Fiction by Johnny Cumlately

It was dark when I first woke up. I was very drowsy but as I stirred, the nurse by the bed held my hand. "It's all over now. The operation was very successful. You go back to sleep." I felt a deep sense of euphoria. I had at last achieved something which had been an ambition since early childhood.

When I next woke, the sun was streaming through the window of the small single room. I was instantly fully awake and tried to sit up. The nurse I had seen during the night was still on duty and came into the room. "Don't try to sit up yet. I'll adjust the bed to make you more comfortable." She pressed a button and raised the top of the bed. "How do you feel?"

"A bit like I've been hit by a ten ton lorry!"

"Well, that's only to be expected. You've undergone major surgery and it's going to take a little time to heal. Do you feel like some breakfast?"

I nodded. As soon as she had left the room, I gently lifted to sheets. I was still wearing the theatre gown but it lay flat on me and I could tell that there was no longer any bulge between my legs. A tube led from under the gown over the edge of the bed. I would have to wait patiently until I could see in more detail what changes had been made.

The nurse soon returned with a tray. A plate of cereals, a boiled egg with bread and butter and a pot of coffee. I was pleased to have some food but far more anxious to learn more about the results of my operation.

"When will I be able to have a look?"

"Not just yet, but we will have to change the dressing later on. Maybe then."

I ate the breakfast and lay staring at the ceiling thinking back on how I had got this far.

I was probably only about ten years old when I was first conscious that I didn't like the bits between my legs. Even at that early age I would sometimes wear my pants back to front to cover them up. It came as a shock one day when I achieved my first "cum" and I worried about making a mess. Later, I experimented with taping it up and attaching a tube to pee through.

I was in my twenties when I first "borrowed" some panties and girl's slacks which in those days always did up with a side zip. I delighted in the plain front with no fly opening.

I bought an expensive shemale chastity belt which I saw advertised in a sex shop. It held my manhood out of sight and touch in a narrow tube behind a smooth front shield and I wore it for years. I mailed the belt key to myself at a "poste restante" post box in a small town two hours drive from home. As I was the only person with a key, mail could not be forwarded, so I had to go there once a month to enable me to remove the belt for hygienic reasons. I always put it on again immediately afterwards and posted the key back to the box. I used to love tickling my nipples to cause an attempted erection which really increased the pressure in the tube to a point at which it was impossible to cum but held me on edge.

Years later still, the arrival of the internet opened up a whole new world of information. I was not the only freak around! There were others who wanted rid of their "bits". Some had tried self amputation with disastrous results. Some had found "cutters" who operated in back streets under very unhygienic conditions.

I spent a lot of time on the internet reading various comments about their experiences from like-minded blokes and eventually decided to make contact with a Mr Shavindra. I knew from what I had read that he had been involved in a major scandal some years previously. As a trained surgeon, he had been on the board of management of a large mental institution where he saw the patients as suitable subjects for his experiments. Many of the patients were sex offenders or had psychological problems connected with their sexuality. Dr Shavindra (as he then was) did a number of penectomy operations and castrations - usually without the patient's consent. When the situation became public, he was stripped of his professional qualifications but nevertheless managed to publish several papers detailing the results of his "research". He then moved to a small Central American republic where he set up a clinic.

And so it was that I found myself starting to recover from a major surgical operation. I had spent most of my life savings on payment of his fees up-front and on travel from Europe to Central America.

Mr Shavindra was able to charge high fees for his services because he had acquired a reputation among former patients for his insistence on the very highest standards of hygiene and medical care. His small staff were paid generously and were very discrete. They had mostly been recruited from well trained medics who had at some point overstepped the mark on medical ethics and found it difficult to obtain suitable employment in mainstream medicine.

He catered for a wide variety of deviant wishes. It was rumoured that his operations ranged from simple castrations to full sex reassignment surgery. I was later to meet some other patients and able to compare notes with them.

My reveries were interrupted by the arrival of Mr Shavindra. He was of stocky build with a round face and balding head, but had a naturally pleasant manner and a quiet self-confidence.

"Hello! How are you feeling?"

"Sore!"

"I think you expected that. Any other problems?"

I shook my head.

"The operation went exactly to plan. All you can do now is be patient while it all heals. I know from what you told me earlier just how much it means to you after dreaming about it for so long. I'm sure you'll be very pleased with the result. You have a catheter in your new pee hole which will be removed in a day or so as soon as there is no sign of internal bleeding. After that you will have to get back control of your bladder but I don't anticipate any problem with that. The nurse will change your dressing this afternoon and you can have a look then. She will also get you out of bed and walking around the room. If you need anything or just want to talk, just say so. I'll look in from time to time."

