Imagine how much more pussy envy there'll be if having testicles make men unable to ride bikes or bicycles. Imagine seeing girls casually riding their bikes around while you can because you were born with balls.
Detectives Maya Torres and Evan Brooks are assigned to investigate one of the strangest criminal cases their department has ever seen: a masked woman has been ambushing men at a college, knocking them unconscious, kidnapping them, and tattooing her mysterious alias onto their testicles before leaving them naked and displayed in public for others to witness them.
At first, Maya and Evan assume the case will be easy. The victims all describe roughly the same attacker—a masked woman with impressive combat skills usually focusing their balls—and the unusual tattoo gives the detectives a distinctive clue to follow. But the investigation becomes considerably more complicated once they arrive.
The college has an absurdly chaotic culture in which women accidentally—or deliberately as part of pranks, relationship drama, stage performances, and practical jokes—frequently end up hurting male students in their balls. Nobody seems particularly surprised when the detectives start asking questions, and nearly every student has a ridiculous story that sounds like it could be connected to the masked tattooist. Always testicle related.
What initially looks like a series of bizarre random attacks gradually appears to be part of a much larger mystery. The tattoo isn't merely the attacker's signature—it may be a message.
Their investigation takes an even stranger turn when the male detective is ambushed by the masked woman and wake up as her latest captive.
Maya must save her partner before is balls are signed.
Like, just to find media of women making fun of testicles or watching nut-shot compilations is such a hard find. Literally have to be digging in the bottom of the barrel to find good content.
I guess it kind of makes sense, though. To them, finding enjoyment from seeing men hurt their balls is like us finding enjoyment from women for getting period cramps.
But still, my need to feel insecure about my testicles is ever growing. It's to the point I'd even get off on a woman just laughing at a pair of tennis balls in a loose sock.
Another nitpick is when I try to sneakily prompt them to see how pathetic and weak balls are, most of them try to one up me by saying periods are worse or getting hit in the vagina hurts alot too and other disadvantages women have. (Bitch, I just want you to emasculate me for being born with testicles! Not hear you trying to powerscale gender 😭)
Miles met an alternate version of himself
Chapter 1 - Welcome to B.U.S.T.I.N.G, Male
The city of HavenFall still smoldered three days after the attack.
Smoke drifted between shattered buildings, blurring the skyline beneath a gray afternoon sky. The air smelled of scorched synthetic metal, ozone, and pulverized concrete. Reconstruction crews worked around the clock to clear debris from the ruined district, but some scars would remain long after the rubble was gone.
Two female-framed B.U.S.T.s lay among the wreckage, their pink and red, human-like innards sprawled across the ground.
The Bio-Utility Strike Titans had once towered over the city as symbols of safety. Now their synthetic bodies were twisted and broken, scattered across several blocks of devastation. One rested on its side in the remains of a shopping center. The other had collapsed against an office tower, its torso split open from shoulder to hip.
Near the center of the battlefield, medics loaded Captain Valerius into an ambulance.
For more than twenty years, she had defended HavenFall against Kaiju attacks. She had survived battles that should have killed her and accomplished feats that made her a household name. Now she lay unconscious beneath a blanket while doctors fought to keep her alive.
A short distance away rested the corpse of the creature she and her squad had killed.
The Kaiju’s body stretched across an entire intersection. Its gray hide was scarred and torn open in dozens of places, leaking thick black blood onto the pavement. Even in death, it looked terrifying.
The city had barely survived the monster’s rampage.
-----
Three days later, every screen in HavenFall carried the same announcement.
People watched from restaurants, offices, schools, and apartment buildings as a government spokesperson appeared before a plain white backdrop.
“Due to injuries sustained during her most recent battle, Captain Valerius will be retiring from active service effective immediately.”
The statement lasted only a few seconds.
It changed everything.
For a generation, Captain Valerius had been HavenFall’s greatest defender. Now she was gone. The city had lost one of its heroes.
-----
Inside the Council Hall, concern quickly gave way to argument.
“How many more pilots have to be injured before somebody admits the system is failing?” Councilman Marcus rose from his chair and slammed both hands against the table.
The sound echoed through the chamber.
“The pilot roster gets smaller every year. We lose veterans faster than we can replace them, yet half the population isn’t even being considered.”
Several council members exchanged weary glances.
Councilwoman Reyes adjusted her glasses before responding. “What are your suggestions?”
Marcus frowned. “How about we wise up and start recruiting men to pilot those B.U.S.Ts! It's simple fact that men are the stronger sex.”
