Complete Genital Transformation

There were few session preliminaries today, as Mistress Maggie explained that she would be redesigning my genitalia, there was lots to do and she needed to get started.

I helped Maggie remove her new shiny black mac, putting it aside to reveal a stunning one piece clear plastic suit. I was putty in her hands, she knew I would be, and I was ready for anything. Mistress told me to hurry along and get into my latex t-shirt and gloves and to report at her feet for boot worship. Black shiny lace ups today, all the way to her knee. Maggie added a latex slave hood to my costume, I poked my tongue through the mouth hole and took as long as I could worshipping those boots, but didn't dare stray onto her plastic skin. When Maggie was happy with my attentions I was given a special red rubber suit to wear, a loose fitting suit made of the thinnest latex. A little talc and some very careful dressing had me snugly fitted inside it, finished off with several wraps of rubber bandage round my middle. ‘Can't use the tight leather corset as you will need to expand’. Maggie had hinted at an enema in my call up mail and that remark kind of confirmed it and I was ushered into the Clinic.

The very first thing Maggie did when we entered the Clinic was to enthusiastically show me her design for giving my genitals a complete transformation. She was obviously pleased with the simple yet elegant design, showing what used to be my cock and balls neatly sutured into one large homogeneous blob. Rather worryingly, she did say that I should take a moment to say goodbye to my cock. The interesting additions were in the detail. Wires leading from where the end of my cock once was and some 'seasonal vegetation' as adornment. I was excited, a little apprehensive, a little expectant but fully committed to whatever Mistress wished to do.

The final bit of the briefing brought home the magnitude of the operation that I had willingly consented to. I was to receive the enema because once I saw the results of Mistresses needlework I would want to crap myself and the enema might 'help'. A big smile from Maggie and 'You will receive at least two litres slave'. I had briefly easily held that before but at least two? Two and a half, three litres? Maggie would decide.

I was comfortable on the gynaecology couch when Maggie returned with one jug full of warm water, mixed in her magic powders to make it soapy and poured the contents into the enema bag. I was a little less comfortable when she returned with the second jug full and repeated the procedure.

Hmm . . . Quite a lot then! Get comfortable on my side, a little grease and tube up my backside and I was ready for Mistress to open the tap, and that was that. No discomfort, in fact it was quite pleasant as Maggie gently massaged my lower stomach to aid the flow, occasionally checking that her slave was still alright to continue.

Oh most definitely yes. I tried to sound nonchalant but Maggie knows her slave well now and knew I was enjoying the situation. Once I had received all the fluid Maggie plugged it in and the volatile contents of my bowels were trapped to work their magic, sealed by the inflatable plug that ensured my bum was well and truly bunged up. Nothing to worry about so far. In the past I've kept enemas in for 10 minutes or so with no problems at all so what could go wrong today? 'That will stay in until I'm finished'.
Maggie helped me onto my back with legs in the chairs stirrups, she removed my plain latex hood and replaced it with another of her own design. A comfortable and nice fitting zipped, black latex little number, with an array of tubes that I had to bite down on and a generous honeycomb mesh across the eyes; generous as I could, with a little adjustment, see Maggie as she moved around the Clinic. I did see and hear Mistress stick two electrodes onto my cock, secured them with many turns of a white bandage and test out the electrics. Y. . E. . S - electrics working!

Then she was off to the bathroom to wash her hands and don her operation gloves. I also saw through the honeycomb, Mistress choosing her sewing instruments and carefully placing the PVC operating sheet over my cock and balls. 'Are you ready slave to receive your complete genital transformation?’. I had promised I would do anything for my Mistress and confirmed I was ready and willing for whatever she wished to do.

That first knotted stitch is a pain, but after that Maggie settled into her routine and slowly and steadily completed the first set of sutures. 'Slave, control your cock.' I couldn't help it, despite having my genitals sewn up, I was getting hard. I really tried to concentrate, but every time the needle went in it brought me back to the fact that my Mistress was stitching up my delicate bits and I was enjoying it! A brief interlude as the second suture was threaded and on went the sewing. I could see the concentration on Maggie's face through my hood, looking quite intense and really attractive as she persisted sewing up my bits and pieces.

Every now and then my stomach would let out a low rumble to announce it was still full, and occasionally Maggie came across a really resistant piece of scrotum, strangely always on my left side, piercing these reluctant areas was the only time the stitching really took my breath away.

It took a while for the dozen or so stitches to be completed and every so often Maggie would appear next to my head and exhale a full lungful of her precious breath down my breathing tube. I loved that little touch; a little respite for Maggie from her concentration on the sewing and that sweet taste of Mistress for me to savour.

And finally a wipe with a sterile pad concluded the stitching, accompanied by that wonderful laugh that Maggie has. Relief at another successful operation or the amusing sight she had just created? A bit of both probably. Maggie stood back to admire her craft work.

