Good Fight, Bikazumi Moon Priestess

ADDITIONAL TAGS: Grabbing Balls, Kneeing Balls, Threatening Balls, Futanari Priestess, Ballbusting Gladiator/Dungeon Ceremony Fighting, FourVs One/Free For All, Castration Talk, Ruptures, Future Vision, Nude Pussy, Monster Girls (Oni)

If you’re curious about Bikazumi Priestess Part One…

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When I wake up here tomorrow, things will never be the same. Because I won’t wait…but I’ll never change…

The dark chamber’s spring pool’s calmness reflects the Moon Priestess' golden red eyes and heavy boobs as she stands at its edge. Droplets of sweat drip down her defined abs and perfect v-line.

Her thick and hairless, low hanging, ostrich-egg rivaling gonads clench and relax as she rolls a thick metal bead from her necklace between her thumb and forefinger.

“Dear Muzangetsu, it’s me. Your chosen one. Your Priestess Theresa Terno. I need your insight my goddess…for tonight I will need to not show weakness. Show me how to be merciless.”

She breathes in deeply, stretching the curved scar across her pressed lips. Each sphere was forged from the iron of a defeated challenger's weapons. All melted down and recast together to form big metal balls.

They’re reminders of what she’s capable of. Of her incredible strength. Of what she can take from those not strong enough to change their own destinies. Her treasure necklace holds over four of these large orbs. All in all, that’s more than seventy-three Bikazumi, all judged and fixed by her.

After today, she’ll reach seventy-seven. A lucky number…unless this is the day she loses her own hefty pair.

…I’ll always be this way.

She closes her eyes and the broken visions come unbidden, as they always do. She needs to see for reassurance. After her earlier dreams of the Nakao Clan attacking them in a month, she’s been…bothered.

The purple eyes of those blood thirsty humans. They’re just like mine. Sad and angry. Pain shared in a battlefield of history…it drives doubt where a Bikazumi should never feel it….Where we feel our most pride.

A shattering glass tapestry of color unfolds behind her eyelids. Fragments of futures that haven’t happened yet, playing like a festival performance on an ever changing stage. Moments that exist somewhere between possibility and certainty.

She sees herself walking down the long flights of Obsidian Staircases. Her top half fully geared up as her dangling rubies swing side to side with each relaxed step.

The reptilian guards, beautiful and busty women Theresa loved to watch swim when drunk, stand proudly as she walks by, remaining clear headed even though she knew they wanted to ride her massive piece.

Other red skinned Oni step aside with respect but glare at the source of her powers once her back is to them. Jealous of her status. They’d go after her pride and joy if they were confident they could win.

But no. No matter how many ballbreakers try to take her out, none have succeeded.

Then she sees herself already in the middle of tonight’s fight…blood cakes her knuckles as Bikazumi specters shout her name….phantom pains flicker up her stomach before the sensation of two squirming organs roll beneath her heel…then there’s an albino girl's face.

She’s so…scared. She’s angry at the world. She has bloodlust in her twisted expression. She’s crying from pain only a futanari outcast can experience.

The poor fighter has nothing to lose and the pain in her eyes is all Theresa can focus on before she notices he futa’s freckly hand dart low for her own swinging red sack—

The Priestess blinks…and she’s back at the pool. Her hands gripping her necklace tightly.

The visions make being present difficult. Sometimes she’ll hear pieces of conversations, like someone’s right beside her. Words that haven’t been spoken yet, playing through her mind like old songs. Responses to questions she won’t ask until days later.

Sometimes she sees herself walking in one direction when she’s already going a different way, then she’ll blink and find herself walking the opposite way, having "skipped" through time without realizing it.

This is my gift. My Hexx…The price to have the moon’s powerful prophecies is more than worth it. After all, these visions help keep my people one step ahead of the Nakao and any other insignificant clan who believes they have the stones to take us on.

Anyone who gets in Theresa’s way ends up losing the things they cherish the most…

But I can feel it, she reminds herself. The moment before it comes. The shift in the air. The change in the weight of my world.

That’s what makes her dangerous. Not just her strength or her many years of surviving. It’s her awareness. Her visions hold warnings that guide her to where the attacks may come from. Even before the attackers know it themselves.

When she blinks again, tonight’s Ceremonial Battle Arena, in the middle of the Barrenblade Temple’s Dungeon, fills all six of her senses. She flexes her fingers and knows it’s time to go to work.

“Please…watch over your chosen jewels, Muzangetsu.” Theresa prays to their merciless moon goddess as she lets all her fears evaporate from her mind.

