Diminishing Returns

Money is a powerful motivator!

Text

I peered into my tight little shorts. I was having trouble standing up to pee. Over the last six months, my penis had shrunk to a nub, which looked even more pathetic resting above my empty sack. Had it really been that long since Conrad cut off my testicles? Supposedly they were in a jar of formaldehyde in his office. At least that’s what he said-but he said a lot of things.

“How much?” That’s what I asked when Conrad told me he wanted to castrate me.

Conrad had looked me over, his gaze moving up and down my body, from my stiletto-heeled feet to my still-growing breasts (which weren’t nearly as big as they were now) to my heavily made-up face. “I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.”

I’d laughed. While it sounded like a lot, I’d seen him drop that much on one of his bar tabs. “A hundred thousand,” I replied.

Conrad snorted, his lips curling into a small grin. “How about fifty?”

Quickly calculating what the new total of my bank account would be, I’d shrugged. “Deal.”

That was what it had come to: The prospect of losing my nuts resulted in a shrug. But with all the stuff that he’d already put me through, this next step seemed inevitable. Conrad had already legally changed my name from Harry to Marci ($10,000), had all my body hair zapped off with a laser ($15,000), gotten the right to dress me up like a doll ($10,000), and injected me with gallons of estrogen ($7,500 per month). All that was left was the actual castration.

“One condition,” he said, still smiling. “I get to do it myself.”

“Yourself? Are you qualified?”

“It’s easy,” he said. “Farmers do it to animals all the time. A little snip with a special pair of scissors and, look, no more balls.” He laughed.

I remember I’d actually laughed with him. But I was already in this deep, and I had no idea how I’d get out of it. How could I ever go back to my old life, working at a gas station and living with my mom? I wonder what she’ll do when she learns my name was Marci now and that for the last year I’d allowed a rich man to turn me into a girl for money. I’m sure she’ll at least appreciate the new car I plan on buying her.

The problem is, I’m running out of things for him to change. All that’s left is my dick. Will Conrad ever ask me to get a sex-change? Maybe. And if he does, I’ll be ready. I already have a dollar amount in mind...