Feminizing The Belligerent Male

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“You have nice skin, Sammy. Like a girl.”

In my recollection, the vulnerable Sammy remains lying strapped to the operating table. I cannot help taunting. It is part of my program of reform... to challenge... to confront the male brawn of the brutes we hold in custody in order to protect the public.

“f**k you!” Sammy erupts.

“f**k me? Sammy it appears you’re the one who’s been well f****d,” I respond with a chuckle.

I lean quite close to Sammy’s face so he has no doubt as to who is hectoring. He glares into my chocolate brown face with surprising defiance. Any other woman would experience concern.... apprehension... perhaps even fear. I experience joy.

“Must have been quite the c**k to tear up that little asshole of yours,” I gently suggest in feigning a whisper, knowing that Dr. Mildred Hofsteter will hear.

The good doctor laughs.

“I agree, Mary. I’ve gotten to know rectums over my years, and this one has been well used. Somewhat tight but curiously pliant. Our Sammy’s backside has been quite the receptacle... used often. But it met its match this time.”

Mildred and I laugh derisively, heightening the ignominy.

“Just how many have you taken, Sammy?” I inquire in smoothing my mocha hand across his forehead, “up the ass…?”

Sammy’s embarrassment is apparent. He has difficulty with the gender equation and there is the ethnic difference he must also confront. Sammy is Caucasian. With limited education and a childhood filled with petty crime, he is otherwise known as w*********h. I am a woman of color with a wholesome upbringing and a blue chip education. Thus he remains silent. Without the use of expletives, which he is beginning to realize have little effect, he cannot formulate a simple sentence.

“Too many to count, Sammy? You’ve been someone’s punch boy?”

I reach under his chest. With arms well strapped he is helpless to resist. I again tweak, this time both n*****s, my fingers sensuously kneading glands in a manner in which even the male will find enjoyment... and he does. Deep within I recognize the response. Dr. Mildred has done well to call me.

“Wish you could see him blush, Mildred. Having smooth skin and taking a large c**k are not the only girlish things I like about Sammy. He likes to feel the hands of a governing woman. I know these things, Sammy. I’m trained to know and I’m paid to know.”

Mildred laughs. Her right hand pulls to tighten one last suture. Then she snips the thread to tie off her handiwork.

“You’ve set a record, Sammy. Never before put so many stitches in such a cute sphincter. You should see his reaction from back here, Mary. This little cockspur is growing. Now you can almost see it.”

Yes, despite the anguish of the many needle pricks, the humiliation of lying naked while my fingers caress and my words mock has brought stimulation. It is a curious form of arousal with which I am enthralled to deal.

“I’ve been looking for someone like you, Sammy. My last maid servant got paroled. You’re going to learn new skills for me.”

“Go f**k yourself.”

“I assure you I will not be the one experiencing such crass interaction, Sammy.”

My hands withdraw. Sammy needs a little lesson concerning manners and how we handle such verbal diarrhea. Dr. Mildred knows to move to a cabinet where she retracts a little harness, similar to a jockstrap.

“Dr. Mildred has just one more procedure before we move you to a recovery room and tuck you in for healing.”

With that I nod to my smug compatriot in disciplining males. Dr. Mildred returns to stand between the calves and works her gloved hands about the about upper thighs and scrotum.

“Such tiny balls, Sammy. I don’t think you’ll miss them.”

With that I grasp Sammy’s ears, once again highlighting our control. Meanwhile my expert friend feels about the testicles. She finds one and presses it upwards, deftly locating one of the inguinal canals from whence the gonad emerged early in life. She presses more firmly and Sammy both lurches and yelps. I hold steady. Denying him the ability to even move his head is more symbolical then useful. But there is a message to be sent.

Yes, Dr. Mildred stuffs the inadequate egg back into its encasement, where it anatomically developed while in the womb then descended into the scrotum. The second gonad joins the first in its respective canal and Dr. Mildred works to encircle Sammy’s waist with the specially designed belt. There is no ‘cup’ to cradle the gonads. Instead, well placed posts of firm rubber, designed to press upwards into the pubes, will forcibly hold the two testicles well up into Sammy’s pubic area. As Dr. Mildred tightens various straps, maintaining pressure at the egress of both canals, Sammy delightfully squirms.

Transvestites have long used the trick to temporarily cloak the embarrassing bulge of maleness. At Hempstead Penitentiary I use the procedure and the special belt to bring more permanent change... more than one of aesthetics.

“Physically you’ll feel a constant but tolerable dull ache, Sammy. In a day or so you will get used to the feeling. But mentally, Sammy, you will be most distressed to know that over time the heat of your body will render your little nuts useless. Heat is bad for sperm production. That’s why nature put your balls where they are. But I want them tucked away where very slowly your own body will bring sterility.

“Plus, I don’t want you prancing about looking like a male. We’re going to change that. And you will come to enjoy the process.”

As Dr. Mildred finishes I release the ears of the mentally overwhelmed Sammy. At some point, at another facility, he has been well used by his fellow inmates. Now it is his turn to serve me... a woman.

But most importantly, Sammy will never again see his little balls. ‘All gone...’ I hear the mocking inflection of the simple words I so much enjoy using to tease.