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Boy
By DX
Copyrighted 1997, 2023, all rights reserved.
A man, searching for identity, decides to give up being a man and return to a simpler time. Will he finally find happiness as a genderless being?
Castration, penectomy, neuter
Castration, penectomy, neuter
I was numb.
Standing among the debris and wreckage that had once been my life, I was an emotionless automaton. My spirit and my psyche shattered; crumbled during the legal onslaught that was simply termed divorce. I found myself defenseless, either from lack of will or courage. I could not tell if it were my weakest or strongest moment when I told her goodbye and left her behind.
I moved in with Spencer. We had been roommates in college. It was my first day on campus that I discovered his love for shocking people for the sake of seeing their reactions when he, without preamble, announced he was gay. I had simply looked back at him and said: "So?" And surprised him back. We were best friends after that. Now, years later, we were roommates again.
I was walking to the bathroom, dressed only in a towel when he called out to me from his bedroom. He was lying in bed, watching me in the hall. As I approached, he drew back the sheets and said: "Hey pretty boy! Suck me off!"
I'm not gay, and he always took advantage of that to try and use the vulgar aspects of homosexuality to surprise me. I never gave him the satisfaction, but kept a face of non-pulse. I would casually quip something like, “Suck what? It’s so tiny! Let me get my glasses” or, “You can’t afford my rates”.
He would shout something else rude as I walked away.
But that day, I don’t know why that day in particular, maybe I was tired of his constant demand of sex, or maybe I was bored, or maybe… or maybe I don’t know, but that day, I paused in the hall and allowed my eyes to rove over his body.
He was lean, with soft, muscles accented in the late afternoon light. His nipples, dark circles on his smooth square chest were like chocolate buttons. His crotch was a nest of wispy, curly black hair and his cock, half erect, leaned casually against his muscular thigh. I had never actually looked at another man's body before. I was intrigued.
"Well?" He demanded, trying to regain his surprise game as I sat on the bed. “Suck it! Fag boy!"
"Don't be gross." I instructed him, intently gazing at his cock, half watching him for his surprised reaction. With a tentative finger I gently caressed it, feeling its thin smooth skin. I added more fingers and stroked it. I watched it grow and stiffen with a detached fascination.
I ignored Spencer's abusive calling to, “Suck it" as I started slowly, gently, jerking him off. It was a strange sensation, touching another man's cock, like a disembodied extension of my own.
I then licked it and felt its warmth near my face, its smell in my nostrils, its taste in my mouth. Spencer, stunned in surprised, became more helpful as he encouraged me to caress his balls and scrotum.
I watched as a crystal bead of pre-seminal fluid appeared, and caught up in the spell of the moment, licked it.
Then I took his cock in my mouth. It slipped smoothly on the inside of my cheek and against the back of my tongue. There was some gagging at first, but I corrected for range and quickly got the hang of it. I had to hold Spencer down to prevent his jacking hips from thrusting down my throat and chocking me.
I swallowed as he came and it tingled against my tongue and I thought that it had the taste and consistency like nothing I had ever tasted before.
Spencer didn't try to hide his surprise as he caught his breath from his orgasm. He quickly threw me on the bed and ripped off my towel started suckling me to return the favor. I was aroused, but it wasn't happening. I wasn't coming. After 45 minutes of his best oral and hand work, Spencer gave up with a cramping jaw.
"I guess I'm not gay." I shrugged and went to take my shower. There, under the hot splashing water I re-lived the spectacle of Spencer's twitching body responding to my touch and finished the job he started by hand.
This began an almost daily routine. Mostly it was either a blow or hand job. On occasions, when we had time, he would fuck my ass. He had given up trying to make me come after several lengthy attempts and just accepted the way things were.
He had boyfriends in and out and loved to tell me about them in the most disgusting way possible. He told me about pissing and fisting and bondage games hoping something would freak me out. It only enticed me to hear more.
One night, I had just blown him and we were lying there on the bed, and he suddenly said: "I want you to be my boy."
"I see." I replied. "And what would that mean?"
"It means you gotta do me and all my friends when I say so." I could tell he was making this up on the spot. "And you have to do your chores, like vacuuming and stuff. You gotta behave or get a spanking."
Doing his friends would be new and it sounded exciting. I was already doing all the cleaning so that was nothing new. I didn't know about the spanking. I only grunted a response for an indifferent answer.
"Then you have to get nutted." He added.
I looked at him and he was looking back, hoping for a surprise from me. "What is ‘nutted'?" I asked, thinking it was a tattoo.
"You get your balls cut off."
"What ever for?" I was surprised and he smiled as he laid his head back and stared at the ceiling in triumph.
"Cause, only the man has the balls. Boys don't have balls. Balls that mean anything anyway. I know this lezzie that hates men so much, she nuts anyone who asks her."
"I see." I replied, regaining my composure. "Would you give me a day to think about it?"
"I'll give you two."
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Copyrighted 1997, 2023, all rights reserved.
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Teaser: for the entire exciting story, please consider supporting us here:
https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1068008
Copyrighted 1997, 2023, all rights reserved.
[email protected]
