Goodwin Prescott
Cotter's Gap Tradition
(A Thanksgiving story)

The Tradition.

I sat down the newspaper and gave my handsome eighteen year old son my full attention. He made a wry face, He didn't smile at my little attempt at humor. Instead he swallowed real hard. Erik shook his blond head. It took him a while to convince me, but he finally succeeded and then related the whole story. He had gotten close to some of the other jock boys in school and they had spilled the beans when he'd asked if they had plans for after graduation. That, he was told, was not something they could do until after the Thanksgiving lottery. There was a ten percent chance they wouldn't be around.

That was the percentage selected to go on the town's tables for the annual feasting.

Apparantly it had started in the great depression. In the hard-hit mountain community in east Tennessee noone could afford a Thanksgiving turkey, but the town had a glut of useless young men whose existence posed an unwelcome burden on their families.The owner of a remote farm invited everyone to a great feast, asking families to "contribute" unwanted sons. Dozens of unsuspecting boys were delivered to the farm for slaughter. It worked so well that it was repeated the next year with so many families eager to shed their extra mouths that a lottery system had to be adopted.

The disappearance of the youths was chalked up to their "hitting the road" to seek work elsewhere, a common occurence in those days.

At first the feasts were kept secret from the younger sons in the participating families since they would likely provide future

meals and it was feared they would run away if they knew. However, by World War II, after a decade of the unusual feasts, the boys of Cotter's Gap had been raised up with the clear understanding that when they hit eighteen they would go "at risk" one time in the lottery. They just accepted it.

From the first, it was voluntary. No family had to participate, but only a very few families opted out even after economic

conditions improved. Most had developed a fondness for the special meat and were skilled in its preparation. Even those who reverted to turkey honored the conspiracy of silence to keep the dark secret from the outside world. From l94l to l945,

during the war itself, the dining abated as the prospective roasters went off to fight, but Thanksgiving l946 saw the tradition fully honored once more from among that year's juicy crop of fresh eighteeners.

In l952, it turned into an auction. The big, free feast had become too risky and familes started buying the chosen boys to serve up

in the privacy of their homes. The funds raised were dumped into a scholarship fund to assist some of the smarter of the surviving youths to go to college. Since there were never enough boys for all those wishing one, the prices paid by successful bidders rose steadily higher and higher and by l970 the fund had developed into a major endowment providing full-ride scholarships to virtually all qualified graduates of the high school (at least the ones who avoided being eaten).

I nodded. He gulped. I sighed. I had relocated my tiny family to get a fresh start after a series of disastrous business ventures and the untimely death of my wife. The service station that had come up for sale in "The Gap" seemed a good prospect and I had uprooted Erik and his older brothers Ryan and Mark and brought them here. I knew it was important to establish a good, trusting relationship with the townspeople as fast as possible if my business was to succeed. I tried to keep a straight face. It was amazing how young human males can make a competition out of every aspect of their existence!

I told Erik I'd have to think about it and talk it over with his brothers as well. It was only fair they have their say in the discussion. He agreed that was reasonable. As he walked away, he gave me a little grin.

I did discuss it with Ryan, who was twenty, and Mark who was twenty-two. Both, like Erik, were husky jocks and dare-devils. They saw no reason why Erik shouldn't take his chances with his new classmates if that was what it took to fit in. Mark agreed with that but I could tell as well that he was turned on at the power trip inherent in the very concept of engaging in cannibalism.

Well, secretly, so was I!

I tossed and turned all night and even became sexually aroused at the thought of butchering and cooking a teenaged hunk. I'd never killed before and the thought excited me a lot. By dawn, the risk of losing Erik, who was, after all, only a third son and therefore pretty expendable, was far outweighed by my strong desire to be accepted in the community...and to be able to participate in the auction. So at breakfast, I informed the boys I was giving Erik permission. Erik, beaming like a cheshire cat, could hardly wait to get to school and tell his buddies the great news. Mark and Ryan made me promise I'd get them a boy for dinner no matter the price.

It was amazing how fast word got out that we were "good people." My business quickly boomed and a delegation of town elders stopped by to be sure they had understood correctly that we were participating in the "tradition." They were clearly unhappy that I'd learned the secret but relieved it had turned out so well.

I had a couple of eighteeners working for me at the station and as the day for the lottery approached I was almost ashamed at how

I found myself staring at those nubile, athletic bodies and imagining how they would taste. Once you got used to the idea of killing and eating a perfectly healthy adolescent boy, behavior encouraged in this town, it was amazing how much appeal it had!


