Researching the Twists

Author’s note: This story was inspired by one I read months ago called “The Twists.” You don’t have to read the original to read this, but it is really good so I would recommend it. Lots of ballbusting pussy envy in it as well as my own story. CW: castration mentions, but no castrations.

“He was begging me for forgiveness for cheating on me, when he looked down and had this really funny ‘oh shit, is this really happening to me?’ expression on his face,” Melissa Cooper said on the morning news show. She giggled and her large breasts, barely held in by the low cut of her dress, jiggled. “I looked down and at first, I was disgusted to see he had an erection! But then he crumpled over and started screaming, ‘My balls! My balls! They hurt so much!’ And I almost fell over laughing!” The redhead in her late 20s uncrossed and recrossed her legs, nearly flashing the audience.

One of the hosts, an interchangeable pretty blond woman, laughed uproariously alongside Melissa. The other one, a well built middle aged man named Mark, looked uncomfortable. He was already struggling not to stare at their beautiful guest and couldn’t help stirring nervously as they discussed what had become the bane of all men.

“And this was when the Twists were still new, right?” The hostess managed to get out in between laughs.

“Yeah!” Melissa said cheerfully. “I’d read a little about it, but I hadn’t known anyone who’d actually gone through it. I’ll tell you this, excruciating testicular pain sounded great to me. I left him lying on the floor, squealing and sobbing, and got myself a drink. I needed to lie down and think about what I was going to do, but I couldn’t because he was making such a fuss. And as I thought more about it, I got angrier and angrier. Everyone told me he was just with me for my body, but I thought we really loved each other. I couldn’t stand hearing his high pitched wailing anymore, so I marched back downstairs. I told him I was going to help him so he’d move his hands, and then BAM, I slammed my foot straight into his balls!”

The blonde hostess, as well as the female half the audience, laughed even harder as Melissa clutched her groin and pretended like she was dying. “He didn’t like that one bit, as I’m sure your buddy here can tell you.” She winked at Mark, who laughed awkwardly. “But surprisingly, like ten minutes later, he was able to limp upstairs to where I was packing my stuff. He was holding his stupid dangly bits and it was so funny how his voice was like three octaves higher, but he didn’t have the Twists anymore! He tried to apologize to me again, but I just threw my purse at his balls, and he went down again. I went to stay with my family for a while, where I told my sister about it, and when her boyfriend got the Twists, she kicked him in the balls and he was cured too! And from there, I guess the story just spread.”

“And so it did,” the pretty blonde hostess agreed. “This video went viral, getting millions of views within the day and kickstarting a lot of research.” The interview disappeared, replaced by a vertical phone video.

The video showed a cute dog laying on a couch, but suddenly high pitched shrieks pierced the air. The camerawoman spun around, showing a young man thrashing in pain. “My balls! My balls hurt so bad!” He squealed. Besides him, a beautiful redhead woman knelt, panic etched across her face. Melissa rushed in, a few years younger but just as curvy.

“What’s going on?” She cried over the sobbing coming from the man.

“It’s… it’s the Twists!” Her sister exclaimed. For a few seconds, they just stood there.

The camerawoman, his mother, could be heard breathing loudly, saying, “Oh, my poor baby boy,” over and over again.

“Wait, I have a crazy idea,” Melissa said. “Hold his legs apart.” Her sister, not knowing what to do, did so, easily overpowering the much larger man in his moment of weakness.

“Please… please help me! It hurts so much!” He screamed, still trying to clutch his balls.

“I hope this works,” Melissa muttered, before running up and smashing her foot into his groin. A loud THUD filled the room. The room went still.

“What the fuck was that!?” Her sister exclaimed, dropping his legs. “Oh my god, baby, I’m sorry, are you alright?” She rushed to comfort her boyfriend, who was screaming silently. His hands rushed back to his abused balls.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Holy shit, oh my god, I’m going to die!” As he said that, a seemingly endless stream of semen soaked his pants. He was still curled into a ball, still filled with his masculine suffering, but his face relaxed a small amount.

The video cut out, and the blonde hostess returned to the screen. “Doctors still recommend a good hard blow to the testicles for any males who are suffering from the Twists. Remember: a kick will hurt for a few minutes, but the Twists will hurt for days! Mark, do you want to tell the audience about your experience with the Twists?”

