http://www.eunuchworld.org/view.php?storyid=5515 http://www.eunuchworld.org/view.php?storyid=5532 http://www.eunuchworld.org/view.php?storyid=5906 by YankeeClipper PART 1: My Patients and I, Part 1, My Background. This is the start of a new series, written in the first person. Some of the stories will be written just from the Doctor’s view; others will include the patients view. This set of stories draws from various works, including “An All-Around Improvement,” “Reverence,” and “IRC Story.” Others come from original inspiration and in some cases, a combination of numerous stories. I have read so many good stories on the Archives over the years that it is impossible to identify which parts of my stories in this series come from myself or from other stories. That said, I want to thank all of the authors for all of the great stories that I have that read and enjoyed over the years, going back to the original Archives. This is the doctor’s introduction. He is drawn and expanded from the doctor in “An All-Around Improvement” with a more fully developed background. There are also departures in the doctor’s personality from that of the original. * * * I‘ve been a doctor for roughly 10 years. I specialize in adolescent and young adult male medicine. In college, I chose this line of medicine because I had an Army medical scholarship. In exchange for the scholarship, I was required to serve four years in the Army Medical Corps upon completion of my residency. Not surprisingly, the army required certain sub-specialties, including urology. My choice of medical practice had started to develop in high school and college. It was there that I found that I was somewhat drawn to female classmates, but I was also drawn to male classmates. I found myself more drawn to men because I found it easier to connect with them. I had dated a few girls throughout out high school, but nothing ever went anywhere. On the other hand, in my senior year at high school, I ended up going to a few drinking parties with friends and waking up in a guy’s bed the next morning, naked. At the time, I just passed it off to adolescent antics. In college, the antics continued, often with a lot less alcohol, though I was still somewhat drawn to women. Overall, I ‘d have to say that I prefer the companionship of men somewhat more then the companionship of women. The Army really isn’t my kind of life, and I only remained for those fours years, but there’s one thing to be said for it. If you enjoy performing circumcisions, you get your chance to keep in practice there. There’s always someone being posted to the tropics, or having some little problem with a tight foreskin, and I often found it quite surprisingly easy to persuade them that what they needed was that little bit of skin removed by my own highly skilled hand. There were always circumcised according to Medical Corps regulations. They always got the best treatment. After all, if you’re going to get a reputation for the circumcisions you perform, it ought to be a good one, and I took great care over all of them. They all had an anesthetic injected carefully into the skin. They all had the cut ends lined up neatly, the fraenum carefully preserved. The fraenum is the little bridge of skin just under the opening, the meatus as we call it. It’s quite sensitive and most guys ask to keep it. Mostly I let them. Anyway they all healed up looking smooth and neat. I think that’s where I developed a taste for the whole idea. Of course at medical school they had decided that circumcision was no longer proper medical practice (unless medically indicated – Male Genital Mutilation, some call it), but I’ve found that the practice I got in the Army has stood me in good stead. Upon leaving the Army, I establish a practice at a suburban medical clinic, continuing with the specialties that I had first established while at medical school and in residency. My predecessor was retiring and had allowed me to purchase his practice. Now, when they started puberty, nearly always 11 or 12, but a few as old as 14, their pediatrician would now refer the boys to me. About 3 months after starting my practice, a mother brought her 12 year-old son, Tom, in. Tom’s parents had divorced about six months before, amicably, but primary custody went to his mother. I checked the notes from his pediatrician; his last physical had been just before the divorce. In reviewing the notes, I found that he had been in excellent health, with no medical problems or issues indicated. The notes did show that the mother had wanted the boy circumcised; the father had been opposed. She was here again to have the Tom circumcised; this time his father was not here to oppose it. She told me that she