Morgan and Roxie’s Two Kick Special

Morgan yawned, stretching her arms above her head as the neon lights of *Reel Dreams* flickered in the quiet night. The small-town video store was a relic of the past, but in Ravenwood, it was a treasure trove for those who still craved the nostalgia of plastic cases and tangible movie nights.

Her shift had just begun, and the town's usual night-owls had yet to wander in, seeking their cinematic fixes. The bell above the door jingled occasionally with the ghosts of customers long gone to bed, its echo bouncing off the shelves filled with dusty VHS tapes and forgotten gems of the epic '90s.

Beneath her lavender-purple work shirt, she wore a long sleeve white thermal, a silent protest against the stubborn chill that had crept into the store from the cracked windows. The material clung to her in all the right ways, accentuating her tall 6’ figure as she bent over to straighten a row of misplaced horror flicks. The thermal's snug fit did little to hide the swell of her B-cup breasts, and she could feel the cool fabric against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that was building between her legs. Her gray-blue eyes scanned the shelves, occasionally pausing on a title that brought a nostalgic smile to her lips.

"Damn it," Morgan murmured under her breath, her voice echoing faintly through the aisles. "Where the hell is *The Nutcracker Massacre*?"

Her search had become something of a personal quest; she hadn’t seen that particular black and white slasher in ages, and she had a peculiar fondness for its macabre twist on a holiday classic. She'd heard whispers of it being a cult favorite, the kind of film that had a fanbase so devoted they'd drive hours to the nearest city to catch a midnight screening.

And yet, in the quiet, unassuming confines of *Sleepy Ravenwood*, it remained a mystery, a rumor whispered among the shelves of forgotten classics.

She has a list of movies she’s been working her way through and tonight was the perfect time for busting balls.

"Hey, Roxie!" she called out, her voice bouncing off the walls. "You logged those black and whites in the back yet?" The response was a muffled groan, followed by the sound of someone shifting in the shadows.

The back room was where the real treasures of Reel Dreams were kept: the rare VHS tapes that hadn't seen the light of day since the dawn of the digital age. It was Roxie's domain, a place where she could retreat and indulge in her love of obscure film facts and music trivia without interruption.

“Roxie?” Raising an eyebrow all she heard back was another zombie like moan and she sighed.

Morgan wandered down the aisle, the sound of her matching blue sneakers squeaking against the sticky floor. The smell of stale popcorn and old cardboard filled her nose, a scent she'd come to associate with the comfort of a quiet evening at work. She peered into the back room, the light flickering from the neon 'Staff Only' sign casting a greenish hue over the cluttered space.

There, amidst the piles of unorganized tapes, sat Roxie, her 5'4 frame sprawled out on the floor, a half-empty pack of cigarettes by her side. Her green-dyed hair was a wild mess around her face unlike her usual spiky and deliberate style.

“Dude. What’s wrong with you?”

Roxie looked up from her phone, her eyes bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles. She took a deep drag on her cigarette before exhaling a plume of smoke that danced in the dim light.

"They canceled the live-action Ball Ripper," she said, her voice thick with annoyance.

Morgan's hand froze on the spine of the tape she'd just found, her eyes going wide. "What? No way!" The news hit her like a punch to the gut.

Ball Ripper had been one of her favorite manga for as long as she could remember, a guilty pleasure that had seen her through countless nights of insomnia. The thought of a live-action adaptation had been a beacon of excitement in the otherwise mundane world of Ravenwood.

Roxie took another drag of her cigarette, her expression a mix of irritation and disappointment. "Yeah," she said, her voice gravelly from the smoke. "They said it was gonna be too edgy for mainstream audiences. Can you believe that shit?" She let out a derisive laugh, the smoke curling from her mouth like a serpent.

"As if we couldn't handle it. Like we don't know what we want."

Morgan couldn't help but agree. The thought of a censored Ball Ripper was almost more painful than the cancellation itself.

"You're right," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of anger. "As if a half demon girl castrating false angel’s disguised as capitalism, consumerism, and *coming of age disappointments* is too off the rails to understand.”

