Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Three Men and a Little Lady - (f/MMM) - repost

Three Men and a Little Lady



Phil, Mike and Ike sat at the kitchen table as they discussed the current situation.


“I think we should let her actually destroy our balls,” said Phil. “I mean you,” pointing to Mike, a tall dusky blond computer programmer with glasses, “are a online sex porn addict but also a Mormon, and it’s only getting worse, and we all know you feel nothing but shame about it. Letting our Amy destroy your “seeds of temptation” would be a major victory. No nuts, no smut.”


Mike nodded at him, in agreement - his lips pursed in thought.


“And I’m tired of relationships and women,” continued Phil. “The pointless dating, the fucked up, made up rules that never let you win. Unfuckable girls, in-laws from hell, credit card bills from dinners so expensive I might as well get them framed. The whole thing. I’m tired of it, and I’d be happy to have my horniness removed. Give me no balls and a peaceful life, for a change.”


“And you,” finally indicating Ike, a muscled white guy with a bald head and stubbly goatee “Your power plant job has officially made you sterile AND has the potential to give you nut cancer. I mean your balls are an actual liability. Besides, you’ve always said that they were the worst things about you. Didn’t you always blame them for all the fights you used to get in? Rampaging nad-rage, you called it, right?”


Ike grunted in his usually way. Everything Phil said had been true.


Phil, his handsome Italian face scanning his two roommates, saw that they essentially agreed with him, and so he pressed the issue. “I think we should up the amount we let her punish us for getting in trouble until she actually castrates us, one ball at a time. I know all three of us get off on it. And she enjoys the pain she inflicts on us more than any toy we’ve ever bought her. What do you say?” He leaned back to let it all sink in.


Ike, of course, could never deny Amy anything. Although he’d been a bouncer for a dozen night-clubs, he was really an old softy at heart, especially when it came to their little Amy, and Mike was always eager for a solution to his moral battle with his obsession for porn. Born in Utah, before moving to New York, and eventually moving in with Phil and Ike, he’d been raised a strict Mormon, and the repressive instincts towards sexuality ran deep in him. To have their darling Amy castrate him would be a sublime relief, an elegant solution, and a wonderful gift to Amy, who had grown to love kicking, hitting, squeezing and stomping on the eggs of her three doting fathers.


“All right,” said Mike, finally. “I’m down for this plan. Do you think we should tell her? Or wait for it to happen some day randomly.”


Ike, always thinking of how to spoil Amy said, “Why don’t we do some of them on special occasions? I mean, there’s six balls between us. So that’s at least a couple of birthdays, Hanukkah, Easter and Christmas.” He said, ticking off fingers as he counted. As he tabulated all the cool occasions his little Amy could pop his big, fat balls, a smile slowly spread over his face.  


“I dunno,” said Mike. “What if she ends accidently bursting them anyways? Wouldn’t that spoil it for her?”


Phil cut the discussion short. “It’s simple, Phil and I can have her do it on the spur of the moment, and you can surprise her with your gift any time you want. Your balls, your rules,’ Phil as he looked at Ike.


Ike grinned even more. “Perfect she’s gonna love that.”


“And,” continued Phil, “I suggest we make sure they’re all popped by this Christmas. I don’t know about you two, but I can’t wait to get over this ‘sex’ thing and out of the rut of dating. Remember, we’re not doing this just for her, we’re doing it for ourselves, and for each other. I want to free of women as soon as possible. December seems like a good time to me.”


“Yeah,” added Mike, “most of my subscriptions run out in a two months anyways. December is perfect.” He reached down and patted the lumps in his crotch, “Oh, if only these babies knew what was in store for them.”


They all laughed at their own acceptance of what would be a fate-worse-than-death for most men, and Ike said, “I just can’t wait to see her face when we offer her our nuts to crush. She’s going to be thrilled!”


