Terri Lynn Home From College:Summer Job Part 2

Part 2 of 3

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Terri Lynn Home From College: Summer Job
Part 2 of 3

I don't think old Dave knew what to think when he saw the pale blue 
Volkswagen Micro Bus with five girls pull up in his yard that 
morning. But when he recognized me and Sharon he smiled and told us 
to just drive on down to the barn. The barn was behind a little 
hill and you could barely see the roof from the road. I noticed the 
weeds had all been mown and the barn lot looked a lot neater than 
the last time I was here. We pulled Nedra's Micro Bus around behind 
the barn and parked it where nobody could see it.
Old Rouzer was barking his head off and the other girls wouldn't 
get out until Mr. Dave got to the barn. The dog quieted down with 
Mr. Dave's arrival and we piled out of the Micro Bus. I began 
introducing Mr. Dave to Nedra, Melanie, and Doris. Old Rouzer was 
now wagging his tail and sniffing at us in that curious, but 
friendly manner that dogs have once they no longer perceive someone 
to be a threat.
Mr. Jenkins was wearing a new pair of blue jeans and a western 
shirt with those little pointed pocket flaps and decorative 
stitching. I realized that he really wasn't a bad looking man, in 
spite of his age. In another setting, Mr. Jenkins could easily have 
been a successful business man or a politician. Although lacking 
formal education, he didn't really exude a "hayseed" aura at all. 
At that moment I actually felt a little sorry for him. He was a 
prisoner of the world into which he was born - a world that was in 
many ways at odds with his inner nature, and having himself 
castrated was the only way he could deal with his dilemma.
We were all wearing shorts except for Sharon and Melanie. Sharon 
was wearing one of her blue denim dresses - the ones she made 
herself, with the quick-release snaps that allowed her to pop out 
of it or put it back on at a moments notice. Melanie was wearing a 
mini skirt so short that she was constantly revealing a flash of 
white panty as she went about her routine activities.
Nedra was a good two inches taller than Dave, and he acted just a 
little sheepish as he shook her hand, looking up to meet the gaze 
of her steel blue eyes. Nedra's blonde hair was cut short, barely 
falling past her ears, which was shorter than most boys were 
wearing their hair in those days. Her white blouse, was tied in a 
square knot in front, revealing a lean bronze midriff. I thought 
this made Nedra look a little butch and perhaps a bit intimidating. 
(Actually, Nedra is quite "butch", but that's another story.)

"What kind of dog is he, Mr. Jenkins?" Doris asked, petting the dog 
who had suddenly found a new friend.
"Oh, old Rouzer is mostly border collie," Dave answered. "Got some 
retriever in him though, from a couple of generations back."
Doris was freckle-faced with auburn hair. A perennial mischievous 
smile and deviously dancing green eyes made her look like she was 
concealing some delightfully funny, naughty secret that she dared 
not tell. I remember her smiling at a guy back at the college who 
actually checked his fly to see if he left it unzipped. We all 
roared with laughter and the poor guy just turned red and slunk 
away. Doris didn't mean to, but she just had that kind of effect on 
guys.
As Melanie extended her hand to greet Dave, a puzzled look came 
over his face.
"I know I've seen you somewhere before," he said. Do you live 
around here?"
"No, I live in Springfield," she giggled. Her soft brown eyes were 
scrutinizing Dave's face with sparkling curiosity now.  "But I 
think I've seen you somewhere too. I have an aunt that lives in 
Paxton and I was here visiting her a few weeks ago... maybe it was 
then."

