Precious Jewel Thief [Castration]

Hey everyone! I know M/M isn't that popular around here, but I don't mind anyone going for the nuts, *especially* if they have no reason to! I wrote this a bit ago for an m/m site, but figured I'd share it here since Reddit is easier to use :)

There's nothing even close to sex in this (Well, a part from lots of mentions of balls, I guess), just some ballbusting and ballbusting revenge.

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The night security guard at Precious Jewels and Metals was as bored as he normally was. Jamal was sitting in his office at the rear of the store, buried in a storeroom, passing the time browsing the many boob-based subreddits on his phone. Periodically, he would reach down and readjust, as his large endowment meant the cheap security guard’s uniform was just a bit too snug. He took to going sans undergarments to allow everything to move more freely when doing his rounds since, to save costs, the store got hot at night as the air conditioning was cut. It helped that Jamal enjoyed eyeing his twin orbs being neatly hugged and outlined against his left leg. Reaching down, he gave himself a rather thorough adjustment that could be construed as a massage.

The sound of a motion sensor going off broke his reverie, which he promptly muted. Sighing, Jamal heaved his lean form out of his chair, grabbed his flashlight, and lazily walked to the janitor’s closet to grab the small net on a handle used to catch birds and squirrels that managed to break in.

As Jamal approached the walkway leading to the front of the store, however, he heard faint noises that sounded more deliberate than a lost, confused animal. Heart rate rising, he switched off his flashlight and tentatively and quietly made his way down the familiar corridor in the dark. He looked through the door that led into the customer checkout area, and noticed, via the soft light from the street lamps out front, a large man wearing all black wrestling with one of the cash registers and swearing quietly.

Taking a moment to size the man up, Jamal thought the robber was around his height and build. It didn’t look like the man had a weapon, but all Jamal had was his plastic flashlight and the man was bent over too far to get at his head properly, at least without alerting the man to his presence. He wanted much better odds than a fair fight with someone of unknown strength and training.

Weighing his options, Jamal decided on a decisive, debilitating strike. Back in high-school soccer, he never shied away from “accidentally” missing and punting the wrong balls if a defender was being particularly annoying at blocking him. Jamal quietly snuck up on the man, and using his vast experience kicking round objects of all sizes, sent his pleather capped imitation dress shoe into the unsuspecting nuts tantalizingly laid out before him.

Greg, cursing the *stupid* checkout register, felt something hard collide with something much softer. The force of the blow slightly lifted him off his feet and flung him into the counter, expelling all the air from his lungs. He took a breath and pushed up on the counter to turn around at the same moment his testicles made their predicament known. The scream that escaped Greg’s lips as he noisily collapsed drowned out Jamal’s, “Hey! Stop moving, asshole!”

As Jamal raised his plastic flashlight to ward off the robber and commanded him to stop moving, he instead heard an ear-splitting yell as the man fell over and grabbed the source of his pain. In the dim light Jamal noticed something peculiar, as the man turned toward him and toppled backward, there was a flash of something pink flinging about from the man’s groin. Jamal reached back and flipped the nearby lightswitch, turning on the lights over the checkout area, and stealthily walked up to the man and knelt down on one knee by his right side. In the new illumination, he could see the man wore a mask, a black long sleeve T-shirt, black sweat pants that weren’t very loose at all, and some regular running shoes. All of his clothes looked like they were purchased at the local Wal-Mart. The robber’s eyes were squeezed shut, as he moaned, “Fuck, my balls... my balls... fuck...” over and over.

There was no sign of a red or pink belt, however, and Jamal was now curious. He needed the man’s hands moved away, so he idly bashed the man in the nose with his flashlight. Moaning, the robber moved his hands up to his bloodied nose, dropping a very long scrotum containing two smaller-than-average sized testicles that were red and angry looking. The thing was long enough to land on the thinly carpeted concrete between his legs.

