My siblings ask me why I have the feelings I do.

They wonder why I think like I do.

They forget that they were not born the way I was. They have no basis for comparison. They’re ‘normal’.

I was born with undescended testicles, and the associated hormonal imbalance that goes with it.

Undescended testicles are a result of a lack of proper nutrients in the womb, brought about by a genetic defect in the mother . . . i.e., a birth defect. Undescended testicles are thought to be hereditary, through the mother’s family tree, mainly; but horse people cull-out stallions with the problem. My brothers’ sons are normal (they think they are). I’ve never sired children. My penis has never been inside a vagina.

I had 3 surgeries between the ages of 5 and 7. I also developed a scrotal hydrocele and nerve damage to my left leg and testicle in the process, or because of one of those surgeries. My right testicle and scrotum has limited feelings. I have a large deep scar across my abdomen, and curvature of the penis. I have a twin brother, and did not develop like he did. We are not identical, but still a good case-study for genetic abnormalities.

My penis curves to the left (looking down), and rotates around to the left. The left side is half the size of the right (corpora cavernosa), and there is a large bump in the middle of the right side. It’s twisted. If I don’t hold it outward to the right, I will wet my left leg and foot, or miss the can completely, when standing to urinate. Of course, I can sit to urinate, but still have to direct flow with a finger pressed against the left side. When I get (or used to get) aroused, my penis looks like a cork-screw and always hurt. I did get very hard erections, in my teens, but the pain trained my brain to discontinue that practice. I haven’t had a decent erection in over 30 years. It sometimes swells today, but never really gets hard. The pain isn’t unbearable, but it is aggravating. Try having an erection or tender moment while someone is popping your penis with a rubber band, over and over.

My testicles are dead. It’s called hypogonadism. Don’t know exactly when it happened, but I was diagnosed in ’92. It is something that happens to guys like me. They are just ‘there’. Guess what? My General Practitioner STILL will not prescribe testosterone. I have never used testosterone. I have ‘other’ functioning hormone organs. I think . . . like quacks in the 60’s, he just doesn’t know. He uses an antiquated ‘scale’ for “proper hormone” count. I always wondered what a Testosterone injection might feel like. What would happen? Would I go insane? Would my dick break? Would I get so horny, I want to rape someone?

Some say, “Why don’t you get an operation” or “another GP?”

Why bother now? Sometimes I think it was ‘meant to be’. I know that there are procedures that have been developed since I had my last operation; but I am well past my ‘fun years’ . . . it just doesn’t make sense. Embarrassment, money, and or family pressure forbade me from attempting any relief in my 20’s and 30’s. Most of the time, I don’t feel attractive enough to be with anyone anyway.

If I could afford an operation, and more importantly, find a good Surgeon to do it; I’d have my nuts removed, scrotum drastically reduced, and my penis shortened, thinned, and straightened, with a decent foreskin. I’d also try to get scar reduction plastic surgery, and permanent hair removal. This is all for ‘looks’, as there is nothing anyone can do to revive the damaged nerves.

Aside from a personal outlook, or reason, maybe my ‘story’ will help unsuspecting, ‘good-intentioned’ parents make a better choice for their ‘birth-defective’ son?

My mother was a nurse, growing up. She had great faith in the Physicians of the time. Trouble is . . . they didn’t know a heck of a lot concerning avoidance of nerve damage, or reconstruction of the nether-regions. They were only concerned with getting the things out in the open, slicing and dicing, and marginally sealing up the wound, and getting paid. They figured that the child would ‘grow into’ the situation. Eventually accept his differences, like an Appendectomy, or some other necessary operation. “He won’t miss what he never knew” (which, BTW, would have also applied to being left natural). They also didn’t know a lot about the effects of scar tissue, and how it develops over time. They had to dig deep to find my wayward testicles, and I think, today, that they used retractors to hold my abdomen open, which irrevocably bruised my nerves on my left side.

