Leaning over the top rail, his feet on the bottom rail, Lynn watched his uncle’s prize bull slowly walk around the corral. He didn’t look dangerous. He was huge; but he paid no attention to Lynn. He would stand in one spot for awhile, swishing his tail at the flies that buzzed around him; then he would take a few steps before stopping again. It didn’t seem like much of a life.

But maybe it wasn’t so bad. Lynn grinned. No school, Lynn thought, all the food he wants to eat, and all the pussy he can handle. God! He’s got big balls. I’ll bet he can fuck all day and never run out of spunk. He looked left and right and over his shoulder. No one was around, so he unbuttoned his fly, pushed down his shorts and took out his dick and balls, comparing his balls to those of the bull. One of the motherfucker’s balls was bigger than his whole package, his ball sac and his cock put together.

He glanced around again; and not seeing anyone, stepped down off the rail and began jacking off. It didn’t take much to get him started. It seemed like anything and everything got him hard. Watching the bull, looking at his big balls, had been enough this time. What was this, his third or his fourth time to jack off today? Sometimes he lost count. What was his record, ten…eleven in one day?

Lynn had only discovered jacking off earlier that summer; now he couldn’t get enough of it. When his cock was hard, he couldn’t keep his hand off of it; and his cock was always hard.

He lifted his balls with one hand, while he stroked his dick with the other. They were tiny compared to those the bull had. Lynn grinned, imagining how it would feel to have a bull’s set of balls hanging from his dick. Then…he came. Shit…shit…shit. God damn…It felt good. He loved it. He fucking loved it. Nothing felt that good.

Maybe fucking would feel that good; but he’d never had a chance to do any fucking. Maybe, he’d try fucking one of the cows. He’d rather fuck Vicki, though. His cousin, she was a year younger than he was, but she had tits. They weren’t big, but she definitely had tits.

Still stroking his dick, milking the last few drops of spunk from it, he looked down at it. At six and a half inches, it was a little smaller than he would have liked, but he’d read that the average size of a hard dick was about five and a half inches, and his was longer than that.

And, at least, he had hair around it now, thick curly hair above his dick and on his balls. Thirteen – fourteen in the fall – puberty had come late for him. He’d only started growing hair about six months before, the same time his dick and balls had started growing. Only one other boy besides him in his P.E. class last fall didn’t have hair above his dick. God damn…the other boys had teased him about having a smooth crotch.

At least, he would have hair when he started school in the fall. It was going to be hard enough entering a new school where he didn’t know anyone, without being the only boy in his class that hadn’t started puberty. They might say that size doesn’t count, but it does. Ask any boy that is teased about having a small dick, if it doesn’t.

He’d come to live uncles ranch with his Uncle Steve, Mom’s brother, Aunt Rachel, and their twelve year-old daughter, Vicki. His dad had just taken off; no one knew where he was; and his mother needed some time to get her shit together. She was having a hard time taking care of herself; she couldn’t look after him, too. “It’ll just be for awhile,” she had told him. So here he was, living with an aunt and uncle he didn’t even know. He didn’t remember ever visiting them when he was younger.

They were nice enough to him. He had some chores, cleaning out the barn and shit, he had to do every morning, but he had most of the day to himself, plenty of time for his favorite pastime, jacking off. And speaking of jacking off: he was still horny and wanted to do it again, but not here, not out in the open. He’d go into the barn where he could get naked. He liked being naked when he jacked off.

It was cooler in the barn out of the hot sun. He closed the barn door, flipping down the latch. That wouldn’t keep anyone out, but it would give him some warning, maybe enough time to slip on his shorts.

He kicked off his flip-flops, pulled his t-shirt over his head, and pushed down his shorts. He never wore underwear any more. His dick was already hard. He spread his t-shirt over the straw that covered the earthen floor of the barn, lay back on top of it, and closed his eyes.

He ran his hand over his smooth chest, wondering whether he’d grow hair on it when he was older. His father had a hairy chest. He hadn’t decided whether he wanted one or not. Maybe he wouldn’t. His uncle only had a little hair around his tits. Maybe he’d take after his mother’s side of the family, rather than take after his father.

Drifting lower, his hand encountered his pubic hair. He ran his fingers through it. He loved the feel of it. Then his hand found his dick. Fuck, it was hard; but he didn’t start jacking off right away. He wanted the feeling to last. As much as he liked to come, he liked that feeling that came before, his dick hard and jerking and begging, it seemed, for attention -- begging for him to wrap his hand around it.

