BULL BALLS

Chapter 3

The following day was Friday, and it seemed to drag by with no end in sight.  The next day was even worse, because I was determined to wait until after dinner to introduce my husband to his new life as a "real" breeder.  Even though I knew it would take a long time to get his sac stretched as much as I wanted it to be, I couldn't stop the visions that were running through my head.  Over and over I saw him standing there naked, his legs widespread to give room to the monstrous bag hanging between them.  Time after time I fantasized about him needing to put his balls in a wheelbarrow in order to walk. 

By the time we had finished dinner, I couldn't wait any longer.  I introduced the topic of discussion simply enough, by saying, "I've decided what I'm going to do to make your balls bigger."

That got his instant attention, and he asked, "How will you do it, honey?"

I then told him I'd found information about scrotal infusion, and at his blank look, began to explain in detail what I was going to do to him.  He must have found it as exciting as I did, because his face flushed, and I could see his breathing quicken.  I had placed some printed pictures in a drawer beside the dining room table, and took them out to show him what his sac would look like when I was done with it.

That seemed to arouse him even more, and with every new photo in the series of ever-increasing bag size, his eyes seemed to become more glazed.  It was pretty obvious that I'd have no trouble getting him to cooperate.

We hurried to clear the table, then went to the bathroom so he could soak in a tub full of hot water.  I had two motives for wanting him to do that.  The first was that I thought it'd loosen his bag even more, making it more "stretchable."  The second was that I'd decided to shave his pubic hair, because that would make his scrotum even more visible.

The shaving process was much more difficult that I'd ever imagined, especially since I was extra careful to avoid making any nicks in that area.  It's not so much that I wanted to avoid hurting Ted, it's that I had a recurring vision in my mind that probably had no basis in reality, but concerned me anyway.  I was afraid that if there were the slightest of cuts in his sac, then when I had the thing filled to capacity, it might burst.  My fears may seem laughable to those of you who've already tried scrotal infusion, but they were real enough to me to make me be very cautions as I plied the razor.

I think both of us were pretty excited about what we were planning for that night.  His little pecker was hard most of the time, and I'm sure my nipples were in the same condition.  At least, they were very erect when I undressed in the bedroom, where we had gone after he was bathed, shaved, and dried.

He lay quietly on the bed, watching in rapt fascination as I laid out the supplies, explaining everything in detail to him.  Finally it was time to begin, and with shaking hands I donned the latex gloves that I'd smuggled home from the laboratory at my workplace.

His cock was bobbing in excitement by then, and I thought again how small it was, and how utterly useless.  I knew that penises figured prominently in breeding, of course, but to me the ball bag was the main part.  A cock was just something that facilitated sperm delivery, and since I had no interest in getting pregnant, I considered my husband's as just a bit player in this drama.  I told him to hold the thing against his abdomen so it wouldn't interfere with what I was about to do, and he quickly complied.  His hand completely hid the little thing, and I thought momentarily what an improvement that was.  Then that thought passed, and I moved on to more important matters.

I had read the instruction sheet several times, so was fairly confident I could do everything required.  The first step involved tying off the top of the sac, so the saline solution would not be forced into his abdomen.  To accomplish that, I instructed Ted to pull his balls as far as he could toward his feet.  He seemed to take special pleasure in working his testicles to the bottom of the sac, and then wrapping his hand around the thing and pulling as hard as he could.  I'd never seen him do that before, and the sight of his stretched bag, seemingly reaching his knees, was more than a little arousing to me.

There was a piece of rubber tubing in the kit I'd ordered, and I wrapped it a couple of times around the neck of his sac, as close as I could get it to his penis.  After pulling it tight, I tied the ends to hold it in place.

The small bottle of disinfectant was soon opened, and I used its swab top to brush the astringent-smelling, yellow-brown liquid on a small area of his scrotum, right below the tubing.  With that part out of the way, it was time for the main event.

I had ordered ten of the 1000 ml bags of saline solution, knowing that it would take several sessions to stretch him to my goal.  I had budgeted six of the sacks for our practice sessions, guessing that by the time they'd all been infused over the course of a few weeks, his scrotum would be enlarged to the point that it could handle the final amount of 4000 ml.

