Justice In 2026 Part 1 free porn video

Justice in 2026 by Jenile Efhratum The Frame, Conviction & Sentence Year 2026 I was just a normal young man trying to get his bearings on life after a messy divorce. I had been married to a lovely girl, Carolyn, but three years into our marriage, she said she wanted out and also wanted alimony, most of my property, and I really think the blood from my veins. It was just three days after we had returned from Aspen after a wonderful two weeks of skiing. At least they were wonderful for me as I just love the skiing, the social associations and the magnificent night life. Carolyn didn't ski nearly as well as I did, and we only spent two days on the slopes together. Other than that, she joined a class of similarly skilled skiers and I went off on my own. In the evening, we would meet for drinks, take in a sauna or hot pool plunge, then a lovely dinner, maybe some night clubbing or dancing and then back to our lodge of a night of love and rest. It turned out that she didn't have quite as much fun as I did. At least not with me. Well, she had fun during the day when I was off skiing, but it was with her ski instructor, and they didn't spend all their time on the slopes. Anyway, it came out of nowhere, her demand for a divorce and most of my money. We fought it out in the courts and eventually she got what I would have given her anyway, half of our assets and no alimony. But we were both embittered by the entire affair. By the way, my name is Jeremy Linkson. I am twenty-nine years old and a computer programmer by trade. For the last three years, I have been on my own, working for the highest bidder on an hourly rate. Currently it was $600 per hour. Not a lot in this day and age, but certainly not bad for a young man. Well, Carolyn was gone for a year now, I was living and working out of my apartment in Northwest side of Chicago. It was rather spacious for a single man, a bedroom, a study, a living room and small kitchen for just $6000 a month. It wasn't exactly a slum, but it wasn't on the luxurious side either. But the study was also my office, in fact nearly the entire apartment was my office and I wrote nearly 40% off on my taxes. I didn't date at all for the first six months, but lately had been taking a few girls out. Nothing serious but sometimes sensual. At least Aids was no longer a fear. About ten years ago this disease had been eradicated along with most sexually transmitted diseases, but the young men and women of my generation were still not that sexually promiscuous. Those over twenty or so, had all grown up with that specter ingrained in our heads since we were born and hadn't really gotten over it. But the teenagers were quickly changing the morals of our nation. Teenage pregnancies which had bottomed out at the turn of the century were rising at an alarming pace again. One of the girls I had met was a young woman by the name of Susanna Morton. She was only twenty-five but had a eight year old girl. She had been left in the lurch by her early high school lover, and was still a bit bitter about men. I had though she was quite beautiful until I met her, but it went down hill during our first and only date. Every time she spoke, it was complaining or some inane remark that I thought was ill advised or even gross. By the time I left her, I wondered what I had seen in this creature. She no longer appeared quite as lovely as when I had first asked her out. Well, that is one of the hazards of single dating. I thought I had seen the last of Ms. Morton, but she soon started phoning me on a regular basis. Each day she would leave six or seven messages in my phone mail. Some were just begging messages to go out with her again, then she might try and get sexy and start moaning and groaning like a woman in the midst of coital love. And finally, she would start threatening me if I didn't call her. About two days later, I went out to my car and saw her sitting down the street in her car, just looking at my apartment. I got in and drove away and she started following me. She never approached me, just spent hours in front of my apartment and followed my car where ever it went. This was getting unnerving. I considered going to the police, but then decided to just wait her out. No encouragement and she might eventually latch on to some one else as an object of her sick little games. At one of my clients, I had met another young programmer, a quite lovely female. She worked for LCD and her name was Rebecca Willard. She was assigned to me as my contact with my programming work, and eventually, the acquaintance grew into a friendship, and then into just a little bit more. In fact I looked forward to my four or five hours a month at LCD, just for the chance to be with her. We had lunch nearly every day I was at her office, and I made sure that my office time included the lunch hour. As we were business associates, we split the bill after each lunch, she paying one time and me the next. We could both take at least part of it as a business expense. As our friendship grew, we started to occasionally take in a concert or a basketball game together, then a late supper and we would part with a handshake. I felt and I think she agreed, that due to our business relationship, it would be in very poor taste to really start dating in a more serious manner. Rebecca was an extremely well built young lass, long dark brown hair, and about five foot, eight inches tall. At times I felt I was falling in love with her, but I kept my emotions in check. There were a number of other young girls who I dated once or twice, but after meeting Rebecca, I soon lost interest in them. Somehow, I enjoyed Rebecca more as a friend that any of the others as lovers. It was on Tuesday morning, March 4th at two p.m. that my nightmare began. I had spent the morning at my computer. I put on the interface, a light weight cap that electronically sent my thoughst to the computer, which then developed a three dimensional hologram in the middle of the room if the subject lent itself to this display. Otherwise, it would throw a two-dimensional image on the far wall, which I kept a flat white for just this purpose. One might think that programming was much easier this way, than in the early days of computers when one sat a keyboard in front of a monitor and pounded out his code, line by line, in a written program. But this wasn't really true. Now, the skill wasn't in knowing the code, this was almost automatic, but the real proficiency lay in understanding what the user would need and like in the older days of programming, figuring all the ways the user could screw up the program and then putting checks and error corrections to keep him on the right track. It was really mentally exhausting work requiring both logical thought mixed with a vivid imagination. And I seemed to have both assets. I had started around 7:30 in the morning, took a half hour break around 10:00 and was then back at again, when video door monitor sprang alive and announced I had guests. I looked up and saw the faces of a man in civilian clothes flanked by two police officers. "What can I do to help you gentlemen?", I asked over the video phone. The plain clothed one answered, "If you are Jeremy Allan Linkson, we have some questions to ask of you concerning one of our investigations." He flashed his badge to the camera, and I pressed the button that allowed admission. I took off my interface helmet, unlocked the door and greeted them. The first words spoken by the detective came out and shocked me to my soul. "We are here to arrest you on First Degree Sexual Deviant Behavior. Of course it is your right to remain silent and you also have an right to an attorney. Anything you say or do may well be held against you." With those words, the two uniformed police, hand cuffed me, and pushed me out the door. The detective locked the door behind, and I was hustled downstairs and into a waiting police car. