“Huh, yeah, dude, this’ll be totally cool,” Rick heard somebody say over the sound of a small cattle stampede coming in through the front door. He looked up from his paper and hopped to his feet, adjusting his leather harness over his big pecs, straightening his belt buckle and his broad cowboy hat, trying to look nice even as his mood darkened.
Instead of farmers or ranchers, his usual customers, a bunch of boisterous college boys had walked through the door, all laughing and jostling each other. Each bore their fraternity’s letters on his left pectoral, tattooed big and black across his pec.
“Can ah help you boys?" Rick was a local, and out here they didn’t usually get these sort in from the city. When they did, they were usually trouble, or at minimum, annoying and didn’t buy anything.
"Uh, yeah, hey,” one of the guys in front settled himself down a bit. He was cute; short, buff, blond, with a spiky hairdo. Rick might have been into him, before his enslavement. “You got any, uh…” his voice got lower, as if he was a little afraid to say it out loud, “castrating tools, or machines or something?”
‘Ten bucks says they want it for some lame hazing thing,’ Rick thought to himself, but played it straight - hell, he should at least try to get a sale out of them. “Sure, lots. What size animal you lookin’ t'cut?”
“Pledge size,” one of the others behind him muttered, to the amusement of the others. The one in front tried to calm them down, and sheepishly explained, “We were gonna play some, uh, bet-your-balls sort of games at this party…”
His first thought was, 'Well, that’s irresponsible,’ but he could use the sales, and the thought of some of these testosterone-crazed boys neutering themselves nearly made him laugh out loud. Hell, he was only selling the tools; it was up to them how they used them. “Right this way,” Rick led them across the store over to the home veterinary section, where they kept a number of castration tools intended for humans. Typically they got bought by farm owners wanting to take the piss out of their ranch hands, sometimes S&M slave owners…there was a lot of crossover there, as Rick could attest.
“Now, you have a few options here…” Rick spread his hand, letting them fan out across the aisle to look at what was there.
The short one stayed near him. “So, uh…tell me about these,” he asked.
Rick picked up the show model for the nearest device. “Well, this one’s the classic, a Burdizzo clamp,” he picked up the pruning-shears-like device. “You just position it over the testicle cords…”
“Wait, wait, hold on,” the kid stopped me, undoing his shorts. “Just show me, I’m no good and figuring that stuff out." He dropped his shorts, revealing a reasonably average package, the pubes cropped to about half an inch. He held his dick up out of his way and thrust his hips forward.
"Um, well, you…uh…” Rick reached for the kid’s balls, but wasn’t sure if he should touch them or not.
“Go ahead, dude, they’re just balls,” the kid chided him nonchalantly, sensing Rick’s nervousness.
Whatever, Rick mentally shrugged. “You have to work the cords up against the skin, like this,” Rick manipulated the kid’s left nut - it hung lower - and showed him the cords as he pressed them up against the kid’s sac from the other side. “So, hold that there,” he told the kid, who did. Rick opened the clamp and positioned it over the kid’s nut-cords. “So you just put them over it like this, then close the clamp. You have to close it as tightly as you can, and it’s best to hold it shut for about thirty seconds.”
“Yeah, okay, show me,” the kid nodded.
“What?” Rick looked up at him. “It'll…it’ll kill your testicle, buddy.”
“Yeah, it’s cool; I’ve got two. Go for it; I want to see how bad it hurts.”
“It hurts a lot. You sure?” Rick was incredulous. He’d nutted plenty of guys before, most of whom wanted it, and nobody took the burdizzo once they knew how much it hurt.
“Yeah, dude, do it. Go.”
His buddies had noticed he’d dropped his pants by now and had gathered around to watch. “Huh. One-nut Shane,” one of the other guys sniggered, and the others followed suit.
“Okay…" Rick shrugged, then closed the clamp shut, as quickly and tightly as he could, the muscles in his forearms taut as he held it tightly shut and counted to thirty aloud. The kid, to his credit, grit his teeth and grunted a little bit, but otherwise Rick was impressed by his stoicism.
"Nnnghaa…ow…” the kid fell to his knees, gripping his sac. “Fuck, that hurt…and damn, my nut’s already numb…”
“That’s 'cuz it’s dead. Pain’s from the cords. I, uh…I did warn you, buddy,” Rick shrugged, putting the clamp back down.
“Nah, dude, s'cool. That’s not gonna work for us, though - way too painful. What else you got?" The kid winced but struggled to his feet, pulling his pants back up.
"Outside of veterinary scalpels, there’s really only one other option,” Rick led him further down the aisle, “the elastrator, here." Rick picked one up, squeezing the handle to open up its four prongs. "You put a tight rubber band around the prongs, like this,” Rick worked one on, “then open it up, slip the claw over th’ sac an’ let it go, snapping’ the band on.”
