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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