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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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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
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From Husband to Castrated Sissy
by Kimmie Holland (address withheld)

***

A wife and her black lover decide its time to put her 
hubby in his place -- on his knees, in panties and 
neutered. (MF, MM-bi, oral, anal, cuck, tv, intr, v, 
cast)

***

"Oh my god!"

My wife looked up over the muscular shoulder of the 
huge black guy nailing her on our bed. Her long tanned 
legs wrapped around v-shaped torso. "Hi honey. What are 
you doing home early?"

"Kelli what the fuck's going on here?!"

At that, the black guy turned and shot me a nasty 
glance. "What's it look like we doing, genius? I'm 
dicking your old lady. Now get out of here fuck shit I 
ain't finished."

"Better go downstairs dear," Kelli said, smiling. "I'll 
be down later to explain."

Of course I was shocked, but what else could I do? I 
went downstairs poured myself a drink and then another. 
I was already half plastered by the time she came down. 
She was wrapped in her bathrobe. Behind her was the 
black guy wrapped in mine.

"Kelli," I stood up too quickly. The room swayed. I sat 
back down with a plop, nearly missing the couch 
entirely. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and 
sniffed hard. It was no use trying to disguise the fact 
that I'd been crying. "What is the meaning of this?"

"It's simple Kenny," my wife said. "Carlos and I are 
lovers."

"How long..." I choked up.

"Is that really important?"

"How long?" I demanded, starting to feel angry.

"A year and a half."

"A year and a half!" I couldn't believe what I was 
hearing. My wife was fucking another man for a year and 
a half and I hadn't suspected a thing! "Why? Why Kelli, 
don't you love me?"

The black guy rolled his eyes and muttered something 
about me being a lame shit faggot but I ignored him for 
the time being. I'd get to him later. He poured himself 
a drink and made himself comfortable in my easy chair. 
He turned on the TV. 

"Kelli, I want an answer!"

"Oh Kenny, what do you expect me to say? Of course, I 
love you. You're like...I don't know, my best friend or 
something."

"Your best friend?! Kelli, I'm your husband! Your 
lover!"

"No more ass wipe," Carlos said from the easy chair. 
He'd pushed it back, his feet up.

"Tell him to leave," I demanded of my wife. "Tell him 
you want him to go. Now."

"I can't do that, sweetie," my wife said.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want him to leave."

Carlos chucked at that. "She don't want me to leave, 
you hear that sweetie?" 

"Well I'm telling you. Get out. Get out now, you son of 
a bitch!" I shrieked. I was practically hysterical.

"Just shut the fuck up," the black man said, sounding 
almost bored. "You're ruining my good mood.

I started towards the man in my chair, dressed in my 
robe, who'd just had his cock in my wife. 

Kelli laid a hand on my arm. "Honey, don't."

"Like hell I won't."

The black man sighed, put his drink down on the table, 
and calmly pushed the chair down to get to his feet.

Behind me, I heard Kelli say, "Be careful Carlos. Don't 
hurt him too much."

I'd like to think I could blame the booze I'd drunk, 
but the fact is even if I'd been cold sober and he'd 
been drunk, I don't think the results would have been 
any different. He was huge and strong, and it couldn't 
have taken any more than one blow, although I don't 
even clearly remember that. 

What I do remember is that he slapped me upside the 
head with his open palm and it was all over for me. My 
knees buckled and I crumpled to the floor in a heap. 
Carlos sat back down in the easy chair, picked up his 
drink, and continued watching television. Kelli was 
kneeling beside me, asking me something, but I couldn't 
hear her voice. Everything sounded like I was 
underwater. Then I passed out.

* * * 

When I came to, Kelli was still kneeling next to me, 
but I was no longer in the living room. I was in the 
basement lying on one of the beach lounge chairs that 
we put out on the deck in the summer. My wife was 
undoing my pants and pulling them down. She had already 
removed my shoes and socks. I was still pretty groggy 
so it took me a while to realize that my shirt had also 
been removed. 

I was naked from the waist up and my arms were raised 
over my head, my wrists tied to the bar running along 
the top of the chair. By the time I managed to make 
sense of what was going on, Kelli had tied my ankles to 
the bottom of the lounge chair.

"I really wish you hadn't provoked Carlos like that. 
But I guess it would have come to this anyway."

"What are you talking about? Kelli what's going on? 
What's happening?"

I tried to keep the panic out of my voice, but it was 
impossible. The sympathetic look on Kelli's face scared 
me more than anything else. 

"It won't be so bad once it's over. You'll see. It'll 
help you adjust to...umm, things."

"What things? Kelli, talk to me, please."

"Your attitude honey. It's too bad you had that little 
outburst. Carlos wants to make sure it doesn't happen 
again."

"Kelli, I don't understand."

My wife gave me a little kiss on the forehead. "You 
will sweetie. Soon."

