BULL BALLS

Chapter 6

The sex we had that night was the best ever for me, and I think Ted felt the same way.  After I removed the infusion needle, he struggled to get to his feet and stand in front of me as I sat on the edge of the bed.  He said it felt as if an anchor were attached to his groin, and given that his bag now weighed more than seven pounds, as opposed to the few ounces it had weighed only an hour ago, that was understandable.  The sheer size of the thing also made it awkward for him to move in his normal manner, and he actually had to hold it in front of his body in order to be able to walk at all.  I knew that he had better get used to his new bag, because it would never again shrink and cause us so much disappointment.

As I fondled, caressed, hefted, kissed, and praised his wonderful, beautiful bag, I could feel that it was still much warmer than usual.  The temperature seemed to be declining by the moment, though, so I was sure he'd suffer no bad aftereffects.  Ted wasn't so sure, and was in obvious discomfort from the heat he'd felt a few minutes before.  I hoped his complaining would stop before much longer, but didn't really care anyway.  What I'd done to him was absolutely necessary, and he could just learn to live with a little minor inconvenience.

After several minutes of my attentions to his bag, he once again became aroused.  The extreme tip of his tiny dingus peeked out of its hidey hole, and I alternated between kissing his scrotum and biting the head of his dick.  Every time he felt my teeth, he would sigh, telling me how good it felt when I did that, and soon beginning to beg me to please bite it off him.  I had very little interest in that part of him, and gave it that much attention only to increase his arousal.

At last I couldn't stand to delay any longer, and got down on my hands and knees, facing the mirror.  Ted didn't need any instructions, and began to lick and sniff my crotch as soon as I was in position.  I stared in fascination at the image in the mirrors, watching as his bag jiggled around as he attended me.

I think he would have been content to service me in that way for the rest of his life, but I quickly reached the end of my patience, and ordered him to mount me.  He moved forward, and with his first thrust I felt the most intensely-exciting sensation of my whole life.  It was almost as if he had swung a boxing glove into my pussy, and I loved the feel of it.  When his bag had been full of the saline solution, it had been much softer than it was now, and the force it contained when it impacted my slit was much less.  Now it felt much more forceful, more authoritative, more like a real bull should feel.  I was in Heaven.

Over and over his wonderful bag swung against my pussy.  I watched it in the mirror, while at the same time feeling it between my legs.  The arousal, the excitement, the lust grew with each second, and finally my orgasm swept over me.  Ted said I actually cried out when that happened, but I have no memory of doing so.  I do remember that my climax was the all-time best ever, and I would have gladly spent the remainder of my life in that moment.

When I finally regained my senses, my head was on the floor and I was looking back between my widespread legs, watching his magnificent bag swaying as he cleaned up the mess he'd made in my crack.  Before much longer, I felt my body responding to his attentions, and could no longer resist my urge to feel his bag in my hands once again.  I ordered him to get on his back, and quickly lowered my backside to his eager tongue.  As he licked and tongued my puckered opening, I took my prize in both hands and fondled it, marveling all over again at the resilience of the thing, and loving the way it dimpled when I pushed a finger into it, then quickly sprang back when I released the pressure.

As he serviced me, his little pecker once again peeked out of its den.  I leaned forward, sucking as strongly as I could to pull it out even farther.  Finally I was able to get my teeth around the groove behind the head, and began to work my jaw back and forth, as if using my teeth to saw the thing free of him.

His attentions to my backside became almost frantic as I did that, and I could feel his tongue being forced inside my hole.  I had never before found that as exciting as it was then, but something at that time seemed to make it more arousing than if his tongue had been in my pussy.  My body began to unconsciously press itself more forcefully against his mouth, and I could feel his tongue enter me even more.

I'm sure that what I did when my second orgasm consumed me was entirely instinctive, because I had not planned it.  Whatever caused it, I could feel my body press even more strongly against his tongue, and then felt my body making a different type of pushing altogether.

I don't remember anything that happened after that, up until the time I was climbing under the covers on the bed, the taste of my husband's cum fresh in my mouth.  I hadn't felt him climax, but it was obvious that he had done so.  At the time it happened, my brain was so wrapped up in my own orgasm that it had no time for outside impressions.

