Colette

 Colette (by Jim)

It was every bit a Thursday afternoon as Collette pulled into her driveway, home from work an hour early. Even the short day had worn on her, and she dragged her slender form out of the car with infinite heaviness, then paused, wearing a thousand-yard stare, turning nothing in particular over in her head.

A crash and muted cursing snapped her from her daze and drew her attention to the half-open kitchen window of her townhouse. Her panic quickly shifted into a thrill of recognition, as she consciously bit her lip to suppress a squeal.

Anticipating the noisy hinge of the front door, she made her careful way around to the side gate.

Inside, Jeremy was nursing his right nut where the wrench had deposited itself from off the kitchen counter as he had been working under the sink. It had become frequent enough an occurrence that he decided to finish installing the garbage disposal from all fours, facing safely downward.

Collette slipped out of her heels--she knew Jeremy suggested she wear heels around the house mostly out of a desire to have some warning--and left them on the side door rug. She bounced lightly on her high-arched feet, her thigh high angora socks muffling her approach, jutting her supple ass in her cartoonish impression of a creeping burglar.

Stalking into the kitchen, she nearly fainted with the view she was afforded. Jeremy was head and shoulders under the sink, his knees spread for stability, his gonads well-defined in the lycra shorts that were her anniversary gift to him (she had very purposefully ’lost’ most of his baggier pants doing the wash over the past year).

Showing a restraint that would have been unheard of for her even just a month earlier, she crawled toward him, her face mere inches from his shifting package, and began panting hot breath over his junk. From experiment, Jeremy’s testicles had shown the useful habit of engorging at the slightest applied heat. They did not disappoint.

Collette hurried back to standing. All the while, Jeremy had been whistling ‘pop goes the weasel’ and she had only a couple, delirious seconds with her foot cocked back before--

POP!

Under the counter, Jeremy’s breath squirted out of his still-pursed lips and hit a note a perfect octave above the one he was expecting, while his eyes bugged, then turned inward.

Her foot was planted deeply into the tender underside of his sack. Her imagination supplied her an impressively accurate vision of his face. She shuddered with the small orgasm.

Collette recovered before Jeremy.

‘Hiya handsome! That’s so sweet, putting that thing together--you’re so handy.”

With which, she reached down to cup his still defenseless balls as he worked to extricate himself from under the sink. Her expert kneading pacified him.

‘Oh..hi! Oof…I, uh, wanted to get it finished before tomorrow because--’

‘You got the audition?!’ she finished with squealing relish, increasing the pressure of her hand. The lurch of pain kept him tucked under the sink.

‘YeaAHH, y-yes, and it’s a big ro, uh, role, too. I’ll probably be competing against dozens of others.’

‘Oh wow!’ Jeremy and his nuts were grateful that her hand had returned to gentle rubbing, and he began to work on the disposal with his wrench.

It wasn’t long before Collette addressed the elephant in the room:

‘Remy? What about the anxiety? How are you going to keep calm?’ Her own sympathetic anxiety was finding its way into her hand. Jeremy scrambled to assuage her fears:

‘I’ll, uh , I’ll be fine babe. I’ve been working on it. I’ll med, uh, meditate, m-m, oof, maybe try to picture them all naked.’

She continued unabated:

‘You can’t be expected to be totally yourself at these auditions, I mean, Gawd!’ She clamped down. There was the clang of a dropped wrench from under the sink.

‘You’re such a…a sensitive…actor. You really FEEL things. And then, just because of some jitters they shove the part you rightfully deserve in the hands of some egotistical dick who is too full of himself to be nervous.’ She was barely a centimeter from a fist now.

‘Bahh-babe, really! I’m gunna--’

‘Just because you are uncomfortable with those kinds of high-pressure situations has no bearing on whether--’

‘I’LL BE FINE! I PROMISE!’

She snapped out of her rant and looked back down at the balls in her hand, relinquishing most of her vice grip. Jeremy caught his breath.

