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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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Feminized, Faggified, and Fixed for Life
by Kimmie Holland & Meeah Mackenzie (meeah535@aol.com)
***
A wife decides she and her lover would be happier if
her sissy hubby were gay and castrated. (MFdom/M,
forced, bi, anal, bd, tv, cuck, cast)
***
**ONE**
Stephen Accepts His Fate—Sort Of.
"Oh don't be such a baby, Steffie," my wife said,
pausing while putting on her lipstick. "It's not like
you even use the silly little things anymore."
I had come upstairs to the bedroom with the boots I'd
just polished. Her boyfriend Max would be by shortly to
take her out for the evening and there I was the
obedient house-husband helping her get ready, just like
a good chastity sissy should.
"But...but twice a month..."
Diana turned from the mirror and I felt my breath
catch. God, she was beautiful. How could I allow myself
to lose this woman? I would never be able to live with
myself.
"Yes, twice a month I remove your chastity cage and
milk your sissy cream. Do you think that's any treat
for me? Do you ever think about anyone but yourself,
Steffie?"
"No...I didn't mean..." I didn't know what to say. The
last thing I wanted to do was to make her angry.
"And, really, I can't believe it gives you any great
pleasure either."
She was right, of course. Twice a month I climbed onto
the laundry-folding table in the basement, propped
myself up on my elbows and knees, butt in the air,
while my wife pushed her fingers deep into my anus in
order to "milk" my prostate. I can't honestly say that
it felt good, nothing like an orgasm—well, how I
remember an orgasm used to feel before I was forbidden
to have them—but the long slow expressing of semen from
the tip of my swollen and numb cock gave me at least
some relief from the urgent build-up in my balls.
Snapping off the lubed rubber glove, Diana never made
any secret of how distasteful she found the whole
operation. "A necessary evil", she called it. "I can't
have you going and getting prostate cancer. What a
useless pain in the ass you'd be then."
I knelt in front of her as she sat on the bed and
slipped first one, then the other, petite freshly-
pedicured foot into the knee-high boots. I oh-so-
carefully zipped the boots closed over her shapely
calves. It was torture being so close to her beautiful
body and being forbidden to touch it. My own wife! But
I knew the rules and I didn't fancy another whipping
from Max.
"Just think sweetie," Diana said, a rare note of
tenderness in her voice. "No more sexual frustration,
no more guilt at not being man enough to win me back,
no more of your little hissy fits." She prodded my
caged genitals with the toe of her boot. "So many
problems solved at such an insignificant cost."
I wanted to tell her that the "insignificant cost" she
was talking about was nothing less than my identity, my
manhood; but I knew without saying a word, without her
saying a word what her answer to that argument would
be.
After all, what manhood did I have left at this point?
I saw myself as Diana must see me at that moment. I was
wearing a flowered sundress under a frilly pink apron
with a big bow tied in the back. My hair was parted in
the middle, the sides caught up in pigtails, and the
front combed forward over my forehead in bangs. My body
was as slender and as smooth as my Diana's. I was
wearing wedge-heeled beaded thong sandals. My toenails
were painted bright pink. I no longer had sex with my
wife—or with anyone. I was on my knees, helping her get
ready for her date with the man who was cuckolding me.
My beautiful wife smiled down at me. I didn't doubt she
was reading my mind; we were still married, after all.
"So you'll do it then. Tonight."
It wasn't really a question. I nodded quickly and
looked back down at her feet so she didn't see the
tears that were stinging my eyes. One splashed down
onto her boot and I wiped it away as quickly as I could
with my thumb.
The doorbell rang.
"Run downstairs and get that, Steffie. It must be Max.
Make sure you fix him his Cosmopolitan with plenty of
lime zest this time. And be perky. He likes to hear you
chatter away mindlessly." Diana laughed and waved me
away. "I'll be down in ten minutes."
I had one hope left, I thought, as I hurried downstairs
as fast as I could in my clunky-heeled sandals. The
internet was full of people who fantasized about such
things as I well knew. But no one would seriously
answer an online ad from someone looking to be
castrated.
Would they?
**TWO**
Diana Can't Believe Her Luck!
