Into the Age of Aquarius

This the story of how castration became popular and accepted by men 
and women around the world.

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Into the Age of Aquarius


Jethrow Pillington, one of the top ten richest men in the world, 
had a problem. He was being blackmailed.

"For heaven's sake just pay up." his legal advisor told him. "It's 
such a piffling amount you won't even notice.  This divorce will 
cost you a million times more than that and we don't need the extra 
complication."

"There is another way, boss." Alberto Corleste was Pillington's 
head of security. He was a man of unorthodox methods who had useful 
contacts all over the world.

The legal advisor disapproved of Corleste's methods. "Don't even 
think of it."

"Look, I didn't get rich by giving my money away to every damned 
petty crook who tried their luck. Why the hell should I this time?"

The legal advisor was a man devoid of emotion. "Because this hooker 
has the goods on you. If she goes to your wife with what she's got 
the divorce settlement will increase enormously. Your latest ex-
wife will become the wealthiest woman in the world and you'll be 
operating a shoe-shine stand." 

The legal advisor paused for Pillington to take this in. "Jeth, 
it's cost effective to pay her off."

"She's gonna keep on wanting more," Alberto warned.

"After the divorce it won't matter. If she's still a nuisance you 
can deal with it."

Pillington could see his legal advisor was making sense. "Ok. Pay 
the bitch off. Much as I hate it."

For Pillington the matter was settled; the decision made. He 
started to move out of the board room.

"She's got you by the balls, Jeth."

As Pillington closed the door behind him he wasn't sure but he 
thought he heard Corleste mutter "No, his balls have got him by the 
balls."

*******************************

Pillington couldn't shake off Corleste's words, if indeed Corleste 
had actually said them.  They could have come from his own mind. 

Whatever, to Pillington they rang true. Five divorces. Five 
expensive settlements. Five angry ex-wives. Each one scheming to 
extract as much money from him as they could. Now there was going 
to be a sixth. If marriage was an expensive proposition divorce was 
ten times worse. Pillington's taste was for strong minded, 
intelligent women. On your side they were great but they made 
formidable, very expensive enemies.

And there'd been all the hookers and gold diggers over the years. 
Not to mention those charming respectable married women that 
Pillington enjoyed seducing into his bed in return for a 
generous 'rental' payment. The thought of them made Pillington 
smile. He'd always got an extra kick out of that. Knowing that he'd 
screwed a guy's wife and that the poor idiot himself was unaware of 
it had always been a turn on for Pillington.

Alone in his apartment for once, Pillington found that all this 
unaccustomed introspection was giving him a headache. He poured 
himself a stiff single malt
and took a sip. It helped. The women in his life had all been very 
expensive. He reckoned his net worth would be at least five times 
greater if it hadn't been for all those women.

It wasn't an easy decision but Pillington hadn't got where he was 
by avoiding hard decisions. If his balls were the problem …

He swallowed the rest of the whisky in a single gulp and rang his 
favourite call girl. 

*******************************

About a month later Pillington was feeling very well indeed. Better 
than he'd felt in years. His divorce settlement had gone through 
amicably. Pillington had made  a generous settlement to the sixth 
Mrs. Pillington and they were even on speaking terms.  When the 
blackmailer came back for a second payment Alberto Corleste had 
explained very nicely to her that no more money would be 
forthcoming and it would be better for her general wellbeing if she 
forgot the whole thing.

Best of all was the total absence of lust. Pillington found he 
could enjoy the sight and the company of an attractive woman 
without the painful urge to deposit semen in her vagina. It was a 
weight off his shoulders.  He realised he had been an addict to 
lust and now he was free. He now saw just how much of his time and 
energy had been squandered on achieving a few seconds of orgasm. 
Without that urge he felt he was getting on with his life

His business strategies had improved too. Pillington was able to 
optimise his own position and no longer felt the need to bargain 
his competitors into the ground. He knew that the next month end 
financial reports from his empire were going to reflect this. It 
would enhance his reputation in the business world and would 
benefit his shareholders. That pleased him. He liked the idea that 
ordinary people with a stake in  pension and mutual funds and small 
individual shareholders would personally be better off because of 
him.