Collette was thoughtful a moment. Jeremy took up the wrench again. This entire time, he’d been just one bolt from finishing the task.

Suddenly, an idea seized her, and her hand followed suit around his balls. The wrench clanged beneath the sink.

‘I’ve got it! What if all the actors felt the same pressure you do? What if I came along to help?’

Jeremy didn’t like where this was headed, and it wasn’t tomorrow he was thinking about.

‘But how can you help? No, please, I don’t think--’

‘Oh, Remy, I promise I’ll stay out of your way, really! I just cant BEAR the thought of you coming home totally crushed again.’ She dug her thumb into his left plum. ‘Please?’

‘Yes, yes, s-sure! Ok!’

Collette bubbled over with joyous gratitude. ‘Yay! I know you won’t regret it one second!’

Her hand came away from his nuts for the first time in some minutes. Then the implications of her decision began to set in.

‘Oh, but I’ve got so much planning to do! I’ll get out of your hair, now.’ She leaned her excited B-cups over to kiss his lower back.

‘And goodbye, my lovelies.’ She gave his aching pair a passionate parting peck, then turned to leave.

Jeremy sighed. A wave of relief came between the laps of nausea. He hefted the wrench to the stubborn bolt.

At the doorway, Collette halted.

‘Wait, what do you mean, ‘picture them all naked’? Isn’t your director a woman?’

Under the sink, the color drained from Jeremy’s face, and he mouthed a doomed ‘oh, shit’, as Collette’s foot flew to meet his protruding nuts.

CLANG!

_______

The next day, the couple arrived to the casting call later than expected. The holding room was bananas, packed with actors hopeful for the various roles waiting to be called for a reading.

Jeremy, conspicuous among the others in a black, skintight leotard, led Collette to an empty corner.

‘Alright, so hopefully I didn’t miss my--’ A sharp pinch cut him off, and he gingerly adjusted his package in the outfit ’--why did you make me wear this, again?’

‘Because, if you want to be treated like a classically-trained, dramatic thespian you need to dress the part.’ she said matter-of-factly.

‘But this is a movie shoot!’

She had on a loose sweater, and a pair of cotton board shorts, with black leggings drawn up to within a couple inches, leaving a thin showing of delicious upper thigh. She clearly expected to need a wide range of motion.

It had been all he could do to keep from ogling her, and his ever-responsive cock was interfering with his preparations.

‘You still haven’t told me how you plan on helping.’

She put her finger on his lips in a shushing motion, as though he were about to let slip about a matter of national security.

‘Don’t you worry your cute rear about that. Now, where’s the little girls’ room from here?’

She did a little wiggle to pull up her shorts, and Jeremy caught a flash of snatch. It was the last straw. Being on edge, with swollen balls, emboldened him.

‘I don’t know, but why don’t I come along?’ His hands snaked around her hips to take a rough grasp of each cheek. ‘And we do a wild take, for insurance?’

Collette was genuinely torn. It had been all she could do to keep from ogling his shapely bulge, but she knew they would be calling in the lead males any minute; there simply wasn’t time. She ran her right hand up his chest, while her left descended to hungrily stroke his cock.

’Remy, you go in there and do your stuff,--’ she took her hands away and into her pockets, pulling them from the front so that Jeremy could see down into her panties ’and tonight you can feed her 50 feet of dick, 8 inches at a time,--’ she tipped his salivating chin so that he was looking her in the eyes, ‘but until then--’ Her knee pistoned up into his trapped, vulnerable balls, and Jeremy and his erection both collapsed in a heap, curled around a blinding pain.

Collecting herself, she stepped over his writhing form and strolled to the door marked ‘Backstage’. Just before exiting, she called:

‘Break an egg, err, leg!’ giggling at her little Freudian.

A trio of girls, who had witnessed the event, sat snickering in the opposite corner. The middle one came over to kneel next to him.

‘She really got you good. Looks like you’ll be playing Seymour with a limp.’

Jeremy, not looking up, could only groan in response.

