A Fun Game of Foosball

That morning, all Kelsi wanted was to play a fun game of foosball. As she skipped down the basement stairs with her boyfriend, John, following behind, she knew that his eyes were tracking the sway of her hips as her body moved. 

She knew him very well. They had grown up together and grown slowly closer until they started officially dating in their last year of high school. She felt a pleasant tingle knowing that he liked to watch her body and fantasize about her. She held that knowledge like a warm center in her body, radiating happiness while they hung out. She loved the way this feeling rose in her like a rushing tide when they kissed, but she wasn’t ready yet to do much more than kiss. She knew that he wanted a lot more, which added a tantalizing edge to her enjoyment of the time they spent together playing video games, talking and joking, or, like now, heading to the basement for a round of foosball. 

“Let’s make the game fun this time,” John said. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, “Isn’t it always fun?” 

Not really pausing to hear or think about her question, he continued, “If I win, you show me your tits.” 

She felt his eyes on her ample chest and the warm center of her body cooled a bit. There was something aggressive in his stare. Like he wasn’t even appreciating what he was looking at, just trying – again – to get her shirt up in order to prove that he could. 

“No,” she said, “Let’s just play.” 

“Come on,” he insisted, “If you win, I’ll show you my dick.” 

“Ha!” she snorted, “from what I’ve felt there won’t be much to see!” 

Kelsi thought it was funny how shocked he looked, and she was tempted to make another joke, but she focused on using the moment of his blushing silence to change the conversation back to the game. “I’ll be the red side,” she said looking at the table, “we just need to find the balls.” 

“I’ve got all the balls we need to play with right here,” he said in what he probably thought was a sexy voice but just sounded ridiculous. 

Kelsi had had enough. As John grabbed her arm hard enough to leave a bruise and pressed himself against her, she brought her free hand up, quickly finding both of his nuts in his loose athletic shorts, and squeezed. Suddenly, that warm center in her body flamed back and exhilaratingly coursed through her with an intensity she hadn’t experienced before as she applied more pressure and felt his nuts compress to the point that they felt less like squishy grapes and more like small stones with no more slack left to give. 

Seeing the tears welling up in his eyes, Kelsi let go and he fell to the ground, holding his crotch and making high-pitched noises as he tried to stop crying. 

“Just get out, please,” she said wanting more than anything just to not deal with his shit right now. 

“Fuck you, you bitch,” he snarled, “that’s it, we are broken up.” 

“No shit,” she said rolling her eyes. 

Once she had made sure John was out the front door, Kelsi threw herself on her bed. So many different emotions were whirling inside of her. She was furious with John, but also disappointed and sad. She had really liked him. They had had fun together. She trusted him. And for him to betray her trust and treat her like that was unforgivable. The longer she sat with her feelings, the more she wished she hadn’t let go but had instead just popped his balls. 

She could have done it. She already knew a lot about how to destroy testicles. Her knowledge was a result of the Testicular Preservation Act (or TPA as they all called it). To everyone today, the name sounds hilariously ironic, but from what anyone could tell it was originally intended to be serious. As more and more women had gotten confident enough to stand up to men by “hitting below the belt,” more and more guys were ending up with twisted, detached, ruptured or otherwise mangled balls. 

Because these were almost always clear cases of self-defense, the law was not on the guys’ side. Rather than changing their behavior, some guys tried to change the law. They proposed the TPA, which said that any woman who had inflicted testicular damage more than six times – even if each individual time was ruled accidental or an act of self-defense would be guilty of a federal crime. It also created funding for annual three-week-long classes for women on “the importance of male reproductive organs” and a certification program to affirm that graduates of the classes had “the appropriate respect for male organs.” 

Most of the controversy at the time that the law had passed was about whether or not acts that were not ruled crimes (that is, accidents and self-defense) could be punished as crimes if they happened a certain number of times. This legal question was settled quickly after the law was passed: they could not, so the law never achieved what its sponsors hoped it would. 

Much less attention at the time was given to other provisions in the law that, either because of sloppy crafting or deliberate sabotage (no one was sure), actually turned out to effectively give all women who passed the new annual three-week classes the right to inflict unlimited damage on up to six testicles per year with absolutely no legal consequences. Any woman 18 years of age or older could enroll and earn what quickly became known a “ball breaking licenses.” 

