Mounded 3

Must admit. Mark's surgical skills are pretty awesome.

No postop complications. No pain- only some soreness. The catheter came out after 4 days.

I was still pretty upset. Mark kept me mildly doped up. This was more for his convenience, I guess.

He'd check in on me several times a day.

Not that I said much to him.

At night, he'd slip into bed beside me. He'd cuddle me close to him.

The first night I tried to shove him away. Failing that, I tried to role over away from him. No go. Too weak and too doped. His muscled arms pushed me flat on the bed, then pulled me up tight against his body.

His moustache would brush my face. His bristly night beard would scratch and tickle my denuded face. That hurt. His bristles reminded me of the beard that I'd never be able to grow again.

Locked in his furry arms; my naked torso against his furry pelt. I felt so small, so helpless, so naked. Inspite of my anger, it felt really nice to have a man hold me in such a protective way.

Even the man who'd chopped up my groin and made me into a capon.

The second night, I simply burst into tears and sobbed myself to sleep.

I dreamed of masturbating. The dream was so real that I actually felt my dick in my hand. I'd be pulling and enjoying it. The sensation of my dick against my hand. My mind even supplied the throbbing and pulsing for me. I gushed a river- then woke up.

...my hand was laying against the padded briefs. I pressed against my crotch. The padding gave, and gave, and sank under my hand. I felt the pad pucker and wrap tightly against what he'd done to me.

He'd really done it. My cock & balls were gone. It wasn't a dream.

Mark didn't wake up, but he did pull me more tightly to his body. His hand reached up to wrap the back of my head. He really was asleep. He cuddled and rocked me gently.

Every night went like this for about a week.

The bedrest was welcome. Robert took care of my household chores while I was laid up. That bit of help began the slow road to forgiving him his betrayal.

The heavy bandages came off with the catheter. They were replaced by a maxi-pad and a tight pair of briefs. The pad filled out the briefs. When I looked down, nothing seemed any different. I couldn't bring myself to look at it.

Since I refused to look at it or even touch it, Mark would undo my bandages every night. He gently cleaned the area, putting on a new pad.

As the soreness subsided new sensations took over.

Mark started bringing in a small basin of warm, soapy water.

He'd pull me out of bed, transfering me to a padded chair. He'd finish cleaning me up, then linger w/ a new towel. Light strokes against my resulpted groin. It tickled.

The bastard actually got me to laugh a bit.

Sensation was returning. The warm terry cloth was the first thing I felt as my Mound began to wake up. I resisted the pleasure. My new pussy was quite sensitive, but not bad.

Mark was retuning my crotch to accept and enjoy a whole new range of pleasures. I was able clean myself. He wouldn't allow it. This was his fun. It was obvious that he was enjoying this intimate view of his handiwork. He was definitely getting a thrill over my discomfort.

Even when I started getting up & around, Mark would march me into the bathroom at a set time of the day. No arguments.

He'd set me on the toilet. His rough hands would firmly spread my legs. I would be required to sit straight, at attention- legs spread wide to let him sit comfortably.

He would gently soap my pussy, applying just the right amount of pressure and friction. Mark's practiced hands would spread the foam until it reached every crevice. He'd gently tickle my new lips, making sure that I became aware of every contour of my new crotch.

Mark would often cup his hand underneath. He'd slide a finger into my ass, tickling me there. His hands were so long that he could rest the ball of his hand against the opening to my lips. Then, he would gently push against it as he thoroughly cleaned my pubic area.

My pubic hair had started to grow and itch. He would cup my pussy in his hand as he gently rubbed the warm lather into the bristles.

As I healed, he seemed to get a thrill out of cupping my crotch and giggling it. I really felt the loss of my dick and balls. No obstacles to his hand. One finger in my ass, and nothing but his rough hands held closely against my bottom- all the way to my pubic patch.

The steady healing began to loosen my lips. The swelling subsided. My pussy lips began to move against the pressure of his hand.

His cleansing sessions took longer than necessary. He'd just sit there, stroking and massaging me gently. He'd often break into a growling baritone hum as he went about his work. Some goofy little song, something that told me that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

He made me feel like a new toy. No longer a man. Not a woman. He'd cut me and reshaped me into some- thing- that pleased him immensely.

Feeling his callused hands tickling my softened thighs was a rush. All privacy barriers melted. His violations left no doubt that he would enter any part of me at any time. There were no locked doors. I would always be available to him.

That sense of his power over me was awesome and comforting at the same time. He'd taken my dick and balls away from me, but had taken wonderful care of me as well. I felt very safe and happy with that.

He was obviously pleased with my current, neutered state. That felt nice.

I'd begun to enjoy our sessions.

We began to chat about the day's events while he played with his toy. This was our quiet time together.

He'd often catch my eye, giving me that cowboy twinkle and smirk that had landed me to begin with. I was still a little mad at him, but he knew that I was melting fast. That sonovavitch...he had me, and he knew it...

In two weeks, the cleaning actually triggered my first Internal Hardon.

The head of my dick really began to react to its new hood of lips. I felt a spasm- like when a guy flicks his tongue on the tip of your dick. Then I started to get hard.

My dick was so effectively imprisoned that the lips gently squeezed it w/o any touching. I could feel my dick fighting to escape its imprisoning folds. It tried to jut outward into a man's hardon. I could feel it quiver inside me, pushing against the walls of my pelvis. No go.

Its burst for freedom was hopeless. Mark had anchored the Little Fella too perfectly into place. The abdominal walls had closed tightly. The head of my dick was only able to rise a fraction of an inch within its hood. It was locked firmly inside of my body. Out of the way. Out of reach.

It felt pretty nice, like that morning hardon, just as you wake up. I relaxed inspite of myself. My Little Bud was starting to sing, and my whole pelvic area was humming along with it. Inspite of myself, my body would start to move.

The tightness inside was like nothing I'd ever felt before.

Of course, right then he'd be done with me. First a warm water splash from a pitcher to rinse, then he hit my crotch with a steady stream of very cold water. wow!

My Little Bud would jolt back into its hood- all tiny and frustrated. My pussy lips would contract, puckering back into chaste order.

As he patted me dry, he dropped down to put my pussy at eye level.

"Not yet, Little Guy...hehe..you have some rest & some more healing to

do first." he'd drawl to my frustrated penis. And chuckle.

Then he'd pad me, put me into my briefs, and stand me up. Theses sessions always left me weak kneed.

He always fit my pad so that it pressed tightly. Looking down, I could see the unbroken curve as my briefs puckered between my legs. Even then, I hadn't yet been able to look at my naked pubes.

Mark would always wrap an arm around me. He'd nibble my ears, then toddle me off to be with a growling:

"C'mon, Softie. Let's hit the hay."

After that first experience with a hardon, I'd find myself trying to nuggle my crotch against some part of his body. It was almost involuntary. I needed to get my pussy that close to him.

I tried to be cool about it. No go.

Mark would just chuckle, roll me over, and pull me close. His bulge would hit me in the ass. It took every ounce of control not to beg him to fuck me right then.

"Slow down, cowboy. You're gonna be like this for a very, very

long time. Give it a chance to rest."

And then he'd sometimes add:

"God knows, you're not gonna get much rest, once you heal."

We'd drift off to sleep. Having him drape his hand on my empty crotch was feeling pretty nice by then. We were starting to feel more like a real husband & wife than like two men.

A couple of years like this ?

Well...okay....I think that I can handle it....just a couple of years...