Jamal noticed that the robber shaved recently, like himself. Staring at two unprotected testicles resting on a hard surface attached to an asshole robbing the store where he worked, he was overtaken by a strong urge to get up and stomp on them. He didn’t think he could get into position fast enough before the man could grab himself again, however. Still staring, he was thinking, *I’ve never touched another man’s bare balls before. Would that be gay? How would it feel to hold someone else’s balls in the palm of your hand? To squeeze them? To *twist* them?* The villainous smile that crossed Jamal’s lips would have frozen Greg’s soul if he saw it. *I bet he’d do anything I want! He’ll practically *beg* the police to take him away!*

Balling his right hand into a fist and hefting the flashlight with the other, just in case, Jamal brought his knuckles down on the two tantalizing targets as hard as he dared, not wanting to bruise his fingers on the hard concrete. He immediately wished he’d gone harder, as the rubbery orbs were very good at absorbing all of the force of the blow. Jamal could feel them distort and squish flat in a very pleasing and even comfortable way, as the skin of his hand didn’t even sting. As the man started to rise with a squeal, Jamal moved quickly to secure his new toys by opening his palm and bashing them again. He left his hand there and put his upper body’s weight on his right arm, enjoying the feel of the balls squishing under his palm even more, feeling as if he was directly connected to this man’s soul-crushing anguish.

Cradling his battered nose, eyes squeezed shut even harder, Greg had no warning when suddenly his testicles took another, even more painful, blow. He had no time to worry about the absolutely girlish noise that was forced through his lips as he rose and moved his hands down to protect his screaming manhood. A half second before his hands got to their destination, he felt another blow, even worse than before. No more embarrassingly feminine squeals escaped as Greg was completely out of breath. Still in the process of sitting up, he wrapped his hands around his tormentor’s wrist and finally met eyes with the smirking black security guard currently crushing his balls into the floor. “Please...” he strained to whisper.

His plea was met with a flashlight to the face as he reached sitting position. The last of Greg’s strength finally gave out. He released Jamal’s wrist and landed on his back on the floor, arms splayed out to his sides. He looked at the flashlight, poised again, and made the only noise he could, a helpless whimper. Greg felt his balls gradually reinflate as the tormenting palm was very slowly raised.

Carefully raising his hand, so as not to allow the robber a chance to mount a rescue for his abused gonads, Jamal was extremely surprised at how *great* this felt. This man’s reproductive future was completely at his mercy. He was tempted to just throw all his weight back on his arm for the fun of it. When would he ever get another chance to castrate someone? He’d fantasized many times about cutting off the testicles of the men who would are date his ex-girlfriends or some stupid dip-shit that cut him off in traffic. But no, of course not, unfortunately. He couldn’t risk losing his job and potentially getting arrested. Instead, he rapidly brought his hand around to scoop up the two pink balls, mildly dug in his thumb, and pulled them until the scrotum was taught and he was able to lean back into a more comfortable position. He had a question or two for the man attached to his handhold, so just needed to keep him in enough pain to be controlled, but not enough to be completely senseless.

“So, like, do you just go around robbing places with your balls out or what? That seems stupid and dangerous, aren’t you worried they’d get caught on something?” Jamal asked, curious.

“...no...?” Greg managed, confused. The pain in his balls was his whole world currently, and Jamal’s thumb a crashing asteroid, but he was able to get some of his thoughts in order. “... you .. didn’t ...pull them... out...?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Jamal asked. He looked down at his hand again, and said, “Oh, right. No, your balls flopping around made me think it’d be the best way to subdue you. Seems I was right.” He watched as he rolled his thumb over the twin orbs in his hands roughly; he had to admit, seeing those small, delicate pink balls consumed by his black hand gave him more of a thrill than he thought it should have.

Looking around, Jamal noticed a button on the floor a few feet away, and looked down at the origin of the scrotum. Sure enough, there was a button missing on the fly, and no sign of fabric that could be underwear. “Oh my God,” Jamal said, laughing, “I kicked your balls completely out of your pants! What are the fucking odds? Two goals for the star forward!”

Jamal decided to finally do his workman’s duty. He informed the robber, “Look, I’m going to set down my flashlight and call the cops. If you even flinch I’m going to squeeze and pull until these shits either burst or are ripped off, got it?” Greg cautiously nodded his head.