The morning sun was heating the sheet metal roof of the barn, but 
fortunately the doors and most of the walls were all made from 
slats covered with woven wire. A light breeze kept the shady 
interior from becoming unbearable. Nevertheless, we decided to 
strip for action.
Sharon was first. Popping out of her denim skirt and blouse, she 
was sporting a hot pink bikini with a thong bottom. The rest of us 
started peeling out of our clothes. I was wearing a bright red 
bikini and Nedra was wearing a pale blue one. It almost matched the 
color of her Micro Bus. I think that is Nedra's favorite color. 
Doris was wearing a floral print bikini that was made from material 
so thin as to almost be transparent. Actually, I think the big 
swirls of green foliage with large flowers of various colors just 
disguised the view. Otherwise, you could see through it. The print 
created the illusion of opacity!
"Well shit, folks" Melanie whined, slipping out of her mini skirt. 
"I didn't know we were going swimming! I didn't bring my suit. All 
I've got are my panties and bra"
"You'll get those dirty," Nedra said. "I've got an extra suit in 
the Micro Bus that should fit you. Just look in my bag and get that 
yellow bikini."
"Talkin' about swimming," said Dave, "there's a nice pond just past 
that fence there. I just use that pasture for a hay meadow now. 
There ain't been no cows in there in over two years and the water's 
real clear. When you get through with the calves you all might want 
to jump in and cool off."
I could tell from the expression on Mr. Dave's face that he was 
clearly enraptured with the scene that was unfolding before him.
"Thanks Mr. Dave," I said. "We'll be taking you up on that."
I accompanied Melanie back out to the Micro Bus where she changed 
and I fetched the bag containing the tools of our trade - the 
Elastrator, and a bag of bands. I Also had a Burdizzo.
I had talked to Mr. Dave again since our first meeting and we 
decided against the bander for him. The idea of that dead scrotum 
hanging inside his pants for six weeks was not an appealing thing. 
He thought it might stink and Ms. Bessie would ask him what was 
wrong. I agreed and we decided the Burdizzo would be better for 
him. It still seemed unreal that I had actually made plans with  a 
man  to take his balls off. Sometimes I just couldn't believe it 
was happening.
Mr. Dave was still staring wide-eyed at the bikini-clad beauties 
strutting and parading around him. Poor old Mr. Dave, I thought. 
You'd better enjoy this little show while you can, because a few 
weeks from now you won't find this little striptease nearly so 
exciting. At that moment I sort of wished we wouldn't have to do it 
to him. Maybe he would back out at the last minute. I kind of 
enjoyed the effect I had on him when he looked at me twitching and 
strutting around in my little bikini, but something about what we 
planned to do to him turned me on too. It turned us all on; that's 
why the other girls were here.
I remembered what it had done to Sharon's little brother, Melvin. 
Girls and sex just didn't interest him anymore. However, he treated 
me and Sharon with great respect, and he treated my kid sister, 
Penny, like a goddess. Melvin had a deep crush on Penny at the time 
we "did" him. His castration took away his lust but not his 
affection. He just became Penny's loyal little pet and willing 
flunky, and she was quite pleased and infatuated with him.
Melvin's emasculated condition was still a little secret between 
the four of us too (me, Sharon, Penny and Melvin). At this time 
nobody else knew that Melvin had been castrated. Not even his 
parents suspected.
Since those days I've learned a lot more about what castration does 
to men. No two men are affected in exactly the same way. It doesn't 
necessarily put an end to their interest in sex or women - not 
completely, anyway. It sure changes their focus though; makes them 
less selfish and less aggressive, and I think it makes them better 
companions. Poor Melvin was just too young when we did him. He 
started puberty a couple of years late and I doubt if it had been a 
year since he first jerked off when we nutted him with the 
Burdizzo. His balls were real small. Castration just shut him down 
completely. I would never do it to a boy that young again, but we 
were all a little young and more foolish in those days ourselves.

I strapped on the Elastrator, which was in a custom leather holster 
and belt I had made myself. The tool was heavy and hung low on one 
leg and it made me walk with a little swagger like a gunslinger in 
a western movie. You should have seen the look on old Dave's face 
when he saw me strutting into the barn wearing nothing but that 
little red bikini, a pair of boots, and that Elastrator strapped on 
my hip. It was Nedra who let out a wolf whistle though.
"I like that, Terri Lynn. I love it! I've got to get me one of 
those."
"Here," I said, giggling as I handed her the Burdizzo, which was in 
its own holster and belt. "You can wear this."
Unfamiliar with the device, Nedra fumbled with the belt momentarily 
then buckled it in place.
"How's this?" she asked.
"Great, Nedra! You look like a seasoned bull nutter," I giggled.
"You know, I have no idea how to use this thing."
"Don't worry. Before the day's over you'll be an expert - almost. 
You will have saved several cute little calves from growing up to 
be big mean bulls."
The girls all laughed.
Melanie and Nedra were city girls, Melanie from Springfield and 
Nedra from St. Louis. Like Sharon and I, Doris was a country girl, 
but she had never castrated livestock before. Hell, most girls 
haven't done that, even if they have grown up on a farm.

