My odyssey in life from frustrated teen male to married man/woman.
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A Sexual Odyssey Beginnings I was born of questionable parentage. Not my mother of course. She was the daughter of an extremely rich businessman/politician. It was my father with the unsavory background. In fact, he raped my mother when she was 15. With my grandfather's influence, my father was send to prison for a term of life without parole. He only served about 9 months until, the day after my birth, he was found dead in his cell. Suicide was the formal verdict. You can believe that if you want. By the day of my birth, my mother had already been in therapy for 9 months. She had developed almost an obsession over me even before I was born, and as a result, any plans her father may have had for my being aborted, or adopted out were cast aside. Instead, I was welcomed into the family, as dysfunctional as it turned out to be. During my early years, my mother doted on me in all things save one. The one thing that she would not forgive me was that I had a penis. The rape had so traumatized her that she came to believe and prostilize that the penis was the root of all evil; that is was filled with the devil's poison. She obsessed about mine in particular for I was the offspring of an evil man. She never mentioned my testicles, as it was my father's penis that had actually penetrated her. Until I reached puberty, I was subjected to so much hatred and vile contempt for the penis that I came to totally accept her teachings, without question. And so it was that I came to despise my own male organ. I never bathed in the nude. Instead I always wore underpants. I would wash the groin area with a cloth, but I refused to touch my penis directly, or even view it. This at an age when most boys were constantly fondling themselves. I hated the fact that I would awaken in the morning with an erection, for my mother had taught me that during the night the devil had sneaked into my bed and filled it with his bile. When I entered puberty, things took a decided turn to the worse. Suddenly my dick was getting bigger, as were my balls. When I washed I could feel the hair beginning to grow around the base. When I told my mother, she said that my penis had been infected, no possessed, as are all young men's, with Satan's evil seed. I would come home after school and tell her the things the teacher had told us about male sexuality, and how the growth, and hair were simply a part of my maturation into an adult. She would of course deny that as a total fiction, a lie perpetrated by Satan and his minions. It was at that time I was enrolled in 8th grade Science in school. We were studying about infections, and how an infection, left untreated, would result in gangrene, with the ultimate result being the amputation and removal of the infected area. Using my own perverted sense of reverse logic, I came to the conclusion that if I were to have my obviously infected and possessed organ removed, I could live a pure and wholesome life. My mother was pleased when I advanced this theory. In fact, she readily agreed with my conclusions. And so, the summer before I entered high school, my Mother and I, accompanied by a large amount of cash backing a credit line, journeyed to Sweden. Her money and her father's influence were sufficient to convince a surgeon with questionable morals to agree to perform the amputation surgery of my penis. Of course, the blackmail pictures of the surgeon performing anal and oral sex with teen boys also helped. The Operation The clinic was near Stockholm, on a private wooded campus. Normally it was used for a variety of surgeries, including abortions and transgender. I and my mother were assigned to a small cottage near the operating theater. We had arrived on Sunday and the amputation was scheduled for early the next morning. Mother went to the administration office and I was told to stay in the cottage and relax. There was a computer in the small living room and so I decided to check the Internet. Unfortunately, I didn't have the requisite password for the ISP, so I wasn't able to connect. I noticed a library of CD's about the various medical procedures performed at the clinic. I found an index CD and spun it up on the D: drive. Using the mouse I tried to get to the "P's", to see if there was information on penectomy. I overshot and ended up in the "R's". In fact, the cursor landed on the title for an article about rape. It was something like "Rape, sexual perversity or misuse of power"? My interest was aroused, so I put the appropriate CD into the drive. As I read the article, I began to become slightly confused as well as agitated. The final conclusion was that rape wasn't about sex at all or the devil either since he wasn't mentioned at all, but about the wrongful application of physical and spiritual power by the perpetrator. The article seemed to ignore totally the concept that my mother had been expousing for years. My anger started to rise. How could the author write such an obviously flawed and incomplete thesis. Just then my mother came into the cottage. Rather than try to explain the article and get her started on a rant, I turned off the computer and forgot about what I had