u/VisibleDistrust

Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and is not based on actual events. Any resemblance of the characters described to real people is purely coincidental.

I’ve always loved summer. Everything is so bright and full of life, and the dreary city routine transforms into a tropical paradise! It’s the time to stop worrying about work or stress and devote yourself entirely to what makes life truly worth living: sex and relaxation.
After all, what I liked best about summer was watching scantily clad female joggers! I loved seeing the muscles in their toned legs move fluidly and watching their round butts—barely covered by hot pants—bounce up and down. And did I mention their tits? The way they swayed up and down and side to side, straining the fabric of their low-cut, sweaty tops. Every day after work, I’d sit on the same bench in the city park, drink a cold beer, watch the girls doing their laps, and gather inspiration for the next time I jerked off at home.

Eventually, just watching wasn't enough anymore. I wanted a better view, especially of their backsides and their firm, tight asses. So, I started running too. That way, I could get really close to them—even smell them or eavesdrop on their conversations. Who knows? Maybe, in time, I’d got to know one of them and manage to bang her if I played my cards right!
I made sure not to wear anything under my shorts, because I loved the feeling of my hard cock swinging back and forth between my thighs and my balls dangling in their sack. Plus, it was a clear signal to the ladies: I’m here for your pleasure and ready for action!

One day in June, I was running behind a particularly cute girl; she wore pigtails and had the hottest ass ever. The crack of her ass looked so inviting that I wanted nothing more than to pull down her pants and fuck her right then and there. But of course, I didn't consider myself a rapist, so I kept a respectful distance—even if it was just to get a better view. Suddenly, two other girls caught up and flanked me on either side. One was a tall blonde with a ponytail and huge tits—a Scandinavian type, I think. The other was a bit shorter, with dark curls and tanned skin—plus a voluptuous bosom I would have loved to bury my face in. I tried not to make it too obvious that I was checking the three girls out, but I simply didn't know where to look without my gaze landing on a butt or a pair of boobs; besides, the distinct bulge in my shorts made it all too clear what was going through my mind.

Then the blonde said to her friend, "Ready, Jaycy?" "You bet!" the other replied. "Okay," said the blonde. "One, two, three!" On "three," both of them grabbed the waistband of my shorts from the sides and yanked them down to my knees. They slid right down to my ankles, and before I knew it, I got tangled up in them and fell face-first into the dirt.
"Gotcha, you pervert!" I heard one of them shout. Before I could even gather myself or get up. The pretty girl who had been running in front of me grabbed my T-shirt and pulled it over my head, blinding me. Then someone grabbed my hands and yanked them upward. There I was, kneeling: arms in the air, head covered, legs spread, and my shorts hanging off just one foot. And then I felt it—the violent impact of a sneaker right into my dangling balls!
The breath was instantly knocked out of me, and I felt dizzy and nauseous. "Direct hit!" one of them cheered—I think it was the one the blonde had called Jaycy. "Let's take him over there, Kelly!" the blonde ordered.

I was hauled up and dragged forward. After stumbling a bit, I took another kick to my poor balls and collapsed again. Then they pulled my shirt off my head, and I could see my surroundings once more. "Let me go, you bitches!" I screamed, but my protest was abruptly cut short when the blonde stuffed my own shorts into my mouth. "Shut up, you pervert!" Jaycy said. I was kneeling in front of a tree. "Wrap his arms around it," the blonde ordered. She was clearly the leader of the trio. "
Aye, Becky!" the other two shouted in unison. My arms were wrapped around the tree and tied together on the other side, while Becky kept a firm grip on my balls to ensure I didn't try anything stupid. Then Jaycy and Kelly came back over and grabbed my feet. They pulled my legs as far apart as possible and used my shoelaces to tie them to objects I couldn't see.