This time, he made it wait, cupping his balls in his hand, picturing the bull’s balls in his mind. God…they were huge. One of them would fill his hand. He could hold both his in one hand.

He knew his uncle castrated calves; but he hadn’t seen him do it yet; they castrated them in the spring. If he were still here, then he’d probably have to help do it, help hold the calves, or something. Man…he was glad they didn’t castrate boys. Wouldn’t that suck, having your balls cut off?

Finally, unable to hold off any longer, he wrapped his hand around his dick. He stiffened. Oh, shit…it felt good. Rubbing his right nipple with his left hand, he pulled on his cock with his right hand.

It didn’t take long; it never took him long. He felt the hot spunk spurt onto his stomach. He thrust his hips into his hand, his eyes scrunched up, his face screwed up, not in pain, but in the pleasure of his orgasm.

“Why do you do it, if it hurts?”

Now, that will take the steel out of your dick, hearing the voice of your cousin coming from above you as you shoot onto your stomach. Lynn’s eyes flew open; his dick, still leaking spunk, softened in his hand. His cousin, Vicki, looked down at him. She asked him again, “If it hurts so much, why do you do it all the time?”

Lynn grabbed for his shorts, covering his crotch with them. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” He hadn’t heard anyone open the barn door.

“I was already in here. I was up in the loft. I saw you out at the corral. I saw you play with your thing out there. You do it all the time. I watch you do it all the time. Why do you do it, if it hurts?”

Lynn wanted to get dressed, but he couldn’t without pulling away his shorts, exposing himself first. “You’ve been spying on me?” he said.

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it spying,” she said. “You’re not exactly careful about where you do it. Mom and Dad know you do it. Mom said she finds spots on your sheets every morning. Dan said that if any boy needed to have his balls crimped, you did.”

“What does that mean: have my balls crimped?” asked Lynn.

“That’s what you do to an unruly colt, crimp his balls. It calms him down. If boy needed his balls crimped, you do. Daddy said you wouldn’t need to play with your…penis,” she said, savoring the last word, “if you had your balls crimped. Look at you. You can’t leave your thing alone, even though it hurts to squirt like you do.”

“It doesn’t hurt. What makes you think it hurts?” asked Lynn, his cock becoming hard again beneath his shorts. All this talk about crimping balls, all this talk about jacking off, made him horny, even if it was Vicki talking about it; maybe even made him all that much hornier because it was Vicki talking about it.

“The face you make when you spurt,” she said. “The way you screw up your face, I figured it must hurt.”

“Well, it doesn’t,” he said feeling his face burn. “Now, why don’t you go away and let me put my shorts on?”

“Go ahead and put them on. I’m not stopping you.”

“Look, I want a little privacy, ok?” he said.

“Is it hard again? I’ll bet that’s why you don’t want me to see it. I’ll bet it’s hard again. Are you going to make it spurt again if I leave?”

“No, I’m not going to make it spurt again,” he said. “Now, leave.”

“Let me see it first.”

“No,” he said. “Now, go away.”

If you don’t let me see it, I’ll tell Daddy you tried to fool around with me. He warned me to stay away from you and to tell him if you tried anything. He’ll crimp your balls for sure, if I tell him you did.”

He probably would, too, thought Lynn.

“OK,” he said. “Just a quick look, though.” He lifted his shorts from his crotch. His hard cock popped into view.”

“I knew it was hard,” she said. “Your thing is always hard. It pushes out against your shorts when it’s hard, you know. Every time I look at you, it’s hard.”

“I can’t help it,” Lynn said.

“I know,” said Vicki. “That’s why you need your balls crimped.”

“No one’s crimping my balls,” said Lynn. He raised his legs, slid his shorts over his feet, and began pulling them up.

She grabbed his hand. “I didn’t say you could get dressed,” she said.

“What’s it to you whether I get dressed or not?” said Lynn.

“If you don’t do what I say, I’ll tell Daddy you tried to mess with me. He already thinks you’re some kind of sex fiend, anyway.”

Lynn stopped with his shorts just past his knees. “Don’t tell him that,” he said. Lynn knew his uncle would believe her. He’d thought about fucking her often enough, hadn’t he?

