Our Friendships Turned Febrile II : The Social Contracts

Our Friendships Turned Febrile II : The Social Contracts 

-- Contains Heavy Non-Consensual Ballbusting --  

John held onto the rail, afraid with his awkward gait, he would slip down his frozen front steps. The past three days had been the most miserable of his life. The events of last Friday were sealed behind a wall of pain, every action muddled and disorganized.   

“John! Hurry up! We don’t want to be late to school!” Zoey waved.   

John squinted; Zoey’s figure was blotted by the backdrop of the rising sun. John waddled closer to her, treating each step like his last, savoring time. It was the first time since his abuse that he had walked outside of his house. Seeing the gathering snow on his driveway, he recalled a fragment of his sullied memory. Emily had carried him home, up his steps, and into his room, where she tended to his tender orbs.   

“What’s wrong John?” Zoey asked, tilting her head.   

Her honey gold locks slithered down her red jacket. A beige scarf covering her slender neck. The braided strands of her scarf sloped over her modest breasts, the frayed tips hanging like icicles dripping from a swelling overhang.  

“Nothing.” John snapped, realizing he was motionless.  

Overcome with an arbitrary sense of awkwardness, he closed his legs, compressing his tender testicles. He grunted, streams of white, hot air escaping his nostrils.  

“Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little sick.” Zoey said jokingly.   

She really didn’t mean it. John and Zoey’s friendship went far, not as far as John’s relationship with Emily, but it was long enough to recognize the hint of sarcasm in her tender voice.  

“Zoey, I told you I’m fine.” John affirmed, limping as his lopsided, swollen testicles rubbed against his padded inner thigh.  

“Good! You can carry my bag, can’t you?” Zoey smiled, passing her blue sack to John.   

“I’m not going to carry your bag, you do it!” John bit.   

“Bitch.” Zoey pouted.  

Playfully, she veered her welled fist into John’s arm, causing exceptional pain. Despite Zoey’s smaller frame, she had the ferocity of a phoenix, her seemingly endless energy apparent in her everyday life. Her strike, while aimed at a resilient section of John’s body, made his eyes water. His body shuddered, trying to mask his discomfort in front of his female friend. Zoey chuckled, seeing through John’s charade. While she didn’t think she put much power behind it, it was clear he was suffering.  

“Carry my bag John! Unless you want me to tenderize you!” Zoey grinned, her stance wide.  

Without hesitation, John snatched Zoey’s schoolbag, he slid it on his back. Together, Zoey and John walked. John was slower than usual; Zoey was constantly chiding and berating John and his new meek personality. John was used to it, Zoey was always known to go hard on people, even her friends. Yet, her tease felt like much more, while it could have been all in his head, it felt malicious.  

“It’s pretty warm for this time of day, don’t you agree John?” Zoey boomed.  

Balancing atop a cobble fence, Zoey was elevated a few feet in relation to John. Her tight, modest ass strained against her reddish-purple winter trousers. From behind, her plentiful posterior, and thick thighs echoed the image of a plump radish, ripe and ready to be nibbled on. John’s leery eyes snapped to the straining fabric, before jutting back down to his feet.   

“You blushing or something? Why is your face so red?” Zoey called down.  

“Maybe I am not feeling too well.” John mumbled.   

“Bullshit.” Zoey spat. “I know just what you need! A good view!”  

“A view?” John stuttered, his eyes fixating on Zoey’s firm breasts.   

“Come up here silly!” Zoey giggled, biting her soft tongue.   

Zoey hoisted John at the armpits, encouraging him to join her on the thin cobble wall. Against his will, John joined Zoey, his legs shuddering as his still swollen testicles rubbed against his sticky thighs.   

“Sore or something?” Zoey snickered. John groaned.  

Zoey placed her mittens on John’s hips, guiding him forward on the wall. The soft sun was a brilliant gold, its rays escaping through branches of snowy spruce. Sporadic rural homes littered the brush, thin wisps of smoke billowing out of brick chimneys. A frozen stream was to their right, on the opposite side of the wall.   

“Don’t fall over!” Zoey squeaked, giving John a light push forward.   

“Knock it off.” John protested. Zoey smiled.  

John’s childhood friend pressed her pelvis into him. Now on level footing, she was several inches shorter than her friend. Her toned stomach pressed into the meaty chunk of John’s butt. Slowly, she increased the regularity of her hip’s motion, until she was clearly humping him. Not receiving a desired reaction, she became crass and impatient.  

“John, you’re moving so slow! Pick up the pace, or we’re going to be late!” Zoey huffed.   

Cruelly, and without any forethought, Zoey jammed her knee upwards. Perhaps from her perspective, she was aiming at John’s bottom.  

 The brutalized boy cried out, the echoes of his voice sending clumps of snow careening off stressed branches of green trees. Zoey, from behind, had brought her muscular and angelic knee square into John’s layered testicles. The once cradling cloth that snuggly harbored his bruised balls simultaneously sealed their fate. Zoey kept her powerful knee suspended, unknowingly preventing John’s agony to end. His stressed balls brushed with the real concept of a rupture. Zoey’s invading knee crushing them to near oblivion, John’s hard pelvis welcomed his flattening testicles. The soft fabric prevented his usually chaotic testicles from sliding to either side of Zoey’s knee, forcing them to crunch against two hard boney materials.   

“John?” Zoey said.  

Unconsciously, John had clamped his legs together, ironically keeping Zoey’s intrusive knee pressed against his watery orbs. John shut his eyes, tears streaming out as he lost all strength in his lower body, as well as feeling. His body teetered over the edge of the fence, bringing Zoey down with him. Zoey let out a feminine cry, grunting when she landed in the powdery snow caking the bank of the icy, stagnant water.   

