Through a Looking Glass

Chapter 1:

    "What the fuck?" Eric heard a voice in his head say as he looked into the mirror.  The figure in the mirror resembled him; but it wasn't he in the mirror.  It couldn't be.  The creature in the mirror had hair growing on his crotch; but that was the least of it.  He had a penis and testicles.  He was a throwback.  That sometimes happened, Eric knew, but when it did, usually the baby was born with only a rudimentary penis and perhaps rudimentary testicles.  Then, of course, they were removed.  What child would want to go through life with those things between his legs?  Eric, himself, was no throwback.  He'd been born with a smooth crotch, his pee hole between his legs, where it should be.

    But, if he were a throwback, what was he doing looking back at Eric in the mirror?  And why did he look so much like Eric?  "Who are you?" he said.

    "I'm Eric," the voice in his head said, "Who the fuck are you?"

    Eric understood everything the creature said, except for that word, fuck.  He had no idea what he meant by that.  "I'm Eric," he answered.

    "Eric who?" the voice asked.

    "Eric Langley,"  Eric answered.  Was he going crazy, not only hearing a voice in his head, but answering it, too?  That, and the vision, the hallucination, imagining he had a penis and testicles, organs mammals had outgrown -- evolved past -- thousands, if not millions, of years before.  Theory was that mammals once reproduced through a sexual union between male and female.  Now, of course, they didn't.  Females reproduced asexually, and males no longer existed.  There were only females and drones, or neuters.  Eric was a drone. 

    "I'm Eric Langley," the voice in his head said.  "What happened to your cock and balls?"

    "My what?" asked Eric, worried that he was going crazy.

    "Your cock...your dick...your wiener..." then when Eric didn't respond, "your fucking penis.  Where's your penis and testicles.  Shit -- I had to look down to make certain I still had mine."  The figure in the mirror reached down picking up both the growths between his legs, cupping them in his palm.  "I still have them.  Hell, you scared the shit out of me."

    "No one has a penis," Eric said.

    "What do you mean, no one has a penis?" the voice asked.

    Eric didn't understand.  Even if the person in the mirror was a throwback, wouldn't he know that he was one in a million or more born with a penis?  Eric recalled one he'd seen in a circus freak show.  The poor creature had had a penis, but nothing like what he now saw in the mirror.  Its penis had been only a couple of inches long, and it hadn't had testicles.  The penis on the figure in the mirror had to be at least four inches long, and its testicles hung down that far, at least.  "I don't understand," Eric said.

    "What the fuck do you mean, no one has a cock?"

    Eric figured that must be another name the mirror image had for penis.  "Only one child in a million is born with a penis," he said, "and I've never heard of one being born with anything like that."  Eric pointed at the creature's groin.  "And if they're born with a penis in a developed country, it's cut off so they can live a normal life."

    "How do you fuck, if no one has a penis?"

    "I -- I don't know what that means," said Eric.

    "You don't know what what means?"

    "Fuck," said Eric.

    "You don't know what fuck means?  How the hell do you procreate?"

    "Asexually, of course," Eric said.

    "Asexually?  You mean women become pregnant all by themselves?"

    "Certainly," said Eric.  Was it different wherever this creature that looked so much like himself was from? If he really existed; if he weren't a hallucination.  "How do you procreate?"

    "We fuck," then when Eric didn't acknowledge him, he said, "sexual intercourse.  We have sex with women.  That's what makes babies."

    "How do you have sex with a woman?" asked Eric.

    "We fuck them," the creature in the mirror answered; then, seeing the puzzled look on Eric's face, said, "We stick our cocks in their cunts.  Shit -- I can't believe this is happening.  What's wrong with this fucking mirror?  Are you real or some fucking hallucination?"

    That was a question Eric didn't know how to answer.  It was one he was asking himself.  He touched himself, checking to make certain he was real, only to see the image in the mirror do the same.  "Cut it out," the image said, "Quit mimicking me."

    "I'm not mimicking you," said Eric.  "You're mimicking me."

