Balls for a Day

Balls for a Day

(Contains prolonged ball-, tit- and cunt-busting)

Sorry about last week, read the text message. Can I make it up 2 u? Meet me behind the bike shed l8r.

Accompanying the message was a photo of a girl's breasts, substantial breasts, not naked, but squeezed into a white blouse with enough buttons undone to tease an inch or so of highly compressed cleavage.

Kyle knew the message was no different from every other he received from Tracey, being merely a hollow promise to lure him somewhere secluded so she could abuse his testicles like she always did. He closed the message with a snort.

Whatever, bitch.

However, the phone had barely made it into his pocket before he was fishing it back out and re-examining the message once more.

But maybe this time she means it, he thought, with cunt-struck optimism.


After putting him on his back with a full-blooded kick to the plums, Tracey went about ensuring he didn't get back up for a while.

Through scrunched, tear-filled eyes, Kyle looked up at the girl of his dreams as she stomped the spunk out his most delicate organs.

From where he lay he could barely see the look of malicious intent on Tracey's face over the protruding balcony of tit-flesh which bounced and swayed with every devastating stomp she delivered.

'Take them off!' she ordered him. 'I shouldn't have to tell you anymore. Take off you trousers before I stomp your bollocks so hard you'll be wringing what's left of them out of your boxer shorts.'

Kyle's fingers went immediately to work on his zipper and once his trousers were down around his thighs, looked up at his busty tormentor, hopeful this would satisfy.

'And the boxers,' demanded Tracey, raising her foot, menacingly.

Kyle took a deep breath, closed his eyes and pushed down his underwear.

Curiously, being forced to expose himself was not an experience Kyle found particularly humiliating: he was well hung and didn't mind his dream girl knowing.

What he did find humiliating, however, was that once he'd whipped it out for her to see, there was no way to hide his excitement as his cock, unfurling like some lazy cobra, began to rise directly upward; its soft, pink head ripening into a fat, purple mushroom which proved too heavy for his swollen shaft to keep held aloft. Buckling under its own weight, his cock came flopping down onto his stomach with a hefty slap before continuing to swell and stiffen to its fullest.

Though Tracey had witnessed it several times now, the delight she took in seeing the obscene inflation of Kyle's prick had not diminished even slightly. Not that she acknowledged it one bit.

'Oh, my,' said Tracey, her eyes instead on his balls, 'I didn't think it was possible, but those things are even smaller than last time I saw them!'

She watched his eyes open, full of hurt, and glance down at his testicles, which were, in truth, still massively swollen from their last meeting. She read the incomprehension in his eyes.

How could she think they're small? he was thinking.

Tracey couldn't help but grin; there was only one thing which bruised easier than a boy's balls and that was his ego... But ball-bruising was so much more fun.

She stared down at his naked nuts and imagined those firm eggs squirming desperately underfoot, and the rubbery resistance they gave whilst being crushed to the brink of rupture.

She wanted so badly to pull off her shoes and socks, and feel that delicious sensation against her bare feet, but one thing got in the way. One repulsive, icky thing: his scrotum.

Wrinkled, pink and writhing. It made her retch to think of touching its thin, sticky skin with her bare feet.

Thankfully though, she had found that if she kept on her humble school sock that she could still perceive every last detail of Kyle's testicular destruction without having to feel the tickle of his wiry pubes between her toes.

Slipping her dainty right foot out of her shoe, she presented it to Kyle and gave him a sock-clad wave with her toes.

Not that he noticed. His eyes, as ever, were on her tits: squinting up at her under-boob with complete concentration.

Tracey often wondered what he thought he could see from that angle.

In a brief investigation with her compact mirror she had found that her over-filled blouse gaped between the buttons, but all she could make out was some aspect of her bra, possibly the underwire, and some tiny portion of bulging tit-flesh. It seemed hardly enough to keep Kyle coming back for more punishment as he did again and again.

With a shrug of indifference, Tracey stomped down on his nuts and suddenly her foot got the attention she felt it deserved.

'Argh!' he squealed, and grabbed hold of her ankle weakly. 'Get off!'

'I am getting off,' purred Tracey, who had long since given up trying to conceal the intense sexual excitement she got from busting his bollocks.

She had even given up trying to conceal the way her damp panties clung to her swelling camel toe because, though from his prostrate position Kyle was granted an awesome upskirt, the whole time his eyes were open his focus never shifted from the stiff, jutting teats of her melons.

Tit-obsessed loser, thought Tracey. I could probably finger myself without him noticing. In fact...

Surreptitiously slipping her hand down the front of her skirt and panties, Tracey parted her pussy flaps and ran her middle finger the length of her slit, coating its fingertip in the sweet juices which had collected there.

She was just about to put the finger to use on her clit when Kyle blurted, 'I'll tell!'

'You'll what?' snapped Tracey, furious she had to put her growing orgasm on hold to deal with his insolence.

'I'll tell on you,' he said again, only this time with such lack of conviction that it was clear that not even he believed he would.

Still, Tracey couldn't let him get away with such dissent, no matter how feeble. She had to convince the little maggot that he had no choice but to submit to his weekly torment. Though the fact that a boy whose testicles were already crushed half-flat needed any convincing seemed extraordinary to her.

Well, she thought malevolently, maybe half-flat isn't quite flat enough.

'Look at my foot,' she commanded him, unconsciously licking her lips.

Kyle tried to lift his head, but hadn't the strength left in him, giving Tracey the perfect excuse to use her favourite technique: the grind.

With a simple turn of her ankle, Kyle's bollocks were ground, twisted and wrenched on their cords all at once.

And the sensation underfoot was just sublime as her sock was thick and soft enough to mask the icky lumps and bumps of his balls and leave them feeling like just that: balls; smooth, round, squishy orbs, bursting with wonderful boy-pain.

Unable to contain her delight and an orgasmic moan escaped her lips.

It was a moan of another kind which Kyle gave out; the sudden surge of pain spurring him to bolt halfway upright, his eyes bulging: focused intently on the source of his despair.

'Good boy,' she said. 'Now, tell me – what are those little pink lumps squishing around under my sock?'

Kyle opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words came a strangled squeal which prompted Tracey to laugh out loud.

'Oh, no,' she cooed, giggling uncontrollably. 'Did I twist too hard?'

Humiliated, Kyle tried again to answer, wrestling back enough control of his vocal cords to squeak, 'My balls.'

'Your balls?' Tracey demanded, and then leaned in with all the weight she dare. She stopped only when the, through the cotton of her sock, she felt the slippery orbs turn suddenly rigid as their rubbery shells reached the limit of their malleability.

Though Tracey's ultimate fantasy involved the popping of Kyle's nuts, she knew she was far too squeamish to be able to go through with it in reality. Not without an extra-thick pair of socks on anyway.

Having found the breaking-point of Kyle's nuts, the big-titted brunette lingered there, treating herself to the hilarious sight of his spasmodically twitching legs dancing a jig.

Only when it became apparent he was rapidly losing consciousness, did she relent, grabbing his hair to deliver a stark warning. 'These are my balls and if you ever threaten to tell on me again,' she growled, snapping her fingers to catch the attention of his insensibly rolling eyes, 'I'll smash them into pieces so small that no one will believe they existed in the first place.'

She pushed his head back down to the ground and stepped off his balls; watching with immense satisfaction as they re-inflated and peeled his pancaked scrotum off his groin.

Allowing him a few second's respite, Tracey slowly walked around him, dropping down on her knees beside his head.

She'd had her fun, now it was time to give Kyle a reason to keep coming back.

'Oh, and, Kyle,' she said, toying seductively with the bottom buttons on her shirt. 'There is one more thing you'd miss out on if you ever told.'

She couldn't help but smile as Kyle, who only moments ago was a millimetre from castration, managed to uncross his eyes and focus on her fingers as she unfastened a couple buttons and exposed her navel.

She could read his mind: Only four more to go, he was thinking. Only four more buttons and I'll finally be able to die happy.

But Tracey had no intention of letting him die happy because, though she liked to believe that she ruled him with fear, Tracey knew that it was her tits which held power over Kyle. He was besotted with them. Or rather the idea of them because, though devious and sadistic Tracey might be, stupid she wasn't: she knew that no matter how good her tits might be, they would not compare with the peaks of doughy perfection which Kyle had doubtlessly spent many lonely hours envisaging.

In his mind she would pull open her shirt and be braless; her tits springing forth twice the size, completely impervious to gravity, without stretch mark or blue vein in sight.

The thought of him being disappointed by her tits left her feeling inadequate and furious at the same time, and had he not been staring up at her, infatuated and pathetic, she would probably have popped his bollocks right then.

Instead, she continued to tease him; running her hands up her stomach and the few ribs which weren't smothered by tit-meat.

Kyle took a sharp intake of breath when her hands made contact with the undersides of her heavy-hangers and he held it for what seemed like the eternity it took her hands to traverse the mountainous peaks and reach her collar bones.

'Don't pretend you don't wank yourself off over them every night, Kyle,' she said, with certainty. 'I know you tug your little dick raw to the thought of me giving you a big, soapy tit-wank.'

Kyle reeled with horror at the fact that she knew his most intimate fantasy; not realising it had been her that had planted it in his head weeks earlier when she had burst into the boys' shower room and caught him alone.

Pinned up against the tiled wall he was helpless to stop her from pulling down his swim shorts and taking hold of a nut in each hand.

'How far do you think I can make you squirt?' she had asked him.

Then, leaning her chest into the hot stream of water she had sent her shirt see-through.

It didn't matter to Kyle that her nipples were still completely obscured by a silky bra which refused to turn sheer: his dick was rock solid at the mere prospect, and when she asked, in her best sexy, breathy voice, 'How about I soap them up and wank you off?' he lost all control.

At the first twitch of his cock Tracey bore down on his nuts with reckless abandon.

It had been ever since then that Tracey had insisted on forcing him to expose his cock and balls during her torment of him.

A sudden sharp pain brought him out of his daydream.

'Hey, pervert,' said Tracey, smiling with self-satisfaction at his obscenely pulsing prick. 'Don't go blowing your load at the thought of my boobs again.'

'In fact,' she said, getting a deliciously devious idea, 'if I find out you've as much as touched your little prick whilst thinking about my boobs...' She stood and walked around to step back in-between his limp, splayed legs, slipping back on her shoe before finishing, '...I'll kick you so hard in the plums that even the kids you won't be able to have will walk funny.'

She leaned forward and, with a devilish smirk, whispered, 'Here's a taster.'

The toe of her shoe struck his left nut with literally blinding ferocity. For a few seconds Kyle vision was completely engulfed by bright, dancing spots of light, and, apart from the scuffing of his heels against the concrete as his legs twitched uncontrollably, the only sensation Kyle could appreciate was the sickening ball-pain.

'See you next week,' said Tracey, sickly-sweet.

As he writhed and sobbed, he recalled the humiliation of being discovered after his first naked busting in the shower room.

Rocking and groaning on the cold tiles, he was startled to find the long legs of the girl's PE teacher, Miss Hope, towering over him. He looked up past her tiny, cotton, camel-toed shorts and folded arms to find her a staring down at him with contempt.

'When will you boys learn?' she asked. 'Getting drunk at school is not big and it's not clever.'

For a moment, Kyle was actually relieved she had mistaken his nauseous groans and inability to stand as signs of inebriation.

And when she tossed a towel at him, he gratefully accepted and began to wrap it around his waist.

'What are you doing?' she snapped. 'That's for cleaning this mess up.'

Struggling to focus his bleary eyes, Kyle suddenly recoiled when he saw what she was pointing at: several globs of creamy semen he had shot several impressive metres.

Praying she hadn't yet realised what it was, Kyle rushed to wipe it up; crawling at speed to mop up every last drop, whilst Miss Hope stood over him and watched his naked balls bobble.

When he had collected all of his seed in the towel, he looked around to find Miss Hope crouched behind him, staring down at his privates which dangled so invitingly.

'You got a bit on your penis,' she said, matter-of-factly. 'Don't worry – I'll get it.'

Kyle took a sharp intake of breath as the young teacher reached out and squeezed the tip of his cock between thumb and forefinger, wiping away the droplet.

'There you go.'

She brushed her sticky fingers on her shorts and stood up. Only then did Kyle dare exhale, but his sigh of relief was what Miss Hope had been waiting for.

'Oh, and just to ensure this never happens again...'

Kyle heard the squeak of rubber and looked down between his legs to see that Miss Hope had her right leg pulled right back.

