📄 This post has 2 saved versions. Showing the most recent.
Pacing around with long pale legs attached to a freckled *thick* ass that ripples with each heavy step, Morgan went through her colorful room throwing aside past costume options that scattered everywhere on the floor.
Now a freshman college student she glances in the tall mirror as she holds up a costume from two years ago. skeleton costume from the karate kid movies. Her eyes traces over her athletic frame. Her once-famous volleyball player's muscles had softened slightly since she'd hung up her jersey, but she was still the same 6’ tall, wavy blonde beauty with square black glasses and braces that had become her signature look.
Tonight, the dorm was buzzing with excitement for the annual Halloween party. Costumes were a must, and the competition for the best one was fierce. Morgan, usually unfazed by social events, found herself feeling a twinge of anxiety as she surveyed the mess around her. The pressure to impress had her second-guessing every idea that popped into her head, and time was slipping away.
But even with her squishy butt and tall frame the poor girl struggled to pick anything when it came down to the line. Ranging from cute animal onesies to oddball homemade cosplays from her DND days, they all lay wrinkled and ignored.
Like old forgotten memories.
"Rox, come on dude. Get up and help me find something that won’t make me look like a *total spazz.*” She grumbles, balling up ripped she hulk purple tights in her fist as she turns around to her best friend for suggestions.
Her big gray eyes shook as if they’d start crying at any second. Even her baggy orange pumpkin shirt looked depressed as it hugged her perky inverted nippled boobs.
“Morg, my sweet poor baby. *Spazzing out* and you are like peanut butter and jelly. You can’t just separate them. They’re both destined to be together. *Always.*”
Roxie, whose much shorter legs didn’t even reach past the middle of Morgan’s purple *space themed* bed, lounged lazily with a rolled up *joint* dangling from her pieced lip and an ancient video game controller in her tiny skilled hands.
Morgan watched, *annoyingly* impressed as Roxie epically destroyed 8-bit flying zombies with decaying grey wings sprouting from their exposed spines. Her blood red painted fingernails smoothly tapped the buttons like a pianist in their living room.
The zombie’s skull decorated weapons crumbled and blew up as a guitar riff squeals in the background.
“That’s not funny, I’m being serious.” Morgan crosses her arms and pouts, not even getting Roxie’s full attention. “Everyone’s going to be there. And you know Beth’s and Kim’s costumes are going to be sick as hell. Don’t you want to beat them? Like we always do?”
Continuing to play **Rising Zombie Apocalypse 4 (The Last Flight)** on Morgan’s old janky PS2, Roxie’s character, "Riot Grrrl," sported a bright green wolfcut hairstyle and silver gouges that matched the real life Roxie's personal look. She liked to imagine it was her in the game cracking open zombie heads and shriveling grey balls.
Her red tinted amber eyes focused on an old box tv they’ve decorated in stickers from over the years. The veteran sparkly puppies and kittens were barely viable underneath the skateboard logos, graffiti doodles, and weed stickers.
Roxie takes another hit as Morgan waits for a reply.
“*Ughh*, Sorry but I can’t. Saving the world is a miracle I can pull off,” Riot Grrrl’s lime green rollerblades, covered in grey and purple guts, slams up between a zombie’s legs to crunch it’s green nuts to paste, “but saving your sense of style? It’s impossible. It just can’t be done.” She jabs, chuckling as a cracked egg silhouette appears in the games corner, racking up elite points that somehow lead to the game’s world’s health-bar going back up.
**"Braaaaains...Braaaaains..."** the zombies moaned.
**“Sorry babe. But I won’t be making it to dinner…”** A cutscene of the zombie basher longingly holding another survivor in an embracing hug turns dark as she turns away and slides a pair of cracked sunglasses on.
**“Because I have a date with this bat, and that thing’s scrotum.”**
Crawling from a deep freezer locked with chains and metal pipe spikes around it, a monstrosity bursts out! A mutated hyper zombie with ice blue skin and deep red eyes. Riot Grrrl reaches into her melee bag on her back, pulling out lighter fluid. She’s wearing hockey gloves as she douses the heavily wrapped newspapers and nail bat. And with a single match she looks at the audience and says,
**“It’s Ball crunching time. Torch style.”** before igniting the bat and giving control backs to the player.
Morgan's frustration grew as she threw the balled up leggings like a pitcher, hitting the short-stack Latina gamer in her much larger and fuller tits. The sea of tanned cleavage baffles her but she shakes her head and begs some more.
