Thirty minutes passed before he looked at the reflection in the mirror. From the neck down he could be a regular drag queen, with a tight PVC dress hugging his slim figure, his nails painted deep red and his feet squeezed into a pair of high heels.

However Stuart’s attention wasn’t on his feminine body today. It was his face which fascinated him now. He’d often fantasized about rubbing the hair remover into his scalp and an hour ago it had finally happened, leaving him completely hairless. Every hair on his body had rinsed away under the shower and now in the mirror he saw the result of his commitment.

He reached for the cheap red lipstick bought from a discount store and painted his lips slowly. Many times he’d seen transvestites apply their make up and this time he was in the drivers seat. But there was a limit to how feminine his face was to look. Instead it was important that he appear submissive and kinky. He reached for the spare silk pantyhose leg which he’d cut short with some scissors and lifted it to the top of his bald head. Carefully he pulled it down over his eyes, nose and chin. Now his face was the face of a submissive, unrecognisable even to him.

A black leather dog collar, covered with silver studs, was the final touch. He wrapped it around the hose on his neck and pulled its as tight as he could. When his neck was hurting from the constriction he sealed the collar tight. Now he was ready.

---------------------------------------------

Outside he heard his ex-wife Vicky and her new husband Richard talking about a vacation they were taking in a couple of weeks. How could they talk so casually? He felt a pang of sadness when he heard they were going to Australia. Five years before, Stuart and Vicky had honeymooned there. But it was far too late to change anything now.

"Let's go Cindy," Vicky called out impatiently from the other room. "We haven't got forever. And you have a lot less time than that."

Richard laughed at the crude joke. He was a well built, muscular man in his early 30s with a menacing smile. Unlike Stuart, Richard was a manual labourer, working on building sites as a supervisor. Commanding other males and making them submit came naturally to him.

Stuart swallowed another tranquilizer with a paper cup of water. His hand, with its delicate, red-nailed fingers, was trembling.

His ex-wife and her new husband were sitting in the only two chairs in the dingy motel room. Vicky wore tight blue jeans and a blue t-shirt, her face contorted in a frown as she waited for the grand entrance. Richard was much more relaxed. His grey flannel track pants and white singlet made him look like a college jock out for some kinky fun. He flexed his muscles when Stuart walked in.

Stuart tried to look as feminine as he could in front of Richard. It had taken him a long time to learn how to walk gracefully on such tall, thin high-heels and he always wanted to impress dominant males.

He heard Richard give a low, mocking whistle, but Stuart had been used by enough men in enough cheesy motel rooms to recognize the hint of real desire there.

Richard’s attention was on Stuart’s tightly wrapped ass. He imagined sliding his hands up the sissy’s silky pantyhose and his cock twitched in response. “The fag can turn himself into a sexy fucker when he puts his mind to it” he thought to himself.

Stuart’s ex-wife slapped playfully at her new husband's arm and looked Stuart up and down.

"Well Cindy," she said dryly, "don't you look the trashy cutie."

"Don't be mean," Richard said, still joking. "You've got to give her points for effort." By now his grey pants were barely containing a 9 inch erection.

"Yeah," Vicky said, "the worthless prick did try awful hard at being a sissy. It was about the only thing he tried hard at."

"Hey," Richard said quietly, "ease up or you'll scare him even more than he is. You don't want him to change his mind, do you?"

He grinned at Vicky and rubbed his crotch, excited by what they had planned for the sissy.

Stuart guessed that he wasn't supposed to hear that last remark, or Richard figured it made no difference if he did. The fact was that it probably didn't make any difference. Stuart was pretty woozy by now from all the pills. He didn't have much will to resist whatever they might have suggested. Still, Vicky seemed to consider Richard's words and her tone softened.

"It's okay Cindy honey," she cooed. "Don't be scared. It's all going to be okay. Richard's right. You do look absolutely lovely."

Stuart knew his ex-wife well enough to understand that she hadn't really changed her opinion. She hated him and she'd hate him forever. But that didn't really matter either. Not anymore. Nothing mattered, but the immediate present. It was all Stuart had left. He just wanted things to go easier over the next, hopefully short, moments of his pitiful life as a male. He was glad enough just to hear a kind voice, even if it was a fake kindness, even if his ex-wife's gentleness, like Richard's, was all just an act.

Oh god, Stuart thought, putting out a hand to keep his balance. He suddenly felt unstable on the heels and sat on the edge of the thin, dirty-looking bed. How can I go through with this?

"Have you written your note, sweetie?" Vicky asked in sugared tones. "That's important. You didn't forget, did you?"

Stuart shook his head. "I remembered."

He felt like he was going to vomit, suddenly terrified. He tried to keep his eyes on the floor. He didn't want to look at what he knew he'd see hanging from the plaster-covered beam above the open closet. That's where it would happen, just outside the closet, Stuart thought, how ironic.

"Read it to make sure, will you Richard?"

