Trick or Treat

By nutcracker sweet

With the neighborhood kids seemingly done with their Trick-or-Treating you settle down on the couch, your balls wrapped in a silk sash and with a fistful of baby oil you start to stroke yourself, as Elvira camps it up on the television.

Hot damn, you think, that Mid-western Viking has sure got some big knockers. You giggle, thinking, I bet that sawed-off runt in Mudville County wishes she had half the tits of Cassandra Petersen...

DING! DONG!

"Oh shit!" you mutter, tucking yourself back into your Spiderman pajamas. "Must be one last Trick-or-Treater."

DING! DONG!

"Hold your horses! I'm coming!"

You open the door, but there is no one there. You tentatively poke your head out and look to the right...and then look to the left, but nada. Not a damn thing.

"Hm?" You step out on the front steps and gaze up and down the block, taking in the Halloween decorations until your eye falls on the house where Alex Macleod filmed an episode of "Trading Spaces". Your hand absently fondles your tight scrotum as you muse about blue-eyed Scottish lasses. Mmmmmmmmm, blue-eyed Celtic girls... DOH!

You hear a noise from back inside your house! But it isn't Elvira telling one of her corny jokes. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as you consider entering the house. Maybe you ought to head down to the VFW for reinforcements...

Oh, don't be a sissy, you reproach yourself, it's gotta be the TV, or the cat, or something logical...

So you turn and march back in slamming the door behind you, and locking it. The silence is deafening. You know that you left the television on. Slowly you turn, clutch your chest and stagger backwards at the apparition before you! Three cloaked figures, their features hidden within the cowls of their capes!

"Yikes!" You step back, only to have your arms seized. Bug-eyed, you look over your shoulders to see two more shadowy figures holding you tightly. You feel your bowels ready to evacuate in terror.

"Wha-bab-dab-whoo-gep-nadan-" you stutter ala Porky Pig.

The living nightmare in the middle steps forward a pace or two. "This is the Festival of Samhain," a soft lilting drawl speaks from out of the shadow of the hood, "and we need to appease the gods of the Otherworld."

You lick the sweat from your upper lip, thinking, Thank god; at least they're human...

Another one of the cloaked figures steps right up to you and a slight, silver-ringed hand shoots out of the billowy sleeve to grab your crotch... and women, you smile to yourself.

"Yugh!" you chirp, as the black-lacquered nails dig into your testicles.

"Particularly, we need to appease the goddess, Nut-crunchicle!" The hand twists and tightens on your hapless nut sac.

"You do know who Nut-crunchicle was, don't ye?"

Grimacing and red faced you weakly shake your head, "NO."

"Ah! She was an ancient Druid priestess, she died a horrible death at the hands of 'traders from the East'!", she drawls as she shakes your nuts and lets 'em drop.

The third specter pipes in, "Her soul can't rest until her treacherous death has been avenged!"

"Yeah," says the cowled one at your right shoulder as she reaches around you to punch your balls. "Repaid in full!"

"Wha- what’s this gotta do with me?" you gasp

She presses her face so close to yours that you can smell her breath, which vaguely reminds you of kerosene, "You are the last remaining male descendent of those murderous traitors from the East!"

"And we are the Daughters of Nut-crunchicle!" they all sing out in unison. "And we've come to finish the last chapter to this ancient story!" The three in front of you throw off their cloaks, to stand spread legged, hands on hips. Naked, except for thigh-high black leather boots with spurs and strap-on dildos over their glistening crotches. Thin-hipped, tight-assed, flat-bellied, small of breast, blue eyes blazing contempt at you.

Even in this situation your lustful animal instincts take over as you gawk at the three women who certainly do bear a resemblance to each other, and your cock starts to stir as your aching balls roll in their fleshy pouch.

"Howdy!" drawls the smallest of the three as she rakes her black-lacquered fingers through her unruly, raven-mane, "It's me, Moira!"

"Jaysus, Moira, what the hell is goin' on?" you desperately interrupt her.

You slump and gag when the lady in the middle steps up and kicks your balls, ordering you, "Silence!"

"OOOOPS! You just made Fionna's acquaintance!" Moira continues, turning to gesture at the third raven-haired, blue-eyed vixen who is smiling at you and idly slapping her latex cock, "and that's Alex (Macleod)!"

Fionna grabs your balls in a strangle-hold and Moira and Alex take over holding your arms to your sides, as the other two step out to cast aside their cloaks, licking their lips and stroking their own "cocks."

"Meredith (Brooks), Shannon (Doherty), meet Cyber-perv," Moira continues.

Your eyes dart to the faces of the five women that are standing naked in your living room! Your living room! Hot damn! This is a dream come true! Oh, how many times have you masturbated to visions of these five lovelies? Many! Well, at least to visions of Meredith, Alex, and Shannon while watching TV. The other two you could only make up in your own head how they might look! Now here they were! This could only be a good thing... right?

"Permission to ask a question, Fionna," you groan.

She eases her grip on your nuts, "Shoot!"

"How did my ancestors dispatch your Nut-crunchicle?"

The five women exchange glances.

Meredith backhands your cock, hard!

Fionna knees your balls!

"They fucked her to death!"

At the look of abject terror that fills your eyes all five women burst into evil laughter, "Bwahahahahahahahah!"

As the implications of Meredith's statement dawn on you, five women sporting latex cocks and bent on avenging an ancient transgression against one of their own suddenly didn't seem so sexy anymore.

She must have read the consternation in your eyes because Meredith then backhands you across the side of your head. "Tough shit, Cyber-perv! But this is the only way to bring Nut-crunchicle eternal rest!"

Stars explode before your eyes and your head reels. You are only vaguely aware of the women milling about, as hands roughly grab you and lead you to the kitchen table, pushing you face down on it. One of the women is leaning on your back; one elbow digging into your spine and one hand under your hairy ass squeezing your nuts and rolling them against each other.

The shrill of the Highland pipes splits the air as Alex, fumbling with CDs at the player turns, grinning. "Och! Music for the soul, eh, sisters?"

Shannon wipes a tear from her eye. "Ah, Truer words never spoken!"

"Aye! Warms the cockles of me heart!"

"Turn it up! That'll drown out the pig's screams!"

The hand on your nuts squeezes harder and Meredith growls in your ear, "Squeal piggy!"

You gasp out a few half-hearted "oinks" and "soowees".

She grinds her elbow into your back and twists your nuts. "Ye're fuckin' pathetic! But for sure ye'll be squealin' soon!"

Fionna smacks your ass. "Moira, go to his closet and get a few of his ties so that we can lash him down."

You grimace. "Not my Garcia ties, please", and manage to turn your head to look across the table where you come eye to "eye" with Shannon's "cock". She has two black-lacquered fingers slid behind the dildo and into her glistening womanhood. She is diddling herself.

"Mmmmm, I want him to suck my dick!" she winks one blue eye at you.

Alex is opening and shutting kitchen cabinets. She opens the fridge and pulls out a six pack of TsingTao beer, "Look at this shit! He drinks slope piss-water." She cracks open a beer and downs about half of it in one draught. "Yuck! Pretentious yuppie puke."