What a strange feeling. After all the time trying to keep my cock flaccid Maggie turned on the electrics and added a final touch of seasonal vegetation. A sprig of new growth, fresh, green nettles. About a year ago I had commented how I tried to avoid fresh shoots as they are the most potent. No chance this time as she stroked what remained of my ball sac with the sweet young thing and then fixed the twig neatly in place between the sutures.

I wanted an erection; my body said 'get your cock up' but the stitching said otherwise. My cock and balls were so firmly stitched up I could feel a quick throb and then my cock subsided. No pain at all. Maggie had done an expert job with the sutures, but boy was I frustrated. Maggie has finally completely tamed and controlled her slaves cock. I had never felt so owned or so perfectly content in my life.

Not everything in the garden was rosy. All this time, the soapy enema had been gurgling away. It was fine when I was lying on the couch but when Maggie said it was time for the toilet, I carefully sat up and the weight of two plus litres moved downwards and I did then need the loo. I still couldn’t see the full extent of my CGT, so it wasn't the visual impact that made me want to crap myself. Maggie manoeuvred me over the toilet pan and removed the plug, and . . . for the second time in two sessions I really caused my Mistress concern. Last time I choked as I was drinking, this time I think Mistress would have choked if she hadn't moved. What a stink! I felt more anxiety that I had subjected Mistress to such farmyardy smells. I definitely think Mistress would have benefited from wearing one of her gas masks; I know I would, as a horrible lungful of pong was creeping its way up my breathing tubes. I really must change my diet!

Needless to say, I was told to clean up any mess before Maggie would even consider removing the stitches. An interesting thing about having your cock and balls 'removed’. It doesn't stop you from peeing, although you do need to be seated as aiming is somewhat difficult - and as for writing your name in the snow, forget it.

After I’d thoroughly cleaned the bathroom, Mistress relented and said she would remove the stitches. Each one was carefully snipped, removed and consigned to the bin. A thorough clean with the antiseptic wipes, a final suture check and I was pronounced fit for release. The medical suit was removed in the playroom and I must admit to a feeling of satisfaction as I had once again brought a smile to Maggie's face.

Any unpleasant after effects? None at all. I do have a huge smile writing this blog though.

Painful? A little, but only occasionally and certainly bearable.

Exciting? Oh yes. Mistress once again proved she has total control over her slave.

Would I repeat it? Of course but only if Maggie wants more practise or has the urge for a stitch-up.

Did I enjoy it? Of course. It made Maggie happy and it was another new experience under my belt!

Nuts to Needlework

It’s not very often that I have to admit total defeat as to the meaning and intentions behind my calling notice, but for my training session today with Mistress Maggie I was at a loss.

'. . . Mistress is back in a smooth rubber mood and is in need of a lab rat. Usually I would say, ‘Oh, you’ll do’, but I am in need of a particular kind of lab rat. You will be given the predicament of demonstrating your suitability and will need to dance to stand a chance . . .'

I could understand and appreciate the first bit. Even to this stupid slave it was obvious Maggie would be taunting me in one of her latex outfits, many designed and created 'in house' and therefore unique. So far so good. Lab rat: Where could that be going? As for me dancing? I have two left feet and a brain that only functions to Maggie's tune. As I said, I was at a loss.

Enough guesswork, down to the reality of how the session progressed. Mistress was indeed dressed in black latex, tight pants and even tighter black latex top, with just enough of the upper parts of her superb breasts visible, yet with sufficient modesty to keep me salivating. Oh well, at this stage I was still in the dark and could only dream . . .  My first instruction was to engage in preparatory work and worship Maggie’s red boots, all the way up and down, up and down, my tongue accidentally licking the red latex gloves Mistress was wearing as it passed over her knee. Thwack across the backside with the cane and a light hearted warning from Maggie to concentrate on the task I had been given. Worship gave way to the installation of anal toys, I assumed the required position, ass up with my head touching the carpet. I used to worry about Mistress having to struggle to get anything up my arse, but today the fitting went easily and smoothly. Mistress pushed a new toy; a string of anal beads inside me, four hard round orbs roughly the circumference of my own plug, connected together on a semi-rigid string ensuring that they could be teased in, one orb at a time. Maggie laughed as they disappeared and laughed as she pulled each one out from deep up my colon, then in went my butt-plug to be told that was the last time it would see daylight until the end of the session. Oh well, nothing else up there then.

After fitting me into my heavy rubber catsuit came the sensual de-talcing clean, then the first major session surprise. Maggie, in her most sexy voice, told me that my scrotum was going to be stretched and that it was essential that she give me a massage before going any further. I raised an eyebrow and smiled that unknowing grin of 'what?’, Maggie raised an eyebrow and smiled that knowing grin of 'you'll find out', and massage I received. If the rest was to be like this I was in heaven.

