𝑵𝑬𝑼𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 2

[Chapter 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/BallbustingStories/s/TSF7IT0kCG)

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒐: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒆𝒔𝒕

___

The day after her ex’s balls were kicked to heaven, *Luz Akami* sat at a small table near a pillar, a strategic position that allowed her to observe the entire room without being fully in it. A half-eaten salad sat before her, but her appetite was gone, replaced by a low, thrumming static in her veins.

*It’s all anyone is talking about. Just listen…*

The campus dining hall was a cathedral of noise and motion, a sprawling space of clattering trays, shouted conversations, and the low, constant hum of hundreds of lives intersecting.

Fragments of conversation swirled around her, a chaotic chorus with a single, repeating refrain.

*“…did you see the video? Yeah the balls one! He did a whole front flip and collapsed! You were there?!”*

*“—I heard he had some kind of neurological event after his ball’s popped from that goth’s kick. Like, a mini-stroke or something.”*

*“Nathan? Yeah, I know his sister. She said their mom had to take him to the hospital but they couldn’t save his nuts...yeah his girlfriend Courtney said he may not come back this semester. Maybe not ever...”*

Luz took a slow sip of water, the glass cool against her palm and smiling lips.

*Not ever.* The words should have felt heavy, consequential. Instead, they felt like a verdict she had rightfully delivered. She’d given him the lesson he’d always needed in life.

A small, dark part of her preened, wanting to stand on the table and scream, *I did that! I, Luz Akami, brought the great Nathan Prescott down to his knees!*

But the larger, more calculating part of her, the *future prosecutor,* smothered that impulse.

*Let’s not be too hasty. If this is real, if that Notebook is what it says it is, then you're holding a strategic weapon. And the first rule of owning a weapon is to never let your enemy know you have it. Especially if it’s close by…*

Her leather satchel leaned against her chair leg. Even through the thick leather, she could feel the *blood maroon* book’s presence like a faint, radioactive glow. It was in there, nestled between her tort law textbook and her constitutional law binder.

Power, disguised as a typical study guide.

*It could have been a fluke. A coincidence. A one-in-a-billion convergence of a gag book and a real ballbuster’s revenge. Serena did seem genuine with that kick…but did she do that on her own? Or did the Neuter Note influence her?*

Her logical mind clung to this, the last fraying thread of her old reality. But the memory of writing his name, the specific, petty sensation she had chosen, and the perfect, humiliating result on the video…it was too precise.

***Too perfect.***

*A first time could be a fluke. But a second? A second is a pattern. A second is real proof...*

Her light brown eyes, usually sharp with academic focus, now scanned the room with a new, predatory intensity. She wasn't just looking; she was hunting. She needed a subject. Someone who deserved a little cosmic *fixing,* but someone whose public downfall wouldn't raise the same alarms as Nathan's.

And then, she saw him. A golden opportunity. *Ricky Moreno,* The school's backup running back.

He held court at a large, crowded table in the center of the hall, a sun around which fawning freshmen planets orbited. He was, objectively, good-looking in a generic, brown haired and muscular sculpted way, but Luz saw the carefully engineered *carelessness.*

The sweatpants worn low on his hips, the tight t-shirt that showed off every ridge of his abdomen—it was a performance. A display of what he considered his greatest asset: *His Body.*

*Blessed by manly genes,* Luz thought, a curl of disdain on her lip. She wasn't swooned. She was informed. She remembered the whispers from a friend at a rival high school.

*He cheated on Sarah Miller for half of senior year. And on that exchange student, what was her name…Macy something? Two girls who thought his letterman jacket was a promise.*

He was another one. Another person who glided through life on a wave of privilege and physical prowess, leaving a trail of emotional wreckage in his wake. No consequences. Until now.

“Another pair of useless testicles that aren’t needed in this world...” Luz muttered under her breath, her bangs obscuring her eyes.

Her heart began to drum a steady, frantic rhythm against her ribs. This was it. The perfect test. He was strong, virile, the picture of masculine health.

*With looks and an attitude like that, he must be carrying around some impressive weight. Let’s lighten him a few loads.*

With a calm she didn't feel, she reached down and unzipped her satchel. Her fingers brushed against the cool, dense cover of the Neuter Note. She didn't take it out; that would be insanity.

*Just in case, it’ll be wise to not be seen openly writing in this. Anyone could be watching.* so, she opened the bag just enough to slide her hand inside, her fingers finding the familiar parchment pages.