And see her now, they all did. Amy walked into the room right at that moment, looking for her breakfast. As usually, she was dressed to a “T”. Although she was only six, Amy was a personality to be reckoned with. She was thoughtful, creative, reliable and always took her obligations seriously. She was also always as cute as button.


As she walked through the door, she was loveliness in miniature. Short blond hair, a beautiful pixie-like face with a small chin and pink, cupie lips. A small diamond stud embedded in each ear, a white button up shirt overlaid with a pink cardigan, her plaid school uniform skirt, and finally two frilly sky-blue socks and some pristine, white Skechers. Even if she was six, she looked as if she could easily sub for Britney Spears in a music video.


“Hi daddies,” she said brightly as she climbed up onto a chair to sit with them.


“What are you talking about?” She fished out a sugar cube from the bowl and started to suck on it.


All the men looked at each other, and then Phil replied with a moderate amount of gravity. “Amy, we’ve decided that, when you punish us between the legs for doing something bad, we want you to hit harder, kick deeper, squeeze tighter and jam your knee sharper into our balls than you ever have before. Like you do now, only more so.”


Amy sucked thoughtfully on the cube. “Making you stop being bad boys is what I’m supposed to do. Will making it hurt more make you do better?”


“Exactly,” reply Mike, this time. “Remember how you once helped me make a cake and you squeezed that egg so hard it crushed in your hand. Well, we’ve decided that we’ve all been such bad boys that it’s ok if you crush our eggs just like that. I know you’ve really enjoyed making us be good, but we’re just not good enough yet. It’s time you gave us some real punishment, and keep us on the ‘straight and narrow’.”


Amy smiled at this. “I love making people behave. The nuns say punishment is good for us. Will it take a long time to pop your balls? I have to go to school soon.”


“Oh,” said Ike, blushing slightly, “you don’t have to do it now, sweetie. Whenever you’re giving us our dose of medicine, if we tell you to crush one of our little eggs, you go right ahead and do it! OK?”


“How?” asked Amy. She’d instinctively learned to rack her naughty Daddies, since their dangling balls made such easy and appealing targets, like little oval piñatas, but she’d never had to find a way to destroy one.


“Well, remember the time you punished me for not putting down the toilet seat causing you to fall in that night, and I laid on the bathroom floor while you stepped on my balls from behind? Well, if you were to jump on them, instead of just stepping, I’m sure it would burst under the pressure,” reasoned Mike.


“Oh, yeah,” agreed Ike, “that seems a good way. You could also kick just one ball repeatedly until it turned into jelly. Probably wouldn’t take too long if you really kicked it hard. I suppose you could also place it a door jam and shut the door real quickly or slam it in the desk drawer.”


“Hmmm,” said Mike. “That would also pinch a lot, wouldn’t it? Is that safe?”


“Safe? Heh,” replied Ike in his Bronx accent, “the kid’s supposed to be crushing our testicles into semeny mush. What difference will it make?”


Phil chuckled and Mike smile.


“Ok, I’ll do it,” said Amy. “I only wish you could re-grow your danglers. It’s fun punishing to punish you.”


This statement reminded them all of how Amy had learned to punish men, and how she’d come to live with them in the first place.


Amy’s mother had dated and had sex with all three roommates over the course of a couple of months, sometimes all at the same time, and when Amy was born a while later, it wasn’t obvious which of the guys she belonged to. Shortly after her fifth birthday, Amy’s mother, Julie, had gotten a permanent job on a cruise ship, and since she wasn’t particularly maternal, asked if the boys could take Amy off her hands. There wasn’t even the slightest hesitation as to them taking in their daughter, and all three had adored their little Amy from the day she walked through the door.


At first, of course, they’d cleaned up their act so that Amy could be raised in “virtuous” household, but as men are, eventually they began to slip up. One or more would forget to put cloths on the in the morning and walk around in undies, or leave a door open while showering or masturbating. Although everyone had their own room, all the rooms faced into the same small atrium, and so the four of them were constantly interacting with each other.


