Club Fight Part II, Pinned (A collab with Preun)

Hi guys, as promised, part 2 of a recent collaboration I had with Preun of tumblr :) (www.preeunuch.tumblr.com)

Erica leaned back against the ropes, awaiting her opponent. She’d done her best to project her ballbusting inner goddess that Serena always taught her class about. “Look the part, be the part” was her motto: If you acted like you had no problem cracking a couple of testicles like walnuts, chances are that the boys would be so scared of you, you wouldn’t even have to use the brutal self defense techniques at all.

And it had almost worked! But her last little barb had pushed the coach over the edge, and now he was calling her bluff. She knew it was stupid; she didn’t have to rub his face in his own defeat like that. But he just looked so damn cute when he was fuming at her.

Oh well. She’d never had the chance to fight a boy before, but she sure wasn’t going to be using any of the techniques they’d learned in this class. With his cup on, ballbusting wouldn’t be particularly effective, and of course Serena’s lesson plan never once deviated from her laser-sharp focus on testicular pain and destruction. Still, it was good to know; if he got fresh with her, she could hit him hard enough for him to feel it through his cup.

Dennis climbed over the rope, and Erica noted how he carefully avoided twanging the tightly-pulled cord into his crotch. Even with protection, boys were so protective of their genitals. His paranoia would make this fight a piece of cake.

“And…GO!”

The bell rang, and they went.

Once in the ring, her opponent seemed to remember that his balls were safe. He would never have stood with his legs so spread apart, his crotch completely undefended and bulging out unnecessarily, if it wasn’t a distraction tactic. Erica knew that he must’ve thought he was invulnerable between the legs, with that stiff, unfair piece of plastic completely protecting his biggest weakness.

Except…It wasn’t completely protected. With her musculature and Serena’s training, Erica had the strength to hurt boys even through steel cups, as a number of volunteer “rapists” for their class discovered the hard way. On the one occasion a training participant had worn a plastic cup, she’d split the thing in half, causing an enormous amount of distress for the poor boy and compelling her to cover the hospital stay for his surgeries (Purely out of sympathy, of course; the legal waivers volunteers signed was quite extensive).

Of course, none of her roughhousing in gym compared to the damage she had inflicted on her former beau, who wasn’t lucky enough to have any protection…

She couldn’t think about awful night. Not right now. With a cup protecting him, she definitely wasn’t strong enough to inflict permanent damage, but she could rattle him. Maybe give him a more direct hit than the one Coach landed, and really show him what a girl’s knee to the balls can do.

He swung and she barely sidestepped the haymaker. For a big guy, he was fast. She feigned a quick knee to the groin. His confident facade cracked, and his eyes grew wide. He must have just realized the plastic cup wouldn’t do shit for protecting him.

But instead of taking the easy route, she swung behind him and booted him in the back of the knee, and one more punch in the stomach as he collapsed.She waited politely for him to stand back, and danced away when he tried to surprise her with a sudden swing. He stumbled and caught his breath, lunging towards her.

It was then that Erica noticed just where he was looking. His eyes were glued to her chest, and she grabbed the strap between her bra cups and yanked it up in a futile attempt to cover up more of her ample bosom. The one she kept at gym was a little too small, but it had never been a problem in the all-girls class before. Pretty hard to care about covering a little boob when you showered naked together.

The big black man across from her was practically salivating though, and without ball hits, she needed every advantage she could get. She brought her fists up in front of her in a mock-boxing gesture, “accidentally” squeezing her tits together with her elbows.

“Awww, not used to getting kicked, because you only know how to use your fists? Or does the below-the-belt rule in boxing go all the way to the ground-”

Whump

His left fist squashed her breasts into her ribcage, and the underqualified bra gave up. Her boobs spilled out as her top burst apart and drifted to the floor, the thin black scrap of fabric beyond repair.

Erica couldn’t focus on her sudden nudity. A tit didn’t hurt like a nut, but it did hurt, and he’d gotten her directly on. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she coughed heavily at the ache in her chest.

But through the pain, she smiled. After all, if he thought boob hits were off limits…

Well, she didn’t need to hold back any more.

She faked being winded, crumpling to the floor. When he leaned over her, she shot up, bring her knee straight into his groin. Her bony kneecap rocketed into his bulging package. Erica felt it connect with something, but the resistance she’d expect from even a plastic cup wasn’t there.