The lottery was to be conducted on the Saturday before Thanksgiving and the auction that Sunday evening in the high school gym. Some of the purchasers had slow cooking processes they employed and wanted to get their boys several days before the feast. If you didn't want yours that soon, you could return him to his family and pick him up whenever you were ready.

Of course, since I was known to be a real novice at all this, I got lots of welcome advice from my customers. There was actually a manual on the various ways to slaughter the kid and clean the carcass, as well as several clandestine cookbooks circulating in the community. I was furnished with all of these and read eagerly, educating myself.

A few days before the lottery, after Clem Biggins paid for his gas he paused to chat, his eighteen year old son Rod standing beside him looking bored. The kid was a fine, strapping youngster, tall, and muscular, obviously a fine athlete. He had an unruly mop of silky black hair, blue eyes and a boyishly cute but tough-looking young face.

I glanced at the boy. Now that the discussion concerned him he was no longer looking bored. His blue eyes focused on me with open curiosity. Rod managed a wry little smile and a shrug. He reached down and pulled up Rod's tee shirt to bare the boy's flat, firm belly. The jock hunk cooperatively looped the shirt up around the back of his neck to keep his front upper body exposed for me. Running my palms firmly over Rod's smooth, warm skin and palpitating the abs, I sensed what Clem was telling me was right. The teen opened his pants so I could check out his gut all the way down into his thick thatch of pubic hair. As finely toned and sculpted as it was, there was still that lucious springy quality from groin to sternum.
Rod, with a good-natured little grin, shrugged, dropped his pants, and stepped free of one leg, planting his sandalled feet almost obscenely far apart as I knelt down to grope and evaluate the fleshy bulge of the furry calves. It was a little like browsing through meat in a supermarket looking for the nicest cuts. He turned and I admired his broad shoulders and veeing back, checking him out with my hands. I was impressed at how heavy and deep his muscles there were. Indeed Rod would be a lucious prize to win. I'd noticed how he bulged out the pouch in his white cotton briefs and lightly tapped the great curve of one of the outlined balls. The teen thumbed out the elastic band of his briefs and let me reach in to roll his huge orbs around with my fingers. I thought Clem was was going to burst with pride at my words. He stared at me for a bit then obviously made a decision. I was delighted. He waived a hand. Rod, not seeming at all upset at his dad's freewheeling generosity with his body parts, chuckled. I thanked Clem sincerely for his amazing generosity and decided I was going to really like living in Cotter's Gap. Rod gave me a friendly little wave as they drove off. I liked the boy a lot and his dad was sure right about his being one prime meat animal if someone was lucky enough to bag him. Just slaughtering young Rodney would provide a whole lot of fun.

The next afternoon, Rod delivered the recipe and stood looking over my shoulder as I eagerly studied it.

He pulled down his pants and briefs and fisted his huge gonads, stretching out the ample sac, studying his equipment.. I squeezed his nuts in my hand until he gasped and flinched. As he left he turned with a grin. The day before the lottery, Zeb Biggins showed up at the station. I knew who the magnificent jock hunk was before he extended a strong hand to shake. He was the image of little brother Rod fully matured into handsome manhood, with even the same mop of silky dark hair that somehow always looked like he'd just awakened from a restless night, but was sexy as hell. I think they styled it that way on purpose. I swallowed, idly wondering if that had Zeb pissed off. Judging from those bicepses, the guy could kill with one blow. But I finally nodded. I smiled. He used a fingertip as an imaginary knife and ran it down the center front of his bulging, low-slung scrotum. That was just sexy as hell and it didn't hurt that his big cock was jutting out in full erection.. He tucked those big goose-eggs of his back away and was gone.

The Purchase

Rodney wasn't selected. I'd had my heart set on slaughtering and eating the boy and I was bitterly disappointed. They read the list of selectees in alphabetical order and when they reached the cees without calling his name he turned from where he was standing, caught my eye and gave a little shrug. I was sure he could read the chargin in my face and he mouthed the words.

They reached the letter M and I tensed a bit, but Erik wasn't selected either. There was a sort of hero stature that came with being drawn as you had the chance to display courage on your ensuing trip to the dining room table. I detected Erik was slightly disappointed at being denied the opportunity to prove his manhood. He was a class act and I was very proud of him.

The auction proved just as exciting as I had expected from past accounts. The twenty-three boys up for sale were displayed in the gym all afternoon for examination by prospective bidders. Since there were women present, the boys wore thin cotton g-strings but the tight, bulging pouches left little to the imagination. There was a good mix of body types and size, with some of the smaller kids looking way younger than their age and the brawny, buff jocks older. Each wore a number tag around his neck that signalled the order in which he would be sold.