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I had listened to the detectives verbal warning and decided I would just wait and find out. I didn't say a thing on the entire way to the police station. While I was being booked I was informed of the charges. Illicit sexual behavior with one Kathleen Morton, eight year old daughter of Susanna Morton. I suddenly remembered Susanna, the bad night with her and remembered her saying something about the little daughter, but I hadn't even met the little girl and certainly had not had "illicit sexual behavior" with the little girl. And even more, I regretted not reporting her stalking of me to the police. I was taken to a cell, locked up and made to cool my heels for about two hours before I was allowed to make a phone call to an attorney. When I got my chance, I called a friend who was a lawyer and told me what had happened. "Jake, can you help me, or at least recommend someone who can?" "Just hang on, and I will be right down. I can handle this for now, and then we can get a attorney more attuned to this type of charge to defend you. But first, we just have to get you out of there." Jake got there within the hour and when allowed to see me, said, "Look Jeremy, you are to be arraigned in about an hour. Then bail will be set and I can get you out of here. Now start telling me what happened and what charges have been place against you." I quickly told him, and also told him about my one date with Susanna Morton and how she had been stalking me for the last nine weeks, besides making a pest of herself on my voice mail. "I was going to report her to the police, but decided against it as I thought she would soon tire of her crazy pastime. I was evidently very wrong. How the hell does one defend himself against wild accusations like she has made?" Jake replied, "I just don't know, but it will be very messy. I believe we have a real ding bat on our hands and can be very dangerous if she acts rational in court. It is her and her daughter's word against yours. I don't envy your position one bit." Twenty minutes later, I was in court and in front of the judge. She read the charges and put bail at $280,000. This was about a year's pay for the average man, but I could handle it right on my cash card. The trial was set for two weeks from the following Monday. Jake and I paid my bail, and I received my possessions back, we left the Justice Center and Jake gave me a lift home. During the ride, he told me, "I have this friend that specializes in cases such as yours. His name is Jonathan Ivan and I believe you must know him. He is very expensive, but worth it. I will contact him and see if he is available to take your case." I answered Jake, "Yes, I know Jonny, he and I were at the University of Chicago at the same time." He let me off in front of my apartment building and said he would stay in touch. I went upstairs into my apartment and dropped on the chair, really wondering what was to become of me. The law had gotten very tough in cases like these and a common penalty was either chemical or physical castration, depending on the serious of the case and the whims of the presiding judge. Chemical castration was usually for a period of years, but physical castration of course was permanent. I had never thought much about it except to think that the bastards got what they deserved. And the state had very few repeat offenders. But now I was the 'bastard' accused of raping this little girl, and either punishment seemed reprehensible to me. I just sat there trying to think of some defense, but since I hadn't done anything, didn't even know exactly what specifically I was accused of doing and when I ostensibly did the foul deed. Well there was nothing to do right now, so I would just wait until Jake got Jonathan Ivan, the man who was going to defend me in court. I checked my voice mail, and found a message from Rebecca. I immediately called her back, and soon saw her lovely visage on my monitor. She told me, "Jeremy, we have a trial date for your new program and it is set for a month from tomorrow. Can you have it done by then?" "I don't really know, I haven't started on it yet and am not sure what it will entail, but I imagine I can. Unless I run into some real hang up, it shouldn't be too much of a bother, just time for testing will be the main block. But I will have it for you." "But Rebecca, I just got picked up by the police today and booked on child molesting charges. A girl I dated awhile back, Susanna Morton, the one I told you that was stalking me, well, she pressed charges that I sexually molested her eight year old daughter, Kathleen. I am out on a $280,000 bail. I think I am in serious trouble and I haven't even seen this little girl in my entire life. I don't know what I can do." "Oh, Jeremy, this is impossible. Why would any woman make up horrible charges like this. She must hate you something fierce." "I have no idea why, I think she is insane. I spent less than three hours with her on just one night of my life. I didn't like her and took her home early, just as soon as courtesy allowed. My trial is in two weeks. And you know what they do with convicted child abusers." "Yes, I am well aware of the mutilation that often follows conviction. But most assuredly, you will be found innocent. Unfounded charges like these just can't hold up in court." "Well, I certainly hope not, but I am worried just the same. But, I am taking too much of your time. We can talk further at some later date. And I will try and meet your time schedule for implementation for the program, but this damn trial might be some what of a hindrance." I hung up and turned on my computer and was soon immersed back in my programming. Nothing like work to get your mind off your troubles. Two days later I had an appointment with Jonathan Ivan at his office. I went in and gave my name to the receptionist and almost immediately, Mr. Ivan walked out and greeted me. He ushered me into his office, told me to take a chair, and started talking. "The charges are quite specific. Allegedly, you had the girl, Kathleen Morton, perform oral sex on your penis on the afternoon of February 26th, 2026. Then there is more about your fondling her, and finally threatening her if she told anyone. So just where were you on the afternoon of the 26th. Any idea." I thought a moment and said, "No, I have no idea. Most likely I was in my apartment working on some program. But Ms. Morton was stalking me at that time and most likely, she knows exactly where I was at the time. So I am sure that I don't have an alibi. But I can check my work at home, I time and date stamp all of my work and maybe I can establish something that way." "Well, it is worth a try, but the evidence would probably be thrown out. You are a computer programmer and could doctor up any amount of fake alibi's that way. But I guess it is our best hope," Jonathan replied. "What it all comes down to is their word against yours I guess. If I can break either the mother or the little girl down, we have a chance. But if they are very very good, you chances of acquittal are bleak. Well, that is all for now, I just wanted to make sure you were the same Jeremy Linkson that I remember from college and it is good to see you again, but really not under these unfavorable circumstances. And your case is about what I expected. Did you mention this stalking to anyone?" "I told a female business associate, Rebecca Willard, something about it, but I don't think I mentioned it to anyone else. I nearly reported it to the police, but decided against it. Now I really wish I had." Jonathan then said, "I will get a private