Sharon and I grabbed one of the calves and did a demo for the other 
girls. We showed them how to make an improvised halter out of an 
ordinary piece of manila rope. We made a little slip noose in the 
end of the rope to fit over the calf's nose and then stuck the main 
part of the rope through the noose to make a larger loop to go 
behind the calf's ears. This way the calf was securely held and the 
harder it pulled to get away, the tighter the halter would become. 
However, there was nothing around its neck so it was never in 
danger of choking. The other girls thought this was real neat - so 
simple, yet effective.
With the calf securely snubbed to a pole, Sharon straddled it 
facing the calf's tail and locked her legs around its stomach just 
in front of the pelvis. Calves at this age weigh between 150 and 
200 pounds and can easily be held this way. If they get especially 
vigorous in their protests an extra rope can be put on the back 
legs, but Sharon and I rarely found this necessary.
 At this age calves can draw their little testicles right up inside 
their abdomens, leaving nothing hanging down to band. They can't do 
this when they get older, but at this age the procedure causes them 
no pain or trauma at all, so it's also the best age to band them. 
The trick is to get them to relax enough that their testicles 
descend back into their scrotum.
I squatted beside the calf, being careful to stay out of range of 
its kicks and reached between its legs and began massaging its 
scrotum. Sharon and I both talked to the calf in soothing tones 
petting and rubbing it until we felt it relax and quit struggling. 
Soon I felt its little testicles descend back into its scrotum and 
my waiting hand. I massaged and kneaded them and the calf became 
even more relaxed. I always liked to think the calves kind of 
enjoyed this part.
I already had a band on the prongs of the bander and I quietly 
expanded it and slipped it over the calf's little balls. When I had 
it in place I let it snap and the calf didn't feel a thing. I 
jiggled its scrotum to make sure everything was swinging freely, 
then Sharon released her leg lock and stepped aside.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I said to the calf as we 
released him into the pasture.
"Well, who wants to do the next one?"
The girls were a little nervous, but grinning with enthusiasm. 
There were plenty of calves for Nedra, Melanie, and Doris to band 
at least three each. The girls were a little awkward at first, but 
caught on real fast. I kept watching Mr. Dave out of the corner of 
my eye. He was taking this all in with a big grin. It must have 
been a very erotic spectacle for Dave to watch a bunch of young 
college girls, almost naked, and in top physical shape wrestling 
and wallowing with the big rambunctious calves. The fact that each 
calf, in turn, was relieved of its maleness in an atmosphere of 
lighthearted giggles and fun added a surreal, sadomasochistic 
undertone to the scene. Delicate caring fingers, so careful not to 
pinch or hurt, were altering the destiny of these hapless 
creatures, changing the very essence of what they were. I think Mr. 
Dave became so enthralled with the scene that for a while he forgot 
his own turn was coming!
The most erotic part for me though - the thing that was making my 
crotch wet - was my knowledge that this was just practice. Not just 
for Mr. Dave, but for all the yet-unknown boys and men who would be 
beguiled and seduced into willingly giving up their balls to us. At 
that time we didn't know just how; we didn't have a real plan, but 
we knew that somehow, someway we were going to make it happen.
Three calves in the group were very cooperative, just standing 
there relaxed and not struggling, allowing us to slip the band on 
them without protest. Melanie had just banded such a calf when she 
turned and smiled at us.
"That was so easy!" she said. "I wish they were all like that."
"Not me," Nedra giggled, standing astride the calf in anticipation 
of the struggle that never happened. "I like a little bit of a 
challenge."
"No," said Doris, "I have to agree with Melanie. There's something 
sexy about watching them just stand there and let us do it. I keep 
thinking about having a boy on a date who wants in my pants real 
badly. Then I tell him if he wants to do that he'll have to let me 
band him. Then he would stand there real quiet and gentle, like 
that calf, and just let me slip it on him without a struggle."
"You have quite an imagination," I said, "but keep it up. You're 
making me horny as hell."
We all laughed, and I glanced around the barn. Sharon had 
unconsciously allowed her hand to fall between her legs and she was 
gently rubbing herself. Mr. Dave was blushing bright red!
We had saved four calves with the biggest balls for practicing with 
the Burdizzo.
"It's time to learn to use that thing you're wearing on your belt," 
I told Nedra.
I snubbed the calf up to the post and straddled it, holding it 
firmly between my legs. Sharon was instructing Nedra in the use of 
the Burdizzo. Who could be more qualified than Sharon, I thought. 
This was the same Burdizzo tool Sharon had used to castrate her 
younger brother. I had helped, but it was actually Sharon who had 
pressed the handles. I suddenly realized that Sharon was the only 
one of us who had actually castrated a human male. That was going 
to change today though. I was going to do Mr. Dave!
"You're really supposed to do one testicle at a time," Sharon said, 
"but as young as these calves are you can get them both with one 
pinch. It's always worked for me, anyway. But you'd better stay to 
one side though; don't get behind him."
"Yeah, I don't want to get kicked," Nedra agreed.
"Well, that too," I laughed, "but the big thing is that they shit - 
over half the time.
"And once you bring the handles together," Sharon continued," hold 
them together until you count to ten and don't let go - no matter 
what you feel running down your arm - or your face."
The other girls laughed nervously.
"Everything feels right," Nedra said, somewhat apprehensively.
Sharon leaned forward to inspect Nedra's technique. "Do it now," 
she said, in an even voice so a not to excite the calf.
Nedra brought the handles together in a quick snap, as Sharon had 
instructed, and held them as she slowly counted to ten. The calf, 
one of the larger ones, bawled and arched its back, lifting me off 
the ground slightly. I could hear the fibers in the rope squeaking 
as the calf strained against its halter. There was something 
singularly sexy about the feel of that calf's backbone arching into 
my crotch, knowing that his very maleness was being pinched out of 
him at that moment. As Nedra finished her count, big globs of fresh 
manure began to fall on the floor behind the calf.
"I believe you've got him," Sharon said, reaching between the 
calf's legs to feel of his scrotum.
The calf had relaxed somewhat and his back was no longer arched, 
but he bawled again and continued straining at his halter.
"Here, you feel," Sharon said, instructing Nedra. "See, there's 
nothing left connecting his nuts. You just wiped it all out. How 
does that make you feel"?
Sharon and Nedra looked at each other and exchanged smug, knowing 
smiles, giggling softly with a hint of sadism.
"That hurts them!" Melanie exclaimed, with distress in her voice.
"Well, for a couple of seconds it does," I said. "Then they don't 
feel anything after that.
"Yeah," said Sharon, "that's why I like to get both nuts with one 
pinch. Why hurt them twice when once will work?"
We released the calf into the pasture. His brief moment of trauma 
over, the calf seemed not in the least worse for wear from the 
experience. Nedra stood there for a moment smiling as she fondled 
the Burdizzo, playing her fingers along the smooth, heavy, 
emasculating jaws. No, it was not the minor discomfort caused the 
calves that was so intriguing, but rather the potential application 
of our skills among the human male population. It was a feeling of 
empowerment that few girls were privileged to experience that was 
making us all damp in the crotch.
Melanie and Doris both got to try their hand with the Burdizzo. 
Doris got spattered good with manure and we all laughed. Nedra then 
used the Burdizzo on the last calf, handling the task like a pro. 
Finally we were ready to take Mr. Dave up on his offer to let us 
swim in his pond (especially Doris). Mr. Dave had changed into a 
pair of cut-off blue jeans, said he hadn't owned a pair of swim 
trunks since he got out of the Army. As we headed for the pond we 
saw the calves in the pasture nibbling at the tender shoots of 
grass and milling about peacefully as though nothing had happened.

