The SeraglioSubmitted by: David Campbell
Chapter 1 The "Building"I was a newspaper reporter in a small market town in middle England and apart from reporting on village fetes and the occasional weddings I also sought out interesting stories for the paper.
One day in mid summer I had been out to a farm where there were reports of a two headed cow. It turned out to be completely false and the farmer and I had a bit of laugh about it, but really I was a little peeved to have wasted a trip out. However the farmer did tell me, that when he was ploughing a field at the far end of the farm, of a strange house having been built over the last year. It was odd that it appeared to be circular but could not tell me much about it because it was behind a wood and there was a high security fence around it.
My curiosity was aroused so I thought I would investigate. The farmer showed me roughly on the map where it was and I set of on my motorcycle to go and have a look. A country lane took me in the generally direction of this place, but progress was eventually halted by a very secure gate and a guard in a gatehouse. I got off my bike and was peering through the gate I could not see the building due to a curve in the drive and trees blocking the view. Then the guard came out and asked me what I wanted. I asked what place this place was and he told me that it was none of my business and to clear off. This made me more curious but if a frontal approach was not possible there were other means.
Various activities and demands on my time prevented me from doing anything about it for several weeks. One day the editor told me to look at the plans of a proposed shopping mall in the county town. A trip to the Planning Department in the Council Offices was on the cards and when I had got all the information I needed on the shopping mall I suddenly thought that the strange building the farmer had talked about must have had planning permission. I told the Planning Officer the location of the building and he eventually produced a roll of plans.
On a table I unrolled the plans and I could only describe as odd. It was described as a Sanitorium for Senile Dementia Patients. The plan did in fact reveal a large circular building as described by the farmer, but what was odd that there was a large central area and all around it small rooms. None of the rooms had windows and the only ones were about 30 feet up and there was a gallery running almost all the way round. Also there was a two story annexe which on the ground floor contained kitchens and other facilities. On the upper story were various apartments, supposedly for the staff. There also appeared to be a basement described as a boiler room and laundry. There appeared to be only one door in the whole building and that was into the side of the annexe.
The next time I had a day off, I went off early in the morning and hid my bike out of sight of the gatehouse and crawled up so I had a good view of the entrance. After about 7.00am a small bus arrived at the gate and several women got off. The bus turned and drove off leaving them outside the gate. When the bus had departed the gateman opened a small gate and the women entered on at a time and each one had to present a pass and the gateman compared the picture on the pass with the face oc the woman. Eventually all the woman had been cleared and walked up a path and out of sight. I decided that I would wait for them to come out. To fill in the time I went for a hike around the perimeter fence. At time it was quite difficult as brambles grew in profusion. I only got occasional view of this odd building and whatever it was I was fairly certain it wasnít a sanitorium as there were no facilities for patients to lounge in the sun and I couldnít see anything resembling a laid out garden. All I could see was overgrown scrub-land and on the building boxes that could be cctv but not like I had previously seen in shopping centres. Whilst I walked round I looked for any possible way of getting over, under or through the fence. Occasionally a branch of a tree would extend over the ten foot high fence. The best possible place I saw to get in was where the fence crossed a shallow ditch, but even then there was only three inches of clearance. It would require a spade to dig out sufficient room to squeeze under.
Having completed the circuit of the fence, I went back to my motorcycle and ate my sandwiches and then had a snooze. At two oíclock I heard the bus coming up the road with a another load of woman. The security guard again looked at their passes and compared them to their faces before allowing the departing women out. And the same process of inspection was held for those taking a second shift. Eventually the bus pulled away and I went back to my bike and followed the bus down to a village about three miles away. I left my bike in a convenient spot and discretely followed one girl until I saw her go into a house. Feeling hungry I went to the village pub and ordered some beer and a meal.
As I was finishing the meal I saw this girl come in by herself. I grabbed my beer glass and went up to the counter and stood next to the girl. She ordered a gin and tonic and I said to the landlord, "Give me beer and put both drinks on my bill." She said "Thanks ever so, Iím Pauline." "Well, Iím Gerald." Said I. She came and sat with me and we chattered for quite some time until I finally asked what she did for a living. "Well," she said, "Iíve got a job as a assistant cook and a strange place. It is huge but Iíve never been out of the kitchen. You canít get out because there is this locked door and all the meals are put on a conveyer belt that goes through a low opening at the end. All the dirty dishes come back on another conveyer belt." She continued, "I think it must be a prison of some sort, the security is very severe. Iím not supposed to talk about it, really."
She asked me what I did and when I told her I was a reporter she when ashen and immediately left and said, "I ainít said anything to you. Got that clear." She then vanished and I saw her running home.
I was determined to find out more and left the pub and went home. Later as I dozed it struck me that I could have an interesting story for the paper. I write this down as part one of the "Story of the Unusual Sanatorium."
Chapter 2 The Visit to the "Building."Late Saturday afternoon I packed a folding spade on my pack and dressed in dark clothes and set off with the purpose of entering the so-called sanatorium. I had inspected the map of the locality and found a forest trail leading near to where I saw that small ditch under the fence. Motoring through the night lent an air of excitement and aprehension as to what I was doing. As I got near my destination I throttled back the motorcycle so that my approach would hardly be heard. I found a suitable place to hide the bike and took the spade and walked along the fence until I came across the ditch. Quietly I scooped out the soil, pushing it to one side until there was sufficient space to crawl under. Returning to the bike I replaced the spade and hid the bike under a pile of branches. As the light faded I walked back to the ditch and waited until it was almost dark and wriggled under the fence.
Slowly inching my way on hands and knees, hoping to avoid any infra-red detectors I crept up to the building and sound to the outside to the door in the annex. I tried to the door handle and to my utter amazement the door opened. Taken aback by this stroke of good fortune I paused and finally thought to myself this is the only chance I have of solving th riddle of the building. I went inside and closed the door. As it closed I heard a click coming from the door and when I tried to open it it was now locked and I could feel no way of opening it. A feeling of panic came to me which was nothing to the sheer terror when the lights suddenly shattered the stygian darkness.
A voice said, "We have been expecting you." This came from one of a pair of well built and pug-faced bully-boys. Slowly they approached me and grabbed me by the arms and marched me to a door. One slid a card through a slot by the door and I was taken through and down some stairs to a basement room. My overcoat and jacket were taken off me and I was forcibly deposited in a heavy chair where my wrists were strapped with iron bands to the arms of the chair and my ankle to the chair legs. Bright lights glared into my eyes and I thought to myself that this is an interrogation set-up straight from the war films. However, hackneyed or not, it was very effective as I did not see someone enter the room and sit down at a table. The first I knew of his presence was when he spoke with a slightly foreign accent.
His opening remark was, "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
I thought to myself that this bloke had watched to many movies, but I said nothing. He asked me a lot of question about my name, where I lived and what I did. He was particularly interested when I told him that I was a reporter in a local paper. He then asked me various question about whether I had been sent by the newspaper, what story I was after and various others. He seemed to accept that I was only personally curious about the place and that I would only tell my Editor when the story was complete. Also how I had got here and after some encouragement from the minder behind me I had to say where my bike was hidden and how I had dug under the wire with a spade.
There was a change of direction in his questioning, to my personal life, and he learned that I had no living relatives apart from an aunt of my late mother who lived in France, and no girl friend at the moment. Then he asked about my meeting with the girl in the pub. Then he asked about my health delving into what diseases and ailments that I suffered. He wanted to know about childhood diseases, whether I had had hepatitis, AIDS, malaria and another string of things -- some of which I had never heard. Then about heart conditions, cancer, kidney complaints or diabetes. I told him I had a clean bill if health as far as I was aware.
Then he got on to the subject of sex. He asked me how many times I had sex with a woman. I told him that I had a healthy sex life and had sex several times with three girls. Then he asked whether I had sex with any men and I replied that I hadnít or wouldnít want sex with a man. Then he asked me how often I masturbated and I said frequently probably three of four times a week and occasionally more.
