u/Terrible-Lemon-Day

Tags: Gay CBT, male-male.

Hey, everyone. This is a true story from when I was younger.

When I was 23, I briefly dated a 21-year-old named Mikey that was just as into ballbusting as I was. He was a beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed shy little angel, standing about 5’9” so a bit shorter than me. He had a nice build, not too scrawny but not too muscular either. He was such a cute guy, sometimes I just wanted to squeeze him.

It seemed like a perfect fit at first. Mikey loved being busted and I loved doing the busting. He was 100% a bottom and I was 100% a top. Less than two weeks into our relationship, he had a key to my place and we were texting each other constantly. My manager at work would yell at me sometimes because I was always pulling out my flip phone and texting. I tried to be discreet about it, but back then, it was hard to send a text message quickly. In order to send something as simple as “Hey sexy” on my LG flip phone, I had to type “4433999 77773399999.” Texting was a real pain in the ass back then.

Anyway, this brief story is about a specific night and morning that are etched deeply in my memory because it was one of the first times I ever busted a guy pretty hard.

I had gotten home at just past midnight after a ten hour shift of stocking shelves, among other menial tasks. I was exhausted but also horny, and so I was sad when I did not see Mikey’s car in front of my place. More often than not, I’d find him in my place after work, waiting for me. He worked very early mornings at Starbucks, whereas I usually worked until at least midnight or 1 a.m.

Without even turning on any lights, I took an invigorating hot shower and then walked naked into my bedroom. As I climbed into bed, I got jump scared when I felt another person’s body under the covers with me.

“Mikey?” I asked.

He stirred in the darkness, mumbling himself awake. I rubbed my hand on his stomach, pleased that he was there after thinking that he wasn’t.

“I didn’t see your car,” I whispered.

“No parking out there earlier,” he mumbled. “Had to park down the street.”

I felt his hands trying to find me in the dark, pulling me in so we could start kissing. I moved my hand to his boxer shorts and rubbed between his legs until he reached his full hardness down there, about 6 inches worth.

I pulled the covers away, pulled down his boxer shorts, and tossed them over my shoulder. We continued kissing. I ran my hand along his inner thigh until my fingers found his balls. Whereas I had large, hairy, low hanging balls, Mikey’s were on the smaller side, mostly smooth, and clung tightly to his body at all times. They felt like firm grapes tucked neatly between his thighs.

I slapped them and he moaned. We kept kissing, and I slapped them several more times. His body jolted with every little slap until we both started to laugh at his reaction to it.

I rolled on top of him. He wrapped his legs around my lower body. I kissed him, sometimes sliding my tongue inside of his mouth. Reaching down between our bodies, I held his balls and slowly squeezed them and un-squeezed them until we were both horny enough to be leaking.

“Fuck me from behind,” he whispered, pushing me away.

“We need a towel,” I said.

I went to the bathroom to get us a bath towel. On my way back, I left the hallway light on so that we would at least have a little bit of light in the bedroom. I stayed as hard as a rock while Mikey got onto all fours and I placed the towel underneath him.

I lubed up my cock with a little bit of Astroglide and climbed into bed, kneeling between Mikey’s legs. With his hip in my left hand and my cock in my right hand, he let out a long, moaning sigh as I leaned forward and pushed myself all of the way inside of him.

I started thrusting—slowly and gently at first, then faster and harder. Eventually, I could hear my hips clapping against him. I reached around with both hands. My right hand still had some lube on it, so I used that one to stroke his cock, which felt just as hard as marble. With my left hand, I began to firmly and repeatedly slap his balls—keeping the same tempo for both the ball slapping and my hip thrusting.

He moaned pretty loudly when the ball slaps started, and within just a few short minutes, he let out his little “happy scream” and started nutting all over my navy blue bath towel.

“Well, that was quick,” I teased.

He pulled away from me. I shuddered from the tickle as my tip came out of him. He flipped onto his back and I leaned over on all fours and started kissing him. He stroked my cock with his right hand and rubbed my balls with the fingers of his left hand. About five or six minutes later, I nutted all over his chest and stomach.

I took my second shower of the night and Mikey joined me. Then we went straight back to bed. Mikey usually got up at 4 a.m. for work because Starbucks opened at 5 a.m. By 4:15 in the morning, I was half awake and half asleep, vaguely aware of Mikey getting ready for work. Despite shooting my wad just a few hours earlier, I felt intensely horny as I watched my naked little angel stepping into his boxer briefs and then into his tight little blue jeans.

Just as he was about to leave for work, I got out of bed and embraced him from behind, wrapping my arms around him. My closet door was mirrored—I watched him close his eyes and moan quietly while I rubbed his chest with one hand and rubbed the front of his jeans with the other. I kissed and nibbled on the side of his neck and could feel his penis pulsing and lengthening beneath the palm of my hand. I turned him around and pushed him up against the wall of my bedroom, kissing him deeply.

“Spread your legs for me,” I whispered.

He parted his legs, just slightly. I pinned him to the wall with my left hand on his right shoulder and my right hand gently squeezing his neck.

I slid my hand down his stomach, underneath his jeans and underneath his boxer briefs, and I moved his hard little cock up and over so it would be out of my way. When I pulled my hand out of his jeans, my fingers were slippery with the precum that had leaked out of him.

I brought my knee up between his legs, not too hard, but enough to make him shudder. I brought it up again, a little harder, and could see his cock throbbing against his denim. I increased the speed even more for the third knee, and made him grunt from it. The fourth knee was harder still, making him gasp.

I have to say, busting a guy’s naked balls is fun, but if I’m being honest, I strongly prefer busting a guy in a pair of jeans. You see, realistically, most men, even the ones that are into being busted, can only handle light slaps on their bare balls. But when you’ve got a guy in a pair of jeans, the clothing absorbs a lot of the impact, so you can hit him a LOT harder, which I find way more satisfying.

My fifth knee up into Mikey’s jeans / balls was brutally hard. His knees came together and he let out a real gasp of pain and started sliding down the wall. I gave him a few kisses while he caught his breath.

“I want you thinking about me all day long while you’re at work,” I said. “Will I see you tonight when I get home from work?”

“Fuck yes,” he said, holding his crotch. “Fuck, I am so horny now.”

Hours and hours later, he texted me from work, telling me how horny he still was, that he couldn’t stop thinking about me, that he could still feel my knee between his legs. We had incredible sex that night as well.

