Message-ID: <500eli$9704132355@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: MeredithP3@aol.com Subject: PO 8/8 Karen was standing in the middle of the room when she looked at the clock and frowned. She gave me a sympathetic look and mechanically planted both of her hands on her curvy hips. Using only our eyes, we communicated our love for one another before she ended it by loudly exhaling. Karen's mischievous expression turned a little sad. "It's late Bobby, we better get going." I couldn't have agreed more. "What ever you say Karen." I had made it! My perverted princess bent her cute head onto her shoulder and gave me a quizzical look. "Where you serious before? Do you really want to go out with me?" I had to admit I was becoming enamored with this cruel but beautiful witch. Unless you've been in my situation you can't understand how its possible to forgive someone like Karen for what she almost did to me. I estimated, a hundred swallowing blowjobs ought'a do the trick. I couldn't even get angry with Gail, she had been used every bit as much as I had by that cunt Murray. I had learned my lesson. I swore to myself that from now on I'd always keep my promises to a girl, especially about calling them. I had to go through all this to realize how important a simple thing like that is to a woman. Just a couple of more lies now, and I'll be free. Time for the big one. "Karen, you're so beautiful. I think I'm in love you." "Lets see how feel about me tomorrow." she demurred. "I don't have too. I know it's real." Boy, am I good! The little tease laughed at my sincerity. I could see her between my spread legs standing a few feet from the table. She pulled her shoulders back to push her breasts foreword. Besides her bra, the only thing she wore was a sexy, devilish grin. She was undoubtedly the most intoxicating creature I had ever seen. No girl had ever had this effect on me before. I was outlining her outrageous curves when I noticed she was holding one of her arms behind her back. She was hiding something. "That's a pity," she purred, ..... In an instant my eyes were drawn to her nipples which were clearly visible through her flimsy bra. They were different now, they weren't soft and pink anymore, they were a dark brownish red and rock hard. The tips of her nipples were sticking out a full inch and trying their damnedest to poke through the cups. These were angry nipples, real fucken warheads! Her soothing smile had turned to a soulless sneer. ........ "CAUSE I DON'T DATE EUNUCHS!" "What do you mean? What are you talking about!" Kramer folded her arms under her hard breasts and I could clearly see the bright orange wrench she was holding. She shrugged her shoulders and instantly became a cold machine. The old Kramer who was staring at me now. "Playtimes over Robert! Don't tell me you've forgotten why we're here." "No! Let me go Karen." "Sorry boyfriend, I can't. Don't make this any harder then it has to be." The adrenaline started pumping through my body. I strained against the straps with all my power. Kramer watched me struggle as she picked up the metal pan on the cabinet and dropped it on the floor. She used her foot to kick it to the end of the table directly underneath my dangling testicles. Satisfied I couldn't move enough to cause her any problems she seated herself between my legs and roughly grabbed my sore scrotum. Her strong hand wrapped around the top of my bag so tightly that her closed fist separated me from my balls. The bitch pulled them towards her with a vicious pull. "AHHH! What the fuck are you doing?" "Oh please! Don't act so fucken surprised." "No Karen!" She was muttering to herself about something and she wasn't paying any more attention to me as she quickly went about her business. I felt her hand grab one of the rings around my sack and squeeze it. "PLEASE KAREN. DON'T!" "I told you what I was going to do, I always told you! And my name is Ms. Kramer, not that you'll ever forget it." "THERE'S NO REASON ANYMORE!" "No reason? Your girlfriend's happy, Murray's happy, ..... WHAT ABOUT ME?" "NO ONE WOULD KNOW. I BEG YOU!" "Are we gonn'a be brave about this?" "PLEASE DAMN YOU!" "Guess not. Go ahead and beg then. I understand." I leaned forward as much as I could and saw her putting the jaws of the orange colored tool on the top ring. She didn't hesitate a second before she started squeezing the handles together. "KAREN ........ DON'T!" I began crying hysterically and flailing my head around when I heard a ratcheting sound. I didn't feel anything at fist. I heard more ratcheting sounds as she continued pumping the handle and I started to feel a tightening around the top of my scrotum. "Oh no. NOOOO!" The more she ratcheted the more I felt the pressure increase. I had the sensation of a great weight being put on my groin. Just when the pain started to become unbearable she stopped pumping the handles and glared at me. "One more squeeze and they're gone! ........ Ready?" She grunted as she squeezed the handles of the ratchet together one last time. A saw a bright flash and my breath left me as the pain exploded in my groin. I arched my back and tried to kick my legs as I felt my sack being crushed. AHHHHH!!! My heart tried to jump through my chest as I felt something collapse in my groin. My mouth opened but nothing came out. She cursed under her breath the whole time as she repeated the act with the second ring. Kramer was wild eyed as she stood up between my shaking legs and yelled excitedly. "THERE'RE DEAD NOW! WAS IT JUST LIKE I TOLD'YA?" I was able to blurt out through my agony "DAMN YOUUUU!" Kramer growled at me in a lower, angry voice, "Just once! I'd like to get through one of these without all the usual FUCKEN HYSTERICS!" I was crying and gasping for breath when she stood up, dropped the ratchet to the floor and quickly moved to the side of the table. Kramer stood there staring at me, breathing heavily. Her sweat glazed belly bulged and retreated with each quick breath she took. Her large, excited eyes frantically darted back and forth between my tortured face and my strangled balls. Regaining her wind, she reached down and grabbed something from under the table. The only time she paused was when she laid the thing on my chest so she could use both of her hands between my legs. I looked down and saw it was a pair of pruning snips! "NOOOOOO!" I could see Kramer manhandling my nutsack. I was horrified to realize I had lost all sensation in the most sensitive part of my body. Everything was going in slow motion. Our eyes locked when she turned to pick up that horrible thing she had laid on my chest. Kramer paused and slowly moved her face up to mine, so close, I felt her hot, panting breath hitting my face. The miserable cunt wore an expression of exhausted contentment. "I'd love to able to see the look on Penelope's pretty face when she sees what I sent her." "NOOOOOO!!" The witch open her mouth enough to roll her tongue around her lips as she slowly savored my terror. She gave me a deep, merciless smile, kissed the tip of her finger, then planted it gently in the middle of my sweaty forehead. "Goodbye boyfriend." she whispered. "PLEASE NOOOOOO!!" The bitch bent over and slowly placed the open blades between the rings. I found I still had some feeling there and I jumped as I felt the cold metal touching me. The blades started pinching my skin and immediately a chilling sensation surged through my entire body. I felt everything now. Every part of me started shaking uncontrollably. I was convulsing like a man being electrocuted. Kramer began squeezing the handles of the snips together, gradually at first, slowly increasing the pressure. I felt myself being cut in the most horrible place. Instantly my legs stiffened and my back arched as I gasped for air. "AH!" A second later, I felt her relaxing her effort and move the blades away. Had she done it? "son-of-a-bitch!" I heard her mutter. I watched paralyzed as she took a deep breath and then place both of her hands on the snips. She carefully placed the tool again between my shaking legs. The bloody cunt had a look of grim determination on her face this time. I could do nothing but scream as I watched her eyes squint and her hands shake as she squeezed the handles together again with all her might. "OH!!" "OOHHHHH!!!" There was a soft, metallic, "CLICK"! I was castrated by Ms. Karen Anne Kramer, at 2:17 a.m., on the 10th day of June, 1995, in small room on the second floor of the Women's Service Center. She said it was a matter of professional pride. EPILOG What would you do? If I did what I wanted too, I would end up in the very place I had lost my manhood to avoid. Worse, I would be a prison eunuch. It was the perfect crime, the prosecutor would defend the perpetrator. I anguished, I resolved, I plotted, .......... and then I chickened out. Outwardly I haven't changed much, with my pants on. Personality wise I'm very different. It took two full months until I really felt sort of normal again. A few weeks for the healing and the rest for the hormone therapy to kick in. The people who knew me before say I've changed. I still live in the same apartment and I still have the same job, but I don't hang out with the same friends. I no longer have any friends at all. My new sex life could best be described as busy, but busy with a very large asterisk. I'm always moving on. I've discovered that most women have an intense curiosity about eunuchs. They all seem intrigued by the very concept. When I meet a girl I want, I let her