I browsed them all but promptly narrowed the field to twelve boys who looked to be the best specimens and spent more time scrutinizing the lush curves and slabs of toned, lean flesh gracing their bodies. I had a harder time when I had my field down to four, all really prime jocks, delicious looking animals with lots of good meat. This "shopping" period was really a lot of fun. The crowd was in high spirits and there was a lot of laughter and banter, much of it ribald as the merits of the "goods"on display were openly discussed. The boys showed a lot of spunk too, posturing and flexing for the pleasure of the crowd and urging people to bid on them, telling them how well they'd cook up and what a delicious feast they would provide their buyer.

There was a reason for that competitive attitude among the selected "meaters." The family of the boy bringing top dollar today would get a thousand dollar award for their "excellence in breeding."

I kept coming back to number sixteen. He was just perfect. He was a apparantly a B-ball jock as he sat on his display area toying with a basketball as a stage prop. It was a clever ploy as it somehow emphasized his "all-American" boyishness. I finally decided. Number sixteen was definitely coming to my house for Thanksgiving dinner.

The bidding was spirited, congenial and brisk. Even the smaller, slimmer boys brought good prices, none less than eighteen hundred dollars. I saw my neighbor Hank Barlow, a young construction foreman, successfully get a petite, cute, smaller boy. Hank expressly wanted a smaller kid because he didn't serve his guys up for Thanksgiving but instead slow-smoked the carcass whole for a prolonged period. A smaller boy, he had found, smoked up better than the bulkier young bulls. I went over and congratulated him and took a closer look at what he called his "fawn."

Hank had a good eye. The boy actually was in fine condition with a deceptively good rack of meat on his slim frame. From his muscle tone I had a hunch he was a wrestler. I plumped his firm, flat belly and squeezed his pecs and thighs. Definitely nice texture. I was almost sorry I hadn't bid on the little doll.

That sounded like great fun and I promptly agreed. I complimented Hank on his excellent choice once again and turned my attention back to the continuing auction.

The bigger slabs of living meat were bringing over three thousand dollars on average. I didn't bother to bid at all. I was waiting for number sixteen.

They were up to number fourteen, a stocky bull with short-buzzed bronze hair, an incredible chest and thickly muscled thighs. As soon as he mounted the foot high wooden block to be sold he started flexing and turning his body to display its superb muscle structure. The curving outline of his nearly erect cock looked like it was about to rip its way right out of the g-string pouch between his thighs and there was a pronounced wet spot over the head where he'd been drooling pre-cum....a real crowd pleaser.

The auctioneer was good as he prattled his barker's lines. That brought laughter and ribald comments. Bidding was brisk on handsome Tommy and swiftly rose on the digital display counter behind him. Each person raising the bid got a cute, pleased nod and grin from the boy and he mouthed the word "Thanks!"

Tommy fetched fifty-six hundred dollars when the gavel finally came down, the high so far for a boy this year. The number fifteen boy was another fine hunk but he didn't quite match Tommy's price.

Finally, number sixteen mounted the dais in all his dazzling boyish charm and with that tall, full-muscled body that just screamed EAT ME. The sudden storm of eager signalling hands made it clear he was the prize of the auction. I didn't even join the bidding until it passed the five grand mark, but then I was in for the duration. This was my boy and I was determined to have him.

It took a while for me to outlast the other determined bidders, but finally the gavel slammed down.

The crowd agreed with its energetic applause and cheers.

I was the proud owner of Tim Bergner, captain of the basketball squad from Cotter's Gap High School and last year's junior prom king. There was a little ceremony to award his parents their prize and then they walked their beaming son over to meet me. Tim jutted out a hand.

I had no doubt he would do exactly that as I eyed his wonderfully sculpted abs and bulging pecs. I noted his thick back muscles and rugged calves too, realizing what a copious supply of jerky Clem Biggins would produce from those. Even the boy's ruggedly pumped bicepses would provide wonderful small roasts rather than just scrap meat as with so many eighteeners. I couldn't help salivating as I ran my eyes over his lucious flesh.

His parents looked very pleased and proud and effusively thanked me for buying their son. Mr. Bergner clamped a a congratulatory hand on Tim's broad shoulder.

His smiling photo would replace last year's top earner in the main hallway of the high school.

I told them that they could keep Tim until Wednesday and then I'd pick him up. The Bergners volunteered to save me the trouble by bringing him to me instead. His dad cleared his throat.

