With the first massive orb free and dangling helplessly, the torturer has isolated the first of the cords anchoring the mighty teste to the young man's groin, and prepares to make the first slice that will begin the actual castration process. He will start with the cords and tendons and sperm ducts before moving on to the life-giving blood vessels, and will leave the nerve fibers for last, making sure that the horse-hung bull stud feels every moment of his painful unmanning.
love it, love it, love it! Great job, the detail is nice, and the wayward hanging nut is perfect.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jeff! It looks like the poor stud is about to lose that wayward nut for good. And sadly, his right nut will probably soon follow. ;)
DeleteVery nice...Always wondered if that is what mine would look like, cords and tubes all separated like that?!
DeleteI've done some research since making this drawing, and I don't think my image is terribly accurate -- gargantuan size aside. But it's hot to imagine that a stud's nuts would hang even lower without their protective scrotum to support them. Just dangling there at the ends of their life-giving cords and tubes, helpless and vulnerable... :)
DeleteDon't worry too much about the accuracy ... vessels, tendons, low-hanging ... it's real enough for fantasy. What I wonder about is the context. Why is the bull stud in this predicament?
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DeleteI think that the handsome muscle hunk simply found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some sadistic torturer happened to lay his eyes on this monument of male perfection, and that was all she wrote -- the young stud's fate was instantly sealed.
DeleteI can only hope that this handsome, hairy-chested stud has fathered at least a couple of sons, as I'd hate to think of such a mighty manhood dying without an heir. ;)
The Ceremony of the Six Scalpels: A JWOG’s Initiation
ReplyDeleteThe Marine, a Sergeant Major, had fasted for 24 hours and evacuated his bladder and bowels. He was fully prepped for the ceremony began at sundown. Four Marines, members of a select commando unit within the Marine Raiders, escorted the inductee, the Sergeant Major, naked, as they were, to the elite unit’s shower room at the MARSOC barracks. One, a Chief Warrant Officer 4, stood guard to be sure they weren’t disturbed. First, two Second Lieutenants washed the inductee with scalding hot water and Fels Naphtha soap. Then every bit of hair was removed from his body, head to toe, using a straight razor … his chest, his pubes, armpits, eyebrows, the wiry hair around his asshole, his nose hairs … all of it washed away into the shower drain in a slurry of suds and man-fur. The Marine wielding the straight razor was a Captain, his implement a Boker 5/8” King Cutter, his shaving soap Dreadnought. The two Second Lieutenants held a strop so that the Captain could keep his blade finely honed. For the Sergeant Major, the eroticism was intense, especially as the Captain shaved his nutsac and the hair that grew on the shaft of his cock near his pubes. The deft handling of his balls, the gentle lifting and stretching of penis and scrotum, stimulated the the Sergeant Major. Watching and feeling the sharp blade slide against every follicle was thrilling and terrifying, but the inductee knew he could not let loose a load. He had to remain stalwart and be in control. Although he had never before felt such urgent desire to ejaculate, no emotion so base as sexual pleasure, orgasm could sully this ritual. After the shaving was finished, the two Second Lieutenants showered and washed the inductee again, this time using tepid water and Hibiclens. Then, they dried him with hairdryers so that no bit of lint from a towel would mar his pristine body. It was already midnight. The four then escorted the inductee, naked, as they were, to the special room where he would spend the night. Windowless, dim, cool, it had only a cot for furniture. On its gray walls, Semper Fi was stenciled in gold in various fonts and sizes. The scarlet battle flag of the Corps with its gray and gold emblem hung on the wall above the cot, and the Marine Hymn played softly. The Sergeant Major had completed the first phase of his induction into JWOGS (Jarheads Without Gonads), the most elite and secret unit in the USMC.
At dawn, a single naked escort, a First Lieutenant, wearing a blue cap with the unofficial logo of the Marine Raiders, a fierce skull in a red square surrounded by five stars of the Southern Cross, entered the inductee’s room, surprising him. The Sergeant Major quickly grabbed the bed-sheet to cover his morning wood. “There’s no time for modesty, now,” the Looey said. “Drop the sheet. Let’s go.” They marched to a quonset hut in the northeast quadrant of the MARSOC complex. Top Secret, Off Limits signs labeled it, but the First Lieutenant simply pushed the door open. He pointed for the inductee to enter, then he went in himself.
Inside, was an small amphitheater, brightly lit. A semicircle of bleacher-style seating, three rows, was arranged on the left, facing an open area, where a St Andrew’s cross was on the floor. The First Lieutenant pointed to it, “Position yourself.” The Sergeant Major spread-eagled his muscular body on the x-shaped cross.The First Lieutenant fastened leather cuffs to inductee’s wrists and ankles to hold him in place, then he activated a hoist that lifted the cross off the floor so that it hung from the ceiling by thick chains. More chains from the foot ends attached to the floor to keep the cross from swaying. The Sergeant Major was suspended in air, his crotch six feet above the floor. His cock and nutsac amply displayed. He felt noble and dedicated, he knew his mission.