John groaned, gingerly cupping his groin with his winter gloves. Zoey lay next to him, her knee inches away from his hot nuts. The golden-haired woman pressed her hand on John’s chest, using it to lift herself to a sitting position.  

“Lucky we landed in snow; the ice would have really hurt.”  

Zoey appeared completely oblivious to the damage and pain she had caused John, figuring his groans stemmed from his soreness; whatever part of his body it may have been. Truthfully, Zoey hadn’t realized what was pressed against her knee was John’s precious jewels. For one, the thick fabric at the seam of his crotch muddled his man meat; combined with the squishiness of his swollen nuts, she didn’t have a clue what her knee had scooped up. Secondly, she wasn’t the brightest.   

John’s eyes were fixated on the orange clouds, their blissful nature alluring. John couldn’t fathom an existence quite like it, one devoid of pain.  

“Hello you two, am I interrupting something?” Came a voice.   

John’s heart sank, his body tingled, the voice reminding him an all too familiar pain. It was Emily. Her face blotted the orange sky, strands of her long raven hair hanging like vines. She smiled at him, her red lips curling like a clowns.   

“Oh! Em!” Zoey exclaimed, standing in the foot-deep snow. “I knocked on your door a thousand times! I thought since I was late you were already making your way to school.”  

“Well, I was. But seeing you two crossing the bridge, I thought I would wait.” Emily cooed. “How are you John?”  

John was unresponsive. Petrified in his own mind, he relived the prior event of getting his manhood violated by Emily. The ball-busting sadist crouched down, her thighs caressing either side of John’s head. Her attire was extremely conservative. Her white winter coat made her curvaceous, toned top half appear as a flat cylinder. While her thighs and ass were disproportionately large to her waist, her padded snow pants hid her true womanliness.  

“Did you do something with your hair by chance, Em?” Zoey asked.  

“Yeah, I thought I would change it up.” Emily tilted her head to the side, showing Zoey her long ponytail.  

“You look fuckable as usual.” Zoey grinned.  

“Thanks.” Emily giggled.   

John’s genitals reacted instantly; hearing Emily’s giggle had put a physical strain on his testicles. Oddly enough, his cock rose in his pants, straining against his fabric. Emily stood and stepped over John, down to the frozen bank of the stream. She reached behind to her backpack, returning with her lime-green water bottle.   

“Well John, why don’t you get up already. I’m pretty sure we’re already going to be late, but I still don’t want Ms. Blackwood to bust my balls.” Zoey shuddered.   

While Zoey was fixated on the slope leading back to the road, Emily tossed her water bottle. The green object zipped along the glossy ice, under the bridge and off into the distance.  

“Oh! Zoey! My water bottle’s sliding away!” Emily said, faking her distress.  

Zoey dropped all worry of being late, as well as the irrational fear of Ms. Blackwood busting her balls; she didn’t have any. She scurried on all fours like a dog chasing their favorite ball.   

Before John knew it, his scrappy, honey-blond friend Zoey had disappeared, and Emily had thrust her Ugg boot into his groin. John let out a wail, and his eyes bulged out of his head. Instinctively, he brought his hands to where his sagging nuts should have been. All he could grasp was the rubber underside of Emily’s boot. Emily was breathing hard, white wisps escaping her drooling lips. She leaned over slightly, her constricted tits bulging against her white coat. From experience alone, Emily was able to gauge John’s testicular fortitude. Unable to feel his feeble testicles through his layers and her boot, she could only rely on his body language and her intuition to not permanently crush them against the packed snow beneath. Emily bit her lower lip, her body shuddering in euphoria.   

“John, after our experience together, I haven’t been able to take my mind off these things.” As if to emphasize what she was referring too, she leaned deeper, crushing John’s cock and balls.   

John let out a high pitch moan. He bit his tongue, trying his best to subdue his pathetic cry. Emily was able to pick up on his ploy.  

“John, it’s alright if you cry, boys can cry too, what’s the issue if a few people hear and see us?” Emily smiled. “I’m crushing your bruised balls John, like before, remember that?”  

Emily twisted her heel into John’s bruised nuts, trying to force more squeals out of John. He obliged, but it wasn’t enough for her, she craved more. She lifted her foot high, letting the inevitable sink in, before slamming it back down, the tip of her boot pinching John’s globes between the packed snow. She ground her foot in a circular motion, making sure no lump of John’s nuts missed her affection. He wailed and withered.  

Emily took her Ugg boot of John’s orbs. Before the beaten boy could bring his weak hand to cup his bits, Emily had already taken the initiative to subdue him. Using her exceptional strength, she dragged John under the bridge. Like a true savage, she ripped John’s pants down, popping buttons off. With his manhood fully exposed to the biting cold, his dick reactively shriveled, bringing Emily clear displeasure. She removed one of her white mittens. John’s eyes bulged out further, his mind racing with all the things Emily could do to his exposed nuts. Rather than demolish them, she lightly caressed his swollen testicles. In his shriveled sack, they were easy to manipulate. Next, Emily focused on John’s shrunken penis, stroking the tip until it was completely inflamed.   

“Emily, stop.” John said, grasping at Emily’s hand.   

Emily gripped his shaft with all her might, trapping the blood in the latter half of his near 9-inch cock. John watched his swollen glands turn a bright purple.   

“You’re throbbing for me, I'm glad you feel the same way I feel about you.”  

Emily’s statement couldn’t have been further from the truth. John begged for release; inversely to what Emily must have had in mind.   