One day, when Mike had scolded Amy for not waiting for him at school, to be picked up after that day’s modeling shoot, and instead walked through the dangerous streets of New York, by herself, Amy had protested that it wasn’t fair that they could punish her for things, but she couldn’t punish them when they messed up.


If there was one thing that all three men living in that apartment shared, it was the philosophy of fairness. All problems were discussed, solutions were always agreed upon, no person was made to carry more than their share of a particular burden or job, and compromises were always made with open acceptance.


After discussing it over a game of cards that night, Amy’s three Daddies decided to let Amy pick their form punishment. They also came up with a list of things she could punish them for. Peeing on the toilet seat, not cleaning up their own rooms, leaving a mess in the sink, not taking out the trash on time, and so forth. It was a list of the things men just naturally don’t care about, but should be done nevertheless.


The next day, they talked to Amy, as a group, and after giving her the list, told her should choose the form of their punishment.


“Really,” she asked with excitement. “I can choose anything I want?”


“Well, sure,” said Phil. “I mean as long as you don’t put yourself or the apartment in danger. Anything goes.”


“You promise?” pressed Amy. “Cuz I think I know the best way to punish bad boys.”


The men looked at each other, and then nodded, saying in unison, “We promise.”


“O.K.,” said Amy, and then ran to the living room. She pulled out a DVD from the shelf and popped it in. It was Austin Powers II. With amazing skill and speed, Amy navigated through the video until she got the part where Heather Graham as Felicty Shagwell kicks FatBastard in the “pills”. All the guys were watching this, and then suddenly realized that that was the punishment Amy wanted for them.


“I want to do that too you,” she said, pointing at the screen. “I want to see you make a face like he did. I want to hear that cracking noise too. It looks like fun to kick men there.”


All the men looked at each other in disbelief.


“Well, we did promise,” said Mike, ruefully.


“Yep, a promise is a promise,” agreed Phil.


“Heh. My little girl can kick her old man in the knackers anytime,” said Ike, as he crouched down to give Amy a hug. Amy was extremely excited over the prospect of punishing her fathers’ groins, and the guys were nervous but determined to keep their word.


However, an interesting thing happened. Each one of them, when they received their first fist or foot to the balls, discovered that they actually liked getting busted. It was an enormous surprise to all of them, and completely unexpected. The torturous pain that enveloped their testicles and extended deep into their stomachs actually felt kinda good after she was finished, and both the experience and the anticipation of their next punishment actually seemed rather sexually exciting. It made them feel, well, more alive than they’d ever felt before. Getting kick below the belt would seem like a bad way of receiving abuse, but in fact, it made them feel the both the vitality, the delicacy and the fragility of their own ability to reproduce, and to have it done by the very product of that vitality seemed to have a certain symmetry, which they all appreciated. And so, Amy’s three fathers had a third thing in common (after fairness, and being Amy’s father), and that was a ball busting addiction.


It wasn’t until months later, during one of Mike’s many net searches for porn, that he discovered ball busting and testicle torture fetishes were actually rather common in men, and as Ike said, “Heh, everyone loves a good nut shot”, This reduced the slight feeling of guilt they all shared over the issue. In fact, the more they accepted the testicle torture, the more they surrendered to it and to their little daughter.


At first, it was simply kicks and punches with their pants on, but it was really a chore for the guys to keep their pants on all the time. Phil was a model, and as such had no compunction about being nude or mostly nude. Ike preferred to use his workout equipment in the buff (often with the door open), and Mike, well Mike like to masturbate to porn a lot. In fact, it was through Mike that Amy got her first instruction in male anatomy.


One day, in the late evening, when he had thought Amy was in bed, Mike switched off the regular light, turned on the red light which he always watched porn to, and began to surf through his favorite sites. Naturally, he forgot to close the door to his room. Down came his pants, out popped his right ball from the confines of his underwear, and his erection naturally began to poke out the top. While he was enjoying himself, Amy just appeared out of nowhere. Her lips were pursed, and she had a serious look on her face. Somehow, she knew her Daddy M was misbehaving.