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Dr. Molly Clark turned off her TV as Mark began to stammer out a response. She was a urologist in her early 30s, a pretty brunette with shoulder length hair. The Twists had begun when she was in medical school. Seeing her protective big brother writhe on the ground consumed by an agony she could never experience had changed her path from OBGYN to urology.

The Twists was a pandemic unlike any the world had experienced before. By the time the first cases were discovered, the virus was already present in most people. For men, it would randomly cause agonizing pain in the testicles, like they were being grabbed and twisted into knots. It also caused uncontrollable erections and an inability to orgasm; ejaculation would remove the virus from the man, where it was forming some sort of block in the spermatic chords. The blow to the testicles would allow the male to ejaculate by removing the clog, usually leading to a huge load. It only affected adult men who were finished with puberty. Women could carry and spread the virus, but it didn’t affect them, since they were lucky enough to not have testicles.

At first, until Melissa Cooper’s accidental discovery, the only cure had been to dose male victims with painkillers for days, until the disease had run its course. Quarantine was impossible; the vast majority of the world was already infected. Nobody could tell why it would flare up. Most men were terrified of randomly being afflicted by the humiliating pain. The agony was so bad that many victims reported thoughts of castrating themselves to escape it. Molly had dedicated her career to studying it, but a vaccine seemed impossible as the Twists mutated as often as the common cold.

However, as she heard the story of how the “Neuter-lization” method was discovered for the hundredth time, she had a thought. Excitedly, she logged onto her computer and began to look through previous research. Governments, billionaires, and pharmaceutical companies, largely composed of men, had thrown money hand over fist into researching the Twists, so there was a lot to go through. She called in her research assistants and set them to the task as well, and a few hours later she was the proud originator of a revolutionary idea.

Instead of just hitting men in the balls to cure the Twists, what if they could prevent the Twists through regular impacts to the testicles?

She threw together a proposal with practiced ease and sent it off to her contacts at the FDA. As one of the experts in her field, she had access to the highest levels of the government. Each year, politicians promised progress on a cure. Even when the first female president was elected - the natural consequence of the world seeing the weakness of men - she continued to support that goal. While not every man had suffered from the Twists yet, everyone knew someone who had. Seeing a big strong man brought low because of his vulnerable testicles caused a lot of emotions in the women who loved them, pity warring with amused superiority for first place. Even she could admit, it was funny to see men be brought low so easily. And there was no permanent harm, so watching them suffer and clutch their jewels was good fun.

The proposal was quickly greenlit. This was the first promising development in years, so all the red tape was cut away. She quickly received permission to do serious damage to some of these men’s testicles. It only took a few days for everything to be arranged. Molly hosted a meeting to explain the study to her research assistants. She had three, two of whom had been there for a while.

Chloe Hart was a short, curvy 23 year old who had been working in the lab since she graduated college. Her long blonde hair and bubbly, caring personality made many people underestimate her intelligence, but only the best were allowed into Molly’s lab. She wore a yellow dress that exposed more of her sunkissed skin than was strictly professional, but Molly cared more about results than formalities.

Vanessa Hale was a PhD student working under Molly for the past few years. She was in her late 20s, 5’9, and worked out regularly, so she had a slim and slightly muscular body with long legs. Her black hair was in a professional bun and she wore a black pencil skirt with a white button down blouse and black heels. Unlike most other Twists researchers, she was in the field for the challenge and the money, not out of any sympathy for men.

John Nichols was the only man in the lab. A quiet brunette man of average height, he was still a college student and was interning with Molly.

“Alright ladies,” Molly said when the group was assembled around a table in the meeting room. “And John. Remember how I pulled you off all your projects to look into vaccination attempts a few days ago? It paid off. I have an idea for a Twists prevention program, and we’re fully funded already. You’re going to have a lot of work to do to set everything up, but by next week we’ll be getting our first subjects.”

“Wow!” Chloe exclaimed. “Great job, doc!”

“I thought the virus mutated too quickly for a vaccine to be viable?” John asked.

“It’s not a traditional vaccine,” Molly replied with a big smile, leaning in conspiratorially. “We know that the best cure is a strong blow to the testicles - but would that work as a preventative measure?”

Vanessa leaned back in her chair, thinking furiously. “We would have to test a lot of different levels of force and timing for the hits, to narrow down what would work best, but this makes sense - if we could disrupt the clog before it is complete, we could remove the virus before it flares up!”