A few quiet chuckles spread through the room.
Marcus ignored them. “This sexist ‘tradition’ is designed to exclude them. You don't see a problem with that? How was such an idiotic system approved in the first place?"
Reyes sighed calmly before activating a holographic display above the table.
A humanoid figure appeared in the air.
“As you already know, B.U.S.Ts were not created by us humans. It’s completely alien in nature, and we still don’t understand much about their origin or engineering. But one fact has remained consistent since their discovery.”
The hologram rotated slowly.
“A B.U.S.T adapts itself to the biological form of its pilot.”
The image split into two figures. One possessed a female form. The other a male form.
“The problem isn’t sexism. Men are perfectly capable of piloting B.U.S.Ts.”
Marcus folded his arms. “Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is vulnerability. We all remember what happened the last time a man had piloted a B.U.S.T.”
An old footage replaced the holograms.
A male-frame B.U.S.T. exchanged blows with a mantis shrimp–like Kaiju. The male Titan launched a wide roundhouse kick, aiming for the creature’s sensitive eyes, but the Kaiju was faster. It dodged the strike and countered with a gruesome blow to the Titan’s exposed testicles using its club-like appendage, producing a white flash that nearly blinded everyone nearby. The Titan’s scrotum violently popped, with one testicle flying and crashing into the side of a skyscraper while the other bounced off the edge of a building and impaled itself on the spear carried by a female warrior statue at the center of a fountain. Synthetic fluids sprayed wildly from it's severed spermatic cord while many traumatized civilians were seen running away, screaming at the sight.
The pilot’s high-pitched scream filled the chamber. A grown man in his forties reduced to sounding like a seven-year-old girl.
Several councilmen visibly winced, crossing their legs. Some looked as though they were fighting the urge to vomit. The councilwomen, meanwhile, appeared either indifferent or mildly amused.
Reyes deactivated the recording.
"For what it's worth, therapy clinics across the city reported a dramatic increase in male appointments within twenty-four hours of that footage being broadcast."
A few councilmen grimaced.
"More importantly, it demonstrated a recurring problem. Through the neural link, pilots experience pain corresponding to damage sustained by their B.U.S.T.s. Male-frame Titans consistently suffer from their obvious anatomical differences and become ineffective on the battlefield."
The room fell silent.
For decades, the numbers had spoken for themselves. Female pilots simply performed better in combat; not because they were braver or smarter, but because their B.U.S.T.s did not have an easy to exploit external weak spot making them more practical. For as long as anyone could remember in modern times, B.U.S.T. pilots had been strictly female.
-----
The debate consumed HavenFall for weeks.
News channels hosted endless arguments. Universities published studies. Protesters marched through the streets carrying contradictory signs. Every citizen seemed to have an opinion. The city grew more divided with each passing week.
Then Victoria Sterling entered the discussion; and suddenly everyone else’s opinions became irrelevant.
Victoria arrived at the Council Hall dressed in white and gold. Executives followed behind her, carrying tablets and briefcases, while reporters crowded the entrance in hopes of catching a statement.
She offered none.
Victoria Sterling had built one of the largest corporate empires in the world. Her holdings stretched across three continents, encompassing media networks, defense contractors, energy companies, and manufacturing firms. To many, she was the embodiment of modern feminism.
That morning, she had acquired something even more valuable.
Bio-Utility Strike Titans Integrated National Group (B.U.S.T.I.N.G.)
When she entered the chamber, conversation stopped immediately.
“I’ll keep this brief,” she said. A holographic document appeared above the table. “As of this morning, I have finalized the acquisition of B.U.S.T.I.N.G.”
The room erupted. Victoria waited patiently for silence to return.
“As majority owner, I am authorizing the Pilot Diversity Initiative. Effective immediately, qualified male candidates will be permitted to enter pilot training.”
Several council members stared at her in disbelief. Victoria continued before anyone could interrupt.
“And I’m proud to announce that the first successfully trained candidate is already here. My son, Leo Sterling, is now a qualified pilot.”
Council members erupted into arguments immediately. Accusations of favoritism and irresponsibility filled the chamber.
"You're gambling with public safety," one councilwoman shouted.
"How many qualified female candidates are being pushed aside for this?" demanded another.
Victoria listened to every complaint without reacting. When the room finally began to quiet, she raised a hand.
"Then perhaps," she said calmly, "you should hear from him directly."
The massive chamber doors opened. Every head turned to see a young man step through the entrance.
The room fell strangely silent.