I could neither move nor speak now and was completely at their mercy. "Well, you pervert!" Kelly said. "That’s what you get for staring at my ass!" Her foot slammed into my balls with full force. I whimpered into my shorts and felt stomach acid rising in my throat. Then it was Jayce’s turn. "Want to play with my melons? I’ll play with your balls!" she said.
The impact made me see stars. I noticed that her legs were significantly more toned than Kelly’s. Next came Becky, the tallest and strongest of the trio. "You like hitting on girls while they’re jogging? I’m going to teach you a lesson!" And then the toe of her running shoe struck my balls so hard they were crushed against my pelvis. For a moment, I seriously thought she had broken something. My cock had gone limp long ago, yet with every kick, it bobbed up and down—a mockery of its earlier movements. The girls now took turns kicking my balls from behind. They constantly mocked the way they swung back and forth whenever they were hit. I was surprised I was even still conscious; the pain seemed unbearable, and I feared for my virility. I even prayed to God that this abuse wouldn't leave me impotent.

After a while, I noticed we were attracting an audience, but no one came to my aid. We were surrounded by women, all wearing running gear.
"Hey, isn't that the asshole who’s been spying on us?" one said. "Yeah!" Becky shouted. "We’re just giving him a little attitude adjustment!" "Cool! Can we join in?" "Sure!" Becky agreed. "Kicking balls is pretty exhausting! Give it a try, girls, and bust his nuts!" At that moment, I lost all hope of ever getting an erection again. The women lined up behind me, and each one kicked or struck my poor, battered testicles to her heart's content.
At some point I must have eventually passed out, because the sun was suddenly much lower than before and most women were gone.

"This is taking forever!" I heard Kelly complain. "Well, balls are much tougher than you’d think. They don’t just pop that easily!" Jayce explained.

"Do you think he still can do it?" Kelly wondered. "Probably not," said Becky. "And it’s getting late. Let’s call it a night and go get something to eat!"

"No!" Kelly protested. "That’s not a satisfying ending!"

"And what do you suggest we do instead?" Becky asked. "Stay here until dawn?"

"No! But I have an idea—something I’ve always wanted to do."

I couldn't make out what they said next; apparently, they were whispering to each other. Then I heard them giggling and braced myself for the worst. I felt someone—probably Kelly—touching my aching balls. I could even feel her breath on my bare ass. Then, a searing pain shot from my balls straight to my head. Kelly had grabbed my balls and twisted them. She repeated the motion several times until my spermatic cords were tightly twisted together. The pain nearly made me pass out again. Then I felt her working at the base of my scrotum. And then came another jolt of pain—sharp and sudden, like a cut, but far worse. All three girls started laughing, cheering, and clapping. Once they’d calmed down a bit, Kelly stepped over and squatted down so she was closer to my face. I turned toward her, and she held something up, dangling it right in front of my face.
It was my balls! My damn balls! Still inside their sack. Kelly’s hair was loose, and she had tied one of the pink ribbons that had previously held her pigtails together around the opening of my severed scrotum to keep it closed. The other one was sealing the wound beneath my cock to stop the bleeding, as I later learned. "Thanks for the little souvenir, loser! I’ll take good care of it!" "I hope you have other hobbies besides harassing girls and jerking off," Becky said, "because you won't be interested in that anymore!" "Bye, neutered pig!" Jayce simply said. Then they all walked home laughing, and I passed out again.

 

I don’t know how much time passed before I was finally found by two female police officers—both beautiful women with stern demeanors, yet completely devoid of compassion. I was taken to the hospital and subsequently charged with disturbing the peace, sexual harassment, and indecent exposure. Although charges were also filed for bodily injury, mutilation, and abuse, the matter ultimately came to nothing. In the meantime, I lost my job and had to undergo numerous therapy sessions before I dared to take control of my life again.

A full year later, I finally gathered the courage to enter the park again. I went to an ice cream stand and tried to enjoy an ice cream in the sun once more. In the distance, I spotted a group of attractive young women standing at a high table, chatting. My penis had remained flaccid ever since, yet my libido hadn't vanished completely. At the very least, I remembered how much I had enjoyed masturbating and reaching orgasm at the thought of women like them—and I missed that dearly. Suddenly, one of the girls turned toward me and beamed. I couldn't believe it—it was Kelly!
A handbag hung over her bare shoulder, and she turned it as if to show me something. I dropped my ice cream onto my feet when I realized what it was. Hanging from her handbag was a small, round pouch made of pink leather. It was my balls—still in their sack! She had had them preserved and turned into a keychain. Kelly unhooked it from the bag and held it up so I could see it clearly. Suddenly, Becky and Jayce appeared beside me, and before I could react, they pulled down my pants. Everyone turned to look at me as they saw me standing there half-naked. They laughed and pointed at my shrunken little penis and the scarred area where my balls used to be. People were even taking photos! I was frozen with shock and shame. Suddenly, Becky pulled a pair of scissors from her handbag, opened them, and positioned the blades around my penis. "You don't need that anymore," she said, and cut it off.

