New Ball Game: Chapter 3
By: Balless

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[BI]

A few weeks after his castration and he is feeling his way into life as a eunuch




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It was almost four weeks since my castration and my body had already started to react accordingly. The slits made on either side of my scrotum, to excise my balls, had completely healed to thin blue lines. My scrotal sac had shrunk rapidly and was hardly noticeable. My penis, which was eight inches and thick, when erect, before my castration, was still shrinking. It was now about seven inches, much finer and, now, very small when flaccid. The slight ache, I often felt in my penis, seemed to indicate the process of atrophy, although I was giving it plenty of exercise and readily achieved and maintained an erection. I ejaculated normally.


Aided by the Yam ointment, my nipples had grown, but only slightly, as had my breasts. Having to
tighten my belt a notch could have indicated a more female waistline but it was too early to tell. I still shaved but I perceived my beard was lighter and that the hair on my chest had thinned.


I had given some of my accumulated belongings away as I intended to travel by bicycle and it was important to not overload. It was late November and the Southern Hemisphere summer was becoming hot and steamy down on the coastal plain. Every few days culminated in a tropical storm and the nights were hot, indicating the Monsoon, or wet season, would be early. It was still cool where I was going but by the time I arrived I would not need much warm clothing.


A charitable organization had set up a stall outside a nearby shopping complex and I took things my that my friends could not use and gave them to one of the old ladies – about my age – who was helping to run the stall. She was friendly and attractive and would have been beautiful when she was young. I am, generally,physically attracted to people about my own age and vice versa. Perhaps it is a case of initial affinity.


She said, “So you’re going fruit picking. We’ve got just what you want. Look at these shirts. Good shirts and they haven’t been worn. You’d really look good in these. Fifty cents, each, to you.”


They were a fine - weave and of high quality. They would have been expensive.


“I’ll take two, but they’re worth a lot more.”


“No. fifty’ll do. They were my husband’s before he passed away, two years ago.”


“I’m sorry to hear that.” I said.


“Well, he died of cancer.” She replied ruefully. “He was gone in six months. cancer’s an awful thing.”


“I know.” I said, without thinking.


“Don’t tell me you’ve got it.” She said, incredulously.



“I did have cancer – prostate cancer – and might still have it. I had an operation a few weeks ago.
I won’t know whether it’s done any good or not for a few months. I’m on all sorts of pills. Do you have to guess what the operation was?”


“You poor man! ” She gasped.


“Not really. It was two quick cuts and my balls are no longer with me.How long I remain a happy eunuch depends on the cancer. After that, I don’t know. I don’t want to think too far ahead, but I’m optimistic.”


“Well, my husband also had prostate cancer and they told him that if he did not have a bilateral “whatever”, which means castration in plain English, he would be dead within a year and he was.”


“It must have been a blow.”


“It was,and still is, but life goes on. I keep myself busy. What are you doing going fruit – picking, slaving in the hot sun, just after an operation. How are you coping?” She asked, with genuine concern.


“I’m like you, I like to keep busy, but I don’t bust my guts. I’m on an Army Pension – I was in Vietnam. I could get by on that.”


“But what about the effects on the operation; on you, as a man I mean, without having to worry about the cancer?” She said with some emphasis.


“Well, it’s all a matter of interpretation and attitude, if you are referring to my manhood. There are a few, shall we say, side effects, but as far as becoming impotent, no. I’ve tried it out a few times and it works fine.” I said, smiling.



She smiled back. “I suppose that makes your wife happy.”


“I’m not married. There was no second party. I did it all by myself.”


“Oh.” She said. “You must think me so naive.”


“No, only a fly on the wall really knows and they never tell.”


“Well you could talk to a few of our group. You know we raise money to help fight cancer?”


“Yes, but it’s too early for me to be able to talk openly and I’d like to know where I’m at, before I start anything like that.”


“Of course, but I’d like, . . like, to talk.”


“How about later, when you’ve finished here. We could have a few drinks at the Tavern.”


We arranged to meet later. I wore her husband’s shirt. Margaret had changed into different clothes and looked beautiful. Of medium height. Shapely figure, especially for her age. Well dressed and with jewelry and makeup, but not overdone. Tinted hair and perfumed to kill. I took it all in, as it flashed through my mind. Her message was clear. Our conversation ranged far and wide but I was not surprised when we found ourselves at my place.


Our intentions were mutual. I switched the main light out.She undressed me and I her. She felt my nipples and hardening cock and paid particular attention to the scrotal skin – it was flat and no longer a sac.


I felt her heavy breasts and swelling nipples. Tongue kissed her and felt down her firm, trim body to her vagina. I was pleasantly surprised to find we would not need the jell that I had kept handy. She was dripping juice and ready to go. So was I. My cock was so hard and ached for her pussy.



She lay down on the bed and parted her legs, urging me to enter. I rubbed my cock’s pulsating head along the lips of her vagina and slowly and gently eased it in.



Such was the ecstatic sensation, that I had to hesitate to prevent myself from ejaculating. Then, once I felt I was in control of myself, I slowly started to find a steady, mile – eating rhythm. One that would suit us both and she was obviously enjoying our union as much as I was.



She was not passive, but, probably like me, she was slowly feeling her way. We fucked and fucked for a long time. I sucked her nipples and swallowed her tongue. She rubbed my scrotal skin where once my balls used to churn and seemed to say, “so what”. When I sensed the time was right, I increased the tempo and put more pressure on her legs and buttocks. Gradually, she became gripped in a pre - orgasmic spasm and then fell over the cliff and into the arms of whoever made her.



I was a participant and a spectator. I did not ejaculate. It was not necessary and besides, I wanted to save it for later and make more hay while the sun was still shining. She assumed I had blown, but she had been lost in an abyss and only resurfaced for air.The juices were still dripping, as if an elephant had ejaculated.Perhaps,I would get the credit.



We lay and talked.


“Well, losing your balls certainly has not affected your performance.”



“You don’t know what I was like before, when my cock was twelve inches and my balls were the size of apples.”



She laughed. “You liar!”



“I know. Really, it depends on who I’m with and that affects my performance. You made it happen.
Losing my balls would have made me impotent if I had had a preconceived notion that it would.



“From now on, I will only take on horny eunuchs who can fuck me all night.” She said, with mock seriousness. “If only my husband had taken the option of castration, he might have still been alive today. He had the choice, before it was too late. For him and a lot of other men, his male ego and masculinity, was everything. He was a very sexy man but losing his balls might have saved his life”



“I would bet my balls that it would.” I said, as she stroked,manipulated and sucked my shriveled but sensitive scrotal sac.



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