immortality, and that is worth more to me then my cock and balls.

I’ve experienced the full range of female sexuality, from childbirth (witches have ways and ways) to rape. Yes rape. I keep the genitals of the man who did it in a jar of formaldehyde in the basement, and believe me, I didn’t use a magic knife when I cut them off. Yet I still consider myself a man. My children call me father. It’s a matter of the mind, and that doesn’t change just because the body does.