detective on the case. Maybe with pictures of the lady and her car, he can find someone in your neighborhood who remembers seeing the car or the lady in the area. That is about our best hope. But if I can prove she was stalking you before the 26th of February, we have a fairly good case." "That is it for now, but I will keep in touch and you let me know what you find in you programming records. And check your work log also. You must have one for billing purposes." I answered, "Yes, I do. I keep it by the day and the hour. I should have thought of it, but unfortunately, it is just a computer record also and equally subject of my manipulation." When I got home, I turned on the computer and checked my log. I had been working on a program for Holden & Culler that afternoon. I checked my backup of these and found three date and time stamps on three bits I had done that afternoon. I called Mr. Ivan's office and left as message with this information on his voice mail. I called Rebecca at LCD and left her a message to call me at her first opportunity. Later when Rebecca called back I asked her if she could testify at my trial, concerning any thing and everything I had ever mentioned about the stalking of Ms. Morton. "I really don't remember much", she answered. "Only that you did mention it a number of times. In fact I remember you joking about it just a little. But exactly what you told me and when it was, I really can't recall. But I will think on it and maybe something will bounce out of my subconscious." That was about everything I could do to prepare for my trial. On the morning of the trial, I met Jake and Mr. Ivan at the courthouse and we went in and sat down. Jonathan had come up with nothing from his detective, and my portable computer and the files I had loaded were our main defense. Then Rebecca came in and took a seat in the back of the room. Judge Lisa Lindstrom came into the court room, called it to order and the trial started. It was a short and simple, a disaster for me. First the mother and then the daughter took the stand. The mother made up some song and dance about our dating quite a bit and how I showed an unusual interest in her little girl. She went on and told how little Kathleen had been acting strangely, and when pressed had admitted what I had made her do to me. Mr. Ivan tried to budge her from her story, but she had it done pat, with dates and places we had allegedly gone. Always just the two of us at places where we would be lost in the crowd or not observed at all. Then the little girl took the stand, and from the vantage point of the prosecution, she was great. A cute little girl, she managed to tell her story through her tears, and when she said, "And he grabbed my head by my hair and forced my mouth on his thing, and it was just awful" and started a torrent of tears again. For the second time that day, Mr. Ivan couldn't budge the little liar from her story. She was either a great little actress or actually now believed what she was saying. I couldn't tell, but I knew that I would tend to believe her if I hadn't know she was lying. I was the first witness for the defense. I told my story about my one short date with Susanna Morton. I had never met her daughter and certainly hadn't molested the little girl. I showed my computer programs pointing out the date and time stamps and then my daily log. Upon cross examination, the assistant district attorney quickly tore my total alibi in shreds. I was a talented programmer and could very easily have faked all of the documents I had shown. Then Rebecca was called, and she gave her story, but it was quite non-specific. Just that I had told her about the stalking of Ms. Morton, but she wasn't really sure of the dates when I had mentioned it. The prosecutor asked what her relationship was with me and she said, "Business associates. I work for LCD and Mr. Linkson does contract programming for our company. I am his chief liaison with the company." "And you have developed a close relationship?" "Yes", Rebecca answered. "And would this relationship extend beyond the business world?" "Well, we are good friends now. But we don't date or anything like that." "Have you ever gone anyplace with him of a social nature?" "We have attended a couple of concerts and a basketball game or two. But that is all we did. I think we both felt that anything beyond that would jeopardize our business relationship." "Then you do have thoughts that might be considered just a little more than a casual relationship." "I can't really say because I just don't consider it." "That will be all Ms. Willard. You can leave the stand now." Rebecca left the stand, walked down the aisle and out of the court room, I presume returning to her position at LCD. At least that was the last I saw of her that day. The prosecution summed up and then the defense. Mr. Ivan did an excellent job, but had little to work with. The jury was out less than an hour. When they returned the foreman stood up and she proclaimed, "Guilty as charged." The judge thanked the jury for their excellent decision and dismissed it from the court. She then looked at me and proceeded to pronounce sentence. "Mr. Linkson, you have been found guilty of First Degree Deviant Sexual Behavior. Your sentence consists of the following. 1. You will be immediately taken to the Police infirmary and be surgically castrated. By this surgery, you will never be able to sexually molest any young girl again. 2. You will have a slow release estrogen and progesterone capsule implanted underneath your skin on our thigh and will get replacements every six months for the next five years. These female hormones should alter your mental attitude so you won't want to molest young woman. 3. You are placed on probation for five years. During that time you will appear in public, only dressed in female clothing. Hopefully, with the removal of your gonads and the subsequent cessation of all testosterone secretions, along with the female hormones and the dress requirements, you will completely change your life style and no longer be a menace to our society. 4. You will report to this court in two weeks time so I can review your progress and ascertain you are living as a female. Then, you will report once a week to your assigned probation officer who will ascertain that you are no threat to the public at large and are dressing as required " "That is my verdict and you, Jeremy Linkson are remanded over to the police authorities for execution of my sentence." Chapter Two The Mutilation Upon my sentence, I was immediately hand cuffed and led out of the courtroom by two officers. We walked to their police car, I was shoved in the back and the two policeman got in the front. A two or three minute ride, and we were in a garage, evidently the police garage, as about half the cars in the place were patrol cars. The policeman escorted me up the stairs, through a corridor and finally into the lockup. I was in a cell by myself and one of the officers just laughed and said, "Well, this will take just an hour or two, and then you will get the first part of your sentence, young man, or maybe I should say young girl. In less than two hours, one won't be able to tell much difference. Enjoy your last moments as a man." If my lawyers could get an appeal, it wouldn't do me much good. I was going to be subject to this harsh sentence less than three hours after judgement was handed down. There had been a lot of public commotion about the time between judgement and execution of sentence and consequently, now it was done immediately. I sat down on the only bit of furniture in the cell, a commode that at least had a cover on it. I couldn't really believe that this was happening to me. A completely innocent man that had been railroaded into this conviction. In