As certain as I was that Steffie's ad would generate
some interest, I never expected the blizzard of emails
that arrived over the next few days from men who wanted
to nut my poor hubby. I'd had him post the ad in the
personals section of exclusively gay message boards,
figuring there weren't likely to be many women
interested and even less who'd have any use afterwards
for a neutered sissy. You see, I wanted to find someone
who might consider something like Steffie a suitable
life-partner. After all, he couldn't go on forever as
my "maid."
As you might expect, most of the replies were from
wannabes and guys just looking to role-play. There were
the usual weirdoes and potential psychos. Naturally I
discounted these right off the bat. Believe it or not,
I still cared deeply for Steven; maybe love was no
longer the word for my feelings, certainly not the kind
between a man and a woman. I guess I was already
beginning to think of him sort of as a girlfriend.
Anyway, I definitely didn't want anything bad to happen
to him, which was one reason why I took it upon myself
to screen the responses myself. I didn't trust my
hubby's judgment in the matter—after all, he'd gotten
himself in this position to begin with, didn't he?
[evil grin]—and I wasn't sure he wouldn't try to
sabotage the whole plan in the end if he came to his
senses.
Curious to see what sort of pictures my sissy hubby
posted to advertise himself I clicked open his ad. I'd
told him to make sure he showed himself off to best
advantage. Over the last two years of his
transformation, I'd taken dozens of pictures of his
sissy self, so he had plenty to choose from, knowing,
as I did from the start that this day would come.
I was pleasantly surprised and more than a little
amused to see just how well the little fool followed my
advice! I couldn't have chosen a better selection of
pansy shots myself. There my hubby was posing in a
barely-there string bikini, a wispy babydoll nightie,
and the French maid fetish uniform I had him wear for
the New Year's Eve party Max and I hosted last year.
And, just in case, being gay his potential suitor
preferred something a little less "girlie," Steff added
a picture of himself in full-bore sissy mode—denim
short-shorts, pink ankle socks, and sheer pink tank
top.
His cheeks were rouged like a doll's and he wore a pale
pink bandana, peasant girl-style, his bangs combed
fetchingly forward. With on hand on his hip and the
other raise, limp wrist turned up on level with his
shoulder, he looked quite the provocative fairyboi. It
was hard to imagine a gay top taking one look at this
smooth, long-legged wimp and not wanting to fold him
over at the waist and fuck out his tight little white
ass.
No wonder there were not shortage of willing takers for
his anal cherry—and his cute little nuts!
The latter Steffie thoughtfully "showed off," holding
up the hem of a red and white polka dot sundress to
present his shaved little nuts and limp pink willie,
decorated with a white lace bow! A gift for the lucky
taker! Oh, he was just too-too precious for words, my
sissy husband!
After a further exchange of emails and narrowing down
of candidates, I made my pick: a gay Greek top, hairy
as an ape, six-foot-five, two-hundred-sixty pounds.
Between his shaggy thighs hung nine inches of uncut
male tube and a pair of dark balls, each one as big as
my fist. I took one look at this prodigious pure-alpha
package and couldn't help but grin. My poor hubby! He
didn't stand a chance!
*THREE*
Stephen is Turned Into a Fairy Princess Overnight.
As it turned out not only were there real people out
there all too happy to castrate a sissy like me—I had a
date with one by the end of the week, thanks to my
wife.
I was terrified about meeting Nikos for the first time:
after all, I wasn't gay! At least that's what I kept
telling myself—and Diana—not that she was paying any
heed to my objections. She just patted me on the arm
and said, "Well we'll see about that soon enough, won't
we? I'll bet you didn't think you'd ever be a sissy
getting ready for his first date with the man who was
going to cut his balls off either, did you? But look at
you now."
She had me there; but the, the way things worked out, I
didn't really have any choice in the matter, did I?
I paced nervously back and forth the night of my date—I
kept meaning to say "Nikos"—practically wearing a rut
in the carpet until he arrived. Diana thought the
sissyboi outfit I wore in one of the pictures I posted
was so adorable she had me wear a variation of it for
Nikos. I was wearing a pair of pastel lavender short-
shorts, a ridiculously tight, half-sleeve pink t-shirt
with the word "hottie" spelled out in silver glitter
across the front, and a pink scarf for a headband.