I lay restrained spreadeagled on the bondage bed, with only my cock and balls protruding through a small gap in my zip. Mistress eased herself into the V between my legs and dipped her hand into a pot of cocoa butter saying that the butter was good for stretching balls and scrotum's. That massage was heavenly, but with the sinister words about stretching my bollocks still whispering in my ears it stopped all too quickly, and a final rubber oxballs band was applied around my smooth stretched ball sack. 'That's to stop them chaffing’. The implications of those chilling words started to cool my ardour somewhat, and I was still none the wiser about the words in Maggie’s call up mail.

Another unfamiliar piece of equipment was unveiled; a strong leather muzzle. Maggie took her time tightening each strap in turn until it became part of my face and lower jaw. I could still gaze relatively unhindered at my Mistress as she reached over for a length of Playroom rope and passed it through the crown. I was then bent forward with head on carpet, allowing Maggie free but unseen access to my dangling cock and balls. I just crouched there knowing I would do whatever Mistress wanted with little point worrying about what was to come. The room humbler was presented to my limited field of vision before Maggie disappeared behind me, sat between my outstretched legs and fitted the humbler in the traditional position. 

I was still in the dark as Maggie looped the head rope through the ceiling ring and attached the other end to the humbler. All that butter and only this amount of stretching? I suspected something else was to come, but still not sure what it may be. Maggie gave me instruction. ’Rotate clockwise - two turns’. So I did, sliding easily on the rug and dancing a twirl on all fours. A quick photo stop and 'Rotate right and keep going’. It then dawned on me that the more I rotated, the more twisted the suspension ropes became and the tighter the strangle hold on my nuts. With slaps of encouragement from a crop, I went round and round. A stop for more photos and to tidy the dishevelled rug which had become so twisted I was stumbling all over it. ‘More twisting slave. Clockwise round and round please’.

I got to the stage where I was sure my knees momentarily left the ground, which meant all my lower weight would be through my balls and humbler. Now I knew what the predicament in the calling notice meant . . . Keep rotating and stretch my own scrotum.

Maggie instructed me to keep spinning and laughed at the angle of my cock as she took another photo. She said that my dancing needed perfecting and that my version of ‘Twisting the Night Away' required much more twisting. So I did, until eventually I had to stop twisting because I was totally tangled in the twisted rug. Maggie knew I had stretched my balls and was reaching my limit. With the upwards pressure, the muzzle had worked its way from under my chin and now made a most effective blindfold. I was left for a couple of moments and was able to test just how much more I could take. The balls were certainly stretched but the butter and oxballs had done their job and my balls were still attached.

'Right slave. Anti-clockwise please’. I started unwinding far too eagerly and very quickly became dizzy, but I was too well tethered to stand any chance of falling over. Maggie understood the dilemma and relaxed the ropes to allow me freedom without further dancing. With the dancing finished half the calling notice had become clear, but why the lab-rat reference? That too would become all too clear as I was led shakily to the White Room clinic and told to sit on the steps. Mistress unzipped the by now, absolutely wringing wet helmet replacing it with a comfortable and dry gas mask. I sat quietly on the steps and gazed at Mistress as she gently towelled my face dry, applied a little talc to chin and cheeks with an 'eyes shut slave' command as she pulled the tight rubber mask over my head. I was told to make sure it was comfortable for long-term use as there would be no removal until the operation was complete. Operation! That's all I could think of as I lay back on the couch with the white straps securing me in place.

Maggie explained that I was to have surgery and asked if I had ever received stitches. 'Not that I can remember Mistress'. After Maggie once more confirmed that I was happy to continue she mentioned ‘It’s a shame that you never had stitches, you won't have the pleasure of remembering how horribly painful they are . . .  another first then . . .  without anaesthetic as well . . .  spread out like a lab rat for the operation’. At least I was to be allowed a little aroma to help me relax in preparation for my op; a long rubber hose was produced and screwed onto the front of my gas mask, connecting me to the gas stations’ aroma system. Through the limited vision of the gas-mask I was just able to see Mistress preparing a hypodermic. A little squirt to prime the needle and then Maggie disappeared from sight and a moment later asked if I was still all right to continue? Affirmative and then 'just a little prick now'. I wasn't sure if that was reference to my cock and balls or the fact that within a second, I felt the needle enter my cock just below the top and I actually felt the contents being injected inside the foreskin. A really strange feeling and not unpleasant as the liquid spread out inside. *See Footnote* At that point I was at peace knowing that I was receiving exactly what I wanted. Total and absolute control and ownership by Mistress Maggie; free to do to her lab-rat whatever she wished, knowing that I was at a point where I would consent to anything.

