Tag: Aunt Cassie

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“The Queen’s New Toy” by ADMIN

[Note: the young prince in this story is 18 and undergoing late-onset puperty.]

The queen was bored and lonely. Her husband, the king, was always away on wars or diplomatic missions. And when he came home he seemed to prefer the company of his drinking buddies and harem girls. And she had long since ceased to derive any pleasure from court gossip.

The only bright spot in her life was her sweet, nubile son who was just then going through puberty. He was a constant source of delight and a ray of sunshine and warmth in her otherwise dull life. She loved to cuddle with him and they often slept together. But she noticed that he was beginning to have erections, often with some slick slime at the end. She knew that if their closeness continued that people would begin to suspect an improper relationship and forbidden acts.

Only one solution presented itself, one that would allow her to continue their sweet closeness and retain the appearance of complete propriety: castration. But she knew that if she imposed it on him that he would resent it and she would lose his love. She mentally shelved the idea but she knew something would have to be done soon.

Luckily, one day while she was absent-mindedly talking to her son about this problem she sighed and said she wished he could be more like her attendants so that he could stay close to her forever. She was reclining on a divan while he sat at her feet. She noticed that he had become very attentive. “But of course,” she said with a wan smile, “you know what that would require, don’t you?” He gulped and looked up at her and his loose robe tented out in front showing his arousal.

“Oh my, just look at you!” she exclaimed. “Could it be that you actually have a special interest in becoming like my attendants?!”

In this kingdom, the castration of servants was an exclusive royal prerogative. And there was no lack of candidates for these positions. Many young men actively sought it in order to raise their social status. Others wished to have it done to serve the queen they adored. And then were those that merely dreamt of it because it is a common secret desire.

Not long after, the queen boldly asked the king’s permission. He thought it over for a moment and said that although it was quite irregular he really didn’t see why not. After all, he had plenty of sons by his harem girls to choose from for an heir.

“But it’s bound to get around and tongues will wag”, the king said with a rueful smile. “Ha! Let the ignorant peasants talk”, said the queen haughtily, “I don’t care”.

The queen didn’t accept attendants that came to her already castrated. They had to come to her intact and be castrated specially just to serve her. It was one of her favorite royal prerogatives and she loved exercising it. She would inspect the candidates one by one. She would have each one raise his loin cloth so she could see what he had between his legs.

“You have such a nice big pair, are you sure you want to lose them?”

“Oh yes, my queen! Please accept them, I beg you!”

She always stood by and watched the castrations as they were carried out. And it was well known what she did with the testicles. She had her cook prepare a special stir fry. The queen believed that such a meal would help her keep her youth and beauty. And she also relished the idea that her she was eating a male’s precious manhood. She found that it gave her a strong sexual appetite and she satisfied it by having her favorite eunuch give her a long session of oral tribute.

As a eunuch would obediently lick her to orgasm the queen exulted in her power and dominance she thought, “It’s true what they say, eunuchs do make the best pussy lickers!”

Her son, the prince, would often give her neck and back rubs to ease her after a stressful day. One day he spied on her receiving oral tribute from one of her eunuchs. Later, when they were alone he asked her to explain it to him. She told him it was a special form of massage and she enjoyed very much. When she realized that he was curious she asked him if he wanted to try it. He was scared at first but he was also eager to give his mother such special pleasure. She guided him and he soon began to enjoy it and to lick her pussy and clit with gusto.

Afterwards, they lay together in bed. She decided it was time to move forward with what she had planned.

“Do you want to be mother’s little toy forever?” she whispered.

“Oh yes!” he sighed.

“Do you want to give me your little male-marbles?” And she gently rolled them under the palm of her hand.

“Oh yes! Please, dear mother, please! Take them!”

She quickly called for the lady surgeon whom she had ordered to wait nearby. The willowy young lady got out her anesthetizing herbs and salves and quickly got to work.

The queen looked on while the surgeon worked and told her son how much she loved him and how proud she was of him. Soon, his little male-marbles were resting in a shallow bowl beside the bed. (Don’t worry, dear reader, she didn’t eat them, she had them bronzed.)

Later they cuddled and the queen kissed his forehead and tousled his hair. “You’re my sweet, soft, warm, cuddly toy forever.” He shivered and squeaked with joy and gave her a quick, squeezing hug.

