Warning: This story isn’t for everyone. It’s not only my shortest story but also one of the most humiliating. One the plus side, there is no blood or torture. If that’s your thing, you’ll love it. If you don’t like seeing big, arrogant jocks taken down and stripped bare of every shred of their manhood…well, best not read any further.

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Themes: Penectomy, neutering, butt growth, hairless, humiliation, straight-to-gay, man breasts, butt sex

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“Room 1?” Bronson read as he approached the first door at the end of the long hallway. He nodded to himself. “Yeah, this is the place.” He pushed the door open and strode inside with a swagger, announcing, “I’m here for my physical!”

Inside, there was a young doctor who looked barely older than Bronson himself. He was slim and tall and dark-haired, wearing a white lab coat and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. “I’m Doctor Asai. And you must be Mr. Chatham.” He nodded courteously to Bronson, indicating a scrim set up in a corner of the room. “Go behind there and change into this,” he said, holding up a tiny hospital gown.

Bronson chuckled, already pulling his t-shirt over his broad, hairy, toned chest. He waved dismissively at the gown, sneering, “I don’t need that. That’s for pussies!”

Bronson was the star enforcer on his hockey team, big and muscular and completely badass. Standing well over six feet tall and weighing more than two hundred fifty pounds, he had thick brown hair and a dense beard that made him look older than his twenty-five years. He never backed down from a fight and had crowns on his front teeth to prove it. He was proud of his body, loved everything about it. Most of all, he loved showing it off. Of course, he preferred to show off in front of girls but he wasn’t above rubbing his superiority in the faces of other guys, too. And this doc, he noted with satisfaction, was definitely inferior to him in every way.

He quickly stripped down to his boxers and then shimmied those down his broad hips, smirking as his long, thick cock and pendulous balls flopped free. He kicked the undies off to the side and held out his arms to display his magnificence. “Ready!”

The doctor looked away, no doubt cowed by Bronson’s magnificence. His cheeks were rosy as he held out the gown. “Please, Mr. Chatham. Put this on.”

Bronson was eating this up. Putting his hands on his hips, he sauntered over and stood completely naked in front of the young doc, his big dick swinging lazily to and fro between his furry thighs. Grinning from ear to ear, he very slowly reached out to take the gown. He took his time draping it over his hulking frame and stood there after he was done, pleased to see the flimsy gown was so short his girthy shaft hung far down below the hem. Man, he fucking loved showing off! It was even more satisfying when his audience was a prissy little fuck like this doctor.

“Go on, Doc,” he urged, thrusting his crotch forward. “Examine me. All of me. Haha!”

Dr. Asai swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. He kept his gaze studiously averted from Bronson’s package. “Very well,” he murmured, putting on the stethoscope that hung around his neck and reaching out to place the chestpiece against Bronson’s sternum. The metal was cool and Bronson braced before he caught himself. He thrust his chest out proudly. After a while, the doc nodded, “Sounds good.”

“‘Course it is!” Bronson bragged. “I’m healthy as a fuckin’ horse…and hung like one, too!”

Dr. Asai made no reply and continued his examination, pacing around Bronson to place the scope on his back and ordering him to inhale. Bronson took a deep breath and exhaled, grinning when the doc pronounced his lungs clear.

“Now if you would lie down on the exam table,” the doctor instructed, gesturing to the paper-covered, padded table behind him. “I need to do a pelvic exam.”

Bronson chuckled. “Oh, yeah, the ol’ looking-for-hernias trick? Yer such a perv, doc. If ya wanna touch my junk, all ya gotta do is ask. Haha!”

Dr. Asai merely stood there, patiently waiting until Bronson lay down on the table. “On your belly first,” he corrected when Bronson started to lie on his back.

“Kinky,” Bronson teased, flipping over onto his belly. “Gonna do a rectal exam, too?” He laughed, shaking his head at these ridiculous physicals. Every year it was the same stupid bullshit.

“No,” Asai said, surprising Bronson by quickly jabbing a syringe into each buttock. “This is for your protection.”

“Ouch! What the fuck is that stuff?” Bronson complained, clenching his butt. “It burns!”

“Don’t worry,” the doctor reassured. “It won’t last long. You can turn over onto your back now.”

Bronson did so, wincing as his weight settled onto his butt. His ass cheeks were burning and throbbing where the doctor had injected that stuff. He expected Dr. Asai to don gloves and begin the hernia exam but instead the young doctor produced another syringe and, pulling back the top of his gown, injected something into each of Bronson’s furry pecs.

“Fuckin’ hell, bro!” Bronson complained, reaching up to rub his sore chest. “What is that shit?”

“Like I said,” Dr. Asai explained, “it’s for your protection.” 

Bronson barely heard him. He was too distracted by the burning pain radiating from his pecs. Worse, he could feel something weird happening underneath him. “D-D-Doc,” he pleaded. “Please! Tell me what you juss did?”