Ted obviously thought I had other plans for him, for when he saw the ten bags in the drawer, he asked in a trembling voice, "Honey, do you think I can hold that much all at once?"

It was hard to keep from laughing at the idea I'd put all 10000 ml in him on the first night.  However, as I envisioned him standing in front of me all bowlegged, with his huge sac resting on the floor, I have to admit it was just a tiny bit exciting.

I reassured him that we were going to go slowly, and I'd use just one of the bags this first time.  My plan was to infuse two the next weekend, and three the weekend after that.  Hopefully, he'd be able to handle the contents of the final four bags in a month's time.  At least, that was my plan.  If it took longer, well, that was okay too.  There was really no hurry.  His sac would still be there (hopefully), no matter how long it took to get the thing stretched to the "proper" size.

According to the directions, the hollow needle was to be inserted through the skin of his scrotum, but not much further.  The plan was to fill the area around the testes, not the balls themselves.  Since I'd been inserting needles in plastic tubing, in order to add very small amounts of chemicals to a titrating mixture, for several years by that time in my career, I didn't envision any problems.  In fact, it was much easier than I'd anticipated, and soon the needle was properly positioned, with a piece of surgical tape holding it in place.

I then attached the 4' length of plastic tubing to the needle, fastened the tubing clamp to the center of it, and pushed the other end into the valve on the sack of saline solution.  That was the last of the preparations, and it was now time for the main event.

The instructions had emphasized over and over that the solution should be injected slowly, and had said that the bag of solution should not be raised more than one foot above the needle, because the higher the sack, the greater the flow of liquid would be.  Since Ted had one free hand, I gave him the bag and instructed him how high to hold it.  It was time.

The solution had flowed down the tubing as far as the clamp, and when I released it a small amount began to slowly make its way toward the needle.  It was fascinating to watch the liquid crawling slowly toward its new home, and neither or us spoke a single word as we watched the stuff approaching his sac.

The instant the liquid started to enter his scrotum, Ted gasped, more in startlement than pain.  I quickly released the clamp so it would stop the flow, then asked, "Honey, what's the matter?  Does it hurt?" 

He answered, "No.  It doesn't hurt.  It's just cold as ice water."

That gave me pause, because the bags had been there in our bedroom for a few days by that time, and should have been at room temperature.  Suddenly it occurred to me that room temperature would be almost 30 degrees (F) cooler than his balls, so no wonder he thought the stuff was cold.  That was one small detail I'd overlooked.  I wanted this experience to be pleasant for him, and searched for an answer to the problem.

I told him to not go anywhere, and rushed to the kitchen.  It took a few seconds to find a cake pan, and to return to the bedroom with it.  I ran the hot water in the master bathroom until it was nice and warm, and then filled the pan about halfway.  After carrying it to the bed, I placed the bag in it.

We waited a couple of minutes for the solution to get warmer, and I used the time to inspect his scrotum.  Such a small amount of saline had been injected that there was no change, although he thought he could somehow feel a difference down there.  I doubted it, but humored him anyway.

When I judged the stuff was close to body temperature, I again told him to hold it above his body.  After warning him that the solution in the tubing would still feel cold, I again started the flow.  He winced as the liquid was forced into his sac, but didn't say anything.  After several seconds, he said it was feeling warmer, so I knew the warmed contents of the bag were reaching his scrotum.

By the time the level in the bag had fallen about an inch, his sac was visibly filling.  It was a fascinating thing to watch, as the wrinkles smoothed and the thing seemed to move all on its own.  I have to admit that watching the process was exciting in a sexual way, which was the whole point, I guess.  Even though there was a long way to go, the fact that we had started down that path, and that results were already visible, was very satisfying to me.

It took almost 15 minutes for the 1000 ml to be infused, and by the time the bag of solution was completely empty, his scrotum was larger than I'd ever seen it.  Even more satisfying to me, though, it was obvious the thing had spare capacity for even more.  It was almost more than I could bear to keep from attaching a second bag to the tubing, and giving him that amount also.  I knew that it was best to keep to my original plan, and began the process of disconnecting everything.