Unfortunately, this idyllic situation didn’t last very long. The queen grew tired of the prince after a couple years and sent him to the slave market to be sold to a new owner. But that’s another story.

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“To Open a Scrotum” by ADMIN

I am the founder and general manager of the international chain of Empty Scrotum Clinics. They are very popular, successful and respected clinics.

I’ve been fascinated by scrotums and their mysterious contents ever since I played doctor with the other kids in my neighborhood.

At our clinics, we help with that aching need to be relieved of the tight, full feeling in the scrotum that so many men have. That need to be free of it and to give themselves totally to a strong, maternal woman.

I love to see them as they squirm and whimper lying on the special table, begging for it. They need to be penetrated, opened and plucked of their ripe fruits of masculinity.

I was first made aware of this need one day while working as a dominatrix. My client drew his legs up and spread himself open and asked me to do it to him. I discovered there were so many men like him, masturbating alone in their bedrooms fantasizing about giving themselves like this.

I decided to seek the necessary medical training. My first castration was intense.

Nowadays I only do older men in their fifties and early sixties. I love how shy and hesitant they are. I quickly take charge and sternly order them to strip so I can examine their scrotum. It takes their breath away.

“Why… why do you need… need to examine… my… my…?”

“You know why. Now do it!”

“What… what are you going to do… to me?”

“You know very well what I’m going to do.”

“I’m… I’m not sure I want… I want…”

“I’ve made that decision for you. Just relax and I’ll soon have your scrotum open.”

“Oh my goodness!!!”

They’ve carried that heavy weight between their legs for so many years. I’m happy to lighten their load at last. They leave my clinic sweet, and meek and boyish.

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“Eunies” by Admin

[Note: I posted this here once before. It’s kind of angsty.]

The ‘eunie’ trend came out of nowhere. Suddenly, closet eunies and eunie wannabees were finally able to come out and be themselves and to freely express themselves. There was even talk of organizing an annual ‘Eunie Pride’ march but nothing ever materialized. A proposal to tack an ‘E’ onto the end of GLBT was also made.

It wasn’t long before couples in female-led relationship took notice of the trend. Many men seized this opportunity and used it to confess to their partner how they yearned for her to take their manhood. And most women were only too happy to oblige.

In other couples it was the woman that took the initiative. Articles appeared in women’s magazines like Cosmo discussed the benefits to strong women of keeping a ‘house eunie’ to fulfill their domestic needs as well as their domination ones. There was a TV program called, “The Stepford Eunies”, that aimed to educate the public about this new segment of suburban households that was beginning to be spotted everywhere. A new clothing style and hair style arose that gave eunies a very distinctive look. It was basically a male look that had many features to soften it and make it more feminine. And of course, the eunies themselves were softer, quieter and pudgier than intact men.

One couple where the woman took the initiative was George and Emily.

Emily was the breadwinner, bringing home the bacon from a job in the tech sector. She was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with George. He had done nothing since their marriage except hang around their home trying to develop money-making schemes.

Finally, Emily got fed up and gave George an ultimatum: “I’ll give you six months to get your latest project off the ground or you will agree to become my eunie”.

“But… but I don’t want to be a eunie!” George wailed.

In the ensuing months, George locks himself in his study every day to ‘work’. When he comes out he is flushed, shy and shamefaced. Emily checks his wastepaper basket and finds the tell-tale gooey tissues she expected.

When the deadline approaches she asks George about the progress of his work. He says he has made good progress but needs more time.

Emily says, “I think the only kind of progress you’ve been making is filling your wastepaper basket with gooey tissues.”

George hangs his head in shame.

Emily continues, “You’re just a silly little sissy masturbator. All you’re good for is playing with yourself. Becoming a eunie will obviously make you a much better person.”

George covers his face with his hands, hunches forward in his chair and quietly moans, “Noooooooooo, nooooooooooo”.

And sure enough, a month later George is calmly vacuuming the living room carpet dressed only in an apron and pink fluffy slippers. His ‘manhood’ floats in a small jar of preserving fluid on a shelf nearby.

Emily enters and tells George to stop vacuuming and get dressed, they are going for a ride. Emily drives them to the Sexless Service Agency building, parks the car and leads him inside.

The reception area is staffed with young smiling ladies who greet them warmly. “You’ll be staying here from now on, George,” says Emily. “These people have given me a good price for you. You’ll be employed performing domestic duties for their clients. Goodbye.”