Dr. Asai shrugged, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. “It’s nothing, really. A new treatment Coach Quiñones ordered for all of the players. You’ll see why in a few minutes. Now if you could place your head back on the pillow and then turn your head and cough, you might feel a slight tug.”

Confused and in pain, Bronson did as he was told. The doctor gently lifted his big penis and, turning it over to inspect it, cradled it in his hand. Bronson gave a sharp bark of protest as he felt an abrupt twist followed by a tug. The discomfort passed a moment later, though, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable next part of the exam: The hernia search.

There was a heavy thud as the doctor tossed something into a disposal and then he turned back to inspecting Bronson’s testicles. Bronson lay there, breathing shallowly as he felt the strangest sensations begin to radiate from his chest and buttocks. It was probably just his imagination but he could have sworn he could feel his lower body pushing up off of the exam table. He shifted, trying to convince himself his bootycheeks weren’t…what? Softer? Plumper? But that wasn’t possible, was it? And his chest? He lifted his head and gave a little start when he saw that his pecs looked fuller and rounder than usual…and hairless?

“What happened to my chest hair?!” he demanded.

Dr. Asai stopped him from sitting up on his elbows, soothing, “Don’t worry. It’s just a benign side effect.”

“Side effect?!” Bronson sputtered. “What do ya mean?”

“Shhh, I’m almost done. I’ll explain everything in a moment.”

Bronson was about to sit up when he felt another sharp stab in each of his nuts. “FUCK!” he bellowed. “WHAT’RE YA DOIN’ TO ME!” This wasn’t at all how his previous physicals had gone.

“All finished,” Dr. Asai replied, patting him gently on the knee. “All that remains is your new uniform.”

“New uniform? What do you mean?” Bronson started to sit up again but the doctor once again prevented him. “They didn’t say nuthin’ ‘bout a new uniform!”

Dr. Assai didn’t answer. Instead, he removed his gloves and then started rummaging through a drawer in the counter behind him. While Bronson lay there, head spinning and butt and pecs throbbing, the doctor guided each of his feet through something. Bronson was only dimly aware of smooth, soft fabric sliding up his mounded thighs. Finally, Asai urged him to lift his butt up off the cushion–a feat that was much more difficult than it should have been–and settled the tiny piece of clothing over his wide hips.

“There. You can get up now. You’re all set.”

Feeling dizzy and not at all his usual, cocky self, Bronson pushed himself up off the exam table and stood there, weaving back and forth on his feet. His vision fogged as he got a head rush and the doctor reached out to steady him. He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. Finally, his equilibrium returned and his eyelids fluttered open.

“I-I-I feel different,” he stammered. “Sumthin’s wrong.”

His pecs. These were the first thing he noticed when he looked down at himself. They were so swollen! They pushed out in front of him from the gap in his gown, really big and hefty and… 

He reached up and parted the gown, eyes googling when he beheld his nipples. They were big and pink and nubile, standing out hard and erect from his completely smooth chest. With shaking hands, he touched one, arching his back and shivering as the most intense, almost electric sensation shot through his body.

“Fuuuuuck,” he moaned. “What did ya do to ‘em? They’re so big!”

Dr. Asai was smiling. “You can take off your gown now.”

Bronson started to comply but then felt something weird behind him. His face drained of color as he reached back and cupped his buttocks, letting out a little yelp of dismay when he felt how much bigger and rounder and softer they had become. “My ass, Doc! What’d ya do to it? It’s fuckin’ huge!”

“Padding,” Dr. Asai replied, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “The drug converts some of your muscle tissue to fat.” He waved off Bronson’s bark of protest. “Don’t worry! Pound for pound, fat is a lot bulkier than muscle. You’re still basically as strong as before.” He gestured to Bronson’s swollen pecs. “It’s the same with your chest.”

“But I don’t want a big ass!” Bronson wailed, unable to take his hands away from his immensely enhanced glutes. They were easily three times as large as before. How would he ever find pants that fit him? “And I really don’t want tits! Change me back, Doc! Pah-lease! Change me back!”

Asai shook his head. “It’s in your contract. Coach’s orders. The extra padding in front and in back will prevent injuries.”

“INJURIES?!” Bronson shouted, outraged. “WHAT THE FUCK?! I could juss wear extra padding!”

“Too many players were sidelined last season,” Asai explained in a bored tone. “This is cheaper and more effective than purchasing expensive equipment.”

Bronson looked from the doctor to his bulging chest and obscene nipples, feeling his huge ass cheeks bouncing behind him. “But I look like a total freak!” he complained. “And I ain’t got no body hair, neither! I feel ridiculous!”

“Wait until you take off your gown,” Asai commented drolly. “I saved the best for last.”

