Get ready for my first two part story!
Our tale follows a young man who travels to a small town to attend a Testicle Festival; a tradition in rural America where a country folk drink, celebrate and eat tons of bull testicles! Our main character may or may not be hoping that he can be more than just a casual observer! Enjoy!
*Please note. Part One does describe the castration of an bull using a burdizzo. This is mostly used to establish erotic tension between two men and set up Part Two, but I wanted to give fair warning.
Testicle
Festival: Part 1
By:
Bull2Steer
I must have been some sort of crazy, doing things the way I did. After all, no
sane person would travel across several states to a small, redneck town to
celebrate something as, “nuts,” as something called a Testicle Festival, and
certainly not with the hope of being part of the main event.
I
had told my friends and family a poorly crafted story about wanting to go on a
camping trip to, “get away from it all,” and, “disconnect from technology for a
weekend.” I lied and told everyone I’d
be going with a group of old acquaintances from my hometown, and that’d I’d
only be gone a couple days and nights. In reality, I’d looked up the dates for
this event months prior and gotten the time off of work, even taking a couple
days extra off, just in case I got my wish and needed to recover.
Fast forward to me standing in a rowdy crowd of farmers, ranch hands and other
salt-of-the-earth types, all of whom were laughing, cheering and drinking
heavily. We were all here for the same purpose; to enjoy the annual Testicle
Festival, a celebration lasting several days where everyone in town would get
together to socialize and chow down on, “Rocky Mountain Oysters,” which was a
fancy way to say that we’d all be eating our weight in fresh-cut bull
testicles.
The
organizers of the event promised that the weekend would be, “Fun, Filling and
Educational for the Whole Family,” on all of their flyers. The pamphlets were
also filled with cheeky lines like, “Hold onto your balls! Live demos! Watch as
bulls become steers!”
I found myself at one of these demos, showing up early in my excitement. As the
show started, people gathered around a large, gated area with a pacing bull
inside. He was a literal ton of solid muscle, walking around his pen, ears
flicking in agitation. I couldn’t help but notice the bull’s giant testicles
swinging between his legs as he walked. They were roughly the size of coconuts
and looked just as dense. There weren’t very many people around the pen yet, so
I allowed myself to gaze directly at the heavy sac for several minutes as I
imagined what it was like to boast such a heavy pair of balls.
As
it got closer to showtime, several workers filed into the pen. The bull gave a
few plaintiff snorts but didn’t make much of a fuss as the small group of men
guided him to the center of the gated area, before securing each of his feet to
a few widespread stakes that were spread on a concrete slab.
Once
this was finished, an older ranch hand, probably in his early 50’s walked up
right next to the captive bull. He sported a head of salt and pepper hair, with
a matching beard, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans that were so time worn
that the denim had thinned, leaving little of the man’s ample bulge to the
imagination. He also wore a pair of heavy work boots and a dusty flannel shirt
that was unbuttoned halfway, allowing a peak of his extremely thick chest hair.
Despite the greys in his hair and beard, his chest was covered in dense, black
fur. His eyes were bright with excitement, and he wore an easy welcoming smile.
He was carrying a microphone with him, and he began loudly calling guests over
to watch the live, “steering,” of a bull, his voice booming for the crowd,
thick with country drawl. As people gathered for the show, he began warming us
up with fun facts about adult bulls…
“When a young calf hits maturity, he can pump out about 10 to 20 million sperm
cells a week!” Announced the ranch hand with a bright smile. “And once he fully
matures in a proud bull, his oysters can pump out as much as 40 to 60 million
sperm in that same time!”
“I wish my husband could keep up with that pace!” Came the voice of a loud and
clearly drunk woman near the middle of the crowd. We all laughed loudly at the
crass joke, except for her husband next to her, who was obviously embarrassed
and trying to think up a good defense for his manhood. He couldn’t have been
more than 21, barely sprouting a mustache. His adorable face turned beet red,
as he became flustered by all the laughter at his manhood. Seeing him blush made
the crowd laugh even harder.
The ruggedly handsome host didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, don’t feel bad, young buck!
Your boys are going to put in much more work than this fella’ here! After all, he’s
about to be steered, and you’re not!” We all laughed even harder at
this, including the slightly emasculated young man, whose face went from a look
of shame, to one of pride, as he relished that his manhood would be superior to
the bull soon.
“Now
gather around folks, get as close to the gate as you can. You don’t wanna miss
a second of this big guy’s last moments as a stud! I took this invitation to
heart and got right up next to the edge of the gate, actually standing on the
bottom rung of the fence so I could lean over and get a better view.
“Now over the years, castration has been performed in many ways on every form
of beast, including goats, horses, bulls and even human males.” Most of the
guys in the audience made a show of groaning and covering their bulging
crotches. I followed suit, although I was mostly trying to cover the fact that I
was starting to get stiff in my jeans. I let out a few fake chuckles with the
rest of the men in the crowd, as I took a big swig of my beer to distract
myself.