‘I hear hopping up and down helps, though it never seemed to for my last boyfriend.’ Jeremy looked up in time to catch the last twinkle of reminiscence in her startling green eyes. Compared to Collette’s cute, girl-next-doorness, she was starlet hot.

‘Roxy.’ She proffered her hand to help him up.

‘Juhr-me.’ He slurred back, taking her hand, and greatly overestimating his recovery. Faced with a much heavier pull than she expected, Roxy was forced to step forward for leverage--and onto Jeremy’s nutsack. He yelped unintelligibly, as she struggled to hoist him up, her micro skirt stretched to its limit, not recognizing that his nuts, as they were mashed into the tile, were keeping him pinned.

Finally he blurted, ‘You’re on my balls!’ and she released his hand with a rather insincere ‘oops’ and, after a moment, lifted her high heel off his mangled pouch.

A busty stage hand poked her head through the door to call in the actresses.

‘That’s my cue. Ciao. Hopefully you’ll have those up and running by the time we’ve got to do a scene together.’ She shot him a wink that sent ripples through his loins.

_______

In the dark background of the set, Collette had positioned herself to watch each performer on the stage, while remaining unseen. She had pulled on a wool beanie, and smeared black face paint under each eye, supposing that such measures granted her a kind of ninja invisibility.

The monologues for the female leads had completed, and now they were ushering in the men auditioning for the part of Seymour. She saw Jeremy find a place in the opposite wing where he could watch his competition.

She herself did not know diddly about good acting, but she was well-acquainted with how worry and fear appeared on his face, and, from the look of it, none of the first few actors he regarded as much of a threat.

Then the director, a fiery, pouty-lipped, ample-breasted woman who looked a good deal younger than her almost 40 years seated at a table before the stage, called for a Lawrence la Croix. She ran through the same basic introductions as with the others, then began to give direction:

‘Obviously, you’ll be using your imagination for the props and scenery, until the sets have been built. The curtains behind you are the bittersweet vista of your country estate. That exit sign is the family clock--’ her assistant suppressed a yawn.

‘And this vice--’ motioning to the industrial table vice set sturdily in the middle of the stage, rising about two and a half feet high, ‘will stand in for the empty crib that is the seat of all your character’s anguish. Good? Whenever you’re ready.’

Seconds into his commanding performance, Collette noticed Jeremy was making the same face he did whenever she was lining up her morning ’have a good day’ kick. She leapt into action.

A moment later, a background tree from some grade school play (albeit one with fine buttocks poking out the back and dainty socked feet out the bottom) had tiptoed out behind Lawrence, still immersed in his role.

‘What is a man to do, when the hands of fate have conspired to pull him in two directions at once…’

A small hand reached out from the tree and slipped under belt and briefs to fish the actor’s testicles out into the open at the small of his back, which meant stretching them to the very limits of his scrotum.

‘...does he whimper like a little girl? Or does he absorb the blows he’s dealt…’

His pitch rose appreciably, but otherwise, Lawrence did not miss a beat.

Another small hand emerged from the tree and made a fist above the smooth, trapped balls, before coming down brutally.

‘…without BUHH!-buckling at his knees?’

Lawrence’s voice cracked like early puberty. The fist continued to pound, until the balls glowed bright red.

Despite his seeds’ pummeling, Lawrence was soldiering on through his monologue. Collette’s eyes narrowed from inside the suit; this was going to be a harder nut to crack than she’d thought!

She spied a wheeled dolly near her feet, and anticipating the end of the monologue in which Seymour approaches the crib, she kicked the dolly into the path of his stepping foot, which shot away from him and sent the screw handle of the vice spinning, before he came down in a wide straddle over the vice at just the time the closing clamps had reached typical balls-width. Momentum carried the spinning a good ways further.

Silence, broken only by a pitiful mewing issuing from Lawrence’s contorted mouth, befall the room, with its predominantly female audience. For a moment, the director’s face was hard to read. Then:

‘Bravissimo! Such vulnerability! Such commitment!--not to mention inspired improvisation with the props.’ As laughter and cheers erupted from the women behind her.