Then she pulled out her *new red pen…*

Her body was a mask of nonchalance. She took another bite of her salad, chewed slowly, her eyes never leaving Ricky. She pictured his face—the cocky grin, the dark, smug eyes. She held it in her mind, crystal clear.

She wondered how big his testicles must be. To so easily date different girls and leave them heartbroken. *He must feel special with a popular dick between his legs. Taking the balls away will fix that problem too.*

Then, hidden under the table, inside the dark mouth of her bag, her hand began to move. She wrote with a steady, precise script, the pen barely making a sound against the page.

*Ricky Moreno…*

She paused. *What did the rules say again about a default? If you don’t specify, the book has to have a baseline. A zero setting.*

Her curiosity, a force more powerful than fear, demanded she find out in real time. She left the space blank, simply closed the notebook, her hand still inside the bag, and waited.

For a moment, nothing. Ricky was laughing, leaning back in his chair, basking in the attention. Then, a subtle shift. His confident slouch straightened. A faint line appeared between his eyebrows. He shifted in his seat, a quick, almost imperceptible movement.

Then it happened.

His eyes flew wide open, a stark white circle of pure, unadulterated shock. A choked gasp escaped his lips, instantly cutting off his own laughter. His body jackknifed. His hands flew to his groin as his legs snapped together, knees crossing so violently it seemed like they might fuse. It was a movement of primal, searing agony.

"AAAAAGH! OH GOD!!!”

The scream was short, sharp, and tore through the dining hall's noise, silencing it. It wasn't a cry of pain you could fake. It was a sound ripped from the core of his nervous system.

Luz watched, her brown eyes glowing with glee, as Ricky Moreno folded in on himself like a cheap lawn chair collapsing. His face, moments ago flushed with arrogant laughter, drained to a sickly gray-white. Sweat beaded instantly on his forehead.

*I knew it…*

"Ricky? Ricky, what's wrong?" A busty blonde girl beside him leaned in, her manicured hand hovering near his shoulder.

Her voice trembled with genuine concern, her cleavage practically spilling out of her low-cut top as she bent closer. "D-Did you choke? Did s-something bite y-you?"

Ricky couldn't answer coherently. A high-pitched, ragged whimper escaped his clenched teeth, his entire body curled inward like a dying insect. His knuckles were bone-white where his hands crushed his sweatpants over his lap.

Tears welled in his wide, terrified eyes. "M-My... b-balls..." he gasped, the words barely audible between shuddering breaths. "Twisting...inside!" He squeezed his eyes shut, a fresh wave of agony contorting his face.

*"Make it stop...Oh God, make it stop!!!"*

*The Neuter Note actually works! This proves it. The default is testicular torsion. Fascinating.*

Luz realized she was breathing a little too fast, shallow breaths escaping her parted lips. The adrenaline surging through her felt electric, dangerous—like holding a live wire barehanded. She forced her lungs to slow, inhaling deeply through her nose.

She was getting wet.

*Control yourself. I can’t seem too thrilled that one of our mouth breathing clowns just lost his sex life. No. That would make me seem wrong. Crazy even…but I’m far from wrong now…now, I’ll always be the right one.*

She had to vanish before anyone noticed her watching, before anyone connected the dots. Her fingers trembled as she silently zipped her satchel closed, the *blood maroon* cover hidden once more.

The blonde girl—clearly Ricky’s current flavor—was frantically waving her arms, her voice shrill above the murmuring crowd.

"Somebody call campus security! Or a nurse! He’s having a s-seizure or something!" She knelt beside Ricky, who was now curled on the floor, whimpering and clutching himself. Her hand patted his shoulder awkwardly, her cleavage dangerously close to his face as she leaned down.

*“T-They’re d-d-dyi…ohhh myyy balllssss…”* Ricky cried, unsure on what he’d did to deserve this male special nightmare.

"Shh, Ricky, it’s okay, baby. Your...your balls will be okay, w-we promise. Just breathe…”

Luz’s heart was a wild bird beating against the cage of her ribs, but her face was a placid mask of “concerned confusion.” She watched the scene unfold—the crowd gathering, the frantic phone calls, the football coaches pushing their way through—with the detached focus of a scientist observing a successful experiment.

*Two.* The word echoed in the silent, screaming chamber of her mind. *It worked twice.*

There was no fluke. No coincidence. The power was real. And it was hers.

She took one last look at the chaos she had authored, at the fallen golden boy, then she stood, picked up her tray, and walked away. The static in her veins was gone, replaced by a cold, smooth certainty that was far more terrifying.

She had her proof. And now, she had a world to correct