He knew that I had been a Corpsman in the Navy, and asked about the kinds of procedures I had done. I told him I had done tonsil removal on the aircraft carrier on which I was stationed, and had also once performed an emergency appendectomy in the infirmary aboard ship when a sailor fell ill suddenly. I told him I had also trained to perform vasectomies, but had never really performed one. Other than that, I was busy on board ship dispensing apsirin, "GI Gin,"

a concoction popular with the crew because it kicked ass on cold symptoms, plus gave the guys a "buzz," and routine medical checkups and such. I was even referred to as "the finger," because of my digital exams of the crew's prostate when the need arose. Putting my gloved finger into the buttholes of the men was a duty that I did not shirk.

"You got kicked out of the Navy too, I heard," Lou said factually. I confirmed that, but then he asked the reason. I told him I had violated the Navy's "don't ask, don't tell" policy by admitting that I was gay, and that I was summarily given the boot without so much as a thanks from the government. All Lou did was grunt when he heard that. Our two families had known each other in this mid-western region for decades, and I could just about guess that Lou was sure my deceased dad would absolutely disagree with my lifestyle and sexual orientation. In any case, he said nothing more, other than to note that my "specialties might come in handy tonight."

That got me to thinking that perhaps Lou had a foal that needed help delivering, or some medical application needed attending to on his ranch, which was far larger than the one I inherited from my folks. Lou was in his mid-fifties, and was 20 years older than me. He'd been divorced for decades and lived alone. My nickname was "Doc" ever since I was in the service, and many people called me that even though they knew my and my family's names.

But instead of driving over to his place, he went to the outskirts of town and pulled up in front of a darkened house at the end of a street. We got out of the truck and we waited on the shadowed porch. While we waited, Lou filled me in.

"The kid that lives here used to be my widowed daughter-in-law's boyfriend. (Lou's son was killed in Iraq three years previously). I found out from her that this little bastard molested my granddaughter. I'm here to settle the score."

Thinking Lou was just going to kick the kid's ass and be done with it, I casually asked him, "So what are you going to do to him?"

Without hesitation, Lou, as is customary with men his age, said factually and resolutely, "I'm going to cut his balls off!"

Stunned, I stated, "You could get into legal trouble for that! He'll go to the cops!"

Again, factually and resolutely, Lou said, "He wouldn't have the balls to go to the cops after what he's done!" Then thinking about what he'd said, Lou laughed and added, "After tonight, he won't have the balls to do anything!"

Still stunned, I became quiet and wordless. Castrating this guy? Now I know why Lou wanted me along!

After about 20 minutes a car came down the street and parked in front. Lou motioned me to get back into the shadows so that we remained unseen. Within seconds, the boyfriend, whose name was Greg (I knew him to be a roofing apprentice for a local contractor), walked up to the house. As soon as he climbed the steps to the porch, Lou clobbered him with a pipe, and Greg fell right into my arms!

"Let's get him into my truck," Lou commanded. "I'll cut his balls off at my place and you can doctor him up there and we'll bring him back home in a day or two once he's starting to mend."

Grag was tall but also on the thin side. It was a minor effort to put him in the backseat of Lou's pickup truck for the short drive to Lou's ranch. Still out cold, Greg only moaned a time or two on the trip. I helped Lou carry the young man into one of his bedrooms and laid him out on the bed.

"Get him undressed," Lou ordered. "I'll be back in a few minutes with what I need."

I couldn't believe this was happening-and so fast!

I stripped Greg of his clothes, of his shoes and socks, and of his underwear. His clothes had the dirt and grime of a day's work on them. He was still out from his head rapping, and offered no resistance at all. When he was totally nude, I stood back and looked at him. Although he had a reputation in town for being an immature nerdy jerk, he was really quite a good-looking young man. I guessed his age about 28. He was on his back on the bed. He was not at all hairy, just a little line of hair from his pubic patch to his belly button. His pubes were reddish brown, as was the sparse hair under his arms. He sported a goatee, which was also the same color as his pubic hair, even though the hair on his head was sandy brown. His shoulders and face had freckles. His thighs had sparse hair on them, but his lower legs had more hair.

His penis was short and shriveled, but his scrotum was loose and hanging low. I was suddenly turned on by this young man's body, and became somewhat lustful for him, but for what we about to do to him. Thinking about his eventual castration also stirred something up inside of me that was strange, foreign, yet exciting as well. I couldn't put it into words, but the idea of seeing a man lose his balls was alluring.

Lou came back into the room and tossed a shower curtain at me. "Get this under him," he barked. "I don't want his blood on the sheets." Lou was carrying some other supplies as well, which included some first aid stuff, and what I recognized as an elastrator, a device used for castrating farm animals.