Alex opens more beers and hands them around as Moira comes skipping out of the back hallway with a handful of silk Gucci ties.

Moira is bubbling over with excitement, "Hey guys! Y'all should come back here and see this! I think we ought to have a little fun with him first!"

While maintaining a strangle-hold on your testicles with one hand, Meredith grabs a fistful of hair with the other, jerks you upright and starts to manhandle you down the hall, Moira leading the way with Shannon, and Alex and Fionna trailing behind, drinking beer and giggling conspiratorially.

Moira pulls up short. "Ta Da!" She gestures towards the bedroom.

The other four women and you exchange puzzled looks.

"Eh?"

"Up here, sillies!" Moira leaps to grab the chinning-bar mounted in your bedroom doorway where she swings like a chimp jacked up on crystal Meth, her "cock" waggling obscenely.

Moira jumps down, blue eyes flashing. "This is goin' to be fun!"

"Grand idea!" Meredith positions you in the doorway. "Arms up!" The women use a couple of your ties to bind your wrists to the chinning bar.

You stand trembling, your scrotum shriveling in terror as your testicles try to seek refuge within your body. Your limp dick withdraws into itself.

"Ahh, look it! 'Mr. Turtle' is hiding", Shannon coos, tweaking your dick. She grabs your hips, and squats down to let her tongue flick across your flaccid member. As your cock rises to the occasion she sucks on the head, her azure eyes smiling up at you. The women cheer and jeer.

With your cock fully erect and oozing pre-cum she runs her tongue up the underside of your cock, stands to step back, "Mmmm, isn't that better?"

"Much!" Alex says. "Now let's beat his balls!"

"Yesss!" hisses Moira, hoping up and down, hardly able to contain her excitement.

"Sure fun is fun, sisters," Fionna drawls behind you, "but let's not forget the real business for our being here."

You stiffen as you feel the tip of her latex cock tentatively pressing at your butt crack. "No... please don't..." you whimper.

"Looky!" Meredith exclaims as she returns from the kitchen, swinging a broom as her ancestors wielded a basket-hilted claymore. "A spreader-bar!" She lightly taps your nuts with the end of the broom stick causing you to lurch backwards against Fionna's "cock".

"EEEEEEK!" you squeal.

"A bit too long though, ain't it?"

"We only need about two, three feet..."

"So let's break it off over his head!"

"Nah! I want him conscious for what he is about to suffer."

As this girly banter is being exchanged, Moira slips away to the front of the house. She enters the garage where she picks up a hammer, handsaw, and a couple of large nails. She returns after first stopping to turn up the pipes music a wee bit.

"Here." She hands the saw to Shannon.

Fionna grabs the broom from Meredith. "Hm, we need a way to hold this while we saw it down to size..." She casts a sidelong look at you, and a cruel smile plays across her lips. The other women follow her glance and they all start to laugh!

Fionna works up a mouthful of saliva and spits on the end of the broom stick then, swiftly and without warning, she jams it into your ass!

You shriek! Tears filling your eyes, you thrash against your restraints until Meredith's firm hand calms you down by squeezing your balls. While Fionna holds the broom stick firmly in your ass, Shannon uses the saw to cut it off at about three feet in length.

Even with Meredith's death-grip on your testes and tears of pain running down your cheeks, you sigh in relief when Fionna pulls the spreader-bar from your rectum.

Alex and Moira squat down to tie off the ends of the bar securely to your ankles.

Shannon reaches over your shoulder with a pair of your soiled boxer shorts that she stuffs into your mouth. Fionna secures this make-shift ball-gag with another one of your ties wrapped around your head.

Your eyes bug in abject terror as Moira advances on you with the hammer and nails. Sweat, tears, and snot stream down your face.

Moira stands before you and stares searchingly into your eyes. Searching for what? She smiles, winks and drops to her knees!

OH MY GOD, you try to scream through the soiled cotton, NOT MY BALLS!

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

You look down to see Moira hammering the nails into either side of the doorframe. She then secures your ankles to the nails with two more of your ties.

"Hey! Now that's using your head, girl!

"Way to go, li'l sister!"

"Excellent!"

Moira stands and rubs the cold, steel hammerhead against your balls. "Now we gotchya right how I wantchya!"

Meredith nudges her aside. "Me first!" She squints at you, slowly drawls, "I'm gonna knee your nuts!"

Your plaintive cries for mercy are swallowed by the cotton gag.

"HeeYah!" her knee flies up towards your crotch! You buck in your bindings! But she stops just short of slamming your balls. Her eyes flash! "Maybe next time!" she giggles.

SCRUNCH!

Shannon's booted foot swings up between your legs from behind to smash your testicles between her foot and your body!

You convulse, screaming into the gag!

Meredith grasps your shoulders and pile-drives her knee into your balls!

You retch, the wind knocked out of you! Behind the excruciating pain is the fear that you are going to drown on your own vomit. You choke it back down. The pain in your groin throbbing up through your abdomen. You want nothing more than to curl up on the floor, clutching yourself. You hang in your restraints, crying and sniffling, incapacitated by the agony that radiates from your battered manhood.

"Hot damn, girls! That had to hurt, eh?" beams Alex.

"I dunno, let's ask him." Fionna pries the gag from your mouth and you suck air!

"How'd that feel?"

All that you can do is whimper, moan and weakly shake your head.

"Did it hurt your little ballies?"

"Would you like another?"

"No," you manage to croak, "please... no more..."

"Oh, but Alex, Moira and Fionna haven't had their turns yet."

"No, please..." you sob. "I'm beggin' for mercy... I'll do anything... my balls can't take anymore..."

"Sure they can," Moira says as she steps in front of you. "Testicles are tough little organs." She wraps one little hand around the neck of your nuts pulling down on your scrotum and stretching your rapidly swelling testicles away from your body. "It's you that can't handle anymore."

As Moira is holding your balls, you feel Fionna's hands on your hips and the head of her "dick" pushing between your butt cheeks to press against your anus. You start to jabber away, again begging for mercy.

Fionna rocks forward on the balls of her feet and the "cock" enters you. You scream! You arch your back as Fionna slides it in even deeper, and then pulls it back. In and out, in and out, working up a rhythm.

Your screams are drowned by the shrill of the pipes.

Fionna is pounding your entrails.

Moira yanks sharply down on your nuts. She balls up her other fist and swings a round-house upper-cut solidly into the underside of your trapped balls!

Your world explodes in pain!

You scream!

You puke!

You pass out!

Hanging limply.

You awake to feel Alex lapping at your swollen and sore man-eggs. You are afraid to open your eyes. But you hear a soothing voice, and the rough tongue feels weird on your tight nut-sac.

You halfway open one eye to see that it is your cat that is licking your balls! And it is Elvira yammering away on the TV!

"What the...!" You bolt upright, arms and legs flailing! Only to roll on to your side as a sharp pain shoots through your abdomen. Your ass is on fire! You reach behind you to feel a candle sticking out of your ass. You yank it free and toss the taper to the floor.

You are naked from the waist down. Your nut-sac is swollen the size of a grapefruit. Your hands, unfettered, gently touch your tender testes. Your asshole throbs with pain.

