Jess Seals His Fate

Eric was lying wistfully in his bed, snug beneath the covers with anticipatory thoughts and longings. The weekend was only a few days away, and he’d have Jess all to himself again, Jess by herself away from… well, best not even to think about that other girl, the one who Jess was spending her time with right now, the one whose name he wished he could forget. He sighed, suppressing memories of anguish, as he flipped through his phone to send Jess a text.

babe, i can’t wait to see you this saturday

i’ve been thinking about you all night

He would have put the phone away then, except that his messages almost instantly displayed ‘Read’, and the typing bubble appeared on the bottom of the screen. His heart, so desperate for her, seized, as he waited with bated breath for Jess’ reply.

thinking about me at night, huh? ;)

let me guess, i bet you only have one hand touching your phone

Eric smiled, blushing to himself, as he always did whenever Jess sent him something suggestive, with a subtlety that stirred his loins beyond all imagining.

i wish i was touching something else right now

…

i bet. you’ll get your chance soon xoxo, i gotta go now tho, talk later okay?

Eric sighed, equal parts tantalized and frustrated. He would have really enjoyed an extended sexting session with his… was she his girlfriend? He supposed she technically was, despite the peculiarities of their arrangement together. Girlfriend or no, Jess’ wager had been correct. He had one hand holding his phone, and the other beneath the sheets, snaked past his waistband, gently stroking himself. Eric had thickened thanks to Jess’ suggestiveness, but he needed something a bit more vivid to coax himself there.

He opened his IG app, where Jessica Xi’s profile was already waiting in his search suggestions. His breath quickened as he saw Jess’ profile picture, an adorable looking Korean girl with thick glasses and a wolf cut studying at a cafe, and tapped on her story. It was his favorite part of the night, watching Jess chronicle her day, and getting to enjoy the transformations she seemed to undergo throughout.

Jess was a studious girl, always spending her mornings and noons in a library or a cafe, bundled in a cardigan or a cute woolen sweater with embroidered animals, hunched over a desk with books. But it was in the afternoon that Jess entered another phase. Not only was she a bookish top student, but she had a part-time gig as a personal trainer, and loved to work-out. It was when she worked out that she would post provocative stories of herself in the locker room, her sweaty form clad in a black thong singlet, showing off her bountiful ass and thick legs to the mirror and camera. It was as if the top half of her was the most innocent Asian girl to ever exist, but her bottom half was that of a warrior woman, toned and tanned and lethally proportioned.

Blood rushed to Eric’s favorite possession as he scrolled through Jess’ gym stories, her various contortions and poses—the one which got him hardest of all was a short video of her shaking her ass in the mirror in a seductive stance, while all the while her face giggled as if nervous and shy and bashful, as if not knowing why she was putting on such a sumptuous show, but enjoying it nevertheless. He let the app linger on that story, as he pumped vigorously, feeling his juices flow—god he knew he wouldn’t last long if she had been doing that same dance right in front of him.

The story shifted, and the sight of what he saw next caused his hand to slip.

That bitch.

Jess was at a bar now—this story having been posted an hour ago—squeezing together with that bitch, taking selfies over drinks. That bitch was Liv, a cute white girl with a bob-cut and glasses as thick as Jess’ nerd-half, a pale girl who resembled a male fantasy of a kinky librarian, complete with a low-cut top and a substantial bosom. Only, Liv had never been the subject of Eric’s affections or lust.

Liv was only ever a competitor. Jess was polygamous, and bisexual, and the arrangement was that she liked to split her time between the two of them; a few date nights with Liv, a few date nights with Eric.

In his sudden feeling of anger, Eric’s hand had slipped, his fingers now grazing over the main source of his heightened hatred towards Liv. His testicular region, formerly well above average in size, his bountiful testicles reduced to half of their past glory, ever since he had his deadly encounter with Liv, that night which had cost him his left testicle, a humiliating loss which had occurred right before Jess’ eyes.

He felt himself shrivel at the sight of Jess and Liv enjoying their night together, before he turned his phone away, and buried himself in the covers, trying to sleep and not think about what the pair might have been doing together.

***

As Eric suffered from a denied orgasm and a shrinking erection, Jess and Liv were sharing a post-coital embrace, sweat-drenched and giggling together beneath Liv’s satin sheets. Jess flushed as she did a double-take of Liv’s body, fully enamored with the splendor of the feminine form. Eric was a tall, slender, well-toned man, but Liv offered something entirely different. Every time Jess saw a full view of Liv’s breasts, her breath caught in her mouth, as she suppressed the urge to just dive her face into her copious cleavage, the kiss every portion along the crevices between her two beautiful tits.

