CHANGES

Chapter 3

As I looked down at my penis, I saw it was still erect, but instead of standing proudly from my crotch, it was laying over on its side, against one of my legs.  It was an odd sight, and seemed funny to the men.  They began to point and laugh at my pitiful-looking cock, and even Janey joined in.  I could only assume she was almost out of her head in reaction to what had been done to her.

The third man reached into the case once again, and this time he brought out a razor knife which was a duplicate of one I'd used in model building in my childhood.  As I realized what they intended to do to me, my terror knew no bounds, and I began to struggle to get off the bed.  One of the men simply placed his massive hand on my chest, and held me pinned down as easily as if I were a child.

What happened after that point is unclear in my memory.  Janey has told me over and over that what seem to be memories are entirely false.  When I recall her doing those things to me, she says it didn't happen that way at all.  I have to trust her, and can only believe her when she says that she was held down on the bed just as I, and it was the three men who actually did everything after that point.

I seemed to clearly hear her say, "I want to castrate him first.  Tell me how to do it."

One of the giants gave very clear instructions to guide her in opening my sac.  As she followed his directions, I remember raising my head and watching her actions.  She first inserted the point of the knife blade in my sac right below my cock, and in the center of the thing.  She then very slowly drew the blade downward, leaving a trail of fire behind.  One of the doctors who treated me told me that it was only because my genitals were numb from being tied off that I was able to remain conscious throughout the process.  However, that consciousness was no gift, and I have wished many times that I could simply have blacked out.

In my memory, Janey kept cutting along the center line of my sac, continuing until she had reached the base of my penis.  At that point she began to trace a line around the neck of the thing, until finally she had returned to where she started.

Even with all the pain that gave me, it was nothing compared to what came next.  Again she was given instructions, and after carefully inserting the point of the blade under the skin of my scrotum, she began to slowly peel it off with one hand while cutting away the connective tissue with the other.  She paused only to place the first flap of skin in a glass jar one of the men was holding, and then methodically repeated her actions to remove the second.

My horrified eyes looked at my crotch, seeing what were obviously my balls wrapped in a gray-white membrane.  After receiving more directions, Janey inserted the knife point in that membrane and repeated the cuts she'd made earlier.  Soon that piece had been peeled away and dropped in the jar.  My balls were then revealed in all their sickening splendor.

The things were bright red by then, but with overtones of purple and gray.  The cords were a horrible yellow-white in color.  Janey didn't seem as repelled as I, but stared in fascination at them.  Finally she raised her eyes to her instructor, and I heard him say, "Grab one of them and stretch it out.  Cut the cord as far up as you can."

As I watched in a hypnotized state, her hand slowly dropped to my ruined crotch and viciously closed around one of my precious eggs.  She squeezed until a loud pop was actually heard in the room, and even with the numbness there, the flash of pain that shot through my groin was horrible.

Through pain-glazed eyes, I saw her stretch the thing as far as she could, seeming to want to make it touch my toes.  Finally, when it would stretch no farther, she held the blade against the cord, as close as she could to my body.  With no sound whatsoever, she moved the blade across the cord, and I saw her hand jerk slightly as the tension was released.  She then held the severed teste up for everyone to see before dropping it in the jar.

The second ball was given the same treatment as the first.  Even though I knew what to expect, that didn't make it any easier to bear.  It was almost a relief when it joined its lifelong mate in the jar.

She then moved the blade to the shaft of my cock, centering it between the two cords she'd tied so tightly there only minutes before.  I heard her say, "I've got to do this right now, or I'll start cumming and won't be able to.  I've wanted to do this to him ever since I found out he was cheating on me.  If I'd known it would be this exciting, I'd have done it years ago.  I've got to hurry and get it off him before I cum so hard I'll pass out."

Almost as if in a dream I watched as she pressed the cutting edge against my tortured flesh.  She gripped my penis in one hand, and then very slowly and deliberately drew the knife toward herself.  Before it had moved even a fraction of an inch, the thing seemed to disappear in my flesh as the edge entered me.  I knew then that the pain I'd experienced only moments before was nothing.  There is no way to explain what I felt then, and my only way to deal with it was to lose consciousness.  So that's what I did.

My next memory is of someone slapping me very hard.  When my eyes opened, I saw it was my wife who was doing that, while saying forcefully, "Wake up, damn you!  I want you to see this, and to know exactly why I'm doing it to you!"

She then told one of the men to hold my head up so I could watch her, and when my eyes were again focused on my crotch, she once again drew the blade across the shaft of my penis.  Since the flesh there was so tightly stretched, it didn't take long for her to make the last stroke.  She raised my severed penis above her head in celebration, with an explosive, "Yes!"