“Zoey will be coming back soon. But before she does, I want to get several things straight with you, John.”  

 She seductively bit the tip of her still gloved hand, pulling it off with her mouth. She nibbled the coarse fabric, imagining it as John’s soggy tip. With her gloveless hand still on John’s screaming cock she snapped another picture, in order to savor the moment for her later pleasure.   

“Take a look at all of these John.” Emily said, shoving her dick riddled phone into his face.  

While his vision was blurry, hot tears stinging, he was able to make out the distinct shape of his cock, as well as bluish egg-shaped orbs.  

“If you want to keep this between you and me, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”  

Emily rigorously stroked John’s hard penis, pulling and stretching his foreskin over his sensitive glans. John moaned aloud, arching his back. He was feeling true pleasure; something only Emily had ever been able to evoke within him.  

“I really don’t want to hurt you too bad, but if you jeopardize our relationship, I’ll have to take my rage out on these. Will you comply?”  

Emily cruelly pulled down on John’s testicles. They were stubbornly inflexible, the frigid air tightening his nut cords. Still, Emily was able to stretch them beyond the normal limits of human anatomy. John couldn’t believe the feeling; as much as he was terrified of his testicles being taken from him, he acknowledged they should have been broken by that point. John nodded, hoping his compliance would save his testicles from immediate harm. Emily smiled.  

“Alright then, let’s go to school.” She said, releasing herself from John’s manhood.   

Scooping snow at either side of John’s spayed legs, Emily shoveled it onto his radiating testicles. John sighed, the snow briefly relieving his pain. Quickly, the powdery snow melted against him, soaking into his pants.   

“This should help the pain and swelling, but hopefully not too much.” Emily giggled.  

John’s cock twitched, some mechanism in his mind increasingly associating primal senses with Emily harmless giggle. Emily slid John’s twitching cock into his wet underwear, tucking it in neatly. She pulled up his pants, patting the fabric into his meat.  

“Come on now, I’ll help you stand.” Emily grunted, lifting John up by the straps of his and Zoey’s individual backpacks. Emily wrapped John’s arm around her backside, giving him a plump helping of her cake. Emily lightly brushed away the snow from John’s shoulders, as if nothing had happened. Hunched over, John appeared shorter, and completely submissive to Emily. He was absolutely terrified, the feeling amplifying as Emily forced his hand to grope her butt. She was in complete control of the situation. Without any reasonable means of escaping her clutches, John wanted to cry.  

“Em! I got your bottle!” Zoey cheered.  

Running up the frozen lake, her firm breasts bounced in a controlled manner. Up and down, up and down, her bra and tight coat keeping them confined.  

“Also, look! I found money!” Zoey grinned, a five poking out of her welled fist.  

Zoey skidded on the smooth ice. She was unable to stop, her forward momentum and flat boots a deadly combo. Calculating her direction, Emily quickly readjusted her stance, sliding John in front of her. Grabbing John’s shoulder Emily held him firm, seizing control over his movements. It was a game to her.   

Zoey came careening forward, looking for John and Emily to cancel her momentum. John caught the brunt of it, Zoey’s plump knee sending his testicles in the appropriate direction. Her womanly body as a whole plowed into him, not that her squishy tits mattered to John in that moment.  

“Here!” Zoey said, passing Emily’s water bottle back to her.   

“Thanks Zoey. I love this bottle.” Emily said. John groaned at seemingly nothing.  

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you John?” Zoey asked, still oblivious to everything. John groaned again in response, the noise becoming a permanent part of his vocabulary.  

“John didn’t tell you? Him and I did a killer lower body workout over the weekend, isn’t that right John?” Emily smiled.  

John nodded, knowing he had to go along with it.   

“You two worked out together? And didn’t invite me?” Zoey said, acting hurt. A smile crept along Emily’s warm face.  

“I wouldn’t be opposed if you joined us, some day.”  

  

John, while late to first period, took his time changing. Zoey and Emily had already made their way to class. John gingerly peeled the layers from his skin, minding his groin especially. Finally, in a light set of clothes, he left the locker room, making his way down the halls of King Willow High. A conspicuous wet spot was smack in the middle of his crotch. While damp cloths were common in an area covered in snow 90% of the time, it still embarrassed him, knowing it originated from Emily shoveling cold snow onto his nuts.  

John, more than any other day, was able to appreciate the simplicity of his schedule. John’s town was in the uppermost, and most remote area of the state; it was once regarded as a frontier for pioneers. With that age long past, a stable civilization was able to lay claim. The one high school in town harbored everyone. Other than the odd homeschooled individual, everyone of that age knew each other by osmosis. Because of the small class sizes, John was able to rest his bruised testicles, most of his particular classes taking place in the same exact room.   

The day was half over. John had made it that far, the pain in his left and right testicles subsiding slightly. Zoey had pulled another desk next to John, her arm slightly intruding on his personal space.  

“Another week, another day without Ken in third.” Zoey said, taking a bite from John’s jelly sandwich. Without appetite, John allowed Zoey to take advantage of him.  

John remembered what Emily had told him, how she casually mentioned she had ruptured her classmate's testicles. Zoey didn’t seem to know, no one did. John felt dirty knowing what had happened.  

“Rumor is his family’s moving. Something about peeping at the middle school.” Zoey added nonchalantly. “Personally, fuck that prick, he’d always stare at my tits.”  

“Where exactly did you hear this rumor?” John asked.  

“Em, who else?” Zoey asked, dead serious.  

John conceded, affirming to himself that Zoey had already been corrupted; she was still completely unaware of Em’s antics.  

