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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.