The battle arena is a simple thing: a circular depression carved into a tall standing, magically reformed rock disk. Fifty feet across and ringed by tiered seating for the Ka'Jarr elites, the dungeon is where the weak go to be…fixed.

There are no railings or safety wards here in the dungeon. If you fall off, you’re gone. If you die, your body is dragged to the desert’s deepest pits and your name is forgotten.

Above the dungeon’s arena, the sky burns orange-purple as the twin suns begin their slow descent. The heat is going to be brutal tonight but Theresa welcomes it as she leaps to the arena. Her bare red feet and white painted toes find purchase on the ancient stone with a heavy thud and bounce.

BOOM!

Everyone goes nuts.

“Ah, there she is. Our Moon Priestess finally blesses us with her arrival.” Grand Regent Zandu shouts, getting everyone’s blood pumping.

The Priestess’s white porcupine-like crazy hair stands on end when her father’s voice booms along with the crowd's stomping feet. That’s the signal for the Bikazumi elites to bring in their “weaklings” that need proper teaching of their “no tolerance” ways.

In the old days, the Moon Priestess was chosen by the moons themselves. It was a calling, not a contest. But the now dead queen Iszurn had changed that.

“Prove your strength,” she decreed. “Or let a stronger Oni tear the moons from between your legs and hold them over you.”

Centuries later, now Theresa’s father, one of Iszurn’s strong but dumb sons, sits in his throne at the arena's highest tier with his three wives. His massive chest is littered with arrow and katakana scars, showing that he ain’t easy to kill either. Ancient silver and white hair flows down his shoulders like a waterfall and his horns are thick and cracked with age.

His red skin has faded to something closer to rust but his eyes, those gold-orange eyes that Theresa's own, are sharp as ever.

He smiles when he sees her watching so Theresa looks away.

He doesn’t believe in her. No really…but she’ll show him. No one can destroy her.

The announcer, a scale-kin with a gargling voice steps to the edge of the pit.

"Challengers prepare to approach the Moon Priestess! Tonight, Four seek her title, seeking the gift of prophecies! So by the end, Four shall bleed!"

The crowd roars. Around a hundred Bikazumi pack the tiered seats, with their curved horns catching the light and their voices a thunder of anticipation.

“Come on. Let’s do this.”

Her stone cold mask locks in and Theresa rolls her shoulders, making her necklace clink.

“Are you ready?!” The announcer asks and she nods.

Her sleeveless leather top strains over her watermelon size breast with each breath she takes. It’s brown hide, painted with the red crescent moons of their Bikazumi goddess, and is designed to be stripped off.

In the heat of a long battle, Oni warriors shed their armor piece by piece to expose their skin to the elements.

It’s their way of embracing the fire of combat. The more scars you show, her father had taught her, the more death you've cheated. There’s a type of respect you earn when you prove to people you’re not a pushover.

The challengers land just as hard from four different sides of the dungeon. Two Bikazumi men and two women. Except one of them, the youngest for sure, probably no older than Marthew Sawabe, is smaller than the rest.

She’s got short buzzed blonde hair and squinting, bright vampire-like red eyes, making them stand out against her tattooed albino white skin.

Qu Yuan. She's an outcast and a criminal branded as a backstabbing thief. She’s the woman from her peek of visions earlier…

Don’t trust her. Break her right away or she’ll be a problem to my girls…

But just like Theresa, she’s a futanari with a noticeably low hanging ballsack that swings behind a thin red loincloth that won’t protect them from tonight’s horrors.

Huh, so she’s an albino like Marthew…that’s good. I can try to kick her nuts from behind. That’ll drop her without breaking anything. I’m sure Marthew…hey, where is he? He’s supposed to be here…

Theresa's gold-orange eyes narrow as she feels herself go back to earlier that day. When the timid man with black hand wrappings helped her tighten her top. His smaller hands were shaking but were delicate with her. Despite how rough she’s known to be he didn’t break in her presence…

“Y-You got this Moon Priestess!” She hears him call out from somewhere in the high hidden seats of the watchers.

Qu Yuan, despite being small and shaped like a human swimmer, looks shiny, lethal, and bruised. She was well taken care of before getting caught. Now she’s a ragged mess of someone who's been dragged from her cell that morning.

Her dark eyes are swollen. Her lip is split. Someone had worked her over before she'd even stepped into the arena…it made her so interesting to Theresa’s bleeding heart.

