The Cheating Mechanic
This was inspired by this scene from an old movie:
[Movie scene ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iU3E4bwx6rI)
The garage smelled like oil and burnt rubber. Brad’s boots stuck out from under the car he was working on, the soles scuffed and worn. His tool cart sat nearby, wrenches and sockets scattered across the tray. A radio played low, some rock station he always kept on. He liked the noise, the distraction.
Vanessa stood next to me, her hands balled into fists. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. She’d been crying earlier, her eyes still red and puffy. Amber stood on the other side of her, arms crossed, her jaw tight. She’d been the one to call me, her voice steady but cold when she told me what Brad had been doing. Pictures, texts, phone calls. All of it.
I glanced down at Vanessa’s phone in my hand, the screen lit up with a photo of Brad’s bare ass, his huge cock half-hard in some hotel room mirror. The time stamp was two days ago. The same night Vanessa had called him, crying because her cat had died. He’d told her he couldn’t come over, said he was swamped with work.
The three of us moved into the garage, our boots clacking against the concrete floor. Brad’s feet twitched under the car, his legs shifting as he worked the wrench. He didn’t hear us. Or maybe he didn’t care. He was always too confident for his own good, always thought he could talk his way out of anything.
I stepped closer, my shadow falling over his legs. His shorts were riding up, the fabric stretched tight over his hips. The bulge between his legs was impossible to miss, the outline of his bull balls pressing against the thin material. He had no clue what was coming. No clue at all.
Vanessa’s breath hitched, her hands trembling at her sides. Amber stepped forward first, her boots stopping just inches from his legs. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at him.
“Brad,” she said, her voice sharp.
His legs stilled. The wrench clattered to the floor.
Amber’s boot came down hard, the sole landing square on the bulge in Brad’s shorts. There was a muffled crunch, soft and wet at the same time. His huge balls flattened under the weight, the outline of them spreading out as the pressure forced them to the sides. The fabric of his shorts stretched tighter, the seams straining.
Brad’s legs jerked, his knees slamming into the underside of the car. “MY BALLS!” he screamed, his voice cracking. His hands shot out from under the car, fingers clawing at the floor. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Amber leaned into it, grinding her heel into him. His balls squished further, the bulge in his shorts distorting as they were mashed under her weight. He thrashed, his hips bucking, but there was nowhere for him to go. His back was pressed flat against the creeper, the metal frame digging into his spine.
“GET OFF! GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” he yelled, his voice high-pitched and raw. His hands flailed toward his crotch, flailing ineffectively at Amber's boot.
Vanessa took a step forward, her fists still clenched. Her face was flushed, her chest rising and falling as she watched. I kept my eyes on Brad, on the way his shorts were stretched to the limit, the way his balls were visibly deformed under the pressure of Amber’s boot.
Amber twisted her foot, and Brad let out another strangled scream. “PLEASE! OH GOD, PLEASE STOP!”
Vanessa stepped closer, her boots scuffing the concrete floor. Her voice trembled at first, but it sharpened as she spoke. “You think I didn’t know? You think I wouldn’t find out about all those girls? You’ve got some nerve, Brad.”
Brad’s hands clawed at the floor, his face contorted in pain. “Vanessa! I—ugh!—I can explain! Just get her off me!”
“Explain what?” She crossed her arms, her lips curling into a sneer. “How you’ve been sneaking around, showing off those big balls of yours to every girl who’ll look? You thought you could keep it from me?”
Amber leaned harder, her boot grinding into his crotch. Brad’s scream cut through the air like a siren. “OH GOD! PLEASE! I’M SORRY!”
“Sorry?” Vanessa’s voice cracked, her eyes glistening. “You’re only sorry because we caught you. You’re only sorry because your big, stupid balls are getting what they deserve.”
Brad’s legs twitched, his knees knocking against the underside of the car. “I’LL DO ANYTHING! JUST STOP!”
