"Yes, yes," he muttered, squeezing my nuts lightly. "I can see why you need these removed. They must give you great trouble. And this..." he grasped my now fully erect cock, his hand not even closing around its girth. "This will have to go."

"I just can't handle it anymore," I told him.

"Soon you won't have to," he told me. "Come back in three days. We'll do it then."

I pulled my pants up and walked out, a little spring in my step. Three days...three days more, and I would no longer be a man.

A year before you would have never convinced me that I was looking forward to having my genitals removed. I graduated from college at 23 with a nothing degree and still no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I ended up working a construction job, which I enjoyed - I didn't have to think much, I got to work outside, and it kept me in really good shape.

Too good a shape, maybe. I'd always been an athlete and a damn good looking guy, and when you're into other men it's not that hard to get laid. Working at a construction job it wasn't all that hard, either - if none of the guys on the work crew felt up to a lunchtime tryst, all I had to do was peel my shirt off and do something near a sidewalk, and I could pretty much pick and choose which admirer I'd go off with for a half hour.

One proved an especially good guy to disappear with, as he also happened to be a modelling executive who gave me a cushy job posting for photographs in my underwear. "We like big-dicked guys in the ads to fill out the package - makes men buy the undies, like it's subliminal or something," he told me, "and you certainly fit the bill."

So I quit my construction job and went in my first day. They took some test photos, but kept asking me to lose the boner. "Uhh...okay," I'd tell them, and try to think of grandma, fish, anything to get my mind off it, and I just couldn't.

I'd even jerk off in the bathroom but half an hour later, there it was. Still, we made it through the first day, and that night I stayed in and jacked it until it was sore. Then again in the shower the next morning. Then again on the way to work. Then when I got there, then just before the shoot, and it was still there.

So to make a long story short, I got fired. Two days and I lost my cushy new modelling job because I couldn't stop thinking about the cute camera guy, the other model, even the producer. Was I obsessed with sex?

"Yes!" the other guys on the crew said. I went and got my construction job back and asked them what they thought. That pretty much cinched it.

I wasn't going to have sex, even with myself, for at least a week.

It took three tries before I even made it two days. I grew obsessed with my goal: make it a week without cumming, but could just never do it. I'd feel ashamed, breaking down and jerking off the shower or not being able to resist that bike messenger, and always I'd try again, but always I'd fail. Again.

Then, one day, things changed. The latest guy I broke down with was a cute guy named Mike, who had just joined the crew - about the same age as me, cute, bright blue eyes that he couldn't take off me. Even so I pretty much had to manhandle him into the utility shed, and even then he was shy to take his pants off, but I pulled 'em down and took a look at what he had to offer.

I blinked in amazement, then slowly ran my eyes from his groin, up his six-pack, his bulging chest, to his gorgeous face, now clearly terrified at what my reaction would be to his smooth, unbroken groin.

What was my reaction? I didn't...really have one. It was just so outside my experience. I looked back at it, so unnatural yet not at once, and did the only thing I could think to do.

I licked it. I started down below where his balls would have hung and licked up past where his dick should have been until I got to the top of where his public hair would have narrowed into a treasure trail, if his body weren't completely shaven.

I stood up and we kissed, me pushing him back up against the wall of the shed. My cock was pressed hard against the void in his groin, and I wanted to get to it. I lifted his legs up and held him in the air, maneuvered my hips into position, and went for it.

Afterward, while we were wiping off and getting dressed, I asked him what the deal was.

"You may not believe this, but I used to be pretty well-hung," he told me. "But, uhh, I had to have it all removed."

"Wow," I said, genuinely amazed. "Why?"

"I was totally addicted to sex," he told me. "I could never get enough. I almost raped a guy once, I was so horny."

That sounded familiar, but I couldn't really believe that guy would willingly do something like that. I mean, as much as my sexual addiction got to me, I didn't want to end my sex life...just, you know, tone it down a little. He continued... "So one day I fucked this guy, and I told him all this stuff, and he said he knew a guy who could help me. He didn't say how, right? So anyway, I go meet this dude, and he takes me into his house and shows me all these photographs of guys whose cocks and balls he'd removed. He even dropped his pants, and he was done, too!" He paused and rubbed his crotch a bit. I got hard again. "So I'm wigging out, right? It was all so bizarre, but as I looked at the photos, it started to seem...I dunno, natural. Like I should have been all along.