This cutie broke a rule? Which rule? Why do I have to fix her…?

No. It doesn’t matter.

My father likes to remind the empire that even outcasts can be useful. As fodder. As warnings. As bloody smears on the stone. Sorry…but I’ll have to break even your balls too.

The other three challengers are proper Bikazumi. The first man Theresa notices is a slim, crouching Oni, named Mirdor. He has one broken horn, thick curly black hair, and piercing in both ears. He’s not a bad looking guy. Especially with a nice uncut nine inch cock that even Theresa doesn’t ignore.

But he can’t be any older than twenty five with his delicately plucked eyebrows and boyish looks.

“It’s about time a real man holds the powers of our goddess for once. Don’t you agree?”

He asks the other Oni man who just nods in mutual agreement.

“Yeah…”

Young Bikazumi these days aren’t as diehard about the old traditions as the much older warriors are.

Sure this boy may be old enough to challenge her for her all seeing special abilities, but he’s still too focused on his fragile ego. All young warriors too obsessed and drawn to fame will always fall short.

He cares too much about how people view his performance. He wants people to see him at his best. I’ll have to take away the things that give him such a big image problem…

His only leather armor is around his arms and hands as he holds a cleaver with a black handle and a skull hilt. It’s the size of a human but he easily holds it over his nicely built shoulders. His bare red chest crisscrosses with new ritual scars and he winks at the priestess as his long avocado balls drag across the arena’s floor.

“No hard feelings when this is all over, yeah?” He asks Theresa with a head nod.

“Okay. But only if you’re alright with not being able to have kids ever again.”

She replies back coldly, hearing herself echoing for a split second as her surroundings warp to when she’s kneeling down on a Nakao’s ballsack in the middle of a forest—!

“…Hm?” She raises an eyebrow and feels her heartbeat quicken.

Another vision?

The air feels cool here as the purple eyed bald man beneath her screams and claws for the spear she’s keeping out of arms reach.

“Pleeeese! Don’t Crush My Balls! Get Off Them!!!”

His delicate human testes crumble like play dough beneath her strong unforgiving knee. She can break them now if she wants to. She just needs to add a little more pressure…

But she blinks and her eyes refocus on the 6’2 bronze honey-skinned female Oni, Kelree. She’s got heavy purple eyeshadow on and has a wild black mullet hairstyle with iron knuckles strapped to her stone breaking fists.

She’s the challenger closest to Qu Yuan.

What was that supposed to be? A vision linked to the one I dreamt about last night? Or was that…years ago? Or maybe it’s…sometime soon?

Theresa shakes her head and Kelree cracks her neck while silently eyeing the albino girl’s dangling pear-size hangers with cruel interest. She figures out a plan to take the pale wimp out. Quick and painfully.

Crushing the small one’s testicles first should be easy. If I punt them into her throat from behind at full force when she’s not looking? She won’t stand a chance. She’ll be too scared to make a move first since the Priestess won’t hesitate to break their nuts, if she gets her hands on them. Once she’s down, then I can worry about breaking those men after they rush the Priestess and leave themselves vulnerable.

Kelree is good at thinking to herself. She’s got a mean poker face as her half blue leather body armor, that only covers her saggy right boob and burn scarred arm, hangs loose and ready to be shedded. Her clean shaven, hot and red, pussy glistens slowly in the night air with excitement as she stands on full display.

She’s the only smooth one in this battle tonight.

Men and futa warriors from the stands cheer for her more than the other four. Which wasn’t surprising. A woman who bares her womanhood in the face of bitch breaking cocks and wrecking balls, is willing to prove that a Bikazumi’s package is nothing but a weakness to be exploited.

But it’s what’s on her feet that sends a chill through all the fighter’s Oni makers as she stretches. Strapped on her black toenail feet are steel clawed sandals with three 6-inch curved blades per foot. Shaped just like bear claws, lock over her toes and heels.

One full force kick from her and…goodbye balls.

They’re all thinking the same thing.

The other deep crimson Oni man, Queden, is much older with two deep cuts across his crooked nose and left eye. His shoulder length messy hair has a few greying braids in it, keeping it out of his one good eye.

But Theresa can sense the hunger in him that she recognizes all too well. It’s in them all. They want her title. Her power. Her visions.

One flickers before her now, showing Qu Yuan lunging first. Desperation. No strategy. She has nothing to lose. Her hands will come up wild, maybe thinking she’ll take a fatal blow from behind and it’ll end her suffering quickly?