Finally he finished the questioning me and rose up and left the room. I wondered who he was whether he was in the medical profession like a psychiatrist. Why was he asking all these questions of someone who had committed burglary. Normally someone in my position would have been handed over to the police and appeared in court. One of the minders left the room and returned a few minutes later with several sheets of paper. My right hand was released and I was told to sign several sheets of paper at the bottom. I didnít have much choice at the moment.
A woman doctor in a white coat came in and said something to one of the minders who produced a wicked looking knife and proceeded to cut all my clothes off, just ripping them off in an undiscriminating fashion until I was completely naked. I was taken into the doctors surgery where I was given a complete medical. It was somewhat embarrassing to be poked and prodded by a female doctor particularly when she got to my private parts, feeling my testes, and when she stuck he finger up my rectum to check the prostate. She said to no one in particular, "Heís a rather hairy thing and rather skinny. This will be dealt with."
I then had to lie down on a couch and she then produced a swab and cleaned an area of my upper arm and injected something into my arm. At first nothing happened but after ten or so second I felt a tingling sensation in my body and my vision started doing funny things until everything faded into complete unawareness.
Chapter 3 The AwakeningI became conscious of a series of beeps which had awaken me followed by a voice somewhere saying "6.00 am Saturday 13 June. Shower time."
13 June that canít be right it was 30 May when I entered this place. Slave! What was that all about and as for being told to have a shower. I through back the sheet and staggered out of bed. I was naked and wandered across the room to what was obviously a bath room. I went in and the first thing I did was have a pee and saw my reflection in the wall mirror. The first shock was that I was completely bald. The second was I had absolutely hairless all over. Gone were the short and curlies and the bear rug on my chest, hairless legs that looked most peculiar and even eyebrows were gone. The only hair I could find were my eyelashes. My chin, upper lip and sideburns were absolutely smooth. I was utterly hairless with less hair than when I was born. I would not recognised myself in this hairless state. Disgusting!
I suppose I better have a shower and turned on the water and started washing myself all over. When I got to washing my private parts I thought rather odd that my testicles were not hanging down and my immediate thought was that they had retracted into the body as they some times do. Further pushing and prodding resulted in no return to normal position and with the sudden realisation I nearly passed out with the shear terror of the realisation that I had been castrated. I was now a eunuch, a hairless eunuch and also a slave.
I staggered out of the bathroom and looked for clothes to wear. All I could find was a pair of cotton shorts. Having put these on I wandered round my cell and came across a notice on the back of the door.
Rules for Slaves
I was interrupted by a voice saying 6.15 gymnasium. It seemed to come from the middle of my head like when you are wearing headphones. Then the door clicked open and I went out on to a curve corridor. I saw that there were several men dressed just like me in white shorts. They all turned right and off we marched down two flights of stairs to a large room set up as a gymnasium. There were all sorts of exercising machines and weights that I had only seen previously from pictures. One by one men ran off to various machines and then the voice in my head said "Slave 6 to exercise machine four." I hesitated being new to this place and then felt the shock of an electric prod and a human voice said "Move." I hurried off and shortly found the exercise machine which was one of those you walk on. Personally, I would rather take a walk in the country side, but there was not going to be a choice.
I got on this machine and it immediately started working. It started off at a comfortable pace, but after ten minutes it got up to four miles an hour, according to the LED display. By now I was getting a little short of breath and would have got off if it wasnít for the man with the electric prod hovering nearby. I had just about got used to the speed of the machine when it suddenly went up a notch to 5 mph. After a few moments I suddenly lost my footing from sheer exhaustion and went shooting off the end to land in a heap on the floor. None of the other people took any notice except for he with the prod. He came over and the voice in my head told me to get to my feet giving me the encouragement of another zap. A different voice in my head said "Slave 6 report to the Supervisorís office." I could see the name over the top of a door so hurried across to it knocked and entered. There was desk with a dressed in black and could have been one of the men who had captured me in the reception hall two weeks earlier.
He looked me up and down and I heard " You are the latest volunteer, I recall. Your fitness is unacceptable. Before I post you to normal duties you will spend all your duty time in the hands of the fitness trainer. For your sake you will comply or you will be disposed. This is your only warning, now leave." His lips did not move and I could only speculate that either he was telepathic or I was wired up for sound. I returned to the gymnasium and Mr Prod, as I nicknamed him, set the walking machine back on 3mph for 45 minutes. When I got back on the machine, it immediately started and once again plod, plod of incessant walking. None of the relaxing stroll through the countryside basking in warm summer morning, just monotonous plod, plod, plod. After a while my mind when blank, my legs ached. I just wanted to stop. After what seemed like ten years it did stop and I was suddenly brought back to realisation that the torture had stopped. Little did I know that there was more to come. The voice in my head told me to go to machine No 10. This heathenish device required you to hold to vertical bars and swing them in front of you. Each one had a weight attached to it so you were having to continually overcome the momentum of these weights. I was informed that they were the minimum weights for undeveloped slobs. Back and forth my arms went and more and more my desire to live diminished. The person next to me seemed to have many more weights and seem to be enjoying himself.
Whilst sinking into an apathetic stupor I was rejoiced to hear the voice in my head tell slaves to stop and shower. The rest trooped towards an opening at the end of the gymnasium and I followed. Without any embarrassment the all took their shorts off, threw them in a basket and showered themselves. They all had small penises and no testicles, just like me. In turn they went through a passage where hot air quickly dried them and grabbed clean shorts from baskets according to their waist size. I was the last to come through and joined on the end of the line. Voices in the head said "Slaves to breakfast." And we all trooped off in an orderly line and queued up. There was quite a spread cereals, fruit juices, fruit, bacon, eggs, steak and various other items. I took a moderate breakfast and the inner voice, as I thought of it, told me to take more steak, another egg and tomatoes. I took my laden tray and was told to sit in chair No 6. I tucked in and was about to make conversation with slave number 5 next to me when I tried to talk nothing came out and then I realised that I was also dumb. No wonder that the place was as quiet as a Trappist monastery. I finished my meal and thought to myself, if the food is as good as this I could enjoy my stay here.
I was ordered back to the gymnasium where I spent the rest of the morning being put through numerous exercises and by lunch time I was shattered. Another shower and then to lunch. After lunch I was told to report to the laundry and inner voice gave me directions. The rest of the afternoon was spent loading shorts, towels sheets and various diaphanous garments into a collection of washing and tumbler driers. After dinner I was told to return to my cell. I collapsed on to my bed, aching in every muscle and completely exhausted. At 2100 we were called to have a shower and then to bed.
Chapter 4 To WorkThis routine of mine went on for four weeks and I had developed huge muscles and was extremely fit. I had gained two stone and it was all muscle. It was quite a change to look at myself having transformed from a skinny individual to what I had become and was only spoilt by a rather small penis with no function other than to have a pee. The inner voice informed me, one morning that after breakfast, that I was to be given a duties to-day and No 31 was my charge and after and various instructions. Instead of the gym I went with the other slaves and collected a tray of breakfast with 31 printed on the tray and followed the others into a large area which would take a while to describe, so I will have to come back to it. As if I was programmed I went straight to a door with 31 on it and knocked and entered. I was amazed to see a splendid bedroom with a circular bed and resting on it a stupendously beautiful naked young lady. Her breasts were gorgeous and her legs long leading up to curvaceous hips and a narrow waist. As my eyes wandered round her body I notices that she also had no hair on her crotch. She grabbed hold of my shorts and yanked them down, had one look and said "Another useless appendage between your legs. I suppose you have a tongue do you." I nodded, not daring to speak. "Well use it then." and opened her legs wide. I hesitated and she yelled "Now." As I found out not all the girls were as bitchy as this one.