I thought it odd that Ted wasn't beside me in the bed, but soon my ears confirmed that he was in the bathroom that was attached to our bedroom.  It sounded like he was brushing his teeth, which was very odd.  After a couple of minutes, I could hear him gargling, and then he came to the bed.

As soon as he lay beside me, we hugged and kissed fervently, all the while professing our undying love for one another.  I knew that the level of arousal I'd felt that night far exceeded anything previous to it.  Ted seemed to feel the same way, even saying at one point, "I've wanted you to do that for so long.  It was even better than I'd ever dreamed."  I wasn't sure what he was referring to, but thought he probably meant the extra size of his bag that was a direct result of my attentions to it.

We fell asleep with him on his back again, which seemed to be the only way he could relax when his bag was expanded.  I lay on my side facing him, with one hand lovingly caressing the part of him that so fascinated me.  We were both exhausted, and soon fell asleep.

I'm not sure what time it was, but it was well before dawn when I came awake slowly.  I was lying on my stomach, which is my usual sleeping posture.  Ted had his head under the covers, and was nuzzling my crack.  As I roused to consciousness, he very tenderly spread my cheeks and began licking up and down.

I must have had some residual arousal still in my brain, since I didn't sharply rebuke him.  Usually I don't like to be awakened before I'm ready, but that time I didn't mind in the least.  Quite the opposite, I drew my knees under me and spread my legs as wide as possible, giving him freer access to that part of me he loved to worship.  My cooperation seemed to inflame him even more, and he began to concentrate on my opening, alternating between trying to force his tongue into it and sucking with all his might.  As it had earlier that night, what he was doing seemed somehow erotic to me, and I found myself pushing back against his mouth, as if trying to force his questing tongue deeper inside me.

Finally I could stand it no longer, and told him to mount me.  Even though I couldn't see his face, I was sure he was reluctant to stop what he was doing.  That didn't make him any less cooperative, though, and soon he had thrown back the covers and I could feel his boxing glove slamming against my slit.  It wasn't nearly as exciting as when I'd been able to see it in the mirror at the same time as I felt it, but the sensation was enough to bring me to orgasm for the third time during that very-exciting night.

Within two minutes after my climax, exhaustion overwhelmed me once again.  I collapsed onto the sheet, told him to cover me and then leave me alone, and fell asleep immediately.  To his credit, he did as ordered.  I had no other conscious memory until awakening late the next morning.
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We both went to work on time on Monday, although I don't know how we ever made it.  I was exhausted from the three orgasms I'd had Saturday night, and two more Sunday night.  Ted appeared to be just as tired as I, but managed to fit everything in his new trousers and left for work when I did.

It seemed we couldn't get enough of each other in the following days, and we fucked as much then as we had during the first year of our marriage.  We had sex in every room of the house, but my favorite was always on the bedroom floor in front of the mirrors.  Being able to see his bag swinging into me, while at the same time feeling it hit my pussy, seemed to never lose its ability to arouse me to even greater heights.

Judging by his actions, Ted liked it best when I sat on his face while fondling his bag.  His attentions to my crack seemed to become almost frantic, and I have to admit that several times I would climax as he tongued and sucked my opening.  He continued to thank me for letting him do that, and I was always glad to oblige.

For my part, I continued to enjoy fondling and kissing his sac, and would always give him the pleasure of feeling his penis in my mouth as his reward for being my bull.  I never did really like the taste of his cum, but didn't find it unpleasant either.  It was just my way of thanking him for letting me turn him into a breeder.
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We had been enjoying his permanent bag for a couple of months, and his birthday was just two weeks in the future, when I made the next decision that would alter our lives forever.

By that time, our sex sessions had diminished to "only" four or five times a week.  Saturday night was still our "prime time" session, and we both looked forward to it with all the anticipation of teenagers getting ready for their first real date.

