Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2001 02:18:19
From: Erik Asman <erik2175@hotmail.com>
Subject: Brandon's Life 2: Brandon's Castration

     He could hear voices.  He could feel that he was laying down, and
realized that he must have fallen asleep.  He was warm and comfortable, and
the thought of getting up and going to school didn't really appeal to him.
With some amount of effort, he tried to sit up.  He failed.  For one
confused moment, he didn't know what to think.  Then he heard the Doctor's
voice and it all came back to him.  "You can't imagine how sorry I am to
have to tell you this ..."
     Panic set in.  Brandon tried desperately to get up, but his body
wouldn't respond.  He opened his eyes and stared up into the bright overhead
lights.  He tried to turn his head, but it felt like his neck bones were
clogged with sand or something.  He could hear his Father gasp.  Then he
heard his Mother begin to cry.  The voices drifted in and out, but try as he
might, Brandon couldn't move or make a sound.  He listened, his heart
racing.
     "Are you absolutely sure?" his Father was saying.
     "I took a small sample and some blood and sent it in.  I know a guy in
the lab, and we'll know shortly.  To be honest, well, as I told the boy, 99%
of the time, it IS cancer.  I don't know what I can do to make this any
easier for you, OR for HIM.  The only thing we can really do is ..."
     "Please, Doctor, don't say it again," Brandon could hear his Mother
saying.
     "Folks, I hate to ask you this, but in light of your son being an only
child, and, well ... since this is going to leave him sterile for life - are
you both still fertile?  Because if you ever want Grandchildren, I'm afraid
that Brandon isn't going to be giving you any," the Doctor stated, at least
not in the regular way."
     "What do you mean 'regular'?" he heard his Father ask.
     The Doctor cleared his throat.  "I took a semen sample from the boy, in
light of the problems at hand, you see.  It didn't look good, but it might
contain viable sperm cells."
     Brandon wondered at that statement, then realized why the Doctor had
risked doing what he had done with the finger and the semen collection.
Then it settled in.  It ALL came back to him.  The pains, the itch, the
fatigue, all of it.  He remembered the physical, the enema, the hernia
check.  He remembered being told he was going to have to be circumcised and
castrated.  It soaked in slowly - no balls, no kids.   And now he couldn't
move.  He remembered the shot in the butt.  More than anything, he wanted to
run.  He wanted to get as far away from the Doctor and his knives as he
could.  He tried again, but although he could feel his body - and that his
penis was itching again - he couldn't do a thing about it.  He managed to
get a twitch out of his fingers, and he tried to scream.  All that came out
was a soft whimper.
     No one seemed to hear it.
     "Yes, we both are.  But we never wanted any more children.  We both
came from large families, and we decided that with only one child, we could
be better parents to JUST him," he heard his Father say.
     At the age of 14, Brandon had never considered having kids of his own.
Hell, his only future plans as far as sex went were when he was next going
to meet with his buddies for a jack-off session, or finally taking the step
beyond mutual masturbation into full blown sex.   He never thought about
being married or having kids.  But, there was the sample - there was still a
chance.  His mind began to race as he heard the Doctor say, "He's in the
next room over, he's asleep.  He didn't take it very well, I'm afraid."
Take what well?  What had been done to him?  Had they cut it off already?
But he had said the tests weren't back yet, and his parents had just
arrived.  It still had to be there!  Brandon tried again to reach for his
crotch, but he couldn't move his arm.  His hand flexed, and that gave him
some hope.  He could hear them coming, and was glad that at least he was
covered, because he could feel that he was still naked.
     But the Doctor had asked about having another child.  Brandon mused
over that for a moment, wondering what it would feel like to have, say, a
little brother.  He found that he liked the idea, even though his friends
who had them were always bitching about them.  Then he thought back to the
problem at hand.  What if he got married?  He liked to look at girls, he had
discovered in the past few months, but he also liked to look at other boys
and jack off with his friends.  Time seemed to slow down as he thought and
thought.  What if I'm gay?  What if I'm not?  What woman would want to marry
me after they're done cutting on me and I can't give her a child?  Can I
even have sex at all?  What's my dick gonna look like when he's done?
