Terri Lynn Home From College:Summer Job Part 1

Terri Lynn and her friend, Sharon, have been picking up extra money 
for several years performing a farm chore that a lot of people 
found unpleasant and didn't like to think about - castration. They 
returned home to their rural community after completing their 
freshman year at West Central College. They were not at all 
surprised to learn that they had another castration job waiting for 
them, that is,  until they learned what they were supposed to 
castrate!
This is a sequel to "Terri Lynn's Story"

back to index

Terri Lynn Home From College: Summer Job
Part 1 of 3

As told to Farrell Squire

"You got a phone call while you were in town this morning, Terri 
Lynn," Pop said. "I think you and Sharon might have another job; 
over at the Jenkins farm this time. You oughta give old Dave a call 
after a bit."
"Thanks Pop, I'll check it out."
Sharon was my best friend, and  along with Penny, my kid sister, we 
had been picking up extra money like this for about five years now; 
performing a farm chore that a lot of people would rather not have 
to think about - castration. [Read "Terri Lynn's Story"] I started 
when I was fourteen. Pop showed me how to nut pigs, using a sharp 
knife, and how to use the Elastrator and Burdizzo on calves. I got 
Sharon and Penny in on it and we've been castrating animals on 
farms all over county ever since. Sharon and I were home for a few 
weeks now, having just completed our freshman year at West Central 
College. Penny would just be starting eleventh grade next fall.