I immediately started licking her clit, but having never carried out oral sex I was a bit slow. Gradually I picked up the process and whilst I was doing this she was calmy eating her breakfast. After some time she let out a gasp as she had an orgasm followed shortly after by another. My tongue and jaw muscles were aching and the thought passed through my mind that the gymnasium should include exercises for this activity. Eventually she told me to stop and I realised that I had had absolutely no pleasure, sexual or otherwise from it. My penis had made no effort to get hard and I realised what it was like to be a eunuch. Having finished her breakfast she told me to help her shower and said I was to take off my shorts. This I did and switched on the shower and when it was the right temperature she got in and I had to soap her all over, wash her hair and then rinse her off and dry her on warm fluffy towels. I was allowed to dry myself on her used towel and then dry her hair with a hair dryer and then brush and comb it until it shone like silk.
I was told to remove the breakfast tray and on my return I had to give her a manicure and pedicure and finally dress her in a diaphanous gown which did little to cover her nudity. When she was happy with her appearance, she left the room indicating that I was to follow. As we entered the large open area I saw now that there were numerous sofas, chaise lounge and couches many with similar beautiful ladies reclining aor walking about the place.
It didnít take much of a brain to realise that I was a eunuch in a harem, a seraglio or whatever you would like to call it. The ladies were equally slaves, but pampered ones, there for the sexual pleasure of a man, but all the ladies would probably not see their master very often so satisfied their sexual desired using eunuchs, the lower order of slaves. We had been modified so that we were no threat to the man of the house. Probably some Potentate from the middle-east who found a supply of gorgeous woman and males easily acquired in the English counties. A man who was so powerful and rich that he could subjugate women and men to his will. No permission was necessary. A few letters purporting to come from the victim and no questions were asked about them again. It was my own curiosity that had got me in this predicament which now had me standing behind the beautiful woman awaiting her commands and merest whims. Occasionally a slave was told to lick his mistresses cunt or get her a beverage from a bar at the end of the room. No alcohol was present at all, just soft drinks, or tea and coffee could be made for the ladies.
Some would use the large pool in the middle of the area and her slave would have a clean towel to dry her. I donít think any item was used a second time. Someone in this organisation had some fetish about cleanliness. When a slave had tongued a beauty to an orgasm he would use clean wipes to wash her and dispose of it in a special container. I am surprised you didnít have to wash your tongue first. I have been called up to four times a day to tongue one demanding woman. You never have the same girl two days running. I suppose it stops having favourite slaves. Some are real bitches and have you running around all day.
Eventually six thirty came and all remnants of the girlsí dinner were removed and I and three other slaves were directed to a room which was a make up room. After five minutes a girl was brought in with a matronly woman, who I not seen before. She said, to-night you will learn how to prepare a lady for Master." Instructions were given how to apply a foundation, eye liner blush on the cheeks, eye shadow lipstick. We had to practice on each other, washing it all off and starting again until we had it to the matronís satisfaction. It caused some mirth but we darenít show it too much and when I saw my own face in the mirror I could have died. Fortunately we were allowed to wash it all off but it left my face a bit sore from so much washing. More instructions were given about applying perfume and dressing the girl in special outfits, gold arm bands and earrings. Finally we were sent off with an armful of diaphanous clothes and a make-up box and trinkets to prepare No 31.
She was not too pleased to see me and plonked herself on a chair in front of a mirror. I started to apply foundation as instructed and I felt her hand grab my penis and started fondling it. I darenít stop work and she continued playing with it for several minutes. "Drat it," she said, "canít you get a little aroused."
I methodically worked my way through doing her make up and put various item of jewellery on her arms, fingers and a set of bells on the ankle and also some pendant earrings. When I had finished the matron inspected my work and seemed moderately satisfied. I was told to take her up some stairs to a reception room in the annex. We climbed the stairs and entered this fabulous room with the walls covered with murals showing all sorts of of hedonistic scenes. Various nude female statues were in the corners of the room and one was completely covered in gold. In the middle of the room was a single male statue on a large plinth. He had all his genitals and a 9 inch penis raised in salute. On the floor were thick piled Persian rugs, which showed a level of ostentatiousness not seen in many stately homes. At the end of the room was an open pair of double doors and one could see that the dťcor was even more sumptuous and the striking feature was a huge divan and there sprawled was a huge man robed in eastern dress of a potentate.
Standing around the room were three other females equally dressed in finery. A major-domo told me to go, which I did with some alacrity and returned to my room. The thought ran through my head, as I was sitting in my room, was how impotent am I? One of my pastimes had been to simultaneously to rub my nipples up and down with the edge of my thumbs, which would give me mini orgasms and make my penis harden and then change over to masturbating to a final ejaculation. I started the nipple stimulation which I continued for about 10 minutes, and at the end I had had no pleasure and just sore nipples. Well! There was no doubt I was 100% impotent. Reading and writing were destinied to be some of my recreations. There was a good library, in the recreation room, of about 2000 books but none with any thing to do with erotic nature or love. Writing paper was freely available as were pens and pencils. The recreation room contained table tennis, playing cards and various games. Slaves could use the gym during their recreation periods. The management obviously wanted happy slaves.
Chapter 5 New ArrivalsI had been at the Seraglio for six months and the daily routine changed little. I had a different girl to look after each day and there were 30 of these beauties. Some days you had other duties, in the laundry or in the boiler room burning rubbish, in a large gas oven. This provided heat for the building principally but, as I said, also rubbish. It was a bit of a shock when one day there was a female body in amongst the rubbish. We were told to throw her in to the oven and was quickly reduced to ash. No words of any kind were said for her. She had been girl number 4 and judging by the marks on her neck, she had been strangled.
Two days later I and another slave were instructed to go to the medical unit. There on a trolley was a naked male, with a full head of hair and body hair. I was told to prepare him. First we had to put a sticky plastic patch over each eye, then plastic bungs in each ear and each nostril. Then we had to put a rubber device in his mouth which was inflated. There was a large flexible tube which went through the centre of the gag and the tube was connected to a ventilator. This is switched on and we seal the outside edge of the mask to the patientís lips so that it is air and water-tight. We are told to wheel the trolley over to a tank over to a tank over 6 feet long, three feet wide and deep filled with a green liquid. We are told to lift him in to it and keep him completely submerged.
As we watched, over a period of half an hour, we see all his hair dissolve away. We are then told to drain the tank, using one valve, into another container. Then, after closing the valve, rinse him thoroughly and draining the water through a different valve. The face mask, gag and ventilator are removed and when he has been dried we take him into an anteroom where we have to take our shorts off and put dark goggles on. The room is then flooded with intense ultra-violet light for thirty seconds. We turn the patient over and then we all have another dose for thirty seconds. A door opens and we take the patient in to an operating room and lift him on to a table. His legs are strapped so that the knees ar up and as far apart as possible. We stand there with face masks on and watch, with fascination as the surgeon makes incisions in each side of the scrotum and peels the testes out, like shelling peas. He ties off the vas and the blood vessel on each and a quick snip and the two testes fall of into a dish that I am holding. All the time the surgeon has been giving a running commentary. "Now," he said, "We remove the prostate. This is very delicate as we donít want to make him incontinent."
With an endoscope he peers into the cavity left by the removal of the testes and after a view deft strokes out comes a mass which had been the patientís prostrate. He tidies up the scrotum so that there is nothing hanging down.
Next he turns his attention to the patients throat. He tells us that a small plastic device is inserted in the vocal cords to stop them vibrating and makes the patient dumb. It is removable, but I am told that it takes a few days to talk normally again and is only removed if you become a supervisor. The surgeon makes a slit behind each ear and he tells us he is inserting a radio transducer so that he will be able to receive instructions broadcast to him alone or to all the slaves. We then take him to a recovery room where he will be kept in a coma for three weeks, intravenously fed and otherwise monitored. Finally he took a syringe out of a locked case and injected the patient with a clear liquid. The surgeon said to us that we were the luckiest people in the world. The drug he had just injected could be worth a kingís ransom if someone was allowed to market it. It was discovered by the Master and it gave the body complete immunity from all illnesses, cancer, dental decay and ageing. It was indeed a wonder drug but the Master was only concerned that his slaves were always in perfect health. The Master was already fabulously rich and jealously guarded his possessions. I only get the drug given to me one syringe at a time and to try and steal some would be instant death.