“Then, give me your shorts,” she said, “your t-shirt, too.” He handed them too her.

She pulled off her t-shirt. His cock, which had gone down at her threats, stiffened at the sight of her tits. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m getting naked, too,” she said, pulling off her shorts. In a moment, she was as naked as he was. He could see the indentation of her pussy below her pubic hair. His cock pulsated, jumping up and down. Was she going to let him fuck her? She sat down beside him. He reached for her; but she slapped his hand away.

“No,” she said. “I get to touch you, but you don’t get to touch me.” She wrapped her hand around his cock. “Like this,” she asked, pulling on it.” Lynn nodded.

Thoughts whirled around in his head. She’d threatened to tell her father he’d tried to rape her; now she was sitting naked next to him, jacking him off. Wasn’t that some weird shit? He reached for her again.

She slapped away his hand again. “I said, no,” she said. “I get to touch, but you don’t get to.” She stood up. “Stay there,” she said. “If you move, I’ll scream, and my dad will come and find us both naked. I’ll say you tried to mess with me. Who do you think he’ll believe?”

Lynn knew who he’d believe. He stayed where he was. In a moment she was back, carrying several pieces of rope. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I’m going to tie you up,” she said. “That way, I can touch you, but you can’t touch me.”

“Fuck, you’re not tying me up,” said Lynn, but she threatened to scream again, so he let her tie him up.

She tied him, spread eagled, his arms tied to one side of a stall and his legs to the other side of it. He could squirm, but he couldn’t move far. “Now that’s better,” she said. She squatted down and began jacking him off again. It wasn’t long before he came.

He heard her laugh. “What?” he said.

“You did it again,” she said. “You scrunched up you face like you always do when you spurt. Why do you do that?”

“I don’t know,” said Lynn. “I never thought about it. I didn’t know I was doing it. It feels good to come. I don’t think about what my face looks like.” He looked down at her crotch, at the outline of her pussy beneath her pubic hair. He’d seen pictures of naked girls, but that wasn’t the same as seeing one in person. That wasn’t the same as lying next to a naked girl, one that sat cross-legged with his dick in her hand. “Do you ever play with yourself?” he asked.

“No, Silly,” she said, “I don’t have a thing.”

“You have a clitoris,” he said. “It’s like a little penis. I’ve heard that girls can get off rubbing it. You never tried it?”

“That’s sick,” she said.

“How do you know, if you haven’t tried it? I’ll bet you’d like it.” he said. “Untie me, and I’ll show you.”

“You just want to mess with me,” she said.

“No, I don’t,” said Lynn. Like hell, he didn’t.

“Yes, you do. You’re a sex fiend. You need to have your balls crimped. Daddy says you do.”

“Hey, you just jacked me off,” said Lynn. “Who’s the sex fiend? I haven’t even touched you.”

“You want to, though, don’t you?” she said. “You want to mess with me, don’t you?” I’ll bet you want to fuck me.”

“What do you know about fucking?” Lynn asked. He didn’t know what she had in mind, but she was turning him on again. His dick was hard.

“I grew up on the ranch,” she said. “I’ve watched our animals fuck, our bull and our stud horse. Besides, I’ve heard other girls at school talk about it. Just because I live out in the country doesn’t mean I don’t know anything. I know boys like to fuck girls. One of my friends at school says that’s all boys think about. You want to fuck me, don’t you?”

Lynn wasn’t sure what to say. If he said, yes, would she let him fuck her? She had admitted she’d been following him around watching him jack off; and she had got naked and jacked him off. Maybe she wanted it. He did. He wanted to fuck her. “I guess,” he said.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. She stood up, walking away. Lynn heard the door to the tack room open. In a moment, she was back, holding a large metal device in her hand. It was about eighteen inches long and had jaws that she opened and closed. In some ways, it resembled a huge pair of pliers, but it curved before coming together at two narrow metal jaws, each a couple of inches long, which met when she closed the handles.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s a burdizzo, she said.

“What’s a burdizzo?” he asked.

“A ball crimper,” she said.

“What are you going to do with it?” he asked.

“Why, what do you think? I’m going to crimp your balls.”

“Like hell you are,” Lynn said. “You touch me with that thing, and I’ll scream. He was more worried about having that thing clamped around his balls than he was about his uncle thinking he was messing with his cousin.