Over time, the relationship turned toxic and fell apart. Mikey became clingy and jealous, and I was admittedly not always as kind to him as I should have been. Sometimes I just wanted to have a night out with friends, without his presence, and he would be sulky and mad about it. Other times, he would join us, but would be moody and pouty that I wasn’t giving him all the attention. Every time I spoke to another guy, he seemed threatened by it. We didn’t have the same sense of humor, didn’t enjoy the same types of activities, didn’t have the same political beliefs either. All in all, the whole thing only lasted a single summer, not even. He cried and cried the day I broke up with him. Years and years later, I’m surprised we never run into each other. In spite of it not ending very well, I do cherish the memory of two young guys experimenting, figuring out their sexuality together, and having an extremely fun time while it lasted. I hope he is doing well for himself.

Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed my story.

Tags: Ballbusting, castration, post-apocalyptic.
All characters are over 18.

Hunter tried to avoid making too much noise as he walked through the forest. It was difficult with so many leaves on the ground. Through the trees, he caught occasional glimpses of the charred, bombed out skyscrapers from the Before Times.

A lifelong Bunker Dweller, he knew that the Top Side could be a very dangerous place. More than a century ago, wealthy elites had retreated to their giant underground silos when the wars, that they themselves had started, consumed the world above. Hunter’s great-great-great-grandparents were among them. Those left behind on the surface had scraped by ever since, in a ravaged and decaying world.

The underground silos had many comforts and many luxuries, but they didn’t have everything. From time to time, small squads of armed Bunker Dwellers would surface through secret tunnels to gather supplies while avoiding the Top Siders, who for unknown reasons seemed to be entirely female for the last several years.

Hunter was a well built young man in his early twenties. It was only his second time participating on a supply run. Unfortunately, steps were skipped and errors were made, and when the squad was ambushed by Top Siders, Hunter got separated from the rest and was now trying to find a safe way back, sticking to the forest to remain hidden.

After walking for hours without encountering a Top Sider, he finally started to relax and let his guard down. In that moment, he heard a loud whoosh, punctuated by a thunk, and felt a sharp sting on his face. He jolted backwards. An arrow, now lodged in a nearby tree, had left a shallow cut on the bridge of his nose when it grazed him.

He whirled around, drawing his gun and pointing it in the direction he thought the arrow had come from.

“Show yourself!” he tried to yell in a commanding voice. But it came out sounding younger, and more frightened, than he wanted.

Another arrow came sailing out of the forest, this one striking his dominant hand and sending his firearm flying away, disappearing into a pile of leaves somewhere. Hunter grabbed his wrist and let out a short, high-pitched wail. Half of the arrow was sticking out of his palm, the other half was sticking out of the top of his hand.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted.

He heard footsteps that sounded like more than one person. He looked up and saw two girls walking towards him. They were slender and graceful, naked except for sand-colored loincloths, beautiful in a feral sort of way. He’d learn later in that their names were Tasha and Blaze.

He reached for his Bowie knife at his lower back and found its sheath empty. He looked over his left shoulder in a panic. A few feet behind him, a tall, beautiful, half-naked girl—Natalie—smiled and playfully ran the tip of his Bowie knife between her bare breasts.

“Looking for this?” she asked confidently, teasing the blade around her nipples.

Hunter gaped, astonished she had been able to sneak up behind him and steal his knife without him seeing, hearing, or feeling it.

As he turned back to Tasha and Blaze, Tasha lunged forward and kicked him in the pants as hard as she could. He felt her bare foot flatten his testicles against his body, a pain his gentle bunker life had never taught him. For a moment, it felt like she’d kicked them inside of him. He grabbed his crotch with his left hand, the one that wasn’t impaled, and let out a ragged gasp.

Blaze lunged forward as well, deftly tucking one of her legs behind both of his and shoving him. He flipped over her leg and thumped onto the hard ground, his middle back landing on a tree root that knocked the wind out of him. A long, groaning wheeze escaped his lips.

Natalie stepped forward and slammed her right foot down on his chest, smiling down at him, well aware that he could see her nudity beneath her loincloth. For one second, he stared up at the alluring folds between her legs—something he’d never seen before—and then he gasped in pain as Tasha stomped down on his genitals with her heel.

He rolled over and tried to crawl away. His right hand was throbbing, and his back and his balls were aching. He was abashed. Years of hand-to-hand combat training, and this is how easily he folded?

“Where do you think you’re going, bunker boy?” Natalie asked.

The girls began to pummel him with kicks. He felt three hard kicks against his left side and four, maybe five against the right. He hoped to God that none of his ribs were broken. Then he felt one powerful kick to his balls from behind that sent him screaming into a fetal position. As he rolled over onto his back again, holding his crotch in his hands, the last thing he saw was Blaze running towards him. It was her kick across his face that finally delivered some mercy by knocking him out cold…

He dreamed that he was being dragged through mud by his long black hair while being ruthlessly pummeled by dozens of female assailants who laughed at and taunted him, their faces morphing randomly from beautiful to horrifying…

The sound of a crackling fire awakened him. He tried to move, but he could only seem to swing. It felt like he was … standing? Somewhere above him, his wrists were aching.

It felt like someone was tugging his feet. He opened his eyes, looking down, and saw Tasha and Blaze removing his boots. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natalie crouching beside a fire she had built in a barrel. He looked over and saw her shoving his Bowie knife through a small, rusted out hole in the side of the barrel.

He looked up, saw that his wrists were tied to a horizontal beam that ran across the room. His right hand, no longer impaled by an arrow, was crudely bandaged. His forearm was caked with dried blood mixed with dirt. As he slowly came to, it dawned on him where he was—a dank, drippy room in a decrepit skyscraper from the Before Times.

“Welcome back, sleepy head,” Blaze teased, noticing he was awake. “Your stupid face almost broke my foot.”

There was a ripping sound as Blaze cut through his black t-shirt and pulled it off of him. Tasha unbuckled his belt and started unzipping his dark green cargo pants.

“Stop!” Hunter yelled, thrashing about.

Blaze punched him in a spot that usually dropped her opponents to their knees—the liver. He groaned and stopped resisting his undressing. Together, Tasha and Blaze pulled down his cargo pants and then his underwear.

“Oh my,” Tasha said.

She and Blaze walked around him in a circle, taking it all in. Hunter was tall, handsome, and very muscular—he looked nothing like the scrawny, rat-faced men that lived on the surface. His long and unusually thick member, surrounded by a bushel of black pubic hair, looked like a velvety sausage wrapped in smooth, branching veins, and behind that member his abnormally large balls rested heavily at the bottom of a long and equally veiny scrotum. Secretly, Hunter spent a lot of time staring vainly into the mirror in his room down below, admiring the size of his package and how well-made the rest of him was.