George just stands there, stunned and bewildered.

A month later George spends his day off sitting quietly on his cot bed in one of the company’s barracks. He’s dressed in his sissy maid uniform. All the other cot beds are empty, their occupants are out on assignment. He hears a gleeful jingle blaring from the TV in the day room announcing the company’s recent re-branding: “Sexless Service is Sex-Lo now!” He looks at the floor and sniffles.

And so ends the story of George and Emily.

But there’s more to say about the Sexless Service Agency.

There is actually a quite a range of services provided by the company, not just domestic work. In particular, some eunies are specially trained and rented out as sex toys.

An unusual request comes for the after-party of a small conference of female dominant executives. They want five older eunies, ones in their late 50s or early 60s, to serve in the nude as waiters and to provide specialized entertainment.

Three lady execs sit at a table, talking and drinking champagne. Their hair is worn up and they wear sleek, body-hugging evening gowns.

“There’s nothing more satisfying for a dominant woman than to be waited on by a naked eunie,” says one.

“Just think,” says another, “it was only a few years ago that we had to take orders from old guys like these.”

They call over one of the waiters and ask him how he likes being castrated.

“It’s OK, kind of boring,” he says.

How long, they ask.

“Five years.”

How did it come about?

“Wife arranged it. Said it would be best for me.”

What was your job before you were fixed?

“Accountant.”

Why not continue that?

“No longer had the drive.”

They thank him for the information and then one of the ladies says, “I’m not wearing panties. Now get down, crawl under the table and lick my pussy.”

A couple minutes later she feels his warm breath and obedient tongue licking between her legs. She throws her head back and laughs.

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Milestones: Too Good To Be True

Here’s a little mini-milestone in my castration fetish.

The idea for the following story came to me when I was 34 and still married. I described the outline to my wife and she said it sounded good. It wasn’t until I was 44 that I got around to writing it down and posting it to the Eunuch Archive. It’s the first one I’d ever written. About 10 years later I gave it a fairly modest rewrite and changed the title to, “Castration Farm”.

Summary: Two vixens lure a young man up to their aunt’s farm to be castrated.

Here is the story:

Too Good To Be True

One day, as I was doing my laundry in my apartment building laundry room, two hot young vixens came in. They were both wearing cut-offs and tight t-shirts and no bras. They giggled when they saw me and then one of them, Sharon, asked me if I could drive them up to Alison’s aunt’s farm. They giggled as I stuttered out that I would love to.

We all sat in the front seat and, since it was a hot summer day, the girls
decided to take their t-shirts off. They giggled when they saw the bulge in my crotch made by the big erection I got looking at their cute young titties.

Alison told me I’d better do something to relieve the swelling between my legs or I was going to have an accident. The girls told me to turn off onto a deserted dirt road and stop the car. Sharon said they knew what dirty men like me liked to do when they got big erections. Alison said, “Why don’t you take off your shorts, spread your legs and put on a show for us.” They giggled as I hurried to comply. Soon, I was urgently stroking my stiff, bursting manhood right in front of them. It was intensely embarrassing, but I couldn’t help myself.

Sharon said she thought I was being very dirty and that I should be ashamed of myself for playing with myself in front of them. Alison said she agreed and certainly hoped I wasn’t planning on playing with myself until I finished. Sharon agreed and added that she thought that only a very bad and dirty man would do such a thing. Alison said her aunt knew what to do with dirty men who squirted in front of sweet young girls.

Alison said that the last time they had visited her aunt’s farm they had asked a local teenage farm boy to join them in the hay loft for a playful chat. It had been hot in the hay loft, so the girls had taken off their t-shirts. Well, before you know it, that dirty farm boy had yanked off his shorts and was openly pumping his fist in his crotch. Sharon and Alison were surprised and delighted by this, but they sternly warned the boy not to finish in front of them. Well, that naughty boy didn’t listen and went right ahead and squirted right in front of them. The girls scolded him and told him he must be punished. They ordered him to remove the rest of his clothes and to climb down out of the hay loft, and to get down on all fours in the gelding stocks and let himself be strapped into them. The farm boy did as he was told, thinking that they only planned to whip his bare butt a few times with a switch.

