A story by Artistic License

With thanks to Zoroaster for the inspiration from ‘A Wild Party’

Fantasy, Total Nullification, Gay theme, Minors mentioned, No sex

As an Insurance Investigator, Inspector, and Field Rep, I get called out to survey and review a few interesting properties and businesses. Mostly, I do residential and commercial property, schools, motels, bars, and restaurants; verifying what the local Agents have reported to the Underwriters. I have visited Tattoo and piercing parlors that have offered a freebie, probably to get a reaction from me because they equate my service with stuffy, conservative Insurance companies, but I just smile and decline. I have even visited a few nudist campgrounds in the many years I have been doing this work. They sure do baulk about a camera being carried around their grounds, and one even insisted I go into their property naked, or don’t come in at all. Of course, my bosses had a real laugh about that one, but ultimately offered extra pay to get the job done, but that is a different story for some other time.

Today’s Underwriters have found it a necessary application in the Underwriting process to verify what the Agents have reported, because they frequently leave out pertinent details of their clientele, or simply falsify items in order to write them a policy. And, sad, but true, most Agents do not go out of the office. Agents, as a rule, don’t like field reps, and since they have to put up with them (me), to keep the Underwriters happy, they frequently give wrong phone numbers and business descriptions just to make the Rep call their office for clarification or correction.

I typically try to survey several locations in one day, because it’s financially prudent, and also because the Underwriters don’t pay a lot of money for the type of surveys I was out doing this particular day.

The business I visited the other day was rather unusual, which prompted this story. The day started in its usual way, and of course, I was running a little late. I had several stops to make, and was concentrating on the mapped route through the mountains of north Georgia, and didn’t pay much attention to the order details. The special instructions on the request stated the business was an Alteration Shop, actually located in the middle of Flea-burg, high up in-the-hills, and I needed to call ahead before coming through the area. And of course, the phone number was not correct. I barely had time to get the Agent on the phone before he closed up early. He chuckled as he rattled off the correct number. I’ve experienced that before, so I didn’t think too much of it, at the time. Some Agents think it’s funny to cause Field Reps trouble.

I expected it to be a side-business for the owner, that possibly worked by appointments. And, I was still a little irritated at not seeing that special request earlier, since I was at least an hour from anywhere, and especially my home. The female voice on the phone was rather pleasant, and I was a little surprised to find out the business was in a small shopping center, on a major route, open daily until 9: PM, closed on Sundays; and they welcomed a visit any time during normal business hours. Relieved, I finished up my current appointment and continued on to their location.

When I arrived, I introduced myself, and was asked to wait for the owner, who was “busy in back.” The receptionist said that they had been visited by an Insurance company two weeks ago, and she wondered why another Agent was coming around today. After I explained that I worked for their Underwriter, and not their local Agency, and that this visit was verification; possibly due to a new policy or continuation of an existing policy, she said,”Oh, OK,” smiled, and said the owner would be with me shortly.

I busied myself with the preliminary aspects of the visit; taking a few exterior photos and building measurements while I was waiting…standard for most of the requests I receive. The lobby looked much like any doctors office lobby; chairs around the walls, coffee table in the center with old magazines scattered around. There were several men and boys of different ages, and a couple of women seated around the room's perimeter.

After a few minutes, a handsome young man with a superior physique came out from the back, escorting a sour-looking teenage boy carrying a plastic bag with glazed eyes. The youth sat down on a chair across from me, next to a pious-looking older woman. The handsome young man walked over to me and introduced himself as the owner. He had the most disarming smile. I had a hard time staying ‘professional’.

He answered all the typical questions for the verification; how long they have been open to the public, how old the structure was, when they acquired the property, and how long they have been in business, etc.

When I asked the nature of the business, being that I did not see any aspects of any sewing, upholstery work, or any other type of ‘alterations’ that I have encountered before; I was a little shocked when he stated, simply and matter-of-factly, that they altered men and boys, by removing their sex organs to become complete eunuchs.

I asked him to repeat what he just said, just in case I didn’t hear correctly, and he repeated…they removed male sexual organs.

“Oh, it’s all state-of-the-art, very safe, sanitary, quick and simple. It’s even relaxing. Most of our clientele say it’s the best experience they have ever had, and some say they wish they could come back for more.”

