All of the persons, places, and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblancxe to actual persons, living or dead, places, or events is wholly coincidental.

Zack Turner, at 24, was any young woman's dream lover. He was tall, slender, unbelievably good-looking, with curly black hair, warm brown "bedroom eyes", a perfect complexion, shoulders so wide that he went through doorways sidewise, wasp-waisted, with a melodious baritone voice.

Though he was not Irish, he should have been for, sure, he had the blarney. He was a past master at sweet-talkin' a gal, having popped almost every cherry in Joyville. It wasn't just the young gals who spread their thighs for him, though. There were plenty of pretty young wives who learned that he had more to offer them than their husbands did.

He took the time to teach them that it ain't length (even his 9 inches) that hurts, it's thickness. His long pecker was only 1 1/8 inches thick and was easy for any woman to take, as he was only too glad to prove to them.

His luck was too good to last. He'd been winning most of the time at poker and blackjack at the Julep Saloon, in Joyville for a year now, spending all his spare time fucking, and still hadn't knocked anybody up ! He knew it couldn't last and that the husbands, fathers and lovers in Joyville were getting onto him. He'd about decided that it was time to travel on.

As a matter of fact, he decided that about two weeks too late. A party of cheated

husbands, irate fathers, and lovers disappointed to find that their fiancées were shopworn had been meeting for two weeks trying to decide how to deal with Zack.

One of them wanted to do what the local Injuns did to adulterers: shove a pine cone, stem end first, up his ass. He couldn't pass the thing and his shit would back up and kill him.

Buck Andrews, the biggest man in town, both in wealth and in weight objected that he didn't want to kill him. He wanted Zack to live and suffer for a long time. Besides, Doc Hanson could probably get the damn' thing out, though Zack's asshole would never be the same.

"We gotta git 'im where he lives; fix 'im so's he can't fuck no more, geld 'im." There was more arguing about how to do it. It took them two weeks to come to an agreement about all of the details.

Lester Gooch, Zack's only male friend in town, got wind of the plot and went to the saloon right away to warn him. The conspirators had sounded out Lester early about his opinion of Zack to see if they should recruit him.

"I ain't got nothin' ag'in 'im. He ain't never hurt me none and I ain't skeered of 'im. All my kids 're boys and he ain't that kind. Far's my wife's consarned, I may not be as handsome, but I'm just as good in bed as he is and she's gittin' all she needs or wants from me. I keep 'er barefoot in winter and knocked up in summer."

They didn't ask Lester to join them, but he guessed that they were up to something and kept his eyes and ears open.

Zack was upstairs in his room at the saloon when Lester got there. Lester knocked on the door and asked "Y'in thar, Zack ?"

"Yup."

"Alone ?"

"Yup"

Lester pushed open the door, rushed in, and told Zack "Thar's a posse after ya

t'geld ya. Ya better git outta town quick's ya kin."

"O.K., thanks, Lester."

Lester left quickly by the back stairs. As he was coming around the side of the saloon, he shrank back so as not to be recognized. He was too late. The posse was already mounting the front steps of the saloon.

Zack had heard them. When they broke down the door to his room, they found Zack standing there in his underwear holding two .45 Colt Peacemakers. The standoff couldn't last long. There were at least a dozen of them and they were all armed, mostly with .44's. If it came to a gunfight, he didn't have a chance of surviving.

Buck Andrews, standing at the back of the group, not out of cowardice but so as not to block the door with his bulk, spoke up. "Lay yer shootin' ar'ns down, Turner.

There's 17 of us out here. Y'can't win a shootout and y'can't git way half nekkid." Zack knew that Buck was right, so he laid his pistols on the bed and surrendered to them.

The posse quickly bound and gagged Zack, wrapped him in his blanket and hustled him down the back stairs and out behind the saloon where they threw him over a horse and tied his wrists to his ankles to hold him on it. They brought him out to the edge of town where there was a lone Douglas fir tree, the site of many hangings.

Zack became very alarmed. He hadn't expected that they would lynch him. His alarm turned to terror when Buck Andrews approached him carrying a coil of rope.

Zack was relieved but puzzled when, instead of making a noose on the rope, they used it to tie him to the trunk of the tree.