She shrugged, walked over to the rail of the stall, picked up a rag that was draped across it, and when he opened him mouth to scream, stuffed it into his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but she put a piece of duct tape over the rag.

Lynn shook his head. “No, please don’t,” he wanted to say, but, “oomph, oomph,” was all he could manage.

She opened the jaws of the thing, picked up his balls, working one of them over to the side of the sac. “Quit wiggling,” she said. I have to make sure the strings to your ball are between the jaws of the burdizo, or it won’t work.

Lynn didn’t want it to work, so he wiggled.

She sat down on his stomach, pinning him to the floor, her back to him. He could no longer wiggle. He couldn’t see what she was doing, but he felt the cold metal of the device on his ball sac. He felt her pull one of his balls to one side of the sac, felt her pull the cords of that ball to the same side, then felt her close the device – not all the way, but tight enough on the cords to that ball that it hurt, much like someone was squeezing his ball.

Then she closed it all the way. That hurt. God! It hurt, as if she had crushed his ball, not crushed the cords to it. He screamed into the gag, but little sound escaped his mouth. She left it clamped for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only for a few minutes. Finally, she released the clamp. His ball hurt like hell.

“I have to do it again,” she said. She looked back over her shoulder at him. “I have to clamp each one of them twice. Did it hurt?”

With his eyes wide open, Lynn nodded vigorously.

“I thought it might,” she said. “Colts don’t seem to like it much either.” But while she talked, she moved the burdizzo lower on the cords to that ball and closed it again.

It didn’t hurt as much this time, but she’d probably already crushed the nerves to that ball. He felt it mostly in the skin of his scrotum. It felt like she was cutting his ball sac off. In a few minutes, she unclamped it. He thought he felt her pulling his other ball over to the other side of his scrotum, but he wasn’t sure. By that time, his whole ball sac was on fire. He ached way up into his abdomen. If felt like someone had stood on his balls.

When she clamped down on the cords to that ball, he felt it, though. Again, it felt like she’d crushed his ball. She left it clamped for a while; then clamped it again. At least, Lynn thought she did. He might have fainted somewhere along the line.

She untied him and took off the duct tape, removing the gag from his mouth. All Lynn could do, though, was to hold his balls, He couldn’t move. She looked down at him. “I did good, I think,” she said. “I did it just like Daddy does. I watch him do it all the time. Maybe he’ll let me do the colts next time, once he sees how good a job I did on you. That should calm you down. Now you won’t have to play with your thing all the time. I’ll bet you don’t want to fuck me now, do you?”

Well…playing with his cock or fucking was the last thing Lynn wanted to do just then. It hung limply above a rapidly swelling ball sac. A little blood was seeping from one of the creases in his ball sac. No one saw that, though. Lynn held his ball sac with both hands.

She dressed. “I’m going to get Daddy,” she said. “I want to show him what a good job I did.”

She was back in a few minutes with her father. “What the fuck have you done?” he asked her. The burdizzo lay on the floor beside Lynn, who hadn’t moved. He still held his balls.

“I crimped his balls,” said Vicki. “You said they needed crimping.”

“I didn’t actually mean that they needed crimping,” said her father. “You don’t crimp boys.”

Vicki looked worried for the first time. “He wanted me to do it,” she said. “He said he’d mess with me, if I didn’t.”

“He wanted you to do it?” her father asked. She nodded. Vicki had put away the ropes. Lynn still had marks on his arms from them, but perhaps his uncle wanted to believe Vicki. He didn’t mention the marks, if he saw them.

“Did I do a good job?” Her father, having pulled Lynn’s hands away from his groin, was examining his ball sac.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think you did a number on him. I’d better take him to the doc to see if he can save them.”

“He’d be better off without them,” said Vicki. “He plays with his thing all the time. He made me watch him do it.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Lynn, finally able to talk; but he had spunk smeared all over his stomach; his uncle knew he jacked off all the time; and he would obviously rather believe his daughter than believe his nephew.

“Crazy fucking kids,” said his uncle. “I don’t know why you wanted to get rid of your balls; and I don’t know for sure a burdizzo will castrate a boy; but it looks like you’re going to be sore for a couple of days.”

“I didn’t do it to myself. She did it to me.”

“How’s a little girl going to crimp your balls, if you don’t want it done?” his uncle asked.

“She tied me up first,” Lynn said.

“And you just let her tie you up?” his uncle asked.

“She made me let her,” said Lynn.

