=some sissy stuff I wrote today=

So who was the one to take your virginity?

Daddy. You?

Daddy, too. How did it happen with you?

It was not long after the orchiectomy. I was still healing, not even thinking of sex. I couldn't believe it at first, as if they hadn't done enough to destroy my sense of manhood already. But Daddy said it was necessary to establish dominance for good. To set it in stone, if you will. Naturally, my wife went along.

It's kinda amazing how they do.

What do you mean?

Well, you'd think they might find it kinda faggy, you know? A man fucking another man up the ass.

You would if you're still thinking of us as men, silly. That's where you're going wrong. We aren't men at all. So it's okay for a real man to fuck us. In fact, only a real man can fuck us. Not to mention the power-thing.

Yes, of course, the power-thing. That I can understand.

What could be a more powerful expression of dominance that mounting and fucking someone in the ass.

Once my wife saw that happen to me, I knew instinctively it was over. She'd never see me as a man again.

Right. There I was, wearing a baby doll nightie and a pair of frilly pink socks, still recuperating from surgery, half-zonked out on meds, and Daddy is in my room with his jeans down around his ankles and his huge black schlong hanging out of his underwear.

You must have thought you were hallucinating.

I wish I had been. But it was all too real.

Was your wife there, too?

Yes It was important that she see this. That's what they both said.

Did you fight it?

I cried. I wasn't in any shape to fight anything. Daddy could have put his hands around my throat and strangled me in the sheets and I don't think I'd have done anything but put up token resistance. No, I didn't fight it at all. I cried. I whimpered. I pleaded with him not to do this to me. I beseeched my wife who stood by the door with her arms folded under her chest. She wasn't moved to pity, to say the least. She just laughed and waved off my objections as so much childish prattle. She told me she was sick and tired of listening to my complaining. I remember her words exactly. "It's going to happen Hannah whether you like it or not. You're going to be fucked just like the sissygirl that you are. You're going to be fucked by a real man. My man. So you might was well just shut the fuck up, lay back, and try to enjoy it."

She was right, I guess. What else could we do?

I've replayed the scene in my mind a million times and god knows I can't think of a thing I could have done. Daddy flipped me over like I weighed nothing at all, climbed on the bed behind me, and smeared my sissypuss with lube that he'd been warming in his big black hand. I sobbed into my crushed pillow. There was nothing for it now. I was going to get fucked. He slapped my ass a few times and told me to shut up. I guess I was wailing too loud or something. I wasn't even aware of it. I was out of my mind with terror and humiliation. I felt the massive head of his cock pressing against my little pink rosebud and thought, no way, he's never going to fit that thing inside me. The laws of physics wouldn't allow it, but he grabbed me tight around the hips and forced it passed my fear and resistance. Relaxing was impossible, at least that first time. I tried to relax, if only because he ordered me to, but I was just too afraid. So it went hard for me. Every inch of thrust felt like it was tearing me apart. I could feel something warm and sticky trickling down the insides of my thighs and I was frightened that it was blood. I thought that maybe Daddy had ruptured something inside me and that now I was hemorrhaging to death. I guess I was lucky to have been on the meds. I was already zoned out but the trauma made me dissociate even more. It was almost like an out-of-body experience. I had abandoned my physical self to be fucked. I was sort of watching the whole thing happen from a distant corner of my mind. I faded in and out of consciousness, it seemed. I can't even tell you how long he fucked me. It probably wasn't that long at all. Eventually, he pulled out and I moaned with the sudden feeling of emptiness. He laughed, maybe intuiting what it was I felt. What I felt was disappointment! It surprised me more than anyone! I felt empty without Daddy inside me. I had dreaded it happening and I had wanted it over as quickly as possible and now that Daddy had pulled out of me I wished he was back inside me. Just like that, I was hooked, like they say you can be hooked on crack—one hit and you're an addict. I needed Daddy's cock, but if not Daddy's cock, any black man's cock. And if not a black man's cock, then any man's cock would do. It was as much of a mind-fuck as it was an ass-fuck. From that day on I considered my asshole my sissypuss. They didn't even have to tell me the official terminology yet. I thought of it that way. When they told me to think of it, to refer to it as my sissypuss, I was glad to have the name. It matched the way I felt about it exactly. It made perfect sense. And that's not even the most humiliatingly mind-blowing part of the story. Do you want to know what is?

Are you nuts? Of course I do!

The worst part, the most humiliating part was that I came. I had a cummy. Right there in my wadded-up bandages where my manhood used to be, I shivered and shook to a prissy little sissygasm. And Daddy knew it. He could tell by the feel of my sissypuss squeezing at his cock as he rammed it up deep inside me, planting his superior black man's semen, the seeds of my ultimate destruction. Of course, he told my wife, though she already knew, judging by my reaction. They had a good laugh about it afterwards and never let me forget it. By the end, I was crying not just with pain and shame and shock, not just with the knowledge that my days as a man were over, but that I truly was a pansy. It's one thing to have been physically overpowered, conspired against, betrayed and tricked into castration. It's one thing to have been raped against your will…but to have enjoyed it? To have orgasmed with pleasure as a result? That was the point of no return. You might as well have had a funeral for the old me. Of course, now I know there was nothing to be ashamed about. It's just how us sissies are made. It's what makes us…well, us. We come when men fuck us.