Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2001 02:18:19 From: Erik Asman Subject: Brandon's Life 3: Brandon the Eunuch "AAAAAAiiiiiiigggggghhhhhhh!" Brandon's Mother looked up from the newspaper and glanced over at her husband who was deep into the financial section. "Dear, I think Brandon's awake now," she said calmly, sipping at her coffee as if a blood-curdling scream of agony were the norm for a Wednesday morning. "Sounds like it," he agreed, folding the paper and getting up to take a tray of breakfast up to the convalescing boy. "I doubt he'll be in the mood to eat though." "He needs to eat," she replied, "and keep his health up so he can play soccer with his friends." "You don't know if he's going to even want to anymore, dear, all things considered." She thought about it for a moment, until Brandon let out another yell. "Take him a pain pill, too, dear, and tell him not to worry and that Logan will bring his homework by for him." When Brandon's father arrived at the boy's room, he tapped gently on the door and entered with the tray of food. Brandon was lying in bed on his back with the covers thrown off. Tears were streaming down his pale face and he was shaking all over. He lifted his head off of the pillow, just enough to stare down at his crotch. The Foley catheter was still in place, the tube running out of the end of his bandaged penis and down under his tanned thigh where it connected to a collection bottle on the floor. The tube was orange and red with urine mixed with blood. Below his flaccid penis was a bandage, covering his stitched and empty scrotum. He looked up at his Father with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "I-I thought it w-was a bad dream!" he wailed. Setting the tray down on top of the boy's dresser, Brandon's father sat carefully on the edge of his son's bed, being careful of the catheter line, and gently helped his son into a sitting position. He handed the boy a small blue pill from his pocket. "Take this and then eat your food. Then you can go back to sleep, son. Doctor's orders. Stay in bed, don't move, don't touch anything down there, and be still." Brandon did as he was told, although he just stared at the food once his Father had placed the tray astride his stomach. He just sat staring at it. "Please pull the blanket back up, dad," he asked. He did that, tucking it down just at the boy's waist, and then rose to go. "Dad?" the boy asked. The man stopped, but didn't turn around. "Dad, I'm sorry. I should have said something sooner." For an awkward moment, there was silence. "Cancer isn't something you could have done a thing about, boy," he replied quietly. The words struck Brandon, who had just picked up the fork. He dropped it in the middle of his plate and hung his head. The pain pill hadn't had time to take affect, and he was clearly miserable. Although he desperately wanted to leave and hoped that the pill would soon put his son back to sleep, Brandon's father turned back to his son. His only son. His castrated son. He had no idea what to say. In fact, he never had any idea what to say. Over the past few years, the boy had become difficult and distant. He blamed it on puberty, and tried not to think about it. And because he didn't know what else to say, he said simply, "You need to eat, Brandon. Keep your strength up, heal up, so you can make the soccer team again this year." The boy looked up sharply at his Father, and he realized that he had said the wrong thing. Brandon had been unable to speak before the surgery, and afterwards he had slept all night. He chided himself for not being there when the boy awoke, but what would he have done? Held him like he did in the surgery room? No. The boy had since taken to not being affectionate some time ago. He pulled away every time someone tried to touch him, and with a pang of regret, Brandon's father found that he missed the little boy who used to cling to him with every waking moment. The only reason he had held him then was because the boy couldn't move to pull away. But he could see the pain in his son's eyes, see him shaking, and he decided to risk it. Very slowly and deliberately, he set the tray of breakfast aside and took the boy in his arms. He could feel the stiffness and trembling as he pulled him into a tight embrace, but he didn't let go. Within a minute, the boy's resistance died and he sobbed into his Father's shoulder. "I-I can't be on the team now," he choked. "Why not?" "Because," Brandon explained, still not moving his head from his Father's shoulder, "Everyone will see me. In the sh-showers and changing and stuff. They'll see me and they'll make fun of