Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Ballet Shoes

By david_b

Dear diary, I must confess to a little apprehension concerning the arrival of manservant, my eighteenth birthday present from mama.

I know little about him. Only that he is a savage. Born of a tribe native to the rain forests of Brazil, he once upset the tribal chief, who promptly tore out his tongue.

Although manservant understands English well, he is, of course, incapable of speech. Indeed, his silence should make an agreeable change from the dim-witted babble male creatures generally utter.

Upon his arrival at eight o’clock, manservant’s first act was to interrupt my fencing class, instantly putting me in sour mood.

For my part, I was loath to meet a man in my present state of undress. I hid my blushes behind my fencing mask, knowing well that my jodhpurs and tall boots were much too tight for male company to decently savor.

I took manservant upstairs to my bedroom and locked the door.

“So you can’t speak?” I asked. “I generally prefer my servant to plead for mercy as I torment his quivering hide. But you can’t make a sound. How will you entertain me?”

I was suddenly angry with the brute for denying me the pleasure of his craven whines. I drew back my boot and kicked him full in the face, splitting his lip under my heel.

Although the blow stung him badly, no cry came from his lips.

Could it be not only is he incapable of speech, he is also unable to make any sound whatever? In short, I may do with him as I please, and mama shall be not a hint the wiser. After all, how will he tell of his torments?

I ordered manservant to undress me. With a snap of my fingers, I indicated he should sit on my footstool, making a cradle of his hands, into which I may place my boot. I leant forward to undo the laces, and promptly slid my leg from its leather sheath.

Whilst raising the second boot for manservant to hold, I discovered the exertion of my fencing class had left me worse drained of strength than I had imagined.

I overbalanced, falling forward, coming to a halt as I stubbed my leather toe in the soft package between his legs.

Somewhat ashamed, I dusted myself down, and apologized presently. But the curious creature appeared devastated by the light blow. Surely the small tap I gave him could not have hurt him so? I eyed the pitiful figure and decided to investigate further.

With nimble fingers, I unbuckled manservant’s belt and pulled down his trousers. But when I attempted to pull down his underwear, the fool prevented me with his hand.

“Touch me again and I shall tell mama you have forced yourself upon me,” I yelled. “You will swing from the gallows before the day is out.”

I took a man’s razor and ran the blade along manservant’s genitals.

“Visualize my razor slashing your groin,” I cautioned. “Imagine your anguish as my blade slices open your flesh. This will be your reward if you cross me again.”

I angled the blade in the front of manservant’s shorts and cut a long rip. He was unquestionably terrified as sharp metal sliced cotton. I cut three more strokes in a square, and tore the cloth from his crotch, leaving his genitals hanging out for inspection.

Manservant’s nakedness upset me more than a little. I had never seen a naked man before, having enjoyed a wholesome upbringing. If this is all the male body promises, I shall be happy never to see another.

His body is disgusting. Where my own form is toned and supple, with fine porcelain-white flesh, his is a lumpy hide that would disgrace cattle. The ugliest feature is an additional appendage hanging between the creature’s legs.

Like a horse, manservant’s genitals comprise a thick brown and purple penis streaked with repulsive veins and flabby skin. Below is a thin saggy sac dangling helplessly outside his body.

Manservant glared at me, shamed to be naked in front of a fully-dressed lady. His sass whet my appetite to see him squirm.

I put on ivory silk gloves, and grasped his skinny sac, feeling the tender bag for his ovals. Could these misshapen cherries be the source of such suffering? I must find out.

I closed my hand, trapping his testicles. Manservant’s reaction was instant. Before I even began, his body froze, trembling with fright.

I squeezed his orbs a little, and although no scream came, I saw deep sorrow in his eyes. I tightened my fist and the color drained from his cheeks.

My scholarly study of male anatomy continued as I drilled my fingers into his groin. Manservant’s face was now ashen. But was he truly in pain? I hope so. His scornful look angered me. Here is my revenge.

It occurs to me there is better pleasure in torturing a manservant than from any silly act of copulation. I will prefer the hours of teasing and tormenting him to the mere minutes of carnal satisfaction. I wonder, if I increase his sorrow, will my pleasure multiply as well?

I removed my gloves so my long burgundy fingernails were exposed. Putting my hand under his horrible penis, I squeezed his sac, rubbing the little groins together with good effort. I trembled in ecstasy as I sank sharp fingernails into his delicate globes. Tears rolled down his cheeks. His eyes pleaded with mine for mercy. Serves him right.

For fun I decided to find out how hard a girl must pull before the sac is ripped free of a man’s body. I curled my fingers around his testes, hooked my nails into his scrotum then strode quickly around my room, dragging manservant behind me by the globes.

I climbed up on my bed, hoisting him up, then jumped down on the carpet, yanking him down. Still the stubborn sac would not detach. My game tired me so I aimed a swift kick between his legs, and watched him crumple to the floor. Such pleasure.

Whilst manservant recovered, I dressed for ballet class. Behind a screen, I removed my fencing gear of jodhpurs and bodice, then slipped my feet into the foot-holes of black ballet tights and drew the silk hosiery over my naked vagina. I chose a crimson leotard and slipped it over my tights.

Having checked the seams were straight, I tied back my hair, and was ready for manservant to fasten my shoes.

“Sit on the footstool and open your legs,” I commanded.

I placed a seamed toe on his tender groin. “You are lucky I allow you the honor of tying my beautiful ballet shoes. You may sniff them before you begin.”

Manservant put my slippers to his nose and inhaled deeply. The scent obviously pleased him. I quickly called a halt to his pleasure.

“Now tie my ribbons, you foot-sniffing troll.”

I arched my foot in his crotch, waiting for him to tie me up. Manservant fingered the satin strips at my heel. From his stupid expression it was obvious the simple task of tying a slipper was too complicated for him.

“Twice around the ankle, you dumb ox,” I said, losing patience. At last, he fastened the ribbons with clumsy digits.

Manservant took so long tying my shoes that I decided punishment was in order. I screwed my big toes into his groin, bringing a gasp, then dug my pointes in, gouging his nuts to nausea. When he was in sufficient pain, I pressed down the flats of my slippers, rubbing his sore crotch with muscular feet.

But something was wrong. Through the thin soles of my ballet shoes I could feel manservant had an erection.

“Did you watch me as I changed into my ballet gear?” I demanded.

I had only to glance over my shoulder for an answer. Having neglected to turn my dressing mirror to the wall, naturally the toad watched me undress. For this crime I shall humiliate him in front of my entire ballet class.

I grasped manservant’s inflamed scrotum and pulled him naked from my bedroom into the hallway for the maid to see. He hid his blushes as the French au pair giggled and clapped, pointing at his exposed manhood. Oblivious to his shame, I led the dog downstairs to the courtyard, where my motorbike was ready to speed us to my ballet school.

I yanked manservant through the gym doors and pushed him on the floorboards. My friends Begonia, Chloe and Helen halted their dance practice to examine the naked wretch.

“What’s this you’ve brought, Camille?” asked Begonia, arching a finely plucked eyebrow.

“I caught it peeping at me as I dressed for class,” I replied.

My friends gasped in disbelief. Was it true? Does it want to be punished?

“Ballet costumes are much too pretty for such a tongue-tied biological mishap to see,” said Chloe. “We must hurt it with our muscular legs.”

“Lets start with pointe training,” suggested Begonia.

Presently, we went on tip-toe, holding hands in a ring around manservant.

Helen, on pointe directly in front of the mute, lashed out her leg, aiming at the ugly parts between his thighs. With perfect precision, her shapely foot struck his testicles, leaving him giddy with distress.

Helen gave an elegant smile then whipped her foot once more, allowing the toe of her pretty pink slipper to crush his aching scrotum.

Manservant turned from Helen and came face to face with Begonia, whose beautiful brown eyes sparkled with joy as she shattered his shin-bone under her foot.

Blood trickled down manservant’s leg. Pieces of broken bone stuck sharply out of his skin. “Good shot,” Begonia said, modest as ever.

By now manservant could see our game. No matter which way he turned, a foot or a knee was ready to crush his tender parts. Finally, he could take no more, and collapsed on the floorboards, upon which we set upon him with kicks and stamps to his body and face.

“I do believe the brute is enjoying our attentions,” I said, pointing to his stiff cock.

“Step on it,” said Chloe. “His manhood makes a fitting rest for our feet.”

I checked the underside of my ballet shoe to ensure it was good and filthy then pressed the blackened sole on his sticky erection, squashing it underfoot. Having flattened his stub, I rubbed my dirty silk slipper back and forth, coating the evil tentacle with crud and dust.

Begonia came close to manservant’s ear and whispered, “Would you like me to suck you off, you shitty little pig?”

She kissed manservant’s penis. Some of my friends looked away, unable to suffer the revolting sight of a lady demeaning herself by sucking a man’s cock. Others simply smiled, knowing well that the cruel Italian had a heart of pure stone and would play a trick on the fool.