I pinched the flesh around the needle, and then quickly withdrew the point.  Ted was holding a small piece of surgical tape in readiness, and as soon as I had dropped the needle to the bed, I used it to seal the tiny hole where the needle had been.  It was now time to examine my handiwork.

To give his expanded scrotum more room, he had drawn his knees upward, but with them still flat on the bed, with his legs spread.  The appearance was almost as if he were standing erect, with his pendulous sac about halfway to the floor.  I knew, of course, that the thing wasn't anywhere near that big with only 1000 ml in it, but a girl can dream, can't she?

I said quietly, "Stand up.  I want to look at you."  When he had done so, I sat on the edge of the bed with him standing in front of me.  As I reached both hands toward his enlarged sac, they were trembling with excitement.  I'm sure my breath was coming very fast then, and was sure he was just as aroused as I was.  The hand that was holding his little pecker against his abdomen was unconsciously stroking up and down, and I'm sure he didn't know that was happening.  All his attention, and mine, was focused on the swollen bag hanging between his legs.

I cupped my hands around the thing, caressing it for several seconds.  With no conscious thought, I began to "heft" his sac, as if trying to judge its weight, and thereby evaluate the success of what I'd done to him.

I was suddenly overcome with the lust that had been building since we'd finished our dinner, and I'd told Ted what was in store for him.  Again with no conscious thought, I got on the floor on my hands and knees, facing one of the mirrored doors.  My breathless order, "Mount me!", was followed by the feel of him inserting his little tool in my crack, and immediately beginning to thrust his bag against my pussy.

The feelings that exploded in my crotch were so much better than I'd ever expected, and they reduced me to nothing more than a female animal with a crotch that felt as if it were on fire.  My whole existence was centered on the sensations produced by my husband's heavy bag banging against my slit, and I lived for nothing other than the feel of the next thrust.

At some point, I must have raised my eyes to the mirror in front of me.  What I saw there was nothing less than the answer to my dreams and fantasies, which had been with me since my childhood.

His swollen sac was swinging back in forth in time with his thrusts, and as I saw it impact my crotch, I also felt it.  It was everything I'd ever wanted in a man, and it had the power to simply disconnect my body from my brain.  I became nothing more than an aching, burning vagina, begging to be pummeled by my breeder's huge balls.

As much as I would have continued like that for the remainder of my life if possible, all good things come to an end.  I guess in that case, it should be "cum" to an end, for that's just what I did.  The image of his bag pounding against me, combined with the overpowering lust I was feeling, will be with me forever.  I don't know that I'd ever had such a strong orgasm, and by the time it ended, my arms could no longer support me and my forehead had fallen to the carpet.  Ted's arms, which were wrapped around me so his hands could caress my tits, were the only thing that kept me from collapsing completely.

I don't know how long I was in that semi-conscious state, but remember that when I finally regained my senses, Ted was using both hands to hold my cheeks widespread while he licked up the mess he had made in my crack.  I spread my legs in order to give him easier access, and gazed back through them at the sight of his swollen bag bouncing around as he serviced me.

The extreme arousal I had felt moments before had not completely dissipated, and the sight of his bag, combined with his attentions, caused me to once again become excited.  I was suddenly overcome with the need to feel his scrotum in my hands, and said, "Get on your back."  He paused in his efforts, and then hurried to comply.

I straddled his head, facing his crotch, and lowered myself to his hungry mouth.  He immediately began tonguing me again, while I leaned forward and took his bag in both hands.  I cupped and hefted it for a long time, the fantasies of Sir Galahad running non-stop through my brain.  I wanted very much to squeeze with all my might, just to see if his balls were still inside it, but knew I had to resist that compulsion.  The needle hole was being held closed by nothing more than a small piece of surgical tape, and I feared that the slightest pressure would force the saline solution to erupt from his sac, destroying my night's work.  I instead contented myself with caressing, kissing, hefting, and admiring what was displayed there before me.

I remember being both excited and pleased when I pinched a fold of flesh, and realized how much capacity was still available in his scrotum.  Again, I had to contain my desire to infuse another sack of solution.  Patience was the best course, as I reminded myself over and over.

Since I had shown Ted how to "fuck" me without putting his penis in my vagina, and he had begun to lick up the mess he always made, his attentions had increasingly centered on the opening he found back there.  When he had removed all traces of his semen, he seemed to find it more and more exciting to lick that special place, and to probe it with his tongue.