Eddy had two secrets: a desire to be humiliated and kicked in the balls by beautiful, elegant women, and a crush on a young businesswoman whose name he didn't even know. She embodied all his sexual fantasies; in his daydreams, he would picture her while pleasuring himself and delivering gentle taps to his testicles—imagining that she was the one doing the tapping. He didn't dare strike his balls any harder, as he didn't want to cause any damage before he had the chance to experience the real thing. It would have been incredibly embarrassing for him if he accidentaly castrated himself or turned himself impotent. He shuddered at the thought of being actually castrated — a fate he considered worse than death!

Eddy had never taken a full-force kick to the groin in his life — aside from minor mishaps, like dropping the remote control on his testicles or taking a hit to the crotch during PE class. For him, it was less about the pain and more about the humiliation of being easily incapacitated by a woman — simply due to a vulnerability in his male anatomy. The thought always made him hard and ready for action.

The first time he caught sight of his crush, Eddy couldn't help but follow her to get a better look. She was slightly shorter than him; she wore her long blonde hair in a severe bun, and glasses with striking, black, rectangular frames sat on her delicate nose. She had a slender figure but a full bust, and a breathtaking backside that was tightly hugged by the short skirt of her business suit. Beneath the skirt, long, shapely legs were revealed, ending in black stilettos. It was obvious that she worked out, and Eddy imagined that a kick from those legs against his testicles would be a mix of heaven and hell on earth. He would have loved to take a photo or video of her to get off on, but he didn't dare. Instead, he tried to follow her unnoticed until she entered a large building that practically reeked of big money.

After this chance encounter, Eddy lurked in the area for a week, hoping to see her again. He succeeded, and in doing so, he noticed certain patterns in her appearances. Eventually, he discovered that she went to a nearby park every day at noon to eat alone. A woman like her surely attracted plenty of unwanted male attention, he reasoned — and not just from him. It was understandable, then, that she needed some time to herself. And she — the mistress of his dirty fantasies — had found the perfect hideaway: a specific bench surrounded by trees and bushes that shielded her from the gaze of passersby. Yet this offered Eddy the ideal hiding spot to watch her and play with his cock and balls while she enjoyed her lunch and crossed her beautiful legs. She had a habit of always keeping the toe of one foot pointed upward. Eddy imagined what it would feel like to rest his balls on the tip of that stiletto and take repeated kicks — without any chance to pull away or protect himself.

 Every now and then, Eddy toyed with the idea of ​​simply approaching her and asking her out on a date like a normal person. Perhaps they would become a couple, and once trust had been established, he could get her to act out his ballbusting fetish with him. Yet, he would quickly dismiss the thought each time. A woman like her wouldn't get involved with a guy like him — someone so obviously beneath her. On the other hand, he reasoned: a woman who not only held her own but actually succeeded in the male-dominated business world must surely have a dominant streak — and perhaps the prospect of kicking a man in the balls without facing any consequences would even appeal to her. He turned this idea over in his mind again and again until he was absolutely convinced that it had to be true.

 

Eventually, Eddy decided he’d had enough of just dreaming about it. He wanted to go all out, take the ultimate risk, and get her to act out his fantasy with him. He’d probably get sued for sexual harassment and might even end up in jail, but he decided it was worth it. Worst-case scenario, she’d simply ignore him without kicking him in the balls — but maybe she’d like it so much that they’d end up becoming a ball-busting couple after all!

 

The day Eddy had chosen as his day of destiny was warm and sunny. For an hour, he had waited in the bushes for his "ball-crushing goddess" — whose name, Veronica Grind, he had learned by eavesdropping on her phone calls. Miss Grind arrived late that day, looking visibly agitated. Perhaps she had been held up by someone, or was coming from difficult negotiations. In any case, Eddy decided to give her some time to calm down and relax before his big moment.