Begonia’s slippery tongue worked manservant’s vile penis into a frenzy of pleasure. His stalk went in and out of her mouth, seemingly right down her throat, as she bobbed her head, lapping the loathsome member. Manservant was in heaven. His pain forgotten, he grunted and groaned, shaking and farting with delight.

He was completely off guard as Begonia released his penis and sank her teeth into his dangly sac. Tears of joy rolled down Begonia’s cheeks as she crunched his testicles between sharp molars. She locked her jaw, straining her throat, as she chewed his sac, trying to tear off his globes with sharp teeth.

After many minutes biting and chewing the tender meat of his testicles, Begonia spat out his genitals like foul pieces of gristle.

Manservant rolled about on the floor clutching himself. We laughed at his stupidity. Such stupidity deserves punishment.

I placed my foot on his throat and crushed down on his windpipe. Manservant choked and spluttered, suffocating under my strong foot.

“Get up!” I shouted. “On your feet. Now!”

Manservant attempted to rise. My foot crushed down on his esophagus all the more. His eyes bulged. His face went purple from asphyxiation.

“We have a stubborn ape here, Camille,” said Begonia. “See how he ignores your commands? We must permanently disfigure him.”

I tugged manservant upright and drew his hands outstretched before me, then unscrewed the cap of a can of kerosene and poured inflammable liquid over his trembling hands.

Savoring his terror, I struck a match and brought the flickering flame close.

“Shall I burn off your hands, you chicken-brained freak?”

Manservant could scarcely breathe for fear of the coming pain. A large ugly tear-drop fell and splashed on my foot, leaving a mark on my brand new ballet shoe.

“You’ve soiled my beautiful shoe, damn you!” I screamed. “I paid good money for them and now they’re ruined. I was only joking when I said I would light you. But now I shall make you suffer.”

With an evil smirk, I touched the fiery match to manservant’s fuel-soaked skin.

Instantly, his hands flared up in a sheet of flame. Fire scorched his burning fingers. Thick black smoke rose from his blazing palms. His flesh spit and crackled. Blood boiled in his veins. Manservant stared in horror as his hands were destroyed before his eyes.

He huffed and puffed, trying to blow out the flames. But it was too late. The muscle and bone of his hands had already been consumed in the raging white-hot torch.

At last the kerosene burnt itself out. Manservant fell in a heap, staring at the blackened stubs where his hands once were.

“Be thankful I didn’t choose to burn off your cock,” I laughed.

“Ungrateful dog,” said Begonia. “Let’s put on our high-heels and kick his testicles to a pulp.”

We tied strappy stilettos around our ankles and were ready to inflict misery on the brute.

We formed a queue ten paces from manservant. Chloe, first in line, tensed her leg muscles and strode up to the mute.

She drew back her thigh, took careful aim. Her pretty, painted toes, exposed under a strappy stiletto sandal, smashed manservant’s testicles with a firm, dizzying kick.

With a snigger of delight, Chloe lifted her knee into his damaged sex organs. Then with all the cruelty her cold heart could muster, she punched and pounded his testicles with her fists until her knuckles were numb and red.

“My turn,” said Chloe, smashing her foot in manservant’s face. Broken teeth and blood mingled with spit as her stiff leather toe crashed into his mouth.

Chloe withdrew her foot then kicked his lips with stockinged toes, spraying warm blood down his chin. She slammed her fist in his eye, snapping it shut, then gouged his cheeks with bloody fingernails.

Chloe was just getting started as manservant passed out. He lay helpless and vulnerable as I sat on his chest and cradled his testicles.

“Strong and heavy. Full of putrid semen, ready to spurt into unsuspecting females.

“Lady-kind should be protected from his disgusting urges,” said Begonia. “Let me stamp out the menace.”

“I have a better idea. May I borrow a razor-blade?”

It wasn’t too hard finding a razor as we ballerinas use them to cut card reinforcements to put inside our pretty silk slippers. The fine cutting edge of super-sharp steel glinted in the light. I tapped manservant’s scrotum with the blade.

“Slash his testicles,” said Chloe. “Then he won’t trouble us with his filthy desires.”

“Speak up,” I teased. “You only have to say “no” and I won’t.”

Manservant tried desperately to form words in his useless vocal chords. None came.

“Since you have nothing to say I must presume you would like me to cut you.”

I held the razor to manservant’s bag and pressed down the blade, reddening the skin. Applying pressure, I drew the blade along, slicing a fine gash. Droplets of watery blood wet his sac under the sting of my shiny razor.

Having made an incision, I returned the blade to the top of the wound and pulled it along the wet slit once more, this time cutting a little deeper.

Layer by layer, I peeled away his sac, until through the bloody mess, his bare balls were visible.

Delicate and exposed, his tender groins were small and crimson, crisscrossed with fine nerves and spidery blood vessels. A single pale string carrying sperm emerged from the orb. I hooked the blade under the strand and snipped it off.

Manservant’s face begged for mercy. I brought the razor close and allowed the fine edge to pierce his ball. Sharp steel sliced raw testicle. His spine arched. Muscles convulsed. Body sweat like a rabid dog. Good! This is my idea of foreplay.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” I asked mischievously. “Well, I’ve hardly started. I’m going to teach you not to peep at beautiful women.”

Angling the blade, I slashed his testicles, cutting deep. Manservant’s face twisted in agony as the blade slit open the tender meat of his groin.

With a jerk of my hand, I stabbed his ball, puncturing it. I pushed the razor in and sliced his testicle in half. Gooey sperm oozed out of the split orb. Blood spread over my fingers. With a flick of my wrist, I chopped his scrotum, laughing at his misery.

“Don’t worry, manservant,” I teased. “I haven’t forgotten to give your penis some attention from my razor.”

To my astonishment, even now, with his testicles sliced and bloody, he still had not learned his lesson.

I grew red with anger and felt my temperature soar as I noted his eyes gazing uncomfortably over my slim-fitting leotard, perhaps hopeful of a glimpse of cleavage as I leant over to study his lacerations.

For his crime I shall truly teach him the meaning of pain.

I tapped the tip of manservant’s oily purple helmet with the shiny steel razor-blade “I warned you not to try my patience. Now you will suffer.”

I held the razor-blade to the base of manservant’s penis, just under his greasy black pubis, where the thick curly hair joined his pot belly. With a nudge, I let razor-blade pierce his fatty sheath. Warm blood trickled down over his hairy scrotum as I pushed the sharp steel deep into his member.

When I was satisfied the razor’s edge had pierced the thickness of his skin, I began to tug the blade through his flabby sheath. Manservant winced at the sting in his cock as the blade slowly sliced the length of his penis, cutting veins and capillaries as I drew the blade ever closer to his bulbous helmet.

A thick artery ran the length of manservant’s penis. I couldn’t resist altering the course of the blade to slice his bloodline. As I slashed open his artery, a steaming hot pink mixture of blood and sperm spilled from the ruptured vein.

At last the razor-blade reached the edge of manservant’s foreskin. As I cut to the rim, the fatty sheath fell either side of his raw red stalk, flapping uselessly like an empty banana skin. Peeled of its protection, Manservant’s penis muscle was rose red, wet with blood.

I nudged the blade into raw muscle. Tugging the razor along, the sharp steel sliced raw fibers of manservant’s penile tissue, bringing spasms of burning agony.

I tapped his heavy, purple glans with the razor-blade.

“You didn’t want to keep this, did you?” I asked.

With a smile, I slashed the blade through his shiny helmet, slicing it into two flaccid halves. I whipped the razor once more and Manservant’s mutilated helmet landed on the floor at his feet in a splash of bloody semen.

“How does it feel to lose your cock for a quick peep?”

“Bad,” said manservant. Instantly he realized his mistake.

“So, you can speak? You’ve been lying to me all this time?”

Manservant looked truly shamed. But it wasn’t enough to dispel my anger.

I slashed the razor-blade across the throat. Manservant held his neck, warm sticky blood spraying over his fingers as his carotid artery spilled its precious serum.

Manservant’s body lurched wildly. Desperate in its futile attempt to cling to his last few seconds of life. Finally his body fell limp.

“I think you’ve killed him,” Chloe said at last.

I felt manservant’s chest for heartbeat. It was silent. A tear formed in my eye.

“Now who will tie my pretty ballet shoes?” I asked sadly.

We dragged away manservant’s body and dumped it with the rubbish.

For a while I was worried there might be criminal charges, but my friends assure me there is no cause for alarm. We will simply devise a perfect alibi to confound the police.

At least I shall be spared the indignity of prison. Still I cannot evade the troubling notion that I have come out of this affair a loser. After all, I have lost a servant. I shall now have to tie my own ballet shoes. A task most unbefitting a lady. I wonder if I can persuade mama to buy me a tougher manservant for my birthday present next year?

Sporting Chance

By Cyrpent

Note: this story was inspired by Ms. Tiptoe.

Note to Ms. Tiptoe: I made some minor changes based on your suggestions; check it out!

