I first became aware of castration in the summer of 2005, when I stumbled across a discussion thread on the topic on Tribe.net. I was fascinated by the idea that a man would voluntarily choose to be castrated. As I read more about it I learned about the eunuch calm, and from there it didn’t take long for fascination to morph into desire. My whole life had been a struggle with depression and anxiety and I longed for the peace that many eunuchs reported. The idea of a greatly reduced sex drive also had a certain appeal. I had by this time become an obsessive cruiser, spending as much as 30-40 hours a week at the park or online trying to hook up for anonymous sex, and I liked the idea of losing that compulsion.

It didn’t take long for my castration desires to become an obsession. I thought about it all the time. I masturbated to castration fantasies. I found the Eunuch Archive and read all I could there. I also found a chatroom dedicated to castration on gay.com (this was back when gay.com allowed user-created chatrooms). I would lurk in that chatroom for hours while guys talked about their castration fantasies and desires. I didn’t feel I could talk to anyone about my feelings, least of all my partner, so I suffered alone with my obsession.

In November of ’05, I was visiting Dallas. The friend I’d gone to see didn’t have time to spend with me and I found myself alone and depressed. I got really drunk and decided that I would castrate myself. The plan was to tie off my balls and wait for them to become numb, cut them off with a box cutter, then go to the ER to get sewn up. I took a zip-tie and zipped it as tight as I could get it around my scrotum, then poked at it with the box cutter every 15 minutes to see if it was numb enough to cut. Of course I never did become numb enough to cut without pain, and even as drunk as I was (I had consumed an entire bottle of vodka) I couldn’t bring myself to inflict that kind of pain on myself, so I just fell asleep with the zip-tie still around my balls. I woke up the next morning with my scrotum swollen to the size of a grapefruit and incredibly painful. I wound up having to go to the ER to get the zip-tie removed, then follow up with a urologist to find out if I had permanently damaged my balls. It turned out I hadn’t damaged them at all (I was somewhat disappointed by this). While waiting for the results from the urologist I asked my partner if he would still love me if I lost my balls. He said he didn’t know. It would take another year for me to finally split with him, but that conversation was the beginning of the end for us.

Over the next year my obsession with castration continued to grow, and I continued to keep it to myself. I started therapy for my depression but never felt able to share my castration desires with my therapist. What my therapy did accomplish was to help me realize I was in a dysfunctional relationship, and at the end of 2006 I finally worked up the courage to leave my partner.

Once out of that relationship I felt free to pursue my goal of becoming a eunuch. Through the gay.com chat room I found a cutter in Dallas who was willing to help me. I went to meet him and saw photographs of previous castrations he had done. I was satisfied that he would take the proper precautions regarding sterility etc. and stayed in regular contact with him over the next several months.

It was during this time that I met Troy. He had recently moved to Austin and was looking to make new friends. We started hanging out together and it didn’t take long for friendship to blossom into something more. I was falling in love with him, but knew that he would have to accept me as a eunuch if anything was going to work between us. So I shared with him about my castration desires and asked him if he thought he could love a eunuch. He was taken aback but once I explained my reasons he was fully supportive. He had some misgivings about my using a cutter, until they met and the cutter assured him that he would take me straight to the ER if anything went wrong. So with Troy’s full blessing I scheduled the date with the cutter.

On June 19, 2007, Troy and I made the drive to Dallas for my castration. It turned out the guy who normally assisted the cutter wasn’t available this time, so Troy was drafted to assist. I was sent to shave my balls while the cutter sterilized his tools. He laid out several sterile pads on his guest bed and had me lie on them. He swabbed my scrotum with disinfectant and injected me with lidocaine in several places. After a few minutes I was perfectly numb. He made an incision on the right side of my scrotum and cut through the layers of skin and membrane until he reached the testis. Once he had the testis exposed he injected more lidocaine into the cord. He had Troy hold the testis while he clamped and then cut the cord. He asked me if I would like to hold my ball and I said yes. I held it and just stared, fascinated. Here I was holding something that had been inside me just a few minutes before. The cutter tied off and sutured the remaining cord and tucked it back inside my scrotum. He then sutured up the incision just as neatly as you please. Then he repeated the whole process with the left side. The only difference was that this time Troy was the one to cut the cord. I felt nothing the whole time they were working on me.