“How could she make you let her tie you up?”

“She – she said she’d tell you I was trying to mess around with her, if I didn’t let her tie me up. Please…take me to the doctor. My balls hurt. They really hurt.” Lynn was crying, holding onto his balls once again.”

“You were trying to mess with her?” His uncle grew red in the face. “If you were messing around with her, I’ll finish the job. I’ll cut your fucking balls off.”

“No, I wasn’t messing with her.”

“What’s all this shit all over your stomach then?” asked his uncle. “Looks like spunk to me.”

“She – she jacked me off,” said Lynn.

“Bull Shit,” his uncle said. “I’ll tell you what. I’m not taking you to the doctor. He probably couldn’t do anything for you anyway. I don’t know whether a burdizzo will castrate a boy or not. Some people claim they will, and some claim they won’t. I hope it did. You better hope it did; because that’s the only way you’re staying here. If that did a number on your balls and you’re castrated, you can stay. If you’re not, I’m turning you over to the state, and they’ll put you in a foster home.”

“My mom will come get me,” Lynn said.

“I don’t know where your mom is,” said his uncle. “She took off. She abandoned you. I don’t think there’s a chance in hell she’s coming back. You’re not a bad kid, but like a lot of boys, you can’t handle having balls. If she castrated you, I’ll let you stay. I’ll treat you like my own kid. But if your balls survive this, I’m turning you over to the State, and I’ll tell them you did this to yourself after trying to rape Vicki. They’ll probably put you in some institution – maybe even prison – as a sex offender. I don’t think you want that. Now which is it? Do you stay here and keep your mouth shut about how Vicki clamped you, or do I call the police and say you tried to rape her? The way I see it, you don’t have much choice. If she killed your balls, she killed your balls; and they’ll be dead whether you’re here on in some institution.”

“What if I stay and my balls live?” asked Lynn.

“Then I’m going to clamp them again until they are dead. That’s the only way you stay. And I’m not saying this out of spite. I don’t know whether you’re telling me the truth or not about what happened, but as far as anyone’s going to know – if it ever comes to anyone finding out you’ve been clamped – is that you did it to yourself. People will believe that before they’ll believe Vicki did it to you. I read the other day about a kid that cut off his dick.”

“You’re like a wild colt that can’t handle having balls. Some can and some can’t. Those that can’t, I castrate. They behave better once their balls are gone. You will, too. You’ve been a little shit since you’ve been here, but it’s the fucking testosterone. That’s why I was glad I had a daughter rather than a son. I think you’ll be ok, once that shit’s out of your system. Now, come on into the house and I’ll have Aunt Rachel put some ice on your balls. I’ll get you some Advil. One way or the other, your balls are going to be sore for a couple of days.”

“Are you going to clamp my balls again, if they aren’t dead?” asked Lynn.

“We’ll give it some time,” said his uncle. “We’ll give it a month, enough time to flush out the testosterone. We should know by then if it worked. If not, I’ll clamp you again, but I’ll deaden your balls first. It won’t hurt like it did this time. Deal? Or not? Do you stay? Or do I call the police and have them pick you up?” He examined Lynn’s balls. “You’re not bleeding in your scrotum, so I think you’ll be ok. That doesn’t mean I think your balls will be ok; but you’re not going to die or anything. A doc’s not going to do you any good.”

“I’ll stay,” said Lynn.

“Can you walk?”

“I don’t think so,” said Lynn.

His uncle picked him up, carried him into the house, and put him in his bed. In a few minutes, his aunt came in with an ice bag for his balls and a couple of Advil. “That was a silly thing to do,” she said.

Lynn didn’t say that he hadn’t done it. He wanted to stay. At least, he didn’t want to go to an institution.

When he awoke the next morning, his balls no longer hurt. His ball sac was sore where it’d been clamped, but his ball themselves, didn’t hurt. The cords to them, though, were swollen. It almost looked like he had four balls in his ball sac, not two.

He slipped on some gym shorts and walked to the bathroom. “How are they?” Uncle Steve asked, when he came out of his room.

“A little sore,” said Lynn, but they don’t hurt like they did.”

“Let me see,” his uncle said. Lynn pulled down his shorts. His uncle examined his balls. “I think she probably did a number on your balls. She clamped the cords good. I couldn’t have done a better job myself. If she’d just clamped each of them once, they might have recovered, but she put a hell of a kink in them. I think you’ve been neutered, Kid.”

