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anonymous_writer – “Life In The Country (Part II)” (excerpt)

[ I’ve been getting a lot of mileage from this lately. You can find more of this author’s work on fictionmania.tv ]

Timmy then entered the house to start the final portion of Madge’s charm school lessons. Of course it wasn’t a certainty that Timmy wouldn’t rebel yet again, but Madge had another card to play. There would soon be a scheduled annual physical to see doctor Judith Lovelli.

It was a complete and thorough physical. But when doctor Lovelli checked Timmy’s breasts she informed him that Madge wanted the final size fixed. Timmy was now scheduled for saline breast implants to augment his ample but only “C” cup breasts. He awoke after the procedure, his chest feeling different, larger and heavier now. He no longer would need any silicone forms, special bras or any padding now because Madge had seen to it that he was now a full size 40″DD!” But as he laid there he felt something else that was different and was shocked to learn that when the breast augmentation was performed it had been no trouble at all to perform a quick, snip-snip castration! And now, without testes he would no longer need the testosterone blocking agents and would only have to continue on with his full maintenance dosage of the female hormone estrogen. Once Madge got Timmy home to recover he seemed a bit remote and listless but a few days of a mild tranquilizer in addition to his daily estrogen dose soon had him calmed down during his recovery.

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More “Harem Slave” GIFs

This one’s not a GIF:

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pink horizons – know your place

Love to see a version where he has been castrated. The chastity device would have to replaced by a shrunken peeny, as well.

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2 Prissy pics for Kendra

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TJstill multi-part maledom manip

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Compromising position

His feminization will begin with having his testicles removed.

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“Sweet Marissa” (excerpt) femdom castration fantasy

Sweet Marissa
by: Anonymous Writer

Synopsis: Tim has been sneaking into his next door neighbor’s apartment to try on her lingerie. Madge and Tim’s foster mother catch him in the act. Tim is punished and all is forgotten until he does it again. This time Tim is turned over to Madge who has made special plans. Since he won’t stay out of lady’s lingerie, she is going to make absolutely sure Tim gets everything he can imagine and a lot more!