“Look at the size of those muscles,” Blaze said in awe. “They must feed you boys awfully well down below. And would you look at that ass! This boy has some meat on his bones!”

Blaze slapped Hunter’s ass and gave it a hearty squeeze. Tasha clapped her palm against his crotch, making him gasp, and roughly squeezed his genitals. He gritted his teeth through the pain.

“He has a lot of meat on this side as well,” Tasha said. “And look at all those straight white teeth that he has. He’s so pretty. Must be a pretty cozy little life down in those bunkers. Must be nice.”

“If he’s meaty in the front, we should have fried oysters tonight,” Blaze suggested. “God, I am starving! Natalie—is the knife ready yet?”

Natalie pulled the knife out of the fire she had made. It was smoking, but it wasn’t red hot.

“It’s not ready yet,” she said, and she put the blade back into the flames.

“In that case, can we do a ‘pummel fest’ like we did to the other bunker boy?” Tasha asked.

Natalie smiled. “Sure. Pummel fest was a fun game. And we have a few minutes to kill. Let me just blindfold him first.”

“W-what is a pummel fest?” Hunter asked. “Please let me go. Others will be looking for me.”

Natalie untied her loincloth and removed it, once again revealing to Hunter the pink slit between her legs and the brunette pubes just above it. That part of her looked so soft, so velvety, and so inviting that even in his current predicament, Hunter’s virgin penis visibly throbbed as she sauntered towards him. As she reached up and began to blindfold him with her loincloth, he could smell her scent on it, and could feel his thickening penis pressing against the pubic hair on her mound, as she tied the cloth in a knot behind his head.

Unfortunately for Hunter, “pummel fest” was pretty much what he feared it would be. The three girls walked around him in a circle and simply started beating the shit out of him. He felt every part of his body being hit. He felt six different fists slamming into his chest, stomach, rib cage, and back. He felt his legs being kicked. He felt fists, heels, and knees pounding against his balls until he felt like vomiting. And while they mostly avoided his face so that he wouldn’t be knocked out, every once in a while he did feel a hard slap across his cheek and jaw.

After nearly ten minutes of “pummel fest” the girls stopped to rest while Hunter dangled limply from his wrists, drooling from his mouth. From head to toe, his muscular body was dappled with dark bruises.

“That was so much fun,” Blaze said, leaning on her knees and panting.

“Are you still awake, bunker boy?” Natalie asked, ripping her loincloth off of his head.

When he did not respond, she grabbed his testicles with both hands and squeezed them hard—they were large and firm, and she enjoyed the tough, hairy texture of the veiny skin bag that held them. Hunter opened his mouth and screamed. She pushed her thumbnails into his balls, as deeply as she could. It felt like she was going to split them in half. The pain was so intense that a small amount of urine began to dribble out of Hunter’s cock. She felt the warm droplets on her toes as he pissed himself. He screamed himself hoarse.

“Just making sure you’re still with us,” she said.

The other two snickered. Natalie dropped his balls and returned to the fire. She pulled the Bowie knife from the flames—the blade was red and glowing now, giving off enough heat to make the air above it appear wavy.

“It’s time,” Natalie said. “Spread his legs.”

“No!” Hunter cried. “Stop! You can’t do this!”

Tasha and Blaze wrapped their arms around each of his legs, squeezing them against their bosoms. They pulled, and his feet were lifted from the floor. He thrashed and used all the strength he could muster to keep his legs closed, but he was not strong enough to stop Tasha and Blaze from slowly prying them apart.

Natalie reached out and snatched his balls in her hand, pulling the bruised and swollen things towards her belly as far as they would go.

“No! Please! Please!” he begged. “I can give you access to the bunkers! Food! Medicine! Every possible comfort!”

“No, thank you,” Natalie said calmly. “We’re doing fine up here.”

She held the knife beneath his scrotum. He could feel the heat rising off the blade.

“Please!” Hunter begged. “I can—I can breed with you! You’re an all female society, right? That’s why we haven’t seen any men up here in years. But you must need at least some men for breeding. Don’t you?”

Natalie laughed. “He thinks so highly of himself, thinks he can trade his cum like wheat, barley, livestock… I don’t breed with bunker dwellers. They look strong on the outside, but they are weak, scared, squishy little things on the inside.”

“Please!” Hunter cried. “There must be something you want! I’m begging you!”

“I want you all to stop coming here,” she said. “You bunker dwellers have been coming here for generations—pillaging, killing, taking whatever you want, whenever you want. Every year, there are more of you. From now on, every bunker boy that sets foot on the surface will be sent back without his balls. That should help keep your numbers a little more reasonable going forward.”

“Please!” Hunter begged. “Please! I’ll do anything! I’ll do any—“

With a quick jerk of her wrist, she made Hunter into a eunuch. He let out an awful squeal as she did so. His scrotum and balls slapped wetly against the floor.

“Ouch,” Tasha said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hold him tight,” Natalie said.

She lifted Hunter’s penis out of the way and pressed the flat side of the red hot blade against his wound, resulting in two sounds that coincided: a hot sizzle, and a bunker boy screaming.

As she counted to ten, Hunter’s scream came to an end, his dark chocolate-colored eyes rolled back in his head, and his trembling body fell limp. She withdrew the hot, sizzling blade from his groin and used it to cut him down.

When Hunter awoke, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The sun was still up, but was it the same day or the next? He had no idea. He was lying on the floor on a cushiony bed of leaves, ferns, and moss and wearing only a loincloth. He felt a deep, terrible ache in his abdomen and between his legs. He seemed to have been recently and thoroughly washed, and there was a fresh bandage around his palm.

With a badly trembling hand, he touched the loincloth he was wearing. When he felt its presence, he experienced a profound sense of relief that they had him let keep his cock.

The girls had left four items behind for him: a set of crutches left over from the Before Times, a large bowl of clean drinking water, a pouch full of fruit and nuts foraged from the area, and a handwritten note that read:

“To the handsome eunuch,

Consider yourself lucky! Tell the other bunker boys that the Top Side is ours—they are no longer welcome here.

Thank you for the yummy snack. We have returned the favor.

Now … go back to where you came from. You have safe passage until sundown. If you would like to keep your cock, you had better get moving. Tick, tock.

Signed,
Tasha, Blaze, and Natalie”

Hunter chugged the entire bowl of water at once, downed all of the food they had left him, and tried to shut off his mind to the pain and loss he felt as he made his way hurriedly back to the bunker.