I rolled Greg over to the side of the bed and unfolded the shower curtain. I stole some glances at his backside and butt, and decided that Greg's bottom was just the right shape that I had lusted for all the times in the showers on board ship, in boot camp, and in gym class at school. I loved to look at naked women, but for some inexplicable reason, I have always been drawn to men as well, even though I only had two same-sex encounters in my life; one while in the Navy, and the other after I got out. I was not a "cruising" type of gay man, but I was interested in looking at men and checking out the guys whenever I was in town. I know some people, especially in our town, think this is aberrant behavior, but I have come to accept that this is what I am, and I cannot deny myself. Anyway, Greg was a "looker" in my estimation, and I was enjoying handling his body at Lou's direction. Stealing furtive glances at Greg's nakedness excited me.

"We've got to get him bound before he comes to," Lou said, handing me some handcuffs (he was one of several ranchers invovled in the sheriff's posse). I rolled Greg back onto his back and applied the cuffs to his wrists with the idea of handcuffing his hands to the bedposts. Lou made ready the elastrator, as I administered some first aid to Greg's nasty pipe-caused head wound.

"Why did your daughter-in-law take up with this guy?" I asked Lou. He responded that his daughter-in-law is head-strong, and that she wanted some man to do what she told him to do, and Greg was the type of guy that would do her bidding. He was more like a kid than a man, Lou said, but she'd tired of him some time back and kicked him out of the house. It was only after that she'd learned that he had "touched" her daughter inappropriately, and now "he had to pay" Lou asserted.

"If my son were stil alive," Lou asserted, "he'd kick this kid's ass from here to hell without one single regret!"

Lou secured Greg's ankles to the other bedposts, and got the elastrator ready for the banding of Greg's scrotum.

"I want him good and blue with the banding by the time he comes around," Lou said, adding, "that way there will be no turning back."

"Are you having second thoughts?" I asked him.

"Hell no," he said, nearly shouting. "That little bastard molested my grandaughter. I owe it to her to go through with this. He'll never molest anyone again. With no balls, he won't even want to. Plus, with his inferior genetic makeup, he'll not be able to knock up some girl with a retarded baby or something."

Lou's logic was faulty, but it was no good arguing with him. Ranchers are a hardworking, focused, rough bunch, and, while I dabbled at working my ranch, I was nothing like the strong stock that generations of Lou's family had come from. Plus, arguing with Lou was akin to arguing with my dad, and I never won one of those when he was living.

Lou had me push the first of Greg's balls through the expanded band as he postioned the elastrator jaws over the younger man's crotch. I felt a faint thrill at participating in this, but I also felt guilty: this was being done to Greg involuntarily. When the first testicle was safetly and delicately through the elastrator's jaws, I worked the last one in. When Lou let loose of the handles, the band tightened instantly, causing Greg to move and flinch ever so slightly. Lou put another band on and then another, with me assisting him one ball at a time.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Lou said. "Keep an eye on him and don't let him get too worked up if he comes to before I get back." I nodded.

I sat in a chair and looked at Greg's banded nut sack. It was already turning dark red. Knowing that his testicles, scrotum and manhood tissues were being strangled and starved for life-giving blood, I knew that before long, his scrotum would be turning a dark purple and within an hour or two, if his balls were attached to his body that long, his manhood would be beyond dead!

Yet, even in his vulnerable, distressing, unprotected, embarrassing position, I felt yearnings for Greg. He was "hot" to say the least, and his sleeping nakedness and impending emasculation was turning me on. I felt a stirring in my own crotch, and I think my own penis was getting hard. When I had attached the cuffs to Greg's wrists, I caught wiffs of his under arms, and even though there was a distinct odor of masculine under arm aroma, it wasn't offensive, and in fact, was sort of arousing! I suppose I am not "nominally gay," after all. I guess I am full-blown gay! Fact is, I was liking it.

As the bands worked their worst, as Greg's nut sack succumbed to the tension of the multiple banding, Greg began to stir. There was a look of understandable pain on his face. I could tell he was attempting to instinctively move his hands to comfort his aching scrotum, but he was bound and could not offer the least little soothing touch to his balls. So I did. I gently caressed his tightly-banded and shining nut sack, and attempted to administer at least some massage to his dying testicles and scrotum to give him some fleeting relief if only for a few seconds. He responded by opening his eyes, exclaiming, "What the hell are you doing?"

I motioned him to keep quiet. Lou would be back soon, and everything would be brought out in the open. For now, I didn't want the nude young man in front of me on the bed to panic or get loud. Heightened agitation would accelerate the demise of his balls, as well as increase his discomfort.