"Can you please focus for one second? This is our chance to make a statement. It’s not just high school anymore. It’s college! We can be *sooo cool* if we actually do it right…”
Roxie didn't flinch, as she rapid fire revolver bullets into crawling zombie’s nutsacks as they’re dragged behind them. All with such ease. Dead-eyeing them all with Riot Grrrls iconic electric bass being shaved into an axe by lightning. "Chill, Morgan. We've got this. We've been planning this day for years man. Just relax and know the best hook ups for last second costumes."
Roxie presses her back R2 and L2 buttons to activate a special move.
**”Boomerage Axe Bitches!”** The axe blade goes flying, cutting off the wobbly legs and dead saggy sacks that disintegrate into pixelated EX points, like a testicle seeking boomerang.
Morgan stopped pacing, hands on hips. "That's exactly my point! We need to be flawless. We’re always doing *important* things last second. Principal Johnson is already trying to shut us down."
Roxie shrugged, still gaming. "Dude, we'll rock their faces off. Literally." She presses o to slide on RG’s shredded knees, sliding in as she blasts a zombie's chick head off-screen with a sawwed off shotgun. It’s green dome hitting another zombie in the mouth and shattering its teeth. “Ooo eat it up *zombie babe.*”
Roxie fist pumps, as she races to the next stage. A volcano in the distance liquifies a skyscraper as a massive, grotesque, sack of undead mass with multiple legs screams as it senses Riot Girl.
“Whoa bonus round Morgan! And LOOK at the SIZE of those *shnuts!*” a giant monstrosity with two heads and two even bigger and fatter, unripe testicles struggled to lift themselves due to their saggy heaviness.
Morgan threw up her hands, wanting to call quiets. "You're not taking this seriously at all!"
“Ughhhhh fineee,” Roxie finally pauses the game and turns to Morgan with a tired smile. "Just, *chill* out dude. You’re not going to ruin my high and you won’t ruin this night. We’re going to have some chip and dip, talk about who’s blowing who, and then hitting a bong to avoid every loser in a *Patrick Bateman* costume.”
“Okay…but what if—“
“Hey, We can't *control freak* everything like we used to. Like you said, we’re getting taller or whatever. Let's just have fun, okay? I mean…what’s the worst that can happen?"
— - —
They raided the costume store, their laughter echoing through the aisles as they tried on everything from a gladiator ensemble to a banana suit. Morgan's cheeks burned red every time she stepped out of the changing room, but Roxie's enthusiasm was infectious. Finally, they stumbled upon an anime bunny girl maid costume, and it was like the universe had aligned. It was a perfect fit for Morgan's curves, accentuating her bubble butt and perky chest.
“A-Are you sure about…this?” She asks, a little unsure with the choice of thong Roxie made her change into before leaving. “It doesn’t make my butt t-too big?”
“What? Of course not. Why would you say something like that?” Roxie smiles, finding a bad black wig to wear for her last second costume too. When she glances back at Morgan her eyes widen with a hint of envy as her giant friend’s ass not only looked great, but also *devoured* the costume the way it was intended. Hiding her precious rose but giving a big sneak peek at her trunk.
“Hmm, maybe get a size smaller?” She suggests, more smoke coming out of her mouth as she laughs to herself as Morgan tries to hold up the top as her boobs wobbled underneath her crossed arm.
A few hours later, they rolled up to the parking lot, the sound of distant music and chatter growing louder. Roxie, in her Star Trek *Red-shirt-crew* costume, rolls her jungle green Jeep into the parking lot while she hit her pen, her eyes glowing a vivid red to match the stupid space fleet fabric. She took a deep drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Ready for this?" she asked, a smirk playing on her lips.
Morgan stepped out of the car, the cool evening air making her shiver in the skimpy outfit. The anime bunny girl maid costume was definitely a hit, turning heads as they approached the party. But with each step closer to the dorm, her confidence began to waver. And then she saw them.
Tiffany and her clique, the same girls who had made high school a living hell for her, were lounging by the entrance. They were dressed as an avenger squad of easily recognizable superheroes, their costumes a blend of spandex and sneakers.
The sight of them made Morgan's heart drop into her stomach. If she had balls they’d be up in there too no doubt.
“You know what. Getting high and video games does sound cool…we should go.” She grabs Roxie's arm, trying to pull her back, but it was too late.
Tiffany spotted them and sauntered over, her eyes narrowing at the sight of Morgan. She has a cruel smile that hadn't changed since the last time Morgan had seen it. And of course she’s dressed as Wonder Woman of all heroes to choose from.
