School Yard Busters

School yard busters, by Unknown.

Ficional: A ballbuster recounts stories from her youth where she got her start kicking nuts on the playground. 

Oh how I miss those days. Sara, Megan, Julie and I were inseparable. Wasn't hard to see why. We shared a common desire that brought us endless hours of amusement.

We did it so much that all the boys came to fear us, and naturally tried to avoid us, but that only made it more fun. We were like a pack of hunters. She-wolves roaming the schoolyard for our prey :) And like wolves, we worked as a team to take down our victims.

I remember this one boy we got good, David. He was just standing around talking with a friend when out of nowhere we pounced. Sara grabbed his arms from behind and pulled them backwards. Megan and Julie both got on their knees on either side of him and grabbed one leg each, spreading them apart. And then I walked up.

To this day, I shiver with pleasure when I conjure the image of this helpless, terrified boy standing there, completely under our control. His eyes darted back and forth from my face to my shoes. I was wearing a pair of Mary Janes, a classic, and one of my favourites. Simple but effective weapons. They have a nice weight to them and are hard enough that they really add an extra level of pain to the boy beyond just a kick with bare feet.

"Well, aren't you in a bit of a pickle?" I remember teasing him, and we all giggled.

"No, please!" he pleaded. His "no's" got more high-pitched the closer I came to him with my shoes. 

"I'll do anything, please!" His "please" sounded like a "pleeaaaasssseeee", with his voice getting really shrieky at the end.

"Beg!" shouted Sara from behind him. "Beg to save your balls!"

"Hehehehe," we giggled.

Poor Brian complied. He began tearing up and begging us in terror, then sobbing. By that point, I had had enough of him.

"Oh shut up. I'll give you something to cry about!"

And with that, I kicked as hard as I could between his wide-open legs. Like shooting fish in a barrel. My annoyance caused me to kick harder than I had anticipated, in fact, I think I kicked with all of my force.

I knew when I heard the "crack" on impact that I had sent Brian into a world of hurt beyond anything he had experienced before. And sure enough, he fell like a sack of potatoes and began rolling and writhing wildly, screaming at the top of his lungs. So much so that after a few minutes, the entire schoolyard had congregated to watch him. All the girls congratulated us, laughing and giving us high fives.

Poor Brian was taken to the nurse for swelling and eventually sent home. He didn't come back to school for a full week :)

I remember another time, on the monkey bars, there was a boy, Stephen, straddling one of the bars. I got up and straddled it too, facing him. Then Sara and Megan came and grabbed his legs from below, with Julie coming at him on the bar from behind.

"It must really suck being a boy," I said jokingly to the others. "You always have to be worried about how you might hurt those precious balls between your legs."

"Haha, yeah" replied Julie, putting her hands on Stephen's shoulders from behind. "Like I imagine something like THIS, must really hurt!" 

As she said "THIS", she pressed down on his shoulders, using her body weight. Sara and Megan moved his legs back a little so that Stephen was forced to lean forward a bit. Whereas he had been sitting on his pelvic bone, with his balls resting on the bar in front, now all of his weight was being forced onto his balls. 

It wasn't hard for us to tell when we had hit "the spot", as he erupted into an "AAAaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh" scream. It was an instant, reactive scream, like when you touch a hot stove. Only you could say that we kept his walnuts to the fire for a good long roast :o

His screams seemed to alternate between an "EEEEEeeeeeeehhhhh" and an "AAAAaaaaaaahhhhhhh". Being right across from him, I got to see all of the funny faces he made. I was laughing so hard I almost fell off the bar!

To add insult to injury, I began mocking him. "What's the big deal?" I asked. Leaning forward and shifting my weight to the same spot between my legs, I said "See, look. It doesn't hurt!" To make my point, I even began bouncing. He looked at the smooth V in my crotch, covered by tights. I could see envy in his eyes. 

Copying my lead, the girls began bouncing poor Stephen, causing him to scream even louder. "You're such a wimp. This doesn't hurt! In fact, it feels kind of good." I had actually surprised myself and it really did feel good. Looking back, I was clearly already aroused because of what we were doing to this boy, and that bar was a nice addition. I took a mental note of that for myself later.

Stephen continued screaming and squirming as we mocked him about how great it was not having balls. He eventually squirmed so much that he fell off the bar. The fall looked like it hurt, but he seemed to not even notice it.

All he could do was cry and roll around, yelling "my balls, my balls!" He even vomited, which was super gross, but made us all laugh, too, cause it meant we got him really good, and that he was in a world of pain!

The great thing about the school yard was the many activities going on and the opportunities these created for busting boys, and being inventive about it.

We grabbed his one boy while he was playing catch with a friend. I grabbed him from behind and used his body to shield myself from getting hit by the ball (our aim wasn't necessarily the greatest). Megan, Sara and Julie lined up and took turns "pitching". I think the first one hit his knee, the next his abdomen, but I remember the third one finally make impact. There was that hollow sound of something hitting the material between the crotch. And he made that "Ummphhh" sound, and I could feel the wind go out of him. The girls' aim got better with practice, and soon almost every pitch was nailing him, eliciting the customary squeal "Eeeeeehhhhhh".

You may be wondering how we got away with all of this. Well, the headmaster in charge of watching the playground was a real vixen. I think she got as much pleasure out of what we did as we did from doing it. So we always made sure we were at a certain distance away from her, and she would pretend not to see what we were doing.

Passing us in the halls on a day after a good bust, she would smile and say "Good work ladies." I think those were the only times when she cracked a smile on her usually stern face.

This went on for two years, to a point where I think almost every boy in the school had fallen victim to us. But all good things must come to an end. There was one incident that really broke the camel's back, or well, broke something, lol. 