Bronson froze, eyeballs dropping downward. “What? What’d ya do to me?”

“Remove the gown and you’ll see.”

Chest clenched with dread, Bronson undid the gown. His fingers were trembling so much that it took him a while to untie the fasteners. Finally, though, he succeeded and the gown slid off of his beefy frame, getting stuck on the huge shelf of his buttocks before finally falling to the floor.

“Panties!” he exclaimed. “Pink panties are the new uniform?!”

He looked absolutely laughable wearing a sheer pair of silken panties stretched across his smooth crotch. No trace of any hair remained on his entire body, save for the curly brown locks on his head and his dense beard. He gaped, trying to square this new body with his memory of how he used to be. One thing in particular seemed to be missing.

“What ‘bout my bulge?! What happened to it?”

Dr. Asai was grinning. “Find out for yourself. You won’t ever need to wear a cup again.”

Bronson was paralyzed with shock. Nothing felt real to him, especially not the much reduced bulge in the crotch of the humiliating panties. His dick was huge and should have been straining to break free from the nearly transparent material. Instead, he could only see the twin lumps of his balls. Nothing else.

“Go on. Do it.”

He jumped at the tone of the doctor’s voice. Dr. Asai sounded so stern…so dominant.

Bronson willed himself to grasp the frilly, delicate waistband of the panties. Holding his breath, he pulled the sheer underwear down his wide hips, exposing his completely smooth pubes. Inch by inch by inch until…

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” he howled when his worst fears were confirmed. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY PENIS?!”

“It’s gone,” Dr. Asai answered. “Now you will be less distracted and more focused on your training.”

Tears filled Bronson’s eyes as he beheld the indentation where his penis used to be. It was slightly concave and the skin puckered around it like it was a large belly button. Below it, his nuts hung down in his hairless sack. He cried as he reached down and traced a finger around the circumference of that small divot. There was no blood, barely any scar tissue. There wasn’t even any pain. The hole was perfectly healed. How the fuck was that possible?

“PLEASE!” he whimpered, looking around widely. “What’d ya do with it? Where is it? Quick! Sew it back on!”

“Sorry, not gonna happen. You signed the contract.” Dr. Asai was watching him with obvious pleasure. Bronson stared at him, realizing the sick fuck was getting off on his terror and humiliation!

“I NEVER AGREED TO HAVE MY COCK CHOPPED OFF!!!” Bronson yelled, taking the doctor by the collar of his lab coat and shaking him. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”

Asai was unphased by his anger. “I already did. Now why don’t you just relax and get used to being a nullo. You’re better off this way. Better yet, the team is stronger for it. I’d be shocked if you don’t win the Stanley Cup this year.” He took Bronson’s hands and removed them from his shirt.

Bronson’s brain felt like it was getting ready to explode. He took his package–what remained of it–in his hands and squeezed as if doing so would miraculously cause his penis to regrow. Something else felt strange, though. He squeezed again, confused by the numbness. Finally, he lifted his head and gaped up at Asai. “What’s wrong with my balls? Why can’t I feel ‘em?”

Asai shrugged. “Because I just chemically castrated you. They are completely useless now.”

Bronson’s skin was clammy and he felt feverish. “C-C-C-Castrated?” he repeated. “Y-Y-You can’t! What ‘bout makin’ babies? Are ya sayin’ I can’t father no children now?”

“I’m afraid so,” Dr. Asai replied with a smirk. “I hope you visited a sperm bank before coming here. Didn’t Coach Quiñones tell you to?”

“H-H-He did but I didn’t go,” Bronson stuttered. “I didn’t think it was necessary. I’m fertile as fuck!”

“You were fertile as fuck,” the doctor corrected. “Now you’ve been neutered for your safety. Like I said, no need to wear a cup every again. You’re completely safe and secure down there.”

Bronson plopped down on the exam table, completely dazed and defeated. His giant ass cheeks splayed out beneath him like enormous, twin pillows, and his tits sagged down over his smooth belly. He cradled his head in his hands, moaning, “I’m ruined! Fuckin’ ruined! I can’t live like this! My life is over!”

“Oh, you’ll get used to it,” Asai soothed, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “They all do.” He squeezed. “In fact, I think you’ll agree you’re better off now than you were before. I’ve removed all of your distractions and vulnerabilities. Now you’re the perfect hockey jock: Padded, neutered and unstoppable.”

Bronson tried to shake off the doctor’s hand but he couldn’t; he was too weak with shock. Instead, he sagged down, hunching his mountainous shoulders and whimpering in defeat. He couldn’t believe what the doctor had done to him. It wasn’t fair! More than that, it was criminal! He’d taken his manhood away, leaving him a neutered, dickless freak.

“I almost forgot,” Dr. Asai said, oblivious to his torment. “I still have to do the prostate exam. Here, lean back and I’ll take care of it.”