“Miss Bishop, I will not tolerate swearing in my classroom, even if we are on break.” Came Ms. Blackwood.  

The tired teacher didn’t even look up. Sitting at her desk, she was constantly sipping her creamy coffee, reading a tabloid on her phone.  

“Sorry!” Zoey called back.   

Ms. Blackwood took another sip from her black mug and grunted, acknowledging Zoey’s apology in her own way.   

Iris Blackwood was just one of ten female teachers. Within that subset, it wasn’t her exemplary teaching style, but her body that set her apart. Already quite tall for a female, her black 6-inch high heels guaranteed anyone she spoke with face to face would be speaking up to her. At some angles, even that was impossible, her breasts made sure of that. Nearly spilling out of her tight shirt, no good faith argument could justify the levels of skin she was showing. With the way she was sitting in the moment, her black bra was showing; almost no boy could ignore it. Her short black skirt revealed all too much, her plump ass viewable at the right angle.  

Despite her gorgeous looks, she was clearly miserable, her brown eyes always hollow. Her glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, magnifying her silent sorrow. Besides her blood-cell shaped red jade earrings poking from her black, strait, shoulder length hair, her entire self was devoid of color. There had been tons of rumors as of her origins. A hyper-sexualized teacher was bound to bring about the wildest stories. She was a criminal on the run, using her looks to land a quiet job at a high school. A prostitute turned to mundane work after contracting a STI, that, or biting the dick off a crime boss. A secret agent working undercover, trying to find a causal link between the low birthrate in the area and chemicals in the snow. Truth was, high schoolers were fucking stupid.  

Aside from John, Emily, and Ms. Blackwood, there was one other individual; it was Aria Hale. She was sitting in the literal corner of the room, nibbling on a carrot. Aria’s brazen eyes met John’s for a moment. Instantly, John retracted his, unable to keep his cool. Stripped of her snow clothes, her damp white top exposed critical sections of her smooth skin and frilly blue bra. Before John’s whole ordeal with Emily, he had idealized Aria as his "type". But after what Emily had told him, he feared looking her in the eyes, hoping his feelings for Aria would subside with time. But in that brief second, his cock expanded.   

Aria stood, her modest tits hanging like ripe fruit on a stressed branch. She walked to Ms. Blackwood, bringing up something relating to a project. John’s leery eyes traced back to Aria’s firm ass and petite backside. Her wispy, angelic dark brown hair fell just below her shoulder blades. During their exchange, one way or another, Ms. Blackwood’s cup spilt, staining her white shirt and sticky-ing her tits.   

“Fuck.” She grumbled, standing.   

Her massive melons nearly knocked Aria out as she stood. The creamy coffee had completely soaked her formal top, exposing her toned navel. Her black stockings siphoned her thick thighs, constricting the meat of her quad. Swiftly, she left the room, her sharp heels pelting the floorboard. Presumably, she was headed to the staff area to change her soiled top.   

“Fucking hypocrite.” Zoey scoffed, finishing John’s sandwich.  

Aria took her seat in the corner of the room, texting on her phone. A minute had passed, and the door opened again; but it wasn’t Ms. Blackwood.  

“Hey John, look.” Zoey whispered, pointing at the door. “Looks like a wild asshole is approaching.”  

Lucas barged through the door, locking his head on John. Like a pre-programmed machine, he shifted his body secondly, once acquiring his target. Clearly flexing his muscles, his broad and rock-hard shoulders glistened with water. His large pecs strained against his red tank top. Still flexing, he awkwardly stomped to Zoey and John. His wide muscular thighs bumping into low desks.   

“Sup retard.” Lucas said, tilting his head up.  

The wide jock leaned onto the soles of his feet, positioning his head right above John. While John wasn’t looking directly at him, he could feel Lucas’s temper.   

Swiftly, Aria excused herself. Walking past the three of them. John couldn’t help turn his head, staring at her tight ass as she passed.   

“Hey, fuckface.” Lucas growled, grasping John’s collar. “Look at me.”  

John rolled his eyes, and obeyed. Lucas’ lopsided face was purely a pain to look at; John avoided it as much as he could. In Lucas’ career as a star football player, his nose had been broken several times, creating the uncanny valley. The damage had made him a mouth breather, constantly expelling foul odors of onion and egg.   

“What do you want, Lucas?” John said.  

“You know perfectly well what you did, just admit it.”  

“You realize I have no idea what that means.” John sighed. “This is too typical of you.”  

“Yeah Lucas, can you just leave? We were having a good time before you came.” Zoey said, clearly turned off.  

Lucas glared down to Zoey, specifically her breasts. Having abandoned her coat, her curves were accentuated perfectly. Without any shame, Lucas continued to take in the eyeful.   

“I know you would have a good time with all 6 feet and 8 inches of me.” Lucas snorted, flexing his free arm.  

“Lucas, you’re no taller than 6 foot.” Zoey spat.  

“Hey, sweetie, those were two different measurements.”  

Zoey couldn't help but roll her eyes.  

“But I’ll get with you later, little Johnny here has my attention.” Lucas focused back on John’s face, preparing his fist.   

Seeing his telegraphed strike, John covered his face with his arms, hoping to absorb the blow. It never came. Instead, there was a high pitched cry; for once, it didn’t come from him! John opened his eyes, feeling Lucas’s fist had released his shirt. The brawny bull’s mouth was wide open, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His veiny forearms covered the same section of his body, his groin. John was unable to process what had happened, or most of the rapid events that followed.   