me. Why can't they just put in fake ones, Dad?" "Brandon, you know what the Doctor said. They'd have to cut your scrotum open again and again to put them in and keep changing them out. Over time, you'll get scar tissue and lose feeling down there." But Brandon, as usual, had a comeback. "What's it m-matter if I have feeling down there now? I don't have much of ANYTHING down there NOW!" He looked deep into his son's eyes, and remembered back as to how nervous he had been, when at age 8, Brandon had been give "the talk," "the facts of life," "the birds and the bees." He was almost out of his depth here, and he knew it. He decided to improvise, and hoped that he could remember everything that the Doctor had told him to say. "Brandon, listen to me. I know you think it's all over right now, but here's how it is. Almost every boy in this country is circumcised at birth. Most boys don't even know they even HAD what you lost. The catheter comes out in a month, and as far as being castrated goes, well - you can't have kids. Big deal. You wanted a little brother, right ? Well, we want grandchildren someday, and even IF you adopt, what about when you're in college and the house is quiet and empty?" Brandon thought about it. "Who'd marry me?" he asked, deciding not to mention that he really liked boys more than he liked girls, although he wasn't quite sure about that. "A lady with kids and no man. A lady who can't have kids. A lady who might think it's better to adopt ..." "But D-dad," the boy protested, "I-I'm a ..." he couldn't bring himself to say it. "Is 'eunuch' the word you're groping for, son?" Dumbly, Brandon hung his head and nodded. He didn't have much of an appetite, and his groin felt as if it were on fire. He desperately wished that the pain pill would kick in. "Brandon, it's easy to fix. Once you heal up, we take you back to the Doctor. He takes some blood, measures your hormone levels, and he gives you patches to wear. It's called HRT, and it puts back what you lose from having no balls anymore. You still get hard, you can still whack off - and YES I know about that - and eventually, you can still have sex and enjoy it. It might take you longer to get off, you shoot out thinner and clearer stuff and less of it, but you still shoot. You just shoot blanks. Does that make you feel better?" Brandon's smile was like the sun coming up. Then it faded. "I can't get naked in f-front of the guys, Dad," he mumbled, as the pain pill began to take him. "Sure you can, son, and you won't need to wear a cup anymore either, you know." Brandon tried to laugh, but his eyes were glazing over. He got the boy to drink the glass of orange juice before laying him back down and covering him. He tousled the boy's crew cut hair and got up to go. "By the way, Logan will bring your schoolwork by until you're better." "OH G-god, no!" Brandon murmured before he fell asleep. Brandon awoke sometime later that afternoon. He remembered his orders and didn't try to get up. The tube in his aching penis was annoying, but it didn't really hurt hurt. He just hoped that he didn't get hard about anything and blow any of the stitches which ringed his shaft about midway between cock head and body. He sighed and picked up his TV remote. His stomach growled, and his mouth was dry. "MOM!" he shouted, immediately wishing that he hadn't. He winced, but stomach still insisted on food. He flipped through channels and waited. She came up a few minutes later with another tray of food. Brandon glanced at his watch, and saw that it was time for school to be out. He didn't remember what his Father had said. As he thanked his mom and began to attack his food, she mentioned it. "Honey, Logan will be by after school with your homework. He's worried about you, you know. He even called at lunch hour." Brandon choked and shot soda out his nose. As he tried to recover, with his Mom wiping at his face, he protested. "What did you tell him?" he demanded. "Sweetheart," she said mildly, still wiping at him, "All I said was that the Doctor found something badly wrong at your soccer team physical and you had to have emergency surgery. I didn't say anything else." Brandon felt bad for shouting at her. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I forgot that he WOULD have come by this morning to walk to school with me. He always does." She smiled at the boy. "Logan likes you, I think," she offered. Brandon choked again, his face flaming. "What?!" he coughed out. "Well, Brandon," she said thoughtfully, "You're not the most affectionate or polite boy in the world you know, and Logan is well ... he's sort of strange, don't you think ? I mean, he's so quiet, and that funny floppy haircut of his. It's so pale. And he's smaller, and the retainer, well - what I mean is, I don't think he's the type that makes friends very easily, Brandon. If it weren't for you, that poor boy might not have any friends at all. He can't even see without his glasses. You be nice when he gets here, even if you are miserable." "Aw, Mom," Brandon moaned, "you knew I didn't wanna see anybody! I don't want anybody to know!" "Logan won't know a thing, dear," she assured him. "Just take your books and try to be nice." "What if he asks, Mom?" Brandon asked, still stuffing his mouth. He realized that he was ravenous, not having had lunch the day before. With a shudder, he recalled the physical and suddenly realized that he DID have something to discuss with Logan after all. "I don't know, dear," she admitted. "Tell him you had a personality transplant." Brandon stared at her. "Thanks," he said dryly as she left the room. "You're going to get one, little boy, whether you realize it or not when those testosterone levels drop off," she thought to herself, gently closing the door with a soft laugh. There was a soft knock on the door. Brandon glanced at his watch, and realized that it had to be Logan. School was out, and Logan would have his books and assignments and be all ready to start playing 20 questions. Brandon sighed, making sure he was covered up and that the urine collection bag was hidden by the blanket hanging over it. It still looked gross. "Come in," he said with a sigh. Logan entered Brandon's room with a tense look on his face. "You OK, dude?" he asked in a piping voice that conveyed his anxiety. Brandon nodded. "I'll live," he replied defensively. Logan tossed him a backpack. "You didn't miss much," he offered, gently sitting on the edge of Brandon's bed, "Everybody wondered where you were at. I mean, man, you go in for a physical for soccer and you don't come back. So what was it, dude? Appendix ? No - oh man, wasn't a hernia was it?" Logan asked shyly. Brandon smiled. He knew what nerve to hit with Logan. "I was clogged up," he said, and it wasn't a lie. He smirked at Logan, his grin saying it all. "Oh man, did they ... I mean ... oh shit, Brandon!" the smaller boy replied. "Yea, I shit alright," Brandon said back, his grin spreading. "And all this time your folks do that to you once a month whether you need it or not? It was something, I can tell ya." Logan's face turned beet red. Ever since he'd mentioned the enema thing, he'd been the butt of several water jokes. However, now that he knew that Brandon had been exposed to it, he didn't feel as embarrassed about his real-life 'therapy' being added to their jack-off sessions. He looked around nervously, then asked Brandon in a conspiratorial whisper, "So, uh, did you like it?" "I learned some stuff," Brandon replied deviously. "Yea, bet you liked having your butt pumped full of soap, huh?" Logan retorted. Brandon laughed, a bit too hard, and realized that he shouldn't have. His eyes teared up a bit, and he gasped. "You OK?!" Logan barked, jumping up off of the edge of the bed, "I mean, you're all empty, now right?" Brandon nodded, glad that Logan had gotten up. He had been sitting on top of Brandon's catheter extension. "Just hurts is all," he replied, and immediately realized that it had been the wrong thing to say. Logan stared at him with haunting multi-colored eyes. Sometimes they were blue, sometimes they were green, and sometimes they shifted. To Brandon, it often felt like his friend was looking straight into his grubby little soul, and he didn't like it. "It shouldn't hurt, Brandon. If they did it yesterday, you shouldn't hurt at all. Your ass might hurt some since it was the first time or if they did a lot of rinses, but not hurt like THAT. Give, dude - what's wrong with you?" Logan stared at him. "None of your business," Brandon replied with some heat, "Thanks for the books and shit." He turned his head to the side and refused to look back. But he was still there. Brandon could feel those eyes boring into him. He heard a sigh. It was Logan's favorite weapon. Ever since they'd all started the 'dirty talk' and the jack-off sessions, Logan had never been the reluctant one. Even as they all had begun to explore further, and some of the boys hadn't been too sure, Logan - surprisingly - hadn't been afraid of much of anything. True, he was the smallest, and probably the strangest, but he always seemed to get his way with that damn sigh. When he wasn't in a mood to do something, he'd sigh. Yet when he wanted something, he'd sigh. It worked, and the white-haired boy knew it. And Brandon knew