Tags: Ballbusting, castration, post-apocalyptic.
All characters are over 18.

Hunter tried to avoid making too much noise as he walked through the forest. It was difficult with so many leaves on the ground. Through the trees, he caught occasional glimpses of the charred, bombed out skyscrapers from the Before Times.

A lifelong Bunker Dweller, he knew that the Top Side could be a very dangerous place. More than a century ago, wealthy elites had retreated to their giant underground silos when the wars, that they themselves had started, consumed the world above. Hunter’s great-great-great-grandparents were among them. Those left behind on the surface had scraped by ever since, in a ravaged and decaying world.

The underground silos had many comforts and many luxuries, but they didn’t have everything. From time to time, small squads of armed Bunker Dwellers would surface through secret tunnels to gather supplies while avoiding the Top Siders, who for unknown reasons seemed to be entirely female for the last several years.

Hunter was a well built young man in his early twenties. It was only his second time participating on a supply run. Unfortunately, steps were skipped and errors were made, and when the squad was ambushed by Top Siders, Hunter got separated from the rest and was now trying to find a safe way back, sticking to the forest to remain hidden.

After walking for hours without encountering a Top Sider, he finally started to relax and let his guard down. In that moment, he heard a loud whoosh, punctuated by a thunk, and felt a sharp sting on his face. He jolted backwards. An arrow, now lodged in a nearby tree, had left a shallow cut on the bridge of his nose when it grazed him.

He whirled around, drawing his gun and pointing it in the direction he thought the arrow had come from.

“Show yourself!” he tried to yell in a commanding voice. But it came out sounding younger, and more frightened, than he wanted.

Another arrow came sailing out of the forest, this one striking his dominant hand and sending his firearm flying away, disappearing into a pile of leaves somewhere. Hunter grabbed his wrist and let out a short, high-pitched wail. Half of the arrow was sticking out of his palm, the other half was sticking out of the top of his hand.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted.

He heard footsteps that sounded like more than one person. He looked up and saw two girls walking towards him. They were slender and graceful, naked except for sand-colored loincloths, beautiful in a feral sort of way. He’d learn later in that their names were Tasha and Blaze.

He reached for his Bowie knife at his lower back and found its sheath empty. He looked over his left shoulder in a panic. A few feet behind him, a tall, beautiful, half-naked girl—Natalie—smiled and playfully ran the tip of his Bowie knife between her bare breasts.

“Looking for this?” she asked confidently, teasing the blade around her nipples.

Hunter gaped, astonished she had been able to sneak up behind him and steal his knife without him seeing, hearing, or feeling it.

As he turned back to Tasha and Blaze, Tasha lunged forward and kicked him in the pants as hard as she could. He felt her bare foot flatten his testicles against his body, a pain his gentle bunker life had never taught him. For a moment, it felt like she’d kicked them inside of him. He grabbed his crotch with his left hand, the one that wasn’t impaled, and let out a ragged gasp.

Blaze lunged forward as well, deftly tucking one of her legs behind both of his and shoving him. He flipped over her leg and thumped onto the hard ground, his middle back landing on a tree root that knocked the wind out of him. A long, groaning wheeze escaped his lips.

Natalie stepped forward and slammed her right foot down on his chest, smiling down at him, well aware that he could see her nudity beneath her loincloth. For one second, he stared up at the alluring folds between her legs—something he’d never seen before—and then he gasped in pain as Tasha stomped down on his genitals with her heel.

He rolled over and tried to crawl away. His right hand was throbbing, and his back and his balls were aching. He was abashed. Years of hand-to-hand combat training, and this is how easily he folded?

“Where do you think you’re going, bunker boy?” Natalie asked.

The girls began to pummel him with kicks. He felt three hard kicks against his left side and four, maybe five against the right. He hoped to God that none of his ribs were broken. Then he felt one powerful kick to his balls from behind that sent him screaming into a fetal position. As he rolled over onto his back again, holding his crotch in his hands, the last thing he saw was Blaze running towards him. It was her kick across his face that finally delivered some mercy by knocking him out cold…

He dreamed that he was being dragged through mud by his long black hair while being ruthlessly pummeled by dozens of female assailants who laughed at and taunted him, their faces morphing randomly from beautiful to horrifying…

The sound of a crackling fire awakened him. He tried to move, but he could only seem to swing. It felt like he was … standing? Somewhere above him, his wrists were aching.

It felt like someone was tugging his feet. He opened his eyes, looking down, and saw Tasha and Blaze removing his boots. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natalie crouching beside a fire she had built in a barrel. He looked over and saw her shoving his Bowie knife through a small, rusted out hole in the side of the barrel.

He looked up, saw that his wrists were tied to a horizontal beam that ran across the room. His right hand, no longer impaled by an arrow, was crudely bandaged. His forearm was caked with dried blood mixed with dirt. As he slowly came to, it dawned on him where he was—a dank, drippy room in a decrepit skyscraper from the Before Times.

“Welcome back, sleepy head,” Blaze teased, noticing he was awake. “Your stupid face almost broke my foot.”

There was a ripping sound as Blaze cut through black t-shirt and pulled it off of him. Tasha unbuckled his belt and started unzipping his dark green cargo pants.

“Stop!” Hunter yelled, thrashing about.

Blaze punched him in a spot that usually dropped her opponents to their knees—the liver. He groaned and stopped resisting his undressing. Together, Tasha and Blaze pulled down his cargo pants and then his underwear.

“Oh my,” Tasha said.

She and Blaze walked around him in a circle, taking it all in. Hunter was tall, handsome, and very muscular—he looked nothing like the scrawny, rat-faced men that lived on the surface. His long and unusually thick member, surrounded by a bushel of black pubic hair, looked like a velvety sausage wrapped in smooth, branching veins, and behind that member his abnormally large balls rested heavily at the bottom of a long and equally veiny scrotum. Secretly, Hunter spent a lot of time staring vainly into the mirror in his room down below, admiring the size of his package and how well-made the rest of him was.

“Look at the size of those muscles,” Blaze said in awe. “They must feed you boys awfully well down below. And would you look at that ass! This boy has some meat on his bones!”

Blaze slapped Hunter’s ass and gave it a hearty squeeze. Tasha clapped her palm against his crotch, making him gasp, and roughly squeezed his genitals. He gritted his teeth through the pain.

“He has a lot of meat on this side as well,” Tasha said. “And look at all those straight white teeth that he has. He’s so pretty. Must be a pretty cozy little life down in those bunkers. Must be nice.”

