BULL BALLS

Chapter 5

The new trousers were loose enough that Ted could return to work the next day, and by wearing the new undershorts, he was comfortable enough.  He did have trouble getting his bag adjusted when he was in his office chair, though, and said his co-workers must have thought he was playing with himself most of the time. I laughed when he told me that, but deep inside it was just more fuel for the passion that seemed to consume me most of the time when I thought about what I'd done to my husband.  I knew he was approaching perfection in a man, and could hardly contain my anticipation of the next step.
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The time to take that next step eventually arrived, despite the best efforts of the clock and calendar to delay it.  With every passing day, his bag seemed to shrink even more as the fluid was absorbed, and to my eyes that had seen his scrotum in all its monstrous glory, the thing began to look pitifully small.  Once again, I began to lose my interest in sex, to the point that by the end of the third week I didn't even want to touch his crotch, let alone get down on all fours.

Ted's interest in me hadn't decreased, of course, and he seemed to be constantly pestering me for sex.  That led to our first real argument, and left us both ashamed of the way we had acted.  I loved my husband with all my heart and soul, and knew implicitly he felt the same way about me.  I also knew that as soon as his bag was restored to its proper dimensions, I'd once again want my bull to mount me.

It took a full three weeks for all the saline solution to leave his sac, and by the time it had, the thing looked almost disgusting to me.  It remained stretched far below his crotch, and just hung there like a wrinkled rag.  I couldn't believe it had ever seemed sexy to me, but deep in my heart I knew all it needed was to be pumped full once again to restore it to its former glory.  So that's what I did.

It was again a Saturday night when I decided it was time for him to take the entire 4000 ml of solution.  After I had infused him the previous time, it was obvious there was still a small amount of spare capacity in his scrotum, but probably not enough for an additional 1000 ml.  That meant the thing would have to be stretched even more than he'd done to it after I'd tied the rope around his balls.

I'd been thinking of just that subject for several days by that time, and finally arrived at what I thought would be the answer.  I knew that he'd done his best to force his legs against the footboard, but thought there was a better way, and so had gathered the things I'd need to gain the extra space in his bag.

After Ted had bathed, and I'd shaved his crotch, he turned toward the bedroom as we walked down the hallway.  I took him by the elbow and said, "Not in there just yet, honey.  I want to try something else first."  He looked at me in curiosity, but was content to follow my lead as I walked on down the hall, past the bedroom door.  When we walked through the door into the garage, I turned on the lights and gave him a few seconds to see what was waiting for him there.

Our garage ceiling was open framing, and the exposed lumber was about 10' above the floor.  I had backed one of our cars out of the garage earlier, leaving a clear floor area to use for what I intended to do to him.  His eyes were immediately drawn to that part of the room, and he said nothing as he looked at the rope loosely draped over one of the ceiling joists, and the old blanket spread on the floor beneath it.  When he turned to me, I could tell he knew the purpose of what he saw.

I said nothing to explain what I intended, but just took him by his hand and led him to the blanket.  I said, "Lie down there on your back, and put your crotch under the rope."  Without uttering a single word, he obeyed me, and then spread his legs wide to show me he knew what I had planned.

I spent several seconds massaging his flaccid bag, stretching it as much as possible and working the balls downward as far as they would go.  Finally I wrapped the rope around his sac a couple of times and tied it off.  I don't know if it was from the stimulation my hands provided, or from his anticipation of what was about to be done to him that caused his little pecker to get hard.  I do know that by the time the knot had been tied, the thing was standing up as much as I'd ever seen it, and a tiny drop of pre-cum was glistening at its tip.  I was glad he found this exciting, because that would make it easier for him to bear.

I stood up, took the free end of the rope in both hands, and began pulling it downward.  His sac immediately sprang upward to follow the rope, and his instinctive reaction was to place both feet flat on the floor and try to ease the tension his balls were feeling.  I immediately took up any slack he'd gained, causing him to arch his back to ease the painful stretching in his crotch.  Again I tightened the rope.

His next move was to place his hands on the floor and raise his torso, trying in every way he could to find some slight relief.  Every move he made to ease the elongation of his scrotum, I countered by tugging on the rope with even more of my weight.  At last he had raised his body as high as he could by using his arms and legs, and by arching his back.  I could see that his muscles were beginning to quiver with the strain, and knew he couldn't resist the rope much longer.