I suffered from a host of ailments, mental and physical, growing up. I had to learn about “why” and “what” from my twin brother. I got to watch him grow up with all the feelings and personal pleasures other boys’ experience, and I had to struggle to figure out what the heck he was talking about because my ‘equipment’ wasn’t functioning like his. I wet the bed until I was 13. I had horrible bladder pains that lasted for days that no one could do anything about. I had to suffer the embarrassment of my mother’s attentions to my ‘privates’. I got teased in the school showers. I was made fun of, because of my scars, and the lack of emotion tied-to that “particular day’s” sex jokes. My brother’s favorite nick-name for me was “Pig Dick”.

I had no clue what an erection was supposed to feel like, or why my nuts didn’t function like other boys. All I knew was pain and ugliness.

My puberty was delayed by almost 2 years; another effect of my birth defect. My brother started in the middle of our 13th year. I started at the end of our 15th year. I didn’t shave until I was 21. Then it was just my upper lip and chin. I still do not have a full beard, and it’s thin and uneven, and lop-sided. My body hair is sparse, uneven, and limited to my groin and a tiny patch on my left chest; again, unlike my twin who has evenly spread, normal man-hair. My groin hair wasn’t fully developed until I was 20. What hair I do have around the ‘goods’, hurts like needles because of its coarseness. Yes, I can feel the pain of THAT, but I can’t feel my left nut. Weird, but that’s the effects of scar tissue.

Would I have grown differently if they had simply given me Testosterone injections as a teenager, and forgone the surgeries? Who knows? Physicians today are still loath to dose out Testosterone. They had no clue about its effects then. Boys in third-world countries grow up with undescended testicles. True, there are a few who get gangrene or develop other serious ailments from the abnormality. Who’s to say I wouldn’t have grown up “OK” with a flat groin? I think I would have had a better grasp on physical feelings, and had less emotional damage. I’m sure I would have had to endure teasing still, of some sort. I was smaller than my twin, and looked younger. He was the instigator of most of the teasing I endured anyway.

The way my body looked, when I was 5, is the way I think my body should look today. I guess that’s because it was then that I looked pure, and unscarred. In my mind, I was undamaged.

It was only later, in my teen years on the farm that I learned about castration, and figured out what happened to me, and consequentially decided on my life’s course.

My parents were doing what they thought was best. I’m sure of that. Otherwise, sexually, they were prudes. They never had ‘the talk’ with any of us kids. But, they were also depending upon the word and knowledge of professionals who, I think, were just in it for the extra cash. I still, to this day, don’t think an awful lot of Doctors. I think of my surgeries like I do circumcision. It isn’t medically necessary, but Doctors still ‘push’ it. Undescended testicles don’t necessarily pose a life-threatening situation. Doctors grab the parents by the balls, and use their pride to seal the deal on the surgery. There are loads of accounts of boys who ‘drop’ well into their adolescent years. Who knows if I would have been one of those? I personally know a guy who didn’t ‘drop’ until he was 6 years old. His nuts and penis were always small, but he didn’t have to endure a raping by unscrupulous doctors. (Sorry, that just came out.)

If my parents could have only visualized the future, they’d known it wasn’t worth it. Today I want to ‘undo’ what they tried so hard to preserve.

I may have developed my penis ‘fetish’ because of my operations. But I am probably pissing in the wind there. You never know, though. I never listen to the ‘nature-vs-nurture’ crowds anyway. We are who we are. I like the way pre-pubescent boys look. No, I don’t want to have sex with little boys. I want to be one. I like small penises and flat scrotums. Again, that may have been part of, or due to, the aftermath of my operations, and subsequent loathing of my scarred-up body. I’m too old to care, or change now.

I became a gay bottom because I hated to show other boys my twisted penis and scar. I wanted to interact physically with my peers, and cousins. I learned at a very young age how good a prostate massage feels. I was 12. No, I don’t like to talk about that first time. He was an older cousin. He was gorgeous, and ‘cool’. It scared the shit out of me, but I didn’t know enough about anything sexual to compare. I do remember the vibrations, after the ass-pain subsided. I was floating. I felt like my groin was on fire, and very relaxed at the same time. I wanted it to last forever. It was over too soon. I have had a few good, mind-blowing fucks; but it is rare that a partner can go long enough to get the job done. I ‘faked it’ a lot. Of course, I haven’t had a ‘partner’ in many, many years . . . unless ‘toys’ count! .

Again . . . emotional baggage.