Vanessa crouched down, her face inches from his. “Anything? Like stop cheating? Like stop lying? You think that’s enough now, Brad? After everything?”
“YES! YES! I’LL STOP!” His words came out in gasps, his face slick with sweat. “PLEASE!”
She straightened up, her arms still crossed. Her voice was cold now, eerily calm. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Brad. And we’re just getting started.”
I glanced over at the industrial tire inflation hose coiled on the wall, its metal nozzle gleaming under the garage lights. The hose was thick, sturdy, designed to handle high pressure without a problem. A thin layer of dust coated it, but it looked like it was in working order.
“Remember that movie from the seventies?” I said, tilting my head toward it. Amber followed my gaze, her lips curling into a smirk. “The bit where those female bus drivers used one of those to take care of a chauvinist pig’s ego—and his balls?”
Amber snorted, her boot still planted firmly on Brad’s crotch. “Oh, I remember. Classic.”
Brad’s eyes darted to the hose, his face paling. “No. No, no, no. You can’t—that’s insane! That’ll kill me!”
Vanessa walked over to the hose, her fingers brushing the nozzle. She hesitated for a moment, then unhooked it from the wall. The hose uncoiled with a heavy clatter, the nozzle swinging at the end like a pendulum.
“You’ve got no one to blame but yourself, Brad,” she said, her voice steady. Her eyes locked on his, and for a second, I thought she might hesitate. But then she straightened her shoulders and started dragging the hose toward him.
“VANESSA, PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING!” Brad twisted on the creeper, his hands scrambling for purchase on the floor. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”
Amber pressed down harder, grinding her heel into his already flattened balls. “Oh, we can. And we will.”
Vanessa knelt down beside Brad, the industrial tire inflation hose in her hand. The nozzle was cold against her palm as she threaded it up the leg of his shorts. She moved deliberately, her fingers brushing against the inside of his thigh. He twitched, his breath hitching.
“Vanessa, don’t! PLEASE! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Brad’s voice was frantic, his hands flailing, trying to grab at the hose. But Amber and I were already on him, pinning his arms to the floor. My knee dug into his shoulder, and Amber’s weight kept his hips in place.
Vanessa tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she aimed the nozzle. “Why not, Brad? You always thought you were so special, parading around with those big balls of yours. Let’s see how special they are now.”
She flipped the switch on the hose. The air hissed, low and steady at first, then building in intensity. Brad’s huge balls were flattened against his body, pressed into his pelvis by the air pressure. His thighs jerked, his back arching off the creeper.
“OH MY GOD! STOP! STOP! STOP!” Brad screamed, his voice cracking. Tears streamed down his face, his mouth open in a silent cry before another wave of pain hit him. “IT’S TOO MUCH! YOU’RE KILLING ME!”
Amber leaned in, her face inches from his. “How’s it feel, Brad? Huh? Not so tough now, are you?”
“I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! PLEASE, JUST STOP!” His words came out in gasps, his chest heaving. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as the pressure continued to build.
Vanessa adjusted the nozzle slightly, her voice calm but cutting. “You’re sorry? Funny, you didn’t seem sorry when you were sending those pictures to other girls. Didn’t seem sorry when you lied to my face.”
Brad’s body convulsed, his legs kicking uselessly. “I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN! I SWEAR! JUST TURN IT OFF!”
I glanced at Vanessa, nodding toward the hose. She gave it another twist, the hiss of air growing louder. Brad’s screams filled the garage, raw and desperate.
Brad’s hands clawed at the floor, his fingers scraping against the concrete. “PLEASE! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! IT HURTS! IT HURTS SO BAD!”
Vanessa crouched down, her face inches from his. Her cleavage was impossible to miss, her huge tits straining against the fabric of her shirt. She tilted her head, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s the matter, Brad? Can’t handle a little pressure? Thought you were a big man.”
“I’M NOT! I’M NOT!” Brad wailed, his face red and slick with sweat. His body convulsed, his hips bucking uselessly against the weight of Amber’s boot. “PLEASE, VANESSA! I’LL DO ANYTHING!”