What's it gonna feel like with no balls?  Will they put fake ones in?  What
if they don't?  How will it look?
     That last thought froze in Brandon's mind.
     A terrible feeling began to grow in his stomach.  Once they cut his
balls off, he couldn't jack off with his buddies anymore, they'd see him.
They'd know.  Would he even be able to get hard to do it afterwards?
Everyone would make fun of him.  And what about soccer and sports?  Would he
have to still wear a cup with no balls to protect?  No, he wouldn't, he
realized, because he couldn't play.  Everyone would see him naked in the
showers after practices and games - they'd see that he was castrated, that
he wasn't a real boy anymore.  But what about gym class at school?  How was
he going to get out of that?  Brandon decided, as the voices came closer and
closer, that he wasn't ever going back to school.  He wouldn't see his
friends anymore.  He'd stay in his room, and no one would know.  No one
would ever know that he had his balls cut off.
     "He's asleep in the minor surgery room," Brandon heard the Doctor say,
"I gave him a sedative, a pretty strong one actually.  Did I tell you he
threw his shoe at me?"
     "Did you throw it back?" Brandon heard his Mother ask.
     "I did," the Doctor laughed, "Missed him though, but it got his
attention."
     Brandon wanted to scream even more.  How could they make jokes?  Here
he was, 14, with cancer, soon to be castrated, exiled to a life of
isolation, and doomed to no sex life before he even got one.  He was going
to lose all of his friends, and no one was ever going to want him.  It was
all so cruel, and since he couldn't move, Brandon began to cry.

     "Here we are," the Doctor said, pulling back a curtain to escort
Brandon's parents into the minor surgery room.  "What's this?  Seems he's
awake."
     Brandon could hear them coming closer, and he felt his face begin to
flame.  He felt like a baby, and humiliated as he was, he simply couldn't
stop the tears.  "Careful of the IV, dear," he heard his Mother say in a
tense voice.  He then felt his father's arms around him, and through his
tears he saw his Father's anguished face.  He felt himself lifted and then
pulled close as his Father simply held him, one arm around his back and one
hand pressing his head into his broad shoulder.  He felt his Mother's touch
on his cheek, wiping away the tears that just wouldn't stop.  It was just
too much.  No one had seen him cry since he was 10 years old, and only then
because he was getting the top of his scalp stitched up.  The sedatives
hadn't worn off though, and the only thing that Brandon could do was cry and
let himself be held.  With a start, he realized that he didn't remember the
last time that his Father had touched him, much less held him close.  That
only made the tears worse.
     "You're sure there's no other way?" his Father asked in a surprisingly
small voice.
     "I'm afraid not.  We need to get this done as soon as possible, too,"
the Doctor was saying, "Before it spreads.  He's in a lot of pain, and
frankly, I don't know how he hid it for so long."
     With a great effort, Brandon managed to get a word out of his mouth.
"No," he whimpered.
     About then, the phone rang.  Brandon could hear a fax machine kick
over, and something told him that it was his test results.  He heard the
Doctor sigh.  "It's cancer."
     Brandon felt as if the bed had fallen out from under him.  He heard his
Father groan and his Mother begin to cry again.  For a long moment, they
just held him while Brandon whispered "No" over and over again.  "The good
news is, however, that the odds that it's had time to spread are slim.  His
blood doesn't show any other abnormalities, other than very low testosterone
levels for a boy his age at his stage of puberty.  I don't mean to be pushy,
folks, but we need to get this done as soon as possible.  How about this
evening?  I can have someone come in and we can have Brandon back home and
in his own bed by tonight."
     He could hear them murmuring, talking about it.  It was all so unfair.