After tossing the light so it would be out of the robber’s reach, Jamal reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to dial 9-1-1.

Greg listened to the conversation. “...My store is being robbed, but I have subdued the guy......no,no one is hurt...... I’m at Precious Jewels and Metals at the corner of Bard and Washington.... thank you, how long will it be? ... about 10 minutes? great! Thank you!” Jamal hung up and slipped his phone back in his pocket. Using his now freed hand he grabbed the robber’s mask and yanked it off his head and tossed it aside. Staring pleadingly back at him was a 30 something man with the beginnings of “Meth Mouth.”

Jamal ground down again on his handhold, pleased at feeling the rubbery orbs once again compress and the sound of the man’s breath leaving again. “Fucking meth heads. Robbing to fuel the habit?” After pausing a moment, Jamal asked the robber, “Look, since we’re having a rather intimate,” he flexed his hand a bit to accentuate the word, “moment here, we should probably know each other’s names. I’m Jamal.”

Letting loose another girlish squeal at the quick intense squeeze, Greg responded in a slightly higher pitch than he wanted, “I’m Greg!”

“Well, Greg, do you regret your actions yet? Going to jail with a sore set of balls is probably not what you were planning.” Greg nodded, then shook his head. Jamal started to take a look around, “Let’s see, I don’t have handcuffs so I need some string or zip ties for your wrists.” *And maybe your balls*, he added mentally, *they do that to bulls, don’t they?* As he searched the counter, Jamal shifted his stance a bit and shook his left leg to jostle his nuts to a more comfortable position. His right knee, on the concrete, was starting to hurt.

Greg was working himself into a panic. The cops were on their way, this lunatic was crushing his nuts just because he needed to supplement his construction income, and there was no meth in jail. Previously, he promised himself he would never go through withdrawals again. He *had* to get out. Jamal was distracted, now was his chance. He began to move his hands into a position to grab the hand holding his manhood. That hand, he could tell through his balls, was softer and weaker than his own, and he could probably pry it off. Hopefully before Jamal was able to do any of the damage he promised.

Right before he finished positioning his hands, however, Jamal finally noticed his movement. Jamal bore down with all 5 of his fingers as hard as he could and twisted his wrist as far as his joint allowed, and then pulled. He barely heard the scream, he was so focused on the intense feeling in his hand. Jamal could feel the rubbery testicles trying to squish out between his fingers, could actually see it happening. He couldn’t even imagine the pain he was causing. *I take better care of my balls, thank god.*

Greg was just lying motionless on the floor silently trying to scream at this point. Smiling again, Jamal untensed his hang slightly and felt the orbs try to return to their original shape, then squeezed down again. Again. Again.

He looked at Greg and realized he was probably going to suffocate if he kept this up. He lowered his squeeze to the previous level and said, while Greg tried to catch his breath, “Do not do that again, you fucking idiot. I. have. your. balls. in. my. hand!” Jamal shook his hand hold on every word, and redoubled his search for zip ties.

Greg shook his head in pain, his vision slightly obscured by tears. When he finally came to rest, he was looking to the right, at Jamals left foot. On the path back up to his tormentor’s face, he noticed something. Two noticeably large bulges being held in place by Jamal’s pant seam because of the position of his leg, each one the size of both of Greg’s own testicles. And his right hand resting on the floor exactly below them.

His hand shot up before Jamal could react, and he grabbed the higher and slightly smaller of the two bulges, which happened to be Jamal’s right testicle. Greg bore down on that testicle like his manhood depended on it, because it probably did. The cheap polyester didn’t make a good grip, but the nut wasn’t going anywhere with the seam in the way.

Jamal was now the one screaming. Intelligently, though, instead of releasing his prize to save his gonad, he instead returned the favor with gusto, even bringing his left hand around over his right to increase the pressure.

Greg joined Jamal in screaming, but also didn’t release his hold. He brought his left hand around to grab Jamal’s left testicle and behind to squeeze that too. The disgusting feeling of the guard’s testicles compressing in his grip made Greg want to release his hold, but he held firm.

