A story of wanting it too much.
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I call this story fiction. Back on the farm my grandmother was not very popular with the neighbors. She ran the family, including my dad, with an iron fist. From the first day of grade school, the school bus ride to school was torment. The older neighbor kids were constantly tormenting me and the younger kids joined in. And I was the queer who needed his ears cut off. I remember in the fourth grade a sixth grader from my bus was tormenting me. Everything I saw went red and I lit into him with a furry I never knew I had. The teachers came over and broke it up. Back then the teachers knew want was going on, so he, his bloody nose and black eye was hauled to the principals office. I saw the school nurse. At least that stopped the physical torment, but the verbal abuse continued. In these days of PC we both would have been expelled because violence is bad but being a bully is OK. Todays politically correct lesson would have been that I was a victim, a piece of crap, that defending yourself is the most vile thing on the face of the earth. When I was 14, my grandmother sold the farm and my parents were forced to move into the big city. At 20,000 it wasnt, but to us it looked huge. My parents purchased 5 acres just out side town. My folks planed to raise a few cattle and my dad would work in town. I remember my mother saying Dean this move will be a new start for you. By the time I was 14 I was very much a loaner. And then I met John. He lived in the house at the bottom of our field. I never knew it could be like this. Someone I could talk to about anything. I could tell him I was attracted to boys and if he wasnt it didnt matter. He could tell me he wanted his penis and testicles gone and that was OK even though I wanted to keep mine. Neither of us were much interested in girls. We converted one of our storage buildings into an exclusive clubhouse. We spent many hours there just talking but never anything physical. Johns parents were members of a conservative church. And his image of who he was, alienated him from his family. The truth was that we only had each other. I knew that John was tormented so it shouldnt have been a shock when I found him in the clubhouse one-day sawing on his balls with a butcher knife. Fortunately I was able to get the knife from him before he was able to do any real damage. He broke down and cried like a baby. And I realized how important my only friend was to me. We were pretty stupid really, neither of us considered the possible repercussions. A few weeks later I got the clamp from my fathers barn. I knew the technical details because I had done our calves. It was stupid I know, but that day I castrated my 16-year- old friend. It was stupid I know and we only escaped being found out by luck. Johns mother was quite sick at the time and the family changed doctors. When John had to go in for his physical he was able to convince the doc it was a birth defect. The doc knew about the conservative religious beliefs so it turned out he believed John when he said that his parents refused to accept the truth. The doc understood that it was a subject not to be discussed. Thinking back now I wonder if the doc knew the truth. Back then a lot of things were swept under the rug. After the castration John settled down and if anything we became stronger friends. We talked about a lot of things in our life. I knew that John wanted his cock gone and we talked about it often. And I was able to talk about my desire for boys. As time went on his desires became more and more erotic. The only time he got hard was when he imagined his cock was gone. John got better grades than I so when we graduated high school I thought he would go to college. That didnt happen. The day after graduation he moved out and got his own apartment. Thats one thing about his church, he would never be in want of a job. After graduation my folks drove me up state to look over our state college. It was a long trip but I decided I would go on to college. When we got back I learned that John was dead. I called his folks and got hung up on. The only thing I could find out was that he had been found dead in his kitchen. It was being hushed up. A few days later I received a letter. Hey Dean If I am dead when you read this please dont cry. I would have been dead that day if you hadnt taken the knife away from me. I never told you but on graduation day I told my parents I was castrated and wanted it all gone. My dad went into a rage and threw me through the bedroom wall. Thats why I moved out. I know you will understand. I have come to a decision. Even if its only for a few minutes for once in my life I want to be what I am. I am willing to die if I can be what I am for at least a few minutes. Thats why I didnt tell you, I knew you couldnt let me do it. Dean I love you. It's what I want. I will miss you. Please dont cry for me. John I got hauled down to the police station for endless interrogation by the investigating officers. They finally chalked it up to just one more piece of trash who committed suicide. I did get a chance to sneak a peak at the police photos while they werent looking. It shows John propped up against the corner of his kitchen. The blood is spurted several feet from his body so he must have been hard when he did it. The knife is beside him on the floor and his shriveled cock is lying on his chest. I know he was happy as he cut it off and watched his life spurt out into that huge puddle on the floor. At least logically thats what I know. Emotionally its another matter. I cried. I still blame myself. For John it may have been worth it. But you my young lad, find someone who will help you. I dont want your death on my conscience as well.