He wasn't even going to get one last chance to jack off with his friends, or
even get a shot at a sex life.  His Father laid him back down and his Mother
straightened his blanket, kissing his forehead.  "You're right," he heard
his Father say, "Let's get it over with now."  His voice sounded sick.
     "Please, no!"  Brandon whimpered, frantically trying to get up.  His
muscles twitched and his arms jerked, but he still couldn't sit up.  "No!"
     "Brandon," he heard the Doctor say then, "listen to me.  We're going to
do thorough testing on you.  Your right testicle has cancer.  Your left one
doesn't, but it does have blockage and it has little to no feeling in it.
We're going to examine you with everything short of taking you apart to make
SURE we have to do this.  After we're done, THEN we'll talk.  For now, you
just relax and try not to panic.  You're not going to die from this, you
know."
     "W-wish I wuz," Brandon moaned, clenching his eyes shut to try to stop
a new flow of tears.  He failed.
     "Honey, don't say things like that," he heard his Mother say.
     With some effort, Brandon felt that he could talk.  He had to talk.  He
had to get it out.  His voice was not strong, nor was it loud, but with some
effort, he managed to speak.
     "Why?" he choked, not opening his eyes, "I heard what you said.  No
balls, no kids.  You'll have to have another baby, or you won't have
Grandkids.  I won't be a boy anymore.  Everyone's gonna see me, they'll know
if I try to do anything.  I can't go back to school, I can't play sports or
gym.  My friends are gonna laugh at me."  All in all, it took him several
minutes to say it, but it made him feel better.  He opened his eyes to see
them all staring at him.
     "Is that what you think?" his Father asked.
     Dumbly, the boy nodded.  "No balls, Dad.  What then?"
     "It takes more than a set of balls to make a man, son," he replied.
     "Can't you insert artificial balls?" his Mother asked, "So he'll look
normal?"
     "Yes," his Father agreed, "No one would be able to tell."
     Brandon felt some hope rising up in himself.  If he had fake balls, no
one WOULD know.  He'd look fine, and he could go on like it never had
happened.
     "There's a problem with that," the Doctor said, and Brandon felt his
heart sink again.  "Right now, there's a halt to production on prosthetic
testicles.  They found they aren't safe.  Normally we would insert the type
with fluid filling, so that after the castration, we could just inflate the
fake balls to make up for size and growing.  Unfortunately, they can leak
and the effects are unpleasant.  What we would have to do is put in smaller
prostheses, let him heal up, open him up in a few years, put in larger ones,
wait, open him up again ... you see, over time, he'll develop scar tissue.
The scrotum is very sensitive, and without his balls, well, sex and climax
is going to near impossible.  We can't just keep cutting him open year after
year."
     "I see," Brandon's Father agreed, "Of course, you're right."
     "What?" Brandon interjected, his hopes rapidly dying again, "Why not?
Just put good ones in right off and be done with it!"
     "That wouldn't work, Brandon.  Your scrotum isn't big enough to hold
man-size prostheses." the Doctor answered.
     "But ..."
     "No 'buts', son," his Father replied.  "Maybe someday, but not for a
while."
     "Can I see you two in my office for a moment?" the Doctor asked.
     "We're not leaving, son," Brandon heard his mother say, "Be right back,
OK?"
     The boy nodded.  As his parents left the room, the Doctor whispered in
his ear, "You and I are going to have a long talk about this, boy."  Then he
injected something into Brandon's IV line.  "This is a muscle relaxer,
Brandon.  It's going to keep you immobile, yet fully conscious.  I need you
to be awake and aware of what's going on when we start looking you over.
Now, in case you didn't notice, you can't move.  I don't want you moving,
but I do want you awake for the procedure.  You're in a panic now, I know,
but there's really nothing to panic about.  I think you'll find this whole
thing fascinating, really.  Now, if you'll excuse me."  And with that, he
turned to go.
     "Wait!" Brandon called out.
     "What?"
     "What if I need to pee?" the boy asked.
