Young Bull
STRAIGHT
A Young Bull Becomes a Steer
Young Bull

By Justoneguy

The young bull bucked and jerked against the restraints that held him face
down onto the bed. His arms were tied to either pole of the headboard with his
feet, flat on the floor, tied to the feet of the bed. The bull’s body was bent
at the waist, with the mighty muscles of his chest and stomach pressed against
the soft sheets of the bed. I watched the muscles mighty bull’s back ripple
and flex as he tried to heave his heavy frame from the bed. But the restraints
held the bull firmly in place. The hoarse deep grunts and screaming cries of
defiance that called from behind the cloth and rubber gag in the bull’s mouth
filled my ears. The tufts of black hairs under his arms were damp with sweat.
The bull’s biceps bulged into strong mounds of muscle as he pulled at the
ropes that bound him in place—and bound him to his fate.

As the young buck tugged and screamed his muffled cries of fear and defiance,
I took a final look at his mighty masculine form. His butt was in the air,
straining and flexing, all muscle, as if he were preparing to penetrate his
mate. I wondered how many times this young bull had penetrated a love. Many,
many times, I knew. And he had been such a good lover—making the females under
him squirm and cry out with pleasure. Or making the women who rode his mighty
pole like he was her stallion cry out and quiver as she hung on for the ride.
How many times had he sunk his prong deep into the soft wetness of a pussy,
and how many times had a willing, panting woman clutched his mighty back and
firm butt as the pleasure his manhood gave her overwhelmed her body? His male
organ, although I couldn’t see it now, was a mighty piece of male flesh. It
was circumcised—a bull without his sheath—from birth, and was above average in
size. The bull was proud of it, no doubt. Which would add to his humiliation
and sorrow when his mighty manhood is reduced to a permanent floppy noodle.
His balls are between his legs, hanging down in a compact but loose sac. I
look at his bull balls, already tied with the band that will deep the bull
alive once I have removed them. The bull’s balls are slightly tanner than the
rest of his skin—a sign that they are ripe and mature. They—those twin hanging
oysters between his straining legs—are what was powering the strength and
spirit of this bull. Without them, he wouldn’t be a bull. He wouldn’t want
women, he wouldn’t desire sex and orgasms and ejaculations. Without them, his
body wouldn’t be fit and toned and strong. Without them, he wouldn’t be a
bull.

I reached out and took his bag of bull balls into my hand. They were warm to
the touch, and had a sheen of sweat from their owner’s struggles. They felt
loose, soft skinned but with firm orbs underneath. The bull could feel me
holding them. He jerked with all his might then, trying desperately to save
the most sensitive and important flesh of his body. The skin of his sack felt
so velvety to my hand; the orbs within so firm but soft. The bag was so
important to the bull. It was his manhood.

I took the knife from my pocket and held his warm sack of babymakers steady.
“Just hold still, young bull. It will only hurt for a moment.” The bull’s butt
muscles tensed and his body broke into a cold sweat. I put the blade against
the edge of the band and let it rest there for just a moment—the moment
between strength and weakness, between desire and ambivalence, between manhood
and nothing. The bull whimpered into his gag. And then I sliced.

His bag came free in my hand, and I held his bull balls loosely in my right
hand. The bull’s body convulsed and spasmed. I could see drool coating the
pillow around his mouth. His eyes were open, but dull and unseeing.
“Nnuuunngggg, nnuuughhhhhh,” where the straining sounds from behind his gag.
And as I looked at the castrated balls in my hand, and thought of the meal of
breaded and fried prairie oysters I would eat tonight and of the tanned and
dried change purse I would make for his velvet scrotum, I chuckled to myself.
This young bull was now and forever a steer—a gelding—a neutered sexless
steer.

  

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