Another formality as Maggie again sought authority to continue. Not necessary, but Maggie wanted me to be sure. My cock and particularly my pre-stretched scrotum were through the red rubber operating sheet and the aroma dispenser neatly tucked under its flap. The time had come. Maggie arranged some instruments on her trolley and I was told to keep still as she took her suture pack, extracted the needle and in went the first stitch. Maggie's first stitch as well on a real live lab rat. She purred that she had practised on synthetic flesh on numerous occasions, but now felt ready to practise her stitches on a real life lab-rat and perfect her techniques. I would have thanked her for choosing me, but the very sharp prick as the curved needle entered my scrotum somewhat took my breath away.

It was a while before Maggie was satisfied with her first stitch, her motions accompanied with mutterings about '. . . next time I'll use a white sheet . . .   can't see the suture against a red background. . .  now where’s the other end gone. . .'  I just lay there concentrating on her instructions to keep my cock flaccid. Normally when Mistress says that and handles my balls, I find it really difficult to keep it under control, but today no such problem. Perhaps it was the contents of the hypo?  *See Footnote* Was it some form of muscle relaxant? or was it just the enormity of my operation that prevented an erection?

After the first stitch, the second was much easier for Maggie. Still a little slow for an accomplished seamstress but altogether more effective, the stitch completed without any sign of frustration from Maggie. The third went in easier still, and the disturbing thing from my perspective was that I think Maggie was starting to enjoy her needlework. A little song floating out from somewhere out of sight, followed by another pump of the aroma and a cheery 'you alright up there?' The sutures were sufficient for three large stitches and Maggie wasn't prepared to stop there - she had got the lab-rat sewing bug! How could I say no as she patted my balls and asked if I was ready for another three? Retrieving a second sterile suture pack from the store cupboard, Maggie made short work of the next three stitches; in fact, the last one was in and out so quickly that I asked where the second part of the stitch was, only to be told in a rather pleased sounding voice 'all done’.

I wasn't sure exactly what had been stitched to where, and it wasn't until I saw the pictures that I realised why my scrotum needed to be stretched and tenderised. I had totally lost my ball-sack and most of my penis had been stitched inside the scrotum. No wonder Maggie was laughing as she posed for the final pictures.

What a transformation in Mistress Maggie. I detected a note of pride in her voice as she described her needlework and even detected a note of satisfaction with her lab-rat for allowing her to perfect her sewing skills on a real live rat. What next. 'Shall I leave the stitches in? That should stop you playing with yourself. . .  Mistress relented, carefully cutting and removing each of the six stitches in turn and placed them on a tray, saying once again 'Next time I'll use a bloody white pvc sheet!' Next time! Oh well such is the life of a lab rat and now the calling notice made complete sense.

OK, what did it feel like to have my scrotum sewed? No more irritation than when I had 26 needles stuck down the length of my shaft. In fact there were far less insertions although one or two made me jump. The occasional brief sharp prick as the curved needle encountered a little more resistance from a tough bit of scrotum but nothing more. The act of drawing the thread through the stitch was totally painless; the nylon slipping easily through, following the needle easily and smoothly. I had the sensation that my scrotal sack was becoming much tighter. I laughed at my own predicament as Maggie mused that her artistry looked like a mole or a rat and was relieved when she refrained from tattooing a nose and eyes on the end of my foreskin just to make it look more rat-like. I was absolutely delighted that Maggie was happy with her handy work and relieved that Maggie did relent and remove the sutures.

Would I go through it again? Absolutely. If Mistress feels the need for more needlework or tapestry work, although Maggie has perfected her technique and certainly does not need further practise. Anyway, when I enter the chambers, I do become the property of Mistress Maggie, so what’s a little extra tapestry or needle work between Mistress and her slave?

And how did Maggie get the idea of sewing up my balls?  I was the architect for my own operation. Some time ago I had favoured a Flickr picture depicting exactly what Mistress produced with my balls; a photo of a gentleman with his ball sack sewn together. Maggie has a habit of producing what you wish for, so be warned, your wildest fantasies may well become your wildest reality.

________________

*Footnote* I had been chatting via e-mail with Mistress after the session just to clarify some of the minor details of  the session when this mail arrived from Mistress Maggie:

'...I sit here with the corners of my mouth more than slightly raised, as I found your report on the injection I gave you most enlightening, and I am guessing that you still have had no bad reaction to the jab. But then, why would you have any side effects resulting from the contents of an empty syringe? Those two little dots on your cock head show where the needle went in and where it came out at the other side. Any injection you had last Friday was a total figment of your warped lab-rat imagination, your devious Mistress just took you on a merry dance!...'

Don't you find it really strange what tricks your mind can be duped into playing on you when you are deep in the zone and completely under your Mistresses power? It also seems that Mistress controls my mind as well as all my body when I arrive in the chambers.

Perhaps it means I am becoming a better slave?