That’ll never work…It doesn’t make sense but—

Theresa blinks and the faint echo of her father’s bell makes her move. The challengers are circling! What did I just miss? she wonders. A breath? A step? Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

She knows what comes next.

“Ahh! Forgive me, great one!!”

Qu Yuan lunges and her small fists come up in a wild haymaker that can shatter trees, if any were around. Theresa unfortunately isn’t a tree and moves to the side, letting Qu’s punch whiff.

“…Me too.”

“Huh?!”

Theresa eyes the other three and throws a back heel donkey kick beneath Qu Yuan’s sweaty and defenseless girl balls before she can turn around.
There’s a satisfying give when Theresa hits the delicate spots behind both of Yuan’s juicy nuts where no one has ever kicked them before.

Her ultra sensitive epididymis.

WHAM—CRRRK!

“Uuugggh?!"

She shrieks in testicular shock as her weaker balls feel as though they’re literally being smashed into jam as they’re sent up into her throat!

“Yeesh,”

The two guys scrunch their faces at the ballbreaking sounds and they pause.

“Shit that doesn’t sound good.”

“Awwwwhhh!!!”

A sharp gasp evaporates out of Yuan’s small chest and somewhere above, Marthew whimpers in horrible sympathy.

“Ohh man, why Priestess? You didn’t have to go that hard….” he groans

Sometimes his white haired Priestess can be scary and unrecognizable. When she’s in the zone she becomes a true Bikazumi that’ll fix her opponent’s sex lives permanently…

“Nutshot.”

Theresa confirms her kick as her bare heel grinds both of the futa’s quivering danglers into her pelvis so badly that Yuan can’t even scream properly until her drooling cheek slams into the ground and she’s forced to curl up in agony.

“Waaaahhh! Uuuugh nooo! You M-messed Up My Nutssss!”

Little Qu screams like a weak crybaby as Kelree seethes through her clenched teeth.

“Tsk! Damnit. So much for letting you boys go first.”

Kelree growls and pushes Mirdor and Queden out of the way so she can shake her fists and heels. Just like Mirdor, she wasn’t ashamed to use a weapon. They were allowed in a battle like this for a reason. Might as well go all out, right?

“You won’t do any better.”

The Priestess tells Kelree with half closed eyes. It’s almost like she’s not even taking them seriously. But Kelree planned on changing that real fast.

“We’ll see after I put those big rubies on a silver platter.” Kelree winks, feeling like she can win this.

Knowing the boys they’ll probably gang up together and wait for an opening after I’m knocked around a little. If they’re smart that is.

Kelree wants to play around before stealing the win at the end. Play the overconfident woman with a huge ego and then Slice-o… sever the hanging fruits that’re ripe for the taking.

Or…I can go all out and slice up the Priestess' massive nards right now until they’re nothing but shredded onions. That’ll prove that I’m worthy of being the true all seeing seer. The right way.

The merciless way.

“Ah what the hell, I might as well give it my all. You only get to break the Priestess almighty testicles once, you know?”

Kelree crouches and gives everyone a good look at her tight hot lips between her legs. She squints at Theresa’s sleeping serpent that hides beneath her loincloth but it’s really her throat clogging spuds that she wants to focus on.

“Hmm…time to cut this short!”

Kelree detonates, launching herself from a low crouch, she blurs into a spinning cyclone of frenzy and steel and her body twists in mid-air like an angry cat.

Watch out for those feet! Theresa thinks as she clenches her low hangers to keep them from sagging too far away.

The steel blade claws on her sandals catch the orange light of the descending suns as they come in for a killing blow. Kelree hums as she whips her left leg downward in a savage, descending arc aimed squarely at Theresa’s temple.

It’s a strike designed to split a skull like a coconut.

Theresa sees the flash of silver that promises a violent end to her Moon Priestess’s reign and refuses to flinch. She doesn’t even step back. With movement so fluid you’d think it was practiced for days, she snaps her forearm upward to block the kick and goes for a claw grab at the fierce woman’s neck.

The heavy metal beads of Theresa’s necklace jump and clatter against each other as her arm meets the bladed claws with a resonating WACK

…but Kelree is already weaving her head to the side?!

Huh. She’s good.

The force of the colliding impact sends a shockwave through the stone beneath their feet, but Theresa remains an anchor.

Kelree’s momentum doesn’t stop with the clash as she uses the recoil to pivot, flipping her entire weight over her center of gravity. She slams down onto the arena floor on a single, bracing palm, hand standing her body parallel to the stone in a daring, acrobatic sprawl.