Leo Sterling looked nothing like the person most of them had imagined.
Many had expected an arrogant billionaire heir wrapped in designer clothing and self-importance. Others had imagined someone eager to enjoy the spotlight.
Instead, the young man walking toward the center podium looked almost uncomfortable with the attention.
At twenty-three years old, Leo stood just over six feet tall with an athletic build shaped by years of physical training. His dark brown hair seemed impossible to keep perfectly neat, falling naturally into a slightly messy style despite obvious attempts to tame it. His blue-gray eyes moved cautiously around the room, taking in the dozens of faces staring back at him.
He wore a simple black suit without any expensive embellishments. No jewelry or flashy accessories.
Nothing about him resembled the stereotypical son of a multi-billionaire.
As Leo approached the podium, he could feel his heart hammering inside his chest.
The entire city seemed to be watching.
Weeks of training simulations suddenly felt insignificant compared to standing in front of the people deciding whether he would even be allowed to continue.
A councilman rose from her seat immediately.
"Do you honestly believe you can pilot a B.U.S.T without fear of severe injury?"
Another stood.
"Have you even considered what happens if you fail?"
A third joined in.
"Are you here because your mother bought you a position?"
Questions flooded the room from every direction. Leo stood silently for a moment as voices overlapped around him. Then he reached for the microphone.
"I don't think I'm special."
The unexpected answer caused several people to stop talking. Leo swallowed before continuing.
"I know exactly what everyone is thinking about me. Am I someone worth trusting your lives to? I know the statistics. I know the history of male pilots. And to be honest, I'm scared." Leo managed a nervous smile.
A few council members exchanged surprised glances. That wasn't the response they had expected. He sounded genuine.
Leo's expression grew more serious.
"But if another attack happens anytime soon, I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering whether I could have helped."
His hands tightened around the edges of the podium.
"Maybe I'll fail. Maybe I won't be good enough." His voice remained steady. "But if there's even a chance I can save lives... then I have to try."
The hearing concluded shortly afterward.
There were still concerns about male pilots returning but everyone felt they should atleast give Leo a chance.
Leo Sterling left the Council Hall with something he hadn't possessed before.
A small measure of respect.
-----
Three weeks later, Leo arrived at B.U.S.T.I.N.G. Headquarters.
The sprawling facility dominated HavenFall's harbor like a city unto itself.
Titan-sized hangars lined the waterfront. Massive cranes moved slowly above armored maintenance bays. Launch platforms extended toward the ocean, where several operational B.U.S.T.s waited for their next deployment.
Seeing the complex in person made everything feel real.
Leo adjusted the strap of his duffel bag and followed a female guide through the main entrance.
He had spent months preparing for this moment. Yet now that he was finally here, he couldn't ignore the fact that he was stepping into a world where he stood out.
Every staff member he passed was a woman.
Technicians. Receptionists. Trainers. Engineers. Even the janitors.
A nervous knot formed in his stomach.
Several floors above, three pilots lounged inside their private suite.
As some of HavenFall's most celebrated heroes, they enjoyed a lifestyle that reflected their status.
A holographic profile floated in the center of the room.
Leo Sterling's face rotated slowly beside his service records.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
The complaint came from a twenty-two-year-old woman sprawled across a sofa in a red bikini with a bathrobe draped loosely over her shoulders. Damp black hair clung to the sides of her face as she glared at the hologram.
Kara was one of B.U.S.T.I.N.G.'s top pilots, famous for her brutal combat style.
She was shorter than most pilots, but what she lacked in height she more than compensated for with sheer ferocity. Her black hair was cut short around her face, emphasizing sharp green eyes that always seemed one bad comment away from starting a fight. A small scar cut through one eyebrow, giving her a permanently irritated appearance.
At the moment, she looked personally offended by Leo's existence.
"A man?" she said. "Seriously?"
Across the room, Courtney Blake relaxed in a hot tub.
At twenty-four, Courtney was the oldest member of the team and one of the most respected active pilots in the city.
Tall and composed, she carried herself with effortless confidence. Her dark skin contrasted sharply with the white bikini she wore, while long braids rested neatly behind her shoulders.
Her eyes remained closed as she sank deeper into the water.
"I don't know, Kara," she said. "I think it might be fun working with a guy."
A grin appeared on her face.
"Besides, he looks teaseable."
Nearby, Britney Hart lay stretched across a couch reading a romance novel.
At twenty-one, she was the youngest member of the team.