fact, the entire incident wasn't even seeming very real to me. I thought, "The state is going to castrate me, fill my body with female hormones and force me to dress as a woman for five years." "This couldn't really be happening to me". I couldn't believe it. "And who really gives a damn how a castrated man dressed, that is except his friends and business associates. That judge was a vicious and sadistic woman." I just sat on that toilet for the next hour in a daze. It was very akin to being sentenced to death, a least for a normal male. Then they came for me and led my down the corridors until we were at a door that said, 'Medical Clinic" on it. Once inside, I was told to strip completely and get up on a flat table. Reluctantly I complied and then was immediately strapped down, legs spread eagled and fastened to outriggers such as are common on delivery tables, arms at my side and also fastened, and my head rigidly strapped with a band around my forehand. I was completely immobile and felt very exposed and vulnerable. Hell, I was exposed and vulnerable. I lay there for about five minutes or so, when a man in a medical gown came and looked at me. "First, we have a spray, one recently developed, that is sort of a depilatory. The only thing different about it, the loss of hair is permanent." He first sprayed my stomach, then my chest and finally my neck and face. "We will just let that sit for eighteen minutes, and then we will wipe it off and you will have the most hairless face and chest in the city, at least among most men." I just lay there, not really believing what was happening. But as promised, he was back and started wiping off my stomach, then my chest and finally my neck and face. He commented, "Now you look just peachy keen. And I must say, you are beginning to look just a little effeminate without your beard. Well, this is just to help you in the next five years of your sentence. You know, we couldn't have you running around the city, dressed as a woman and having a beard or a mustache" He left but was soon back with another canister. He forced open my mouth and squirted about a half a cup inside my throat, then closed my mouth. He said, "Just gargle it around a bit and then swallow it. There is no hurry, in fact the longer you hold it in your mouth, the more pronounced the effects will be." The stuff tasted vile and I hesitated to swallow it, but finally I did, nearly gagging in the process. "That", he said, "is a little concoction that was developed for throat cancer. And lo and behold, it was discovered that not only it helped suppress the cancer, it also raised the voice about an half an octave or so. We will give you a prescription for a quart of this medicine so you can continue with it at your home. You might not want it now, but I know you will appreciate our thoughtfulness over the next few years." "And now I have another surprise for you. This is a another spray, one that will render you painless." With that he slapped a gauze mask over my nose and mouth and sprayed something on it. Nearly immediately, I could feel my body numbing and within two minutes, I felt like a disembodied sole. But my hearing, and eyesight, and my mind seemed unaffected. I tried to protest, but the damn anesthetic had immobilized every muscle in my body, except for the essentials required for life such as breathing. In addition, I could still hear and see as my ears and eyes seemed to be unaffected. The nameless man just said, "We just want you to know what is happening. It would be inhuman to put you under and have to wake up and find out what was done to you. So you will be able to see and understand everything, we used this special type of anesthetic. I am sure you will be intrigued with the next hour or so. We have even provided mirrors so you won't miss a thing." He moved out of my eye range and was soon replaced by three more individuals, also dressed in operating gowns. Two men and a woman. The woman then said, "Doctor, since you are doing the breasts, please allow me the honor of removing his testicles." The smaller of the two nodded assent, and the woman reached down over my groin, being very careful not to block my view. It only took less than two minutes. First she sprayed a mist on my scrotum, picked it up in her left hand and took a scalpel in her right and made a short incision through the center of my scrotum. Then with a flick of her scalpel, she first removed my right testicle. She picked it up in her gloved hand and held it in front of my eyes and said, "This is number one. Now let's try for number two." Again, she used to her hand to open the incision in my scrotum and then her scalpel was in and out again. She picked up the second testicle and held it up to my face to be sure that I could see them, then put them in a jar of liquid, and returned her attention to my scrotum. "God", I thought, "They really castrated me, I am no longer a man." I just couldn't believe it had happened but I had seen it with my own eyes. And tears were sort of blurring my vision to see what would happen next. I hoped that nothing more was in store for me, but realizing that I had lost my balls, I was in somewhat of shock. The female doctor then turned and indicated that she wanted sutures and needle, but first she said to the senior surgeon, "Doctor, this young man no longer has a need for this excess skin. Do I have your permission to just remove it from his body? Or why not remove both his penis and his scrotum. May I have your permission to remove them while I am here? I would leave just a little hole in his groin for his urethra. Sort of shave him close as the Egyptians used to say. Then he would have to urinate as a woman also, something that I believe to be quite fitting." The other doctor said, "No, we are under court order and just have instructions to castrate this man." The woman was determined however and said, "I will just open up the scrotum widely, tuck his penis inside and suture the entire scrotum to his groin. I would surmise that this procedure will provide the desired result. In this way, he will have to urinate sitting down, but won't be able to enjoy the obvious benefits of the vulva as if he were a real woman." The senior physician just sort of sighed and said, "I really don't understand, why the judge doesn't let us completely eliminate his male organs and construct a vulva and vagina in this young man. It seems it would be a more fitting punishment and yet much more humane. But, that is our legal system, so go ahead and do as you desire." The young female surgeon seemed to smile and then said to me, "Now watch closely, I want you to see what is happening to you. When I am finished, you won't effectively have a penis any longer. Just a little hole in your groin where you will still be able to urinate, but nothing more. The penis will be permanently embedded underneath the skin of your crotch." She turned to me with a scalpel in her hand, and first slit open my scrotum from top to bottom, leaving the skin attached to my body underneath and on both sides of my penis. She then split the scrotum in two parts, pushed my penis down between my legs, and then sutured first one of the flaps over it and then the other. When she was finished, my groin appeared devoid of any sexual attributes, just the tip of my penis extending out of the new mound towards the rear of my crotch. And I couldn't see that until the female doctor got a hand mirror and showed me the end result of her handiwork in great detail. And I was now a eunuch. A man in name only with just a little hole to urinate with in the rear of my groin. I wasn't even slightly male nor was I female. However, the complete absence of the penis made me appear more female than male. But there was no vulva, or even a hint of any