By the time Miss Grind finally finished her lunch and started scrolling through her phone, her mood had improved. She sat there smiling at the screen, humming to herself, and even tapping her foot. That was the moment Eddy decided to emerge from his hiding place. He stepped right in front of her wearing nothing but his boxers. Miss Grind eyed him over the rim of her glasses with a look that betrayed a mixture of surprise, interest, and disdain. A good start, Eddy thought; she didn't scream or immediately run away. Quickly, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and let them slide to the ground, instantly revealing a rock-hard erection. Eddy had a decent cock — not excessively large, but well above average in both length and girth. But the real stars of the show were his balls! He had shaved them completely for the occasion to show off how plump and round they were. Besides, he wanted to look his best for Veronica, in case she actually took a liking to him. But there was no time to flaunce his manhood right under her nose. He had to act fast before she could react or change her pose. A handcuff was attached to his left wrist. Eddy brought his hands behind his back and cuffed them together. Then he dropped to his knees and swung his hips so that his bouncing testicles landed right on the tip of Miss Grind’s upturned shoe. He had practiced this trick at home for days, gaining some more experience with aching balls in the process — an experience that would hopefully prepare him for what was coming next, should his wish come true. Now it was time for his prepared speech.

 

“Please, Miss Grind — I am such a pathetic little pervert, and you are so dignified, beautiful, and proud! Please punish me for making you the focus of my lustful desires! Please kick me in my worthless balls! Make them suffer and destroy them! My testicles belong to you; do whatever you want with me and my balls!”

 

Veronica Grind looked down at the naked creep who had just exposed himself infront of her and ruined her $500 stiletto with his disgusting, sweaty balls. This city seemed to be crawling with such perverts. Her male colleagues and business partners — who eyed her up and down like a piece of meat each day — were bad enough, but this guy really took the cake! Yet he was right! He deserved to be punished! Her rational mind urged her to sue him for every last cent, but another part of her, a much darker one, felt the urge to actually do to him exactly what he was asking her to do. It would certainly be amusing if he tried to report her to the authorities for it.

Veronica pulled her foot back, and Eddy’s testicles sagged, dangling above the ground. She moved her foot as far away from him as possible and Eddy began to fear his plan wasn't going to work. But then Veronica’s foot shot forward. The tip of her stiletto struck Eddy’s left testicle like a bullet. Eddy screamed in shock. The pain was more intense than anything his poor testicles had ever endured before. His stomach cramped, and he fell onto his back. He felt the food rising in his throat and struggled to keep it down. Veronica stood up and kicked his testicles again — this time with her other foot, though she hit the same testicle once more. Eddy groaned and instinctively rolled onto his side, pulling up his legs to shield his testicles. Had his hands not been cuffed together, he would have cupped them protectively around his groin — which was precisely why he had cuffed them in the first place.

"Stop making so much noise," Veronica hissed. "You’re attracting too much attention!"

Eddy grimaced, fighting the urge to vomit, but said nothing. A lot was going through his mind. There was the pain, of course, but also the realization that the actual experience of being kicked in the balls bore no resemblance to his fantasy. This wasn't pleasure; it was sheer torture. But before Eddy could tell Veronica he’d changed his mind — or beg her to stop — she stuffed his boxers into his mouth, rendering him unable to vomit or speak.

Then she rolled him onto his back, grabbed his ankles, and pulled his legs up. Next, she spread them wide. Their eyes met as she looked down at him — as if he were some insect she was about to crush beneath her foot. Eddy’s eyes widened as he realized what she was planning. He tried to plead with her using only his gaze, but all he got in return was a mocking grin. Then Veronica raised her beautiful, shapely leg —  which Eddy had been admiring for so long — and slammed it with full force into his crotch! To Eddy, it felt like a hammer striking his balls. The sole of Veronica’s shoe crushed both his testicles flat against his pelvis. The pain shot straight from his balls to his brain; it felt as though both his brain and his balls were about to explode.

But although his vision briefly went black, Eddy didn't drift into blissful unconsciousness, for another stomp on his testicles snapped him right back to the here and now.

Veronica used him like a stepper at the gym and even worked up a sweat doing so, while Eddy wavered between unconsciousness and painful reality. With every step, his testicles grew more tender and flatter. They were visibly dented, red, and swollen, yet apparently still intact.

