Y2K!

Men have long dreamed of being stranded on a desert island with 
dozens of beautiful women. Of course it's just a fantasy and always 
has been. Nothing like this could happen in real life, could it? Who 
would believe that a crisis at the beginning of the twenty-first 
century would make this fantasy a reality for one man. He only has 
one problem now. To enjoy all that wonderful sex he has to remain a 
man. Several of his fellow castaways, all beautiful women, think it 
would be much more practical to make him a eunuch!

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Y2K!

My luck had been running great so far this year. My company assigned 
me to Hawaii. That was a real relief after spending my first two 
years in Minneapolis; I hate cold weather! I met my girlfriend, 
Janice, in Honolulu. She was a tall Amerasian with a smooth 
completion, long black hair, and she was very well educated. I 
couldn't have sat down and designed a more beautiful dream girl.  We 
had fallen in love almost immediately and were planning to get 
married in the spring.

I was not at all happy when I was told the company was sending me on 
a business trip to Singapore over New Year's and I wouldn't be 
allowed to take Janice. Most of the guys at the office said I had 
lucked out again. Airlines (except for the few airlines that refused 
to fly at all that day) were booked solid with people wanting to ring 
in the new millennium in an exotic location. It would only be for a 
few days and, fortunately, Janice was very understanding. She thought 
I had a good career with the company and she was very supportive.

This Y2K thing was really crazy. Some people thought it would be the 
end of the world and survivalist fanatics were holed up in remote 
locations all over the world. Most responsible people, however, had 
decided that nothing would happen at all. January 1, 2000 would just 
be another day on the calendar. We would probably remember the day 
more for the football games than for any apocalyptic computer 
glitches the doom-sayers were warning us about. My company, after 
researching the problem, said there might be some minor problems here 
and there, but no need to invest in a survival kit; save your money 
for champaign!

The business meeting ended about noon on December 31, and we planned 
to party at the hotel and ring in the new year. Sure enough, when the 
clock passed midnight nothing happened, except for the wildest, 
noisiest, drunken celebration I had ever witnessed. The electric 
lights didn't even blink. Traffic still ran in the streets, and the 
radio gave a similar report for the rest of the world, except for 
those minor difficulties experienced in a few locations, just like 
the responsible authorities had predicted.

We all called it a night and went back to our hotel rooms about 1:00 
am. We were turning in early because we had flights to catch the next 
morning. The company was giving us a couple of extra days; they were 
good about giving you enough time to turn a business trip into a mini-
vacation. The other guys were catching a plane to Bangkok to partake 
of the brothels for which that city is so famous. As for me, I 
couldn't wait to get back to Honolulu and Janice.

I saw the guys off at 8:00 (we were all a little hung over). My plane 
didn't leave until noon so I just decided to hang out at the airport 
until time to board. We would be flying to Tokyo, and after a brief 
layover, back to Honolulu. I couldn't wait; all I could think about 
was Janice.

I was reading a paperback in the waiting area, when I began to notice 
a subtle change in the tone of the conversation. It sounded uneasy 
and full of portent, a little like listening to a hive of angry bees. 
I looked up and saw concern on peoples faces, and watched them 
hurrying about more quickly now. Something was wrong.

I went into one of the little electronics shops in the airport and 
joined a group huddled around a television watching an English 
language news channel. It seems that an international terrorist group 
had taken advantage of the Y2K uncertainty and launched a coordinated 
attack on the establishment worldwide. False rumors had been spread 
causing runs on banks and retail stores. Terrorist computer hackers 
had hacked into the financial computers destroying data and records. 
The reporter said that if this were Monday instead of Saturday the 
financial markets would be in even greater chaos. There were now food 
riots in many cities and several modern industrial nations had 
already declared martial law. The terrorists had obtained small, 
mobile SAM missiles (probably pilfered from the CIA's covert anti-
Soviet operation in Afghanistan in the 1980s) and had shot several 
airliners out of the sky in the United States and Europe. There were 
thousands of casualties. No flights were landing or departing from 
major airports in North America and Europe. I heard someone in the 
crowd say that Honolulu was still open and I breathed a sigh of 
cautious relief. I had to get back to Janice!

I went to the counter an purchased a multi-band shortwave radio 
(paying five times what it would have cost in town) and all the 
batteries I could cram into my carry-on luggage. I felt a little 
silly, as though I was acting out of panic, but it just seemed like 
the thing to do. I remembered my boss and the management making fun 
of all those wacko doom-sayers, but this was more than a minor 
disruption. Our departure was delayed several hours. It was almost 
dark when I finally boarded my plane. As we took off I was 
apprehensive, yet hopeful.

A few minutes into the flight the pilot announced that we could not 
continue to Tokyo because the airport was closed. We were being 
diverted to Manila instead. Our plane would be refueled and fly 
directly to Honolulu. Those passengers who were going to Tokyo would 
be allowed to return there from Honolulu as soon as Tokyo was open. 
The airline apologized for the inconvenience. I was scared, but I 
kept thinking of Janice and clung to hope.