After they finished I was told to rest on the bed while they cleaned up. I was only too happy to do so. As I lay there the lidocaine wore off and I began to feel like someone had kicked me in the groin. The pain began to make me nauseous, so I told Troy I felt like I was going to throw up and asked him to help me to the bathroom. He helped me out of bed and toward the bathroom door. The next thing I knew I was lying on the floor with Troy and the cutter standing over me looking very concerned. I had passed out. They helped me back to bed and forbade me to get up again till morning. I was given Vicodin for the pain and to help me sleep.

The next morning I woke up feeling better but still sore. I was given more Vicodin and ordered to rest the whole day, which I did. I was also given antibiotics to stave off infection. My scrotum was swollen to about the size of an orange.

The next day it was time to go back to Austin. Troy was to do the driving. I was given a supply of antibiotics and Vicodin, and instructed to bathe daily with antibacterial soap. We made the trip back home with no problems. Troy stayed with me to assist in my recuperation. By the first of July he had moved all his stuff in and was officially living with me.

The day after returning to Austin I was back at work. Fortunately my job at the time involved sitting at a desk for most of the day so I didn’t have to move around too much. I had told my boss I needed the time off for minor surgery so I didn’t have to try to pretend nothing had happened. I had made up my mind that if anyone asked why my groin was swollen or why I was walking funny I would simply tell them I had had a hernia operation, but no one ever questioned me.

I did have one minor complication during my healing. The swelling on the right side of my scrotum went down fairly quickly, but on the left side it did not. Eventually, after my sutures had dissolved and come out, the pressure caused the incision to pop open again. When this happened a dark red substance began to ooze out through the opening. I took advantage of the situation and began to squeeze my swollen scrotum. A huge mass of dark red jelly squirted out. It was one of the grossest things I’ve ever seen but boy did it feel good to get rid of it. With the left side of my scrotum finally drained, the incision healed back up on its own with no need for resuturing. Two weeks after my surgery I was almost completely healed.

I suppose this is the point at which I’m supposed to talk about how foolish I was to use a cutter and tell readers not to do as I did. But the fact is I have no complaints at all about my cutter experience. He was very careful and thorough and kept everything as sterile as possible. I honestly doubt that a licensed surgeon could have done a much better job. And in any event, even had I been able to find a licensed doctor to do the procedure, I could never have afforded their fee on my income. I’m thankful that my cutter was there when I needed him and still keep in touch with him to this day. If I had it to do over again I wouldn’t do it any differently. I was definitely one of the lucky ones out of those that have used cutters.

Anyway, about two weeks post-castration was when I crashed from lack of testosterone. My emotions went completely haywire for about a week. I would cry at the drop of a hat. I also began to experience hot flashes. It didn’t take too long for my emotions to level out, however, and I started to experience the eunuch calm. I was so happy. I also began to notice the decrease in my sex drive as well as an increased desire for non-sexual, physical intimacy. Cuddling and touching became much more important to me, and Troy was only too happy to reciprocate. And sex, when we had it, became more about intimacy rather than mere physical relief. So I guess you would say that sex post-castration is more emotionally satisfying.

So here I am, almost five years post-castration and overall I’m still very happy with my results. I still have some anxiety issues so it wasn’t quite the cure-all I’d hoped it would be, but overall I’m much calmer than I used to be. Whereas my life before was a constant emotional roller coaster, I’m on a much more even keel now. I have a reasonably active sex life with Troy that keeps me satisfied both physically and emotionally. I can’t top him, but we have an open relationship so he is free to get that need met elsewhere. My erections have become less and less frequent, and it’s now been so long since my last one that I’ve begun to wonder if they’re gone for good. It’s okay with me if they are. The important thing is that I now control my sex drive instead of it controlling me.

Thank-you for your post.

Be prepared for a flood of interested parties looking to get the contact information for your cutter.

I'm glad everything went smoothly for you. You are definitely one of the lucky ones.

Hopefully one day we won't have to rely on such underground methods for ourselves. There are so many things that can go wrong for us when we go outside of the accepted medical community. I'm very glad to hear your story had a happy ending.

I remember my first gay sexual encounter. I was living in Abilene, right in the middle of the Bible belt. I was attending a Christian college and was a faithful member of a local Charismatic church. I was 28 and had been suppressing my gay feelings since I was 13, and I was miserable.

One day my sociology professor mentioned in class that the park adjacent to the local gay bar was a “cruising spot,” a place where gay men would go to meet other gay men for sex. This was news to me. I knew about the gay bar but had never been able to bring myself to go there. But the idea that you could go to a park and meet someone to have sex with…that both repelled and fascinated me. I filed the information away for future reference.