Zoey leapt out of her seat, tackling Lucas, bringing him to the floor. With her teeth bared, she jammed her claw-like hand into Lucas’s balls, his loose gym shorts offering no protection. Zoey gritted her teeth and snarled. She reduced Lucas to a sobbing puddle within 10 seconds, digging her fingers between Lucas’s epididymis and testis. Lucas, white knuckled, pried at Zoey’s fingers; but she wouldn’t budge, digging harder and harder into his nut-meat.   

John had never seen such an inhuman action. Without remorse, Zoey twisted and pulled at the most vital part of Lucas. The pathetic wails escaping Lucas’s mouth would have had any humanitarian in tears; Zoey continued to torture him. John’s own stomach twisted into a knot, watching Lucas writhe. Was that how he was when Emily tied him up? Tenderizing his sack like a stubborn piece of meat? For once, John felt pity for the abrasive jock.  

Zoey didn’t share the same sentiment as John. On the contrary, she was quite annoyed. Lucas was still screaming his head off, his head turning red.   

“Shut the fuck up!” Zoey snarled.  

Zoey gripped Lucas’ neck with her free hand, constricting his blood flow. Foolishly, Lucas removed his fingers from Zoey’s taunt fist, clawing at her other hand. Zoey’s blue eyes lit up, seizing her opportunity. Faster than she had smacked Lucas’s sack before, she snaked her dexterous fingers up his loose shorts, locating his jewels again. John swore, Lucas’s bloodshot eyes were bulging out further than his crooked nose.  

“I’ve got you fucker.” Zoey spat, void of empathy.  

Her vice-like grip negated Lucas’s intrinsically sweaty, slippery testicles. She pulled up, forcing Lucas’ to a bridge position. She didn’t stop. Lucas’s individual testicles pressed against the thin material of his shorts. Zoey grunted, moving her entire forearm in a circular motion, as if twisting a wrench, tightening a nut.  

Using what strength he had left, Lucas stood, attempting to alleviate the pressure on his nut cords. Zoey, opportunistic as ever, pushed him over, using her knee to bat Lucas's testicles in the direction she wanted his body to go. One hand still on his neck, she bent him back over, his wide back flat against a nearby desk. Every nerve in his body was shot. Unable to discern up from down, his entire word was spinning, his compass constantly shifting between pain and humiliation. He pleaded with his watery eyes, trying to appear with Zoey. She just smiled back, but not at him. His testicles had her undivided attention. Straining between her welled fist and the fabric, they appeared as perfect eggs.   

“I’ve had it up to here with you!” Zoey said, illustrating her point of reference by lifting Lucas’s testicles up higher and higher.  

Pressing down on his neck, Lucas wasn’t able to stand, no matter how much he wanted too. Zoey chuckled, admiring Lucas’s testicular fortitude; because of his resilience, she was able to prolong his pain. Lucas squealed; his lower body was lifted from the floor, purely being suspended by his watery orbs.  

“I hope you fucking enjoyed looking at my tits.” Zoey bit, rubbing her hanging bosom on Lucas’s stomach.   

“Zoey, stop it, you’re going to rip them off!” John said.  

John, still sitting, finally had the courage to speak out. He was probably one of the only people on the planet that could empathize with Lucas. Feeling helpless, at the mercy of someone whose only goal was to bring you the worst pain known to man. John felt sick, seeing Lucas’s body twitch and convulse. He had the perfect view of Zoey’s chosen torment.   

“John, this piece of shit deserves to have his nuts turned to jelly, don’t you agree?”  

“No! He doesn’t deserve it! Someone will hear his screams! You’re going to get into trouble.”  

All at once, Zoey released Lucas, allowing him to melt to the floor. John’s latest words broke through, her sense of conduct resurfacing, realizing she could be punished. She looked back to Lucas, practically spitting on him while she spoke.  

“You should be fucking grateful. John here just saved your manhood.” Zoey said. Lucas just groaned. “Don’t bother us, or I’ll squeeze your balls again.” Zoey said, clenching her fist.  

The meat-head man crawled away, one hand clutching his sagging testicles, making sure they didn’t fall off. Desperately, he inched his way to the door.  

“One last thing, Lucas.” Zoey said, pressing her back foot into the floorboard.  

John knew exactly what was to come, he had seen it from the first-person perspective before. Zoey, much like Emily, was a perfect specimen of a woman. While overall, Zoey was smaller than Emily, her strength shouldn't have been underestimated, especially when aiming at the weakest spot on a man. She let her foot fly, leaning back the moment her boot scooped Lucas’s danglers. Lucas’s whole world exploded, his nuts compressing against Zoey’s boot and his hard, seized up abs. His lower body was literally lifted from the floor. For a single second, only his forearm was in contact with the flooring, the force of Zoey’s boot brutalizing his balls.   

“Get lost.” Zoey spat, stomping her feet on the floor, faking a charge.  

Lucas scrambled out, leaving a trail of tears, dry heaving the entire way. In the halls, he continued the cry, crawling on all fours to somewhere he could tend to his orbs.   

Zoey let out a dignified huff, putting her welled fists on her wide hips. Throwing her shoulders back, her breasts jiggled ever so slightly. It was right after that that John lost any common understanding he had toward teenage girls. Zoey picked up her toppled seat, sliding right next to John. She sat, the fleshy curve of her ass pressing against John’s thigh as she leaned into him, as if nothing had happened.  

John’s mouth was wide open, stomach still in knots. Zoey played with her honey hair, removing strands that had fallen onto her revealing top. While in close proximity to John, she was effectively ignoring him, checking her nails to see if they had chipped while digging into Lucas’ nut-sack.   

“Zoey, what did you just do?” John whimpered.  