Once on the ground in Manila, news reports were looking worse - much 
worse. Terrorist hackers had commandeered some nuclear missiles and 
detonated the warheads in their silos. It was like something out of 
sci-fi horror! They were now threatening to set off nukes in major 
cities if the governments didn't meet their conditions, and it seemed 
that their conditions amounted to unconditional surrender of the 
civilized world to this pack of ruthless terrorists! The United 
States, Russia, Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, China, and a 
host of smaller nations were now under martial law.

All airlines had canceled departures from Manila. I was stranded now, 
thousands of miles from my beloved Janice. I was setting in the 
waiting area shaking, almost crying. Suddenly three well-dressed 
professional-looking women seated themselves in the empty chairs 
across from me. I could tell they were concerned and nervous, but 
they were handling this much better than I. I knew my concern and 
longing for Janice was the main reason for my distress, and I 
desperately wanted to present a calm, manly image to these women. I 
worked hard to regain my composure and not look like some kind of 
sissy wimp in front of them. Soon we struck up a conversation about 
the current crisis. The women introduced themselves as Barbara, 
Monique, and Marian. Barbara was a petite blonde, about 5'2" (I 
thought she was very cute!) and Marion was a brunette with dark 
penetrating eyes, just a little taller than Barbara. Monique was the 
tallest, perhaps 5'9", with auburn hair, green eyes, freckles, and a 
very voluptuous body. All three looked like Americans, but I learned 
that Monique was French (she spoke impeccable English). They, along 
with about a hundred other women, had also just arrived from 
Singapore. They had been attending an international feminist 
businesswomen's conference. Like me they were destined for Honolulu, 
via Tokyo, until their plane was diverted to Manila. However, their 
plane was not a commercial airliner, but a chartered jet.

Soon a tall, blonde Scandinavian woman, named Gretchen, joined the 
group. I could tell from the way she talked and acted that she was 
someone in a position of authority. She looked a little bit butch, 
yet pleasantly sensual. It didn't take long for me to learn that 
these women did not particularly like men, and they certainly didn't 
trust them. However, they seemed favorably impressed by the fact that 
I was concerned about my fiancé, Janice, and had declined a whoring 
expedition to Bangkok, with my corporate buddies to return to her. 
For some reason they believed me.

Gretchen left us, saying she had something to check on and that she 
would be right back. On returning she called the other three women 
aside and spoke with them confidentially. They kept casting glances 
in my direction as they talked.

"Come on, you're coming with us," Gretchen said, in an authoritative 
voice.

I desperately wanted to know what was going on, but I just followed 
them obediently. Under the circumstances I didn't know what else to 
do and what did I have to lose? We went to another loading gate where 
there were dozens of women, dressed similarly, in nice business 
suits. Obviously they were the other businesswomen from the 
conference. Over to one side of the loading area were also several 
dozen young women who looked to be in their late teens or early 
twenties. Most of them were only dressed casually.

"I need your money," Gretchen said, curtly, holding out her hand. 
"Come on, quickly now. All of it."

I was really taken aback. This was either a very stupid robbery 
attempt or a really bad joke. I hesitated and I know my mouth must 
have dropped open. I was about to break and run.

"We've got to by fuel for the plane," she explained. "We're taking up 
a collection from everyone - every cent you have. They won't accept 
credit accounts anymore, only American dollars. Our plane is a 
private charter. If we can buy enough fuel they'll let us take off."

Against all my instincts, I pulled out my wallet and gave Gretchen 
every bill I had. Considering the current crisis, her story seemed 
plausible, but I still felt a little stupid. I noticed several of the 
other businesswomen working among the crowd collecting money like 
ushers in a church, even taking money from the young girls.

"Take him with you," Gretchen said, addressing her companions before 
she turned and left. 

Monique put her hand in the small of my back and pushed me forward. 
"This way," she said.

Busses took us out to the plane. Military police were everywhere. It 
was dark now, but I could see flames in the distance from some large 
fires. I wasn't sure just what was happening, but I wanted to get out 
of there as quickly as possible.

Once on the plane, I learned that the young women were all college 
girls, part of a regional international women's volleyball 
tournament. There were two American teams, and teams from Australia, 
New Zealand, and Taiwan. They all wanted to fly to Honolulu rather 
than risk staying in Manila. Then they would return to their 
respective countries as soon as the crisis had blown over. 
Fortunately, the businesswomen had only filled the plane to half 
capacity, allowing room for the extra passengers. I also noticed that 
I was the only man boarding and I felt very self-conscious.

Once aboard, I was surprised to hear a female voice on the intercom 
saying, "This is your captain speaking..." I discovered that we had 
three male flight stewards. Otherwise there were no other males 
aboard a plane carrying over two hundred women! We all breathed a 
sigh of relief as our plane left the runway and soared into the 
night. So began the long flight to Honolulu.