The following day we were instructed to return to the medical centre and were introduced to the supine form of a pretty girl. This time we had to cover her head with a rubber mask that covered her face and hair completely. Again air was provided by a ventilator. After her treatment to remove all her body hair we were instructed to place a chastity belt on her. I wondered why but could not ask. She was given her injection and then we were told to take her to a special room where she was Laid on a bed to awaken naturally.
Each day I had to take her food in and shower her. As the days progressed she got hornier and hornier, demanding to know why she was here and confined to chastity belt. After three weeks I was instructed to bring the latest male slave to this girlís room and when we arrived I found the Matron in the room with the girl. It was immediately obvious that the girl and the young man knew each other. She cried out, "David! Where are we. What are we doing here?" Of course the man could not stay anything, so she continued., "David say something." Immediately the Matron said to her. "Please this young man in any way you can imagine to bring him to some form of climax. If you fail you will be beaten."
To give her some idea the matron produced a whip and gave her a smart sting on the bottom. " You have half an hour and you will be monitored."
We were allowed to watch the event from a monitor in the medical centre office. The girl deeply kissed the man and her hands started roaming over his bodies. She played with his nipples ran her hands round his tummy and then down to his penis which she fondled. Then she went to play with his balls and after a few seconds she suddenly broke away from him, with a puzzled look on her face. Peering down at his crotch she examined him and discovered that all that remained of his balls was a scar. She collapsed on to the bed and cried, "David what have they done to you. Your balls have gone."
David looked down and with an equally said " huwwww." Which of course not being able to speak was all he could say. We went into the room and removed the male slave and took him to his room on the same floor as ours. I donít know what happened to the girl but I should imagine that the exercise had been carried out to remove any attachments between the pair. She later joined the gaggle of beauties on the main floor and occasionally I had to look after her.
Chapter 6. PromotionI had been at this place for 20 years now and I didnít look a day older and not a days illness. This wonder drug was certainly a wonder. There were several deaths over that period, but none from natural causes. Slight infractions were dealt with by whippings but for major offences there was only one punishment and that was termination. In my time I had helped dispose of a few into the furnace. Executions were always decided by the Master and carried out by his major-domo. Females were strangled, males were given lethal injections. An average of two were disposed of each year and replaced with Ďvolunteersí. I had managed to keep a clean slate over that period and was probably the remaining longest serving slave and this morning I was told that I was to become a probationary supervisor. If I proved satisfactory I would regain my voice in a couple of weeks. I was given an office with a computer which allowed Ďvoicesí to be sent to all or individual slaves. My first task was to determine the work schedules for 30 slaves. There were currently 25 female slaves and that meant that five male slaves had to be assigned to other duties. All went well and finally the day of my voice release came. I was called to the medical centre and given a shot, which put me out like a light.
Gradually awareness came back to me and apart from a sore throat I felt fine. The surgeon told me not to try to speak for a day and that I would be given speech therapy to-morrow. The next day a lady came into my room and I had to sit facing her. I had to repeat all the vowels several times then the consonants. What was rather off-putting was that the voice was more alto than baritone. She said that this often occurred and would return to normal in most cases. Gradually she took me through various word combinations and after an hour of exercises I had to read aloud to her. I was told that that was enough for first session and to return to my duties. I was advised not to use my new voice until I was back to normal as I would have speech therapy for an hour a day for the next two weeks.
Back I went to my office to to more schedules and make arrangement for three girls to be prepared for the Master. A note to the Matron telling her which male slaves would be used to prepare the beauties. Inspection of work being carried out by various slaves and other tasks kept me busy each day.
At the end of the fortnight my voice was back to normal and had also dropped in pitch to almost normal. Now I had the facility to give instructions verbally now which was much more efficient. I was able to converse directly with other supervisors and people in the medical centre. I was informed that a new girl was arriving the next day and to arrange two slaves to assist. Duly she arrived and the slaves prepared her and she was taken to her room to recover. Later I was distracted by shouting and screaming from this girls room. I hurried to her room and got there at the same time as the Matron and the doctor. She was yelling what have you done to me? Why am I here." The matron slapped the girls face and said in a stern voice, "Silence slave." She turned and yelled, "I will not be quiet and I am no ones slave." The matron nodded to me and I whipped her severely across her bottom and back five times before she collapsed on the floor whimpering. "I want to go home." The Matron added, "You are here for the pleasure of the Master. You will do as you are told and anymore outbursts will result in your death." The girl looked shattered and lay on the floor crying. She was left alone and the Matron said to the doctor "She is going to be trouble, you mark my word. Perhaps we should tell the Master." The doctor replied, "She may yet settle down and behave."
Over the next few weeks she seem to have conformed to the place. She and three other girls were called for service with the Master but never got into his presence, as I gather he was well pleased with another girl who had been here a while. It was another seven weeks until she was once again prepared for the Masterís pleasure. The Matronís prophesy came true and whilst in the Masterís room and pleasuring him she took a sharp knife and thrust it in to his heart. He cried out and before the major-domo had got it to the room he was dead. Several others were immediately summonsed as she was quickly disarmed and restrained. She was taken to the medical centre and strapped in a chair and interrogated on how she had got the knife. She resolutely refused to say anything and eventually the doctor gave her an injection which I assume was a truth drug. Under its influence it turned out that she had kept it after a meal one day. This needed deeper investigation as it is a rule punishable by death for a male slave not to account for every item of cutlery used by the females and returned to the kitchen hatch for washing. Further questioning revealed the day she had acquired the knife and consultation of my rotas revealed the male slave on duty that day. He was summoned and revealed that he had given her an extra knife and she had kept on. When asked why he said that she had been nice to him and had kissed him. He was summarily terminated as was the girl.
Over the next few days the place was in turmoil. All purpose and objectives were lost. The major-domo called me into his room and told me that the Master had selected me to carry out his last wishes. The these were in a fat envelope was thrust into my hand by the major-domo. "You were chosen by the Master at my request as I donít want to live without him. He was my father."
I retired to my room and opened the envelope. "You my worthy slave," I read, "Are chosen to carry out my last wishes. I want no trace of this home of mine for many years to be left. All the occupants must be killed and the building destroyed. In this envelope are three keys. One will allow you to leave the building by the door in the reception room. In the grounds opposite the gatehouse you will find a small brick building. Open the door with the large pin lock key. You will see two switches a red and a blue and another smaller pin lock. Insert key and rotate the lock and a red and blue light will light up. At exactly 3.00 am by the clock on the panel press down the blue switch. The blue light will flash. At 3.10 am press down the red switch and the red light will then flash twice. If attempted at any other time then there will be no response. You have been given a new identity and there is £5 million in a Swiss account and the pass number is ******** "( I havenít written it down as I donít want other people using Ďmy moneyí)
At 2.00 am everyone was asleep and I went to the reception room and unlocked the door. It closed behind me re-locking it self. Without a key no one could leave. I made my way round the building and in the moonlight I found the building and opened the door. It was only ten past two. I noticed a bag on the floor and found some clothes in it. Being cold I put them on, the shoes were a little on the large size but only just. It was strange wearing clothes after twenty years but I was thankful for them. I had a little wander around noticing the smells of the countryside so dimly remembered. An odd bird cried out and the barking of a dog some mile or so away. I could see the guard in the gatehouse apparently asleep and wondered if he was going to be a problem. It was by now a few minutes to 3.00 am and I inserted the key and turned it. The lights came on and as the time on the digital clock came to 3.00 am I pushed down the blue switch. I didnít know what to expect but nothing particular happened until a LED display said ĎGas Activatedí.