“If he’s meaty in the front, we should have fried oysters tonight,” Blaze suggested. “God, I am starving! Natalie—is the knife ready yet?”

Natalie pulled the knife out of the fire she had made. It was smoking, but it wasn’t red hot.

“It’s not ready yet,” she said, and she put the blade back into the flames.

“In that case, can we do a ‘pummel fest’ like we did to the other bunker boy?” Tasha asked.

Natalie smiled. “Sure. Pummel fest was a fun game. And we have a few minutes to kill. Let me just blindfold him first.”

“W-what is a pummel fest?” Hunter asked. “Please let me go. Others will be looking for me.”

Natalie untied her loincloth and removed it, once again revealing to Hunter the pink slit between her legs and the brunette pubes just above it. That part of her looked so soft, so velvety, and so inviting that even in his current predicament, Hunter’s virgin penis visibly throbbed as she sauntered towards him. As she reached up and began to blindfold him with her loincloth, he could smell her scent on it, and could feel his thickening penis pressing against the pubic hair on her mound, as she tied the cloth in a knot behind his head.

Unfortunately for Hunter, “pummel fest” was pretty much what he feared it would be. The three girls walked around him in a circle and simply started beating the shit out of him. He felt every part of his body being hit. He felt six different fists slamming into his chest, stomach, rib cage, and back. He felt his legs being kicked. He felt fists, heels, and knees pounding against his balls until he felt like vomiting. And while they mostly avoided his face so that he wouldn’t be knocked out, every once in a while he did feel a hard slap across his cheek and jaw.

After nearly ten minutes of “pummel fest” the girls stopped to rest while Hunter dangled limply from his wrists, drooling from his mouth. From head to toe, his muscular body was dappled with dark bruises.

“That was so much fun,” Blaze said, leaning on her knees and panting.

“Are you still awake, bunker boy?” Natalie asked, ripping her loincloth off of his head.

When he did not respond, she grabbed his testicles with both hands and squeezed them hard—they were large and firm, and she enjoyed the tough, hairy texture of the veiny skin bag that held them. Hunter opened his mouth and screamed. She pushed her thumbnails into his balls, as deeply as she could. It felt like she was going to split them in half. The pain was so intense that a small amount of urine began to dribble out of Hunter’s cock. She felt the warm droplets on her toes as he pissed himself. He screamed himself hoarse.

“Just making sure you’re still with us,” she said.

The other two snickered. Natalie dropped his balls and returned to the fire. She pulled the Bowie knife from the flames—the blade was red and glowing now, giving off enough heat to make the air above it appear wavy.

“It’s time,” Natalie said. “Spread his legs.”

“No!” Hunter cried. “Stop! You can’t do this!”

Tasha and Blaze wrapped their arms around each of his legs, squeezing them against their bosoms. They pulled, and his feet were lifted from the floor. He thrashed and used all the strength he could muster to keep his legs closed, but he was not strong enough to stop Tasha and Blaze from slowly prying them apart.

Natalie reached out and snatched his balls in her hand, pulling the bruised and swollen things towards her belly as far as they would go.

“No! Please! Please!” he begged. “I can give you access to the bunkers! Food! Medicine! Every possible comfort!”

“No, thank you,” Natalie said calmly. “We’re doing fine up here.”

She held the knife beneath his scrotum. He could feel the heat rising off the blade.

“Please!” Hunter begged. “I can—I can breed with you! You’re an all female society, right? That’s why we haven’t seen any men up here in years. But you must need at least some men for breeding. Don’t you?”

Natalie laughed. “He thinks so highly of himself, thinks he can trade his cum like wheat, barley, livestock… I don’t breed with bunker dwellers. They look strong on the outside, but they are weak, scared, squishy little things on the inside.”

“Please!” Hunter cried. “There must be something you want! I’m begging you!”

“I want you all to stop coming here,” she said. “You bunker dwellers have been coming here for generations—pillaging, killing, taking whatever you want, whenever you want. Every year, there are more of you. From now on, every bunker boy that sets foot on the surface will be sent back without his balls. That should help keep your numbers a little more reasonable going forward.”

“Please!” Hunter begged. “Please! I’ll do anything! I’ll do any—“

With a quick jerk of her wrist, she made Hunter into a eunuch. He let out an awful squeal as she did so. His scrotum and balls slapped wetly against the floor.

“Ouch,” Tasha said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hold him tight,” Natalie said.

She lifted Hunter’s penis out of the way and pressed the flat side of the red hot blade against his wound, resulting in two sounds that coincided: a hot sizzle, and a bunker boy screaming.

As she counted to ten, Hunter’s scream came to an end, his dark chocolate-colored eyes rolled back in his head, and his trembling body fell limp. She withdrew the hot, sizzling blade from his groin and used it to cut him down.

When Hunter awoke, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The sun was still up, but was it the same day or the next? He had no idea. He was lying on the floor on a cushiony bed of leaves, ferns, and moss and wearing only a loincloth. He felt a deep, terrible ache in his abdomen and between his legs. He seemed to have been recently and thoroughly washed, and there was a fresh bandage around his palm.

With a badly trembling hand, he touched the loincloth he was wearing. When he felt its presence, he experienced a profound sense of relief that they had him let keep his cock.

The girls had left four items behind for him: a set of crutches left over from the Before Times, a large bowl of clean drinking water, a pouch full of fruit and nuts foraged from the area, and a handwritten note that read:

“To the handsome eunuch,

Consider yourself lucky! Tell the other bunker boys that the Top Side is ours—they are no longer welcome here.

Thank you for the yummy snack. We have returned the favor.

Now … go back to where you came from. You have safe passage until sundown. If you would like to keep your cock, you had better get moving. Tick, tock.

Signed,
Tasha, Blaze, and Natalie”

Hunter chugged the entire bowl of water at once, downed all of the food they had left him, and tried to shut off his mind to the pain and loss he felt as he made his way hurriedly back to the bunker.

Tags: Ballbusting, castration, post-apocalyptic.
All characters are over 18.

Hunter tried to avoid making too much noise as he walked through the forest. It was difficult with so many leaves on the ground. Through the trees, he caught occasional glimpses of the charred, bombed out skyscrapers from the Before Times.

A lifelong Bunker Dweller, he knew that the Top Side could be a very dangerous place. More than a century ago, wealthy elites had retreated to their giant underground silos when the wars, that they themselves had started, consumed the world above. Hunter’s great-great-great-grandparents were among them. Those left behind on the surface had scraped by ever since, in a ravaged and decaying world.