Such altruism bothered him. Was he going soft after his castration? 
Well he was making even more money so nothing wrong there. Why not 
feel good about his small investors? It was a novel feeling and 
took him the time it takes to sip through a generous single malt to 
get used to it. It wasn't just the whisky. Pillington decided he 
enjoyed his feel-good feeling and allowed himself to indulge in it.

Six months after the castration he felt so fit and well, so at 
peace with himself that he wondered whether he ought to share the 
benefit. Such idealism would never have occurred to him in the old 
days.

The question was how could he do it? He personally had always 
avoided publicity and hated it with a vengeance. If he were to go 
public the press would have a field day and the whole exercise 
would be unpleasant and counter productive. Also, he didn't want 
anyone in his circle of colleagues and acquaintances to know about 
his altered state. He didn't want to be subject to the ridicule 
endured by a man ahead of his time.

An idea occurred to him and he picked up the phone.

*******************************

The articles came out gradually in the press. "Radical Procedure 
Proposed to Improve Men's Health" was the headline in an upmarket 
journal. The tabloids were more direct: "Better off without Balls?" 
and "No Knackers is Nicer" were but two examples.

The theme of the articles was that testosterone is bad for men's 
health and once you've fathered your children sex is just a big 
confidence trick perpetrated by nature.
The arguments were logical and convincing but of course, most of 
the press took a scoffing, cynical view. 

The press soon picked up the stories and tracked them to their 
source. It turned out that an organisation calling itself the 
Cybelean Society was behind it all.  Membership of the Cybeleans 
was limited to people without testicles. A group of eunuchs had 
originally banded together for mutual support in a testosterone 
based world. Aware of the considerable personal advantages of low 
testosterone levels they decided to go on a propaganda offensive, 
forming the Cybelean Society as a vehicle for their message.

A few Cybeleans were prepared to be interviewed on television.  
Most programmes were set up with the attitude "let's have a laugh 
at these idiots" and the interviewees were presented as figures of 
fun.  However, by their quiet dignity, their refusal to be fazed 
and the hard facts of their message they actually turned the tables 
on their interviewers and made a good  impression on the viewers.

People started to discuss castration as a life style option.

The first group to take the matter seriously were women's magazines 
aimed at women past childbearing age. They tended to be strong on 
recipes, knitting patterns and gardening hints. However, many women 
in that target audience had a considerable vested interest in men's 
health. They were faced with a real, horrifying prospect of 
widowhood. They knew about decades of loneliness and solitude, of 
dependency on their grown up children, of bravely having to remain 
positive and cheerful in the face of bleak misery with nothing to 
look forward to but the release of death.

For those women, if having their man castrated would save them from 
that fate there was no argument. Sex was not an issue at all. Long 
gone libidos were barely a faded memory. Lower testosterone might 
even make their old codgers less grumpy.  And what the hell: many 
of those women had had hysterectomies and quite a few had had their 
ovaries out too - and of those who hadn't, well their ovaries had 
shut down of their own accord.  Sauce for the goose is sauce for 
the gander. So why hang on to those dangerous danglers? If their 
man was better off without them there was only one course of action.

All the articles that the Cybelean Society seeded in magazines had 
contact addresses and phone numbers. Their phones began to ring.

*******************************

Ted Hunger  full time, salaried secretary of the Cybelean Society 
had lost his testicles in a rock climbing accident when he was at 
college. At the time he'd been devastated and had even contemplated 
suicide. Now, aged 33,  it bothered him not a jot. He'd had a very 
successful career to date in corporate administration and enough 
wealth saved and invested so that he needn't ever work again if he 
so wished. As it happened he enjoyed his work. When he was head 
hunted by the Cybelean Society his first reaction was that it was a 
hoax perpetrated by pranksters who knew his secret. Once he learnt 
that it was for real he accepted the post and in his two years at 
the desk he'd never regretted it for one second.

The Cybeleans were doing everything they said they would including 
paying Ted Hunger a handsome salary.  Currently his priority was to 
organise a reaction facility for the queries, generated by the 
press coverage,  that were coming in.

He'd recruited a number of staff, mostly mature women who were able 
to discuss castration over the telephone without getting shy or 
giggly. He had fifteen answering the telephone and another five 
still to train.

