It Started with a Kick: Part 2

Robert Granger

Having been dismissed by Miss Jenson, Robert and Ashley walked slowly back to their classroom.

Wearing identical vacant stares and looks of ashen-faced despondency, the usually rowdy and robust boys seemed somehow humbled and quite infirm.

While neither boy was a stranger to testicular trauma – having received more than their fair share of knocks to the plums on the pitch – Lauren had been correct in her assumption that neither had yet witnessed the reaction of teen girls to such a distinctly male misfortune.

Robert shuddered as he recalled the kick to Paul's plums landing. He had recognised immediately the consequence of such a blow and, had it been a poorly struck football that had smashed Paul's goolies, he would have been the first to hurl a pitiless howl of laughter at his stricken classmate. But it hadn't been an errant football, it had been the purposely-placed toe of a girl, and suddenly he had found himself willing his fellow male to fight his every natural impulse and remain defiantly upright. His heart had sunk as Paul had. And as the girls rose out of their seats all around them, he found himself shrinking into his in an effort to escape the scene of ritual male humiliation.

By the time Miss Jenson had requested his assistance, the urge to distance himself from the shaming display of male frailty had carried him out of his seat and to the back of the classroom. His usually showy cock had been reduced to a shivering maggot and his shrivelled scrotum was desperately trying to cram its plum-sized cargo back into holes which they had not fit inside since puberty ballooned them only a couple years previous.

His genitals had barely relaxed in the short time since, but, as he pushed open the door to the classroom, they were sent shrivelling once more.

The air was electric with female glee. Most of the girls were up on their knees to be still technically in their seats in case their teacher returned whilst also being able to watch Heather Little continue to emasculate the class' remaining boys by giving her own rendition of Paul's enfeeblement after his kick to the bollocks.

'My balls!' she squeaked as she lay on the floor where the boy had fallen whilst clutching her crotch and kicking up her legs in a comically exaggerated fashion that had the other girls in hysterics. All except Rebecca, who stared down at her performance with a look of embarrassment and guilt.

Robert and Ashley watched her insulting display with horror and – for Robert at least – growing fury.

'My balls!' Heather continued, suddenly delving into her knickers to retrieve a pair of fluffy red pom-poms which had adorned her tartan backpack before she had torn them off and tucked into her underwear as novelty props. 'I think she popped my balls!' The unexpected sight of the crimson bobbles caused the girls to shriek uproariously.

Robert's breaths frothed his spit as he sucked them through gritted teeth. He took a step toward the girl on her back, but was intercepted when Rebecca noticed his return and rushed into his path to enquire, 'How is he? Did I...? Are his...?'

The boy stared through her; his eyes narrowed at Heather who, also noticing his return, climbed to her feet; her skirt still hitch up to unashamedly expose her knickers and the pom-poms she left dangling from one leg hole.

'Yeah, Robbie,' she said, and scoffing asked, 'How are Paul's eggs? Scrambled I bet.'

Robert opened his mouth to curse her, but before he could she lurched forward with a nauseous groan and, clutching at her swinging bobbles, squeaked in a high-pitched wail, 'She cracked my eggs, Miss Jenson!'

Again the girls of the class erupted into a cacophony of mockingly laughter, but Robert could barely make it out over the ringing in his ears. Shoving Rebecca powerfully to one side he surged toward Heather and tore the notably damp bobbles from her knickers.

'Hey!' she cried, shielding her crotch protectively. 'Give them back!'

'Screw you,' he snarled, prompting Heather to square up to him. Despite Robert being several inches taller and tens of pounds heavier, the girl showed no sign of fear as she scowled up at him.

'I said,' she growled, 'give them back.'

'And I said: screw you.'

'Fine!' she snapped. 'I'll just take yours!'  Before the boy could react, her hand was grabbing him roughly by the balls.

'Eep!' he squeaked in shock.

'What's the matter, Robbie?' asked Heather, tightening her grip menacingly. 'Scared I'll pop your balls like Becky did Paul's?'