He closed his eyes and tried to brace himself, but he didn't even have time to retract his nuts back up into his body before, with the power and precision of an under-twenty-one semi-professional football striker, the laces of Miss Hope's trainer scooped up his dangling plums and smashed them flat against his stomach.

He was unconscious before he was even halfway through his somersault.

He did not want to go through that again: he honestly doubted his balls had another kick like that left in them.

So, with no muscle working below the waist and on the brink of vomiting, Kyle began working himself backwards on his elbows into the darkness of the bike shed, dragging behind him the trousers around his ankles which were well out of reach.

Inside the shed he found there were only two bikes left unclaimed: his own on the far side and an expensive mountain bike much closer. He shuffled behind the mountain bike and, confident he was out of sight, closed his eyes.

They had been shut for no more than a minute when a small box landed on his chest and forced them to re-open on the sight of Miss Hope leaning casually over the seat of her mountain bike.

'Take a look,' she said, gesturing toward the small box sat on his chest.

Without taking his eyes off her, Kyle picked up the box and brought it close to his face so he could see the label.

'A puncture repair kit?' he read, apprehensively.

'Trust me,' she said, producing a pair of studded football boots from her backpack, 'you're gonna need it when I'm done with you, pervert.'


Kyle hobbled into the kitchen through the back door a few hours later and made a laboured beeline for the refrigerator. His intention was to apply as much ice as possible to his nuts; knowing from experience that not only would the cold numb the worst of the gut-wrenching pain, but it would also prevent his rapidly swelling balls from bloating until they threatened to burst his sac.

However, he found his path blocked by his twin step-sisters who were leaning against the fridge, having seemingly pre-empted his visit.

'Hey, look who's back,' chirped Candy, causing him to jump. He hated being caught in such a debilitated state, especially by either of his step-sisters who loved nothing better to mock his frailties.

'Move,' he said, miserably.

The girls just smiled mischievously; playing the ends of their long pigtails across their lips.

Despite the fact that they had been home from school for hours, the twins were still dressed in uniform, with the notable absence of their skirts.

Kyle couldn't help but sneak a peek at the indecent crease which each girl was carelessly flaunting at the crotch of their panties.

'I imagine you'll be needing some of this,' said Dawn. She shook a tray of ice cubes at him, and then emptied the lot into a glass of cola.

Kyle made a lunge for the tray, but Candy stepped in and swiftly lifted her knee, causing him to recoil backwards with a shriek.

'Whoops,' said Dawn, devilishly.

'I hear that Tracey girl gave your balls another working over today,' said Candy, lowering her knee to circle around behind him.

'I heard she ground them like putty,' said Dawn, before taking a sip of her ice-cold cola. She let out a refreshed sigh.

'You better not let her damage them too bad,' warned Candy, resting her chin on his shoulder from behind, 'because those little things belong to us.'

'Mmm,' murmured Dawn, finishing her cola, and setting the glass down on the countertop. 'Which one do you want, Candy?'

'Whichever's the biggest.'

'Hey, that's not fair,' complained Dawn, her brow furrowed. 'Do you even know which is the biggest?'

Candy shrugged. 'Let's ask Kyle.'

Kyle felt suddenly uneasy.

'Well, Kyle?' asked Dawn, stepping towards him, whilst Candy kept him from retreating. 'Which one?'

'I bet it's his left,' whispered Candy, right in his ear.

All of a sudden, Candy had him by the wrists and Dawn's fingers were unfastening his zipper.

Kyle struggled for a second or two, but the moment his trousers fell to his ankles he gave in, resigning himself to another half-hour of agony and humiliation.

Whilst he understood that Tracey's motives were purely sexual, it seemed to him that his step-sisters broke his balls for the sheer hell of it. Of course it didn't help that they went to an all-girls private school so never got to take out their frustrations on anyone else's testicles.

He was dragged to the floor and laid on his back. Dawn knelt down between his spread legs while Candy sat on his chest and snatched up his bloated scrotum, examining it closely.

'I was right,' she announced, after a few second's study, 'his left one is the biggest...'

She was correct, but only because the left had received extra attention from Tracey that afternoon: under normal circumstances his right eclipsed the left.

'Mind you,' continued Candy, 'with a pair this small the difference is microscopic.'

The girls shared a wicked giggle, before Dawn reached out and prodded his smaller right plum.

'So I get this one?' she asked.


'It's cute. We should write our names on them so we remember which is which.'

'Good idea,' said Candy, grinning. 'My pencil case is right beside you.'

Dawn unzipped the case and rooted through it, pulling out one felt-tip pen after another until finally she found what she was looking for: a ball-point pen.

Kyle couldn't see her chosen writing implement, so for his benefit she asked, 'Do you think they call them ball-point pens because they're good for writing on balls?'

Candy grinned, glancing backward at Kyle's terrified expression.

'Only one way to find out,' she said, winking at him devilishly.

The ink was reluctant to flow on the sweaty surface of his ball-sack and it wasn't until Dawn really pressed down that the tip got enough traction. By this point it felt to Kyle like she were calving into his testicle with a knife.

'Argh!' came a shriek so shrill that it hurt the girls' ears. 'Please stop!'

'Stop moving!' yelled Dawn. 'You made me go wrong, so now I'll have to start again on the back.'

'Oh, god, no,' pleaded Kyle, halting his kicking legs immediately.

'Too late,' said Dawn, folding his nuts over to expose the backside of his scrotum.

'Please ' he shrieked as she set the nib of the pen down on the back of his nut. 'Not there! Anywhere but there!'

'Quiet, you big baby,' said Candy.

'This is difficult,' said Dawn as she scrawled her name as big as possible, in elaborate, swooping letters. 'It's so lumpy.' And just because Kyle had frustrated her, she ended it with a full stop so vicious that it almost punctured his poor bollock completely.

Kyle was mid-full-blooded squeal when the back door burst open and his step-mother came racing in.

'Oh, thank god!' she said in a gasp of relief. 'It's just him – I thought it was one of my angels in pain.' Catching her breath, she walked over to when her daughters had pinned her half-naked step-son and tutted at the girls reproachfully.

'Girls, what have I told you two about playing with your brother's balls?'

The girls looked up at her apologetically. 'Not in the kitchen,' they said in unison.

'That's right,' said their mother, sternly. 'I don't want his sweaty little things to be the first thing I see when I get home from work.'

'Sorry, Mum,' said the girls.

'That's okay, my sweetness and light. Now go upstairs and get ready for your riding class or we'll be late.'

'But I didn't get to write my name yet,' complained Candy.

'Well, be quick about it,' her mother told her.

Snatching the pen from her sister, Candy didn't bother flipping his scrotum back over to the front. As she buried the nib of the pen in the very root of all the nerve-endings in Kyle's left nut, her mother winced.

On the back? she thought, recoiling with genuine sympathy as her step son sang soprano. Ouch.

Candy made sure to finish her signature with a flourish which took the tail of the 'Y' the entire length of Kyle's epididymis and then announced with a smile, 'Done!'

The girls jumped up and let their mother give them a peck on the forehead as they skipped by. They were halfway up the stairs when she remembered to call after them, 'Oh and wash your hands! I don't want Kyle's bollock sweat all over the house.'

'Okay, Mum,' came their sing-song reply.

'Little minxes,' she said, shaking her head with a smile. Her mood darkened, however, when Kyle gave a moan and reminded her of his presence.

'You poor thing,' she said, soothingly.

With tear-filled eyes, Kyle stared up at her and whimpered pitifully, 'My balls.'

'I know, honey. There, there,' she said, before adding with a devilish smirk. 'They'll get bigger one day, I'll promise.'

With that, she too headed upstairs, pausing only to call back down: 'Your little grapes had better be back in your pants when I come back down with my riding crop or I'll give you something to really cry about.'

Kyle knew this was no hollow threat, and the moment he regained an ounce of strength he reached up onto the counter, grabbed Dawn's glass of half-melted ice cubes and then began the arduous journey upstairs.


With the glass in one hand, Kyle dragged himself onto his bed and collapsed with exhaustion.

Holding up the glass, which by now contained mainly water, Kyle sighed and propped himself up against his bed head; steeling himself for the coming ordeal.

Scooping it up by the loose skin just above his balls, Kyle took a careful hold of his nut-sack, and found to his discomfort that even his nut-cords were bruised. To take the strain off his poor cords, he proceeded to lower his aching testicles into the glass; hoping to submerge then in the soothing ice water at the bottom.

Unfortunately, his bloated plums weren't even halfway in before they wedged themselves at the rim.

Kyle let out a piteous sob. They were bigger than he had ever known them and the real swelling hadn't even begun if past experience was anything to go by. If he stood any chance of not splitting his sac, he would have to cool the swelling in his balls and this meant “encouraging” them deeper into the glass toward the ice.

Gingerly, he thumbed them in, his taut ball-bag squeaking against the wet glass as his nuts slid deeper. With every millimetre he forced his never-filled nuggets the narrowing glass warped them ever more cruelly to its dimensions.

The relieving chill of the ice on the bottom of his sac was spurring him on, but as the glass continued to narrow, his balls became more and more difficult to coerce deeper. His thumbs began to sink into his tender nut-meat and fill his vision with bright spots.

At the height of his suffering, he became aware of the familiar giggles of his step-sisters. He half expected them to be in the room watching him, but as it turned out they were leaving for their horse riding lesson and he could hear their laughter through his open window.

Blinking away the tears, he leaned over and looked out in time to see Candy climbing into the back seat of the car.

She spread her legs with surprising immodesty for a young lady in such skin-tight jodhpurs.

With thumbs buried deep in his whitening nuts, Kyle couldn't help but envy her flawlessly smooth crotch. He imagined that impervious cleft smashing down against the hard saddle, again and again without consequence.

Shit, he thought. She does it for fun!

Suddenly his thumb slipped and pinched the cord of his right nut against the glass causing him to shriek at the top of his lungs and momentarily black out.

Candy and Dawn must have heard his shriek because they looked up and burst into laughter at the sight of his grimacing face pressed up against the glass of his bedroom window. The sound of their laughter rung in Kyle's ears long after the car had pulled out of the drive.

Collapsing backward, Kyle curled into the foetal position; the glass holding his compressed balls forgotten about as the warm blanket of unconsciousness fell over him.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep his phone went: a new message from Tracey.

He knew what it would be even before he opened it.

The image of his own testicles filled the screen with a line of text below which read simply: MINE.

'I wish they were yours,' he said, tossing the phone aside angrily. 'Just for one day I wish they were yours.'

Burying his head into his pillow, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


Kyle woke to the insufferable buzzing of an alarm clock and the suffocating sensation that someone was sat on his chest: a not-uncommon waking experience for him as it was his step-sisters preferred method of pinning him whilst they mocked his exceptional “morning-glory,” which never failed to tent the bed sheets.

He opened his eyes, wondering which twin would be grinning down at him, but to his relief he found the room dark and empty.

Whilst the rest of his body relaxed, his ribcage remained tight. Not that he was surprised given the constant state of stress and terror he lived in.

He looked over at his alarm clock.

Seven o'clock? he thought; certain he'd set it for half past. He threw a hand out and hit the clock; the sudden movement sending a curious ripple through his chest.

This snapped his attention straight back to the unnerving presence of the crushing weight pressing on his ribcage and prompted Kyle to pull back the covers.

His eyes widened when he saw them: two, huge mounds of imperceptibly wobbling flesh.

'Tits?' he gasped in horror, and with sheer desperation he rolled onto his side in an effort to fling them from his chest. But this only sent the doughy protuberances slithering across his ribcage and over the edge of the bed; their considerable momentum pulling him after them.

Kyle hit the floor with his front, the twin airbags on his chest preventing his face from meeting the carpet.

Leaping to his feet, he ran with flapping bosoms to the full-length mirror and suddenly realised he didn't own a full size mirror. Hitting the light switch, he looked around to find himself in a floor-to-ceiling pink bedroom, with make-up and skin care paraphernalia scattered across every worktop and six-pack-flexing boy-band members on every wall.

'Holy crap,' he said.

He spun back around to the mirror and caught the first head-to-toe glimpse of his reflection, but it wasn't his reflection. Staring back at him was a shocked and flustered-looking teenage girl; her wide eyes sparkling blue like the ocean; her wavy brown hair tussled and wild.

'Holy crap,' he gasped, once more. 'I'm Tracey.'

His next reaction was naturally to drop his gaze straight to her tits.