His sac had reached a truly amazing length by that time.  It would have been easily beyond his knees if he had been standing, and I guessed it was at least 16" away from his crotch.  Of course, it was very thin because of the stretching, but I still marveled at the capacity that represented.  I was sure his bag would be able to hold the entire 4000 ml I intended to force into it in just a few minutes.  First, though, I wanted to make sure that every fraction of an inch of available skin had been pulled toward his nuts.

With one last effort, I pulled on the rope with all my might.  He groaned and whimpered with the horrible pulling he was feeling in his abdomen, but didn't protest.  His bravery made me love him all the more, and I vowed to reward him with the best sex we'd ever had. Right after his bag had reached an acceptable size, of course.

I backed away from him, still holding the rope tightly in my hands.  There was a supporting post behind me, and when I reached it I wrapped the free end around it several times, finally tying it in place.  I was then able to massage my arms to relieve the tension in them, and soon was feeling ready to take the next step.

I had been watching his bag intently all the time it was being stretched, and was happy to see it slowly growing in length.  The skin on his abdomen, as well as on his legs, was also tightly stretched, as those parts of his body made their contribution to the effort.  I was more than sure that the capacity would be sufficient to take every drop of the solution when it was time for the infusion.

Up until that time, I'd hadn't noticed his penis, and when it occurred to me to look for it, it was nowhere in sight.  It had obviously made a contribution of its own, and was entirely out of sight within the stretched flesh.  I thought the appearance was an improvement, and thought to myself that if it never came back, it'd be just fine with me.  It wasn't so much that I hated his little thing, it was more that I thought it detracted from the beauty of his scrotum.

By the time my husband had been hanging there for about ten minutes, I could no longer see that any gain was being made.  I wrapped the piece of rubber tubing around the flesh that connected his sac to his body, getting it as close to his abdomen, above his penis, as possible before tying it off.  What I was satisfied with my efforts, I untied the rope from the post and lowered him to the floor.

After removing the rope from his sac, I helped him to his feet, then held him until his legs steadied.  There is no way to explain how very pleased I was to see that his bag truly did hang all the way to his knees, although I knew that when it was filled, it wouldn't be nearly so low.  After several seconds, he said he could stand by himself, and we walked slowly to the bedroom, his scrotum swinging between his legs with every step he took.  I could feel my pussy heating up already, and the exciting part had yet to begin.  It promised to be a very good night for both of us.
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I won't bore you with the details of that infusion, except to say that it went off without a hitch.  The first three sacks of solution entered his sac in a rush, inflating it quickly.  By the time I connected the fourth sack, I was beginning to worry that his limit would be reached before my goal.  I knew there was simply no way to gain more room in his bag, and could only hope the skin would be able to stretch enough to take the last drop of liquid.

His skin obviously had amazing reserves, because every bit of the saline was finally in him.  I had never seen anything so beautiful, and as he stood before me I told it so over and over.  The heft of his bag was truly amazing, and as I took the time for one last rational thought, I realized that he was standing there with more than one gallon of liquid in his bag, and that gallon weighed more than six pounds!  Truly awesome to think about.  There was no question at all that I had found my Sir Galahad, and I proceeded to order him to breed me for the rest of that night, and also for a good part of the next day.

At no time was I able to see more of his penis than just the tip of the head.  I was able to suck enough of it out of its hiding place that I could get the entire head in my mouth, and gave him pleasure after pleasure as I sank my teeth in the groove behind it, even to the point of drawing blood several times.  He was nearly out of his head with lust, and begged me over and over to take it from him.  Again I was able to resist, although I truly do not know how.
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As we had known would happen, the saline solution was again absorbed by his body.  It was heartbreaking to watch the daily shrinking of his bag, seeing all our efforts being brought to nothing by the inexorable process.  It appeared that his bag was losing the equivalent of one sack of solution per week, which meant that in order to keep him at an acceptable size, I'd have to infuse that amount every weekend.

The effort wouldn't have been daunting, especially considering how much exciting sex we derived from it.  There was also the question of expense.  The sacks cost $12 each, and at the rate of one per week, it would mean an expense of more than $600 per year just to keep his bag adequately filled.  Given our combined salaries, that was a trivial amount, but still made it worth considering a more permanent alternative.

That alternative was suggested by Ted one night as we lay in bed, both of us staring despondently at his half-filled bag.  He said quietly, "Honey, you're a chemist.  Surely you can think of some way to keep the stuff from being absorbed, can't you?"

It was like a light had exploded in my head as the answer to our problem sprang full blown.  Of course I knew what to do.  It had been staring me right in the face five days a week as I worked in my laboratory.  It was the perfect solution for us.