Men were constantly trying to get the law repealed, of course. It was rumored that the Chair of the subcommittee tasked with hearing the first bill that aimed to repeal the law began the subcommittee’s first meeting with the balls of the congressman who had sponsor the bill in a jar on the table in front of her. For some reason, all subsequent bills had trouble finding sponsors and none ever had sufficient votes to pass. 

Kelsi wished more than anything that she had already passed the class and received her “ball breaking license.” If she had, she would have gone immediately to John’s house and made him very, very sorry. But she couldn’t officially finish the class until she passed a final exam, and she hadn’t been able to schedule one in this year’s three-week class window, which would end at midnight tomorrow. She was going to have to wait until next year’s class to take the exam. 

“That asshole,” she said with dawning realization, “he only dared to do that today because I just told him I’m not getting my license this year!” She thought about asking her mom to use her license but then remember with a sinking heart that her mom had just reached her six-time limit for the year by demonstrating surgical castration for Kelsi on the unfaithful husband of one of her friends. 

Kelsi had loved the demonstration, but now wished it could have been John’s balls she had seen slowly removed from their sac and snipped. The thought of doing that to John brought the warm tingle back to her, but mixed with sadness now. 

The feeling of disappointment still hung heavily on her as she explained the situation to her mom that afternoon. 

“Maybe you can still get your license,” her mom said with what sounded to Kelsi like hollow encouragement, “there is still today and tomorrow to complete the exam. Remember, I’m certified as a BBL instructor. I could oversee and grade it.” 

“Mom,” Kelsi exhaled in an exasperated sigh, “I’ve already passed the written part, but I still need to demonstrate my ability so safely and effectively destroy one or more testicle on a live subject! The course instructor couldn’t schedule a guy for me to neuter this session, and without one the exam won’t be legal.” 

“Why don’t we just use John,” her mom asked with a smile. 

“Oh my god, mom! Seriously, are you even thinking?” Kelsi snapped with annoyance, “until I have my license, anyone I castrate has to volunteer or be legally assigned as a test subject for punishment. And John is sure as shit is not going to volunteer.” 

“Why don’t we at least ask him?” her mom said, “His mom said she is sending him over here tonight to return a book she borrowed from me. We can ask him then. Trust me.” 

The whole thing felt stupid and embarrassing to Kelsi, but there was something in the tone her mom used when she said “trust me” that gave Kelsi hope. Her mom really was an amazing woman and seemed to have an almost magical ability to get what she wanted. Kelsi let herself daydream about the possibility. 

When John knocked on the door about an hour later, Kelsi’s mom quickly ushered him into the living room, despite his protests that he was just there to drop off the book his mom was returning and go. 

“No, no,” she said, “come in. I have a note I want you take back to your mom. Just come in, sit down and I’ll get it. Here, have a soda while you wait. I’ll just be a few minutes.” 

John sat down on the chair across from Kelsi, who was leveling an icy stare at him. “How are your balls feeling?” she asked unsympathetically. 

“Fine,” he lied. 

They probably would have begun shouting at each other if Kelsi’s mom hadn’t returned at that moment. “Oh, also, John,” she said pleasantly, “we have a favor to ask you. I’m sure that you know that poor Kelsi might have to wait a whole year to get her license if she isn’t able to finish the final exam. And it would be such a shame if she had to start her first year of college without it. All she needs is a volunteer. Why don’t you help her out?” 

John snorted, “Let her break my balls? Are you crazy.” 

“Not both balls,” Kelsi’s mom said in an even, reasonable tone, “she only has to do irrevocable damage to one testicle. Trust me, she has studied really well. I know that she’ll be able to do it almost painlessly. It really won’t hurt much at all. You will still have one left, which isn’t a huge change. And you know how much this would mean to Kelsi.” 

Kelsi was bright red. How did her mom think this was ever going to work? 

“What it would mean to Kelsi?” John sneered, “Like I give a fuck. I’m going.” 

“After all the trust my daughter gave you, I can’t believe that you are being so selfish! That is very disappointing,” she said sharply as John stomped towards the door. Watching John discover that the door was locked, she continued, “By the way, you’re adopted, aren’t you?” 