Vicky's husband got up from the chair and went over to the night-table where Stuart had left the confession note. He felt both Vicky and the fag watching his muscular body and his cock throbbed with anticipation. With an uncontrollable urge he slid his left hand under the elastic waist band of his pants and slowly jerked his cock as he read the note out loud.

“To whom it may concern.

I have done what I have done to atone for my sins as a faggot and a paedophile. Over the last 10 years I have indecently assaulted over 30 teenage boys, masturbating them and sucking them off, showing them what a sissy faggot I really am. I am a pervert and my life is meaningless. Nothing can change that. I don’t deserve to be a male.

I’ve always wanted to be a woman, and the shame and unhappiness of my desire to be a woman is now unbearable.

I forgive everyone, including my ex-wife. I accept full responsibility for my actions. I want to be castrated. I do not want to be a male any more.”

"It's all there," Richard said, "just like you told him. Air-tight and legal. There shouldn't be any suspicions or inquiries."

"You did a good job Cindy," Vicky said, approvingly. "You got it down to the letter. You'd have made an excellent secretary."

Stuart ignored her sarcasm. He had already shown her the bank statements, the stock options, everything she hadn't managed to take from him in the divorce. He showed her the signed documents that made her his beneficiary in the event of his incarceration. She'd taken most of it already…now she'd have the rest. All Stuart asked in return was to be kept company in his final moments as a man to ensure he did not change his mind, even if the only audience he could find was an ex-wife who loathed him and a man amused and disgusted by him.

No one will ever love you, you freak, Vicky had mocked him when she discovered his secret 12 months before. And she'd been right. All Stuart had found was quick, illicit sex in rooms like this one with desperate, angry, horny teenagers. Sometimes they brought him off. Sometimes they beat him. They never loved him.

"It's time darling," Vicky stated flatly. "Let's go honey. Let's get the show on the road. There's no sense dragging this on any longer than necessary."

She's so hard, so cold, Stuart thought, not for the first time. But it surprised and saddened him to find that she'd be like this now, even at the end. He stood up shakily from the bed. He started across the room towards the castration tool on the table which Richard had bought from a farm supply store. The elastrator was unavoidable now. It was his destination to be castrated, his last and only true fetish. He felt his knees start to buckle.

"Steady there princess," Richard said. He watched the sissy pick up the banding tool and smiled at how submissive Stuart had become. When Vicky first introduced them six months ago he despised the weak fag. He’d never met a cock sucker before, let alone a fucked up sissy boy who wanted his nuts cut off. However now he was turned on by the slutty dress and feminine body of the creature in front of him. It was a blessing in disguise, he had come to reason. For five years Vicky had to put up with a gelding in her bed; now she was making up time by fucking a stallion. And Vicky was like a mare on heat. 24/7.

Sobs shook Stuart's feminized body. Tears ran hot over his cheeks. But he didn't faint or falter. He was going to be castrated soon. He had already accepted that fact. The thought was terrible but also somehow comforting. It was the right thing to do, he knew. He would never fit in this world as a male: it was better if he left it as a eunuch.

"Here," Richard said, "let me do the deed for you."

"Ever the gentleman," Vicky said drolly.

Richard laughed, turned, and winked at Stuart. "Don't listen to her. You're doing fine, honey. Now lets get those little balls of yours sorted out.” He reached for the box of rubber castrating rings and shook one out on the palm of his hand.

“Here we go princess, the answer to all your prayers.” Richard’s smile broke into a evil grin as he looked through the pantyhose covering Stuart‘s eyes and his big hands slipped the ring onto the prongs of the elastrator device.

Richard had used castration bands many times before as a teenager on his father’s ranch. In fact, it was his suggestion to Vicky which had set in motion that day’s events. To an alpha male such as Richard, the idea of castrating a paedophile who wanted to be a woman was a no brainer. The sooner the rubber rings were put to good use the better for all concerned. And Vicky was more than pleased to help with her ex husband’s destruction.

“This won’t hurt a bit darling” Richard whispered as he manoeuvered Stuart’s testicles through the band. They hung low in the silk pantyhose as Richard released his grip on the elastrator’s handles, letting the band seal off Stuart’s testicles forever. With a quick twist Richard slid the tool out from the bands, leaving Stuart’s balls to their fate.

“Now, don't forget to put on your bracelets. They match your outfit perfectly. But do it after you get up on the chair and put the noose on. I'm afraid I can't take the risk of helping you up. Sorry…" he held up his latex gloved hands and grinned. "Touching is out. Can't leave any fingerprints on your pretty little body."

"Thank you Richard," Stuart said quietly, slurring the words a little. "Thank you for being so kind to me."

"Think nothing of it honey. Now up you go."

