The following is fantasy. Fantasy comes out of the reality of longings, so while it doesn't have to be attempted or brought into the real world, as actual human longings it stands as the reality of that, and almost by definition says, if the real world isn't like this, it should be like this.

***************

When you grow up on a farm and ranch you get real close to the land and animals. Domesticated land and animals, that is.

Tamed.

Sara, just turned nine, of wheat-colored hair, whose father called her “Sairy,” not out of accent but out of casual affection, adored his little girl, and she him back, but that is an old story, as is the fact that he had hoped, like most men do, for the first birth of a son, and loved her the more because he had actually gotten a daughter.

Now, he and Miz McCluster wouldn't be having any more children for reasons no one needed to know, and like so many men of his type, Jeb McCluster didn't need to show or hide adoration, it's just always there in an easy going way like the sun coming up and down amidst work to be done.

,,

Even today, with all the modern equipment and hired ranch hands, farming and ranching is manure and eggs and hay and roping and barns and kerosene and cutting the calves and horses and bulls. When you're a little girl on a farm, “tomboy” doesn't make sense, but you do end up doing, or having to learn how to do, lots of things city girls wouldn't need to know about. Particularly Sara would, since one day the ranch would be hers.

Today Mr. McCluster was leading Sara out to one of the fields so she could learn how to castrate. “Cutting” as they call it. He wouldn't have her do it, not at this age, but she was now old enough to see it done, so the first lesson would be as observer. She, like so many children, had vaguely heard the word as some vague mystery, and let it go at that. Now, though she felt proud was getting excited to think she would see this thing, whatever it was. But many things seemed to be exciting her lately in little spurts of strange ways. The hormone rush hadn't started yet, another ten months, but those little precursor chemical were already coming alive, sending out little exploratory streams, growing up with her, making her grow up.

Daddy was explaining now as they walked.

“You see, Sairy, we can't let these male animals, like these calves, grow up to become bulls, if we did, they 'd run around turning all the cows into mother cows, and they'd become mean and aggressive.”

Yes, Sara had those big mean bulls, had seen animals copulating, understood facts of life, but some connection was escaping her, what was this cutting thing?

Now they were in the coral. Two ranch hands had a young male calf down on its side, its one hind leg held back high in air. It looked alarmed and complacent at the same time.

Mr. McCluster reached into his pocket and withdrew a small castrating knife and doused it with alcohol. He reached down and gathered the animals scrotum.

“Sairy, so watch me. What you do is, you grab hold of the pouch, make sure you get both testicles worked down into it real good, don't want one of 'em to shoot back up inside, we have to cut both of 'em off, so...”

Sara, intrigued beyond all belief, was just about to ask her daddy if this wouldn't her the calf when Jeb took the knife and expertly slit open its pouch at the top, pulled out both cords and organs, and sliced off its testicles and threw them into a bucket. The squeal of calf and shock of blood and sight of testicles tossed into a bucket like nothing went through Sara like a knife. She would never forget it. Another squeal as cold alcohol was tossed onto its slit empty pouch, and it was over. The animal struggled up, looking confused, limped along a bit as though sore, but incredibly in a couple of moments seemed to be okay.

She saw four more calves castrated that day. During one of them, one of the ranch hands laughed to the other, “Man, I'd hate to get nutted like that!”

Later on, she did ask her daddy about it hurting them, and he said, naw, probably not too much, they get .over it, and besides, it's good for them, makes them better, calms 'em down, they needed it.

She also asked her daddy if you could do it a bull. Sure he'd said, if you don't need him for breeding, you cut him too, he needs it even more, he'll be like a calmed down cow only just will still look like bull, but he won't be a bull anymore.

Sara took it all in. he'd learned some very important lessons. You could stop a young male animal from maturing by cutting those dangling things off. You could even even un-bull a bull by cutting its great big nuts off. In fact, the more grown up the bull was and the bigger its nuts, the more they needed to get cut off. It was good for him, he just didn't know it. So you just had to do him a favor and nut him.

Later that evening the McCluster family enjoyed fried calves testicles. Sairy loved them. You can un-nut males and eat their nuts. She shivered as she ate male power.