She must have missed his balls entirely.

She shoved her victim to the ground, prying his legs apart as he gibbered helplessly. She brought her heel up high and grinned. No way could she miss a target this large in this position.

She stomped down, but he rolled away and snapped back up onto his feet at the last minute, visibly shaken but still in control of himself. His slight limp made her realize her first hit hadn’t totally missed, and she wondered why she didn’t collide with his cup. Maybe they’d been kneed up inside of him, and she had actually hit him in the stomach? She hoped not; that would have ended the fight really fast. It would be like cracking a pair of eggs still in the carton.

He barrelled at her, and she pretended to stumble and fall onto her back on the floor. He towered over her, left hook flying towards her-

But his footwork was still sloppy, and hers was perfect. His stance had each of his legs on either side of her, in the perfect position for a hard heel up into his crotch.

She brought her knee up to her chest, then straightened it out and rocketed her bony heel up in between his legs, putting every ounce of strength in her muscular legs into the blow. This time, she felt a piece of some oddly-shaped testicular protection crack. She could feel the outline of his organs through it; it must have been the cup version of those socks with toes. Her thigh extended fully, her incredibly strong leg muscles pushing her heel deep into his crotch and lifting him off his toes entirely. His own weight was now pinning his groin into her heel, and his muscular boxer build only helped increase the pain she was causing. She had sudden flashbacks to that fateful night with her ex.

That night, the argument was about…god, what was it over now? She couldn’t even remember. Not cheating. Not anything even particularly important. But she was furious. She just needed to wipe that smug smirk off his face.

Before her boyfriend could react, her knee was crammed between his thighs.

She gasped. That had been way before she had began her training at Serena’s class, back when the only things she knew about his anatomy were the methods used for his pleasure. They’d always been an especially erogenous zone for him: she recalled the way he’d moan when she cupped his large, hairy low hangers with her palms, her lips gently massaging them as he reciprocated with delightful moans of pleasure. It had been clear to her even then, that the male sex organs were extremely sensitive to the slightest touch. The effect of a full force knee must have been unimaginable.

His sweetly sensitive right testicle was trapped between her knee and his unforgiving pelvic bone, and with a gristly squick it had given way to mush. She’d held him as he sobbed on the floor, the blaring doppler of the approaching ambulance drowning out his gibbering.

His other nut had survived that day, but their relationship hadn’t. Even now, her thoughts often wandered to how he coped with the life-changing injury she had dealt him, if he still possessed the manliness he had when he held her in his arms, if he still possessed the masculine scent whenever he exerted himself physically, or if he could still ejaculate without any complications. Or if all of these things had been lessened by half.

She snapped back to reality. His cup was broken, but she needed one more hit. She pulled her foot back and snapped right back into his balls as he was falling, the combined force of her foot and his fall increasing the power of her heel.

Thump-splish.

No more resistance from the cup at all. Not even the jagged plastic splinters that should have been there. The ball of her foot collided with a testicle, but a watery splish was all she got from her heel on the left side. Erica started to put together the pieces with sickening horror.

The poor idiot hadn’t packed a single piece of protection. Those sounds beneath her foot hadn’t come from a fractured cup…

She stood up and let him go, pulled his pants down as he collapsed face-first to the ground.The remains of his manhood almost literally spilled out of his pants. Most of his sack was full of fluid, but his right nut floated among the mush, spongy and damaged but still intact. Her coach’s first kick must have done more damage than they had thought. And the overconfident moron…he thought he could get away without protection. He thought she wouldn’t kick there.

“We’ll get the ambulance, Dennis.” Serena was on the phone, frantically describing the scene to the operator on the other end. Erica sat in front of him and leaned over to offer him comfort, her partial nakedness forgotten.

At least, forgotten by her. As she leaned closer, Dennis’s eyes focused on the perfect rack presented to him. Between the testicular trauma and sexual overload, his lost control. He started spurting wildly, each long streak of cum he emitted bringing staggeringly painful aches in his remaining testicle. The nutcords on his injured side spasmed uselessly, his body trying to pump semen from an organ that no longer existed. He coughed and tried to cover up his soaked shorts as thick white semen gushed through the thin fabric and onto the gym mat.

Erica didn’t have to be a urologist to know that sudden ejaculation wasn’t a good sign for his testicular structural integrity. She patted him on the back and avoided his gaze, pretending like she didn’t notice the congealing, spreading pool of man-juice forming on the vinyl mat below.