John just stared are her. “You don’t need to answer,” Kelsi’s mom smiled, “Remember, your mom and I have been friends for a long time. I was there when she pulverized your dad’s nuts in college, way before they got married and waaay before they adopted you.” 

“So,” John huffed. 

“Well, you see,” Kelsi’s mom explained, “the law stipulates that legal guardians of male adopted dependents have full power over decisions about reproduction even after the dependent turns 18, as long as he doesn’t have the means to sustain himself.” 

“I’m moving out next week!” John shouted as he started to sweat. 

“Into a college dorm that your mom is paying for. So, I’m sorry dear, we really don’t need your permission, just your mom’s. Which she gave me here.” Kelsi’s mom triumphantly removed an envelope from between the leaves of the book John had handed her earlier and shook a legal document from it. 

Kelsi jumped up from her seat, overjoyed. “Seriously? Oh my god, this is amazing!” she squealed as she looked at the document. 

Smiling at Kelsi, her mom said, “I have a feeling he is going to regret not agreeing to let you take only one painlessly.” 

John was violently shaking the door handle, but already his eyes were beginning to get blurry and the room starting to spin as a result of the drug in the soda he had unthinkingly drank minutes earlier. 

He was conscious but unable to resist as Kelsi grabbed his legs and her mom lifted under his arms to maneuver him down the basement stairs. Once there, they slung him onto a low table, where Kelsi knew her mother had neutered more than one guy. All of the equipment was in a nearby cupboard and it was with growing excitement that Kelsi selected the scalpel as her mom readied the cotton swabs and antiseptic fluids necessary to deal with the blood. 

Kelsi first used the scalpel to cut away John’s shorts and boxers. She blushed a little because it was the first time she had seen him naked. When she had felt his cock, straining from inside his clothes it had always been hard. Now moving his limp dick out of the way of her target, she wondered if it would have looked any more impressive hard. Probably not. 

Noticing John’s swollen balls and the finger-shaped bruises on his scrotum, Kelsi’s mom said, “Nice job!” in true appreciation of work well-done. 

“Aww, thanks” Kelsi said, proud of the compliment from such an accomplished ball breaker. 

“Let’s test how much sensation he has first,” her mom suggested. Kelsi made a fist and hammered into Johns unprotected balls. She channeled all of the day’s emotional stress into the punch, and the release felt great. John twitched, still unable to move, and gave out a deep groan. 

“Oh,” her mom said, “he definitely felt that! This is going to be fun!” 

Kelsi worked slowly and precisely, enjoying each step that brought the testicle closer to being hers. She had clamped the cord to his right ball and was about to cut it when her mom made a suggestion: “I see that you have the technique down perfectly. Most girls don’t even attempt surgical as the method for their exam, so you have already shown your skill impressively well. You could cut the cord, that would be standard. But, let me show you something.” 

She reached into John’s crotch and pinched a mass at the top of his testicle, be bellowed in pain. “As you know,” she said, “this is the epididymis. See how much it hurts him? If you carefully sever the testicle from it, he should be in a considerable amount of pain afterwards. And he’ll certainly have to go in for another surgery to clean things up, which is always delightfully humiliating for guys.” 

Kelsi needed no convincing. She deftly severed the body of the testicle from everything around it and when she was done held in her hand a small oval of flesh. Her feeling of power was unlike anything she had ever experienced. 

As she sewed up the sac, she noticed that John had passed out from the pain. She would have to wait to play more. 

When John came too, he was lying on the floor with an all-consuming pain spreading from his mangled crotch through his body. He dry-heaved, unaware that he had already emptied the contents of his stomach from the pain that resulted after Kelsi half-emptied the contents of his scrotum. 

“Oh! You’re awake,” Kelsi said brightly, looking down at him, “Let’s play that game of foosball now!” 

John could only moan in pain, so Kelsi stepped toward him, planting her foot inches from his still-naked crotch. Fresh pain surged through John’s body as he involuntarily tensed the muscles in his already devastated groin. 

“Let’s make the game fun this time!” Kelsi chirped, “I already cut off one of your balls. If I win, I get to cut off the other one, ok?” 