I was deeply touched by the man's decency and consideration.
We took a closer look together at Tim's chest decorations and I could see Mr. Bergner had hit the nail on the head. I told him the key chain idea was excellent. He traced a little circle around one of his son's big, rubbery tits with a finger. Tim cooperatively followed his dad's instructions, looking only mildly embarrassed at all this attention to his most private body parts. He really was wonderfully hung. Tim fisted his ample nuts and stretched the sac as far out from his crotch as he could so I could admire the thing. His dad looked real happy. The thought of having Tim's big cock sitting on my desk in perpetual erection really appealed to me and his dad agreed to produce the trophy for me, obviously pleased and proud to have produced such a fine young stud.

With that they left with Tim and I sought out Rodney who was waiting at my car in the parking lot. He glanced at his watch and grinned.

It was 9:37.

Castration Orgy

At precisely one minute after ten, I turned the key in the lock at Zeb's apartment, a shade nervous but keyed up with excited anticipation.

Marijuana smoke was heavy in the air, which I had expected. I hate drugs personally but in this case the more stoned he and Johnny were, probably the better, considering what I was about to do to them.

Zeb was leaning against the wall in the entry area, naked as the day he was born and looking way too wobbly to support himself. A still smoldering joint lay on the linoleum at his feet, scorching the vinyl. His cock was jutting up in powerful erection and with a start I realized he was getting off on all this as much as I was! Boy was that nice! A silly grin played over his handsome face and he reached down and cupped his balls and thrust them out towards me.. Zeb's eyes didn't seem to quite be focusing and I guided him to a chair, supporting him in my arms. I was startled at how much I enjoyed the warmth radiating from him, the smoothness of his skin and the hard corded strength of the underlying muscle. This was quite a man. I even enjoyed the musky male aroma of his naked body and it was making my own cock hard as a rock. I'd never had a gay experience but was beginning to wonder if I'd been missing something. I whispered in his ear, even as I reached down and closed my trembling hand around his balls. To my surprise and pleasure, he managed to give me a clumsy little hug back and even a litle peck on the cheek with his moist lips. He giggled again, Rod had grabbed the joint and disposed of it before returning to survey his buff older brother's naked form. Zeb, stoned and giggly, cooperated gamely as Rod pulled his powerful arms behind his back and secured the wrists with slide-lock nylon-cord manacles. He used a second set of the rope restraints to hobble his brother's thick ankles together.

We found a dark-haired demi-god sprawled on the living room floor about half out of it. He was also naked and sported balls of monstrous size. God did they look delicious! This was clearly Johnny who just dumbly cooperated as we restrained his limbs. It's kind of funny in retrospect that I don't think I heard this boy say a single word that entire evening. He screamed when we castrated his young ass but I don't think that counts..Rod pulled a thin rubber cord from his pocket and fisted his cousin's huge rocks, forcing them to swell out the bottom of his ample sac.

Johnnie's big sex pole filled with blood and stood up at full attention. That was a nice touch.

In the bedroom, a golden blond bull of a kid, about twenty, was on the bed, shirtless and barefooted, the vee of his white cords open and his huge, erect cock jutting from the piss slit of his boxers. The boy had just finished masturbating and his rod was still drooling a thick strand of cum. He looked up with a guilty little grin. I sat beside him on the bed and ran an admiring hand over the hunk's broad, smooth chest, pausing to lightly pinch the big nipples. I smiled into the beaming, half-addled face beneath the silky bronze mane spilling about his head, He started tugging at his pants but was too impaired. He lay back and giggled again. I worked his pants and boxers off and he eagerly splayed his muscular legs and thrust up his pelvis to proudly display his hairy man center in all its naked glory. He wasn't lying. He really was well equipped. Not quite on the scale of Clem Biggins' boys, but really respectable. I especially liked the silky soft delicacy of his scrotum as it seemed to just glow in its healthy pinkness, each huge gonad starkly outlined in the thin skin of the nearly transparant sac. What a gorgeous sight!

I gently guided one wrist behind his back and slipped the first noose of the restraints around it. He didn't resist as I finished securing his arms but as I bound his ankles he asked me what I was doing.