You look around. No blue eyed, raven haired Celtic women. No cloaks. No Druids. No strap-on dildos. No ties. Nothing.

"Holy shit!" You rub your hands over your face, wiping away the cold sweat. "It was just a dream..."

You shudder, "More like a nightmare."

You turn down the TV and stagger into the kitchen where you see the five empty Chinese beer bottles, "Geez! No wonder I passed out and had such a weird dream."

You shake your head thinking about how realistic that dream was. A shudder runs up your spine.

You grab the last TsingTao and waddle back to the couch, failing to notice as you pass it by, the CD of Highland pipe music left in the player.

The Hunt

By nutcracker sweet (part 1-2)

With one foot up on the log, I stoop to finish lacing up my moccasin-boot. Finely tanned doe-skin boots up to my knees. Over these, for sturdiness with stealth, a pair of low moccasins made from stout bull-hide. I stand and turn to you, standing there hunched over with your balls clamped in the Humbler, naked save the studded leather dog collar around your neck.

I chuckle. "You really want to go through with this? Sixty minutes to unload fifty rounds into your gorgeous gonads? Piece of cake!"

I adjust the crotch of my cut-off Levis. My cut-off Levis are a bucolic fashion style known in rural America as "Daisy Dukes": so short that half my ass is hanging out and the inseam rides right up into my crotch accenting my mons veneris. I am wearing the key to the lock that secures the Humbler hanging from a silver ring that is pierced through one erect nipple. Around my slim hips I buckle on a wide kilt-belt with a large silver buckle of Celtic design. From this belt I hang a simple leather sporran. I am wearing a man's white shirt, tied up under my breasts calypso-style and unbuttoned down to reveal what little cleavage I have. I roll up the sleeves. I wrap a Confederate flag bandanna around my head, and tie it off.

"Don't be so sure of yourself. You'll be able to move faster but I'm like a wild Indian in the woods!" you boast.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter noncommittally. I pick up the box of paint-ball capsules and dump them out into the sporran. I pick up the paint-ball gun and commence to load it with ammo from the sporran. I hold one of the fluorescent-orange capsules up to you, "Hunter orange for safety's sake! Don't want some poachers thinking your Bambi and blowing you away." I fire one directly at you and it explodes on your chest, "See?"

"OW! Dammit!" your attempt to wipe the paint away only succeeds in smearing it. You wipe your hands on your thighs.

"Here, put these on!" I toss you a pair of clear goggles.

"Two minutes, Moira, you gotta at least give me two minutes head start."

As you are adjusting the goggles on your head, I step behind you and squeeze the trigger twice, in rapid succession. "Clock's ticking!" Two more paint-balls explode on you. One on your taut ass, and the other one directly on your testicles, which sends you off, down the trail, whooping and cussing me.

"Forty-seven shots to go!" I holler at your retreating back. I burst into laughter at the absurd view of your paint-smeared body waddling away.

Needledick departs as fast as he can, which is not very... due to the Humbler. As apprehension and adrenaline take Needledick into the forest, the last thing on his mind is much hope of getting into her cut-off Levis’ what with his balls locked in the Humbler. So, the excitement for Needledick is if he makes his wily escape he gets a big adrenaline buzz, but if he should fall victim to the wilier Huntress then Needledick gets a huge testosterone whack and some divine surrender in his humiliation.

"Wait a minute," Needledick leers hopefully, "Mmmh, maybe by then the Huntress might be horny from the chase."

Needledick loses himself for a moment in a stream of consciousness, with the awareness of his paint-spattered nuts standing out like dogs balls. Off, quicker than either Needledick, or the Huntress, thought possible and doing huge work on those nuts as they get stretched beyond reason. Every step is like one of Moira's nut-cracking ball-squeezes.

Needledick thinks, "Even if you don't catch up with me, I’ll be sore for days." Now this is your country, and Needledick doesn't know this country. Of course, he doesn't stay on the trail.

As soon as I am out of view, you move up hill. You drop to your knees to crawl through the brush, which proves to be a bit more comfortable than running with the Humbler, despite the awareness of your very exposed testicles caused by the cool forest breeze. You go for the high ground to seek a view for the creeks or rivers and the best low ground for cover. Your course must be quickly chosen, as you sort of knew Moira would be a bit eager for the chase and that you would be lucky to a minute and a half start. You are crawling through the underbrush, the branches raking your naked body.

"Hell's bells! Guys will do anything if they think there is a chance to get into a girl's pants" I idly scratch my ass and then replace the spent rounds, "Needledick's going to be soooo sorry, I almost feel sorry for him... almost. Even if he makes it the whole hour he's going to be in no condition to get it up." I smile at the thought of your balls, swollen purple and sore, under a thick coat of orange paint.

I pull out my pocket watch and check the time, "Fuck it! Close enough!" I reach behind the log to retrieve a strap-on dildo, which I tuck into the back of my belt. I step off into the palmettos to walk a line that runs obliquely to the trail down which you ran. Just like deer hunting with daddy. One step, two steps, three steps. Stop! Freeze! Nothing moves but my eyeballs; right to left, left to right. I take three more cautious steps and freeze. Again nothing moves but my eyes, right to left, left to right. This is how I continue to make my way slowly through the pine scrubs of central Florida. The small flock of scrub-jays takes to wing just about the same time that I hear the crashing sounds through the underbrush up on the rise. HAH! Heading for the high ground (all of about 28' above sea level), as most outsiders do, not being used to the abject flatness of this state. I smile as I recall your boast that you are just like a wild Indian in the brush. Yeah, right, if that Injun happens to be a drunken, one-eyed, half-breed!

I now move with more deliberation, but just as cautiously. My eyes focused on a spot in the brush about halfway between the ground in front of my feet and the spot where I heard all your noise. Peripheral vision tends to catch movement in the woods better than straight on sight does. Steadily towards the top of the rise, I carefully place my steps in the soft sugar sand or pine mat of the forest floor. Closer, I can smell you; the funk of sweat, fear, paint, lust and manly musk. You are on the other side of that big clump of palmettos. I can hear your labored breathing and your nervous fidgeting. I drop to a squat and slowly duck-walk around the brush.

There you are, looking back whence ye came! Not more than six feet away from you I take aim; your balls make an easy target! The first two shots are direct hits! Another shot explodes on your shoulder spraying the side of your face with the bright orange paint, and the next three pellets fly harmlessly passed you as you fall to the ground thrashing in your restraints! Not one to give up easily, and even with the nauseating pain radiating from your nuts, you quickly react by hooking your legs out, knocking my own feet out from under me. I crash flat on my back, the wind knocked out of me. Stunned, I work at not panicking so that my diaphragm will resume its normal rhythm. But I hear you crashing away through the palmettos and pines, so I scramble to sit up and fire off a few more shots at you! One hits your thigh, one hits your nuts and the rest pepper the brush on either side of you as you limp away, gasping through gritted teeth.

I roll to my hands and knees gasping as my breathing returns. I climb out of the sand to my feet, a wee bit shaky. Hands on knees I take breaths, slow and deep. "Shit!" I mutter, "Gotta admire the peckerhead's tenacity!"