As he did that to me while I was fondling his filled sac, it seemed to arouse me almost as much as it did him.  The sight of his bull bag, the knowledge that he had willingly let me do that to him for my own pleasure, and the arousal I felt from his attentions all combined to make me feel a level of love for him that I'd never before known.  My heart seemed to pound even faster, and my throat became so tight I couldn't make even the slightest sound.  The need to demonstrate my love for him became paramount, and I did something I'd done only a few times before: I took his penis in my mouth.

This time was entirely different in that the little thing was coated in his slimy goo, but I was so aroused even that didn't stop me from demonstrating my intense love for him by doing what I knew he craved.  He must have realized immediately what I'd done, for his oral attentions seemed to increase to a fever pitch.  He licked and sucked with an intensity I hadn't thought possible, and his intensity served to increase mine.  I began to suck with all my might, and began to use my teeth to lightly score the base of his penis.

When he felt my teeth on his organ, Ted began to moan deep in his throat.  I was sure he was trying to say something, but his sounds were muffled.  At one point, I must have raised slightly off his mouth, and heard him pleading over and over, "Please!  Please!  Please!"
I didn't know why he was begging me, since I was already doing my best to make him cum for the second time in a few minutes.  Again and again I sucked him as strongly as possible, while continuing to score his member with my teeth.

My efforts soon put him over the edge, and I felt the first spurt in my mouth.  The intensity of my own arousal was evident then, since I made no move to pull away, as I had every other time I gave him oral sex.  I continued to suck and bite as he orgasmed, and as my own spasms swept over me, I heard him say clearly, "Now!"

It took a long time for us to come down from our respective peaks, and when we did I suggested we should get on the bed.  By that time, it was almost midnight, and we were both exhausted from that very rewarding evening.  We settled under the covers, he on his back with me lying on my side facing him, one hand cradling his wonderful bag.  I had turned out the lamp, and we were in that lethargic state that usually follows good sex.  One question was nagging at my brain then, and I asked, "Sweetheart, why did you say 'now!' when you were cumming?  Was there something else you wanted me to do right then?"

We had been married long enough for me to sense his moods, and I knew he was feeling embarrassment then.  It took a long time for him to answer, and when he at last said, "I just wanted to tell you to cum too."

That sounded pretty weak to me, and I persisted, saying, "I think there's more to it than that.  You were begging me to keep sucking you, and then you wanted me to do something else while you were cumming.  Tell me what it was."

Again he was hesitant to answer, but at last replied in a small voice, "I wanted you to bite me really hard.  I liked the way your teeth felt."

I was sure that was closer to the truth, but wasn't convinced he was telling me everything.  I asked, "How hard did you want me to bite you?  If you tell me the truth, maybe I'll do it for you next time."

He had to clear his throat a couple of time before the words would come, and I lay in silence waiting for him to answer.  Finally he whispered, "I wanted you to bite it off."

To say I was surprised would have been putting it mildly, and it took me several seconds to gather my thoughts.  In an equally husky whisper, I asked, "Why would you want me to do something like that.  Don't you like your penis?"

His answer came so quickly, and was so vehement, that it startled me.  It was, "I hate it!  I've always hated it!"

I suppose his words shouldn't have surprised me as much as they did.  I knew he took no pride in his penis, as other men seemed to.  I had always assumed that was because he felt a sense of embarrassment by its small size.  To hear him now saying that he "hated" the little thing left me at a loss for words for several seconds.  At last I asked quietly, "Do you really want me to take it off you?  Surely you're not serious, are you?"

Again he was quick to answer, but this time I knew his single word came from his heart.  He said simply, "Yes."

We lay quietly for a long time then, the only movement being my hand caressing his swollen bag.  I think that was more an unconscious act, rather than something I was doing deliberately, though.  I remember my mind racing as it tried to come to terms with what he'd told me, and the secret thrill I felt deep inside my soul as I considered this new part of our relationship.  I knew it'd take a long time to fully accept what my husband wanted me to do to him, but I secretly felt a deep sense of satisfaction that he'd confided in me to the extent he had.