thing sexual down between my legs. My crotch was just smooth featureless skin. The second doctor, the shorter man, then said to me, "Mr. Linkson, as you are going to be living as a woman for the next five years, how about some nice big breasts to help you in this illusion. No answer? I take that as agreement and even if you didn't agree, I would still be obligated to perform this little bit of plastic surgery. So consequently, soon you will have the large breasts of a young girl." I tired to scream, "No", but my vocal cords weren't functioning at the time. The doctor bent over my now hairless stomach and made an incision in the center of my navel. He fed a tube up under my skin and with some manipulating of his fingers on his end of the tube, he seemed to be burrowing over my left ribs, sort of cutting a path under the skin of my chest as he maneuvered the instrument at the end of the tube. I could see in the mirror, the movement of the tube up my chest until it was right under my left nipple. The doctor then pulled out the cutting instrument, reached for a small package of teflon material and fed it into the tube. He plugged in another medical device and pushed the teflon to the end of the tube, manipulated it for a moment and finally appeared satisfied. Pulling out that device, he hooked the tube to a canister of some sort, turned the valve and said, "Now watch and you can see your new breast being formed. And I used the largest size we had as you're a quite a large person and deserve very large breasts." And as I watched, I was horrified to see the skin around the nipple swelling and expanding, and a about two minutes later, I could see in the mirror a great enlargement on the right side of my chest. I was surprised that my skin didn't rupture, but it seemed to be quite elastic. My left nipple was now nearly double the size of my right nipple and my previously flat chest appeared like I had a soft ball implanted underneath. And to me, it appeared grotesque. Nothing very natural, it looked more like a large cancerous growth, very firm, very large and very taut under the skin of my left nipple. He withdrew the tube and did the same thing again, this time he moved the instrument over my right ribs. The entire procedure was repeated and then the tube came out and a two sutures were placed in my navel. This entire procedure took less than thirty minutes. When he was finished, he picked up a hand held mirror and slowly moved it around both of the nipples on my chest. Looking into the mirrors overhead, I was given a very clear picture of the two very large and artificial appearing breasts he had just created on my chest. In the last hour, I had not only been depilated of all hair on my chest, stomach and face, I had been castrated, my penis had been sutured under my scrotum and now had large implants in my chest. To say it mildly, I was not a happy camper. In fact, my life as I had known it, was now finished. He then told me, "Don't worry about the tightness right now. The skin on your chest will adapt to them in less than a week and your new breasts will be much more natural looking. Right now you may not think so, but given just a few days while your skin stretches over the implants, you will want a brassiere not only for appearance, but for comfort. I imagine they well soon be jiggling around on your chest, much heavier, fuller and more pliable than they currently seem. You will then have big and lovely breasts, breasts that will elicit stares of admiration by nearly every man that sees you. You have our 'A1' specials, the very finest and largest we can implant." He turned to his male nurse and said, "Please hand me the EPT capsule." The doctor made a small slit in my right thigh with his scalpel, inserted the capsule, and quickly dressed the very minor wound. He told me, "The EPT capsule will release a constant measured amount of the female hormones, estrogen and progesterone with just a touch of testosterone into your system for the next six months. And as your testicles, the source of your testosterone, have been removed, you should rapidly start developing the secondary characteristics of a young nubile female. It seems to work unfailingly in young girls at puberty and should work just as well on you." "The small secretion of testosterone is just a little something added to give you the illusion of desiring some sex, but of course this will be completely impossible, either as a male or female. It can really be quite frustrating." "Your skin tone should become softer and more feminine, maybe with some slight lessening of your remaining body hair, your waist will tend to slim down and your hips will expand. And quite possibly, your implants on your chest might just get some additional help and you might just end up with really tremendous breasts." "And usually, as is the case of many transsexuals, you will find your masculine muscle structure diminishing and will most probably develop a thin layer of subcutaneous fat over most of your body, just the female way of staying warm in addition to lending a feminine grace to your entire body, especially your legs. In fact, I do believe that you will take on the appearance of quite a fine looking young lady in a month or two." Then I was unstrapped, transferred to a gurney and rolled out of the clinic, down the hall, and deposited in a hospital bed, locked in the room and left alone. I lay there paralyzed for the next two hours, but slowly the feeling in my body returned, along with considerable pain, both in my groin and on my chest. My thoughts were a blur. I had been sentenced to have my balls cut out, but nothing about the loss of my facial hair, the attempted change of my voice, or especially, the breast enlargement. I couldn't move or speak, but I had seen with my own eyes everything they had done to me. The dose of estrogen was no surprise because it also was part of the sentence. I knew full well that estrogen was the primary female hormone, but had no idea what effect it would have on either my body or my mind. And I remembered reading the progesterone was the hormone that developed women's breasts and also helped in the production of milk. Eventually, I fell asleep as the gas they given me had left me extremely drowsy. The next thing I knew it was morning. I woke up when a trustee came in with my breakfast; a light one of juice, soft boiled egg, toast, and coffee. He set it on the table by the bed and left the room and locked the door behind him. I was lying on my back, but I rolled over and raised my self on one elbow and was immediately aware of two sensations, the pain in my groin and the weight on my chest. I looked at my chest and saw these two very large protrusions. My other hand came up and touched them and I felt that they were both sensitive and definitely an intrinsic part of my body. I sat up in bed and looked down at my chest and was repelled by the two large mounds of flesh thrusting out. Each of my new breasts were very firm and tight and the areola on the top of each mound was much enlarged and at my touch, was very sensitive. Looking over the top of these damn things, I discovered just one little piece of tape over my belly button and another piece of tape on my thigh. The implant of female hormones I remembered. I examined my groin and saw nothing but a large bandage. "What the hell, I am going to find out exactly what is left." I pulled off the bandage and discovered nothing but a seamless groin, it was just a pink, puffy and very sore stretch of smooth skin, nothing was there at all. But deep between my legs, I found the end of my penis, or rather, just the tip of my penis flush with the skin of my old scrotum. "Damn, damn it to hell, why did they have to do this to me also." But then I thought, "Hell, my life as a man