It was on a Saturday evening, when we were lying in bed following our first orgasms in front of the mirrors, that something occurred to me that seemed very important to our relationship.  I was fondling his bag, and my caresses accidentally touched the tip of his penis as it barely protruded from him.  I asked in a dreamy voice, "Do you realize that your little thingie hasn't been inside my pussy in almost a year?  Until just now, I hadn't thought about how long it'd been.  I certainly haven't missed it in the least, though.  How about you?"

Since it was mid-spring at that time, and a warm evening, the bed covers had been thrown back.  Ted looked down at his crotch, and in the light from the lamp on the nightstand, could see the same thing as I.  He flicked the tip of his pecker with his thumb and finger, then answered, "No.  What we've been doing is much better than putting that worthless thing inside you.  I know it was always too small to ever give you any pleasure, and I don't miss that sort of thing one bit.  In fact, there's no reason in the world for it to be on me, is there?  We'd both be better off without it."

The intensity of his final sentence once again confirmed his hatred of his penis.  He had been begging me to bite it off him for many months by then, and so I wasn't surprised by his opinion.

There was a new feeling in me then, and it's very hard to describe.  It was composed of half portions of love for him, and half of contempt and revulsion for the ugly thing that was right then barely visible at the top of his wonderful, beautiful bag.  The horrible thing destroyed the completeness of his crotch, and what should have been a smooth, rounded part of his body instead had a hole in it, with a squirrel's nose peeking out.  I knew if there were some way to get rid of that repugnant feature, his bag would be perfect in all respects.

We lay in silence as I contemplated my new mindset.  At last I asked softly, "Do you really want to get rid of it, or is it just a fantasy?"

He actually hesitated quite awhile before answering, and I knew he was seriously considering his true feelings.  When he at last replied, his tone of voice was very serious.  He said quietly, "I want it to be gone.  I've felt that way since I was a boy.  You have no idea what it's like to be teased by the other boys when we'd undress in the locker room to get ready for gym classes.  They used to joke about my penis being so small that I probably pulled out a hair and pissed my pants when I went to the bathroom. 

I didn't go out for any school sports because I knew it'd be just another opportunity for teasing.  I suppose it was once just a fantasy, but for many years now I've been convinced the thing is useless, and I'd be better off without it.  You obviously feel the same way, since you haven't let me put it in you for a year."

We lay quietly for another few minutes, both of us thinking of the implications of what we'd said.  It seemed to me that his pecker got even harder, and maybe a fraction of an inch longer, as I fondled and caressed his bag.  I was sure he was thinking of me actually doing as he asked, and the images were arousing him.  I have to admit that when I considered how much more handsome his scrotum would be without his little thing interfering with my view, I felt a growing tingle in my pussy.

It seemed we were both ready for our second session of the night, so I straddled his face in our familiar position, and once more began kissing and licking that part of him I loved so much, and biting that part I didn't care for, and that he actively hated.  When our second orgasms swept over us, my teeth were within a few millimeters of actually closing all the way, and again I tasted the mixture of his semen and his blood.
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During the days leading up to his birthday, I didn't raise the subject of his penectomy, although he still continued to beg me to do it for him.  I have to admit that the thought of actually doing such a thing seemed to be very arousing to me, and probably went beyond the knowledge that it would improve the appearance of his bag.  My excitement was evident, because during that two-week period, I actually drew blood every time his dick was in my mouth.  Always before, that had been a sometime thing, although it certainly wasn't rare.

As I look back on our relationship from my present vantage point, I can see that my mindset had changed long before that time.  I had suggested during the winter that he schedule a one-week vacation following his birthday, and I had done the same.  Since we both had nearly two months of vacation built up at our companies, it was an easy thing for us to do.  As I recall, my excuse for making that suggestion was that it would give us time to do something "fun" as a birthday present for him.

By the time the fateful day actually arrived, I had been making much more specific plans at least one week beforehand.  I don't know that my mind was made up at that time, but it's pretty obvious that my preparations had a specific purpose.

His birthday was on a Wednesday, and we had both worked a full day.  Even though we were both fatigued, he seemed to be just as excited as I as we ate the takeout dinner I'd brought home.  I had promised him something special for his birthday, and he obviously assumed that meant an exciting session of sex.  My own excitement was based on what I knew would be different about this night.