read, or so I thought. I was not allowed to eat or drink after 6 p.m. on Sunday. About 9 p.m. a nurse came to the cottage and inserted an IV into my arm. They would feed me through a tube for the foreseeable future. At 10, I was in bed. The nurse injected something to help me sleep into the IV. It didn't work too well. I had strange dreams all night. Mostly I was thinking about what I had read (or hadn't read) in the rape article. As morning arrived, I was close to formulating a critical thought, but I just couldn't quite grab on to it with my mind. I was walked to the operating room, my IV stand moving with me. In the room I was told to remove my gown and an orderly proceeded to shave off all of my pubic hair. I was then strapped to the operating table. The operation was only a few minutes away, and still my mind kept going back to the rape paper. The nurse injected the anesthesia into my IV, at the same time another nurse pushed a steel catheter tube into my penis. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, my thoughts came together. What if my mother had been wrong all this time? What if I didn't need to have my penis amputated because there was no evil in it? I tried to shout "STOP!!", but I faded into oblivion as my lips tried to form the words. I couldn't open my eyes, but I could hear voices around me. Whenever I tried to open an eye, the brightness forced it closed again. I must have stirred because I heard my mother tell me to relax. Then my thoughts returned, and I finally managed to say "Don't cut it off". My mother patted my arm and told me softly that everything was all right. She told me I was in the recovery room, that the operation was over, and that my evil penis had been removed. "No", I moaned. I remained at the clinic for several months. Both to recover from the surgery, and to undergo counseling. The surgery healed quickly. Within a few weeks the special diaper and catheter had been removed and I was allowed to attend to my bowel movements by myself. Since my urethra had been relocated, I no longer stood to pee. Instead, I sat on the toilet to do all. I soon discovered that I had to lift my balls out of the way, especially in the morning, to avoid having the stream of pee wash down the back side of my scrotum. During the counseling, I finally realized that my mother had been wrong. I didn't hate her though. The physciatrist had put forth great effort to make me understand that she had a deep rooted physcosis that she couldn't control. Eventually, after several months of daily sessions, I accepted my fate and decided to move on with my life. Based on the recommendation of the doctors, I was enrolled at a special boarding school in Austria, where I spend the remainder of my school years. Boarding School The school was founded in the 1960's by an influential and very wealthy banker in Switzerland. His only son had suffered the removal of his testicles after being diagnosed with testicular cancer at the age of 14. After the boy had attended a number of public, then private schools, the father founded the school in an attempt to eliminate the ridicule and harassment his son had been enduring. A number of other teen-aged boys who were sexually non-functional had been invited to enroll as well. Enrollment was limited to teen or soon to be teen males. A trust fund was established to provide for the continued operation of the school without the need for tuition, although generous donations were proffered and gratefully accepted. The faculty and staff were comprised of men who had lost all or part of their external genitalia. Academically, the school was consistently at the top of all private institutions. Graduating students were always accepted by the elite of universities. Usually a fully paid scholarship went with the student. The school had also developed a reputation for always having one of the best soccer teams, and one of the best cycling teams in Europe. I arrived in late August and was assigned a room with two other new students. All of the remaining students were on the annual school sponsored cruise in the Mediterranean and would not return for 2 more weeks. Geoffrey, a 13 year old boy from London; and Pierre, a 14 year old boy from Paris were to become my closest friends. Geoffrey, on the fringe of puberty, had lost his balls at an early age in a freak accident. Pierre was a total nullo (no dick and no balls), having lost all, the result of a sexual assault. He had been a boy of the street, a male prostitute, whose customer had taken exception to his price. Geoff came from a wealthy English family. The first day, I decided to shower before dressing for dinner (we were required to wear a blazer and slacks or shorts to dinner). The train journey had been long and smoky (since I opted to sit in the smoking section to enjoy my cigarettes, a habit I had acquired during counseling). The shower was a short distance from our suite, so I decided to undress in the room and take just a towel. Because I had been exposed to nurses and doctors changing my bandages, and later, my diaper, I was no longer embarrassed to be naked, and actually preferred to wear no clothing when possible. So I had removed my underpants while both boys watched. Neither commented on my missing penis