Alison left the barn and returned in a few minutes with her aunt. When her aunt saw the naked and helpless farm boy strapped into the gelding stocks she laughed and said it had been over a month since the last time she had had to show a man what the stocks were built for. The girls told Alison’s aunt about how the farm boy had exposed his hard penis to them and had shot his load right in front of them. Alison’s aunt was outraged. She told Alison to get her special instruments.

Alison returned with her aunt’s gelding instruments and she and Sharon stood behind the farm boy and giggled as they watched Alison’s aunt begin working between the helpless farm boy’s legs. The girls giggled hysterically as the farm boy started squealing in terror while Alison’s aunt carried out the gelding. After Alison’s aunt had sewn up the farm boy’s empty scrotum, he was released from the stocks and Alison’s aunt told him she hoped he realized that she had had to geld him for his own good. She told the farm boy that she was going to add his family jewels to her large collection.

I couldn’t believe the story I was hearing and I was also distracted by how hot and bursting my cock felt. I was soon shooting spurt after spurt of thick hot come in front of the giggling excited girls. After I was finished milking my oozing prick in front of the girls, they told me to clean up and drive a little further down the road. We pulled into a farmyard and were met by a voluptuous, bare breasted woman. I was embarrassed because I was still naked from the waist down. The woman was Alison’s aunt, and when she leaned in the passenger side window to say hello, she immediately noticed my glistening, half-hard prick. Alison’s aunt lost no time in ordering me to get out of the car and follow her into the barn. Soon, I was naked and helpless, strapped into the gelding stocks. A few minutes later, Alison’s aunt starting working, I started squealing, and the girls started giggling.

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“Drop Your Drawers!”, a femdom castration fantasy

He got a referral for a lady surgeon to correct a minor problem.

When he showed up for the appointment he was ushered into a small exam room by the surgeon’s assistant, a brisk and willowy young brunette with olive skin and curly hair pulled back in a ponytail.

She says, “OK, drop you drawers,” and tells him to get on the exam chair.

He stammers, “But, my problem isn’t…,” but he meekly does what he’s told.

When he gets on the exam chair he automatically closes his legs out of modesty.

She grabs his knees and pulls them apart saying, “Spread ’em! You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before.”

He spreads his legs all the way until they’re pressed back flat onto the chair. He blushes in embarrassment at having his private parts so shamefully exposed to a strange woman.

He stammers, “But, but why do, do I…?”

She calmly replies, “The doctor’s going to want to talk to you about castration.”

“Castration?”, he says with a frightened bleat, “Why does she…”

Suddenly, the lady surgeon comes in. She’s a solid, attractive brunette of forty wearing jeans and a blouse.

She goes over to him and instantly starts manhandling his genitals, inspecting them closely, pulling, squeezing, stretching.

He notices she’s not wearing gloves. She tells him she needs the close, tactile skin-on-skin contact.

She shifts her focus to his scrotum and its contents, gently squeezing and rolling his testicles.

She announces, “Yes, perfect. I want to take these.”

Then she bluntly asks him, “Have you ever considered castration?”

He replies, “No, no, of course not.”

She asks coyly, “Not even as a fantasy?”

He replies, “Well, yes, as a matter of fact I have, but I don’t see…”

She announces, “Good. Then let’s begin.”

He squeaks, “But, wait!”

“Castration’s not that bad,” she says soothingly. “Just relax and enjoy it.”

He squirms and moans, “Nooooooooo”.

She scoffs, “What a little slut he is! Look how he squirms.” Then she grabs his cock and says, “And just look how hard his cock is. He obviously wants it.”

He jumps when she grabs his cock. He hadn’t even been aware of his own arousal because everything was moving so fast.

Feeling her grip on his erection pushes him over the edge and with an anguished moan he starts spraying semen all over his chest and belly. She helps finish him off with a few slow, smooth strokes. “That should help him relax.”

The assistant hands her some paper towels to wipe the semen off her hands.

The assistant asks, “Should we clean him up?”

The surgeon replies, “No, it’s not in our way. Leave it for later.” Then she says, “Give me the local numbing pump.”

He feels powerless to resist. It’s as if she has taken complete ownership of his genitals. He has unwittingly entered into her domain where her will is law. It’s her exam room, her assistant, her skills, her years of experience, her tools. It has reduced him to a helpless lump of quivering flesh completely at the mercy of her skillful hands.

The assistant stands to one side as the surgeon begins and says, “I always love watching you do this.” The surgeon just grins.