I heard the sound of traffic and awoke to see Madge driving into an underground garage. We were in the city now! She parked the car and then both ladies led me groggily to an underground elevator. We took the car up to the 30th floor and exited, then proceeded down the corridor and entered an office door. The sign on the door said “Dr. Christine Lovelli–Gynecologist!”
I began to come around and squirm as we entered the doctor’s office. I began to sob “Plea… please Madge, I’ll be good! I’ll do what ever you say from now and on, I promise. Please!” I gasped as Madge handed me off to a nurse. “Don’t worry dear, You won’t be hurt.” she said. “And you’ll see it’s all for the best.” She finished as the nurse led me out of the reception room then led me away to a changing room down the hall. The nurse took off my car coat and scarf and hung them up, then set my purse and shoes aside and returned and after taking my belt off, started unbuttoning the front of my dress. She soon had all my clothes off then handed me a hospital gown.
I tried to make an escape but soon another nurse arrived wheeling a gurney! Together, they overpowered me, tied me quickly into the hospital gown then forced me onto the cold metal table and strapped my wrists and arms down with wide fleece lined leather straps so I couldn’t move! They even strapped my chest down and my forehead to the table so I couldn’t move or raise my head! I began sobbing as they wheeled me into what looked like an examination room. Once they had me in the center of the room one of the nurses retracted the wheels of the cart and adjusted the overhead bank of lights. The other nurse wheeled over an IV bottle hanging from a rolling stand then swabbed me and inserted the needle into my arm. She started the drip and I began to feel tired! It wasn’t putting me out though, instead it was just a powerful relaxant.
Then I felt another nurse put an oxygen mask over my face for just a moment to calm my excited breathing. Then the female gynecologist and surgeon, Dr. Christine Lovelii entered the room carrying a file folder, already dressed in a surgical outfit complete with cloth shoe covers and a surgical cap. She spoke as she looked over the file that I soon learned had been put together on me.
“Marissa Du Bois… I see we’re in for a castration today!” she said as she read the file. “It says here that your aunt Madge would like you awake for the procedure, and, she wants you to watch as well! A little unusual, but, I think we can handle that…” the doctor finished as she pointed to a large mirror off to the side and then set my file folder on the surgical table. The nurse wheeled the large mirror over and adjusted it. “We use this mirror so women can see themselves deliver. It’s never been used in quite this way before but it should do nicely!” The doctor said as she continued.
Several trays with surgical instruments were wheeled into place then the lights came on! I began to fidget nervously as the nurses put stirrups into the slots at the bottom of the gurney and then I felt my covers being pulled away and my hospital gown being pulled up.
They then raised my shaved legs with painted toe nails and strapped them securely into the stirrups, splaying my legs and hips wide! The doctor took a chair, sat down and moved in. She pulled up her mask and tied the white ties then reached for a pair of rubber gloves as she continued to examine my file.
Soon finished reviewing my case, she nodded for the nurse to take away the folder. She continued pulling on her gloves, smiling faintly at me through her mask. I felt embarrassed lying there surrounded by women, my legs high in the air and splayed wide, my genitalia dangling there for everyone to see.
She worked her fingers into the tight rubber gloves and stretched both of them down tight past her wrists then let them go with a loud “snap.” “I guess I’ll never understand why some boys just can’t resist putting on ladies clothing and lingerie” she said with a sigh as she then put on a pair of glasses and after adjusting them wheeled up on her chair and started her cursory examination.
“Just relax now sweetie, it’ll be over before you know it,” she said as she began. I then felt her cold fingers examining and fiddling with my testicles and my penis! Both the doctor and her attending nurse saw my little mound of blonde pubic hair trimmed close into the little heart- shape, then the doctor held my penis down and pointed her latex covered index finger at the tattooed little pink satin bow.
They both smiled and chuckled slightly as they saw the tattooed inscription in quotation marks that Madge had put there. In dark black ink below the ribboned bow there was the humiliating declaration: “sweet little sissy cross-dresser!!” I became embarrassed, I could feel my face flush beet red. “Madge may want to have that inscription changed, because this little ‘cross dresser’ is about to be cured!” Dr. Lovelli said with a giggle.
She then resumed her professional demeanor and went back to work.
I began to mumble and cry out, but soon the nurse nearest me took a large wad of surgical gauze and folded it, then stuffed my mouth full! She then took a roll of sturdy white surgical tape and pulled out a couple foot-long lengths then taped my mouth tightly shut. She then adjusted the gurney and tilted my head up so I could see everything! Dr. Lovelli continued by stretching and taping my penis securely up towards my belly button then swabbed the entire genital area with a brownish colored mercurochrome! With my penis out of the way my testicles now hung vulnerable in their little scrotum. My mind began to race. This was more than an examination!
I shut my eyes tightly and tried to turn my head refusing to watch what they were about to do to me. But, the nurse nearest me simply took two more little pieces of the white surgical tape and after forcing my eyelids open, taped the top lids up high, securing the tape to my forehead! Two more pieces of tape were added to the bottom and soon my lower lids were forced wide as well!
Dr. Lovelli then began. “Nurse, hand me a syringe, 10 cc’s lydicaine please.” I started breathing heavily again as my bulging eyes stared into the mirror. “We’ll have you numbed up in no time dear” she said as she took the syringe from the nurse and squirted the plunger to get all of the air out of it. She then carefully held the syringe with needle at the ready, then rolling in closer on her stool, she began.
I felt the “stick” of the needle as she moved it around my genital and scrotal area. I tried wiggling my hips to say away from the needle but soon I was completely numb. I started to squirm again but this time Dr. Lovelli simply stopped long enough for the nurses to take my legs down and roll me onto my side. One of the nurses then handed the doctor a large syringe filled with a yellowish fluid. I then felt her feeling for an injection site on my lower spine then felt the cold gauze as she swabbed alcohol over the area she chose. I could only grunt and grimace as I felt the large and painful needle enter my lower back! Then I felt the pressure as the liquid started flowing in. In an instant I was paralyzed from the waist down!
My flopping legs were now useless! Soon they had me on my back and adjusted me on the table once again, my legs were again spread wide and securely strapped back in place. I fought with my arms but they were strapped down at the wrists and up past my elbows. The chest and forehead strap aided in keeping me firmly down as well!
I couldn’t move or feel anything below my waist. The straps they reattached to hold my legs in the stirrups were just there to keep them from falling out. Now with my legs back up and my hips pulled back into position on the table splayed wide and unmoving, and with my little ball sack hanging totally vulnerable, the doctor continued by giving my balls a little slap! Normally, I would have jumped and winced in pain but now I felt nothing! “There, that’s much better! Nice and still now!” she said.