Vanessa’s eyes caught the tire wrench lying on the floor near Brad’s tool cart. The metal gleamed under the garage lights, the dull chrome catching her eye. She straightened up, her gaze shifting from the wrench to Brad’s writhing body.
“Take them off,” she said, her voice cold and firm.
Amber didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the waistband of Brad’s shorts and yanked them down, the fabric scraping against his hips as she pulled them free. His bruised and swollen testicles were exposed, the skin mottled with angry red and purple. They hung heavy between his legs, even larger than usual, the damage from the hose clearly visible.
Brad’s hands flailed weakly, trying to cover himself. “NO! DON’T! PLEASE! YOU CAN’T—”
Amber slapped his hands away, pinning them to the floor again. Vanessa picked up the tire wrench, the weight of it solid in her hand. She knelt between his legs, her eyes fixed on his swollen right nut.
“You’ve always been so proud of these, haven’t you, Brad?” she said, her voice low. Her fingers tightened around the wrench as she positioned it over his testicle. “Guess they’re not so special now.”
“VANESSA, NO! PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING! I’LL NEVER LIE TO YOU AGAIN!” Brad’s voice was shrill, his body jerking as he tried to twist away. But there was nowhere to go. The wrench closed around his nut, the cold metal biting into the tender flesh.
Vanessa turned the wrench slowly, the mechanism creaking as it tightened. Brad let out a strangled scream, his back arching off the creeper. “OH GOD! OH GOD! IT’S TOO MUCH! PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!”
Amber leaned in, her smirk widening. “How’s it feel, big man? Still think you’re untouchable?”
Vanessa twisted the wrench a little more, her eyes locked on Brad’s face. “You should’ve thought about this before you started cheating, Brad. Thought about what it would feel like when you finally got caught.”
“I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! PLEASE!” His voice cracked, his face soaked with tears.
Vanessa’s grip on the wrench tightened, her knuckles white as she leaned over Brad. His swollen right nut was already trapped in the jaws of the tool, the metal digging into the tender flesh. She twisted the wrench slowly, the mechanism creaking with every turn.
“You’ve always had loose nuts, Brad,” she said, her voice icy. “Guess it’s time I fixed that for you.”
“NO! PLEASE! I’M SORRY! I’LL DO ANYTHING!” Brad’s screams echoed through the garage, his body thrashing against the creeper. His hands clawed at the floor, fingers scraping against the concrete, but Amber and I kept him pinned.
Vanessa turned the wrench another notch, the metal biting deeper into his nut. “You’ll do anything? Like stop lying? Stop cheating? Too late for that, Brad. You had your chance.”
“IT HURTS! OH GOD, IT HURTS! PLEASE STOP!” His voice was raw, broken, tears streaming down his face. His legs kicked out, his hips bucking, but he couldn’t escape the pressure.
Amber chuckled, leaning down to make sure her weight kept him in place. “You hear that, Brad? Vanessa’s just getting started. You’re gonna be really sorry by the time she’s done.”
Vanessa twisted the wrench again, her lips curling into a grim smile. “You think this hurts? Wait till I get to the other one.”
Brad’s screams turned into a guttural howl, his body convulsing as the wrench did its work. Vanessa didn’t stop. She kept turning, tightening, her eyes locked on his face as he writhed in agony.
Vanessa twisted the wrench one final turn, the metal creaking as Brad’s right nut neared its breaking point. His screams were ragged, his body convulsing on the creeper, but she didn’t let up. She held the wrench steady, her grip firm, her eyes locked on his face.
“How’s that feel, Brad?” she asked, her voice soft, almost sweet. “Your big, precious balls getting what they deserve?”
“PLEASE! NO MORE! I CAN’T TAKE IT!” Brad sobbed, his hands clawing at the floor. His face was red, veins bulging in his neck as he thrashed against the pain.