I called old Dave Jenkins and he said he had about two dozen bull 
calves that needed banding. One in particular was a little bigger 
than the rest and he thought I might want to have a look at it 
first. I told him okay, although that seemed a little strange. 
There wasn't a calf too big for me and Sharon to handle. We had 
castrated a grown bull once, and had to build a makeshift squeeze 
chute from scrap lumber. It took us over half a day to do it when 
you counted the time we spent building the chute, but we got the 
job done and made twenty five dollars too.
Pop let me borrow his pickup and I drove over to the Jenkins farm. 
Old Dave was probably around fifty years old (we thought that was 
old then). He had run a small dairy most of his life, but sold his 
herd a couple of years ago when the last of his kids had grown up 
and left home. Running a dairy takes too many hands. He mostly 
raised calves for the beef market now, and did odd jobs like 
cutting and baling hay.
It was mid-afternoon when I pulled up in his yard. Old Rouzer, his 
border collie, started barking, but settled down as soon as I got 
out of the truck and he recognized me. Mr. Jenkins came out on the 
porch smiling, apparently happy to see me.
"Calves are down there in the pen by the barn," he said, after we 
exchanged greetings. "Let's go have a look."
"Where's Miss Bessie?" I asked.
"Oh, Bessie Mae's doin' some work over at the church this 
afternoon. I think they're gonna make quilts to sell to raise 
money."
As we walked down the path to the barn, waist-high weeds closed in 
on us from either side, forcing us to walk single file with Rouzer 
following behind. I walked behind Mr. Jenkins, feeling a little 
apprehensive now. Something about this situation just wasn't right. 
I had heard a lot of stories about dirty old men while I was at 
college and I wasn't nearly as naive and trusting as I would have 
been only a year earlier. Here I was, a nineteen-year-old girl, 
alone with a fifty-year-old man, walking down an overgrown path to 
a barn, on a remote isolated farm. His wife was conveniently 
preoccupied elsewhere for the afternoon and no one would be around 
here for hours. And why didn't Mr. Jenkins just get his wife to 
help band the calves? We had never had a job here before; why did 
he all of a sudden need me and Sharon to band his calves? Maybe his 
boys used to do it when they were living at home, but something 
just didn't seem right about this.
I was very athletic and in top shape, but I had to be realistic. I 
probably couldn't overpower Mr. Jenkins in a contest of brute 
strength. I would have to concentrate my strategy on pulling away 
and putting some distance between us. I still played basketball in 
college, and also participated in track and field. There's no way 
old Mr. Jenkins could catch me once I got in the open, and I knew 
this country like a fox. Even if he blocked my path back to the 
truck, I could cut across his pasture, go up and over Black Wolf 
Ridge, then follow the creek back down to the road and be home in 
two hours. I would just have to be careful not to stand anywhere I 
could be cornered.
I was feeling guilty too. Why would I think these thoughts about 
poor old Mr. Jenkins. I had known him and his wife most of my life, 
and I went to school with his kids. Mr. Dave and Miss Bessie were 
real nice folks, I should be ashamed of myself for thinking he 
might lure me out here to molest me. But something was wrong; I 
could sense it. Banding a bunch of calves was not the real reason 
he called me over here. He was holding something back, something 
that was causing him anguish inside. I could see it in his eyes and 
hear it in the tone of his voice.
Soon we were leaning over the rail of the corral, looking at two 
dozen, six-week-old bull calves.
"Just bought this batch from a dairy over in West Fork last week," 
he said. "Gotta feed 'em milk replacer for a couple of months yet. 
They're just the right size for banding."
"Looks like a pretty routine job to me," I said, feeling more 
apprehensive than ever, and watching Mr. Jenkins closely for any 
sign of a false move. "Where's that big one that's supposed to be 
such a problem?"
"Well, Terri Lynn," he said, so nervous now that he was actually 
shaking, "that's really what I called you over here for."
I stepped back, making sure I had room to make a break if he came 
after me.
"Terri Lynn, if you band this one animal, you'll make two hundred 
dollars, but I want you to promise me that you won't say anything 
about it to anybody, and if you don't want the job you'll just 
pretend I never asked you."
Two hundred dollars was a lot of money in the Ozark Mountains back 
in 1970. The men who worked at the creosote mill barely brought 
home fifty dollars a week.
"Well, Mr. Dave, you haven't told me what the job is exactly"
"Terri Lynn, you gotta promise you won't say anything."
I was very suspicious now, and took another step back. I paused, 
and looked Mr. Jenkins in the eye. He was shaking now, but he 
looked more like he might cry than attack me.
"Mr. Dave, if this is something that is illegal or something that 
will get me in trouble with the law, I won't promise. But if it's 
something else, I guess it's okay. I'll promise. As long as it's 
not something that will get me in trouble with the law for not 
telling, I'll promise."
I could see some relief come across his face.
"No, Terri Lynn, it's nothing like that. In two weeks Bessie Mae is 
going to Joplin to spend a few days with her sister. I'll be alone 
here on the farm. That's when I want to do it."
"Do what, Mr. Dave?"
"Well I... ah... want you and Sharon to slip a band on this 
particular ah... animal."
He paused for several seconds. The silence was very awkward and we 
both began to perspire.
"Well, Terri Lynn, the... ah... animal I want y'all to band is... 
me."
I was shocked! I didn't know what to think. I had never had a 