She sat down once again, picked up a scalpel and wheeled her chair in. I tried to wrench my head free of the strap as I flailed from side to side gasping and crying into the gag. The women seemed to enjoy my predicament as they chuckled at my plight.
The nurse at the head of the table increased the IV drip making me even more limp and groggy. She then sat down and held my head firmly once again to keep me from moving, making sure I would see every detail of the doctor’s work. As I whimpered my muffled, feeble, squealing cries into rounded and taped cheeks puffed full of air, I struggled to free myself once again, but by now, it was no use, I was forced to continue watching everything!!
Linda stood in the reception room in front of a decorative mirror on the wall that sat over a feminine fashioned table. She studied herself as she held a little compact and a lipstick. She fluffed her hair a bit, then took the shine off her nose with a dusting of powder. She then took her lipstick and rolled it into place then carefully and quickly added a pale red color. She then took a Kleenex from her purse and dabbed the lipstick and after pursing her lips and checking her look once more she then moved back around the reception room looking the office over. Madge casually glanced at Linda and then at the clock on the wall then adjusted herself in her seat crossing her feminine, attractive nyloned legs with a zip. She smoothed her skirt down before continuing with the women’s magazine she was reading.
With furrowed brow and panicked and bulging eyes taped wide open and glaring, I was forced to watch my own castration! I screamed into the gag out of pure humiliated horror instead of pain. No one paid me any attention as the doctor took her scalpel in hand and moved in! I started to hyperventilate as she centered the scalpel and then made the first long incision down the center length of my scrotum!
I was now gasping and breathless, fighting to get free as I laid there on the cold table. The doctor put her scalpel aside then took an irrigation bulb and washed out the large central incision and the inside of my scrotum. After drying and wiping me off she inserted her gloved fingers into the folds of skin. I felt no pain, but was horrified to watch as she continued. As the nurse held my face firm and with my taped eyes bulging, I was forced to watch the whole horrifying procedure in the reflection!
I gasped and gagged a whimpering cry as I saw the doctor pop out one of my testicles and then the other. She carefully tugged and pulled at them until they dangled free and then attached clamps to the tubes running to them. She began taking clamps and strips of surgical tape handed to her by the assistant nurse and began clamping the scrotal skin open wide taping the metal hemostats to my thighs and lower abdomen! The nurse then held some type of retractor as the doctor inserted her fingers and took another instrument and clamped onto one of the testicle tubes.
She then took a scalpel and began on my left testicle by carefully cutting away the supporting tissue until the nearly white little testicle gleamed naked in the bright light. I screamed a muffled scream into my gag fighting to turn my head from side to side in disbelieving protest but the nurse at the head of the table only held me tighter, her hands tight against the sides of my face forcing me to watch! The surgical nurse handed the doctor a scissors, then I watched the doctor continue as she began to snip away at the little blood vessels that fed it. Soon the left testicle was dangling nearly three inches lower than the right one!
She then took a separating device and worked it into my lower abdomen and then gave a couple short “clips” then eased back on her chair as she took away the severed testicle and dropped it with a “thunk” into a little gauze layered silver tray that sat on the surgical stand!!
My mind reeled! It screamed at me in white-hot, blinding terror at what was happening to me! Then I realized that Madge had followed her every intention. She had kept her word and was now proceeding with her threat. This was really happening! I was being surgically castrated!!
My struggles and muffled cries were useless as I continued to watch terrified as the doctor casually but with well practiced hand then concentrated on my last remaining testicle! As the nurse held my head tight, I was forced to look on with bulging, unblinking eyes as the supporting tissue was clipped away, and then one by one watched as the little blood vessels were severed.
My head began to swim, my grunting, sobbing whimpers continued as the testicle dropped lower and lower as the doctor continued.
I could feel my masculinity slipping away with each sound of the clicking hemostats and scissors. After the nurse held the retractor for the final time Dr. Christine Lovelli then probed deep inside with her instrument. Two or three more “clips” and it was all over! I watched tearfully as she leaned back in her chair and held the last remaining testicle up. She smiled at me through her face mask as she cradled it in her hand, then turned and dropped it into the tray with a dull thud.
The nurse holding me giggled slightly as she finally released me then took off the tape holding my eyes wide. As the other staff women worked I could hear them chuckle and giggle quietly as well; but I wasn’t any trouble! After being forced to watch my testicles being removed I could only lay back in shock, tears streaming down my face as I glubbed and whimpered into the gag.
Dr. Lovelli then made an over all inspection and then removed the clamps. Then taking a curved needle and surgical thread she carefully gathered the edges of the scrotal skin and began sewing up my now empty sack. She continued stitch after stitch sewing me up until my sack was nothing more than an empty puckered nub of skin! Soon she trimmed the excess thread then sat back to admire her work. “There Marissa sweetie…That wasn’t so bad now was it? You’ll heal up in no time.” she said as she smiled at me again from under her mask and began removing the rubber gloves with a “snap.”
She tossed the gloves onto the surgical tray with the used surgical gauze, the used syringes and scalpels, the suture thread and the needle and the little tray containing my testicles. The nurse picked up the gauze that lined the little silver tray, and set the tiny bundle of testicles on a paper cloth. She set the metal tray aside with the other used surgical instruments then quickly collected everything up. I watched as she gathered the refuse that contained my testicles then tossed the whole bundle into the trash container!
Dr. Lovelli then tossed her surgical clothes into a type of laundry hamper then took my file to go consult with Madge and to tell her everything went well. “Give him a booster of five cc’s estrogen would you? She mentioned to the nurse. “Now that his testicles have been removed he’ll continue developing as a woman but at a much faster pace than before. We might as well get the little sweetie started right so he’ll look his feminine best!”
She smiled, then took my file and left the operating room. I watched teary eyed as the nurse at the head of my table took a bottle labeled “Estrogen” and loaded a syringe with the measured dose. She then pulled up my gown and swabbed my right upper thigh. I watched as she sank the dripping needle into my right hip and still being anesthetized felt nothing as she squeezed the plunger forcing more of the female hormones into my system. When she was finished with my estrogen injection, the surgical nurse then handed her another large syringe. As the first nurse continued cleaning up and putting things away the other nurse inject the solution into the IV tube. Soon, the room went black as I was put out!