“Now, throughout this weekend, you’ll get the chance to see lots of different
methods for steering a bull. If you go to all of our demos this weekend, you’ll
see them cut out medically, as well as injected to chemically castrate the
animal, and one randomly selected bull will even get his nuts done by an
elastrator! For you city folk, that’s a tool that puts a strong rubber band
around a pair of balls. It slowly chokes the blood supply out of the male’s
sack until it’s ready to be cut off, or in extreme cases just left on till they
wither away, and his boys fall off on their own!” He paused for a moment to let
the different methods of unmanning sink into his captive audience. Several of
the men around me made a show of crossing their legs in sympathy. Meanwhile, I
was having a very different response, and I could feel my cock stiffening and
twitching in my drawers.
“But right now, folks, I’m going to show you my favorite way to get the job
done, the burdizzo.” As he spoke, the ranch hand presented a tool from behind
his back, that he had must have slipped into his back beltloops beforehand, holding
it high above his head to make sure we could get a good look. The tool was
roughly three feet long, and looked like two slim handles that were secured
near the top with a screw, leading up to a closed, rounded shape. Eager to play
to the crowd and get his point across, he then reached his other hand up and
grabbed the other handle, before pulling them apart. Suddenly, the handles separated,
and so did the rounded shape at the top. Suddenly, we were all looking at the
obvious jaws of a vicious looking clamp.
There were a few gasps from the crowd from those who had never seen the tool
before, while most of the locals just chuckled. I heard one gruff male voice
say, “damn, the stud’s gonna get clamped? That’s a rough way to get steered.”
The blunt description of what was about to happen made my stiffening rod start
drooling in my pants. I was so turned on, but also terrified someone would
notice. I downed the rest of my beer as I tried to casually adjust myself and
the display continued.
“Now,
it may seem harsh,” the ranch hand continued. “But it’s actually one of the
safer methods! This handy tool is easy to use, only takes a few minutes, and
presents minimal danger to the bull!”
“Except for his nuts!” Yelled a man in the back. More laughter erupted at the
expense of the soon-to-be steer.
“Well, you’re not wrong there, bud! But instead of talking about it, how about
I just show you! But I need both hands for that, so I think I need a volunteer!
Anyone?”
I
don’t even remember raising my hand. My mind went completely blank, and the
next thing I knew, I was standing right next to the achingly handsome daddy
rancher, and the two-thousand-pound bull that was about to be nutted. There was
a loud round of applause and encouraging hollers, the onlookers obviously
pleased with the crowd participation.
“What a great sport, thanks for the help, stud! Now, all I need you to do is
hold the mic right by my face, okay? Don’t move it till I say so. I nodded
dumbly, still unaware of how I had found myself in this situation. He flashed
me a quick, sly bearded grin as he handed me the mic, and I felt my cock pulse
in my jeans again as our eyes locked. To my credit, I followed his direction
and kept the microphone pointed as his face as he started working, all the
while still addressing the crowd.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, the important thing here is to be thorough. What we
want the burdizzo to do is clamp off of the male’s spermatic chords. If you see
here, Titus here has nice, thick vas deferens and other chords that lead from
the top of his hefty oysters, and lead through his plumbing and connect to his member.
I need to make sure I get all of this fella’s chords in one go, because if I miss
even a few, he might still be able to breed, and we can’t have that!” As he
spoke, I watched in fascination as his strong, thick fingers moved quickly and
firmly to move the thick tubes growing from the top of the bull’s fat left
testicle. The man had masculine, powerful hands, but his fingers moved with
incredible dexterity to manipulate the doomed tissues. Within twenty seconds,
he had managed to push all of the hefty nutcords to one side of the bull’s
sack. He flashed me another quick grin as he saw me staring.
“Okay now, bud. This is the important part. I need you to hold the mic right up
next to his ball. If you can do that for me, you won’t be next for the clamp!”
He winked up at me, as the crowd laughed at his lighthearted jab. Meanwhile, I
thought I was going to faint from the blood rushing to my cock. I thought I was
going to flood my shorts with cum right there. Luckily, I barely managed to
keep my composure, and do as I was directed. I gripped the microphone tightly
in my sweaty palm as I inched it closer to the bull’s scrotum. The ranch hand
suddenly grabbed my wrist and firmly guided it closer, making sure I was
positioned correctly, the microphone now mere inches away from the bull’s
bundled and trapped ball chords.
“There ya go, bud. Perfect. You get to stay a bull another day!” He laughed. “Now,
like I said folks, the burdizzo is one of the more fool-proof methods of
castration. Because not only is it safer and more exact than other methods…” He
let himself trail off for a moment as he then took the open clamp in one hand
and began to position it. After just a couple moments, he had perfectly
positioned the tool so that both sides of the jaws were gently closed over the
bull’s sensitive sack. It wasn’t enough to damage anything but was enough to
keep the chords in place and free up his other hand, which grabbed the bottom
handle. He gave the crowd another sly smile. “But you can even hear the
results!”