had found him masturbating and she wanted it stopped permanently. She was very insistent that his foreskin be completely removed. Now don’t misunderstand me. I don’t approve of the sort of wholesale slaughter of the innocent that had happened in the States, but it has diminished over the last decade. I do circumcise babies; of course, from time to time, but only if the parents are really insistent. Since fewer of them are these days, that’s all to the good. Now mind you, for me, cutting a baby is OK when necessary, but the real thrill is circumcising an adolescent, and because there are fewer babies done, it means there are more teenagers around to play with. And that is really nice. But I have to say that I began to feel that I was not getting all the pleasure that I might’ve from the operation. About a month before Tom’s mother brought him in, I read an article in an American magazine. It was about some of the customs of the Arabs and of the slaves they took from the African tribes. Now I don’t know how true it all was, but it was obvious that the writer was as turned on by the idea of primitive circumcisions as I was. It was terrific, and I began to think that perhaps I wasn’t being very ambitious with the foreskins that came under my knife. Because of the request from Tom’s mother that the foreskin be completely excised, and since I was no longer bound by Army regulations, I decided to take a different approach when performing circumcisions. Part of the interest is in persuading their parents. I tell them how much cleaner, and how much better the penis looks. I warn the about dirt behind tight foreskins and penile cancer. I talk about irritations and ulcers and all the other “medical” reasons. But what I don’t say is that they are all so much nonsense. Doctors, especially me, we circumcise because we enjoy it. And so, since I left the Army, I have had the privilege and pleasure of taking my scalpel to some thirty-five or forty healthy teenagers’ foreskins. Now though, they only got the anesthetic when the parents insist. After discussing the dangers of anesthetics, few did. The teenagers went under my scalpel for several reasons: Some; because the parents agreed with the health reasons I presented; some because they had been caught masturbating by their mothers; some because their parents caught them masturbating, in violation of their religious values; and finally, some for the purported aesthetics. I most enjoyed circumcising 15, 16, and 17 year-olds. They’re minors, so the fate of their foreskins is not theirs to control, but the parents. They’re already masturbating, many for several years, enjoying the intense pleasure that masturbating gave them as the foreskin glides smoothly over the glans. Now, my scalpel would take that from them, and they knew that the incredible feeling it gave them would never be quite the same again. The best of it was that, in some way, I was taking part of their manhood, and both the boy and I knew it. After the parents sign the consent forms, I often have them sit across from the exam/procedure table. I then have the young man undress completely, next to the table facing their parents. This just adds to the indignity of the whole process. For many, it was the first time that they have been naked in front of their mother since childhood. Once naked, I have them lie down on the exam table with their feet in the stirrups. I strap their feet in, then, spread the stirrups as wide as I can without causing pain. Once the boy way ready, I would perform the operation based on the parents’ or the patient’s request. The parents, particularly if it was just the boy’s mother, would often request that the circumcision be high and tight, so I usually made sure that the circumcisions were always tight enough that even when completely flaccid, the shaft skin would be tight. Of course, after they had healed, they would find it difficult to masturbate; but then, hasn’t that always been the point – to prevent boys from masturbating? * * * Now that you’ve met me, I’ll follow-up with the different procedures that I provided to my patient at the patient’s request or of the patient’s parents. So, follow along and enjoy my exploits. PART 2A: This is the second of a series, written in the first hand. Some of the stories will be written just from the Doctor’s view; others will include the patients view. This one is from the Doctor’s view. Tom’s will follow before too long. This set of stories draws from various works, including “An All-Around Improvement,” “Reverence,” and “IRC Story.” Others come from original inspiration and in some cases, a combination of numerous stories. I have read so many good stories on the Archives over the