She reached for both of them, absent-mindedly kneading Liv’s breasts as she felt herself transported to another world, a world of pleasure and ecstasy that she knew her quite conservative parents would not at all approve of. She met Liv’s eyes and blushed at her knowing smile, the smile of a woman who was enjoying the captivating prowess of her body.

“You love my body, don’t you?” Liv asked, gentle but with a kind of edge, a maneuver she borrowed from her kink, a kind of dominating demand for praise. She placed her knee in between Jess’ thighs, letting Jess obey her impulse to grind against her kneecap.

“I do…” Jess said, interrupting herself with moans as Liv pressed her knee further against Jess, supplying a pleasant kind of resistance and wet friction, as Jess grinded and grinded, “I love your tits… your breasts… I love the way you heave when you look at my body… I love looking at the top of your head when you eat me out… I love your ass… I love every part of you… I love the look on your face as you fuck me with your fingers… and then your strap…”

“You love my strap, don’t you?”

“I…” Jess whimpered as she felt the knob of Liv’s knee pressing back and forth against her clit, “I… do love your strap…”

Liv chuckled. “Almost makes you wonder why you need Eric at all, doesn’t it?”

Almost immediately, the lustful spell that had been cast over Jess broke, as she narrowed her eyes and pushed away from Liv and, reluctantly, her knee. She turned away from Liv, arms crossed in annoyance and frustration—albeit gifting Liv with a perfect view of her sculpted bottom. Liv followed her along the distance of the bed, coming from behind Jess, squishing her breasts against her back.

“What’s wrong? Is it something I said?”

Jess snorted, huffing. “You know it’s something you said. You meant it to be demeaning. Why do you have to say such hurtful things about him?”

“About Eric?” Liv chuckled sardonically. “Because he’s beneath you, beneath us. He doesn’t deserve your affection, and you don’t deserve to have to waste your time with a piece of shit like that. He’s a misogynist, and he’s controlling and jealous, and he doesn’t respect any of our friends.”

Jess closed her eyes in frustration, knowing that Liv wasn’t entirely wrong. Eric could be short-sighted and prejudiced, although Jess would insist that his heart was in the wrong place, that he was just ill-informed. He scoffed whenever she and Liv and their other friends held study sessions for their gender studies courses, or enthused about their readings of famous women revolutionaries. Sometimes, he even dared to make body-shaming comments: it had been Eric jokingly asking if Liv had gotten her tits done (a question he had asked one too many times, mind you) with her parent’s money that had led to…

“Well, that didn’t make it right for you to almost ruin his life like that!” Jess exclaimed. She was defensive of Eric. For all his insensitivity and lack of political correctness, she knew that Eric cared for her and loved her, that he enjoyed nothing more than to hold her in his arms, to protect her and cherish her, and whisper things in her ear that made her feel appreciated and valued.

“Jess. He’s had that kick coming for a long, long time. He’s lucky he only lost one of his balls.”

She knew Eric hadn’t felt lucky at all that fateful night. Maybe he had felt lucky earlier, before they had entered the bar, after they fucked in Eric’s department. She had sat on Eric’s face, just about coming to, her wetness sliding across that lustful boy’s nose, the way he had made her orgasm thrice with tongue alone. And then the way she had let Eric enter her, his bull-sized testicles bouncing off her ass. The way they screamed in unison as they both came, the way Eric looked as Jess turned over her shoulder—like a manly warrior, sweat-drenched after battle, his penis leaking the remnants of his juices, his testicles hanging lowly and proudly in the heat of his apartment.

Before leaving for the bar to meet everyone, they had cleaned up together, showered together. Beneath the hot and steamy waters of that shower, Eric had kissed her so delicately across her breasts, as she held in her palms Eric’s sensitive testicles. She had not known at all that that was the last time she would get to caress his whole and intact jewels, those baby-peaches. She had loved them dearly. She so appreciated all the wonders both the male and female body had to offer.

Jess turned back to face Liv, as she truly loved her too—she loved both of them, Liv and Eric—and could not stay mad at her. She pouted as she stroked her breasts with her fingers. “Did you really have to kick his testicles that hard?”

“There… there was a lot of pent up resentment. I’m sorry doll, I know it must make things hard for you with him,” Liv said, face serious before she could not help but laugh, “or not hard. Oh my god I’m sorry, I just had to.”