Vanessa didn’t answer. She reached for a second wrench lying on the floor, the metal cool against her palm. She positioned it over his left nut, the jaws closing around the swollen flesh. Brad let out a choked whimper, his body tensing as he felt the cold metal bite into him.
She turned the wrench slowly, methodically, the mechanism clicking with every rotation. “How about now, Brad? How’s your left nut feeling?”
“IT’S TOO MUCH! PLEASE, VANESSA! I’LL DO ANYTHING! JUST STOP!” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
Amber leaned in, her weight keeping Brad pinned. “Wow, they're starting to look a bit funny. Hope they don't break.”
Vanessa twisted the wrench again, her movements precise. “Do they both hurt the same? I want to be fair.”
Brad’s screams filled the garage, his body jerking as the wrenches dug deeper into his flesh. Vanessa didn’t say anything else. She just kept turning, her face calm, her eyes never leaving his.
Brad’s body was limp, his screams reduced to weak, guttural moans. The wrenches were locked in place, their jaws biting into his swollen, bruised nuts. Vanessa stood over him, her lipstick in hand, the bright red color catching the light. She knelt down, her face inches from his dick, and began to write. The letters were bold, messy, but unmistakable: **CHEATER**.
“There,” she said, leaning back to admire her work. “Now everyone will know exactly what you are.”
Brad’s head lolled to the side, his eyes unfocused. “P-Please... my balls...”
Amber grabbed a length of rope from the corner of the garage and tossed it to me. I caught it, the rough fibers scraping against my palms. Together, we tied Brad’s wrists and ankles to the creeper, the knots tight and unyielding. He didn’t fight back anymore; he just lay there, his breath shallow, his body trembling.
Amber pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of Brad—his nuts trapped in the wrenches, the word **CHEATER** scrawled across his dick. She held up the phone to Vanessa, who nodded in approval.
Vanessa stood, wiping her hands on a rag before tossing it aside. Her voice was calm, almost detached. “Let’s go.”
The three of us walked toward the garage door, the sound of Brad’s ragged breathing fading behind us.
[Movie scene ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iU3E4bwx6rI)
The garage smelled like oil and burnt rubber. Brad’s boots stuck out from under the car he was working on, the soles scuffed and worn. His tool cart sat nearby, wrenches and sockets scattered across the tray. A radio played low, some rock station he always kept on. He liked the noise, the distraction.
Vanessa stood next to me, her hands balled into fists. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. She’d been crying earlier, her eyes still red and puffy. Amber stood on the other side of her, arms crossed, her jaw tight. She’d been the one to call me, her voice steady but cold when she told me what Brad had been doing. Pictures, texts, phone calls. All of it.
I glanced down at Vanessa’s phone in my hand, the screen lit up with a photo of Brad’s bare ass, his huge cock half-hard in some hotel room mirror. The time stamp was two days ago. The same night Vanessa had called him, crying because her cat had died. He’d told her he couldn’t come over, said he was swamped with work.
The three of us moved into the garage, our boots clacking against the concrete floor. Brad’s feet twitched under the car, his legs shifting as he worked the wrench. He didn’t hear us. Or maybe he didn’t care. He was always too confident for his own good, always thought he could talk his way out of anything.
I stepped closer, my shadow falling over his legs. His shorts were riding up, the fabric stretched tight over his hips. The bulge between his legs was impossible to miss, the outline of his bull balls pressing against the thin material. He had no clue what was coming. No clue at all.
Vanessa’s breath hitched, her hands trembling at her sides. Amber stepped forward first, her boots stopping just inches from his legs. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at him.
“Brad,” she said, her voice sharp.
His legs stilled. The wrench clattered to the floor.
Amber’s boot came down hard, the sole landing square on the bulge in Brad’s shorts. There was a muffled crunch, soft and wet at the same time. His huge balls flattened under the weight, the outline of them spreading out as the pressure forced them to the sides. The fabric of his shorts stretched tighter, the seams straining.