or on my suddenly developing scrotum. My balls had grown to be the size of a 20-30 year old man since the operation. Both boys then decided to join me in the shower. Geoffrey had a light fringe of blond pubic hair, and his small uncircumcised penis hung limp between his skinny legs. Pierre, on the other hand, had a beautifully proportioned body with dark brown hair on his legs and stomach. There were already strands of hair growing around his nipples. He did not shave as yet but had dark facial hair that gave the appearance of a shadow beard. Between his legs was a thick triangle of black curly pubic hair, the bottom point of which disappeared between his legs. There was an area devoid of hair where his penis and scrotum had once hung. The first night, each of us retired to our own bed. It was only a few minutes though before Geoffrey was sobbing. I went to him and told him to sleep with me. From that night on, Geoffrey would either sleep in my bed or with Pierre. Quite often, the three of us would sleep together in a single bed. We became enamored of each other and came to crave and need the close proximity of another body. It was a bit strange. I was the only one of the three that had any persistent sexual desire, due to my overactive balls. I frequently had nocturnal emissions, often accompanied by phantom erections. Since my urethra tubes had been rerouted, the seminal fluid would drain out into my butt crack and make a real mess. I never complained aloud though, since neither of the other boys could even generate fluid. From the very first, we would explore each other's bodies. I would softly rub Geoff's penis, trying to give him an erection. I would slide my finger into his rectum. That seemed to have the most effect. In later years, after he was given testosterone on a regular basis, I actually brought him to an orgasm using my fingers. Quite often I would take his limp, boyish penis in my mouth, trying to give him pleasure. It was not until years later that he was able to even partially respond. Still, he like the feeling of my tongue probing his pee hole so he encouraged me to continue. Pierre and I also developed a romance, of sorts. He liked to cuddle and kiss (Geoffy thought it was crude). Pierre craved being touched and hugged but was totally incapable of any sexual response. However, he would gently massage my huge stones and would cause me to have an orgasm. We were allowed to take occasionally the train into Vienna on weekends. On one such trip, Pierre found a shop that sold sex aides. Geoffy had opted to stay at the school to finish a report so Pierre and I fondled much of the merchandise until he purchased a leather dildo strap and several dildoes of various diameters. The night of our return, Pierre put on the strap and attached the rubber cock we had selected for me. He then proceeded to initiate me with the pain (at first) and then the joy of anal sex. He worked magic and was stimulating my prostate to such a degree that I came to climax several times. Geoffrey watched in fascination and insisted he be next. Pierre attached a dildo that was short and thin and proceeded to invade Geoff's small orifice. Even though Pierre was insensitive, he asked me to do him as well, with predictable results. Pierre simply could not attain any sexual feelings, and was bored by the action. School life was wonderful. We studied hard, but we played hard as well. In winter, we would take ski holidays. A chateau would be rented and we would cross-county ski, snow-shoe, and slalom ski. At night we would lounge by the fire, some of us in long ski underwear, some of us naked. In spring and autumn we would hike in the Alps. In remote areas we would camp overnight, usually naked. Nudity was encouraged by the school, mostly so we would learn to be comfortable with our appearance. When outdoors on the school estate, naturism was totally acceptable. In the dining or breakfast rooms and within the walls of the estate, we were told to dress appropriately. Try as I might, I could not totally accept my social position at the school. Of the 20 plus students, I was the only boy with testicles. I was never treated as an outsider; far from it. Most of the boys enjoyed looking at and fondling my ever growing nuts. Still, I didn't feel that I quite fit in, and as I approached my 16th birthday, my hormones kicked up another level. My phantom erection was there almost constantly. I was constantly oozing cum into my undies, causing me no end of crack rashes. Pierre was the most relaxed, easy going person I had ever seen. Of course, with limited hormonal flow (produced by T treatments), and a lack of sexual response, it was not surprising. I became so enamored of his peace and restfulness, and his lack of sexual response and capability, that at age 16, I asked the head master to setup a surgery for me to be castrated. I finally decided that I could only be at peace with my demons if I were as sexually inert as Pierre. By that time, my mother was gone. About 12 months after my penectomy, she had suffered an aneurysm and died quickly thereafter. Her father had preceded her in death a few months earlier. She had inherited his wealth, and along with her own trust fund, was a billionaire when she died. All of the estate