Why had Eric said what he said? Why had it been the very first thing? Maybe it was because the polygamous arrangement was too difficult for him. Maybe there was just too much hatred and resentment. But that night, entering the bar, meeting their friends, Eric had been so confident, so empowered with post-coital brashness, that he had simply smirked as Liv offered a terse greeting, said: Hey Liv, notice you’re still showing off the tits mom and dad bought for you.

Jess knew she should’ve warned him before. Of Liv’s reputation, her nickname: The Testicle Killer. Jess had seen her in action, after they had been harassed in public by neckbeard homophobes and bigots. They had spewed profanities and laid hands on them for being women fucking women, and after Liv had swung her Doc’s in between their legs, she had made sure they were men who’d never be fucking anyone anymore.

Liv must have been on edge that night. She ignored Eric, simply turned to Jess and whispered, “I’m really sorry about this, love.”

His balls had been hanging so low that night, Jess knew, barely concealed by the grey lounge-pants he had worn specifically to maximize her lust for him. She had heard that terrible crunch as the hard point of Liv’s foot sunk into Eric’s testicles, that grey bulge—so often the object of womanly desire, now evidence of critically damaged masculinity—twisting into some unnatural shape, as if the order and arrangement of right testicle, penis, left testicle, had been shuffled. His eyes had rolled back into his skull, his mouth gaping stupidly, his veins protruding from his neck, paralyzed in the same sort of agony Jess had seen her other victims assume—an agony that made Jess feel certain Eric would never be able to have kids.

Jess and Liv’s friends had whooped and hollered as Eric keeled over, immediately expelling the contents of the three-hundred dollar tasting menu he had shared with her, his hands attempting to “fix” the permanently altered structure of his manhood beneath his pants, before falling unconscious in a puddle of his own puke.

Jess had stood there in shock. She still had his seed leaking from her at that moment, and it occurred to her that there was a chance that it was the last seed Eric had left.

In the present day, Jess raised her eyebrow as Liv stared at her intently. “So, Jess… tell me, have you two had sex since?”

Jess nodded silently.

Liv probed her further. “And, well, I’m guessing he hasn’t been quite as robust as he used to be?”

Jess never lied to Liv, not even when she asked her desperate, insecure questions about her sex life with her rival. In the past, Jess had tried to be gentle and not too specific, because her sex life with Eric had been spectacular. Not better than her sex life with Liv’s, but equal, different and equal. Liv’s facility with a strap was wonderful, but it wasn’t the same—not that it was necessarily worse—than the slightly hooked pleasures of Eric’s five-incher, which was not Herculean, but perfectly fitted for her.

He’d gotten so hard, and so quickly back then. Jess didn’t want to tell Liv the specifics of the aftermath, all the damage and hurt the loss of Eric’s testicle had dealt to their sex-life. Didn’t want Liv to be able to hold it over him unfairly. Not the way Eric had cried weeks after his hospital release, the pain he felt attempting to produce a sperm sample for the fertility specialist, how he had moaned in agony as Jess stroked him for the task in his stead.

Not the way his erectile structure seemed permanently diminished, seemingly reducing his erect length from five and a half to somewhere slightly under five (an arbitrary mark which seemed to bring him mental anguish). Not the steady diet of cialis he spent hundreds on monthly, that he needed to down to keep up with Jess’ appetites. Not the desperate way he looked into her eyes during missionary, his prowess diminished, his bitter fight to make up for his lost physical talents through sheer willpower.

Jess answered nervously, not wanting to betray Eric in spirit. “You… you really took something away from him. His remaining testicle… it was so swollen for so long… you left him in agony, all because you wanted to ruin him for me. So that you could have me to yourself.”

Liv shook her head. “I don’t like that you’re with him. And I don’t want to share you. But I kicked him because he insulted me, because he deserved it. Do you deny it?”

Jess couldn’t. Liv wasn’t wrong. Jess could see his vulnerability because Eric shared it with him, but all he shared with anyone else was cruelty.

Liv, mercifully, continued, sparing her from the duty of answering. “Jess, can he still have kids?”

Jess remembered the way Eric had tearfully held her, begging her to understand that 10% reproductive functionality didn’t mean zero, that it could happen for them one day if that’s what she decided she wanted, that they could have kids, or at least adopt—he begged her not to leave him. And she hadn’t. She hadn’t wanted to leave him in his worst state, and she had felt herself love him even more, for all the vulnerability he had newly shown.

“It’s… unlikely.” Jess answered, sorrowfully, noticing the look of triumph Liv had failed to conceal.