We were all talking about how we would celebrate once we arrived in 
Honolulu, and I couldn't wait to see Janice. But we were only about 
three hours from our destination when our captain announced that we 
would not be able to land there. The airport was under siege, as were 
all major airports in Hawaii. They expected to have things well under 
control in a day or two, but we couldn't wait. After looking at our 
options, the captain and copilot decided our best bet was to head 
south, to Tahiti. We would be running dangerously low on fuel, but we 
really had no choice. Our plane couldn't land on some crop-duster air 
field. We had to land at a large commercial airport.  We would 
probably be stuck there for a while since we wouldn't have enough 
fuel to take off again once we landed. This was disappointing news, 
but we were still confident that the governments of the world would 
regain control over the terrorists soon.

Drawing close to our alternate destination, we were unable to 
establish radio contact with Papeete. Our captain might have to land 
the plane visually, without any assistance from the control tower. 
Fortunately, the first rays of morning were breaking over the horizon 
now. At least we wouldn't have to land in the dark. As we came into 
sight of the island, we still had not established radio contact with 
the tower. We all looked apprehensively out the windows. Large plumes 
of smoke drifted into the air from the area around the airport. Using 
a broad-band receiver, our crew was able to pick up some traffic on 
the local police band. Monique went up to the cockpit to translate 
since the transmissions were in French. We were losing altitude now, 
preparing to land.

"We've got to get out of here," Monique said. "What's happening down 
there is not good."

The captain started to argue with her when the telltale streaks of 
tracer rounds began to appear in the sky ahead of us. She banked hard 
to port and accelerated. We started gaining altitude again. We all 
hoped these terrorists didn't have any SAMs. This was bizarre, 
something like this shouldn't be happening!

It looked hopeless now. We only had enough fuel for about another 
hour and there were no other airports in range. It was accepted now 
that we would be going down in water. The stewards and crew members 
helped everyone get out their floatation devices and we all prepared 
as best we could for the inevitable. After all the frenzy of the 
preparation, there was nothing left to do but wait. It became deathly 
quiet in the cabin. Some of the young girls began to cry and pray. I 
felt really sorry for them. They were so young and beautiful. They 
shouldn't have to die, I thought. I knew at best most of the people 
on the plane would be killed in the crash. Survivors were rare in 
these kind of things. I worried about having to look at all those 
mangled little bodies, some of them still alive, more than I worried 
about dying. I hoped only that I would go quickly when it happened.

I felt the plane jerk and angle downward. We were beginning another 
descent. Out the window I could see a small island below. There was a 
central mountain that looked as though it might have once been a 
volcano. The captain banked the plane and it was obvious we were 
circling the island. Several peninsulas sprawled from the central 
mountain like the arms of an octopus. We could see some buildings on 
one of the peninsulas, their sheet metal roofs were gleaming in the 
sun, and for the first time I was able to establish some perspective. 
I estimated that our altitude was now less than 5000 feet and I 
guessed the island to be no more than ten miles across, including its 
peninsulas. The buildings had just disappeared from sight when we 
began dropping rapidly. The captain told everyone to fasten their 
seatbelts (as though we hadn't already) and prepare for a possible 
impact. We all knew this was it. It was very quiet except for the 
plane. Nobody talked.

The water was getting closer and closer. I could see the waves. They 
were small; ripple chop, just enough to keep the surface tension from 
ripping the belly out of the airplane. The engines became louder and 
I realized they were braking. I kept waiting for the impact, but 
looking out the window I could see froth coming up from beneath the 
plane. I realized we had been in contact with the surface for several 
seconds now. Suddenly I felt a hard tug as I pitched forward against 
my seatbelt. The plane slid onto the sandy beach traveling almost 
parallel to the shore, then came to a full stop just a few yards from 
the tree line.

The crew opened the emergency doors, large inflatable chutes 
deployed, and we slid down them as instructed. Soon everyone, all two 
hundred twenty five of us, were just standing around the plane 
looking. We must have been in shock from the experience, but no one 
was hurt. Nobody said a word for what seemed like an aeon. Instead of 
the carnage and horror we had expected, it was like, "Well, here we 
are." The landing wasn't even rough!

The captain, a woman named Danielle, was a hero (or rather a heroine) 
now. Everyone gathered around her and offered their praise and 
gratitude. But now that the plane was safely on the ground, 
leadership reverted back to Gretchen, the president of the business 
women's organization. 

As soon as it was determined to be safe, we returned to the plane and 
retrieved our carry-on bags. The business women managed to open the 
baggage doors and get their luggage. Those of us who boarded in 
Manila could forget our checked baggage. I was grateful to the 
businesswomen for having allowed me to leave on their plane, even if 
we didn't make it to Honolulu. I took the shortwave radio and the 
supply of batteries from my bag and offered it to Gretchen. My gift 
was also a token of my recognition of her as the leader.

