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He had the time coming. He wanted the balls going. "Thailand, Thailand," suggested the female travel agent with the prominent cleavage. If he wasn't gay, the breasts would have made his day. Instead he noticed they made the day of the female customer before him. Neither saw him waiting his turn for travel advice. He was standing quietly outside the office gathering courage to ask the agent for exactly what he wanted. He used to beat around the bush, as if a babe with a bush could read his mind. Now he will be more direct, perhaps shockingly direct. His waiting time gave him more courage, more time to calm his breathing as he gathered steam for his steamy request. He watched the woman before him stare between the large and sensually-displayed travel-angent tits. He heard the customer say, almost to his disbelief, that she had never had such a nice view of such nice breasts. The travel agent did not blush. She wasn't embarassed by the compliment, and the instantly hard nipples peeking out the skin side of a shirt unbuttoned to her navel indicated that her reaction was pleasure rather than surprise. Cooly and calmly she thanked her customer for the compliment, said she really enjoyed her breasts herself, and then asked her customer if she wanted an even better look. Thinking they were completely alone, the customer said, "yes," of course she would. The travel agent pulled her shirt completely apart and even the fag-in-waiting was amazed by the sensual shape of such perfect spheres. The customer bent over the desk and kissed them lovingly, but just briefly. Then they were back in hiding -- well not really hiding but at least covered enough to not get immediately arrested. After that scene, he had even more confidence in asking the travel agent to help him find his long-awaited "castration vacation." The agent was no more surprised or shaken by his request, when he boldly and clearly laid it before her, than she had been when exposing her breasts to have them kissed by the previous customer. After he asked, he heard that word again, the same place just recomended to the previous customer. "Thailand," she said, was the place most men go for a quick full- or partial-SRS (Sex Reconstruction Surgery). The agent even had all the brochures. They listed contacts, types of surgery available, and even how much each procedure cost. "Are you looking to lose just your testicles or your cock too?," the helpful agent asked. Just the orchidectomy for now was his answer. He knew he was now on his road to becoming a woman, so he could attract more straight-acting men instead of all the flaming fags who were always after him. But one step at a time, he thought. Then the shock. The travel agent said that the woman who was in just before him was a trans-sexual-in-progress and was also headed to Thailand to get her nullification. She had already been at another SRS location some months previous and had her own great tits to show for it. Now it was time for her bikini panties to fit without that useless little bulge. Then the second shock. The travel agent said that she too was a trans-sexual, having all of her surgery already done in Thailand last year. She asked if he wanted to see what a total nullification looked like before he made his final decision to have just his testicles removed on this castration vacation. He did. And he did. He wanted to see it, and she she showed it. Wow! No genitals at all, just smoothness that was even more feminine-looking than a real female pussy. Un-no-more-fucking-believable! She saw he was impressed. She let him feel the silky smooth nothingness. His cock hardened for the first time by touching a woman, but mostly he was thinking about having his own cock and balls converted to silky smooth nothingness. The travel agent then actually did read his mind. She booked his flight and hotel. She had to finish doing the same for the previous customer, so they would be flying together, staying in the same hotel, and even having their operations done at the same clinic. But they had yet to be introduced. Then the third shock. The travel agent said she was traveling back to Thailand herself to be photographed for advertising brochures for the clinic. After a year of healing, it was the perfect time for pictures because there was no evidence that she ever had any genitals, that she ever had anything even as small as a wart, let alone cock and balls, surgically removed. So the three would be going together. Or so it seemed at that minute. What neither the male customer nor the female travel agent realized was that there was a new female customer waiting her turn for travel advice, waiting quietly out of sight where the man had been standing a short time before. She was out of sight, but as we know about the location, she heard everything. She stepped forward and politely introduced herself to the male customer and the female travel agent. The new customer was the epitome of sensuality -- perfectly shaped, perfectly dressed, perfectly charming. She also did not mince words about what she wanted, or