Greg sized up his predicament, took a look around the room, which he recognized as Lou's house, and let his head fall back on the pillow. Lou came back in the room, and the two of them just stared contemptuously at each other for a few seconds.

"You know what all this is about don't you, you little son of a bitch!" Lou hollered at Greg.

"What are you going to do to me?" Greg asked with a pitiful plaintiveness in his voice that made me instantly sympathetic for him.

"I'm going to castrate you, you little bastard!" Lou said.

"Why?" Greg asked, the horror sinking in.

"Because you molested my granddaughter," Lou said. "Don't try denying it: I have all the evidence already. You're as guilty as sin and you know it!"

Greg's head retreated back into the pillow as the stark realization came over him. Yes, you could tell by the look on his face that he knew he was guilty. He knew also that his balls were goners.

"I ought to kill you you son of a bitch," Lou said. "But then I'd be up for murder. But by cutting your balls off, I'll solve a problem, I'll get my revenge, and I'll be protecting children and women alike in the future."

"You'll go to jail," Greg protested, but Lou, obviously anticipating this objection, replied,

"And you'll go to prison if I tell the cops what you've done. Then all the 'Bubbas' there will corn-hole you until you shit blood and puke cum, and after all that is done, you'll undergo chemical castration at the prison which is the penalty for sex offenders! I know you won't tell the cops I castrated you because you don't want to go to prison. So just relax and take your punishment like a man!"

Woefully, Greg wailed, "But when you cut my balls off, I won't be a man anymore."

Lou nodded, "That's the point." Then, turning to me, he asked, "Doc, how long before I can nut him?" I examined Greg's scrotum, feeling it and turning it over this way and that in my hand. The skin was cold and clammy. The bands were working quickly.

"Probably in another half-hour or so," I told him.

Lou took a sharp hunting knife out of its sheath, and laid it on the nightstand where Greg could see it. The young man's eyes bulged in their sockets as the reality sank in. His manhood was doomed. He would no longer be able to enjoy the power and pleasure of climaxing. His small penis would shrink yet the more, and his libido would wane accordingly. He faced a future as a eunuch and the tool of his unmanning was right there just inches from his gaze on the nightstand, its sharp blade gleaming in the light of the bedroom. His testicles would yield to the blade without resistance, nary putting up a fight to remain attached to his crotch.

Greg spoke. "I have to go to the bathroom," he said pitifully. Again my heart went out to him. Here he was, a grown man reduced to a prisoner of a man bent on revenge, and he had to ask permission to go to the bathroom as though he was a four-year-old in kindergarten.

Lou looked at the shackles holding Greg to the bed and frowned. "You said a half-hour?" I nodded. Then Lou continued, "Okay, then let's undo him. But I want you to go in there with him so he doesn't cut the bands loose or run away. I don't want to chance that he'll shit the bed." We freed Greg, and I helped him to Lou's bathroom, where, still cuffed, he in his embarrassing exposure and vulnerability, sat on the toilet attempting in his naked condition to be invisible. I looked away from him, attempting to give him what little privacy he could enjoy given his circumstances. When he was finished, he looked at the toilet paper with a woeful look in his eye, and said simply, "umm." Of course! With his hands still cuffed, there is not way he could wipe himself.

Seeing his plaintive expression, I said, "Okay, bend over." Greg stood up from the toilet and bent over. I wiped his bottom. As I did, I beheld his butt once more. Damn! it was hot! Too bad Greg was going to be be experiencing diminished manhood soon; I could really get into appreciating him and enjoying him! His shape was very, very desirable. I even had a fleeting wonder if I could love a nutless man.

As he was bent over, having someone else do for him what only his mother had ever done to him as a baby decades before, I surveyed his dangling scrotum again. For all practical purposes, we were beyond the point of no return. He still had his balls attached to him, but Greg was functionally a eunuch by now.

"I'm sorry," Greg whispered. "I'm so sorry." I simply told him that he needed to say that to Lou and his granddaughter.

"I've regretted touching that little girl so much since it happened," Greg said, tears wellling up in his eyes as we went back to the bedroom. "I have even thought of suicide but I don't have the guts to do it. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't."

Lou, hearing some of this, simply said, "It's too late, pervert." He nodded toward the bed, and I lay Greg's naked body back down onto it.

But before we could fasten him in again, Greg looked up at us, and pleafully asked, "Can I cum one last time before you castrate me?"

Lou became angry. "Why should I allow you to do that? You don't deserve any more pleasure as a man since you've abused your manhood by molesting a little girl!"

"Please!" Greg said as more tears rolled down his cheeks.