“Exactly,” Molly replied. “The government is throwing its full weight behind this. Logistical support for hundreds of subjects, including huge payments, NDAs from all of them, lifelong medical support for anyone whose testicles we accidentally rupture, the whole shebang.” John winced at the idea of a ruptured testicle. It was difficult to be a male researcher in this field; every day was a reminder of his unique male weakness, a cause to ask the uncaring universe why he had been born with such vulnerabilities.

Molly started a slideshow and began to explain the experimental design. One group of subjects - either lucky or unlucky, depending on how you saw things - would be used as a control group. They would come in as often as the others, but would only be given a sugar pill. This gave them a baseline for the rate of Twists activation; only a few percent of men would have a flare up each year, but that still meant many millions of cases. Some of her research had attempted to predict which men would be unfortunate enough to suffer, but it seemed entirely random. The rest of the men would be split into low, medium, and high force impacts and put on a daily, weekly, or monthly time frame. The study required hundreds of subjects, so many of them would be experimented on at other facilities throughout the country.

“Aww, some of those poor guys are going to be put into the high intensity and daily categories,” Chloe said. John found his gaze stuck to the way her soft, full lips pouted.

“Yes, they are,” Molly said with a shrug. “It’s unfortunate, but science isn’t easy. They’ll be well compensated for it, though.”

“Men are really sensitive about their testicles. Won’t some of them try to leave the study when they find out?” Vanessa pointed out. The cold but beautiful researcher gave the distinct impression that she didn’t care about their pain, just the prospect of having their study ruined by dropouts.

“No way, right?” Chloe said. She turned her bright blue eyes onto John questioningly. “If you were put in that group, would you try to run away?”

John swallowed uncomfortably. How could he explain to the three beautiful women his instinctive protectiveness of his balls? The threat of even the slightest damage to them would turn a brave man into a coward. “Well, for each man, it makes sense to not want to do that. You might get the Twists and have horrible pain for a few minutes every few years, versus having a guaranteed hit in the balls really hard everyday for months…”

Chloe looked a little disappointed in him, and his heart sank. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he added meekly.

Vanessa just smirked smugly at him. “You can’t blame him, Chloe. That’s just how men are - you talk about their balls and they get so scared. They can’t help it.”

Molly cleared her throat to get their attention. “After years of studying men and their balls, I knew this would be an issue. Don’t worry, the government will drag them back here by the balls if they try to leave. They’re getting paid very well and their sacrifice will benefit all mankind.” She smiled at her little pun.

Vanessa asked, “How are we going to ensure uniformity of damage? I can kick way harder than Chloe, and we all know that John won’t be able to hit very hard even if he’s stronger than me.” She looked over at him and arched a perfect eyebrow, daring him to disagree.

“I took your research into account, of course,” Molly replied. A couple years ago, Vanessa had published a groundbreaking paper that proved that men who came down with the Twists around only other men suffered for longer than those who experienced it around at least one woman. It was simple: the men were just too horrified by the pain. When they hit another man in the balls, or even just witnessed it, their own balls hurt sympathetically. Women could do what needed to be done without such concerns. “John will be assigned to the control group. You’ll just have to monitor them and give them their pills. You can relax.”

He let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Thank you, Molly,” he said with heartfelt gratitude.

“Of course, John. I got into this field to help you unfortunate men out,” she replied sympathetically. “Anyway, we’ll be using these devices to ensure that each pair of testicles receives the correct impact.” The screen showed the device, which had already been designed and built. The subject would stand and insert their testicles through a hole where they would rest on a hard surface. The hapless orbs would then be pulled forward and the hole tightened so they couldn’t escape the blow. Above that was a weight, which could be placed at three heights, similar to a pin loaded weight machine at the gym. When the subject’s genitals were firmly secured, the researcher would release the pin holding the weight in place and it would fall onto the target below. It was a little like a guillotine, except it would just make a man wish he was dead.

John shuddered just from looking at it, an action that Vanessa noticed. “I’m not sure how effective this would be. John, would you be able to test this device out for us?” She asked, pretending to be professionally curious.

“No!” John squeaked in panic. “I mean, um –”

“Vanessa, stop bullying the poor boy!” Molly protested, but she couldn’t hide a smile. Of course, she wanted to help men, but she couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of mother nature’s design for testicles.