    "See if you can do this, then," the image said.  Reaching between his legs, he grasped his penis in his hand and began pulling on it, As he did, it grew.  To Eric's amazement, it grew, rising from where it hung over his testicles to angle upward from his crotch.  It was bigger -- much bigger.  Of course, Eric couldn't mimic that.  He had no penis.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

    "Jacking off," the thing in the mirror said, then added when he saw the look of incomprehension on Eric's face, "whacking off...spanking the monkey...masturbating," none of which meant anything to Eric.

    "Why?" asked Eric.  "Why are you doing it?"  By this time, the drone in the mirror -- if he was a drone -- had his eyes half shut, was biting his lower lip, and had his head thrown backs slightly.

    "Just..a..." he inhaled, "minute.  You'll see."  Then, he groaned, while a white substance began squirting from the end of his penis.  While it did, he continued pulling on his penis, sliding his hand back and forth, pulling the skin covering it forward covering its tip, then shoving it back, exposing it.  Five or six times, the white liquid spurted from his penis, then the drone -- or whatever it was -- slowed the motion of his hand, milking out the final few drops of white stuff."

    "Why did you do that?" Eric asked.

    "Did you see the cum?" the image asked.

    "The white stuff?"  Eric didn't know what else he could be talking about.

    "Yeah," the image said, "that's what makes babies.  If I fuck a girl by sticking my dick into her cunt, filling her with my spunk, she might have a baby."

    "How horrible," said Eric. 

    "Horrible?  Why would you think it would be horrible?" the image asked.

    "The...cunt.  Is that the woman's birth canal?"

    "Yeah," the other Eric said -- he called himself Eric, anyway -- "her cunt; her vagina.  That's where the babies come out.  Do women there have cunts?"

    There?  The image talked like he existed in a different world.  Did he?  Was this mirror Eric had bought in a second hand store some kind of window to another world -- to an alternate universe, where another Eric existed, one like him in most ways, like him, except that in that world drones had penises and testicles.  Those weren't the only differences either.  The other Eric had hair on his body that Eric didn't.  He even had hair on his face.  Evidently, he cut it -- Eric could see stubble on his face -- but his face was covered with it.  If he let it grow, he'd probably resemble a monkey.

    Too, hair covered his groin. That wasn't so bad.  At least it hid some, but not enough -- certainly not enough -- of the grotesque things growing there.

    "Well, do they?"

    "What?" asked Eric, awakened from his reverie.

    "Do women there have cunts?"

    "I don't know," answered Eric.  They had birth canals, certainly.  Was that what the other Eric called cunts?

    "Have you ever seen a naked women?"

    "Of course.  All the time," said Eric.

    "All the time?  Don't people wear clothes there?"

    "When it's cold, they do," said Eric.  "Why should people wear clothes when it's warm?"

    "You mean women go around naked in your world?  Hey -- you have a picture of a naked woman?"

    "I have pictures of my mother and pictures of my sister," said Eric.

    "You have naked pictures of your mother and of your sister?"

    "Of course," said Eric.

    "Shit.  I've never even seen my mother naked, and I haven't seen my sister naked since she grew tits."  He looked up.  "Do women there have tits?"

    "Tits?"

    "Breasts.  Do women there have breasts?"

    "Of course," said Eric, "Everyone knows it's healthier to breast feed a child than it is to bottle feed it."

    "Let me see a picture of your sister.  You have pictures, don't you?"

    "Yeah," said Eric.

    "Show me a picture of your sister, then -- a naked picture of your sister."

    "OK."  Why did he empathize naked? Why did he think a person posed for a picture with clothes on?  No one wore clothes inside.  Clothes were just to keep one warm outside when it was cold. 

    Eric turned away from the mirror, then glanced back at it, expecting to see his back, expecting to come to his senses, realizing it was naught but a dream, a hallucination of some kind.  Instead, the image faced him.  "Go on," he heard the voice say in his head, "get the picture."

    "Fuck -- that's my sister," the image said, when Eric had come back with a picture of his sister.  "So that's what she looks like naked.  Not bad.  At least, she's got a cunt and tits.  She's a woman, not some sexless eunuch like you."