I came out of the gym hardly soaked; I hadn't even needed a shower. The routine just wasn't giving me the workout I needed. And Lars and Dmitri really did need to rest now and then; they (unlike me) were wasting away. I was going to have to find another answer. As I walked by the counter, cheerfully ignoring the pleasantly vacuous young girl wishing me a good day, I stopped to get a candy bar from the gedunk machine. While I waited for it to drop I noticed one of the splashy posters in the lobby. I had forgotten that one of the perks of membership was a discount at the sporting goods store, and they were having a sale. Hmm... if I could just... I hurried out to my car.

It took me a bit longer to get to the store due to the long line at the drive-through, and then I had to stop and rinse a drip of ketchup out of my spandex leotard. So I wasn't in the fairest of moods when I got there. I walked in and was greeted by the smell of leather, nauseating muzak and a big lunk named Hi, My Name Is Gus who looked like he could use a bit of a workout himself. He reminded me of Penn Gillette, but a bit saggier.

"Can I help you," he stammered, eyes downcast.

"We'll have to see, won't we?" I quipped. "I need something more than the gym can give me."

"We have a nice line of home exercise equipment," he offered hopefully.

"No, I already have an exercise bike at home," I replied. "But I guess I don't have the right build to get the most out of it. The seat's a bit uncomfortable," I added. I glanced at him; he was definitely trying hard to look like he wasn't staring at my legs. I quickly raised one knee up to my waist level, getting just a bit close to his pleated crotch. I was rewarded with a slight gasp.

"See this?" I said, gripping my thigh in both hands. "I want to firm it up." His crotch was already firming up. His voice cracked a bit as he suggested that I try roller blades. Not a bad idea... plenty of sidewalks at home, and there was the added bonus of velocity mingled with men. And if I could kick with a skate strapped to my foot, just think what I could do without... I started to feel that warm fuzzy feeling as part of my brain went off on a familiar tangent.

"Lead on, McGus," I chortled, nearly stepping on his heels as he moved not quite quickly enough to the skates. I pointed out a pair of skates and gave him my size, then sat down to wait. After a moment he knelt in front of me with a box in his arms. Ah, the pleasures of shopping! I could smell myself, the sweat from the workout mingling with cheeseburger and more than a little musk as I contemplated the multiple, er, benefits of inline skating. His slacks rode up as he removed all the packing material from the skates, giving me a clear target. I finally realized that Gus was taking more time than necessary to unlace my shoe. I looked down to where he knelt in front of me and noticed that he was staring, not at my legs, but at my feet. I slowly dragged my other foot under the chair and was rewarded by seeing his gaze dragged right along with it as if his gaze were a piece of toilet paper stuck to my sole. His cock seemed to be attached to my foot, sliding down his thigh in those loose slacks as if it were tied to a string. Not a bad idea, but... I leaned forward.

"Is there a problem?" I said, a bit more sharply and a bit closer to his ear than he was expecting.

Gus jumped. "No, no, uh, no, ma'am," he stuttered. As he tore at the tangled laces of my right sneaker, I lifted the left one and brought it down on his thigh.

"Are you sure? You were looking at my shoes," I pressed.

He turned bright red. "They're beautiful, ma'am." My workout shoes? He finally got the laces untangled and pulled the shoe off, and I moved my foot from his thigh to the floor between his knees. His cock was fully extended now. He held up the skate and with a bit of trouble, I worked my foot in. As he laced it up, I tapped the floor with the other shoe, which seemed to distract him even more. He finished and sat back on his haunches and I tentatively rolled the skate back and forth.

"How does it feel?" he asked, looking up at me. So much like a helpless little puppy dog... I couldn't resist. Watching his eyes, I rocked my sneakered foot back on the heel, bringing the hard toe into his crotch. I saw a tear form in his eye as his nuts crunched into his pelvis. I rocked my foot and rolled the skate back and forth a few times, setting up a rhythm with both feet.

"It feels really good," I admitted. I let his balls drop down and pulled my foot back, and he kind of grunted and sighed.

"Hey," I said, and he looked up at me. "You're having way too much fun," I said, holding his gaze as the thick sole of my shoe came down on the head of his cock, which was down along his thigh. He moaned. I rolled the skate back and forth between his jutting knees, right up into his crotch. I felt his balls ride up the top of the skate until they ran into the vertical ankle section.

"Oops," I said. I rolled my foot back. And rolled it forward again, a bit harder. "Oops!" I said again. "Um... they're a bit slippery." Sure they were. I could tell by the way he was bending that although he was in some agony, he was also harder than ever.

"What about the other one?" I asked, a bit impatiently. He couldn't look me in the eye. But as he pulled out the other skate, his attention was diverted from me for the first time. The skate was another right.

"Um... it's... I'll be right back," he gulped, standing up awkwardly. I noted with satisfaction that he was carrying the box right in front of his crotch as he dodged customers on his way to the little curtain. I looked at my trainers in a new light; this was the first time anyone had ever been drawn to them in that special way. Well, it was fitting; these fancy aero-rubber-pumps had cost more than a lot of my other, more traditional pumps. I chuckled softly at the word "traditional." Then I realized that Gus had put my other shoe in that box! I suddenly thought I'd better see what was holding Gus up.

I limped/skated back to the curtain, slipping behind it quietly. The smells of new plastic, leather and rubber were as overpowering as a new Jaguar. I looked at the rows and rows of footwear and silently admired Gus for finding a vocation so close to his, er, heart. I heard a suspicious erratic breathing and looked into a small room. There was a shoe-fitting stool in the center of the room - the kind with a small ramp in the front. The ramp was facing me. Gus was kneeling on one side of the stool and my missing shoe was placed on the stool like an offering on a tiny altar. His slacks were around his ankles and he was rubbing his cock over the sneaker on the stool. His eyes were closed as he neared his climax, and the dreadful muzak was louder and tinnier in the small room, so he hadn't noticed my presence yet. He definitely did notice, however, when I reached down and pulled his arm, causing him to let go of his cock. It jutted out over the little stool for a second before I stepped down on it, trapping it between my shoes.

"So that's where my other shoe got to! I hadn't realized just how much you liked them," I smiled. I stepped back down a few times, testing my weight, pinning his hard cock against the cold stool. The dark purple head jutted out on the far side, glistening with a drop of precum. I removed my foot and his cock sprang up, slapping his belly. Still holding his arm, I reached down and retrieved my other shoe, then pulled him forward until his balls were above the stool.

"Spread your knees... wider..... wider... a little more... okay," I coached him until his nads were low enough to rest flat on the stool's worn leather cushion. I placed my skated foot on the little ramp. He stiffened, and this time it was all over his body. He looked up at me with silently pleading eyes... and I smiled sweetly down at him. I felt a bit like Evel Knievel as my skate rolled up the ramp. Gus gasped when the four wheels bumped rather squishily over his balls, for all the world like a miniature speed bump. The hard rubber flattened his sac as I backed up and rolled over them, again and again. The tears were streaming down his face as his balls were being rolled over. His shaft stood straight up and the skate scratched the underside of his cock with each pass, bending it right and left until he suddenly moaned and spurted. I leaned the skate into his pulsing dick so that the spray shot up onto his chest and belly.

"No need to wrap them," I said as I picked up my other shoe and the matching skate.

Patty's Welcome Matt

By cyrpent

The next morning Patty was up bright and early, getting ready for a day trip up to the state park. Peggy came in, a bit groggy from the night before, and feeling a bit guilty about the way they had abused him and thought perhaps her sister felt the same way.

"Don't give it a second thought, sis," Patty reprimanded her. "He was out of line, and we didn't do any permanent damage." "I know that you wouldn't hurt him, but I just feel a little bad about it." Patty rummaged through her purse and handed her a couple of capsules. "Here – these will help you relax." Peggy took the pills and within a few minutes was indeed feeling more relaxed.

Leaving Peggy to pack the SUV, Patty bounced up the stairs and opened Matt's bedroom door without knocking. He was lying with his legs spread and a small tent poked up in the middle of the sheet. "Camping already, eh?" she murmured, and lightly tossed the pack onto the bed. The impact of the bag made Matt sit up straight.

"What ...?"

"Time to hit the road! Let's go, sleepyhead!" she chirped. He glanced toward the horribly cheerful morning voice and saw a well-stuffed t-shirt and a tight pair of khaki shorts. Still half in a sexy daze, his cock twitched as his eyes followed the muscular legs down into a huge pair of red Keds. Patty watched the twitching with satisfaction.

"I came to see if you were up; it looks like you are!" she grinned. Matt blushed as his brain finally caught up and he realized there was nothing but a thin sheet between his naked body and his fully dressed aunt.

Patty put a look of concern on her face. "Or are you still on the injured list? Because you don't have to go if you aren't feeling well. Shall I check 'em?" Matt scrambled toward the other side of the bed.

"No, no, I'm fine, really, I'll be downstairs in a minute," he gasped.

"All right then, come on! We want to get there early and get a good table. Oh, and be sure not to wear any underwear," she reminded him as she left. Matt got dressed, still half asleep, following her suggestions without a second thought, and followed her down the stairs.

His mom was already packing the SUV. As always, she made quite a contrast to her sister - for a simple day trip and picnic lunch, she was wearing her newest designer workout suit. Peggy looked like a twig next to her muscular sister. He noticed that his mom was a bit more giggly and clumsy this morning than usual, and wondered about it, but was still a bit afraid to mention anything for fear of more of this new 'punishment' they'd discovered.