After a brief discussion among the businesswomen they decided to send 
a team up the beach to check out the buildings we saw when we were 
coming down. We estimated that they couldn't be much more than three 
miles from here. Gretchen chose Barbara to head up the team and 
instructed her to select three others. I volunteered and was 
accepted. We would need Monique as a translator, and since they were 
close friends, Barbara selected Marion as the fourth member of the 
team. The next thing I knew, I was taking off on this little 
expedition with the same three women I had originally met at the 
airport in Manila.

I think we had all forgotten just how oppressive the heat could be in 
the tropics. It was January and we were south of the equator. Our 
shoes kept filling with sand and our clothes were becoming damp with 
perspiration. Monique said she would be all for stripping to her 
underwear, except that might not make the kind of impression we 
wanted on the residents of the village. So in the interest of 
modesty, we trudged on in discomfort. I began thinking about what 
Monique and Barbara and Marion would look like stripped to their 
underwear. For the first time after our landing I realized that I was 
stranded on a tropical island with over two hundred beautiful women. 
If it weren't for Janice I would be elated; the world crisis be 
damned! I began having an erection thinking about it.

After almost two hours the buildings came into view. There were 
several long, low buildings with sheet metal roofs, and a large 
central building that was three storeys high. Fences surrounded most 
of the low buildings and they looked like they had been used to house 
livestock. We began yelling and shouting greetings in two languages, 
but heard nothing in reply. Maybe the natives were afraid we were 
terrorists and were hiding, but surely after half an hour of yelling 
and announcing ourselves they could see that we were just one man and 
three women, all unarmed. And surely someone saw the plane go down or 
heard the engines. That would be a big event on a remote island like 
this. The place seemed to be abandoned, but everything was in good 
repair, even the grass was trimmed. It was as though everyone had 
just left for lunch. And speaking of lunch, we were starving!

Satisfied that we were the only people in the village, we quit 
searching for residents and began helping ourselves to the assortment 
of  tropical fruits that were growing in the nearby groves. There 
were mangos, papayas, bananas, and bread fruit, to name a few. A 
stream of fresh water flowed down from the mountain. Despite a 
lifetime of admonitions against drinking untreated water, especially 
in the tropics, we slaked out thirst in the bubbling stream.

Having refreshed ourselves we continued exploring the little village, 
which we concluded was not a village at all, but rather some kind of 
compound or complex. There were no individual dwellings, but a 
barracks-like living area was adjacent to the central building (which 
was not even locked). It looked as though about two-dozen people had 
recently lived here. We found some notes and a log book, all written 
in French. Monique said this was apparently the site of some kind of 
scientific research project. The people who had lived here were 
scientists and their support staff. When the terrorist crisis erupted 
they had evacuated the island and returned to Papeete on a large 
motor launch. The long buildings and pens had contained livestock 
that was released into the jungle just before they abandoned the 
place. They expected to return in a matter of days, as soon as the 
crisis was brought under control.

We realized we had better start back toward the plane if wanted to 
arrive before dark. Feeling safe now, the women stripped to their 
underwear before starting back, and I followed suit. These women had 
solid, muscular bodies, obviously the result of regular physical 
workouts. I tied my clothes in a bundle and held them in front of me 
in an attempt to hide my erection. The women noticed and laughed.

For the first time since I had met Janice, I found myself seriously 
contemplating cheating on her and that made me feel guilty. I 
expected we would be rescued within two or three days and I wondered 
how many times I could score by then. These feminist businesswomen 
might not be interested in men, but what about those hot little 
chicks from the volleyball teams? The very thought drove me wild! I 
found myself wishing our rescue could be delayed for a week, or even 
two. I tried to rationalize as I thought about Janice. Surely she 
would understand. She couldn't expect a man to be stranded on a 
desert island with two hundred beautiful women and not indulge 
himself. The situation I found myself in had been the dream of tens 
of millions of men for countless generations, but it was so 
improbable that it had remained a fantasy only. Now here I was, 
actually living the fantasy! I was the one man out of all the 
millions that had actually won the big lottery - so to speak. If I 
didn't try to score as many times as possible before our rescue, I 
wouldn't be much of a man, would I? Janice would understand. I would 
never cheat on her under normal circumstances, but these were not 
normal circumstances! Besides, would Janice even believe me if I did 
abstain? Probably not.

On returning to the plane, I discovered that not only had the other 
women stripped to their underwear, but well over half of them were 
completely nude! I almost had an orgasm at the sight. Most of the 
group was going about the business of setting up makeshift shelters 
and unloading the remaining equipment from the plane. Occasionally 
some of the girls would take a break and splash around playfully in 
the surf. Others had started campfires on the beach and as the sun 
would be setting soon, they were a welcome sight. I saw the three 
male stewards dutifully carrying wood and placing it near the fires. 
I had almost forgotten about them. I really wasn't the only man on 
the island. Of course this wasn't a problem; it still worked out to 
about fifty girls each! Strangely, it was rather comforting to know 
there were other males in our group. I resolved to go over and 
introduce my self as soon as the day's activities subsided a bit.