The underground silos had many comforts and many luxuries, but they didn’t have everything. From time to time, small squads of armed Bunker Dwellers would surface through secret tunnels to gather supplies while avoiding the Top Siders, who for unknown reasons seemed to be entirely female for the last several years.

Hunter was a well built young man in his early twenties. It was only his second time participating on a supply run. Unfortunately, steps were skipped and errors were made, and when the squad was ambushed by Top Siders, Hunter got separated from the rest and was now trying to find a safe way back, sticking to the forest to remain hidden.

After walking for hours without encountering a Top Sider, he finally started to relax and let his guard down. In that moment, he heard a loud whoosh, punctuated by a thunk, and felt a sharp sting on his face. He jolted backwards. An arrow, now lodged in a nearby tree, had left a shallow cut on the bridge of his nose when it grazed him.

He whirled around, drawing his gun and pointing it in the direction he thought the arrow had come from.

“Show yourself!” he tried to yell in a commanding voice. But it came out sounding younger, and more frightened, than he wanted.

Another arrow came sailing out of the forest, this one striking his dominant hand and sending his firearm flying away, disappearing into a pile of leaves somewhere. Hunter grabbed his wrist and let out a short, high-pitched wail. Half of the arrow was sticking out of his palm, the other half was sticking out of the top of his hand.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted.

He heard footsteps that sounded like more than one person. He looked up and saw two girls walking towards him. They were slender and graceful, naked except for sand-colored loincloths, beautiful in a feral sort of way. He’d learn later in that their names were Tasha and Blaze.

He reached for his Bowie knife at his lower back and found its sheath empty. He looked over his left shoulder in a panic. A few feet behind him, a tall, beautiful, half-naked girl—Natalie—smiled and playfully ran the tip of his Bowie knife between her bare breasts.

“Looking for this?” she asked confidently, teasing the blade around her nipples.

Hunter gaped, astonished she had been able to sneak up behind him and steal his knife without him seeing, hearing, or feeling it.

As he turned back to Tasha and Blaze, Tasha lunged forward and kicked him in the pants as hard as she could. He felt her bare foot flatten his testicles against his body, a pain his gentle bunker life had never taught him. For a moment, it felt like she’d kicked them inside of him. He grabbed his crotch with his left hand, the one that wasn’t impaled, and let out a ragged gasp.

Blaze lunged forward as well, deftly tucking one of her legs behind both of his and shoving him. He flipped over her leg and thumped onto the hard ground, his middle back landing on a tree root that knocked the wind out of him. A long, groaning wheeze escaped his lips.

Natalie stepped forward and slammed her right foot down on his chest, smiling down at him, well aware that he could see her nudity beneath her loincloth. For one second, he stared up at the alluring folds between her legs—something he’d never seen before—and then he gasped in pain as Tasha stomped down on his genitals with her heel.

He rolled over and tried to crawl away. His right hand was throbbing, and his back and his balls were aching. He was abashed. Years of hand-to-hand combat training, and this is how easily he folded?

“Where do you think you’re going, bunker boy?” Natalie asked.

The girls began to pummel him with kicks. He felt three hard kicks against his left side and four, maybe five against the right. He hoped to God that none of his ribs were broken. Then he felt one powerful kick to his balls from behind that sent him screaming into a fetal position. As he rolled over onto his back again, holding his crotch in his hands, the last thing he saw was Blaze running towards him. It was her kick across his face that finally delivered some mercy by knocking him out cold…

He dreamed that he was being dragged through mud by his long black hair while being ruthlessly pummeled by dozens of female assailants who laughed at and taunted him, their faces morphing randomly from beautiful to horrifying…

The sound of a crackling fire awakened him. He tried to move, but he could only seem to swing. It felt like he was … standing? Somewhere above him, his wrists were aching.

It felt like someone was tugging his feet. He opened his eyes, looking down, and saw Tasha and Blaze removing his boots. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natalie crouching beside a fire she had built in a barrel. He looked over and saw her shoving his Bowie knife through a small, rusted out hole in the side of the barrel.

He looked up, saw that his wrists were tied to a horizontal beam that ran across the room. His right hand, no longer impaled by an arrow, was crudely bandaged. His forearm was caked with dried blood mixed with dirt. As he slowly came to, it dawned on him where he was—a dank, drippy room in a decrepit skyscraper from the Before Times.

“Welcome back, sleepy head,” Blaze teased, noticing he was awake. “Your stupid face almost broke my foot.”

There was a ripping sound as Blaze cut through black t-shirt and pulled it off of him. Tasha unbuckled his belt and started unzipping his dark green cargo pants.

“Stop!” Hunter yelled, thrashing about.

Blaze punched him in a spot that usually dropped her opponents to their knees—the liver. He groaned and stopped resisting his undressing. Together, Tasha and Blaze pulled down his cargo pants and then his underwear.

“Oh my,” Tasha said.

She and Blaze walked around him in a circle, taking it all in. Hunter was tall, handsome, and very muscular—he looked nothing like the scrawny, rat-faced men that lived on the surface. His long and unusually thick member, surrounded by a bushel of black pubic hair, looked like a velvety sausage wrapped in smooth, branching veins, and behind that member his abnormally large balls rested heavily at the bottom of a long and equally veiny scrotum. Secretly, Hunter spent a lot of time staring vainly into the mirror in his room down below, admiring the size of his package and how well-made the rest of him was.

“Look at the size of those muscles,” Blaze said in awe. “They must feed you boys awfully well down below. And would you look at that ass! This boy has some meat on his bones!”

Blaze slapped Hunter’s ass and gave it a hearty squeeze. Tasha clapped her palm against his crotch, making him gasp, and roughly squeezed his genitals. He gritted his teeth through the pain.

“He has a lot of meat on this side as well,” Tasha said. “And look at all those straight white teeth that he has. He’s so pretty. Must be a pretty cozy little life down in those bunkers. Must be nice.”

“If he’s meaty in the front, we should have fried oysters tonight,” Blaze suggested. “God, I am starving! Natalie—is the knife ready yet?”

Natalie pulled the knife out of the fire she had made. It was smoking, but it wasn’t red hot.

“It’s not ready yet,” she said, and she put the blade back into the flames.

“In that case, can we do a ‘pummel fest’ like we did to the other bunker boy?” Tasha asked.

Natalie smiled. “Sure. Pummel fest was a fun game. And we have a few minutes to kill. Let me just blindfold him first.”

“W-what is a pummel fest?” Hunter asked. “Please let me go. Others will be looking for me.”