I look the way you went. "But you're gonna pay for that!" I holler after you. "You hear me, Needledick?" roars the crazy woman in the woods "Your balls are mine!" I rub a hand across my face, "Here I come, lover boy!" Stepping out in long strides I take off after you. Kind of like tracking a wounded deer, but instead of a blood trail I can follow the splatterings and drippings of paint. Of course, that's not necessary because the path you've left in your wake by crashing blindly through the bracken and bramble is distinct enough that even Stevie Wonder could follow you!

Throwing caution to the wind, I pick up the pace, reloading as I walk. But wait! I stop and listen to the deathly silence. This wily fucker is not to be underestimated. This trail is too obvious; maybe it’s being done by design. Or is it? I shake my head. Damn, girl, that fall rattled your brain, he's just a dumb-ass city boy running scared! Now go get him! Right! I start off in hot pursuit! Wondering aloud, "Where are you, Needledick? What are you doing? What are you thinking?"

-Needledick-

Now where is the water? First question I ask as it was not visible from the heights of 28 feet above sea level. Would you believe it? There is a large creek nearby and I can now smell it. My old Boy Scout training tells me that all I need do is follow any incline downhill, no matter how slight and I will find water.

You know this scrub better than I do and can guess where I'm heading. So in hot pursuit you catch sight of me on an embankment above a creek of about three or four feet deep and say six feet wide. I am aware of you behind me; although you are quiet I can smell you.

As you take aim, you haven't seen anything like the long arc of an effortless dive before unless it was a dolphin leaping through hoops at Sea World. Adjusting your aim you shoot. Ouch! I feel a stinging hit to my nuts, a prominent target due to that Humbler and the curve in the dive and the snap of the body to cause my body to disappear into the water through the one point of entry with scarcely a ripple. That Humbler is going causing me no little grief...

But where have I gone? You stand on the bank scanning the creek, one hand on your hip, resting the paintball gun in the other. One cheek of your ass thrust out of your Daisy Dukes, exposed from the pursuit. A look of intense concentration on your face. You do not intend to let me escape. 15-20 minutes have now passed and you have scored several direct hits. How many rounds do you have left? Plenty!

I swim underwater quickly, using dolphin kicks only, for more than a minute which takes me almost 60 yards downstream. I land on the same side of the creek as you, as I think that you won't expect that. However, you have raced downstream, assuming I headed that way. I am just standing up when you spy me. I am down a few yards from you, standing ankle deep in the water.

You sneak into position quietly, and then let fly. One shot hits my goggles. I can not see anything except orange. Now you have me! You are above me in a perfect ambush! Hit after direct hit to my balls! As I turn to try protecting them you just move to follow the line of fire. As blindly I rotate you empty the best part of 30 rounds into my gonads!

You must be getting a bit bored with these easy hits, akin to shooting fish in a barrel.

I am feeling like a man suspended by his nuts, rotating slowly in the breeze as you have your target practice. Are you growing bored? Is this too easy? What do you do next?

-Moira-

I continue to squeeze off rounds as I crash through the brush, down the embankment, and break into the open along the "crick" bed. I stride up to you, jaw set, nostrils flaring, turn the gun end over end and slam the butt of the gun squarely into your balls!

"There, you sonofabitch! That's for knocking me on my ass!" I growl through clenched teeth, as you slump over, the color blanching from your usual ruddy, though now paint-splattered, face. You sink to your knees, sputtering and groaning.

"So you like to play rough, do ye?" You roll on to your side when I kick your ribs a couple of times. "Alright, you macho asshole, let's play rough!"

Cussing you out as I jam the last of the paint ball pellets into the gun. "I am sooo pissed at you, Needledick! I wanted to behave like the genteel Southern belle that I'm supposed to be, and now you've got me acting like a savage!" I kick your balls! You curl up like an armadillo, rocking and groaning.

I step back and begin to unload the gun at point blank range. Paint pellets stinging you as they explode across your head, shoulders back, ass, and of course, your balls! O' yes, I concentrate most of my remaining firepower on to your balls!

Your body is quivering and quaking as you roll in the wet sand. I finally notice the blood streaming down your chin because you have bitten down onto your bottom lip.

"Bwahhahahaha!" I laugh evilly, "That's right! You don't scream when a woman is giving your testes a goin' over, do you? Matter of some twisted, warped sense of pride, I suppose..." My booted foot connects with your testicles again. You make gurgling sounds behind your bloody lips, but nothing audible as a scream.

I drop to my knees. With one hand I viciously squeeze your gonads, digging my nails into your ball-meat. With the other hand I grab your hair to jerk your head up so that I can glare into your eyes.

"But you'll scream today, Needledick!" I twist and grind your nuts against each other. "Before we leave these woods today, you will scream for mercy! Beg for it, you will!" My eyes stare deeply into yours, searching for the agony and terror that I know is there. Seeing the pain and fear, I let go of your hair to backhand you across your face, and I stand up.

Breathing heavy, I retreat to a cypress stump to sit down where I remove my belt setting it and the strap-on dildo aside. I undo my cut-off Levis, wriggling them down my firm legs and off over my boots.

I get up and advance on you with my belt. I secure it around your chest and arms to pinion your elbows to your sides. By a handful of your hair I pull your face tight against my bare crotch. "You coulda been frolicking in here, if you'd been nicer." I push you over backwards. "But now things are going to play out a lot different."

Next I readjust your harness so that your hands are now secured tightly at your hips. With one hand full of your balls and one of your hair. I yank you to your feet and half drag you over to the cypress stump, pushing you back down on your knees and face down across the stump. Your balls swollen purple even through the orange paint, your body trembling.

"Stay like that!" I give your nuts a half-hearted kick. "Ever seen the movie, Deliverance?" I ask, picking up the strap-on. I fumble with the straps to get the latex 'cock' into place. "Well, you're gonna get to play Ned Beatty's part!"

I kick your ankles far apart, and kneel down between them. I work up a mouthful of saliva, spit it into my hand, rub it on the head of my 'dick' and jam the tip of the dildo against your puckered asshole. You make a funny little chirping sound.

"I wanna hear you squeal like a pig, boy!" I whisper into your ear, as I push the dildo deeper into you!

"C'mon, boy! Squeal!" You grunt, like a little piggy, but no squeal. I wrap my arms around your waist so that my hands can grasp your withered cock and I pull you back as I push my hips forward, working up a rhythm, while giving your cock a two-handed massage. Soon my own 'cock' is impaling your entrails and my sweaty groin is pounding your balls as I rape your ass!

But not so much as just little grunts and groans out of you.

Harder I rape your ass! Furiously pounding away, using your cock to control the rhythm and depth of my savage thrusts! I can feel your nuts splaying flat between me and the wood of the Humbler! Man, that's gotta hurt! But still, no scream from you!

I slump across your back as I cum in an explosive orgasm. I pull my 'cock' out of you, stand up and step around in front of you. I slap your face with the shit-smeared dick.

"Suck it!" I order. I reach over your shoulder to punch your nuts, "Suck it, I said!"

Return to Mudville

By nutcracker sweet

PROLOGUE

When I got Sniffer's e-mail I called him at his hotel room, and we chatted for awhile. I found him to be charming, witty, and, yes ladies, sensual, so I agreed to meet with him.