Brad’s legs jerked, his knees slamming into the underside of the car. “MY BALLS!” he screamed, his voice cracking. His hands shot out from under the car, fingers clawing at the floor. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Amber leaned into it, grinding her heel into him. His balls squished further, the bulge in his shorts distorting as they were mashed under her weight. He thrashed, his hips bucking, but there was nowhere for him to go. His back was pressed flat against the creeper, the metal frame digging into his spine.
“GET OFF! GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” he yelled, his voice high-pitched and raw. His hands flailed toward his crotch, flailing ineffectively at Amber's boot.
Vanessa took a step forward, her fists still clenched. Her face was flushed, her chest rising and falling as she watched. I kept my eyes on Brad, on the way his shorts were stretched to the limit, the way his balls were visibly deformed under the pressure of Amber’s boot.
Amber twisted her foot, and Brad let out another strangled scream. “PLEASE! OH GOD, PLEASE STOP!”
Vanessa stepped closer, her boots scuffing the concrete floor. Her voice trembled at first, but it sharpened as she spoke. “You think I didn’t know? You think I wouldn’t find out about all those girls? You’ve got some nerve, Brad.”
Brad’s hands clawed at the floor, his face contorted in pain. “Vanessa! I—ugh!—I can explain! Just get her off me!”
“Explain what?” She crossed her arms, her lips curling into a sneer. “How you’ve been sneaking around, showing off those big balls of yours to every girl who’ll look? You thought you could keep it from me?”
Amber leaned harder, her boot grinding into his crotch. Brad’s scream cut through the air like a siren. “OH GOD! PLEASE! I’M SORRY!”
“Sorry?” Vanessa’s voice cracked, her eyes glistening. “You’re only sorry because we caught you. You’re only sorry because your big, stupid balls are getting what they deserve.”
Brad’s legs twitched, his knees knocking against the underside of the car. “I’LL DO ANYTHING! JUST STOP!”
Vanessa crouched down, her face inches from his. “Anything? Like stop cheating? Like stop lying? You think that’s enough now, Brad? After everything?”
“YES! YES! I’LL STOP!” His words came out in gasps, his face slick with sweat. “PLEASE!”
She straightened up, her arms still crossed. Her voice was cold now, eerily calm. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Brad. And we’re just getting started.”
I glanced over at the industrial tire inflation hose coiled on the wall, its metal nozzle gleaming under the garage lights. The hose was thick, sturdy, designed to handle high pressure without a problem. A thin layer of dust coated it, but it looked like it was in working order.
“Remember that movie from the seventies?” I said, tilting my head toward it. Amber followed my gaze, her lips curling into a smirk. “The bit where those female bus drivers used one of those to take care of a chauvinist pig’s ego—and his balls?”
Amber snorted, her boot still planted firmly on Brad’s crotch. “Oh, I remember. Classic.”
Brad’s eyes darted to the hose, his face paling. “No. No, no, no. You can’t—that’s insane! That’ll kill me!”
Vanessa walked over to the hose, her fingers brushing the nozzle. She hesitated for a moment, then unhooked it from the wall. The hose uncoiled with a heavy clatter, the nozzle swinging at the end like a pendulum.
“You’ve got no one to blame but yourself, Brad,” she said, her voice steady. Her eyes locked on his, and for a second, I thought she might hesitate. But then she straightened her shoulders and started dragging the hose toward him.
“VANESSA, PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING!” Brad twisted on the creeper, his hands scrambling for purchase on the floor. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”
Amber pressed down harder, grinding her heel into his already flattened balls. “Oh, we can. And we will.”
Vanessa knelt down beside Brad, the industrial tire inflation hose in her hand. The nozzle was cold against her palm as she threaded it up the leg of his shorts. She moved deliberately, her fingers brushing against the inside of his thigh. He twitched, his breath hitching.
“Vanessa, don’t! PLEASE! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Brad’s voice was frantic, his hands flailing, trying to grab at the hose. But Amber and I were already on him, pinning his arms to the floor. My knee dug into his shoulder, and Amber’s weight kept his hips in place.