We reported our findings to Gretchen and she called a meeting with 
about a half-dozen of the other women, including Barbara, Monique, 
and Marion. I learned that they comprised the leadership council of 
the feminist group. They were glad to learn we had discovered a 
stream of fresh water and that  tropical fruit was plentiful on the 
island.  There was only enough food on the plane for about three more 
meals for everyone, and we didn't expect to be rescued for several 
days. Gretchen and her council decided that we should all move to the 
complex first thing in the morning. Living facilities there should be 
quite adequate until we could be rescued, but we would spend our 
first night in and around the plane.

Some volunteers had prepared enough airline meals for everyone and 
were passing them out among the group. The temperature dropped as 
night fell and I donned my clothes once more. After eating, I excused 
myself and just started wandering down the beach. This was so unreal, 
a whole beach full of beautiful women and only four guys. I was 
thinking, trying to come up with a good pickup line. "I'm sorry, 
Janice," I said aloud, "I just can't pass this up. No man could." I 
wished this had happened a year earlier, before I met Janice. 
Suddenly, I heard some giggling and a cute blonde with a ponytail 
tail, and a tall redhead, came up to me. 

"Hi, I'm Darla," the blonde said. "Want a drink?" She held up one of 
those little airline liquor bottles. "See what we found," she said, 
opening her purse to display a large stash of the little bottles.

I introduced myself, thanked her, and accepted the bottle.

"And I am Amy," said the redhead, "I do hope you aren't like the 
others. "You did board the plane in Manila, didn't you?"

The redhead had an Australian accent. I think girls with accents are 
sexy, no matter what country they are from.

"The others? What others?" I asked, thoroughly confused. "Yes, I got 
on in Manila. I was supposed to go to Honolulu. I was trying to get 
back to... to work. That's where my job is."

"Then you're not with the sisterhood?" Amy asked.

"Sisterhood?" I asked, more confused now than ever.

"That means you're the only man on the island," Darla said, giggling.

"No, there are three others. You know, the guys..."

Amy threw her head back and laughed. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"Those three blokes aren't blokes at all. They're eunuchs!"

"Yes," Darla confirmed. "Those businesswomen belong to some kind of 
Goddess cult..., the Sisterhood of Cyble, or something like that. 
They have like a men's auxiliary, and when men join they have to give 
up their balls. That's what the three stewards are."

What they told me made me weak in the knees and I got a hollow 
feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was bizarre! I also felt 
myself becoming erect.

Amy and Darla led me into a little clearing where we were joined by 
four of their friends; Karen, Laurie, and... and... two more. Hell, I 
can't even remember their names! They had several blankets from the 
plane and we wasted no time in getting on with business. I came seven 
times that night, going twice with Darla. As dawn broke, I was 
exhausted.

"You're going to be a busy boy," Darla said, as she woke up cuddled 
in my arms. She had been first and last of the night.

I don't think I had more than two hours sleep all night and we had a 
hard day moving to the complex and setting up residence there.

"You need to start getting more sleep," Gretchen said, observing my 
exhausted condition. "Everyone has to make themselves useful, you 
know."

"Yes," Monique said, smiling, "you want to keep yourself healthy for 
your fiancé... Janice, isn't it? She's probably worrying her little 
heart out right about now, but I look for a boat or a plane to come 
in here any day now."

I felt terribly guilty when I thought about Janice, and I knew that 
Gretchen and Monique must have known about last night. I could tell 
from the sly smiles on their faces and the kind of questions they 
asked me.

There wasn't enough room in the barracks in the main building for 
everyone to stay. Gretchen and her leadership council moved in there, 
along with many of the other feminist businesswomen. They moved the 
eunuchs in there also. However, after cleaning out and fixing up the 
livestock sheds, there was more than enough room for everyone. We 
used palm leaves to fashion partitions and walls, and our quarters 
were quite adequate.

I was glad to distance myself a little from the feminist leaders, 
especially since I learned what they did to their men! Darla and Amy 
sort of latched onto me. We developed a kind of unwritten agreement 
that they wouldn't care if I slept with the other girls as long as 
they had first rights and controlled who I slept around with, as well 
as when and where. They actually made a game out of seeing how many 
times they could get me laid in a night. I was occasionally able to 
climax seven or eight times in one night, but usually four or five 
times would finish me off. After a few days, I was able to get up 
quite refreshed in the morning after having sex with four or five 
girls the night before. My system was adjusting, I guess. Darla and 
Amy wanted to see if I could have sex with every girl on the island 
before our rescuers came. Of course not all of them wanted to 
participate, but easily three-fourths of them did. Even some of the 
feminist women occasionally came down to see what I was like. 
Needless to say, I was in heaven!