I should mention that my chief weapon in the battle to suppress my gay self was my religion. It was largely my fear of my gay feelings that drove me to religion in the first place. I had prayed and prayed for deliverance from what I saw as this great evil inside of me. But no matter how hard I prayed or wished for deliverance, my gay feelings continued to assert themselves. In the previous year or so I had been losing the battle to the point where I had actually rented gay porn on a number of occasions and even had a vibrator that I used on myself when the urge was too strong to deny. I was being worn down and once I learned about the cruising park is was perhaps inevitable that I would eventually go there.

I should also mention that I had become somewhat disillusioned with my religion in the preceding few months. God’s failure (or refusal) to deliver me from my gay self was a part of it, but I was also beginning to question much of what I had been taught by my spiritual mentors. In other words, the time was becoming ripe for me to finally cave in to a side of me that I’d been afraid of for so long.

Finally I could stand it no longer. One evening in the fall of 1996 I waited until near dark, when I knew the men would be gathering, and drove my car to the park in question. As I entered the meandering drive through the park, I saw cars parked here and there, and guys outside their cars talking in a couple of spots. I pulled into a parking space and shut off my engine. I wasn’t sure just what I was supposed to do so I just rolled down my window and waited. I watched the other cars as the sun went down, wanting to get out and approach somebody but too afraid to do so. Eventually all but one of the cars left. Presumably their occupants had found what they were looking for.

I was just about to give up and go home when the remaining car flashed its lights. I wasn’t sure, but thought this might be the sign I was waiting for, so I flashed mine back. The other car flashed its lights again, then began to pull out of its space. It drove over to the parking alcove I was in and pulled in to the space next to mine. A man got out and walked over to my window. He was fairly tall, slim but not too skinny, with black hair and moustache. All in all pretty attractive. I was terrified but also tremendously exhilarated.

We exchanged hello’s and a few pleasantries. I then blurted out that I’d never done this sort of thing before. He said that was ok. He invited me to go to the neighboring bar for a drink. I accepted his invitation eagerly. He got back in his car and I followed him to the bar.

Once I was inside the bar with a beer in my hand everything just came pouring out of me. How long I had been trying to suppress my gay side and how I just couldn’t stand it anymore. How terrified I was of losing my family and all my friends, or of ending up with AIDS. He listened quietly and patiently. At some point he reached over and held my hand. A thrill of electricity went through me as he did this. As we finished our drinks I worked up my nerve and asked him if he would like to follow me back to my place. He said that would be fine.

We got to my place and sat down on the couch in my living room. I don’t remember what we talked about. I was working up my nerve, and he was leaving the first move up to me. Finally I leaned over and kissed him. I will remember that kiss until the day I die. It was warm and wet and electric and just…well, right. It felt more right than any kiss I’d ever had with a woman. I couldn’t get enough. We sat there and made out for probably a good half hour before it finally occurred to me that I wanted more. I invited him to the bedroom and we made our way there. He lay on the bed and I began to undo his pants. I had my first up close sight of another man’s erect penis. It was one of the most awesome, beautiful things I had ever seen. My hunger overcame me and I went down on him with a vengeance. I lost all capacity for rational thought as I became lost in the rapture of what I was doing. Eventually he told me he was going to come and I stopped. I watched him shoot his load with rapt fascination. He did up his pants and we lay on the bed, just talking. He seemed interested in seeing me again. I was deeply flattered by his interest. We kissed some more before saying goodnight. As he left I felt that I would never be the same again.

Unfortunately my fears overcame me again not too many days later and I retreated back into the closet for another eight months. It would take a bout with severe depression the next spring and summer to finally get me to admit that I was gay. But I never forgot that kiss and how right it felt. I longed to feel that way again and it was that longing that eventually drove me out of the closet. I still remember that first encounter with great fondness. It is one of my most cherished memories to this day.

I love what you have wrote and its all so true I felt different since I was about 10 the urges got stronger and stronger. I hinted at things with friends in the hope that just may be one of them felt the same but nothing.

I got married at 23 and started my family and am still happily married with children but the urge just got worse till at around 30 that was it I was into gay mags and films if anything came on the tv I would look at the men not the women.

I had to do something so I answered an ad in my local paper by another curios person we actually met in a wood I was scared to death but we had hand and oral fun it was fantastic I never saw him again. then about a year later I answered another ad to an old guy in my area, he was great 60 years old and new I new nothing and helped and showed me everything and I enjoyed every thing. I still see him every 2 to 3 months to have fun I haven’t told him I’m a eunuch yet I may just let him feel and find out? He told me of a club not far away where men meet simply for sex and fun where I go 2 to 3 times a year and have fun with several people at once plus the fact that my friend is now impotent I need some hard men but I will never desert him I owe him everything for showing me how I really felt.