“Do you really think so?” said Lynn. Tears, gathering at the corner of his eyes, began running down his cheeks.”

“Buck up,” said his Uncle Steve. “How long has it been since you started puberty, a year or two?”

“Last spring,” said Lynn.

“Well, look at it this way. You went for thirteen years without balls that worked; and I’ll bet you didn’t even miss them. Give it a few months and you’ll forget what it was like to have them. After a while, you won’t even miss them. You’ll be a happier kid without them. Wait and see.”

Lynn kept ice on his balls most of the day. Actually the skin on his ball sac where the burdizzo had pinched it hurt more than his balls did. The cords to his balls were sore to the touch, but his balls didn’t hurt. A week later all he had to show for his clamping was four lines on his ball sac where she’d clamped him.

The next morning Lynn woke up with a hard on and jacked off. Spunk shot onto his stomach. Wasn’t that proof that his balls weren’t dead? How could he come, if they were?”

But a month later he was no longer waking up with an erection; and sometimes he’d go all day without jacking off. He would forget to do it; then the next day, he’d remember he hadn’t the day before and jack off. He could still get hard, and he could still come; but he didn’t think about jacking off all the time as he had before.

One morning his uncle woke him up. “Let me take a look at you,” he said. He pulled down the covers and pulled down Lynn’s white briefs. “No erection. That’s a good sign. Are you waking up in the morning with one?” Lynn shook his head.

“Do you masturbate?”

Lynn felt his face burn. “Sometimes,” he said.

“How often?”

“I don’t know,” said Lynn, “Every couple of days I guess.”

“How often did you do it before?” his uncle asked.

“Five or six,” said Lynn.

“Five or six times a week?” said his uncle.

Lynn shook his head. “Five or six times a day,” he said.

“My God!” said his uncle. “I never did it more than three or four times a week when I was a kid. You did need to have your balls clamped. He squeezed one of Lynn’s balls, gently at first, then harder. Do you feel that?”

“Not really,” said Lynn. “I can feel it, but it doesn’t hurt.”

He squeezed the other one with the same result. “I’m pretty sure they’re dead,” said his uncle. They’re spongy, not firm like live balls are.”

“What’s going to happen to them?” asked Lynn.

“It’s hard to tell,” said his uncle. “They might completely dissolve, or maybe they’ll just get hollow in the inside. It’ll still look like you have balls, but they won’t make sperm or testosterone. I don’t think I’ll have to clamp you again. Do you feel like you have to masturbate, or do you just do it because you want to do it?”

Lynn shrugged. “I don’t know. It still feels good; but I don’t think about it all the time like I used to. I – I guess I do it sometimes just to prove to myself that I can.”

“Isn’t that better, to do it because you want to, not because you have to?”

“I don’t know,” said Lynn. “I guess.”

But Lynn did miss it. He was never horny anymore. He missed that.

Lynn’s uncle didn’t have to clamp him again. By the end of the summer, Lynn was jacking off no more than once or twice a week. Most times, he would just forget to do it; then he’d remember he hadn’t for several days, and thinking he should, jack off.

He still had balls, but it was if the inside of them had been sucked out. They were like those rubber balls that are hollow inside.

One night at the dinner table, Vicki asked, “What is Lynn now? Is he a steer, is he a gelding, or is he fixed?” That’s what they called their dogs that had been neutered.

“Castrated boys are called eunuchs,” said her father. “Lynn is a eunuch.”

“He’s not a boy any longer?” Vicki asked.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” her father said, looking at Lynn’s red face. “Vicki grew up on the ranch. She’s always been curious about why we castrated animals. It’s only natural that she’d be curious about you, since you’ve been castrated, too.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” said Lynn.

“What?” said his uncle.

“That I’ve been castrated.”

“You have. It’s best that you accept it,” said his uncle.

“But I don’t want everyone to know,” said Lynn. School started the next week; and he could just imagine what the other kids would say, if they learned he’d been castrated.

“You still look like you have balls,” said his uncle. “There’s no reason for anyone to know.”

“Yeah, but they’re hollow inside.” He looked around at his aunt and at Vicki; but they didn’t seem to be embarrassed by the discussion of the state of his balls. Maybe that came from living on a ranch where animals are routinely castrated. And my ball sac is all shrunk up. Sometimes it almost looks like I don’t have balls.”