had been left to me, in trust until I was age 21. She had made my headmaster my guardian, and I needed only his permission to tap my wealth and have the surgery. Since he/she had recently finished his/her transgender surgery, it was an easy task. And so, at age 16, I became like my school-boy love Pierre, without quite as much body hair. Unlike my penectomy which was performed while I was unconscious, I was awake for my castration. The lady surgeon injected the area with local anesthetic which caused my entire groin area to become numb. She made a Y shaped incision (from my point of view), and opened the flap of skin at the bottom of my sac. She pulled my nuts outward, stretching the tubes that were attached to each. When she had pulled the tubes as far out as she could, she tied them off close to my body, and then cut them. After the removal was complete, she cut-off most of the sac. Only a front and back flap of skin, about 2 cm long remained. She sutured the flaps together with the result being a sort of second flat skin layer between my legs. There was no residual pouch when she finished. Pierre and I graduated together. He accepted enrollment at a famous school of art in Paris. I accepted enrollment at Stanford. One year later, Geoffrey would join me at Stanford. As an aside, when Geoff was 16, a year before Pierre and I graduated, he had undergone a penectomy to rid himself of his undersized dick. At graduation, all three of us were nullos. Cruising Every summer, all of the students were invited to a summer long cruise. It was actually part of our education. The boys would alternately perform as waiters, stewards, and crew members. Those of us that had just graduated were the passengers, and it was our job to make life miserable for the serving classes. For me it was a life of luxury. Pierre did not take the cruise, opting to return early to Paris to setup for university. Geoffrey took delight in being as obstinate as possible. On the cruise too were several guests. Most were our benefactors who made substantial contributions to the school. There was also a young man onboard of about 25 years of age. He was medium height, quite fit, and beautiful. Unlike Pierre, who had suffered nerve damage at the hands of his attacker, I still had fully functioning feelings, and I could still affect an orgasm with the proper stimulus. I found myself drawn to this man. He was wearing only a thin sheer thong bikini which outlined the small package that lay below. At first glance I had thought that he too was modified, since the bulge in his thong was so slight. I had in the past been homosexually aroused, both by my roommates, as well as most of the other boys at school. But I had never experienced the feelings that were washing over me like the tide. He was reclining on the sun deck near the stern, wearing dark glasses and his bright yellow thong. I decided to sun myself as well and like a clumsy buffoon, tripped over the chair on which he was reclining. I managed to plod my way to another chair directly in front of him. I wasn't sure if I should remove my own bikini, and expose myself to his possible ridicule or not, but I had always believed in being up-front and honest with people so I stood facing him as I stripped. In the meantime, he had lowered his glasses and was giving me a devilish grin as he anticipated my show. It didn't take long for his smile to turn to a look of astonishment as I exposed my dick-less and ball-less groin. To his credit though, he didn't stare for long and soon we were chatting like long lost friends. As the shade overtook our sunning position, we repositioned our chairs to stay in the sun. He placed his directly next to mine. Before long, he reached over and took my hand in his. Later he told me that he had seen come onto the yacht, and thought I was a pretty young man. He explained that he was gay, and still a virgin. His name was Jamie and he had been in school most of his life and was near to completion of a Ph.D. in graphic computer arts. He told me he had been working for several of our school's benefactors, scanning late 19th and early 20th century erotic male drawings, etchings and sketches into a computer, enhancing them, and then storing them on CDs for the private enjoyment of his employers. He had worked nearly the entire winter in a chateau in Switzerland and his employers were so happy with his work they offered him a free cruise. As the afternoon waned, Geoffrey came to remind me that dinner would be served within the hour and I needed to dress. When he saw me holding hands with Jamie, he grinned and made some obscene gestures with his fist. Jamie and I walked below deck to our separate state rooms to change. We then went to the dining room where we sat at the Captain's table. Jamie was next to me and he kept taking my hand. Finally the dinner was over and it was announced that several of the boys on the crew would sing selected aurias from several 19th century Castrati operas. Jamie leaned to me and whispered that we should adjourn to his cabin. If I had still had a cock, I am sure it would have been stiff and proud. I went with him and as soon as I closed the door, the foreplay began. We slowly undressed each other, hugging and kissing at every opportunity. I