“When the bank needed a demonstration for my loan documents, I did myself. I can testify to the effects of the process. We’d be more than happy to demonstrate the process for you, if you have some time. I’m guessing you need to itemize the equipment anyway…for the Policy.” He said smiling.

I doubt my expression was very professional at that moment, and I think I said something like,

“You’ve had your…eh, excuse me, but, ah, your cock and balls removed?” admittedly, a bit flabbergasted.

I regained my composure a little bit, but lost it again when he said “sure”, and asked if I wanted to see for myself; but instead of waiting for an answer, instantly dropped his trousers and briefs right there in the lobby, with several waiting clients looking on.

He had no genitals and his pubic region was devoid of hair. He looked like the famous ‘Ken doll’, Barbie’s favorite companion. When he noticed my expression, he guessed that I wanted to know how he relieved himself, and spread his legs a bit to show off his piss-hole, located a little farther back between his legs. My mind was swimming, but I came back to reality when he asked again if I wanted to review the process.

“Sure,” I said, “I guess…I do need to itemize the equipment for the Underwriter.”

“Well, good…just step this way, and we’ll get started.” He said as he pulled his trousers up and leaped in front of me to grab the door handle.

He led me into the next room and started to disrobe, again, hanging his clothing on a hook along the wall, then donning a pair of flip-flops, a hair net, and bath robe; before handing me a set of the same, indicating that I disrobe also.

“It’s for sanitary reasons…state law,” he assured me.

I admit I stared at his perfectly smooth and sculptured body a few seconds too long, wondering what he might have looked like before losing his package, and then shrugged, and complied, figuring it couldn’t be weirder than the nudist camp I surveyed last year; when I had to ride around with a morbidly obese naked man in a small golf cart.

“Just another tale to tell, I guess.” I thought to myself, as I shucked my pants and shoes.

“Step this way sir…this is the sanitation room. You’ll notice the nozzles on the four walls. This sterilizes the skin of the client, to cut down on infections brought in from the street, and starts the exfoliation process.”

“Why don’t you step into the booth,” he offered, “and you can see how it’s done. I couldn’t help noticing you were a little sweaty. It’s very relaxing, and I’m sure you’ve had a long trip. You're already undressed.” he said smiling again and tugging my robe off my shoulders.

I shrugged, and stammered, “…Well, OK, I guess so. Sorry about the sweaty palms. It has been a long day, and I don’t have air conditioning in the truck.”

The nozzles on the walls hit me like a cooling breeze and a warm shower at the same time. It was indeed relaxing, soothing, and mesmerizing all at once. I didn’t really get ‘wet’, per say, but my skin did feel like it had been washed very well, and it sort-of felt like I had just had the most amazing massage.

I was in a dream state, but shook it off a bit as he took my hand and asked me to follow him into the next room.

“This is the exfoliation compartment. The spray nozzles emit a mist that softens the roots of the client’s hair follicles so they can be pulled out easily in the next station. It usually covers from the chin down, on most clients. If the client wants everything removed, including the hair on his head, most need to squat-down a bit. Boys usually need a booster stool,” he said, indicating the height of the nozzles on the walls of that chamber and the step-stool in the corner.

“In your profession, I’m sure you might want to leave the hair on your head, like I did. Baldness can be a little intimidating to some folks, and we need to keep our clients happy,” he said smiling again, tousling his own locks.

“Why don’t you step in here and see how this works,” he said, while adjusting the height of the apparatus to miss my noggin, apparently preparing me for the same treatment he had chosen for himself.

He placed a hand on my ass and another on my hip to center me in the booth. The mist in that booth was as mesmerizing as the first booth. It felt like warm hands were caressing my entire body. It never dawned on me that I would be killing my hair. His smile and light caresses nearly sent me to the moon, and I was glowing with his attentions.

I stood there for what felt like hours, but in reality were just a few minutes, when he asked me to follow him into the hair removing chamber.