On my feet I wore a pair of flat thong sandals
decorated with rhinestones. The sandals had a hard sole
that click-clacked with every step I took across a hard
surface, drawing the eye to what I hoped—probably in
vain—was a not-too-noticeable pale-pink French
pedicure. It was in this get-up that my wife made me
answer the door for my date with Nikos.
My eyes were level with the thick thatch of salt-and-
pepper hair that sprang from the front of his half-
unbuttoned silk shirt. I had to look up—and then up
again—to see his face. He towered above me and his
well-muscled body must have been at least twice as
heavy as mine. A big-bad-wolf smile spread across his
face under the thick Tom Selleck mustache. He held out
a hand as large and dark and hairy as a bear's paw. It
seemed to make my own comparatively pale, dainty hand
vanish.
"Steffie," he boomed out so loud I was afraid the
neighbors would hear, "so nice to meet you." He looked
me up and down appraisingly, like a man buying a prize
animal. If I'd hoped they weren't terribly noticeable,
he dashed those hopes at once by saying, "I like the
toes."
Then, effortlessly, he pulled me against his chest,
crushing me against the hot, hairy, manly-scented bulk
of him. I made a small whimper of protest but it was
too little, too late. He kissed me right on the mouth!
It all happened so fast I was stunned and by the time I
recovered he was leading me click-clacking down the
front pathway to his car, in clear view of the
neighborhood, his big hand resting easily and
possessively on my silk-encased fanny.
Things, I'm sorry to say, went rapidly downhill from
there.
Nikos took me to one gay club and then another...and
then another, each one raunchier and rowdier than the
last. After a while I just lost track. Everywhere we
went he made a point of showing that I belonged not
just with him, but to him. It seemed he kept a
propriety hand on me at all times, on my bare thigh, on
my ass, around my waist. In a downtown leather club, he
even slipped his hand down the front of my skimpy
shorts, gave me balls a firm squeeze, and looked me
seriously in the eyes. "I hope you understand, Steffie;
these belong to me now."
Diana had taken the chastity cage off me for the
evening and my cock gave an involuntary little throb in
his rough, masculine palm. I told myself it was only
because it was so long since anyone had touched it.
Nikos made suck my precum off his thumb.
There was a dungeon in the basement of the club and
that's where Nikos led me next. He strapped me into a
leather harness and I found myself dangling four feet
from the floor—cock-high and helpless—like a piece of
meat in a butcher shop. My mouth had already been used
three times by three different men when Nikos took his
out of my weary mouth and spun me around so that he had
a perfect shot at my defenseless rosebud.
Even with all the butt-plug and dildo training Diana
had me endure, Nikos still hurt going in, but once in,
it wasn't nearly as bad as I imagined it would be from
the looks of the monster he was endowed with. He
grabbed the harness and used it to thrust in-and-out of
my rapidly stretching hole, grunting and moaning and
slapping my asscheeks as a couple of guys wandered in
to watch and jerk themselves off into my face.
With my shorts and panties stripped off, my own cock
and balls were bouncing around with every one of
Nikos's violent thrusts.
"Oh no," I moaned, as I felt the orgasm building in
spite of myself. "Oh please no god no no no no no..."
It was no use, my little cock twitching and it started
spurting, my sissy cream pattering on the tiled floor.
As I came, my sphincter naturally began massaging the
big dick stuffed in my butt and with a final grunt of
animal pleasure, Nikos began unloading in my bowels so
savagely I was afraid I might be thrown out of the
harness altogether.
It was very nearly dawn when Nikos brought me home at
last. As they left for work, the neighbors were
probably wondering who the wrecked-looking slut was
staggering barefoot up the walk on the arm of the
bouncer-type, her sandals dangling from her fingers.
Nikos gave them something further to ponder when he
kissed me "good night" at the front door, practically
fucking me again right there on the stoop. I had the
feeling the situation wasn't going to remain a mystery
for long, even if no one had recognized me yet from my
increasingly sissified appearance in the neighborhood
over the past several weeks.