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“Club Sachet” by Priscilla Gay Bouffant (excerpt)

Chapter one: Paying the Price

As Linda Cain drove her car to the office of the headmistress she glanced at her nephew Charles sitting beside her. They were just passing the Sachet Sorority House and Linda wondered if Charles would glance at any of the “girls” going in an out. They were on the campus of Primhurst University, a private women’s educational institution in Northern California.

At one time Charles had attended the coed public college near Primhurst along with his good friend, Greg Ames. Greg was the son of Monique Ames a stockbroker, business associate, and best friend of Linda Cain. Greg was also the brother of Pamela, Charles’s sometimes girlfriend. Pamela was a senior at Primhurst.

Both Greg and Charles were at best real losers. They had played around for several years after high school. They hadn’t worked. They had partied incessantly, taking advantage of their wealthy parents. Monique was a widow who had inherited a huge estate from her alcoholic husband who had died in a car accident when Greg was two years and Pamela just two months old.

Linda, a commodities broker, had become Charles’s legal guardian when he was 14. She controlled his trust fund. Both women had graduated from Primhurst, where they had been sorority sisters and occasional lovers. They were now full time lovers and business partners. They also intended to reform both of these hooligans.

Charles and Greg had entered college at age 23, gotten terrible grades and then pulled a real stunt at the end of their freshman year. While joining a fraternity they had broken into a sorority house and pulled a panty raid. It had not only been Monique and Linda’s old sorority, it had also been the one Pamela belonged to. Things had not gone well.

First off, they had been caught by a small group of women, returning to the empty house earlier then expected. The males had not only struggled with some of the girls, they had ripped the girls’ clothing. In addition several of the girls were under 21. Not only could these two be charged with breaking and entering, burglary, and theft; they were also facing assault and sexual assault of minors charges.

Linda and Monique had seen their chance. Immediately they had approached the current headmistress, Victoria Primhurst, the third generation of Primhurst women to have run the school. She had agreed that if the boys would enter the special two-year secretarial program, and eventually join the Sachet Sorority the charges could be dropped. Linda and Monique agreed and went right to work on their subjects.

Chapter Two: Primhurst and Sachet

Primhurst was founded by Gloria Primhurst, the first Primhurst women to feminize her mate and lover Percy. Percy had become Margaret, Gloria’s maid. Gloria adopted a daughter, Rachel who followed in mother’s footsteps. She ran the college and also changed the life of a Literature teacher named Randolph.