A wave of emotions and observations hit him at once, but the overriding feeling was that of disappointment: Tracey's tits weren't the buoyant, firm, globes of perfection he had become so besotted with.

Out of a bra and under gravity's cruel influence, they reverted to their natural state: long, slightly flat, and hanging curiously splayed off to the sides as if desperate to avoid touching each other. And they were anything but firm, lacking the perkiness to lift the nipples much higher than the curve where boob turned to under-boob.

Kyle stumbled backwards; his dreams crushed.

That's it! he thought, suddenly. This must be a dream!

He looked down at his tits, perturbed that he had to use one hand to upturn one slightly in order to locate its nipple. Cautiously, he reached across with the other hand and took hold of the stiff teat, before bracing himself and giving it an almighty tweak.

He let out a, for once legitimately, girlish yelp and gripped his melon protectively.

'Oh, god,' he said, in a horrified gasp. 'This isn't a dream.'

'Morning,' said an unfamiliar voice, causing Kyle to spin around and instinctively cover Tracey's breasts.

'No need to be coy,' said the girl Kyle recognised as Tracey's best friend, Clare. 'Not after what we did last night.' She sat up in the makeshift bed on the floor beside Tracey's and rubbed her eyes, paying no attention when the covers fell away to expose her flawless B-cups.

Kyle had never seen such a breath-taking sight.

'What we did last night?' he asked, mesmerised.

'Yeah,' she said, jumping to her feet quite suddenly. She curled her fingers underneath her crotch and rubbed her pussy through her panties. 'It still hurts.' She giggled mischievously.

Kyle was stunned. Are we lesbians? he thought.

'Can I go in the shower?' asked Clare.

'Oh. Sure,' he croaked. He watched her head for the door to the en suite bathroom; his eyes locked, unblinkingly, on the handfuls of tit-flesh which bobbed imperceptibly as she walked. When she reached the door she turned and gave him a smile so enticing he was compelled to go after her.

He pushed open the door in time to see her bare ass hop into the bathtub and slip behind the shower curtain through which she appeared as a slinky silhouette.

Kyle rushed to slip off his panties, but caught sight of his hunching reflection. Tracey's big tits drooped from his chest, long and floppy, and now forced by gravity to touch one another, but obviously not enjoying it. Kyle couldn't believe these were the tits he'd lusted after for so long. They were ridiculous.

He glanced at Clare's showering silhouette, catching sight of her barely noticeable bumps as she reached for the shampoo. They may have been small, but they were perfectly-formed and topped with the tastiest cherry nipples he'd ever seen.

Turning back to his reflection, he batted his dangling tits side-to-side, watching miserably as they knocked into one another and rippled.


He pulled down on his panties only to find they were glued quite firmly to his crotch, and it took a particularly hard tug to wrench them free. The pain caused him to let out a yelp.

Clare peered around the shower curtain and gasped when she saw her friend stripped naked. 'Oh... hi,' she said with surprise, and then, after a moments deliberation, she gave a asked hopefully, 'Do you mind rubbing some oil into my back?'

'Sure,' said Kyle; trying not to clutch at Tracey's stinging pussy which was curiously tacky to the touch.

He stepped into the bathtub as Clare gathered her long, dirty-blonde hair into a ponytail and drew it over her shoulder.

Kyle couldn't help but awe at her naked form, which was just as heavenly from behind. Only when Clare looked back over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow did he quickly pick up the baby oil and squirt some into his hands.

He began by circling her shoulder blades, but very quickly he slipped his hands south, into the exquisite curve of the small of Clare's back and out over the rise of her ass.

'Er, Tracey...' said Clare; her buttocks tensing instinctively as her friend's hands glided over them. 'I can reach that.'

'Oh' said Kyle, quickly drawing his hands back up only to then spread the oil out wider, over the sides of Clare's ribs until he had gone out so wide that his hands slipped around the front of the blonde's chest and caught her tits.

Kyle's eye's flickered with pleasure as the soft flesh slipped under his palms and the jutting teats raked at his skin.

'Tracey!' cried Clare, spinning around to instinctively bury her knee into his soft, sticky folds.

Kyle's male instincts caused him to let out a cry of grief, clutch himself and topple sideways out of the bath tub.

'Tracey!' cried Clare, realising what she had done as her friend hit the floor in a tangle of limbs and breasts. She stepped out of the bath and leaned over her with a concerned frown.

'What were you doing touching me like that?'

Kyle couldn't think of anything else to say so he said, 'I thought we were lesbians.'

'What? Why?'

'Because of what we did last night.'

'Wax each others bikini lines?' spat Clare in disbelief. Kyle's eyes shot down to her impeccably shaped strip of blonde bush and suddenly he understood.

Clare noticed her friend's gaze and, though she blushed with embarrassment, she did not cover it. 'Are you okay?' she asked. 'I thought it only hurt boys between the legs. I didn't think it would hurt a girl that much.'

That's when Kyle suddenly realised it didn't hurt that much; there was nothing but a slight stinging sensation emanating from between his legs, but Clare looked incredibly apologetic and the way her oiled, dripping tits jutted rather than drooped as she leaned over him inclined him to milk his injuries.

'Oh, my pussy,' he moaned. 'I think you got me right in the clit.'

'Oh, Tracey!' gushed Clare disconsolate. 'I didn't mean to. Do you want me to rub it?'

'Rub it?' repeated Kyle, whose writhing stopped abruptly.

'Here,' said Clare, gently lifted Kyle's hands away from his crotch and replacing them with her own. 'Let me make it better.' She began to rhythmically rub at Kyle's pussy.

New to the wonders of clitoral stimulation, Kyle was purring in seconds.

Then, much sooner than Kyle would have liked, there came the blast of car horn which caused Clare to look up with a gasp.

'Shit! That's my mum,' she gushed. 'I've got to go.' She grabbed her towel and rushed out of the bathroom.

'No, wait!' Kyle called after her, orgasmically.

'Sorry,' apologised Clare; hopping to the doorway whilst pulling on her knee-high school sock. 'Have you seen my bra?' She didn't wait for her friend's answer. 'Never mind – I'll be fine without it.'

She pulled on her shirt, quickly fastening the buttons before pulling it tight across her chest. 'My nipples aren't too obvious are they?'

They were, especially since her tits were still quite damp, but Kyle shook his head.

'Great,' she said; pulling her skirt up over her naked bottom half. 'I've got to go, see you at school.' And with that she left Kyle sprawled on the bathroom floor.

Once the warm, tingling sensation had ebbed from his pussy completely, Kyle clambered miserably to his feet and wandered out into Tracey's bedroom in time to hear her mobile phone buzz.

He picked it up and found it was a text from Clare.

Fuck i 4got my knickers! So embarrassing! Can u bring them 2 skool plz? X x x

Kyle chuckled to himself. Not a chance, he thought, wickedly. He closed the message and found himself staring at his own bloated bollocks which Tracey had set to her wallpaper. He was suddenly reminded of the photo message she had sent him and the wish he had made after receiving it.

Holy shit! he thought with elation. If I have her body... she must have mine – she has my balls for a day!

 He quickly dialled his own mobile number.


Tracey woke to the sound of a buzzing phone, and, with a nauseous groan she pulled herself upright; clutching her aching stomach and cursing period pains.

But I'm not due for another two weeks, she protested.

She reached for her phone noticing the time on the alarm clock: half-past seven.

Shit! she thought. I've overslept.

 She cursed her alarm clock and then accepted the call, barking, crabbily, 'Hello?'

Her voice sounded deeper than usual, even for first thing in a morning, but then she had spent all night either laughing raucously as she waxed Clare's bikini line or screaming hysterically whilst her friend took her revenge.

'You know I'm disappointed,' said a curiously familiar voice, which Tracey couldn't quite place.

'Who is this?' snapped Tracey.

'I thought your tits would be better,' said the girl.

'Excuse me?' demanded Tracey; clutching her chest protectively to find it much less substantial than usual.

'What the...? My tits.'

'Missing something?' asked the girl on the phone. 'Oh, it gets better – take a look under the sheets.'

Tracey threw back the covers only to have them catch on an object which sprung back and struck her in the stomach with a slap! She let out a yelp and seized the offending weapon with her free hand to find herself staring into the oozing eye of a stiff, fat prick.

'What the fuck?' she gasped; feeling the hot rod pulsing in her palm. 'What the fuck?'

Hysterical with terror, she pushed the tumescent member away only to have it spring back and assault her once more. This sent her scurrying backward up the bed in a desperate attempt to put some distance between her and it.

'You wanted my balls,' jeered Kyle, 'you got 'em, bitch.' This caused Tracey to freeze.

'Kyle?' ventured Tracey, her voice aquiver.

'That's right, cunt. See you at school.'

'You can't go to school!' protested Tracey.

'Sure I can – I can hardly pass up an opportunity to shake these ridiculous tits at anyone who'll look now can I?'

'You wouldn't dare – I'll crush your...'

'You'll crush my what, slut? My balls.' He chuckled and Tracey found herself on the receiving end of her own spite-filled, scrotum-withering laugh. 'Hey, go for it, but I have to warn you – you'll have competition. My step-sisters for one would be very upset if you robbed them of the pleasure of castrating me.'

It was at this moment that Dawn entered Kyle's room, and was horrified to find her step-brother gripping his stiff meat with legs hitched right up having stuffed his swollen gonads into her favourite cola glass.

'What the fuck are you doing with my glass, you pervert?'

Tracey had been too preoccupied with the throbbing nine-incher in her hand to notice the source of her aching, churning stomach. 'Holy shit!' she gasped, when she laid eyes on the inexplicable sight between her legs.

'Oh, sounds like you're about to meet them,' said Kyle smugly. 'Oh, and if you need to know their names – just take a look at the back of my balls.'

Tracey stared down at the bloated organs pressed up against the glass and saw two names scrawled in biro across the surface. She read aloud, 'Candy and Dawn?'

'Candy!' cried Dawn at the top of her lungs. 'Come look at this what this creep is doing!'

'Well,' said Kyle, giggling, 'I guess I'll leave you three to get acquainted.' He hung up the phone leaving Tracey to face his step-sisters alone.

Candy arrived and she was rendered speechless by the sight. Dawn, however, remained anything but.

'What kind of freak gets off on stuffing their balls into their step-sister's cola glass?' she demanded.

'I promise you, this isn't what it looks like,' gushed Tracey, lost for anything else to say.

'Maybe he... enjoys it when we bust his balls,' said Candy; quite repulsed at the thought.

 'Well, let's see if he enjoys this...' said Dawn; leaping onto the bed to seize her glass and yank it powerfully.

Tracey had known pain: she suffered it every month like clockwork, but when Dawn wrenched her balls from her groin it felt as though she had reached up inside her uterus and yanked on her ovaries. 'Get off!' she screamed, her voice suddenly almost as high as she was used to.

'Get off my glass!' growled Dawn; so furious to see that her step-brother's ballooned bollocks had refused to budge from her glass that she redoubled her grasp and really set to work extricating them.

Tracey was dragged kicking and screaming down the bed, with her stretching ball-bag squeaking against the glass as her nuts slipped out inch by inch.

Dawn quickly ran out of bed and had to step down off the end to continue her malicious tug of war.

'Candy, grab his arms,' Dawn told her sister, who was all too happy to leap up onto the bed and seize Tracey by the wrists.

With her brother secured, Dawn put one foot up on the end of the bed for leverage and then pulled with all her might, causing Tracey to be lifted completely off the bed; half suspended by her arms and half by her stretching scrotum.

It was only after several long, torturous seconds suspended like this, during which time Tracey's screams went even higher than she could have managed in her own body, that her nuts managed to slide up the glass until they exploded from the opening with a loud pop! and struck Tracy solidly in the crotch only to ricochet off the end of the bed to dangle tantalisingly long and loose.

Though having won her glass back, Dawn was still not satisfied and the sight of her step-brother's swinging low-hangers was far too tempting.

'I'm never gonna be able to drink out of this again,' she said with disgust. She turned it upside down and placed it over Tracey's incredibly still stiff prick.

'Hey, Candy,' she said, with a mischievous grin spreading across her face. 'Wanna see how they make grape juice?'

Her twin grinned and nodded eagerly.

Dawn looked down at her step-brother; her smile withering at the sight of his pale, sweating face. Without another word she began to hammer his nuts with her knee, one after the other; smashing them flat against the wooden bed frame, over and over until finally a sorry spurt was involuntarily issued from her step-brother's wilting meat.