As they headed out, Peggy looked down at her outfit and started talking about fashion, which drove Patty nuts. Then she had a thought. She casually made a remark about the old shoes Peggy was wearing, and Peggy looked down at her feet. Suddenly she said, "Turn in here!" and Patty cut across three lines of traffic to pull into the parking lot of the MegaMaxiMart.

"If YOU think my shoes are ugly, they must be REALLY bad!" Patty smirked as her loopy sister dragged them into the huge building and located the shoe department.

When they found it, a girl came up and said, "Can I help you -- oh, hi, Matt." Matt turned around and it was Sue, a girl he knew in high school. She was kind of a loner and didn't have much to do with him; he was as surprised to find her in a commercial dump like this as he was to find out she knew his name. His mom told her what she was looking for and she came back with an armload of boxes.

As she started to kneel, Patty said, "Don't be silly - that's what the boy here is for." Matt glanced at Sue, who was smirking, and knelt down to help his mom try on shoes. Patty noticed the gleam in her eye and asked her if she could help her with something, and they walked away.

Peggy, still high on the mickey, was having trouble keeping her feet still, and it was all Matt could do to get her old shoes untied and put the new ones on. Peggy stood up, walked to the mirror and said, "I don't like these at all!"

Matt groaned, "Those are your old shoes, mom."

At one point she realized he wasn't moving. She said, "Why'd you stop?"

Matt replied, "Well, you're standing on my fingers, mom." She looked down to see his fingers poking out from under her new cross trainers, and started giggling. Eventually he was able to pull his hands free and get the new shoes laced. They squeaked loudly with every step she took, and he winced with every squeak.

But finally she was satisfied and Matt put one hand on the floor to push himself back up. A huge red Ked came down on his hand, pinning him in place.

"Don't get up yet, sport," his aunt said. "I need your help with these," and she dropped a box in front of him as she sat down. She made sure to twist her foot as she lifted it off his hand. Matt heard Sue giggling above him, and blushed. He opened the box to find a brand new pair of hiking boots.

"Can you believe they had 'em in my size?" she grinned.

Sue said, "Well, since I wear a size eleven myself, I make sure we stock a range of large sizes." She sat down next to Patty and crossed her legs, giving Matt a good look at her flats.

Patty nudged his nose with the toe of her Ked. "Hey Romeo! Back to work here!" Matt got the boots out, noticing how heavy they were, and held them as his aunt wedged her feet into them. Patty made sure to catch his fingers under the lugged soles as she forced her feet inside then stood up.

"Not bad. But they aren't gonna lace themselves!" She grinned as she felt him pull his fingers free, amazed at how well she can feel his soft fingers through the thick soles. Patty smiles as she wonders idly how well she will be able to feel softer parts of him. No attempt to help him. Finally the bright red laces were tied, and Matt leaned back as she walked around in them. He almost wasn't surprised when he felt a foot land on his fingers once more, but he was surprised to look up and see Sue's smiling face.

"Your aunt's a very interesting person! See you in class, cutie," she grinned, and went to ring up the shoes.

Finally they were on their way, and Matt was able to relax a bit as they made their way up into the mountains. Even with the delays, they were able to find a picnic table with shade and a good view of the lake. Matt went behind the car to help his mom unload. As he walked up behind her, she was wrestling with the ice chest. Just as he stepped up, she took a step back for leverage. Her foot landed right on his sandal before he could dodge. She put all her weight on that foot and yanked the ice chest free. He saw it coming but the combined weight of his mother and the ice chest kept his foot pinned in place. Matt could only watch as the corner of the heavy box mashed into his loosely hanging genitals.

She turned around, saw him standing behind her with a funny expression, and said, "Don't just stand there, pick up the chest and take it over to the table." She finally stepped off his foot as she closed the hatch. Matt, fighting to stay upright, looked down to see a footprint with the word "Reebok" in bright red letters on his foot.

They sat down to lunch, and Aunt Patty was careful to sit across from Matt. No matter where he put his sandaled feet, sooner or later a heavy waffle sole would crunch down on his toes. At the same time, once his foot was pinned, her crossed boot kicked idly at his shins. However, his balls survived without mishap.

After lunch, Matt decided he needed some time alone and went for a stroll in the woods. It wasn't long before lunch caught up with him, and he looked for a place to answer nature's call. He found a fallen log covered with soft moss and after a quick look around, dropped his shorts. The moss felt cool and refreshing against his balls, still a bit red from his mother's uncanny aim. But before he could relax, he heard a twig snap and the sound of voices. As he jumped up to pull up his shorts, he lost his balance, tumbling backward over the log. Down the hill he went, rolling on a carpet of soft peat to land in a heap of leaves at the bottom. As he tried to clear his spinning head, he heard the voices getting closer. He moved to stand up and realized that his shorts were nowhere to be found. He saw them snagged on a branch above his head, but as he reached for them, he saw a flicker of movement. He panicked, flopping back down on the ground and quickly covering himself up with the leaves just as the first hiker came into view.

Matt was terrified that they would think he was some kind of pervert. As they got closer, he realized they were speaking some foreign language - German, maybe? He risked moving his head slightly to take a peek. They were two of the healthiest young women he'd ever seen. Both women wore tank tops and shorts and carried what appeared to be full size packs. The taller woman wore a heavy pair of waffle-soled hiking boots with thick red laces, and the other woman wore a pair of lightweight hiking boots. They didn't even glance at the pile of leaves that hid Matt, but they were walking very close to him. He held his breath as the first woman walked past him. But just as she was about to pass him, the larger woman said something. The short woman turned to see what she wanted, and stepped right on Matt's outstretched fingers. Matt was fighting the urge to moan or squirm and almost didn't hear the laughter. He peeked up to see that the taller woman had found his shorts! He froze, but although they looked left and right it never occurred to them to look beneath their feet. Finally they walked on. As soon as Matt couldn't hear their voices any more, he jumped up. His shorts were gone.

It was dark before Matt made it back to the picnic site. Patty and Peggy were sitting around the dying campfire, drinking and relaxing. His aunt saw him first, sitting up straight in her camp chair.

"There he is! Get over here, boy!" Matt grimaced but came out of the bushes, holding his hands in front of his not-so-privates. His mother glanced around and started giggling, but Patty didn't seem surprised.

"What have you been up to?" she demanded.

Matt stammered, "I - I had a kind of an accident."

Patty just looked at him for a moment, letting his nerves work on him. Finally she said, "Well, are you okay? Let's have a look," and she grabbed his wrists and pried his hands apart. His bare legs and genitals were covered in scratches. Patty gave them a quick professional examination (for once) and told him, "It looks like you're going to live." She glared at him. "And you had us worried sick! It's been hours!"

Matt looked at his mom, who looked like she was feeling no worry or pain of any kind. "I'm sorry," he said.

Patty smirked. "No matter, but we've got to get rolling. The car's all packed, so get in and we'll be off." Matt quickly climbed into the back seat, grateful to be hidden from the public at last. But as he climbed in, he saw a couple of large backpacks on the seat. Puzzled, he turned around. Behind his naked ass, he saw the grinning faces of the two hikers who had passed him in the woods! Before he could say anything, Patty tapped him on the shoulder from the driver's seat.

"This is Marta and Greta," she grinned. "They found a very strange souvenir in the woods. I had to explain to them that there are a lot of perverts running around in the woods."

Marta and Erika exchanged a glance and said, "Perverts!" and giggled.

Matt was still hunched over, standing in the back seat area. "What kind of a jerk are you?" Patty suddenly yelled in his ear. "Sit on the floor and let our guests have the seat! They need a ride back to town!" Matt quickly sat down behind the driver's seat and pulled his knees up under his chin. Greta, the shorter woman, slid onto the seat, and put her feet under Matt's raised knees. As Marta entered, Matt tried to tuck his feet together, but there was nowhere for him to go, and she didn't appear to even notice that she was putting all her weight on his bare toes beneath her lugged soles. The engine drowned out Matt's groans as Patty started down the hill.

As they drove, Patty began chatting with the two girls. Matt realized that she was speaking to them in a different language. The girls were giggling and passing a bottle around. Gradually Matt began to notice that he was sliding forward on the floor. His naked ass had no traction on the soft carpeting. The bumping was having another effect; he was slowly getting an erection. Matt panicked and tried to clamp his hardening cock between his thighs without being noticed, and was grateful for the gathering dusk.

However, he couldn't stop his inevitable slide downhill, and on the next bump, his ass was pinned against Greta's left shoe, and his nuts, which had been dangling, flopped down on top of her boot. His gasp caused her to glance down at him just as another bump forced her feet to slide. She looked annoyed, but then brightened.

"Why, what a gentleman you are!" she said in heavily accented English. She lifted her left foot, allowing his body to slide down into her right foot. Greta grinned and daintily placed her left boot on Matt's tummy. Her feet were long and narrow, but at least they weren't heavy. He could feel her warm, flexing foot through the thin soles. Matt relaxed a bit, and just then the vehicle hit another bump. His thighs parted just enough to allow his half hard cock to escape. It would have come to rest on his stomach, but Greta's boot was in the way. She glanced down as she felt his cock brush the tops of her boots, and nudged Marta.