"Well, well, if it isn't the giraffe nerd with a new look," she sneered, her voice carrying over the muffled music from inside. Her biker gang of friends giggled in unison, cracking their knuckles in a display that sent a chill down Morgan's spine.
The one poorly dressed up as Harley Quinn *actually* pulls a pair of metal nutcrackers before noticing Roxie wasn’t some short Hispanic guy. *Im so glad I’m not a guy right now.* Morgan thinks, remembering all those horrible memories of Tiffany turning any of her nerdy friends into sobbing messes with bruised and broken nuts.
Especially the ones who had a crush on Morgan…which were few to none after Tiffany turned sweet Jason’s left testicle into slimy nut butter. Not everyone knew the full story but Morgan had front row seats to seeing Jason’s eyes roll into his head as that single nut went *P O P*
Roxie smiled a little. Her first clenching beside her short legs. Morgan went back into being shy and even looked away even though she towered over Tiffany.
“Holy shit,” the one dressed up as Superman in a compression shirt with an S in the front, and a pink blanket around his neck pointed at Morgan, “*Moron Morgan?* Yo babe, it is her!”
"Yup Jake. Looks like she’s trying to hard to be cute. Look *cool* like you’re one of us. But you're just a sad little *wabbit,*" Tiffany said, reaching out and grabbing the tail of Morgan's costume with fast grabby hands.
It’s Tiffany’s specialty. She talks you into a corner on purpose, just get hands dirty. She loves the hunt…and Morgan hates being the hunter.
With a sharp yank, she gave Morgan a painful wedgie, grasping her bright pumpkin orange thong as well, hoisting it up too far WAY too fast. The fabric cuts into her skin and Morgan's cheeks burned with humiliation as she yelps and grabs her crotch, shocked by the harsh material slipping between her pussy lips. “EEKP!”
*No! College is supposed to be different. She shouldn’t even be smart enough to get in college!* she feels the tears prickle at the corners of her eyes as Tiffany’s gang laugh harder, getting a few sideline watchers to laugh too or look away from second hand embarrassment.
Roxie's shaking arm tightened, her own expression a mix of shock and anger. Her high getting ruined quickly.
The two friends exchanged a look, and for a moment, Morgan felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. But then, something in her snapped. Like a switch was flipped on and her worries took a backseat. She takes a deep breath, straightens up, and faces her tormentor. Her thong stretched to the lower of her back like a fish tail.
"You know what, Tiffany?" she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "You’re going to pay.”
Before Tiffany could respond, Morgan turned to Jake, the son of the Ravenwood’s car repair man. The mouth breathing Superman poser. He’s the only guy in the group and since he’s Tiffany's boyfriend, his obnoxious laughter and enjoyment of her being a monster was enough to justify what came next.
He was dressed in a simple superhero costume, with a bulging muscle chest and basketball shorts that left little to the imagination. He was grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying the scene Tiffany was causing. But when Morgan looked at him, something in her gaze made him pause.
Without warning, Morgan swung her leg back and up, her classic black and white converses looking perfect for an photoshoot, and then swung forward and kicked Jake directly in Tiffany’s favorite spot of his.
*His useless balls.*
The sound of his squeal pierced through the party noise like a siren. He crumpled to the ground, clutching himself, his smile replaced by a grimace of pain. Tiffany's eyes went wide with shock and rage, but she had no time to react as Roxie stepped in front of her, arms crossed, her stance unmistakably defensive.
Morgan didn't wait either and squatted down to shove her hand up Jake’s shorts to grab his balls before Tiffany can even react. She squeezes hard, and his face contorts with pain. His grin turning into a frozen grimace.
"Oh, you liked that, didn't you? Think your bitch of a girlfriend is a comedian?" she spits out, her voice filled with the anger of years of bullying. “Here. Let me tell you my favorite joke…it goes like *this.*” She twists, and he feels his testicular chords overlap and get stretched too far!
“Tiff! TIFFANY! She has my balls!!!” He kicks and screams, looking for Tiffany but closing his eyes as Morgan’s feminine but huge hand manages to crush his balls together *slowly.*
The small crowd around them gasps. Tiffany's shock turns to pure, unbridled rage. She goes to take a swing at Morgan, but Roxie steps in, catching her fist with a short iron grip. "Mess with my girl, you mess with me," she says, her eyes flashing dangerously.
The two girls glare at each other and Roxie, impulsively, headbutts the fake Wonder Woman, knocking Tiffany to the ground hard. And right on cue, when her older brother Morty walks up confused to see his sister kicking at the ground as blood leaks from her nose, Roxie quickly sprints up to him and soccer punts his tight balls into his throat.
