Warning! Don't drink and... write a story for the archive!
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OK, if you insist I will tell you the story of what I went through the past year... It all started when Richard, a very good friend of mine, visited me one evening for a few drinks. We were surfing around on the internet and stumbled into the Eunuch Archive. Already a bit drunk we amused ourselves with all the castration stories, esp. the ones about full nullifications. After a few more drinks we decided we should write our own story and submit it. We were thinking of something about a guy cutting his friends penis and balls off with garden shears, and then the other guy would take revenge. After finishing one bottle and opening a new one we decided that this alone was a bit dull, so we had to spice things up a little. Richard had a nice plan: we would add a photo of me with the garden shears over his penis, about to cut it off. So we went to my shed and set up my new digital camera. Everything was ready, he sat on the chair, spread his legs and I put the shears over his penis and balls. I still don't know if I stumbled over something or just lost my balance from being quite drunk, or if I got so much carried away that I forgot we were only faking for the picture. Anyway, a moment later the handles were shut, Richards penis was on the ground and we were both laughing out loud that we had really done it. Then he started bleeding profusely, and he hurted like hell, so this sobered us up very fast. As the hospital was not very near I realised I had to stop the bleeding before bringing him there. So I took my soldering iron to cauterise the bleeding vessels and bandaged the rest. OK, maybe we were not completely sober yet, because in the hospital we found out that it had been a bad plan: I had done so much damage they could not reattach it anymore. Oh yes, I had forgotten to take the picture... No need to say our friendship cooled down. The first time I visited Richard after this he was still in the hospital and he showed me what I had done: he was left with a smooth crotch, no penis, no balls, just a vertical scarline with a small bump and a peehole where once his proud mantool was. He was very sad and depressed, and I tried to tell him I was sorry for what had happened. He told me he didn't want to see me anymore. After a few months I ran into him at the supermarket and we talked again for the first time since then. He told me he had had a hard time adjusting, but had more or less accepted it now. He decided not to take hormones, because he would get horny of them without having a way to relieve himself. The hardest was having to sit to pee. Only now he realised how filthy public toilets are, and he experienced not being able to stand to pee as a severe handicap. For the rest he had learned to accept it. What else could he do? Now that we had all this behind us we made a new start at being friends again and paid each other regular visits like we did before. And then, when I visited him one time he mentioned the evening when it all happened (I had never dared to bring up the subject again). He started talking about the story we had wanted to write and the picture we had tried to take. He thought it was a shame we never finished what we started, so now he lost his dick for nothing. To make it a bit worthwhile the least we should do was finish the story. I went home to get my camera and of course this time I had to sit in the chair and he had the garden shears, because I was the only one left with a penis, which was by now fully erect of the exitement: both of us had undressed and it was the first time I saw him naked in his current, smooth and healed condition. It just was such a sexy sight, this good-looking guy with his great muscular body and nothing between his legs! He asked me if I was ready to take the picture and I said yes. So I spread my legs and let him put his pruning shears in my crotch. To be honest, I knew what was going to happen, but I did not do anything to prevent it. I thought he deserved it to do this to me this time and besides this, seeing him like this was so sexy that I was suddenly overwhelmed by thoughts of wanting to be like him. Without saying anything he closed the handles and cut of my dick. At first I hardly felt any pain, it just felt like my penis and balls were in a tight clamp. I heard them falling on the floor, looked down and saw that they were really cut off. Then blood came pooring out of the wound and the pain started, like my whole crotch was on fire. The fact that we were not drunk this time must have made a difference too. Richard did some first aid to stop the bleeding and bandaged me. We put my dick in the fridge for later exploration and went to the hospital (a different one than the first time so they wouldn't get suspicious). There I was stiched and bandaged, and got a sleeping pill to get me through the night. The next morning I woke up with a feeling of having the greatest hardon I had ever had. When I put my hands under the blanket to do something about that it all came back to me: I just could feel some bandages and the tube of a catheter coming out of my new peehole. After a week the catheter