“This is the exfoliation machine. It finishes what the exfoliation spray booth started. It has little rubber flappers and rollers that cover the clients body, pulling out every hair it finds. The client does not feel any painful sensations due to the chemicals of the sanitation and exfoliation spray booths. Once the machine is finished, it coats the client with a permanent solution of ‘Hair-stop’, which prohibits hair from returning. Here…stand in the middle, that’s good, and we’ll show you how quick and painless it really is.” He said putting his hands on my hips and turning me to face the rear wall, brushing my ass again as he did so.

The machine started whirring lightly, and the thing came to life. I watched as hundreds of tiny metal arms came out from the walls and pulled hair from my belly, legs, arms, and groin simultaneously. One arm clamped my penis, and another clamped my scrotum; stretching them out for the plucker-arms to capture every last follicle. Another larger arm swung out and surveyed my back and buttocks, to complete the process.

I watched in amazement at the efficiency of the thing; wondering what on earth was I doing, and…“wow, this really doesn’t hurt”…at the same time.

When it stopped, I was a bare as a prepubescent child, which made my slowly-hardening adult penis look a little odd. The machine sent another metal wand-like arm out to coat me with a fine misty substance that made me tingle, and feel like I had just had a minor orgasm.

I remember becoming a little dazed and giddy, as the machine stopped, wondering what other goodies this place had to offer.

I felt like I was floating on air as he brushed my skin with a chamois-like towel. He grabbed my arm and turned me back toward the front of the booth, admiring and rubbing my denuded crotch and ass, beaming that perfect smile; as he looked first at my crotch, my burgeoning erection, and then into my eyes. He cupped my balls and hefted my penis in his hands, giving my penis a few tugs while he looked into my eyes.

He could have fucked me right then, if he had anything to work with.

Still in a daze, he dropped my goods, and stood to lead me to a large, almost motorcycle-looking machine, without tires, in the center of the next room. It had handlebars and footrests similar to a cycle. It had an oblong depression in the seat with a hole it the center of the depression. It looked like leather, but I couldn’t be sure from looking at it.

“This machine is our main business tool. It removes the unwanted organs and disposes of them in a safe and sanitary container, ready for the Haz-mat collection service; which by law, we have to comply with.” He said while wiping down the seat of the machine with an anti-bacterial napkin.

“Our clients sit on this seat,” he said, while again, smiling that insidious smile, and patting the thing invitingly.

“They straddle the machine like a cycle saddle. It has compartments for the testicles and penis, and has a computerized surgical arm to relocate the client’s urethra. It also has a butt-plug sensor for pain management. The disposal process takes place...down this chute, in the center of the machine.” He said pointing to a hole in the center of the seat, where the clients sit.

“Here, why don’t you hop on up there. Then you can see how it feels.” He offered, smiling again.

I don’t know why it seemed so benign or such a good idea at the time, but I remember sliding up on the cycle-looking thing, feeling the smoothness of the seat and enjoying the way it felt as it was molding itself to my newly denuded body…how sensuous it felt between my legs, the way it seemed to come alive and wrap itself around my groin and ass, while beginning its vibrations.

I remember feeling like I was really and truly on a fast cruise; along the beach or somewhere else fabulous, far away from my ordinary world.

“Here, rise up a little so I can place the probe.” He said fondling my ass.

I leaned forward some. He rubbed my sphincter with some lube and massaged his fingers in and out.

I completely forgot why I was there.

"That should do it. Now slide back into the seat." he said as he wiped his hands on another towel and flipped a switch on his console.

As I leaned back, I felt the butt plug device probe my sphincter, encouraging it to open up, vibrating me into cooperation. I remember feeling warmth in my groin; like I was about to have another minor orgasm from the inside-out.

A clamp came up from the center of the machine and cupped my balls, massaging them into the rear of my scrotum as another apparatus engulfed my penis.

The butt plug started vibrating at a low hum, and then retracted and plunged forward, in a rhythmic fucking motion. I was starting to feel really good, when suddenly I felt and heard a little ‘pop’, and watched my balls disappear down the chute as the machine sewed and removed my whole scrotum at the same time, before sucking it down the chute.

I remember thinking “…how cool is that...my balls just got snagged.”

My penis jutted out harder than it had been in a quite a while; responding to the plug’s stimulations in my ass, as well as the sleeve it was being sucked into. That faded some, as my penis was being pulled into the hole further and further with each thrust of the butt plug probe.

