“The little bastard doesn’t even look old enough to be driving,” Fred commented as the car squealed around the corner, although thinking back he clearly remembered when Kyson had been born. The name was another thing that pissed Fred off. When he was a boy every Tom with a Harry Dick was given a proper name like Mike or Jim or Fred. Now they all had faggoty names like Kevin, Chase, or Clay, or even spacey ‘uniquely individual’ monikers like ‘Kyson’.

“Someone should nut that little fucker.” Fred said aloud, for about the hundredth time.

Kyson’s typical teenage fuck-the-fogies attitude, along with his earring, tattoo, and bright yellow dyed hair were reason enough for any normal adult to dislike him, and the fact that Kyson was also a silver spoon who shamelessly squandered his parent’s considerable wealth further condemned him in the eyes of most of his elders. Fred detested the boy for all of these reasons plus an additional one that he discovered totally by accident.

Fred was a retired airline pilot, and as such he had a keen interest in meteorology. The National Weather Service needed an observer in the area, so Fred volunteered. He had started out by recording the barometric pressure, temperature, and rainfall several times each day and submitting that information along with the wind condition and cloud cover into the head office by telephone. The system had been automated several years ago so now all he had to do was monitor the equipment and upload back-up data as required. The equipment upgrade also included a semi-automatic Skycam that not only broadcast cloud cover and sky conditions, but also was capable of focusing on a nearby mountain range and zooming in on it to give an accurate picture of weather conditions at the pass for VFR pilots attempting to cross the mountain range. The camera was located on a utility pole in Fred’s back yard, and crews from the NWS came around every month or so and cleaned and maintained it. The camera rotated one hundred and eighty degrees downward at dusk, where a built in wiper cleaned the lens of dust, and stayed in that position until dawn, but Fred could manually cycle it to clean birdshit from the lens and could stop it at any elevation.

The camera had only been installed for about a month and was all pretty new to Fred. He took it off line and hit the control to rotate it, and watched the monitor as it panned downward, then he suddenly interrupted it when something caught his eye. He found himself looking directly at Kyson’s dad’s house. Fred and his wife had been in it right after it was built, before Kyson had been born, and Fred hadn’t much impressed by it. It was nice enough but overly pretentious and shoddily constructed, as if the owner only wanted to impress people with the appearance of quality. Kyson was about ten when they had added a separate bedroom wing for him over the garage, allegedly to give him a place to play without disturbing his parents. A tall hedge had since grown all around the house, concealing it from view, and this was the first time in years that Fred had seen it.

Fred found himself looking directly at the kid’s balcony and right into the open patio door. He was reaching for the control to continue rotating the camera when Kyson appeared on the screen. He walked to the open patio door, turned to face away from it, and pulled off his tee shirt. The scrawny thirteen-year-old then flexed his muscles a time or two, and Fred realized that there must have been a mirror on the opposite wall that the kid was using to examine his physique. Tyson then shed his shorts and underwear and continued the performance naked, his ass milky white in stark contrast to the dark tan of his slender torso and hairless legs. It took a lot more than a boy’s skinny butt to excite the sixty-two year old happily married Fred, and he reached for the control to continue the cleaning operation when Kyson suddenly turned around to face the camera and looked over his shoulder to check out how his ass looked in the mirror.

“Sweet Holy Motherfuck!” Fred said reverently, as he caught sight of the kid’s genitals. Although he was only thirteen and barely five feet tall, Kyson had a set of nuts that any porn star would be proud to own and a cock that looked to Fred like it was at least six inches long soft. The boy then turned sideways to check his profile, and at the same time began to gently stroke his cock to its’ full erect dimension.

“God damn lucky little son-of-a-bitch!” Fred said, shutting down his monitor. The kid’s boner looked to be at least eight inches long and jutted upwards away from his belly at a jaunty angle. That had been three years ago, and since that time Kyson had added a foot to his height and another couple of inches to his cock. He had also became much more muscular, and although he was still essentially a beardless youth his thighs now sported a mat of thick hair that was spreading upwards onto his belly.

Kyson seemed to make a weekly ritual out of checking the progress of his development, and Fred, although not really a voyeur, make a ritual out of watching the lad. Nothing much happened and although Fred had always figured that most overly endowed guys were either gay or at least a little bit fruity the kid displayed no tendency to have sex with any of the other boys that happened to visit him in his room. The only time anything weird happened was a year ago when Kyson and another boy both stripped outside on the balcony and stroked themselves hard to compare sizes. The other kid was more than adequately endowed but was no match for Kyson, and he paid off the bet by kneeling on the floor with his legs spread and taking a firm kick in his balls. Kyson added insult to injury by hosing the kid off with a strong stream of urine as the hapless boy lay writhing in pain.