      The Doctor laughed.  "Brandon, right after I put you out I put an
external catheter on your penis.  It's not invasive, so just go ahead and
pee."  The Doctor stepped out the door, leaving Brandon to lie there,
helpless, with only his worries for company.
     At some point in time, he must have fallen asleep again.  When he
awoke, he opened his eyes and found himself naked on the same table in the
same room.  His Doctor and another Doctor were there, and they were going
over a tray full of strange instruments.  Brandon tried to call out, but his
voice was gone again and his body paralyzed.  He managed a low whine, and
they both turned to face him.       "Brandon, this is Dr. Schneider.  He'll
be performing the actual removal of your testicles.  We're also going to run
some rather invasive tests, but you're sufficiently drugged up to where it
shouldn't bother you much.  Your parents are in the next room, where they'll
be watching the procedure on closed circuit TV.  Do you understand?"
     "Uh-huh," the boy whimpered, his wits returning but his small body
immobile.  How could they do that?  They were going to be watching?  He
couldn't believe it.  He glanced at the IV line in his left wrist and tried
to concentrate on the drops.  He just couldn't bring himself to watch.  He
was about to have his balls cut off, most of his dick cut off, and for all
intents and purposes, his life was over.  He just didn't want to see it
happen, and wished that they at least had the decency to put him out cold.
     "For starters," Dr. Schneider was saying, "I want a look inside of his
urethra and bladder.  From the looks of his penis and foreskin, it's
probably a real mess in there.  Now ..." and although Brandon didn't really
want to watch, he found his eyes drifting down to his crotch.  He took a
long look, realizing that it was never going to look the same.  Dr.
Schneider was examining his penis closely, gently pulling back the inflamed
foreskin to expose the glans.  He then took a syringe full of something and
inserted the blunt tip into Brandon's urethra.  The boy could feel something
warm being injected into his penis, and although the stimulation felt good,
he saw that he wasn't getting hard.  With a sigh, he realized that he
probably wasn't going to be getting hard ever again.  They'd all joked about
what happened if your balls got cut off while they were jacking off, and he
figured he was very close to being impotent for good.
     Brandon watched in shocked fascination then as the Doctor picked up
something funny looking with a blunt tip and a very long cord.  With a
start, he realized that the Doctor was beginning to insert the thing INTO
his penis.  "This is a special camera, Brandon.  It will show us what you
look like up inside of there.  Watch the screen."
     Very slowly, he pushed the scope into the boy's penis.  On the screen,
Brandon saw what looked like very tight and very red tissue.  There were
flecks of darker matter here and there, and many pale areas.  As he felt the
scope going in, he realized that it wasn't really painful, and in an odd
way, felt sort of good.  "What a mess," he heard his Doctor say.
     "Must hurt like hell when he pees," the other Doctor agreed.
     "We're going to have to scrape this out," his Doctor said.
     Brandon gasped as the scope was pulled back a bit.  "It's not into his
bladder, thank God, but the urethra is a scarred up mess.  You better give
him a good shot of painkillers, Fred," Schneider said to Brandon's Doctor.
'Fred.  What a name,' Brandon thought as the specialist pulled the scope out
of him.  He moaned, and the Doctor that he thought was named Schneider
ruffled his hair and patted his belly.  He watched as his own Doctor - Fred
- injected something else into his IV.  He suddenly felt detached and numb.
The pleasurable feelings he was getting from having his dick handled faded
away, and his toes and fingers began to tingle.
     "Brandon, listen to me.  What we have to do next is run another probe
up into your penis.  This is going to hurt some, even with the drugs.  What
we have to do is scrape out the junk and scar tissue from your urethra, the
pipe that carries the pee out of you.  When we're done there, we're going to
put in a Foley catheter.  That's a plastic tube that goes up your penis and
up into your bladder.  It has a balloon on the end that we'll blow up once
it's inside of you so it won't slide out.  You won't be able to pee, since
all of it will drain out the tube and into a bag.  It's uncomfortable, but
it has to be done.  You'll have to keep the catheter in for a long time to
let your 'pee pipe' heal up.  Understand?"