After we hung up, I put on a denim skirt and a short black-leather vest under a denim blouse. Believe me; I don't have to worry about pendulous breasts spilling out. I pulled on a pair of my favorite boots. Raked my fingers through my long, black hair, thought about brushing my unruly mane, and decided "fuck it” I don't even bother primping for church.

I then loaded a few precautionary essentials into my purse: 4" ball-stretcher, handcuffs, ball-gag, can of mace, .45-caliber derringer, and a jar of honey. I headed for the door, but turned back to my dressing table, pulled aside the crotch of my black, lacy panties, and slipped my ben-wa balls into place; figuring I'd make the ride much more interesting by driving down railroad tracks.

Off I went to Mudville County.

Upon my arrival at the Dew Drop Inn, I went up to knock on the door to room #666, which should have been my first cue that something was askew. A gruff and garbled voice bade me to enter. I slowly opened the door into a dimly-lit, smoke-filled room, and as I tentatively walked in I was almost overcome by a strong, musky, rancid stench; as if goats had been fucking in the room.

As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I saw a beefy, bearded man slouched in an armchair, feet up on a huge ice chest, his big hairy balls hanging out the front of his Spiderman pajamas, a bottle of Zima in one hand, and the other hand holding a paper sack to his snout. On the table in front of him was an overflowing ashtray and a can of ether.

"Sniffer, I presume?"

The beast turned his blood-shot, glazed and crazed eyes to me and grunted an affirmative.

"Well, I must say, you certainly come across a lot classier over the phone and in your posts on the message boards..."

"Don't gimme your shit, you redneck simpleton," he gestured with the rag filled sack, "just get your skinny ass in here! We gotta confab!"

Now I'm getting pissed! "What the fuck is 'confab'?” I snarl, looking over this dungeon, my sense of unease growing stronger as I take in the clothes, other Zima and wine cooler bottles, and Virginia Slim packages that are littering the room.

"Urp! It's a military term for conversation," he belches. Aha! Now I'm on familiar ground, my family is riff with deranged veterans. It's a rite of passage for the guys in our clan.

"You talk tough, you ballbustin' bitch, but now it is time to test your meddle!" I swear his eyes rolled around in his head as he belched again, broke wind, and upended the Zima bottle.

"I'm a bit shocked at your behavior, Sniffer” as I imperceptively remove the ben-wa balls and slip them into my purse, "what about all your lip-service about respecting women and the sanctity of womanhood?"

"BWAHAHAHA!” he guffawed, spewing malt liquor out his nose, "That bullshit? It's just that...Bullshit! Girl, you really are a backwoods moron, don't you know that communicating on the Web is like being a politician? Just tell 'em what they wanna hear!"

I'm considering pulling my piece and blowing off one of his meaty testicles when I'm distracted by muffled noises coming from behind the bathroom door. Sniffer grabs my purse, and bellows, "Get 'er, boys!" The bathroom door is yanked open and ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen muscled high school wrestlers charge out and surround me! Uh Oh!

I know, ladies, sounds like a fantasy come true to be in the midst of all that young, sweaty, man-flesh clad only in Speedos. But not under these circumstances. These guys were sporting the Mudville High Trojans embossed on their crotches, and Mudville High is the county's home for wayward shepherd-boys! So whatever Sniffer was up to had to be a twisted, diabolical plot!

Like a trapped animal, I attacked! Oh boy, did I fight! My ancestral Highland warriors would have been proud of me! But, alas, to no avail. I was overpowered by sheer numbers, and pinned against the wall.

Sniffer lurched out of the chair, staggered over to me saying, "This is how it is going to play out, missy” his fetid breath reminded me of my uncle's auto body shop, "first, the bare-assed spankings..."

It was time for me to concede that I might be in some real trouble here. I doubt that I could survive being beaten by fifteen strapping lads. Well, fourteen strapping lads, and one burnt-out, middle-aged degenerate.

"THEN THE ORAL SEX!!” he hollers to the heavens.

This is where I draw the line, "Ye might as well kill me now, fiend, for I'll not be sucking any of y'all's..."

"After you've given us the privilege of being spanked by your exquisite li'l hand, and the even greater honor of paying oral homage to your regal womanhood, we will line up to receive your dainty foot kicked into our cum-laden balls!"

Wow! Talk about the tables turning!

"But, Sniffer, all that spankin' and ballkickin' is an awful lot of work for little ol' me” I snip, shaking off the boys and pushing passed Sniffer to the phone, "I'm callin' for help!"

"NO! I'll not have a bunch of your drunken friends from the Grange in here!"

"Not a bunch, just three” I retort, my eyes hungrily devouring the teenage bulges before me, "the Three Psychos of Eastwick."

"AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" At the mere mention of the name of my emasculating sister and her two criminally deranged ex-cellmates, Sniffer grabbed his precious jewels in one hand, his can of ether in the other, and ran shrieking from the room!

I bolted to the door. "Come back here!” I shout at his rapidly retreating back, "Geez, wait until Lisa finds out what a chicken-shit she's married to..." Oh well, I turn back to find the Mudville Trojans shuffling around and picking up their clothes.

"Not so fast, boys, how many of you are eighteen, or older?"

Half of them raise their hands.

"Good. Drop your clothes and have a seat on the bed,” I leer at them, "the rest of you get the hell out of here!"

I toss 'em a twenty. "Go on down to Carvel and get yourselves a lollapalooza on Miss Sweet."

I turn back to the seven expectant hard-ons seated on the bed, "Now, I do recall y'all mentioned two of my favorite things: cunnilingus and ballkicking!"

Now, if y'all think that I spent the rest of the afternoon engaged in tawdry sex and testicle torture with seven nubile young men, you're wrong! Because I went ahead and rented the room for two more days and we played out our version of "Snow White" throughout the weekend!

They walked into that room as confused boys, but they walked out, bowlegged, as even more confused men. But I reckon that there will be at least seven very happy, very satiated young ladies come prom night!

Enjoy! More to come.

Nutcracker sweet

PS: Sniffer, I still have your cooler if you want to come and get it.

PPS: Zima sucks!

PART 1

It was a most intriguing telephone conversation.

Having made arrangements to meet up again, I was looking forward to seeing Sniffer. He talks a good game, so I was curious to see just how much he could handle of having his bells rung.

It was the day before our rendezvous and I wanted to make things a little special. I loaded a few choice items into the "tool kit” tossed it into the back of my vehicle, and headed over to Mudville where I was able to secure room #666 at the Dew Drop Inn.

I spent the better part of the afternoon, tidying up and prepping the room for our upcoming debacle then I headed back to my hometown tavern to meet up with my cohorts to discuss the morrow's festivities over some billiards and beer. Of course we all ended up stinkin' drunk, which was fine by me because I wanted to be at my most orneriest in the morning.