years that it is impossible to identify which parts of my stories in this series come from myself or from other stories. That said, I want to thank all of the authors for all of the great stories that I have that read and enjoyed over the years, going back to the original Archives. Please read Part One if you want to learn my background. To those who have read Part One, welcome back. * * * Upon leaving the Army, I establish a practice at a suburban medical clinic, continuing with the specialties that I had first established while at medical school and in residency. My predecessor was retiring and had allowed my to purchase his practice. Now, when they started puberty, nearly always 11 or 12, but a few as old as 14, their pediatrician would now refer the boys to me. About 3 months after starting my practice, a mother brought her 12 year-old son, Tom, in. Tom’s parents had divorced, amicably, and primary custody went to his mother. I checked the notes from his pediatrician; his last physical had been just before the divorce. In reviewing the notes, I found that he had been in excellent health, with no medical problems or issues indicated. The notes did show that the mother had wanted the boy circumcised; the father had been opposed. She was here again to have the Tom circumcised; this time his father was not here to oppose it. She told me that she had found him masturbating and she wanted it stopped permanently. She was very insistent that his foreskin be completely removed. I had Tom sit in one of the Exam Room chairs while I had his mother step into my office. I discussed Tom’s circumcision with her and she remained adamant. I asked her about using anesthesia; she was vehemently opposed to its use; she wanted this to be punishment, to remind him of the results of his masturbating. She also wanted to watch the procedure; I thought about it for quite a bit, thinking mostly about Tom’s reactions and what the dynamics of it would be, then I agreed. I had her sign the consent papers then I certified that it was medically necessary. Tom was about 4’10, 82 pounds, dark honey-blond hair, dark brown eyes, and a skin-tone that told me he enjoyed playing in the sun. He had that adorable look that many boys have as they enter adolescence. I also decided that since this was this first visit with me that I would give him a routine physical. I had Tom stand in front of the exam table and remove his shirt, sneakers, socks, and his pants. When it came time to lower his pants, he flushed with embarrassment. He paused for a moment, then lowered his pants. As he lowered them, he flushed some more. As they came down, I noticed that he was not wearing any underwear, and this in front of his mother. Normally I don’t have a boy lower his shorts through most of the tests, only lowering them long enough for the tests that required it. No such luck for Tom that day. Here he was standing in front of the exam table, naked as the day he was born, totally mortified, his mother not more than six feet away. It would only get worse for the boy. I had him place his hands behind his head, then started the exam. I looked him over thoroughly, in particular, taking note of any moles. His skin-tone was the same overall, including his crotch. It was apparent that Tom had spent most of his outdoor time nude, probably skinny-dipping with friends. What would his friends say the next time they were all skinny-dipping together? As I scanned his body, I noted that his underarms were hairless, and the only crotch hair was a small patch above his penis. His testes had started to mature, but his penis had not started growing. His foreskin hung loosely over and completely covering his glans, forming a small opening at the tip. I gripped the foreskin lightly and it slid easily over the glans, sliding back when released. Pity him; he would not have it much longer. I gently felt each testes and cord, both felt fine. As I continued, I had him bend over, and inspected his butt. It was tight and smooth. I had him reach for his toes; he did it easily. I then had him sit on the edge of the table while I conducted most of the remaining of tests. That left the prostate exam; I had him get up on the exam table on his hands and knees with his knees spread. I gloved up and eased my finger into his butt; he started to tighten up, I told him to push out; my finger finally slipped in. I gently felt his prostate; it was firm and healthy. I picked up a sample cup and put it over the end of Tom’s penis and started massaging his prostate to draw a sperm sample; it would be tested later. His penis remained flaccid but I could tell that he was quickly reaching orgasm. He started to ejaculate in about 3 minutes, remaining