“You’re being a bad boy, Daddy, aren’t you?” She asked with a completely serious expression.


Mike blushed a little, then replied. “Yes honey, I am. Would you like to punish Daddy?”


“You need to be punished. It’s for your own good.” Without thinking about it, Amy reached grabbed the testicle that had escaped from his underwear, and began to squeeze it. She seemed to know exactly what testicles were for, at least in terms of administering pain. She squeezed the testicle tightly, and watched as her father whimpered.


After a while, she opened her hand, and examined the pink, bulb-shaped organ. “So these are the things I’ve been punching and kicking? What are they for? And what’s that big pink thing you’ve got in your hand.”


Feeling a paternal obligation to educate Amy, Mike stood up partially, slipped down his underwear and gave her a full view of his cock and balls. He took her hands and made her feel all the parts of his male anatomy, telling her exactly what they did. Naturally, he made it clear that it was the testicles which were good for punishment. He also told her that if she saw his red light on, she should always come in and hit Daddy’s testicles, because she need to save Daddy from his own weaknesses.


In the end, that evening ended by Mike just sitting there in his chair, his legs open, and Amy smacking, hitting and squeezing his eggs over and over, until they were red, and he was blue in the face from holding back screams. The last thing she did was plant her knee right into his balls and grind them into the seat. Daddy M had been properly punished, and went to bed that night holding his balls and swearing to never look at porn again. Until he did, of course.


Phil got his first dose of medicine when Amy had discovered he’d not cleaned his room. Phil was always leaving piles of designer cloths from shoots not only in his room but in the bathroom and the living room as well. The whole house was his dressing room, and Amy objected strongly to this. Her room was a neat as a pin, always tidy - everything in its place and a place for everything. She was just as much a clotheshorse as Phil, but she knew that one should control one’s clothing, not the other way around.


His punishment first took place while he was watching TV in nothing but sweats. Amy came into the room, holding a plastic hanger, and said, “Daddy’s been a naughty boy. You didn’t clean up your room! There are wire hangers and cloths all over the place!”


Phil smiled nonchalantly. “You got me! What do you want to do about it?”


“Make your pants tight around your balls, I’m going to punish you!”


“Ok.” Paul made the fabric tight surrounding his three lumps and spread his legs a bit so Amy could stand between them. “Go for it,” he said, smiling at her and then looking down at his own groin to watch the fun.


Amy took the plastic hanger and started pounding it into his balls, saying loudly “NO MORE WIRE HANGERS . . . . on the floor!!! No more dirty cloths! Daddy’s been a naughty boy!”


Phil just let it all come, embracing every blow to his two bubbles, swelling under the fabric of his sweats. When she was done, he thanked his little girl while he rolled onto the floor, clutching himself. ‘Thank goodness they don’t usually photograph my junk’ he thought. By the next morning, they were twice their normal size and red as tomatoes.


With Ike, he usually created his own punishment sessions, telling Amy he’d done something wrong, usually a harsh word he’d said to someone, or used foul language or flipped someone off. He saw Amy as a pseudo-mother who would make him a better, more refined person. He had that naturally tough, selfish New York personality, and he knew he could be more. So, his first time came when he admitted to Amy he’d cussed out a coworker for not monitoring their own radiation exposure.


“I wasn’t patient and I wasn’t polite,” he told Amy, angry with himself. “I was a damn bastard! Oops, there I go again. You better punish Daddy’s balls.”


“I agree, Daddy. You shouldn’t say anything to another adult you wouldn’t say in front of ME. Get on all fours!” she demanded.


Ike did as he was instructed.


“How will I know if I’ve hit them?” asked Amy. “I can’t see anything through your pants.”


