Swinging Beef

Contains ball-busting, heavy self-tit-busting, castration and big tit and rape themes.

Author's Foreword

I got the idea for this story whilst I was on holiday on a remote Scottish island. I was eating in a pub when I noticed a very busty young waitress and her colleagues setting tables. They really weren't the most professional group as in front of me the other girls began teasing the busty girl about the size of her boobs which, from the way they were talking, were recent developments.

I remember they made various jibes about her 'big boobs', but the one quote that got me thinking was this:

'If I squeezed them would milk come out?' which one girl asked causing the blonde to giggle with discomfort and embarrassment and maybe, I thought, perhaps a little curiosity...

Swinging Beef

In the uppermost bedroom of a lighthouse on a remote Scottish island, a blonde teenager was excitedly packing her bag in preparation for one of the few nights each year she got to escape the suffocating supervision of her parents and actually have some fun.

She was a slim girl with supermodel-long legs made well-toned from the many stairs she had to ascend daily and, again much like a supermodel, she had little to boast about up top, though she was by no means through developing. In fact, much to her prudish parents' dismay, puberty had really begun to work its magic and her body grew more curvaceous and womanly with every passing day.

'Melanie,' came her mother's voice echoing up the endlessly winding staircase. 'Time to go.'

'Coming!' she called back giddily. Still zipping her bag, she raced down the stairs, out of the lighthouse and into the car. She fell into the back seat; buzzing with excitement.

'Melanie, what have I told you?' chided her mother. 'Good girls keep their knees together.'

Disheartened, Melanie pressed her knees together and said, 'Sorry, Mum.'

'And seatbelt on,' came her mother's disapproving reply.

Melanie was being taken to a sleepover at her best and only friend Siobhan's house. Siobhan (pronounced Sh-vaun) lived on a cattle farm and though it was many miles away it was still the closest house with a girl her age living in it.

To say Melanie lived a sheltered life was an understatement; Siobhan and her family were the only outside contact Melanie ever got, what with being home-schooled by her puritanical parents in a lighthouse on a jutting peninsula of a windswept and sparsely inhabited island.

Quite why her parents even allowed her this brief chance to enjoy herself Melanie couldn't imagine; especially since this would put their little girl in close proximity of Siobhan's rakish older brother, Farley, who grew more cocky with every visit.


Melanie's mother drew the car up alongside Siobhan's house and, before the vehicle had even come to a full stop, Melanie was throwing open the door. She grabbed her bag and raced to the driver's door to kiss her mother goodbye through the wound down window.

'Just remember what I told you,' said her mother as Melanie pecked her on the cheek.

'Good girls bend at the knees, bad girls bend at the waist?'

'Well, yes, but about your visit. If I hear you've been anything but ladylike you will not stay over again.'

'Yes, Mum.'

She heard the front door of Siobhan's house open and looked over the roof of the car to see Siobhan racing down the garden path towards her, giddy with excitement. As her mother pulled away, the pair met in a joyful embrace.

'I missed you so much!' cried Siobhan only to stop squeezing her friend suddenly. 'I have to show you something,' she said. She took Melanie's hand and led her through the house and into her bedroom, making sure to shut the door firmly behind them.

'Look what I found,' she said, presenting Melanie with a torn out page from a magazine. Melanie gasped. Upon the torn page stood a young woman so breathtakingly top-heavy that it seemed incredible that she didn't just topple forward. But the young woman's measurements weren't the only thing which shocked Melanie as the woman's breasts were left completely uncovered.

'Can you believe it?' asked Siobhan excitedly. Melanie couldn't. She had never seen such a scandalous image in her young life. The young woman was bearing her breasts! And not only that, but from the shameless pout on her face she seemed to be taking pride in it. It was this which horrified Melanie's modest sensibilities the most.

'She gets paid for showing her boobs!'

Siobhan gripped her friend by the shoulders and, with her green eyes twinkling like emeralds, she asked, 'Can you imagine?'

Melanie could imagine and it filled her with horror, shame and humiliation and left her feeling quite queasy. Yet Siobhan seemed positively thrilled by the notion; Melanie could tell from the way the young redhead's nipples poked obviously through her T-shirt; the same way hers did whenever she thought about her friend's brother, Farley.

'Can we... do something else?' asked Melanie.

'Okay,' said Siobhan; a little hurt that her friend hadn't shown the slightest interest in her find. 'Oh,' she said, her eyes lighting up once more, 'I have just the game. Wait here!' She rushed out of the room leaving Melanie holding the torn page.

Melanie wanted desperately to drop the offensive photograph, but there was something about the young woman's breasts which rendered her unable to stop staring. They were so immense and bloated that the skin was stretched and shiny with tension.

When Siobhan returned a few minutes later, Melanie finally snapped out of her trance and set the page down on the sideboard. Siobhan was carrying a basket containing several variously filled water-balloons and a garment of clothing which Melanie recognised as a bra, but which had proportions unlike any she had ever seen.

'Whose bra is that?' she asked, her eyes locked on the gigantic cups.

'It's my mum's old maternity bra,' she told her.

'Your mum's boobs aren't that big.'

'Not anymore, but they get really big when they fill with milk.'

'When they what?' asked Melanie, horrified.

'Fill with milk,' repeated Siobhan with a frown.

Siobhan's understanding of how and why boobs filled with milk had been gleaned from references her mother had made to breastfeeding her and her brother, and the rest was wild speculation on the young girl's part.

'All girls' boobs fill with milk, Melanie,' she continued confidently. 'It's to feed their babies and what she doesn't use just stays in her boobs.'

The news came as a worrying revelation to Melanie who clutched her tiny breasts protectively.

'The minute I get my milk I'm going to run away and become a model in one of those magazines,' said Siobhan with an assured grin. She lifted from the basket two extremely over-filled water-balloons and dropped them into the cups of her mother's bra before unexpectedly lifting her top up to her chin and hoisting the bra and its sloshing contents to her bare chest. When she stood upright the near transparent, bloated orbs which spilled out of the top of the bra bore a shocking likeness to the bloated breasts of young woman from the magazine page.

'What do you think?' she asked Melanie, seductively jiggling them with her hands.

'Um, Siobhan...' said Melanie, shocked by the young girl's degrading aspiration, but noticing a dark circle expanding across one of the bra's cups.

'Oh no!' cried Siobhan, pulling the cup out to peer inside only to be sprayed in the face by a fine jet of water. 'My boob has a puncture!'

Melanie watched as the young redhead raced to the set of heavy wooden drawers and began tugging insistently on one of the stubborn drawers until it was open enough for her to push her hand in and fish around desperately for what it was she was searching for. When she withdrew her hand it was holding a sheet of tiny star-shaped stickers, one of which she quickly peeled off and stuck over the infinitesimal puncture in her pretend boob.

With the flow stemmed, she turned back to Melanie who was surprised to find the leaking breast reduced to half its size. 'Phew,' said Siobhan, 'saved most of it.' She walked back to the basket and lifted out the remaining clutch of water-balloons which had been arranged in such a way to make them instantly obscene to anyone even slightly familiar with the male genitalia, which Melanie most certainly was not.

'What are these?' she asked as they were thrust into her hand.

'Well, I'm the woman,' she said cupping her lop-sided boobs. 'So that means you're...' she pushed Melanie's hand lower until the drooping balloons were held at groin height, '...the man.'

Melanie's eyes widened as she began to comprehend what she held in her hand. 'Is this what boys' parts look like?' she asked in a shocked whisper.

'It's what Farley's look like,' said Siobhan with a shrug which jostled her balloons. This was true as far as proportions went, but the scale was wildly optimistic. The cucumber-thick penis was almost ten inches long and each sagging, water-laden testicle was the size of an orange.

'You've seen his parts?' asked Melanie, suddenly enthused.

'Of course I have,' scoffed Siobhan.

Having never noticed the lack of bath or shower in the bathroom, Melanie was surprised when Siobhan told her that her family bathed in an old tin tub by the fireplace in the living room. She was even more surprised to hear that, as neither sibling had any respect for the other's privacy, there had been numerous occasions that Siobhan had seen Farley naked and, shockingly, vice versa.

As Siobhan finished telling her blushing friend the sordid details, a sudden devilish grin spread across her pretty face. 'Hey, Melanie,' she said. 'Do you want to see them?'


That evening Siobhan's parents left on an unscheduled cattle delivery which would see them gone all night. Being the oldest, Farley was left in charge and, having been out in the pastures all day, he was not on the mood for his annoying sister and her sweet, but simple friend so he banished them to their bedroom for the rest of the night whilst he took a nice long bath.

When Melanie heard him drag an old tin bath across the living room and set it down indelicately on the stone in front of the fireplace she asked Siobhan impatiently, 'Can we watch yet?'

'No, he'll catch you looking. Wait until he gets out. He'll have forgotten we're here by then.'

Melanie groaned impatiently, but remained by the door listening intently as Farley continued to prepare his bath by dragging over a heavy oak coat stand upon which he hung his towel.

The girls had changed into their pyjamas. They both wore strappy vest tops of white cotton and woollen pyjama bottoms in differing tartans. Due to the coldness of the farmhouse's mainly uncovered stone floors, the girls also wore thick woollen socks which made their footsteps almost silent.

'Are you really going to stand there all night?' asked Siobhan with a sigh. She fell onto her bed heavily; the water-balloons rolling up her chest to crash against her chin. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth and enveloping softness of the by now body-temperature balloons against her chest and neck. Feels so good, she thought. Like a real woman. She found herself squeezing the squeaking balloon breasts with a groan of satisfaction.

'I think I can hear him unbuckling his belt,' whispered Melanie, excitedly. Siobhan ignored her and, slipping her right hand under the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, set her fingers to work. Though only recently discovered, Siobhan had quickly become so practiced at masturbating in silence that Melanie didn't even notice. With her ear pressed to the door, she mistook the wet noises of the redhead's furious fingering for the sounds of Farley splashing as he bathed.

'I think he's getting out of the bath!' she hissed. She looked back to find Siobhan on the bed with her legs hitched up and breathing in sharp pants.

'What are you doing?' she asked with concern.

Siobhan stopped what she was doing immediately and said guiltily, 'Nothing.' She carefully withdrew her hand and sat upright; sending her sloshing balloons falling back into the waiting cups of her bra.

'He's getting out you say?'

Melanie nodded excitedly so, with a groan of effort, Siobhan pushed herself up off the bed and dragged herself over to the door. Silently, she pushed it open crack and peered out across the expansive living room of the old farmhouse.

Farley had indeed lifted himself from the steaming water, but this (she knew from watching him many times) was only the start of a set of strange rituals he went through before stepping out of the tub. She motioned for Melanie to join her. The young blonde dropped to her knees and shuffled in beneath her friend and barely noticed the heavy water-balloons which came to rest on her head as she was too busy gasping at the sight of Farley who stood in the tub with his wide, powerful back to the girls as he brushed the water from his hair.

Despite his impressive body, the only thing Melanie noticed was his pale white bum. She looked up at Siobhan and the pair shared a titter. Melanie's laughter trailed off, however, when she caught sight of what dangled beneath his pasty cheeks.

'What is that thing?' she asked, referring to the sagging pink sac which swayed hypnotically in-between the young man's well-muscled thighs as he went on to brush the excess water from his thick arms.

'What thing?' whispered Siobhan.