Roxie sat up, the smoke from her cigarette wafting around her as she crushed it under her combat boot. "Exactly!" she said, her eyes lighting up with passion. "*Kyoko Kurohime's* work is a masterpiece of social commentary wrapped in a bloody bow. They wouldn’t have gotten it anyway...but it would have been cool to see how they’d adapt God’s left nut becoming the moon."

Morgan couldn't help but laugh at her best friend. "You're such a nerd," she teased, shaking her head and helping the shorter girl stand up fully.

Roxie's eyes narrowed playfully, and she flipped Morgan off before saying, *"Muerde mi polla”* It was her signature response, a cheeky Spanish saying that roughly translated to *‘Bite my dick.'*

As if on cue, the bell above the door chimed, shaking them both out of their moment. A figure stepped into the store, the neon lights playing off the silver studs in their leather jacket and casting a glow across their face that was a blend of boredom and curiosity. Roxie's eyes lit up with mischief. "Uh oh, Looks like we've got company." she said, her voice a mix of excitement and challenge.

Morgan's gaze followed the guest as he ambled down the aisles, his heavy boots thumping against the floor. It was Dustin, the same biker they'd seen before a few weekends ago. He was the one with the wavy brown hair that seems to be in a perpetual state of rebellion. He had a rough around the edges charm that made Morgan's heart race, especially when he looked her way. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks as he made his way to the horror section, his eyes scanning the titles as if looking for something that would truly scare him.

Roxie smirked and looked up at Morgan, the light glinting off the studs in her spike wrist bands. "Looks like Dusty's back for another round," she murmured, her eyes flicking down to the movie shirt that clung to her ample chest.

Roxie had a knack for wearing clothes that made a statement, and tonight was no different. Her shirt was a vintage 90’s tee, stretched tightly over her huge boobs, the fabric straining to contain the fullness that seemed to defy gravity. Instead of wearing the uniform shirt she opted for the blue vest fist hung loosely past her short knees.

“Guess it’s fate. Let me go make a move.”

But before she could say more, Morgan’s grip tightened on her arm. "Whoa, hold up," she hissed, her eyes darting towards the door where Dustin was still perusing the aisles. "Remember what happened last time?"

Roxie's grin didn't falter. "Oh, come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's not my fault he thinks I'm a vampire."

Morgan couldn't help but cringe at the memory of Dustin's last visit. Roxie had been dressed in an all-black ensemble, complete with a cape and fangs, for a costume contest at the local bar. She'd strutted into Reel Dreams after her victory lap, only to terrify the poor guy when he'd stumbled in looking for a midnight snack.

"It's not funny," she whispered fiercely, her cheeks flaming at the thought of the embarrassing encounter. "You scared the shit out of him. And now he thinks we're weirdos."

Roxie rolled her eyes dramatically, her dark-lined eyes sparkling with amusement. "So what if he thinks we're weirdos?" she countered. "We’re the coolest weirdos in this whole shithole town." She took a step closer to Morgan, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Besides, if he's so easily spooked, maybe he needs someone to show him the ropes." She winked, her dark lashes fluttering like the wings of a mischievous fairy.

“Plus,” she adds as she pulls herself out of Morgan’s grip, "I could show him a thing or two. Give him a real thrill ride his *balls* wont forget."

Morgan felt a twinge of something she couldn't quite place – *jealousy, maybe?* – at the thought of Roxie with Dustin. But she knew her friend well enough to know that she was just stirring the pot.

"Don't you dare," she whispered back, her eyes flashing with a warning. "I've had my eye on him since he first strutted in here…"

“Pfft, calling dibs stopped working when you kicked Matt Nolan’s nuts when you *knew* I had my eye on his! He’d never been kicked before.”

“That was 7 years ago, I told you I slipped on that yogurt pile YOU left! let it go dude!” Morgan throws her hands up in a whispering yell as Roxie just grew more wicked as her lengthy best friend squirmed.