was completely nude while Jamie still wore his white bikini briefs, so I knelt and started to pull the waistband down with my lips. After much effort, I finally used my hands to finish the job. Jamie's butt was solid muscle, apparently from his constant training in kick-boxing and other self-defense arts. As the undies went down, Jamie's small organ sprung to life. Jamie had a wonderful bush of light brown hair, with a light trail to his naval. Soft hair adorned his legs and thighs in abundance. Amidst the thick forest was his circumcised penis, which at full erection was about the same size (about 5 inches in length and thin) that mine was when I had it removed. His balls and sac were also small. He was not a short man, neither was he really tall, so his small genitalia seemed out of place. I had never performed oral sex on a fully intact male before. I had tried to orally induce an erection on Geoffrey in the past, but had been unsuccessful. Still, I took Jamie into my eager lips. He began to respond nicely and I could taste the saline tasting liquid that he was beginning to ooze. I spend a long time on my knees trying to bring him to orgasm. I wanted desperately for him to cum into my throat. I massaged his balls, ran my finger into his hole, everything I could think of to cause him to ejaculate. I finally gave up and stood before him. Jamie then led me by the hand to the bed. He told me to lay face down with my head sideways on the mattress. Then he had me bring my knees up under my body so my butt was up in the air. With the grace of a sleek cat, he climbed onto the bed. I felt the coldness as he applied lubricant to my butt hole. I quivered violently as he ran his finger deep inside of me to spread the oil. I felt the tip of his glans pushing against my closed anus. Remembering the times with the dildo, I relaxed and pushed outward, until Jamie slid gently into me. It felt different than what I had experienced before. Jamie's penis was hot, whereas the dildo always felt cold. Slowly Jamie began to thrust inward then outward. With each thrust he increased his tempo. Soon he was pushing deep and hard into me. I could feel his stones slapping my cheeks. Then the wonder occurred. I began to have an orgasm from his fucking. He had managed to stimulate my prostate to such an extent that I was oozing for the first time since being castrated. I felt the tingling of a phantom erection, and I could feel my phantom balls pulling up against my body. After an eternity, Jamie finally ejaculated. The gusher of hot liquid into my rectum further heightened my orgasm. Over time I have learned that Jamie is very slow to start, but once started, he can continue for a long, pleasurable time. College Jamie returned to Los Angeles where he was a graduate student at UCLA. I went to Stanford, several hundred miles to the north. On every weekend and holiday that we could take time, I drove to LA to stay with Jamie. Our love blossomed. For a year we kept up this stressful relationship, until Jamie graduated with his degree. He then moved to San Jose to live with me. We continued our partnership for another full year. During that time I had been doing research into transgender surgery. I finally got the nerve to talk to Jamie. I told him that I wanted us to be married and live as husband and male wife. I told him that as much as I liked the anal penetration, I felt it was time to alter my body one more time. And so, the summer between my sophomore and junior years, we went back to Sweden. With Jamie beside me during the operation, I had the remnants of my penile and testicular skin, which had fortunately somehow been retained in my body, reworked into a functional vagina. The doctor even managed to form a clitoris using the penile skin. It took several months for me to recover. A week before the start of school, Jamie and I were legally married (since I am now legally a woman). I have never changed my sexuality. I still consider myself male. I continue to take testosterone treatments. I shave and have hair on my chest and legs. But now I make love with Jamie, sometimes with him on the bottom, and sometimes with me on the bottom (and sometimes still, face down). The surgery was a success, because I am also able to achieve orgasm in any position. Oh, yes, a year after I graduated, Geoffrey came to Stanford. He lived with me, and then with Jamie and me in our home for three more years. During that time he had a steady string of boyfriends, never seeming able to settle on any one. Unfortunately, his boyfriends did not always practice safe sex. And Pierre, he is a renowned artist in France. He met and married a lovely woman who accepted his lack of maleness. Together they have developed a wonderful relationship and have adopted 6 children of various ethnic background (three are boys and three are girls). As I finish this odyssey, the plane we are on is about to land in Paris. Pierre's oldest child is to graduate from university in 2 days time. Sadly, Geoff is no longer with us. Instead, Jamie and I are accompanied by Joey, our 15 year old gay adopted son. I hope Joey doesn't think ill of me when he reads this. For it is his laptop I am using to write this account. Thanks for your patience and endurance. [email protected]