Zoey shot her dark beryl eyes at John, forcing his eyes down. His heart was thumping, dreading the idea that in her clear rage Zoey would take liberty in smacking his nuts. She was perfectly capable of it. While John wasn’t the weakest guy, he was known to lag behind Zoey in terms of stamina and strength.  

“Oh? That? Lucas has been a dick for as long as we’ve known him, I’d say he deserved it.”  

Zoey knew she wasn’t convincing, judging by John’s unmask-able disapproval.  

“Look John, we’re all going to college by the end of the year, I figured roughing up Lucas before then wouldn’t be a big deal.”  

Zoey was lying. It was clear in her voice, that her violent and sadistic outbreak was motivated by some prior disorder. John couldn’t look at Zoey in the same way. The honey-haired teen rolled her eyes.   

“Look John, just forget what happened. If I hadn’t done what I did, he would have given you a black eye. Honestly, you should be thanking me that I almost crushed his nuts. Because of me, he won’t bother us again.” Zoey scoffed.  

“I appreciate what you did to some degree, but that was really brutal what you did to him.” John said, treading carefully when speaking. “What possessed you to go that far?”   

“What part are you referring to? When I pinched between his epididymis and testis, when I lifted him by the balls? That last kick I gave him?”  

John bent over, setting his head on his desk, trying to comfort his stomach.  

“Em taught me.” Zoey added.   

John groaned out loud, but wasn’t surprised. Zoey looked concerned.  

“Were you actually hungry?” Zoey said, setting her head on her desk, facing John.  

“I really don’t have an appetite.” John grumbled.  

“I could get used to that; your food is good.” Zoey smiled.  

   

Lucas bounded forward like a wild dog, his brain firing one signal and one signal only. Zoey’s last kick had sent him into a pure manic state; he ran as if he was being chased.  

“Hey, you! Stop!” Came a voice.  

The girl in question gripped Lucas’s tank top, nearly ripping it off as he bounded past.  

“Aria?” Lucas groaned, cupping his balls as the brunette slammed him against the wall.  

The sheer force of her slam winded Lucas, his horrendous breath diffusing in the air. Aria scrunched her button nose, and squinted, her eyes teary. She slapped his face, bringing him to some sense.  

“What the fuck did you do?” Aria gritted, pressing her chest into Lucas’s upper abdomen.  

“Zoey crushed my balls.” Lucas moaned.  

Aria bit her bottom lip. She gripped Lucas’s hand. Without a word, she led him down the hall, into one of the many girls' bathrooms,   

“Aria, that’s the girl's bathroom.” Lucas moaned.  

“Shut up.”  

“I need to go to the nurse.” Lucas sobbed.   

Aria and Lucas were already inside the fluorescent-lit room. Aria’s white heels clacked against the deep blue aquamarine tiles; she walked with pure conviction. Lucas couldn’t help stare at her mesmerizing tight ass, her silky, frilly fabric clinging to the slope like a free climber. Aria, with little effort, threw Lucas against the first light blue stall door. His brawny body shook the entire structure.  

“Strip.” Aria bit, removing her amber ring from her slender finger. She popped her knuckles, waiting for Lucas to comply.  

“Aria, this is the girl's bathroom, its school.” Lucas protested.  

“What? Afraid someone is going to walk in?” Aria said. Lucas nodded. “Even better. If it’s a teacher or something, I’ll say you assaulted me.”   

“Aria. I think they’re broken.” Lucas pleaded, trying to persuade Aria with his pathetic voice, appealing to her inner ethics.  

“Lucas, I’ll say it one more time. Strip." Aria slammed her heel into one of the bathroom tiles, almost cracking it. “Don’t fuck with me today.”  

Lucas stripped, taking his red tank top off first. Next, he removed his gym shorts and boxers, his red sack and circumcised penis on full display for Aria to ridicule. Aria Hale walked forward with one clear goal in mind. She scooped Lucas’s swelling sack, jiggling it around with her flat palm. With her other hand, she rolled up her white frilly sleeve. She lightly squeezed the pulsing orbs in her hand, watching the muscles in her forearm contract. Lucas moaned and groaned, a putrid stench leaving his parted lips.   

“Looks like this pathetic thing is working.” Aria snorted, flicking the tip of Lucas’ erect 4-inch cock. “Not that I care.” Aria spat, her slobber lubing Lucas’s thin penis.  

The jock shuddered, gradually his pain was being transmuted to pleasure, Aria’s sensual hand facilitating the change. Before he could savor it, his bliss was crushed out of him, Aria’s mood souring. The uptight teen tightened her grip to a traumatic level, Lucas’s poor testicles at the receiving end.   

“Your testicles are fine. Don’t act like a little kid, got it?” Aria said, pulling.   

Lucas lurched forward, being dragged by his nuts. Aria pressed his fuzzy scrotum against her bare thigh. Unconsciously, she licked her lips.   

“Please Aria.” Lucas cried.   

The jock's face was tomato red, eyes shut. He stretched his muscular arm out, hoping to find a helping hand. Instead, he found Aria’s breast. Instinctively, Lucas squeezed and pressed on it, his wide hand being consumed by Aria’s busty bosom. It was warm, but slightly damp. When Lucas opened his eyes, he could see it. Aria’s nipple was poking from the fabric, Lucas’s intrusive hand had shifted her blue bra out of the way. The stubby jock shot a clear glob of pre-cum onto Aria's thigh. He had completely forgotten he was in the girl’s bathroom; he gave into his lust, thrusting his skinless tip into Aria’s inviting thigh, anything to forget his pain.  

“Lucas.” Aria whispered. The naked teen looked at the girl with his manhood in her hands. She was completely calm, all ill-intent absent in her face. “Do you remember what I told you about touching me?”  