Gretchen said that the world situation was very grim. Shortwave 
broadcasts became fewer and fewer, and after a couple of weeks we 
heard nothing. To conserve batteries we would only listen one day a 
week for two hours. Fortunately (thanks to me), we had enough 
batteries to last a couple of years. Days passed quickly into weeks 
and it became apparent that our rescue would not be soon in coming. 
Some even worried that the world order had so totally collapsed that 
no one would ever come to this island again, at least not in our 
lifetimes. We began preparing for a long stay. We fixed up the pens 
and set live traps and began rounding up some of the livestock 
released by the scientists when they abandoned the complex. Soon we 
had a relatively stable supply of chicken, pork, and goat. Some of 
the girls had been into South Sea Island arts and crafts. These now 
became survival skills and they taught the others how to make cloth 
from native plants, build shelters, make canoes and fishnets, and 
fashion tools and cooking utensils.

One evening Darla and Amy seemed very concerned and told me not to go 
around the feminists again. They said the feminists planned to 
castrate me and make me like their other eunuchs. They said the 
feminists had a Burdizzo; some of the girls had seen it. This sent a 
wave of terror through my guts. I couldn't imagine a more horrible 
fate at the moment. Although I couldn't understand why, this also 
caused me to become erect!

Heeding the warning, I avoided the feminists and just hung with the 
girls. I managed to avoid them for a couple of  weeks, until one day 
I was walking back from the beach alone. Suddenly I was confronted on 
the path by Barbara and Marion. Topless and wearing string bikinis, 
they looked very beautiful.

"Well, hi stranger," Barbara said, smiling warmly. "Long time no see."

"Yeah," said Marion, "we feel left out. They tell me you have 
something the girls really like and we were wondering if you might 
share!"

I started becoming erect immediately. Now you might think because I 
was getting so much regularly each night that I could easily resist 
sexual temptations, but this isn't so. I knew a guy once who was a 
real lady's man and a stud. He told me that "the more you get, the 
more you want." I didn't really understand this until now, but it's 
true. I had become totally helpless to resist any kind of sexual 
advance or overture. Normally, Amy, Darla, or some of the other girls 
wouldn't let me out of their sight, but today I strayed off..

Barbara put her arms around my neck and just smiled up at me with her 
big blue eyes. Marion began massaging my neck and shoulders, then 
started playing with my nipples, occasionally pinching them until 
they "ouched." Suddenly, several other women quietly stepped out of 
the bushes and surrounded us. I started to pull away, but it was 
already too late. I was so turned on that my efforts were wimpy and 
ineffective. I really didn't want to pull away, I wanted to get laid 
again and my body was involuntarily preparing for sex. They started 
rubbing me with coconut oil and one of the women grabbed me by the 
balls. I gasped and fell forward, leaning on Barbara for support. My 
balls were like a magic switch; whenever  a woman would grab me there 
I would become a helpless, whimpering puppy, groveling at her feet. 
The women giggled with very satisfied laughter as they watched me 
wilt into submission. However, I had one part, a very important part, 
that didn't wilt. It was stiff as a board!

They spread some blankets on the ground and I watched as other women 
came up and joined the scene. Most were part of the feminist group, 
but a few of the college girls had joined them too; there must have 
been twenty or thirty of them in all. Barbara pulled me down onto her 
in the missionary position. I felt myself being pulled, pinched, 
kissed, smacked, slurped, and nibbled by over a dozen beautiful hands 
and mouths. I felt gentle, sensuous hands grab my bulging member and 
help me enter Barbara.

Barbara, who so often acted the man-loathing feminist, was behaving 
like a coquettish, cuddly little sex kitten now. We kissed deeply and 
explored each other's mouths with our tongues. She cuddled, cooed, 
squeaked, and sighed with sensuous delight as our bodies melded into 
a single writhing, gasping creature. She wrapped her legs around mine 
to hold me in her as we jerked and humped in frenzied ecstasy.

I felt a finger, wet with coconut oil, press against my rectal 
sphincter, slip inside me, and massage my prostate. Someone was 
pulling gently on my balls and kneading them. Knowing that my orgasm 
was now imminent, I relaxed now, slowing down a bit, allowing the 
wave of ecstatic surrender to sweep over me.

Suddenly, I felt something cold and metallic against my scrotum. It 
was on either side, above and below. It felt massive and heavy as it 
pressed against me. I heard women in the group making comments; I had 
no idea who was saying what; I could only hear their words.

"Awww, do we gotta?" said one.

"It seems such a shame, he's enjoying himself so much." said another

"Honey, if you only knew how different you are going to be!" 
exclaimed a third, in a voice filled more with sadistic glee than 
sympathy.

I realized now, what was about to happen. Panic swept over me. I was 
helpless, mesmerized, about to cum. I began to babble and mumble 
incoherently. I was scared; horrified, but I was more sexually 
aroused than I had ever been in my life! Barbara sensed my distress, 
my sexual ecstasy mixed with the knowledge that I was about to be 
castrated. She put on her sexist, sweetest personality, teasing and 
mocking in fake ignorance of my impending castration.

"What's a matter, baby," she cooed, softly. "Whatchya wanna do? Hmmm? 
You wanna cum? Hmmm?"