Almost before I could register the fact that I was no longer a man, she lay back on her side of the bed.  As I watched through eyes glazed with pain, she lowered my still-erect penis to her crotch and shoved it in her pussy.  As I was passing out for the final time that night, I heard her say, as if from far away, "Mitch, shove it in me with your cock.  It's so damned tiny I can't feel it at all."  Then as the lights dimmed to black, I heard her moans of pleasure.

There is one other fleeting memory, but again it's probably not a true recollection.  As I lost consciousness, I was sure I heard Jen's voice saying, from somewhere far away, "Just take that stuff with you and feed it to your dog.  At least it'll finally be good for something."
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As I said, it's been almost a year since the above events took place.  I think I've finally begun to accept Janey's explanation for the horrible things I remember her doing to me.  I know deep in my heart that she couldn't possibly have done something like that, so have to believe it was entirely the doing of the three men.  The police were never able to find them, even though they combed our home for evidence for almost a week.  Janey and I couldn't be of much help, since we'd both experienced lots of mental trauma, and our memories were untrustworthy.  As evidence of that, just think of what I recall my wife doing to me.  She couldn't possibly have done that sort of thing.  I know that now.

As for the changes I wrote of earlier, let me list them now.

When I returned from the hospital, about three weeks after I'd been mutilated, the most obvious change was that Jen had moved in with us.  Janey explained that my secretary had been the source of lots of emotional support during my time in the hospital, and the two had become such good friends they couldn't bear to be apart.  Just how strong was that  friendship was demonstrated my first night home.

I made my slow and painful way to our bedroom, reluctant to return to the scene of the crime, as it were.  Janey and Jen were already there, both wearing bathrobes after spending the past hour in the hot tub.  When my wife saw me heading toward the bed, she said, "You won't be sleeping there anymore, sweetheart.  I think it'd be better for you to sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed.  The bed would probably be too crowded with all three of us in it."

I couldn't understand what she was saying for several moments, probably because of the powerful painkillers that were still coursing through my veins.  Janey helped me by coming to my side and taking my arm.  She guided me to the sleeping place she'd prepared for me, and helped me lie down on the floor.  After covering me and kissing me good night, she and Jen both removed their robes and stood looking down at me.  They then turned to one another and began hugging and kissing passionately.  Finally they walked slowly to the bed and got in it.

They turned off the bedside lamps then, and until I fell asleep many minutes later, I listened to the sounds of their lovemaking.  At no time did I have any desire to join them.  It was just something that was happening between my wife and my former lover.  With that thought, I slipped into a troubled sleep, dreaming over and over of my loving wife, time after time, castrating me and then cutting off my cock.  I think I've had that dream every night, and it never fails to awaken me in a cold sweat.

My whole outlook on life has changed radically.  For example, at work people are constantly telling me I'm a much nicer person now, and much easier to work for than previously.  Where I used to consider it a personal attack if a subordinate suggested a change to some software I'd once coded, now I actually think about the suggestions, and in some cases have approved them.

I no longer consider women to be just another "piece of ass," ripe for conquest.  I now enjoy engaging in meaningful conversations with them, and have learned that their opinions are just as valid as mine, and in some cases even moreso.

Most of all, though, my relationship with Janey and Jen has changed for the better.  They're no longer just walking cunts, but real people, with real hopes and desires.  I very much enjoy watching them making love, and learning the difference between love and lust.  I just wish it were possible for me to express my love for them in the ways a normal man would do.  That time is past, though, and there's nothing I can do about it.

They do allow me to express my affection with the only part of my body that any longer interests them: my mouth.  They enjoy bringing men home with them, and then inviting them to their bed.  If I have been good, and deserve a reward, they will sometimes allow me to watch how a real man takes care of a woman's needs.  If I've been extra good, my reward will be more tangible, and they will allow me to pleasure them as I perform my cleanup duties.

When all is said and done, I have to say that my life is more fulfilling now.  However, I would not voluntarily undergo such a night, if I still had my genitals.  The pain and humiliation were very great, and even though the outcome has been good, I'd be too much of a coward to ever let such a thing be done to me with my permission and cooperation.  I'm sure Janey feels the same way.
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Postscript:  Even though my husband thinks this manuscript was nothing more than a therapeutic device, and has been destroyed, Jen and I have decided to post it in several places on the Internet.  If you're a man reading this, let it serve as a warning to you.  Remain faithful to your wife, or you just may be sorry, like my husband.

      Janey