Natalie untied her loincloth and removed it, once again revealing to Hunter the pink slit between her legs and the brunette pubes just above it. That part of her looked so soft, so velvety, and so inviting that even in his current predicament, Hunter’s virgin penis visibly throbbed as she sauntered towards him. As she reached up and began to blindfold him with her loincloth, he could smell her scent on it, and could feel his thickening penis pressing against the pubic hair on her mound, as she tied the cloth in a knot behind his head.

Unfortunately for Hunter, “pummel fest” was pretty much what he feared it would be. The three girls walked around him in a circle and simply started beating the shit out of him. He felt every part of his body being hit. He felt six different fists slamming into his chest, stomach, rib cage, and back. He felt his legs being kicked. He felt fists, heels, and knees pounding against his balls until he felt like vomiting. And while they mostly avoided his face so that he wouldn’t be knocked out, every once in a while he did feel a hard slap across his cheek and jaw.

After nearly ten minutes of “pummel fest” the girls stopped to rest while Hunter dangled limply from his wrists, drooling from his mouth. From head to toe, his muscular body was dappled with dark bruises.

“That was so much fun,” Blaze said, leaning on her knees and panting.

“Are you still awake, bunker boy?” Natalie asked, ripping her loincloth off of his head.

When he did not respond, she grabbed his testicles with both hands and squeezed them hard—they were large and firm, and she enjoyed the tough, hairy texture of the veiny skin bag that held them. Hunter opened his mouth and screamed. She pushed her thumbnails into his balls, as deeply as she could. It felt like she was going to split them in half. The pain was so intense that a small amount of urine began to dribble out of Hunter’s cock. She felt the warm droplets on her toes as he pissed himself. He screamed himself hoarse.

“Just making sure you’re still with us,” she said.

The other two snickered. Natalie dropped his balls and returned to the fire. She pulled the Bowie knife from the flames—the blade was red and glowing now, giving off enough heat to make the air above it appear wavy.

“It’s time,” Natalie said. “Spread his legs.”

“No!” Hunter cried. “Stop! You can’t do this!”

Tasha and Blaze wrapped their arms around each of his legs, squeezing them against their bosoms. They pulled, and his feet were lifted from the floor. He thrashed and used all the strength he could muster to keep his legs closed, but he was not strong enough to stop Tasha and Blaze from slowly prying them apart.

Natalie reached out and snatched his balls in her hand, pulling the bruised and swollen things towards her belly as far as they would go.

“No! Please! Please!” he begged. “I can give you access to the bunkers! Food! Medicine! Every possible comfort!”

“No, thank you,” Natalie said calmly. “We’re doing fine up here.”

She held the knife beneath his scrotum. He could feel the heat rising off the blade.

“Please!” Hunter begged. “I can—I can breed with you! You’re an all female society, right? That’s why we haven’t seen any men up here in years. But you must need at least some men for breeding. Don’t you?”

Natalie laughed. “He thinks so highly of himself, thinks he can trade his cum like wheat, barley, livestock… I don’t breed with bunker dwellers. They look strong on the outside, but they are weak, scared, squishy little things on the inside.”

“Please!” Hunter cried. “There must be something you want! I’m begging you!”

“I want you all to stop coming here,” she said. “You bunker dwellers have been coming here for generations—pillaging, killing, taking whatever you want, whenever you want. Every year, there are more of you. From now on, every bunker boy that sets foot on the surface will be sent back without his balls. That should help keep your numbers a little more reasonable going forward.”

“Please!” Hunter begged. “Please! I’ll do anything! I’ll do any—“

With a quick jerk of her wrist, she made Hunter into a eunuch. He let out an awful squeal as she did so. His scrotum and balls slapped wetly against the floor.

“Ouch,” Tasha said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hold him tight,” Natalie said.

She lifted Hunter’s penis out of the way and pressed the flat side of the red hot blade against his wound, resulting in two sounds that coincided: a hot sizzle, and a bunker boy screaming.

As she counted to ten, Hunter’s scream came to an end, his dark chocolate-colored eyes rolled back in his head, and his trembling body fell limp. She withdrew the hot, sizzling blade from his groin and used it to cut him down.

When Hunter awoke, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The sun was still up, but was it the same day or the next? He had no idea. He was lying on the floor on a cushiony bed of leaves, ferns, and moss and wearing only a loincloth. He felt a deep, terrible ache in his abdomen and between his legs. He seemed to have been recently and thoroughly washed, and there was a fresh bandage around his palm.

With a badly trembling hand, he touched the loincloth he was wearing. When he felt its presence, he experienced a profound sense of relief that they had him let keep his cock.

The girls had left four items behind for him: a set of crutches left over from the Before Times, a large bowl of clean drinking water, a pouch full of fruit and nuts foraged from the area, and a handwritten note that read:

“To the handsome eunuch,

Consider yourself lucky! Tell the other bunker boys that the Top Side is ours—they are no longer welcome here.

Thank you for the yummy snack. We have returned the favor.

Now … go back to where you came from. You have safe passage until sundown. If you would like to keep your cock, you had better get moving. Tick, tock.

Signed,
Tasha, Blaze, and Natalie”

Hunter chugged the entire bowl of water at once, downed all of the food they had left him, and tried to shut off his mind to the pain and loss he felt as he made his way hurriedly back to the bunker.

It had only been two days since Becca took back Cole after he admitted to cheating on her. It was the summer between their freshman and sophomore years of college. She probably shouldn’t have taken him back (again) but she was in love, or at least she thought that she was.

Now Becca and Cole were meeting Becca’s mom, Darleen, and Becca’s older sister, Carol, at a local diner for breakfast. Although they hadn’t said anything to either, Darleen and Carol were NOT happy about Cole hurting Becca’s feelings and they were even less happy about Becca taking him back after briefly breaking up with him.

Nevertheless, everyone was very cordial at the local diner as they sat down in a booth and their coffees and teas began to come out. And Becca seemed over the moon to be back together again with Cole, almost as if nothing had even happened. She and Cole were sitting on one side of the booth, holding hands and wearing matching pajama pants, which had been Becca’s cutesy-pie idea, of course. Darleen and Carol sat on the other side, quietly sipping their coffees.

“So, Cole, remind me again what you’re studying in college?” Darleen asked. Truthfully, she already knew, but she was trying to make polite conversation for Becca’s sake.

“Engineering,” Cole said with a smile. “So unfortunately Becca and I don’t have many classes together, but sometimes we have a few minutes to see each other between classes.”

He leaned towards Becca and she leaned back and briefly rested her head on his shoulder.