Suddenly, I watched in awe as he slammed the handles shut in a blur. And then I
heard it, and because of the microphone I was holding, so did everyone else.
*CRUNCH*
The
sick, squelching sound of the bull’s nut chords being crunched shut rang out
for everyone in the audience. The bull tried to kick in vain as it felt half of
its manhood crushed forever. I saw several men reach for their own chords in
sympathy, and for some of them, it wasn’t a joke this time. They gasped,
momentarily stunned, before gently gripping their own soft ball bags through
their jeans, thankful they still had working nuts between their legs.
My brain had gone on overload, barely able to comprehend that I was now rock
hard in front of a crowd of people. In my head, I heard the loud crunch echoing
in my skull, the audible proof that I’d just watched a testicle die. The hairy
stud below me interrupted my thoughts.
“And
just like that, Titus is half the bull he was! But not time to rest, folks. I
need this big guy’s big guys to die. Can’t having a destined steer
breeding, can we?” As he said this, I realized that his steely eyes were locked
on me, like he was staring directly into my soul. Our eyes locked, his dark
grey eyes boring into me as he smiled. I remember trying to convince myself
that he couldn’t be talking to me; that I imagined it in my lust. But I kept
staring directly into his eyes, unable to break his charming yet assertive
gaze.
“You’re doing great, city boy. Just one more ball and you’re all done!” His
eyes were still locked on mine as he said, this. He then reached down and
presented another burdizzo from the other side of his belt loop. At this point
I glanced down and realized that he had just let the other clamp hang off the
bull’s doomed nut, they heavy tool swinging from the plump ball bag as it
continued its work of killing the testicle in its jaws.
He wasted no time, getting to work on the other side. In a flash, he had the
chords of the right ball bundled, and the second burdizzo was positioned, just
as the first had been. “One more time, everyone! Listen close as a new steer is
born!”
*Crunch*
The sick sound issuing from the bull… I mean steer’s sack repeated as the
right nut’s chords were clamped and destroyed. Although I didn’t see the clamp
closed this time. The ranch hand’s gaze hadn’t left mine. He’d kept eye contact
with me the entire time he finished off the bull. I saw his hand drop
discreetly, giving a glancing brush over his bulging crotch, giving it a quick
squeeze as his bearded smile widened even further. Suddenly, he stood up and
resumed addressing the crowd.
“And that’s how it’s done folks! In a few minutes, Titus’s testicles will fully
die on the vine, and the clamps can be removed! After a while, his heavy bull
balls will begin to shrivel and die in the bag, and eventually will be absorbed
back into his body, and he will live a long, healthy, sexless life!”
There was wild applause at the public castration of the bull. Everyone was
cheering for the burly daddy ranch hand who had just proved his manhood over
the bull. I may have imagined it, but I thought I could see more than a few men
tenting in their pants as they cheered.
“And let’s hear it for our brave volunteer! He did such a great job! Give him a
hand!” The crowd continued to holler and cheer for us and the entertaining
display.”
My head was swimming from the overstimulation. I knew my imagination had run wild
during the display, imagining the ranch hand flirting with me, and threatening
my balls while he neutered the bull. I needed to get myself under control and away
from all of these people immediately. I took a step forward to leave, before I
felt a strong grip on my left shoulder, pulling me backwards. Suddenly, I could
feel the ranch hand’s breath on the back of my neck, and he was so close I
could feel his beard and mustache tickling my ear. He spoke low, and just loud
enough for me to hear, his words masked by the raucous hollers of the crowd.
“There’s no need to be jealous of Titus, boy. We’ll be clamping plenty more
chords before this is over.” I felt a gasp catch in my throat. This was more of
my imagination, or just a joke at my expense. I tried to come up with a clever
rebuttal or laugh it off… but his grip got firmer, as did his tone.
“No need to play coy, son. I’ve been doing this for years. I know a steer when
I see one, and you my boy, are a steer.” As he said this, he pressed his body
closer to mine as he continued to wave to the crowd and smile. He was so close
to me that I could feel his chest hair pressing through the fabric of my shirt.
Even more surprising was feeling his enormous bulge pressed against me, and
feeling it stiffen to diamond hardness. I felt it stiffen with his heartbeat,
the blood pumping steadily to his manhood. After just a few seconds, it felt
like a steel club was grinding into my backside.
“We
both know you need fixed, boy. Even your own cock knows.” He said, glancing at
the straining bulge in my own jeans. “I have to clean up Titus’s dead nuts and
get him put away. But you’ll meet me right back here in one hour, won’t you?”
My cock visibly jumped in response.
“That’s what I thought. See you soon.”
I knew without a doubt that I wasn’t leaving this weekend the same way I came
in.
