Feminizing The Belligerent Male

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

“Your asshole has healed nicely, Sammy. It will once again function normally. Hopefully, that will be the only manner in which it is used,” I once again taunt.

Sammy continues to lie supine and strapped to a special bed with his feet in stirrups.

“Bish!” is his laconic slurred response, attempting to pronounce the moniker for a female hound.

“Such a nasty retort to a woman expressing amicable thoughts,” I sardonically suggest.

Nurse Lenita enters, large box in hand. Really more guard and disciplinarian than medical professional, the woman of some forty years is assigned to me. With much training in nursing inmates, she is a no nonsense professional who ensures that my charges are in good health and well cared for... so I can torment longer.

“You’re looking pretty with your earrings. How is your tongue piercing?”

“Go fush yourshelf.”

“Did you hear that, Lenita? Sammy is most truculent this afternoon.”

I smile in imaging what would be flowing from Sammy’s filthy mouth had I not had his tongue pierced with a post and sizable smooth metal ball inserted into the opening. The steel stud results in impaired speech but also provides a trinket that brings lustful thoughts to warm my loins whenever it pops into view.

“Nurse Lenita has some things I want you to wear for me, Sammy. It will help with your attitude.”

The box is opened. My stern friend represses a smile in peering at the large collection of finely crafted steel. Sammy’s measurements were carefully recorded and conveyed to an ex-con who crafts metal. For the past week, I know he has worked diligently while Sammy has rested in recuperation.

First comes the neck collar. Smooth, shiny, highly polished, I know my ex con admirer labored over it with fond memories of the exacting care he received in my disciplinary cells. One never forgets being under my tutelage and I know he produced the bindings with Schadenfreude in envisioning another hapless inmate being subjected to what he had to endure.

Nurse Lenita holds up the collar and unravels the four slim chains attached to eyelets welded about the circumference. When finished she encircles the neck of our protesting Sammy, the chains draping onto his pillow. He sputters futilely in remaining bound to his bed. With the sound of a click the circle snaps shut, appearing seamless and never to be removed other than by acetylene torch.

The chains rattle as he lurches against his bonds. I find the sound to be delicious, something Sammy will be hearing for the remainder of his sentence.

“Get thish thing off me,” he vehemently protests.

I just smile as wrists, biceps just above the elbows, thighs just above the knees and ankles are encircled with similar rings of smooth shiny steel. Snap after snap, Sammy is slowly being immersed into his new life.

“Shackled and chained, Sammy. It will improve your attitude. You’ll feel better under complete control and in strict bondage. We take very good care of pretty maids who take care of us.”

My words bring stunned silence, allowing Nurse Lenita to thread the arm chains from the neck collar through loops in the elbow bands. When the well measured lengths reach the wrist shackles, a large closing device is retrieved from the box. It appears to be a bolt cutter with long handles affording considerable leverage. The knowing Nurse Lenita inserts a matching steel link into the teeth of the device then aligns carefully to connect the end of the chain to a loop on the right wrist band.

With noted sang froid the nurse presses together the handles to crimp closed the connecting link. The left wrist band and chain are similarly attached.

“We’ll need to remove his testicle harness,” Nurse Lenita announces.

Yes, Sammy has worn the evil device for over a week, firmly compressing his balls into the inguinal canals. As prognosticated, the dull aching stopped, his body acclimating and the temperature serving to curtail sperm production... and testosterone flow with it.

“Let’s see if the cremaster muscles have tightened,” I agree.

The harness is unbuckled. Experienced hands slowly pull away the rubber protrusions, which have served to return the male organs to where they nurtured in development some 19 years ago. Two indented marks on the flesh of the pubes evidence the pressure brought by the firm straps.

Nurse Lenita smiles. It is rare, but she knows that the first step of Sammy’s transformation is successful. Though he may squirm, jostle and contract various muscles to allow his gonads to slip back into the scrotal sac, under our exacting care firm fingers will just stuff the shrunken globes right back into the canal. The initial battle has been won. With our foe weakened, it is a simple matter to ensure that the muscles are permanently tightened. Time is now our ally.

“What’s happened to your balls, Sammy? With all your hair gone, you look like a little girl. Very cute.”

Well chosen words, intended to bring consternation. Indeed my Sammy looks down in horror. His male bits have disappeared. Only a small p***s remains. Soon I’ll deal with that too.

“No,” he cries out in alarm, vituperative words lacking.

I smile at the reaction. It is just the beginning.

“Oh, Sammy! It is for the best. There really wasn’t much there... and it causes such behavioral problems. You’ll soon feel better.”

As I speak, Nurse Lenita slips a matching steel waist band under Sammy’s hips. He squirms again, but his bindings make him helpless to resist.

As with the neck collar, chains have been preset. These are quickly looped through the thigh bands and then permanently linked right and left to the ankle bands. Nurse Lenita then attaches the loose chain dangling from the front of the neck collar to the front of the waist belt.

“Now, Sammy, I’m going to fill your bowels and then remove your enema tube. You’re going to hold the liquid for me like a good boy and we’ll get you out of that bed. You’d like to walk for, me wouldn’t you?”

While she opens the valve and allows a moderate quantity of water to flow, Nurse Lenita instructs as if speaking to a child.

Little does Sammy realize the anatomical purpose of having him hold the enema. In pursing the muscles below, closing his sphincter, the contraction will serve to firmly hold his testicles in the inguinal canals. Nurse Lenita is training his muscles and he does not know it.

The sizable tube slides out. Sammy clenches his buttocks as some dozen Velcro straps are released. For the first time in a week, Sammy will be freed of his special infirmary bed.

“Careful, hold your enema like a good boy.”

Yes, we know the initial move will be most determinative of the newly tightened status of the cremaster muscles. As Nurse Lenita assists in helping the lad stand, his buttocks squeeze most embarrassingly.

“I need the bashroom.”

“Hold one second.”

Under the guise of attaching the final chain from the rear of the neck collar to rear of the waist belt, the experienced nurse makes Sammy contract those telling muscles while she leisurely works to close the final link. With a sly smile I note that there is no sign of those annoying eggs appearing. Sammy has been returned to a prepubescent state.

I feel a twinge in my loins thinking about it.