At exactly 3.10 I pressed the red switch and the LED display changed to ĎDenotation activated -- stand well clear"
I got a few feet away and there was a small explosion in the little brick building, followed by one in the gatehouse and five seconds later there were a series of explosion coming from the Seraglio. First there was a brilliant flash which I could see shining out of the upstairs windows and the heat was so tremendous that the glass melted. More explosions were heard coming from the building and it gently subsided into a pile of rubble. For the total destruction there was surprising little noise. When it had all stopped I quickly ran to the destroyed gate and out into the wood. I had barely got out when fire engines and police cars came roaring up the road, sirens wailing and engines roaring. There was nothing they could do hardly any flames to douse and no injured to treat. They apparently stayed there for all the following day poking through the ruins. They brought in heavy machinery and move loads of rubble but found no remains of anyone. That flash I saw must have been a thermite bomb that incinerated everyone and everything inside. The local newspaper reported that the Authorities had concluded that the Sanatorium was empty at the time of the explosion probably caused by a gas leak.
Chapter 7 The New LifeMy main concern was to get a living of some sort. In the clothes I had found in the little brick building was a wallet with about a £1000 and a credit card in the name of David Cambell. It looked to me that the suit and other clothes had only been put there the previous day. Possibly the Masterís son, the major-dom, had planned it that way. Even in twenty odd years things had changed. I was not likely to get a job as a reporter again, not that I really needed one with all that money, but I needed something to do. I looked through the vacancies at the local Job Centre and noted that they wanted a young person to train to do make-up of artists at a theatre in the next town. For someone in their late forties I could easily pass for 22. I rang up and had and interview and was asked to make-up a young lady. With my many years of applying cosmetics to the beauties I quite impressed them with the speed and skill I fulfilled the request. They asked me whether I had any commitments and whether I would tour with the theatrical group. I said not and was taken on at more than they had advertised the job. However they were curious about my baldness and I mumbled something about it being a heredity problem. They gave some help initially making-up different sorts of faces, making some older and some younger or even evil or saintly. I easily picked it up and became quite an expert in this field. It was a good job and even helped with the scenery. It still gave me plenty of free time during the day as most activity was in the evening. Some of the women and even a couple of men tried to interest me in some form of sexual interest.
After five years I decided it was wise to move on. I sold the house I had bought with the money from the Swiss account and moved to the south coast where I bought a massage parlour. There were three girl assistants came with the business who did the main massaging. There were several private rooms and a sauna for men and one for women. My experience of massaging women in the Seraglio was quite useful. I hadnít been there very long when one mature lady came in and asked me, in particular, to massage her. After massaging her back for 15 minutes she suddenly rolled over and through the towel to one side and told me to massage her clit. Unfazed I said that it would be extra and she said, "Please proceed, Iím desperate for a bit of attention."
Twenty years of experience I soon had her gasping as one orgasm followed another, After twenty minutes she collapsed as said "That was gorgeous. You are a Maestro." "Thank you madam." I said and gave her a bill for three times the normal charge. After that I had a stream of woman wanting my special massage so I kept it at just two appointment sessions a day. Anyone who wanted a tongue massage had to pay even more. My assistants quickly grasped why I was suddenly so popular and wanted some of the action. I agreed that it was quite acceptable to me and soon we were taking lesbians and men who wanted masturbation. The only stipulation I made on the girl assistants that they were not to have intercourse with the customers in or out of the salon and any infringement would result in immediate dismissal. In no time I had made so much money I couldnít spend it all. The girls were also very wealthy after four years in business.
Eventually the police got suspicious but had no hard evidence. I had always insisted that clients undressed in an anti-room and entered the massage room with only a towel wrapped round. On one occasion someone tried to slip in a camcorder which was immediately spotted. I made no comment and the person got a conventional back and shoulder massage, and when asked for a bit of the other I looked at her with a blank expression and said "I donít know what you mean, Madame."
The police investigation fizzled out, and I think by orders on high. I know that several high ranking police officers of both sex enjoyed our services, which were always discrete and very satisfying. I donít know if we were actively breaking any law since we werenít a brothel and we didnít tout for business. If any lady asked for me to have intercourse I didnít say I couldnít but simply that I donít mix business with pleasure.
After seven years I decided to move on and there was a staff of ten now and I offered the business to them for a nominal sum. I didnít need the money but I had to make it look above board. I was now 59 and still looked in my early twenties. Last year I had bought myself a large yacht and decided to go on a world cruise. The boat had a captain to steer, a cook cum general factotum to do all the other tasks and an engineer while I lazed around.
We set off from Southampton and headed west towards the Caribbean, stopping of at the Azores. The food was good, weather mostly fine and I had a good library of books to pass the time. We spent a year drifting round the worldís oceans, calling in at many ports. I had several excursions, in chauffeur driven cars, to places of interest in the area. Hawaii volcano particularly fascinated me. Almost every where I visited there were offers from women offering to give me a good time. It was so obvious that they would see an apparently handsome young man land from an expensive yacht and try to relieve me of my money by selling there bodies. At first I would string them along and asked them what their services cost. They would deny that they wanted money, just a good time and maybe get to know each other better. I said to them individually that I regarded that I would expecet them to be celibate until we decided to marry or not and I would like them to wear a chastity belt for the duration. I kept a stock of several sizes on the yacht. I would take them on board and fit them out with their belt. None ever refused to be fitted with a belt and I lavishly spent money on them for a few days, telling them to buy clothes or jewellery. They usually complained that they wanted out of the chastity belt but I procrastinated. The belts were made of hardened titanium and could not be removed without the high security key. After a week I told them that I had to move on and they demanded to be released. My reply was give me your address and I will post the key to you, which I never did. It gave me a perverse pleasure to leave these gold-diggers to suffer without until I sent them their key. I think at the moment there are twenty two very frustrated women around the world. They may have been in their chastity belts for up to six months unless they have moved without a forwarding address.
The yacht trip extended to two years and I eventually arrived back at Southampton. I had got tired of sailing so I gave the boat to the crew and suggested that they hired it out to people wanting a cruise. The yacht could sleep ten people and they could make a good living out of it. I always treated people who worked for me very well and it usually paid off.
I amused myself in various ways and tried my hand at growing grapes and making wine. Like most things I tried it was an outstanding success and within five years I was selling a million bottles a year. People were a bit surprised that a decent wine could be grown in England. The Romans did it and now with global warming the conditions were good for growing wines. Over the next ten years the business gradually expanded and was now in the FTSE 100 share group. I had a take-over offer I couldnít refuse and sold all my shares for £100 million which made me extremely wealthy. At 76 I wondered whether I should retire. The only problem I still only looked about 25.
One evening I had gone to Covent Garden Opera to see Don Giovani and I got talking to a lady, of about 25, in the next seat. In the interval she suggested we went for a drink and we got into polite conversation. During the chat she said she was a widow with two young children. Her husband had died suddenly and his life insurance had left her very well provided for. She asked me what I did and I said I was between jobs and I had just sold my business. She asked me which business that was so I said it was Vale Winery. She looked sideways at me and said you look very young to have had a business of that magnitude. It was time to go back for Act 2 which finally brought the opera to its dramatic conclusion with Don Giovani being dragged into hell. I had been so impressed by the ladyís conversation that I suggested that we went for a bite to eat. There were some good restaurants close to the theatre especially to cater for hungry theatregoers. We had an excellent meal and afterward I took her home in my Roles Royce to a smart house in St Johnís Wood. I accepted her invitation for coffee and a further chat. It was refreshing to find a woman who didnít see dollar signs where oneís eyes are. You asked me if I had a wife and I said I never had had one as I couldnít father children. "Tell me about it." She said. "Iím a doctor covering gynaecology and male impotence."