During my first week of employment at the plastics manufacturer, I had taken part in a brainstorming session where someone from management read a list of requests customers had made for products.  One of those products was a new type of packing material that would have the ability to conform to intricate shapes, while at the same time providing a level of cushioning that would protect package contents from damage when subjected to large forces.

I immediately thought of the possibilities offered by a cross-linked polymer, and asked if I could pursue that line of thought.  My supervisor had agreed, and had assigned the project to me.

To make a long story short, after more than six months of experimenting with different formulas, I'd concocted a liquid thin enough in consistency that it would conform to the most detailed of shapes, and that when injected with a catalyst would set to a gel-like consistency.  The stuff reminded me of a dessert I'd liked when a child, by the brand name of Jell-O.  That led to the name "Gel-Pack," and the product was an instant success.  It had led to me being named lab supervisor, with my own development team.  Of course, a substantial bonus was also involved, which was nice.

As I thought of all the characteristics of Gel-Pack, I realized it was perfect for our use.  It could be infused in Ted's bag in the same manner as the saline solution.  The catalyst could then be introduced by using a syringe to inject it through the skin, after which the stuff would undergo a phase change and become a gel.  It was chemically inert after setting, which meant his body wouldn't absorb it, and also that it wouldn't cause any sort of allergic reaction in his sac.

The only questionable part was that when the solution became a gel, it reached a temperature of 110 degrees (F), and had to maintain it for at least three minutes in order for the transformation to occur.  I was sure that wouldn't be a problem.  At the worst, it
might cause Ted to become sterile, but that certainly wouldn't be a big deal.  I had no interest in giving birth to a calf, and was sure my husband felt the same way.

That settled it, and the only maddening part was the wait that had to be endured as his body absorbed the last of the saline solution.  I wanted his bag to be completely empty so that every available bit of space would be filled by Gel-Pack.  That way, it would remain in its beautiful condition for the rest of his life, and we'd never again have to watch in disappointment as it shrank.
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It took three weeks beyond that time before I was confident that no saline solution remained in his scrotum.  I pressed and squeezed it nightly, trying to hurry up the process of absorption, and finally judged that he was ready.

Once again, I hung him by his balls in the garage.  The only difference was that right after I had tied the rope to the post, the extension telephone in the garage rang.  I hurried to answer it, hoping it would be somebody I could brush off, so I could return to preparing my husband for his final infusion.

As luck would have it, it was my mother, making her weekly call.  She usually called on Sunday nights, but when she explained she and Daddy were going to a birthday party the next night, I knew I would have to take the time to talk to her right then, or she'd be put out with me.

As I tried to hold up my end of the conversation, I kept an eye on Ted.  He seemed to be getting more desperate with each minute, and as he strained to support his body with his arms and legs, they were visibly trembling.  To his credit, he never cried out for help, but was very brave.

The funny part about the whole thing was that Mamma asked me at one point what Ted was doing.  I replied, "Oh, he's hanging around the house somewhere.  Probably in the garage."  It was all I could do to keep from breaking into laughter, but was finally able to control myself.

At last Mamma exhausted all her usual topics of conversation, and we said our good-byes.  Ted had been very still for several minutes by then, and I feared he had lost consciousness.  I quickly tied off his bag, and then untied the rope and lowered him to the blanket.  His pain-filled eyes opened, and I asked, "Are you ready to get started, honey?"  His only reply was a nod of his head, and a heartfelt groan.

Again I helped him to his feet, almost overcome with joy when I saw that his bag was not only at knee level, it was actually below there.  I was sure his final infusion would be the largest ever, and although his balls wouldn't be dragging on the floor when he walked, they'd be pretty darn close.  That made me very happy.

We slowly walked to the bedroom, with me supporting him most of the way.  He finally collapsed on the bed, and watched as I made the final preparations.  He had always winced when I inserted the needle in his scrotum, but this time he gave no indication he even felt it.

The only time he reacted during the infusion was when I took the five sacks of Gel-Pack solution out of the drawer.  Then his eyes widened, and he whispered, "All that?"  I nodded my head, saying only, "If it'll fit.  I wanted to have plenty just in case there's room."  Judging by the extra length of his bag caused by the long period of hanging, I thought there might actually be enough capacity to hold the full 5000 ml.  A girl can dream, can't she?

As had happened during the last session, the first three bags drained quickly, and his bag began to take on a much more pleasing shape and size.  It was amazing to me how small his scrotum looked with "only" 3000 ml in it, and I knew that I had come to think of his one-gallon sac as just right for him.  Judging by the remaining capacity in his thing, I once again thought it just might hold at least part of the fifth sack.  As I envisioned him standing before me with five quarts of liquid in him, which would weigh almost eight pounds, I felt that familiar thrill in my crotch that I seemed to need more and more.