*****************

We all have these little feelings and gigglings in childhood, but one day it just seems to happen suddenly.

One day, aged eleven now, Sara was in the barn looking for something when from behind her a drawling husky voice said, “Well, how do little lady!” and the male voice pierced right through as a shiver in her spine and she actually felt her nipples ping from it, just from the voice. She turned around ,startled,and it was a young cowboy, maybe 18, she gasped when she saw him, pretty, he was, and he just lifted his hat and disappeared.

He'd just been saying a sincere hello to the boss's little daughter and had no interest, but she, but she...

Later that evening, up in her room she could not keep her shirt on, it hurt her, his voice was in her tits and they hurt, and she had to rub them to stop it but then, oh my god what was this, her panties had to come off and her finger had to twiddle and go around and in and she saw his face and his Adam's apple and white tee shirt and tight jeans with big basket and the calves she was now nutting and his big basket, and his nuts and her finger, it was good for him, he just didn't know it...big cowboy prairie oysters, oh, oh, oh, and she buckled and spasmed and creamed in explosion curled up in fetal position on her bedspread.

Well, no matter how sexual we are, no matter how intense our private deeply buried scenarios are, the real world, the real world of school and work and growing will take us away up to the surface where we have to function, and want to function, and Sara was no different, except for the fact that she actually was enjoying her nutting of the male animals. At age 15 now, the wheat hair richer honey brown, Sara went about her business. The boys at school were giving her the eye, and she sometimes them, all in fun, but, well, they usually weren't her type. Now the guys back at the ranch, now those cowboys, well, they were, but they were family, she was family to them, and developed or not, as they could plainly see she was, the dynamic was older brothers to little sister.

And then Brad got hired.

Brad had balls, you could practically smell them smoking out of his slit eyes. He was himself, he wasn't trying to be anything else.

Lanky, lean, 23 but looking older, black flat hair that almost looked greasy but wasn't, in repose his face seemed stern and suffering, frank, like you were gazing into the undernourishments of Kentucky coal miner ancestors, and he was just going to let you see the truth of that because you might as well.

When he rolled a cigarette, it looked like he been doing it since the crib. When he spit, it was natural, over, no show. When he spoke about something serious, he was serious. When he told or heard a joke clean or dirty, his slit eyes rounded up with such good humor and health and invited you in and out with his chuckles and snorts, he'd actually slap his knee, he'd just shake with laughter, and he'd just let you see the truth of that because you might as well. If he worked under his old red Ford truck and stank, well, he did. If he cleaned up nice in the cool evening with a crisp shirt and smelled like the cloves and lavender cologne he'd splashed on, cool as the blue shirt, well he did. He spoke slowly, moved his lanky frame slowly, and roped cattle so quickly you'd have thought he was a living electric whip. Men liked him, women, liked him, children, liked him, and he liked them right back. For all that, he was a loner.

Sara got an instant crush. She was bright enough to know that that's what it was ,but that knowledge didn't render her any the less helpless. If she'd been older she would have known how to flirt. While she didn't turn into a tongued tied idiot around him, she didn't know what to say to him either. As a matter of fact, all she wanted to do was listen to him, watch him, she could not stop watching him.

He paid her no particular mind.

She started to spy on him, she could not help herself. A tired phrase, animal magnetism, but it sums up his appeal to her, he was the male animal, she was transfixed. Stolen glances in the morning, hoping to find him after school, catching a glimpse of him at night through the bunkhouse window. Finally one morning she got up way early, beating the rooster's crow, and crept down to his bunkhouse. She was so besotted she had to see him first. Already she was hiding behind the oil barrel, glad she'd put on a light jacket.

Rooster crow, dawn rays, mist, his bunk door opened. Brad emerged wearing jeans, no socks, untucked open shirt showing bear skin beneath, a towel over his shoulder and a big bar of soap. Peeking around her barrel, Sara couldn't believe her luck. The hands had showers down here, but this could only mean one thing. Brad was going to go wash up in the stream this morning.

Her excitement increased as he made his way down the path and she sneakily followed him down to the stream. She hid herself in some bushes hoping she'd get to see something.