Jamal had tears streaming down his face and his eyes completely shut. The construction worker’s stronger hands were causing more damage to the easier to squeeze larger nuts. Jamal could feel each testicle squishing between Greg’s fingers. He tried to squeeze harder, but couldn’t, even as he felt the pressure from other man’s larger, more muscular hands steadily increase.

“Let go of my balls and let me go, I’ll let go of your balls!” Greg yelled through the pain at Jamal.

Jamal was at his limit, he could feel it. If he let go, Greg could continue squeezing until he was ruined! He realized it was a chance he had to take, however, as he thought Greg would win the tug of war anyway. They locked eyes, and Jamal nodded slightly. Greg returned the nod.

Jamal let go and collapsed so quickly that Greg had to also hurriedly let go, then he, too, collapsed. Both men lay there, breathing raggedly, for a few minutes, until Greg rolled over onto all fours and started crawling slowly toward his tool bag. He needed to get out before the cops showed up, and also couldn’t leave that evidence behind. Jamal sat up when Greg started moving, and saw his swollen, low-hanging balls wobbling vulnerably between his legs as he was shuffling very slowly to the bag. *Those digusting fucking balls! How dare he lay a hand on my nuts! I’ll fucking kill him! I’ll castrate him!*

Reaching behind him, Jamal groped for the vise grips that he spied while looking for some zip ties earlier, and brought them up to his face to check the adjustment. All the way closed. He loosened the adjustment slightly, to the width of about two layers of skin. Using two hands, he very quietly opened the tool completely, then lunged.

Before Greg could even register the disturbance behind him, Jamal swung the fully opened vise-grips up from below into the pair of balls and squeezed his hand. Greg’s left testicle escaped, but the right one was caught. Time slowed to a near standstill for Jamal as he watched the testicle bulge out from either side of the tool. Through the handle, he could feel the resistance, could feel the outer shell start to give. Suddenly, the resistance between the clamps disappeared entirely, the remains forcibly squirting out each side. *Fuck*, thought Jamal, *that felt great!*

Greg felt the cold teeth of something touch his scrotum, felt his balls get jostled... Then, his world went white. He released an ear-splitting scream but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of every nerve in his body firing. He collapsed once again, this time face down, and breathed through gritted teeth. His scrotum was still in the vise grips in Jamal’s hand, pulling the skin cruelly, but he couldn’t tell. His entire lower half was on fire.

The animalistic pleasure of reducing a rival’s ability to procreate took Jamal and he knew he had to finish the job. This idiot wasn’t going to use his balls properly anyway, so really, Jamal was doing the world a favor. He opened the vise grips and the two testicles fell onto the hard industrial carpet. Just the couple inch fall to the ground caused Greg to jolt.

Jamal set the pliers down and crawled between Greg’s spread legs. There, on the hard floor, was a beautiful sight. One whole, swollen testicle on the left and one lumpy mass on the right. Jamal felt more like a man than he had in *years* as he realized what he was going to do. He reared back his hand, balled up his fist, and launched it at the scrotum. The sensation under his hand was inconceivable. He could feel the intact orb compress like rubber, as before, but he could feel the broken one break down even further. The mush was little protection for his fingers, but in his current state he didn’t care.

He punched again. And again. Each blow caused Greg’s limbs to twitch. Half conscious and completely defeated, there were tears streaming down his face but he made no sound.

Every succeeding blow came with slightly less resistance, until Jamal felt Greg’s remaining testicle burst like a grape. Jamal was surprised, the feeling of completely castrating a man was even more than twice as exhilarating as taking just one testicle. He did his duty, taking this man off the streets and out of the gene pool. Away from the women in his neighborhood, away from his girlfriend! He felt a need growing to get home to her.

A few more punches landed, until he was sure there was no repairing the damage. Greg was finally, mercifully unconscious, to Jamal’s dismay. He really wanted to pull his big, full balls out and show Greg what a real man looked like, but instead just gave his prized possessions a loving caress through his pants.