it. And he was using it now. NOW of all times. Brandon closed his eyes and shook his head, trying hard not to think about the pain in his groin. The last pill had worn off, and his penis felt like it was on fire again. Worse yet, Logan was getting him worked up with that damn sigh. It was just like the first time they'd experimented with sucking each other off, right before he'd started having pains. Brandon hadn't wanted to, the thought of a dick in HIS mouth disgusting him. But, Logan had done it for him, and with that one awful sigh and an adjustment of his glasses, the smaller boy had destroyed Brandon's resolve and he'd caved in. He'd returned the favor that Logan hadn't hesitated to do for him. He felt himself starting to get hard, and it was putting stress on his stitches. "Logan," he whimpered, "Please, get me a pill outta that bottle by the radio, please!" Logan did that, and held his friend's head as Brandon swallowed the pill with the last of his soda. Logan ran from the room to get another for each of them. When he came back, Brandon was flat on his back, his forehead covered in sweat. His eyes were clamped shut and his teeth were gritted. "Man, you have got to spill it, Brandon! You need your Mom?" "No!" Brandon yelped, his eyes popping open in terror. He couldn't TELL him! He just couldn't. But it was obvious that something was wrong. He felt warmth in his groin, and the sudden fear that he was bleeding made his stomach roll. "Dude, this is too weird," Logan replied, "I'm up and going the next day after an enema. It's no big deal, trust me, I know. If you're like this, they did something bad wrong!" Brandon smiled despite his pain. "It wasn't the enema, buddy. Look, I ... I ... man, go ask Mom for the v-video. She'll know what you mean. B-bring it back up here." Logan raised one eyebrow, pale as it was, and left the room. As soon as he was gone, Brandon threw back his blanket and looked himself over. There was fresh blood leaking through the bandages on his cock. "Shit!" he swore to himself, "Now what the fuck do I do?" He then noticed that his catheter didn't feel right. He glanced down at the collection bottle, and saw that it was almost full. "Dammit!" he shouted, louder than he intended. Then it dawned on him. He needed help, and he really didn't think he could stand to have his Mom tending to his genital injuries. His face flamed again. He realized that he could bear the thought of Logan seeing him like this, if no one else. Logan wouldn't tell. He could trust him. When he returned with the video, he inserted it into the VCR and it autoplayed. "Your Mom was sorta weird about that, but I told her you wanted 'the video'. She said if you wanted me to find out, it was OK with her. Dude, what IS wrong with you? You look like shit!" Brandon closed his eyes and said the most difficult words of his young life to his best friend. "So help me, God, if you tell ANYONE about this, I'll rip your head off, Logan!" "What?" Logan asked, perplexed by the threat. Brandon noticed the tent beginning to form in the front of his khakis, however. Brandon made a mental note about that. "I need help, Logan. I had surgery. I'm hurt, bad. Uncover me." "What about the video?" Logan asked, his hand shaking as he reached for the blanket. "It's boring at the beginning, they said." And with that, Logan pulled the blanket back. He expected to see his friend's tanned skin and maybe a pair of multi-colored boxers, OR, if he was lucky, Brandon's uncut cock standing at attention with his nice-sized balls hanging down under it. As many times as Logan had jacked him off, or the few times he had sucked him off, he knew Brandon's budding manhood well. Every time they got together, Logan wished that he was so well built. He just wasn't expecting an offer IN Brandon's room! That and it had been a while since Brandon and his foreskin had put in an appearance for a session. But that wasn't what he saw. He gasped, and swallowed hard. He could feel his small penis - the smallest of the group - getting harder. His best friend's cock was now wrapped in bloody gauze, and there was a tube coming out of it. His strange eyes followed the tube down to the bottle on the floor and just slightly under the bed. He looked back, and realized that Brandon's famous foreskin was missing. There was also a flat bandage UNDER his cock, where ... where his balls should have been! "Oh...my...God..." Logan said very slowly, "Circumcised, cath'd AND ... and ... c-castrated? Jeee-sus Christ!" "Wait a minute," Brandon objected, but Logan interrupted him. "Dude, I read a lot. Why the hell did they do that to you ? You said you were constipated!" "I