    "What's a eunuch?" asked Eric.

    "That's what you are.  Since you don't got a cock or balls, you're a eunuch.  Do you even call yourself a guy?"

    "I don't know what that is."

    "A guy; a boy; a man.  What the fuck do you call yourself?  What do they call things like you?"  Although Eric didn't understand why, Eric was certain he said, thing, with more than a hint of disdain in his voice.

    "I'm a drone," said Eric.

    "Well, that's almost fucking appropriate," said the other Eric, "except that even drones get to fuck before they die.  You mean to tell me that your world's full of women, good looking women like your sister -- fuck, like my sister, I guess -- and there's not one man that has a cock."

    "I'm not certain what you mean by man," said Eric, "but no drone has a penis."  By now, he'd learned that a penis could be called cock or dick or other names as well.

    "And there's only drones and women?  There aren't any men."

    "If you mean, is there anyone like you, there isn't?" said Eric.  "There's only drones and women."

    "Fuck," said Eric's image, "I wonder if we can somehow change places.  Shit -- a whole world full of naked women and me, then only guy with a cock.  I'd be in fucking heaven."

    "We -- we can't change places."  Eric didn't see how they could, and he certainly didn't want to change places.  He didn't want to find himself trapped in a world where drones had penises and testicles and hair all over themselves -- hair on their faces, even.  It would be like being trapped in a jungle with wild animals, a world inhabited by deformed, hairy monkeys, but worse.  In Eric's world, even monkeys didn't have penises.

    He would smash the mirror.  That's what he would do, rather than take the chance that they could trade places.  It wasn't really happening.  It couldn't really be happening -- a hallucination of sorts -- but, maybe if he smashed the mirror, that would end the hallucination.

    "No, you don't," Eric heard the voice in his head say.  Apparently the other Eric could read his thoughts.  Then, he realized he could read his, too.  He knew what the other Eric intended to do.  He was going through with it.  He was going to attempt to trade places with him. 

    "No," he shouted, but it was too late.  He felt himself pulled toward the mirror.  He tried to resist, but he couldn't.  Eric was falling -- falling into the mirror.  Everything went dark.

    Awaking a moment later, Eric was dazed, but all right.  He heard that voice in his head, "Well that was a fucking wash.  OK -- let's trade back."

    Eric raised his head, looking into the mirror.  He saw himself there, as before; but not as before, actually.  This time he saw himself, the Eric he'd seen every time he'd looked into a mirror before today, an Eric with a hairless body and a smooth groin.  "That didn't work out like I planned," the mirror image said.  "I made it across, but I left my body behind.  My mind's in your cockless body."  He rubbed his hand across his featureless groin.  "I don't like this shit.  I don't like it one little bit.  I'm a fucking eunuch.  Come on, let's trade back."

    Looking down at the crotch on the body he now possessed, Eric saw that they indeed had changed places -- and bodies.  He had a penis and testicles hanging from his groin.  He could feel the unaccustomed weight of them.  His groin was covered with hair, and he had a line of hair growing from it up to his navel.

    "Come on," his image said.  "Let's trade back."

    "I -- I don't know how," said Eric.  "You did it.  I didn't."

    "Well, for some reason, I can't do it from this side.  You'll have to do it from that side.  I'm trying, but nothing's happening."

    "But I don't know how to do it," said Eric, "Tell me what to do."

    "I don't know how I did it.  I just did it.  Concentrate."

    Eric closed his eyes.  Change places, he thought.  When he opened his eyes, the image he saw was the one he'd seen in the mirror every day of his life.  "It's not working," he said.

    "You're not trying hard enough.  You're probably glad you're in my body -- glad that you have a cock and balls."

    "Glad?  Glad that I am deformed?"  Eric most certainly wasn't glad.  He wanted to be back in his body.  He felt himself becoming angry.  He'd been angry before, of course, but not like this -- not anything like this.  He would have killed the other Eric if he could have.  The emotion overwhelmed him.  He fainted.