I began screaming in both ecstasy and horror. At that moment I was 
incapable of rational thought. There was only the moment. I was like 
some primitive animal that could only feel and not think. I felt only 
the fear, the ecstasy, and my surrender. I tried to call Barbara's 
name, but couldn't form words.

"Oh, Bar... Bar... Bar... ba... ba... Ahhhh.... Ahhh I wa... wa..."

I could still hear comments being made by other women in the group, 
everything from giggles to sympathy. Barbara was smiling. Her face 
snuggled against mine made her big blue eyes look like a blur, but I 
could tell she was happy and a little amused. She was in perfect 
control.

"Come on, baby," she cajoled. "That's a baby. Cum for Mama now. Let 
it all come out. Just relax and let it happen, baby."

Just as I started to release my load I felt like I had been hit in 
the balls with a sledge hammer and a thousand volts of electricity at 
the same time. I vaguely knew I should be feeling pain, but my 
mesmerized mind was converting the sensation into the ultimate sexual 
experience. I shrieked in a high register that I didn't recognize as 
my own voice; it didn't even sound human. I passed into 
semiconsciousness, remembering a cheer going up from the crowd of 
women around me as I rolled off of Barbara and collapsed beside her.

The next thing I remember is sitting up on the blanket with Barbara 
and Marion on either side of me, holding me up. I frantically reached 
down to check my balls. There was no real pain, but my sack was sore 
and I felt a dull ache in my legs and lower body. I couldn't feel the 
cords connecting my balls and I knew what had happened. I just sat 
there, between Barbara and Marion, crying and shivering. The other 
women formed a large circle around us and Gretchen and Monique were 
standing directly in front of me, smiling smugly. Gretchen was 
holding the Burdizzo. They looked like a couple of beautiful Amazon 
warriors out of some fantasy movie. Feelings of grief and panic shot 
through me as I realized that I would soon lose my ability to savor 
their beauty.

"Why?" I bawled. "Why did you do this to me?"

"Why? I'll tell you why," Gretchen replied. "Have you no sense of 
responsibility? Did you never consider that you might be making the 
girls pregnant? Do you realize how dangerous it will be for them to 
bear children, stranded out here, away from modern facilities?"

"Well, I... ah... never thought..."

"No you didn't think, Farrell. Of course it's not your fault. Men 
with balls can't think. They only get hard and horny, and you found 
some girls young and foolish enough to go along with your nonsense. 
That's why men's balls should be removed as soon as they've served 
their purpose."

"B... but some day I wanted to get married and have kids and..."

"You have three on the way already, that we know of, and we will 
surely discover more. How are you going to feel if some of those 
girls die out here, giving birth away from medical facilities. You 
were engaging in a life threatening activity. To have done anything 
less than what we did to you would have been irresponsible on our 
part. What we did was quite necessary and mandated by the 
circumstances."

"And he had the best last time a man could have," added Barbara, 
squeezing me playfully. "I made sure of that!"

Chuckles and giggles broke out among the women.

"Actually, Farrell," said Gretchen, "that may not have been your last 
time; just your last time as a man. Most men are still good for a few 
days after their castration. You're going to be the guest of honor at 
our quarters in the council house until you can't do it anymore. Then 
we'll give you back to those sweet young things and see how well they 
like you then - and how well you still like them!"

Naughty chuckles and laughter broke out among the women. I started to 
cry. Monique stepped forward and pulled me to my feet. Then they led 
me away to the council house.

My night with Gretchen and Monique was really quite enjoyable. I 
discovered that they were actually a lesbian couple, as were Barbara 
and Marion (I had actually suspected this for some time). They could, 
however, get excited with men as long as the men were sexually 
doomed. I learned that they liked to have sex with men just after, or 
just before they were castrated. Watching the man make the transition 
from a horny jock to a helpless eunuch was at the heart of the scene 
for them.

That night Gretchen and Monique snuggled me into bed between them. 
They didn't talk about my castration at all, but rather how badly 
they wanted me inside them, pumping and throbbing. In no time at all 
I became aroused and erect and it looked like it was going to be 
business as usual for me. I could, however, tell it took me a little 
longer to cum, and my orgasms were a little weaker. I could tell that 
something wasn't just quite right. I hoped that this might be the 
extent of my disability; I had heard of guys who could keep on doing 
it after they lost their nuts and maybe I was one of them.

On the second day they gave me to Barbara and Marion. The sex was 
still wonderful but I was having a difficult time climaxing. They 
called in some of the other women and they took turns with me. They 
enjoyed the fact that I could last so long without climaxing. It took 
me half the night to cum the first time and I managed to have a very 
weak orgasm the next morning.

By the third night I was having difficulty becoming erect enough to 
achieve penetration. The women always had to use their hands to help 
me enter them. I couldn't possibly have an orgasm inside them 
anymore. Some of the women took pity on me and masturbated me to 
climax. My ejaculate was thin and watery. It no longer shot out in 
healthy spurts, but drooled like a runny nose. I felt terribly 
depressed and frustrated. "Oh God, please don't let this be 
happening!" I begged.