She did. He unzipped his fly, pulled out a long penis, and pissed. Like a horse, a long, long morning piss, for the human usually so private, she was surprised and almost guilty watching him, it was so natural yet so animal, she hadn't even had time at first to enjoy seeing his dick out like that, her first real good look at a grown man's dick, but he was using it for its other purpose.

The long arc of its stream was brutal, surprising, powerful, steam rose from the ground where it sprayed.

Brad, unaware, treated the fifteen year old girl that morning to her first prolonged view of a naked male and set her on her path, the simultaneous vulnerability and unavoidable animals nature of what we are is just so wonderful. When he stripped completely, she could not believe his nuts. They excited and irritated her.

The rest of him, nice, beautiful in a way, the surprising black hairs starting down from the navel and forcing by design your eyes to follow down with them into the pubes and his male parts as if they needed any further help, yes, the penis, jutting, subtly changing its size, always, just that made you want to keep looking at it, his face, his ass, but his nuts – later on she would learn the term hangers –they hung way, way down, they wobbled, she was fascinated with them, almost angry at them.

He didn't have a big plump pouch, he had a long hanging sack, first inch out down from the crotch were cords you could see, his nuts and bag didn't come any here near the top of his inner thighs as he stood, like the heavy jumbo egg size nuts were pulling the cords right down out of him, the whole package lean and mean like the rest of him. His manhood wobbled down separate from him, how could you walk with that, it must be easier to walk if you had that cut off you.

She watched him soap himself, clean himself in that stream. That part was endearing, we all do that, but usually alone, so it was a special kind of spying. At one point though, his back to the girl, he bent over to fish out the dropped soap from the rocks and she got another view of the big arrogant nuts, that's what they seemed arrogant! Yet in this position, weighted down even more, it was obvious they were hanging down like that just so they could get cut off, like they were begging to get cut off, like nuts just had to get cut off.

They looked like they ached to get cut off, why you could just grab those hangers, take a big knife, and do the job that has to be done.

Brad finished up, finally, but as he dressed, Sara continued to look at his nuts like a mongoose watches a snake, she wanted them.

After the spying incident, Sara winked at Brad the next day.

Now she was truly obsessed with human nuts and cutting them off. In fact, that next Sunday at church, she suddenly started having wild fantasies about all the males there, she was suddenly aware they had testicles, the young ones, the old ones, the hot ones, the unattractive one, the minister, all she could think about was nutting them right there in the church, and after several orgasms deep upside her pussy she had to quickly leave.

She didn't lose her crush on Brad, but she knew his secret so was less shy. He didn't know hers, though, he couldn't know she'd wanted to nut him so bad. But like the other hands, he eventually left. She was used to that.

The rest of her life, she'd always remember that stream vision, when she'd finally seen the grown up nude male, and finally saw what just had to be done. When her sexual reaction to men jelled to unsexing them. This would never go away. They needed help getting rid of all that, and she'd be more than happy to relieve them of there packaged burdens. More than happy. If it disempowered them, gave her their power, hurt them, and permanently humiliated them, well that's what they needed, these men. Sara was realizing she liked males, but could not tolerate their nuts, just could not tolerate them. It wasn't their fault, it wasn't her fault, but that's how it was.

Luke was a pretty cowboy, and Sara, now 21, wanted him. Oh yes, there are pretty boys, they seem male as any other, they'll mount and spray there seed into mares at any chance, but, like the Palomino horse, they are just plain pretty. Something else about 'em too. Like this Luke one at 23, the rosy cheeks, the blond hair, the green eyes, the creamy thick white skin, they 're so pretty they seem like pussy boys, even though they're not. Even though the gay ones want 'em to be. Even though the blacks in prison would force them to be, ramming their big former slave dicks up their white butts so hard they'd have to be , and you'd like to see it happen.When they love and leave a gal, it's with no guile, they're boys with no plans, in the moment, just needing to pump all that creamy cum out of their cowboy nuts, and they're so sweet when they leave you for another each Saturday morning and planning to spray into another next Friday night.