“You shouldn’t feel too bad,” Liv convinced, “to be honest, a guy like him shouldn’t even be allowed to have sex with women, let alone reproduce.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” Jess protested, remembering all his weak and tender moments, the humble man his testicular injury had transformed him into, “he’s… he’s good, I promise he is. I love you, but I love him too, I do. I wish I could just have both of you get along.”

Liv’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not good, Jess, and he’s not kind. There are hard men that are diamonds in the rough. That need to be given time to reveal their tenderness. That’s not Eric. Eric’s not a tender man waiting to be unearthed. He’s a man who’s only tender now, now that he knows how fragile and tenuous his precious manhood is.”

She continued: “But if you want us to reconcile, so be it. Your next date. Bring me along. Maybe we’ll make good. Or maybe he’ll prove himself to be who he always was.”

Jess gulped. She really wanted to make this happen—but some part of her sensed that this was an ill portent for Eric.

***

It was Saturday. Eric strode through the night-time streets, towards the Thai restaurant he was going to meet Jess at, before swooping her back with him to his apartment. He was excited, an energy coursing through him as he dodged past pedestrians, an energy which seemed to settle about his waistline, a bit lower, and protrude out from him. He had supplemented his daily morning diet of cialis with a few extra pills and men’s health antidotes about an hour ago, and now they were taking effect.

He was wearing his grey sweatpants, maybe tacky and crass for a restaurant date, but he was feeling confident and wanted to show off. There were plenty of cuties that he swore had already taken notice, eyeing his package inquisitively. He wore his grey sweats because Jess had always begged him to before a date, telling him how much she liked seeing him in them—at least, that was something she had said often before the fateful kick.

Eric was positively feral when he saw Jess waiting for him, in her black dress, her breasts perked up, what he swore were the outlines of her nipples and, as they met in a hug, the way her voluptuous ass stretched the fabric. His dick twitched as it hadn’t since his injury, and Eric noticed the way Jess blushed shyly, noticing his arousal, a small smile on her face.

They sat across from one another, ordered quickly, before Jess offered Eric a wink. “So… you’re feeling kind of ‘strong’ tonight, aren’t you?”

Under the table, Jess prodded Eric’s legs with the tip of her heel, bidding him to spread them, as she raised her foot, letting it rest in between Eric’s thighs. She pressed forward, finding his testicle, expertly massaging it with her heel-tip. That poor testicle, Jess pouted, it must feel so lonely. She watched, aroused, as Eric lifted his head back, his fist in his mouth, restraining a moan from escaping in public. They had used to do this often, her switching from testicle to testicle.

She missed it, being able to tease lefty, and then righty, and then lefty, and then back again. Liv really put you through hell, didn’t she, Eric?

“So,” Jess continued, “what did you have in mind for us tonight?”

“Well,” Eric said, “we could watch a movie—”

“Oh, please.”

“Ha. Well, I was thinking. I’m feeling really good tonight, I think I could last all night tonight, I really do.” Eric said, and Jess listened, feeling herself wettening from the thought of being able to re-experience a long odyssey of pleasure with her recovered man, “And then… maybe afterwards, while we’re showering, you could do something I really miss… you could…”

Jess smiled. She knew that Eric wanted her to gently caress his remaining testicle, to place it within her palms like she had once done with his full scrotum. She nodded, to Eric’s relief. She would be glad to—she only hadn’t because she didn’t know how Eric would react, if he would grieve for how different he felt. She resolved herself to taking such good care of Eric’s last nut, to pampering it, to cherishing it as he did her.

There was a shadow cast over the table. Jess noticed Eric trembling with rage. Jess had been so caught up in anticipation for tonight’s bedroom festivities that she had forgotten what she did.

Liv pulled up a chair, patting Eric’s back. “Hey there, soldier, how are they hanging?”

“Oh,” Jess interrupted, noticing Eric’s ill-advised impulse to rise, “Eric, I know, I know I should have told you, I was just so excited to see you that I forgot. I invited Liv because I thought that maybe there was a chance for all of us to reconcile, to grow closer, to maybe really solidify this arrangement into something healthy and supportive.”

Eric’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe this! He had never seen this as a truly polygamous relationship, just a phase, just a competition—and Jess had interrupted not only his chief rival, but the bitch who had cost him his testicle and much of his virility, who had robbed him of so much of his sexual prowess.

“Eric,” Liv said, eyeing him with a performance of sincerity, “I’m very sorry I made you into a one-nut wonder.”

“This… this bitch…” Eric stammered, before rising, facing Jess with a betrayed rage, “How could you fucking do this? You know what this bitch did to me? What are you, a fucking idiot? For how often you’re burying your head in those stupid gender studies books of yours, you really are fucking dumb, aren’t you Jess?”