Finally, the furious woman paused, while the wretched man curled up on the grass and sobbed into his gag. Veronica’s gaze fell upon the bench and a small rock lying beside it. Her eyes lit up as she had another cruel idea.

She leaned over Eddy, slid her hands between his legs, and grabbed his battered genitals. Using them to haul him back to his feet, she led the trembling man behind the bench. The bench’s backrest consisted of three wooden slats, spaced an inch apart. Veronica wedged Eddy’s cock and balls between two of the slats at one end of the bench. Then she took the rock and slammed it forcefully between the slats, pinning Eddy’s genitals in place. Too weak to stand, Eddy now hung there, his full weight pulling against his genitals as they remained trapped against the bench.

But all that was just the prelude; now the real fun began. At first, Veronica tried punching his testicles, but she soon abandoned this method because she kept hitting the wood beside or beneath them. So, she switched back to stomping on them. In this position, it was much easier for her not only to strike Eddy’s testicles with the flat soles of her shoes but also to drive her pointy heels into them. This left even deeper indentations in the testicular tissue. Veronica studied the marks she had left on Eddy’s now completely misshapen testicles with interest.

"Alright, little man," Veronica said with a mocking smile. "You’ve already made me run over my lunch break. It’s time to finish you off!"

By this point, Eddy was barely conscious. His brain had shut out the pain some time ago — an act of self-preservation. But Veronica neither noticed nor cared. She slipped off her shoes, took them in her hands, and began hammering at Eddy’s testicles with the sharp heels. Each blow left another deep indentation in the testicular tissue.

Eddy stared into the void with wide-open eyes; only his heavy breathing and racing pulse betrayed the immense strain his body was under. Suddenly, Veronica heard a wet, squelching sound. Eddy’s left testicle had been crushed to a pulp and slid out of place. Her right hand and the stiletto heel she held in it were splattered with blood. Had she really just popped his testicle? For a moment, Veronica stared in shock at the mangled gonad, but then a grin spread across her face. This was far too exciting to stop now. She wasn't known do things by halves; so, she raised her hand and aimed the stiletto heel at Eddy’s remaining testicle. The sharp heel pierced into the tissue, and once again, Veronica was rewarded with a squelching sound. Eddy gasped; then the crushed testicle slipped through the wooden slats, and his unconscious body slumped into the grass.

Veronica walked around the bench and checked first Eddy’s pulse and then what was left within his scrotum. It felt very soft and mushy. There was no trace left of a pair of healthy testicles. She wasn't a medical professional, but she was pretty sure those boy parts were beyond saving. Still, she kneaded them vigorously one last time, just to be absolutely certain they were done for. Then she took a hair tie from her handbag and used it to cut off the blood supply to Eddy’s scrotum—right below the base of his penis. Crushing a man’s balls was one thing; letting him die of blood poisoning was something else entirely. Finally, she removed the boxers from his mouth and rolled him into the recovery position. Veronica found Eddy’s clothes in the bushes, along with his wallet, phone, and keys. Inside the wallet were some cash and a few credit cards — not a fortune, but perhaps enough to compensate for the loss of her ruined stilettos and business attire; so, she tucked everything of value into her own handbag. The rest was tied into a tight bundle and tucked under the arm. Let the naked bastard figure out for himself how to get out of this mess, Veronica thought.

 

She didn’t go straight back to the office but headed to her apartment to change. Along the way, she distributed Eddy’s belongings among several public trash cans. She was agitated, but in an aroused sort of way. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She — a woman — had decided and ensured, all on her own, that this man would never again be able to have sex or make babies. His manhood was destroyed, his sex life ruined! She had been sexually harassed by a man and had actually castrated him for it — and in a rather brutal fashion, too. She was no longer merely a victim; she was accuser, judge, and executioner all rolled into one. Justice had been served today! Veronica felt fantastic. This was true empowerment, a victory for all women! And Veronica knew: if she had the choice, she would do it all over again. To her own shock and excitement, she suddenly realized that she actually wanted to do it again — and that she would get the chance to do so soon enough. After all, there were enough men in the office whose balls were just waiting to be cracked open and mashed by her.