When Luke saw Sara, he wanted her too, the eye exchange was instant. When he saw her equally green eyes staring at him out of that russet face topped with honey blond hair, was it the exchange of much more than tomboy, but nutter, looking into a pretty male, excited by the contrast of what must be working-over time nuts on such a boy? Yes, that's what it was, all right, 'course Luke wouldn't have known that detail.

Now Luke was interested, but this Sara being the boss's daughter was a complication, and they both would have worked it out, even with her castration urge which was getting stronger by the day, maybe, not likely, but maybe, but when she found out what he was doing, whoring around every Friday night, and that he had dared to come on to her, her fury at arrogant testicles turned into a cold steel determination to nut him, right in the barn, like an animal, just steal them from him, cut those fucking animal suckers off.

It could be done, would be done, she seethed when she thought of it, laughed when she thought of it. Daddy and Mommy were leaving on a weekend business trip this Friday late afternoon, the hands would be miles and miles out in the far ranges, and in any event wouldn't have any call to be coming all the way back to the main house and barn area. The ranch itself was twenty miles from anywhere else, if she got him to stay, they'd be all alone.

Thursday evening, Sara went over to Luke.

“Hey cowboy, whatcha up to?”

“No good, s'usual Sara.”

“Oh, that's what I hear. Say Luke, did ya know Daddy and Mommy are leaving Friday afternoon and I guess poor little me jess gonna be here all by my little self for the whole weekend.”

“Is that right, well now...”

“Course if a certain somebody...” She put both of her hands on his belt and curled her fingers down over into the top of his pants. “...I mean if a certain somebody didn't go out this Friday.. .'

“Yes, if he didn't , Sara?” Her index finger had wormed into his shirt and was teasing his navel.

“Well, then maybe he'd wanna stay around, have, you know, some real barnyard fun.”

Luke was pecker hard behind his zipper. She let a hand stray down, let her fingers tickle the denim.

“Guess he might just wanna do that, Sara, guess he sure might.”

She stepped away cupping a quick feel of cowboy balls as she did so.

“Gotta go Luke. The barn. 4:30.”

*******

Luke's car drove up to the house at 4:30. He walked over to the outside steps where she stood waiting holding a picnic basket.

“What's this food?”

“Oh, just a couple things” she said, fishing out a bottle of vodka.”

Luke whipped out a flask of brandy from his back pocket.

“Great minds.”

They strolled over to the big barn and entered. It had been a working barn,and still could be, but it was also huge inside and gleaming, with home pictures on some walls, and books amidst hooks and wooden benches and stalls. It smelled of wax and kerosene, and the hay upstairs.

*******

Sara had Luke by the balls. His nuts were hers. She had made sure he'd drunk more than her, she'd told him the first barnyard game she'd wanted to play was milking a bull like he was a male cow. He was drunk enough, hot enough, amused enough as this wild gal to let her take the lead, and she'd had him take off his boots and socks. She'd pulled down his pants and underwear, she could not get them off fast enough, his seven inch pecker leaking pre-cum as it leaped free, his big plump Palomino bag of of cowboy nuts also wobbling out freed, she'd made made him put back on his boots, left his shirt on but completely unbuttoned, and now he was leaning over the work horse, his furry sack in her hands while she cupped it from behind his wide spread blond legs and his tight with little ranch hand butt.

She was milking him or so he thought, but she was making sure, as her Daddy at taught her, to maneuver his big nuts down into lower into the bag, feeling what she was dealing with. She wasn't hutting him, that would come later. But she was going to make him cum without touching his prick, just by pulling on his man nuts from behind. Already she was feeling the power. This was manhood itself, but manhood itself, so tough and strong and arrogant, had made a mistake and put itself into two tender puffy organs, suspended itself on two highly snippable cords, wrapped itself in a thin skinned pouch which let you see the contents, and dangled itself outside, wobbling and bobbling, obscene, so obvious it was supposed to get cut off, wanted to get cut off, was designed to get off, and needed to get cut off, was begging for it, needed to relieve itself of itself, oh how it needed that.