request like this before. Even after what Sharon and I did to her 
little brother, Melvin, this was a shock. Someone from the public 
world, a grown man, was asking us to castrate him! I almost bolted 
and ran back to the truck, but I could see the pleading desperation 
in poor old Mr. Jenkins' face. As soon as I was over the initial 
shock I collected my composure and tried to appear calm and 
professional.
"Yes, Mr. Dave, we can do it, and we won't tell another soul, but 
it's a most unusual request. Could you possibly tell me why you 
want this done?"
"Well, me and the Misses, Bessie, have been married over thirty 
years now. I love Bessie Mae, I really do. It's just that we 
haven't, you know, done it, in about ten years now, and I don't 
think she's been really interested in that for more than twenty 
years. I love the kids, we even got a couple of grandkids now. I'm 
real happy with my family, and I think they're happy with me. I 
wouldn't ever do anything to hurt them, not on purpose, and not if 
I could help it."
I could actually see the relief on Mr. Jenkins's face as he 
continued spilling out his soul to me. I realized from some of the 
books I had read that this was the kind of stuff that people should 
only tell to qualified therapists and psychologists, and it often 
took months, or even years, before the patient would trust them 
enough to open up and tell them their darkest secrets. I felt very 
inadequate and worried that I was not up to the task. A mature man 
shouldn't be telling this to a nineteen-year-old girl. What could I 
possibly know about life? Nevertheless, I tried to be a good 
listener and maintain a professional posture.
"Well, Mr. Dave, I think you have a wonderful family too, but I 
don't quite see what this has to do with what you are asking me to 
do to you." I knew, or at least suspected, but I had to draw it out 
of him. I wanted to hear it in his own words. I had often 
fantasized about men desiring castration and now I was talking to 
one! I had to know what went on in their heads to make them have 
this bizarre wish.
"Well," he said, I guess it's just hormones. When I was young, 
that's what attracted me to Bessie Mae in the first place. That's 
what allowed us to get together and make babies. But after that's 
all done, the hormones are just in the way. They just make a man 
want things that will tear up his marriage, and ruin the lives of 
everyone he loves. My hormones just make me want things I can't 
have and shouldn't have - things I shouldn't even want. I have to 
fight all the time to resist those temptations.
"When I watch those shows on television with all those pretty 
women, it just makes me want to be with them and take my pleasure 
with them, and I know that's wrong. When we get those catalogs and 
flyers in the mail, showing all those pretty girls in swimsuits and 
underwear, it's the same thing. It makes me want to do things that 
I know are sinful and wrong. And when I go to town, its even worse. 
Women these days are wearing those little short skirts that just 
drive a man crazy, and I know I shouldn't even be thinking about 
things like that."
I couldn't help looking down at myself self-consciously, knowing 
that I dressed like that over half the time myself. I was glad I 
was wearing jeans today, although they were tight and fit just a 
little too good.
"And I feel so guilty," he continued, "because Bessie Mae doesn't 
make me feel the way those women do. Now don't get me wrong, I love 
Bessie, and I wouldn't have her know what I'm telling you for 
anything. Now I know Bessie Mae has put on quite a few pounds over 
the years, but I don't think she ever made me feel like that as 
much as these women do today. Women today are just prettier than 
they were back in my day!"
"Thanks for the compliment, Mr. Dave," I said, with an embarrassed 
chuckle, "but I think girls today are allowed to be sexier. Thirty 
years ago, girls weren't allowed to be sexy, or at least not too 
sexy. It's not their fault."
"I guess it really doesn't matter why," he said, wistfully. "All I 
know is that its gettin' to be more painful than I can stand. Can 
you understand that, Terri Lynn? The pain ain't physical, it's in 
my mind and it hurts just like real pain. Hell, I'd rather get a 
toe cut off any day, 'cept I'd finally run out of toes. This thing 
just keeps hurtin' again and again, every time I look at a pretty 
girl.
"I was in Paxton just the other day, in the parking lot of that new 
discount store and saw this pretty girl, about your age, Terri 
Lynn, in one of those little mini skirts. She had perfect legs, not 
too fat, not too thin, and they were tanned and soft-looking. I 
tried to act like I didn't notice, but she was all I could think 
about. Every time she took a step it just made me weak. It was like 
somebody was hitting me in the chest with a sledge hammer, it 
wasn't doing any real damage, but I was feeling the pain just the 
same. Just before she got in her car she looked at me and smiled. 
She knew I had been watching her and I don't think she minded at 
all. Not like girls in my day. She got into a little yellow Mustang 
with vinyl seats and when she sat down I could hear her legs make a 
squeaking noise, rubbing against the vinyl. That almost killed me. 
And when she drove off she just smiled and waved like she knew me, 
but of course she didn't. Terri Lynn, I was shook up for the rest 
of the afternoon. I couldn't help thinking about what it would be 
like to...
"Oh, I'm sorry Terri Lynn. I shouldn't be talking about that kind 
of stuff to you. I don't know what I'm thinking. It's just that 
this thing is running me crazy. I've got to have some relief!"
"It's alright, Mr. Dave. You've got to have somebody to talk to 
about this. How long has this been going on?" I could see he was on 
the verge of tears.
"Oh, I can't really say, Terri Lynn. The more Bessie Mae quit 
caring about it, the more other women started to interest me. Like 