know right away that she's talking to a real live eunuch. I've discovered that if the girl doesn't immediately end the discussion, it's a sure thing, Bobby's gonn'a get laid. Women just can't believe a man with out balls can even get it up, never mind produce a cum like substance. They always want to see for themselves. My new life depends on it. When I find a likely club, I know I'll have about five or six one night stands before I have to move on. It's predictable, the first one can't help but to tell her girlfriends about the eunuch she fucked, and then they all want to share the experience. Every new stomping grounds I find, I become something of a celebrity, at least with the females. I always lie to them about how it happened. I'm more ashamed about how it happened then I am about being ball-less. I explain my lack of testicles by telling them it was a accident or I had cancer or I was just born without them. The story always changes. I tell them anything but the truth. I always move on after a couple of weeks or so, to find a new club full of women eager to find out what's it like to have a eunuch. I always move on for the same reason too, it always happens the same way. I tell them I'm embarrassed about my condition and won't let the see the emptiness between my legs, they can only feel. As long as we fuck in the dark I know I'm safe and my lie won't be exposed. I let them feel around all they want, it seems to satisfy most of them, at least for a while. "OH! It feels so funny!" they say, and then they're sure. A real eunuch! The sex is always hurried and unimpassioned. It's never anything personal. The girl just wants to be able to say she did it. It's like the way some people try sushi. They do it once, with no intention of ever doing it again. They just want to be able to tell everyone they did it. I trade status for love. I always try to get the fucking done right away. It's the ones who insist on more that always trip me up. Sometimes, if it's really dark, I can get away with letting them blow me and I'm immensely happy. I still love getting my dick sucked more then anything but I usually save that for the cheap hookers who don't ask questions. It always happens with one I am starting to like and think I might be able to trust. She says she wants to give me a blowjob, but it's really because she wants to see for herself. When she sees it, she will ask about that smudge on the underside of my limp shaft. They never wait for my answer because they know how to find out for themselves. They start by alternately sucking on my cock and roughly stroking it. It's not sex for them, they just want to know! No matter how hard I try to resist getting aroused, I always fail. They usually have their whole bodies hunched over my groin while they work intensely to discover the meaning of the mark. She always looks like a photographer fixated on a forming image as she stares spellbound at the mystery being revealed on my growing penis. There's always a look of wide eyed astonishment on their faces when the mark has grown large enough to be legible. The astonished look invariably turns to a quizzical expression and then just a s quickly to a head bent wide smile, and my worst fears are realized. The women now know I've been lying to them about the intimate details of my failings. Oh, none of them has ever guessed the actual story but some have come terribly close. After they've seen the "mark", they all realize my condition is unmistakably the work of one of their kindred sisters. Even more terrible, they all recognize me as just another pathetic and humorous casualty of the worlds oldest war. I've never been able to deal with the pointing and the laughter that always follows. I'm forced to flee in flaccid disgrace and I can never return to the place where we met. My celebrity by sympathy, at a place where my secret has been discovered, has invariably turned into a notoriety based on shame and ridicule. I'm always moving on. The "mark" that pussied devil had put upon me has turned out to be every bit as terrible in it's effect on my life as that which she had taken from my body. I realized its awful significance the first time I saw it. There, in bright blue letters, like a perfect tattoo running the length of my manhood, meaningful only when I am the most hopeful, are the words that would always tell the truth of my shame. "Property of Gail Summers" End. From the author, OK, so it was a bit cheesy. I hope you enjoyed my little story and if you detected a bit of preaching in it, thank you. The question I would pose to you, dear reader, is this, Given the Orwellian mindset of the powers that rule us, are such things really so unthinkable? When asked where you stand, "Be careful where'ya sit." Meredith P.