Staff were expensive and it occurred to Ted Hunger that the only 
revenue was the modest subscriptions of members of the Society. He 
realised that someone or something was behind this.  Hunger's boss 
was an elderly East Coast wasp whom he seldom saw. The old man kept 
himself informed of progress over the telephone.
Hunger understood perfectly that there was a 'need to know rule' 
that applied and it was deemed that he didn't need to know who or 
what was behind the Cybeleans. 

*******************************

Austin Cheval had lost his testicles on Omaha Beach in 1944. It 
hadn't mattered too much to his family as he was a third son and 
the rule of primogeniture applied in their culture. Even his mother 
had been only mildly disappointed at the loss of grandchildren 
potential.  One thing those powerful old families understood was 
discretion. Skeletons remained in the cupboard.  Austin's condition 
was merely a minor embarrassment but even so it had never been 
discussed. 

Consequently he had been astonished when he received a mysterious 
message inviting him to discuss a matter of mutual interest with an 
unknown person who shared his physical condition. His first 
reaction had been to ignore it but it had mentioned a financial 
advantage and although he was comfortably off a little more was 
always desirable. The letter was on expensive notepaper and 
elegantly hand written. Intrigued he arranged to meet the writer.

*******************************

"Good heavens!" Cheval recognised Jethrow Pillington immediately. 
Until then he had been on guard. Even the expensive motor yacht and 
the uniformed crew could all have been part of an elaborate scam. 
Pillington was reassurance. Pillington had no need to con anyone; 
well, large corporations and even countries perhaps, but Cheval 
knew that he would not be a target.

As the MV Sea Urchin cast off and made it's way down the Sound on a 
grey overcast but calm day. Cheval allowed himself to relax and 
enjoy Pillington's hospitality in the wood panelled state room on 
board. In return he listened to Pillington's proposition.

Cheval, having been a eunuch for practically all of his adult life 
took his status for granted. He was unaware of the benefits because 
he'd never not had them. He learnt about them from Pillington. 

Pillington was of the opinion that the benefits should be more 
widely known and wanted to create an organisation to that end. He 
had already contracted a public relations firm to seed written 
articles and footage on the benefits of castration to the media.

He wanted Cheval to take over the management of the organisation.

Cheval listened and thought.  A generous retainer was involved and 
that was certainly no disincentive. Rather to his surprise, as he 
wasn't much given to emotion, Cheval found that he was becoming 
excited by Pillington's ideas. What really appealed to Cheval was 
the grandness of the scheme, its magnificent breadth of vision. To 
be the instrument of changing Western culture in this way was a 
challenge that fired his imagination.  Not that he gave any outward 
sign of being inspired.  Instead he took a sip of Pillington's 
single malt. 

"I accept,"  and Austin Cheval became the Chief Executive of the 
Cybelean Society.

By the time the MV Sea Urchin docked Pillington and Cheval and 
drawn up an action plan for the Cybeleans.

*******************************

Ted Hunger had never been so busy in his life. He had set up 
branches of the Cybelean Society in each state, had recruited and 
trained counsellors to deal with the queries, he liaised with the 
public relations people who had no trouble creating interest in, if 
not acceptance of, their ideas. Now he would be setting up a system 
to meet the demand that the Cybeleans had created. 

At a meeting on board the MV Sea Urchin Ted Hunger heard Mr. Cheval 
talk about the next stage of the operation. 

"The articles in the press are having some success and older 
couples in particular are interested."

Hunger nodded.

"The next step is to provide the service."

"The actual castrations ?"

"Exactly. Do you have any ideas on how the service should be 
organised?" Cheval paused and waited for Hunger to speak.

Ted knew enough to know that this was a management ploy: consult 
the underlings. He suspected that Cheval had a very clear plan of 
action in mind. However he had to say something. "I would have 
thought the procedure could be undertaken at hospitals or in 
existing clinics."

"Yes. Certainly many can be handled that way. Do you see any 
disadvantages to that?"

Ted thought for a moment. "Hmm. Rather public, perhaps. And always 
a lot of waiting around. Most people avoid hospitals if they can."

"Exactly. And they are so impersonal. Production line medicine. How 
can we get around that?"

Ted knew he was being steered. What did Cheval want him to 
say?  "How about something along the lines of a private specialist 
service? Say we have people approved by the Cybelean Society that 
we can refer queries to?"