I have found though that I prefer to use my hands and tongue, I hate deceiving my wife and I know its still wrong but I feel that at least because I don’t use my penis its not quite as bad and its only saved for her and there is never any love just fun. I know many of you will think this is so wrong but I would hate to hurt my wife but I would choose her if it came to it but my life

EunuchAusTX (imported) wrote: Thu Feb 23, 2012 8:11 pm would never be the same again.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story.

jako,

I sympathize with your position. I was engaged twice myself so narrowly dodged that particular bullet. I wish you the best.

Last night I dreamed I was in college again. It felt so good to be back in an academic environment. That is one place where I always felt at home. I finished my bachelor's degree in August 2003 and took a few graduate courses but unfortunately that's as far as it went. I'd always meant to apply for a fellowship so I could go to grad school full time but somehow never got around to it. Of course I was with my ex at the time and he was not exactly the most supportive human being on the planet so that could have had something to do with it. Anyway my dreams of getting my doctorate and becoming a college professor fell by the wayside. I have a bachelor's degree that did me no good in the professional world and a lot of "what if"'s floating around in my head.

Today I have been thinking about what might have been. What if I had gone to grad school full time like I'd wanted? Would I be teaching at a college somewhere? Would I have my doctorate by now? Would I still be living in Austin? And most importantly, would I still have had the mental breakdown that caused me to lose my last job and now has me stuck in SSDI limbo? I don't know the answers to those questions, and it's unlikely that I ever will. But it's interesting to wonder sometimes, especially when my dreams get me to feeling wistful.

I was watching a show about unusual deaths where they showed a man who actually laughed himself to death, when it dawned on me that I never laugh anymore. I watch comedies like the Simpsons, Family Guy and South Park, and intellectually I know they’re funny, but I don’t laugh at them. It’s the same if someone tells me a joke or something funny happens in my presence. I don’t even remember the last time I had a good laugh, and I wonder what the cause is. Could it be a side effect of the eunuch calm? Are other no-T eunuchs unable to laugh? Could it be a side effect of my meds for my panic disorder? Are they dulling my emotional responses to stimuli? Could it be a sign of depression? Do I need my meds adjusted? Whatever it is, I don’t like it. I miss being able to laugh at my shows or Troy’s jokes. I need to figure out what’s causing me not to laugh and see if there’s anything I can do about it. I don’t mind being calm and even but I don’t want to be emotionally dead.

I suffer from panic disorder. It first surfaced in 2002 during a bout with depression. It escalated somewhat in 2005 and I was prescribed ativan to help with the panic attacks. After that flare-up it leveled out somewhat and I had attacks only occasionally for the next several years. The attacks became even less frequent after my castration, although they didn’t go away entirely. It wasn’t until the spring and summer of 2010 that the perfect storm of circumstances came together to bring about my mental and emotional undoing.

As I said it was the perfect storm of bad circumstances. Troy was having legal problems that were causing a severe financial as well as emotional strain. My mother was terminally ill with pancreatic cancer. My father had three heart attacks within a six month period. I was feeling trapped at my job and having to deal with a homophobic shift leader. And on top of all of that Troy and I were dealing with a toxic roommate that was causing friction between us. I began to have frequent panic attacks. I had my ativan to take when I had them but it knocked me out and rendered me useless for the day. As the attacks increased in frequency they began to affect my attendance at work. I was “counseled” about my attendance which only caused me to feel more pressured and did nothing to alleviate the problem. Finally one day at work everything came crashing down on me and I had a complete mental and emotional breakdown. I was backed up against the wall doubled over and screaming my head off before Troy came (we were working at the same place at the time) to take me to the back room to calm down. After talking with our supervisor to figure out the best thing to do, Troy took me home and had me take an ativan. I slept the rest of the day.

I was placed on three months paid medical leave and told to get help. I went to a psychiatrist who placed me on some heavy duty medications that left me feeling strongly sedated. I didn’t have any more panic attacks but I was like a zombie. I was often too zoned-out to drive. As the end of my three months approached my psychiatrist took me off one of my meds and switched it out for another one in an effort to let me be alert enough to do my job.

As soon as I returned to work the problems began again. The slightest bit of stress would trigger a panic attack. Things began to escalate again. Finally, about three weeks after my return to work, I had another major meltdown. I felt it coming on and fled to the back room as soon as I was able. Troy found me there on the floor in a fetal position.

After that, Troy and I talked and it was decided that I could no longer handle working. I resigned my job and applied for social security disability a month later.