Just as I thought Lou would explode, I stepped in and said quietly, "Lou, we still have about 15 or 20 minutes. That should be enough time."

Lou looked down at Greg, and scoffed. "Alright, but he'll have to jack himself off, and I want you to stay in here with him so he doesn't get away. I'll be back in when he's through. I can't stand the thought or the sight of him, and being in the same room while he has his last pleasure just boils my yoke!" With that, he stormed out of the room.

I turned to Greg. "Make it quick. You don't have much time."

Greg, with the handcuffs still dnagling from his wrists, began to fondle his limp penis, but it wouldn't respond. He stroked it, and cuffed it, but the diminuitive organ refused to become aroused. I thought that maybe his banded scrotum was so far gone that Greg would be unsuccessful in getting his rocks off one last time.

In a few minutes, Lou came back in the room and saw that Greg still hadn't cum. He took the knife from the nightstand and put it under the young man's dangling, banded, shining, reddening ball bag, and said, "This is taking too long. I'm just going to nut you right now."

"Please," Greg pleaded. "Just a few more minutes!"

"What do you want?" I quietly asked Greg. He looked away sheepishly, and then said, almost a whisper, as though he was ashamed,

"If one of you would put your finger into my anus, that will help stimulate me a little, I think."

Lou refused, saying, "I'm not sticking my finger into that little pervert's asshole!" Then looking at me, he said gruffly, "That's your specialty. You do it!" and then he walked out of the room again.

I looked at Greg, and with resigned abandonment, I simply said, "Spread 'em."

He raised his knees to his chest, exposing a boyish looking crotch. There was a little bit of pubic hair nestled between his anus and his dying scrotum. His anus was ringed with a pinkish, puckered, wrinkled aura of tissue that surrounded his secret little anal slit. He then spread his legs, offering me his anus as his hands continued to try to work his reluctant penis to life.

I wet my finger with my tongue, and gently, softly, pushed it slowly into Greg's sensual, secret little hole. His rectal body heat surrounded my finger with warmth, and his convulsing anus pinched and then relaxed, and then pinched again my finger as I probed all the way to his prostate. When I found his masculine sex gland, I massaged it. Greg's penis began to leap to life, and he stroked it and jerked it repeatedly. Each time he was overcome with sensations and pleasures, his anus and tight sphincter muscle revealed it to my finger. His hole was so tight, I felt as though it would pinch my finger right off! As he stroked his penis, the handcuffs flopped with a clanking sound all over his banded ball bag. The chains and metal pulled and strangled, and slapped and beat his balls while he frantically tried to get his penis to respond to his all-important need to cum before Lou came back to deny him of his balls and his final orgasm! I thought that the handcuffs and metal beating and pulling and slapping his balls might just be as tortuous as his impending castration!

I felt sorry for Greg once again, knowing that he was being compelled by desperation more than sexual desire. But he accepted the fact that "this was it," and it was now or never for his testicles and their grand finale! Greg stroked and jacked his penis so predictably, that the handcuffs kept up a metallic cadence as they slapped, jangled, pulled and assaulted his dying scrotum. I watched in fasination as his dangling ball bag was flopped up and down with his hand-stroking, and as his scrotum did, like a yo-yo going up and down on a string, I felt my penis begin to respond to an unseen stimulation. This was exciting me, and were it not for the fact that this young naked man between whose legs I was seated, and in whose anus my finger was poked, was about to lose his balls, I could have eagerly joined him in that bed and loved him the way I was now desiring! But there was no time for that. Lou would be back in minutes, and Greg had to get the deed done before Lou cut his balls off. It was a race againsgt time, and if Greg was the winner, it simply meant he would shoot a final load of sperm. Even as he was about to lose his balls, his real loss would be having his nuts sliced off without a final orgasm.

A sweat broke out on Greg's forehead, and his breathing became jerky and short. He was beginning to moan with pleasure as his penis responded to his stroking, and his mind commanded his climax before his body could no longer comply. His anal circle pinched violently now as I gently massaged and probed his prostate. I was seeing before me something I had never witnessed before: another person in the throes of ecstacy with the exploding of a climax right at the threshold. What a sight to behold. And yet, even in my anticipation and excitment at seeing another person about to cum, sympathy for this wretched young man flooded my mind. He was about to have a most personal and private moment, as he had earlier in the bathroom, but another person was there to see it and witness it and participate in it so that it was a public event, not a private and deeply personal one.