Cheval nodded. "Who would these specialists be?"

"You would need medical people but not necessarily surgeons. Say 
theatre sisters who'd had at least five years experience? Just a 
little extra training perhaps?"

"Very good. I do like that idea, Mr. Hunger."

Ted knew he'd said the right thing. Cheval continued: "These 
theatre sisters, would you have them on the payroll or as  free 
lance operations?"

"If they're free lance we don't have to be responsible for them. We 
could licence them, set standards and it would be their 
responsibility to meet them."

"Yes. I agree. Mr. Hunger I would like you to write that up as a 
draft proposal. Go into as much detail as you can. Make it as 
complete as possible: all the legal, medical and financial 
considerations. Put a budget around it. When could you have such a 
document ready ?"

"Say a month? Possibly we won't have all the legal answers in that 
time but I'll list what we don't know at that stage."

"Splendid." Cheval made a note in his diary.  "I look forward to 
receiving it. And now I do believe a spot of luncheon would be in 
order."

It was a fine, calm day and lunch was served on deck. As they 
sipped an aperitif a thought occurred to Hunger. "How about the 
Medical Profession - shouldn't we consult them? We wouldn't want  
to get their backs up."

"Indeed we wouldn't. Leave them to me, Mr. Hunger."

The lunch served on the MV Sea Urchin was delicious. 

*******************************

The medical profession was not a problem. In fact an eminent 
surgeon or two served on each state's Castratrix Licensing 
Committee,  helped set the standards  and co-operated with the 
special training requirements. All in return for an exorbitant fee. 
However they were very competent and provided the credibility and 
respectability that was needed. Cheval had decreed that in the time 
honoured tradition of nursing, the feminine form of castrator 
should be adopted in line with other nursing terms such as 'sister' 
and 'matron.' Some men were licensed but any male who had gone into 
nursing knew from the start that it was a female dominated 
profession.

After about eighteen months Hunger had set up a network of licensed 
Castratrixes in each urban area across the country. They were, 
qualified and experienced nursing sisters who'd had special 
training in the pre-counselling, cutting and after care of 
castration patients, including the monitoring of patients' 
testosterone levels and dispensing of testosterone, either as stick 
on patches or as injections.

It occurred to Hunger that experienced nursing sisters as a group 
were the most competent and conscientious workers in the world.  
Their returns were  always submitted on time and accurately, 
justified complaints were virtually non existent, as were post cut 
infections.  Independent follow ups among the growing number of 
Cybelean Society subscribers indicated almost 100% satisfaction 
with their treatment by the Castratrixes.

*******************************

"Honey, have you thought about getting yourself fixed yet?"

"Naah. I'll keep 'em where they are for a few more years."

"You are turning fifty next year. It's not too soon to think about 
it"

"Yeah well … one day. Not yet."

"It's not as though you need them any more, is it?"

"They're not doing any harm, are they?"

"Course they are. You know your blood pressure's up. And your 
cholesterol. Look at how unfit you are. A five mile walk would 
finish you."

"I'll get more exercise."

"Yes and hogs will get airborne. Come on, be fair. I don't want a 
long lonely widowhood."

"I'm not going to die."

"And you are missing out you know. "

"Missing out?"

"Well, you know that having sex with a eunuch doesn't count as 
adultery."

"Jill what have you been up to?"

"Nothing at all darling. I'd never be unfaithful. But Ena Robbins's 
husband does do a nice body massage for the ladies. So I hear."

"Sid Robbins? Has he had it done?"

"Several years ago. Ena says neither of them have ever regretted 
it."

"The old devil. He's never mentioned it. He's always bragging 
about -. Jill. I want you keep away from Sid Robbins."

"Of course darling. But Ena and I are good friends. I promised her 
that when you're done I'll let you give her a body massage."

"Hmm. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to think about it."

"No darling. Would you like me to organise an appointment with the 
counsellor?"

"All right. Mustn't be selfish I suppose. Can't leave you to a long 
widowhood."

*******************************

The  "Page Scanner's Precis" was a bound, small format monthly 
magazine that was conservative in tone and which strongly espoused 
old-fashioned common sense values. Austin Cheval brought a copy to 
a meeting with Jethrow Pillington on the MV Sea Urchin.  