I caressed his golden head and gave him a little kiss on his forehead, then gazed into the misty half-vacant blue eyes at close quarters. His eyes lit up. I laughed. This was so much fun. While he watched, still giggling, I looped a ligature tightly around his sex orbs and tied it off. Almost at once the sac began to redden deeply. He giggled and beamed an dazzling little boy smile. A slim, blond muscular younger boy was passed out on the floor. He returned to the bedroom. Jordie opened his eyes and struggled to comprehend. Rod shook him. Although the prospect of castrating the pretty-faced blond sweetheart sprawling on the bathroom floor was pretty exciting, I knew Rod was right when he responded to that suggestion. Rod shook his head. We looked up the number in the phone book and called Tom Johnson, whom I knew as a customer at the station. He had seemed like a friendly, pleasant man and I hoped he wouldn't go too ballistic about where Hobie was. When he came on the line I explained the deal I had made with Zeb and that I had Jordie over here and planned on castrating him. He laughed,
We stripped Hobie and secured his limbs. I tied the ligature around his nice set of seeders just as tight as I could to strangle them and we carted his limp form to the kitchen table for his operation. He really was remarkably big between his golden furred thighs and the attention to his genitals induced a powerfully throbbing erection as he began to wake up. He spotted the equipment laid out on the table beside him.. His baby blues cleared and widened as comprehension sank in. It didn't take a sober genius to realize the meaning of the burning candle, the piece of cauterizing wire with a jerry-rigged insulated handle, the spring-loaded surgical clamps and the razor-edged knife. He must have then suddenly felt the burning throb between his legs and glanced down at his darkening, strangled balls, heavily outlined in his sac for harvesting. I thought he was going to cry. He was waving the driver's license we had shagged from his wallet, He plopped his head down on the table, sighed and finally shrugged. And he gamely bent and spread his knees to give unhindered access to his big family jewels.

I took his balls in hand as Rod handed me the syringe he had just filled with the lemon and spice marinade mix and positioned the needle over Hobie's left testicle. He raised his head to watch, flinching as I drove the needle into his ball and injected several cc's of the liquid. After a moment the beautiful teen gasped like he'd beeen gut punched, then cried out sharply in pain.

I injected the other ball. He cried out again as the lemon juice and spices coursed through it with excrucuating effect. I hadn't expected just the injection to cause such suffering and was delighted. This was even more exciting and satisfying than I had fantasized. If that was meant to reasure Hobie, it failed miserably. He just moaned louder.

I watched as Rod took the refilled syringe and went to Johnnie. The bound boy uttered a strangled little cry of pain as his balls were shot full of the searing mixture. Then he refilled it and went to his hunk brother.

Zeb's reply was purely physical. He parted his thighs widely and thrust out his crotch. Without hesitation Rod jabbed the needle deep into Zeb's right nut and gave it a liberal dose of the basting fluid. After shooting up his brother's other gonad, he refilled the syringe one last time and handed it to me. I went into the bedroom and displayed the syringe to the blond stud. He eagerly splayed his legs. He watched with curious interest as I slid the needle into his first ball, stiffening with the sting. As the heat and pain began to throb out from between his thighs, he writhed and gritted his teeth. I drove the needle into his other ball and emptied the syringe into it, then rose from his side. We carried Jordie out and positioned him so that he could get a good view as Hobie underwent his castration. Zeb and Johnnie were curious too and watching helped take their minds off the tingling pain as the lemon juice saturated their balls, softening and ruining them. Once the needle went in, there was no longer any choice. With the mix injected, the balls had to come off and soon. If that stuff got into their main blood stream it'd kill 'em dead.

I played student as Rod did Hobie. He deftly, confidently slit open the teen's bag right down the centerline then slit the sleek, glistening inner pouch. The boy yelped like a kicked puppy and writhed around. He really squealed when Rod heated the wire and burn-cauterized the bleeding edges of the cut. He then fished inside the opened scrotum and pulled out one of the twin orbs. Using one of the surgical clamps, he sealed the veins and tubes running up into Hobie's groin before the knife flashed again and he raised the severed ball in his fingers for me to admire. After using the glowing wire to sear the ends of the severed connectors, he released the clamp and fished out the second nut. The process was repeated. Rod had taken his time but it still took less than five minutes to relieve Hobie of his balls. I guess I'd always imagined it would somehow be a more complex process. Although the boy had writhed and moaned continuously and tears were streaming over his downy cheeks, he never actually screamed.

Jordan went onto the table next and I felt a tingle of deep thrill run up my spine as I drove in the point of the knife and drew it all down the front of his scrotum. He moaned and his body contracted powerfully.

Christ was the kid talkative but I kinda liked it. He was like a damned cheerleader urging me on! I wondered if he was as likable when he wasn't stoned. I'd have to look him up and do something nice later on to show my appreciation for his neat, plucky performance tonight.

