Thomas had a problem. It was something he didn't like to talk about, or even acknowledge publicly-and especially not in social circles. He liked to fuck animals.
Farm animals were his primary target. Since he lived on a farm himself, it was natural that his choices of lovers were goats, and sheep, and cows, and dogs, and horses; sometimes the occasional barn cat. His main interest was a thoroughbred saddle horse named Rocket. In addition to being fast and strong, Rocket had a massive cock. Thomas would lay underneath him and stretch it out as far as it would go-it measuring from his shoulder all the way down to the tip of his fingers.
To prepare for Rocket; Thomas would practice with cucumbers and carrots. He even used the tips of safety cones and a night baton that was passed down from his grandfather, who was a police officer in the 40's. All of these paled in comparison to the real thing though.
Thomas would bend on all fours and gape himself with his fingers, whistling for Rocket to come near him. He'd wear brown coats and had a mop as a wig, as to give the appearance of a steed ready to be mounted. The first time Rocket entered Thomas, it was beyond anything he expected. The horse's cock seemed to expand within his anal cavity, filling him up, like a flesh balloon inflating with each pump.
The penetration was divine, but Thomas wanted to experience being the one to do the penetrating. 'Rocket' was so tall and Thomas needed a stool to step up and get to the same level as his hole. He usually gave Rocket muscle relaxers to calm him down, so he could enter him without pushback.
Whenever he felt himself inside Rocket it was like a warm goulash of what could be described as oven hot apples and luke warm pudding. Thomas would fuck Rocket like this over the course of several months.
It wasn't until Thomas noticed the head of his own penis more swollen than usual that he became concerned. It was inflamed and pulsated with the lightest touch. The tip of it would squirt pus that would dribble down his legs inside his overalls.
The pain that came with the infection was disabling and Thomas felt sharp jabs in his lower sides, like he had been repeatedly punched in the balls, as if his scrotum was being worked on by Mike Tyson. He started to vomit blood most mornings, and his dick became more and more swollen, that not even his britches were large enough to hold it. Between the blood and pus and sweat; Thomas was changing his underwear several times a day.
He feared going to any doctor. What would he tell them? "Oh hi sir! I like to sleep with my animals." There was no chance in hell he'd go to any hospital. This was something he needed to solve himself.
As time went on, his dick changed shades from light pink, to crimson red, and then to a deep plum like purple. He began losing weight rapidly and couldn't hold down any solids or liquids. Each fart was projectile and filled his shorts with hot diarrhea. An idea crossed his mind, that scared him more than the twenty inch dick that had grown in place of his original member.
"I gotta cut this son of a bitch off", he cried one night, as he chugged his beer and stared past his rows of pasture.
