Dorm Donations

Not a blood drive...

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	"Man, I'm beat.  Any of you guys wanna grab some grub?" Mike 
asked.  I was pretty hungry after that soccer game, so I said I'd go 
with him.  Jake and Steve said they could do with some food 
themselves.  "Cool.  I need to hit the showers first, though."  The 
others echoed the same sentiment, so we decided to head back to our 
own dorms around the quad and then meet back in the lobby of mine as 
it was closest to the campus food place.
	I headed in and right up the stairs, just glancing into the 
lobby.  There didn't seem to be many people hanging out, but in 
front of the stairs down to the basement (the rec room, where the 
pool table and TV were) there was some tent set up and a bunch of 
people with clipboards and pens - I figured it was another blood 
drive or something; they always did them in my dorm because we have 
the biggest lobby.
	Anyway, I headed up to my room, stripped off my sweaty 
clothing, and hit the showers.  Once in I passed a few guys coming 
out of them looking sorta stoned, and knew I'd be pissed if the 
shower stank.  They must have had the water on or something because 
I couldn't smell anything.  I raced through my routine of rinse, 
soap, shampoo, dry and headed back to my room to get dressed.  Once 
attired in my usual uniform of slightly-too-tight t-shirt (shows off 
my pecs and biceps.  Gotta love it), shorts long enough to cover my 
quadriceps but make sure you notice my calves (which only makes you 
want to see what's above the knees too), no socks and my soccer 
shoes, I headed out of the room.  On the way I passed my roommate, 
who looked beat - he didn't even say anything, just shut the door 
behind him.  I headed back down the steps to see if any of the other 
guys had shown up yet.
	As I turned the corner into the lobby, I saw Jake take a 
clipboard from one of the blood drive people and head downstairs.  
"Shit," I muttered.  "Dammit, Jake, I'm hungry..."  I headed over 
the basement steps but was intercepted by one of the workers.
	"Hi!" he greeted me, smiling like a madman.  "Would you like 
to donate today?"  He looked me right in the eye with his big 
smiling puss and grabbed my hand to shake it.  His was really 
sweaty.  What a freak, I thought.
	"Uhh, no thanks...a friend of mine just went down there; I 
needed to talk to him.  I'll be right back, man."  I started to turn 
toward the door...
	..."Oh, but you should really consider it.  Being cut today 
provides all number of advantages, why..."
	This time I cut him off.  "Cut?  What?"
	"Oh, cut.  Castrated.  There are so many reasons today why 
any young man would want to..." I really just sort of ignored him 
while hoping he would stop talking long enough for me to just brush 
him off and escape to freedom down the basement steps.  I briefly 
wondered if this guy had talked Jake into doing this, then tossed 
the idea out as ludicrous.  Why would anybody want to get their 
balls removed - I had heard some guys had done it but had no clue 
why.  As he talked I felt myself retreating mentally, just ignoring 
him more and more.  I felt my mouth moving saying something in 
response to whatever it was he was telling me about, and when I came 
back to paying some sort of attention to what was going on, I was 
filling out a clipboard with my medical history.
	It never even occurred to me to wonder why I was doing this 
or what I was getting into.  My mind had just gone totally blank; I 
was  zombie.  I finished the form, checking off various options, and 
headed downstairs, noting casually that Mike was being talked at by 
the guy.  I headed downstairs.
	I remember thinking that it was a good idea for a guy, 
especially one in college, to get castrated nowadays.  There are so 
many benefits, I thought.  Why wouldn't any guy want to get rid of 
his balls and cock?  Suddenly it was clear to me why those other 
guys had had themselves castrated.  Why didn't everybody do this?
	I made it down the stairs, still a little blank, and sat 
down next to Jake.  We both stared straight ahead, along with the 
other few men on the bench.  A few moments later, Mike sat down next 
to me, and a few guys after him, Steve came down, as glassy eyed as 
the rest of us.  In the middle of the room were a number of portable 
stretcher-like tables, with naked guys laying on them.  Their legs 
were elevated and spread, and their groins had been shaven bare and 
their cocks sported massive erections.  Most of them were from my 
dorm, but a lot I recognized from around campus.
	There were a number of men puttering about the room.  They 
would shave a guy, put on the disinfectant, insert a catheter, slice 
off his dick and usually balls and nipples too, stitch him, bandage 
him, then let him down from the table.  The guy would wash up, put 
on new gloves, and check the clipboard of the first guy in line.  
"Please remove your clothing and become erect, then lay down on the 
empty table..."  The guy would stand up, get naked, and usually by 
the time he had his pants off he was already as hard as he could be. 
 The rest of the line would shuffle down, and the process would 
start all over again.  I knew that I would leave without my balls, 
cock, and nipples - I had checked all the boxes but 'prostate.'
	I don't really remember how long it took.  The flow of men 
was pretty steady, but my mind was blank the whole time. I just 
shuffled down the line, and when I got to the end of it, one of the 
men took my clipboard and looked it over.  "Please remove your 
clothing and become erect, then lay down on the empty table."  As he 
finished speaking, I stood up, pulled off my clothing, and my dick 
got as hard as it ever had.  There was no thought in my head, I just 
did what he asked.  
	I lay down on the table and surrendered to him as he placed 
my feet in the supports, spreading my legs and raising them up.  I 
stared at the ceiling and could feel his hands fondling my hard cock 
into a good position for shaving, then the cold scrape of the razor 
as it ran down my flesh, severing the first vestige of my manhood 
from my body.  When he finished that, I could feel the cold swab of 
the cotton applying the acrid smelling orange disinfectant to my 
body, and then the warm piercing of the catheter going down my 
shaft, and finally the sting as the guide wire was pulled out.
	I could feel the scalpel thrust into my scrotum and around, 
severing it from my granite erection, and the release of the weight 
as my testicles came away from my body.  The pain was real, but 
without reaction - it was as if I were feeling the pain in someone 
else's body.  Next I could feel the scalpel enter my penis, as close 
to the skin as could be, cutting down to the urethra, then around, 
and then the tugs on the catheter as my hard cock was pulled away.  
I was no longer a man.  I felt him run the catheter down inside my 
body, through to a new hole between my legs that I didn't really 
remember being there before, and out again.
	I felt the tugging at the skin around my groin as the man 
stitched up my groin, in what felt like a V-shape, and then again 
around the new hole, attaching my urethra to the skin.  I felt the 
quick pain of the scissors as my nipples and aureolae were clipped 
away from my chest and sewn shut.  I felt the coolness of the water 
as he sopped all the blood up from my skin, the prick of a needle 
and the spreading numbness through my groin, the coolness of more 
antiseptic, and finally the tightness as he taped on a bandage to my 
groin and two smaller ones to my chest.  "Stand up and dress, 
please," said the guy.  I put my clothing back on, observing them 
shrinkwrapping my still-hard cock in plastic packaging and placing 
it in a freezer, then depositing my balls into a red biohazard bag. 
 When I was dressed, the guy pointed me back to my clipboard.  "Give 
this to the man upstairs, and get some rest this weekend."
	I climbed the stairs, passing some other glassy-eyed men on 
the way down.  We never made eye contact, we just avoided each 
other.  I handed my clipboard to the guy at the top and headed for 
my room, no longer really hungry.  I needed sleep.  Once upstairs I 
went into my room.  My roommate lay on the bottom bunk nude, his 
castrated penis wrapped in bandages.  I removed my clothing, 
clambered up to my bunk, and fell asleep on top of the covers.