*Just to be safe of course.*
The music falters, the DJ sensing the tension outside the building as the students start to rush to the windows and record the sudden fight with their phones.
The partygoers part like the Red Sea, creating a wide circle around the confrontation. The air is thick with anticipation and fear as the two former high school rivals face off. Tiffany's friends hover awkwardly, not sure if they should jump in or stay out of it.
Morgan looks tall even as she’s crouching on one knee, her grip on Jake's swelling balls unrelenting. She glares at Tiffany, who's now on the floor, struggling to breathe. "You're not the queen bee here, Tiff. This is college," she says, her voice cold and clear. "And in case you haven't noticed, I've had enough of your stupid shit. Including your boy’s *tiny* toys."
Tiffany gasps for air, her eyes watering from the pain of her nose throbbing like hell. She tries to push herself up, but Roxie's boot on her chest keeps her down.
"Ugh! You think you're so tough," she wheezes out. "You're just a... a... a slut in a bunny suit!!!”
Morgan's grip tightens, and Jake's squeal reaches a new pitch. "Keep talking, Tiffany," she says sweetly, "and I'll make sure everyone here learns what your boyfriend's balls feel like."
The crowd holds its collective breath as the tension escalates. Then, with a swift motion, Morgan yanks Jake’s pink lengthy nutsack out of his shorts and into the open air.
"You see this?" she says, holding his testicles up like trophies. Green veins zigzagging across them as they’re forced to the bottom of his sack."This is what happens when you mess with me or anyone else. They're soft, squishy, and when you squeeze hard enough, they make you beg for *mercy.* That's what you're going to be if you don't learn your lesson."
Her words hang in the air like a challenge. She's not just standing up for herself; she's teaching everyone present the value of respect and the consequences of crossing lines. The crowd is stunned into silence, watching as the power dynamics shift dramatically before their eyes.
Past bullies, guys who made fun of her and her weed friend behind their backs, all feel their own nuts shrivel up from the example being set.
"Now, get up," Morgan says, her voice firm as she readjusts her grip on Jake’s boys. She pulls back and he yelps , which helps him to his feet.
“Please. I’m so *sooo* s-sorry! I won’t l-laugh anymore. I’ll l-lEAve YOU alAHGH!!!” Jake’s horrified, bawling face was enough to get the message across. But she wasn’t done just yet.
“Mhm, sure. After this last question…Tiffany. Which one? Left or right.”
Tiffany, her eyes still watering from the blow to her chest, glares up at her with pure hatred. But she knows better than to push her luck. "Right?" she croaks out. “Why…?”
Morgan nods and releases Jake’s left testicle, watching as his knees buckle slightly. "Good choice," she says with a wink before giving the right one a hard tug. Jake yelps and nearly falls back over.
Morty, noticing the shift in momentum, tries to get to his feet but Roxie is quicker. She winds up with a fierce look on her face, her steel-toed boot aimed directly at his massive bulge. He made it easy by dressing as some Roman loser who isn’t wearing pants. She kicks with the power of a star scoring the winning goal in the championship match. Morty's eyes bulge as the boot connects, and he crumples back to the ground, his hands reflexively shielding his nuts as they feel like, *this time,* they won’t *drop again.*
“Fuckkkking BITCH!!!”
Roxie turns to face Tiffany, who's now back on her feet, fists clenched.
"You want a piece of this too?" she asks, a wild glint in her eyes. Ripping the black wig to reveal her toxic green hair, Tiffany hesitates, her cheeks red with embarrassment and anger. She glances at her now-writhing boyfriend, then back at Roxie.
With a snarl, Tiffany feels stuck. Trapped even, until she spots her golden opportunity. A way to turn the tides!
“Heh, you’re not the only one who cares about a guy’s sperm count!”
She bolts through the crowd, zeroing in on the boy Roxie is often seen with after school. A tall, lanky gamer with a “Bingo free space, right here” t-shirt that points down to his pants, and thick round potted glasses.
He's leaning against the wall, a PSP in his hands, oblivious to the chaos unfolding. He’s also wearing a Star Trek outfit, his golden of course which made him easier to keep eyes on. Without a second thought, Tiffany barrels into him, knocking him to the ground.
His PSP goes flying, the plastic clattering against the floor as he immediately tries to push her off. “Hey what the *heck* you’re crushing my ribs you ogre, Get off!”