'There...' she said, catching her breath and brushing back the stray lock of golden hair which had fallen over her eye, '...grape juice.'

'Should we make him drink it?' asked Candy, devilishly; eyeing the cloudy ejaculate as dribbled lazily down the inside of the glass.

That was it. The thought of gulping down Kyle's hot, lumpy love-muck was too much for Tracey whose guts were already churning; she wretched loudly.

'Is he gonna puke?' asked Candy with a repulsed grimace; releasing Tracey's wrists so that she flopped to the bed coughing nauseously.

'Either that or cough up his balls,' quipped Dawn, unconcerned.

The girls shared a wicked giggle whilst Tracey writhed about the bed.

With the wave of nausea dissipating and the twins' laughter ringing in her ears, Tracey was left feeling powerless, pained and humiliated. Her reaction was naturally to weep, but when the twins noticed their step-brother's tears they appeared even more disgusted than when they thought he was about to puke.

'Is he crying?' asked Dawn; screwing up her face.

'What a girl,' spat Candy, repulsed.

'Let's go – this is too tragic to watch.'

As they left Tracey to weep, she heard Candy comment, 'He was more shrill than usual.'

'We must have hit a nerve,' quipped Dawn, chuckling.

The twins' giggles grew more distant until all Tracey could hear was the mocking echoes.

Lying there, so completely debilitated that she was even incapable of reaching for her poor, smashed bollocks, she could do nothing but wail with intense self-pity, 'Why?'


Kyle meanwhile was also struggling to find the answer to a mystery: how exactly does one go about putting a bra on.

He had the bra wrapped around his chest just below where his tits rested, but had immediately realised this was far too low to offer any support so he hitched it higher until he was able to put his arms through the straps. This, however, left a large portion of each jug sagging well below the cup it was meant to occupy. And so, scooping up the right tit, he went about stuffing it in by hand.

It quickly became apparent that, having unwittingly picked up Clare's misplaced bra, the cups were woefully inadequate. Nevertheless, he stubbornly persevered; mashing the malleable mass of flesh until it stayed stowed, but moment he tried to slip the right tit beneath underwire the first came spilling back out.

He cursed and decided on the brute force approach: pulling the bra down over as much of his voluminous rack as it could contain, he reached awkwardly behind his back to fasten the clasps and secure its captivity, but right away he knew it he was in trouble as it became apparent that the clasps wouldn't meet without some serious encouragement.

'Ahah!' he cried, breathlessly, when the clasps finally locked. He looked at the mirror and was immediately perturbed: the edges of the bra had cleaved deep into his tit flesh so that it spilled out every side of the garment like uncooked dough.

That can't be right, he thought. And should it really make it this hard to breathe?

He shrugged. What's next?

He pulled open Tracey's underwear drawer and picked through the selection of thongs until he found the most scandalous.

Dirty little minx, he thought, grinning whilst he bent over to climb inside.

He had managed to get one leg inside and was hopping around on the other when the straining clasps of Clare's bra gave way and the bra exploded off his chest to throw his melons up into the air, flailing wildly.

Shocked and unbalanced, Kyle stumbled and inadvertently gave the floss-fine panties an almighty tug. He shrieked loudly as the intruding garment garrotted his spread and smarting slit.

'Christ,' he cursed, fishing out the material with one hand whilst sliding the bra off with the other. Tossing the bra aside he reasoned, 'She only wears this to make them look better.'

After hobbling over to Tracey's wardrobe, he stood before it, hunched and shifting uncomfortably, skimming the packed rail of clothes for a shirt with the thong working its way ever deeper between his buttocks until he couldn't stand it any longer.

'How can girls wear these?' he grumbled; tearing down the underwear and kicking it across the room with anger.

'This'll do,' he said; impatiently snatching from its hanger the first white top he saw. It was a vest normally worn underneath low cut tops to prevent the display of too much cleavage, and not only was the vest inappropriate school attire, being technically underwear, but Kyle even managed to put it on backward, meaning the vest's open back became a perilously plunging neckline.

The final pieces of the school uniform: the shoes, socks and skirt he found lying at the foot of the bed and once he had slipped them on he headed off for school.


When Tracey finally felt she had recovered the strength to sit up, her first, feeble, attempt saw her rise no more than an inch before collapsing back down onto the bed. It was enough, however, to rock the glass placed over her now limp cock causing it to topple and strike her nuts with its heavy base as it spiralled to the floor.

The unexpected pain jolted her immediately upright; allowing her for the first time to clutch at the twin sources of her anguish. Being more accustomed to the infliction of testicular pain than the easing of it, Tracey's overly firm grip on her spuds had her eyes rolling inward.

'Let go! Let go! Let go!' she pleaded with her own crushing fingers before managing to prise them away.

She collapsed once more onto the bed, and this time, with the glass no longer there to support it, her semi-tumescent dick followed; flopping with a wet smack into the congealed pool of spunk which had spread across her stomach.

Sickened by the repulsive sight of the alien length slowly withering in a puddle of its own sticky gloop, Tracey scanned the room for en-suite bathroom, but was dismayed to find none.

It was with desperation that she looked toward the door through which her two tormentors had exited. She listened carefully for trace of them, but the house was silent so, with her legs still refusing to work, she shuffled off the bed and dropped to her hands and knees.

In her own body such a sudden shift in situation would have had her heavy-hanging tits swinging from their resting place on her chest to clatter together, wildly, but without consequence. In Kyle's body, however, the clattering was south of the chest and involve two far more sensitive organs. Tracey bit her tongue as her low-hanging balls struck her left thigh only to bounce off into the other.

Tracey took a moment to compose herself; taking in deep, calming breaths as she fought not to burst into more self-pitying tears.

'You're okay, she assured herself. 'You can do this.'

It was at this moment that her prick decided to peel away from her cum-soaked stomach and swing like a wrecking ball into her unsuspecting scrotum. Tracey's eyes bulged and crossed for a split-second before she closed them and growled with frustration.

'Fucking things!' she roared; dropping her head to glare at the hateful orbs. She let out what began as growl, but her frustration gave way to hopelessness and the ended as a strangled sob. Pitifully, she crawled out of Kyle's room in search of the bathroom.

Out on the unfamiliar landing, she was faced with several doors. She chose the one set apart from the rest and crawled to it; slowly pushing it open to peer inside. It wasn't the bathroom but the master bedroom, but in the corner Tracey saw an open door which led to an en suite with a tub.

She crept in further; peeking over the bed to make sure the room was empty. Perfect, she thought, seeing it was.

She was halfway across the room when a voice from inside the bedroom's walk-in closet yelled, 'Dawn! You have to come see this!' and caused Tracey to freeze with terror; her balls instinctively retracting several inches towards her groin.

At that moment out of the bathroom stepped Dawn rubbing her hair with a towel, completely and utterly naked; her body glistening, her blonde pussy hair wet and matted.

Tracey let out whimper; imagining the damage the girl would want to inflict on the testicles of any boy she found spying on her naked.

When Dawn passed by oblivious and joined her sister inside the closet, Tracey could not believe her luck. Her relief had her stomach muscles to relaxing their hold on her nut cords and, in an instant, her heavy balls had dropped back down to fill her sagging scrotum.

Not lingering a second longer, Tracey beat a hasty retreat; crawling backwards at speed only to be caught in the hip by the door as Kyle's step-mother burst into the room to see what her daughters were doing in there.

'What are you girls up to?' she called. She glanced down to see what she had hit with the door and was outraged to see her loathsome step-son lying naked and leaking his disgusting man-muck all over her carpets.

The twins stumbled out of the closet; both wearing guilty expressions and the high-heels they had borrowed from their mother's expansive collection.

They were both shocked to find their mother holding their step-brother up by the hair.

'And what is he doing in my bedroom?' their mother demanded.

Still naked and wet from the shower, Dawn clutched the small towel to her bare chest and gasped.

'We didn't bring him in here!' she gushed.

Though the towel she cowered behind ended long before the first tousled curls of her neat blonde pussy, both Tracey and her mother's eyes were drawn lower.

 'And are those my high-heels?' cried her mother on spotting her daughter's footwear.

Dawn looked down at the killer heels. 'I – I was only trying them on,' she stammered. 'They fit so well. See?' She held one out in front and turned her ankle to show off the snug fit whilst smiling hopefully at her mother.

Her mother was not impressed. Tracey, however, couldn't help but be aroused by Dawn's display of what appeared to be the perfect ball-busting footwear.

To most people, the blonde's shoe was dainty and feminine, but Tracey knew that on the right foot its killer heel and ruthlessly pointed toe made it a devastating weapon to any nearby testicle-owners.

Just think of the fun I could have with those, she thought; imagining reducing Kyle's plums to jam with a couple of well-placed kicks. The image had an effect on Tracey, but what, in her own body, would have amounted to a slight tingle and some subtly pouting pussy-lips, translated to one very obvious development in Kyle's; one which Candy was the first to notice.

'He's getting hard,' she said, drawing every one's attention to the boner which rose out from her step-brother's nut-clutching grasp.

'Dawn!' she cried, suddenly. 'He can see your fanny!'

'My what?' yelped Dawn, so flustered she dropped the towel completely.

Whilst she shrieked and rushed to cover herself, her mother rolled her eyes. She tugged Tracey's hair to get her attention. 'So you think you can sneak in here and spy on your sisters, do you, Kyle?'

Tracey shook her head, suddenly acutely aware of the sensitive orbs cupped in her palms.

'He saw my fanny!' cried Dawn, mortified. She had one hand clasped over her pussy and was covering her modest B-cups with the forearm of the other arm.

'I know honey,' she cooed, 'and he's going to pay for it.' Abruptly stern, she glared and Tracey and snapped, 'Let go off your bollocks.'

Tracey was understandably reluctant so, drawing a leg back behind her, Kyle's step-mother growled, 'Let go or I'll kick them so hard from behind that all you'll be left with is handfuls of nut-butter.'

The threat was convincing enough to cause Tracey to instinctively release the heavy eggs.

The twin's eyes followed the tremendously swollen balls' descent to the bottom of their step-brother's scrotum which, fully laden, sagged several inches from his groin to hang about the same distance from the ground.

Under the weight, the skin of his sac was stretched so thin that it had become quite translucent, and, as the bright morning light illuminated the droopy satchel from behind, the girls could clearly perceive the subtle squirming of his graphically outlined orbs.

'Ew, gross!' said Candy; screwing up her face in disgust, yet leaning in closer to get a better look.

Dawn was less interested in observing the intimate detail of her step-brother's anatomy than she was in stomping it into tiny pieces as the knowledge that he had seen her private parts made her with incandescent rage.

 'Spy on me naked,' she growled; taking a single step toward her wincing step-brother to let fly a pointy-toed foot.

'Dawn be careful!' cried Candy; worried her infuriated sister might ignore their pact and selfishly pop both their step-brother's plums.

She needn't have worried; her sister's kick with pinpoint precision to catch the bulging underside of Tracey's right nut and smashed it up into her crotch with an audible crunch!

'Don't worry,' said Dawn, impishly, as, below her foot, the untouched left nut swung to curl briefly around the underside of her shoe before swinging back to dangle alone. 'See? Your nut's fine.'

Candy gave her a mistrustful scowl, but Dawn didn't care; she had noticed that the pointed tip of the shoe was buried deep inside her step-brother's misshapen bollock, and couldn't resist the temptation to wiggle her toes.

With Dawn's toe maliciously churning the nerve-packed meat of her right gonad, Tracey's face went through several contortions as it tried to find the appropriate expression for the circumstance. It had settled on one of pure agony with a hint of surprised disbelief by the time her cock issued a single, involuntary spurt before instantly withering.

'My carpet!' cried Kyle's step-mum; seeing the fat glob of spunk hit the floor.

'Oops,' said Dawn, quickly retracting her leg. 'Sorry, Mum.'

Tracey's smashed ball remained affixed to her crotch for several seconds whilst it re-inflated back to something close to its original shape and something twice its normal size. It then dropped back down and knocked its partner back over to its own side of the sac.

The twins' mother let out a despairing sigh and let Tracey fall forward onto her front, which lacked the huge airbags she would usually have expected to cushion the landing.

'I was going to teach you two about how to use a girl's greatest weapons—'

'Our boobs?' interrupted Candy.

'Not your boobs,' groaned her mother. 'They are your biggest assets, but weapons are what you use to hurt men with, and, no offense girls, but you won't be causing anyone much harm with those things just yet.'