From this inverted vantage point, the world turns upside down, and for a long heartbeat, Kelree’s eyes lock onto the vulnerable targets she needs to remove from this equation.

There they, up close and personal: the legendary, charming cum tanks that belong to the Priestess, straining against the thin fabric of her white loincloth like two sleeping boulders.

I have to kill her fat balls with one shot. Even ones that big won’t grow back if I cut them off at the root!

Kelree’s eyes widen with a lusty glint. She doesn’t just want the moon title. She wants the satisfaction of seeing those famous jewels shattered beyond repair.

“Sandy hurricane!”

With a snarl, Kelree snaps her hips, converting the downward force of her landing into a violent, rotational spin. She becomes a quick, heavy moving, spinning top with her lead leg whipping across the stone in a low, blindingly fast sweep intended to slice Theresa’s feet and thighs into nothing.

Theresa instinctively leaps to avoid the shredding trip but Kelree doesn't let up.

“Come on! Don’t run away!”

She twists her smaller torso mid-roll, corkscrewing her body upward with explosive power and sends her neutering toes screaming toward the sky in a vertical strike aimed directly between Theresa’s thighs.

Time to blend those fuckers up into a mushy smoothie!!!

The world slows to a crawl, the orange-purple clouds stretching into long, bleeding streamers. In that suspended heartbeat, Theresa doesn’t just see the trajectory of the steel-clawed heel. She feels the shivering air displace a violent gust of wind signaling the arrival of the strike.

No. Not today!

To the crowd, their Priestess is a blur of red and white, a bleeding ghost in reality. She doesn't just dodge; she corkscrews her much larger frame in mid-air, sending her sweaty sack and dong swinging with a loud slap against her thighs as she pivots on an invisible axis.

WHOOSH!

The steel claws whistle past her loincloth, missing by a fraction of an inch and cutting only the edge of her flopping gear.

Impossible!

Kelree can’t believe it as she watches her opponent use the momentum of her own dodging spin to snap her leg out in a devastating hook kick, landing a crashing heel into Kelree’s floating ribs.

She’s unbelievably fast, even while in the air?!

KRRRUNCH!!!

The impact is deeply visceral. An agonizing, crunchy blow echoes through the air as the ball hungry babes' boobs shake with skin rippling force. Kelree’s eyes bug out and the air leaves her lungs in a ragged, wheezing spray of saliva.

“Gwaaahh!”

The force launches her, sending her hurtling backwards across the stone disk with no grace.

“Arrghh!”

Her swelling tits and bruising ass bounce as she skips like a flat stone over a pond, leaving a shallow groove in the ancient rock as she slides toward the abyss and vanishes into the deadly depths of…nothingness.

“Noooo….!!!”

“Whoa. The Priestess sure can move…”

Queden nods in respect, impressed that someone managed to land a hit on Kelree. He’s fought alongside that crazy woman and knows she’s not easy to put down. Until now.

“She sure can. But so can I!”

The cocky Mirdor boy takes the opportunity to slay the massive futa on his own and runs in with his broad cleaver.

“Ready to stop being a man?”

Theresa asks as she clenches her fists in preparation. Keeping a level head keeps you from losing the girls.

“Sure, but let’s start with you first, hot stuff!”

Coming in a similar low stance like Kelree, Mirdor becomes a red blur of toned muscles and bad intentions. His one broken horn cuts the air like a snapped blade, and those good-looking eyebrows furrow hard over eyes locked to kill.

“Roar Sabi!”

He wants to cut me half. He ain’t the first to try and won’t be the last, either.

The bladed weapon’s skull hilt grins like it knows what was coming and explodes forward and upward, steel shrieking as it carves for Theresa’s gut to her throat in one brutal arc.

The taller Oni sees herself in the blade’s reflection, framed for a split second in its blood stained serrated edge, but the Priestess doesn’t add any of her own blood like he wants.

She walks backwards, smooth, and measured, like the blade was infected. She weaves left then right, each slash missing by inches as her bare feet slide across the arena floor.

“Hold still!”

He orders and she sidesteps his underhand slash at her delicates.

“How about you aim a little better? Like this.”

She throws her left elbow across his eyebrow and dodges a blind slash to drive her knuckles into his stomach, lifting him off his feet.

“Uuugh!”

He coughs up blood but headbutts her as she goes for another hit, forcing her to step back.

“Nice one, but here I come!”