Boys weren’t the only visitors to Kyson’s room and the young stallion also entertained girls there. Fred caught an occasional flash of bare ass and breast, but the rutting must have been confined to the bed, which was out of the camera’s view. The only time he saw the kid in action was when an older woman whom Fred suspected was the housekeeper spread a blanket out on the balcony for some fresh-air aerobics. Fifteen year olds are big on hormones but short on stamina and the action was over with in seconds. The real show for Fred was watching the unfulfilled slut finger herself to orgasm while cleaning out the kid’s tubes.

“Someone should nut that little fucker.” Fred repeated his mantra as the car sped around the corner.

His immediate concern was for his granddaughter, who was coming to spend a month with Fred and his wife. The girl was fifteen, and on her last visit she had enquired about the ‘cute guy down the street’, and this time she would certainly use all of her considerable wiles to get to know him better. Fred wasn’t so prudish or Victorian to expect his granddaughter to remain virgin until marriage, hell, both he and his wife had enjoyed sex as youths, but he damned sure wasn’t going to let that little bastard either injure her or at least ruin her for a normally sized suitor. He had to find a way to keep close tabs on his granddaughter, or to at least make sure that she wasn’t a visitor to the little shithead’s love nest.

Fred’s epiphany, such as it was, came to him late one night when he woke up out of a deep slumber with the solution to his problem. Why not nut the little fucker?’ He thought. Castration would certainly solve the problem, and the kid was some kind of genetic mutant who should be denied the privilege of reproduction anyway. He was only an insignificant sixteen year old, and there had to be a shit load of pissed off fathers, all of whom would be suspects, to help take the heat off of whom ever did the deed. It shouldn’t be any problem to get him alone somewhere, tie him up, and knife away his manhood. Even if it all went to shit and he botched the job, or even killed the kid it wouldn’t really matter, as there was ample justification for protecting his loved ones. Fred went back to sleep still dwelling on the details of the problem, and the next morning he awoke feeling refreshed and with a new outlook on life.

The first problem to be solved was location. He had to get the kid in an isolated place where no one could interfere with the operation. Fred knew several good sites, but it would be difficult to lure the little fucker to any of them. He finally settled on the obvious choice: The kid’s own bedroom. It was isolated from view and the high hedge would help muffle any noise. Kyson’s parents were socially active, and the boy spent most evenings either alone, so it was unlikely that anyone would interfere.

The abduction was the subject of Fred’s next brainstorming session. He couldn’t hardly just ring the doorbell and announce that he was “Fred Wilson from down the street, here to castrate you.” The kid was only sixteen and technically a child, but he was strong and wiry and probably wouldn’t be inclined to willingly participate in his own emasculation. Shinnying up the utility pole that held the camera and shooting him in the ass with a tranquilizer dart, Wild Kingdom style, was also out of the question. Fred would need to find some kind of ruse to subdue and immobilize his victim.

Fred didn’t spend much time dwelling on the actual castration. He knew he could just hack off the whole scrotum, nuts and all, or he could slice it open and excise and sever them individually. He was aware of banding devices used on livestock, and he also knew that they could be frozen and crushed, like is done on dogs. Medical aid was only a few minutes away after help was summoned so he wasn’t worried about the kid bleeding to death. His only real concern was making a clean get away after the deed had been done.

All of this planning was invigorating to Fred. He had loved his job as an airline pilot, but he despised having to deal with the Federal Aviation Administration bureaucrats and incompetent air traffic controllers, as well as the sniveling young copilots who felt they immediately deserved all of the privileges and seniority that Fred had worked so long to acquire. Despite all of the assholes he had to deal with there was a great deal of satisfaction in planning and executing a perfect trip and making a precise approach, emerging from dense cloud cover perfectly lined up with the runway. Fred liked the feeling of being in control of the situation and this was the first time he felt that way since he had retired.

Two weeks later Fred rang the doorbell of Kyson’s home. He knew the boy was home, as this was the day that he always checked himself out on the mirror. The hot pizza that Fred carried, bait that was irresistible to any normal teen, was sprinkled with enough psychotic sedative to stun a horse and the boy would have no recollection of how he had gotten it.