“I like you much better without them,” his aunt said. “You’re a much nicer boy now that you don’t have them.”

“He’s not a boy. He’s a eunuch,” said Vicki.

“You can still call him a boy,” said her father. “You still call Skipper a boy, and he’s been fixed.” Skipper was one of their dogs. “You can still call Lynn a boy.”

“I think I’d rather call him a eunuch,” said Vicki.

“Not outside the ranch,” said her father. “I don’t want your telling anyone he’s been castrated; and I especially don’t want you telling anyone how it happened. Do you understand?”

“Vicki shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Both you and Mom say it was for the best. He doesn’t play with his thing all the time now. Both of you say he’s nicer than he was when he had balls.”

“He is; and I think we all agree – including Lynn – that it was for the best. He couldn’t have stayed here without being castrated; but we keep this to ourselves, understand? Not all people would agree that he should have been castrated. And if it comes out, he did it to himself – agreed?” He looked at Lynn. “Agreed?”

Lynn nodded.

Lynn didn’t make many friends among the other boys at school. They didn’t know he was castrated. After P.E., when he took a shower, his scrotum was distended, and it looked like he had balls. But he was different from them, softer, more feminine, than they were.

He did make friends with one boy, Ron Granger. Ron was a little feminine himself and was teased by the other boys. Naturally, they all thought that both he and Lynn were queer, especially after they started hanging out together.

During spring break Ron was spending the week at the ranch with Lynn. They were in the barn, lying on a pile of straw. “Do you jack off?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, sometimes,” said Lynn. Actually, he wasn’t certain when he had last, a week or two before perhaps.

“You never have a hard on,” said Ron. “I wake up with one every morning, but you never do.” They slept in the same bed.

“How do you know?” asked Lynn.

“I look under the sheets while you’re still asleep. You never have a hard on. I always do, but you don’t. How come?”

Lynn shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“He doesn’t because he’s a eunuch,” they heard a voice say, and looked up to see Vicki. “He doesn’t have any balls.”

“He does too,” said Ron. “I’ve seen them.” He’d seen them not only in P.E., but the two of them took baths together at the ranch.

“They’re hollow on the inside,” said Vicki. “They don’t do anything. He’s been castrated. He’s a eunuch.”

Ron looked at his friend. “Are you really?” he asked. “Have you really been castrated?” Of course, any fourteen year-old boy knew what that meant; even one that hadn’t grown up on a ranch.

Lynn shrugged. “I guess,” he said.

“Seriously? Are your balls really hollow on the inside?” Lynn nodded.

“Show him,” said Vicki. “I want to see, too.”

“OK,” said Lynn. It wasn’t like Vicki hadn’t seen his balls before. She was the one that had castrated him after all. He pulled down his shorts and squeezed one of his balls, almost collapsing it.

“Fuck,” said Ron, “Can I squeeze it? It doesn’t hurt – honest?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” said Lynn. He pounded his balls with his fist. “See.”

“Cool,” said Ron, reaching for Lynn’s balls. “Fuck, they all hollow, “he said, after squeezing each of them. “How did it happen?”

“I did it,” said Vicki. “I crimped his balls. Do you want me to do yours?”

Ron looked up at Lynn, his hand still grasping Lynn’s balls. “What’s it like to be castrated?” he asked.

“It’s ok I guess,” Lynn said.

“Is that why you don’t jack off?” said Ron.

“I still jack off,” said Lynn.

“Oh, yeah…when’s the last time you did?” Ron asked.

“A couple of weeks ago,” said Lynn.

“I jacked off four times yesterday,” Ron said. He glanced at Vicki, realizing what he’d just said.

“You woke me up last night jacking off,” said Lynn.

“Let me crimp your balls, and you won’t have to jack off so much,” said Vicki.

“Does it hurt to have them crimped?” asked Ron.

“Yeah, it hurts,” said Lynn.

“Daddy has some stuff he uses now,” said Vicki. He gives the horses some shots in their balls; and it doesn’t hurt them when they’re crimped. I’ve watched him do it. I’ll bet I could give you some shots first, and it wouldn’t hurt at all.”

“Should I do it?” Ron said, looking at his friend.

“You want her to crimp you?” asked Lynn.

“I think it would be cool,” said Ron. “You don’t seem to mind it. I think it would be cool not to have to jack off all the time. You just do it when you want to, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Lynn.