Ooops! I reckon that I neglected to tell Sniffer that I wasn't going to be the only one to meet with him. I'm bringing along my sister, Fionna, and her two insane friends, Laraye and Becky; as well as our cousin, Simone, and... well, a couple of surprises too! But what the hell? I'm sure Sniffer will be delighted to be the guest of honor at a ballbusting party for a bunch of horny women. Come morning we loaded my "li'l piggy” hog-tied for ease of transportation, into the back of Fionna's truck, and then we all piled in for the drive over to Mudville where they dropped me off at the Inn, and went on to pick up the last of our party.

When in doubt I stick with what I know: leather crotchless panties, leather boots with silver spurs (big Mexican rowels), leather vest, velvet gloves, and a satin mask; all in black. I finished it off with garish red lipstick and fingernail polish. Guys seem to find this look a turn-on. We'll see just how sexy Sniffer finds it when I dig my bright red nails into his balls and yank 'em around!

I lit some candles, cracked open a beer, and was just starting to warm myself up in anticipation, when I was interrupted from my prurient revelry by a knocking, as if of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. I snapped my panties back into place and rose to answer the door.

Because I was expecting the unwashed, unkempt, unshaven, drug-addled troglodyte of our last meeting I was taken aback upon opening the door to an immaculately groomed, coiffed, and cologned dandy. I only realized it was Sniffer when I saw that not only did this guy have his manly cluster hanging out the zipper of his neatly pressed chinos, but that his "little soldier" was standing at attention.

"Howdy, Nutcracker!” he beamed, extending his hand in greeting.

Hm, might as well get right to it, I thought as I reached passed his hand to grab his exposed testicles, "Get in here, you lovable pervert!" We engaged in small talk, laughed over our first encounter, and I pointed out his cooler that I brought back; loaded with ice, beer, bourbon, but no Zima! It was more than a wee bit surreal standing dressed as Zorro's demented sister while exchanging pleasantries with a yuppie who had his wedding tackle hanging out of his trousers.

But bless Sniffer's heart, he brought about an abrupt end to the awkwardness by hopping onto the bed, bouncing up and down while peeling off his clothes and shouting, "If you like Jell-O, then eat me!"

He stopped bouncing on the mattress, and waggled his hairy nuts at me, "These are for you, Nutcracker! Show 'em what you got!" So I did! I drove my gloved fist into his balls as hard as I could in a nutbusting upper-cut that knocked Sniffer tumbling backwards off the bed!

Oh shit! Now he went and broke his damn fool neck! But he was right back on his feet, staggered a little coming around the bed, shook it off and then stood in front of me, hands on hips, legs spread, his burgundy bulb oozing pre-cum, grinning at me.

I must have really been gawping at him in disbelief because he threw his head back to laugh as I asked, "Do you have titanium nuts, Sniff-man, or aren't those jewels hooked up?"

"Oh, they work just fine, Nutcracker, it's just that you hit like a little girl!"

Well, at 5'4" that's about what I am, but he still has to be one tough mother to laugh off a direct punch to his balls.

"Try again, missy, before I have to go get you some help," he hefted his meaty balls, "I know of a local wrestling team that would just love to get a hold of these, my dearie!"

"Why you sexist son of a bitch!” I snarled as I stepped forward and kneed him square in his balls! He doubled up, fell forward, and his face smacked right into my oh-so-sensitive-breasts.

"Quit droolin' on my tits!" I shoved him back and slapped his face. When his hands reflexively came up to his face, I unloaded a full-frontal kick to his big balls that dropped him to his knees, groaning and clutching himself.

"Bingo! Right where I want you!" I quickly retrieved the handcuffs that I had previously stashed under the mattress. With curses, threats, and force I was able to pry his hands from out of his crotch and cuff his wrists behind his knees.

With Sniffer rocking back and forth on his knees I kicked his bare ass as I passed him on my way to the bureau. I opened the drawer into which I had dumped the "tool kit" the day before and removed a 3" ball-stretcher of stiff leather.

"Aha! Here it is, and don't you fret none, Sniffy, one size fits all!

He rolled his eyes and gurgled, but when I reached between his legs to pull his balls out into the open he started nattering on about mercy.

"Mercy, my ass! You're the one who asked for this, remember? Besides we've barely begun!" I bound his gorgeous testicles (he really does have an exquisite pair, ladies, just asking to be slapped around) in the leather and then I returned to the drawer to take out a length of nylon rope which had a metal snap-clip affixed to one end. I clipped this to the d-ring attached to the ball-stretcher. Then I slid over a chair so that I could thread the free end through the pulley that was hanging from the eye-bolt, which I'd screwed into the ceiling joist yesterday. (whew!) I pulled on the free end until I had taken up the slack, asked Sniffer if he was ready (like I cared), and then to a litany of his squeaky protestations and my breathless profanities I hauled him to his feet by his balls. Then I pulled just a wee bit more, and tied the rope off to the bed frame.

"Comfy, Sniffer?" But I couldn't help to laugh at him when I turned to see him on his tippy toes, ass in the air with his nuts stretched towards the ceiling, hands behind his knees, and head down.

"Geez, what a pathetic sight, Sniffer.” Noticing his withered dick I reached under and tweaked the head of it. "Not so proud of your package now, are you?" I gave him a little peck on the cheek.

When he started in to jabbering on about his balls being pulled off, the softie in me was moved by the tears of genuine pain streaming down his cheeks so I let out just enough rope so that he could stand flat-footed (so I'm not such a heartless bitch, but don't tell everyone). Again to the drawer of toys, and I pulled out my grandda's old shillelagh.

"How about this for starters, Sniff-boy?" I asked while slapping the knobby briar rod into my gloved palm. He started blubbering and begging again, and I had to concur with him. If I laid that walking stick across his bound balls that would be then end of him...and what fun would that be?

"But, man, I can't stand listening to your incessant jabbering." So I turned back to the drawer and rummaged around until I came up with a fat, rubber dildo and a bungi-cord.

"Ta da!" I pressed the dildo sideways into his mouth, much like the bit in a horse's mouth, and to hold it in place I stretched the bungi-cord around the back of his head and hooked both ends of the dildo.

"There. If that doesn't shut you up at least it will muffle you. Now let's see what other goodies we have in the magic drawer...Oh, looky!" I whipped out a strap-on dildo.

"Hey, Sniffer, ever been buggered before?” I asked while sorting out the straps to the damned thing, "Well, today is your lucky day! And you need to practice giving blow-jobs too. I reckon you're going to need to know how before this day is through."

I was just wiggling the strap-on into place when we heard a key in the lock. Sniffer's eyes widened inquisitively.

"Don't worry, it's not the maid... it's our guests!" Sniffer shook his head vigorously and made funny little sounds from behind his latex mouth-organ.

"Oh yeah, Sniffy, and just wait until you see who all is here!" Sniffer blanched, and I laughed, when the door opened.

PART 2

I'm sure we made quite a scene to behold with me dressed as I was and Sniffer trussed up like Bambi on a bad day during deer season. But the cavalcade of the bizarre that came streaming through the door would have fit right in at Mardi Gras in Nawlins, or down in the Keys during Fantasy Fest.

They were led by Fionna, clomping in scuffed boots, wearing faded jeans and braless under her "Ballbreakers of America" tee-shirt. She was sporting black eyeliner, lipstick and fingernail polish.