But Roxie’s attention was fully on Dustin now. She could see the way he glanced at her, the way his eyes lingered on the retro letters sprawled on her bountiful chest. She had a wild idea, a way to break the tension and make him laugh, something she was surprisingly good at.

“Whatever you say Morg, but I think Dusty here seems a bit confused on the size preference. Care to offer him a taste test?”

Morgan’s eyes widened as she took a step back, the blush on her cheeks deepening. “What are you talking about?”

Roxie leaned back against the counter, her arms crossing under her breasts, pushing them up and making them look even more impressive than usual. She tilted her head to the side, considering Dustin with a knowing smirk. “I don’t know, let’s ask him? Hey Dusty boy! Question. Are you a fan of handfuls or just a little nibble, kinda guy?” she called out, her voice carrying through the aisles like a siren’s song.

Morgan’s jaw dropped. “Roxie! What the actual fuck?” she hissed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

But Roxie just shrugged, her grin unrepentant. “What? I’m just warming him up for you. Besides, I’ve got the rack for it.”

Before Morgan could protest, she took a step forward, her boobs bouncing slightly with the movement. But she hadn’t anticipated Morgan’s quick reaction. With a swiftness that belied her height, Morgan’s hand shot out, landing a solid punch right in Roxie’s left tit.

Roxie yelped, the sound high pitched and pained, her hand flying to cover her chest. “Ahhk! Morg, you bitch!” she gasped, her eyes watering.

Dustin’s head snapped up at the sound, his eyes widening in shock as he looked around the corner back towards them.

“Everything okay?” he called out, bringing a few vhs along with him.

Morgan’s mind raced as she realized Dustin may have heard everything. She had to think fast. “Oh, yeah!” she called back, her voice a little too bright. “We were just asking if you wanted to try one of our uh, homemade free popsicles! It’s part of our midnight special!”

Roxie shot her a look that was half pained, half wondering where this was going. “Popsicles?” she mouthed silently.

Morgan nodded frantically. “Yeah, you know, the...the ones we keep in the freezer in the back for...uh...special occasions?”

Roxie’s eyes widened with realization, her hand still cupping her injured boob. “Oh, those popsicles,” she murmured, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She knew exactly what Morgan meant – her secret stash of booze-filled ice pops, a little something extra for when the nights got slow and the boredom was suffocating.

Dustin’s laughter rolled through the store like thunder, a deep, rich sound that made both girls’ panties dampen. He ambled over, a grin spreading across his face as he took in their flustered expressions. “You guys are really funny, you know that?”

He was indeed an inch shorter than Morgan, but his confidence was a palpable force that seemed to make him tower over everyone. The leather jacket and tight black tee did nothing to hide the muscles that rippled underneath, and his piercing gaze made Morgan’s knees wobble.

“Yo-You think I’m funny…?”

Morgan's voice was a mix of surprise and hope as Dustin’s gaze locked onto her. The way he looked at her, with a glint of amusement in his eye, made her pulse race. It was as if he’d seen through their banter and into the heart of their friendship – a bond that could withstand even the most awkward of situations.

"You bet Blondie," he said, his eyes sparkling as he took another step closer. "What kind of 'special occasions' do these popsicles usually celebrate? Is it like, a two hallmark movies for two dollar deal night or something?"

But before Morgan could answer, Roxie interrupted, her hand still dramatically cradling her chest. "Oh, it's way better than that," she said, her voice a low purr. "It's our *'Get Two Free Movies If You Can Take Two Ball Kicks' special.* You know, for the dudes who like their cinema with a side of agonizing thrills."

Dustin's eyes lit up with what looked like a nervous eye twitch towards the exit and Morgan could feel her heart racing in her chest.

She nudged Roxie with her elbow, her voice a desperate whisper. "You're going to pay for this," she hissed.

But before she could say more, Dustin's nervous but still hot laugh boomed through the store. "Ha, wow, you guys really know how to keep a guy on his toes." he said, his eyes flicking between them with an unmistakable glint of curiosity. They were quiet the pair.