On the fourth day Gretchen and Monique took me back. Penetration was 
out of the question now, as my member could only become mildly 
turgid. They played with me for a couple of hours that night and it 
was obvious I couldn't do anything. They pretended to be 
disappointed, but I could tell they were really quite amused at my 
frustrated efforts. They said if I couldn't participate, I would just 
have watch while they had lesbian sex. I was pleasantly surprised to 
discover that I could find pleasure in watching them pleasure each 
other. It temporarily took my mind off my own predicament. Satisfied 
that I was now harmless, they sent me back to Darla and Amy the next 
day.

Darla and Amy were very disappointed and distraught. They had been 
enjoying our little nightly sessions as much as I. About a dozen of 
the girls came up and also expressed their chagrin. They tried to see 
if I could still function (I didn't look any different), but after a 
few minutes of fooling around it became obvious that I was now 
sexually useless. I collapsed at their feet and bawled like a baby. 
They comforted me as best they could.

More weeks passed. I got to know the other eunuchs, Rupert, Norman, 
and Carl. Carl was a personal eunuch of a lesbian couple and had been 
allowed to retain his penis. Rupert and Norman were Temple Eunuchs 
and were completely nullified; that was the rule. They belonged to an 
organization called the Brothers of Attis; in mythology Attis had 
castrated himself so that he might better serve the Goddess, Cyble, 
Great Mother of the Gods. The Brothers of Attis was the male 
auxiliary to the Sisterhood of Cyble. To be considered for 
membership, a man had to surrender his testicles. However, he didn't 
have to castrate himself like Attis did; the women took care of this 
in a beautiful ceremony. The man's last time, followed by castration, 
was usually a very pleasant experience.

Carl, Norman, and Rupert helped me adjust to my new condition, 
showing me how to pleasure a woman with my hands, mouth, and sex toys 
(no, there were no battery-powered vibrators, but bananas and 
cucumbers were in ample supply). I learned to concentrate on the 
woman's pleasure, since the only pleasure I could derive from sex was 
in empathizing with her. I learned to appreciate subtle qualities of 
tenderness and companionship that I had overlooked as a man. 
Testosterone had blinded me to so much feeling and intimacy; it was 
as though a veil had been lifted from my eyes. Men only want sex; 
women ARE sex, and sex is life. We exist for them and their pleasure 
and not the other way around. To know these things is to be closer to 
the Goddess. I am learning.

Months pass. We learn that I have impregnated seven of the college 
girls and one feminist before my castration. The babies were born 
healthy and without complications. There were three physicians among 
the feminists, plus several nurses and midwives, so the risk to the 
girls's health was minimal. I did, however, realize that if the women 
hadn't castrated me we might have had over a hundred babies right 
now, all mine. That would have been a disaster; eight is enough!



After a couple of years had passed, Gretchen announced one morning 
that she had heard a shortwave transmission, in English, on the radio 
(we were pushing the shelf life of those batteries, but we still had 
extras). Radio broadcasts became more frequent in the next few weeks. 
Apparently the world was recovering and putting itself back together. 
A few weeks later we heard the roar of a jet circling our island. It 
was a military jet with U.S. insignia. We all ran down to the beach 
and waved. The plane flew very low, dipped its wings, then soared 
back into the clouds and disappeared. Exactly five days later we 
heard the sound of helicopters; there were two of them, U.S. Marine 
helicopters. We could see a ship in the gray haze, far offshore. We 
were rescued!

The world we returned to was very different. There was a worldwide 
recession that wouldn't be ending anytime soon. The company I used to 
work for was now bankrupt, as were thousands of others. Some 
business, however, that had "overreacted" to Y2K were solvent and 
flourishing. My former boss was now working for one of the 
survivalist wackos he used to make fun of.

The Sisterhood of Cyble, a much larger organization worldwide than 
just Gretchen and her entourage, had taken Y2K seriously and hoarded 
gold and silver and wisely invested in strategic industries and 
commodities. They were now a major economic force in the world.

Janice had given me up for dead and went on with her life. She was 
now happily married to an Army officer and they had two children. As 
for me, given the current economic state of the world, things would 
look pretty bleak. However, I had been invited to join the Brothers 
of Attis, and under the circumstances, I had little choice but to 
accept. The thing was now, if I couldn't get a woman to sponsor me as 
her personal eunuch, I would have to join as a Temple eunuch and 
belong to the sisterhood at large. Meaning,  I would have to be 
nullified.

Oh, did I mention that the feminist who became pregnant was Barbara? 
She had a rather good sense of humor about it though. She thought it 
was really cool to get pregnant from a man's last time. She did want 
some children and she couldn't have planned that if she had tried! 
She and Marion are considering sponsoring me as their personal 
eunuch, but they haven't decided yet. (You should see the teasing 
smiles on their faces when they talk about it!) Barbara thinks I 
would make a really cute nullo!



THE END