    "Hey, Man, you had me worried," Eric heard when he regained consciousness.

    "What happened?" said Eric.

    "I don't know," the other Eric said, "You turned red in the face; then you just keeled over.  I thought you were going to blow a gasket or something."

    "I -- I was angry.  I've never felt such anger before."

    "That's because you have balls, now.  It takes balls to get really pissed off."

    "I don't like it," said Eric.  "How can you stand the intensity of such emotions?"

    "Hey, you get used to it."

    "I don't want to get used to it," said Eric.  "I want back in my own body.  I want back now."  His face burned.  The anger was returning."

    "Cool it, Man," said the other, "or you will blow a gasket.  If you pop your cork, I might be stuck over here without a cock."  He seemed calm by comparison.  "Just cool it and try again.  Try to change back.  I can't do anything from this side.  God knows, I've tried."

Chapter 2:

    A week passed.  Despite their efforts, each was trapped on the wrong side of the mirror.  Both wanted to return to their own side.  One Eric wanted his cock and balls back.  The other wanted to be rid of them.  He hated having them.  Sometimes the penis -- he refused to call it his penis -- would become hard of its own volition.  Actually, when it became hard, it was of its own volition.  Eric certainly never willed that it become hard.  By the end of the week, it was hard most of the time, and he felt a constant pressure in his groin.

    "Why's it like that all the time?"  He asked the image in the mirror.  Eric was sporting an eight inch erection.

    "Because you haven't jacked off," said the other Eric.  "I'm surprised you've lasted this long.  I jacked off three or four times a day.  I can't remember the last time I went a day without either jacking off or fucking.  I was a stud."  He looked down at his now empty groin.  "Funny, I don't think about it much now.  Don't get me wrong.  I want my cock back, but it not as bad being a eunuch as I thought it would be.  I don't get as pissed as I used to get; but maybe that's the problem -- why I can't get us back.  I can't work up the emotional response that switched us in the first place.  I try, but without balls, I can't.  I need my fucking balls back to switch us back."

    "But I have balls, and I can't switch us back."  Eric looked down at the pair of balls hanging from his erect cock.

    "Yeah," but you're not used to the hormones produced by them or to the emotions brought about by the hormones.  You don't know how to handle it.  You fucking pass out every time you get pissed."

    "I can't help it," said Eric.  "I don't have any experience with such emotions.  I don't know how you stand it.  Sometimes, I think my head's going to explode.  How do you keep from killing each other?  At times, I want to smash the mirror; I want to kill you for doing this to me."

    "We do," said the other Eric.

    "You do what?" asked Eric.

    "We do kill each other, sometimes by the millions in wars; sometimes we kill individually; we call it murder.  Don't you have crime in this world?"

    "Yes," said Eric, "we have crooked politicians and embezzlers."

    "But no murder?"

    "Why would you want to kill someone else?" asked Eric.

    "For love; for money; because they pissed you off," said the other Eric.  "Don't you love in this world?"

    "Of course we love," said Eric.  I love my mother and my sister.  I love other people, too."

    "I mean, in love.  Don't you ever fall in love with anyone?"  Then that Eric paused, looking down at his empty crotch.  "No -- I guess you don't.  I guess you have to have balls to fall in love.  I guess there's a sexual component to being in love.  I mean -- I love my mother and sister, too.  Hell, I even love my dad; but I'm not in love with them.  I've been in love before, and it's not the same.  Being in love is to give yourself completely to someone else.  With a look, that person can raise you up to heaven or plunge you to the depths of hell.  But, I guess you have to have balls for that.  I guess you have to need that person sexually.  Don't you ever want to be held?  Don't you just want to be close to someone?"

    "Of course," said Eric, "everyone wants to be held -- comforted -- from time to time.  I cry a lot, sometimes for no reason.  When I do, if someone's near, even a stranger, she'll hold me, comforting me."

    "She?  Never a guy --  a drone," the other Eric corrected himself."

    "It could be a drone," said Eric.  "Here, we use she, like you seem to use he, a universal she.  Women are the only one's that really count, after all.  Drones don't contribute anything to the gene pool."