Morgan took a deep breath and stepped in, trying to save face. "Relax," she said, her voice steady despite the heat she felt rising to her cheeks. "Roxie's just messing with you. We don't actually have a *'Get Two Free Movies If You Can Take Two Kicks to your um…balls*, uhh that’s just an inside joke we green."

She shot her friend a glare that promised retribution, but Roxie just smirked back at her, her dark eyes alight with amusement.

Dustin's laughter subsided into a chuckle, his eyes darting between the two of them. "Good to know," he said, his voice still thick with nerves. "But seriously, you guys are a riot."

Morgan took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension that had thickened the air like a fog. She offered Dustin a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that," she said, her cheeks still flushed. "Roxie's got a bit of a...unique sense of humor."

Dustin's laughter trailed off, and he nodded. "No problem," he said, his eyes lingering on Morgan for a moment longer than necessary. "So, those popsicles, huh?"

“I’ll get em’ just sit tight.” Roxie slapped Megan’s huge ass that was hidden behind the front desk as she slips back to her den.

Morgan's heart skipped a beat at Dustin's interest in the popsicles. Was he playing along? Or did he really want to try one of their secret concoctions? She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah, sure," she managed to reply, her voice sounding a little too high for her liking.

As Roxie retreated to the back room, Dustin's green eyes remained fixed on Morgan. She felt a strange mix of excitement and dread, knowing that she had his full attention. "You know, I've seen you around town," he said, leaning forward slightly on the counter. "You're kind of hard to miss."

Morgan's cheeks grew hotter, her heart pounding in her chest. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, trying to seem nonchalant. "Yeah, I guess I stick out like a sore thumb," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not exactly the Ravenwood poster child but I am their tallest daughter…"

Dustin leaned in closer, the scent of leather and engine oil filling the space between them. "I remember you from the volleyball tournaments," he said, his eyes holding hers captive. "You were a beast on the court. Those spikes could take down a bear."

Morgan couldn't help but smile at the memory, her blue braces glinting in the neon light as she felt a warmth spread through her cheeks. "Thanks," she said, her voice a little breathier than she'd intended. "It's been a while since I played. School and Work keeps me pretty busy around here."

Dustin nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than it should have. "Yeah, I get that," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But you should definitely come out to the bar some time. We've got a league that plays on Tuesdays. I think you'd still have what it takes."

Morgan felt a thrill run down her spine at the idea of playing again, the muscles in her arms and legs itching to move. "Maybe," she said, her voice tentative. "But it's been so long..."

But she laughs to herself when she remembers she’s still good at spiking balls. The last two weeks she’s run into Tiffany’s dickhead boyfriend and managed to slap grab his hanging nuts everytime he pushed by and left himself wide open.

But the real deal? That thought alone was enough to make her stomach flip. It had been ages since she'd felt that rush of adrenaline, that sense of power as the ball slammed into the opponent's side of the court. The cheers of the crowd, the way her teammates looked to her for the win. It was a feeling she hadn't realized she'd missed until Dustin had mentioned it.

Roxie returned with a handful of the infamous popsicles, each one a vibrant shade of blue. "Here you go," she said, her voice a little too chipper. "One for you, and one for mr cool."

Morgan shot her a glare, but it was too late. Dustin's eyes had lit up at the sight of the popsicles, and he was already reaching for one, his fingers brushing against hers as he took it. The brief touch sent a jolt of electricity up her arm, and she couldn't help but wonder if he felt it too.

"A-Alright, let me just get this," she murmured, taking a step back towards the cash register. She didn't dare look back at Roxie, who she knew was watching the entire exchange with a smug smile.

“Bat Bites, that’s a good one. And Heart Attack Jack. Chase Howling is funny but I don’t know, his performance in this is a *nut buster*—I mean *GUT buster!* Haha…that’ll be $2.50.”

“Hm. Maybe I *will* take that special then.” He jokes, forgetting all about Roxie who’s ears perked up and she knew watching his stance paid off.

Morgan's heart skipped a beat as she watched Dustin bite into the popsicle, the coolness of the alcohol-infused treat making his eyes widen with surprise. "…This isn't just any popsicle," he murmured, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of suspicion.