was. They DID give me an enema. TWO of them. With lots of soap. I had an infection, a bad one, and well, my b-balls ..." the words caught in his throat, however, and his eyes filled again. Logan sat back down on the bed, and placed a small, warm hand on Brandon's sweaty forehead. He bent down close to his friend's ear and whispered, "Cancer?" Brandon, at that point, lost it entirely. His friend said nothing, but helped him to sit up and simply held him while Brandon cried himself out again. By the time he had finished, his eyes were glazing over and Logan knew that the pill was working on him. Logan eased Brandon's sweaty crew-cut head back down onto the pillow. He then went into the bathroom across the hall, where, logically, he assumed that he would find the things he needed. He was right. He thought about calling for Brandon's Mom, but decided against it. His friend had shown him this in trust, and that meant something. He carried the supplies back to Brandon's bedside, and went to work. "Can you d-do this OK?" Brandon whimpered. "Dude, got a merit badge in first aid. I think I can handle it. Besides, I guess I outta get to know the 'new' you, huh?" he asked impishly. "Yea," Brandon muttered dejectedly, "Because the 'old' me's gone for good." "We got more in common, now, ya know," Logan offered. "Huh?" "You're circ'd, just like the rest of us now, and you got a enema, right? What else did they do to you ? Anything you like to share?" Logan asked provocatively. "Some things," Brandon answered elusively, wincing as Logan began to unwrap his bandaged cock. "I can work with less," Logan replied, his 'tent' still evident. Brandon smiled and closed his eyes. Logan laid a cold wet washrag across his forehead, and then carefully continued to unwrap his friend's penis. He very gently wiped it with peroxide, taking care not to pull the stitches. He noticed that the blood was coming from there, but none of them were really very loose. "That's gotta hurt like hell if he gets hard," Logan thought to himself. Brandon whined as he pulled off the bandage covering the flattened scrotum. It was bruised and just a bit swollen. He cleansed that wound as well, and when he was done, he recovered the wounds with fresh bandages. For the rest of his life, Logan would remember the sight of those sutures in Brandon's scrotum. His own penis was so hard that it hurt, but he couldn't do anything about it. Mentally, he berated himself for getting turned on by his friend's suffering. He gathered up the old dressings, located the shut-off clip on Brandon's catheter, and pinched it. He pulled the bottle off of the end of the tube, and took it all to the bathroom for disposal. He rinsed the bottle and reconnected it. He then sat beside his friend, holding his hand as they watched the video. Now and then Brandon would point out more interesting things that he could remember for Logan, who stared intently at the screen. He rewound it a bit, and sat there, quietly watching, until Brandon's slow and even breathing told him that his best friend had fallen asleep. When the video ended, with tears now in his own eyes, Logan took out the tape and very softly kissed Brandon's cheek. He picked up his own backpack and headed downstairs. "Brandon's asleep, he took a pill," Logan told the parents on the way out the door. "Is he alright otherwise?" Brandon's Father asked. Logan nodded, reshouldering his backpack. "Yea, I cleaned him up and everything. Oh, here's the video back," he offered. Brandon's Father just stared at the pale headed boy with the round glasses. A strange thought crossed his mind, but he couldn't believe it. Then he smiled. "He TOLD you?" Logan nodded and adjusted his glasses. "Yea, I'd let him sleep it off. He's all cleaned up and re-bandaged. You don't have to worry about it. I'll be back tomorrow. Just feed him is all," the strange boy reported, as if he were reciting the weather report. He turned to face his wife, who looked up from the salad she was tossing for dinner. "Lois, he TOLD Logan. He SHOWED Logan!" "I figured he would, Frank," she replied calmly, "After all, you don't expect a boy to have his mother take care of injuries like THAT do you?" "I got a merit badge in first aid, ya know," Logan supplied helpfully. "He TOLD Logan," Frank said again, still sounding shocked. "Yes, dear, you mentioned that," Lois replied. "I won't tell anyone else, I swear!" Logan said. "I gotta go. See ya tomorrow." And with that he left the shocked couple to their dinner as Brandon slept dreamlessly. All the way home, however, Logan could hardly contain himself. His dick was still hard, and the thought of those