Then, to my surprise, she began to attach a small 
bullet vibrator to my penis with a few elastic bands, 
and turned the control onto high. She giggled when, in 
spite of myself, I became almost erect. 

I felt myself blush because just then Carlos came down 
the cellar stairs and stood over the chair where I was 
lying.

"Is the bitch ready?"

"All ready," my wife said, standing. 

The black man sneered when he saw my erection. "Is that 
it? That's all there is to him," he laughed.

My humiliation deepened, but I'd learned my lesson. I 
wasn't about to antagonize Carlos any further, 
especially not as helpless and exposed as I was.

"Fraid so," Kelli grinned. "Not very big is he?"

I couldn't believe what was happening to me, nor could 
I stop it. The vibrator attached to my cock was having 
its predictable effect. I strained against the plastic 
ties binding my wrists and ankles. It was no use 
resisting. I gasped as my cock spurted onto my belly.

"And not much lasting power either," my wife concluded, 
shaking her head disapprovingly.

"Well we'll be fixing that problem."

Kelli snickered.

I had no idea what they were talking about, but my mind 
was still cloudy, not just from the beating I'd taken, 
but now also from the vibrator, which continued to buzz 
away, and had already begun to revive my spent cock. 
The black man squatted down on one side of the lounge 
chair and my wife on the other side. 

While Kelli held my balls up in her soft palm, Carlos 
slipped a small leather noose over the sac, right at 
the base of my cock shaft. Was this some sort of kinky 
sex game? Were they going to try to prevent me from 
cumming? Between the vibrator and Kelli's hand, but 
also the black man's manipulation with the leather 
noose, I was half-erect. 

"Wait," I gasped, "that's... ugh... that's too tight."

"Not yet it aint, princess," Carlos laughed. 

He had pulled the leather lasso closed so tightly that 
it already looked like my balls were detached from my 
body. They looked like a couple of bright pink plums 
ready to burst. 

I groaned as the breath went out of me and felt 
nauseous. 

"What...what are you doing?" I cried, when I was able 
to catch my breath. I was panicking, and not even 
trying to control it this time. 

"Sshh," my wife said, smoothing my hair back like a 
mother comforting a child. "Enjoy it. While you can."

Before they turned off the light and left me there, my 
wife and her lover stood by the side of the chair where 
I lay and looked down at my quivering, bound body. 
Unbelievably, I was shivering to another orgasm, but 
this one much weaker than the first, and with hardly 
any expulsion of cum. My tied off balls were already 
aching.

"How long," Kelli asked.

"By tomorrow morning," Carlos said. "It'll already be 
way too late."

I saw a wicked gleam in Kelli's eyes I'd never seen 
before. She was looking down at me as she kissed her 
lover deep and full on the mouth, his hands exploring 
her ass. It was then I knew that she wasn't the least 
bit regretful of what her boyfriend was doing to me. 
That, just the opposite, she wanted it as much, if not 
more, than he did.

* * * 

I guess I hardly need explain that it was the worst 
night of my life. My wife was upstairs fucking another 
man in our bed while I lay in the basement waiting for 
my balls to die. Because now I understood that's what 
they had planned for me. I struggled against my bondage 
but it was no use. I was too weak, too exhausted, too 
defeated. I lay back on the lounge chair and tried to 
concentrate on the pleasurable feelings the vibrator 
was still milking from my cock and to ignore the fatal 
throbbing of the tight ligature that was strangling the 
life from my testicles. 

I came again, but so weakly it hardly resembled an 
orgasm at all, just a spreading tickling-itching warmth 
deep inside my tummy. If I spurted at all, it was 
little more than a few tiny clear droplets.

By now, I'd even stopped crying. It was time to face 
the facts. I had lost my woman to a superior male and 
nothing could change that. Kelli preferred Carlos and 
his big cock. I was expendable. The only hope I had to 
stay with her was to find some innocuous role in her 
and her new man's life.

So I was relatively calm when Kelli came down to check 
on me sometime in the middle of the night. I was 
touched that she'd thought of me. She checked my 
testicles and gave me a long knowing glance. But this 
time it wasn't wicked, but full of tenderness and 
sympathy.

I knew what she'd seen. The last time I dared to look 
between my legs I saw that my tied off scrotum had 
turned an alarming and unnatural muddy purple color.

"They've already begun to die," Kelli said, matter-of-
factly. "There's no going back now." 

I felt one last tear roll down the side of my face. 

She lifted my head and gave me a few sips of water. 
Then she explained how things would be from now on. She 
knew I still loved her and she admitted she still had 
tender feelings for me, too. She just didn't feel 
sexual to me anymore, and hadn't for a long time. She 
had talked Carlos into letting me live with them but I 
had to know my place. I was to be, more or less, their 
servant, but, of course, I'd always be free to go if 
that's what I chose. 