"Just a little something extra," she replied with a worry wink, trying to keep her voice steady.

But before Morgan could even ring up his purchase, Roxie took the moment to make her own move. With a swiftness that belied her short stature, she slammed her boot right into Dustin's low hanging testicles from behind, catching him completely off guard. The sound of the impact was sickening, echoing through the quiet store, and his face contorted in instant pain.

Dustin's knees buckled, and he let out a strangled yelp, dropping the popsicle mid-bite. It clattered to the floor, forgotten, as he doubled over, his hands flying to the counter to stay standing. "Oh Fuck!" he gasped, his eyes wide and scary.

Morgan's eyes went wider as she watched the scene unfold in front of her, her hand flying to cover her mouth. Roxie, meanwhile, had a wild look in her eyes, her voice rising to a fever pitch as she mimicked a sports commentator.

*"Ooo And that's a punt heard 'round the world, folks! It's a high score for Team Morgan!"* she whooped, her fists pumping the air.

But Dustin's face was a mask of shock and pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he held on and didn’t fall to the floor. Morgan's heart lurched with a mix of horror and pity, and she rushed to his side, her eyes darting down to the bulge in his crotch that was already beginning to subside.

"Oh my god, Dustin, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Roxie, what the hell?"

Roxie shrugged, her grin unrepentant. "What? He said he wanted the special and *I said* I was going to give it to him," she said, her voice still a tad high-pitched with excitement. "And I always keep my promises babe, you know this.”

Morgan's eyes widened in horror as she watched Roxie wind up for another kick. “Good job Dusty, now here comes number two! Better clench that ballsack!”

"Roxie, no!" she shouted, her hand reaching out to grab her friend's ankle.

But she was too slow. Roxie's foot shot out, connecting with Dustin's balls with a sickening thud. His eyes bulged, and a sound that was half-whine, half-roar ripped from his throat as he crumpled to the floor finally. The popsicle that had fallen from his hand, forgotten in the chaos, was now sticky blue liquid spreading like a bruise on the floor.

Morgan's hand hovered over the cash register, frozen in place. Dustin's words echoed in her mind, 'You guys are a riot.' But this was not the kind of comedy he'd signed up for. She stared at the display, willing the numbers to change, to somehow reflect the sudden turn of events.

But the universe had other plans. With a cruel sense of humor, the cash register beeped cheerfully as it processed the purchase, displaying the total due: $2.00. Then, as if in silent solidarity with Dustin's plight, it had a little jingle to congratulate him.

Morgan's eyes darted between the register and the crumpled figure on the floor, her mind racing. "Oh my god he’s going to hate us forever!" she whispered harshly.

But Roxie was on a roll, her laughter echoing through the store like a cackling witch's. She panted a bit, her chest rising and falling with the effort of her kicks, and gave Dustin a hearty slap on the back. "Good game, Dusty! Most guys never get past the first one. And that’s when Morgan does it!" she exclaimed, her hand connecting with his broad shoulder.

Dustin whimpered, his voice barely above a squeak. "M-My balls..." he managed to get out, his face a ghastly shade of pale. "One of them feels like it's s-s-stuck in me…"

Morgan's eyes were as wide as saucers as she stared at Roxie in horror. "What have you done?" she hissed, her voice a mix of anger and disbelief.

But Roxie just shrugged, her laughter fading into a wicked smirk. "What?" she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "He's fine. A little bruised pride is good for a guy like him."

Morgan watched in disbelief as Roxie grabbed her pack of cigarettes from the counter and sauntered towards the door. "I'm taking my smoke break," she called over her shoulder. "You know, the one I'm *totally allowed* because I'm the boss's daughter?"

That shuts Morgan up fast. *Cocky little ballbusting brat.* she thinks and sighs.

Morgan’s brain raced as she tried to figure out how to salvage the situation. And there was none. Dustin’s balls can’t be unpranked so she does the next best thing. She keeps working.

"C-Cash or card?" she stuttered out and her crush’s wounded plea about his testicles haunted her. “You know what…it’s on the house.”