I was castrated now. I did not dress after the castration, as an animal for slaughter I had the privilege now to go naked in the public. I let Elvira burn her brand into the skin of my left buttock.

She could handle men and women, perfectly. As a teeny girl, she showed off with Doberman hounds, which she herself had very well trained, no mistake. Very bad animals, but under her hand absolute obedient. Everybody who saw her with the dog was enthusiastic about her and her dog. How very much the dog loved her. How well the dog obeyed. How kindly, the dear young woman did know to handle the dogs. However, if then the dogs were sexually mature, she took the animal to the veterinary surgeon, for tail docking, ears cutting and castration. The castrated dog had hardly set on fat, and then she did let him swagger up proudly like Oscar hard on the heels of his very stylish young mistress. She marched him straight to the Chinese dog butcher, where she was watching with loving eyes, how the Doggy was changed into a true culinary delicacy.

She had the good sense and expertise, for the Far Eastern art of the dog cuisine. The cord around the dog's neck was pulled up slowly. The neck extended more and more. Unbelievable, how long such a dog's neck can get. She was smoking her joint with the help of a hyperlong cigarette holder, while her Doggy was boiling in its adrenalin.

With the gas torch the chef burned in true Far East fashion the still living Doggie’s hair away. Moreover, Elvira-Sweetie comforted the whimpering Doggy:

"Good boy, everything is fine. Oh, you will become such a fine dog meat roast, and we look very much forward to it, my well-beloved Doggy!"

Next morning, she was getting the next young Doggy out of the lost animal home.

Well, I had my stamp, and then she fixed a black spiked dog collar round my neck.

I was always very slaughtering-randy, and we really wanted to enjoy the six fattening weeks randily now, with all the joyful anticipation on mine now forthcoming lecherous voluntary pig exit. Elvira and I simply fitted well. We understood each other. She found it funny, seeing animals being slaughtered and to watch the execution of men, for example on the electric chair, with boiling slowly and randy spasms.

The male wouldn't have thought up these methods, if they themselves wouldn't like to be subjected to them. They do love it, Elvira says.

It is no loss; the male part in the population can be very small.
Wars and famines kill far more beings than a few of beautifully arranged really well done very funny executions, randy no fake ritual slaughters and extremely hard gladiator fight contests to the general production of lust of the mainly female population.
The crime rate was extremely lowered by executing the female ruled government’s redundant male slaughter scheme.
Wars replaced by gladiator fights, actions were fought out after international gladiator contest regulations, placed into great area arenas, established in dessert zones, safe for the women.
The party who has donated most dead heroes has won. And everything in 4 D video transmitted into the living room.
Extremely leckerous entertainment for the girlies. Great, how the boys like to massacre each other. Woman only had to put a coloured feather into the arse of a boy to make a good fighter out of him. The ladies particularly enjoyed the seriousness, with which the genetically inferior part of the race butchered each other.
What just this one stunted chromosome did cause, enormous.

Of men too, Elvira knew everything.
She managed a farm, producing certified drinking sperm. And she was recruiting sexually mature boys from all parts of the country.
She gave lectures at schools, nothing was palliated, boys who voluntarily reported in as a certified drinking sperm animals knew quite exactly what they let themselves into.
It depended on the quantity of sperm. And the boys had to go on the milking machine every six hours. The member was treated very roughly in the machine and in addition with firm electric shocks still more maltreated.
The ejaculation came automatically. Cum was sucked off the quantity measured.

If the quantity did not meet the norm, then the sperm animal had to report immediately in the cellar at the throat-cutter lady for a throat cutting. He was then bled out for the extraction of blood for infusion bags.
Elvira told the whole bad truth.
She then gave the boys measuring jugs with official calibrations on the production quota. And she exhorted the boys diligently to practise in every case, before they would report for the life as a sperm animal.

Who does not practise, this one won't have sufficient condition to deliver four big cargo loads every day. Doesn't matter, the hospitals need blood. You therefore, lecherous wankers, make the test.
Who doesn't bring enough quantity, has no right to sit on one of my milking machines.
She then distributed here visiting cards and the cups.
The boys quite frequently reported anyway. Here business flourished well.

The juice pageboys loved Elvira and her hardness, for here the cumies were working their tests off. The rush of reporting cum-boys is greatest in spring, the cum quantity has to be superscripted upwards, to adapt the cum-boy use up to the higher supply of volunteers.

It then happens, that the newcomer's first shot makes him a looser and requires him to go to have his throat-cut. In that case the choice for throat-cutting is left to the young wanker, but hardly anyone pinches as good sportsmen, if Elvira's look is resting pleasingly on them, they willingly submitted themselves immediately to the gruesome cut.

My castration was very well executed, I had a permanent hard-on now, due to the squashing of the spermatic cords, and this was stimulating. It wasn't aching at all. I had constantly to wank off; it was fine and much better than expected.
On the first evening, we went home quickly, jointly celebrating my denutting event with a small fuck routine.

Elvira briefly administered twelve smacking strokes with a Beaver's tail made of heavy black leather spread with gilded rivets on to my potbelly sward, to turn me away from the branding area on the left backside. We then braised each other's bowels with electrosex mutually and let our muscles twitch spastically after power transients.
Extremely randy, nothing for soft cunts, however good diversion for a tough tough career woman.