"Look what a gentlemen the Americans are! He is offering to me a footrest!" She lifted her foot, allowing his cock to rest on his stomach, and watched his eyes as she stepped down, catching his rubbery tube under her rubber sole. What she didn't realize was that his groans were due to his balls bouncing on the top of her right boot, hidden below his knees.

Even Patty could hear Matt moaning now, and she slowed down and tilted the rear view mirror to get a better look. Her pussy grew warm and wet as she watched the head of Matt's cock poking out from beneath Greta's boot.

Greta asked Patty in German, "Are all American men so well equipped? He is almost twice the width of my boots!"

Patty replied, "No, surely you are exaggerating."

Greta said, "Here, I will show you!" and pulled her right foot out from under Matt's knees. This allowed Matt to slide down further, and now he could feel the hard side of Marta's boot pressing against his anus. Meanwhile Greta slid her left foot down his shaft (without lifting it, because she wanted to prove she was right) and placed her boots side by side.

Unfortunately for her, Matt was not as well endowed as she had thought, and her foot completely covered his dark red cockhead, scratching it with every bump in the road. (From his position, he couldn't see that his aunt was deliberately aiming for every pothole and rough spot she could find and in fact had taken an old road that was both longer and bumpier.)

As she pouted, Marta rumbled, "Well? I can't see it from here."

Greta realized Matt's knees were blocking her view. She leaned way over, incidentally putting most of her weight on Matt's cock, and felt it surge beneath her feet as her tits swung into his view. She quietly whispered, "I suggest that you spread your legs, little man."

Matt gasped and did as she asked. The girls looked down and realized that Matt's nutsack had been bouncing up and down with every bump resting on the steel toe of Marta's boot. Greta grinned and shifted her feet, trapping his rubbery orbs between the steel toe and her soft rubber sole.

Sliding her left foot back down his aching shaft, she told Patty, "See? I told you it was so large!"

Patty glanced up in the mirror and almost lost control of the vehicle as an orgasm raced through her. This was better than anything she could have (or had) planned! After she recovered control of herself and the wheel, she said, "Hm... can you show me how you made it so much bigger?"

Greta bit her lip and thought. Glancing down at Matt, she began stroking her feet in opposite directions, pivoting on her heels. Her left foot dragged the tight skin of his penis toward the head, and he gasped every time her sole hooked the perineum. Meanwhile, her right foot tugged at his ballsack, stretching it out until she could step down flat on Marta's steel toe and trap his aching nuts in a squeezed sac at the end. Marta was impressed.

"I didn't think they would go that far. And he's being so gracious," she smiled, gently tapping the tight little package with her free foot. Her gentle taps felt like an earthquake on Matt's poor balls, and he yelped.

"Sssshhh," Greta cautioned him. She lifted her left foot and placed it over his mouth to keep him quiet, shifting her right boot to pin his cock. Although his view was filled with a giant hiking boot, Matt relaxed as his nuts were freed. Patty looked back and saw her nephew relaxing, and decided that would never do until she had had at least two more orgasms. She glanced back at Marta and made a suggestion. Marta chuckled, and moved her left foot out from under his nutsack.

The stretching Greta had done on Matt's sac allowed his balls to slide all the way down, resting on the soft carpet between his legs. Patty and Marta looked at each other and grinned as Marta rocked her heavy boot back on the heel. Greta grabbed Marta's hand as they allowed gravity to take its course, and Matt's balls rolled under the heavy lugged sole. She stroked his cock with her boot as Marta stepped down deliberately.

Matt couldn't see anything and was unable to prepare for the feeling of the heavy lugged sole squishing his tender testicles into the carpet. He felt the rubbery lugs mashing his nuts into new and unpleasant shapes, forcing them up into her sole. At the same time Greta stroked his cock with her boot. Her other boot was pressing into his face now, and Matt was able to look up and see her kissing Marta passionately, using his face as leverage. That was when his cock erupted, spraying his face and her boots. The girls never noticed, continuing to fondle and kiss each other until Patty had to pull over and frig herself furiously into another orgasm. As the vehicle rolled to a stop, Peggy opened her eyes, still half drugged.

"Are we there yet?" Patty gasped, "Oh, yeah, we're there."

BB Comedian

By confused_ed

This post was originally a detailed argument about the pros and cons of BBMPeg.com, Aussie's page, and Velvet Kick. It would have given exact measurements of the ratio of reaction to quantity. It was very well put together, and the results were great. But instead of that, I decided to post this piece of humor instead.


*runs up on stage*

It’s nice to be here back at the TLC posting board. A fine board where everyday about 5 great new posts are added everyday... unfortunately you have to look for them in the countless other crappy posts... *rimshot* I kid... I kid cause I love this place. Where else can you go, discuss your ballbusting fantasies, and not be called a freak... of course the exception to that rule is if you post M/M in the general section, and hooooboy... it gets UGLY in here…

Speaking of ugly, whets up with the fighting going on here lately? You've got Legend fighting with Knackers, Ninjanuts siding with Legend, Knackers fighting back against both of them, The Rock laying the smacketh down somewhere other then on this page, Yoda being "neutral" and everyone else wondering, if Yoda is really fed up with all of it, why not delete all of it?

Well I’ll let you all in on a secret. And I’ll explain why I said Yoda is quote unquote neutral... See, what Yoda doesn’t want you to know, it costs money to run this page. Well, imp surfing the net the other day, and I see this ad for "When webpages go bad". I click on it and, oh my god, its US!!! Yoda sold our fighting transcripts to this shock video! You have to this ad, there's this one part where you see Knacker's rap... "You're a cunt; cunt; cunt; cunt; *Record scratching noise* cunt; then Legend's voice yells, "PAY PAGE". I hear its going to be on MTV's TRL next week. Imp going to end this joke now because I think has fallen flat.

Speaking of falling flat, anyone been to Women Beat Men lately? I love this page, they have the best stuff on it. The only thing that I never understand, am I missing something? As of late, it seems like there's a bigger story going on, and I missing it. The last time 2 girls on the couch, and one kicks him the other laughs and sits down. Looks like there's a sleep over going on or something, and I can’t help but think imp missing a larger piece of the puzzle. And this time, I see the guy getting kicked in the balls after coming back to life to watch his son fight in the strongest under the heavens tournament, and it just looks like I missed something.... Some of you will have gotten the DragonBall joke, and imp proud of you. Those who didn’t, I suggest you try something new.

Speaking of trying something new, I joined a pay page this week. There's 20 bucks I won’t get back again. I go through all the trouble filling out the forms, signing the page, and for what? A bunch of freaks in tights, fruity music, with absolutely no ball busting at all. So I sent them a nasty email about false advertisement. I expect an email back about from the "Nutcracker Suite Appreciation Board" any day now.

Actually I joined BBMpegs.com. $19.95 for 3 months. I can’t complain about that, though its up in the air whether imp going to rejoin next time. Now this part is true, last week I had asked, "what does everyone think of the page, how are the reactions". Someone... not to mention names, (Green Jedi Knight Muppet thing), asked me "Where have I been? He gets kicked so hard he flies up in the air" I'm like, oh man, I gotta get me some of that... So I sign up, log on, download the mpeg... and here comes the kick... and the guy jumps like 5 seconds before the blow comes... and imp stunned and all I can think of are Sea Monkeys... You know as a kid, they had ads for Sea Monkeys in comics and magazines. "Add them to water and watch them frolic and play!" Only 3 dollars! And they got a picture of these mermaid like things playing soccer and all sorts of stuff... So you wait for the pack and you put them in and... and... what the hell? I think they turn out to be a kind of shrimp embryo or something... and you know you've been had, so you put it on the shelf next to Hypo Coin and send away for X-Ray Glasses. *raises my glass* So here's to advertising, may they be forced to use they're own products.

Speaking of Advertising, take a look at those posts lately, "A NEW SECTION DONE TODAY!!!!" "BUSTYOURNUTS SECTION UPDATED TODAY" "10 NEW MPGES TODAY!!!"

Capitalization makes things look cool and important doesn’t it? And today there was, "ALL NUDE UPDATE" And imp sorry, all respect to Knackers, I don’t want to see male nudity to begin with... but I REALLLLLLLLYYYY don’t wanna see Knackers nude, and I can say that cause imp so bad, I tried putting a naked pic of me online, and the internet actually rejected it... So I have a good gimmick for Yoda and Knackers... seeing how guys reaction to accidentally M/M posts, and some of the homophobia that ensues... You should charge 20 bucks a month for nude pics of Knackers, but for 30 bucks you can get those same mpegs but they'll be clothed. For 40, Knackers will be clothed but the girl will be naked. I think that'd bring in a good piece of revenue for the board.