Lucas immediately removed his hand, but kept thrusting along her inner thigh. Aria undid one of her straining buttons running down her white top; she snatched his hand back, slipping it through the gap. Lucas’s cut cock sprayed clear liquid through Aria’s legs, adding to the glossy tiles polish. He could feel her hard nipple on his palm; his finger gripped the parabolic mound hanging from her pecs.   

“Thank me.” Aria commanded.  

“Thank you for letting me touch your tits, Aria.”  

“Not for that you dumbfuck.” Aria spat. “Thank me for these.” She bit, squeezing Lucas’s bruised testicles.   

“Thank you for my balls!” Lucas said, crying and heaving after every other word.  

“You're so hopeless. If it weren't for me, Zoey would have probably taken these off. Thank me for training your balls.”  

“Thank you for training my balls!”  

Aria smiled down to Lucas’s twitching member. She readjusted her grip, tugging his testicles down to his mid-thigh.  

“What happens next depends entirely on you. What happened to John?”  

“John?” Lucas yelped, feeling his nut cords strain. “Zoey beat my balls before I could rough him up.”  

Lucas did not give the correct answer. Aria sighed, removing Lucas’s hand from her round breast.   

“Class is starting soon; I’ll finish this quick.” Aria gritted.   

She slid her hand up Lucas’s sack, giving her undivided attention to his twitching member. His heavy orbs bounced several times before coming to a still rest at the bottom of his sack; his elongated spermatic cords effectively bungee cables. Aria rubbed Lucas’s glands between her thumb and index, massaging it until it was completely soaked in a clear pre-cum.   

“Aria, I’m cumming.” Lucas groaned.  

Aria increased her cadence, her two fingers at full speed by the time Lucas was cumming. Lucas was completely drained, all color gone from his face. Aria wiped her sticky hand over his tense abs; she took a step back.  

“Go on Lucas, I want to see you stroke out the rest. I don’t want any of your seed to get on me while I do this.”  

Lucas complied, widening his legs and aiming his penis to the floor. He stroked out several more globs of cum, wiping some of it from his dangling testicles. Aria couldn’t help but be impressed, and jealous. If what Lucas said was true, Zoey Bishop, the scrappy girl of King Willow High had been able to stretch out his sack without ripping them. On the other hand, the idea that she had been able to make his testicles descend lower than herself didn’t sit right. Thankfully, she knew just how to take out her anger.  

“Finished.” Lucas grunted.  

“You know what to do next.” Aria said, stretching her hands and fingers out.  

Lucas interlocked his fingers with Aria’s, and spread his legs further, until his danglers were level with her upper thigh. Aria kneed Lucas, sending his sack slapping into his ass. Lucas groaned, a familiar nut-pain stabbing at his stomach.  

“One.” Aria whispered, before sending her knee into his sack again. “Two.”  

Lucas was barely standing, more than anything, Aria was preventing him from falling. She pulled him closer, thrusting her knee into his orbs with a light grunt. Lucas let out a soft wail, coming straight from his lungs.  

“Three.” Aria said, her nose scrunching. “Lucas, your breath fucking stinks. Hold it." Lucas obeyed.  

Aria, still annoyed, thrust her knee again, using considerably more force. While his loose sack slapped into his ass it was still enough to make him cry out.  

“Hold your fucking breath!” Aria bit.  

The brunette sent her knee up again, this time, lifting Lucas clean off the tile floor; his tortured testicles the only thing between Aria’s knee and John’s 200 pound plus body. When he landed, his knees turned to jelly. He fell backwards, slipping on his cum. His sweaty back stuck to the blue stall wall.   

“Get away from the wall. No cheating.” Aria grunted, lifting him up by the arms. “We’re restarting, and you’re still not allowed to breath.”   

Aria struck again, and again. Her smooth, yet hard knee violently veering into each of his individual testicles, never missing. On her third strike, Lucas was lifted again. The same happened on the fourth. Before Aria could launch the fifth knee of many, Lucas collapsed, his body leaning against one of the stalls.   

“Please, give me a break, you’re breaking me.” Lucas moaned.  

Aria didn’t care. If anything, his begs for mercy made her want to damage him more. Lucas had failed at the one task she had asked him to do, and for that, he couldn’t be forgiven.   

“If you like that wall so much, put your hand on it, and show me your ass.” Aria commanded.   

Lucas complied, unable to think of a world where he would outright defy Aria Hale. He turned and placed his hands on the stall, bending at his back until it was parallel with the sticky floor.  

“No counting this time. Not until I’m satisfied. Then, I’ll start counting.”  

Lucas closed his eyes, waiting for Aria to begin his punishment. The curvy high-schooler stamped her heel on the floor, before sending it into Lucas’s blue balls. He cried out, pain enveloping his entire body. His legs went numb, but still supported him, giving Aria another clean shot. The pointed tip of her white heel cleaving in-between his globe-like testicles. Aria shuddered as the feeling of his fuzzy sack tickle the top of her foot. She was absolutely disgusted, and intrigued at the same time. She sent her foot up again, awaiting Lucas’s precious reaction. He didn’t disappoint, droplets of salty tears mingling with his purged seed.  

“You better not be breathing!” Aria laughed, knowing there was no way Lucas could reasonably do so.  

Like the meathead he was, he obeyed, holding his breath as Aria sent another kick into his danglers. He passed out, the lack of oxygen and nut-pain too much for his mortal mind to handle. But still, he stood. Aria, realizing her plaything had passed, prepared her coup de grace. Her knee whizzed through the air, colliding with his aching nuts. His body left the ground before collapsing in a puddle of his own sticky cum. Aria couldn’t help but laugh.   