Our home had a type of bathing-recreational unit known as a "hot tub," and we used it a couple of times a week.  It was built into a raised platform in a special room, and large windows there looked out over our fenced back yard.  It was our habit to get in the tub together, in the nude, and combine bathing with foreplay.  We would usually go to the bedroom afterwards for a session of wild sex, and it always made for a good time.

After we had finished our meal, Ted looked around expectantly.  I knew he was looking for the wrapped package that would contain his birthday present, since it was our usual practice to give each other gifts following birthday or anniversary dinners.  This time he was to be disappointed, for I had planned something else for his birthday.

I acted like I hadn't noticed his looking around, and said off-handedly, "Why don't we clear away these dishes, then get in the hot tub?  Maybe we can go to bed afterwards and rest up for our week off work."

I'm sure he's able to read me in much the same way I am him, and probably guessed that his present would be given him in the bedroom.  He was right, for that's what I had planned.  However, the nature of the present was sure to be a surprise to him.

Before we got in the tub, I told Ted to go pee, and to be sure he emptied his bladder as much as possible.  He seemed mystified by that order, but went to the bathroom to do what I'd told him.  He spent more time than usual in there, so I was sure he was trying to obey me.

We were both eager to get started with that night's session, so didn't linger in the tub.  As usual, we kissed and fondled each other while in the water, and after a few minutes, were both too horny to delay any longer.  We toweled off quickly, and almost ran to the bedroom.

I told him to lie down on bed while I got something out of the closet for him.  He did so with an eager expression of his face, and I opened the door of my closet and reached inside.  He smiled as I brought out a box covered with bright gift wrapping, and even more broadly as I carried it to the bed while singing "Happy Birthday to You."

I handed it to him with a smile of my own, then sat on the edge of the bed while he opened his present.  Of course, I already knew what was in the box, but even so I felt a sense of excited anticipation as he tore off the paper.

The box contained several other smaller boxes, each in turn gift wrapped.  I had written a large number on each one, and told him to be sure to open them in the proper order.  That way, the suspense and anticipation would build as he slowly realized what we'd be doing that night.

The first box was soon unwrapped, and he lifted out a 6" length of plastic tubing, about 1/4" in diameter.  I could tell he was mystified by the gift, and at his questioning look, said only, "Just open everything, and then you'll know what it's all about."

He replied with a soft, "Okay," then began to open box number two.  Soon it was also unwrapped, and he took out a tube of K-Y Jelly.  He was still in the dark about what the gifts meant, but rather than question me again, he quickly opened the third gift.

That box contained two lengths of small cord, actually boot laces, that were each 5' in length.  Again he couldn't fathom the nature of the gifts, and decided the best course was to do as I'd instructed.  He unwrapped the fourth box.

After opening number four, he took out a small vial of liquid and a syringe.  The vial was labelled "Acetamide monohydrochloride," which I knew would be Greek to him.  When he looked at me questioningly, I said, "The common name is Lidocaine, honey."  I think it was at that point he began to understand the purpose of the gifts, for I could see an eagerness on his face that hadn't been there a few moments before.  He hurriedly opened the fifth box, and when he found the surgical scalpel, his face broke into a broad smile.

I know he wanted to speak to me then, to confirm his guess, but instead opened the final gift.  It was a squeeze tube, with a label naming the contents as Derma-Gel, and giving short instructions for their use.

He had to clear his throat twice before he was able to say in a husky voice, "Thank you.  It's what I've wanted for so long.  It's not just a joke, is it?"

The expression on his face was so concerned, that my heart melted.  I don't know if it was at all possible, but I seemed to love him even more then than ever before.  In answer, I said softly, "It's up to you, honey.  The final decision is yours."

He smiled broadly, then lay back on the bed and spread his legs to their widest extent.  Not a word was spoken by either of us as I got two wooden, high-back chairs that we kept in the bedroom.  I placed them on the sides of the bed, straight across from his crotch.