“I’m sure it will be fine, Dennis. You’ll be ok with just one testicle. I’m…sure your right ball still works perfectly. You’ll still be able to have sex and have children. I know it.”

She kept cooing little white lies to get him through the pain until the ambulance arrived, trying her best to allow him to peacefully finish what would likely be his final orgasm.

Epilogue

Dennis rubbed his hand over his long, flaccid cock, concentrating with every ounce of willpower on the video on his laptop. His solo testicle joggled up and down in sync with his hand as he tried to coax an orgasm from his limp member. It had been nearly two months since that last boxing session at the gym, and a month since Kayleigh had dumped him for being unable to satisfy her needs. Without a nymphomaniac girlfriend ready to jump his bones at any minute, Dennis had started masturbating again.

He tried to focus on the task at hand, and not focus on how much better it would feel to be pumping his load into that wet Irish pussy. The video in front of him was nearing its most-viewed part, as the tall black man thrust rhythmically into his screaming Thai partner. Before, Dennis would have focused on the woman: tits jiggling in time with her moans, eyes rolling up and a slight grin crossing her face as his tempo increased and she drew closer to her noisy climax. But Dennis could only focus on the rock-hard erection of his fantasy stand-in. He couldn’t believe he’d always just taken his boner for granted when masturbating; after all, how difficult was it to get hard with some porn, your hand and some lube?

Since his surgery, erections were another fantasy of his. The slightest thickening of his member in his grip was all he could manage. With only one testicle intact, and it in a badly injured condition, the nurse had helpfully informed him that a loss of erectile function could be a side effect of his injury.

The doctors had never managed to fully assess his remaining fertility of his remaining testicle. While at the hospital, they had tried to extract a semen sample from him several times to examine, but his injury made the task impossible (although not for lack of effort on the part of his ‘kind’ doctor). His last nut remained incredibly sensitive, and even the slightest sexual stimulation brought tears of agony as his damaged ball failed to produce anything for her to test. She finally decided to send him home and have him test his fertility when the pain was low enough to masturbate, by himself. In god-blessed peace and solitude.

The mind wrenching agony in his nut finally reduced to a dull ache, where it remained for four weeks before Dennis decided it would likely never go away. So here he was, doing his best to produce some ball juice to prove to himself that he still could. In his former days, two months without orgasm would’ve left him spurting at the slightest touch, but his reduced libido kept his head cool. Not all side effects are necessarily bad, the nurse had said coyly to him.

But increased stamina wasn’t worth much without the hard cock to go with it.

He closed his laptop and lay back, limp cock still in hand. The image of that scene in the gym was burned into his mind. He could see the Erica looking down at him, a victorious grin plastered across her face, unaware of the damage she had already done, rocketing her foot into what she thought was a hard, protective cup…

He felt a familiar rush surge through him, and his cock twitched. Not an erection, but…something. He gave a few experimental pumps, trying to put his half-castratrix out of his mind. He managed with the effectiveness of a drowning man trying to ignore a nearby boat. Her smooth skin, the breasts that threatened to spill out of that tiny black sports bra (and the revealed dark nipples when they did), that perfectly sculpted bubble butt…

That horrified (or horrifying?) gleam in her eyes when she pulverized his testicle.

The semen forcing itself out from deep inside his agonizing balls, fleeing like lifeboats from the Titanic.

That first sickening crunch when his organ had given way beneath a trained fighter’s knee, and the softer noise of the next impact.

Dennis’s orgasm took him suddenly. He closed his eyes and gasped, fantasies of Erica liquefying his last remaining testicle inexplicably filling his mind. His imagination was so intense he nearly convinced himself she had popped it in reality, and he instinctively grabbed for the solitary organ with his free hand. The nausea and pain that followed contact verified that, indeed, his last testicle was still intact.

Although it remained in one piece, the nurse had cheerily informed him that its ”functionality remained questionable”. When Dennis opened his eyes, he got the stomach-churning answer to that question.

His massive load was plastered all over his sheets, his belly, and his legs. But instead of the thick, opaque cum he produced when he was still a complete man, his spurting had only covered him in a thin clear liquid. It looked like precum, but felt stickier. He didn’t need a fertility testing kit to know what this meant.

That orgasm on the gym mat hadn’t just been the most intense of his life.

It had been his last real load.

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