Unlike her teammates, Britney dressed casually in shorts and a crop top. Shoulder-length chestnut hair framed soft features that contrasted with the stronger personalities around her. Every so often, her brown eyes drifted toward Leo's hologram whenever she thought nobody was paying attention.
Unfortunately for her, Kara noticed.
"What about you, Brit?"
Britney nearly jumped.
"What about me?"
"You've barely said anything. Aren't you disgusted that a man is going to be working with us? Living with us?"
Britney blinked.
"He's... living with us?"
"Yes, genius. Thanks to some outdated regulations, all pilots live together. I bet the pervert is practically elated that his mother didn't change that rule."
"Oh."
Britney glanced down at herself.
Her shirt was slightly stained, one shoulder strap hanging loosely off her shoulder. Her hair was messy.
Modesty wasn’t a major concern among B.U.S.T. pilots. Their Titans replicated their bodies in exact detail, faces excluded, meaning most of the city already knew what each pilot looked like beneath their clothes.
Even so, she preferred to look presentable around people outside her team.
"I should probably go change."
Before she could stand, the suite door unlocked with a futuristic chime.
The guide stepped aside.
Leo entered.
The moment Leo crossed the threshold, he found himself facing three women who looked less like teammates and more like a tribunal evaluating a suspect.
For several uncomfortable seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Kara rose from the couch.
She approached slowly, her sharp green eyes fixed on him. Leo wasn't sure what to do, so he stood still and endured the inspection.
Kara circled him once.
Her gaze swept over every detail. His height. His shoulders. His posture. The way he carried himself.
The scrutiny felt intense, like she was searching for evidence that would justify hating him. Not that she needed to look very hard. As far as Kara was concerned, he'd arrived carrying two obvious defects.
Her gaze dipped briefly toward his crotch before returning to his face.
Leo offered a nervous smile. "Uh... hi."
Kara folded her arms.
"You're taller than I expected."
"Thanks?"
"That wasn't a compliment."
"Oh."
Kara continued staring at him.
"I'm mostly annoyed I can't reach your shoulders."
Leo blinked.
"My shoulders?"
Across the room, Courtney smirked. She already knew where this was going. Sliding to the edge of the hot tub, she rested her arms on the rim and settled in for a better view.
"Why would you need to reach my shoul—"
"GHHK—!"
Kara's knee shot upward with terrifying precision.
The impact struck him squarely in the crotch, Kara's hard knee flattening his most sensitive organs which offered no resistance whatsoever. Leo's feet left the floor for a split second.
His world instantly collapsed into pain. Every ounce of air vanished from his lungs as tears flooded his eyes.
A fraction of a second later, he crashed onto the floor and curled around himself.
"GAH—!"
His body folded inward as his lungs desperately tried to remember how breathing worked.
Kara looked down at him with disgust.
"Men are pathetic," she spat.
Leo could only wheeze.
"The stronger sex? What a fucking joke."
She gestured toward him.
"You idiots walk around with your off switch dangling between your legs, yet somehow you're convinced you're better suited to protect this city than we are."
Leo groaned weakly.
Kara rolled her eyes before turning toward her teammates.
"I've had training dummies put up more resistance."
She pointed at the trembling man on the floor.
"If little ol' me can drop him with a simple knee, imagine what a three-hundred-foot Kaiju would do."
"M-my balls..." Leo whimpered, finally regaining the ability to speak.
Courtney immediately burst out laughing.
The kind of laughter someone tries to suppress and completely fails.
"Holy shit," she gasped. "Girl, you got him good. He sounds like he's already grieving children he hasn't even had yet."
Even Britney let out a small laugh.
She had initially felt sorry for him, but the combination of Courtney's infectious laughter and Leo's miserable complaint proved too much.
"Like I said..." Kara groaned. "Pathetic."
Stepping over Leo, she headed for the door.
"I'm talking to upper management."
A moment later, she disappeared into the hallway.
Meanwhile, Leo remained curled on the floor, red-faced and humiliated, silently wishing for the pain to end.
He hadn't even properly introduced himself yet, and already he was lying on the ground clutching his aching family jewels.
In hindsight, he probably should have seen this coming.
Kara had a reputation.
He remembered a viral video of her kneeing a talk show host after he made a joke about her height. Rumor had it she'd turned his testicles into ovaries that day.
At the time, Leo had assumed the story was exaggerated.
Now he wasn't so sure.
As another wave of pain rolled through him, a troubling thought crossed his mind.
How was he supposed to survive in a profession that had spent the last few decades proving men didn't belong in it?