is over. A dork is rather useless without the balls, and now the dork was essentially gone too." I fastened the bandage back on and slowly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand up. I found I could do this although every movement hurt like hell. I sat back down on the side of the bed and decided that I had better try and eat something. I drank the juice and toyed with the egg and toast, ate most of it, but then quit and sipped my coffee. At least the coffee was good in this god damned place of mutilation. I just sat there on the side of the bed, completely nude with my new breasts weighing on my chest and was feeling pretty miserable and sorry for myself when the trustee came back with his arms full of clothing. He set the clothing at the end of the bed, sort of stared at me for a moment, and then said, "Hey, for a man, those are about the biggest jugs I have ever seen. They really did a job on you didn't they?" I just looked at him and sort of smiled and said, "Yes, they really did quite a job on me.", and was further amazed at the pitch of my voice. Damn it, I was sounding like a female also. I buried my face in my hands was then reminded of the last indignity they inflicted on my body. My face was hairless and smooth. Absolutely no beard or stubble on my face. I felt tears falling down my cheeks and didn't really give a damn. Then and there I decided that I was better off dead than trying to live a life in this completely mutilated body. This wasn't a desperate decision, it was a despondent decision and I knew that I would end my life with in the next few hours and I didn't give a damn. The trustee watched this entire event, seeing the anguish on my face and then said to me, "Buddy, just buck up and accept your fate. Bad things happen to us all. Now get dressed and I will be back in ten minutes to take you to your next session. I'm afraid they aren't completely done with you quite yet." He left and locked the door behind him again and I just sat there for a moment. I and didn't really care what additional torture the state had in mind for me. If they had wanted to break my spirit, they had succeeded. I had no will left to fight and just didn't give a damn what happened to me. I thought, "How can I even move, let alone get dressed. I hurt all over but I attempted to move and found out that I could. I finally stood up and reached for the pile of clothes, only to discover that it was all female clothing, a pair of panties, a bra, nylon panty hose, a blouse and skirt. And a pair of shoes that looked very much like ballet slippers. At first, I mentally refused to put these clothes on, but just standing their nude, I realized that I wouldn't get anything else to wear. And I hoped if I got dressed, I would be released from this place of torture. I first put on the cotton panties, much like my own jockey shorts, just no slit in the front. I eschewed the bra and the panty hose. Hell, I wasn't trying to look like a woman, just get the hell out of this place. Then thought better of this and maybe, without these garments, I wouldn't get out. I sat down on the side of the bed, put my hand down inside the hose, and found the end, then put it over my toes, and pulled the left side up over my calf. I did the same with the other foot, then stood up and pulled the entire bit up to my waist. I then picked up the brassiere, put my arms through the straps, fitted the cups over my fake breasts, and struggled to fasten it behind my back. I looked down and it was a low push up bra that left quite a bit of flesh exposed. And with these two pieces of lingerie on, I was really feeling like a flaming queer, but who cared, at least I didn't. If they wanted me to be queer, I would be queer. I picked up the blouse, a cheap rayon garment, but with frills around the rather large collar and down the center of the front and the wrists. It took a minute or so to button it, both due to the pain in my chest and the fact the buttons were on the wrong side. And then I discovered why the "collar" was so large. It was fairly low cut and my new boobs were pushing it out in front and the cleavage of my new fake breasts was quite evident. Then I stepped into the skirt, zipped up the side and buttoned the one button at the top. With the hose underneath the skirt, the blouse just covering those new mounds on my chest, I felt very weird to say the least. Finding a chair in the room, I picked up the slippers and sat in the chair, leaning over and managing to get them on my feet. I just sat there for the next ten minutes, feeling exhausted, in pain, and also feeling that nothing really mattered anymore. The trustee came back and said, "You are lucky, you are out of this hell hole in a couple of hours. But first you have to come with me." He walked slowly down the corridor, but I had trouble keeping up as every step I took was like torture with the pain in my groin. About fifty feet down the hall, he turned into a room and I discovered I was in the jail barber shop, just two chairs and three attendants, a man and two fairly young girls. The male attendant said, "Now here comes our little woman. Just sit down in this chair and we soon have you looking just radiant." It turned out, he wasn't an attendant but a fairly skilled hair replacement technician. I had seated my self in the chair, not because I wanted to look radiant, but because I was so sore, anything would be better than standing there. He then proceeded to pull out hair swatches and placed them against my head and was finally satisfied with the match. He went to a cupboard and pulled out a wig of human hair, and placed it over my head. After a few minutes of adjusting the hair piece to my scalp to his satisfaction, he started fastening it to my head. He was very adept and very skilled in his work and less than an hour later he was finished. He had pulled every hair on my head through the mesh base of the wig and then using two or three hairs each time, he had tied the wig securely to my scalp with what seemed like over one hundred separate little knots. When he was finished, he pulled on a hank of hair and I grimaced as it felt like he was pulling my own hair. He started brushing the long hair around my head and face, speaking, "Just treat this as if it was your own. Shampoo it once a week at least, but I recommend at least three times a week. Brush it out every morning, at least fifty stokes, but more is even better. If you take good care of it, it should be quite serviceable for six to ten months. Then you will need a replacement. And at least every two months or more often if it appears to be loosening, come to my shop and I will tighten it for you. Here is my card." I looked at it and read, "Maurice Johns, Hair Replacement Specialist" along with his address and telephone number. He fluffed the hair around, snipped a little and then sprayed it with a light mist and styled it to his liking. "There, I am done. Now don't you just love your new look?" He held up a hand mirror, slowly turned the chair around in a 360 degree arc so I could see it from every angle. And in these cheap but feminine clothes, breasts quite obvious and with my new hair falling over a six inches down my back in a quite feminine style, I admitted to my self that I looked like a somewhat masculine version of a girl. But big deal, I wasn't a girl nor was I a man any longer. I was just a sexless freak and didn't much care how I looked. Maurice told me to got up and go over to the other chair, but then he pulled me back and said, "Just one more thing", and picked up a paper punch like device, turned my head, pulled on my ear lobe, fastened the punch to the lobe and made a quick squeeze. I felt a momentary bit of pain in the lob, but he had turned my head and was doing the same to the other