I slowly slit the inner sac, cauterized the bleeding cut, and inserted my fingers into the opening. I was startled at how cozy, moist and warm that felt up inside him. I guided one of the balls on out through the incision and played with it for a while, jerking and tugging at it and watching the way Jordie's buff body squirmed and flexed as he uttered grunting snorts, wheezes and squeals of pain. Then I went ahead and removed it, following the steps I had just learned watching Rod castrate Hobie. Out came the second ball and moments later the older of the Johnson boys had been fully nutted.

I was really enjoying this and Rod had me also do both Johnnie and Zeb, leaning in close over my shoulder to miss nothing as I very slowly cut open his brother's ample ball bag. After I had taken off one of the big orbs, I handed him the knife.

Rod's face lit up like the fourth of July and I could see how deeply pleased he was. His eyes radiated his gratitude. There was just something so erotic about watching a guy castrate his own brother. The thought had passed through my mind early on to have Jordie nut young Hobie for us but the older boy was so stoned he probably would have done serious damage to the squirt's crotch structure. Hobie wouldn't have been any more steady if I'd sicced him on Jordie's balls with the knife. Oh well.

After Rod finished nutting Zeb, taking his sweet time and savoring every second, we untied them all and left. Clem Biggins would be by shortly to give them necessary medical care including suturing up their empty sacs. I had told Rod I wanted to remove his balls in private at my house where I could take my time and enjoy it. He had laughed.

"Swap and chop"

Leaving the building. we encountered Caleb and he examined our catch of fresh, warm balls with approval.

It was easy to spot Zeb's severed orbs as they were the largest and Clem examined them closely with curiosity. Returning them he spoke in a confidential tone. I saw Clem's eyes get damp with emotion at my words and he nodded, his voice choked. I laughed and nodded. I got serious and put an arm around his broad shoulders. Clem was obviously delighted. The truth was, I liked Rod enough that I didn't want him in pain for the three days he had before I killed him. I think he realized my real motivation and as soon as we were alone he gave me a big bear hug.

My three boys were away at some concert, so we had the place to ourselves as Rod guided me through his dad's recipe in preparing the eight fresh balls. I insisted he join me in dining on the finished product. I put four of the steaming, savory nuts on each plate on a bed of wild rice garnished with freshly cooked carrots, broccoli and stewed tomatoes and decanted a nice white wine. The little feast proved even more heavenly than I had been lead to expect.

I got a somewhat bizarre satisfaction from watching Rod slowly devour one of his older brother's big orbs, taking tiny little slices and letting them just melt away in his mouth, his face betraying how much he relished it. He caught me watching and I got a big boyish grin as a reward.

When we were done, he wiped his mouth, leaned back in his chair and looked hard at me.

I somehow wasn't even startled. I nodded without hesitation. I nodded. I was startled. Then it dawned on me that Rod had at first pretty actively tried to save the blond pup's crotch from the knife and I felt guilty. He raised his hands and grinned. He rose and reached out a hand for mine. And he was a hell of a good instructor. My boys would have been stunned beyond words if thay had walked in on our steamy mating.

With the dawn he went home and we agreed not to see each other again until Wednesday. He suggested I should not let myself get too emotionally attached to him and I knew he was quite right, but I certainly had no regrets about that night. I also knew I would have no difficulty in killing him whenthe time came. In fact, oddly, if anything the prospect was somehow even more exciting and erotic.

I hadn't forgotten Hank Barlow's kind offer to watch him off the small blond boy he had purchased and I was there promptly at one. I had not decided how I was going to put Rod to death Wednesday and was interested in how different familes around town performed the killing. He had the promised beer, ice-cold, and had been plying Kevin Ort, the golden-haired puppy, with booze for a long enough time that the kid was giggly and unable to even stand up. He was sure cute as he sat nude at the kitchen table sloshing beer over his chin as he attempted to drink from the bottle in his hand. He may have been small in body but he was sure hung well and my mouth watered at the size of his big delicious-looking balls outlined in their silken pink sac.

He picked up the naked boy like a doll in his cradled arms and carried him outside to the back yard. The lad was almost comatose from his drinking and lay limp and peaceful in Hank's arms, looking even smaller than he was against the tall bulk of his owner. Hank was a giant of a man.

There was a sandy pit towards the back fence with a hooked chain dangling from a post. A large metal drum, lined with plastic, stood waiting and a water hose with the nozzle ending in a strange-looking muzzle equipped with straps.

Hank deposited Kevin on the floor of the pit and bound the boy's ankles together and his wrists behind his back. About then a loud shriek echoed from nearby and more of the shrill cries continued to rent the air.