An article in it supported the idea of castration as a simple, 
inexpensive but highly effective health measure for men.

"It's taken five years but if the Precis's got on to it we've 
arrived."  Cheval rarely spoke with such enthusiasm.

Pillington nodded. "We're doing ok." He looked at the latest 
summaries. "69% of men over 50. That's good progress. 30% of men in 
their 40s? Surely that can't be?"

Cheval poured himself a single malt. He'd acquired a taste for it 
during his association with Pillington. "We've double checked. It's 
true within the statistical limits or error."

"How come? It's not what I'd have expected."

"The world has changed. Teenage boys are able to get as much sex as 
they want. Because they can get it, it is no longer the 
preoccupation it was once. Having been there and done that to their 
heart's content they rather lose interest.  "

"I'll be damned!" Pillington grinned at Cheval. "Those young devils 
screw around so much they lose interest in sex?"

"In a nutshell, yes. Not only that but with the inhibition removed 
from females they actually come to demand sex. For young men it 
eventually becomes an obligation upon them to perform. That of 
course is fatal to the libido."

The idea amused Pillington. "So there's no longer any thrill in the 
chase?"

"None at all. The whole concept of the chase is lost in the past."

"On that basis we could even expect the percentage of men in their 
30s to grow?"

Cheval nodded. "We are seeing some movement in that age group. 
Another effect is that corporations are giving preference to 
eunuchs when it comes to recruiting and promotion.  Some of your 
own companies are doing that."

"They've come up with the idea themselves. I certainly didn't order 
it. If that takes off it would bring the age even lower."

"Yes. We expect that to happen."

Pillington stood and looked through a port light. "Well, the ball 
is rolling along nicely. Anything else we can do to give it a push? 
Without being too obvious, of course."

"There is something." Cheval produced a newspaper. "Look at this."

*******************************

Sanjit Patel accepted the post of Minister of Justice in the new 
coalition government. It was an important portfolio. On the day he 
took office he spent a few moments wondering about the mysterious 
good fortune that had come upon him and the New Purity Party of 
which he was the leader. 

During the election he had tried to use his status as a eunuch to 
convince the voters that he stood for incorruptibility. It was 
difficult for the voice of his small party to be heard in the 
clamour of the large, well funded and powerful major parties. 

Eunuchs were part of the daily scene in his country. Many boys, 
particularly from poor families, were castrated in childhood in 
order for them subsequently to earn a living in service. As eunuchs 
they were permitted to wear either male or female clothing as they 
wished. Patel had been lucky and worked for a good family. He'd 
played with their children and the family had sent him to school 
with them. Thus he'd received an education. He was very bright and 
his intelligence attracted the attention of his teachers. He was 
able to overcome their prejudice against a low caste eunuch and his 
scholarship won him some respect.

He won bursaries to college and so attained higher education. After 
graduation politics attracted him and he accepted the offer of a 
post with the mighty and then all powerful Congress Party.  His low 
born status imposed a very real concrete ceiling on his 
expectations and after a few years, during which he learnt the 
ropes of realpolitic, he founded the New Purity Party. 

It achieved a following among the very poor and won a few seats in 
local government but it stood not a chance in national government 
elections, despite all his speech making and tub thumping Sanjit 
Patel was a non person as far as the voters were concerned. 

Then out of the blue came this mysterious, huge cash donation to 
his party. What a difference it made. New Purity's message got 
through to the people. They got votes. There was a revolution in 
his country's voting patterns. Congress was no longer the 
unbeatable juggernaut and to the amazement of all failed to win the 
election. The former opposition party won the most seats but not an 
outright majority so it had to cobble up a coalition with other 
minority parties. New Purity with its three seats found itself with 
power and influence. It was awarded the Justice portfolio.

Hence it was that Sanjit Patel who came from as far as it's 
possible to be on the wrong side of the tracks found himself 
occupying an important post in the government of the world's 
largest democracy.

*******************************

"I see our Asian protégé is doing very well," Austin Cheval 
observed to Jethrow Pillington.

"Yes. people are taking him very seriously these days. Promotion 
from Justice to Foreign Secretary is a very nice move for him."

"It occurred to me, he's due here for a visit in a few months. Why 
not invite him to join the Cybelean Society?"

