Thunderlane swerved his head around frantically, taking in the horror of the cold metallic operating room he was locked in. He cocked his head and looked between his propped up hind legs, staring at his exposed sheath and the set of plump, round orbs beneath. He sweated, heaved and writhed against the medical chair he was chained to, but the metal cuffs against his hooves were too resilient for even the toughest buck. He swayed his head over his shoulders to find the nurse, who was preparing her tools on the bench against the wall.

Thunderlane was exasperated and sullen and scared. Part of him wanted to cry about this atrocity; part of him just wanted to cry from his incapability to save himself. The desperation and overwhelming dismay drove him closer and closer to madness. Like a bucking bronco he kicked and thrashed and wailed in his chair, but that just showed how helpless and undignified he was. Nothing was changed; he was still going to be gelded.

The nurse kept minding her preparations despite the clatter from the patient. Maybe she was used to the stallions' struggles. Maybe she was enjoying the sound of a helpless, desperate male. She continued to scrub her hooves with content and put on a pair of cerulean latex gloves, while Thunderlane stared at the indifferent nurse's rear with frustration and despair.

But eventually, he muttered.

"W-why are you doing this?"

"Hmm?" The nurse swayed her head to face the stallion for the first time.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to us? T-this is cruel and unjust! I have done nothing to deserve this—"

"Now now," the nurse soothed as she inched towards the patient, "I understand you might feel a bit frisky right now, but this is for your own good — for everypony's good," she smiled as she traced her hoof along the back of Thunderlane's ears, "It's important for us to snip off those dangling bits of yours so they don't take control of you."

Thunderlane shivered as his captor grazed over his sensitive ears. "This is insane… hurting me doesn't solve anything— I didn't do anything wrong!—"

Redheart continued to caress her patient's soft, fluttery ears. "Your ears are so soft, such a cutie~" she giggled.

Thunderlane shivered once again. "H-hey stop that! Are you even listening? Please! Let me go!"

The nurse gently grazed her hooves along her captor's face from his ears to the temple to the jaw and to the neck, savoring the soft gray fur and the radiant heat of the mustang. Thunderlane wasn't the biggest fan of this unwanted contact, however, as he shivered and scrunched against the intrusion. Was she toying with him? Did she even cared? Thunderlane could not tell. The soft, mollifying touch of a young, curvy mare should be an enticing event, but Thunderlane couldn't feel much aroused. He yearned for a young mare's touch for sure, but not like this. Not when his body was going to be mutilated.

Redheart lifted her hoof off Thunderlane's complexion almost reluctantly as she reached for her tray of surgical tools. Humming a twisted nerve, she lightheartedly unscrewed a vessel of betadine and wet a gauze using forceps till brown nonchalantly but professionally. She then turned back and watched the stallion lying on the chair, propped up, muscles tensed and glistened as anxiety and sweat toned and contrasted his firm, strapping, well-built frame. She eyed the stallion's exposed sheath and plump scrotum with passion, noting how tight and loaded his orbs were, and how they stuffed the tight, black, round skin underneath the stallion's staff of pride.

Thunderlane could tell his captor was going to start the procedure and panicked. The medical equipments did no good to his nerves. He started bucking again.

"No. No! Let me go! Please what have I ever done to you? I'm sorry please don't geld me please!" His voice trembled as he started to understand the futility of his cries.

"Hush now, it's going to be fine," the nurse giggled as she hovered closer to his orbs, "I have done this thousands of times, I'll try and make sure it doesn't hurt." She moved her hooves and pressed the betadine gauze against the stallion's scrotum. Softly, of course, as if she was teasing the mustang, or as if it was part of the procedure. Still, Thunderlane shivered as his sensitive bits was wet with the icy cold anesthetics. He groaned while Redheart gently circled the gauze along the curvature of his testicles. Thunderlane tensed up further, shivering and shaking from fear and reflex while mewling on the chair like a foal who doesn't want to be fed. Redheart soothed the stallion and gently brushed his scrunching face, while applying more force to thoroughly cover the incision area with the liquid. Soon, Thunderlane's scrotum was covered with brown betadine.