“Hmm,” said Ike. “Well, I can take them out for you, and then you’re bound to hit them dead-on.”


“OK. Take them out.”


Like an obedient dog, Ike unzipped his fly, fished around for his nuts, and then let them drop into view. There they hung, two enormous pink orbs in a bag of smooth flesh, dangling between his legs – so ripe, so vulnerable. And they really were huge – about the size and shape of large lemons.


Ike looked at her through is open legs. “There ya go, sweetie-pie. Make me proud.”


Amy kicked the sperm out of them for over ten minutes, until Ike was too sore even to crawl away.


“Is Daddy going to keep a clean mouth, from now on?” Asked Amy to her rolled up father.


“Yes, sweetie,” said Ike in a husky, pained voice. “I’ve learned my lesson.” But, of course he didn’t, and all three men had weekly and soon daily sessions of nut-busting with their little disciplinarian. She enjoyed making them more virtuous, and they enjoyed getting racked. It was that simple.


However, once they had decided Amy should really get the opportunity to crush their balls they each had to find a time and place to let her, and they each did it a different way.


Phil was the first to lose a ball. He’d gotten out of the shower and Amy walked in while he was toweling himself off.


“Daddy, you put the toilet roll on the wrong way yesterday. I wasted a whole lot of it, trying to get it to come off right. You need to be punished!” Amy had her usual stern look to her face.. “It will be for your own good.”


Phil was feeling whimsical that day, and decided he’d like to feel one of his nuts explode under her foot.


“OK. Here I have an idea.” He knelt in front of the toilet, closed its lid, and placed his testicles on its flat, white surface. In anticipation of an actually crushing, his dick was already rising to attention and he felt that was perfect. It would stay out of the way.


“OK. Hop on,” he motioned to Amy. “Now take your time with it, Amy. Let’s see if you can’t burst one of my cherries,” he said as he helped her up.


“I really get to pop one now? Yay!” Then, she looked serious.


“Which one should I pop?” asked Amy, getting her bearings and placing one baby blue sock on his scrotum, popping his balls back and forth between her toes.


“Hmm, Oh, I don’t know,” said Phil, casually assessing his own glands. They were both such perfect specimens of manhood, just like the rest of him.  “Oh. How’bout the right one. It’s looks a little smaller and more delicate. Let’s put it out of its misery.”


Amy obligingly put her foot on his wobbly right ball, and savored how it was big enough to feel like a big rubber ball under her foot. Then, with careful aim she began pounding her cute little foot into it. The ball bounced and squished around under her foot, and Phil seemed pleasantly paralyzed by the pain. He was trying to be zen about it. Zen was in, after all.


After a lot of experimental jabs and pressure placed on his whole ball, it seemed the only way to accomplish it was to pull all her weight on his ball with one foot. She positioned her left heel on his right testicle and raised herself up onto it. As perfectly shaped as his testicle was, it was no match for Amy’s weight. With a sexy crunching sound, his right testicle cracked in two, and then oozed out under her foot. Phil’s eyes were as wide as ping pong balls, and he couldn’t even breathe.


Amy thought she needed to make sure he’d learned his lesson, and bounced on her heel, making his busted baby-maker spurt around on the cold toilet lid. Eventually, Phil begged her to stop, and he fell on his side, clutching his groin.


“Daddy P, have you learned a lesson?” Asked Amy sternly, looking down on him, hands on hips.


“Yes. Go get Daddy an icepack, will you?” said Phil in a groaning voice.


The next to lose a ball was Ike. It was Amy’s birthday, October 25, and all three of them were gathered in the living room. It was dark outside, but warm and bright in their apartment. Amy spent over an hour opening up her presents and playing with them, and thanking her three Daddies. However, Ike told her he had two special presents for her.


The first present was four new matching sets of cashmere socks. Ike had a thing for socks, and after she opened them, he reverently, lovingly put the lilac colored ones on his daughter’s feet. They fit perfectly, and she ran around in them briefly to enjoy their softness and luxuriant texture.