Then Buck Andrews pulled Zack's undershorts down. One of the men whistled

in amazement and another remarked "So that's why the gals think he's somethin' special."

Buck retorted "When we're done with 'im, all that thing'll be good fer is pissin'."

Buck tied one end of a 15-foot rope tightly with a square knot around Zack's bag

just above his balls. Someone led a saddle horse to the tree and the other end of the rope was made fast to the saddle horn. Suddenly, Zack understood what they meant to do. Then they did it.

Buck slapped the horse on the rump and it bolted, pulling the rope taut. The horse's momentum tore the sperm ducts out of Zack's prostate gland, ripping it to pieces. The spermatic arteries and efferent veins , pulled tightly against the pubic

bone, snapped. The spermatic cords tore and broke and the scrotum tore away. All of this took less than one second. The horse went galloping across the prairie dragging a rope with Zach's balls tied to the end of it.

Zack stood there tied to the tree with blood running down his thighs and tears running down his face. He was overcome by grief at the realization that he would never, NEVER fuck again. Shock set in quickly and he sank into a coma.

They freed Zack from the tree , wrapped him in his blanket again , and brought him into town, dumping him at Dr. Hanson's door. Dr. Hanson was right there and saw who had delivered the injured man. When he unwrapped the present they had brought him, he exclaimed "Hell's bells ! Why didn't they just cut them off ? They've made a helluva mess here. If he dies, I'm going to bring charges of murder against them."

Dr. Hanson and his son, Mortimer, carried Zack into the operating room. Dr. Hanson made incisions in the groins seeking the ends of the spermatic arteries which he reasoned would have broken there. He found them and immediately tied them with gut ligatures about 1/4 inch back from the breaks and cauterized the ends. This stopped most of the bleeding. There would be little bleeding from the veins because the blood from the testicles flowed into the efferent veins, not out of them.

The danger of fatal hemorrhage having been averted, Dr. Hanson adressed that of shock. Zack's vital signs were dangerously depressed. His breathing was shallow and his pulse was weak and unsteady. Just since he was brought in, his body temperature had dropped somewhat over 1/2 degree. Administration of a powerful stimulant improved the situation quickly.

Though Zack did not regain consciousness, his vital signs strengthened to the point that there was no immediate concern over shock. Thus, it was possible to deal with other internal injuries resulting from the avulsion of the testicles.

Palpation of the prostate gland per rectum revealed that it was nearly disorganized. Therefore, Dr. Hanson shaved away Zack's pubic hair , made an incision just above the root of his penis and exposed the prostate gland. It was severely lacerated. The erectile nerves were nowhere to be found, not that this would make much difference to a eunuch. Deciding that the prostate gland could not be saved, Dr. Hanson performed a prostatectomy.

Because the rope had been tied very low on the scrotum, immediately above the testicles, enough of the scrotum remained to be sutured together to close the wound. Dr. Hanson disapproved of the use of lint to stanch capillary bleeding and instead relied upon astringents. He applied alum and zinc white to the areas of capillary bleeding, especially about the prostate gland.

Finally, he sutured the incisions in the groins and sutured the remains of the scrotum together. He appled four coats of collodion over the sutures before covering them with cotton dressings. When this was finished, he brought Zack back to consciousness with smelling salts.

Zack groaned and opened his eyes. "Am I gonna live ?" he asked.

"Yes" repled Dr. Hanson. "I am confident that you will."

"After what they done to me, I ain't so sure that's a good thing." said Zack with a sigh. "I'm ruined for life, ain't I ?" Dr. Hanson nodded.

"I'm afraid you have nothing to offer the womenfolk now, Zack. Your pecker will never stand up for itself again. How do you feel ?"

"Weak, very weak."

"Part of that's due to shock and loss of blood. I'm going to give you something to help you build more blood." Dr. Hanson fetched a rectangular brown bottle labelled "BIW Tonic" and poured Zack a fluid ounce of it. which he gulped down, then, licking his lips, he said "Tastes like port wine."

"It should. That's one of the ingredients. It's beef, iron, and wine tonic, a splendid blood builder. You can have more of it later. I'm going to have Mrs. Hanson make you some salty beef broth too. But now, we've got to get you to bed. There are two beds in the next room for patients who can't walk. You have serious internal injuries. You shouldn't walk for the next two weeks nor ride for about a month."