Collette slapped her forehead, then scampered off to hatch new plans.

As Lawrence moaned in place, unable to reach the handle, the director turned to address the crew around her:

‘This is the motif of our film; the fragility of manhood in a post-industrial age. That’s the thing I want this film to have the courage to show. To smash conventions.’ She brought a hammer fist down on the table, then made a gesture toward the bulging gonads that were visibly purpling even from outside the fabric.

‘To address, forcefully, such obvious, basic facts about the human condition, dangling right in front of us.’ The rest of the male actors, waiting for auditions, silently retreated from the room.

Lawrence’s nuts were released from the vice (but not before the stage hand had begun by ‘accidentally’ turning the handle the wrong way) and the director received the next resume.

‘Jeremy Achersley!’

Jeremy gulped and stepped to the front of the stage. From his position, he could see down into her half-unbuttoned top.

The director eyed his prominent package. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Just then, a member of the crew with a bushy moustache dangling by gaffer’s tape off the front of their face popped up from beneath Jeremy and lifted a black and white scene clapper to the height of his crotch, crying:

‘Achersley monologue, take 1!’ and brought the clapstick down like the beak of a snapping turtle on his right nut.

Jeremy’s deep breath rushed out of him in a plaintive shriek while the crewman, sporting a suspiciously curvaceous figure for someone with his amount of facial hair, slinked off. The hijink seemed to loosen the director’s stern demeanor some.

‘Hah! You very nearly did take one! Go ahead, Achersley.’

Jeremy, clutching his now trebly-bruised testicle the whole time, did an admirable job, all things considered, but was still plagued with doubt come the end.

‘Very fine, Achersley. Very fine.’ The non-committal tone of her voice did nothing to remove his doubts.

‘I liked the addition the other actor made; so please, lower your balls into the vice, if you will.’ She said, looking down to casually make a note on her pad.

Sheer terror struck into his heart; his eyes searched frantically for some way to avoid his fate before they spotted Roxy watching from the wings. She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, as though assuming he also saw this as such a great opportunity to make a good impression. He made a weak attempt at a smile. Amazingly, even in these dire circumstances, his cock had stiffened a little.

The director looked up, clearly disappointed.

‘We don’t have all day, Achersley; slide those berries into the vice!’

Every woman in the audience was leaning forward in anticipation of another public nutting.

Jeremy hobbled over to it. Then, trembling, squatted until his balls dangled inside the jaws. The director was still not satisfied.

‘No no, that huge cock is right in the middle of the frame.’ She turned to her assistant. ‘Can’t we do something about it?’

Collette, in a newly donned makeup artist costume, had opened her mouth to volunteer, when out of the wings sounded:

‘I’ve got it, Madame director!’

Collette was shocked to hear Roxy’s voice, as the slinky actress crossed the stage. Jeremy was equally shocked.

She acknowledged the director, then turned to Jeremy with focused eyes. She stepped inside of his still-straddling legs, then softly closed her warm, toned thighs around his member.

Collette steamed with jealousy.

She dipped up and down, slowly building friction until his cock thudded up against the pouting labia visible through her spandex, then rose her hips at a pace just ahead of his erection, like a snake charmer coaxing an asp out of its basket.

Surreptitiously, she took his meaty balls and yanked them to the bottom of his sack in much the way Collette had done with Lawrence, then leaned in beside his ear, and whispered, ‘You’re doing great.’ giving his lobe a nibble.

Then, still looking him in the eyes, and holding his balls in the mouth of the vice, called:

‘Ready!’

The stage hand, eager to screw it shut, chimed:

‘Say ‘when’!’

Then she spun the handle quickly to a tightness she had already decided upon that doubled Jeremy over into Roxy’s cleavage before he could wheeze out a pathetic ‘when…’ muffled by her stupendous breasts. Roxy stood in place, supporting him, before rolling her eyes in a gesture of ’boys will be boys’ and stepped aside, leaving Jeremy slumped forward with a look of unholy suffering and the last traces of his recent arousal. His two jewels were forced into a space barely fit for one.