"Somehow I donít think you could do anything for me." I got up and was about to go and she pulled me back down. "Are you a eunuch?" She asked.
"How did you guess?" I said.
"Well! You havenít made a pass, you havenít mentally stripped me and I seen a few eunuchs in my profession who we have helped."
"In what way have you helped?"
"The most satisfactory way is to graft on donor testicles and nature does the rest." There were several questions running through my head and I didnít think the answer would impress me. So I asked, "Who would donate their testicles and what stops them being rejected?
Some come from sexual re-assignment operation, some from people killed in accidents. We have even used genetically altered pigs to grow human sperm. We stop rejection by suppressing the immune system."
The one thing I could not have messed about with was my immune system. It protects me against disease and aging. For someone in their late seventies and looking like a twenty-five year old man the last thing I wanted was a suppressed immune system. I have not had erections or ejaculations for fifty years and I have survived and enjoyed life without sex. Female company is all very well but it doesnít mean one has to paw her and hump her. See what fifty years of chastity do for you. "The thought of having someone elseís cast of testicles doesnít excite me. I wouldnít want to proceed with the idea."
"But I insist." She said.
"Insist as much as you like but I canít and wonít have anything to do with any such procedure." I got up and went to the door. I tried it and it was locked, I turned to her and she had a smile on her face.
"I do really insist. You have been taking an incapacitating drug in your drink and soon you will pass out and everything is set up for an immediate operation."
I thought to myself I must fight this so I thrust my fingers down my throat to make me vomit which effectively emptied my stomach and then dragged her out the chair and hauled her around the room and knocked her head against the wall until she lost consciousness. Using her stockings I tied her hands and feet together. Quickly going through her handbag I found some keys and fortunately one fitted the door. I raced down a flight of stairs and jumped into my car and drove away. I hadnít got far and I felt dizzy so immediately pulled into the side and switched off the engine. When I woke up I guessed I had been asleep for half an hour and my quick reaction had reduced the effects of the drug to minimal effect.
I started the car and returned to the womanís flat and went up and unlocked the door and went in. She was still on the floor and still bound but conscious.
"Why have you come back." She asked.
"If you were dead I was going to dispose of you and if you were alive I was going to find out why such a good conversationalist would want to use me as a guinea pig for these experiments." When you think about it all con-men have a good patter.
"Release me and I will show you."
"I donít trust you to release your hands"
I untied her feet and got her upright. She had a lump on the side of her head but I wasnít going to lose any sleep over that.
She led the way into the kitchen and told me to get hold of the edge of a Welsh dresser and pull it out. It swung easily and revealed an opening. She went through and we went down a corridor. On one side was a door and through its window I could see an operating theatre. At the end of the corridor was another door which I had to open, keeping her in sight all the time. We entered a room filled with about six caged cells, all of them with occupants lying on pallets.
She called out in a loud voice "UP, everyone."
Five men got off their pallets and stood to attention facing her. All were naked and what was so obvious was the size of their genitals.
She said, with some pride, "These are my other species experiments. The first one has an apeís testicles, the next is a pigís and the first on the other side is a young bullocks balls which explain why they are so big. This one with the tiny testicles is from a monkey and the last was from a ram.
The last cell contained a pygmy asleep on his pallet. "That one is in a coma and was going to donate his testicles to you. Now you have spoilt my experiment. It has taken quite some time to find a eunuch to experiment on. The pygmy probably wont survive long enough to be of any use."
I was disgusted with this and told her so. It was far worse than I had endured. At least I had found peace of mind in my chastity, which I wouldnít as a freak behind bars.
"They have all adapted very well to their new organs and so far three have fertilised species pertaining to their balls. The other two will be ready very soon. Donít you think it is great work?"
"Oh definitely great." I sarcastically said, "So great that I think you should be part of the experiment."
I opened the gate of the cell containing the poor sod with the bullís balls and, after unfastening her hands I thrust her in and locked the door. I watched for a few minutes and the Ďbullí man grabbed hold of the woman and quickly had her stripped.
Returning to her kitchen I found her mobile phone and went back to her cell. By now he was violently raping the woman and came to a raging climax and he pumped copious quantities of sperm into the woman until it overflowed. Casting her aside he went and laid down on his pallet with a supreme look of satisfaction. She crawled to the bars of the cells and pleaded with me to let her out. I pushed the mobile phone through the bars and suggested that if she wanted to be released she should make a call to the police, who would no doubt be interested in her explanation of her gruesome experiments.
Removing all traces of my presence I let myself out, leaving the front door and Welsh dresser ajar, and returned to my car and drove off a couple of hundred yards and sat and waited. After about three hours a police car arrived and two policemen got out of the car and went into the building. Fifteen minutes later two more police cars, a police van and an ambulance arrived. I felt justice had been done.
After so many years I was used to quick and easy departures from one place to another. My possessions fitted into three suitcases and anything else got trashed. The only consideration was where to go now. Perhaps it was time for a holiday abroad.
Chapter 8 Life AbroadI thought of looking up the people to whom I had given my yacht, but thought better of it since I hadnít aged a year and they must be getting quite elderly, and, perhaps they no longer had the yacht. I didnít fancy a large cruise liner with all its noisy people so I sought out a merchant ship that would take passengers and booked myself the best of the three cabins. I gave the captain owner 10 thousand dollars up front and told him the best of everything was expected. However, he told me that the only condition of accepting the booking was he went to whatever port that was on his schedule. This suited me fine and we set off one fine summer morning from Portsmouth. The only other passenger was a man or was it a woman. It looked like a man but has a substantial pair of breast. I was to hear his story a few days later. The first three days he didnít appear on the mess deck. When he finally appear he was reluctant to enter any conversation but after a few drinks he told me the story.
Chapter 9 The Reluctant Man"My name is Dennis and I am now divorced and I had had rather a strained relationship with my wife sometimes things got rather acrimonius. About six months ago I had a small growth on my stomach so I arranged to have it removed at the private hospital which did plastic surgery amongst other things. I made an appointment and duly showed up and was made comfortable in this single room. The consultant came in and had a chat looked at my stomach at the growth and all so prodded my chest looked down my throat felt my genitals and various things. I thought it was a very thorough check-up for a removal of a growth. I wasnít allowed any food that day as the surgeon said he would do the operation under general anathestic. The next morning a nurse came in and gave me an injection and slowly I drifted in to a deep sleep. The last thing I remember was being wheeled down a corridor."
He stopped his story and had a long drink and then continued.
"The next thing I remember through a fog of post operation haze was my wife, Joyce, sitting by the bed smiling at me. I heard her say "I have really fixed you poor sucker. I just wanted to see you one last time." She said and burst out laughing. At that particular moment I was still to drowsy to realise her humour. I had this tightness in my chest and my throat was dry and an itch in my tummy. I drifted back to sleep and it was the next morning that I woke up and found out the situation I was in. I had a pair of substantial breast which I think you would describe as a C size. I was shocked, appalled I couldnít find words to express my feelings. I rang the bell beside the bed and a nurse came in and I demanded to know what had happened to me. She said to me that all she knew was that the procedure had gone very well. Well I screamed what is this I said to her pointing at my chest. She put her hand over her mouth and ran from the room. A short time later the consultant came in carrying a file and asked me what the problem was. I told him that I came in for a small growth of my stomach and I had two large growths on my chest.