	When I woke up it was Sunday and I was starving and sweaty. 
 I was myself again.  The bandages were still securely attached but 
there was a little blood on my sheets.  I needed a shower.
	I hopped out of bed and winced from the soreness, both in my 
groin and chest.  Walking more slowly, I wrapped a towel about my 
waist and headed to the bathroom.  Jason, my roommate, was still in 
bed, but had rolled over to his stomach.  His ass hung out in the 
air and was sorely inviting, painfully reminding me that I was now 
unable to take it.  I tried to remember what some of those great 
reasons for having this done were but couldn't really remember them.
	In the showers I stood in front of the mirror and peeled the 
bandages on my chest off, slowly.  Underneath were two hairline rows 
of stitches, mostly healed already - it didn't look like they would 
leave much of a scar, if any.  I looked around and didn't see 
anybody, so let the towel drop and peeled off the groin pad.  
Underneath there looked a lot worse; the stitchline had scabbed up. 
 I couldn't really tell how badly it would scar, but the stitches 
were even and looked well done.
	I heard the door open so pulled the towel back around 
quickly.  In walked Jason.  We made eye contact.  "Hey," I greeted 
him, tossing my head upward slightly.  
	"Hey," he replied, and went straight into the shower.
	I needed to piss pretty bad, so decided to duck into a 
urinal before I headed to the shower.  Once inside, I let the towel 
drop again and suddenly realized that I had no idea how to piss.  I 
knew I had the new pisshole, so first tried sitting.  That worked 
okay, and I wondered if I could do it standing up.  I discovered 
that I could by standing with the hold directly over the toilet, my 
feet on either side.  That was satisfying, at least - I could almost 
still piss like a guy.
	In the shower, most of the scabbing washed away with no 
scrubbing, and underneath I could see the wound a lot better.  It 
still hurt a lot, but the skin had healed enough to stick together, 
and the cut looked thin and clean.  I used a lot of soap on both my 
groin and nipples, then dried off and headed back to the room.
	Inside it, Jason stood nude, looking at himself in the 
mirror.  I started to get horny, then felt really hot and sweaty all 
of a sudden - the first of about two weeks worth of hot flashes.  I 
let the door close and my towel drop, and Jason and I took a really 
good long look at each other.  His dick, now free of its previous 
cargo, slowly started to rise.
	We didn't need to say anything.  I just turned around.  
Jason grunted in pain a few times as my tight rectum rubbed against 
the stitches, but he seemed as desparate as me to get off.  I did 
before him; shuddering and leaking a bit of clear ooze from my 
pisshole.  Jason worked even harder afterward, thrusting in and out 
again, until eventually he managed what felt like a weak orgasm.

	I met up with the others that evening, and we compared in 
the bathrooms.  None of us had balls; only Mike had a cock, and only 
Steve and Mike kept their nipples.  Looking at these guys, hot as we 
all were even without most of our genitals, I couldn't manage to get 
myself interested in them.  Mike said he wished he had gotten his 
cock off, with all their good reasons and all he wasn't sure why he 
didn't.  We all nodded in agreement - lots of reasons.  He said he 
couldn't even get erect anymore if he tried, and we were all getting 
hot flashes.
	They were doing another drive on the other end of campus the 
next week and Mike went to get his cock removed there.  After 
another two or three weeks I was all healed and the hot flashes had 
stopped, along with any desire I had once had for sex.  I was calmer 
and could concentrate better, that was for sure, and looked forward 
to life without manhood.