The director studied him for several agonizing seconds. A smile tore across her face.

‘That’s it! That’s the face I’m looking for!’ she exclaimed.

‘Ladies and gentle--’ noticing the state of her audience, ‘oh, well--ladies: we have our Seymour!’

Polite applause filled the room.

‘Hmm, we could go a little further, if you’re at all interested in playing Valarie.’

Jeremy shook his head violently. She laughed.

‘Have it your way, Achersley. Then let’s take it from the maternity scene, leading into the Seymour’s confrontation with his mistress. And no shoes, please, mistresses; we don’t want to scuff up the floor.’ Several crew began to extricate Jeremy at a leisurely pace, while the potential mistresses lined up at the side of the stage.

The news snapped Collette out of her rage--the crying scene!? She alone knew the one surefire way to get Remy to cry on command.

Soon she was on a gantry at the back of the set, adjusting the focus of a huge, 100k spotlight into a tight beam.

‘I wonder if this will work?’

A fly, crossing the beam, exploded. A smile of satisfaction crossed her face.

The director was prompting the now-freed Jeremy, her attention periodically drifting down to his comically-swollen balls.

‘We’ll begin with you cradling in your arms your stillborn, infant son, who has just contracted AIDS, and you’ve just gotten the news he’s been drafted to the front lines of a merciless war. Action!’

Jeremy pantomimed cradling a baby while sifting through unrequited loves, dead pets, dead relatives for the sense memory that would bring tears, but all of his efforts were thwarted by the dull ache in his lower abdomen.

As he racked his brain he was suddenly aware of a growing heat between his legs, that quickly became a fire that his arms could not respond to. His brain had no difficulty responding, and concluded he must be tea bagging actual boiling water.

Collette squinted to keep the beam trained on his testicles, as they sank lower from his body to avoid the heat--and only making themselves more exposed to the intense bust-lust in the room.

The last 24 hours of ball-abuse flooded Jeremy’s brain, as his nuts cooked, and his eyes began to well. Soon he was weeping sorrowful tears for the children he knew he would never have.

‘My boys! Oh, my boys!’ he sobbed.

‘Perfect!’ cooed the director, ‘Another hard-boiled performance! Only, remember that the line is ‘my boy’, Jeremy.’ before Jeremy could mount any kind of recovery, she called ‘Can we have our first mistress, please?’

Collette clapped her hands with pride and scurried off the gantry, almost forgetting to shut of the spotlight.

Jeremy, attempting to keep either ball from making contact with any part of his leg, and catching a faint whiff of singed pubic hair, turned and saw that Roxy had butted to the front of the line.

‘Alright, now Seymour is just back from the hospital and about to console his wife in the next room, when his mistress, who is the real mother of his son, barges in to confront him. Annnndd…action!’

Roxy immediately charged toward Jeremy.

’Seymour!’ pretending to slam a door behind her.

‘What are you doing here?’ he boomed, his authority undermined by his reflexive guarding of his genitals.

‘Did you think we could keep this a secret forever?’ she cried, convincingly.

‘No, but I simply don’t think this is the right time--’

‘Then when is the right time, Seymour? We’ve just lost our son!’, she turned away to weep into her palm.

Jeremy softened and walked over to put his hand on her shoulder; he was really touched by her acting.

‘I’m sorry, it’s just that I get to thinking about all the things he’ll never experience.’ he said, appearing to look away thoughtfully.

She took her hand out of her palm, and, still turned away, said ‘Like his first caress?’ and began to rub his hand on her shoulder.

Seymour began to pay attention. ‘Yes.’

She turned. ‘Or his first embrace?’

She slid her hands under his armpits and locked her arms over his shoulders as though she were strapping herself to him like a backpack, then nuzzled her cheek against his chest. Her blue-socked foot snuck up and down his calf.

‘Y-yes.’ he stuttered, struggling futilely to keep his dick from hardening.