She squatted down to be eye-to-eye with Sniffer, cast me a side-long glance, and ruffled his hair as she told him, "Damn, Nutcracker looks so good like that I might let her bang me first!" Then she stood, slapped his ass, and went to lean on the wall, picking her teeth with the tungsten tip of stiletto.

When her two sidekicks, Laraye and Becky, came tripping in, giggling in their Xena get-ups of leather and chain-mail, I was pretty sure that this crew had been eating hash for breakfast (cousin Simone always manages to get it in when she comes visiting from Europe...but I'd lay odds that she wouldn't pass a cavity search).

The warrior-princesses were followed by Simone herself floating in, grinning like the Cheshire Cat and looking like a young "Sheena of the Jungle" in a leopard-skin loincloth, moccasins, and simple macramé belt cinched around her lithe waist. I couldn't help to laugh, and even Sniffer cracked a wan smile behind his anatomically correct (sort of) gag.

"Geez, Simone, where did you get that outfit? Ted Nugent have a yard sale?"

Sniffer's wide-eyed grunts brought my attention back to the door where are next guest was propelled into the room by a boot in the ass.

"Sniffer, meet Sonny-boy."

Of course, all that Sniffer could see of my "li'l piggy" were eyes and his testicles as the rest of my ol' man was sheathed in a black, latex, rooster-suit with a zipper across the mouth. His hands were secured behind him. Laraye stepped over to unzip the face and make the introduction, "Say 'Hello' to Sniffer, Sonny-boy, y'all are going to get to do some real male bonding today."

She turned back to Sniffer, "First impressions are lasting, don't you think?" Then she dropped Sonny to his knees with a nutcrushing punch to his exposed balls!

"And I want you to share his pain, Sniffy,” she nodded to Simone, who slapped Sniffer's tender testes causing him to thrash around on his tether. Simone stood there chewing her bottom lip, rolling his balls around on his ass with one hand while she finger-flicked the head of his dick with the other hand.

I could smell the fear before I saw the look of panic on Sniffer's face when he heard a familiar voice bawling, "What the hell's goin' on here!" As our final guest strolled into the room, slapping a large wooden spoon into the palm of her hand, she stepped over Sonny's prostrate form to glare at Sniffer.

"This is what you mean when you tell me that you're going fishing on the Withalacoochee with old army buddies?"

Yep. It was Sniffer's dearly beloved Lisa, his wife. Boy, was she pissed off!

"Dammit, Sniffer, I love you because of your degeneracy, but I will not abide you lying to me!" She said this while tapping Sniffer's forehead with the spoon by way of accenting each word. She turned back to Sonny and motioned with the spoon.

"Get him on his feet!"

The warrior-princesses grabbed Sonny under each arm and hauled him upright.

"For lying to me, I'm going to give you one of these!"

BOOM! Her knee slammed into Sonny's precious jewels, but before he could even react, she called over her shoulder, "And for not inviting me to this party, this!"

BOOM! Again her knee driven into my man's balls, so viciously that I noticed even Fionna flinched (and that's saying something).

Lisa stepped over to Sniffer, grabbed his chin to hold his gaze as she glared into his eyes, "But not yet. I want you boys to be able to get it up for the Gladiator Combat!"

We all started cheering as Lisa slowly, provocatively peeled off the duster she was wearing to bare her shapely body clad only in bra, panties, and garter belts with stockings (black fishnet with the seam up the back, guys). When she leaned over to rub her exquisite apple-ass in her husband's face I think Fionna fell in love!

With the guys groaning and the women hootin' and hollerin' the din in that room was deafening. But above the noise rose Simone's laughter as she flopped backwards onto the bed, hiked the leopardskin up around her thighs, kicked her moccassined heels in the air, and howled, "Blimey, I want one a dem Yanks tae crawl over 'ere, and gimme some 'ead!"

"Dammit, Simone!” Becky chided her, "Don't say that! You'll have the thought-police down on us!"

"Wot ye talkin' 'bout, luv, you south'n girls always say that?"

"Not anymore, Cuz” I started to explain to her, "it's been mandated by the effete foreigners and carpet-baggers that we G.R.I.T.S. can't use that expression anymore."

With that I tossed my head, and when I did Becky pointed at me and said, "What's that?"

Uh oh. I played dumb, "What's what?"

By now silence had ensued and all eyes were on me when Laraye pipes in, "Yeah, it looks like a zipper on the back of your neck."

Oh shit! The jig's up! I vault up onto the bureau and brandish a large bourbon bottle at 'em, “Back, I say. Back!" I unzip my elaborate disguise to reveal, not the diminutive sexual deviate they know me as but my real identity, a seven-foot tall, 440-pound, smelly, hirsute man with a cock like "Mr. Ed" and balls to match! A veritable fornicating god!!

I could hear their jaws drop as they all stand stupefied.

"BWAHAhahahah!" I laughed evilly, "It was the perfect charade! I even had me own sister, cousin, and boyfriend fooled! I would have gotten away with it too..."

(I turn to point an accusing finger at you. Yes, you. The readers and posters of this message board)

"...if it hadn't been for y'all! You meddlesome kids!"

I then pull a Ruger Blackhawk out of the crack of my ass, shoot out the lights, leap to the bed to scoop up Simone (I always did fancy this Cockney trollop) who is staring wide-eyed in fear and confusion, give her a reassuring pat on her delicious rump, hit the floor running, and bolt for the door!! I hip-check Sniffer off his feet which sets him off howling in new agony as he scrambles to get his legs back under him. I stiff-arm Lisa out of our way and we're through the door, clear! Thundering down the hallway with Simone shouting back to Fionna, "Call me ma, and tell her I mightn't be 'ome for Guy Fawkes Day!"

Taking the steps four at a time we burst out into the sunlit dirt lot. I slap Simone down onto the back of my '50 Shovelhead, straddle it myself to fire the hawg up! I turn to Simone who is pushing her chestnut-brown hair out of her eyes, "You had better grab onto me joy-stick, dearie, we've got a long way to go and a short time to get there!"

With Simone wrapping her dainty fingers around me man-root in a firm grip, we peel out of there kicking up a rooster-tail of gravel as we slide sideways out onto the two-lane tarmac! We're really moving because I want to put some distance between us and the rabid mob!

We must holler to be heard over the rumble of Milwaukee steel, and the wind. "Where are we goin', Nutcracker?"

"I'm not 'Nutcracker Sweet', cuz; call me by my real name, Big Mike Mackee! And we're heading to the woods of Carolina to visit with an old friend of mine. So hang on tight, because I slow down for nothing, not even dead raccoons and joggers!"

"Ooo, this is an adventure, Guv'nor! 'ow long a ride is it?"

It's normally a two day cruise, but it'll take us a little longer because we have to detour through the city to pick up a birthday present for my buddy, Billybob!"

"Shoppin' in the big city? Terrific! Would ye buy me somethin' nice tae wear and somethin' sweet tae eat?"

Don't worry; I've got something for you to eat. Besides, it's not that kind of a present. See, Billybob's sexual predilection swings both ways, like a bar door, so what better gift for him than that hermaphrodite, 'Anonymous'? That's where you come in, Simone; I need your expertise to snatch him up!"