John’s hands flailed helplessly to his crotch, triggering yet another spasm of pain. He saw the stiches and the bruising and almost passed out again. 

“If you win,” she said sweetly, “I won’t cut your ball off and I’ll even show you my tits. Won’t that be nice? Come on, pull yourself up.” 

John slowly became aware that he was at the foot of the foosball table. With Kelsi’s assistance he was eventually able to pull himself up to stand unsteadily, braced on one side of it. 

“There you go!” said Kelsi encouragingly, “Now, we never did find those balls, did we? Oh, wait, I’ve got all the balls we need right here!” She laughed as she held up John’s severed right nut, now washed and gleaming a bloodless white. She dropped it onto the center of the table. John looked like he was going to pass out again and dry heaved as the reality of his situation became undeniable. Even looking at the detached organ caused waves of pain to wash over his body. 

“We’ll make it a quick game. The first one to score two points wins. But I have to warn you, I’ve been practicing while you’ve been asleep,” Kelsi giggled as she spun one of the handles on her side of the table with tremendous force, sending the foot of the foosball character into the fleshy orb which flew directly into the goal. “Yay! 1 point for me!” she cheered. 

Retrieving the testicle from the goal, she placed it again in the center of the table. “Come on now,” she said, “Remember what the bet is: if you lose, I’ll cut off your left one and then we’ll have two balls to play with, but if you win, you get to see these.” Her hands briefly caressed the soft flesh under her shirt, producing a pleasant ache in her nipples, which were already engorged from the excitement of the night. “You can do it,” she smiled with mock sincerity. 

For the next ten minutes, he played surprisingly well. The fact that he could barely bring himself to look at his castrated nut certainly didn’t help, and Kelsi noticed with amusement that each time the foosball players’ feet sent if flying or it got stuck between their feet and the field he grimaced. She giggled as his flaccid dick and lopsided sac jiggled with his jerky, pain-filled movements. Finally, she decided to stop toying with him and spun the handle with full force, once again sending the testicle flying into a goal. This time however, she had spun the other way, and it landed in her goal. 

“Oh no!” She gasped, “It looks like you got a point! We both have 1 now.” Then she added with a giggle as she retrieved the testicle and bounced it in her hand: “I meant points, but I guess we both have 1 ball now too, don’t we? Hmm, I wonder if it will stay that way.” 

She placed his former organ in the center of the table once again and said, “Look, I feel bad for you, I will give you a free shot.” She moved the detached testicle to the foot of one of John’s foosball figures, moved her own figures out of the way, and stepped back. 

Clearly trying to focus all of his remaining strength and energy, John gave the handle a spin. Losing his balance, he crashed to the floor with a shoulder-dislocating jolt. But, amazingly, the testicle flew forward and landed in the goal. 

“Ohh, good job!” Kelsi cheered, “You won!” He rolled onto his back to feel his injured shoulder, and she stood over him as she continued, “Well, looks like you get your prize!” She lifted her shirt to reveal a pair of shapely, pale breasts and large red nipples that, as recently as yesterday John might have (untruthfully) said he would be willing to give his right nut to see. But now he barely seemed to be seeing them as his eyes filled with tears again. Oh well, Kelsi thought, he never really could have appreciated them – or me. 

“And, of course, the other thing you won is that I won’t cut your other ball off!” Kelsi announced with a broad smile: “Instead, I’ll stomp on it!” Before John could react, her running shoe had slammed down on his last nut, reducing it to ooze. 

Convulsing, he passed out again. It would be hours before he would awaken as a eunuch to find, resting on his chest, the note that Kelsi’s mom had said to give to his mother. It was a short, sincere thank you to her for understanding how important it was to Kelsi to get her “ball breaking license” this year and how meaningful it was for her to have John as her final exam. 

When the two moms had secretly made the arrangement two days ago, the plan had been for Kelsi to take just one of John’s balls, surgically, as painlessly as possible. It is well known among women that a boyfriend’s feelings of gratitude for still having one ball mixed with his fear that he might still lose it can greatly strengthen a relationship. It was unfortunate for John that he had already destroyed the relationship by the time their surprise was revealed. 

But, whenever she looked back, Kelsi was always happy that she had the unexpected opportunity to destroy his manhood entirely.