I was startled.

Hank laughed, I shuddered a little. The thought of subjecting Rodney to such an excruciating end almost made me ill. I was glad he hadn't been in the auction and purchased by Gabe! After a while the screams from the Andrews' yard abruptly ceased. In the meantime I watched as Hank strapped the muzzle on the hose around Kevin's mouth and nose. It did sound like fun and I reached between Kevin's smooth thighs and took his rod in hand. It was already half hard just from his being tied up. That is so erotic to most guys. Under my gentle urgings it quickly hardened into steely erection.

Hank turned on the faucet and water began moving through the hose, just as a trickle at first, then with increasing strength as he continued to gradually increase the flow.. Kevin seemed to jolt out of his stupor and those blue eyes widened in shock and surprise. A tiny trickle of the water did seep from the edge of the mask where it didn't seal quite right but the bulk was being forced into the boy's belly and lungs.

About the time the water was really gushing into him, he did reach a deeply spurting orgasm into my stroking fist! Wow, Pretty incredible.


The youth flexed and writhed and his muscles corded like steel. He made desperate muffled gurgling noises and tried to gag, his body wracked by convulsions. After a couple of minutes his resistence faltered and he just lay there with little spasms flickering through his relaxing form, his eyes staring ahead in a dull, empty fixed gaze. Hank shut off the hose and waited a short while before checking for a pulse. After he was satisfied the heart indeed had stopped he removed the execution device.

I helped him hang the boy's carcass upside down by his ankles on the hook and watched carefully as he first carved away the genital package, then gutted the body and dumped the entrails into the waiting barrel. As he slit open the distended belly the accumulated water and beer gushed out in a powerfyl stream. He lopped the arms off at the elbows and beheaded and skinned him. He lowered the glistening cleaned corpse onto a plastic tarp before lopping off the feet just above the ankles and I helped him cart it to the smokehouse to hang by a hook to begin the cooking process.

All in all, I had enjoyed seeing Kevin's termination and dressing-out but I think I determined then that Rod would die as quickly as possible when his time came. I guess I was more squeamish than I thought, or maybe just liked Rod enough to want to be merciful.

Wednesday came quickly enough and at mid-morning Tim Bergner was delivered by his smiling, proud parents. His dad gave me a coy grin as he ripped away his son's boxers, his only clothing.

They just waived good-bye to Tim and were gone.

As soon as they departed I explained the swap arangement to Tim. Not that it mattered what he thought but he was actually perfectly agreeable to the deal. Within the hour I had him at Clem's place, Rod waiting for me clad just in cotton shorts and sandals. Clem asked if I wanted to stay and watch Tim's killing as it would be carried out at once. Of course I stayed.

They had a thick post embedded in the ground out by the barn with a small gallows arm jutting out close to the top. A noose was already dangling, swaying slightly in the breeze. His arms bound behind him, Tim perched on a small stool so that the noose could be snugged around his throat and then the stool was pulled from under his feet to let him hang by his neck and slowly strangle...
I'd never seen a hanging before and it was fascinating to watch how the boy suffered and kicked and danced for a remarkably long time. His strangulation became arousing to him and he actually had a pretty impressive orgasm before he died! That was enjoyable to witness.

While we stood watching Tim's slow death struggle, Rod asked me if I knew yet how I was going to kill him.

It was a handsome axe, the broad-bladed double-headed type used by lumberjacks. Tim was getting pretty close to gone so I had Rod hop into my truck, tossed the axe in back, and we took off for home. Before leaving I gor Clem to promise to trophy Tim's cock, ball sac and nipples for me for his dad to turn into toys and he assured he would.

Once home I took the boy around back where I had positioned a heavy square block of hardwood to use for the chopping. My sons, demonstrating a squeamish disposition that surprised me, had opted not to witness the actual killing though they were willing to clean the carcass for me and butcher it into the various cuts of meat.

Rod stripped off his shorts and I noticed his cock was swollen in nearly full erection. I watched with my own lusts fired to a heady fury as he sat on the edge of the beheading block and slowly stroked his ample equipment. As he got close, he seemed to subconciously reach out and wrap his hand around the handle of the axe leaning against the block and squeezed and stroked it lovingly. It was sensuous as hell when he did that, heavy with suggestion that he was getting off contemplating his imminent beheading! Finally his pulsing organ repeatedly spat its thick dollops of cream far out from his gut.

I wanted him at least hobbled in case of some last minute panic on his part. He kicked off his sandals, lay down by the stump, and calmly watched as I looped the rope around his ankles and tied it off.