Randolph became Angelica and also took over the charm classes for cross-dressed male secretarial students who had been attending the school since Rachel’s third year as headmistress. Through artificial insemination, Rachel also had a daughter she named Victoria. Like mother, Victoria decided to feminize her spouse. After marrying her chauffeur, Andrew, she turned him into Gladys, her head housekeeper and social secretary.

In addition, Victoria began hiring sissy maids for the sorority houses, and started the Sachet Sorority for the sissy students. The school now had four year and graduate courses for the transformed male enrollment, although the secretarial classes were most popular.

The sissy sorority was now affectionately referred to as “Club Sachet”. Although Linda and Monique had never directly taken part in a transformation done at Primhurst, they certainly approved of the practice. Greg and Charles would soon find out just how much the two women approved.

Both were ideal candidates, though Charles more so then Greg. Both were cute and had long auburn hair. Charles was slightly taller then the average female but very slender. “A potential model!” Linda had joked. Greg on the other hand was shorter and a little plump. It didn’t matter to his mother Monique though. “There are diets and corsets!” she said, adding, “Besides, I won’t mind having a plump, slightly full figured daughter!”

Chapter Three: Subjugated Sissies

Charles knew quite well what lie in store for him as his aunt pulled into the parking lot in front of the administration building. He only had to show compliance to Ms. Primhurst and his transformation could begin. On the other hand Greg had gone to the same office with his mother, and was totally unaware of the consequences he was about to face. His 9 AM appointment was two hours before Charles’s.

As Aunt Linda and Charles exited the car they knew that Gregory had not taken the verdict well. As his mother, Monique led him by the hand down the walkway, tears streamed down the sissy boy’s face. When we say sissy boy, we mean it! After passing sentence on him, Victoria Primhurst had wasted no time having two women from her all female security staff begin the job.

“Candace” as Greg would now be called, sported a plumed ponytail, his auburn locks tied with a red ribbon. His white two-inch pumps, matched his anklet socks. The pumps really made his black, spandex, slack encased butt look cute, and his tight, pink tube top looked smashing. The only concession to makeup was the soft pink lipstick he wore. The ladies had decided that his incessant tears would ruin any blusher, foundation or eye makeup they might put on him.

“Please mother, don’t do this, it’s humiliating!” he cried as she pulled him to the car. Monique said nothing even as her sissy son warned his friend, “Charles, quickly run away, they are going to try to turn us into girls,” Candace squealed.

Charles stopped, and with a wan smile said, “Don’t fight it Candace, it’s all for the best.” Then, to further crush his friend’s hope of escape he added, “Please Candace, from now on call me Susan,” as Candace was shoved, wailing into her mother’s car.


The two femme boys were led from the waiting room of the Doctor’s office, to a change room, where they were both given milking pinafores to put on. Of course they thought these uniforms to be exam clothing. From the change room they were taken by Nurse Strong to a large exam area.

“Candy, you get up on the table to the left, Suzy you get on the other one. The Doctor will be here soon.” As the nurse finished saying this, Amelia Brown entered the room and greeted everyone pleasantly.

“Now let’s see. Candace I’ll examine you first. Now lets take a look at your breasts. My they are just so plump and lovely!” the Doctor exclaimed as she fondled them. “You must be very proud of them dear, they are just so corpulent!

Candace nodded her assent as the Doctor began to examine her genitals, pronouncing her penis and balls to be of an adequate size for a sissy. “Nice and tiny. Just right for a sissy! They need not be too big in any case. As a matter of fact I find large genitals, even in real men to be highly nauseating. I mean, who needs them?” the Doctor asked no one specifically.

Candace began to become aroused over all the fondling of her body, and the doctor signaled Nurse Strong, with a wink, as she instructed her other patient to come with her into the next exam room. “Suzy, follow me. Nurse, would you alleviate Candy’s problem, please?” said the Doctor, as Suzy followed, her heels clicking on the tile floor.

Once Amelia and Susan were in the next room, Ms. Strong said smiling, “Candy dear, why don’t you call me Diane?”

Dr. Brown began her exam of Susan in much the same way. “Your bosom is just lovely! They are so pert and delightful! I’ll bet a slender girl like you doesn’t want them any bigger? More important, I’ll bet your girlfriend, Pam, loves them just as they are.