    "How's there any diversity in your population, then?  Every population needs diversity."

    "Natural DNA mutation.  The DNA in a woman's egg mutates slightly producing a child that's different from her.  My DNA is slightly different from my mother's and also slightly different from my sister's."

    "Why do drones even exist, then?  Of what use are you?"

    Eric shrugged.  "Not much, I guess.  Fewer drones are born every year, no more than one birth in five.  Perhaps, someday there won't be any more drones."

    "Does that bother you?" asked the other Eric.

    "Why should it?  I won't be here," he corrected himself, "there," since he was on the wrong side of the mirror.

    In many ways, their worlds were much alike.  They ate the same kinds of food, having much of the same things in their refrigerators and cupboards.  One main difference was that Eric of the world of cocks -- as Eric was coming to think of it -- had more clothes than Eric did in his world, since Eric only wore clothes to keep warm.  During the past week, he hadn't been out of his --- the other Eric's house -- so he hadn't dressed.  He had pretty well run out of food, though.  He was going to have to venture out to buy some. 

    "You've probably cost me my job," said the other Eric.

    "I called like you said and told them I was sick," said Eric.  That had been a frightening experience for Eric.  Fortunately, a woman had answered the phone.  Eric wouldn't have wanted to talk to a man -- not if his voice was as deep and harsh as his own now was.  His own speech frightened him.  He'd never heard anything like it before.  It wasn't the same as when the other Eric had talked to him through the mirror.  Then, the voice in his head hadn't differed from his. 

    And, he'd leaned from television, that most men talked like that.  Back in his world, his voice sounded much like the voices of prepubescent -- a new word he'd learned -- boys of this world, stronger perhaps, given his greater lung capacity, but high pitched like theirs.  His own voice frightened him, now.

    If television was any indication, this world was much more violent than his.  It seemed every program incorporated violence or sex -- or both.  Sex and violence; violence and sex; that's all people in this world thought about.

    "Do I really go to the store naked?" asked the other Eric.  "Couldn't I wear something, at least underwear to cover my bare crotch?"

    "It's summer," said Eric.  "No one wears clothes in the summer, not on a day like this."  He could see out the window in that other world, his old world.  It was a beautiful, sunny day, just as it was here, in the other Eric's world.  In that respect, their worlds were the same.  When it rained in one, it rained in the other.  "You would attract attention, if you wore clothes."

    "Well," said the other Eric, "You'll attract attention if you go out like that."  He pointed to the erect cock jutting out from Eric's groin.  "You better shave, too.  You look like shit.  There's an electric razor in the bathroom.  First, why don't you jack off?  You'll feel a lot better after you do.  I'm surprised you haven't had a wet dream.  I must be getting old or something.  If I'd gone this long without jacking off, I'm certain I would have had a wet dream.  Or, maybe it's some kind of effect your mind is having on my body.  That must be it.  I know I couldn't have gone this long without jacking off."

    By now, they'd had enough discussions about sex and jacking off that Eric knew how to do it; besides, he'd watched the other Eric jack off that first day.  He didn't want to do it.  The idea of doing it repulsed him, but the pressure building up in his groin was almost unbearable.  He had to have some release from it.  Before he realized it, his hand was on his cock -- the other Eric's cock, God damn it -- and he was pumping it.

    It felt good.  God damn, it felt good, even though the pressure built, it promised relief.   He closed his eyes, thrusting with his hips, shoving the cock into his hand.  He was no longer thinking.  The pressure built; then -- the dam burst.  Cum shot from his cock.  It wasn't that he suddenly thought of it as his cock.  It was that he was the cock.  The cock -- what it was doing, shooting out seed from his balls -- was all.  It -- the orgasm -- was everything.  Eric no longer existed, not for that moment, anyway.  For that moment, he would have been nowhere else.  During that moment, he wouldn't have returned to his world, if he could have.

    Then, he fainted.  Once again, his mind couldn't handle being in this strange body, infused as it was by strange hormones and feelings.