The twins looked down sadly. Neither Candy's bra nor Dawn's hands were taxed by the job of containing their petite bumps.

'But maybe one day,' their mother added, upbeat. 'If you find a nice sucker to buy you a set like I did.' She used her free hand to squeeze one of her silicone-enhanced melons through her silk nightgown. The squeeze lasted longer than seemed necessary to make her point, but she did so enjoy fondling her firm jugs.

'Where was I...?' she asked, finally. 'Oh, that's right – No, a girl's greatest weapons are her heels. You and Kyle here are already quite aware of the power of your kicks.' She paused to chuckle as she looked down to see her step-son's eyes rolling as he fell in and out of consciousness. She composed herself. 'But it's your heels which will never fail to end a pair of balls.'

'How about it, Candy, dear?'

Candy, partially dressed in a pair of panties, knee-high socks and a bra, clapped excitedly and skipped forward, leaving her angry, naked sister scowling enviously after her.

Turning her back to her step-brother, Candy planted the ball of her foot below her step-brother's squirming left testicle and cautiously began to lean backwards until the tip of the shoe's heel touched the shining skin.

'Is there all right?' asked Candy; looking to her mother for advice.

'You'll know when you've found it,' said her mother, smiling. 'Roll your heel side to side until you find the lumpy bit.'

Candy did as she was told until he felt a knot on the back of the otherwise smooth gonad and dug in with the stiletto heel tip.

Tracey, who had been close to blissful unconsciousness, was jolted immediately awake with a shriek.

'Oh, god, no!' she wailed, unable to comprehend this new, even more agonising form of torture. 'What are you doing to my nut? I swear I wasn't spying. I swear!'

Candy awed at her step-brother's sudden animation.

'You got it!' said her mother applauding. 'If you ever want to get a boy's attention,' she said, leaning in, 'just jab your heel, or thumb or whatever, right in there.'

'Cool,' cooed Candy, as a mean grin spread across her face.

Recognising the look, her mother touched her shoulder and warned, gently, 'Just don't press down too hard or you'll go straight through... Unless you want to go straight through, in which case just make sure you're not wearing my suede Jimmy Choos because trust me girls – nut-butter is a nightmare to get out of suede.'

Candy giggled. 'Okay, Mum.' She looked down at her tormented step-brother and asked, devilishly, 'Hey, Kyle, did you enjoy your grape juice this morning?'

Her words caused Tracey to begin to sob once more. 'Please,' she cried. 'I wasn't spying. Why would I? I don't even find you attractive!'

'What did you say?' roared Dawn, suddenly incensed.

Her mother knew she should probably calm her spurned daughter and spare Kyle the worst of her reprisals, but she did so loathe the little brat and maybe losing a nut would make him a little less insufferable.

'I'll just... leave you girls to it,' said awkwardly; excusing herself from the room.

With her mother gone, Dawn knelt quickly down in front of her step-brother; spreading her legs wide before grabbing his hair and yanking his head back to present him with her parted, pink pussy.

Tracey couldn't help but stare at the succulent slit inches from her face.

'Whatever, pervert!' Dawn growled. 'You can't take your eyes off my pussy and you know it!'

Tracey could only snivel in response as the pain of Candy's heel probing her epididymis had by now overloaded her nervous system.

'Well, take a good look 'cause I'm going to make you wish you had one just like it... instead of those pathetic little grapes.'

She looked up at her sister and said, uncompromisingly, 'My turn.'

Her sister deflated, grumbling dejectedly, 'I never get to have any fun,' as she removed her heel from the back of Tracey's ball.


Kyle had only been in Tracey's body for an hour, but already he loathed it. Sure he was spared the debilitating agony to which he usually woke, but instead he had to endure a new world of unpleasant ordeals; the majority of which were down to his own poor choice of clothing.

He had assumed shunning underwear wouldn't be a big deal: possibly a freeing a experience, but unfettered, he soon found that a free-swinging pair of double F-cup jugs was anything but liberating as he struggled not to bow under their colossal, fluctuating weight.

And he hadn't even made it to the end of Tracey's street before his decision to go commando came back to bite him in the arse in the form of a stiff breeze which took him from behind and delved in-between his buttocks to produce an lewd and embarrassing whistle as it passed over his damp fuck-hole.

And if chilling him to what he assumed were his ovaries wasn't enough, as the cruel wind escaped his nether regions, having taken on a slightly fishy fragrance, its parting gesture was to lift his skirt and expose his neatly waxed minge to a mother and young daughter who had just turned the corner.

Kyle gasped with mortification and caught the skirt to wrestle it back down before closing his eyes and awaiting the inevitable kick to the crotch. When his genitals remained unassaulted after several seconds, he opened one eye in time to see the mother huff with indignation and quickly drag the gobsmacked young girl away.

Wow, thought Kyle, correctly supposing that a pristine, young pussy was fairly nonthreatening. If it had been my vieny nine-incher flapping in the wind she would have crushed my nuts for sure!

Deciding to walk the rest of the way with his hands fixed by his sides to control his wayward skirt, he quickly discovered the necessity of having one hand free when it became apparent that his big, stiff nipples were intent on shaking themselves loose of his skimpy vest.

Forced to stop every few metres to secure them before they took the entire tit with them, Kyle was soon so livid with the fat, loathsome funbags that he yanked down his vest and liberated them entirely, screaming, 'There – happy now?'

Continuing his walk to school bare-chested, he took Tracey's phone from her bag and dialled his own number intent on airing his grievances whilst passersby gawped speechlessly at his clattering melons.


'Hey, numb-nuts' phone is ringing,' said Candy, hearing the buzzing from inside her step-brother's room.

'He wishes his nuts were numb,' growled Dawn; so occupied with digging her heel into just the right spot on the back of Tracey's ball that she had lost all regard for her state of nudity.

Intrigued as to who would be calling her desperately unpopular step-brother, Candy rushed to fetch the phone. When she found it, abandoned on the floor, she was shocked at the image on the screen which greeted her: an enormous pair of breasts overfilling a buttoned-down white shirt. Right across the middle of the impressive rack were the words “incoming call” and the name Tracey.

'It's that Tracey bitch!' bellowed Candy, scooping up the phone.

Dawn stopped abusing Tracey's nut abruptly, and snatched the phone out of her sister's hand the moment she returned with it. 'Let me speak to her,' she said, accepting the call.

'You must be the little girl who thinks she owns Kyle's balls.'

Hearing his step-sister's voice sent a chill down Kyle's spine, but he quickly realised what a unique opportunity he had been presented with: he could offend his step-sisters to his heart's content and they would unwittingly take it out on Tracey.

'Those are my balls,' he stated, boldly.

'Oh, really?' scoffed Dawn. 'Let's ask Kyle whose balls they are.' With her heel already perfectly positioned to deliver the most intense pain known to man, she simply shifted her weight the fraction of a centimetre it took to have Tracey thrashing with fresh vigour.

'Whose balls are these?' she demanded.

'Yours!' squealed Tracey, who had always delighted in what little effort it took to reduce a man to tears without ever stopping to think what tortures she might be putting her victims through.

'Hey, they're not both hers!' objected Candy; stepping down on Tracey's left ball with almost no thought for her step-brother's testicular integrity. 'This one's mine and don't you forget it!'

Tracey's screams became tangled in her throat so that all that escaped her lips was a strangled croak mixed with intermittent high-pitched squeaks.

'Is that the best you two can do?' snorted Kyle; recognising his own squeals of agony.

Candy put her ear to the phone desperate to not be left out; she was just in time to hear Kyle goad, 'He was right – you two are a pair of pussies.'

The twins shared a gasp, and then looked to one another. Without saying a word, the girls agreed on their response. They hiked their knees swiftly up to chest height and, simultaneously, they stomped Tracey's fat bollocks flat underfoot.

Kyle swore he heard the crunch.

'How's that bitch?' bellowed Candy into the phone, as in the background there came the sound of retching. 'He just puked and passed out. He ever do that for you?'

Kyle nodded sadly: he had, many times. Then he had a revelation: his wish was that Tracey suffer his balls for a single day, which would mean that tomorrow she would be back in her own body and oblivious to any schemes he had set in motion.

'Oh, plenty of times, in fact, I don't even use my feet – I just smash his balls between my big old titties... Oh, but wait – you sluts couldn't fill an A-cup between you!' He celebrated his own audacity with a triumphant fist pump.

'Take that back, bitch!' roared Dawn, as Candy gasped and clutched protectively at her padded bra cups.

'Or what?' challenged Kyle, bristling with a power which visibly swelled his bare bosom and did not go unnoticed by the passing postman who distractedly walked into a testicle-height bollard.

Kyle was moved to wince as the postman dropped his mailbag to clutch his ball-bag, but, as the man sank to the ground, he couldn't help but chuckle in the knowledge that he was no longer susceptible to such humiliation.

His attention was drawn back to the phone conversation when Dawn growled, 'Or I'll hunt you down and kick you right in the cunt, that's what!'

'Oo, I'm so scared,' Kyle said, feigning a yawn.

'You wait bitch – I'm gonna put my foot so far up your cunt you'll need a midwife to pull out my shoe!'

This was music to Kyle's ears. 'And don't forget my tits,' he reminded her.

'Oh, don't worry,' said Dawn, holding the phone out in front so she could scowl at the gigantic pair filling the screen, 'I'll stomp the milk out of those sacks of fat... barefoot if I have to!'

'Great,' chirped Kyle, knowing full well his blitheness would be infuriating Dawn. 'How about tomorrow? Meet you outside my school gates before registration?'

'I'll be there,' growled Dawn.

'Oh, and bring your sister along too,' said Kyle, his deviousness knowing no bounds, 'I'll have a spare hole she might like to fill with her foot.'

'Count on it, bitch!' screamed Candy into the phone, but Kyle hand already hung up and was busy revelling in the warm, tingly sensation of smugness which had enveloped him. The feeling didn't last long as, on nearing the school gates, there came a shriek.


Clare came sprinting towards him and pulled his vest up over his bare tits, keeping it held there while she looked around, panting.

'What are you doing?' she gasped. 'Anyone could have seen your boobs! Why is your vest on backwards? Where's your shirt for fuck's sake?'

'Oh, um,' said Kyle, overwhelmed by Clare's intensity, 'I must have... forgotten it?'

He smiled at the blonde hopefully whilst she stared back at him with despair and disbelief, until, finally, she said, 'Tell me you remembered my knickers.'

Kyle bit his lip and shook his head.

'Oh, Tracey!' she moaned, pulling away from her friend. 'My bra I can do without, but I was sat on the backseat of the car with my legs crossed so tight I got pins-and-needles. Thank god my mum didn't see anything – that would have been, like, the most embarrassing thing ever!'

'Would it?' asked Kyle; so used to having his step-mother see his genitals that it had become unremarkable.

'Of course,' exclaimed Clare, incredulous. 'I'd die if my mum ever saw my fanny.'

'Oh,' said Kyle, ashamedly.

'Come on,' said Clare with a sigh as she hooked her arm around Kyle's and led him through the school gates. 'You at least remembered your leotard for the show, right?'

'The show?' asked Kyle.

Clare stopped in her tracks and said, with a serious frown, 'The big dance show we've been rehearsing for weeks. We're on stage in half an hour.'

'Oh,' said Kyle, gulping. 'That show.'

Clare narrowed her eyes. 'Are you okay, Trace? I know I hit you pretty hard in the fanny this morning, but I didn't think it could give you amnesia.'

'Actually,' said Kyle, feigning a pussy twinge for sympathy, 'I might not be able to do the dance – it's just my fanny is aching and—'

'You have to, Tracey,' begged Clare, gripping his arms. 'I can't go on without you!'


'I promise after it's over I'll make you fanny feel better than it's ever felt.'

'You will?' asked Kyle, almost drooling. Clare nodded enthusiastically.

'Okay, I'll dance,' squeaked Kyle; so close to bursting with joy that it hurt.


Tracey was awakened by a sharp pain from an area she was rapidly getting accustomed to feeling pain from, only this particular brand of agony was new to her.

'His filthy sack caught in the zip again!' complained Dawn with exasperation, tugging the zipper back down to free Tracey's pinched scrotum. 'His balls just won't fit in his trousers.'

'Well, leave them out,' said her mother, irritably.

Tracey found herself on the expansive back seat of Kyle's step-mother's 4x4 with his twin step-sisters hurriedly dressing her.