flaccid the entire time. I capped the sample and placed it the refrigerator. This would be Tom’s last ejaculation with his foreskin still intact, but the orgasm was mechanical, not pleasurable; and not under his control. Soon, he would be intact no longer. I stripped the gloves and disposed of them. With the tests completed, I had Tom lie on back on the exam table with his legs in the stirrups. He looked up at me and asked “Aren’t we done now, Doc?” As I strapped his into the stirrups, I explained. “No Tom. Your mother caught you masturbating and she is adamant that you be circumcised. I agreed. If I didn’t, your mom would’ve taken you to another doctor, and it would’ve been worse for you.” When I told him that he was about to be circumcised, a look of terror flashed across his face, followed by a look of abject resignation. “I must tell you, Tom, that I don’t like doing circumcisions. But your mom was so adamant that I was left little choice,” I smoothly lied; he had no way to know otherwise. I strapped his arms and chest to the table, then adjusted the headrest so that he could see his crotch clearly. Once he was secured to the table, I pulled the equipment cart over beside the exam table and pulled out what I would need: scalpels, forceps, the finest set of curved needle sutures I had, and my set of “silver bells” that I had been using since my Army days to insure a nice, clean, smooth, even cut. I gloved up and was ready to start. I quickly shaved off the small patch of pubic hair that was above his penis and sponged the area with Betadine. I reviewed the “silver bells” arrayed before me, the sharp edge of each glinting in the light. I picked up a bell and its clamping ring, slid Tom’s foreskin back, and placed the bell over his penis; it fit loosely, the edge landing slightly past the corona insuring that the circumcision would be “high and tight.” I returned his foreskin to its original position. Tom winced as it slid over the sharp edge of the bell. I picked up a pair of forceps, slipped the clamping ring onto them, then gripped his foreskin and pulled it forward about a half-inch, insuring complete removal of the foreskin and of some of the shaft skin as well. I then slipped the clamping ring over the edge of the bell and closed it against the bell. Tom hissed though clenched teeth as I did so. I told him that the pain from the ring would quickly ease up. I didn’t tell him about the scalpels. I waited several minutes for the bell to cut through the inner lining of the foreskin. When I was sure that the bell had finished its work, I picked up a scalpel and started to excise the boy’s foreskin. He had a look of terror knowing what he was about to loose. I followed the ring and circled his shaft; the skin was quickly excised. As I cut the skin away, Tom drew a deep breath and his fingers and toes curled up from the pain. The bell, the ring, and the skin promptly fell away. I picked a suture and started to close up the cut edges. Once the edges had closed there would be no scar visible. The edges were quickly joined. I rubbed antibiotic over the edges then wrapped the area in gauze. His ordeal was almost over. Tom watched as I picked up the now useless skin, removed the bell and ring and from the skin and placed them in alcohol. I then picked up the skin and put it into the “medical waste” bin, bringing a few tears to his eyes. I knew that from now he would find it difficult to masturbate, possibly even to gain erection without pain. I let Tom lie on the table for a couple of minutes so that he could regain his composure and strength, then released the straps still holding him to the table. He lay there quietly for a bit before getting up and redressing slowly. Once he was dressed, I discussed aftercare with the two of them. I told his mother to keep his genitals dry while he was in the shower by placing a plastic bag over his genitals and she should assist him in showering. She was to change his bandages nightly and shave his crotch each night before she assisted him in the shower. I told her to set up an appointment the following week to insure that he was healing up well. Tom was mortified. “Can’t I do it on my own? Until today, Mum hasn’t seen naked since I was 5 or 6. This was bad enough! Boys my age don’t get bathed by their mothers!” Tom’s mother promptly shot back, “Most boys don’t play with themselves down there, either.” I had to squelch a grin as she said this; I knew better. “I saw you do it. I won’t allow you to do that. You lost your right privacy with your vile and disgusting behavior. From now on, your bedroom door stays open and when you’re in the bathroom, that door stays open.” She continued, not letting the boy get a word