We had all become experienced ballbusters at this point, and as one might expect, we became more and more brutal.

This one day we approached a boy, Michael. He was not the biggest or baddest boy. In fact, he was mild-mannered, kept to himself a lot, but exuded a certain deep confidence and pride. So much so that when we surrounded him, rather than do the customary pleading and begging, he simply stood there, spread his legs and said "Give me your best shots."

We all laughed. This was too easy. I think Megan kicked first. He made a short grunt, and bent forward a bit, but then straightened back up and looked at us defiantly. Then I kicked him. Again, same reaction. Again and again this happened. We were all getting really annoyed, and our kicks got progressively harder. 

Slowly we wore him down. After around the 10th kick, he fell slowly to his knees, but even in that he maintained composure and control. It was not the usual sudden drop and flop that we were used to seeing from a boy (which is a hilarious spectacle that reminds me of a fish out of water, flopping around, gasping for oxygen, but unable to take any in. I kicked again, as hard as I could. He kept taking it!

That set me off. "You WILL beg for mercy!" I screamed.

I was not used to losing my cool in these situations. Despite the fact that we were pummelling his nuts, HE was the one still in control!

We all began kicking as ferociously as we ever had, even taking a few steps back and really winding up with our kicks. He eventually slumped to his side, but then rather than cover up (which would have implied we had bested him), he rolled to his back and spread his legs. 

I really don't know how he had any balls left at this point. I'm sure they must have been swollen and bleeding internally, how could they not have been? Again, we took turns punting, and he made the odd gasp and groan, but he wasn't crying, screaming, or begging for mercy. 

That was it. I had had it. Nothing seemed to be working, and I refused to be bested by this boy! I knew there was one thing we could do that would make him beg us, beg me, not to do.

I grabbed his shoulders and began dragging him towards a corner of the field not far away, over to a portable toilet that had some steps leading up to the entrance. We positioned him in front of the step, and then I reached down and undid his pants and underwear. The girls pulled them down around his ankles. Indeed, his balls were mighty swollen, more than I had ever seen. He must have been in so much pain, and yet he wouldn't give in! It drove me nuts! (pardon the pun)

Julie grabbed him under his armpits and propped him up in a sitting position, the others helped move him against the step, so he was facing towards it.

I stood on the steps facing him. I reached down and grabbed his swollen balls and put them on the wooden step below me. With a flash of inspiration, I reached back and pulled my hair out of its ponytail and used the tie to wrap around the base of his balls. I wrapped it several times, so the skin was pulled really tight against his already massively swollen testicles.

As I did so, I saw him flinch at the pressure this was causing. This gave me a bit more confidence, as I knew this must be hurting him, it was just a matter of pushing him to a level of pain that he could not stand. 

"Everyone has a breaking point," I said, and to emphasize my statement, I jumped off the step, my Mary Janes landing an inch away from his balls on either side. I reached down and grabbed his head, pulling his hair back to make him look up at me. "In your case, I can make that a literal fact."

To emphasize the point I looked down at his balls and tapped my shoe on the wood. I looked back at him. He held my gaze, staring defiantly.

"You want to be ball-less? Fine! Say goodbye to your most prized possessions!"

I slipped my Mary Jane off my right foot, so I was just wearing my knee-high sock. I really wanted to FEEL his balls explode under my foot.

I raised my right foot. Still he was staring at me, and he even smirked! This boy refused to be cowed. I don't know what was going through his mind. Maybe he thought I wouldn't do it, that at the last minute I would cave. Or maybe he wasn't thinking, and his pride had gotten the better of him, refusing to allow him to take the logical course of action and save his manhood.

In any case, he had picked the wrong girl to mess with. I was insane with rage at that point.

I slammed my foot down with all of my might. I remember feeling this soft sac beneath my foot at the moment of impact. At that same moment, the boy let out a shriek the likes of which I had never heard before. A blood curdling scream that one might expect to hear from a dying animal. 

That was it! I knew I had him. In a split second, his wall of resolve was shattered. On his face I saw a look of utter terror and desperation. All of my weight was pressing down on his balls, their destruction imminent, only a second away. Again our eyes met. This time, his eyes were pleading. I smiled. 

Finally, the most glorious sound came out of his mouth. "Pleeeaassseeee! Nooooo!!"

OK, maybe that was the second most glorious sound of my life, the best is what came a second later. I could feel the sac under my foot giving way, and then… 

POP!

His balls exploded. 

I now felt the hard step below my foot. Rubbing it back and forth, I could feel the mushy remnants of his balls. Savouring the moment, I ground my foot down, no doubt heightening and extending his agony. I moaned with pleasure. 

His high-pitched screaming was deafening, but we girls soaked it in. Just like all the other boys, he was reduced to a pathetic, crying, destroyed mess. This experience convinced me beyond any doubt that at that moment of imminent destruction of his manhood, no boy, no man, no matter how tough and resolute, can withstand it. The base nature within us is simply too powerful. The body simply will not stand the excruciating torment of having one's testicles obliterated. That is, of course, if one is unlucky enough to be born with a pair, hehehe.

Soon the entire school ran over, and all were in shock. Even the headmaster. She ran over and examined him.

"They're gone!" she said in wonder. Looking straight at me. "You destroyed him."

I don't know how she knew it was me, but then I don't know what someone's face looks like after they've just castrated someone. It's probably a pretty distinct expression. I do know how I felt - LIKE I OWNED THE WORLD. 

Everything that happened after that was worth it, in my view. We were quietly transferred out of the school - to different schools, and we were all made to see therapists. We never again would hunt as a pack, but I look back on those days with a warm glow in my heart and fire in my loins.