    "Wake up," Eric heard.  He opened his eyes.  The cock, like his hand, wet and sticky, was no longer erect.  He felt strangely relieved, the tension that had set his teeth on edge drained from him, drained out the cock along with the cum.  He hated himself for it, but he knew this wouldn't be his only time to jack off.  It had felt good, and even if it hadn't, it was worth doing to rid himself of the tension.

    Still, it was terrible, wasn't it, to be a slave to these growths between his legs?  They controlled him, not the other way around.  "Does anyone ever have them cut off?" he asked the other Eric.  He had mentioned eunuchs, hadn't he?  Didn't that imply that some men had these thing removed?

    "What cut off?" asked the other Eric.

    "Does anyone ever have their cocks and balls cut off?"  That's what Eric now called them, since that's what the other Eric called them.

    "Hey -- wait, you son of a bitch," said that Eric, "don't you go getting ideas.  That's my cock and balls you're talking about.  No.  Guys never get their cocks and balls cut off."

    But Eric knew he was lying.  He could read it in his mind.  In ancient times, men and boys were castrated, sometimes just their balls cut off, sometimes both cock and balls cut off.  It was even done today, sometimes for medical reason, sometimes for gender reasons, some men wanting to be women, instead of the man they were born as.  Some -- Eric could read in his mind -- wanted to be eunuchs.  Some, like Eric, hated having a cock and balls.  Some hated being driven by the hormones their balls produced.  Yes, Eric had never experienced any thing like the orgasm; yes, it had felt good; while it was happening, it had felt good. 

But afterward, Eric had felt only shame -- less than human.  Look what having balls did to this world.  Look at the violence, the meaningless sex, done most of the time just for the sex, not for procreation.  Procreation almost seemed a byproduct of sex, not the reason for engaging in it.  Well -- if Eric was going to be stuck in this world, he wouldn't participate in that part of it.  If he could rid himself of this cock and balls, he would.

    "Don't you fucking do it," the other Eric screamed in his head.  That's my cock and balls.  You don't have the right."

    "It wasn't I that wanted to make this fucking swap."  Eric had picked up the other's use of that word -- fuck.  "If you don't want me to do it, find a way back for us."

    "I can't," said the other Eric.  "You have to do it."

    "Don't you think I've been trying?  I've spent all week trying.  It's not going to work.  I'm stuck here, and if I'm stuck here, I'm getting rid of these."  Eric hefted the balls in his hand.  "I hate what they're doing to me.  I hate feeling this way,"

    "It's all part of being a man," said the other Eric.  "Go get laid.  Call up Cindy Smith.  She'll fuck you.  You'll like it.  That's all you need.  You just need to get laid."

    The very thought of sticking a hard cock into a woman's birth canal almost made Eric puke.  Masturbating was bad enough.  The thought of violating a woman with this thing -- this cock -- this abomination -- abhorred him.  He might have to masturbate as long as he kept these balls -- it was better than the tension refraining from masturbating caused -- but he would never fuck.  He would never use this cock -- never inflict this cock -- on another person.

Chapter 3:

    There were others like him, Eric found, men that wanted to be rid of their cocks and balls.  It would be enough, he found, to rid himself of the balls.  That alone, would rid himself of the hormones they produced, the poison that corrupted him so, making him need to masturbated.  Yes, it felt good while he was  doing it, but it made him feel dirty -- less than human -- afterward.

    Eric had discovered several sites on the Internet, one in particular, inhabited by eunuchs -- voluntary eunuchs -- that had had their balls removed.  He even discovered a doctor that would do it -- cut off the balls, at least -- for only $2000.  The other Eric had more than that in him bank account.  All Eric would need to do was to travel to Philadelphia.  Since both he and the other Eric lived in Virginia, that wasn't far.  Their worlds were the same in that regard.

    "Why do you want to be castrated?" the doctor asked him, when Eric called. 

    "Overactive libido," said Eric.  That was the reason most men used, and it was certainly applicable to Eric.  Any libido was too much as far as he was concerned.  "I'd like my penis removed, as well.  Can you do that?"