Stooping next to brush the water from his legs, Farley inadvertently exposed the curious appendage further, though only when he was near grabbing his ankles did light fall over the flapping sac to make suddenly apparent the pair of large orbs which filled it.

Melanie had no idea what she was looking at and nothing to judge them against, but something deep down told her that what she was seeing was extremely impressive.

'Oh, those,' said Siobhan, appreciating suddenly the plump and hefty nuts which, over the years, had drawn his supply scrotum down to hang some several inches from his crotch. 'Those are the parts Mum takes from the bulls so they don't annoy the cows. She calls it their “swinging beef”.' She chuckled and whispered mischievously, 'Maybe if I take Farley's swinging beef he'll stop annoying me.'

Her words struck a chord with Melanie who looked back at Farley's “swinging beef” and asked seriously, 'How would you take them?'

'Same way Mum does,' said Siobhan with a shrug, 'smash them between two bricks.' She held out her hands and brought them together savagely. 'Splat!'

Melanie stared up at her friend with wide, twinkling eyes and let the image sink in as something stirred inside her.

Done removing the excess water from his naked body, Farley half-turned and reached for the towel hanging from the antique coat rack stood at the head of the bath. He tugged it indelicately from the hook and, turning back, stepped out of the tub unaware that he had unbalanced the top-heavy rack enough to send it toppling after him.

As Farley lifted the towel to his face, the large, decorative acorn which sat atop the coat rack fell a fraction too short to strike him in the coccyx and instead slipped between his buttocks to strike him on the back of the low-hanging left nut.

The impact send his bollock swinging up into the air, taking with it his meaty sausage cock so that his entire genitalia was flipped up on itself in a shocking display that had both the girls gasping out loud.

Farley did not hear their surprised intakes of breath, however, as he was too preoccupied with the unexpected shock of an assault on his bollocks, the recognition of which he had barely processed before the malevolent coat rack hit the rim of the tin bath and rebounded to smash the testicle it had missed in its first strike as it flopped back down into its path.

Knocked backwards by the impact, the girls watched wide-eyed as Farley's lengthy scrotum disappeared between his legs only to reappear once more to curl up around his arse with a slap!

It was all too much for Siobhan. She covered her mouth and raced to her bed where she leapt on top of the covers and buried her face in her pillow to let out her mirth.

Farley too was overwhelmed by the event, but in an entirely different way. As the coat rack returning to upright and settled back on its feet as if nothing had happened, the towel fell from his hands to reveal his face with its fixed expression of shock and distress. With his eyes wide open and his mouth silently screaming, he curled slowly forward and reached down with trembling hands for his battered manhood.

Melanie watched with twinkling eyes as his fingers curled around the swinging organs and delicately cupped them whilst his knees turned slowly inwards before finally giving to send him toppling backward into the tub. Though greatly amused by the young man's misfortune, another feeling was overriding her mirth; a feeling which Melanie had never before experienced. It was like butterflies in her tummy, but she had never felt them fluttering as far south as they were currently. She traced the sensation with her fingers; down her flat stomach and lower until she came to a place, she realised suddenly, that she should not be touching. She withdrew her hand quickly and squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to smother the shameful tingling.

When finally able to control her laughter enough to speak, Siobhan lifted her face from her pillow to ask, 'Did you see his face, Melanie?' Then she noticed the huge wet patch which radiated out from around her chest and soaked her duvet.

'My boobs!' she cried, jumping up to grip at the empty, sodden cup of her bra. 'I popped my boobs.'

Melanie looked suddenly at the water-balloon representation of the male genitalia which she had set down on the sideboard earlier. Tossing aside the thick penis balloon she took hold of one of the testicles and tested its resilience with a few squeezes. The balloon's stretched rubber gave with surprising ease; showering her hand in water and leaving it clutching only a few shrivelled scraps.

'Siobhan,' she said in a thrilled whisper, 'do you think one of Farley's swinging beef might have popped?'

Siobhan gasped with genuine concern. 'I don't know,' she said. 'Maybe.'

'He'll be okay though, right.' said Melanie; her words a statement, not a question. She scrunched up her nose and added reasonably, 'I mean, what does he even need them for anyway?'

Siobhan's eyes widened as she pondered the question. 'You're right,' she said, suddenly livid. 'I've never seen him do anything with them!'

Realising she was on a roll, Melanie pressed on, asking, 'And didn't your mum say that they're the reason he's so annoying?'

Siobhan gasped. 'She said that's why she takes them from the bulls.'

Seeing that her friend was visibly bristling with indignation, Melanie decided to go for broke. 'Siobhan,' she whispered fiendishly, 'we should totally take Farley's swinging beef.' Though she had no idea what “taking” Farley's boy parts would entail, the mere thought of it caused the tingling in her naughty parts spread to her budding breasts and stiffen her nipples into bullets.

Siobhan looked up at the blonde wearing a dark expression and without breaking eye contact she snatched up the remaining balloon testicle from the sideboard and held it out in front of her. Melanie's lustful eyes flickered between the swollen orb and the heavy penis which swung after it and flopped around comically beneath. With a flash of rage, Siobhan clenched her fist. The turgid rubber ballooned out from between her fingers briefly before bursting over the two girls to drench their cotton vests. The wet fabric clung to the outline of the girls' chests, making apparent their exceptionally erect nipples. But while arousal was the cause of Melanie's stiffness, it was fury which hardened Siobhan's pink nubs.

'Let's do it,' she growled.

There came a sudden loud clang and splash of rushing water.

The girls rushed over to the crack in the door to investigate. They peered out to find that Farley had managed to tip the bath on its side and now lay motionless, face down in an expanding puddle of water.

Melanie excitedly pulled open the door, but Siobhan caught it before she could exit. The young blonde looked back at her friend quizzically.

'Maybe they popped already,' said Siobhan.

The pair looked back at Farley as he let out a pitiful moan and began to lift himself onto his hands. His legs appeared to be uncooperative so, with a whimper, he began to crawl towards his bedroom, simply dragging his legs limply after him. His legs were not the only thing dragging limply against the floor. The girls ducked down to get a better look at the pink meat which dangled from his groin.

'I can't tell,' said Siobhan; her squinting eyes searching for trace of shape in the loose trailing sac.

All of a sudden he collapsed, exhausted, to the floor.

'We should just go out there and make sure,' insisted Melanie, becoming frustrated with her friend's reticence.

With another piteous groan, Farley rolled onto his side. Siobhan gasped and went to close the door, but this time Melanie caught it. Farley was far too intent on his intimate agony to notice the girls in the doorway, and, in full view of the pair, took hold of his scrotum and began to probe it tentatively with both hands.

The girls watched in suspense as his fingers traced the full, round shapes of his individual testicles with what little pressure he applied to check their integrity drawing much wincing and high-pitched squeaking, until, satisfied he was intact, he curled slowly into a ball and went to sleep to escape the torment.

Melanie shoved Siobhan aside and marching through the puddle towards him, but before she reached him the living room was unexpectedly illuminated by headlights as a car pulled into the drive.

'It's Mum and Dad! They're back!' hissed Siobhan, rushing past Melanie who had frozen on the spot to take her unconscious brother by the wrists. With a grunt of exertion, Siobhan hauled him a few inches toward his bedroom.

'Help me, Melanie!' she pleaded. The terrified blonde quickly complied and took Farley by the ankles. His body sagged in the middle as they hauled him up. This left his poor eggs dangling low enough to be bounced painfully off the floor's uneven flagstones.

The girls had him at the threshold of his room when Siobhan told Melanie, 'Get him inside,' and lowered her end to the floor.

'Where are you going?' demanded Melanie as he friend carefully stepped around the naked obstacle filling the doorway.

'I need to fetch the mop,' the young redhead called back as she dashed across the room into the kitchen; her waterlogged socks splashing with every hurried step.

'But...' began Melanie, hopelessly. Realising her protests were pointless, she looked down at Farley's hulking frame. She doubted she could budge him even an inch on her own, but with no other option, she gave a growl and made sure to set the sock-clad ball of her foot down on the plump pink eggs which peeked out from between Farley's buttocks as she stepped over him.

Even in his insensible state, Farley's back arched and he let out a strangled mewling noise as Melanie transferred her entire weight onto his tender testes.

Melanie took a moment to enjoy the sensation of his eggs flattening beneath her foot. Even through her thick woollen socks she could feel the protests of the rubbery flesh and what she would come to know as her female intuition was telling her that it wouldn't take much more.

She imagined Farley's eggs popping beneath her. It would barely affect her at all, she would merely drop a couple centimetres as the orbs gave way, but that same intuition told her that the effect on Farley would be life-changing.

The yearning in her rude bits grew once more; urging her hand to see to it, but before her fingers had slipped far beneath her waistband, the sound of car doors being slammed snapped her back to reality.

She set the foot she had purposely held raised down on Farley's still arching back and forced him back into the floor before, ever-so-grudgingly, removing the other foot from his swinging beef.

Melanie had him held by both wrists when the sound of the key twisting in the lock echoed around the room. With her adrenaline flowing, she made light work of hauling his carcass into the room and quickly raced for the exit, but as she reached the doorway she saw the farmhouse's front door swing open and caught herself. As Siobhan's parents walked in she swung the door shut and pressed herself against it breathlessly.

Siobhan rushed back into the living room clutching a mop and smiled guiltily at her mother who was shocked by the pool of water with filled her lounge. 'Siobhan, did you do this?' her mother demanded.

'Sorry, Mum. I'll mop it all up.'

'It's late,' said her mother with an irritated sigh. 'Get to bed – I'll sort this out.'

Siobhan crossed the room and hugged her mother, before handing her the mop and retiring to her bedroom where she was shocked to discover Melanie wasn't.

'Crap!' she hissed.


Melanie was frozen against the door for fear of Siobhan's mother trying to enter. In front of her Farley began to stir. Feeling she might faint, the young blonde slid down the door until her ass hit the floor.

Without questioning how it was he had come to be in his bedroom, Farley reached for the frame of his bed and hauled himself halfway onto the mattress before collapsing with exhaustion. The wooden slats groaned beneath his weight. With a wretched sigh he closed his eyes and fell asleep once more.

Melanie, who had had held her breath the entire time, was finally able to exhale with relief. She put her hands to her chest and felt her heart trying to beat its way out through her ribcage. Only when it settled was she able to climb to her knees and cautiously open the door a crack. She peered out into the living room to find Siobhan's mother mopping the expansive puddle of bath water.

Siobhan's mother was a redhead like her daughter and her fiery locks were set swinging by her energetic sweeping motions. Her locks weren't the only parts which swung as she leaned forward and worked the mop vigorously; her large breasts could be seen clattering left and right down the gaping front of her camisole, which she had stripped down to given the heat of working in front of the raging fire. Melanie's twinkling eyes followed their fluctuations. She watched open-mouthed as Siobhan's mother wrung the mop into the bucket, her huge boobs squashing together and rising out of the camisole like baking dough. They were beautiful. Nothing like the bloated, shining spheres flaunted by the big-boobed women in Farley's magazines.

All of a sudden, as if conscious she was being watched, Siobhan's mother stopped what she was doing and looked about the room causing Melanie to silently push the door shut once more. Realising she would be trapped in Farley's room for quite a while, she decided she would pass the time by satisfying her lingering curiosity about boys' parts.