I had him then position his head over the chopping block and picked up the axe.

I raised the axe high over my head, the trajectory carefully aimed.
"Yeah, that's great! Just hold that position and be perfectly still."

I'd been practicing with my own axe for two days and gotten damned good at accuracy with the blows.


The loud thunk of the steel blade impacting the block echoed in the bright sunlight. With a thick splatter of blood, Rod's severed head tumbled violently forward off the stump.

His roasts, chops and steaks cooked up wonderfully and the boys and I agreed that we would never again want turkey for Thanksgiving. I had thought the stock of his meat in the freezer woiuld last longer, but I guess with four healthy male appetites relishing the new taste treat, it wasn't surprising that by mid-December it was pretty well gone.

I might add that Tim Berner's dad brought by the trophies in early December and he had done a marvellous job with them.

How well I remember that unusually mild, sunny Saturday a few days before Christmas. The boys were off somewhere, probably doing something that I wouldn't want to know about, when the doorbell rang. I was truly startled at the gorgeous sight that greeted my eyes, recognizing the blond adonis standing there in cut-offs and sandals before he spoke.

Karl was one of just two blonds among Clem's original army of ten robust sons , reduced now to nine, and I had admired the golden-haired lad during Tim's hanging. Now, seeing him mostly unclothed, I knew that if he did make the auction I didn't care the price...he would be mine. I told him that and that he should tell his dad the swap was definitely "on" otherwise. That seemed to please Karl. I opened the envelope he handed me.
Dear Mr. Martin:

The kindness you showed my family in swapping your prize winning boy for my Rodney enabled us to have a truly wonderful holiday. I also appreciated your decency in sending those checks for $300 each to Zeb and each of the Johnson boys. Like Zeb, Hobie and Jordie recovered well and swiftly from their castrations and Jordie apparantly plans to stop by shortly to show his gratitude in some way that he didn't explain. Then came the startling note from you advising me that I get free gas and car service this entire year! You are indeed going to be a wonderful addition to our big extended "family"here in Cotter's Gap. I cannot allow this generosity on your part to go unanswered. I hope you will accept the token of our thanks that Karl will deliver to you with this note and that it will make Christmas at your house a bit more joyous.


Clement "Clem" Biggins

The boy grinned impishly and looked excited. I followed him out and to my shocked delight there stood Zeb Biggins leaning against his family's truck naked as a jaybird except for the big red ribbon tied around his muscular neck. Karl reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out a shiny new axe identical to the one I had returned to Clem after using it to behead Rod. A ribbon bedecked its handle. I glanced between his thighs expecting to see a shriveled empty scrotal sac. Instead it bulged as big as before but with the raw, fresh zippered scar running down its centerline. He saw where I was looking and grinned. I swiftly changed to shorts...blood splatters you know...and looped an affectionate arm around his shoulders as I led Zeb to the chopping block out back. He all but rubbed noses with me as he leaned his muzzle close to whisper.

Zeb's head came off smooth as silk with one chop. Karl retrieved his brother's head and held it up by the hair to admire it with open curiosity.
He fairly casually tossed it into the trash bin and before he left I couldn't resist pulling open his cut-offs to take a peek. Yep!

Hung just as big as his older brothers! Those wonderful, big-hung Biggins boys were really something!

The next day I had a long talk with my two oldest sons and then we all ganged up on Erik to convince him to do the right thing for the honor of the family. A few hours later, I delivered him to the Biggins place, naked, arms tied behind his back, a red bow about his neck. Clem tried to politely decline the gift as unnecessary but I could see how pleased he was and I insisted he accept him. Erik gamely urged it as well, posturing to show off his fine rack of sweet, tender-looking young meat.

At his invitation, I stayed around and watched as the ribbon around Erik's neck was replaced by the coarse hemp noose of the Biggins' gallows post. Erik reached a fine orgasm as he was hanged and lasted for the longest time as we all stood there enjoying some of the fine jerky that Clem had made from Rod's stringier meat. When Clem openly admired Erik's bulging jock calves and complimented me on his excellent, meaty young body, I felt so proud.

Clem's right. It does feel good for a father to hear nice things said about his son!

Before I left, I whispered to Karl that tonight would be a great time for him to visit my place behind his pa's back.

Hmmm...should I really be playing with my food like this?

And on the trip home I was struck by the very nice thought that I still had two fine sons at home...a bit older than "normal" for eating, but still really fine specimens. I'd have to see which of my customers I wanted to curry favor with!