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“Neighbourly Act” by Kortpeel

I’d changed the fuse on the stove for her and was on my way out. It had been a neighbourly act for a woman in the same apartment building. I barely knew her. Until she’d asked me about the fuse I’d never even spoken to her.

“What’s that?” I asked Janet. It was the first time I’d been in her apartment. She had some mysterious implements as wall decorations. One of them looked particularly mystifying.

“It’s called a burdizzo. It’s for castrating farm animals.”

I shuddered.

She laughed. “Does it scare you?”

“It’s horrible.”

“Don’t worry. It isn’t for use on humans.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“There’s a special one for humans. Would you like to see it?”


She got something out of the cupboard.

“This is called the Improver. It is much more sophisticated. It’s a new design, fully automatic. The clamp severs both the testicular cords at the same time and there’s a microprocessor to get the pressure and the duration right. It doesn’t depend on the skill of the operator at all.”

“What are the straps for?”

“They fit around the thighs and carry the weight. Then, once it’s on it’s hands free operation. Most guys like to be in the doggy position when they have their improvement. They need their hands for support.”

“Gee! The way you talk anyone would think it’s normal to have it done.”

“If it isn’t already it soon will be,” she said. “More and more guys are opting for it. Personally I think it’s sensible of them. All the ones I’ve improved have thanked me for it. They know they are better off for it.”

“Better off? How?”

“Well think about it,” Janet said. “What do you want testicles for? You’ve become a man and they’ve done their job. All they do now is give you a sex drive.”

“I like having a sex drive.”

“Only because you’ve got used to it. These days a sex drive in a man is redundant and you’d be better off without it.”

I thought about that. I knew my chance of ever having normal intercourse with any woman was just about zero. I spent far too much money at the masturbation parlour, having some bored apathetic woman bring me off. I didn’t really enjoy it and afterwards I regretted the waste of the money.

“You probably spend your days and nights futilely lusting after a woman you’ll never have,” Jane pointed out. “What on earth is the point of that?”

“Maybe the world will change,” I said. “Perhaps we’ll go back to the old ways when men and women lived together. Get married even.”

She smiled. “In your dreams. What woman in her right mind wants to look after another woman’s son? Even if he is grown up. What woman needs a man around? He’s more trouble than he’s worth. He’s not even decent companionship. Another woman is much better company.”

“I suppose if a traditionally minded woman wanted a baby the old fashioned way a man might be useful. But even then the sperm would have to have come from a genetically certified bank.”

There was a lot of truth in Jane’s words. Once women had achieved parity and, later, supremacy in the work place their eyes were opened and they realized they didn’t need a man in their lives. It was true they got on better with other women and preferred that. Sex? Go to the professional stud; satisfaction guaranteed and far more socially acceptable than sex with an unlicensed man.

Being a licensed professional stud was the equivalent of being a sports star in the old days. It was good money and a great life but a short one. Few lasted past thirty. A wise stud invested in life assurance policies. And studding for a living called for total commitment, just as much as, say, being a professional tennis player had done.

Few men had the genetic endowment to be a stud. In a micro-miniaturized nanometric, resource-conserving world, studding was the one area where size still mattered. And why? Because women wanted it like that and the customer is always right.

“Personally, I prefer to deal with improved men, ” She was telling me.


“Yes. I can feel the yearning that unimproved men have for me. It is so pathetic. And it gets on my nerves. I don’t need it. If he’s been improved all that is gone. He’s just not interested in sex any more. Those men are getting on with their lives and that I can respect.”

“Well, I suppose I’m just an old-fashioned traditionalist,” I told her wanting to get off the subject. “But I ought to be going now.”

I was edging toward the door. She’d scared me with her talk and that clamp thing. Also what she’d said about the pathetic yearnings of unimproved men had hit a sore spot with me. I always tried to suppress my yearnings in the presence of a woman. I knew most women thought that lust in a man was either pathetic or creepy. Or both. Men were built to lust after women and now, because of socio-economic circumstances and the prevailing moral climate, there was no way that a man’s lust would ever be satisfied. There was just no point in lust any more. I could see the logic in her improvement argument but even so … Heck! I didn’t want to be improved.

Trouble was this was a very attractive woman. Her slender curvy body induced sensations of lust. Those blue eyes with a black circle around the outside of each iris just made you want to look in her eyes. And didn’t she have the cutest smile?

I wouldn’t be able to suppress my lust for much longer. Soon she’d sense it and then she’d despise me.

“Wouldn’t you like to try it?” she said.


“The Improver. Have a dry run, as it were. I know you don’t want to be improved right now but you will one day. At least you’ll know there’s nothing to fear.”

“No thank you.”

She smiled at me with those lovely blue eyes. “You know I like you. You don’t give off that creepy vibe that I get from most unimproved guys. Then she whispered in my ear “If you let me show you I’ll give you a release as well.”

That was something else. The thought of having her hand grasping my penis was irresistible.

I looked at her in astonishment. Had I understood her correctly?

“Unless you have to be somewhere else of course?”

“Er … No.”

“All right. Get your clothes off.”