Roxy noticed and drew closer, not seeming to mind. Collette was less forgiving.

‘His first kiss?’ she purred, her eyes entrancing, rising on tiptoes from his chest.

Jeremy mouthed a yes inaudibly and leaned in with his eyes shut. At just the moment their lips met, Collette emerged from a trapdoor behind Roxy and groped her ass in such a way that her fingers were a knuckle deep in her muff, then disappeared down.

Roxy’s eyelids flew open and shot Jeremy a disgusted stare, before she re-gained her composure and gracefully pulled away from his arms. Jeremy was still in the act of kissing, with closed eyes and pursed lips--and a dick at full mast.

‘Or maybe his first kick?’ she quipped, her feet sizing up the distance.

‘Ye-wha?’ Jeremy said, still puckering, and opening one eye in confusion.

Her foot was already a blue streak by then, and caught him squarely in such a way that he felt he really was having his balls kicked for the first time in his life. Time slowed for him to feel shockwaves from both the hammer top of her foot and the anvil of his pelvis.

Slouching to his knees, the look on her face also told him everything he’d ever need to know about how women regarded his vulnerability.

She came over to him, and his face planted itself into the soft of her lap that practically panted heat against his forehead. She tussled his hair amusedly while he whimpered.

‘Annnnd…scene!’ The director had the look of one who is divinely inspired. ‘Very neat ad-lib, you two--’ she pretended to call toward Jeremy’s balls clutched inside his hands ‘SAME GOES TO YOU TWO!’ She chuckled. ‘Most arguments end that way in real life. There’s a lesson here: if you’re ever in danger of breaking character, break some balls instead. ’ She addressed the line of eager women. ‘I’d like all of you to integrate that into your readings. Next!’

impatience quickly set in, as each next girl delivered progressively less of the written dialog before rearing back and slapping her foot between his tender nuts, until, finally, the last girl simply walked on stage, took Jeremy’s dazed hand up to her breast, made a campy, indignant face, rammed up her knee, and then curtsied to the director before skipping off.

The director made some final notes.

‘Thank you very much. You all did quite well, but I think I still like the first girl best, and--’

‘Wait for me, Miss Director!’ Collette cut her off, rushing the stage.

Jeremy, though wobbly-knee’d, reacted immediately.

‘What are you doing here?’ The question was genuine.

‘Did you think we could keep this a secret forever?’ she cried, melodramatically.

‘No, but--’

‘And had you even considered our son? All that he would never experience?’ She was upon him. ‘His first kick?’ Swinging out her leg to catch Jeremy’s nuts as he backed away with a precision that came from an intimate understanding of his anatomy.

‘NOO!’ he moaned.

‘Or his first squeeze?’ She caught his balls as they swung back forward with both hands and mashed one thumb into each.

‘NOO!’ he squealed like a castrated piglet.

‘Or his first uppercut?’ She dropped to her knees and threw a vicious rising punch into his pouch that toppled him.

She came over and spread each of his legs by the ankle over her shoulders, holding her foot menacingly over his nearly-ruined manhood.

‘His first rupture?’ a sadistic glee shone in her eyes.

‘Fantastic!’ The director interrupted. ‘I’m not sure where you came from, Ms…’

Collette searched frantically for a passable name, but couldn’t shake the one thing on her mind.

‘Umm, the ballsssZAC! Yvonne de Balzac.’

‘Well, Ms. de Balzac, you and Achersley have a natural rapport--I had the sense he was truly paranoid and fearful of what you might do--welcome aboard!’

Collette turned a giddy face to Jeremy so they could share in the joyful news, at just the moment his eyes rolled back and he blacked out.

The director flipped through Jeremy’s paperwork.

‘Now it says on your resume that you do your own stunts.’ The note was hastily scratched on the bottom of the page, in Collette’s handwriting. 

’That’s excellent, that will save us oodles during production,--’ she cocked a devilish eyebrow. ’especially with the rewrites I have in mind.’