Jess recoiled, unused to this violent rhetoric. “Eric, please don’t speak to me like this. I really meant well. I know Liv caused you a lot of harm, and she owes you a sincere apology, but baby, I love you, and you said you care about me, so you shouldn’t—”

“IF YOU LOVED ME YOU WOULD HAVE LEFT THIS STUPID BIMBO BITCH ALREADY,” Eric roared, casting his spittle all over her face, “You’ve been with this stupid, fake-titted cow for far too long already. You belong with a man. You need to fucking grow up and get out of this fantasy. You belong to me.”

“Excuse me?” Jess said, frozen—where was this coming from? This wasn’t the Eric she knew.

“Hey, back off man,” Liv started, before a slap resounded through the room.

When the confusion wore off, Jess saw the aftermath of the scene. Liv retreating, holding her hand to her face, Eric having wound-back, a slapping hand returned to his tense side. He’d hit her. Her boyfriend had just hit her girlfriend. How could he have? This wasn’t him. It just wasn’t. Trembling, Jess rose, rose in an effort to pacify Eric.

“Please, baby… please don’t do things like that, please don’t yell…”

“Do you know what she did?” Eric roared, quickly advancing upon Jess, “My balls… she kicked my fucking balls… my ball… I lost a ball… we might… we might not ever be able to have kids… THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU JUST LEFT HER LIKE I TOLD YOU TO.”

Jess moved to calm him, to stand by his side, to place her arms around his shoulders, to reassure him—because she thought what he needed was reassurance. That he was still her man, a full man, a whole man, a worthy man and more than enough. That the kick hadn’t changed who he was, which was the man she loved. She moved to envelop him with her love.

And he shoved her aside. He shoved her, so that she lost her balance, so that she landed on her shoulder against the side of an empty table. Her heart filled with fear and adrenaline. She could have been seriously hurt, could have clipped her head, fractured something. But Eric… Eric in his rage had just lashed out at her, hadn’t cared at all what might have happened to her, had hurt her, had directed that baser part of himself at her.

In that moment, Jess felt the love she had for him die, then and there. She felt the clarity of years emerging in her mind. Liv shouldn’t have kicked him, but she hadn’t been wrong. Eric had never been a kind man, had been rude and crass and cruel to every woman she had ever been friends with. Had only been kind to her because… because why? Because he liked the way she touched his balls?

Well. He wasn’t going to like this.

Liv had moved to retaliate, only she noticed the look in Jess’ eyes and stopped, triumphant. She had won the love triangle, she realized, and her victory was about to be capped off by Jess. She nodded resolutely at her lover as Jess approached the heavy-breathing Eric, with a harshness in her eyes.

“Eric, baby,” Jess said, “I don’t think you need to take me to all these nice restaurants with these expensive tasting menus anymore. From now on, you should only think about that costly diet of boner pills you’re gonna need to even masturbate.”

With that, she drove her heel-tip—the one that had just earlier been tenderly massaging Eric’s testicle—into the once-glorious bulge Eric had proudly displayed in his great sweatpants. She had never kicked anyone’s testicles before, always too enamored with the reproductive organs of men to dare hurt them the way Liv enjoyed doing. But the truth was, she was a natural born testicle killer of her own, her legs honed through an ample workout regiment.

The muscles of her legs, all the way up to her buttocks, worked in concert as her heel-tip impacted Eric’s remaining testicle, almost as if in parody of Liv’s kick at the bar. Like that fateful night, a foot was rearranging the contents of his manhood, his last nut pressed up against his pelvis—Eric moaning immediately, even as his entire body was hunching over, his face cross-eyed, his lunch expelled onto the floor—until, with a sickening give, Jess could no longer see the shape of it through his trusty grey sweatpants. She held her foot there, her heel-tip feeling the shape of his dying erection, as Eric continued to, alternately, hurl and moan.

She held her foot there, and imagined it was her palms, imagined they were in the shower again. Imagined she was standing across from Eric beneath the hot shower-water, caressing his full testicles. And then, the image slowly started shifting, Eric’s smile fading as first, in her mind, Eric’s left testicle disappeared. And then… his right, so that she could only envision a rapidly shrivelling penis, like an agonized worm writhing in her palms.

She lowered her foot, and as her foot lowered, so did Eric’s body, slumping unconscious on the floor.

“Come on Liv,” Jess said, holding her hand out for Liv’s, “it looks like you were right all along. It’s just… too bad he didn’t realize just how fragile he really was.”

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