Baron von Braun-Schweiger was furious, frustrated, and frantic.

It wasn't as if Oscar was just another of his prize bulls. There are bulls and bulls, and there are prize bulls and prize bulls. Then, once in a blue moon-to be exact, according to the bullbreeding literature, about once in every 100 years -there is dropped that absolutely perfect specimen, a wonder, a marvel, a bull so perfect that it makes the eyes of connoisseurs of bulls really bulge out and, if they are German, cry out "Gott in Himmel," fall down on their knees, and weep.

Ach, if only it weren't for the publicity! But from the moment Oscar was shown at the local fair, on up to that World Bullbreeders Congress at Ipswich, Oscar had been a-sensation-and the special darling of the reporters. Never before in the world press had so much material from a bull been spread.

And what a time it had been! Those envious and admiring looks from all the other famous bullbreeders of the world! The old Baron had thought, then, that now he could die happy. What a time he had had being swamped by bids for stud service, then playing off one bullbreeder against the other. And when that Maharaja of Mysore had outbid them all with that fantastic offer, the Baron von Braun-Schweiger had fainted.

Ach, better that he should have died!

That horrible growing cancer of suspicion after he brought Oscar back to his own farm to breed him first with his own private stock! The bewilderment, the anger, the cajolings, the screamings, the endless string of heifers in trying to find the just right heifer for Oscar, the banishment from Oscar's sight and smell of all other bulls, the beggings, the tears!

But there was no doubt.

Oscar was gay.

Completely.

The Baron could have forgiven bisexuality. (The Baron was not German for nothing.) One had one's fun, but one did one's duty.

But every inch of Oscar was homosexual.

Put a heifer with him, and Oscar seemed to have weak eyes, but should even just the beginning of the outline of another bull appear on the far horizon, up went the head, up pricked the ears, and up came Oscar's magnificent masculinity. It was not only the money in Oscar's stud fees that upset the Baron. Lately he had noticed a growing reluctance on the part of other of his prize bulls to mate with heifers. Because of his superior strength, Oscar had been able to subdue and work his will on every other bull on the stud farm. And, blatantly, more and more of the shameless animals were putting up no resistance.

It was the day he happened upon two of his finest bulls mating with each other and seeing, to his amazement, that neither was Oscar, that Baron von BraunSchweiger took action.

He went first to his veterinarian, the world-famous Dr. von Bronstein-Holstein. This doctor consulted books a while, then he came to the stud farm and gave all the bulls an injection of male hormone.

For the following week, until the injection finally wore off, all the bulls were in a continual sexual frenzy for each other. To get at each other, they tore down fences and ripped away the sides of stalls. Two of the Baron's prize bulls were killed in a fight with Oscar over a fresh bull that had wandered over from a neighboring farm, a young, dewy-eyed, high-chested, slim-hipped young thing (who had the time of his life)!

During that week, not a single heifer got serviced.

The frantic Baron next went to the public health authorities, who sent him to the world-famous biologist, Dr. Phefferkorn. This doctor infuriated the Baron by

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