"A bloody shanghai, eh? I 'aven't done one a dese in a while. But leave it to me; I know just what to do!"

"I was counting on that. Your people ruled the seven seas with a Navy built on shanghai!"

"Right-o! Impressment's in me blood!"

We lapsed into silence for a few miles until Simone asked, "Wot 'appens when we get tae Carolina?"

"We set up housekeeping: you and me. Billybob and 'Anonymous'. You can teach him that thing you do with your tongue, and he can teach you to cook. If you're going to live in Dixie you need to know how to whip up biscuits 'n' gravy, and a decent cuppa coffee!"

"YeeeeHaw!” Simone lets out a Rebel yell that'd curl any Yankee's hair.

"One more thing, Simone, can I call you 'Eliza'?"

"Sure thing, Professor!" She squeezes my turgid member.

Saved By The… Bust(?)

by number2

Dustin knocked on the dressing room door softly and, when he heard the soft voice from within beckon him, he opened it up and walked in.

"The producer said you wanted to see me, Tiffani," Dustin said with some trepidation in his voice.

"Now Screech, what did I say you had to call me?" Tiffani replied with just a bit of anger in her voice.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm sorry. The producer said you wanted to see me, Ms. Thiessen." Dustin had learned, being the youngest of the kids, to show proper respect to the (slightly) older actors on the hit show. The guys didn't seem to have a problem with him but the girls, especially Tiffani, just loved to pick on him.

"And, uh, y'know, my name is Dustin, not Scree…"

"Look Screech," Tiffani somewhat rudely interrupted, "we're all getting older now and I've really noticed some changes in you." She swung around her chair and faced Dustin for the first time. He noticed that she was still clad in her Bayside High cheerleading uniform. The tight red sweater top strained to hold in her burgeoning breasts and the white, pleated skirt didn't cover much of her lithesome legs. He started to get that funny feeling in his pants that he usually got when she wore that outfit. She uncrossed her legs and sauntered over to him.

"When we started this show, the other guys had already gone through their 'changes'," she continued, "so they're pretty much the same, but you, you've definitely been transforming into a man before our very eyes." She was directly in front of him now and he realized that he had really never been this close to her before. In fact, he had been expressly forbidden to maintain eye contact with her and she did everything she could to limit her scenes with him. But now she was so close that he could smell the body lotion she used on her flawless skin, the shampoo in her long brunette hair and even the strawberry flavored lip gloss on her pouty lips.

She ran her index finger down his chest. "I mean, look at you, you're taller, you're more muscular and you even seem to be losing that ridiculous funny voice that you're known for. Her hand continued downward, brushing against the erection that was trying to explode out of his jeans. Despite the fact that he was a full five inches taller than her, he felt like a small child with her, unable to do anything but sweat and quiver.

"And I was wondering." Her hand slid down and cupped his nutsack. "Were you planning to stop doing that stupid voice?" she asked sweetly.

Dustin gulped. His throat was dry and his mind clouded but he was able to understand that she wanted an answer. "Uh, ah, yes, I, uh, I guess so," he stammered out.

Tiffani released his nuts and stated matter-of-factly, "Then I think we have a problem." Dustin was taken aback. He didn't know what was wrong, he just knew he wanted Tiffani's (sorry, Ms. Thiessen's) hand back on his crotch.

"Uh, ah, I'm sure whatever the problem is we can work something out," he said quickly.

"Do you really think so?" Tiffani asked innocently. Dustin nodded and she responded with a big smile.

"Good." Dustin was startled as her hand snaked its way into his pants. "You see, it's just that that dumb-ass voice of yours is what makes you special on this show." Her fingers crawled down his shaft, gently massaging it. He could barely concentrate on her words; he was doing everything he could to not shoot his load.

"We've got the jock, the preppie, the activist, the rich girl and, of course, me, the sweet cheerleader. You're our only link to the geeks, freaks and losers and we don't want to lose our audience." Her fingers wrapped around his ballsack and gripped it securely. "So I had a talk with the other people on the show and we decided it would be a bad idea for you to lose the voice."

"Um, er, okay, I, uh, I guess I could keep doing the voice if it would help the show," Dustin spluttered out.

"See, I told the other girls that you'd do anything to help out… and you will do anything, right?"

"Sure, whatever." He thought, 'I'd do anything to keep your hand down my pants.'

"Good, then you won't mind dealing with the other problem." Dustin had no idea what she was talking about and didn't really care. This was the best day of his life and he was willing to agree to just about anything.

"Screech, I know you'll be able to keep up that asinine tone of voice when we're filming but the problem comes when we do all those mall appearances." Dustin was about ready to cum; he didn't even hear much of what she was saying at this point. "We can't risk you slipping up and accidentally speaking with a man's voice. So I came up with a solution."

'Just a few more seconds,' he thought. 'I'm almost there."

"I'm going to have to castrate you," she said unemotionally.

'Oh God, yes! I'm going to... wait a second… what did she say?"

Tiffani's hand closed tightly around Dustin's balls and any thoughts of pleasure quickly leapt from his mind. As she squeezed, tears began to well up on the young actor's face. He tried to escape but every moment he made pulled his sack away from his body causing him even more pain.

Tiffani smiled as her small hand compressed his nuts like they were Silly Putty. Despite all her strength though, his balls stayed intact and would not rupture. After over a minute of this torture, she happened upon an idea.

She briefly released his scrotum, allowing poor Dustin a moment of respite. Unfortunately for him, his torment was not over, not by a long shot. Tiffani readjusted quickly and focused all her power on just one testicle. Dustin screamed as her nails bit into his flesh as she made a fist with his unfortunate ball trapped inside. Now concentrating on the single testicle, Tiffani was able to put twice as much pressure and she began to feel it give way.

Dustin began to thrash about, trying to get her to lose her grip but she held steadfast. Tiffani even noticed that she was starting to get sexually excited at her co-star's agony. Her pert nipples were erect and her panties were dripping with her juices. She gave one more squeeze with all her might then heard a 'squick' as Dustin's ball exploded. His screams stopped suddenly as he passed, mercifully, into unconsciousness. Tiffani finally let go of him and he slumped to the ground.

Deciding she needed to check her handiwork, she yanked down the comatose actor's jeans and underwear in one swift motion. His scrotum was a disgusting shade of purple and black. Despite the fact she had just done the damage she saw, she was wary to touch it. She probed the pulpy mass with the tip of her pristine white tennis shoe and an electric jolt ran through her entire body. She couldn't resist plunging her hand down into her now-soaked panties and fingering herself to a mind-shattering orgasm as she flattened the mush that was once Dustin's left testicle.

After a few moments Tiffani regained her composure and looked down at the lifeless young man below her. Although her mission was complete and Dustin's nut was turned into paste, virtually assuring that his voice would never change, she wondered if that was enough. She thought that it might be a good idea to destroy his other ball, just in case.

She calmly raised her foot up high and positioned it over his remaining testicle, planning to take it out in one swift motion, when the call signal rang out, alerting her that it was time to film her next scene.

She put her foot back down, blew Dustin a kiss and whispered to him, "I guess you were just 'saved by the bell'," as she skipped out of the room.