It was, as it was. Since the overthrow of male power. Men simply were slaughtered if they weren't any more fit for the ladies or simple if madam felt like to get herself a new male. Or the bloke was ready for the slaughter and had grown fat.

Brothel work almost exclusively was taken care of by men now. Female tarts were modified men in principle. It based on the knowledge that men are the actual born whores.
There finally was prostitution without every compulsion, pure nature and disposition.

I was pleased with the overturn, I have always been a randy slaughtering-addict; I had no problem to have me slaughtered. At the revolution, Elvira was leading a purge brigade cleaning the government of old twits. I was privileged to serve her in the brigade. Her Father was a general in the ministry and we intended to purge him off as the first one.
We entered the office and explained to him that his time is over and his successress in office will be his secretary.

He looked, as all these senile male power maniacs so very silly. Elvira told to him, Daddy, we have an Archmotherpontifixe in Rome the Mother's Swiss girl-guard is wearing stockings with garters and has a lady-commander. And now, we the women take over all the rest of the male-dominated rule.
Be sensible, make a fly, off! Daddy!

Daddy was stupid like all male power maniacs. He gripped into his box of tricks that had always worked until now very well. I immediately want to talk to the President I want my handy.
There is a Chair-Lady now, the First Lady, last night, has already emasculated her old bloke and then had massacred him at once. Her darling's dyke friend is the new First Lady now.
I do want a mobile phone, give my handy!
Otto Karl, Daddy, said Elvira opened the uniform trousers of the old boy seized his whole little sausage and egg shop and cut with her small Yemenite dagger all that was hanging off at due leisure. So! She then handed her Father his little king. She pushed the genitals into the hand of the not comprehending emasculated general.
Here daddy, speak into it.

The sight was one for the gods, the former general stood there, as a little boy holding his genitals as if a strawberry ice cream cone in front of his mouth and whispered into it incomprehensible baby talk. We took him between two of us and led him to the lift. He staggered legs apart but without resistance. Always quietly mumbling baby talk into his beloved, but now very dead cock.

We drove down to the basement with him, where the young ladies of the revolutionary guards had established a disposal department for former power male organic waste. We could easily lead him to the ready waiting execution block, no problem. The girlie guard had lovingly carved several of those blocks out of wood and painted them beautifully in poisonous green.
For the head to be chopped off they had worked out a comfortable hollow.

The head on the block, still babbling into his cock he kept it like a mike in front of his mouth kneeling so in front of the block.
He did not notice the sleek buxom executrix beside the block. The executrix wore her sex uncovered, the girlies still wanted to give their old daddies some pleasure.
All of them were good, dear daughters, having to do casual blew jobs to their fathers to get their tiny heads put through. They all knew the needs of daddies. Losing the head was so made more pleasant for their daddies.
Experts among the male leader elite took look there on the beautiful, slime-dropping wet, young bear and took the sight along with them into the eternal fuck precipices.
The buxom executrix that was a sight and well worth your very beheading.

The general was simply too silly to enjoy all around the randy moment. He whispered bitter-softly
"hello, hello" into his genitals. The comfortable buxom girl smiling friendly chopped with the big axe his toupet-covered lump of nerves container off above the neck. We hung him up at the feet to bleed out. He then came into the container for the dog food factory.

Since then, we have wwW (women-rule world-Wide)

Mankind could already have had this 2000 years ago; the old Romans only would have had to lose their wars against the Phoenicians. The world would have taken a much more interesting course. Those conservative old roman pricks had gained victory that time.

The world was finally all right now. The human nature came finally back to its right now.

We spent a randy evening together. Having six randy weeks in front of us.
For me a lot of beer and for Elvira a lot of fun. We were glad that we had finally castrated me. I already badgered Elvira for a long time about my urges to be finally put on the butcher's block.
In that, I had an understanding ally in my mother-in-law Rita. Since the revolution, Rita had always taken her husbands to the butcher ladies' on Easter Tuesday. A new one was then fetched from the male asylum.
Together we worked on Elvira to make her finally take her slaughtering-randy male to the butcher's too. It was generally regarded as unnatural, to keep a male much longer.

Elvira had also already called Rita and told her full of pride that she has finally have me castrated now and that it was so very amusing.
Rita at once applied for her visit over the next weekend. And she wants to be present at my evisceration to watch all activities.
She loves it so much, seeing how the beer-filled intestines from the ripped male potbelly drop into the bucket underneath.
Made at once the appointment. In six weeks Monday morning at eight. In addition, she nicely let say hello to me and had me congratulated on my denutting.
Of the meat, she wants to have one of the hams from my arse.
I asked Elvira to tell Rita that on her visit at the weekend she should take her own branding iron with her. I would like having me adorned with her personal brand "RR" (Ruddy Rita) by her personally.

So, that a little light comes into the darkness.
Call me Jackob, once I was a real pig boar dreaming in my leisure time to be a human male.
They have sent me for fattening in pension just now. However this may be.
In order to make the next weekend a good one. We have apart from the mother-in-law, Rita, to invite: Carmen Berger, a butcher, Dr. Maria Hodenab, a nice castrix and Kim a jung dike.
This will be a feast. Until then, fare well!