Speaking of the board (gotta love segues don’t you?) whets new on the board? Whets new in the Classified and Aussie section? Oh, that’s right... NOTHING!!! *rimshot* I dunno, I liked the old board better. Yeah, this one is nice, and it’s got all these nice features, and Yoda can delete KKK posts and stuff like that... but it’s almost TOO nice, you know? I LIKED the old blue and red on black background with the big bold headlines. It was what I like to call 'internet-y'. Sadly, less and less of the web internet-y. I think the internet might be losing some of its luster. It’s just that we've seen it all. Back 4 years ago it was, "Hey look, Hampsterdance.com, its hamsters... DANCING!!! And MUSIC!!! WOW!!!" Now, its like, "Hey look, there's this page that has absolute proof that the government knows about UFO's" And you’re like... "eh... I’ll look at it later... wrestling's on now" Speaking of wrestling, what happened to all the BB in it? I think a lot of BBaholics went into mourning when Chyna left the WWF. After that there was a 70% drop in ball busting. That’s not a real stat, but I think 80% of the people on this web board will agree that its fun to make up stats.

And speaking of stats... STATS ALL FOLKS... thanks, you were a great audience, this probably wasn’t as funny as I hoped it would be, don’t complain on this board, no more fighting, but please, feel free to complain to my email account, PresidentGeorgeWBush@thewhitehouse.com


The BB Queen Contest Prelims

A comedy... you've been warned.

By confused_ed

Ok people... this is number 2's tournament. You've probably read stories based on the tournament before. If you've come to read this, thinking it will be like the others... you will be very disappointed. This is going to be 95% humor to about 5% sexual story. Mind you, there IS a 5% margin of error on all poles.

I'm just writing this for fun and because some people requested it. So I wrote it up, and I ran it through a spell check, but I really didn't edit it... so any spelling errors, or bad grammar... feel free to put all the mistakes you find into an email... then delete the email and hit yourself with a ruler cause no one likes a smart ass.

Oh, one more note. Instead of doing a single match, I'm instead going to do the preliminaries, where we find out who made the final cut to be in the tournament. More room to spoof that way. Enjoy...


We open to two Japanese men in strange kimonos. They look into the camera and say, "Good Evening and welcome to the BB Tournament of 2003. I'm your host Vic Romano, and with me as always is Kenny Blankenship."

Kenny nods, "Yeah, and we're going to be seeing women today!"

Vic smacks Kenny with a fan, and reprimands, "Kenny! We're here on serious business today. We're the invited hosts of the ultimate tournament of ballbusting!"

Kenny laughs, "Yeah, all part of our sexual harassment plea bargain, stupid lawyers."

"Indeed Kenny," Vic agrees, "Let’s give a quick run down for those of you that are new to this type of event. Hundreds of women are here to try and earn a spot into the ball busting tournament, which if they win, they'll be crowned the ball busting queen."

Kenny chimed in, "Kinda like a violent Ms. America Pageant."

"Yes, but without the talent portion," Vic explained.

"Good, the talent portion blows; give me the bikinis!"

"Indeed," Vic agreed and continued to explain. "Contestants are judged on looks, skill, creativity, accuracy, and how much pain they can inflict on a man's testicles."

"Its kind of a strange fetish," Kenny commented. "You really have to be a freak to enjoy this sort of thing."

Vic smacks Kenny with the fan again, and says annoyed, "Kenny! What kind of talk is that? Everyone has something weird that they like. It’s what makes us all different."

Kenny shrugs and says, "I'm just I like to be shit on like normal people."

"Indeed. Let’s go to the action," Vic says. "Our first contestant from the wrestling category is Stephanie McMahon. She has had some ball busting practice in the past, including the infamous Bischoff incident."

"Wow, some women have puppies, but she definitely has St. Bernard’s!" Kenny says.

"All thanks to plastic surgeons," Vic explains.

"Truly gods among men."


Music plays: "I'm all grown up..."

And out walks Stephanie McMahon wearing an obscenely low cut shirt, giving some men mixed feelings between arousal and disgust. She rolls into the wrestling ring that has been set up as the stage for contestants to display their ballbusting skill. A small man is standing in the ring already.

Vic: "It looks like her special helper will be none other then Jonathan Coachman, announcer of WWE Heat. Hey, were did we get all the guys to get kicked for this events?"

Kenny: "Oh, all the guys are volunteers."

Vic: "I didn't think we'd get enough volunteers."

Kenny: "Oh, we didn't, so we just lured a lot of guys here saying that there's free beer."

Vic: "I see!"

The bell rings, and Stephanie has 30 seconds to show off what she's got. Instead of attacking, she picks up a microphone. "As Co-GM of Smackdown..." She screeches into the microphone, "I want all the fans of the WWE to know that I STEPHANIE MCMAHON" (there's some sparks from the microphone and a horrible reverb) "will WIN this contest, because I'm the biggest BITCH!" (Her voice cracks at the word bitch, causing the microphone to burst into flames, and one of the speakers to break loose.)

The speaker breaks loose from the ceiling and falls and crushes Coachman. The crowd murmurs, Stephanie tries to talk into the mic, but it’s broken, realizing this, the crowd bursts into cheers. The bell rings, she is out of time.

Vic: "Ohhhh, tough break. That's what happens when you're all talk and no action."

Kenny: "I hate women that talk too much."

Music Plays: The theme song to Roseanne...

Vic: "Indeed. Next up, from the category of television is Roseanne Barr."

Kenny: "Woah-oh! Tons of fun!"

Vic: "Kenny! *whacks him with the fan* I'll have you know that a lot of men prefer a full figured woman."

Kenny: "Yeah, but they're just talking about breasts."

Vic: "Oh... ok."

Meanwhile, Roseanne uses the ring steps to enter the ring. The crowd does not seem too pleased with her.

Vic: "Here's hoping she just doesn't sing the nation anthem."

Kenny: "Who's that in the ring with her?"

Vic: "That's Pat McGroin, a local urologist that we lured into this contest."

Roseanne walks over to Pat, and offers him a handshake. Pat confused about what's going on takes her hand. Roseanne pulls him hard, yanking him into a huge powerhouse knee. The knee smashes into Pat's balls, flipping him up and over the knee and onto his back, curled up in agony.

The crowd still boos.

Kenny: "Woah-oh! Looks like Pat's going to need his own services."

Vic: "Indeed, but even after a move that Roseanne calls the thunder thigh, the crowd is still very down on her."

Kenny: "Well it’s like what my T-shirt says, "no fat chicks" haha."

Vic: "Indeed."

Roseanne grabs her own crotch at the audience and spits, then leaves.

Vic: "A very classy woman. That's two women so far, but the audience has not been pleased so far. Let's check backstage."


Backstage, we see Trish Stratus getting ready, limbering up with some high kicks. The audience cheers loudly. We pan the camera back a bit more, and we see Chun Li performing even higher high kicks, and grinning at Trish in triumph as she does so.

"All right, fine" Trish says. "So you can kick higher... so what? I'm still winning this thing."

"That remains to be seen," Chun Li counters.

"What are you even doing here?" Trish asked, "You don't even exist, you're just a video game character, I thought this was for real people."

Chun Li flipped back her hair and scoffed, "Listen hunny, I'd double check those 38 DD's before you start yammering on about who's 'real'."

"Oh yeah?" Trish says standing chest to chest with Chun Li who replies back, "Yeah!"

Trish backs off and puts on her hat, "Well, normally I'd say I'd kick your ass..., but I think I'll kick your ass by kicking someone else's balls." And with that she turns on her platform heels and walks off camera.


Vic: "Apparently Trish isn't that good at threats."

Kenny: "She was talking? I was distracted."

Vic: "KENNY! You're a disgrace as an announcer, you missed the whole vignette."

Kenny: "No I didn't, I was just looking at her boobs instead of listening to her."

Vic: "Oh, ok then."

Music Plays: "*girls’ giggles* I don't care what you all say... OH! Its time to rock and roll..."

And to deafening cheers, out comes fan favorite Trish Stratus. She bends over deeply, then leans up and points to the audience.

Kenny (while Trish was bending over): "Do you think you could wedge a bike tire in there?"

Vic: "Yes indeed, in fact, she earned a very good living as a parking post at a local strip joint before she joined the WWE."

Kenny: "Are you sure?"

Vic: "Pretty sure, I heard that she went parking with lots of guys..."

Kenny: "Oh... I gotta get a parking spot like that..."

Vic: "Indeed, don't we all."

Back to the ring, Trish poses in all four corners for her fans. Standing in the ring is a start struck 18 year old boy, practically drooling.

Vic: "So who's our volunteer?"

Kenny: "That's Hugh Suck. A local High Schooler, he's on the local football team."

In the ring, Trish slinks up to Hugh and caresses him, shaking what her mama gave her... or what her mama bought for her at any rate. The teen is awe struck, and is really struck as Trish plants her clunky clog into the guy's nutsack. As the guy falls, Trish follows it up with a quick knee.

Kenny: "Ooooohh, it looks like Trish just did a modified change up nutbuster combo."

Vic: "Yes, rarely seen out of the back streets of England."

Hugh is retching on the floor; Trish poses for the crowd and blows the boy a kiss.

Kenny: "I don't think they're any question that Trish is moving on."