On her hands and knees she crawled over to where Farley lay sprawled on the bed. The way he was positioned, with one leg on the bed and the other hanging limply over the edge, left his genitals dangling exposed between. It was too good of an invitation for Melanie to refuse. She pushed her face up close to the sac of pink skin. It sagged from his crotch under the weight of its contents which she eyed with fascination.

'They're like eggs,' she said of the curious orbs, before recoiling slightly when she noticed they were moving. The big eggs-shaped things squirmed and rolled about the loose, pink pouch with surprising animation given their owner's stillness.

With her chest tightening and her breaths coming in shallow little pants, Melanie found herself reaching out a trembling finger to touch one of the bulging eggs. Her soft fingertip made only the slightest contact with the sticky skin of the sac, but the eggs reacted like they had received an almighty flick; they lurched high up the sac causing Melanie to gasp with fright. She covered her mouth and watched with wide eyes as the hefty organs reached the pinnacle of their ascent only to plummet back down. They struck the bottom of the springy sac and bobbled about for a time before settling back into their subtle squirming.

Their sudden overreaction was, it seemed, entirely independent of the rest of Farley which had remained completely unperturbed by her probing finger. He continued to sleep deeply. Seeing this, Melanie plucked up the courage to go further; gently curling her fingers around the neck of his scrotum, she delicately drew her fingers down the loose, lightly-haired skin until they caught on his fat orbs. Farley let out a gentle groan and though his eggs did attempt another retreat, Melanie's grasp prevented them from going anywhere. The young blonde bristled with delight at the sensation of the orbs jerking helplessly against her grip.

With her confidence and lust growing, she tightened her grip around Farley's sac further to force the eggs into an ever more compacted and shining bunch. This drew a more aggrieved groan from Farley, but he remained unconscious.

Melanie was pleased to see that her grasp subdued the squirming of the eggs and allowed her to make out more details in the curious shape of the organs. They were indeed similar in size and shape to chicken eggs, though slightly longer and less plump. They were also not as smooth; having a lumpy protrusion from the aspect in which she studied them.

It was at that moment that Melanie became aware of her desire to squeeze the organs, to test their resilience to its limits and even beyond. Wrapping her free hand around the tight package of rubbery meat, she began to squeeze and found that her urges only grew with every increase in pressure she applied.

Her squeezing put an end to Farley's stillness. His legs began to twitch, sporadically at first, but as the impetuous young blonde's fingers sunk deeper into his testicles the twitches turned into sustained writhing, and, as a wave of pleasure swept Melanie's loins, he woke with a start. Panicking, Melanie released his gonads and threw herself under the bed.

'My balls,' sobbed Farley, immediately curling himself into a ball to rock himself gently whilst clutching them.

They seemed to him to be bigger than usual. This worried him so, sitting up, he scooted over to the edge of the bed and went about examining them in the light of the full moon which poured through his window.

With his thick cock held aside in one hand, he probed his jewels one-by-one with the other. They had indeed swollen noticeably, but were at least unruptured. He sighed with relief, but relief alone wouldn't allay his pain. Taking a firmer hold of the flaccid length in his other hand he decided to take his mind off the discomfort by causing his genitals the type of swelling he enjoyed.

Whilst stroking his shaft lovingly, he reached blindly under the bed for his usual wanking paraphernalia. Melanie stifled a scream as his hand curled under the bed almost copped a feel of her boob. Luckily, his fingertips set down on one of the magazine she was lying on top of. She quickly lifted herself off the obscene material as he slid it out from under her.

Over the soft, rhythmic sound of him pumping his stiffening rod, Melanie heard him open the magazine and purr, 'Oh, you filthy slut.' Though the innocent young blonde's ears had never before heard the derogatory and hurtful word, the disrespectful way in which he said it made her shudder.

She found she was actually lying on top of a small pile of similar magazines. She slid out the top one which she didn't realise was upside down and flicked through its pages. As the magazine's latter half consisted mainly of advertisements for a bewildering array of terrifying-looking “toys” it was several pages in before she reached the first photograph. Its obscenity caused her to recoil with a gasp.

Not only did the model have her breasts bared, but, spread with her fingers as if eager to display every nook, the barely-legal babe presented her most intimate part. Melanie recoiled, but couldn't take her eyes off the part which she had never had a chance to study in such detail, due to her father having purposely secured every mirror in the lighthouse at an inconvenient height on the wall.

Melanie closed the magazine. The old wooden bed frame was creaking furiously as above her Farley subjected himself to some form of violence.

Desperate to know what he was doing whilst looking at such offensive material, Melanie shuffled forward and peered up through the slats of the bed frame.

While his mattress obscured most of the scene, a gap of about two inches was left and between two of the slats she could see the tantalising bulge of one of his eggs. She pressed her eye closer. The heavy orb was just narrow enough to fit through the gap, only its partner was resting happily on one of the slats and held it from falling through.

Eager to get her hands on the plump pair, Melanie tested each slat and found to her delight that the one upon which the stubborn egg was rested was loose enough to slide aside. She was unprepared for the avalanche of hairy pink meat which plummeted toward her face the moment the slat was shifted. She dropped to her elbows and braced herself for the impact, but when, after a few anxious seconds, she was not struck in the face by his heavy swingers, she opened her eyes to find them swinging a literal pubic-hair's-length from her nose.

Relieved, she took in a deep breath of the pungent salty scent of his sweat-glistening, rhythmically swaying testicles.

Above her, Farley continued to abuse himself. Oblivious to the peril in which his treasured testicles were in he worked himself to the edge of climax.

Melanie watched with agitation as his swinging beef began to rise with urgency. It was clear to her that within seconds they would withdraw back through the gap and out of her reach so she quickly slid the loose slat back the way it came. The gap it left wasn't tight enough to pinch his sac, bit was easily tight enough to prevent his fat eggs from slipping back through. Farley was too lost in throws of ecstasy to notice the abrupt halt in the rise of his testicles as they met the wood.

The sight of his trapped testes satisfied Melanie immensely, but it was clear from the quickening sounds of his pumping that Farley's self-abuse was building up to a crescendo and this filled her with an inexplicable feeling of resentment.

He shouldn't be looking at girls' parts! she thought and, in a sudden flash of rage, she was overcome by the urge to punch him square in the plump organs. She thought briefly of her mother's warning not to be anything but ladylike, but smashing his fat eggs felt like the most ladylike thing in the world to do under the circumstances. She balled her fist and pumped it upward, her knuckles striking the spongy orbs with a soft thud and flattening them wide across the wooden slats.

The room fell silent; the violent pumping ceasing instantly. For what felt to Melanie like a long moment, nothing happened. Then suddenly everything happened.

Farley leapt from the bed as if a fire had be lit under him only to be yanked abruptly short when his fat testicles refused to slip back through the gap in the slats. The incredibly heavy bed was jerked almost an inch off the floor and the cords which held Farley's reproductive organs suspended tore at their anchorage and sent lightning bolts of pain through his guts.

'Nngh-zzzzt!' cried Farley, his voice reaching new heights of pitch. But instead of doing the sensible thing of dropping back to the bed, Farley's agony consumed brain spurred him to put as much distance between himself and the pain as possible.

Melanie could barely believe her eyes as Farley began to stagger forward. It was at the same time moronic and genuinely impressive and Melanie couldn't help but be awed by the Herculean effort which saw him wrestle control of his powerful, but shaking legs and actually succeed in taking a few steps forward with the solid oak bed under which she was hid being dragged several inches after him.

Though scared, she couldn't take her eyes off his bright red eggs which shone in the moonlight as the skin was pulled tight around them.

Despite Farley's pig-headed determination, it was only a matter of seconds before he could no longer ignore the excruciating pain that came from lifting an oak-framed double bed with only his nerve-packed nut cords. Sensibility having finally caught up with him, he was knocked immediately insensible.

His legs gave out from under him and he fell to the floor only to bungee ruinously on his stretched scrotum. The sudden stop folded him in the middle and meant Melanie was suddenly confronted by his upside-down sweat-soaked face. She held her breath and awaited his cry, but his eyes were crossed and showed no trace of recognition. As she studied him, still dreading him noticing her, he let out a strangled mewl and the thick sausage, which pointed down at the floor and seemed both longer and more terrifying than she remembered, gave a sudden jerk and issued forth a torrent of thick steaming goo. It hit the floor and spattered noisily to form a glistening puddle with the look and the consistency of water mixed with lots of corn flour. Melanie eyed it with disgust and gave it a wide berth as she crawled out from under the bed.

She climbed to her knees and watched with interest as the long leaking appendage returned to its less intimidating sausage state; its pulsing veins sinking back into the flesh whilst its shining purple mushroom head softened and retreated slightly beneath its foreskin. It was all very interesting but still nowhere near as interesting to her as the parts which he remained suspended by.

Farley hung from the sac which contained his eggs; his body swaying side-to-side slowly. There was an audible sound of creaking, the source of which Melanie couldn't place. It was either coming from the straining wooden slats or his impossibly stretched scrotum which was twice, if not three times as long as it had been in at bath time.

She was imagining taking a pair of scissors to the stretched flesh and putting him out of his misery for good when the door burst open and the light from the fire illuminated the scene. She spun around with a gasp and found to her horror that without her knowledge her hand had crept down the front of her pyjama bottoms.

Thankfully it was Siobhan in the doorway. 'What did you do to him?' she demanded as Melanie retracted her suspiciously slick fingers with embarrassment.

'It was an accident, I swear,' she told her shocked friend, unsure of her reaction. Much to her relief, Siobhan's mouth slowly began to turn up at the corners and she quickly placed her hand over it in order to stifle a giggle.

'We have to get back to my room,' Siobhan said through her smile, without taking her eyes off her tortured brother. 'Mum will be back any minute.'

'What about Farley?' asked Melanie turning back to her swaying victim.

'What about him?' said Siobhan, turning to leave.

With Siobhan's back turned, Melanie quickly picked up the obscene magazine which Farley had left on the bed. She folded it and stuffed it down the back of her pyjama bottoms. She gave Farley's scrotum one last, longing look and then hurried after her friend.


Unsurprisingly, Farley failed to make an appearance at breakfast, but the two boiled eggs which awaited him caused the girls much amusement.

After breakfast, Siobhan's mother shooed them out of the house so she could go about the housework in peace. They were only allowed back in when it was time for Melanie to be picked up by her mother.

She had her bag packed and was sat on the sofa with Siobhan and her mother waiting her mother's arrival when there came the first signs of life from Farley's bedroom. Miserable groans were followed by pained squeaks and the sound of him hitting the ground. Then it went silent once more.

'What is he up to?' asked Siobhan's mother with irritation. 'He hasn't moved all day, the lazy so-and-so.' She got up from her chair and stormed over to his door which she knocked on furiously.

'Farley! Get out here,' she snapped. 'Melanie will be leaving soon and you can make yourself useful by carrying her bag to the car.'

Farley's response was unintelligible.

'Do I have to come in there?' demanded his mother.

'No!' he squeaked. His movements, however laboured, assured his mother and she returned to her seat.

'Men,' she said, rolling her eyes.


When Melanie's mother pulled up outside and honked her horn, Siobhan threw her arms around Melanie and sniffled sadly.

'Farley,' called his mother. 'Get out here.' Slowly his door opened and he shuffled out, his legs spread awkwardly far apart.