The fourth sack emptied quickly of the first half of its contents, then visibly slowed.  I began to massage his bag, hoping that would relax any tension in it, thereby creating a little more room.  Even though I hadn't told my husband that this session was different, in that it'd be his last infusion ever, I did understand that.  I knew that the size his bag reached tonight would be the size it would remain for the rest of his life, and couldn't accept going through the coming years knowing I hadn't done everything possible to fill the thing to its absolute limit.

Although it took several minutes, the fourth sack was finally empty, which meant that his scrotum now contained more than one gallon of the liquid.  The wrinkles had been smoothed by the internal pressure, but the skin was not shiny smooth as I'd seen it before.  Surely that meant more capacity was available, and I was determined to get every last drop in him before injecting the catalyst that would turn the liquid to a permanent gel.

Ted watched in silence as I connected the fifth sack, his eyes flitting from the sack to his sac, obviously concerned he'd never be able to hold another 1000 ml.  I knew absolutely he'd never take that much, but thought that there was probably room for 1/4 that amount.  Whatever it would hold, I had made the decision to get it in him.  It was now or never.

Again I massaged his bulging bag, marveling at the size and heft of the thing.  It was almost more than I could do to drag my eyes from it to look at the sack he was holding as high above his head as he could reach.  I continued to caress and fondle him, trying desperately to locate every last empty place.  The sack was obviously continuing to drain, but so slowly that the drop in level of the liquid couldn't be seen.

Through my fogged brain, I heard Ted say something to me, and looked up.  I asked him to repeat what he'd said, and he did, saying, "It feels like it's going to explode.  It's never had that much in it before."  I had to agree with that last part.  From the look of the tightly-stretched skin, his bag had finally taken all it could hold.  The sack was still 3/4 full, and it was heartbreaking to me to have to stop.

I said softly, "Sweetie, squeeze the sack.  Maybe that'll force more in you.  It's got to have every single drop it'll hold."  I could tell by the look on his face that he knew something was different about this session.  Always before, there had been a sense of, "We can always wait until the next time."  I think he began to realize that this time was not like that, and had an air of finality about it.

He began to squeeze the sack, and I heard him gasp as his bag felt the increased pressure.  I knew the limit had been reached, and tightened the clamp to keep any of the liquid from flowing back into the sack. 

I heard him say in a husky whisper, "It's gone."  I had no idea what he was talking about until I looked up and saw where his eyes were fixed.  He was staring at where his penis had been.  I looked there also, and saw just a hint of the tip of the head peeking out of its little den.  Any other time, I'd have laughed at the way it looked, but right then I was almost out of my head with lust, and couldn't do so.

I opened the drawer in the nightstand and took out a syringe and the small bottle of catalyst.  Again my husband watched in silence, trusting in my judgment to do what was right for us.  I inserted the needle in the rubber top of the bottle and slowly filled the syringe, at last holding it upside down and tapping it to remove any air bubbles.

With shaking hands, I lowered the needle to his magnificent bag.  I had decided to inject the catalyst in several places to ensure that it would be evenly distributed, and pushed the point into his sac right below his penis as a starting place.  A slight pressure on the plunger forced a few drops into him, and I paused for about five seconds, knowing in that short space of time the setting process would have progressed far enough that there would be no leakage when I withdrew the needle.

I did two more injections in quick succession in different parts of his scrotum before he gasped and said, "Honey, it's getting really hot.  Is it supposed to do that?"

I had meant to warn him about the heat from the chemical reaction, but in my excitement had forgotten to do so.  To reassure him, I said, "That's the way it's supposed to be, sweetie.  Just hang on for a little longer.  It'll last just a couple of minutes."

I then returned to injecting the catalyst, stopping only when the needle had entered his bag a dozen times.  By that time, the thing was a bright red, and he was moaning and whimpering constantly.  It must have felt as if his balls were being cooked, even though the temperature never exceeded 110 degrees (F).  I felt confident he'd be able to take that minor amount of discomfort, even though he seemed to think is was pretty bad.

About two minutes after the first injection of catalyst, I pushed the tip of one finger against his bag.  There's no way to explain how rewarding it was to feel it dimple, then spring back to its original shape.  It felt exactly like I'd pushed against a bowl of stiff jelly, and I knew then that the process had worked.  My husband would remain in his wonderful, so very exciting condition for the rest of his life.  My bull's bag wouldn't shrink ever again.