He fiddled with the file and finally produced a sheet of paper and told me that he had done exactly the procedure written on the paper. I told him that I hadnít authorised breast implants. He said to me that my wife had come in a few days earlier and told the consultant that she had agreed to my request to have breast implants as the first stage of gender re-assignments and I had been taking hormones for six months now. She had paid cash for the operation and signed all the documents including forging my signature. She had really stiched me up, I had certainly not had a single hormone tablet and certainly didnít request breasts. My heart was pounding and I asked the consultant what could be done about the situation. I was told that the hospital had two methods, the first was using an inflateable bag in which silicone or brine could be inserted. This was reversible. The second non-reversible procedure used a special body compatible foam was injected through fine needles in various parts of the breast to gradually build up the breast. It quickly bonded with breast tissue and blood cells started to grow through it almost immediately and became part of the body. Your wife had opted for this one. It would require a complicated and expensive operation to remove, which even if you could afford it may kill you. The hospital had no legal duty to remove them as they had two signatures to authorise the procedure. So I have been sporting a fine pair of breast since then. No women will have anything to do with me and whilst I have numerous offers from homosexuals and lesbians thinking I was butch.
I have tried several other surgeons but all say it is too dangerous to do anything I one even suggested I went the whole way and had a gender change. This option doesnít appeal to me I feel like a man and would be psychological wrong as a woman. I can still masturbate and I even find looking at myself naked turns me on."
He turned to me and asked me what I thought about his predicament. I weighed my words carefully and said, "It is certainly a strange story and your ex-wife must have really hated you. In all my life this is the oddest way of getting revenge and in my 70 years your story beats most." I realised suddenly that I had revealed my age and he quickly latched on to it.
"What do you mean 70years? You donít look more than 22." I told him the bare outlines of my life, that I was actually 79 and how I had been turned into a eunuch 54 years ago and given this youth serum which stopped me ageing and gave me perfect health. I also mentioned that this wonder drug was lost to mankind and probably for the best. When I finished my story we both looked at one another and burst out laughing. "Weíre a couple of real freaks," he said "You the eternal eunuch and me the double-breasted man."
After that we became inseparable and enjoyed each otherís company. One night he showed me his breasts and asked me to feel them. They proved sensitive to him and the really were now physically part of him. Stroking the nipples they became engorged just as the females in the Seraglio reacted to the administration of the slaves. This, however, also caused his penis to swell up and he had to go and relieve his sexual tensions. I declined to participate as I still had absolutely no interest in carnal matters.
One day I asked him whether he would be more comfortable wearing womenís clothes. He said he had thought about it but wasnít sure about it. He didnít feel like a woman and would feel very awkward pretending to be what he was not. I said you wouldnít need to wear a skirt or a dress as most women these days wore trousers. You would need to let your hair grow longer or wear a wig and slightly androgynous clothes. There would be less chance that you would look a freak. He didnít think his face was feminine enough to pull it off and I told him I was something of an expert at theatrical and female make-up.
He decided to give it a try and over the next couple of months he let his hair grow and I treated his beard with the permanent hair removal lotion that I always carried around with me, the same stuff I used to remove pubic hair from females. By the time we had reached are final disembarkation port he was already looking less masculine.
Chapter 10 Re-assignmentWe went on a shopping spree and found an hotel where the transformation was to take place. By the time I had finished the make-up and a change of clothes he looked as close to a woman as could be expected. He already had a tenor voice which did not detract from his speech. The shirt/blouse he wore showed off a fair degree of cleavage and the trousers were well fitted but not so tight as to show off his genitals. When we compared photographs of before and after his transformation it was not possible to say it was the same person. He seemed to me natural transvestite and personally I think he should go the whole way and become a transsexual. I put it to him and he thought that whilst he may look like a female he didnít feel like one and also while he had male genitalia he was still a man legally.
I let it ride for a few days and I managed to get some female hormones over the internet and decided I would offer them to him. Surprisingly he took them off me and said he would give it a try. After two months of taking the hormones and being dressed as a woman throughout the period, he expressed his feeling to me one evening as we sat on the porch of the house we had rented.
"David," he said, "over the last four weeks I have noticed a change in my personality. Nowadays I feel more emotional and a strange feeling of peace. I suppose it must be the hormones and I am now embarrassed having male genitalia. I have been thinking that perhaps I should become a female, but the cost of doing so would seriously embarrass me financially."
I told him "Money is no problem as I had considerably more than I should ever want and my investments were bringing me more each day than I spend. If you definitely want to go ahead I will arrange everything."
He replied "That is very kind of you and I will give you a definite answer next week." Sure enough the following week he asked me if I would be kind enough to arrange it. I asked around and found that the best gender re-assignment surgeon was in Holland. We caught a flight to Amsterdam and we went to the clinic to talk to the surgeon. The surgeon asked Dennis to undress and examined him thoroughly particularly his breasts even to the extent of x-raying them. He commented that they were as normal a pair of breast as he would see on a natural woman, even to the extent that they had blood capillaries and nerve cells though out and would probably produce milk. At the lower end he examined the penis and testes and declared that there was a very good chance of making a fine vagina. He turned to me and asked if I had a sexual relationship with Dennis. I told him I was a eunuch and had no sexual interest in males or females. He was slightly taken aback that two men, one half woman, did not have a sexual partnership.
He told my friend to get dressed and then spent half an hour questioning Dennis about why he wanted the change, had he talked to a psychiatrist, and numerous other questions. Finally he said to Dennis that perhaps he should talk to a psychiatrist before making a decision.
Dennis said "I do not want to talk to a psychiatrist. We have come here to buy your services and I see no reason to procrastinate on my decision."
"Alright," said the surgeon, "You must sign a disclaimer that you are going through with the operation of your own free will."
This was alright by both of us and then got down to exactly what the surgeon was going to do. The final outcome was that he would construct the vagina and the labia, remove the prostate and also remove the adamís apple and tighten the vocal chords and minor changes to the face to make it more feminine. The lower rib on each side would be removed allowing for a narrower waist to develop. The schedule was produced in triplicate one to Dennis, one to me and the surgeon keeping the third. Each was signed by all three of us and Dennis signed a disclaimer and witnessed by me.
The date was set for two days time and then Dennis would go in and Denise would emerge. We then went back to the hotel, showered and changed and went sight seeing. Two days later I took Dennis to the clinic and then pottered around Amsterdam for the rest of the day. That evening I rang the clinic to learn that Denise was out of surgery but should not receive visitors until the next morning. I had a solitary meal, drank in the bar until 10 then went to bed. Over the last six months I had had company of Dennis and now actually felt lonely.
The next morning I went to the clinic and was taken to Deniseís room. Lying in the bed was this mummy with bandages from head to groin. I said to him, and realises I should say Ďherí now, how are you and all I got was a squeaky "I feel as if I have been through a mincing machine." I just sat there talking to her and not getting any responses, so after an hour of one sided conversation I left. I think I had driven Denise to sleep with my talking.
Each day over the next ten days I visited the clinic and steadily the bandages were removed and revealed first the bruised face with more prominent cheeks and a smooth neck with just the faintest of scars and a definite feminine look. Then the waist was next unbandaged on the sixth day already showing a narrower waist as the lowest ribsí support had gone. Denise didnít show me her new female genitals until the day she was discharged but said that she would have to keep a support in the vagina for several weeks and gradually increasing the size until it could accept a fully engorged penis up to nine inches long.
I paid the clinic the bill giving them a cheque that would have bought a medium size house but would not have dented my bank account. Denise and I got into my rented car and drove back to the hotel in Amsterdam. We decided to go on another cruise so that she would not be disturbed while Denise got used to her new body. I rented a millionaireís yacht for six months, complete with crew of captain, engineer, cook and steward. It had two luxury en-suite bedrooms, a dining room and a lounge. Also loungers were set out on the deck and the aft of the ship. Denise had to buy a new wardrobe of clothes, including dresses skirts and tops.
We set sail for the Azores to warmer climes and settled down to watch the scenery, if you could call sea and horizon scenery. Fortunately there was a good library of fiction books in the dining room and passed the time as Denise completely healed and all the scars disappeared. The choice of surgeon was well founded as he had made an excellent job. Over the weeks the hormone pellet the surgeon had inserted under Deniseís skin did its work and the hips started swelling out and the buttocks took on a bigger roundness. Unfortunately the bust also went up a size and the brassieres got a little tight. The waist took on a a narrower shape as a result of the corset she had to wear for six months but the garment hardly showed even under a one piece swimming costume. Denise was happy with the change and felt she was no longer a freak and would be able to walk proud in the company of people.