"He gave me three days to think about it, and by the time the third one rolled around, all I could think of was having my shit off. I went back, he, you know, did it, and it totally worked.

"I still like to get fucked and all, but it's not nearly so bad. I can control it and everything. The only problem is most guys get freaked out when they find out." His eyes were downcast; clearly worried that I'd think he was a freak for having his manbits taken off.

"I don't think you're a freak, man," I told him. "Actually..." and I told him that I had exactly the same problem.

He perked up, relieved that I wasn't wigged out by it. "You should go see this guy."

It took me a month to get up the courage, and I still wasn't entirely sure that this was a good idea. I mean, come on, how crazy an idea is it to go to some random dude and get your cock and balls lopped off? It was just that I couldn't think of another way to do it. I mean, I could have taken female hormones or something like that, but I wasn't really interested in growing tits.

Still, I had to solve this problem, and now I had a radical, but effective, solution. The only real question was whether or not I had the metaphorical balls to go through with it. It was a struggle to walk up the steps to the guy's place, and it took a lot of effort to ring the bell. Once the door opened, I saw the face of the guy I was about to ask to unman me. He didn't look like a psycho or anything - late thirties, early forties, maybe, nice smile.

"Uh, hi, um, a friend of mine recommended you to me, to, uh..." I stammered, not really sure how broach the subject. I mean, how do you tell a total stranger that you want him to castrate you?

"Of course," he cut me off. "Why don't you come inside?" he asked, obviously well aware of what I was about to ask. His eyes were on my crotch, and indeed, my dick was snaking down my leg.

I followed him in. He took control of the situation instantly, which helped me out a lot. "Get naked," he said. "Let me see what I have to work with." He seemed impressed by my body, and walked around me slowly to get a good look. After two orbits he kneeled down in front of me to take a look at my equipment. "Now let's see what we have here..."

After I left his house I headed straight home to jerk off. Three days, eh? I figured I'd better make the most of them. I stared at my cock as I jerked it, imagining what it would be like not to have it. I held it tightly, feeling the girth and weight, and jerked it slow, moving my foreskin slowly over the head, cradling my nuts with my other hand. I kept thinking about Mike, the image in my mind of him naked in the woodshed, his smooth, lean body...him smiling, those blue eyes twinkling, rubbing that smooth unbroken crotch.

My hand moved faster, up and down as I lay on the couch, feeling my own quickening hearbeat through the blood flowing through my dick. My balls bounced up and down in my hand. God, it felt so good...I wished I could just jerk it forever.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this wasn't the way to go...I mean, come on, I could just keep jerkin' it every now and then, right? I didn't have to get it actually removed...it's an awfully permanent step, and...what if it didn't even work? What if I had my cock off and then it was just as bad, except then I wouldn't be able to jerk it, or fuck anybody...did I really want to go through life like that?

But Mike said it worked...oh, Mike with that beautiful smooth body. My mind kept coming back to that image of him, rubbing his hand over his groin...and my cock blew, spurting ropes of white goo all over my belly, my chest. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, squeezing every drop out of my long tool, covering my hard six-pack.

I headed into the bathroom to wipe off. Afterward I stopped, and stared at myself in the mirror, looking at the guy looking back at me. My eyes went to the reflection of my dick, still half-hard, balls low in my sac. I tried hiding them with my hands, wondering what I'd look like without 'em, but it didn't really seem to work...my cock was not cooperative.

I saw Mike again at work the next day. We sat on our own at lunch. "So I went to see your, uh, friend," for lack of a better word.

"Hah! So you finally got up the courage, huh?" Mike smiled. "Good, now I'll actually be able to eat my lunch instead of your cock for a change." We'd met a few more times in the woodshed. I'd pound the hell out of his ass, almost always cumming more than once, and when done, I'd just have him stand there sometimes so I could stare at him. "So when's it comin' off?"