'Why can't we just leave him at home like we usually do?' asked Candy, on her knees in the footwell, tying her step-brother's shoe laces.

'Because I've run out of excuses for his squeaky voice and funny walk, and if he has any more days off his teachers are going to start asking questions.'

She shook her head and sighed. 'Last week I had to tell them he accidentally shut his laptop on them whilst masturbating.'

'That's not that far from the truth,' said Candy, shrugging.

'Yeah, except it wasn't him masturbating,' said Dawn with a wicked chuckle.

'And the video we got of them squishing against the webcam got, like, a million hits before they pulled it off Youtube!'

Dawn mimed opening and violently closing the laptop lid whilst chanting, 'Fat balls, flat balls! Fat balls, flat balls!'

The twins giggled hysterically.

'We're here,' said their mother; pulling up abruptly outside the school gates. 'Is he ready?'

Dawn left her step-brother's trousers unzipped and just fastened the button above his cock so that his junk hung out of the flies looking a sorry sight: a thick, limp sausage draped over a pair of bulbous, red beetroots.

'Good enough,' she said with an indifferent shrug.

Beaming Tracey a devilish grin she said, 'I'll get the door,' and, planting her knee in her step-brother's soft sex organs, she climbed over to push open the car door.

Tracey let out a bloodcurdling wail.

With the door swinging open, Dawn plopped back down beside him and said, 'There you go.' Then, abruptly, her smile disappeared and she growled, 'Now get out.'

Unceremoniously ejected from the car onto the grass verge, Tracey landed on her knees and immediately slumped forward onto her face.

Dawn was leaning out to close the door when Candy appeared over her shoulder holding her step-brother's mobile phone, about to toss it onto the ground. When she saw his sagging, nut-laden sack, however, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to get in one last ball-busting before school.

With one eye closed and her tongue protruding ever so slightly from the corner of her mouth, she took aim at Tracey's gently swaying bean-bag and then hurled it with all her womanly might.

The phone struck Tracey's satchel true and sent her cock and balls swinging in opposite directions.

'Nice shot!' Dawn congratulated; giving her sister a high-five before slamming shut the door.

Tracey was left in a cloud of blue diesel smoke with her pendulous organs twisting then unfurling repeatedly until eventually they lost momentum and came to rest.

She just lay there face down in the grass for several minutes; unable to muster even a whimper as she felt her scrotum begin to contract around her hot, throbbing nuts. Finally, she toppled onto her side and brought her knees up to her chest; delicately cradling her bloated, tightly-bunched testicles between her thighs.

A barely audible rumbling forced her to open her eyes as she panicked that Kyle's mother might have driven back after dropping off the twins to make sure her step-son wasn't playing truant.

Thankfully, it was only Kyle's phone, the screen of which had lit up inches from her face.

Miserably, she threw out a hand and dragged it closer. It was a text from her phone. It read:

Looks like I'm going to be on stage in front of the entire school. Hope I don't accidentally fall out of my top LOL x

'You bastard!' she growled.

Gripping the phone tight, she pulled herself up onto her hands and began the arduous crawl to the school hall.


'Well,' said Miss Hope, holding out a tiny, crumpled black garment. 'This is all I could find in lost property. It's one of those that fastens at the crotch with those evil metal poppers so mind you don't pinch your, um, nether regions.'

Kyle took the miniscule bodysuit from her and examined it with horror. 'I can't wear this,' he protested. 'There's no way I'll fit.'

'I'll wear it,' said Clare; desperate for her best friend's company on the stage. 'You take mine – it has more room for your... you-know-whats.' Kyle was reluctant to accept, but when Clare gave him her best doe-eyes and begged sweetly, 'Please?' he was unable to resist.

'Hurry up, bee-sting tits,' snarled a blonde girl already dressed in her skimpy black leotard, 'or we're going on without you.'

'Get stuffed, Stephanie!' snapped Clare; whirling around to face the girl who was stood with a large group of other girls all identically attired and all glaring at Kyle and her with impatience and thinly-veiled disdain.

'Clare, we do need to hurry,' said Miss Hope, urgently.

'Yes, Miss,' she said, surreptitiously giving Stephanie the finger with one hand whilst grabbing Kyle's hand with the other. She led him out of sight of the impatiently glaring group of girls and immediately pulled open her shirt.

Kyle was awed yet again to be treated to the sight of such fabulous breasts. It took all the strength in him to not reach out and touch the rosy buds which topped each minute mound of milky flesh.

'Come on, Trace,' Clare urged with the hint of an embarrassed smile when she reappeared from under her top to find her friend drooling over her tits.

'Okay,' muttered Kyle, entranced. He gripped the bottom of his vest and, in order not to miss a moment of Clare's nudity, tore it quickly off over his head to inadvertently fling his floppy tits high into the air. The loud and remarkably spaced apart slaps of his heavy-hangers flopping back down caused him to become acutely self-conscious of his body's flaws in the presence of a love interest so physically perfect.

In his own body this would have been a cock-shrivelling situation, but as it was, the only give away was his blush as he caught his swinging jugs and obscured them from view. Seeing this, Clare frowned.

'Trace, are you embarrassed by me seeing your boobs?'

Kyle looked down at the ground ashamedly. 'A little,' he admitted.

'You shouldn't be,' she told him, putting her hands over the top of his. Her finger touched the tip of Kyle's nipple which poked out from between his fingers and it was all he could do not to let out a purr. 'I love your boobs...' she went on. 'Tracey, I love y—'

'Girls!' cried Miss Hope as she rounded the corner, to see them still not in their leotards.

'Sorry, Miss!' gushed Clare; releasing her friend's cupping hands to pull her bodysuit hurriedly over her head.

'What have you two been doing?' the teacher demanded as Clare tugged her miniscule bodysuit down over her hips and slipped the two crotch ends into her skirt. Then, with a sheepish glance at either onlooker, she reached up underneath her skirt to draw the ends together between her legs. The straps dug into her shoulders and the Lycra drew tight across her chest to mash the modest bumps flat against her ribcage as she forced it to stretch further than it seemed willing in order to fasten it.

Both Kyle and Miss Hope watched anxiously as, closing her eyes to concentrate, Clare set her quivering fingers to work holding aside any delicate flesh that might be caught when she fastened the poppers positioned perilously close to her intimate area.

There was a snap! followed by a long, tense pause during which Kyle held his breath and studied Clare's face for the flicker of intense pain that would result from a pinched pussy-lip. Thankfully, there came no scream; the only thing to pass Clare's lips was a huge sigh of relief after she safely snapped the final popper.

'Oh, thank god,' she said and let her skirt fall to the floor. That just left Kyle who was not at all hopeful he would fit his considerable chest cargo into a leotard meant to fit a girl so comparatively bereft.

With Tracey's friend and teacher watching expectantly, he let go of his unmanageable rack and picked up the garment.

'Oh my,' said Miss Hope, beneath her breath, but loud enough to cause Kyle to look up and catch her eyes wide and lips turned down in a grimace as she saw for the first time the girl's tits swinging freely.

Shame filled him and he rushed to hide them; stepping so hurriedly into his leotard that, just like with his thong previously, he almost cut himself in two as he pulled it up to his waist.

Resigning himself to the fact that girl's underwear must just fit like that, he tugged it up from under his skirt and went about hauling the uncooperative garment up over his chest and shoulders.

The leotard encompassed his jugs only halfway when the Lycra point-blank refused to stretch further.

'Whoa, whoa,' said Miss Hope, stopping him in his tracks. 'You'll never get the straps over your shoulders with your boobs in there.'

'But...' said Kyle, confounded.

'You need to do it...' began the teacher, reaching deep into Kyle's leotards without permission to hoist his breasts back out into the open. ' so.' She then, much to Kyle's surprise and discomfort, wrenched up the straps; causing them to slip around his arms and over his shoulders, whilst at the same time upturning his tits and smooshing them right under his chin.

'Urk!' cried Kyle, with his inverted tits pressing hard against his windpipe.

'Now what?' asked Clare, perturbed by her friend's look of distress.

'Now we just jam them back in,' explained Miss Hope.

'Oh my god!' cried a voice suddenly. It was Stephanie. She had marched around the corner to see what was taken them so long. 'Everyone, you have to see this!'

The other girls raced quickly to her side and joined her in raucous laughter at the sight of Kyle being suffocated by his own upturned melons.

'Hey! Leave her alone!' bellowed Clare, storming toward the cackling blonde with fists clenched only to be caught by the straps of her leotard and held back by Miss Hope.

'Let me go!' she objected; oblivious to the fact that the jolt had unsnapped one of the poppers fastening the bodysuit.

'Help Tracey get her tits back in,' Miss Hope snapped, adding irritably, 'The nipples if nothing else.'

On hearing she had permission (if not Tracey's) to cop a feel, Clare immediately relented and spun around to face Kyle, beaming uncontrollably; her eyes glinting as they locked on the big teats Kyle could feel jutting against his jaw as the leotard's cruel grip cut the circulation from his exposed tit-meat.

Imagining the feel of a woman's breasts had occupied Kyle's mind for much of his adolescence. He had assumed they felt much like large marshmallows. Either that or bags of warm custard. He had not even the slightest inkling that they might, in fact, be of a much more varied consistency; being comprised of not only soft, squishy tit-fat, but also denser, nerve-packed tissue which didn't enjoy being squashed and squeezed in the manner that Clare set about forcing his jugs back inside his leotard.

'Ow, my tits!' he cried with sudden alarm.

'Sorry, Trace, but—'

'Never mind that!' barked Miss Hope. 'Keep pushing!'

Clare did as she was told; pinching her friend's plump, purpling nipples to yank down on them whilst at the same time pushing the squishy mass of flesh into the Lycra.

'Stop! Clare! My nipples!'

'Boo-hoo, my nipples,' aped Stephanie, clutching her own poking teats.

'Nearly there, Trace,' Clare told him, apologetically. 'Just a little more!'

'No! Stop Clare!' cried Kyle hysterically. 'Stop – you're going to pop them!' His scream was so shrill and deafening that Clare and Miss Hope were forced back covering their ears.

'No need to be so melodramatic!' said Miss Hope, irritably as Kyle hugged his aching chest. 'Boobs don't just pop – they're not bollocks.'

'But...' said Kyle, before realising the pain had ebbed almost immediately from his melons. He noticed the incredulous looks he was getting from the other girls and suddenly felt quite sheepish.

'You're going to pop them!' aped Stephanie, much to the amusement of her friends. 'What an idiot.' Kyle narrowed his eyes at her, but his attention was caught by Clare.

'Sorry,' she apologised; wincing at the sight of the bright red fingernail marks she had left in the copious bulges of flesh which still protruded out of the top of the leotard. 'But I got the important bits in at least,' she added, upbeat.

Kyle looked down to see that his nipples were indeed stowed with the leotard, if only just. But the pink slithers of areola which peeked out over the stretched black material were of no concern to Miss Hope who gave a relived sigh at the sight of him finally decent.

'Everyone to your places!' she bellowed unexpectedly. 'Time to show them what we've got!'

Clare grabbed Kyle's hand and dragged him to the centre of the stage which was shrouded from the audience by a curtain. The girls formed a line and thrust out their budding chests. Kyle didn't dare copy for fear of ejecting his already precariously stowed tits out of his overflowing leotard.

'Here we go,' whispered Clare, excitedly squeezing Kyle's hand as the curtain began to rise. Suddenly she noticed that Kyle still had on his skirt, and quickly she ripped it off him and tossed it to the side of the stage.

'Phew,' she said. 'That could have been embarrassing.'

Unfortunately she failed to notice that, in all the struggling and excitement, her friend's cunt had managed to swallow part of the leotard to leave one pink, pouting pussy-lip exposed; stretched, splayed and ready for the moment Miss Hope hit the lights.


The intro to Beyonce's Single Ladies echoed around the darkness of the school hall.

A few of the girl's mothers had managed to insist on a seat in the front row, but every other seat was occupied by boys eager get an eyeful of sweet, young camel-toe. All stared up at the dark stage in anticipation.

Above them, in the darkness, the girls stood in a line which spanned the stage, waiting, giddy, but silent, for the moment that the spotlights at their feet would illuminate them from an entirely inappropriately angle for the entire crowd to see.