'Wearing your kilt for a change,' remarked his mother with approval. He grunted miserably.

The girls knew exactly why he was wearing his kilt: freedom to swing.

Melanie imagined that, having spent the night and most of the day hanging from them, Farley's testicles would be dangling mere inches from the hem of the kilt, but she was keen to prove it.

'Be a gentleman and carry Melanie's bag out to the car,' his mother told him.

He tried to protest, but his voice cracked as soon as he spoke and an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak came out instead of words. Grudgingly, he shuffled over to Melanie, but as he was about to snatch the bag from her hand she dropped it.

'Whoops,' she said. Farley eyed her angrily and, grunting with exertion, he widened his stance further, hitched his kilt and gradually lowered himself after the bag on bending knees. Melanie grabbed Siobhan's hand and, after leading her around behind Farley, silently urged her to join her in sneaking a look up her brother's kilt.

With her mother only in the next room, Siobhan was reluctant, but Melanie had no such reticence. She ducked down and could barely restrain her glee when his big red eggs came into view; bigger and redder than ever. Her laughter caused Farley to straighten up quickly and look back, angry and suspicious. Melanie quickly wrestled away her smile and gave him an expectant look. He grunted and, with bag in hand, began his waddle toward the front door.

'Did you see them?' Melanie hissed.

'No,' said Siobhan distraught.

Melanie looked back at Farley as he staggered through across the room. Her eyes fell on his kilt once more and a devious grin spread across her face. Siobhan recognised it immediately.

'What are you thinking?' she asked excitedly.

'You'll see,' Melanie told her.

The girls said their emotional goodbyes and by the time they stepped outside, Farley had made his way to the waiting car. He pulled open the back door and tossed the bag in.

'Hello, Farley,' said Melanie's mother. 'You look smart in your kilt.'

He nodded, unwilling to speak in case he embarrassed himself again although he did let a squeak of surprise when he was rudely shoved aside by Melanie who pushed past him to get in the car.

'I enjoyed seeing so much of you, Farley,' she whispered devilishly, as she leaned back out to take hold of the door and slam it shut.

Farley failed to register the implied slight, being completely unaware of her participation in either of his accidents, but the way she said it made him uncomfortable enough to want to make a quick exit. Seeing him turn to leave, Melanie told her mother, 'Okay, we can go.'

When Farley tried to retreat back to the house he was quite perturbed to discover he was held back. He looked around and found to his horror that the loose corner of his kilt had become caught in the car door and that Melanie was giddily winding down her window as the car's engine rumbled into life. His eyes filled with dread. 'No,' he whimpered as the young blonde grinned out at him.

'I guess I'm about to see a little bit more of you,' she quipped, before the car pulled away and Farley was twirled violently around on the spot by his unravelling kilt until he was left spinning without a stitch to cover the sausage and eggs which flapped comically after him.

Melanie heard Siobhan's shriek of riotous laughter, but kept her eyes on Farley as he caught his balance only to have his swinging beef slap at speed into his the side of his knee. She watched with twinkling eyes as, dizzy and crippled by pain and humiliation, Farley sank to the ground and lay there in a gently rocking ball until he vanished from view.

'Did you have fun?' asked her mother, unaware that Melanie hand one hand down her trousers and was furiously working her fingers.

'Oh, yes,' she answered, breathlessly. 'So much.'

Minced Beef

In the uppermost bedroom of a lighthouse on a remote Scottish island, a young blonde was excitedly packing her bag in preparation for her first trip to her friend's house since she had ruined and humiliated the girl's brother.

She had learned much in that single visit; about men, but more importantly about herself. She had become a woman and in the subsequent months puberty had confirmed it beyond doubt: she got boobs. Big ones. Enormous, in fact.

Much to her prudish parents' dismay, her mischievous hormones had swelled her breasts at an infeasible rate, to a preposterous volume which, as she hurriedly stuffed clothes in her bag, strained her white cotton T-shirt to the point of indecency.

'Melanie,' came her mother's voice echoing up the endlessly winding staircase. 'Time to go.'

'Coming!' she called back giddily. Throwing her bag over her shoulder she raced to the stairs and then quickly caught herself.

Back when her breasts had first grown unmanageable, her mother had leant her a bra. When, within a matter of weeks, she had outgrown that, she was given her mother's maternity bra. However, when she massively outgrew that she had little choice but to go braless and this caused her much inconvenience when it came to ascending and descending many, many stairs of the lighthouse.

Wrapping an arm tightly around her soft protuberances, she pressed them wide across her chest and skipped down the stairs, out of the lighthouse and into the car. She fell into the back seat; buzzing with excitement.

Her mother watched her breasts, set wobbling by her graceless entry. 'You're lucky your father agreed to let you go,' she chided, 'after all the misbehaving since you last went.'

Melanie opened her mouth to protest, but her mother cut her short, reminding her to, 'Fasten your seatbelt, Melanie.'

Melanie huffed indignantly and pulled the seatbelt across her with difficulty. It cut across her expansive chest, carving into her pliant flesh painfully. She shifted around, trying to find a more comfortable situation for it. In the end she made do with it buried in her cleavage, folding her gigantic right breast over her armpit. She could see her mother staring back at her in the rear view mirror with a look of contempt, but she didn't care. She would soon be sharing the good news with Siobhan, who, being the same age, she assumed would have undergone similar developments also.


'Melanie!' cried Siobhan racing out of the house as her friend's car drew up at the gate.

Melanie waved excitedly out of the window until, with a gasp, she froze and her smile fell away. She had noticed that Siobhan was doing something she now found too painful to bear: running. Not only that, but as she did so there was only the slightest jostling under her T-shirt.

Her boobs hadn't grown at all since her last visit! The blonde clutched her breasts with shame and wished them gone.

'Here we are,' said her mother as the car came to a stop. She looked back at her daughter and gasped, snapping reproachfully, 'Melanie! What have I told you?'

The young blonde quickly removed her hands from her breasts and said, 'Good girls don't draw attention to their bosoms.'

'It's shameful enough you let them get to that ridiculous size... It's entirely inappropriate.'

'Sorry, Mum,' Melanie found herself saying, though she had no idea how she could have prevented their growth.

Uneager to face her excitedly waiting friend just yet, Melanie slid over the seats and climbed out of the car on the driver's side in order to keep the vehicle between them. She paused to glance bashfully over the car at Siobhan before leaning in to give her mother a parting peck on the cheek which her mother received in stony silence. Then she stood up straight, took a deep breath and braced herself for Siobhan's reaction as the car pulled away.

Of all the reactions running through the young blonde's head, Siobhan bursting into laughter had been the only one she hadn't envisaged. She stood in the road, hurt and bewildered, as the young redhead pointed at her ridiculous boobs and laughed uproariously. 'Very funny, Melanie,' she said, through giggles as she began to walk towards her. 'I can't believe your mum let you put those up your T-shirt – I thought she was strict about that stuff. And how did you manage to fill them so big? Mine always burst if I—' Before Melanie could stop her, Siobhan reached out both hands and squeezed the immense protuberances she had mistaken for water-balloons.

'Siobhan...' said Melanie, her eyes welling up, as the smile fell away from her friend's face to be replaced by a look of intense hurt and despair, but before she could continue the distraught redhead let out a loud sob and sprinted into the house in tears.

Melanie raced her and despite her considerable hindrances (which hitched her over-taxed T-shirt high above her navel with every upward bounce) remained hot on Siobhan's heels until she went into her bedroom and slammed the door shut after her. Melanie was too close to stop and slammed into the door at speed. It was then that she discovered what appeared to be an actual benefit to her huge breasts when she bounced back apparently unscathed.

'Wow,' she said, staring down at the airbags in awe. But it was only seconds before her boobs made known their objections; the pain spread slowly along the extensive system of nerves which filled her gigantic boobs and, ignoring her mother's words, she clutched her breasts tightly as she sank to her knees. It was only after a couple of minutes, when the pain became bearable, that she became aware of the wetness beneath her palms.

She lifted her hands away from her boobs and stared in horror at the damp patches which had turned her white T-shirt transparent over her salmon pink areolae. The memory of Siobhan popping her water-balloon breasts in a similar accident came back to her and gasped. 'I've popped my boobs!' she hissed before, gripping them once more, she leapt to her feet and scurried to the privacy of the bathroom.

Once inside she pulled her T-shirt off over her head and examined her breasts for the punctures. To her relief there were no streams of liquid (milk she supposed) squirting from the smooth globes of pliant flesh and, though there was a dampness around the big pink nubs at their peaks, any leaking seemed to have come to a stop. Lifting each breast to her face for closer inspection, she eyed her moist, cherry-red teats closely.

She remembered that Siobhan had told her that the nubs were called “nipples” and were the rudest part of the boob, and if she were ever caught topless these should be the bits she covered first. The need to prioritise coverage had not been a problem prior to her recent growth spurt as one entire breast fit comfortably under a cupped hand, but with such enormous volumes of flesh to contend with it was helpful to know which parts were most important.

Concluding that it must have been the impact which had forced some milk out of her breasts she relaxed. Then it hit her: if her breasts were big because they were full of milk, all she had to do was let more milk out of them to make them smaller and Siobhan wouldn't be mad at her anymore!

Oh, no! she thought suddenly. Should I have been milking them all this time?

Her mind raced. Is that why her mother blamed her for their size? Why hadn't she told her? And what happened if she never milked them? She imagined her boobs swelling until they looked distended and shiny like the girls' in Farley's magazines... or worse. Could her boobs burst? The notion filled her with terror.

The pain in her boobs was beginning to subside, but as she looked down at them she did not relish the thought of running them in to a door again and again in order to let a few trickles more out. Then another realisation hit her: when people milked cows they didn't beat their udders – they pulled on the teats.

The teats! she thought triumphantly. She took her nipples gently between thumb and forefinger. That's it! And without further contemplation of the absurdity of what she was about to attempt, Melanie pinched the teats hard. While this failed to draw even a single fresh droplet, it did draw a yelp of pain from the young blonde.

The pain, however, focussed her mind and she suddenly recalled seeing Siobhan's mother milking a cow some years ago. She tried to remember the technique she used. Taking the erect buds in a firm grip, she spread her stance and leaned over the toilet bowl to ensure the jets of milk she was now convinced she would produce would not cause a puddle. All set, she began to tug alternately on her stiffening teats; growing quickly frustrated by their lack of cooperation. Soon she was left with no choice but to redouble the vigour with which she jerked her nipples. She found the pain blinding; every tug elicited an involuntary yelp of distress, but pressed on regardless.

When her violent tugging resulted in not even a dribble of milk she decided to try a different approach; raising her hands to encircle as much of the stretching bases of her pendulous breasts as her tiny hands would allow, she tightened her grip and drew her hands down the fleshy pendulums one after the other, harder and harder until she was sure she would snap the perpetually strained ligaments which held her burdensome breasts aloft.

It was with bitter disappointment that Melanie crumbled to her knees, exhausted and next to tears.

She had to be able to produce milk on demand, she just had to. How else was she to justify the vast, sloshing volumes of her otherwise inexplicably large breasts?