He realizes she was right. He floats on a warm, dreamy cloud of pleasure as she performs the task.

Then he hears the sound of two liquid plops followed by the snap of a plastic lid that reverberates with finality.

The surgeon gets up, washes her hands and says, “Clean him up and send him on his way,” and then quickly leaves.

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“The Pony Play Club”, femdom castration fantasy

George and Emily are newlyweds, married less than a year.

When Emily discovers pony play files on their laptop she just smiles. She has dated enough before meeting George to know that all men have funny kinks. And besides, she has secrets too.

Emily reveals her discovery to George in a gentle and loving way. He blushes and hangs his head in shame. He is surprised when Emily tells him she would like to learn more about his special interest. And in this way she gradually worms her way into becoming an essential part of his fetish.

In only a short while they have both fully embraced the fetish and immerse themselves in it on weekends.

They find a quiet meadow in a secluded part of a nearby woods to engage in some of this play. Emily trots George around the meadow while stinging his bottom with her whip. George has big balls and is hung like horse.

The pony play sessions always end with a milking, performed either by Emily or by George milking himself while she leers and grins devilishly.

George and Emily live in a rural area which is home to a small agricultural college. Part of the college is a small veterinary school. Emily suggests that George might like to learn more about the veterinary school since it routinely handles large animals like ponies.

Emily arranges for them to be given a special private tour of the veterinary school. Their guide is the head professor of the school, a very confident and attractive women in her early 40s. The tour ends in the gelding center.

The professor shows them one of the gelding stalls and explains the purposes of the restraining straps and other equipment. George becomes flustered and aroused. The professor looks at Emily with a quizzical and enquiring smile. Emily shyly explains that George is into pony play. The professor smiles and says she understands fully and that she has had some experience with pony play people. They ask her to tell them more.

Turns out there is a small pony play club in a nearby town. The president of the club contacted the professor and invited her to give a talk about her work at a club meeting.

All the club members were dressed in their usual pony play gear for the talk with the exception that their genitals were covered with a modesty crotch covering.

When the professor got around to discussing the important topic of gelding she noticed that many in the audience had become aroused and were sneakily stimulating themselves.

She smiled. It amused her to see that. She was familiar with the response. She had seen it before in males.

A week after the talk she got a message from the president of the club that was very pushy and almost demanded to be given a private appointment with her. He said he urgently needed more practical info about gelding.

She told him to meet her at the gelding center on a Sunday when no one else would be around. On the given day she found him waiting impatiently outside when she got there. Once inside she told him to put on his pony play gear but to omit the modesty crotch covering.

She snorted in amused surprise as he appeared before her with his low hanging sac with it’s two big balls and his big human-pony pizzle already swollen to half hardness.

She led him to one of the gelding stalls and fastened the straps that held him tightly in place. His pizzle had become fully erect and pointed at the ceiling.

She asked him if he knew what she was going to do to him. He just whimpered. She didn’t bother milking him. She just started right in and soon it was all over.

A couple weeks after that she began getting similar requests from some of the other club members. She was only too happy to oblige.

This story caused George to get even more flustered and aroused. Looking from one to the other the professor asks Emily what she would like to do. Emily’s eyes twinkle and she smiles brightly as she asks to be given one of those Sunday appointments for her George. When George hears this he shudders and cums in his pants making a big wet stain in them. The women see it and laugh while George cringes and blushes with embarrassment.

When the special day arrives George is soon strapped in tight in the gelding stall. Emily asks permission to milk George one last time and the professor grants it with a good-natured smile. When his ejaculation comes it is volcanic and copious.

The professor explains to Emily that she always likes to take off her top when she is doing a gelding. Emily nods approval and the professor takes off her blouse and bra letting her fine, firm breasts swing free. She is obviously excited and her big nipples stick out stiffly.

George’s balls are quite big, like nectarines. While the professor is gelding him she talks to Emily about how delicious cooked testicles can be. Emily is shocked at first but soon titters with delight at the idea. The professor says they are extra delicious because you know you are eating a male’s precious manhood that he has lost forever. When the professor invites Emily over to dinner in order to experience it she readily agrees. The professor pops George’s severed balls into a doggy bag just as they go to leave.

George is still on pain killers when Emily returns from her dinner with the professor. Emily wears a broad, happy smile. George asks her how it went. She just smiles at him and winks.