As she complimented the sissy on his slight gonads, Susan also became erect. “Oh dear, we can’t have this. You can’t leave here with swollen testes. We’ll just have to relieve you. I’m afraid, Susan, that my nurse is now assisting Candy to ejaculate also,” said the Doctor with feigned concern, as she rubbed some cold cream on her hands and began to masturbate Sissy Suzy.

Both Suzy and Candy were now both being fondled in separate rooms. Dr. Brown stayed with a standard masturbation technique for Susan, but Diane Strong decided to use a well-greased, gloved finger in Candy’s rectum, in addition to rubbing her penis testes.

Both girlishly dressed sissy boys whimpered in embarrassment at first, but were soon sighing in delight, just proving that they were a couple of sniveling, simpering, sissies, who sexually, were mere, timid playthings, to be had by anyone who was interested.

They both shivered and gushed as they came, and giggled as the nurse and physician cleaned them up.


While she expelled the enema she thought about requesting a consultation with her aunt, mistress and Dr. Amelia Brown. The party that night would help seal her decision. She was about to request prepping for the possibility of a sex change!

She spent the next two hours tonguing and kissing her mistresses clitoris. Pam loved it and decided that she could really love Susan as a girl. Susan would begin her counseling sessions two weeks into the school year. They would continue until Spring break.

Present at the first session were her Aunt Linda, Dr. Brown and Pamela. Susan listened to everyone, especially Dr. Brown who was leading the session in her office. “Sue, one requirement is living a year as a female. We can count your time so far. Of course, in the meantime we could make some adjustments,” smiled Amelia Brown.

When Sue asked what the adjustments were, Dr. Brown explained, “We could do a breast enhancement procedure and a testicle removal. The enhancement would really improve your figure and the removal would lower your testosterone level and really help your demure attitude. Don’t worry, the enhancement is reversible even if the removal isn’t,” the Dr. clarified.

Susan paused and raised some misgivings, with some slight tears in her eyes. This gave Pam some time to lend support by drying her tears and comforting her. “I have a really close friend, Dr. Lilly Chang. She does these sessions and procedures all the time. She even has some transsexuals and gelded sissies working for her. She loves fixed “girls” very much,” the Doctor added.

“Just think honey. You can live at the house with me. Even the sissy maids can’t do that. They have their own separate quarters, next to the sorority houses. As a fixed sissy you’ll get nearly all the womanly privileges I get,” added Pamela. It took quite a bit of counseling, but finally Susan made the decision to check into the clinic run by Dr. Chang.

She had counseled with Lilly Chang, as well as Lilly’s transsexual nurse Jasmine. Lilly also had a gelded sissy secretary named Cinnamon. Susan had spoken with her also. So with her two-week spring break coming up, Sue checked into the clinic on the first Saturday prior to the break. She was told to prepare for a 5 to 7 day stay.

“The procedure and the physical recovery time are brief dear. It’s the emotional recovery I’m concerned with,” said Dr. Chang. “Being in the country, my clinic is the perfect idyllic setting for a relaxing recuperation,” she added.

Sue arrived with her aunt and mistress. After checking into her room they had a pleasant lunch before the women departed. Sue had a quiet weekend and Monday morning was wheeled into surgery by Jasmine and Dr. Chang. Sue was assisted onto a gynecological table and strapped down, her feet placed into the stirrups.

She’d been given some relaxing drugs at breakfast and went out like a light when given general anesthesia. She was going to have nice B cup inserts put in as well as being “snipped.” She awoke with nurse Jasmine holding her hand and smiling. Sue was beautifully dressed in a gorgeous nightgown. Her hair nails and makeup had been fixed while she was in a deep drug induced sleep.

“Well gorgeous, how do you feel? Here sip some of this darling,” Jasmine said. Sue was quite thirsty. After she took a drink of iced water, she, of course, asked Jasmine if her testicles were gone. “Yes dear they are, but don’t fret. You also have two lovely breasts, and your penis will form a beautiful vagina when you decide to become like me.

Jasmine and Cinnamon took the lovely new girl for a walk around the corridors, and then fed her a lovely but light evening meal in her room. The next day prior to her bath, Susan was able to examine her new breasts and her pubic area. She seemed only slightly sad and was quickly cheered up, as after her bath Jasmine massaged the affected areas with a copious amount of vitamin E oil.

For the next two days Susan had long sessions with Dr. Chang as well as lovely walks with Cinnamon. She really liked the leggy, blond, gelded secretary and they are friends to this day. By Thursday evening when Mistress Pamela came for her, Sissy Sue was ready to head back to Primhurst. They arrived very early on Friday morning and Susan was thrilled to know her things had been moved into the female sorority.