Mirdor grunts and throws a backhand swing, putting his whole shoulder into it. But the move is too wide, too wild, and it leaves his legs wide open as he hits nothing.

Bad move. Now let’s make him choke on those small stones!

Theresa stomps forward and her pointy knee comes up like lightning, aiming right at his bobbing, red, jumbo eggs to scramble them into next week!!!

WHAM!

“Auugh!!”

Mirdor barely gets his free palm down in time as Theresa’s ballbreaking knee drills into the center of his clenching pair. His own knuckles slam back into both nuts and hurls them backwards until they crush themselves against his muscular ass.

SMACK!

“You Bitch!! You tried to knee my balls!”

Mirdor’s girlfriend, who’s in the stands, glares in disappointment as his blood brown eyes cross and doesn't see the follow up right hook heading his way.

“Block you idiot—! Don’t just stand there! Ugh, whatever.”

Boom!!!

Theresa’s knuckles land flush against Mirdor’s modeling looks.

“Nnhn!”

Blood sprays from his nose as the force sends him sliding backwards. He hits the ground hard, tripping and skidding onto his back in a dusty cloud. His sword stays clenched in his fist.

Gods…she hits harder than anyone I’ve ever faced. She almost broke my ribs with just one punch. And that knee…it would have turned my balls into paste if I hadn’t blocked it in time. She’s a completely different type of animal altogether…

He lifts his head, dazed but is still filled with the invincible adrenaline of youth.

She’s a monster…good. I can become one too!

Already grinning with his bloody teeth, Mirdor spits over the edge and slowly gets up.

“That's all? You’re starting to get old or something? You can’t drop me if my legs still work—”

Theresa’s thundering right foot comes down like a guillotine on top of his loose, sprawled out, boiling scrotum with only one goal in mind. To erase them from all Bikazumi’s bloodlines.

KRRRUNCH—KRUUUNCH!!

“PUUUAAAHHH!”

The hunky man sputters in crippling pain as his legs kick out and globs of spit ejects from his wide open mouth.

How…did she move so…fast?!

“Mm. Have they popped already? I can’t tell.”

Theresa growls quietly behind clenched teeth as she feels the wrinkles on his smaller left testicle straighten out from her overbearing weight. Two delicate organs squirm and flatten beneath her wide feet and bulge impossibly tight. Ballooning to their limits.

Like a pancake filled with mushy batter that doesn’t want to lose it’s shape.

It feels good. But only for a moment.

“Uuuhhhiiii!!! My Balls!!!”

The horrors of suddenly losing his strength hits Mirdor like a mage’s magical fist and the realization finally shuts him up for good.

There’s a split second for hope as his rubbery spheres struggle to fight back but once he sees the Priestess’s white Hexx energy surround her ankles, he knows his impending castration is unavoidable…

“W-Wait! Stop IT! DONT—Auuuuughhh!!!”

One final twist from her right foot squeezes his cracked ball’s last, and thick, white load out of his spazzing dick like toothpaste. Painting the ceremonial floor with his weak genes.

“Congratulations. You’ve been fixed.”

“Whyyyyy?!?”

KABAM!

Theresa puts him to sleep early by driving her fist down like a hammer from heaven, connecting with his cheek dead center. Mirdor’s head slams into the arena floor with a CRACK and the stone buckles. A fresh crater blooms around his skull as his eyes roll back.

He’s frozen, jaw slack, still half shocked, half smirking like all his shit-talking died mid-sentence. The broad sword slips from his pinned fingers and the skull hilt clatters.

She’ll probably keep that one as a new collection to her trophy wall.

He’s out cold. Now, where's the other one?

Theresa exhales until the air behind her shifts. Queden doesn’t announce himself. The older fighter just moves like an avalanche. Silent until it hit. Six-foot-four, he’s only an inch shorter but his beefy muscles wrap around her from behind with too much ease.

“You need to watch your back better, you dumb broad.”

One of his forearms snakes under her chin and the other locks it in. A throat crushing chokehold. Vice-tight with no wasted movement.

“How does it feel, knowing your sloppy guardwork is what got you in this mess?”

She wants to tell him it's really impressive, actually. Especially when two spine-rattling knees slam into her back, throwing Theresa off Mirdor’s mushy sack and messing with her balance.

“Hhghh!”

Theresa grunts and stumbles to one knee. He follows, attached to her like glue. His breath is hot against her ear and his old face wounds pull his face into a permanent sneer. He smells like alcohol and old cigar smoke.

CRASH—WHAM—CRRRK!!