Dr. Hanson and Mortimer gently transferred Zack to a stretcher, carried him into the bedroom and carefully slid him into a bed. Then Dr. Hanson explained to Zack the full effects of his injuries.

"You're not going to recover all of your strength, in fact, you'll probably never again be more than half as strong as you were. In a few weeks, you won't need to shave any more and most of the hair on your body, except your head, will fall out.

If you don't watch what you eat, you're going to look like Buck Andrews, but 40 years younger. No sweets, no pastry, no cake, no beer, no wine, no soft cheese, no butter, no lard, and cut the fat off the meat you eat. Get plenty of meat, fish, poultry, and greens. Don't eat much corn, potatoes or rice. I'll write out a list of all that fer you."

When the posse rounded up the horse that had gelded Zack, he was still trailing the rope and Zack's balls were still tied to the end of it. They weren't much damaged by being dragged because most of time they were flying through the air.

When the cayuse slowed down, the scrotum, which still covered them, protected them.

Buck collected them, took them home, and preserved them in a jar of pickling brine. He showed them to most of the men in town so that they'd know that Zack was no longer a menace to their wives and daughters. Whatever possessed him to bring them with him to the Julep Saloon five weeks later, no one will ever know.

After he had recovered enough to walk without too much pain, Zack returned quietly to his room upstairs at the Julep Saloon where he remained until he was well enough to ride Smokey, his roan stallion. He planned to leave town quietly at night.

That evening, Lester Gooch visited him. "Leavin' town tonight?" he asked, seeing that Zack was dressed to go out and was wearing his pistols.

"Yup" replied Zack. "G'bye, Lester. Yore th' only friend I've ever had in this town."

"Aw Shucks" said Lester as they shook hands. "Where's yore hoss ?"

"In the alley."

"Waal, don't go by the front door. Buck and most of his buddies are in the taproom. Go up the alley instead."

"Zat so ? Thanks fer tellin' me, Lester."

As soon as Lester had left, Zack loaded both of his .45 Peacemakers and his old Smith & Wesson .38 which he put in his pocket, leaving the hammer down on an empty chamber.

Buck had set the jar containing Zack's pickled testicles on the bar and was declaiming to any strangers who hadn't seen them already "Them's the balls of the greatest lover Joyville ever saw. 'Course, now that he ain't got 'em, he ain't good fer nuthin' "

"That's what you think, Buck." said a loud voice from above their heads. Buck and eleven of his cronies, all members of the posse, looked up to see Zack Turner with a Peacemaker in each hand standing on the balcony in front of the rooms used by the fancy ladies. There they were staring up at him with upturned faces.

Twelve men, twelve rounds, and Zack didn't waste a bullet. The first one went through the center of Buck's forehead and took out most of the back of his skull. Zack shot as fast as he could, thumbing the hammers and pulling the triggers before anybody had a chance even to reach for his shootin ar'n. By the time he had emptied the chambers of his Peacemakers, twelve men lay dead all shot through the head.

Zack holstered the Peacemakers and drew his S&W .38 which he'd reserved for the other five who didn't show up, from his pocket. The onlookers reacted in various ways. Some ducked under the tables, some shrank back against the walls, and two started to reach for their .44's.

Zack held up his hand and told them. "I ain't got no quarrel with any o' you. This was a private matter and it's settled, so just leave yore shootin' ar'ns where they are and nobody'll git hurt. Kelly, bring that jar over to th'end of the bar. It's mine and I'm takin' it with me. "

These words were spoken as Zack walked down the stairs from the balcony to the taproom. He scooped up the jar with his left hand and backed out the side door into the alley, still covering the room with his .38. Outside, he stuffed the jar into one of his saddlebags, vaulted into the saddle, slipped the rope off the saddle horn, and thundered off into the darkness.

A posse organized the next morning to search for him failed to find any sign of

him. The sexual exploits of Zack Turner and the Julep Saloon "Massacree" were staples of Joyville folklore as long as there was any such town.

The five members of Buck Andrews' posse who had escaped death by not going to the Julep that night lived the rest of their lives in fear, the gut-wrenching fear that some day Zack Turner might just return to complete his revenge.