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“Dominic’s castration fantasy” from a Nancy Friday book

A young man in his late twenties, Dominic has an innocent face and a nice smile. He’s a blue-collar guy who sees himself as rugged and virile.


I’ve had a lot of girls. I’m always attracted to “take charge” types. My fantasy involves my being the possession of a very beautiful, strong, confident woman. She’s dominant and classy. We live in a spacious contemporary home, which is always immaculate. My duties include cleaning the house, making meals, washing clothes, and giving massages to my “owner”. When she is really tense, I sit on the floor and give her oral, anal and vaginal massages. One day, she comes home raging mad because I have cheated on her with a neighbor. To put me in my place, she has my testicles removed surgically. This gives her much delight.

When the surgery is over, she has me wear short skirts around the house. She has me dress totally as a woman, complete with bra and wig. When she gives a party at her house, she has me raise my miniskirt to show the women “what happens to naughty boys”.

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“A Meek Wolf among Savage Lambs” by Edouard Roditi

Summary: A poet sneaks into a harem to get an exclusive story and unexpectedly ends up being made a permanent member of it.


In the early and happier years of the reign of our late Sultan Abdul Hamid, may his sick and troubled soul rest in peace, it suddenly became fashionable among the more idle and wealthy Infidels to visit our glorious capital. Overnight, great trains, real caravanserais on wheels with bedrooms, bathrooms, and restaurants installed in their carriages, began to unload almost daily, on the platforms of Sirkeji Station, the oddest crowds of monocled and side-whiskered gentlemen accompanied by their unveiled womenfolk, who wore dead birds on their heads and had the voices of petulant screech owls. All of them were intent, in a frenzy of indecent curiosity, on violating what they believed to be the lascivious mysteries of our enigmatic Orient.

News of this relatively peaceful invasion soon permeated the harems of the more elegant yalis, or waterfront villas, inhabited, along the shores of the Bosphorus, by the great Ottoman families. In the absence of their husbands, most of whom now played poker all day in the lounges of the Pera Palace Hotel in the new Boyoglu quarter of Istanbul, some idle and frivolous Turkish ladies began to organize tea parties, known in the French they had learned from the nuns of Notre Dame de Sion as “le five o’clock”, in the course of which they entertained, with such outlandish delicacies as ham sandwiches and cerises a l’eau de vie, chattering groups of enthusiastic foreign ladies who wore monstrous artificial horse-hair buttocks that could fool the eye of no reasonable man. Recruited by tourist agencies which promised to arrange that they be admitted as guests to the most inaccessible of our aristocratic harems, these impudent unveiled hoydens paid substantial fees, shared by the touts of the tourist industry with their equally impudent hostesses, for the privilege of then swapping clothes all afternoon with their new Turkish friends. The latter were fascinated when they were able to preen themselves in front of a mirror while trying on a Paris hat that looked like a Dutch still life painting of fruit, flowers, vegetables, and dead birds — why never a fish? — or a Viennese corset brutal from the world-famous Kartnerstrasse atelier of the firm of Geschwister Zwieback und Gebruder Krafft-Ebbing, while their foreign guests likewise enjoyed seeing themselves wearing veils instead of lorgnettes and feather boas, and ample harem robes instead of wasp-waisted corsets and the absurd prosthetic bottoms known in those days as bustles.

Up to a point, all this masquerading was still innocent fun, though it heralded worse to come, I mean the excesses of the present age, when a Turkish gentleman who responds patriotically to his country’s call and presents himself for a medical examination before joining our glorious armed forces may suddenly find himself as naked as Adam, our common ancestor, in the Earthly Paradise, but in the presence of a bevy of shameless women who claim to have medical degrees from foreign universities with unpronounceable names, while male film stars run around our streets mysteriously veiled in order to protect their heavily insured complexions from the rays of our relatively mild sun.