I was in shirt and slacks. I took off my shoes and socks and started to unbutton my shirt. She went off and came back with a roll of padding which she unrolled on to her large, solid-oak coffee table. She put a towel on the padding.

“Doggy?” she asked as I dropped my pants.


“Your panties have to come off too.” Janet wasn’t mocking. For her, the garment that covered the genitals was panties. Off they came.

Of course I had a rock solid erection. No amount of suppression could have stopped that. She took a womanly interest, holding my penis to get a closer look.

“Not a bad penis, really. I suppose that would be a fairly typical size for a normal male.”

“Yeah.” I knew it was six inches long at full hard.

“Interesting. You know, if I hadn’t been stretched by the studs this could probably give a satisfactory intercourse.”

She let go of me and sighed. “It’s a big con trick really. Once you’ve been with a stud it ruins you for sex with an ordinary, unlicensed guy. If I tried to have sex with you now you’d just flop around inside.

She saw I was deflated by that comment so to encourage me she added, “But yours is bigger that the vibrator I had as a virgin.”

“Doesn’t a vagina recover from stretching?” I asked.

“To an extent, yes. The vagina used to be the birth canal and it must have recovered from giving birth. Sometimes I go months on end without going to a stud and then I can feel that I have definitely tightened up. It doesn’t go back to that size though.” She indicated my penis.


“Anyway, onto the table with you.”

I got on to the padding on the coffee table on my hands and knees. She expertly pulled down on my scrotum with one hand and slid her fingers along my penis with the other. Then she applied some gel-like substance around the neck of my scrotum.

I felt her gently and carefully fit the clamps into position. “Would you hold it there with one hand while I fasten the straps, please?”

It wasn’t heavy. Feeling the straps tighten around my thighs gave an extra boost to my raging hard on.

“There. It’s in position. How does it feel?”


“Now I’m just adjusting the clamps so that the jaws are up against your scrotum. Say when you feel a slight pressure,”


“Good. Now I’ll just increase the pressure. The idea is you have to feel a good grip but not so much that it hurts. If it hurts tell me. How’s that?”

“I think that’s about right.”

“Okay. Now I’ll just switch it on and you’ll feel a slight vibration.”

“Do you have to?”

She’d plugged it in and switched it on. I could feel it come alive.

I was nervous and started shaking. I was having an adrenaline rush.

“Calm down,” Janet said. “I told you this is only a dry run.” She was stroking my penis. Having your penis stroked does rather concentrate the mind nicely. I relaxed and let myself enjoy her fingers on my penis.

“Now if we were going to do the improvement for real, which we aren’t, you would be all ready now. The Improver is in position and the jaws are clamped up against your scrotum, ready. All it takes now is to press that button there.”

Janet put the remote control unit down on the table just in front of me where I could see it. She knew I’d be more relaxed if she wasn’t holding it.

“The clamp closes slowly and gently so you hardly even feel it. There’s no pain, very little bruising and absolutely no bleeding or anything. This makes it so easy. These days there really is no reason at all for a man not to be improved.”

Her fingers were lightly working my penis.

“I can see how dreadful life must be for you unimproved guys, All that anguish and longing with no hope of being satisfied. Pressing the button means freedom for you.”

Her touch on my penis felt wonderful.

“The best you can ever hope for from a woman is that she won’t think you’re a pathetic creep.”

She’d taken a grip and was speeding up.

“Much better to be improved and be free from all that pointless longing.”

I was near to a climax. She was on full stroke.

“And it’s so easy. Just press the button as you come. It’s a wonderful feeling.”

I was close to the point of no return, past the point of no return. Oh yes! Here it comes!

“Now !” she said. And I pressed the button!

I was having my climax and I could feel the clamps nibbling on my scrotum. The clamps enhanced the pleasure of the climax. Her hand took me right through and gobs of come squirted on to the towel.

It had been a massive climax. I just stayed there for a while, trembling, trying to catch my breath.

She put an arm around me. “That was so wise of you. I much prefer you improved. Keeping your testicles was quite pointless.” Then she knelt and kissed my cheek.

Meanwhile the Improver completed its cycle and the jaws released my scrotum. She’d been right. It hadn’t hurt at all and it had been so easy.

Janet took off the Improver, had me shower and gave me a cup of tea. She was reassuring and told me that I’d made a wise decision. I wouldn’t have pressed the button if I hadn’t sub-consciously wanted to be improved.

Later I put on my clothes and went back to my apartment. She was probably right. What’s the point of a sex drive if you can never get sex? I felt that being improved was actually a relief. I was glad to be free of that pointless longing. Next time I saw her I would thank her for improving me.

9 replies on ““Neighbourly Act” by Kortpeel”

hola¡ D casualidad sabrìa deçirme donde vive Dama protagonista del relato? es para una çonsulta 😉 😉

I wouldn’t have a problem giving up my balls! I hadn’t had sex in about 40 years due to erectile dysfunction problems. So I wouldn’t mind giving my balls to a beautiful young lady.

very predictable ending, pun intended? But I feel for it. 9 yrs chaste after 20 yrs of hedonism, if castration didn’t come with so much issues, I would jump on such an experience. Wanted it really since before puberty really started, watching my bro’s and knowing I’d never want to be like them.

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