Vanessa tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she aimed the nozzle. “Why not, Brad? You always thought you were so special, parading around with those big balls of yours. Let’s see how special they are now.”
She flipped the switch on the hose. The air hissed, low and steady at first, then building in intensity. Brad’s huge balls were flattened against his body, pressed into his pelvis by the air pressure. His thighs jerked, his back arching off the creeper.
“OH MY GOD! STOP! STOP! STOP!” Brad screamed, his voice cracking. Tears streamed down his face, his mouth open in a silent cry before another wave of pain hit him. “IT’S TOO MUCH! YOU’RE KILLING ME!”
Amber leaned in, her face inches from his. “How’s it feel, Brad? Huh? Not so tough now, are you?”
“I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! PLEASE, JUST STOP!” His words came out in gasps, his chest heaving. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as the pressure continued to build.
Vanessa adjusted the nozzle slightly, her voice calm but cutting. “You’re sorry? Funny, you didn’t seem sorry when you were sending those pictures to other girls. Didn’t seem sorry when you lied to my face.”
Brad’s body convulsed, his legs kicking uselessly. “I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN! I SWEAR! JUST TURN IT OFF!”
I glanced at Vanessa, nodding toward the hose. She gave it another twist, the hiss of air growing louder. Brad’s screams filled the garage, raw and desperate.
Brad’s hands clawed at the floor, his fingers scraping against the concrete. “PLEASE! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! IT HURTS! IT HURTS SO BAD!”
Vanessa crouched down, her face inches from his. Her cleavage was impossible to miss, her huge tits straining against the fabric of her shirt. She tilted her head, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s the matter, Brad? Can’t handle a little pressure? Thought you were a big man.”
“I’M NOT! I’M NOT!” Brad wailed, his face red and slick with sweat. His body convulsed, his hips bucking uselessly against the weight of Amber’s boot. “PLEASE, VANESSA! I’LL DO ANYTHING!”
Vanessa’s eyes caught the tire wrench lying on the floor near Brad’s tool cart. The metal gleamed under the garage lights, the dull chrome catching her eye. She straightened up, her gaze shifting from the wrench to Brad’s writhing body.
“Take them off,” she said, her voice cold and firm.
Amber didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the waistband of Brad’s shorts and yanked them down, the fabric scraping against his hips as she pulled them free. His bruised and swollen testicles were exposed, the skin mottled with angry red and purple. They hung heavy between his legs, even larger than usual, the damage from the hose clearly visible.
Brad’s hands flailed weakly, trying to cover himself. “NO! DON’T! PLEASE! YOU CAN’T—”
Amber slapped his hands away, pinning them to the floor again. Vanessa picked up the tire wrench, the weight of it solid in her hand. She knelt between his legs, her eyes fixed on his swollen right nut.
“You’ve always been so proud of these, haven’t you, Brad?” she said, her voice low. Her fingers tightened around the wrench as she positioned it over his testicle. “Guess they’re not so special now.”
“VANESSA, NO! PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING! I’LL NEVER LIE TO YOU AGAIN!” Brad’s voice was shrill, his body jerking as he tried to twist away. But there was nowhere to go. The wrench closed around his nut, the cold metal biting into the tender flesh.
Vanessa turned the wrench slowly, the mechanism creaking as it tightened. Brad let out a strangled scream, his back arching off the creeper. “OH GOD! OH GOD! IT’S TOO MUCH! PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!”
Amber leaned in, her smirk widening. “How’s it feel, big man? Still think you’re untouchable?”
Vanessa twisted the wrench a little more, her eyes locked on Brad’s face. “You should’ve thought about this before you started cheating, Brad. Thought about what it would feel like when you finally got caught.”
“I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! PLEASE!” His voice cracked, his face soaked with tears.