The crowd backs away as Tiffany straddles the stunned boy, her hand darting into his thin space pants and into his silky yellow briefs. At first she’s confused, thinking that maybe this nerd forget to hit puberty but she finds his weak, and much smaller balls *(compared to the others crying and begging about theirs)* and she *squeezes* them with unforgiving force.
The boy's eyes bulge out of his head, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The music seems to fade away as the two girls' standoff reaches a new level of intensity.
Roxie's eyes widen, torn between rage at Tiffany's audacity and protectiveness over her friend. She starts to move, but then stops, watching the scene unfold with a twisted high smile. She knows this is Morgan's fight to win.
But the sight of the boy's face, his pain mirroring her own, is too much to bear. With a roar, she lunges at Tiffany but Tiffany pinches Matt’s smaller left nut and he begs for Roxie to stop her.
"Tiffany, get off him!" Morgan yells, the sound of her voice echoing through the dorm's hallway. But
Tiffany just smirks, her grip on Matt's nuts tightening. "You want a piece of this?" she taunts, her thumb and forefinger poised to crush them like grapes.
Morty, seeing his sister in trouble, tries to get to his feet again, but a firm hand on his shoulder stops him. It's their resident advisor, Mr. Jenkins, who's been watching the scene unfold from behind, too terrified to do anything till now.
“O-Okay girls, that’s enOUGH?!”
His face was stern and ready to shut everything down until the often forgotten and stealthy *older* principal, Ms Joel, maneuvers her small wrinkly fingers up between his legs from behind to grasp only one walnut sized testicle.
“Uh-!”
Mr Jenkins freezes mid-sentence, his eyes going wide with shock. Everyone goes silent, every eye on the unlikely showdown between the two groups.
Tiffany glances back at her brother, the smug look on her face faltering for just a moment before she turns her attention back to Morgan, not aware of the real power player showing up.
Ms. Joel's voice cuts through the tension like a knife.
"Is there a problem here?" she asks calmly, her grip on Mr. Jenkins' testicle keeping him firmly in place. It’s spongy in grip but they both do a good job at not revealing what they’re doing as she scolds everyone.
Morgan takes a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Tiffany's.
"Just teaching some old lessons…that’s all" she says with a shy smirk, finally letting go of Jake's testicles. He stumbles back and drops like a bag of rocks, cupping himself protectively, his face a mix of pain and humiliation.
Tiffany sneers, releasing her grip on Matt's balls but keeping her weight on him. "That’s rich, coming from the limpest French fry on the volleyball team. You think you can just waltz in here and start a fight?" she spits at Morgan.
Morgan steps closer, her bunny ears bobbing with each step. "I didn't start this," she says evenly, her voice low and dangerous. "You did! And I was about to finish it by popping his motherfu—"
Roxie, not being a student and just a party Crasher tries to hide behind a few of the curious guys but one see’s her red eyes and he jumps, thinking a weird little devil girl was here to break his balls too! But she manages to slip away and cross her arms against her swaying boobs as she somehow popped the button on her bra underneath. But she still watched things unfold with a bit of pride. Morgan proved she wasn’t to be messed with.
Ms. Joel's grip on Mr. Jenkins' testicle tightens ever so slightly, and he winces, his voice strained. Then leaning in close to Mr. Jenkins, she whispers, her hot breath tickling his ear. "Make sure you get at least one more nut off before you tell everyone to go back to partying and leave the girls to me." Her words hang in the air, a silent message that only he understands. He nods, his face a mask of pained obedience.
The room tenses as Ms. Joel stands up straight, releasing Mr. Jenkins. He stumbles back, his hand flying to cover his crotch. She turns to the crowd, her gaze sweeping over the sea of shocked faces. "Everyone, the party is continuing so please go back inside and have fun," she says firmly.
"Or it’ll be going Back to your dorms and another book report done by Monday. Choose now."
The students begin to disperse, the energy of the party dissipating like a deflating balloon. As they return back inside and leave the trouble makers behind. Tiffany's friends drag the whimpering Jake and a barely conscious Morty away, casting venomous glances over their shoulders. The rest of the partygoers follow suit, their whispers and murmurs a symphony of confusion and excitement.
Ms. Joel then looks at Tiffany and Morgan, her eyes lingering on them. "You two, stay," she says, her voice softer but no less commanding. The hallway finally clears, land with a little walking everyone leaves the two former enemies face to face, the air thick with tension and unspoken words.
Morgan takes a deep breath, her heart racing. She's not sure what's coming next, but she's ready.