in this case, what she had to offer. "I fully respect what both of you are doing, and in one case have completed, by changing from male to female," the new customer said. "I myself was blessed to have been born a woman, and I am also a self-confessed man-hating lesbian bitch." "Funny thing is, I don't hate men for any particular reason, other than it is fun and kinky for me and my lipstick lesbian friends to treat men like shit." "We even pay men to perform in our weekly lesbian get-it-on get-togethers." She asked the male customer if he would like to expedite his orchidectomy, save all of his cash, and have even more money to put toward to full nullification. She had a meeting that very night and needed someone for the program. She explained that many of her lesbian friends were professionals in medicine and that castrations were common events for their weekly program. She offered $10,000 to buy his balls. "Sold," the male customer replied. The lesbian was so charming and so convincingly trustworthy. What the hell, it actually sounded cool to offer his balls for bills. They made all the arrangements. In no time, he found himself strapped naked on a large table in a dark quiet room. Earlier, the lesbians were going to shave him completely but were delighted that many of his fag boyfriends had been keeping him smooth already. Then the lights came on. Bright and blinding. Cheers erupted from the women. Hundreds, loud and deafening. His table was tipped up and he saw that he was on a raised stage with the lesbian crowd wide-eyed all around. He was approached by a striking woman dressed in what was obviously a nurse's uniform. But the uniform was different. One, it was completely black instead of white. Two, it was cut with two round holes to fully expose the woman's bare breasts. Since the nurse already knew he was a fag, she was not surprised that her beautiful bare breasts did not have the needed effect of hardening the man's cock. It had to be hard to be out of the way for this ceremonial castration. She made a slight gesture and the packed audience of lesbians moved slightly to make a path through them. Two naked and hugely-endowed black men were led blind-folded toward stage. They were placed aside the man strapped to the table so he could reach out and hold a beautiful black boner with each hand. As the nurse knew would happen, the subject's cock was now rock hard and out of the way. She gave him a quick hypo in the thigh. Pretty soon he could tell that he had no feeling below the waist. While the lipstick lesbians led cheer after cheer, the nurse ritually performed her surgery. She sliced the scrotum in two places. She reached in and pulled the testicles out to dangle on their cords. Then she carefully cut the entire scrotum away, but leaving the dangling testes. Her assistant uncovered a huge clear jar that smelled of formaldehyde. He looked over and could see it almost overflowing with scrotums, and he watched as the nurse tossed his own into the jar. The nurse quickly sewed up the wound where the scrotum had been connected. It was nice, clean, neat and rather small. Poking through the nice sutured line were the cords still holding the dangling testicles. The woman customer from the travel agency appeared, as if from no where. She whispered in the man's ear that her group would pay another $10,000 if they could boil his balls while they were still connected to him. She said he would feel no pain. Again, he was captivated by her persuasive charm. "Sure, do it," he agreed. Soon there was a little bowl of wine simmering below his balls. It was raised and the little testicles began to have the life cooked out of them. She was right, he did not feel anything at all, but he could sure hear the even-louder cheers from the lesbian crowd. After a half-hour on low simmer, his low-hanging balls were ready to be harvested. To the man's greatest surprise, an aisle was again formed between the lesbian crowd and he could see a woman in a Queen's robe making a processional advace. He recognized this Queen. She was the travel agent! She approached and, like the woman before her, leaned down and whispered in the man's ear. She had asked to join the lesbian club the day they met, and this was her initiation. She had to chew a man's balls to be accepted. And although she had to masticate on the manhood, she could not swallow. Still whispering, she explained that after she bit off his balls, she would chew them to a pulp and then "snowball-fashion" pass them to the mouth of the man who had produced them. He's the one who had to swallow. She bit, She chewed, He swallowed. Veni, Vidi, Vici. His balls came to them, they saw them, and they were conquered. Alea iacta est! With his swallow, the initiate's die was cast. A happy new lipstick lesbian (a trans-sexual one at that!) and a similarly happy new eunuch! What a way to start his castration vacation. Now he had enough cash to make it a complete-nullification vacation. ***** ***** ***** All the pieces of Classy Bitch can be found on the index-by-author.
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