The men didn't know they needed the relief, but their nuts and nut sacks did, get these off me, they dangled, get these off me they wobbled, castrate me, castrate me, castrate me, knife them off me in a barn, and take your prizes, leave me permanently relieved of my nasty spraying, I can't help spraying everywhere, into any female that shakes her ass they bobbled, vent your fury at men once and for all and castrate my ugly nuts off with a big butcher knife and throw them into a bucket, they bounced, leave me humiliated and unpowered without my nuts, they swung, stop this spraying and impregnating and fix me good, they hung, cuttable, cuttable, cuttable.

Oh yeah.

“Oh, yeah, Luke, ooh, I love these nuts of yours, these cowboy nuts, I can't get enough of them. Oh yeah, you're gonna spray now aren't you, they're trying to get upside now, aren't they, they going up inside now, aren't they, trying to get that bull sperm? No, don't touch yourself baby, get your hand off that dick, leave it alone. Do I have to tie your hands down? No, just like this, just like this. Come on pretty cowboy, you've got a lot in there, let's get it out.”

The odd position, the strange exciting words, those hot little female hands pulling on his balls, she was extracting his cum from him and damn, shit, here it was starting, goddamn, oh my god, uhn! Luke, cupped by the balls, feeling controlled and helpless, helplessly sprayed out huge ropes of semen, splat, splat, splat, splat, splat he shot onto the floor, the more intense and frustrating because he couldn't touch his prick for relief, she...damn, she had milked him, and still she squeezed, uhn!, splat, splat, splat, it was ecstatic torture, humiliating, his own virility was humiliating it felt so good and weakening.

Sara had loved it, feeling the helpless nuts and cords and whole bag vibrate in sperming, spraying contractions, completely in control of everything, they were her nuts, not his. Luke slumped over the workhorse, exhausted. Still she had him by the balls, let him rest a bit, cooed to him, ran one hand up and down his flank while the other hand cupped his nuts, feeling them gradually calm down, loosen, get longer and flabbier, hanging down softer and longer now, drained. Good. Good. Lighter but longer. Good. Easier to castrate.

When Luke was finished, Sara encouraged him to go sit down with his legs spread wide, and she continued to confess her fascination with his nuts, said she could not stop looking at them. He agreed, drinking some more from the brandy flask, but said now, he wanted to get some looking too, so she took off her own jeans and panties, sat down and spread, let him look at some real girl power, the pussy he would never get into. His prick, shrunken and lolling over to one side, thickened and started to mount. Sara laughed and then revealed the next barnyard game she wanted to play. Since she just couldn't get enough of his nuts, why didn't he just let her string him up by some rope, like the side of male beef he was, so she could get her favorite few, nuts dangling above her. Brandied, excited, the male animal agreed, he actually let her get a wooden crate, rope his hands together, whereupon she lowered the chained hook from the barn beam, stuck it in and through the rope knot of his hands as he stood on the crate. She pulled and stretched on the the other end of the chain, until he stood stretched above her, trapped, penis jutting out again, nuts ripe for the stealing.Sara relented and gave the prick a squeeze. Already it wanted to spray some more, all this manhood on such a pretty cowboy.

“Oh, look at you Luke, all strung up like this, with those nuts just hanging down. You know what they used to do in here? They don't do it anymore, but this is where the used to cut the animals, wouldn't it be wild if I castrated you—Sara pronounced it in the ranch way, four syllables, cas-ter-ra-ted, long and hot like long hot cords—wouldn't that be something if I nutted you?”

Luke prick sprung up at full attention.

“Oh, yeh, Luke, you see? You're going to get nutted, look at your prick!”

Sara reached into the picnic basket and brought out the big kitchen butcher knife. Luke eyes filled with alarm and he started on the crate but the rope held him taut. She mockingly ran the smooth handle all around his pouch and up and down and around his balls everywhere front and back. She stopped, retrieved some alcohol from the basket, and ran it over over the blade. The cold shock of the alcohol she quickly ran over his sack burned and stung him in hot iciness. He gasped, oh my god, Jesus, was she really going to...

The knife's sharp incision at his scrotum 's upper left was so quick he saw the trickle of blood before he felt the cut. He yelped out loud.

“No Sara! Stop! What are you doing?”