“Hi,” Fred said when the door opened. “I know we’ve had some differences, but I’m willing to forgive and forget. My granddaughter is coming to visit next week and I was hoping that you’d be willing to show her around some and make sure that she doesn’t get too bored. I brought this pizza as a peace offering.”

“Uh, yeah, okay, I guess.” The ungrateful little fuck stammered, carefully eyeing the pizza. He was dressed only in a pair of shorts instead of the usual tee shirt and saggy-assed pants, and Fred could see his massive jock bulging out in the thin shorts, and realized that he had probably interrupted one of the kid’s weekly ‘workout’ sessions. The kid was so focused on the pizza that he didn’t even notice Fred palm a strip of tape over the door bolt striker. “Uh, thanks, I guess, see you later.” The kid said, ungraciously slamming the door.

Fed could almost hear the gears grinding in the little fucker’s head. ’Sure, you old fogey,’ he was probably thinking, ‘send the little bitch over. I’ll bore the holy living snot out of her and make her beg for more.’

Fred waited for about fifteen minutes to give the sedative a chance to work before he rang the doorbell again. The was no answer, so he pushed it open made his way to the kid’s room. Kyson was passed out on the bed with a half eaten slice of pizza beside him, so Fred quickly went to work. He removed a cordless drill from his case and screwed one of the chairs securely to the floor in front of the sliding glass door. He then carried the comatose boy to the chair and tied him securely into it, making sure that the boy’s hands were secured behind his back and that his feet were tied to the legs of the chair. This done, he cut the boy’s shorts off and got down to the real task at hand.

He had purchased a dog-walking leash several years ago when Tuffy, his terrier, was still alive. It consisted of a plastic case that contained twenty-five feet of very strong, extremely fine, poly-fiber string that was attached to a spring-loaded reel. A wrist strap anchored it to the user, and he could control the extent of the dog’s wanderings by retracting the string at will. There were several variations of the device on the market, and he purchased a different type after it was discovered that his model was prone to amputating the user’s fingers if he was careless enough to get entangled in the wire-like string. Fred had taken the thing apart and had overwound the spring, so that only about six feet of the line could be stretched out of it. Working quickly he secured the device to the balcony railing, pulled the line out, and looped it around Kyson’s massive scrotum, marveling that he could both see and feel the boy’s pulse throb in the huge testicles.

Fred bagged the remains of the potent pizza, carefully checked to be sure that he had left no incriminating evidence, and finally pushed the button to let the powerful retraction spring do it’s work. He deposited the pizza in his trashcan and went upstairs to his office to watch the action on the Skycam monitor. He turned on his monitor and quickly rotated the camera, not wanting to miss the action. The boy was awake now and well aware of what was about to happen. He jerked around and struggled, and if not for the gag in his mouth he most certainly could have been heard from everywhere in the neighborhood.

The relentless tension of the spring had pulled his captive nuts far from his body, and it would only be a matter of time before the wire-like line severed them. Fred could see that the line was already biting into the tender skin of the boy’s soft scrotum.

“Suffer, you little cocksucker!” Fred said aloud, watching the boy writhe around, trying in vain to lessen the strain.

The lad continued to fight the inevitable, and as he did so he got an erection, his cock arching ten inches upwards along his belly, and Fred was sure that if his hands weren’t tied behind him he could have bent forward and sucked himself. Without even realizing it Fred had unbuttoned his shirt and lowered his pants and was stroking himself while watching the boy struggle. The boy suddenly stiffened and ejaculated, sending thick white ropes of sperm up across his face and into his hair, and several houses away Fred did the same thing on a much lesser scale. The spasm of Kyson’s final orgasm was too much for the tender skin of his scrotum and the string shot back into the housing even before his heavy balls hit the floor. He slumped forward in the chair, utterly spent, as the blood flowed freely from his crotch.

Fred had spent many hours listening to aircraft radio transmissions and cockpit voice recorder tapes, and he knew that pilots always uttered two magic words when they realized that things had gone completely to hell and that a crash was inevitable. These words were heard when pilots emerged out of a cloud bank and found themselves face to face with a granite cliff, and the same words were shouted when a pilot first heard his propellers ticking the runway surface because he had forgotten to lower the landing gear. Fred had never flown combat, but he was absolutely certain that they were the last words spoken aloud by many pilots before they were shot down. Fred still had his cock in his hand and jiz on his belly when he heard the approaching sirens.

“OH SHIT!” He cried, realizing that in his haste to view Kyson’s deballing he had failed to take the Skycam off line, and that the castration had appeared on thousands of monitors across the country, and that the police were seconds away from breaking down his door.