“Mm,” Darleen said, annoyed at how adept he was at pretending to be charming and affectionate. It fooled Becca easily, but it did not fool Darleen, or Carol.

“I’m gonna go the restroom,” Becca said. “I’ll be right back.”

She gave Cole a kiss on the cheek. Then she got up and went to the restrooms at the back of the diner. As soon as she was gone, Darleen got up and slid into the other side of the booth, sitting next to Cole. Darleen knew that with Becca’s stomach issues, she would probably be a little while.

“Hi, Cole,” she said, draping her right arm around him.

“Um … hi,” Cole said, withering under her icy stare.

“We need to have a little chat.”

“We do?” Cole asked. “I mean … sure. Yeah. Erm. What’s up, Mrs. Park?”

Darleen glanced around the diner and smiled. It was the same small town diner that she and her family had been coming to for generations. She knew the names of every single person in the diner that morning—the patrons, the staff, everyone.

She turned back to Cole and quickly jammed her left hand between his legs, grabbing his cock and balls through his pajama pants and gripping them tightly. Cole gasped. The pain was immediate. He squeezed his thighs around her hand.

“I … my … Mrs. Park?!” He was tongue-tied as his brain tried to process this bizarre situation of his girlfriend’s mom suddenly squeezing his package in a diner. He grabbed her wrist, but her grip was like a steel cage.

Carol was just glaring at him from across the table, and several of the diner’s other patrons turned their heads and began to watch with curiosity and interest.

“Cole…” Darleen began.

She squeezed his small package very hard. He could feel her fingernails pushing into both testicles. He gasped in pain and his face started turning red. She could feel his soft little prick against her palm, just above his balls.

“You might have Becca fooled about what kind of guy you are, but you don’t have me fooled. If you ever hurt my baby girl’s heart like that again, I will squeeze these pathetic loser little fuckboy balls of yours until they burst. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes,” Cole croaked. “Please … please let go.”

Darleen began to slowly rotate her hand, twisting his balls clockwise between his thighs.

“Oh, fuuuck,” Cole said, and it looked like he wanted to throw up.

An older, heavy-set waitress moseyed over to the table. Her name tag said Connie in faded red letters. “Y’all want a little more coffee?”

“Yes, that would be lovely, Connie, thank you so much,” Darleen said.

“So what did this one do?” Connie asked as she topped off their coffees. This was not the first time Darleen had taught some guy a lesson in broad view of the town’s other residents.

“This little slime ball cheated on my Becca,” Darleen said. “To be honest, I don’t even know what she sees in him. His penis feels like a tiny little worm and his balls are like soft little grapes. He’s got basically nothing down here.”

Carol snickered on her side of the booth while Cole flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, the heart wants what the heart wants, I suppose,” Connie said. “Just teach him good and nip it in the bud, I guess. That’s all you can do.”

“I intend to,” Darleen said.

Connie shuffled back to the kitchen.

“Please, Mrs. Park. I’m … so sorry about … hurting Becca. Can you please … let go … of my balls? I … I’m gonna be sick …”

“I’ll let go soon,” Darleen said. “But first I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything!” Cole said. “Anything!”

“Slide your butt down to the edge of your seat.”

“What?” Cole said.

Darleen squeezed his little balls so hard that he started seeing stars.

“Okay!” he gasped.

As Cole slid his butt to the edge of his seat, Darleen slipped her free hand down the front of his pajama pants—beneath his underwear. He groaned as she let go of his balls from the outside of his pajamas only to grab ahold of his naked balls with her other hand. The skin to skin contact somehow made her squeeze hurt even more.

Darleen nodded at Caro. Carol nodded back and slipped under the table. She grabbed Cole’s pajamas and underwear and started tugging them down, eventually pulling them right off of his feet, leaving him completely naked except for his t-shirt. She even took his sandals away, too.

“Slide down a little further, Cole, and spread your legs open,” Darleen said.

“Please, Mrs. Park. Please tell me what you’re gonna do first.”

He groaned as she tightened her grip on his testes.

“Just do as I say,” Darleen said.

He slid down even further and opened his legs. He was practically laying down. Darleen let go of his balls and left them to rest over the edge of his seat. He breathed a sigh of relief. Darleen picked up his cloth napkin from the table and started shoving it into his mouth.

“Bite down on this,” she said. “And don’t make too much noise.

He bit down on the napkin, and Darleen put her hand over his mouth to make sure it stayed there. He looked terrified. Everyone around the diner was watching him now, and yet no one was doing anything.

“Carol has something to say to you now, and you are going to listen,” Darleen said.

Cole’s eyes traveled across the table to the older sister glaring back at him.

“Don’t you EVER treat my little sister like that again,” Carol said.

Under the table, Carol lifted her leg and slammed the heel of her boot into Cole’s balls and held it there. He felt his balls being crushed between her heel and the seat.

“URMMMM!” Cole screamed into his napkin gag.

Carol grabbed the table, pushed herself back, and twisted her heel into Cole’s balls, rolling and crushing them against the wood. She relished in the retribution, in giving him what she very strongly felt that he deserved.

Cole started tearing up from the pain. He could hear people quietly clapping in the restaurant. A couple of older ladies were giggling. Carol finally withdrew her heel from his balls.

“Have you learned your lesson or should she smash them again?” Darleen asked.

He nodded frantically that he’d learned his lesson.

“Good,” Darleen said. “You’re going to leave now. We’ll tell Becca that you weren’t feeling well and had to go. You’ll call her later and apologize for bailing. And if you tell her the truth of what happened here, I will hunt you down and snip that pathetic little worm of a cock from between your legs. Do I make myself clear?”

He nodded. She pulled the napkin out of his mouth. He gasped for air. Darleen stood up and gestured for him to leave. He looked at the door of the packed diner and it looked so far away.

“C-can I have my p-pants and underwear back?” he asked.

“No,” they said in unison.

“Now get out of here before I change my mind and snip your little gonads off,” Darleen warned.

Cole groaned in pain as he slid out of the booth. He hid his cock and balls in his hands as he began to limp across the diner. Everyone was looking at him and laughing. One old lady even slapped his bare ass as he limped slowly past her table, then cackled about it.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally exited the diner, got into his Mustang and left. A minute later, Becca came back to the table.

“Where’s Cole?” she asked.

“Cole all of a sudden wasn’t feeling well,” Darleen said. “Poor thing. I told him go home and rest if you’re sick, darling. He said to tell you he’s sorry and that he’ll call you later and just to enjoy your breakfast.”

“Aww, isn’t he just so sweet?” Becca said.

“So sweet,” Darleen said, sipping her coffee.