in edge-wise. “And since you didn’t see fit to wear underwear today, no more underwear. And for that matter, no more nightclothes after you’ve showered for the night, either. End of discussion. For now!” I knew he would be in for a further earful when they got home. I had remained erect from the time he dropped his pants revealing his naked crotch, directly in front of his mother, deeply embarrassing him. Erect from the power I had over the control of this boy’s genitals and his mother’s imposition of her control over his sexual center and his loss of privacy. I should have felt pity for him, undergoing as he did, the ordeal of being circumcised as he was, tightly and without anesthesia. I didn’t. What I felt was the power that comes from the having control over the genitals of another male. A power that is intoxicating; addictive. It is a power that I knew that I would have to pursue in the future. PART 2B: Hi, I’m Tom Hudson and this is my story of how I was circumcised when I was 12. I was one of those kids lucky enough not to be circumcised by an OB/GYN when I was born. Like a Gynecologist (even when he’s a guy) knows ANYTHING about a guy’s parts down there. They work on WOMEN all day, for Christ’s sake! Now that I’m away at college, away from my mother and her hold on me, I finally feel comfortable enough to write this. I’ve just turned 17, but time has not healed the wounds, especially that of my cock and missing foreskin. About a month before I circumcised, Mom told me that she was taking me to the Doctor’s for a physical. She took me to the Doc about every 6 months for a physical. She said I was getting too old to go to Dr. James anymore. She was taking me to a new doctor, Dr. Peterson, that Doc James recommended. By then, it was mid-summer and had I been skinny-dipping with a bunch of the guys since the weather turned warm in mid-May. I started skinny-dipping with the guys when I was 10. At that time, given that we were all around the same age, none of us had started to mature yet. With all the time in the sun, my skin was deeply and evenly tanned, and my hair, lightened to a shade of honey-blond. When I was circ’d, I had only recently started to enter puberty. I had also just learned about the pleasure of jackin’ off. I didn’t get to enjoy it for very long. We would often take breaks and lie on the beach, naked, and enjoy the warmth of the sun. It was during these breaks that the we learned about jackin’ off, blow jobs, and later, anal sex. (We didn’t know anything about “gay” sex or being gay, one of the guys read about it somewhere and, being the horny guys we were, we just had to try it.) By now, I’ve concluded that I’m gay. I can’t speak for most of the others, but a few of us still enjoy having sex together. And, straight or gay, the whole group still goes skinning-dipping together. The morning of the appointment, I slipped on a white T-shirt, my cargo shorts, and new white trainers. I didn’t bother with my boxers; I was expecting to go skinny-dipping after the Doctor’s visit and didn’t see the need. As I was to later learn, that was a BIG MISTAKE. When it came time, we left for the Doctor’s office. When we got there, the Doctor’s receptionist escorted Mom and I directly into the exam room. Doc Peterson greeted us as we walked in. He had me sit in the exam room while the two of them stepped into the Doc’s office. After about 5 minutes in the office, they retuned to the room and Mom sat down in one of the chairs. I was still waiting for Mom to leave when the Doc told me to take off my clothes but leave my undershorts on. I gulped. I didn’t have any on and here was Mom sitting less than 6 feet away. I looked at Doc, then Mom, and it was apparent I was to have little choice in the matter. Then again, they didn’t know I had nothing on under my cargos. I still didn’t understand why Mom wasn’t leaving the room. Dr. James always saw me in private; at least as far back as I can remember. Now, at 12, Mom would see me naked. The last time she saw me naked, I was about 5 I guess. I lifted off my T then slipped off my sneaks. I paused, feeling my cheeks flushing, not wanting to be naked in front of my mother. I slowly lowered my cargos and felt more embarrassed as my bare crotch became visible. I stepped out of my cargos and stood complete nude in front of my mother, embarrassed as hell. I quickly put my hands in front of my naked crotch. Doc started by taking my height and weight; then had me stand if front of the exam table and put my hands behind head, leaving my developing balls and small cock in full view, humiliating me further. He carefully looked me over, stopping occasionally to take notes. When he was finished looking me over, he