Stuart steadied himself with a hand on the back of the chair and stepped onto it as gracefully as he could. It was difficult in the tight PVC dress he'd chosen. He'd taken the handcuffs that Richard had left on the chair for him. Now, standing on the chair and trying to keep his balance, he quickly slipped the noose which Richard had attached to the ceiling over his pantyhose-encased head. He reached up with slender white arms and tied the knot. He felt the rope against the soft flesh of his throat and felt a sob catch in his throat.

He slipped a slender wrist into one of the cold cuffs, put his arms behind his back, and snapped the other cuff closed.

Click.

He was finished. Now it was impossible for him to release his balls from the strangling grip of the rubber ring. He was on the journey to becoming a docile, sexless eunuch.

"Jesus, I wish we’d done that to you years ago you stupid sissy faggot," Vicky said.

Helpless now, there was no turning back for Stuart, and Vicky knew it, and that meant there was little need to even pretend to care. There was nothing now but cold, heartless cruelty.

"You can leave me now" Stuart gasped. The plan had been for the band to be slipped on 12 hours before the motel owner would check the room - plenty of time for it to transform Stuart into a gelding. Now that Vicky and Richard had made sure he went through with the banding, their role was over.

"Wait a sec Cindy," Richard said. He turned to Stuart. "It's okay honey. I’ve got another surprise to help with your punishment.” His hand reached up to Stuart’s trapped testicles and squeezed them sharply, making Stuart wince in pain.

“I think there’s one more step you need to take, don’t you princess?” Now Richard’s eyes grew wider, aroused by the fear in the sissy’s eyes.

“I want you to just step off the chair, baby. Come on beautiful. You’re looking real sexy in that silky pantyhose and I don’t want you to feel any pain as your balls start to die. I want to make it easy for you baby. Do you want me to help you?"

The pills were beginning to really take effect by now and Stuart wanted nothing more than to lie down, to rest, to sleep forever. He wanted to go to sleep in this nightmare world and wake up in another where all his dreams would come true and he was a feminine woman with men to fuck her as they desired. He could barely stand upright any longer, but each time his knees bent he felt the tug of the noose, reminding him, waking him back to the nightmare. Richard's voice came to him from far away, but it sounded so kind, so friendly, so sweet.

"Do you want me to help you sweets?"

"Yes, help me," Stuart whispered "please, please help me…"

"Okay princess…I'll help you."

Vicky watched with fascination as Richard, without hesitation, raised his steel-tipped boot and kicked the chair out from under Stuart. Stuart felt the crushing pressure against his throat immediately and let out a muffled scream. His eyes closed on an impenetrable wall of white pain. His legs kicked spasmodically beneath the PVC dress and he quickly lost both of his pretty high heeled shoes. He was hanging, barefoot, his painted toes stretched in vain almost a foot above the floor.

"It's happening," Vicky said excitedly, clapping her hands, "finally…I didn't think the stupid bitch would ever let us put that noose around her sissy neck and balls…"

Richard laughed huskily. He watched, fascinated, the strangely erotic dance of the slowly strangling sissy. The idea of castrating Stuart was never going to be enough for what he had done to those boys. The sissy had to be put out of his misery for good.

"Dammit," he said, "dammit that's fucking sexy." Richard’s hand was under the waist of his track pants again and he pumped his engorged cock. His eyes focussed on the struggling, castrated sissy.

Stuart's eyes, closed on the pain and the tears, squeezed open. He saw his ex-wife face Richard, take his cock in her hands and slip it into her. The two pressed together in front of him, wildly fucking. They came several times, growing excited all over again, with every crisis Stuart seemed to endure. He wanted to cry out for help, beg them to take him down, but he knew it was too late, and they'd never help him even if it weren't.

In spite of his effort to hold back, Stuart's bladder suddenly released. The loss of control stunned the dying sissy. Hot urine splashed over his smooth thighs, soaked his black PVC dress, and dripped off his already cold, curled toes. From somewhere, through the crackling congestion thickening inside his head, he could hear Vicky barking with laughter. He closed his eyes and felt a series of involuntary seizures shake his body. In spite of the fact that his penis had been gaffed backwards, he felt himself cum in short, truncated bursts. This must be the end, he thought, the end of him.

Lights sparked and flashed behind Stuart’s closed eyelids. His whole body reverberated with the final beatings of his laboring heart. And then his mouth gaped open and no air came in…and no air went out. He was strangled, suffocated, and his tongue pushed out between his bloodied teeth. The congestion in his head had grown unbearable—it felt as if his brain were about to explode. Stuart shuddered a last time and then the world went black.

He was alone and long dead when the motel owner found him. His face so contorted from his ordeal on the end of the hanging rope that the detectives filling out the initial report paid the dead sissy what he would have considered the ultimate compliment if he'd been alive. He was taken to the morgue and put in a cold metal drawer and until the coroners stripped off his dress and had a close look at him and his banded ballsac the tag on his pink toe was like a belated valentine. They had mistaken him for a woman. For a little while, anyway, he'd gotten his wish: he had died a girl.