and the bandages were removed and it was the first time I could get a good look of my empty crotch. Even though it was still a bit swollen and black and blue I could see the doctor in this hospital had done an even better job than they had done on Richard: he still had a small bump where the internal part of his once-penis was still there. I had been fully erect when he cut me so less of the internal part was left, and the doctor had removed that too. I was completely smooth and flat, so I expected things to be even better looking after healing. The first time peeing after the catheter had been removed was the weirdest feeling I have ever had: I could feel the urine flow through the internal part of the uretra, and then suddenly it left my body, without me feeling it flowing through my penis. I got used to it, but for a long time it made me smile everytime I peed as a memory of what I had let Richard do to me. One time I woke up in the middle of the night because I had to take a leak and walked in my PJ's to the toilet. Being groggy from sleep I just stood at the toiletbowl and grabbed in my pants for my penis. It even took some time to realise why I could not find it. Then I woke up and only just had time to lower my pants and sit down! Now that we were both eunuchs, Richard and I became inseparable. He had had his revenge, so now everything was cleared between us. We realised now it would be very hard for us to find a partner, and having been through this together was a strong bond. Both of us had been more-or-less gay in a pre-coming-out way. After this we became lovers, so in a way we still were gay, as both of us had the same sex: none. Last year's summer was the best in my life. We often went swimming in a quiet lake I knew where we could go skinny-dipping without being disturbed. We explored our own and each others bodies. Sex was now out of the question of course, but we loved cuddling up together and stroking our crotches by hand or just rub them together. But then autumn started and I received the annual letter from the ice rink that they would open again. I have always been a fanatic speed-skater (train three times a week) and had not thought about one aspect of it until just before the first training: the tight lycra suits! Everyone would be able to see that I was dickless, and I still was a bit too shy about it to expose me so clearly. Having not much time to do anything I just tried several options: a rolled-up sock, an athletic cup, even a sausage and a small banana. No luck: it just looked like someone having a smooth crotch with a rolled-up sock, an athletic cup, a sausage or a small banana in his undies. It was so hard to make something that looked like a convincing cock. Nothing worked! In jeans i would have gotten away with it, but not in such a tight lycra bodysuit. Then I decided to just 'go for it' and do nothing to hide my condition. Skating, doing my training and resting in between with my smooth crotch for everyone to see was so exiting it would have given me an instant hard-on (if I would still have something to get hard, that is). I could see several people looking from a distance trying to find out what they could (not) see, but nobody dared to ask. I was so proud of myself that I dared to go trough this, it was absolutely the most exciting skating-training I had ever done. The next week I took Richard with me. He is not such a good skater as I am, but I thought he had to experience this too. After a lot of talking he agreed to wear one of my suits and come with me. First he was very shy (many people are, even with a dick, the first time waring such a tight suit in public) and kept his hands in front of his crotch, so I started giving him some instructions and teached him a better skating technique. He had to concentrate so much on that, that he completely forgot about the rest and soon he skated with his hands on his back as he should, thus exposing his smoothness. It must have been some sight: these two well-built guys, with good bodies, great legs and nice butts, but completely flat in front! This time I saw many people staring at both our crotches, because now it was obvious that there was something about both of us, but again no-one dared to ask anything. When we got home, all sweaty and tired and still dressed in our all-covering lycra suits we started stroking each other and rubbed our now extra-smooth bodies and crotches together. After a long time of enjoying this suddenly a tingling feeling came over us and a small wet spot appeared at the where our peeholes were. We had both forgotten about this feeling completely and suddenly realised what it was: we had our first orgasm in a year and our first together! After this we had more, and lycra always played an important role in it so since then our collection has grown quite large: buying is almost as much fun as using it. We always like to shock he people in the shop by trying something on and get out of the fitting room together pretending to have a view in the mirror and watch the reactions of the shop attendants to our empty crotches. When they don't pay attention we turn to them and ask what they think of it. Always works! We never finished the story, though...