Redheart moved away from Thunderlane and disposed the gauze onto the tray. The colt was watching her all the time, heaving, whimpering, feeling both angry and scared. He tucked against the cuffs on his hooves again, hoping the gods would be on his side for once, but no. He was not escaping. As he looked down at his scrotum and the set of chunky balls for possibly the last time, as he thought of those late night "bathroom uses", as he thought of those moments when he courted with mares, and as he thought of how he would be castrated into a lesser being, he could no longer held back the tears of angst and agony. Countless thoughts and conflicting emotions rushed into his head. Dear Celestia, he cried, why oh why must this happen to me? Please oh please stop it help I beg the Gods I don't want to be gelded I'm really scared!

Then, nothing. As if some random epiphany has stuck him, his train of thought simply disappeared. Perhaps an overload of fear and shame and sense of futility has finally caught up with him. The idea that there was nothing he could do finally sounded reasonable. Chained in a facility deep in the caves and guarded by countless elite guards, was there ever a chance to escape? And even if he escaped, where could he hide? Where could he live? How could he survive? It was either starving as an escaped convict somewhere in the Equestrian mountains or a life of peace and stability as a castrated servant. Sure, he would have to give up his dignity, but between saving his dignity and saving his life, the latter sounded much, much better.

And so he cried. And cry he did, loud and painful, somber and despaired. All the angst and anger and agony and apprehension accumulated inside of him from the moment he and his brother was caught in their home were unleashed along with his epiphany on the situation. He wailed and cried and yelped and sobbed until every ounce of tears and pleas inside of him has drained into the void. He sniffed and sniveled on the chair, ears lowered, and accepted his fate to be a gelding for the rest of his life.

Redheart was slightly disappointed, as she was hoping for a patient with a stronger mind to have fun with. She was expecting her patient to plead or beg or struggle, but all she could hear was the soft, sad sobs from the deflated colt. Thunderlane had nothing more to say. Thunderlane's heart has lost their colors the moment he finally succumb to the Goddess' decree: Silence is golden. Resistance is futile. Obedience is peace.

Redheart cupped and fondled the stallion's jewels with her hoof to see if the anesthetic has kicked in, and also to savor the heaviness and meatiness of the lustrous orbs bulging from the numbed pocket for the last time. The texture and plushness were too enticing and delicious for the mare. Too bad they had to be excised, she thought, but the orchiectomy was even more exciting.

The colt said nothing. He only flinched as he saw the mare cupping and toying his most precious, but sadden as he couldn't feel them anymore. Was this how it would feel for the rest of his life? Was this the final moment? Did these questions even matter?

Was irony the only thing left inside of him? His shaft poked out of his sheath as he watched the mare rubbing his jewels. It grew and pulsed until it reached its full length, despite the imminent castration he was going to receive. Why was he turned on? He was petrified and sicken about this entire gelding story, but why did he feel thrilled and fascinated by the ordeal? He stared at the tip of his penis as he thought about his testicles being dumped onto the emesis basin as medical waste. Those pink round oval balls laced with strands of reddish capillaries of his imagination made him sick, yet filled him with a rush of adrenaline and dopamine that flushed his body and heart with a glowing heat and lust. No, he cried to himself, I cannot be enjoying myself, he scolded, I'm scared to the bones right now, why am I turned on, by this? By being gelded? By being humiliated and emasculated?

"Guess somepony's enjoying themselves," the nurse chuckled, as she watched and traced the twitching dick growing in front of her. She wanted to suck on it, give it a taste, or even give this stud "one last ride" as a treat, but sadly the guidelines prohibited such thing. She was a professional, who had a strike on her record for misdemeanor, surely she was not going to ride this quite impressive stallionhood for her own enjoyment, was she? What a waste, she thought, he had a fine package. It'd have been satisfying for her and for him. But it's all going down the waste.