On her knees in front of the toilet, sucking in pained breaths through gritted teeth, she found herself staring at the toilet seat and contemplating for a long time the notion of hanging her breasts into the bowl and lowering the seat down on top of them. She lifted the seat and scrutinised the porcelain: it was spotless and sparkling so, shuffling closer, she lowered her boobs tentatively onto the cold rim and brought the seat back down on top of them to pin them gently. Then, resting her forearms on top of the seat she took a deep breath and prepared to push down on it with all the strength she could muster whilst simultaneously launching herself backward.

Thankfully it was at this moment that Siobhan's mother, Bree, walked in on her.

'Melanie!' she cried at the sight of the young girl leaning topless over the toilet.

Startled by the unexpected intrusion, Melanie rushed to stand; inadvertently pushing herself up off the toilet seat as she did so. She managed to lift herself several inches before her stretching breasts wrenched her back into the toilet bowl. She caught the rim in the ribs and collapsed, winded, to the floor where she tried in vain to collect together the splaying volumes of aching flesh.

'Oh my god, Melanie!' shrieked Bree, recoiling at the unexpected sight of so much flesh. Unable to take her eyes off the young girl's gigantic breasts, she simply stood there, dumbfounded, for several seconds until her brain had had time to process the staggering sight before her. Then she snatched the hand towel off the rail and draped it carefully over the majority of Melanie's naked chest.

Staring down at her, gobsmacked, she asked, 'What were you doing?'

'Trying to make my stupid boobs smaller,' sobbed Melanie.

'What? How?'

'By forcing some milk out of them,' said the tearful young girl.

'Milk?' said Bree, perturbed. 'There's no milk in your boobs, honey.'

'There is,' Melanie insisted, pointing to the sodden T-shirt which had been discarded by the lavatory. 'Some came out.'

'Oh, honey,' said Bree, suddenly understanding. She pressed Melanie's head to her own soft bosom. 'That's just something that can happen whilst your boobs are still growing.'

'They're still growing?' yelped Melanie, clutching her breasts with distress at the thought. Recognising her alarm, Bree hastily backtracked.

'Oh, I didn't mean... I should think yours are quite done growing.'

'And they're definitively not full of milk?'

'Definitely not – some girls are just blessed with big ones.'

'Blessed?' repeated Melanie glumly; looking up at Siobhan's mother with tear-reddened eyes. 'I don't feel blessed. Siobhan hates me and they're really sore all the time and so heavy.'

The mention of their weight caused Bree to look around the bathroom distractedly and ask, 'Honey, where's you bra?'

'I haven't got one,' Melanie told her. 'Mum gave me one of hers, but I outgrew it in a week and Dad hasn't had time to visit the mainland to get me one that fits.'

'I see. Well, you need support.'

'Support?' asked Melanie.

'Yes, honey. Without support you'll be dragging those things around your ankles by the time you're thirty.' Melanie looked horrified at the thought.

'Come on,' said Bree, encouraging the young girl to her feet, 'We'll get you one of my bras,' adding unintentionally boastfully, 'I'm a fair bit bigger up top than your mother.'

Bree led Melanie out by the hand, feeling her reluctance at walking through the house topless clutching only an insubstantial towel to her chest. 'It's fine,' she assured her. 'Siobhan's locked herself in her room and Farley's out in the fields.'

Melanie relented and once they were in the master bedroom, Bree sat her down on the bed and began rummaging through her drawers. 'Oh, where is it?' she said with irritation. 'For some reason I'm always finding it in Siobhan's room...' she paused her search and looked at the photograph of her daughter on the chest of drawers. 'Poor thing,' she said. 'I think she hopes she'll grow into it one day, but I had my boobs by the time I was fourteen so chances are she's doomed to stay flat-chested.'

'Really?' asked Melanie, guiltily.

Bree shrugged. 'Who knows? Miracles happen – just look at you. Last visit you were a B-cup at best, and yet suddenly here you are with a pair of melons hanging from your chest.'

Melanie shifted uncomfortably on the bed, but said nothing.

'Ah-ha!' said Bree, withdrawing a monstrous feat of underwire engineering which boasted colossal cups, stained with use. 'Here it is – my maternity bra. It's what I wore whilst I was breast-feeding Siobhan,' Bree explained apologetically. 'It's not pretty, but it'll do the job.'

Melanie accepted the garment reluctantly and stared at it for a time.

'Don't just sit there, honey – try it on. It won't bite,' she added, only to concede, 'Well, it might nip a bit on the shoulders, but it's better than the backache you'll get without it.'

Melanie turned away and set the towel down beside her, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure Bree hadn't moved. The redhead smiled at her coyness. Next, she set about carefully, but insistently cramming each of the bra's roomy cups with as much tit-flesh as they would hold.

'Here, I'll fasten it for you,' said Bree. She pulled hard on the back straps and snapped the pesky clasp together. 'There,' she said. 'Now turn around – let's have a look at you.'

'I don't think it's right,' said Melanie as she turned sheepishly back around to face Bree with her nipples peeking out over the tops of the cups.

'Wow,' gasped Bree, wide-eyed at the sight of the young girl spilling out of the bra she knew to be an F-cup. 'I underestimated the size of your... um... blessings.'

'I knew it wasn't right,' cried Melanie, covering her teats with embarrassment.

'Oh, no, honey. It's fine.' She stood and took one of her stretched-out T-shirts from drawer. 'Put this on and no one will be able to tell,' she said, hoping she was right.

Melanie wriggled into the T-shirt, which to her relief wasn't quite as tight across the bust as all of her own hopelessly outgrown T-shirts. Still, her nipples poked through the material obviously.

'You'll certainly be popular with the boys,' said Bree, without thinking.

'I will?' asked Melanie with a mixture of surprise and dread.

'Oh, well... yes,' stammered Bree, realising what she had let slip, 'but you want to find yourself a nice boy and be wary of the ones who only want you for your big boobs.'

'What would they want with these?' asked Melanie, naively.

'Oh, honey,' cooed Bree, pityingly. She fell silent for a moment, then narrowed her eyes at the blonde and asked, 'Melanie, have you ever seen a boy get hurt in his... testicles?'

'Testicles?' repeated Melanie with a frown of incomprehension.

'Yes. You know...' she whispered conspiratorially. 'His balls.'

This only seemed to baffled Melanie further, and it became clear to Bree just how clueless the young blonde was. She gasped and stood up from the bed. 'Never mind, Melanie,' she said. 'It's not my place to tell you, and your mother would kill me if she—'

'Do you mean his swinging beef?' asked Melanie, hopefully. Bree looked shocked.

'Where did you hear that?' she asked. 'Was it Siobhan?' Melanie was regretting speaking up when Bree began to chuckle. 'That girl...' she said proudly, whilst shaking her head. Then, gripping her forehead, she made up her mind about what to do next.

'Listen, Melanie,' she said finally. 'Your mother should really be the one telling you this, but I think a girl your age – a young woman – needs to know... Especially with all the unwanted attention your new boobs will get you.'

Melanie had never even considered the attention she would get. Bree caught the look of fear in her eyes. 'There's nothing to worry about,' she assured the young blonde. 'There's an easy way to deal with any boy who bothers you.'

'Hit them in the eggs,' Melanie blurted, instinctively. She gasped and covered her mouth ashamedly.

'Yes!' enthused Bree. 'Have you done it?'

'No!' said Melanie, guiltily. 'Never.' She couldn't tell her that she had and that the eggs in question belonged to her son, although what Bree said next made her think otherwise.

'Well, I suppose I need to show you.'

'On Farley?' Melanie asked excitedly.

'No, no,' Bree said frowning, though shortly after she let out a giggle and said, 'Although he has been asking for a kick to the balls for a while now...' She fell silent for a while as she appeared to be seriously considering the notion. 'No,' she said finally; shaking her head. 'That wouldn't be right.'

She caught Melanie deflating glumly, and with a devilish twinkle in her eye she whispered, 'Of course, that doesn't mean you can't give him a swift kick if he bothers you...'

Melanie grinned and bristled at the thought of getting permission to kick a boy's eggs from his own mother. Bree gave her a delicious wink and then took her hand, saying, 'For the time being though, there is another way I can show you...'


Melanie was led out to a cattle shed and dragged rather unwillingly inside.

'Why are we here?' she asked uneasily as they came to a stop by one of the cattle pens.

'This bull has become a nuisance,' said Bree. She gestured toward the bull, but more specifically to the huge organs hanging between its hind legs. Melanie's eyes almost popped out of her head at the sight of the swinging beef which were the size of potatoes and seemed to her ten times the size of Farley's puny little eggs.

'He's aggressive and constantly trying to force himself on the females so I'm going to put a stop to it once and for all,' Bree continued, though Melanie was far too captivated by the bull's gonads to take notice.

Her heart was pounding like mad somewhere deep beneath her abundance of chest-meat. And between her legs the by now familiar sensation of warmth had spread her parts wide. This pouting she felt was somehow obvious to everyone around her and eager to conceal her arousal, she surreptitiously crossed one leg over the other.

'Found them,' said Bree, suddenly reappearing holding a brick in each hand. Seeing the bricks, Melanie suddenly knew exactly what she was about to do, but when Bree added, 'I call them my “beef mincers”,' she was left in no doubt.

With wide, twinkling eyes she stared at the redhead who gave her another mischievous wink and knelt down at the back end of the unsuspecting bull. 'You can look away if you want,' she whispered as she held out the bricks either side of the bull's dangling spuds.

Melanie shook her head, as the sensation between her legs grew uncontainable in intensity.

Bree nodded and, turning back to the bull's bollocks, brought the bricks together with an almighty crunch.

As the bull cried out and toppled, so did Melanie. She hit the straw-covered ground with eye-lids fluttering and hands clutching urgently at her crotch.

'Melanie!' cried Bree, terrified the young girl had fainted at the grisly sight, but by the time she had dropped the bricks and reached the groaning blonde it was clear that she was in the grip of something much more powerful than unconsciousness.

'Minced beef,' moaned Melanie orgasmically. 'Minced beef.'

When Melanie had recovered from her first ever orgasm she glanced briefly at Siobhan's mother, but could not bring herself make eye contact so she looked instead at the bullock which lay twitching sporadically.

'Don't worry about him,' said Bree, tenderly picking a piece of straw from the young blonde's sweat-glistening skin, 'he won't be bothering the females anymore.'


Siobhan opened her bedroom door slowly and peered out with tear-reddened eyes. Melanie was waiting for her on the other side, staring apologetically at the ground she couldn't see for her preposterously protruding breasts.

'I'm sorry,' gushed the blonde, bursting into tears. 'I know you were the one supposed to get massive boobs, but I didn't do it on purpose, I promise! I even tried to milk them, but your mum says that's not how it works.'

Siobhan was silent for a long time, then, without warning, she threw her arms around her friend and pulled her close. She regretted it immediately as her puny B-cups were first enveloped then crushed by the top-heavy blonde's bountiful bosom. Nevertheless, she bit her quivering bottom lip and held the embrace.

When Melanie had stopped crying, Siobhan pulled away and said, 'Anyway, I'm the one who should be apologising. I was just being selfish. I know it's not your fault.' She wiped her eyes and, forcing a smile, she changed the subject.

'You know... Farley hasn't walked right since we left him hanging by his eggs.'

'Really?' asked Melanie. She sniffled and wiped away a tear. Then, eager to show off her newfound vocabulary, she asked, 'Do his balls still swing around his knees?'