She throws back hammer fists into his face but he shrugs it off. Not phased by her badly aimed blows.

“Priestess,” he rumbles, feeling her start to push back harder with her nails digging into his arms with no success.

She can feel his thick, throbbing, rod push between her swallowing asscheeks as she fights for air.

“You’re…mmhm, someone I’ll remember forever. You have my word.”

Theresa drives a gut bursting elbow back into his ribs but It’s like hitting a mountain. He barely grunts but she feels him shift and lean back for some reason.

What’s he doing?

“Brace yourself,” Queden warns, “this is for all my brothers!”

Before a flickering answer comes to help her escape without a scratch, Queden’s thick knee rockets beneath Theresa’s white loincloth and strikes her gigantic, scarred, balls with no mercy!

THUD!

“Hnnngg!”

The impact feels like a collision of worlds and the confidence Theresa holds in her sperm’s future shakes when Queden’s avenging knee finds the epicenter of Theresa’s pride.

…Then, with the power of every jealous man and futa, he makes her feel it.

THUD—KRRCK!!!

“Awwugh!”

Theresa’s pointy ears droop, losing their defiant sharp peak, and her scarred lip trembles violently as she bites back a scream that can wake the dead futas who’d sympathize with her pain.

WHUMP!!!

Oh my god he’s kneeing my balls from behind! I can’t breathe and he’s targeting my balls?! This asshole!

A harsher knee brutally slams into the soft doughy backs of Theresa’s right gonad like a guided spell and drives a nauseating wave up her clenching abs…

“Awee…stop…!”

She tries to choke out as another blows sends the taste of her future Oni warriors into her gasping throat.

“You! Don’t deserve! To have! These!”

The sensation of four more exploding knees is a white-hot electric shock that bypasses the priestess’s sorcery filled nerves and strikes her soul. His strong desire threatens to burst her well endowed foundation.

“KYYAA!”

Then with no warning he kicks off the ground and jumps backwards into a twist. Their weight leaves the ground before slamming Theresa's stomach-first into the burning stone floor!

WHA—BAM!

The impact knocks the air from her lungs and his grip doesn’t loosen. He bears down harder, biceps bulging as he tries to choke the fight out of her.

“Mm! Mmhm!”

Black spots begin to swim in her half closed eyes. But she doesn’t let the panic take over. She doesn’t tap. Instead right hand shoots down, white nail fingers clawing past his hip and past the leather strings of his loincloth to…there!

She navigates through curly, tough hair and a confused hard cock before she grabs the precious, plumpy, cargo lying against the back of her thighs.

His cum stuffed and vulnerable Oni Testicles.

He swears under his breath the moment she finds a perfect grip on his droopy pair. Red Oni fingers strangle his right nut like it’s an orange with something refreshing inside.

Queden's good eye goes wide and his cock begins to soften from the sudden spike in fear.

“Oh No! Don’t…Don’t you f-fucking—”

“You’re not…using these anymore…right?”

She asks sarcastically before clamping down with all her strength. Trying to burst the poor bastard’s nard in half.

She gets really close with the first squeeze.

“HIEEEE!!!”

Queden screams hysterically in a high pitched voice as he scrapes his black tippy toes against the ground, creating sparks. His eye dart all over the arena, looking for help to put this unbreakable futa down.

But he’s completely alone…

The wimpy albino Yuan is still choking on her lodged marbles with her ass sticking high in the air, and Mirdor’s nutless ass isn’t going to wake up anytime soon.

He’s the last one to be punished for thinking he had a shot at changing his destiny.

“Ohhhh please! Don’t break my nuuut!”

Queden sobs against his Priestess' strong back but she doesn’t listen to his begging. She’s in her own head. Deep in her own world again. Blinking from good memories and moments to unseen days that’ll pale in comparison to what she’s doing now.

“How does it feel…knowing your sloppy guardwork is what got your stupid balls in this mess?”

“Huuuh?! No No!”

Rolling Queden’s largest testicle between her finger and thumb like she’s speed-running the durability of a man’s source of power. Her voice is calm and barely a whisper.

“You got close. So for that I’ll only ruin your balls and let you keep your cock.”

The match was over right then and there. Because the second she starts laying on the pressure, she doesn’t stop until she feels those nut-splitting cracks pulse against her fingertips.

“Don’t Do This! I’m Sorry! I’m WEAK! YOU WIN AGAIN PRIESTESS!”

“…I know.”

Theresa’s fingers grind into the fertile testes like she’s reshaping a clay mound. The first nut screams under the pressure and eventually collapses in on itself with a—

SQUELCH!