Surprisingly flexible, Lucas’s chest was pressed against the female's stall, while his legs reached outwards to Aria. His hot, swollen, pulsating testicles lay flat against the blue tile floor. Aria admired her handiwork, feeling as if she had surpassed the damage Zoey had caused earlier. She tickled her moist pussy, lifting her frilly skirt up. She let out a light squeak, fingering her sweet spot through her panties.   

Lucas awoke with a start, heaving against the blue stall door. He began to sob, feeling as though his testicles had truly been taken from him. Aria quickly reminded him that wasn’t the case. Her heels black sole slammed against his nuts, inflaming his agony. She jiggled it around, hoping to pin both of his testicles down at once. His slippery bits made it surprisingly hard; pushing Aria closer to the idea of piercing them with her heel tip for sport. Eventually though, she managed to pin them both down. With glee, she pressed down, feeling them squirm. To her dismay, once she bent over her knee to add more pressure, they popped out from under, sticking to the sides of Lucas’ thighs.  

“Fuck.” Aria grunted; she continued to fish for his nuts.  

“Aria, please! No more!” Lucas sobbed.  

“Quiet.”  

She repeated the process again, each time she pinned and added pressure, they would escape, begging for salvation.  

“Having trouble there Aria? Try removing your heels, it’s much easier with skin to skin contact.”  

Aria froze, giving Lucas a rare break.   

“Yeah? What if I like it this way better, huh?”  

“You also like small dicks it seems.” Emily chuckled.  

The busty beauty was leaning against the far wall, her arms and legs crossed.  

“Fuck off. At least I find boys that can take a little pressure.” As she said it, she successfully pinned Lucas’s testicles, bringing him insurmountable amounts of pain. “See? Look. It’s fine this way.”  Mid-sentence, Lucas’ testicles slipped out again. “Fuck.”  

“Oh? Boy’s that can take a little pressure? Whatever do you mean?” Emily giggled, walking closer to Aria.  

Fully clothed in her coat and snow pants, her womanly figure remained concealed.  

“It’s obvious to anyone with a brain. You crushed Ken Culver’s cock and balls to oblivion, did you not?”  

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” Emily shrugged, her smile giving away the answer.  

“Right. So, what brings you here? I didn’t see you around Zoey or John, did they catch onto you?”  

“No. Not quite.” Emily said.  

Aria studied her opponent's dainty expression, trying to sort it out. Content with just one of Lucas’s nuts, she pressed down, devoting most of her attention to Emily.  

“No way. You got John?” Aria gasped; clearly jealous. “Why make your move now? You’ve known him for over a decade.”  

“I could ask you something similar. Why are you going after John? Don’t think I don’t know, Zoey told me how your pet Lucas tried attacking him. I know you’re trying to get with him.”  

“Bitch.” Aria said, spitting on Lucas’s back.  

“Maybe.” Emily shrugged. “Point is, he’s mine. See?” Emily retrieved her phone, and showed Aria her haul.   

“What the actual fuck.” Aria gasped.  

“Now you’re really jealous.”  

“When did you do it to him?”  

“Last Friday; it was magical.”  

Aria scoffed, shifting her weight again.  

“It’s not like he’s going to last long with you, no guy does. Unlike you, I like to keep my pets.”  

“You sure? Big old Lucas looks like his testicles are about to burst. Trust me, I know what that looks like.”  

Aria took her heel off Lucas, allowing him to slip off silently. As much as she disliked Emily, Aria couldn’t deny her intuition.  

“What makes you think John will be any different from someone like Ken?”  

“He did so well, I’ll just have to preserve him. He took my 30% the first time we did it.”  

“30?” Aria gasped, impressed.   

Knowing what she knew of Emily, any tens of a percent was something to marvel at when in relation to her dominations. While Emily always concealed her perfect self to the school body, Aria knew what power was stored behind the confines of her padded clothes.  

“I’m not going down without a fight. If you won’t let me have John, I’ll take John from you, or his testicles.”  

“I would love to see you try, Aria.”  

Both beauties stared each other down. While Emily was taller and more imposing, Aria hungry eyes outdid Emily’s softer, calmer irises. The tension was boiling over, filling the girl’s bathroom to the brim.   

A toilet flushed, turning Em and Aria’s heads. A small dainty girl tapped the door to the closest stall, the one Lucas had been kicked, kneed, and squeezed against. Emily and Aria tracked her movements. It was Sara Fall or simply, the quiet one. Shorter than both Aria and Emily, the rest of her frame followed appropriately While her chest appeared flat, some angles of her would prove there was in fact some meat on her. The same went for her ass. When in school, she could always be seen with a frilly skirt, casual top, and red plaid scarf that contrasted her peachy blond hair. Her high white socks were always level with each other. Sara didn’t even look in their direction. Instead, she went to wash her hands.   

Finished, Sara adjusted her circular lenses, squishing her smooth face with her petite palms. It was as if nothing startled or surprised her; not naked Lucas, or his brutalized nuts, or the cruel nature of Aria and Em’s discussion. She walked out without once looking at the three of them.  

“That was odd.” Emily chuckled.  

“Don’t change the subject!” Aria bit, remembering she should have been angry.  

“I’m not changing anything.” Emily laughed.  

“Like I said before, I’ll have John’s balls by the end of this.”  

“And here I thought my last year of high school would be quiet.” Emily smiled.  

“I will not afford you the luxury.” Aria bit.  

“Please Aria, I welcome it.”  

“I’ll be taking John’s balls, one way or another, Emily.”