The cops choose that minute to arrive. Jamal walked confidently to the front of the store and opened the doors as the police walked up. The two men in uniforms were taller and in better shape than Jamal, and remembering the recent story of police brutality involving itchy trigger fingers on a random drunk, he greeted them with the most pleasant air he could muster. “Hello, gentleman! Thanks for coming so quickly, the perp is right over there, behind the counter.”

“Perp, huh? You want to be a cop Mr. Security Guard?” asked the larger of the two cops. His white face appeared amused.

“Oh, leave off Bill, he probably watches cop shows on TV while waiting for his shift to end.” said the latino officer.

“I’ve thought about it, maybe one day. I’ll need to get a degree first, though,” Jamal replied.

“Son,” said the latino, “this is Mississippi. You don’t need a degree, just a desire to get scumbags off the street.” He held out his hand, “I’m Alberto, this is Bill.”

“Jamal”

“Well, Jamal, let’s go get the ‘perp’,” Bill said. He started walking toward the counter.

Taking in the scene, he asked Jamal, “So, what happened?”

“He was trying to break into a cash register when I came up behind him and kicked him in the balls. He fell over and I guess he hit his head.”

Alberto chuckled and made his way closer to Greg to get a better look. “And when he was out, you what, grabbed those vise-grips and crushed his nuts?” He asked, while poking the sack of mush with his toe. It responded exactly the way he’d imagine a ziplock bag of puree would. “You did a very thorough job.”

A look of utter terror froze on Jamal’s face. *I never stuck his balls back in his pants! Fucking idiot!*

Bill was looking for one of the security cameras that took the entire area in. “We’ll also need the footage from that camera,” he said, pointing while looking at Greg’s unconscious form.

*The fucking cameras! Fuck! Fuck!* When Jamal failed to respond, Bill turned and looked at his terrified expression, brain seeming stuck trying to decode the fight or flight response. Slapping Jamal jovially on the back, Bill reassured him, “Oh, don’t worry about that. You did a great job in stopping a methhead from inflicting more harm in this city! We’ll lose the tape you give us. Nothing will point back to you.”

“But, won’t they think you castrated him then?”

“You’re a smart one.” Alberto pulled out a business card and gave it to Jamal, “Here, apply, we’ll be your references. We’ll take him to the drunk tank and find someone blackout drunk and say they got into a fight and the drunk got carried away. Happens all the time.”

“Won’t he talk when he wakes up, though?”

“We’ll slip him a bit of meth from time to time, he’ll be quiet to get his fix.” Bill said.

“Wow, you guys got this figured out quick!” Jamal said, astonished.

“We make a lot of these kinds of *accidents* go away. Just don’t do anything *too* stupid, like blowing off both of a Tinder date’s nuts with a shot each from your service pistol because he ghosted you.”

“That’s what happened in that story? I didn’t know she knew him. Just that he was drunk in public and got shot.” Jamal said.

“She didn’t,” Bill responded. “It was going to be their first date. He also wasn’t drunk. We told her to just use the truncheon, and to leave him one, so he still had something to lose, but... Vanessa was a hot head. Can’t get rid of a gunshot. Now she’s on forced unpaid leave for two weeks. Go ahead and go get that tape and we’ll get Mr. Nonuts here out of your hair.”

Alberto waited for Jamal to go into the hallway before roughly shoving the pulpy bag back into Greg’s pants. “Man, it’s been too long since I could relieve some stress like this.”

“If we can’t find a blackout drunk, we’ll just find a regular public drunk and say there was a jail fight after you pop one of his grapes.” Bill offered. “We’ll say they grabbed each other by the nuts and squeezed, until this guy lost. Unfortunately, not before the drunk lost one of his own. That’ll give him the resolve to take the fall for grievous bodily harm, because you don’t want to make the person who just took one of your balls mad when him and his buddies are around to take the other if you don’t behave.”

“Sounds like a great idea!” said Alberto, as Jamal came back with the tape. The officers scooped up Greg and made their way to the front of the store. “Don’t forget to apply! We think you’d be a great fit for the force!” Alberto yelled to Jamal.