Siobhan grinned and nodded enthusiastically. 'If anything they hang lower!' she said. Melanie's eyes sparkled as she pictured it. 'And you'll love what I saw last week!' she added; pulling her inside her bedroom before closing the door behind them.

'What was it?' demanded Melanie excitedly.

'Well, he's been in his kilt ever since that night, and it's been getting pretty cold outside lately...'


'Well, last week one of my knee-high socks went missing and the next time I spied on him taking a bath he dropped his kilt there it was...' Melanie's mouth was wide open as she leaned forward intently. '...my missing sock, hanging down with his sausage and eggs inside!'

Melanie gasped and bounced on the spot gleefully. 'That hilarious!' she squeaked, catching herself before she spilled completely out of her bra. 'Hey,' she said suddenly. 'Your mum said I could kick him in the balls if he ever bothered me.'

'Really?' asked Siobhan, wide-eyed at the prospect.

Melanie nodded and asked with twinkling eyes, 'Any ideas how I get him to bother me?'

'Are you serious?' asked Siobhan with a wry grin. 'You've see the girls in the magazines he looks at. You could be one of them!' Melanie didn't know whether she should feel flattered or not. 'One look at your boobs,' continued Siobhan, 'and he'll be all over you.'

A delicious shiver ran up Melanie's spine at the thought of such power. The girls shared a mischievous giggle before setting out to find their unsuspecting victim.


'How do they look?' Melanie asked her friend as they trotted side-by-side on their horses. Siobhan watched her rhythmically undulating chest and nodded her approval.

'They look jiggly,' she remarked. 'He won't be able to help himself.'

Melanie bristled with pride.

'Look, there he is!' announced Siobhan; urging her horse into a gallop.

'Wait!' called Melanie after her. 'I can't go that fast!' Her horse, however, decided she could and raced after its friend leaving Melanie bounced violently about the saddle with every jolt launching her breasts high out of their cups.

'What do you want?' growled Farley, turning from the hay-stacked wagon he was unloading as his little sister drew her horse up alongside him.

'Nothing. Melanie just wanted to say hello.'

Farley's immediate reaction to the utterance of Melanie's name was to curse it, but when he saw her draw up alongside with her chest bouncing wildly he was struck dumb. And when she blushed with embarrassment and hurriedly adjusted her bra he was suddenly in danger of lifting his kilt at the front. Quickly averting his eyes he looked to his sister and said disparagingly, 'So you've got her playing with water-balloons now have you?'

'What do you mean?' demanded Siobhan, who had no idea he knew what she got up to with water-balloons.

'These are real,' objected Melanie.

'Sure they are,' he said, turning back to his work.

'They are!' she yelled, hastily dismounting her horse to confront him. Unfortunately, in the rush the young blonde got her foot caught in the stirrup and, with a shriek, was left hanging upside-down, inches from the ground.

Gravity, that mischievous force and the foe of any woman with overly large breasts, worked its magic of hers and had them spilling from her bra to bunch and fold over her collar bones in quite an undignified manor.

Farley's reaction to the sight of her hanging there, helpless and humiliated, was to burst into laughter. Loud, genuine, mocking laughter.

If the blood rushing to Melanie's head wasn't enough to turn her face a deep angry red, the indignation she felt at his amusement was. 'Help me, you pig!' she demanded forcefully.

'Okay, okay,' he said approaching her casually. 'Don't get your knickers in a twist... Oh, too late!'

The jibe and the second resounding burst of laughter reminded Melanie suddenly that she was wearing a dainty skirt, which, now that she came to think of it, appeared to be flowing over the rise of her upturned melons. She shrieked and reached up to try and hide the shame that was her panty-clad crotch as Farley straddled her and reached over the horse's back for the stirrup which had snared her boot.

He took his time, staring down at the cotton-clad camel-toe whilst he wrestled her boot free of the stirrup, but he wasn't the only one eyeing up some cotton-covered genitals: when Melanie craned her neck to look up at him she found herself, once again, with his balls swaying inches from her face; the fat orbs stretching the fabric of Siobhan's stolen sock in obscene bulges.

While her head hung an inch or so from the ground, her limp arms lay over the loose stones of the riding path. And when she looked down she discovered two fist-sized rocks lay within easy reach. After looking once more at Farley's sock-clad swingers, she narrowed her eyes and took a rock in each hand.

Oblivious to the peril beneath his kilt, Farley continued to fumble with the stirrup whilst surreptitiously leaning in close to inhale a lungful of the girl's intimate scent.

Melanie was lining up the rock either side of the swinging beef, just as she had watched Siobhan's mother do, when she noticed the plump pair suddenly begin to rise as Farley's sausage began to rise lifting with it the sock and the rest of its contents.

'Oh, no you don't,' growled Melanie, bringing the rocks together.

A girlish shriek echoed around the mountainous fields as Melanie was abruptly freed from the stirrup and fell to the ground where she landed in a crumpled, boob-smothered heap.

'Whoops,' said Farley disingenuously as he stepped back, chuckling to himself.

Dropping the rocks, Melanie picked herself up off the ground and stared at him with fury.

'Don't try and tell me they're not water-balloons,' said Farley, pointing at the damp patches which grew outwardly from her anger-stiffened nipples. 'You haven't even tied them off properly.' He reached in unexpectedly and grabbed her by each nipple, quickly drawing them towards him. He had expected them to stretch easily, but when his tugs only drew anguished screams from Melanie he quickly realised his mistake.

'Fuck me!' he cried, letting her leaking teats spring back. 'They're real?'

He was so taken aback by the revelation, that he was completely unprepared when Melanie's leg, toned from the daily workout of ascending hundreds of stairs, slipped between his knees to scoop his helplessly dangling eggs and smash them flat against his crotch.

The crunch was audible and caused the two horses (both geldings at the hands of Siobhan's mother) to shudder with discomfort.

Both Melanie and Siobhan watched Farley's agonized reaction in silence; their eyes and mouths wide with wonderment. Immediately a jolt ran through his body, folding him at the hips. His hands darted between his thighs, but his balls swung too low for his trembling fingers to catch so, empty-handed, he sunk down until his legs buckled and he fell to his knees.

With his bulging eyes beginning to water and screw up, he formed his mouth into a perfect 'O' and let out a strange strangled moan. Then he toppled sideways and lay motionless.

The girls watched him without word for a long time; waiting for him to pick himself up and chase them off, but he was out cold.

'Wow,' said Siobhan, finally. Melanie turned to her with the widest, most toothsome grin she had ever seen and let out a gleeful cackle whilst clapping her hands giddily.

'That was amazing!' she cried. 'Did you see him?'

'I know!' shrieked Siobhan. 'What a baby! I'm a girl and I could so take a kick between the legs without fainting!' She climbed down from her horse and walked over to her brother's gently writhing body.

'Siobhan!' hissed Melanie when her friend proceeded to slip her hand right up his kilt. 'What are you doing?'

'Getting my sock back,' said Siobhan simply. Farley let out a yelp and spasmed violently, prompting Siobhan to add with a wry grin, 'That and having a feel for myself.'

The pair shared a giggle before the redhead drew her sock out from under the kilt. Melanie regarded it with disgust. 'Do you really want that?' she asked.

'I guess not, but there's no way he's keeping it... In fact...' She leant over him again, but this time her fingers found the buckle of his kilt. Melanie's eyes lit up when she realised what her friend was up to.

'No,' she said in an orgasmic gasp which really said, 'Yes, yes, yes!' Siobhan looked up at her and grinned once more.

'He stole my sock,' she said with a shrug. 'It's only fair I steal something of his.' With the buckle unfastened, she gripped the loose end of the kilt and gave it an almighty tug which sent Farley rolling along the length of fabric until he was deposited, naked, on the grass. His pale bum faced the sky, but his testicles trailed out from under him, red and raw from their recent kicking.

Melanie was tempted to pick up the two rocks and go over and finish them off, but Siobhan was back up on her horse and saying they should go before her mum wondered where they were so, grudgingly, the young blonde climbed back on her horse and the pair trotted away leaving Farley and his bare arse to the elements.


The girls were exiting the bathroom together in their pyjamas when Siobhan's mother, who was collecting up the plates from dinner, came to Farley's full plate of cold food and growled, 'That's the second time your brother has missed his dinner this week. That boy is trying my patience.' Melanie and Siobhan remained silent and made a beeline for their bedroom.

Siobhan closed the door behind her as Melanie walked over to the bed and lifted her T-shirt up under her armpits before reaching around behind her to unfasten her bra clasp. She fumbled with them for a few seconds until Siobhan drew up behind her, watching her quizzically.

'Can you give me a hand?' she asked, looking back sheepishly over her shoulder. Nodding, Siobhan took hold of the incredibly strained straps and, with some effort, pushed them together until the clasps unhooked.

'Do you think he'll be all right?' Siobhan asked with genuine concerned for her brother. She let the straps go and they snapped apart with violence. Melanie let out a sigh of relief and, as the overly tight cups fell away, began to knead the copious handfuls of doughy flesh which spilled free.

'It was only a kick,' she purred, as she continued to massage the blood back into her breasts. When her engorged nipples signalled a return of healthy circulation, she yawned, rolled her wearied shoulders and added with distinct indifference, 'His balls have survived a lot worse.'

Siobhan had to concede that he probably had. She watched her friend pull her T-shirt back over her mountainous breasts and slip under the covers at the opposite end of the bed.

The immensity of Melanie's boobs meant she risked suffocation when sleeping on her back, and sleeping on her side caused her soft, pendulous breasts to slip and slide quite distractingly as one attempted to remain balanced atop the other whilst she breathed. So, tossing aside her pillow, she lay down on her front; her gelatinous breast-meat spilling out from under her to side-wind quite impressively.

'I suppose you're right,' said Siobhan, watching the contented blonde snuggle into the cold mattress and close her eyes. She climbed into bed and, with a yawn, wished her friend goodnight.

Melanie was already fast asleep.


Melanie woke with a start as deathly cold digits took her by the shoulder and rolled her forcefully onto her back. She tried to sit up and gasp, but the fingers wrapped over her mouth and pressed her back into the mattress.

The whites of her scared eyes glowed in the moonlight as another cold hand tore at the neck of her T-shirt until it ripped in two down the middle to expose her wobbling breasts which slid left and right in a perpetually struggle to remain atop her ribcage. She shook her head side-to-side in an attempt to dislodge the hand from her mouth as the other hand helped itself to a mighty portion of her undulating left boob.

'Well, well,' growled Farley, recklessly squeezing the doughy flesh until it poured out from between his fingers. 'I guess you're Melanie by name, melony by nature.' He chuckled mirthlessly. 'I thought of that one while I was dragging my smashed bollocks across the fields.'

His bollocks? It was a new word to her, but she knew the two organs to which he was referring and was glad of the reminder. She raised her knee, but found he had spread her legs and was knelt between; his dangling bollocks safely out of reach of her knees.

'Nuh-uh-uh-uh!' chided Farley, releasing her breast to waggle his finger at her reproachfully. 'Naughty girl. Don't you think you've caused me enough pain with those things today?' The sharp look she gave him told him that she didn't. This only made him grin wider.

He took hold of her boob once more. 'These might not be water-balloons,' he mused, 'but I swear... I'm going to pop them like they were.' With that he clenched his hand into a fist containing masses of nerve-packed boob-flesh.