They wouldn't keep me against my will. She didn't think 
I'd cause any trouble, since she doubted that I'd want 
everyone to know I wasn't a man anymore, but even if I 
did, she and Carlos would swear that I'd castrated 
myself in despair when I discovered she was leaving me 
for another man. Then again, she added pointedly, if I 
made too much of a nuisance of myself, Carlos could 
always simply revert to his original plan, which had 
been to make me disappear. Permanently.

"But I really don't think that will be necessary, will 
it sweetie?"

"No," I whispered, stunned at how close I'd come to 
ending up a murder victim.

Kelli smiled, patted my head, and ask if she could get 
me anything else before she went back to bed. I asked 
her for a blanket. It was cold in the cellar and, 
besides being naked, I found losing my balls and 
Kelli's recent revelations to be particularly. She 
pulled out an old quilt stored on a shelf in the pantry 
and covered me. Then she bid me a good night and 
returned to her lover's arms, leaving me to mourn the 
death of my manhood alone.

By morning, Carlos examined my ball sac, stood up, and 
with a self-satisfied smirk announced that it was done: 
I was officially a eunuch. Kelli said, "Congratulations 
honey," and that was that. 

I was given instructions not to try to remove the 
leather cord from my blackened testicles so as to avoid 
infection; instead, the dead flesh that my balls had 
become would dry up and fall off by themselves, "like a 
pair of rotten grapes," Kelli laughed. And that's just 
what happened. At first, the smell was pretty bad and I 
was the butt of a lot of Carlos's jokes. 

Kelli had me use her perfume to scent the panties I now 
wore all the time and that helped. Eventually, though, 
the flesh dried up and no longer smelled and sort of 
began flaking away. One night I took off my panties and 
found the remains of what used to be my scrotum and 
testicles at the bottom. 

I'd had a while to get used to the idea of being a 
feminized eunuch by then. I felt a little down, but 
what was done was done. I took like a lot easier now. 
As the saying goes, I just didn't sweat the small stuff 
anymore.

* * *

Three years later and Kelli and I are still together. 
We're still married, at last legally, but naturally I 
don't have any conjugal rights any more. I don't miss 
the sex so much as I miss the intimacy I used to share 
with my beautiful wife. Nowadays I'll often do her hair 
or nails, usually at the salon where I now work part 
time, but the closest I come to real physical intimacy 
is when I'm occasionally asked to give her a totally 
platonic massage. I took a short course in therapeutic 
massage since Carlos enjoys a relaxing massage at the 
end of the day.

Carlos moved into the house shortly after I was 
castrated. Needless to say, he shares Kelli's bed. I've 
made up a small room in what used to be a storage area 
under the stairs. There are no windows but I've 
decorated it bright and cozy.

Along with the massage course, I also took enough 
cosmetology courses to do some hairstyling at the 
salon. Between my part-time work at the salon and my 
full-time job as a homemaker for Kelli and Carlos, I'm 
kept pretty much on my painted toes.

Yes, I keep my toes polished, as well as my fingers. My 
body is always waxed smooth and while I can't quite be 
mistaken for a girl, my personal appearance makes it 
quite obvious that I've been feminized. With each 
change, Kelli assured me that Carlos would lose a 
little more of the hostility he still had for me even 
as a former male. And I was happy to discover that my 
wife was right. 

As I started adopting more and more feminine traits, 
Carlos stopped seeing me even as a former male, and 
more like the subordinate femme sissy that I've become. 
The latest change—a pair of 36-inch breast implants—
were the most successful. Now Carlos no longer even 
refers to me as "he" and "him." It's strictly "she," 
"her," or what has become my girl name, "Kimmie." 

Sometimes, when Kelli is having her period or just 
isn't feeling well or not into it, Carlos will have me 
kneel down and blow him. I've gotten to be pretty good 
at it and I have to admit it does give me a nice sexy 
feeling to have him shoot his huge load into my mouth 
and to swallow the same hot cum that he shoots into my 
wife's cunt. 

As for my sex life, that's pretty much it. I don't have 
a lot of desires in that department, which I guess is 
pretty lucky since I don't have much means of 
satisfying them. Mr. Richard, that's the owner of the 
salon where I work, has taken a liking to me and we've 
gone on a few dates over the last three months. I've 
gone down on him, too, and he's even taken me in what 
he calls my boi-pussy. That actually feels the best of 
all now that I'm stretched out and it no longer hurts. 

Mr. Richard is gay so he likes me in-between girl and 
boy and doesn't want Kelli and Carlos to have my penis 
removed. He likes to play around with it while he's 
fucking me in the boi-pussy, even though I cant really 
get hard anymore or cum, even with the testosterone 
pills he sometimes feeds me. 

Well, luckily for him, Kelli and Carlos don't want my 
clittie removed either. Not now, anyway. They say they 
like it to be a reminder of my status as a neutered 
femme sissy. So everyone is happy with the way things 
are, even me, I guess. I don't think about it too much 
anymore. I've gotten used to my life the way it is. I 
find it almost impossible to imagine what it was like 
before.

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