Hugh needs help leaving the ring, Trish remains still posing, the crowd going insane.

Kenny: "And it looks like Hugh will be moving onto a position on the bench. Those swollen nuts won’t be fitting in a cup any time soon."

Vic: "No siree."

Trish heads to the back, but on the way...

Music Plays: "Traditional Chinese strings music plays."

...out comes Chun Li who passes Trish on the walkway. The two flash an annoyed look at one another, and then Chun Li continues on the way to the ring.

Vic: "And here comes the 2001 Street Fighter Champion, Chun Li."

Kenny: "I don't know if women that aren't real belong in this competition."

Vic: "That is a hot topic of debate, something that was going to be talked over with the chairmen of the fictional female category."

Kenny: "What happened?"

Vic: "They couldn't be found."

Kenny: "Oh."

Back in the ring, Chun Li flips over the ropes into the ring. The audience cheers loudly. A man in a suit and tie enters the ring.

Kenny: "That's Phil the Lawyer... this should be fun to watch."

Vic: "Indeed."

Back in the ring, the bell rings, and Chun Li wastes no time. She rushes forward with blinding speed and launches into her lightning kicks move. She fires multiple straight kicks into Phil's nuts. Phil goes wide eyed and pale skinned and drops to his knees in agony.

Not finished, Chun Li takes a step back, then leaps forward and fires one last fierce kick into the lawyer’s nads, driving him out of the ring. She leaps in joy and does the V for Victory symbol to the crowd, who eats it up.

Kenny: "Yikes, sucks to be Phil!"

Vic: "Yes... after those lightning fast kicks, it looks like Phil the Lawyer will need to hit the showers."

Kenny: "It looks like Chun Li will be moving up along with Trish."

Vic: "No, I'm afraid not."

Kenny: "Why not?"

Vic: "She'll be tied up in court; it looks like Phil will be sing."

Kenny: "That blows... Lawyers suck."

Vic: "Indeed, but its never wise to attack a lawyer."

Kenny: "Better to just make fun of them at a distance."

Vic: "Too true..., all right, that's all the time we have for now, but tune in next time, if there is a next time, where we'll meet a few more women trying to get into the BB queen tournament. Until next time..."

Kenny: "Don't get eliminated!"

Vic: *smacks Kenny* "Wrong show..."

Kenny: "Who cares? I just want to go visit Trish with this bike tire."

Vic: "Indeed!”

The End... for now at least...

All right, there's the first part... I WARNED you that it wouldn't be very arousing. But I hope it was funny. I'm open to suggestions as to who you think would be fun to put in our prelims. I would also like to receive a bunch of comments/praise/suggestions/flames, whatever... when I post my stories elsewhere I'm used to getting reviews! :-D

Thanks for reading, take care. Until next time.

MST3K Exp#BB79 (A.I. Artificial Inga)

By confused_ed

(Author's Note: Thank you those who had something nice to say about my last story. Grimsac offered his story for an MST'ing, so I don’t want any flames of bashing another person's story. I have permission. Unless it was sarcasm... then I’m really deep shit. If you read my last story then you'll know that this is a work of comedy/spoofing, and probably not all that sexually pleasing. If you didn’t read my last story... well then, you get what you deserve... Please enjoy...)

Theme song plays...







Mike: "Another fetish story? We need to get Pearl to see a counselor."

Crow: "Or a date..."

Tom: "Hey Mike... you two might make a cute couple..."

Mike: "Tom... she's trying to drive us mad by making us watch bad movies and fetish stories, why would I want to date her?"

Tom: "Oh come on... its not like you’re not hopelessly desperate..."

Mike: "I... I wouldn’t say hopelessly..."

Crow: "Oh come on, when was the last time you got some action, and us watching 'Attack of the 50 Foot Woman' doesn’t count."

Mike: "Ok, ok, guys, the story's starting..."

Artificial Inga

Crow: "I bet you can’t tell it’s not the real Inga!”

By H.G. Swells

Tom: "H. G. Swells... creative... why not call it 'Jack-Offs'?

(Harry Grimsac)

Crow: Write down that name, we can send him a letter bomb later for this."

Year: 2121ad

I just sold my youngest son to a biomech engineer from New Hong Kong.

Tom: "Does Rosie O’Donnell know that you can do that?"

Mike: "She must, why else would she be stock piling them?"

With the trade-in allowances and my credit bonuses I was able to purchase a new prototype service-droid with all the newest features:

Tom: "Hey Mike, there MIGHT be hope for you yet."

Crow: "Nah she'll self-terminate first."

- Soft skin

- Analog processor

Crow: "Forty free hours of America Online."

Mike: "Oh great... you know the second they start getting intimate she'll lock-up and he'll have to reboot"

- Custom Attitude adjusters

Crow: Hmmm... we get to choose from 'Lizzie Borden' or 'Lorena Bobbitt'.

- Self-maintenance package

- A few features I've never heard of.

Tom: "Microsoft anti-competition exe.? What's that?"

I chose a sporty model, female, with bronze complexion, good muscle tone, and interchangeable snap-on faces.

Crow: "Oh he got the Mrs. Potato Head model."

I got a really good deal on her because she hasn't been market researched yet. When the crate arrived I could have pried it open with my boner I was so excited!

Crow: They did that SAME stunt on Fear Factor last week."

I sifted through the packing material, laid the pieces out on the floor and began putting her together. The snap-on faces looked creepy staring at me through their plastic bags. They were VERY realistic, even to the touch.

Tom: "Let’s see what he got here... Hillary Clinton... Bea Arthur..."

I picked out a face from random to start with, it was labeled "20th century tennis pro".

Mike: "Andre Agassi?"

When I finished, she looked as real as any other Scandinavian super-model. The only way to tell the difference was the telltale zipper running up her crack and halfway up her back.

Crow: (laughing) "But that’s HARDLY noticeable."

I didn't waste any time reading the stupid manual; I just reached for the remote control and switched her on.

Tom: "And she blows up."

Crow: "Dammit! I knew we should have went for the extended warranty."

She blinked, smiled, and spit-up a little bit of WD-40 now dribbling down her chin.

All: Mmmmmmmm."

She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

"Oops!", she said. "Pardon me."

"Uh, what's your name?" I asked.

"El Que Ex stroke Eight Three Nine" she said, and took a piss on the floor.

Tom: "This is EXACTLY how the exorcist began..."

Maybe I should have read the manual. She obviously needed calibrating. “Why don't I just call you 'Inga'?"

Crow: (mimicking Inga): "Oh thanks... did you think the name Gretchen was too pretty?"

"Ok, whatever... Let's fuck!" She ran forward tearing at my shirt and I dropped the remote. Somehow she managed to unzip my pants and pull them around my ankles before I could say anything.

"Whoa! Hold on, not yet! You still need to be fine-tuned!"

Tom: "The real problem is that he's probably came already..."

"Crow: "What do you expect from someone that would get a robotic girlfriend?"

I fended her off and picked up the remote. I aimed it at her.

Mike: (Dirty Harry): "I know what you’re thinking... did I put Duracell in here, or crappy Rayovac? Well... do you feel lucky... punk?"

"NOOOOO!" she panicked and lashed her foot out, hitting me in the crotch so hard I flew backwards off my feet.

Tom: "THERE we go, took long enough to get to the fetish part."

I still had the remote but I was too busy writhing around to use it.

Mike: "So... since he's down writing in pain, probably holding onto himself like most guys... he's holding the remote with... his third hand?"

Tom: "Sure, you never saw Total Recall?"

She leaned down and pried my knees apart. I was no match for her berserking strength,

Crow: "berserking... there's a word you don’t hear enough nowadays..."

She swept my hands aside and gripped my nuts.

Crow: "Then after she was done eating my peanuts, she went back to my testicles."

Even though my pants were around my ankles she stood me up

Tom: Because one can’t stand with their pants down..."

and snarled, "Who's controlling who, Dickweed? I said Let's Fuck! So use 'em or lose 'em!".

Mike: "See, he wouldn’t be in this predicament if he watched Fox's special, 'When Robot Whores Go Wrong."

She tightened her grip for emphasis. I tried to say, "Not now, I have a head-ache." but all that came out was, "eeUng! ISH! OuuhlgH!"

Tom: "Oh I bet he says that to all the killer robots."

I franticly started mashing buttons on the remote control.

Crow: "Why is there nothing ever good on???"

Not because it was a good idea, but because I was having major convulsions. Her face froze, then her eyes darted around for a second, then a slow smile spread across her face

Mike: "You know, the first time never takes long... but that’s ridiculous."

as she stared at something people cannot see. The pressure of her grip stopped but she was frozen stiff...

Tom: "Oh, so she WAS programmed with AOL!"

Now what? It would be too embarrassing to call the fire department or an ambulance to please kindly remove this robot from my sac. I looked at the remote but of course it wasn't self-explanatory,

Crow: "Well you could press the big button that says, "Release testicles"

and the owner’s manual was all the way across the room. [I hate when that happens]

Mike: "Yeah, same thing happened when I installed my VCR.

Crow: "Ummm... that's the end of the story... but we're not being released yet..."