     "Uhhhh - huhhh," Brandon whined, trying to shake his head.  A long
time?  How long was a 'long time?'  He didn't want a tube up his penis, and
he sure as hell didn't want to be castrated.  He just wanted to get away,
but now he couldn't even feel his legs or arms, much less get up and run.
He didn't feel much as the next strange cord-like thing was inserted up into
his pee-hole, but he DID feel it when the Doctor turned a screw on the end
of it.  Something that felt like knives began to tear into him deep inside
his dick, and it felt like fire as the Doctor slowly pulled it out.  He
tried to scream, and despite the drugs, he made quite a noise.  It seemed to
take forever, and his heart pounded.  He couldn't believe his parents were
watching.  It felt like his dick was being turned inside out and set ablaze.
  Then it was over.
      Brandon lay there gasping, feeling the terrible need to pee and having
no control over it.  He watched through teary eyes as Schneider selected a
clear plastic catheter and inserted that into his penis as well.  He hardly
felt it slide in, nor did he feel the balloon inflate.  His own Doctor laid
the tube across his bare thigh and secured the end to a collection bag
hanging on the side of the table.  Brandon watched in fascination as the
tube filled with yellow urine mixed with blood.  He felt sick.
     Next, he watched in even more horror as Schneider began to cover his
scrotum with some sort of clear jelly.  He relaxed a bit though when he
realized that were going to do a sonogram.   Brandon watched the screen as
the images changed, showing his oddly sized balls.  The Doctors pointed and
commented, tapping the monitor with a pen here and there.  They noted the
cancerous testicle, and did several scans of the other.  They poked and felt
it, rolled it around, and shook their heads.
     "We'll have to open him up to be 100% sure," Schneider said, "But I
think it's dead."
     Fred nodded.  Oddly, Brandon never thought of his Doctor as having a
first name.
     "Brandon," his Doctor said to him, leaning down close to his ear, "I
know you won't like this, but we have to shave the hair off of your scrotum
and the whole area.  We're going to open it up and take out the bad one, and
have a look at the other one, alright?"
     "Nnnnnnnnnn," the boy moaned.  His eyes teared up again.  Wasn't there
anything they were going to leave him?  Why didn't they just do a full blown
sex change on him and be done with it?  Brandon wanted to start screaming
again, but he couldn't.  All he could do was lay there and take it.
He watched as they applied shaving cream to his groin, and shut his eyes
tight as one of them began to shave him.  He could feel the razor moving,
but he couldn't really feel anything else.  When that was done, he was
patted dry.  His stomach rolled as his scrotum was swabbed in Betadyne, and
his heart pounded as Schneider carefully ran a small bladed scalpel down the
side of his scrotum.
     'They're really doing it,' Brandon thought, 'they're cutting me open.
They're gonna take my balls out!'
     The cut was small, and his Doctor wiped the blood away.  Schneider cut
quickly, and his gloved hands rolled Brandon's diseased right testicle
around.  The boy's stomach flipped as he watched the gray orb, flecked with
black spots, come out through the slit.  Schneider deftly pulled it out and
down, pulling as much of the connecting cord as he could.  Brandon was
amazed at how far out of him it came.  The cord was gray, but nearer to the
testicle it was darker.  He watched as his Doctor tied some thread around
the cord.  He tied another, then picked up a strange looking device and
touched it to the diseased cord just under the ties.  Brandon smelled flesh
burning, his stomach heaved, and then the cord snapped.  It disappeared back
up into his body.  "One down."
     The boy stared at it as the Doctor put it in a dish by the table.