    "If you're looking for a sex change, I can't help you there," the doctor said.  "I just do castrations and neutering."

    "That's all I want," said Eric.  "I don't want to be a woman."  I just want to be myself, he thought.  "I want to be rid of my testicles and penis."

    "I don't do full penectomies," said the doctor.  "I can snub it for you, cutting it off at the base.  I can even do a urethral relocation to the perineum, if you wish.  I assume you'll want your scrotum removed as well."

    "Absolutely," said Eric.  "That sounds great."  Even though Eric had a penis, he always sat down to pee.  "I want the works."

    "That'll be $5000 for everything," the doctor said.

    "That'll be fine," said Eric.  The other Eric had more than that much in his bank account.

    "When do you want to do it?"

    "As soon as possible," Eric answered.

    "Next Wednesday at 8:00 AM, then?"

    "Fine," said Eric.  "I'll be there."  Although the hated this world with its violence and sex, at least -- without cock or balls -- he wouldn't be part of it.  He would be himself once again -- well, almost, anyway.  He would still have hair on his face and body, but he wouldn't have a cock or balls.  He wouldn't have this poison -- testosterone they called it -- coursing through his blood stream.  He'd be freed of the need to jack off.  Now, since he'd done it that first time, he did it twice a day, at least.  He hated himself for doing it --- for his need to do it -- but he couldn't help himself.  He could no easier have stopped jacking off than he could have stopped breathing.

    The other Eric had resigned himself to his becoming a eunuch.  "I guess I don't blame you," he said.  "I must admit that life is much less stressful without balls.  I don't miss them as much as I thought I would.  Of course, this body of yours never had them, so it doesn't miss them.  What a waste, though.  A world of women -- beautiful, naked women, and not one guy with a cock.  I wish I could have brought my cock and balls along.  I might have changed this whole world.  Maybe, if I'd had a son, he would have been born with a cock and balls."  Like Eric in the world he was in, he'd had to learn to function in that world.  "I see a naked woman, and I don't feel a thing.  What a waste."

Chapter 4:

    It was Tuesday.  Eric would be leaving later in the day for Philadelphia.  The beast -- the cock -- was hard.  Just the idea that he was about to have it cut off turned Eric on.  He'd already jacked off twice that day.  He was about to do it again.  "You're going to miss it," the other Eric said.

    "Miss what?" asked Eric.

    "Jacking off.  As much as you like it, you're going to miss it."

    "I don't like it," said Eric.  "I do it, because I have to, not because I want to."

    "I've watched you.  I've been in your head.  Tell me it doesn't feel good."

    "Yeah, it feels good when I'm ejaculating, but I hate how it makes me feel afterward," said Eric.  "I'll be glad to be rid of both this cock and these balls.  I want to be rid of the need to ejaculate."

    "It's not fair," said the other Eric.  "You're spending my money to cut off my cock and balls."

    "You're spending my money," said Eric.  "It's your fault I'm stuck here in this body.  I never wanted to trade places.  It was all your idea."

    "But, what if we trade back someday?" said the other Eric.  "Then I'd be a cockless freak.  At least, keep the cock.  Then, if we do trade back, I can go on hormone replacement and still have a fairly normal sex life.  I realize now I'd be a freak here, if I were the only one with cock and balls.  After broaching the subject -- fucking -- with some women, I realize that none would fuck me, that I'd probably be forcibly neutered if I'd walked down the street with a cock and balls.  I wouldn't any longer want to have a cock and balls in your world.  Don't you realize you'll be a freak in my world without them?"

    "It's not the same here," said Eric.  "People wear clothes here.  They won't know whether I've been neutered or not.  I've already been in contact with other eunuchs on the Internet.  They're happy with their decisions to be castrated.  I know I will be, too."

    "But, you're not castrating yourself.  You're castrating me."