He jerked his hips instinctively backwards in an attempt to slip free of her grasp, but only succeeded in pissing off another girl in the process as his arse knocked the desk of Cheryl McAllister.

Cheryl had taken the free time afforded by Miss Jenson's absence to paint her nails and was understandably angered when the bump caused her to go out of the lines. 'You fucking dick!' she yelled, whacking his back with the side of her fist. 'You ruined my nails!'

Understandably more concerned with the girl gleefully squeezing his most vulnerable parts, Robert paid her no mind and, when Heather tightened her grip once more just to see what would happen, the spasm of pain caused his arse to bump her desk a second time, sending the open pot of varnish toppling into Cheryl's lap. The girl let out an indignant gasp as the fluorescent pink oozed onto her pleated skirt.

'Have I popped them yet, Robbie?' enquired Heather scornfully. 'I know! Let's take a look!' With her free hand she unzipped his flies and then reached inside to retrieve his compressed jewels from her other hand.

Feeling her warm fingers wrap suddenly around his testicles, Robert let out a pitiful whimper. 'Please, Heather,' he sobbed. 'Don't pop them!'

His pathetic plea caused Heather to throw back her head and give up a triumphant howl of laughter. Her mirth was short-lived, however, as powerful arms wrapped around her and lifted her off her feet.

'I've got her, Robbie,' yelled Ashley, only to hear his friend let out a shriek of agony. Peering around his struggling captive, he found that, despite his crushing bear-hug, she had refused to surrender her grip on Robert's nut-sack which, to the delight of the watching girls, now stretched long and naked from his open flies. And to add insult to injury, fingers with bright pink nails had seized the poor boy's hair to prevent him from following after his tugged on tackle.

'Put me down!' Heather snarled as she writhed in his inescapable hold.

Ashley was lost for what to do, but his decision was made for him when Heather pushed her free hand down the front of his trousers. 'Oh, fuck,' he said in a gasp as her fingertips glided over his plump nuts and curled around to sink into their lumpy backsides.

Immediately Heather was dropped, but she stubbornly refused to relinquish either of her grips.

'There,' said Ashley in a pained groan. 'Now let go.'

'Not a chance,' she said, ruthlessly bearing down on his plums. Letting out a shrill wail, Ashley wrapped his hands around her delicate wrist, but before he could attempt to rescue his precious jewels from her clutches she growled, 'Hands off or I keep squeezing.'

Ashley's face went white as a sheet as he imagined the consequences. 'Please,' he begged her, reluctantly and against his every natural instinct, releasing her wrist, 'don't pop them.'

She stared at him with disdain for a time and then said with a sneer, 'Boys are a joke. You act all big and tough, but you've got nothing but fragile little eggs in your pants.'

'They've got dicks too,' pointed out Cheryl with a wicked grin.

'Yes they have...' said Heather, grinning back in comprehension. She looked to the cheering girls who had thrown caution to the wind and were now up on desks surrounding the action. 'Well, girls,' she cried. 'Who wants to see some willies?' Their response was as unanimous as it was uproarious.

'You heard them, boys – get 'em out for the girls!'

Sobbing as they fumbled with buttons and zippers, the boys unfastened their trousers and let them fall to the floor.

'Holy crap!' exclaimed Cheryl when Ashley's hands reluctantly returned to his side to expose his fear-shrivelled wiener to the crowd. Pulling harder on Robert's hair she bent him backwards over her desk to give herself an unobstructed view of his similarly sorry excuse for a cock. 'What a pair of maggots!' she jeered. 'You boys don't deserve your balls.'

'You're right,' said Heather, regarding Cheryl as if overcome by the sudden realisation. She looked from one bulging handful of nut-flesh to the other, then to the girls up on desks. 'Take their shoes laces,' she told them. 'I've got an idea.'

'Oh, no,' said Rebecca slowly creeping backward out of the classroom as the girls descended upon the helpless pair.

The rest of this part of the story is available to buy here.