ear lob. He reached to his table drawer, opened it and picked out a pair of dangling ear rings and fastened one in each ear. He stood back and admired me and said, "Now that looks much more feminine. And now you go to the next chair and the girls will do your face and nails." He pulled me out of the chair by my hand and led me to the adjoining chair and I sat down and a young girl took over and started applying makeup to my face while another was doing my nails. The girl working on my hands, first gave me a manicure, then shaped some long artificial nails and glued them to my own nails and was coloring them in a bright crimson red. Mean while the other girl had coated my face with a foundation makeup, wiped and smoothed it around my face, neck and ears and then started in on my eyes with eye shadow, eye liner and mascara. She plucked my eyebrows and then added a little eyebrow pencil, and finally did my lips in a crimson color that matched the nail polish being applied to my nails. A touch of powder on my face and a dab of perfume and she was finished. Twenty minutes later I didn't look so much like a masculine version of a girl, but like a honest to goodness female. When they were finished, I got out of the chair, felt my hair swinging around my face and neck with every movement I made, felt the ear rings in my ears, and my hands, I couldn't even close them completely due to the long red finger nails that had been glued on the tips of my fingers. And with the clothing I was wearing, the short skirt, the hose, and the low cut blouse that exposed those big breasts on my chest and that void in my crotch where my penis was now part of my groin, I not only looked very much the female, I was starting to feel like one also. I just hated it and was miserable. Maurice just looked at me and started clapping his hands and he said, "Now, my love, you are a truly magnificent woman. This is a truly an amazing transformation from a nondescript entity to a wonderful female vision. I left the barber shop and was escorted to the booking desk. Each step I made, every movement seemed emphasize my changed condition. The ear rings dangling from my ears, the long hair moving about my face and neck and worst of all was the knowledge and feeling of the breasts on my chest and the soft swish of my skirt against my nylon clad legs. I would glance down in revulsion to see those mounds pushing out my shirt and couldn't help but notice the long red fingernails I with which I had been adorned. I was booked out of the place and handed a paper bag with all my personal possessions, my clothing, my billfold, my keys to my car and apartment, and the miscellaneous items from my pockets and told that I had a friend waiting for me in the ante room on the way out. I walked out and saw Jake standing there, looking very bored. I was surprised to see him but Jake didn't even recognize me. I was sorely tempted to just continue walking our into the street and straight into the traffic, hoping I would be killed quickly and somewhat painlessly. And without a second thought, I proceeded out the door, scarcely looking at Jake as I passed him. I walked right past Jake, through the first door and then out the second door and was standing on the curb of the street, just waiting to find a fast car to step out in front of and end this torment. A hand grabbed my shoulder and I tried to shake it off, looked back and there was Jake. He spun me around and I was standing in front of him. He took one long look and said, "My God, what have they done to you." "Just carried out my sentence, although quite a bit more thoroughly than I expected. They not only cut off my balls, they did a lot more than that. Someday I just might tell you about it, but I can understand why you might not ever want to see me again. Now please leave me alone as I have something that I want to accomplish and I have to be by my self to do it." Jake observed my eyeing the traffic and guessed what was in my mind and said, "Jeremy, just no way. I am taking you home right now." He grabbed my shoulder and led me away down the street to his automobile. I struggled to keep up, but couldn't quite do it. I just hurt too much in the groin to walk very fast. But the hurt didn't keep me from feeling like a man in drag, hell, I was a man in drag and I had better learn to accept it. If I lived, I was condemned to this life for the next five years. But I had decided that I wasn't going to live. Death would surely be preferable to being a sexless male freak with a body that was part male and part female, and currently, much more female than male. We eventually got to his car, and he was driving me back to my apartment, silent for about five minutes when he said, "Jeremy, I can't believe what they have done to you. And this is suppose to be a civil society in which we are living. You aren't still thinking of doing anything rash, I hope?" "Yes, Jake, I am. It was bad enough to be castrated, a reason nearly enough to consider suicide. But this is much more. I am not only a castrated male with no possible chance of a sex life, but am forced to look like a freak for essentially the rest of my life. The judge just said it was for five years, but at the end of that time, I will still be a castrated male, Jake, they sewed up my penis inside my groin so I don't even have that any more. And these silicone breasts, they aren't going to magically disappear, my beard is gone as is all my body hair. And five years of female hormones, instead of just a castrated male, I will be a complete female, just without the necessary sexual attributes of a normal girl. I look like a female, think like a male, and am really not either one. Just a sexless nonentity." "There won't be a life to go back to. I now have nothing in this world to look forward, no reason to try and continue my existence. Every self respecting friend I have ever made will shun me and I don't blame them. I would shun me myself if that was possible." "Jeremy, friend and old pal, just listen to me. If you killed yourself tonight, I wouldn't blame you. But what good would that do. Death is so permanent and things then can't get better. Just promise me this, you won't do it for at least six months, or at least three months. If things don't seem better, do it and I will be thankful that your suffering is over. But at least give yourself three months to consider. Hell, just lock yourself in your apartment and play with your computers. Only go out once a week to see your probation officer and then right back home. I and our friends will keep you supplied with food and booze and what ever else you may need for the next three months. Just give it a try." I thought about what he had said and agreed, "Your are right, but plan on attending my funeral three months and three days from today. I say you are right only because death is so permanent, and I really want to live. But why? I just can't seem to think of any reason. However, I will do as you suggest and try to survive for the next three months. And unfortunately, I probably will." We were at my apartment, Jake parked his car, came up to the apartment with me and we let ourselves in. Jake immediately went to my bar and poured couple of strong drinks of scotch, added some ice cubes and then handed one to me. "Well", he toasted, "Some macabre humor, but here is to my favorite hermaphrodite, half man, half woman, and looking more like the latter that the former. In fact, at the moment, you look quite like a very good looking young woman. In fact, just go look at your self in the mirror and maybe you won't be so dissatisfied with your future. You can live a very lovely life as a woman and that can't be too bad. I have loved them all my life." I started laughing at his weird sense of humor. And this not only