"Why not? He's never made any secret about being a eunuch. It would 
be a nice step forward for the movement. In fact if we could get 
him to make a major policy speech to the Cybeleans …" Pillington 
broke off.  "Austin could you and Ted Hunger organise it? Funds are 
available."

*******************************

By the time Sanjit Patel came to address the Cybelean Society 
during an official visit on matters of state his status as a eunuch 
was taken for granted and was no longer remarkable.  The theme of 
his address was. He spoke of the need to stop giving aid to third 
world beggar nations. He maintained that giving such aid simply 
enabled them to live in permanent corruption and incompetence. They 
would never recover until they had to succeed by their own efforts, 
as the western nations had done. What he said struck a chord with a 
lot of western taxpayers and received major press coverage.

That speech raised his status from some minor foreign politician to 
respected world statesman. He became the most famous member of the 
Cybelean Society. After that, not even the stupidest red-necked 
bumpkin would ever sneer at a man for his eunuch status.

*******************************

Sister Josephine Klusky e-mailed off her monthly  returns to the 
Cybelean Society on time as always.  Not once in the eighteen years 
of her licentiate had she been late with them.

Getting that licence was the best thing she'd ever done. It gave 
her professional status and a good income. In the beginning she'd 
wondered what she was getting herself into. She'd only gone into it 
because as a single mother of a young child she'd needed extra  
income and didn't want to spend yet more time away from her little 
girl. As a castratrix she could work in her own home and  use a 
spare room as a surgery

In those early days castration had been considered newsworthy and 
shocking. Today it was routine and nobody gave it a second thought. 
These days older men with their testicles still on were rather 
looked down upon as dirty old men with anti-social tendencies

Her patients these days were mostly younger guys, in their 
twenties. They would come in for counselling with their wives, in 
fact it was often the wives who brought them. They'd had their one 
two or three children and it was time to think of the future.  
Certainly no guy with testicles would get a promotion any more. Not 
that there was any overtly stated policy, just a tacit appreciation 
that guys who'd been fixed performed better. 

Generally the wives wanted their guys to be eligible for promotion. 
Higher salaries and better job security meant a higher standard of 
living and the opportunity to enjoy the ripe of old together that 
both of them could look forward to.

Sister Klusky, despite her own divorce all those years ago, like 
the idea of the swing back to marriage for life  and the nuclear 
family that had occurred over the last ten years.  Castration took 
a lot of the credit. Eunuchs were better husbands in the long term. 
They tended to be better at relationships, kinder, more empathic 
and less easily riled. They never strayed.

She'd been worried at first how those women in their twenties would 
manage being married to a guy who wasn't strong in the sex 
department. It had worked out. Their marriage and children were  
the priorities  in their lives. Sexual intercourse was nice but 
cuddling and caressing from their husbands met most of their needs. 
For special occasions there were stick on testosterone patches . 
And from time to time a discrete evening out with an unfixed guy 
had become an accepted custom.

All this reminiscing was wasting time. Sister Klusky had a very 
special patient this evening: her son in law. She and her daughter 
Julie  had discussed the ethics of themselves castrating Julie's 
husband and decided it was perfectly ok. They were after all 
family. Julie loved the idea of being the one to give him his last 
ejaculation as the testicular cords were cut. And she was quite 
tickled at her husband seeing her mother in the nude as had become 
the practice for castratrixes at work. 

Josephine was a bit shy about that but her daughter had persuaded 
her it was all right. "And after he's fixed it doesn't matter. 
He'll scrub your back for you, if you want."

She went to get the surgery ready. They'd be here soon.

*******************************

The Cybelean Society held a special banquet to commemorate the 
centenary of the birth of the late Jethrow Pillington.  In her 
televised address Anne Wilson, President of the United States, said 
that Jethrow had been a great benefactor, a man of far sighted 
vision, who had truly lead the world into the Age of Aquarius, an 
age of peace and prosperity for all.

*****************************

Author's Note: Farrell Squire, in a comment on one of my earlier 
stories, posed the question "How do we change the culture?" (to 
make castration more acceptable in the world at large). Farrell 
offered his own solution in a brilliant trilogy. This is my attempt 
to answer that question.

Kortpeel