Six Scalpels (Part Two)
ReplyDeleteThe door opened again. Forty Marines, naked, except that they wore the same blue caps as the First Lieutenant, walked in. As his audience assembled, the Sergeant Major was proud and virile. He felt the power of his conviction. He ardently admired these JWOGS, the elite cadre within the Marine Raiders. Soon he would be one of them. Without their nutsacs, they had a bigger gooch from penis to anus. It isolated their dicks, whether hanging down or standing out, emphasizing and showing off their man-meat. He knew it was what he wanted, he knew he was making the right choice. They were his Brotherhood.
The last Marine to enter was an LCDR with an autoclave. The most significant part of the ritual was now underway. The Doc walked directly to the spread-eagled, suspended Sergeant Major, and took out the largest of the six precision scalpels he had brought. He sliced the front of the inductee’s scrotum, vertically, from beneath the penis to the bottom of the pouch, following the scrotal septum, so that the two compartments of the scrotum became evident. Next, swiftly and smoothly, he sliced from the bottom of the pouch to the top rear. The visible separation of the scrotum into its two compartments, a testes in each, was complete. Next he inscribed a circular cut around the top of the scrotum, loosened the skin from the underlying muscles and yanked it off. The Sergeant Major reacted with a jolt. He looked down and saw the raw red meat of his skinless balls sac.
Using the second scalpel, the LCDR made thin vertical cuts, close together as pin stripes, in the outer, Dartos, muscle of the Sergeant Major’s nutsac, then peeled the strips away. With only the inner, Cremaster, muscle to support them, the inductee’s balls dropped further from his crotch. Gravity was having its way. Using the third scalpel, the Doc sliced off the Cremaster muscle, Without that support, the inductee’s balls dropped even lower. Thus, with the removal of the two muscles completed, the works, the plumbing of the Sergeant Major’s balls sac, formerly hidden by skin and muscle, was exposed. Quietly at first, then loudly, the assembled JWOGS chanted, Oorah! Oorah! Oorah! The Sergeant Major looked down at his flayed ‘nads. He felt proud and strong.
Exposed to light and air for the first time, the Sergeant Major’s balls flared and thrumped. The changed conditions made them hyperactive. As they churned out sperm, they swelled immensely, doubling their large size. With cum making came more weight, so the balls lowered even more. In addition, his cock reared up like an angry dragon. The Sergeant Major watched this transformation. He knew his place as an inductee was to allow — encourage, if he could, mentally — his raging gonads to drop, to have them reach the floor, before they were, at last, released from him. Now, his naked balls hung below his knees, they had three more feet to go. The LCDR was ready with his fourth scalpel to help speed the process, but not too much, for the ceremony was also a test of the inductee’s endurance and stamina.
Six Scalpels (Part Three)
ReplyDeleteDeftly using the fourth scalpel, the Doc cleaned-up the inductee’s sperm machinery. He excised unnecessary ducts, tubules and vesicles, and — in what caused the Sergeant Major his most excruciating pleasure/pain — the LCDR gently, but perhaps not gently enough, scraped away the tunica, each testicle’s fibrous covering, thus exposing the lobule underneath. His expert skill further revealed the Sergeant Major’s flayed plumbing and clearly showed its function. His work provided a complete and final look at the cum making that would soon end. When he was done, what remained were two raw, engorged gonads, each producing sperm at an alarming rate, each hanging by a ligament and a sperm duct. With his balls throbbing below his feet, the Sergeant Major’s combined feelings of agony and ecstasy were extreme, but his composure was virile and brave. He looked manfully at his audience, whose sacless crotches were the objects of his admiration. His expression said, “I a
The LCDR had the fifth scalpel ready. With the merest flick, he could sever the testicular ligaments, normally as thick as a string, but now stretched thread thin. The Sergeant Major was eager for the scalpel flick to happen. By sheer willpower, he had been able to control his desire — no, not just desire, blatant physical need — to cum. His ’nads had been churning mercilessly, making massive numbers of sperm. They seemed to be defying his commitment to get rid of them. When he looked toward them, now descended to just fifteen inches above the floor, he could see their effect on his sperm ducts. Normally narrow swizzle straws, they were thicker around than his finger. Unlike his testicular ligaments, they weren’t getting thinner as they stretched. The quantity of sperm produced by his ’nads was so great that they couldn’t hold it all. Excess sperm were jamming their way up into his ducts, making them tubes of stored sperm. The Sergeant Major knew that severing the testicular ligaments would cause his balls to drop immediately and the sudden stretching of his sperm ducts would trigger orgasm. Then it happened. The LCDR flicked the fifth scalpel. The Sergeant Major’s balls plunged downward. Man-juice spurted from his cock. For the second time during the ceremony, the naked JWOGS chanted, Oorah! Oorah! Oorah!