The little pond covered about three or four acres. Near the earthen 
dam there was a large oak tree with a swing for swinging out over 
the water. Further down the bank there was a little wooden pier 
where Dave's boys used to fish and keep a boat when they lived 
there. Mr. Dave had been thoughtful enough to inflate several old 
inner tubes and lay them near the tree for us to play on.
Doris was the first to jump in, eager for the opportunity to wash 
off the manure spatters she had received moments earlier. Sharon 
and I followed her in, but Melanie and Nedra hesitated. They 
admitted that they had never swam in anything but a chlorinated 
pool in their lives. I thought this was strange; I had never been 
in a pool until I enrolled at West Central College. I guess there's 
always a first time for everything.
"Come on in!" I shouted. "It's just like the pool except it doesn't 
burn your eyes."
"Yeah," said Doris, giggling, "and you can pee anytime you want. 
You don't have to come out!"
"You mean you guys pee in here?" asked Melanie. "Yuck!"
Melanie and Nedra had waded in about knee deep. Melanie hesitated 
while Nedra swam out and joined the rest of us.
"Yeah, why not," said Doris, grinning mischievously. "The snakes 
and turtles pee in here."
"Snakes?" Melanie said, stopping cold in her tracks. "I'm not 
getting in here with snakes!"
"Aw, I wouldn't worry myself about snakes," said Dave. Old Rouzer 
there keeps all of them killed out. Never have had to worry about 
snakes."
"Mr. Dave, could you throw me one of those inner tubes?" I asked. 
"I want to just float around for a while." As much as anything I 
wanted to change the subject and get Melanie's mind off the stupid 
snakes.
Mr. Dave threw some of inner tubes into the water and jumped in 
himself. Melanie grabbed one and, clinging to it, gingerly pushed 
herself out toward the rest of us. Before long we were all 
splashing and frolicking, jumping off the swing, and dumping each 
other off the inner tubes. I don't think we had had so much fun all 
year.
I especially enjoyed watching Mr. Dave. He seemed twenty years 
younger. I swear he would have passed for a thirty-year-old guy out 
there playing with us. I realized that he probably hadn't done 
anything like that since he was a teenager himself, and then not 
with girls. Boys and girls didn't swim together when he was a kid.
Melanie climbed up on her inner tube and suddenly looked at Mr. 
Dave very intently.
"Mr. Dave, I think I know where I've seen you before. Were you in 
Paxton about three weeks ago at that new discount store?"
"I reckon so," he said. "I get to town about once a week."
"Well, do you remember a girl in a yellow Mustang? You smiled and 
waved at me, remember?"
"Well, I'll be…
"Sure, I remember now, but how in the hell do you remember me?"
"It's your smile, Mr. Dave. You have the warmest, friendliest 
smile. How do you remember me?"
"Well, that's easy, Miss Melanie, he said, laughing.
"Yeah," I added, "he'd never forget that car."
The other girls all laughed.
"I guess it's a small world after all," Nedra said.
I certainly agreed, and I was the only one of the girls who knew 
just what an impact that chance meeting in the parking lot had on 
Mr. Dave. When I heard Melanie's velvet smooth legs squeaking 
against the inner tube I knew what that must be doing to Mr. Dave.