Chapter 11 Deniseís RevengeWhen the six months were up and the yacht returned to its port, I asked Denise what her plans were. She said there was one thing she did want to do but she didnít have any money. I said to that she had £2 million in a bank account I had opened and it only needed for us to go to the bank and get her signature on the deed of gift. The account was in Switzerland as I didnít think grasping governments should have any of it. She started to protest but after a few firm words she thanked me for all my kindness over the last year.
I asked her what this thing she wanted to do and at first was reluctant to tell me as I might regard it as wrong or immoral. I said that I was not there to judge her, so she told me she wanted do something to her former wife Joyce.
"What do you want to do?" I asked and she replied "Revenge of some sort but I donít know yet."
"Let us go and find her." I told Denise. "I havenít any plans and it could prove fun. Tell me about her."
Denise then filled me in about her. She likes to be the centre of attention, which I couldnít be. The result is that we had various arguments about her flirting with other men and forever going to parties. She wanted a divorce and when I wouldnít agree she fixed me. She is very pretty and was a few years younger than me. She enjoyed sex and was on the pill so never got pregnant even though I said we should have a family. She would turn and laugh at me and tell me that I would the last person to father any child of hers.
Next day we returned to England and fairly quickly found out her current address which we found was the house a rich film star. I suggested to Denise that the answer would be a chastity belt, a solution which I had used on various occasions in the past. She thought that Joyce would really appreciate that, but Denise thought that she would be able to eventually escape from a chastity belt. I told him that a good friend of his made an indestructible belt that once on the person could never be removed. It was made of tungsten carbide which was moulded in two halves and while still soft was finished off to a high polish and all rough edges smoothed. There were special sprung locking devices which once engaged could not be separated. The whole device was hardened so that diamond would barely scratch it. However we need a casts of your wife which means abducting her once for making the mould and once for final fitting. We worked on a way to get to her and finally came up with a plan.
She frequented a certain hotel and what we decided to do was wait until she went to the ladies room and once she entered Denise would have the moulding kit and I would place a notice outside the door, dressed as one of the cleaning staff. Denise would fire quick acting tranquilizer pellet into Joyce and when she collapsed I would enter, wedge the door shut and strip Joyce down and make the casts. We were pleased to note that Joyce shaved her crotch which made life easier. It took us less than five minutes to make the casts which I hid it in my cleaning container, dressed Joyce and I departed. Denise gave Joyce an antidote and as Joyce came round she Denise fussed around Joyce telling her that she had passed out and was she alright now. Joyce got up still feeling groggy and thanked Denise and went out. I was watching discretely and observed that she and her lover left almost immediately.
Stage one was complete without suspicions being raised and we left with our parcel. My friend took the casts and proceeded over the next two weeks to make the moulds and cast the two halves. They were works of art and the front section had a moulded relief of two cherubs fondling each other. On the inside of the mould was a hollow metal penis which would fit into Joyceís vagina. It was double hinged so it would follow the movement of the body. Also there was an intricate mesh to allow fluid to be expelled. The back half had an opening for faeces to leave but also there were two fine wires to stop anal sex. However Joyce would have to make use of a bidet frequently.
The second abduction had to be more open. We had learned that Joyce did occasional modelling for an agency and we approached the agency and asked for Joyce to do some modelling for underwear and gave the name of a fictitious underwear manufacture. The date, time and place were given to the lady in charge and we set up cameras and lights so that it would look very professional. On the due day Joyce arrived and Denise told her that the underwear was a chastity belt. She wasnít very sure about it but when we told her the fee she was prepared to proceed.
She stripped off completely, at Deniseís insistence and when naked she produced the belt from its box and told Joyce to lay on the couch and Denise slid the back half under Joyceís posterior and made sure that it was sitting properly. Denise then took the front half and liberally coated the three locking post with araldite. Then gentle guiding the post into Joyceís vagina she was able to close the two halves together with three very positive clicks.
Instructing Joyce to stand up she was asked if it was comfortable and was assured that it was although she was aware of the weight on her hips. Denise took her out to the studio and we took about twenty photographs of her from various angles. I then told Joyce I wanted photographs of her with her clothes on. She asked if the chastity belt was coming off before she got dressed and I said we might need more pictures of the belt. When Joyce went into the changing rooms we quietly departed and went into another part of the building to a room where we could watch her over closed circuit TV. We had left the agreed fee in an envelope and a letter explaining that the chastity belt could not be removed and this was in revenge for giving your ex-husband permanent breasts.
We watched her come out, look round for us, called out "Hello! Where are you?" She then noticed the envelope marked read this. She opened the envelope and saw her fee then took out the letter and started to read. As she slowly digested the information she turned white and hastily took off her skirt and slip and tried to find a catch to release it. The belt had been so beautifully made that there wasnít a crack anywhere. She walked about and suddenly realised that there was something in her vagina that was causing a stimulation. She grabbed for her crotch but met only cold unyielding metal. She couldnít even get her fingers under the edge of the belt. She then started to weep, tears of frustration and rage, she beat the metal and tried pulling it down all to no avail. Realising that she could do nothing she left the building and even left the money behind. We watched her go and drive off to her boyfriendís house. We followed at a discrete distance and watched her run towards the house and suddenly stopped as the vaginal post did its job. She then went in at a gentle pace.
After about half an hour she came out the front door and several suitcases were un-cerimonially thrown out after her and her boyfriend, or should I say ex-boyfriend had realised her predicament and decided she had no further use for her.
Revenge is sweet when the tables are so effectively turned. We saw a little article in the local paper reporting that a woman had called at the hospital saying she was trapped in a chastity belt and efforts from the doctors, fire brigade, mechanical engineers had failed to make a dent on the device and she was still trapped in the belt. There was even a photograph of people surrounding Joyce hardly containing their laughter.
Chapter 12 The ConclusionDenise and kept each other company for the next twenty years. She even tried having sex with a man, but only once. She found it distasteful and there was still part of Denise that was still a man. The problem for us that she was now middle age and I still looked about 30 although I think I was over a hundred by now. Looking back over this journal that I have been writing for many decades reminds me of all the adventures I have had. I did look up Joyce on one occasion, many years ago, and she was working in a public house as a bar-girl. I tried chatting her up and make a date but she replied that she was not interested in men. I left after I finished my drink.
Finally Denise and I went our separate ways and my travels took me to the middle east, somewhere where Syria used to be before the unification of the area into one huge federal state, the United Arab Emirate UAE. The world seemed to be polarising into a few federal states, the United States, the EU, the Pan Asiatic States PAS and a few small conglomerates mainly in Africa and South America. Both these continents could not agree about anything in general.
Whilst I was there, I was lying on the bed one evening when my life overturned in a dramatic way that I could never envisage. A voice in my head said, "Number six report to Caliph Alifa at 4 Melipha Street to-morrow at 1830 hours." I had not had a voice in my head in 70 odd years and I had forgotten about the implanted receiver. I was not sure that the message was for me or someone else. Who else new about the technology? Should I leave immediately and get as far away as possible? If someone else had started another seraglio did I want to be part of it? A prisoner again. I was curious and yet strangely frightened. I did not know what to do? Run or go.
The only thing I didnít want to happen was to lose for posterity my journal which I have painstakingly written. I shall finish now and shall -- mail it to Altair Boy the Third who has been running the web page for the last ten years after his father gave up.
This is the end of my story, I doubt that I will be ever able to add anything to it again. I donít know what is going to happen to me but a strange feeling of foreboding.
If anyone reads my account, see if you can find out what happened to me and add it to this journal.
David Campbell ( 1962 -- at least 2068)
Page last updated 04-Jun-02 by: Altairboy@aol.com