“And wouldn’t that be cool, if both of us were eunuchs?” said Ron. “I’ll bet we’d be the only ones at school.”

“It’d be kind of cool to have someone else that was a eunuch,” said Lynn.

“Does it hurt for a long time?” asked Ron.

“After a couple of days, your balls won’t hurt, but your ball sac will be sore,” said Lynn. “It pinches the shit out of it. Just keep some ice on your balls for a couple of days, and you’ll be ok.”

“OK. I’ll do it,” said Ron.

“Take off your clothes then,” said Vicki, “and I’ll get the stuff.”

When she came back with the burdizzo, a syringe, and a couple of vials of liquid, Ron was lying naked on the straw. His dick was hard. He didn’t have a big one; it was a little less than five inches long when hard, but it was as hard as it had ever been.

“Shit,” he said when he saw the burdizzo. “Is that it? Fuck,” he added when Vicki nodded.

Vicki took off her clothes. “I like to get naked, too,” she said. “Do you want me to jack you off first? I jacked Lynn off before I crimped his balls.”

“Shit, yes,” said Ron.

It didn’t take long. Soon, Ron was spurting onto his stomach. Once she was though, Vicki filled the syringe. She gave him a shot above his balls, shot some of it into his ball sac, and waited a few minutes; then she injected each of his balls. “Do you feel that?” she said, poking his balls with the needle. She’d waited a few minutes first, for the anesthetic to have time to work.

Ron shook his head.

“Pull one of his balls down,” Vicki told Lynn. “That’s good. Hold it there.” She felt for the cords to that ball, pulling them, once she’d found them, to one side of his sac. “Hold them for me,” she said to Lynn. “It’ll be much easier with you helping me, and he won’t squirm like you did.”

Lynn knew she was about to castrate his friend; but Ron wanted her to; and Lynn wanted there to be another eunuch at his school. He didn’t want to be the only boy at his school that had been castrated. It wasn’t so bad being a eunuch. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to have functioning balls; and he didn’t miss having them most of the time.

The worst part was being the only castrated boy he knew, knowing he was different from all the rest. As far as he knew, he was the only boy in the world that had been castrated. Oh, he knew there were probably others; but he didn’t know them. If Ron was castrated, then he would know another boy that was. Hell, he would be friends with one that was. As he held his friend’s right ball in his hand, holding the cords to it to one side of Ron’s scrotum, Vicki clamped the burdizzo shut.

She waited about five minutes and clamped that side again, leaving a second deep indentation in Ron’s ball sac on the right side. “Did it hurt?” he asked Ron.

Ron shook his head. “Not really. I kind of felt it pull; but it didn’t hurt.

Lynn held Ron’s other ball and held the cords to it while Vicki clamped that side.

They helped Ron into the house. Vicki’s parent’s had gone to town. They put him to bed and got him an ice bag for his balls.

He hurt like hell after the anesthetic wore off, but the ice pack and Advil helped. By morning, the pain had subsided to a dull ache. By week’s end, when he went home, his ball sac was still a little sore, but his balls, themselves, didn’t hurt.

Vicki’s second castration of a boy was successful. Ron’s balls died. They shrank more than Lynn’s did; and Ron had to be careful to hide his ball sac behind his hand when he showered in P.E. His balls had pretty well shrunk down to nothing.

Actually, Lynn and Ron rather liked being eunuchs. They could see how crazy having balls made the other boys, who spent all their time thinking about sex. And having a friend that was also a eunuch made it ok to be one. It was their secret.

Lynn remembered the day Ron said to him, “Aren’t you glad you don’t have balls? I’m glad I don’t have any.”

“Yeah,” said Lynn. “I’m glad. Balls make you stupid, don’t they?” Having balls certainly made the other boys at their school stupid; both boys agreed to that.

They made friends with a new boy at school, one much like them, a boy that didn’t try to prove how macho he was. That summer, the three of them were staying at the ranch.

One day they were in the barn. Vicki came in. “Hi, Guys,” she said. “Hi, Kevin,” she said to the new kid. “Are you ready for me to crimp your balls?”

Kevin looked at Lynn; then he looked at Ron. “Should I do it,” he said.

“Do it, Man,” said Lynn. “You’ll like it. Balls make you crazy. You’ll like being a eunuch.”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “It’s cool.