The best she could do, she thought, was giving his tip a farewell kiss. She hoped this would at least give the stallion some solace, or a peace of mind in the future. Or an apology.

She grabbed a piece of rope and bundled his penis with his abdomen, so that its movements would not affect her work. She eyed the stallion once more to check if she had missed anything, then she grinned, from her work.

And so it began. Redheart held a scalpel in her hoof and pressed it against the stallion's anesthetized pouch. He didn't feel pain or anything at all, but only the pressure against the general area. She pushed the blade deeper, piercing through the nerves, through the dermis, through the fat and through the capillaries, which gave in to the sharp edge and started spilling the sweating stallion's blood. Thunderlane tensed, not from pain or discomfort, but from the mental fear and dread about his situation, the blood and the release he'd never get. Redheart delicately dragged the blade along the scrotal septum, gently and slowly opening up the pouch from the center. Layer by layer the skin gave way, first the rough, dark dermis where the hair follicles were, then the milky, smeary layers of tough, stretchy connective tissues that made up the under layers of the sack. Blood were seeping from the wounds, but nothing severe. Redheart promised to the stallion to do a clean and professional job.

Thunderlane couldn't make up his mind to look at the procedure or not. Every part of his brain cried in fear about witnessing his castration, but a lone voice deep in his subconscious urged him to peek at the cutting of his jewels. Goddess forbids, that lone voice persuaded the colt to perk up his head and watch. The nurse's repeated motion along the incision area bisected more and more layers of his scrotum, deeper and deeper into the sacred chamber that housed his family jewels. The strands of blood lingering on the wound, the delicate motion of the nurse's hoof, and the fact that his scrotum was being cut open sent an icy chill down the stallion's spine. It was a chill both of horror and excitement. The idea that part of his stallionhood was removed gave him… dirty thoughts. He didn't understand. What kind of sick irony was this? His shaft twitched involuntarily against the rope as the image of a smooth, empty skin where his scrotum have been was lodged in his head. He winced and cursed silently, but he kept watching it.

Before he knew it, Redheart has reached the final layer of his precious pouch. With another slice, the tissue split and opened up the cavity to the world. It was both eerie and engrossing to Thunderlane; he leaned his head forward to see his stallionhood cut open cleanly and completely. In any other situation, seeing his jewels wounded in such a way would scare the life out of him, but right now… right now it was captivating. What's inside? How wide could the opening stretch? What would the nurse pull out?

Redheart put away the scalpel and gave his sack a delicate nudge. Gently squeezing from the side, she pushed the shy testicles on her left towards the opening. It was tough to push the slimy balls around the sack, but with skills and determination, she managed to push the pale, squishy orb against the incision. And with a silent pop, Thunderlane's family pride popped through the narrow slit, and dangled outside his scrotum only from a single fatty cord.

His orb was huge, bigger and meatier than average. It was oval and plush, warm with the radiance of life. Network of capillaries was just visible along the surface, supplying the organ that fathered billions and trillions of Thunderlane's seeds with blood and nutrients. The epididymis, thick and spongy, capsuled one side of the foalmaker, bridging Thunderlane's body and this priceless, delicate jewel. But this wonderful pride and essence of Thunderlane was now just dangling in the air, exposed and vulnerable, pulsing with the last few bits of strength and vitae. This pale meaty flesh with strands of reddish vessels was everything to Thunderlane. But outside its protection and warmth, it was dying, and world very soon be dead.

The sight of his very own testes just hanging from a cord of arteries trembled the colt. The fear of blood and guts certainly contributed to the nausea he was feeling, but so was the curiosity to touch it, to feel it, to tuck at it and to see it being handled. This pink mess was the essence of his masculinity, and the key to his lineage. Redheart gave it a gentle squeeze, and that elicited a loud moan from Thunderlane. "No…" he protested, but most of him found the sight overwhelmingly erotic. No… he denied, I can't be aroused by that… but he couldn't deny the clear fluids bubbling from the tip of his shaft. Touch it, squeeze it, pull it out… he begged. His primal lust and curiosity was taking over his sanity, and he was losing to the perverted excitement that was growing inside.