Vanessa’s grip on the wrench tightened, her knuckles white as she leaned over Brad. His swollen right nut was already trapped in the jaws of the tool, the metal digging into the tender flesh. She twisted the wrench slowly, the mechanism creaking with every turn.
“You’ve always had loose nuts, Brad,” she said, her voice icy. “Guess it’s time I fixed that for you.”
“NO! PLEASE! I’M SORRY! I’LL DO ANYTHING!” Brad’s screams echoed through the garage, his body thrashing against the creeper. His hands clawed at the floor, fingers scraping against the concrete, but Amber and I kept him pinned.
Vanessa turned the wrench another notch, the metal biting deeper into his nut. “You’ll do anything? Like stop lying? Stop cheating? Too late for that, Brad. You had your chance.”
“IT HURTS! OH GOD, IT HURTS! PLEASE STOP!” His voice was raw, broken, tears streaming down his face. His legs kicked out, his hips bucking, but he couldn’t escape the pressure.
Amber chuckled, leaning down to make sure her weight kept him in place. “You hear that, Brad? Vanessa’s just getting started. You’re gonna be really sorry by the time she’s done.”
Vanessa twisted the wrench again, her lips curling into a grim smile. “You think this hurts? Wait till I get to the other one.”
Brad’s screams turned into a guttural howl, his body convulsing as the wrench did its work. Vanessa didn’t stop. She kept turning, tightening, her eyes locked on his face as he writhed in agony.
Vanessa twisted the wrench one final turn, the metal creaking as Brad’s right nut neared its breaking point. His screams were ragged, his body convulsing on the creeper, but she didn’t let up. She held the wrench steady, her grip firm, her eyes locked on his face.
“How’s that feel, Brad?” she asked, her voice soft, almost sweet. “Your big, precious balls getting what they deserve?”
“PLEASE! NO MORE! I CAN’T TAKE IT!” Brad sobbed, his hands clawing at the floor. His face was red, veins bulging in his neck as he thrashed against the pain.
Vanessa didn’t answer. She reached for a second wrench lying on the floor, the metal cool against her palm. She positioned it over his left nut, the jaws closing around the swollen flesh. Brad let out a choked whimper, his body tensing as he felt the cold metal bite into him.
She turned the wrench slowly, methodically, the mechanism clicking with every rotation. “How about now, Brad? How’s your left nut feeling?”
“IT’S TOO MUCH! PLEASE, VANESSA! I’LL DO ANYTHING! JUST STOP!” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
Amber leaned in, her weight keeping Brad pinned. “Wow, they're starting to look a bit funny. Hope they don't break.”
Vanessa twisted the wrench again, her movements precise. “Do they both hurt the same? I want to be fair.”
Brad’s screams filled the garage, his body jerking as the wrenches dug deeper into his flesh. Vanessa didn’t say anything else. She just kept turning, her face calm, her eyes never leaving his.
Brad’s body was limp, his screams reduced to weak, guttural moans. The wrenches were locked in place, their jaws biting into his swollen, bruised nuts. Vanessa stood over him, her lipstick in hand, the bright red color catching the light. She knelt down, her face inches from his dick, and began to write. The letters were bold, messy, but unmistakable: **CHEATER**.
“There,” she said, leaning back to admire her work. “Now everyone will know exactly what you are.”
Brad’s head lolled to the side, his eyes unfocused. “P-Please... my balls...”
Amber grabbed a length of rope from the corner of the garage and tossed it to me. I caught it, the rough fibers scraping against my palms. Together, we tied Brad’s wrists and ankles to the creeper, the knots tight and unyielding. He didn’t fight back anymore; he just lay there, his breath shallow, his body trembling.
Amber pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of Brad—his nuts trapped in the wrenches, the word **CHEATER** scrawled across his dick. She held up the phone to Vanessa, who nodded in approval.
Vanessa stood, wiping her hands on a rag before tossing it aside. Her voice was calm, almost detached. “Let’s go.”
The three of us walked toward the garage door, the sound of Brad’s ragged breathing fading behind us.