As the lyrics kicked in, Miss Hope flipped the switch and, bathed in bright white light the girls began their performance; unaware that their every intimate crease and curve could be traced so explicitly that the only thing left to the audience's imagination was the style and colour of their pubic hair. And in Kyle's case, not even that, as, with one cunt-lip protruding, he began to copy the other girls' movements and desperately swing is hips to the beat.

A commotion broke out on the front rows as the eagle-eyed boys caught sight of Kyle's costume malfunction and leapt from their seats to cheer.

The more observant girls in the audience were the next to spot Kyle's misfortune, and reactions differed greatly. Some gasped in horror; sick at the thought of a fellow female having her most private part scrutinised a crowd of salacious boys. Others looked on with amused disbelief; shocked by the indecency, but entertained by another girl's humiliation. But most girls, envious of Tracey's tits and the attention they got her, saw their moment to take their revenge, and began to shamelessly mock, to the point where their chants became louder and more obscene than those of the boys.

Being highly skilled at blocking out the cries of obnoxious children, the mothers in the audience remained completely oblivious to the on-stage obscenity; so intent was their attention on their own daughters. It was Clare's mother who was the first to let her gaze wander from her own little princess and spot Kyle's unintentional immodesty.

After initially recoiling at the sight of her daughter's best friend's pussy-lip glistening under the spotlight, she leapt from her seat and barged her way through the crowd of unashamedly-aroused teen boys to the edge of the stage.

By waving her arms frantically in the air like a deranged fan, she actually managed to arrest Kyle's attention, though only because her arm waving caused her large breasts to shake with captivating violence. Unfortunately, Kyle had no clue who she was and quickly tore his eyes away to concentrate on following the movements of the other girls.

When alerting Kyle failed, Clare's mother tried instead to alert her daughter, but, due to the blaring music and the cries of the overjoyed crowd, her calls went unheard.

Up on stage, the girls were so buoyed by the crowd's raucous response that they were beginning to get a little carried away; with every gyration, thrust and booty-shake their performance became increasingly indecent.

It was only as show was nearing its climax that Clare finally noticed her mother; seemingly participating in the audience's energetic waving. She was both surprised and delighted to see that her mum was getting so into the show that she actually appeared to be trying to climb onto the stage.

Having never seen her usually prudish mother so carried away, Clare swelled with pride and readied herself for the big finish which would no doubt blow her mum away.

Kyle was unprepared when the dance reached its abrupt finale and, with a pair of glitter bombs exploding behind them, the girls dropped simultaneously into the horizontal splits.

Being suddenly the only one standing, Kyle hastily followed so not to appear conspicuous. He threw himself into the splits with vigour, not expecting that Tracey's limber hips would allowed him to plummet with toward the stage with such frightening ease.

While the other girls' pussies had ever so lightly kissed the stage, Kyle's uncontrolled descent caused his delicate flower to be smashed into the wooden boards with a wet, but solid smack and instantly swallow the rest of his leotard to wrench his slit upwards and present it graphically spread to Clare's mum and the rest of the gobsmacked audience.

Throwing back his head, Kyle sucked in a deep breath in preparation for the bloodcurdling shriek which grew in his lungs. Unfortunately, the extra lung volume pushed his strained leotard beyond its tensile limit and, with a resounding flop, his melons were fired explosively up into his chin; slamming his mouth shut and stifling the cry.

Though, like the rest of the girls on stage, Clare was busy beaming her widest, toothiest smile at the screaming, clamouring crowd, the sudden appearance of her love interests massive tits did not go unnoticed. 'Oh my god!' she shrieked, catching sight of her friend teetering in the splits with her trembling fingers clutching her painfully spread pussy.

Leaping to her feet, Clare rushed around the front of Kyle; blocking the crowd's view best she could. 'Get up, Tracey,' she pleaded, but when her friend's only response was a long, high-pitched squeal of distress, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

Kyle was clutching his cunt far too tightly to allow the young blonde to slip her hands under his arms so instead, unthinkingly, she took him by the shoulder straps of his leotard and hauled him off the ground.

Her feeble, but insistent tug barely raised him, but did wrench his leotard even higher; sinking the taut strip of material deeper into his tender cunt whilst simultaneously jamming his floppy tits higher into his face to smother his cries of anguish entirely.

Seeing she had lifted her friend scarcely an inch, Clare redoubled her efforts. She sunk lower, widening her stance, and prepared for a final, almighty tug.

Seeing this, and convinced he would be carved in two, Kyle did the only thing he could think of which would stop her for sure: he reached up in-between her legs and yanked hard on the precariously fastened crotch of her bodysuit.

In a shocking instant, the entire bottom half was turned inside-out and left bunched up under her arms to present her posterior, perfectly angled for maximum exposure, to the already ecstatic crowd.

With Clare leaning over him, Kyle was able to witness both her reaction and, through her legs, that of Clare's mother. Both women's big, blue eyes widened considerably and both sucked in a sharp breath, but whilst Clare then let out a piercing scream, her mother quietly fainted: overwhelmed by the sight of her daughter's holiest of holes.

With the realisation that she had just mooned her own mother as well as half the school sinking in, Clare leapt up, and clutching her bare bum cheeks rushed off stage shrieking.

At the back of the hall, stooped, but bristling with rage, Tracey watched in horror as, racing to apologise, Kyle toppled backward and presented his own pink treasure to the overjoyed crowd. 'My pussy,' she squeaked; her welling tears finally overflowing to streak her cheeks.

The tickling sensation caused by the tears passage caught her by surprise and disgusted her. Tracey was not a crier. She was tough. Sniffling loudly, she wiped it quickly away and narrowed her eyes at Kyle as he clambered to his feet and waddled awkwardly off stage after the Clare.

'I'm going to make you wish you'd never stolen my body,' she growled and, paying no attention to the fact that she was herself leaving Kyle's genitals hanging out on display, she staggered around the side of the hall to slip back stage.


'Please come out!' begged Kyle; his ear pressed up against the door of the toilet cubical.

'Go away!' bawled Clare through the tears.

'I brought your clothes.'

Clare was silent for a moment and then the door opened and a hand reached out. Kyle handed her the bunched up uniform, but, before he could speak, Clare slammed the door shut once more.

'I'm sure nobody saw anything,' lied Kyle, lamely, and he instantly regretted it when the cubical door was ripped open and Clare stood before him stark naked and bristling with rage.

'Nobody saw anything?' roared the furious blonde, whilst Kyle valiantly fought his natural instinct to ogle her rage-stiffened nipples and pouting pussy.

It took all his willpower, but he managed to keep his eyes level with Clare's for at least half of the first second.

'Everyone saw everything,' continued Clare, with tears streaming down her face. 'My mum saw everything!' She hurled the leotard at her friend's face and cried, 'You ruined my life!' before slamming shut the cubical door.

Kyle peeled the clammy leotard slowly from his face and stood listening to the soft sobbing from within. 'I'm sorry,' he called, sadly.

'Oh, you will be!' growled a familiar voice.

Kyle turned around to come face-to-face with himself.

'Tracey,' he gushed, before her strong hands gripped his shoulders and her knee smashed his pussy. Kyle's male programming kicked in again and he dropped instantly to his knees before her.

'Give me back my body,' Tracey ordered him.

'I can't,' he whimpered. 'I don't know how.'

'How did you swap them in the first place?'

'I wished it.'

'Well, wish it back to normal or I'll crush your...' she faltered, causing Kyle to look up at her and catch sight of his swollen bollocks which hung out of the open flies of her trousers to dangle at eye-level right in front of him.

'Crush my what?' he asked; a devious smile spread across his face. 'My balls?' His hands shot from his crotch to hers and Tracey gasped with horror when each of her bloated orbs was snatched in a vicious grasp.

'Here,' growled Kyle venomously. 'I'll crush them for you.'

'Let go,' yelped Tracey, instantly panicked.

'Not a chance, bitch,' growled Kyle; studying the terror in her eyes. 'Not now I have you by the balls for a change.' He began to apply pressure in slowly increasing amounts, watching all the time as Tracey's eyes crossed and her knees gradually turned inward.

The sensation of squeezing of his own testicles without the excruciating sensation of pain was extremely peculiar to Kyle. He noted the way the rubbery orbs squished and squirmed between his fingers; distorting to the necessary shape to escape lasting harm.

They felt impervious, but he knew firsthand that they were anything but. It made him realise how difficult it must have been for a girl to believe the agony she was inflicting on the organs' owners, and it became suddenly clear to him how they could get so easily carried away with crushing them: why would they show restraint to a boy's testicles if they had no real concept of their crippling fragility?

'Tracey?' called Miss Hope as she slipped under the stage curtain. Her appearance prompted Kyle to release Tracey's balls in a moment of blind panic.

'There you... Oh!' she said on spotting the boy she had twice tried to castrate. 'Well, well. What do we have here?' She marched over to the pair with purpose.

'Miss Hope!' gushed Tracey; relieved to see her favourite teacher was rushing to her rescue. 'He tried to—'

Her explanation was cut short when once more her testicles were seized, only this time by hands much more practiced at inflicting pain.

'How many times do I have to try to castrate you before you get the message, you little prick?' demanded Miss Hope.

Tracey was stunned. Was every woman out to castrate Kyle? She had assumed it was only her.

'Miss Hope, wait!' she cried. 'It's not what you think—'

'I think you exposed your balls to a fellow pupil,' said Miss Hope, tightening her grip on Tracey's much-abused bollocks to produce an audible squelch and leave her squealing at the top of her lungs. 'And I think that any boy who does that forfeits his right to keep them.'

Kyle couldn't bring himself to watch as Miss Hope let Tracey's balls drop before pistoning her knee into the swinging targets. On hearing the familiar slap of balls against arse, he opened his eyes and watched Tracey crumble the floor, twitching uncontrollably. Miss Hope stood above her brushing her hands with a satisfied grin on her face. 'I'll finish with you later,' she promised her before turning to Kyle to tell him, 'I need your leotard.'

Still confused, and totally petrified of the teacher, Kyle immediately began to strip naked in front of her.

Miss Hope sucked in air through her teeth at the sight of the deep red lines which the garment had cut into his softest and most delicate flesh. 'Jesus, it almost carved you in two,' she said, eyeing his sore pussy. Kyle covered up self-consciously.

As she turned away, Miss Hope noticed the bodysuit discarded by Clare. 'Ah, perfect,' she said cheerily as she picked it up and tossed it at Kyle who once more caught it in the face. 'Put this little prick in that leotard and get him out on stage with the rest of the boys.'

'The rest of the boys?' enquired Kyle; peeling away the clammy bodysuit.

'You'll see,' Miss Hope told him with a mischievous grin. 'Just get him in that thing as quick as you can. And don't worry if all his bits don't fit in... In fact, the more left swinging the better!'


Getting Tracey in the tiny leotard was easier said than done. While Kyle tugged the miniscule garment over her torso his unfettered, flopping melons slapped and clattered together in an infuriating manner. At one point, he actually stopped to consider trying to toss them over either shoulder or perhaps even try to tie them in a neat bow, but though droopy, they weren't that droopy.

With the bodysuit finally stretched down over Tracey's frame, all that remained was to fasten the buttons at the crotch and secure it.

'I really don't like making a fool of myself,' he said mostly to himself, 'but I'll make an exception just this once.'

He snapped shut one of the buttons and then pulled Tracey's scrotum taut so that it lay between the two buttons as he fastened the last one to trap her dangling bollocks outside the garment.

Kyle stood back and examined his handiwork. 'Not bad. Although... Ah, what the fuck.' With a shrug, he reached inside the crotch of the bodysuit to tug the length of thick cock out of the leg hole and leave it hanging beside the swinging nut-sack.

'Perfect,' he said with a grin. 'Now get up.'

Tracey was understandably reticent to comply, being far too occupied with rocking side-to-side whilst groaning and pawing for the out-of-reach source of her anguish. Kyle recognised her state and realised there would be little chance of her climbing to her feet without considerable persuasion. Fortunately, Kyle knew just the approach to take: it was one that Tracey had used on him many times in the past.

Wrapping his hand around Tracey's scrotum just above the balls, he insisted she stand by gradually, but forcefully pulling upwards on her flimsily-attached organs. And, compelled by some alien, but overwhelming imperative to preserve her ability to procreate, Tracey bolted upright and, with great effort, lifted herself onto her knees. Beyond that though her legs would not comply so she was reduced to shuffling after her merciless tormentor with her hips pushed forward to ease the strain on her stretching cords.

