Target Practice: The Next Week
All the women rushed to practice the following week. Usually most of them had the “yet another thing in my schedule” attitude running in the back of their minds, but now that they were emasculating men in hands-on ball busting, there was no keeping them away!
Two people, however, actually arrived late – Pat, their teacher, and Angela, the young blond of the group.
“Sorry I’m late, the traffic was really terrible, and I’ve just come from Angela’s place. And . . . it’s all true, we have another volunteer!”
There was cheering and clapping. The virginal redhead was actually hopping up and down.
“Settle down, settle down. Angela and her male will be here shortly, so why don’t we do our stretching and warm-ups.”
Ten minutes later, right in the middle of a Pilates pose, the studio door opened and in walked Angela with a man in tow. He was on the short side, but handsome with dark brown hair and a compact, muscular physique.
“Everyone, this is Erin, my husband. Erin, this is my self-defense class.”
“Howdy,” was his sheepish reply.
Pat stepped in. “Erin was a gymnast in college and is a tough male specimen. As with Tray, he’s agreed to let us pound his balls into mush and be a punching bag. Isn’t that right?” Pat looked over at him.
“Yes mamm,” was all he said. He didn’t look afraid or resistant, but rather calmly compliant.
“In that vein, we’re going to start out with regular padded practice. With a twist.” Pat led the couple into the changing room. When they came back, there was Erin in a full padded body suit and two punching mitts on his hands, with one interesting fact – there was nothing covering his crotch. In fact his naked cock and balls just hung there, while the rest of his body was padded up. Rather an amazing sight.
As usual, Pat took control of the situation, even as the women gawked at their new living dummy. “Form a line! That’s good. Now I want you each to practice your hits and kicks and punches on Erin, here. You’ve got the normal practice pads and mitts to aim for. However, as you can see he has no cup on. In fact he has no protection what-so-ever in the groin region. So, when you feel the urge, go for his nuts as hard as you can. I’ll keep him up and running.”
Erin set himself to take hits, and said, “Don’t worry ladies. I’ve got tough balls. Give me your best.”
The first up was Cynthia, and she set the pace for all the other women. She hit the mits, she slammed her leg into his torso, she pummeled his face mask, and boy, did she ever go for his testicles. She kneed him, slammed her shin into them, and even punched the flopping organs a few times. Then it was the next women. She did the same, and all the women followed suit. Erin was shown no mercy, and with his genitals hanging there, flesh colored against a protection outfit of black and red, they were a very obvious and tempting target.
Each time his nuts took more than he could handle, Pat was there to drag him upright again and get the momentum going. Around and around they went, and as time went by they consistently spent more time racking Angela’s husband than they did aiming for anything else. This included Angela. It looked like she was really getting off on hurting her husband. It was as if the tigress in her had been unleashed. In a half an hour, Erin was barely able to stand, his cock and balls were red and swollen and yet they still hung there, ready for more, or so it seemed to the women.
Erin was given time to rest, and Pat used his break to critique their moves and refine their technique. When he had recovered they moved on to the next exercise.
“Now, we’ve all practiced what to do with a man who is standing, coming at you from behind or in front; someone moving. But what happens when you’ve got him on the ground? What do you after you’ve impaled his foot with your high heeled shoes? What steps do you take after you’ve kneed him so hard he’s on the ground puking? Well, you do what everyone does, naturally: you kick a man when he’s down. So, we’re going to hog-tie Mr. Lynch here and you’re going to just kick the hell out of him. I’d advise going for the balls again, but also the ribs and the head are all good targets as well.”
Erin went prone, on his back, and Pat tied his hands together. Then his ankles, and then she tied the two together. Having been a flexible gymnast meant he wasn’t particularly discomforted by this, and there he was, a hog-tied, padded turtle, stuck on his back and with his naked nuts hanging there for all to see. They were pink and pendulous, heavy and bloated. What a lovely sight.
The brunette with the curly hair went first. She yell “NO!”, as if being assailed by a mugger or rapist, and then leveled a mighty kick to his testicles. She followed that up with several more kicks to the groin, then to the ribs and finished with a solid slam to his head. With all this, it would be a miracle if he didn’t end up with a concussion, but Erin seemed pretty willing to just go with it.
Angela was next. She was obviously using the opportunity for getting back at her husband - cloths left on the floor, toilet seats left up, garbage not taken out. She yelled and screamed epithets at him while she kicked him between the legs. She didn’t even bother to go for anything but his balls. They were swelling something fierce by now, and were starting to bruise. Over and over she kicked him in the nuts, and Eric knew for sure he wasn’t walking out of the studio a man.