Greg's anus gave me advanced warning of his erupting climax. Streams of cum shot out of the tip of his cock, propelled by the pressure of his banded balls, surging powerfully due to his desire to cum before he was castrated, and pooling up in his navel and across his belly. As the climactic frenzy built, the cadence of his stroking and cumming reaching a cresendo, my finger pushing and massaging in rhthym to his convulsions, Greg let out a full-throated groan of orgasmic pleasure and satisfaction that I don't think I've ever heard before. The combination of this final act, coupled with his desperation mixed with desire, caused his body to shoot spurt after spurt, drop after drop, glob after glob of white, hot, sticky, glistening sperm until I was sure he was "bone dry" in his nuts.

Then he relaxed in a post-cum let down. I slowly slid my finger out of his anus just as his penis leaped twice again, shooting out a droplet of cum each time. The final anal stimulation must have prodded his genitals to rise to the occasion one last time.

For the second time that night, I cleaned Greg up. I took note of the fact that his anal smell was still on my finger, and I realized that it was not an altogether bad thing; in fact, quite the contrary; it was somewhat stimulating and arousing, just as the non-offensive aroma of his underarms had been when their odor wafted up into my nostrils a few minutes before. I had never given any thought to this before that night, but the masculine aroma of a naked man is exciting! Does this mean I am as much a pervert as Greg?

I toweled Greg's belly off, and scooped up the sperm that had pooled, high-tide, in his belly-button. I also tried to sponge off the cum that had dripped into his now-matted pubic hair. Again, I had never thoguht about it, but the aroma of his sperm as his spent orgasm sprayed it all over, was alluring. I was learning a lot that night.

Just as I finished cleaning the sperm up, Lou walked in, took stock of the situation, and motioned me to re-attached the handcuffs to the bed posts as he secured Greg's ankles. He then he took up the knife. He looked at Greg's satisfied, but now-shrinking penis, and remarked, "I should cut it off too. It's so small, he won't miss it."

Without any further ado, Lou placed the knife beneath Greg's dying scrotum, and with one swipe, completely severed Greg's manhood right off his body. Greg inhaled a shocked breath, and then his entire body convulsed and trembled at the finalty of the castration, and just as quickly, relaxed on the bed, the pillows and shower curtin embracing him. Lou held up the severed scrotum for me to see, and then dropped it into a clear plastic sandwich bag. I could tell that semen was seeping from my own penis, and the urge to join Greg in his orgasmic realm overwhelmed me.

"Okay," Lou said to me, "do what you do." He pushed the first aid supplies toward me. I knew what to do. Lou left the room with the sandwich bag in his clutches.

Actually, the banding had been so effective, there was very little blood. The shower curtain wasn't even stained at all. I dabbed a moist cloth over Greg's forehead, cleaned, gauzed and bandaged his crotch, gave him some extra-strength Tylenol, and left him alone in the bedroom to contemplate his new nutless condition.

I went into Lou's kitchen. He had the sandwich bag on the table in front of him. The bands were still on the scrotum, keeping its contents firmly imprisoned. Other than some moisture inside the baggie, there was no blood. The severed ball bag looked grotesque, however, when one remembers how it got in there.

"I don't know if I should make Greg watch me feed these to my dog, or if I should try out that 'Rocky Mountain Oyster' recipe everyone talks about." Lou was grinning fiendishly when he said this.

I just shook my head. Some dilema! Greg's problems were worse that Lou's indecision. He looked at me,

"What should we do with his balls?" he asked me.

"It seems to me, Lou, that the worst you could do to them you've already done. What does it matter?"

He nodded decisively. "Then it's settled: I'll give them to the dog to eat. He'll love them. That's a fitting end for these little trouble-makers that would entice a man to molest a little girl. They'll become dog food, and in a day or two, they'll be dog shit."

As Lou reduced Greg's manhood to the lowest common denominator, I couldn't help thinking of that pitiful young man coming to grips with his brutal emasculation. Sure he had pleasured himself one final time, but the afterglow of that orgasm was now eclipsed by the act of castration itself, and the removal of his balls was now far more prominent in his mind that his final last bout of orgasmic pleasure.

I decided then and there that if Greg would have it, I would take him in and nurture him back to health. If he wasn't interested in being a lover, I could at least surely treat him as a fellow human being who was needy and deserving of some sympathy.

He had paid a great price, after all, for his offense. Giving in to the temptations his testicles compelled him to do cost him dearly. His balls were legal tender for his sinful pleasure, and they were the only price that could be paid at this point. And finally, they were the only rate of exchange that Lou would accept as payment for the crime done to his granddaughter.

Then and there, I decided to make Greg my eunuch friend, even if it meant the friendship between Lou and myself ended. There was a bond between me and Greg now that I had helped him through his most personal, private and painful moment. A ball bond, so to speak, but a bond nonetheless.