Hanging by their depleted sperm ducts, the Sergeant Major’s ’nads hovered less than two inches above the floor. They were all that connected his old life and his new destiny. And those two inches were all that separated him. He knew that if he thought some sexy thoughts, visualized some naked pictures, or played a porn film in his mind, he could load up his balls with cum again, get them weighty, thus lowering them to the floor. But that risked having another orgasm, and it seemed to valorize them too much, to make them stars. Yet he wanted them down, and off, and he wanted his cock hard too. The Sergeant Major looked out at the assembled JWOGS. What could rally their spirit in a desperate situation? The Marine Hymn! The words and phrases excited his mind … fight the battle … claim the title … on the job … proud to serve … They became a dynamo of spirit that energized his body. It pumped all his muscles, every fiber and sinew, to attention, and his ’nads dropped to the floor. With the sixth scalpel, the LCDR sliced them off.
The hoist lowered the St. Andrew’s cross. The wrist and ankle straps were removed from the spread-eagled Sergeant Major. He rose and walked toward the assembled Brotherhood. He was the newest JWOG. The First Lieutenant, who was the Sergeant Major’s mentor and sponsor, gave him the official cap. The LCDR gave him the set of six scalpels. And his gonads will be preserved in a glass urn and put on display with the gonads of other JWOGS at the JWOG Museum and Archive.
Unfortunately, the final sentence of the first paragraph above is incomplete. It should read, in full --- His expression said, “I am your worthy brother. Accept me.”
DeleteAlso, there should be a paragraph break.
Hey, sfzephyr
ReplyDeleteYour drawing was the inspiration, but as the story materialized for me, it overtook the visual data. I hope you don’t mind.
Some Notes:
JWOG = Jay Wog.
All the anatomical terminology is factual, although simplified. Except Testicular Ligament, I made that up. It was necessary for the arc of this story as I wrote it.
Gore parts (blood, open wound, etc.) are just ignored. I’m not into it. Plus it makes a horror story - or so I think - not the story of blind devotion and power through compliance that I wanted (tried) to write.
That is a truly epic and powerfully erotic story you've written there, my friend! I am impressed and deeply honored that you've shared this creation with me! This Marine's story of devotion and stoic endurance is amazing!
DeleteI love that the Marine's horniness and awesome virility causes his already huge balls to bloat and swell with cum at a fantastic rate as soon as they are freed from his ballsac. And it was so hot that their own enormous and steadily increasing weight causes them to droop lower and lower and lower. Fuck, they end up sagging a full 6 feet, until they touched the damn floor!!! Wow!!! Maybe you can add a sentence about the awesome feeling the Marine experiences as his naked, recharged, and massively bloated bollocks actually touch the cold concrete floor. Perhaps they dip into a puddle of his own thick splooge, so recently purged from his own balls.
And if you don't mind another suggestion, perhaps you could add a few sentences about his insanely powerful orgasm. After all, this is a prime Marine alpha bull stud at the very peak of his sexual and manly power, and his naked and exposed balls have swollen to more than twice their already prodigious size with a vast quantity of fresh cum. It seems only fitting that the purging of such titanic testicles should warrant its own epic description.
All of the military details that you incorporated into the story really worked for me, particularly the chants of "Oorah! Oorah! Oorah!" and right on down to the type of soap that the other jarheads used to clean him before the ceremony began. Such details gave the story that much more life.
I'm extremely impressed with your story, and am sporting a massive boner, even though this must be the fifth time I've read it all the way through! I would absolutely LOVE to read any other stories that you come up with!
Also, I'm with you in regard to gore -- vivid descriptions of blood and gore tend to not be my style. I agree that it takes the story into the realm of horror and away from eroticism, at least for me.
I definitely look forward to hearing from you again soon! :D
Thanks for your enthusiastic appreciation. I feel very rewarded that you got the story, in several ways. I like your suggestions, they will add sexual heat, so I will try to work them in.
DeleteI'm cumming up with other story ideas. The problem is the cumming up with with ideas keeps me from writing the stories. Still, I'm try to tap the computer keys and my libido in tandem.
I hear ya! Sometimes my inspiration is so powerful that I'm too busy jerking off to actually write a story or draw my artwork. :) Oh, and I'm rock hard and stroking myself every time I create a new piece, whether it's a story or a drawing, and if I accidentally cum before finishing it, then I have to put it aside and wait for a "recharge" before moving on. Lol!
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