That was December 2010. Today I my disability application still has yet to be resolved. Last month I was sent to a psychologist for an evaluation and I am waiting for a hearing to be scheduled. In the meantime Troy and I are getting by the best we can on one income. It sucks being in limbo like this. Every now and then I think about trying to return to work. What stops me is the knowledge that if it didn’t work out I would have to start the disability application process all over again. So I just wait. And wait.

I have promised Troy a vacation if and when my disability is approved. He certainly deserves it. I keep thinking he is bound to start resenting me for not working, but he has been nothing but understanding and supportive. I’m damn lucky to have him and he’s been the one bright spot in my life since this all started.

Panic disorder sucks. I don’t recommend it.

jako9999 (imported) wrote: Fri Feb 24, 2012 1:38 pm I love what you have wrote and its all so true I felt different since I was about 10 the urges got stronger and stronger. I hinted at things with friends in the hope that just may be one of them felt the same but nothing.

I got married at 23 and started my family and am still happily married with children but the urge just got worse till at around 30 that was it I was into gay mags and films if anything came on the tv I would look at the men not the women.

I had to do something so I answered an ad in my local paper by another curios person we actually met in a wood I was scared to death but we had hand and oral fun it was fantastic I never saw him again. then about a year later I answered another ad to an old guy in my area, he was great 60 years old and new I new nothing and helped and showed me everything and I enjoyed every thing. I still see him every 2 to 3 months to have fun I haven’t told him I’m a eunuch yet I may just let him feel and find out? He told me of a club not far away where men meet simply for sex and fun where I go 2 to 3 times a year and have fun with several people at once plus the fact that my friend is now impotent I need some hard men but I will never desert him I owe him everything for showing me how I really felt.

I have found though that I prefer to use my hands and tongue, I hate deceiving my wife and I know its still wrong but I feel that at least because I don’t use my penis its not quite as bad and its only saved for her and there is never any love just fun. I know many of you will think this is so wrong but I would hate to hurt my wife but I would choose her if it came to it but my life

[quote="EunuchAusTX (imported)

jako9999 (imported) wrote: Fri Feb 24, 2012 1:38 pm " time=1329988260]
would never be the same aga

in.
[/quote]


Thanks for taking the time to read my story.

I don't think you are a bad person, but I do think the person you are hurting the most is yourself. I was in the closet a long time, and while I was never unfaithful, I also have to admit I was disinterested in her. But living the lie was what did the most damage. Not being true to the person I was meant to be. This is not a dress rehearsal. There are no do-overs. As much hurt as my coming out of the closet caused, it was not even as close to the harm that living that lie caused. Because it made me hate myself. And later it made me feel like I had wasted a good portion of my life, out of nothing more than fear. I could have come out of the closet any time I wanted. The self loathing, the anger, the depression? That is what the big secret gets you.

You are not a bad person, you have just put yourself in a bad position. Everyone lies, it's just a matter of degree. But you only get to live for yourself once, but you have to allow yourself to.

Elizabeth

I'm now an atheist. Looking back over many decades and my growing in a religious home, I see that the most sexual abuse I ever had was from well meaning but ignorant church leaders.

I couldn't be baptized until I stopped "Playing with Myself" for a year.

When I told the preacher I liked men. It was the "Pray the Gay away" and Get married and it will all go away.

So much for inspiration from his imaginary heavenly friends.

There was always the threat of hell, (Hell was what I was going through in life, not after death)

I'm still legally married to my wife of 33 years, but she has been bedridden and institutionalized for decades.

She knows I have a new boyfriend. I've taken her to Gay meetings, she knows of several people who I've had attractions for in the past, and I think that she would be kind to Darrin as well. Darrin is the one who is afraid of of meeting her. He's met the kids and my son in law, and has no problem with them.

SHAME is the thing that you have to let go of. The whole world can be against you but if YOU internalize shame, It is the elephant in the room. Internalized shame can not be ran from. Just face it. Just like Job, in the bible, he feared God and lost everything. When he turned it around to LOVE god he got everything back and more.

I understand the anxiety, How crippling it is, How nothing seems interesting when you are depressed.

You are lucky to have Tony, and I'm fortunate to hug Darrin.

Oh, how I wish we could give you a big group hug, Show you how to hop, skip and run into fulfilling employment.

However I wish I could do that for millions of others looking for work.

One fellow was looking for work, and asked his successful uncle, what he would do if nobody would hire him.

His uncle paused for a moment and went on to tell him, That is exactly why he went into business for himself. He couldn't find a job either.