intensified the pain in both my groin and on my chest, but my long hair fell over my eyes, which I instinctively, wiped aside with my hands. I gave it a little pull and felt the roots of my real hair respond as if I had pulled on it. The fake hair felt very much like my own and not a hair piece. I twitched my head and felt the long full hair just flow around from cheek to check, tickling the back of my neck. I got up and walked into the bathroom and looked at my self. I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and let it fall to the floor. I called for Jake. He came instantly and was greeted by the sight of this person, skimmer's on his feet, a skirt around his waist, long hair following down his back and hairless face, and finally, the new mounds of ersatz breasts on his hairless chest. At first Jake didn't say anything, just stared at me, not really keeping the emotional shock off his face. Then he said, "They really did you up brown, didn't they. Lose, say twenty or thirty pounds, have a little plastic surgery done to your face, and you could pass for a quite presentable woman. And considering your sentence of living as one for five years, I would consider doing just that if I were in your unenviable body. In fact, with little thought, I would do just that, especially before I considered suicide. And probably, for sixty to eighty thousand dollars, you could have sex surgery and really become a woman. You might not like that, but it is better than being a castrated man, I would think." Then chuckling he continued, "Why, I might even try to get you in bed, myself." He went on, "But, I know what you are thinking, "I am a man, not a woman, and if I was a woman, I would probably still like woman and that would make me a lesbian.' But isn't that even better than being dead and buried. We both have gay woman friends who seem quite happy with their lot, much to my disappointment. Nevertheless, it is your life, not mine. Your cross to bear, not mine. Just forget what I said and try to live your own life as best you can, at least for the next three months." I left the bathroom and Jake followed me. I didn't really care. I went into the bedroom, shook off my slippers, took off the skirt, pantyhose and panties and got into some clean underwear, jeans and a button down shirt. I then said, "Jake, go out to the kitchen and in the drawer next to the sink are some rubber bands. Please get me one." While he was gone, I found a hair brush, tried to part in on one side and brushed the bulk my hair back into a pony tail at the nape of the neck. I held it while I waited for him. He was back in a moment and handed me the small rubber bands. I took one and attempted to put it around the tail of my hair and finally succeeded. I looked in the mirror in my bedroom and saw the painted face I had been given. I picked up a wash rag, soap and soon it was clean and looking more normal. I was fairly satisfied with the image reflected back from the mirror. I looked very much like my old self from the front, and from the sides, like a man who had grown a pony tail, quite common for the past twenty years. But the ear rings had to go so I removed them and looked again and felt better. But the finger nails, very long and very red. I really didn't know what to do about them. I held up my thumb and started pushing the finger nail back but nothing was happening. I was in a near panic. I tried again and the nail lifted just a little. I continue to pry at it and suddenly it snapped off in my hand. I got into a technique and then both hands were finally free of those damn long painted finger nails. "Old buddy, how do I look now, still like a hermaphrodite, or more like a man?" Jake responded, "Like my old buddy, Jeremy. Except for those rather large bulges in your chest, I wouldn't suspect a thing if I hadn't know you for the last four years. You look just great. Take back I what I said about becoming female. Your breasts were surgically implanted and they can be surgically removed. If you can live with out sex, which I find hard to imagine, but every priest in the world is doing it, you can still live a wonderful life." We walked out to the living room, sank into chairs and just talked for the next hour, both of us having another drink or two. Jake finally had to leave and I walked him to the door saying, "Jake, I really appreciated what you have done for me today. Not only meeting me at the police station, but trying to buck me up when I am so down. Jake, I was just going to jump in front of the next car when you came up. You have saved my life and I thank you. Give me a ring in the next week and I will answer the phone. I won't be dead. Ok buddy?" "Ok, and I knew when I saw you at the curb, I had better move fast or it just might be to late. I did and now with a couple of scotches, a little talk and you at least seem rational now. But call anytime if you get real down. That's what friends are for.", and he left. Well, I was on my own. It was two in the afternoon and I wasn't really tired but I was physically exhausted and mentally spent. But suddenly I felt the urge to urinate. It was two in the afternoon, and this is the first time since I was operated on yesterday. But then I hadn't had anything to eat and just the drinks of the last two hours. Regardless, I had to go. I went into the bath, pulled down my pant and underpants, gently removed the bandage, and then just sat there. And soon I felt it leaking out. Not in a stream like I used to piss, but just a flow of liquid out of the end of my penis. I realized that the doctor must have cut the end to open it up and it also hurt like blazes. And when I was done, I didn't have anything to shake, so I reached for the bathroom tissue, tore off a couple of squares and wiped. This was humiliating, but I had no choice. I now had nearly every obvious physical attribute of a woman except one. No cunt, just that little outlet between my legs for the end of my penis that let me piss. I had the voice of a female, the long hair, the smooth face, the hairless chest with the boobs, and nothing at all between my legs. I went to my computer, turned it on and adjusted the interface cap to me head and spent the next two hours just browsing through my files and programs. I was thinking of my future in programming and realized I had probably lost all of my present clients. It was four when I called LCD and asked for Ms. Willard. I would soon lose my last hope of a client. Rebecca was on the telephone and I had the vision shut down so she could just hear my voice and not see me. "Rebecca, this is Jeremy." "Jeremy, but you have the video off, why? I want to see you." I continued, "I just wanted to call and save you some embarrassment if you are put on the carpet. Rebecca, yesterday I was convicted and sentenced for 'First Degree Sexual Deviant Behavior" and the sentence has partially been carried out." Rebecca replied, "Oh Jeremy, I was hoping so much that you would be found innocent. I tried to call you yesterday, and when you didn't answer or return my call I assumed you were either out celebrating or in police custody. And by 'partially carried out', I assume you mean you have been castrated already. And Jeremy, you just don't really sound like yourself. Your voice seems much higher pitched, or is that just my imagination" "Yes", I responded, "I have been castrated and much more. I am no longer a real man, just a eunuch. And you are right, my voice is higher, the result of some miracle drug they had. The operation was yesterday afternoon and I don't feel anything yet, just pain, but I am sure that I will be a different person in the future." "And that was just the first part of the sentence. I was also sentenced to dress and appear in public as a female for the next five years. And a ca