took hold of my penis and gently slid my foreskin back, then let go. It slowly slid back over my cock. At first, I was afraid he was going to jerk me off right here in front of Mom and I was relieved when he didn’t. He then felt both balls and each cord going inside me from my balls. For the rest of the exam, he had me get up on the exam table. At first, he had me sit on the table while he did most of the remaining exams. He left my hands free and I put them back over my crotch. I started to relax, thinking that the exam was almost over, and be I’d dressed and down to the swimming-hole before long. Doc said there was one test left, the prostate exam. Since Dr. James had never given me one, I didn’t know what one was, but I was about to find out. For that, he had me get on the table on my hands and knees with my knees spread. I ended facing the corner away from Mom; my cock and balls hanging down and my ass-crack spread, all in full view for my mother to see. I was so humiliated. Doc gloved up, lubed the glove, and started easing his finger into my butt. At first, my ass-ring started to tighten up, but Doc told me to push out slightly and relax. As I did, his finger slipped in and I felt it probing inside. At first, it was a bit painful, but slowly the pain eased up. Doc stopped probing and started rubbing something inside me down there, apparently my prostate. As he rubbed my prostate firmly, he picked up a specimen cup and held it under my limp cock. In a few minutes, I came, still limp, Doc’s finger stuck up my butt. All this while my mother watched, humiliating me that much further. Doc covered the cup and put it in the fridge. I thought we were finished but Doc had me lie back down on the table and lifted my legs into the stirrups. “Aren’t we done now, Doc?” As I asked this, he started strapping my legs into the stirrups. “No Tom. Your mother caught you masturbating and she’s adamant that you be circumcised. I agreed. If I didn’t, your mom would’ve taken you to another doctor, and it would’ve been worse for you.” ‘Caught me masturbating?’ When, I wondered. I figured it was just before she made the appointment the previous month. I was horrified. I tried to get off the table but my legs were already strapped firmly to the stirrups. As he strapped my chest and arms to the table, he continued, “I must tell you, Tom, that I don’t like doing circumcisions. But your mom’s so adamant that I was left little choice.” I gave up fighting against it; I knew he was right about Mom when she wanted things her own way. When he was done strapping me in, he adjusted the headrest, giving me a clear view of my crotch while he cut my foreskin off (mutilate my cock was more like it). That done, he pulled over his tool cart and pulled out the tools he needed to maim my cock. (I didn’t know the names of the various different things on the cart then; I do now.) He gloved up and quickly shaved off the small patch of pubic hair I had above my cock then swabbed the area with Betadine. Next, he picked up some sort of small silver bell, slid my foreskin back, and placed it over the head of my cock. As I looked at the bell, I noticed the edge; it looked as sharp as a razor. Doc slid my foreskin back over my cock head, as he did, the edge of the bell scraped my inner ‘skin, stinging like hell. With my ‘skin back in place, my cock looked almost normal, but for the tip of the bell sticking out over the tip of my cock and the slightly thicker bulge at the edge of my cock head. With the bell in place, Doc picked up some sort of thin, hollow ring and placed it over a pair forceps. Doc then grabbed my foreskin with the forceps. He slipped the ring down my ‘skin ‘til it rested against the ridge formed by the edge of the bell. He used the forceps to pull my foreskin and some of my shaft skin past the ring. Each time he let go on the skin, the ring would keep the skin from slipping back down past the bell. When he was done, there was at least a half-inch of skin hanging past the end of my cock. Doc slipped the ring over the bell and snapped it closed. Pain shot through the skin and I hissed out a deep breath as the sharp edge of the bell started cutting through my foreskin. I knew there was no going back, my ‘skin was slowly being cut off by the bell. Soon, my foreskin would be gone; my cock head exposed forever; my cock mutilated at my mother’s command. Doc saw the pain in my face. He told me that the pain from the ring would quickly ease up. He was right. As the pain slowly eased, I knew the bell had finished cutting through my precious foreskin. It was mine no more; just a memory. After what seemed like forever, but was more likely a few minutes, he picked up a scalpel and quickly ran it around my cock just below the ring. More pain shot through me. As he finished, the foreskin, with the bell and ring still attached, fell to the table below. Doc picked up a suture and started to close the edges where the skin had been cut away. As he did, my cock felt as if it was being stung by bees each time he inserted the needle. He was quickly finished, his work complete. I thought my ordeal was over … then I watched as he picked up the dead, useless skin of the table and threw it into a bucket marked “medical waste.” It was no longer mine, just ‘waste.’ It was all I could do to keep from crying. He released the straps and I rested there, not moving. I was exhausted. After a few minutes, I slowly got off the table and got dressed. When I was dressed, he talked to Mom and I about taking care of my cock while it healed. He told Mom to keep my genitals dry while I was in the shower by placing a plastic bag over my genitals and she should assist me in showering. She was to change my bandages nightly and shave my crotch each night before she assisted me with my the shower. He told Mom to set up an appointment the following week to insure that I was healing well. I was mortified. “Can’t I do it on my own? Until today, Mum hasn’t seen naked since I was 5 or 6. This was bad enough! Boys my age don’t get bathed by their mothers!” Mom promptly shot back, “Most boys don’t play with themselves down there, either. I saw you do it. I won’t have you playing with yourself anymore. You lost your right to privacy with your vile and disgusting behavior. From now on, your bedroom door stays open and when you’re in the bathroom, that door stays open!” She continued, not letting me get a word in edge-wise. “And since you didn’t see fit to wear underwear today, no more underwear. And for that matter, no more nightclothes after you’ve showered for the night, either. End of discussion. For now!” I knew I’d be in for more of the same when we got home. * * * Well, as soon as were home, she started in. “I told you at the Doctor’s office that you lost your right privacy. Take your shorts off NOW! I want to be able to make sure you’re not playing with it. And if I ever catching you playing with it, I’ll have it taken clean off.” “What?” I was appalled. “You want me naked in the house?” “No, you can wear a shirt, socks, and sneakers in the house. When company comes, then, if I allow it, you can put shorts or pants on, but when they leave, off they come!” God, I was even more appalled at the possibility of being naked in front of company. ”Oh, by the way, I’m having someone come over to remove your bedroom door in a couple of weeks since you don’t need it any more.” My face must have shown my sense of frustration, humiliation, and despair; and she was enjoying every minute of my suffering. She was treating me like a five or six year-old and there was nothing I could do to stop her. “Don’t look at me like that. You did this to yourself. Now go to your room and take your shorts off. Then take ALL of your undershorts and put them out in the trash!” I went to my room, took off my shorts in a daze. Then I slowly open the drawer my undershorts were in. I looked over my collection, depressed at the thought of throwing them all out. I hid those I couldn’t part with in the attic; then I threw out those that I could. Mom had me take them out to the outside trash without allowing me to put my shorts back on. I didn’t even argue. She’d won and she knew it. I couldn’t fight her anymore. I went out to the trash, knowing that any neighbors could see me with no shorts on. How would I explain it to them? I’d just come in from the trash when she announced it was bath time. I got undressed and went to the bathroom. Mom was waiting for me. She had me stand in the tub while she filled it with about a foot of tepid water. I’d always enjoyed a long hot shower, but it wouldn’t be until I was over 16 that I would enjoy one again. I stood there while she bathed me, even carefully washing my genitals. She had me grab my ankles while she washed my butt. I was beyond humiliation, my butt in the air in front of my mother as she washed it. She would continue to bath me until I was about to graduate from High School. She let me get dressed. I knew better then to put my shorts on. I went to the living room and put the TV on to watch baseball. When the game was over, I went to bed, naked, the bedroom door open, and quickly fell asleep; I was exhausted, my mind was exhausted. * * * I’m taking a break for now, but will continue soon. I’ll include the next visit to the Doctor, and the time Mom had the handy-man over for the door; and no, I was not allowed to have anything on but my socks and sneakers.