The morning passed slowly but eventually a beautiful young Philippino nurse appeared with a tray of dressings. She carefully removed the dressing from my crotch as I looked on expectantly. There was just a clean wound with about six stitches in a neat line where my cock and balls used to be.

"Happy?" she asked.

"Very!" I answered fighting back tears of relief and joy.

After applying a new dressing, she gently helped me out of bed and walked me round the room. It felt odd walking knowing that there was now nothing hanging between my legs. It made me feel delightfully clean.

Two days later, the catheter was removed and I made my first visit to sit on the loo. There was just a slight dribble from between my legs. The nurse told me not to worry - it would take some weeks "to get back to normal". Far from "normal" actually, but I know what she meant. She gave me a pair of panties to wear with a liner "as I'm sure you will leak a bit".

I was soon up and about for most of the day which I spent in the comfortable lounge with several other patients. I was dressed in a T shirt and some "pull-on" slacks over panties which would always be my underwear from now on. "You'll find pull-ons more convenient in the toilet. And you will be less likely to forget that you have to sit down!"

I found the experiences of the other patients fascinating.

Joanna was a very attractive "girl". She was a transsexual who had found the waiting for her op. back home intolerable. Her medical advisors had prevaricated and always found a reason to delay. In addition to the full genital changes, she had had several cosmetic operations done by Mr Shavindra, including breast implants giving her nice C cup breasts. The implants would be removed once her own breasts had grown.

David seemed a normal enough guy except that he, too, had lovely boobs of which he was very proud. He said he had always wanted them even though he wanted to remain a man. I asked whether he might find them embarrassing in male clothing but he was convinced very few people would notice. My later experience certainly proved him right on that point!

Geoff was another transsexual who had been born female. He was now a slightly built lad of around 30 with severely short hair and no sign of a beard. He still looked rather effeminate. He had been to the clinic before when he had had a double mastectomy. That was a year ago. He told me that Mr Shavindra had explained that he was unable to construct a satisfactory penis and he therefore decided always to wear a dildo and thought that the bulge of a permanent "erection" would give him a nicely macho look. Now he had come back for a full hysterectomy and the permanent implant of a catheter. By feeding the catheter thought the artificial penis, he would be able to stand to urinate like a man

Tom sat in a wheel chair wearing a T shirt which revealed modest breasts and a skirt which nicely covered the two stumps where his legs once were. He was in his mid-forties. He seemed very happy and told me an extraordinary story. He had always had a totally illogical wish to have both his legs amputated. Apparently this is a rare condition known as apotemnophilia in which the patient seeks sexual satisfaction from the amputation of parts of the body. He used to practise self-bondage but about ten years ago, the urge had become so intense that he felt he had to satisfy it. He owned an old 303 army rifle which he aimed at his right knee and pulled the trigger. Fortunately, he had made sure that he was close to a telephone and was able to call an ambulance before he passed out. The bullet had blown his knee apart and gone down his leg into his ankle. At the hospital, the surgeon quickly decided that there was no possibility of saving the leg which was amputated just above the knee. The incident was regarded as having been an unfortunate accident. Unfortunately, after several years, the urge for further amputation returned. Two years ago, after research on the internet, he contacted Mr Shavindra, having decided that if he was castrated his sexual urge would go away but, in his condition, he wanted a full penectomy and came to the clinic for the same operation that I had just had. He had recovered from it quickly but was disappointed that once again the urge for amputation soon returned as strong as ever. He stopped taking his testosterone tablets and when this didn't work and resulted in breast development and he finally persuaded Mr Shavindra to amputate his left leg just above the knee to match the right.

The clinic had about six beds, all in single rooms, so there were patients coming and going every few days. I got to know all of them well and we all exchanged email addresses with a promise to keep in touch and report progress. It had become a sort of club.

So what about me? I was able to go home two weeks after my operation and soon adjusted to my new status as a eunuch. I quickly decided that I would abandon the testosterone pills and I did not want to fill myself with female hormones. I would just let nature take its course

Now, six months later, my breasts have developed slightly and are very sensitive. I've put on weight around my hips and my skin is noticeably smoother, although I still need to shave about once a week. I am neither male nor female - just somewhere in the middle and can and do pass for either when appropriately dressed and with a little makeup. I love the freedom to choose what to wear.

My sensitive nipples enable me to get near to "cumming", but of course that is no longer possible. However, it is a very pleasant feeling.

I keep in touch with Mr Shavindra and my friends from the clinic who all report that they have been delighted with his work - as am I!

What am I? A eunuch and absolutely no regrets!

Fiction (and a little wishful thinking?) by Johnny Cumlately.

May 2009

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