“Doing?” The knife made its slit on the right. Luke gasped a deep diaphragmatic groan. He bucked his hips back to escape but the girl's other hand held his fuzzy bag of big male fruit trapped. “I want those big nuts of f' ya, silly. I'm going to steal your nuts. I just gotta open the bag so I can get 'em out and castrate 'em off you.” Even with the cuts boy's fear, he was inadvertently milking himself again in her cupped grasping hand, she could feel the bull semen rising, smell it already, his blond Palomino prick jutted helplessly up and out. “You see, cowboy, you 're so excited 'bout being castrated, you need those nuts cut off so bad, you're gonna spray out some more, aren't ya? Like you been spraying in town all the time into those sluts? Well only way we can keep your pecker down is cut you, you know that.”

Luke struggled and bucked on the ropes, his eyes wide with fear, sweat rolled down his pits, his prick was so hard it hurt, and her mocking fingers curled from behind, curled from behind, curled from behind, splat he sprayed over her shoulder, splat he sprayed on on her shoulder, splat he sprayed on the ground, and the big kitchen knife moved round the top of his arrogant bag and skinned it off. Luke screamed unto the rafters. Sara, the expert, reached in left, reached in right, pulled Luke's nuts right out of their hiding place. This is how she'd seen nuts ever since she was a little girl, this is what they really were, raw organs made to come off. She went over to her picnic basket, got the Mason jar filled with salt water, held it over his exposed organs, oh yeah, oh did they belong there.

Luke dissolved, he cried, he pleaded, tears down his cheeks, snot down his nose, already unmanned into a boy, such a pretty boy, why he didn't even need these big nuts if that's what he really was. Sara tied both cords. She was not going to do him like a calf, one at a time. This, her first bull, would be done differently. Her smile was more glazed and evil than the knife she brought to his dangling manhood, she yanked them both down hard as she could, Luke's eyes rolled back into his head, and she sliced his big nuts off with the knife, it felt better cutting them off than she'd ever imagined, she uncowboyed her cowboy who slumped at the shock of the pain and reality, beyond screaming, bleeding.

Sara carried her nuts and put them in the jar. Now she was overwhelmed. She sank to the floor, opened her legs, put her jarred nuts right up to her girl parts, already orgasming, took the blunt edge of the knife and inserted it into her pussy, oh god yeh, best of her life, what if she needed to nut males just to cum, she spasmed uncontrollably at the thought. Finally, when done and recovered, she took her nuts back to the picnic basket. Surely bull nuts would be more satisfying the calf.

They were, she found out later. Alcohol thrown on the former man's ruined pouch, which would heal and shrink, finally, back up into puffy vagina-like folds, revived him. She cut her dociled steer down, wiped him off, got him warm, dressed him. He had no fight in him, of course, was groggy and found it hard to walk. Well, you nutted male animals in barns to unmale them and take their power away, but not to kill them, so her perfunctory animal husbandry ministrations were also expert. He was too confused to thank her for this right now, but she let him sleep covered in blankets, gave him and aspirin, and when it looked like he could function and sit up, got him into his car, told him to drive away and never come back or she would say he'd tried to rape her, or, even without threats from him,she let everybody know he didn't have any balls.

That's how the power continues she thought as she ate her breakfast of fried bull nuts. Luke would recover, but already he'd be shooting blanks. For some time he might feel some urges, as grown animals will still do, but how could he approach a girl now in some bar and say, I'm a nutted neutered pretty boy. No, he'd have to keep his pants on to hide his humiliation. And once you've stolen the nuts off a man, you could always threaten to, or actually depants and deunderwear him right in public and let everybody see his nuts were gone. So no woman would want him now...and gradually he would lose interest too. He'd go through the motions, but finally he'd be calmed down, the interest gone.

Sara grinned at all that, the power of the act and it's aftermath goes on forever. She lifted her fork. You know veal is kind of boring, it's okay, but nothing like the rich taste of beef. If you like lamb, you go wild at the deeper richer, more satisfying taste of mutton when you finally taste it. When you finally castrate a man in a barn and slice his fucking nuts right off him, you get a taste for that too.

She orgasmed and dropped her fork. She was going to do it again, and again, and again. She preferred her pretty boys right now, maybe, but, all men have nuts and...

She wanted all men nutted.