There was nothing I would have liked better than to
slip unseen to my little corner in the cellar and try
to forget the entire evening—but as luck would have it
my humiliation wasn't yet complete.
"Is that you Steffie?" Diana called from the kitchen
where she and Max were having their morning coffee.
"Come in and say good morning for goodness sake. We're
dying to hear about your first date."
If it was embarrassing enough to have experienced the
events of the night before, it was a hundred times more
recounting them in detail to my wife and her lover. But
they insisted on hearing every mortifying detail.
"So," Diana giggled, "tell us. Are you still a virgin
or what?"
I must have blushed every shade of red in existence
when she told me to turn around, bend forward, and pull
down my shorts and thong panties. Both of them burst
into gales of laughter when I pulled apart my gummed up
ass cheeks for them and they saw my swollen, sore, and
cum-filled little hole.
"How cute," Diana squealed and clapped her hands in
delight. "It looks just like a plump little cream
puff!"
"A strawberry cream puff I'd say," Max added wryly.
Could it possibly get any worse than this? Even if
they'd allowed me to keep my worthless balls, could I
have been any more effectively emasculated than I was
at that moment?
**FOUR**
Diana Attends Stephen's "Farewell De-Balling."
Ah, but it was already long decided that my poor hubby
was not going to be allowed to keep his nuts. Max and I
determined they simply must go, and, of course, Nikos
could hardly wait to harvest them. He thoughtfully
invited Max and me to the nutting ceremony. Needless to
say, we enthusiastically accepted the invite.
It was a catered affair and Nikos had hired a
photographer to capture the whole thing on video. A
finished DVD would be presented later to all the guests
and then sold over the internet. Max and I were
impressed; Nikos was really determined to do this thing
right!
Steffie, the ungrateful little bitch, was more
depressed and agitated than ever, but I assured him
that those feelings would pass once his little sack was
snipped. "Look on the bright side," I said, "at least
you're going to be allowed to keep that worthless
little pecker of yours."
"But it won't work anymore without my testicles,"
Steffie whined. He really was getting tiresome.
"So much the better," I snapped. "They never worked
worth a damn anyway."
That sure shut him up.
Max and I arrived fashionably late at Nikos's townhouse
the night of the party. I was glad to see there was
quite a nice turn-out for my hubby's castration. I
found him lying on his back, bound to the big, modern-
looking table in the dining room. His hair was styled
in a cute China-doll pageboy and decorated with a
bridal tiara of rhinestones and frothy white tulle. He
was cinched snugly into a lacy white corset done up
with pink ribbons clipped to his white fishnet
stockings. A pair of dainty silver sandals completed
his outfit; except, of course, for the vibrating dildo
clearly stuffed into his distended asshole.
Nikos decided to make my hubby and his soon-to-be-
harvested nuts the table's centerpiece. A rubber ring
tightly constricted the top of Steffie's sack so
tightly the purple skin was stretched shiny. Around his
tied-down body, a generous selection of food and
beverages was arrayed. My hubby's nuts looked about to
burst! I'd never seen anyone's balls so badly swollen
and such an alarmingly unnatural color. I couldn't help
but wonder if they weren't already dead.
Even so, Steffie's cock was fully erect—even if that's
not saying much!—and also tightly banded to prevent any
accidental relief from the small, egg-shaped vibrator
buzzing away merrily on the little orgasm "trigger"
just below my hubby's darkening glans. A puddle of
clear pre-cum had already collected in and around his
pierced navel and some of the gay guests made use of it
as a sauce in which to drip their cocktail shrimp.
By the time Max and I mingled our way to the munchies,
my poor hubby was in quite a bad way. He seemed
somewhat groggy and out-of-it, his eyes glazed over,
probably the effects of whatever drug it was that Max
had given Steffie to deal with the pain and fear of his
imminent castration. Still, he recognized me through
his anesthetized stupor.
I eased a cube of gourmet cheese off a toothpick with
my teeth and jabbed it into Seffie's obscenely swollen
balls. The lashes of his heavily made-up eyes fluttered
and his focus instantly improved. His lipsticked slut-
mouth trembled and tried to form some words, but it was
really quite hard to hear him over the music the DJ was
playing. I'm no lip-reader, but it looked as if my poor
hubby were begging me for help.