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“Are You Trans?” – femdom castration fantasy

Main characters:
A fat old man, big bottom, sagging belly, drooping man-boobs.
Christine, a lady surgeon, sharp and brisk.
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He gets a referral to a surgeon to remove a small cyst on his bottom. When he gets to the clinic he is surprised to find the surgeon is a woman.
After she greets him she looks him over and says, “Are you trans? With your womanly physique you certainly look trans. I’m very pro-trans. I provide counselling for trans people on the side. Here’s my card.”
She’s very forceful and persuasive. He feels lost in life. He hopes she can give him purpose, direction.
In the weeks following this first meeting he finds that her words stay with him and her face haunts him. He decides to take up her offer and calls her at home.
Later, at Christine’s home he meets some of her lady friends and some trans people she has helped. One of the trans people strips and shows how he’s been altered between his legs. He speaks highly of Christine and expresses his gratitude.
Christine: “You can be like they are. You’re already 99% trans. Let me help you go all the way and perform the finishing touches. Only two little glands stand in the way. Come to my clinic and let me and my team take care of you.”
On another occasion she made him strip while they discussed it.
Christine: “Just look at your little peeny, how it’s standing up so stiff and oozing. It shows how excited you are about it, how natural it is for you, how much you need this.”
Her eyes looked into his, they seemed to bore into him, to see his soul and to grasp it and hold it firmly. The feeling of being totally dominated made him shudder and gasp. He felt her smile with smug satisfaction as he helplessly ejaculated without being touched. He fell into a semi-conscious swoon.
“Let me clean that for you”, she whispered, and he felt her gently cleaning up his sticky mess with some wet wipes.
He fell into a state where he trusted her unconditionally, like a child trusts its mother. He felt a feminine urge inside he had never known before. It was an urge to make the transition. He surrendered to a submissive side he had always repressed. He called to make the appointment for the operation.
After the operation, he began to notice a disturbing change in the way people treated him. He was no longer treated with deference and respect for his maleness and seniority but instead they ignored him and brushed him aside like he was just some faceless pile of blubber bumbling around foolishly.
There was a special party at Christine’s house, thrown to welcome him to her group after the operation. He asked her if she was proud that he had chosen to be trans. He was stunned and shaken to the core when she laughed, “Trans? You’re not trans! You’re just a sexless little eunuch. Ha ha!”
“But… but… but…” he stammered, getting red in the face.
“Shut up, you silly eunuch,” she said. “It’s time you learned your new role in life. I noticed that you looked at our friend Helen with distaste on previous occasions, so I think I’ll start you with her. Now get down on your hands and knees and crawl over between her legs with your tongue out. She’s not wearing any panties.”
Burning with shame and humiliation he did as he was told. Christine produced a large paddle and began spanking him hard as his tongue worked on Helen’s musty old genitals. The other guests watched and laughed.
“What kind of man would let a woman take his family jewels, his very maleness?” Christine laughed. “What a weak, brainless little sissy you are!”

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Biography of a Castratrix by SquirmEWorm

I wrote this some years ago and posted it to the Eunuch Archive where it became quite popular. In fact, when there was a catastrophic disc crash and the site had to re-built from scratch this story was one of the first to be restored by popular demand.

Unfortunately, I don’t possess a copy of it myself so I can’t post it here.

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“Steam Bath”, castration fantasy story

Two thirty-something gym buddies, Joe and Bob, sit in a steam room with white towels wrapped around their waists. Bob is a little older.

Joe is telling Bob about his new girlfriend. He tells Bob that she’s very dominant and that she has come to completely dominate him, that she’s taken his will.

Bob tells him he better watch out because she might end up taking his balls as well.

Joe laughs.

Bob says he’s serious. “No power on earth can resist a woman like that when she wants your balls.”

Joe says, “OK, buddy. OK”.

Bob doesn’t see Joe again for a few weeks. They meet again in the locker room, naked except for their towels.

Joe has a rueful, embarrassed look on his face. He says, “I guess you were right, Bob,” and he takes off his towel to show Bob his crotch area.

Bob snorts and says, “I hate to say I told you so. But if it’s any consolation, buddy, look at this,” and he takes off his own towel.

Joe bends forward to take a good look and then gives out a low whistle.

And they grin helpless, idiot grins.

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Paperback edition of “Thirty-five Castration Fantasies”

Published today. Available on Amazon.