Farley hadn't been sure to what extent a girl's boobs could feel pain, they were after all quite squishy, but it became immediately apparent from the exquisite look of anguish on the blonde's face that she was in absolute agony.  She screamed into his palm as tears welled in her eyes.

'Come on, Melony,' he goaded. 'You leaked for me once – give me another squirt.'

Melanie's bulging eyes strained to see over the hand which silenced her and held her against the mattress. She watched with terror, pain and (though she was ashamed to admit it) a hint of curiosity as his fist tightened around her bunching, billowing flesh. Melanie's spine arched toward him, due to the agony which gripped her, but also with urgency; a part of her wanted to force more of her chest meat into his crushing grasp in order to confirm, once and for all, whether or not she could produce milk on demand.

Farley squeezed, wrenched and twisted her tender tit, but when, with his hand tiring, he had still failed to wring even a drop from her boob, he let out a growl of frustration and threw the crushed globe aside. It slapped against her right breast and slithered back across her chest to return to rest mostly under her armpit; its flesh turning rosy as blood returned.

'Fucking tits,' complained Farley with frustration. Melanie knew just how he felt, but, as she fell back to the mattress, an immense wave of relief washed over her. 

Farley had failed to get a single squirt out of her boob. Well practiced at milking cows, his strong hand had been unable to milk her. Finally she could put her apprehensions to rest. Finally she could accept that her boobs were not bursting with milk: they were just huge! The thought made her swell with pride. I have huge boobs! she thought boastfully.

Meanwhile, bristling with frustration at his failure, Farley tried to think of another way to hurt and humiliate her. It didn't take him long to come up with one. Pushing his hand underneath her unexpectedly, he took hold of the waistband of her pyjamas and said with a bitter chuckle, 'I guess I'll just have to give you a squirt instead.'

Melanie didn't know what he meant but she knew she didn't want him to take her pyjamas off. She squirmed like mad against him and watched through terrified eyes the gradual, inexorable slide of her waistband lower over her flat, tensing stomach and the protrusions of her hip bones until revealed were the faintest wisps of hair.

Melanie knew there was no way of stopping him tearing her pyjama bottoms down the rest of the way, but only when the entirety of her lightly-haired mound was exposed did she stop fighting him.

He tugged her trousers down her thighs as far as he could; being restricted by the necessity of keeping his hand over her mouth. This necessity also meant that he couldn't lean back and take a good long look at the pouting pink treasure between her spread wide legs.

Melanie was well aware that there was a hole between her legs; her blossoming libido had moved her to explore it a few times in recent weeks, but tentatively and never beyond the depth or girth of a finger. When suddenly the hole was plugged by some unseen extremity of Farley's, her eyes opened abruptly and bulged out of her head.

'You know what that is?' he asked, circling his hips to create an unpleasant burrowing sensation between her legs. She did. It was his sausage, only not in its funny, floppy form, bit in the terrifying hard form it took on whilst lusting over naked women, evidently in the flesh as well as in magazines.

'That's a solid nine inches about to tear you in half, bitch.'

Melanie could picture the shiny purple mushroom head plugging her defenceless hole; eight inches of thick, straining shaft ready to follow it in.

All those veins! she thought with a shudder.

She tried to clench, to push out his fat tip and block its entry, but this only provided Farley further pleasure. 'That's it,' he purred. 'Tighten that pussy for me, slut.' His enjoyment made her immediately want to relax her muscles, but her pussy wouldn't allow it, it had clamped tight around his helmet.

Her tightness would provide a challenge for Farley, but he was confident her could smash his way in with a few good thrusts. Steadying himself, he prepared for entry.

'This'll teach you, cunt,' he growled. 'I'm going to pop your fucking cherry.'

Melanie closed her eyes and braced herself for whatever new horrors he was about to subject her to. The thrust never came, however, and when she opened her eyes some tense seconds later she found Farley's face locked in a grimace; the picture of surprise and anguish.

'Melanie,' said Siobhan with a gasp of concern, 'are you okay?' Spilling out from between the fingers of each hand was shiny red nut meat which ran on a loose length of skin between her brother's legs. Seeing this Melanie knocked aside Farley's hand and pushed him backward up onto his knees. He didn't resist her in the slightest, in fact he barely seemed to notice her; he was staring out of the corner of his eye at his sister who gasped in horror when she caught sight of his straining rod.

'What happened to his sausage?' she asked whilst Melanie pushed her pyjama bottoms all the way off and climbed up onto her knees.

'He was trying to stick it in me,' she said.

'In you?' repeated her friend, horrified. 'Where?'

'Here,' said Melanie, spreading her pussy much to Siobhan's mortification. 'In the hole.' The look of embarrassment on Siobhan's face told Melanie that see she knew about the hole too.

'He would never have... fit it all in though... would he?'

'Dunno,' said Melanie in a growl. She narrowed her eyes at Farley. 'Let's find out.'

'Wait, I didn't mean...'

'Keep hold of his balls,' the blonde told her whilst using Farley's shoulders for support as she lifted herself over his prick before lowering her pussy onto its glistening head.

'Melanie!' cried Siobhan. 'Stop. You'll hurt yourself.'

'I'll be fine,' said Melanie, grunting with effort and discomfort as she worked the fat tip beyond the overtaxed entrance of her virginal vagina.

As well as being incredibly tight, Melanie's love tunnel was completely unprepared, making for a difficult and uncomfortable penetration.

'Is it in?' she asked through gritted teeth after what felt like several inches had entered her.

'The purple bit?' asked Siobhan; watching through half-closed eyes. 'Almost.'

'What?' cried Melanie with distress. She looked down to find that she hadn't even accommodated the helmet let alone the extensive length of shaft.

Though incredibly intimidated, she was not about to pass up an opportunity to do to Farley whatever it was he was about to do to her. That would show him, she thought and, spreading her legs wider so that more of her weight rested on his tip, she rocked her hips back and forth until the rim of the fat mushroom slipped inside her abruptly along with an unexpected couple inches of shaft.

A surprised and distressed yelp escaped Melanie's lips and Siobhan, covering her eyes with both hands, cried out in sympathy.

'I can't do it!' she conceded with a sob, 'It won't fit.' She looked to her friend for agreement and noticed the redhead's hands over her eyes... conspicuously empty of nut meat.

Suddenly panicked, she scanned the bed for the tender orbs.

'Looking for these?' asked Farley, cupping his big balls in his palm beside his cock.

Melanie made an impulsive grab for them, but he let them drop and they swung back between his legs out of reach. Without pause, he planted his hands on her shoulders as she had his.

She gasped when she realised his intent. 'No!' she pleaded. 'It won't fit.'

Without word, Farley gave her shoulders an almighty downwards shove to forcefully impale her on the remaining six inches of his cock. Melanie let out a yelp of girlish anguish as the fat tip of his cock, feeling internally the size of a clench fist, punched her cervix up into her guts, long before she came to a stop against its hilt.

Stretched to her limits by both its length and girth, Melanie was so overwhelmed by the trauma of the violation that, with her eyes rolling back into her head, she slumped backwards to hang limply from his prick.

'Melanie!' cried Siobhan; realising her mistake. She quickly thrust her hand between her brother's legs and caught hold of his balls once more.

'No!' yelped Farley in horror. 'Please, Siobhan.'

The redhead looked to her friend for instruction. 'Pop them,' hissed Melanie, without moving her lips.

In truth, Siobhan had never really wanted to cause her brother lasting harm, but the look of distress on her best friend's face moved her to try her best.

As his sister attempted to crush the life from his testicles, Farley buckled and thrashed and managed to catch her, by chance, right in the tit before toppling sideways off the bed, taking his impaled victim with him. Farley and Melanie landed on the thick rug at the foot of the bed and sprawled across the floor with Melanie being flung off her violator's lubricated rod.

The abrupt withdrawal caused her as much pain as it entry had and she curled into a ball around her aching privates, and, having had his balls crushed to the brink of rupture, it would have been customary for Farley to follow suite, but, amazingly, he had the presence of mind to escape the room.

Melanie lifted her head to see him dragging his useless lower half across the room to the foot of the old oak chest of drawers which he then began to climb, using the knobs as hand holds to haul himself up on. His big dangling balls were the focus of Melanie's attention. She watched them slither up the front of a drawer which Siobhan could never quite close properly; they bobbled slightly as their sticky skin caught on the varnished wood.

She looked quickly to Siobhan; angry that she wasn't in pursuit of her wounded brother. She found her writhing on the bed hugging her chest whilst grimacing.

'Right in the boob,' she groaned; her face red with agony. Melanie knew the crippling feeling of boob-pain only too well; she had thought it the worst pain imaginable, but being brutally penetrated had set her straight on that count.

Meanwhile, Farley was almost back on his feet. Catching hold of the very top of the chest of drawers, he hauled himself almost entirely upright and attempted to put a little weight upon his quivering legs. As he did so his balls rolled over the top of the open drawer and swung inside so that his lower-hanging left nut was inside but his right hung flush with the edge of the drawer.

Seeing his delicate eggs in such a perilous position, Melanie saw her chance for revenge and despite her aching cunt, she summoned the strength to stand. Eyeing the drawer with intent, she charged at him, still hanging out of her torn T-shirt and naked below the waist.

The sound of her flopping boobs and rapidly approaching footsteps caused Farley to panic. He reached again for the very top of the drawers and hauled his balls out of danger, only for his sweating palms to slip on the varnished surface and send them plummeting back down at the same moment that Melanie unleashed her devastating kick, which caught the open drawer and smashed it shut.

The dry wood protested loudly, but it was the gristly crunch with caused Siobhan to gasp and Melanie to smile darkly.

Farley let out some faltering sounds of anguish as an explosion of pure, concentrated agony rippled through his body. He instinctively continued to scrabbled for purchase on the chest of drawers, but his shaking fingers failed to secure him and, as an intense spasm shook his already shaky legs, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell backward only to come to an abrupt halt as the drawer refused to release the crushed remnants of his manhood.

'Oo!' cried Siobhan, wincing with genuine sympathy as her brother's sac went abruptly taut and left him hanging by whatever ruined parts were held by the drawer.

It was with grim satisfaction that Melanie watched him hang there, squealing almost soundlessly and reaching forlornly for what was left of his testicles. She knelt down to get right in Farley's agonised face and, with an intense look of smug self-satisfaction on her face, she stared him in the slowly crossing eyes and gloated, 'Looks like you were the one who got his cherry popped... bitch.'

Melanie should have known to be wary of putting herself in the line of fire of his stiff rod as she had witnessed its slimy eruption the last time he had injured his swinging beef. As it was, she lingered too long and, as Farley's cock lurched up off his tensing stomach, she was caught full in the face by a powerful torrent of thick and creamy goo.

Siobhan, who had never witnessed the moment of ejaculation, could only look on in a mixture of awe and disgust as her brother's straining meat plastered her grimacing friend with hot white muck.

The room was silent for a long while until finally, Siobhan cried, 'Gross!' Melanie spluttered and wiped the filth from her eyes. 'What is that stuff?' the redhead asked.

'I think it comes from his balls,' said Melanie, sounding nauseous.

'His balls!' said Siobhan in an urgent gasp. Still clutching her boob, she jumped off the bed and began tugging insistently on the drawer which did its best to resist her. Finally, it opened the half-inch necessary to let Farley's trapped meat slip out. He fell to the floor with a thud and lay there lifeless.