They finalized their plans and were about to end the meeting, when Chloe suddenly thought of something. The beautiful bouncy blonde turned to John and asked, “By the way, have you ever had the Twists?”

John blushed and looked down, his eyes getting a good look at her chest on their descent. “Yeah, I did,” he said.

“Ooh, that’s unfortunate,” Chloe said with a sympathetic wince. He was young to have experienced it. She quickly recovered and asked curiously, “So, what was it like?”

John flashed back to that horrible day a few short months ago. “I broke my arm once, and this was so much worse than that. You’ll never know what it feels like, but it was this all consuming pain that went all the way up my stomach. It was scary, too, because it hurts too much to even realize it’s the Twists at first. And then you notice that you’re hard, so hard it hurts, and it all clicks and…” he trailed off, looking bitterly at the women. Molly and Chloe looked at him like he was just a pathetic creature to pity, while Vanessa smiled, self assured in her superiority.

“Where’d it happen? Who Neuter-lized you? Come on, give us the juicy details,” Chloe demanded.

John described the terrible day. He was at home, making food in the kitchen when it happened. When the pain hit, it blotted out the world. He came to again a few seconds later, lying on the floor. He clutched at his balls, futilely hoping to make the pain stop. In that moment he lost all faith - a merciful god would never have created him with balls that could feel so much torment. His cock was hard, so hard that it pushed painfully against his loose shorts. He realized that it must have been the Twists. His mind, barely functional, remembered vaguely that he needed to cum. John pulled down his pants enough to let his rock hard cock and throbbing balls flop out and he started desperately stroking his cock.

His squeals, the sound of a man broken by testicular torture, must have drawn his older sister out of her room. He didn’t have the presence of mind to remember that he couldn’t cum. The Twists clogged up his spermatic chords, not allowing him to shoot out his load and remove the virus. He was losing his mind: the combination of his balls feeling like they were being wrung and being blueballed on the edge of orgasm made him more animal than man. Emma laughed in shock at the sight - a half naked man sobbing on the ground while frantically jerking off. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Emma… please…balls… need to cum… Twists!” He babbled incoherently. His words were interrupted by howls of agony.

“Oh, shit!” She said. Emma was a pretty, petite woman. She knew what she needed to do, but she also thought she was too small to get the force she needed from a kick to his balls. “Sorry, John, but this is for your own good,” she said. Rushing forward, she raised one bare foot high in the air and stomped down on his groin. His cock was in his hand, so his balls were completely unprotected.

His squeal reached a higher pitch, but he still hadn’t ejaculated. His hand flew off his cock and onto her foot, but John was too weakened by the pain to push her off. “Oh shit,” she said again when she realized it didn’t work. Then she had an idea and slowly leaned onto her right foot, which was crushing his balls against the tiles of the kitchen floor. She could feel his balls wiggle around under her bare foot.

“My balls! Emma… you’re crushing them!!” John shrieked. She ignored him. She knew what she had to do to those fragile little orbs. Holding onto the kitchen counter for balance, she placed her weight fully on her right foot, lifting the left off the ground. She could feel them start to deflate under her. Finally, his cock spasmed and twitched and shot spurt after spurt of cum into the air. When it finally softened and fell back against his body, she got off his balls. John curled into the fetal position, moaning softly. “Eww, you got your gross cum all over my foot!” Emma complained. He didn’t hear her. “Ugh.” She grimaced and wiped her foot on his back, and then hopped away to wash her foot.

When she got back several minutes later, he was still lying there, cradling his aching testicles. She giggled at the sight of his body, half naked and covered in cum. “Boys are so gross,” she said, rather childishly for a 22 year old. “You better clean this up before mom gets home.”

John kept most of the details out of the story when he told his colleagues, but he could still feel the horrible pain in his crotch.

“Well, it could have been worse,” Molly said. John had a hard time imagining how. “Thanks for sharing, John. Stories like this remind me of why I do the work I do.”

Chloe gave him a quick hug and said, “Oh, you poor boy.” It was almost worth the humiliation of telling them to feel her soft body pressed up against his.

Vanessa was just smiling again, in the superior way that she did. She never hesitated to remind him that he had balls, that he could be down on the ground screaming in agony at any moment.

“Anyway, we only have a few days until the subjects will start pouring in. I expect you all to be ready by then,” Molly said, looking around. The three women left, excited to bust some balls for science.