When Kyle reached the back of the stage, he stuck his head through the curtain and was shocked to be confronted by the sight of almost a dozen boys, stripped naked and struggling in vain to squeeze their naked frames into the leotards which, only minutes earlier, had shrink-wrapped the bodies of the shorter, slimmer schoolgirls in the dance show.

As it had been with the girls, the snugness was most noticeable at the crotch; only the massive incompatibility in size resulted in a much more noticeable stretching of the narrow strip of Lycra which had been taxed when covering a flat strip of light bush, but was now expected to contain the multiple squirming bulges of the male genitalia.

Unnoticed by the boys, who had their turned backs to the now all-girl crowd while they dressed, Kyle watched with perverse amusement as they fought to stow the three component parts of their manhood only to have one, if not more, slip free. The less-endowed boys were constantly pushing one testicle inside the leotards only to have the other one slip free out the other side, while the well-endowed boys had no chance of stashing either so instead focussed on securing their thick cocks.

When the boys did finally notice Kyle, or the girl they recognised as Tracey, they quickly covered themselves and blushed with intense embarrassment.

'Okay boys,' said Miss Hope, tired of waiting for them, 'turn around and get lined up.'

The boys did as they were told; shuffling unenthusiastically to the edge of the stage with their hands cupped self-consciously over their crotches.

Delighting in their coyness, Miss Hope snapped, 'Hands by your sides!'

Several of the boys complied immediately and it came as no surprise to her that when their hands fell away to reveal only meagre bulges of Lycra with one small, almost hairless nut hanging out of the side.

Nutless little cowards, she thought pitilessly.

The exposure of their tiny nuggets caused the girls in front row to shriek with the kind of spitefully exaggerated mocking laughter that only girls could and reserved, without exception, for use in male misfortune.

Miss Hope smiled as the girls pointed and ridiculed, but her smile evaporated when she saw the more well-endowed boys were refusing to expose their groins. She stormed over the closest and yelled, 'Either you drop your hands or I drop your sperm count!'

The terrified boy's hands snapped to his sides and it quickly became apparent the reason for his reluctance, as well as the source of the courage which had enabled him to defy the intimidating teacher in the first place.

Miss Hope grinned with satisfaction at the sight of the big, pink eggs which bulged out of either side of his leotard. 'Oh, how embarrassing for you,' she purred; only barely suppressing her urge to reach down and take hold of them.

Sure, I could... she thought to herself, imaging the wonderful sensation of squeezing the plump orb between her fingers. It's not like he'd stop me.

But testicles didn't tend to survive her indelicate handling and castrating a pupil on stage might not be a wise career move. So, leaving his plums be, she looked sternly down the rest of the line of boys and watched as the remaining hands slowly retreated to hang by their sides to leave, shining under the stage lights, a veritable orchard of big, pink fruit; just ripe for the plucking.

It amused Miss Hope that when the well-endowed young men had been forced to decide between concealing meat or veg they had chosen to leave out in the open their most delicate of organs. It seemed to her like a blatant invitation for any girl to help themselves to the juicy offerings.

'Okay, boys,' she announced loudly. 'You all seemed to be watching the girls' dance very intently so I'm sure you'll remember the moves. But in case you can't I'm going to prompt you. So, first thing's first – start swaying those hips left and right.'

Tearfully, the boys complied though their hip rocking was profoundly more awkward than the girls' and their jerky, repetitive movements snapped the taut leotards this way and that, sometimes taking their bulging contents with them, but mostly not, and soon not one of the boys remained contained.

Miss Hope watched from the side of the stage, soaking up the glorious sight of young girls revelling in so much swinging meat. 'That's it, boys,' she encouraged them with a beaming grin. 'Don't be shy – shake your baby-makers.'

Her attention was caught suddenly by the frantic waving of Kyle who had slipped one arm and, unintentionally, one large dangling breast out from behind the curtain in an attempt to catch his teacher's eye. Miss Hope skipped over and asked hurriedly, 'What is it, Tracey?'

In response Kyle simply slipped his other through the curtain to present her with Tracey's inhumanly bloated bollocks.

Miss Hope gasped. 'If those are still attached,' she said, hungrily, 'get him out here with the others.' Kyle nodded and yanked Tracey nuts more insistently.

 Against the odds, Tracey found the strength to stand and be led out on stage.

The girls in the audience could barely believe their eyes when the girl they recognised as Tracey appeared on stage unashamedly naked and tugging after her the boy they recognised as Kyle by testicles which seemed too ludicrous to be genuine. It was only the intense look of relief on boy's face when the girl released his nuts and let them flop down between his legs that convinced the girls that they were indeed the real deal.

Miss Hope drew up alongside Tracey and leaned in threatening close to growl, 'If you don't start dancing this instant I'll crush your little plums right here on stage.'

Terrified, Tracey nodded and began to imitate her fellow humiliated males, shaking her hips mechanically side-to-side to set her big cock and bloated balls swinging hypnotically. Only, after a few awkward seconds, Tracey's natural instinct to perform the dance she had been rehearsing for months kicked in.

With the other boys' twig and berries forgotten, the girls, many of whom had never even seen a set of male genitalia in the flesh, feasted their twinkling eyes on Tracey's comic and curiously arousing monster danglers.

'Wow,' Miss Hope remarked to Kyle as the pair watched Tracey put the other boys' dancing to shame. 'He's actually not that bad.'

When Tracey realised that she was easily outshining the other boys despite her weak legs, she became so engrossed in the performance that she managed to completely forget about her wildly swinging genitals and really go for it; much to the delight of the audience who were shrieking at the hilarious spectacle.

The other boys seemed to notice their classmate's skills also and began to follow her movements. Hip circling gave way to thrusting which had a highly amusing effect on their naked genitalia. The meaty slaps echoed around the hall as the boys tossed their sex organs up against stomach before pushing back to send them swinging back between their legs to clatter against their crotches.

Tracey turned her back to the crowd, pushed out her bum and began to shake it furiously. Her drooping balls were shaken wildly. They flopped and clattered, were twisted and upturned. And the other boys followed suit.

It was only at the big finish that Tracey was suddenly and painfully reminded of the presence of her gonads when, throwing herself into the splits with the self-assurance of a flexible young girl, her big, tender nuts hit the floor moments before the rest of her body came down on top of them with enough force to turn her back to a girl.

It was only her testicles' innate squirminess which spared them rupture and only just, as, rather than choosing a single direction in which to slip out from under her, each bollock made the misguided decision to roll in the opposite direction. With one slipping forward to pop out from under her crotch and the other squirming between her arse cheeks to poke out behind her, both failed to fully escape the crushing impact as her scrotum could afford them no further slack. What nut-meat did escape ballooned out from beneath her to turn instantly white as the spunk displaced from the crushed portion stretched it to breaking point. The immense build up of pressurized sperm meant one of two things was inevitable: either her nut-shells would crack or...

Rising and straightening like an unrestrained fire hose, Tracey's cock suddenly let rip a powerful surge of semen which showered the screaming young girls stood directly in front of him. Their screams turned to gurgles as hot jizz filled their gaping mouths.

The pressure release narrowly spared Tracey twin testicular ruptures, but did nothing to ease her agony as she remained sat atop her deflated nuggets, paralysed by overwhelming anguish.

And still her suffering and humiliation wasn't enough for Kyle, who couldn't resist the temptation to race forward and deliver a demolishing kick to the squirming bubble that poked out from between Tracey's ass spread cheeks.

The toe of his plimsoll buried itself into the bulging dead centre of the nut-meat sending it back under Tracey's arse where it was forced to flatten pancake-thin before it knocked its trapped partner out of the way and reappeared explosively on the other side to sail forward toward the edge of the stage.

When the gagging and heaving girls on the front row saw the plump parts dangling within reach their watering eyes narrowed. 'Grab his balls!' screamed one girl, after spitting out a salty load.

In an instant, several pairs of hands latched onto Tracey's scrotum.

With his big naked tits heaving as he sucked in thrilled breaths, Kyle watched as Tracey was dragged screaming off the edge of the stage to be engulfed by a crazed group of schoolgirls maniacally chanting 'squish his balls!' with a hunger which had been growing inside them since puberty.

It took Kyle some time to remember that the balls they referred to in their bloodthirsty chant were his own, but the moment he did he flew into a blind panic. He looked about him and saw the other leotard-clad boys were still standing in a line watching with bloodless faces as the girls went to work on their classmate's manhood.

Eleven pairs of perfectly bustable testicles, he found himself thinking. That ought to distract them.

Skipping behind the unsuspecting boys he shoved them over the edge one after the other yelling, 'Come and get 'em girls! Enough balls for everyone!'

'Very nice,' said Miss Hope; coming up alongside him to rest her hand on his shoulder.

Kyle flinched instinctively, but quickly caught himself. 'Thanks,' he said, uneasily.

After a couple more seconds of enjoying the sound of tortured squealing Miss Hope let out a sigh and said sadly, 'Well, I better break it up before they get carried away.' She looked at Kyle and said with a wry grin, 'It's all fun and games until someone loses a—' Before she could finish her sentence there came a particularly shrill shriek from beneath the crowd of stomping, squeezing schoolgirls which caused her to roll her eyes and sigh.

'Too late.'

'Loses a what?' asked Kyle as she left his side. Her only answer was to half-turn and wink devilishly.

'My nuts!' he gasped.

Stood at the edge of the stage Miss Hope looked down on the carnage and announced evenly, 'Girls, girls. That's enough.'

That's enough? Thought Kyle with consternation. And he was right to be anxious: the girls continued their onslaught unabated. So, with tits flapping wildly, Kyle raced to the edge of the stage and leapt heroically into the fray only to be tugged painfully to Earth by the weight of his jugs.

'Come on, girls,' said Miss Hope with little conviction. 'You've had your fun.'

Kyle hugged his tits to his chest and picked himself up before wading into the violently churning sea of girls.

'Hey!' cried the first one he pushed aside indignantly.

The second girl shoved to the side was even more upset. 'You floppy-titted bitch!' she yelled and snatched hold of Kyle's droopy right melon.

'Get off me!' he yelped, twisting his waist in an attempt to tug it free of her clutches, but as he did another girl grabbed his left tit and suddenly the girls torturing Tracey turned their attention to him.

'Well, what have we got here?' asked Stephanie, grinning darkly.

'Oh shit,' he said with dread.

'Pull her tits!' cried the same girl who had started the 'squish his balls!' chant and an immediate tug of war broke out on either end of Kyle's fun-bags.

His hysterical screams caught the attention of Miss Hope who, seeing a female being hurt, leapt into action.

'What do you think you're doing?' she screamed at the suddenly terrified girls. 'This is not how you treat other human beings!' She looked down at Tracey who lay on the floor in the foetal position dry-retching noisily. 'Well...' she added with an indifferent shrug, 'not other girls.'


After the rest of girls had been calmed down and sent on their way, Miss Hope helped Kyle to his feet and together they surveyed the aftermath. Amongst the torn leotards and tipped over chairs lay a dozen naked boys in varying states of agony. Most were curled up mewling, some sobbed whilst a couple of the weaklings bawled shamelessly. They turned as one to regard Tracey.

Done retching, she lay perfectly still except for sudden, violent spasms which caused her legs to dance and her to curl forward before falling back again. It came as great relief to Kyle that her hands were reaching for the twin orbs which, while purple and hideously bloated beyond recognition, were at least solid; unlike the testicles of a few of the other boys.

'They really picked on the weak ones,' remarked Miss Hope without sympathy as it appeared the lesser-endowed males had suffered the majority of ruptures. 'Either that or the little ones pop easier.'

Kyle felt suddenly faint and slipped out of the teacher's arms to hit the floor beside Tracey; his flapping right breast slapping her full in the face.

This was the final insult for Tracey who passed out.


When Kyle regained consciousness he found himself laid on a sofa in a small office. He was naked with a bag of ice balanced on each abused breast. He was still trying to shake off his thick head when Miss Hope unexpectedly stepped into view and lifted her T-shirt off over her head. Kyle stifled his gasp and tried his best to appear unconscious whilst keeping one eye open. The perfectly toned blonde tossed the T-shirt aside and hooked her fingers under the sports bra to tug it out and allow pale portions of generous underboob to fall into view.

Kyle felt a familiar twitch between his legs and immediately tensed, having momentarily forgotten that there would be no hard-on to give him away. The sudden stiffening of his body however did give him away.

'Oh,' said Miss Hope, turning to him. 'You're awake.' Then, much to Kyle's surprise, she pulled the sports bra off over her head regardless.

To be continued...