Thinking back . . . isn’t it odd that my prostate developed normally, but my external sex organs didn’t?

I advocate leaving boys natural, the way they are born. What’s wrong with it? Isn’t it better for a boy to grow up knowing he was ‘made that way’ . . . . Or thinking his parents decided he wasn’t good enough, or defective, and needed changes or improvements to be acceptable? Which would leave the least amount of scars, emotional or physical? True, if a boys testicles don’t ‘fall out’, he’ll need supplements, and grandchildren might be a crap-shoot; but most people today need supplementation of some sort eventually, and there’s millions of kids needing homes. At least he’ll have normal physical feelings to compare things to.

I know that puts a load of crap on my parents. And, I don’t really resent them doing it to me. Not now, anyway. I know they believed and were hoping for the best. Goes to prove what a kid can grow into though. Kids perceive things differently than grownups. I eventually learned I was different, and associated my differences with my surgeries, and connected the dots. I figured my parents thought I was defective, and needed correcting to be a good son. I got a lot of attention from my mother, during those years, and very little from my father. He had ‘normal’ sons, and a ‘defective’ son. He devoted his primary attentions to his normal sons. That’s the way I perceived it. My relationship with my father was affected by my surgeries.

I hope that in the coming years, people learn that Hospitals are money-generating organisms, and not much more. They depend upon unwitting, and uneducated folks for a living. Sure, they do a lot of good, and extend the life-span of the populous; but they are in fact after money. Everyone knows the difference between a rich and poor outcome inside a Hospital, and the inevitable types of care offered for each. Money is why the vast majority of students get into medical fields. They dream of the wealth it can generate, more than what good they might be able to afford society. I have never met, or talked to anyone that can attest differently. Yes . . . also true, I do have my own slant on doctors.

I worked in a Hospital during my after high school and Jr. College years. My mother was a nurse, remember? I was a Surgery Tech, and really got into urological procedures. I begged for them, traded places to get them. I got to watch many operations on penises and urinary ailments. The size of the scope doctors used then would blow most guys minds! I can attest to the fact it stretches a mile before it tears an inch. I watched one surgeon create a vagina for a patient (rare in the 70’s). I watched procedures like I had as a child. I loved my ‘On Call’ nights. I felt empowered. I got to talk with surgeons and surgery nurses. I almost went into medicine myself. But I was ‘an Artist’, and wanted to be famous for my artistic abilities. I can’t tell you how many doctors bragged about what they were charging the poor sap on the table, or how little of what was being done would actually affect the outcome of the expensive surgery. Some of the ‘over-the-table’ talk, and high-jinks was a turn-off too. The things they said about, and did to the people they were being paid to help, still amazes me to this day. I never met a doctor that wasn’t arrogant. I couldn’t wait for school (the real University years) to start.

Yep, I starved to death after I graduated. I eventually drove a truck, and worked for my local County Government as a Landscaper and Correctional Officer. That expensive Art Degree really paid off!

I’ve had one good, long-lasting relationship. I ended it, and regret it to this day. More emotional baggage left over from my younger years. He will most likely be the one to whom all others are compared. But people come and go in life.

Today, I’m basically retired and work from home, in the Underwriting and Mortgage Field Services and Inspection Industry. I don’t exactly get to ‘work when I feel like it’, but its close. I get many opportunities to write, and watch TV! Seriously though, I do have a few hobbies, and keep myself fairly busy. I hope the stories I have posted are enjoyed by all, and that the reader understands where I’m coming from with this post.

I live for spring and summer, when I can be outdoors. I hate wearing clothes, but don’t necessarily want folks to see me not wearing clothes. Odd? Sure. If, or when I’m fixed, I’ll probably be a show-off, or nudie-park nuisance.

Sure would be nice to share it with someone. I welcome any and all correspondence, here or in e-mails. My e-mail is posted, but I get the messages from the Personal site on the Archive too.

Thanks for being here EA.

Geez!

Wish I'd looked at the length of my intro.

I really do welcome comments and conversation from others like me.

Please don't 'Quote' this posting in replies. It might kill the system!

Thanks EA for being here!

Thank you for sharing your story. Many words and many words to respond. I'll write you a PM.

Very interesting story. Many thanks for sharing.