"Day after tomorrow...but..."

"Eh, no buts, dude. Either you're gonna do it or you're not." He took a bite of his sammich. Hell, even watching him swallow was sexy. I kept thinking about that space in his pants...

"You really think I should, though? I mean..."

"I think you should do what you want to do," he interrupted. "Man, I'll tell ya, I felt the same as you - am I doing the right thing, am I gonna regret it, whatever. It all just comes down to either going there and having it done, or not."

"And you've never regretted it?" I asked.

"Once for about ten seconds. Took some hottie home from a club and was looking forward to a good fucking. I drop my pants, he freaked."

"So what did you do?" I asked.

"Not much I could do. I sure as hell didn't give him a ride home, I'll tell ya that. For a minute I did regret it, but then remembered all the reasons I'd done it, and they were still all true." He tilted his head back to take a drink out of his thermos. A little bit of water leaked out around the edges and trickled down his smooth chin, down his neck, to the top of his shirt...

"But if it's encouragement you're looking for," he said, looking me straight in the eye and smiling, "I think hot as you are now, you'd be even hotter without all that shit down there."

That night, before I hit the sack, I stood looking in the mirror again. I'd just jerked it twice in a row, and for once my dick was mercifully soft. I put a shampoo bottle inbetween me and the mirror, trying to position it to hide my a cock almost as thick as it was.

Mike had a point...I was starting to see things the way he did. I dunno what it was, but he was right about it just looking more, I dunno...natural.

Friday was the hottest it had been in awhile, and most of the crew had stripped to the waist by lunchtime. Mike came and found me, for once. "How about one last lunchtime fuck?" he propositioned. Never being one to disagree, I followed him into the shed and proceeded to get to business.

I had it in him and found a rythym, but all I could think about was my cock coming off...how I'd feel afterward, how it would look. I just...I just wasn't into it. I didn't want to be fucking Mike; I wanted to be Mike.

"Hey, back there. Pick up the pace, man," Mike grunted.

"Sorry." I tried, but my dick went soft in his ass. "Shit." I pulled out and sat on the sawdust, staring down at my groin.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I sighed a little. "Guess I'm just thinkin' about, you know...tomorrow and all."

"Nerves?" Mike sat down next to me, the smell of his sweat filling my nostrils. God, he smelled good. He put his arm around me in a little hug.

"No...at least, I don't think so," I answered. "I guess...I guess my head's somewhere else." I looked up at him, his eyes showing his concern. "I'm sorry, man, really."

"s'okay," he squeezed again. "Remember, I'm not the one with the maximum sex overdrive. Well, anymore, anyway."

"Yeah," I snorted. "I guess pretty soon I won't be either."

Mike put a hand on my chest and slowly pushed me down to the floor, laying next to me with his head propped up on one elbow. He stroked my chest with his other, occasionally running a hand over my nipples, or just using a single finger to trace along the lines of my muscles. I closed my eyes, enjoying his touch. "Man, that feels good."

He straddled my belly and leaned down to kiss me, still rubbing my chest, my abs, my arms. His smell was intoxicating; between that and the caresses of his calloused hands, I was in utter bliss. "Fuck, you're hot," he muttered in my ear, giving it a playful nibble. I brought mine up to his sides, feeling the divots in his ribcage, grabbing his back, and pulling him down onto me. Our torsos rubbed against each other, hot where we touched, and cool with evaporating sweat when he'd pull away briefly.

Mike went back to my tits, teasing me with a pinch or a brushed finger. "Yeah," he'd mutter, looking down at me with an impish grin.

"Oh...oh shit!" I moaned, hips bucking as I came all over Mike's back. I bucked my hips a little, surprised at the stealth orgasm. How the hell did I cum, I wondered...my dick was still soft. That had sure never happened before!

Mike stood up over me, a wide grin plastered across his face. "Still think you need that thing?" he offered me a hand up.

I took it and came to my feet, moving into an embrace in one motion. I kissed him on the neck, hugging him tight.

"No."

Day three. Here I am, standing at the door, ringing the bell. The man who's about to take my manhood opens the door and smiles. "Come on in."