We played in the water for over two hours. Nedra went back to the 
Micro Bus and got an old basketball and we tossed that around for a 
while. We wound up splashing and floating around in the shade of 
the big oak tree to keep from getting sunburned. Finally, exhausted 
from our romp, we just floated quietly and nobody said anything for 
a long time.
"Well, this has all been fun," Mr. Dave said, at long last, "but we 
have business to tend to you know.
There was a note of resolution in his voice and his eyes seemed to 
be focused on the distant horizon. We knew what he was talking 
about and our mood suddenly became somber. Sharon and I both swam 
over to where Mr. Dave was floating on his inner tube and put our 
arms around him.
"Are you sure you want to go through with it, Mr. Dave?" Sharon 
asked.
"I know what I've got to do, Miss Sharon," he said, "and it's time 
we should be gittin' on with it."
We got out of the water, dried off, then headed for the old dairy 
barn - that's where we were going to do it. The dairy barn was a 
small building as barns go. That was where the cows were milked, 
six at a time, with the electric milking machines. It was maybe 
half the size of a three-bedroom home. Built to meet Health 
Department standards, it was a modern building of concrete block 
construction, fully wired and plumbed with running hot and cold 
water. Back when the dairy was operational they had to hose it down 
and scrub the interior twice a day, morning and night, after each 
milking. There were drains in the concrete floor to carry the water 
away. Mr. Dave had sold all his dairy cows about three years 
earlier, but he maintained the barn in good shape.

(Concluded in part 3)