    "It sure as hell feels like me," said Eric.  "While I'm living in this body, it's mine, and since I'm in it, I'm going to make it into something I can live with.  I'm doing it, and you're not talking me out of it.  I hope the hell we trade back someday, but whether we do or not, I'm not living another day with these."  He hefted his balls.  "They're coming off tomorrow, along with this."  Grasping his hard cock in his hand, he began pumping it.

    Again, ejaculating almost caused him to pass out.  Still, it was too powerful for his mind.  He loved and hated it at the same time; but he hated it more than he loved it.  One more day -- thank God -- one more day.  And he'd never have to jack off again.  He'd never be able to jack off again.

    "What a waste," said the other Eric.  "You should have got laid first.  That would have changed your mind.  What a waste," he said again.  "That's a fine cock you're cutting off.  I was always proud of it.  Not many guys have an eight inch cock.  Can't you at least keep it?"

    "No," said Eric, "it's bad enough that I'll still hair all over me.  I hate having to shave every day.  I don't know how you stood it."  Eric had shaved his pubic hair in preparation for the operation.  Maybe he'd have that removed permanently as well.  Then, at least, his crotch would be smooth.

Chapter 5:

    Eric spent two weeks in Philly recovering from the operation.   It had gone well; there were no complications; but the doctor wanted him to stick around in case there were.  At first, he hadn't felt much different, except that his crotch was sore, but after two week with no balls, the testosterone seemed to be flushing from his body.  He wasn't as horny as he had been at first -- cock or no cock, balls or no balls.

    Now, the stitches were out, and the doctor said he didn't think Eric would have much scaring.  If he kept his pubic hair, chances were it would be difficult to tell he ever had a cock or had balls.  Eric had made the right decision.  He had no doubt about that.  He didn't understand why more men didn't make the same decision.  Why would anyone want to be burdened with balls and a cock?  Why would anyone want a poison like testosterone coursing through their blood?  Even if he made it back to his world, he'd done the right thing.  Surely, even the other Eric would thank him for it.  After these months in Eric's world without them, surely he wouldn't want them either.

    "Did you do it?" Eric heard from the mirror as he walked into the bedroom?  Although from the grin on Eric's face, he had to know Eric had.

    "Yep," said Eric.  "they're gone, both cock and balls."

    "Did you at least bring them home in a bottle?"

    "Why would I do that?" asked Eric.  "I hated them.  I told the doctor to throw them away."

    "Shit," said the other Eric, "they're really gone?"  Eric nodded.  "Show me.  I want to see."

    That was all right with Eric.  He hated wearing clothes anyway, a stupid custom in this world, he thought, even though he saw the necessity for it in a world where men had cocks, in a world ruled by sex, not reason.  He pulled off his shirt, then dropped his pants.  Although he wore a bandage over his crotch, it was to keep his clothes from rubbing it.  Now he had them off, he wouldn't need it. 

    "Fuck," said the other Eric, when Eric stripped off the bandage.  "You fucking did it.   You cut off my cock and balls.  You made a fucking eunuch of me."

    "No, I made a eunuch of myself."  Then he felt a tugging at his mind.  The world went dark for a moment; he was back in his world, in his body.  The other Eric, in his own world, was staring at his crotch, his own empty crotch.

    "We're back," that Eric said.  "We're back in our own worlds, but look what you've done to me.  You fucking neutered me, you son of a bitch.  Now, I'm the fucking freak."

    Eric felt the now familiar tug again.  The other Eric was attempting to trade places again.  Maybe, since they were now more alike, neither having cock and balls, it was easier to trade places.  But Eric didn't want to trade places.  He wanted nothing to do with that crazed world, with its sex and violence.  "No," he shouted, picking up a vase, hurling it at the mirror. 

    The mirror smashed, the connection was broken.  It was as if it had never happened; but Eric knew it had.  It had been too real to be a dream; and where would such a dream have come from?  Not even in the depths of insanity could he have imagined he had a cock and balls. 

    The other Eric would someday be grateful for what Eric had done for him.  Eric was certain of that.  He'd been a neuter these past months in Eric's world.  He would just be one in his world now.  Eric had freed him of the need for sex.  What person wouldn't be grateful for that?