Ball fragments swim in his sack as she crushes it down until there’s nothing but a liquify, jagged raisin of ruined nut meat.

Queden howls. The sound rips from his throat rawly. His blind eye stares dumbfounded at his stupid plan. He even doubled down, trying to wrench her neck with everything he had, forearm going rigid to snap bone.

But his strength completely crumbles when his second ball breaks like goop in her fist.

POP!

“OOHH GODS!!! You Broke Them! She Broke My Balls!!!”

The chokehold that felt like iron moments ago goes slack as his mind shatters into a million pieces. His very basic and underused Hexx aura stutters and evaporates from his body as he tries to shove her away, desperate to break contact.

But Theresa still doesn’t let go.

Bikazumi Oni are infamous for a few things. But our grip? It’s an iron grip that only opens when we decide to open up.

Her left hand shot up and clamped onto his wrist, locking his arm right where it was around her throat. She turns her head just enough, golden eyes burning into his one good one.

“…You almost had me worried there for a second. You were pretty strong. That’s something to be proud of. Hope you said goodbye to them before I…”

His body seizes above her like a fish and finally, he passes out, unable to deal with the fight being drained out of him all at once. Theresa smiles a little at the man’s blubbering face after having his balls juiced.

Who’d have thought “cutting” someone’s “parachute strings” as they’re falling would be so fun?

— - —

Theresa blinks and she’s walking back to her chambers. Each step echoes down the dark stone hall leading to her sanctuary. Mirdor’s cleaver hangs loose in one of her hands, the skull hilt still grinning, tip dragging a thin line across the floor.

Her white hair sticks to her sweaty neck, damp with battle and blood that wasn’t all hers. Golden red eyes blink slow, not able to understand all the swimming visions that cloud her mind.

Her chamber feels cold and bare as she drifts to the edge of the empty bed calling for her like someone who’s trapped underwater.

Piece by piece, the leather top she didn’t even get to shed comes off. Straps, buckles, It hits the floor with a heavy thud.

“Fuck,” she groans as she twists her hips to crack her back and palms her low hangers to make sure they’re still round and intact.

“Thank you Muzangetsu…”

She thanks her godess and rolls her neck, working the stiffness from her collarbone and from the bruises blooming dark against red skin.

I’m exhausted.

Every muscle aches with each heartbeat that pounds in each of her orbs. She wants to sink into her pool and let it pull the pain out of her. Swim until the bruises weren’t hers anymore.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Theresa blinks and she’s by the door frame, looking at a shape she already knows.

“Marthew…what did you think of the ceremony?”

“I…umm…it was a good fight, Moon Priestess.”

She can tell they’ve already shared a few words already…he looks concerned.

What have I already said? Is he here for something important? What…day is it?

She blinks and sheepishly feels dirty in front of her white-skinned, messenger. Hair like a blonde hidden in snow, his darker red eyes help push away Qu’s crying tears from Theresa’s mind.

He’s not built like the other Oni men. He’s not as strong as Queden or tall ike Mirdor. No scars across his knuckles. No killer’s grin. He’s gentle. Quiet. The kind of Oni who notices when my hands shake after a fight. Even when I hide them.

“Madam Theresa,” he calls, voice barely above a worried whisper. “Do you…need anything? Anything at all? Don’t…be afraid to ask,”

He didn’t fully step out of the doorframe’s shadows. He never did until she said so.

He’s always so careful. Always watching out for me...

Theresa looks at him. Really looks. The adrenaline was gone now, and what was left was raw and aching to be alive. A wounded smirk pulls at the corner of her mouth. Her tired eyes flutter and Marthew notices that they aren’t hard now. They burn, Low. Steady. Like embers that refuse to die.

“…Come here.”

She reaches out, slipping her big hand beneath his thin black loincloth to cup his pool-ball white balls and pull them closer to her.

“W-Whoa!”

He yelps and shuffles closer. Her breath hits his cheek and he looks up at her, his eyes struggling to not focus on her boobs or her massaging hand.

“Stay,” she asks, not making eye contact.

No command. No priestess tone. Just Theresa, tired and bruised and burning to feel something that’ll ground her for the night.

“Please…? I could use a little help…relaxing.”

“M-Mmhm,” biting his lower lip to ignore his full blue balls churning for a chance to glaze his priestess in cum, Marthew knows he can only answer in one way…

“O-Of course. Awhhh—your w-wish is my command ma’am…”