All: "Oh noooo, a sequel!!!"

Tom: "You maniacs... you finally done it... you finally done it!!!"

Mike: (looks at Tom) "Are you ok now?"

Tom: "Of course, I needed my Charles Heston fix.."

Artificial Inga .02

Crow: "Gee, I hope this is beta that the last one... get it? get it??"

Tom and Mike: (Groans)

The last episode ended with me in a tight nut-grip by a deactivated robot named Inga (LQX-839).

After some thought I decided that I may be able to pull my balls from her frozen grip if I wank-off and allow them to shrink a little bit.

Crow: "Cold water will do the same..."

Mike (a 'la George Costanza): "There was shrinkage!!!"

It was rough going at first because my balls ached so badly, but she was very sexy and naked which helped some.

Tom: "Her face fell off during the struggle... but who was looking at her face anyway?"

Hey, I was actually kinda enjoying it... ~Spoink!~

Mike: "Spoink? What is this? 60's Batman?"

it worked! My balls popped out of her hand

Crow: "Unfortunately not still attached to me..."

Tom: "I’m pretty sure that goes into another forum."

and I sat down relieved. I lit up my last cigarette and pondered what to do next.

Mike: "I wonder how much I could make renting her to Scott or Knackers?"

I caught myself getting a boner again as I thought about how she kicked me so hard. "Hmmm, strange."

Crow: "My balls should be destroyed after a shot like that, but I seem to be in no pain!"

I started reading the manual to learn how to use the remote and made a few adjustments. I switched her back on. "Oh, Honey, are you ok?" she said. She sat down next to me and started massaging my wounded bits.

Tom: "Hun would you PLEASE leave my drill alone."

"Er, yeah, actually. I was wondering if you could do it again. I think I kinda liked it." I stood up in front of her.

"Really?" she looked surprised, then she smiled and crossed her legs bouncing her foot up and down. "Ok!" With that, she shot her foot up. Her toes were bent back so the ball of her foot hit my sac solid.

Crow: "And sent him flying backwards, out the window, killing him, the end."

"Oh, SHIT!" in all my sexual excitement I had forgotten how fucking badly it hurt. "Errrrgh! Owie, owie, ow!"

Tom: "Owie, owie, ow? What is this guy, 2 years old?"

but sure enough, in spite of the agony, I was rock-hard.

"Can we PLEASE have sex now?" she asked, sweetly...

Tom: "Think he'll download into her?."

Afterwards, I realized I had no more cigarettes and I wasn't up to walking anywhere in my condition. I decided to see how she would do out on her own with a mission.

Crow: "And pick me up some Soylent Green too."

First she needed clothes. I gave her an old pair of my pants but they were too tight around the hips and not nearly long enough to cover her 38-inch legs;

Crow: "She's only 4 feet tall though, so she really looks weird..."

they looked ridiculous.

Mike: (cough) "More so then this whole story?

So I cut them off into shorts. I gave her a T-shirt and she tied the bottom up tight. The only shoes I had that fit her were an old pair of combat-boots I had from the Los Angeles War of 2112.

Tom: "That was terrible... Can you believe the CHUDS won?"

Mike: (shrugging): "Meh, they wanted it more then the Morlocks."

Now she looked like she should be posing next to a Hot-Rod for a calendar.

Tom: "Ooops... I mean... a 'Hover-Rod' Calendar."

Oh well, that will have to do. I gave her some money and directions to the shop around the corner. "Don't let anyone touch you." I said.

Crow: (Sighs)

Mike: "Whets wrong?"

Crow: "Too many jokes could be made here, I don’t know which way to go... Mike Tyson, Bill Clinton, Priests, Michael Jackson. Just can't decide"

"And whatever you do, don't let ANYBODY talk you into going anywhere with them. You are to come straight back here after you get the cigarettes."

Mike: "So he's going to send out a naive, very expensive piece of equipment, because he can’t wait to heal to get cigarettes.

Crow: "What’s REALLY ironic is that even now in 2121, they still haven’t proved cigarettes are addictive."

"Ok, will do! I'll be back soon!"

Tom: "100 years later..."

15 minutes later I began to worry. Not because it was taking too long but because I saw a cop-ship glide past my window in the direction of the shop with it's alarms blaring.

Tom: "Minority spotted on the corner of 8th and Maple."

Mike: "I guess some things about L.A. never changes."

Just before I started panicking the front door slid open and she walked in smiling. "That was fun! Here you go, Sweetie." she handed me the cigarettes and the money and kissed me on the forehead.

Mike: (Mimicking Inga): Sorry, but they only had Rastafarian flavored Soylent Green."

"Why do you still have the money?" I asked. "What the hell happened?"

"You were right, people were touching me and some men wanted to take me away with them.

Crow: "They called themselves the 'Plot Police'. They said this story could warrant capital punishment."

Here, I'll show you." She went over to the crate that delivered her and pulled out an RCA cable. She plugged two ends into my DVD player

Tom: "The HEIGHT of 2121 technology."

and stuck the other red end up her left nostril, and the yellow end up her right.

Crow: "Now THAT turns me on... that’s slightly unsettling..."

She turned on the TV and sat down Indian style next to it.

Crow: "And... nothing came up on the screen... OH, its gotta be set to channel 3."

The picture that came up on the screen was a view through her eyes as she entered the corner-shop. The clerk's eyes bulged out of his head as he looked her up and down.

Mike: "Was the eyes the only thing that bulged?"

"What can I do for you, Ma'am?" he said, looking directly into her tits.

"Can I have a pack of Marlboro 100's, please?"

"Sure!" He coolly slid them across the counter to her. "That'll be $18.95, please."

Crow: "That’s actually cheap, used to be much more expensive till they enslaved a bunch of Vulcans and put them to work on the tobacco farms."

"Thanks!" she said and turned to walk out the door.

"Wait a minute! You have to pay for those!" As she walked out to the street I could hear shuffling noises and footsteps running up behind her.

Crow: "OH NO!! It's the Blair Witch!"

Tom: (Heavy Breathing): "I’m so scared...”

She turned her head to the left to see a hand on her shoulder. With her right hand she grabbed his fingers and peeled them back with a sick crunching sound.

Mike: "Good thing he worked out all those bugs huh?"

She spun around, pulled him towards her, and brought her knee up hard into his crotch. -Twice! He slammed back into the door and slid down as she gave him a final kick with her boot.

Tom: "As opposed to kicking him with her glove."

He flopped forward.

"Don't touch!" she said, and turned to walk down the street...

She fast-forwarded a little bit. "Check THIS out."

A flashing cop-ship hovered down

Tom: "You think if the cop ship flashed, it would be kinda hard to be inconspicuous."

onto the street next to her and two cops jumped out blowing their whistles like crazy.

Mike: "Blowing their 'hyper-sonic resonating whistles."

"Right! What's all this then? Hold it right there, Miss!" said the first cop. "It seems you want to go around pinching cigarettes

Tom: "And spanking cigars..."

without paying, and beating on the local merchants!" said the second. "You'll have to come with us down to the station."

Tom: "You know, it’s not even about the attack, these cops just got done watching Blade Runner, and they're adrenaline is pumping."

"I can't. I'm not supposed to!" she replied.

"Eh? I dare say! Get in the ship, Miss!"

Mike: "Yes, I do believe I dare say 'eh'!"

"Hi-Yah!" she screamed and jumped forward with a flying drop-kick to his groin.

Crow: "She didn’t get much height on that, did she?"

He landed on his face with his ass sticking up in the air. She spun around to face the other cop. He drew his gun and pointed it at her.

Tom: "His 'Techno-Tazer-Blaster-LXQ"

Before he could yell, "FREEZE BITCH!",

Mike: "But the officer had a speech impediment, so she really had plenty of time."

she ducked down and rolled towards him. She shot both her feet up together into his policeman's balls.

Crow: "So I guess she's not a big supporter of Policeman Balls."

Mike and Tom: (Groans)

He flew back about 6 feet and she jumped on top of him.

Tom: "Six Feet? I thought Flash Girl exaggerated."

She hammered her fist down into his nuts several more times for good measure.

Tom: "So she's kinda like the Martha Stewart of Robotic S and M."

Now the first cop was trying to get back up

Mike: "I wonder if he's Robocop."

so she grabbed his left ankle and pulled it high into the air. He flopped on his back and she came down with an elbow-drop between the legs.

Tom: "That would be the experimental Chyna chip."

She brushed herself off and checked to make sure the cigarettes weren't broken and headed back




Tom: "Ummm... is that it?"

Crow: "Could we be that lucky?"

Tom: "I dunno, maybe the writer came to his senses."

Crow: "Or the medication kicked in?"

Mike: "Come on, let’s get the hell out of here before they change their minds."

(This story wasn’t mine, it was generously donated for my MST'ing by Grimsac. Thank you for its use. If anyone else wants to let me MST their story, I’d be very happy to do it.)

Theme Music Plays.

Closing Scene: ("Uh, what's your name?" I asked. "El Que Ex stroke Eight Three Nine" she said, and took a piss on the floor.)