I said, we haven't done a thing in about ten years. At first I just 
tried not to think about it. I would just tell myself that things 
would work out somehow. Then after about two years without it, I 
sat down and forced myself to look at the truth. Unless something  
happened I was never going to do it again for the rest my life. All 
I knew was that I didn't want to hurt Bessie Mae or the kids. I 
thought way too much of my family to start seeing another woman or 
anything like that. I was just going to tough it out, but the pain 
just kept getting worse. I would see women in magazines, catalogs, 
and on television, and it would just remind me of what I could 
never have again in my life. I even considered doing that 
disgusting thing that teenage boys do and just dream about women in 
magazines and on television while I did it, but I couldn't stoop to 
that. I sometimes have dreams, two or three times a year, where I, 
you know..., but even then I usually don't dream about women. 
Sometimes I dream I'm flying through the air, or I'm in a rocking 
boat, or trying to keep my balance walking a rail fence, and stuff 
like that. And when I fall, in the dream, I mess up the bed sheets. 
It's not fair, Terri Lynn! I can't even dream about women when I...
"Oh, Terri Lynn, please forgive me! I can't believe I've been 
talking to a teenage girl about something I can't talk about to my 
wife or my brother, or even my doctor. I'm so sorry!"
"Don't be sorry, Mr. Dave. Not being able to talk to anyone else 
about this is exactly why you're talking to me. You just can't live 
with something like that bottled up inside you forever. Have you 
ever considered talking to... you know, a professional?"
"You mean a psychiatrist?" he said, defensively.
"Yes, a psychiatrist."
"Now I don't want people thinking I'm crazy, 'cauze I ain't crazy! 
And if you ever go see one of those shrinks it goes on your record 
forever. They tell me that after you've been treated by a 
psychiatrist you can never legally buy a gun again, and you can't 
sell your property without your family signing off on it, and a 
bunch of stuff like that. Besides, I could never afford one of 
those guys anyway."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Dave, it was just a suggestion. I guess that means 
you're stuck with me for talking this thing out, doesn't it? Are 
you really sure you want to go through with this thing? I mean, how 
long have you been considering getting banded?"
This conversation sounded so weird. I couldn't believe I was 
talking about this kind of stuff with old Mr. Jenkins, but here we 
were.
"Oh, maybe five years ago. I thought about it before that, but I've 
only been really serious for about five years. I started to do it 
to myself a couple of times, but I couldn't go through with it. I 
know in my heart that it's the right thing to do though. The Bible 
says in Matthew 5:28, 'That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust 
after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.' 
and in Matthew 5:29, 'And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it 
out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one 
of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be 
cast into hell.' Terri Lynn, I know what I'm asking is right in the 
eyes of God."
"Well, Mr. Dave, have you thought of talking to your minister about 
this?"
"Naw, I don't think he'd understand. I've never told anybody but 
you, Terri Lynn. I guess that's kind of strange, when you think 
about it."
"Not really so strange when you consider that... you know, I'm the 
one that'll be doing it. But I do want to make sure this is what 
you really want and not just something you thought of when you were 
feeling down. Once it's done, we can't change it back."
Mr. Jenkins paused for a moment. He seemed to be reflecting on his 
feelings.
"I know it's what I want, Terri Lynn. It's what I want and what I 
need. This thing's been drivin' me crazy for ten years now."
"Okay, Mr. Dave, but I've got some conditions too. What do you say 
we put off banding those calves until that same weekend. I've got 
some girlfriends from college that want to learn how to do that. I 
could use that job to help train them and they could help with... 
you know... your job."
"Now Terri Lynn, I didn't want the whole country gettin' in on 
this. I don't want them girls goin' around telling about this like 
some funny story in front of all their friends. How many of them 
are there, anyway?"
"I'm sorry Mr. Dave. It's not like it may have sounded to you. 
These girls are all serious about going into medicine and 
psychology and stuff like that. They won't treat this like a joke 
at all. Besides, they're not from around here anyway. They're from 
the city. They don't know you and you don't know them. There'll be 
three of them if they can all come. There'll be me and Sharon, then 
these three girls from the college. I won't let Penny come. I think 
she's too young right now."
"I don't know, Terri Lynn. It just kind of makes me nervous."
I had to admit that I was still apprehensive about what old Dave 
might try, once we got him naked. I figured five of us would be 
plenty to overpower him if he got out of line, especially if Nedra 
was with us. She was taller than I, big boned, and strong. Nedra 
could probably handle old Dave all by herself.
I found myself feeling guilty again for thinking bad things about 
old Dave. Hell, these girls probably wouldn't object to a little 
fooling around as long as they were in charge of the situation, 
especially if they knew it was Mr. Dave's last time.
"Well, Mr. Dave, I won't do it if I can't bring my friends. But 
these girls are really cool, and they could even make things go a 
little easier, if you know what I mean."
I saw Mr. Jenkins smile and a tear ran down his face at the same 
time.
"Okay, Terri Lynn. You have yourself a deal."

(Continued in part 2)