I felt a twinge of needle-like pain in the base of my penis and I felt my glands being tugged at, from two different directions. A probe pushed its way into my urethra and pierced its way out in the back, near my ass hole. A clamp grabbed me back there, pinched me, but didn’t really hurt.

After a few minutes, I felt another ‘pop’, or rather a ‘click’, and then a kind-of a sucking sound. I watched in amazement as my penis was slowly pulled out, inch-by-inch, exposing the root part that no one ever thinks about. It stretched out longer than I’d ever thought possible, then slid away down the chute into the center of the seat, between my legs.

I remember thinking how cool it all was, and “wow, it’s longer than I thought.”

It never dawned on me that I'd just lost my dick.

Another arm came up and sewed my skin back together inside the clamp still between my legs, and then it applied a gel-like substance to the sutures as the clamp released.

By then, the butt probe was vibrating and pounding my ass and prostate something fierce. All of a sudden, I squirted what felt like the best orgasm I had ever experienced...straight down the chute of that machine.

After what seemed like ages in an orgasmic bliss, my escort shook me out of my daze, and asked me again to follow him. He helped me off the machine, wiped my asshole with a sanitary napkin, and then; holding me close and supporting me with his strong arms, walked and half-carried me into the other room.

This room was next door to the first room we entered. It had a table in its center much like one would find in most physicians offices with stirrups and roll-paper covering.

“This is our changing room where we educate our clients on their after-care. Why don’t you hop up here on the table, and I’ll show you what we do after removal is complete.” He said smiling again, offering me his arm for support.

I didn’t think about it at the time, I was spent, and really dazed but sort-of knew my dick was gone. I just don’t remember caring much about it. I was still slightly convulsing from the major orgasm I had just had, and I was still seeing fog and stars.

He did have a very inviting smile, and he was rather good looking.

He asked me to spread my legs and lean back a bit. I was still completely naked, and feeling rather vulnerable. I was half-way expecting him to fuck me or something.

I lay back as he turned to get something from a drawer behind him. He turned around with a disposable catheter, lube, and a small dildo-looking appliance. He lubed both, but set the dildo aside. I watched as he slowly slid a catheter up my new piss-hole, while he rubbed my vacant groin with a lotion of some sort. I was thinking how ‘neat’ it felt. He slid the dido up through my still relaxed sphincter and applied a strap to hold it in place. He applied a small bandage to my new sutures and gave me a zip-lock baggie full of dressings, anti-bacterial salve, and an after-care pamphlet.

“You will feel a little groggy for a while, but you should be fine enough to drive in about 15 minutes. Your sutures will self-dissolve in a few days, so there’s no real need to make a second trip up here, unless you want to. The plug is a suppository for pain, and you can remove it at will. It’s washable, and should last for several days. Keep the catheter in place for at least 4 days. I put my card in the bag, if you need me. Why don’t we go back out into the lobby and you can continue your survey in the mean-time.”

Again than infectious smile! He helped me to stand and took my clothing from the pegs on the wall for me.

I got up, got dressed, and returned to the lobby with him as he called for his next client. I finished filling all the blanks on the form in the survey request, itemizing his equipment as I had experienced them. I remember wondering why I was there in the first place, but then remembering and reminding myself all at the same time.

I gave the underwriter a good description of his operations, after my head began to clear up.

For some reason, I looked at my watch, and that got me in gear. I thanked his secretary for their time, and wished them success in their business, and continued on my route.

I remember leaving the facility thinking “…what a nice doctor’s office”, though now I know better.

I did re-write the description of the facility, later, to exclude my personal experiences with their equipment.

It wasn’t until I got to my next and last stop of the day, that I felt like I had to pee. I decided to go into a burger shack and kill two birds with one stone; since I hadn’t eaten all day, and it would be two hours getting home.

It wasn’t until I went into the bathroom, walked over to a urinal, and unzipped as usual, that I discovered I had no dick. What did I just do? What happened?

It all suddenly came flooding back. Brain-fog gone!

I now know why the local Agent called the place an Alteration Shop, instead of a medical clinic or a physician’s office.

I remembered his chuckles on the phone.

He was the ‘other Agent’ who toured the facility two weeks ago.