All the women had a go at kicking him, their tennis shoes leaving bruises all over his body, and each taking special care to kick him where he lived. When he finally started yelling, “OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD,” Pat felt it was time for their normal rest break, and they left Erin lying there to recover why they all went off as a group to talk.
“Isn’t this going to mess up your sex life?” asked one woman.
“Yeah, and what about having children?” asked another.
Angela just smiled, and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “I just tested positive two weeks ago. I’m pregnant! And this is perfect because Erin never wanted to have children, so I’m making sure he gets what he wants, and I get what I want. One child for me, and no more for him.“
“Congratulations” “That’s wonderful!” “Oh, that’s so romantic!” Everyone hugged her. They sipped water, nibbled on protean bars and did some stretching. Pat had taken Erin to the changing room. When she returned, they were called back.
“Ok. For our next exercise, were going to reverse the situation. What if you’re on a bed, or on the floor, or need to defend yourself from a prone position? Well, naturally going for between a man’s legs is your best option. Erin here is going to straddle these balancing bars for us. As you can see, he’s now completely naked. One at a time, you’re going to lie beneath him, and kick, hit, smack, slap or punch them as they dangle above you. I’m going to position the balance bars underneath the ring in the ceiling we used last time, and Erin will be tied to it, unable to protect himself. Sound good?”
“YES!” screamed all the women. It was like they were at a rock concert or something.
With grace and skill, Erin set himself between the bars, swung his legs up and did the splits between them. His scrotum hung heavy, and his nuts were like two mutant apricots. Pat tied both his hands above his head, and then attached it to the ceiling with some rope. Then she put a hood over his head.
For the women, it was a little awkward laying between the base of the bars, on a hardwood floor, but the girls seemed to manage. Each one got to lie beneath this man’s hanging fruit, look up at it, asses its supreme vulnerability, and then launch everything they had at it, which was actually somewhat difficult. They had to really reach to punch his nads, and they had to bring their leg up to their chest in order to aim their feet at the orbs. It was hard work. Probably pretty miserable for Erin too, but he had no choice in the matter.
Women swatted them, slapped them, punched them, kicked them, and all of them, when it was time to get up, pulled themselves upright by way of the hanging sack above. Erin felt like his balls were being ripped out by their roots. They had swollen to the size of large oranges and ached like hell. Pat came up and cupped the bloated orbs. She groped them, and squeezed them. They were ready for the last phase.
“OK. So you now have some idea of how to incapacitate a man while you’re laying down. Difficult, isn’t it? High ground always has the tactical advantage, so you have to be more persistent and more vicious. Don’t be afraid to go for the knees – a broken kneecap will put him down for good.”
“For our final position, we’ll practice stomping. Nothing finishes a man by a burst testicle or two. How long are we going to do this to Erin, here? Until they explode in their sack. The only way to neutralize a guy is to neuter him. Ok Erin, down you go.” She unhooked him and lowered him to the floor. She tied his hands behind his back but kept the hood on. She didn’t want him seeing who ended up emasculating him. He might hold a grudge.
“One-at-a-time, step up between his legs. Aim your foot and stomp his goobers to mush. You’ll want to use the heel. When you’ve downed a man, and incapacitated him, you’ll want to use the heel of your dominant foot to grind his baby makers into pulp. Like so.” Pat quickly aimed and slammed her heel into his huge left nut. Erin moaned loudly “Alright! First up!”
They lined formed and each took their turn between his legs. With the hard wooden floor preventing any chance of escape, it wasn’t long before one of the women caused a testicle to rupture. The virginal redhead put all of her weight behind one vicious heel stomp, and the right nut just exploded under the impact.
“I did it! I did it!” She shouted with glee. Everyone had heard the pop, and they congratulated her. Erin meanwhile was whimpering in abject pain. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Far worse than a simple kick or hit.
“One more to go,” said Pat. “Keep it up.”
Now they had one whole ball to pound and one which was just mushy remains. The raven-haired girl was up next, and she smashed the whole package flat and watched as Erin twitched with each stomp. Two women later, Angela was up, and she was determined to destroy her husband. She stomped his balls so hard that the dance studio’s glass along the wall vibrated. It wasn’t long before the remaining ball, his larger left one, gave way under the impact, and with a loud “squick”, she made it split down the middle and squeeze out its contents. Everyone cheered. Erin’s brain couldn’t even process the situation and he passed out, but all the women decided to keep pounding his mushy sack until class time was officially over. The swollen sack made such wonderful squelching noises that even Pat had some goes at it. Tired and sweaty, they were all ready to go home at the appointed time.
“Well, our time’s up for today,” said Pat. “Next week I have an even bigger surprise for you all, if all goes as planned. So I’ll help Angela fix up poor broken Erin here, and remember girls, you are only the ‘victim’ if you choose to be. See you next week!”