Siobhan watched him nervously for a moment then, after giving him a nudge with her foot, she knelt between his legs and took his angry-looking scrotum in her hands.

'What are you doing?' asked Melanie who had used her knickers to wipe away the worst of the mess which spattered her face.

'Checking,' the redhead told her, concentrating. 'Okay, one,' she counted, finding immediately the plump sphere of his lower hanging left ball. Melanie growled with annoyance, but when a few moments later her friend hissed, 'It's gone! The other one's not there!' she found herself grinning once more.

Siobhan pulled the stiff drawer out further and began searching through her clothes desperately.

'What are you looking for?' asked Melanie, incredulously.

'His other ball,' answered her friend, naively.

'I don't think it fell out, Siobhan,' said Melanie, idly prodding the empty corner of his scrotum with her sock-clad toes. 'I think it popped. Like your water balloons. All that's left is the tiny little scraps.'

Siobhan stop rifling and said, 'I suppose that makes sense. But where's all the stuff that was inside...?' She trailed off as the mess he'd squirted in the blonde's face suddenly made sense to her. 'Oh,' she said grimly.

'We have to get him out of here.'

Melanie groaned with irritation. 'He's so heavy,' she complained.

'Well,' began Siobhan with a sheepish look on her face, 'you did just make him a tiny bit lighter...'

Melanie gave a snort of laughter which took her by surprise and lightened her mood immediately. She put one hand over her mouth and one on her jiggling breasts as she was overcome with laughter. Her amusement set off Siobhan also.

Desperately trying to contain their giggles, the two girls dragged their victim through the house, his softening sausage dragging on the floor, leaving behind it a slimy trail. Once inside his bedroom, they set his limp mewling body down on the floor.

Siobhan was stepping over him to leave when she noticed Melanie was crouched over him, staring down at the remaining plump orb: the only distortion in his loose, splayed sac.

'Melanie...?' said Siobhan suddenly anxious. Her friend looked up at her guiltily.

'I was just thinking... we should take the other one too.'

'Should we?' asked the redhead, uncertainly. 'Can't we leave him one?'

'After what he did to me?' demanded the blonde.

'But if you take it now he won't even notice. If you leave it him he'll still have something to lose... Oh my god! Why did I never think of this?' She looked down at her unconscious brother with a beaming, devious grin. 'He'll never dare bother me again. He'll have to do whatever I tell him. Melanie...' she enthused, '...he'll be my slave!'

Melanie could see how excited her friend was at the prospect of exploiting her brother's only remaining weakness, but the temptation to take the big egg between her thumb and forefinger and bear down on it with all she had was still too strong to resist.

Seeing the blonde take the orb in her hand, Siobhan realised she had only seconds to convince her against its destruction. 'Please Melanie, if you let him keep that ball I'll make him wish you'd taken it now. I swear.'

'How?' asked Melanie without looking up.

'I'll kick it every day... and yank on it. I'll yank on it so hard it'll be swinging by his ankles when I'm done with him.'

'And when you are done with him...' said Melanie, her voice breathy, her cunt juices soaking her pyjama bottoms, '...when you leave home. Then what?'

A grin spread slowly across Siobhan lightly freckled face and with her eyes twinkling she told her orgasmic friend, 'I'll take a pair of bricks and I'll turn his ball to mince!'

Melanie couldn't contain herself any longer. She pounced on her surprised friend, knocking her onto Farley's bed.

'Melanie!' protested Siobhan as the blonde's fingers forced their way inside her knickers to brush her auburn curls. 'What are you—? Oh! Oh...' she purred, 'Melanie...'


The next morning Melanie and Siobhan ate their breakfast in suspicious silence.

'You two are quiet,' remarked Siobhan's mother. 'You haven't fallen out have you? Is that how your top got ripped, Melanie?'

'No,' said the girls in unison, as Melanie clutched her torn T-shirt together sheepishly. Bree eyed them suspiciously, but the sound of a car horn caused her to turn away.

'Oh, that must be your mother, Melanie.' She got out of her seat and walked briskly towards Farley's bedroom door. 'I'll get Farley to help you with your...'

Melanie panicked immediately. She reached hurriedly under the table for her bag and sprinted for the door.

'Melanie, wait!' called Siobhan's mother after her. 'You've fallen out!'

'We just told you, Mum,' snapped Siobhan, 'we haven't fallen out.'

'I don't mean like that,' said her mother, racing after the blonde. 'She's fallen out of her top!'

Melanie raced up the garden path to the waiting car, oblivious to the escaped boob which had slipped free of her torn T-shirt as she had reached for her bag and now sloshed back and forth across her chest with the prints of Farley's cruel fingers darkening the undulating flesh.

She dived into the car and slammed the door shut after her. 'Go!' she told her mother urgently. Her mother stared back with a mixture of horror and reproach.

'Melanie... your bosom,' she growled through gritted teeth.

Melanie shrieked with dismay and quickly tucked it away. 'It must have fallen out whilst I was running,' she said. 'No one saw.' She followed her mother's gaze back to the doorstep of the house where Siobhan and her mother stood with hands over their open mouths.

'Let's go before you make more of a fool out of yourself,' her mother growled, as she put her foot on the accelerator and pulled away. 'Just wait until your father hears about your shameful behaviour.'


A few days later Siobhan was sat on her bed with her legs hitched up against her chest so that her knees appeared out of the top of the stretched neck of her T-shirt like huge knobbly breasts. She sighed sadly slid her legs out from under her baggy T-shirt only to recoil in horror at the sight of a top-heavy figure at her window.

'Melanie?' she cried, only to be hushed by the blonde. 'What are you doing here?' she whispered; tip-toeing over to the open window.

'What happened after I left?' Melanie asked her urgently.

'Well, Mum found Farley,' she said with a shrug.

'And?' asked the blonde expectantly.

'Well, she realised pretty quickly what had happened.'

'That he'd lost one of his balls?'

'The whole thing. His ball, who'd popped it and what he'd done to deserve it.'

'Was she angry?'

'Of course,' said Siobhan; confirming Melanie's fears. The redhead saw her dismay and added quickly, 'At Farley – not us!' Melanie's jaw dropped. 'She said he'd had it coming for a while.'

'So I'm not in trouble?'

'No. Mum said he was lucky you didn't take the other one.' She frowned. 'What are you doing here?'

'I'm running away from home,' she told her friend. Quickly fishing the magazine she had stolen from Farley months ago she opened it to the shocking centrefold and said proudly, 'I'm going to get a job doing this!'


The island's trains were ancient: the type that had compartments set off a main corridor. Melanie chose the first empty compartment she came across and sat down.

A young farmhand walked past the compartment, casually glancing in. He reappeared at the doorway immediately, eyes wide with disbelief at his luck.

Melanie noticed him enter and take the seat directly opposite. He shot her a leering smile which caused her to look away; uncomfortable with his eye contact. In the window's reflection she noticed that his gaze dropped immediately to her chest the moment he thought her attention was elsewhere. She gasped and looked back at him reproachfully. He looked quickly up at her, still grinning.

She clutched her tits and demanded, 'Can I help you?'

He grinned at her. 'You could put those big melons to work,' he said, drawing her attention to his tented groin with both hands which he then began rocking back and forth suggestively. As if his gesticulations hadn't been graphic enough, he felt the need to clarify shamelessly, 'Titty-fuck!'

Melanie gasped with indignation. She looked out of the compartment; the train was pulling out of the station and, seeing nobody was around, she swiftly jammed the heel of her shoe into the crotch he was so indecently drawing her attention toward.

She knew immediately she had nailed him when he bolted forward with a nauseous groan and wheezed, 'My balls!' helpfully confirming it beyond doubt. He gripped her ankle and tried to lessen the pressure she was exerting, but her knee was locked and her bum was wedged firmly against the back of her seat.

'Please,' he squeaked, realising he was powerless.

At the same time realising her power, Melanie narrowed her eyes at him and told him, 'Get your sausage out.'

'What?' he asked with horror.

'Your sausage thing,' she repeated. 'Get it out for me or I'll pop your balls. I've done it before so don't think I won't.' Her shocking boast caused the man to freeze in terror and when he did not comply immediately, Melanie sank lower into her seat, thereby sinking her heel deeper into his eggs which had nowhere to go so flattened out wider.

'Okay, okay!' he squeaked. He fumbled desperately with the zipper of his jeans before pulling down the front of his briefs. What flopped out was not the stiff pole it had been moments earlier, it was flaccid and small and shrivelled. Melanie balked at the pathetic sight.

'What's that?' she demanded; having become accustomed to more impressive examples of manhood.

'My cock,' he told her sobbing. 'That is what you meant, right?' he asked, suddenly fearful he had misunderstood her ambiguous request for “sausage”.

'And that's it?' she spat. 'It's tiny! And wrinkled. And just... gross!'

The man didn't know how to respond so he just blubbered pathetically.

'Your balls,' she said finally. 'Get them out.'

'I can't – you're pinning them,' he protested quite reasonably. Still, Melanie shot him a scowl. Twisting her heel one way, she allowed a single of his testicles to slip free whilst at the same time focusing more pressure on the other.

While the rest of his body twitched and writhed, his fingers slipped dutifully into his briefs and attempted to retrieve the spared egg for her inspection. 'I can't get it out,' he told her after a few pathetic tugs.

'What do you mean?' she demanded furiously.

'My sac's too tight,' he said in a sob of humiliation. 'I can make it reach.'

'Get. It. Out!' Melanie told him uncompromisingly.

Squeaking and sobbing, the man tugged again and again on his testicle, stretching his withered sac until the little orb appeared out the side of Melanie's crushing boot.

'There,' he squeaked with a mixture of anguish and relief.

Melanie's jaw dropped. 'Are you kidding me?' she demanded, staring at the unimpressive little grape with disgust. 'Is the other any bigger?'

He shook his head apologetically and said through gritted teeth, 'This is the big one.'

That did it. Pressing her shoulders into the seat, Melanie drove her heel into his crotch without restraint.

'No!' he squealed hysterically; his legs kicking uncontrollably as his egg's shell was pushed to its limit. 'You're crushing it!'

'If it's that small you'll hardy notice it's gone,' said Melanie through gritted teeth.

'Please!' he shrieked. 'I'll give you anything.'

Anything? thought Melanie, suddenly curious. 'Your money?' she asked.

'Yes, here!' he said, fumbling to fish his wallet from his pocket. 'Take it all.'

Melanie's eye grew wide as she realised that popping a man's balls might have uses other than amusement or revenge.

Without thinking she leaned forward and reached for the wallet, thereby applying the final few pounds of pressure necessary to rupture the farmhand's testicle.

There came an insignificant little pop and his body gave a final powerful jolt before falling limp.

'Whoops,' said Melanie, shocked. She watched the wallet fall from the man's grasp onto the floor between his legs and hurriedly she raced after it at the same moment his shrivelled cock gave a mighty jerk.

As the meagre contents of his left testicle landed, warm and wet, on Melanie's face, she let out a gasp and cried, 'Seriously?'

Face dripping with sticky ejaculate, she checked the corridor once more, and then looked back at the man who remained conscious if not sensible. Leaning in close, she slipped one hand into his slime-soaked pants and hissed angrily up at him, 'Just for that, I'm taking the other one too.'

The End