Redheart's heart flushed as she saw the wonderful orb in front of her eyes. The pulse, the radiance, the texture… the sight of a stallion's ball dangling helplessly outside his body aroused the pony to great extent. She wanted to suck on it, to bite into it, to nibble and chew through the tender and fragile tissues and veins of her patient's foalmaker. But she knew she would get into trouble for it. Didn't somepony mentioned female castration? She tried to recall.

With her hooves and some surgical wires, she tied two knots on Thunderlane's spermatic cord. She made sure she tuck the wires extra tight, savoring the empowering sensation of killing this colt's sexuality, and also preventing hemorrhage. She gave the orb a last few seconds of life, and positioned a pair of surgical scissors between the knots. She looked at Thunderlane's pale face, then scissored away the vessels and fat. A few seconds more, and with the final snip, the cord was severed, and the testicle fell off.

Redheart dumped the organ on the emesis basin and continued to work. In her mind she was squealing in excitement from detaching the stallion's testicle, but she always liked to cut the second testicle better. While nopony would want to loose any one of their balls, but a stallion could still inseminate with just one of those nuts. She examined the remaining withering cord, and was glad about her surgical skills and the cleanliness of the incision. She then continued to grope at Thunderlane's scrotum for the remaining testicle. She tucked gently to squeeze the last orb through the incision in the scrotum and held it with her hoof. The weight, the heat, the pulse of life of Thunderlane's foalmaker was intoxicating, and Thunderlane's extra size and plushness made her drool from her mouth and behind. With one more snip and she could own his jewels forever. She could own Thunderlane's masculinity forever.

She tied the knots again on his spermatic cord, then looked at Thunderlane. The last one, they both thought, the point of no return. Thunderlane's curiosity has now started to be replaced by fear and remorse, and Redheart started to feel sorry for the colt. Why would the Princess give such an order of gelding most of the population? Why did she feel extremely satisfied when castrating somepony else? Was life different several months before? When did these even started? She questioned the work she was forced to do, but the emotional thrill permeating every fibers of her nerves overcame the hesitation and doubt. If she was allowed to touch herself she would have climaxed by now. She positioned the scissors at the incision point. Both of them watched intently as the final testicle was being removed. To Thunderlane, the anticipation was even greater. After this, he thought, and he could never rear a foal. His load would be watery and lack of sperm. His muscles would atrophy. He would look like a mare. And whenever he get an erection — if he could even get one — the empty, withered, wrinkled skin beneath his shaft that once housed his proud testicles would announce to any peepers that he was a gelding, a lesser colt, a pony who has lost his jewels. His weak penis would be empty, hanging from his pelvis without purpose, like a lump of atrophied meat. And the most gnawing fact of all, was that castration was irreversible. In the next second as the nurse clipped the cord, there would be no way back. Gelding was forever.

With only a gaze between the eyes as confirmation, Redheart forced the two scissor blades together. The fat and vessels gave way easily, and as the last string of tissue is severed, the testicle fell into Redheart's cupping hoof. She took the oval away from the scrotum and put it on Thunderlane's abdomen, showing with great certainty that both orbs were removed from Thunderlane's body. Thunderlane watched with great revelation on the situation — they did it. They gelded him. He was not a stallion anymore. He could feel the remaining heat of his testicles fading away, and the emptiness beneath his shaft. It felt different, it felt erotic, it felt wrong. But it didn't matter now. For he was castrated. He was a gelding. He was stallion no more.

Thunderlane took the facts fairly well actually, Redheart thought, as most colts would break down and cry at this point. But due to either bravery or simply pure shock, Thunderlane could simply stare at his former foalmaker, one now resting on his abdomen and one on the tray. Redheart gently took his testes and put them into Thunderlane's tied hoof, giving him a chance to feel his severed organs the first and very last time. Thunderlane examined his orbs with his hoof curiously and frightfully, shivering as the wetness, fading warmth and tender texture of his former balls felt eerie to him. It strengthened the idea that he was a gelding now, a lesser colt with no seed. Well, technically there was some remaining semen within his system. But this wasn't something Redheart couldn't fix.