“What? No!” 

But the doctor was already pushing him backward onto the exam table. All of the fight drained out of Bronson as he lay down, tears streaming down his fuzzy cheeks. Dr. Asai removed his panties, pulling them partway down his hulking thighs and then donned another pair of gloves and lubricated his finger, pushing it into the deep cleft of Bronson’s buttocks. Bronson jerked when that finger touched his man-bud and he started to complain. No one touched his asshole but him! But he was too weak and defeated to do anything but mewl piteously.

“Nice and tight. You’re still a virgin,” Dr. Asai praised, pushing his finger in deeper. Bronson wiggled his hips, inhaling sharply when he realized he was kind of enjoying the sensation. He blushed, revolted. How could he get turned on right now? And from being fingered by another guy! WTF? He was sick!

Nonetheless, he didn’t resist when Dr. Asai urged him to pull up his knees and place his feet on the table. “Rotate your hips,” he instructed. “I need full access.” Bronson did as he was told, arching his back and sticking out his butt, all but inviting the doctor into his butthole. He flushed when a little moan escaped his lips. He could feel the remnants of erectile tissue in his taint begin to swell but there was a complete absence of any sensation where his dick used to be. That made sense, of course. It wasn’t there any longer.

Dr. Asai leaned forward, forcing Bronson to part his knees. He inserted his finger deeper and then added another. Bronson wanted to resist–why was the doctor sticking two fingers inside him?–but he couldn’t make himself do so. It felt too good! He moaned louder. 

A third finger. 

Then a fourth.

“I think you’re ready now.”

Bronson lifted his head. “For what?” In answer, Dr. Asai unfastened his belt and unzipped his pants. Bronson pushed himself up on his elbows, demanding, “What’re ya doin’, Doc?”

“I’m going to fuck you.”

Bronson’s eyebrows shot up. “WHAT?!” At that moment, the doctor’s pants fell to the floor and he yanked down his boxers. The cock that sprang free was already throbbing and erect. Bronson stared at it with envy. It was shorter than his former masterpiece but it was still a cock. A real man’s cock. He withered in humiliation when he realized he was licking his lips. He couldn’t take his eyes off that man-cock. He wanted it bad. Wanted it for his very own.

Dr. Asai read the desire and envy blazing in his eyes and sneered. “You’re all the same,” he smirked. “You’re just like the rest of your teammates: All bravado and braggadocio when you swagger in here but you always leave cock-hungry little whores.” He got up on the exam table, pushing his way between Bronson’s meaty, hairless thighs. “I always fuck them at the end and you’re no different. Go on: Beg me to fuck your straight-boy hole.”

Bronson swallowed, eyes wide with panic. He wasn’t a fag! He didn’t get fucked up the ass! He screwed his eyes shut as tears filled them. The bitter truth was inescapable, though: He was neutered and dickless. There was no way he could ever fuck a woman again. He hated Dr. Asai with a passion when he realized what he’d been made into. His life as a straight man was over and getting fucked up the butt was his only option for pleasure. He been irrevocably turned into cockslut and a faggot. 

And he needed to be filled.

“Fuck my pussy!” he cried, cringing when he heard the disgusting words leave his lips. “Stretch me out with yer big cock!”

“That’s more like it.”

Dr. Asai leaned forward and grabbed his huge, hard nipples and twisted. Bronson howled, arching his back and thrusting his butt upward. And then he howled louder when he felt the impossible happen: His ass lips parted and a thick, pulsing cock slammed inside him. He felt something snap as his previously tight asshole loosened into a permanent gape and then the good doctor was leaning over him, pounding away at his hole. 

Bronson threw back his head and screamed in pain, humiliation and ecstasy. His head banged hard against the wall and he saw stars but Dr. Asai didn’t stop. Bronson’s chute burned and his taint swelled. He realized he loved the sensation of the doctor slamming against it. Biting his lip, he reached down and rubbed his finger tentatively across the little divot where his cock used to be. He moaned, eyes rolling back in his head. It felt amazing! 

More than a little of the pleasure, he realized with self-loathing, was from the humiliation of knowing he was nothing but a cockless whore now.

By the time Dr. Asai exploded inside him, coating his insides with potent man-spunk, Bronson’s new life as a cock-hungry bottom slut had already begun. He left Room Number 1 with cum leaking out of his vacuous hole and his panties riding out of the top of his too-tight jeans. His nipples rubbed painfully against his t-shirt and his crotch was completely empty. He clutched the jar containing his severed manhood suspended in formaldehyde against his softened chest, gritting his teeth.

Dr. Asai turned out to be right about two things: Bronson never wore a cup again and his team did win the Stanley Cup that year. Sometimes, though, when he and his teammates stared at their hard-won trophy, they wondered if their sacrifice was worth it.

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