Silly boi!
I lifted another toothpick to my mouth. This one
spearing a small cocktail frank. I gave hubby a slow,
sexy wink and dipped the mini-wiener into the "special
sauce" pooled in his navel. Then I popped the sausage
into my mouth and deliberately chewed it into a pulp. A
good thing the stylist had thought to use waterproof
makeup. Realizing all hope was now lost, tears
shimmered in Steffie's big dark eyes. Max laughed,
leaned over, and sneeringly congratulated my hubby on
his big day.
"Enjoy your new ball-less life, you pitiful fucking
pansy."
One of Nikos's guests, a friend who worked as a male
nurse at one of the local hospitals, was there to
direct the operation to ensure that everything was done
correctly. He'd assisted at several medical castrations
for testicular cancers and such so he was experienced
with proper procedure and precautions. He would make
the initial incision down the center of Steffie's ball-
sack, cut out the nerves and veins and stuff, cauterize
the wound, and show Nikos what to snip in order to make
hubby's castration complete.
I guess this is the point in the story where the poor
sissy eunuch finally gets one last chance to spurt his
cream, isn't it? Not so, I'm afraid, for Steffie. Alas,
hubby already had his last cum some time ago. There'd
be no more spurting for him—which had to have been most
unbearable torture of all the tortures that Steffie had
so far suffered, since the vibrator stimulating his
straining cock to the brink had been mercilessly
teasing him with relief for the last two hours
straight.
Well, the main event was at hand at last. The nurse
made the incision and retracted the flaps that used to
be the scrotum of my hubby, laying open the sack where
his little nuts were still cozily nestled. Someone
thoughtfully held Steffie's head up so he could see the
moment he officially lost his manhood, but the big
sissy squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head wildly
from side-to-side as if trying to wake up from a bad
dream. He was bawling and begging and crying for help.
One of Nikos's friends offered to gag Steffie but Nikos
thought my hubby's futile pleadings all part of the
night's entertainment.
All the same, Steffie's carrying-on was reduced to
little more than a hushed and incoherent babbling when
Nikos pulled the first of my hubby's testicles out of
the ruined scrotum with a pair of long, surgical steel
forceps. Nikos stretched the cords still attaching the
ruined ball to my poor hubby to such a comically absurd
degree it was impossible to see how it could be saved
even if anyone tried. With a flourish, Nikos brandished
a pair of shiny scissors to the cheers of all present,
grinned down at Steffie and asked, "Ready, darling?"
Steffie had probably gone into shock by the time Nikos
snipped the testicle free, laid it on my hubby's hollow
tummy, and repeated the operation on his second ball,
completing his total emasculation. Everyone applauded,
including me and Max. I can honestly say that in all
the years we were together the moment he lost his balls
as the wettest my hubby had ever gotten me! The nurse
cleaned and stitched up Steffie's wound and the party
continued into the wee hours. The next morning Nikos
sent a couple of men around to pick-up the boxes of
Steffie's stuff still in my cellar. I had already filed
for divorce. Good thing, too; I was two months pregnant
with Max's child.
**EPILOGUE**
In Which Everyone Who Matters Lives Happily Ever After.
Every good storybook romance ends in a wedding and this
one's no different, except it ends in two. Little more
than a month after Diana and Max were married, Nikos
and Steffie tied the knot in one of those states that
had legalized gay marriages. It may not have been
exactly the sort of wedding Steffie had ever dreamed
he'd take part in, but it was legally binding all the
same.
Instead of a gown, the bride—Steffie, of course—wore
crotchless panties and a tutu; instead of rice, "she"
was pelted with used condoms. At the reception, Nikos
fed her tidbits of her own balls which had been
skewered and bar-b-cued on a shish kebob. Then Steffie
went from table to table thanking each guest by
offering her ass or mouth to anyone who wanted to use
them. Everyone had a blast—most of the guests more than
once!
What more is there to say except they all lived happily
ever after, more or less—in Steffie's case, with less.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 59