As he watched in fascination, I took a length of steel pipe out of my closet.  I'd gone to a hardware store a few days before and bought the pipe, having a good story ready in case the clerk wanted to know what I needed it for.  Apparently women regularly bought pieces of 2" diameter pipe, 8' long, in that store, because the salesperson seemed bored by the whole transaction, and I didn't have to explain anything.

The pipe was placed across the chair backs, which held it about two feet above Ted's crotch.  He immediately fathomed the purpose of the contraption, and that seemed to excite him all the more.  It seemed to me that his little pecker was sticking farther out of its hole than ever before, and more than ever it looked like a curious squirrel's nose.

I picked up the short length of plastic tubing and squeezed a few drops of K-Y Jelly on one end of it.  I knew this part of the operation would require his help, and said, "You'll have to hold your penis still while I get this tubing in it.  Try to pull it out of the hole as much as possible."

He was quick to obey, and gripped the little head with his thumb and forefinger.  He pulled it our as far as he could, then wrapped his hand around the tiny shaft, holding it ready for me.  I spread the slit with one hand, and began to work the tubing down inside him with the other.  My goal was to push it far enough into him that one inch would still be visible, thinking that would get the bottom end well past the base of his dick.

I doubt that the lubricant was needed at all, due to the large amount of pre-cum that was oozing from his slit.  Even with all that, though, it still took lots of twisting and pushing to get the tubing where I wanted it.

Instructing him to continue to hold his thing, I took one of the boot laces and wrapped it a couple of times behind the head.  After pulling it as tight as I could, I tied it off.  The free end was then wrapped twice around the pipe.  I said, "Lift your crotch and I'll tie this end to the pipe."  He quickly raised his butt off the bed, and I knotted the end of the cord in place.

I told him to let go of his pecker then, and watched as the little thing was stretched farther than I ever imagined possible.  By the time his ass was resting lightly on the bed once again, his dick was twice as long as I'd ever seen it.  I had the fleeting thought that if it had been that size originally, maybe he wouldn't hate it so much.

After massaging his stretched shaft to locate the end of the tubing, I tied the second lace about one inch above it, and then knotted the free end to the pipe.  I looked at his face then, for the first time in quite awhile.  His mouth was open as he gulped in air, and his eyes were fixed on his tiny penis.  I'm sure he'd never seen it that long, and was probably thinking the same thoughts as I had.  The very small diameter of the shaft told both of us that the thing had not grown at all, and nothing had changed to make it more attractive to either of us.

I began filling the syringe with Lidocaine then, and when he saw what I was doing he asked, "Do you really need to use that?  I don't care if it hurts.  It deserves as much pain as you can give it."

I had considered that very thing when putting together the items for his birthday present, and came to the conclusion that the painkiller was indeed necessary.  I had been required to become Red Cross certified once I was a team supervisor, and one thing the instructor had stressed in the classes was that shock was the main problem when dealing with injuries.  Even though his penis was tiny, it was still filled with nerves, and he would need the anaesthetic.  I certainly didn't want to have to call for an ambulance and try to explain that the whole thing had been just a joke gone wrong.  The police probably wouldn't believe me, would they?

After assuring him that the Lidocaine was needed, I very carefully injected some of it on both sides of his shaft, right below the lower boot lace.  That completed the preparations, and now it was time for the main event.

I stood up then, and said, "I'll be back in a few seconds.  I going to ask you a very important question then, so you'd better be 100% sure before you give me your answer."  I then walked to the nearby bathroom and got a bright-red towel I'd laid out earlier that day.  When I returned to the bed, Ted was still gazing raptly at his 8" penis, which was a nice size, except for the fact it was just barely bigger around than the 1/4" tubing I'd put in it.

After resuming my position on the bed beside him, I carefully placed the red towel around the base of his dick, covering his beautiful bag.  I picked up the scalpel and held it loosely at the top of the second boot lace I'd tied so tightly around him.

I looked directly at his face then, and waited until his attention was focused solely on me.  I said simply, "Tell me."

It was obvious he wanted to answer immediately, but knew he had to give the appearance of actually thinking before speaking.  He hesitated for almost a full minute, then said in a husky whisper, "Please do it.  Cut it off.  I don't want it on me anymore.  Please."

My only answer was, "Okay."