stitches in Brandon's shaft - NO - the stitches in his SAC - was almost about to drive him crazy. He'd very nearly cum in his pants by the time he'd finished with Brandon's bandages. And the thought of that tube stuck up his dick, making him sexually helpless, was enough to make Logan sweat. Then he remembered something he had seen on the Internet, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Brandon had lost his balls. They'd castrated him. Brandon was a eunuch. Logan shivered suddenly, a chill replacing the heat he was feeling. Without balls, Brandon was going to loose hormones. He tried to remember what all he'd read, and he realized that once, it had been customary to castrate boys and men so that ... 'That they'd lose their sex drive or not have their voices change!' Logan whispered aloud. He thought back to the first time he'd seen his friend naked in the showers. His odd penis, finding out about circumcision, the way his balls hung ... and his body. It had been in the shower that day that Logan had first realized that he might be gay. He remembered being so nervous, so self-conscious. Then Brandon had looked at him, and they'd both gotten hard. It progressed to the talk, the magazines, then jacking off together. That had led to jacking each other off, and eventually, to experimenting with 'head jobs.' Logan's step became faster. He had to get home and read more. He had to be sure. He remembered well what Brandon looked like. Hell, the image of Brandon was in his mind most of the time anyway. He remembered that strange foreskin of his penis, the feel of it when he touched it, and the taste and feel when he'd offered to suck Brandon the first time. He thought about those balls, how they had felt, and broke into a run when he realized that they weren't there anymore. He was sweating again when he got home, and ran straight to his room. He threw the door shut and locked it. He couldn't help what it was going to be like as he peeled off his clothes. His own cock was so hard that it actually hurt; thoughts of Brandon, AFTER he healed up, filled his mind. Brandon was circ'd, just like him now. He had an enema, just like him. If he could still get hard, they could still jack off together. He couldn't imagine what that empty scrotum would feel like, though. And if Brandon couldn't get hard, or his HRT didn't take, well - Logan wondered if his friend would still want to do it to HIM though. "Brandon's a eunuch," he breathed. Logan reached down with his right hand and took hold of his 3 1/3 inch cut cock. He started to slowly stroke his tool. Logan used his left hand to feel his nuts. He thought to himself of what it must feel like to have a empty scrotom like Brandon. With that thought, Logans cock gave a lurch and became even harder in his slowly stroking fist. Logan pulled out his desk chair and sat down on it. Logan started to fist his cock once again. His left hand index finger went to his mouth and he started to suck on it, to make it all wet. After getting his finger as wet and slippery as he could make it, Logan moved his finger down to his ass. Logan lifted his right leg and drapped it over the arm rest of his chair, then he pushed his wet index finger up his boy pussy. A low moan of pleasure escaped his lips, and he started to slowly speed up the speed of his cock stroking. With his finger pistoning in and out, in and out, in and out of his ass, and his right hand pumping away at a now steady speed on his fully erect penis, Logan closed his eyes, and looked at his mental picture of Brandons empty scotom. Logan coul feel his own balls hit his hand as he pulls his finger out of his ass, just before he pushes it back in. Logan started to speed up his jacking on his cock, and he startd to feel his balls pull up close to his body. He could feel the "feeling" and he knew he was close to cumming. Logans breathing become faster as he became closer to orgasm. His penis became even harder, and Logan opened his eyes and looked down at his dick. The first shot of cum spurted out with such force that it hi Logan right on his chin, The next white rope of boy cum landed right on his chest in the perfect center right between his tits. The third and forth blasts of cum landed right on his tummy. He stroked his cock and a few large dribbles of boy seed dribbled out and ran down his dick and hand and dripped into his small pubic bush. Logan lifted his hand to his face and licked his seman off of his hand. Logan got up off his chair and went to his bed to lie down. As Logan drifted off to sleep he wondered if Brandon would ever have any fluid come out of his dick anymore for him to drink in.