Thunderlane's eyes grew in shock and confusion as he felt a familiar sensation on his shaft. Redheart's hooves were stroking the former stallion's meat after she sutured his scrotum when he was contemplating on his balls. His erection has lasted throughout the surgery, and while it was fading due to new circumstances, Redheart worked hard to keep his penis hard and long. Thunderlane was confused, surprised, pleasured and frightful to his treatment. After all this was technically sexual assault, were he born as a mare that is. But the tending did feel good, and he wanted release, perhaps at least for the last time. He was struggling between giving in to the sensation despite it being from rape, or become abhorred by the nurse's further humiliation and ruining his last chance.

"What… what are you doing?" He probed. Hoping to find a meaning out of this.

"Well I'm flushing the remaining semen out of your reproductive system. While you probably can't get enough libido to orgasm anymore, we can't risk and stray cum knocking up us mares can we?" Redheart smiled as she looked at the gelding, then suddenly popped his member into her own mouth and started to suckle on the thick, fleshy meat. Thunderlane moaned softly, both in lust and sadness, as Redheart bobbed her head on his stick while flickering her tongue and gently nudging his empty scrotum. Thunderlane could feel the different sensation from how Redheart touched his pouch. Emptiness, lightness, wonderfully smooth and non-encumbered were some words to describe the sensation. His gelding curiosity and Redheart's wonderful oral skill was bringing him to release, albeit deep down his core he was sobbing in humiliation and defeat to care much about his lust or his life anymore. He closed his eyes, trying to enjoy Redheart's blowjob as much as possible, and trying to ignore the fact that some part of him has died already, literally and figuratively.

In just a few minutes, he came into Redheart's mouth. With a few moaning and convulsing pulse, his last load of fertile seed was dispensed into the nurses hungry stomach. That's it. That was all. With little fanfare or orchestral ending, he was now a truly infertile gelding.

Thunderlane moaned as Redheart swallowed his last sample of seed that could have been frozen for fathering his children in vitro, but alas, the last drop was eaten by his castrator. His penis withered back into his body as the clear fluids coated his abdomen and most of Redheart's cheek. He laid down on his back, watched as Redheart threw his balls into an autoclave trash bin, and finally started to sob.

"N-now what?" He somberly asked.

"Now, you walk down the hallway with the escort to meet with the secretary. She will assign you a role in our society where you can fit in and work." She gently wiped his tears, "Aww don't cry, being a gelding is fun. I was told you'll have a greater lifespan, your mind is less encumbered with fantasies of sex, and besides, if you were to be called by a mare for sexual services, you don't have to worry about accidentally rearing a foal of yours. Zero liability. It's a sure win. Being a gelding is not bad, for you and for all of us." She smiled.

Thunderlane said nothing. He had many things he wanted to say, but there was nothing to be said.

For the last 20 years of his life, had he thought his fate would bring him onto this path? He had wished to find his special somepony, settle down, maybe in Ponyville, and have a family of his own. And if his foal were a pegasus, he could teach him all the tricks to flying, and all the skills he learned as a Wonderbolts candidate. He had always wondered what race his foal might be, but it seemed he would never know. He could never have a family. He could never have a life. The life of a gelding was a life of servitude. That was the reason behind castrating ponies. A horse without balls were tasked with chores and nothing more by their masters, and for Thunderlane, the masters were the collective mares in Equestria that were now above all stallions, and certainly above all geldings like him.

He did not know what lie ahead of him. He could not imagine where his life would lead. But he know the life he had known was long gone; his life was dead with the death of his balls. Today he began his new life as a gelding, and he could not be less anxious to find out where his gelding life would lead.

The gelding waited silently for the escort to come. The mare tidied up her tools for the next colt to come.

And the sun hung high over Equestria.

***

Meanwhile, in another room within the facility…

Author's Note

Finale coming soon.