Schneider was already making a cut down the other side of his scrotum.  He
watched in terror, praying that it was still good.  But when Schneider
pulled it out through the small cut, Brandon's heart sank.  His left
testicle was much smaller than the diseased right one had been, and it was
not smooth.  It was almost white and wrinkled.  The cord was knotty and
shriveled, and when his Doctor pierced the connecting vein with a needle and
pulled back, nothing came out.  Both Doctors sighed heavily.
     "Brandon," Schneider said to him, "Buddy, I'm afraid your other
testicle is dead.  We have to take it out too."
     As they tied off the dead cord and removed his dead left testicle,
Brandon cried silently.  It was done.  They had cut his balls off.  He
wasn't a boy anymore.  He wasn't a girl, but he wasn't a boy either.  What
was the word for a castrated boy?  He had heard it before ... he thought
hard.  Then it came to him, through the fog of the drugs.
     'Eunuch.'
     'That's what I am now,' Brandon thought, 'a eunuch.  I wish I was
dead.'
     He watched as they stitched up his now-empty scrotum.  They couldn't
put in fake balls, and Brandon wondered how hard it would be to hide it.
Maybe if he kept a hand on his dick, but then he realized they were going to
mutilate that too.  He watched as they washed his foreskin in Betadyne after
his scrotum had been bandaged.  Gently, it was pulled back and the glans
swabbed as well.  It looked strange with the double-ended tube coming out of
it.  Brandon just stared numbly as the tube that carried his pee out of him
was clamped and detached.  A small white plastic sleeve was put onto the
shaft of his penis as Schneider pulled his foreskin back as far as it would
go.  He slid the sleeve back farther and farther.  "How much you taking
off?" Fred asked.
     "As much as I can," Schneider replied, "He can't take care of it, he
can't keep it."
     Brandon whimpered, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the procedure.
His foreskin was pulled back over the hard plastic sleeve, and another
clamp-like device was attached to it.  It pulled the foreskin tight and
stretched it forward.  The more the Doctor pumped the handles of the clamp,
the tighter it pulled the skin from his penis.  "OK, cut it," Schneider
replied, holding the clamp and standing by with sutures in hand.  Brandon
tried to scream again.  He was going to have stitches in what was left of
his dick?  All he could do was moan and twitch his nose.  He continued his
muted protests as the blade of the same scalpel that had castrated him moved
around the sleeved shaft of his penis.  The outer skin was being cut off,
but the inner skin was untouched.  He realized what the sleeve was for then,
and relaxed a bit when he realized that he was only losing skin.
     The blade encircled his penis, and the foreskin, stretched tight, was
pulled away.  Schneider immediately began to stitch him up.  Brandon exhaled
hard.  Then his Doctor laughed, a sudden mirth coming to him.  His face was
actually red.
     "You thought," he laughed at Brandon, "Oh, God, boy, I'm so sorry.  You
thought we were going to cut the whole end of your penis off, didn't you?"
     "MMMMmmmm-hhhhh," Brandon whined, smiling a wan smile as he watched his
bloody penis being stitched up.  It didn't look the same once it was clean.
Fred continued to laugh and rub the boy's bleached crewcut hair as Schneider
finished on the circumcision.  When he was done, he reattached the catheter
to its drain tube and stepped back a bit, tilting up Brandon's penis for the
boy to see.
     Of course he knew what the head of his dick looked like.  It was still
there.  It was red and inflamed, but it was STILL there.  The catheter came
out the end of it, and just back behind the rim of the cock head, about
halfway to his body and down the shaft was a ring of stitches.  The only
difference now was that Brandon's glans was in permanent and plain view,
just like all of his friends'.  His Doctor gently wrapped the penis in
gauze, checked all the bandaging and the catheter, and wiped Brandon down.
When he was clean, he injected something else into the boy's IV line.
     "All done, Brandon.  Go to sleep now.  You earned it," the Doctor said.
     Brandon smiled and yawned.  He still had his cock, even if he didn't
have his balls.  He felt he could hide that, if he was careful.  With a few
less worries, he drifted off into dreamless sleep.