“Okay, dude, just show me again,” Shane dropped his pants and held his cock out of the way.
“Oh, uh…it’s easiest if you get on all fours and spread 'em,” he directed Shane.
Shane did, tucking his head down to his chest to try and watch what Rick was doing. The others all watched as he showed them how to work the balls down deep in the sac, then snapped the first band on, making sure to get it high enough to avoid the tender spot where he’d had the clamp. “Ooh!” Shane flinched as it went on, then grinned. “Okay, that wasn’t so bad,” he smirked.
“Now, usually you do two…”
“Can I try?” one of the others asked.
“Um, sure…” Rick handed him the elastrator and a band. The kid struggled getting it on, but managed, and snapped the band around his buddy’s nuts, just below the other one.
Shane hopped up. “Man, these really are tight,” he remarked, watching his nutsac slowly turn purple. “This kinda makes me sick to my stomach, though,” Shane remarked, looking a little green.
“Yeah, it’ll do that. Lasts about an hour, if you can tough it out. If not, you can always snip the bands off. Long as you don’t leave 'em on much longer than an hour or so, there shouldn’t be any long-term damage,” Rick shrugged.
“Eh. I’ll deal with it. I couldn’t really see you do it, though…hey, Tiny, drop trou, dude,” he nodded to the biggest one of them, a guy built like an NFL fullback.
“What? Why do I gotta get banded?” the big guy complained.
“'cuz you barely got any balls left, dumbass,” Shane chided him.
Roids? Rick wondered, and when he saw how shrunken Tiny’s cock and balls were, was sure it was true. For a long time, too, if his dick was _that_ underdeveloped. Shaking his head and obviously annoyed, he dropped his shorts and then to his knees. “Come on, get it over with,” he sighed.
Rick snapped the first band on and then Shane the second. Tiny stood again and pulled his shorts up, rubbing his crotch and tight sac. “You can either leave the bands on until your balls fall off, or you can cut just beneath the bands in about two or three hours,” Rick explained, “But still leave the bands on so you don’t bleed.”
Tiny whipped a knife out of his pocket and made to cut his bands back off. “What, you pussying out?” Shane challenged him. “I’m keepin’ mine on, wuss!”
“Ah, screw you, you little bitch! You’ll pussy out and cut the bands off in under ten minutes,” Tiny punched him lightly in the shoulder, which was still a good wallop.
“Yeah, we’ll see, big pussy,” Shane laughed, punching him back in the gut.
Rick had to actively resist the urge to roll his eyes. He was willing to bet the both of them would be crying for the others to cut the bands off within half an hour. “Technically, you can use it an a penis the same way, although it’s a little riskier. Results aren’t quite so pretty as on your friend, either,” Rick added.
“Yeah?” Shane reloaded the elastrator, then whipped his own dick out again. He snapped a pair of bands on, about an inch out from the base, at Rick’s suggestion. “Come on, Tiny, you gonna match me or pussy out on this, too?”
“What? I ain’t no pussy, bitch,” Tiny dropped his shorts, allowing Shane to band his shrunken little cock. Rick watched, mouth agape, amazed someone this stupid made it to college at all, even on an athletic scholarship or something.
“Okay, so two hours, then cut it all off, right?” Shane asked, checking the time on his phone.
“More like three,” Rick advised, subconsciously rubbing his stump through his jeans. He’d cut off his own dick that way, and knew from experience that it was best to wait a bit on that cut.
“So how much are these?” Shane asked.
“Fifty for the tool and ten bands, and then five bucks for a box of thirty bands,” Rick rattled off the price.
“Sounds good. I’ll take one of these, and, uh…let’s say three boxes of bands, then,” Shane nodded.
“Great! Just one other thing, though - if you’re going to be using this on a lot of people, you’ll need a good knife that you can keep clean and sterile, too." Shane nodded, seeing the necessity in that, even as the discomfort in his lower abdomen began to grow. "We’ve got a good electric one right over here…"
Rick led Shane an aisle over to show him the knives, but kept an eye on the others. The two who hadn’t yet been neutered or banded were standing back over by the auto-neuterer and looking shifty. He was sure they were up to something when he saw the one’s shoulders flexing, as if he was holding something heavy. "Fifty bucks a pop if you’re wantin’ t'use the display models,” he barked over the divider.
The two looked at each other, then fumbled in their pockets. “Here you go, dude,” one said, plunking down a hundred dollar bill. Rick shrugged and pocketed it, turning back to Shane, who’d selected a plug-in model of superheated cauterizing blades. Rick gathered up all of the kid’s purchases, stopping for a moment to make sure the two used the machine properly on themselves, then headed up to the register to ring it all up.
He watched the boys drive off before he noticed they’d left something on the counter: three tightly banded sacs! They must have left them behind accidentally. “Well, how 'bout that,” Rick grinned, “A nice big sale, and they even left me lunch.”
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