How to Create a Fuckboy

We kept our appointments on the night of September 2nd. I thought fucking would be a good way to keep the boy's mind off the momentous event of the next day. The last client was Carson, from 10:45 to 11:45. He kept telling Fuckboy things like "Awesome, Dude," and "Hang Loose," and "Chill out," and "You're the bomb, Viper," and other blithering nonsense. But it did seem to relax the kid. I had thought he might be too wound up to sleep, but when he came in to join Little Cunt and me in bed, he flopped down and fall fast asleep. Probably nervous exhaustion.

There was a light drizzle the morning of the 3rd, but that didn't dampen my spirits. The bitch made him an extra special breakfast, blueberry pancakes, Fuckboy's favorite. He said they were good, though he only ate a few bites. Said he didn't feel much like eating. I read once that death row inmates often don't eat much of their last meal. After breakfast, I let him vape some weed, hoping it would relax him. Doc had said he wasn't to have anything to eat or drink for six hours, so after a lunch which he barely touched as well, the kitchen was off limits.

That allowed the bitch to concentrate on giving it a thorough cleaning. She wiped down all the counters with an antiseptic cleaner, put away all the small appliances, cleaned the floor with a bleach solution, and made one chair immaculate. She then put clean bedclothes on my bed. Fuckboy and I moved the kitchen table and the chairs into the living room, thus converting the kitchen into a surgical arena.

There were still hours left before Doc was to arrive. Fuckboy tried to play a video game with Little Cunt, tried to look at his new fifth grade schoolbooks, tried to watch some porn, but he couldn't keep his mind on any task. I saw him sadly petting his scrotum and whispering, "I'm gonna miss you guys. I know you'll miss me too. But it's better this way. I don't have nothing against you guys. We had a lot of fun, didn't we. It ain't personal. It's just good business. Goodbye, Billy. Goodbye, Bobby." Fuck, he had named his nuts! Then he stroked his sweet little dick. "Now, Jackie, I know you're going to miss your two little friends also. And you won't be standing up straight no more. But don't worry, I'll still play with you, and the men will still play with you, and Uncle will still play with you."

Later he paced around the house humming the song from Peter Pan, oblivious to the deep significance of the lyrics:

...I won't grow up. I don't want to wear a tie
...And a serious expression in the middle of July.
...And if it means I must prepare
...To shoulder burdens with a worried air,
...I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up
...Not me, Not I, Not me! So there!

...Never gonna be a man, I won't!
...Like to see somebody try And make me.
...Anyone who wants to try
...And make me turn into a man,
...Catch me if you can.

...I won't grow up. Not a penny will I pinch.
...I will never grow a mustache, or a fraction of an inch.
...'Cause growing up is awfuller
...Than all the awful things that ever were.
...I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up,
...No sir, Not I, Not me, So there!

...I won't grow up! I will never even try
...I will do what Uncle tells me
...And I'll never ask him why!

Doc came around 6 pm with a couple boxes of supplies. He was satisfied with the kitchen and complimented the bitch. He gave her a bar of soap and a pair of hospital slippers and told her to bathe thoroughly and to come back to the kitchen naked. She didn't understand why because we hadn't explained her role to her, but of course she was obedient. Doc began opening sterile paper sheets and spreading them over things. He had me don a set of scrubs, then handed me a bar of soap and told me to spend twenty minutes at the kitchen sink thoroughly scrubbing my arms up to my biceps. When the bitch came paddling back in, he sent Fuckboy off to take his bath and do his enema. He sat the bitch down on the one kitchen chair and draped a paper sheet over her, from her boobs to her ankles. He put a huge set of scrubs and surgical mask on Little Cunt, sat him up on the kitchen counter where he'd have a good view of everything and told him he couldn't move.

"Now, now, now, we're going to lay little Tommy in your lap, Ma'am. Your job is to hold his shoulders and comfort him. It would be very, very, very helpful if you remained calm. I'm sure the boy is a little nervous about this. Anyone would be. So, so, so for his sake, try not to become hysterical."

Doc began setting his tools out on the counter, bright shiny metal tools of all shapes and sizes, removing each one from its sterile package. Fuckboy came back wearing only his hospital slippers. "Ahh, here he is, here he is, here he is. The man of the hour! Don't you look all nice and clean. You're the handsomest patient I have, and that's no, no, no bullshit." Doc put on a pair of latex gloves and lifted Fuckboy up on to the bitch's lap. Upside down. His head was supported on her knees. His butt was laying on her tits. "This way, the blood in your body will drain away from your little boy parts. There will be less bleeding and it'll be much, much, much easier for your Uncle to work."

Doc handed me a pair of latex gloves and a syringe. "This is Novocain, Young Man, just like the dentist uses. Your Uncle is going to give you a shot right here..." He pointed to the spot and I injected him. "...and pretty soon you won't feel anything more than a little pinch there.

"Now I'm going to take this soft cloth and tie your ankles to the back of the chair behind your mother. That way, that way, that way, you won't suddenly kick and make your Uncle do something wrong."

There he was, upside down on the bitch's lap. His legs splayed and his feet bound, the bitch restraining his arms with her own. Most ten-year old boys would be screaming and thrashing, but he lay there like a brave soldier. Sure, he was shaking a little, but his eyes were wide in wonder. I bent over and whispered, "I love you, Fuckboy."

"I love you too, Sir. Take my nuts, Sir. They're yours."

"Thank you, Fuckboy." I kissed him. I glanced over at his brother, whose eyes were wide as saucers. His mask had fallen down under his chin and his mouth was big enough to drive a truck through. I motioned for him to pull up the mask, then gave him a reassuring wink and wondered briefly if it might be his turn in five years.

Doc had me put on my mask. Here I was, never went to college, an ex-house painter and a pimp, and now I looked like one of those doctors on TV.

Fuckboy's dick and bag were flopped forward. The back of the bag was on top for easy access. Doc handed me a scalpel. I ran my finger along a line on the bag where I thought I should make the incision. He nodded. I lifted the skin away from the nuts inside and poised the point of the knife. Fuckboy was looking up at my hand wide-eyed. The bitch was looking down at it with teary eyes. His body quivered, but he wouldn't admit it. "Stop shaking me, Bitch!"

I took a deep breath, made sure my hand was steady, and made the cut. The bitch, her face six inches from ground zero, gasped. The boy just made a small unh! Doc nodded approvingly and passed me a gauze sponge to mop up the little bit of bleeding.

I took two fingers and spread the slit. Amazing! I was staring right into the boy's little scrotum. All those pretty colored ribbons and balls. So fresh and clean. It was beautiful.

I hooked the first cord under my finger and slipped it up through the slit. Doc handed me a clamp which I placed on the cord, then a second one which I placed a half inch further up the cord. The boy was captivated by the whole scene. The bitch was breathing hard.

Doc handed me another scalpel and I slit the cord. I took the first clamp and pulled it up drawing the first nut out through the slit in the bag. Such a precious gem. Talk about the family jewels! This was more valuable than a hundred red rubies! I held it up for Fuckboy to see and he gave me a nervous smile. "Thank you," I told him through my mask. Doc held a stainless steel bowl for me to drop it into.

I left the other clamp in place to make sure the remainder of that cord would stop bleeding, while I repeated the procedure with the other nut. This time, Fuckboy nodded along with Doc. The deed was done. No more wondering. No more questioning. No turning back. He was now denutted, an official honest-to-goodness eunuch.

Next: Post-Surgical Activity