Be all that as it may, it came one day to pass, in those innocent days of the reign of Sultan Abdul Hamid, that a French poet reached Istanbul with an assignment, from the editors of La Vie Parisienne, to penetrate one of our harems under false pretenses in order to reveal in ribald prose, to his lascivious Parisian readers, the secrets of our traditionally modest family life. Sacrificing his waxed moustache and goatee beard to the cause of what is now know, in our topsy-turvy “unisex” world, as “the free flow of information”, this poet dolled himself up, in the privacy of his Pera Palace Hotel apartment, as a rather athletic-looking English maiden lady, all tweeds and tobacco-stained finger tips, and then arranged through the touts who swarm around the offices of the Thomas Cook and Sons travel agency to be included in one of their organized harem parties. This particular group included, in addition to our transvestite poet, among others the wives of two Jewish bankers from Berlin, a Muscovite princess, the late Mrs. Potter Palmer from Chicago, a French cocotte traveling as the Comtesse de Mirabelle with an American millionaire from the Barbary coast, wherever that may be, but who spent all his time in a drunken stupor in his hotel room, and a tight-lipped English suffragette who already planned to distribute, specially printed in Turkish by an Armenian refugee printer in Manchester, among her unfortunate Moslem sisters, I mean her ignominiously secluded and veiled hostesses.

The French cocotte, like many ladies of her profession in that culturally enlightened age, happened to be a patroness of the arts and letters, in fact a close friend of Pierre Loti and the original recipient of those “Lettres a une Sphynge” for which Remy de Gourmont has become justly immortal, and the original model too of the famous representation of the sphinx, half woman and half panther, that earned the Belgian painter Ferdinand Khnopff such immediate celebrity among the readers of The Yellow Book when he exhibited his masterpiece in London’s Grosvenor Gallery. She thus recognized our distinguished French poet at a first glance, in spite of his hairless chin and upper lip and his odd disguise. But she was a woman of some wit, endowed with a curious mind. Smiling enigmatically in the manner that won her the name and reputation of a sphinx, she decided to say nothing and to wait and see.

It thus came to pass that our party of ladies proceeded, in an assortment of arabahs, victorias, barouches, landaus, and other carriages, all the way from the Pera Palace Hotel to a yali situated on the shore of the Bosphorus just beyond the Jewish suburb, or Ortakoy, where they were all expected that afternoon as paying guests in one of the more conservative harems of our Ottoman aristocracy. The Turkish ladies of this very proper household had decided but recently, under pressure of their lord and master’s heavy gambling debts, to violate their cherished privacy by entertaining, for a considerable fee, only the most carefully selected groups of foreign women.

It was a warm day and the drive was longer than our poet expected. The carriage where he sat was crowded and flea-infested; besides, he as ill at ease in the tight corset to which he was unaccustomed. When the party reached the yali of its hostesses, he was already suffering from brief dizzy spells. Later, as the mood of the party became more relaxed, informal, and intimate, the ladies began to swap clothes with delighted squeals. Terrified of being unmasked, our poet remained fully dressed and seated bolt upright on a divan while the beads of sweat trickled down his face and smeared his carefully contrived make-up. The Comtesse de Mirabelle watched him with malicious glee as she performed before his eyes what actually amounted to a strip-tease. Suddenly, he swooned.

When he came to, the next day, he was surprised by the obsolete pitch of his own voice that rang in his ears like a memory of his almost forgotten and innocent boyhood triumphs as solo singer in a Jesuit College choir. With a shock, our poet realized that he was already an integrated, permanent inmate of this harem into which he had so unwisely ventured. His hostesses, he learned, had kindly rushed to his rescue, when they saw him swoon, and promptly unlaced his corset, revealing a hairy chest beneath the padding that concealed it. To their horror, they then discovered that a man was in their midst. Only one thing could now be done to save their honor. The Chief Eunuch was hastily summoned and instructed to make our poet immediately acceptable as a harem guest.

When he finally recovered from his operation a few weeks later, our poet was entrusted, as a kind of French mademoiselle, with the education of the young ladies of the harem, teaching them to recite par coeur the poems of Lamartine and of Eugene Manuel. To his editor of La Vie Parisienne he explained, in a somewhat evasive letter, that he had fallen in love with the Turkish way of life and would probably never return to this old haunts on the Paris boulevards.

Far from ever violating, for ribald French readers, the secrets of our mysterious Orient, he remained content, in the years that followed, with writing every once and a while a book describing Turkish family life in the most glowing but decorous terms. Several such manuscripts went the round of the Paris publishing houses before finding one that was courageous enough to risk marketing such unusually decent accounts of the secluded life of our harems. Unfortunately, our poet died relatively young, but the few published works of his mature Turkish period are now cherished in France as veritable classics of a rare kind of exoticism that concentrates on the virtues rather than the vices of an alien civilization.