“What’s the second present?” asked Amy, eventually.


Ike smiled at her and then his two housemates. They knew what it was. Ike pulled down his pants, and as usually wasn’t wearing underwear.  His big left ball was tied up with a big bow, and had a little tag attached. It said, “Pop me! Love Daddy I.”


Amy laughed at the funny site, and said, “Do I get to crush it, Daddy? Is that what my present is?”


“Of course. Give your old man a real nad crunching, and tomorrow you can tell all the kids at school that YOUR Daddy loves you more than THEIR Daddy’s” Ike had a smug grin.


“Can I kick it until it pops?”


“Sure. Whatever you want, sweetie.” Ike closed the blinds, took off the rest of his cloths, revealing his ripped and muscled body (of which he was inordinately proud), and then Mike tied up Ike’s hands, while Phil removed the bow and tied up Ike’s left testicle with some sturdier twine. This way the other ball was protected. Ike suggested they also tie his pulsing erection too, lest it interfere with her efforts to destroy his ball.


Amy got her feet ready to kick it, and first rubbed her socked foot on the big nut, testing the distance. Then, she just started punting it as hard as she could. She must have kicked his testicle forty or fifty times until it became soft and wouldn’t bounce back into shape. Despite the soft cushion of her socks, her toes started to hurt, so she switched to punching the darn thing.


After considerable effort, one of her hits was an especially good one, and the testicle gave a loud *squick and split its seams. Ike fell on his face, and just shuddered, on the floor, while Phil and Mike watched with pleasure. Phil was feeling particularly mischievous, and whispered to Amy, “You better make sure it’s popped all the way. Why don’t you go and stomp on it a bit. Make sure it’s nice and mushy.”


Amy smiled evilly at this. She liked that idea.


She told Ike to roll over, which he did, then she told him to sit up, which took a heroic effort, Then Amy pulled the soft, ruptured ball as hard as she could to make it lie flat on the floor, and then began to squash it flat with her foot. Over and over she pounded the remains of his manhood into the glossy wooden floor. She paused at one point.


“I want to change socks.” She let her father fall over, and went and put on the pink socks she’d received that evening.


“OK. Lie on your stomach.” Ike was barely able to comply, but he did.


“Spread them more!” Amy was getting addicted to this ball bursting stuff, and had little patience at being inconvenienced.


At this point the bound up bubble of scrotum was almost liquid inside, but Amy wasn’t going to be satisfied until she’d made Daddy I pass out. Once again, she made the burst ball lie flat on the floor, and then began to kick it. Ike just drooled and moaned. Still not out! Amy reached down, and untied the destroyed ball. She had her two other daddies hold up Ike so that his butt was high off the floor and his batter ball bag hung down free. Now she could kick his whole sack, right up into his balls from behind.  She kicked his swollen scrotum as hard as she could. Now it was too much for him, and Ike finally passed out. Two down, four to go!


Now, of course, it was Mike’s turn. He’d thought long and hard about how, when and where to let his little daughter partially emasculate him. After a few weeks of letting his imagination come up with a good scenario, he decided on a course of action.


One day when Amy had returned from school, Mike called Phil into his bedroom. Mike had set up all day long for a long busting session with Amy in mind. The red light was on, porn was going on four different screens, and his four poster bed had handcuffs on each post. Phil was most amused.


Mike stripped naked, and had Phil cuff him spread eagle, then they called Amy in.


When she walked in, Mike said “Amy, Daddy’s been a very naughty boy. I want you to burst Daddy’s right ball tonight. But before you do, I want you to hurt me while I watch these naughty videos.”


“Why do you want to watch them?” asked Amy with curiosity.


“Well, it’s something called ‘sex aversion therapy’, and, well, it will make me behave myself in the future. You need to make me suffer so much that I never look at bad things again.” Mike smiled weakly at this. He was daring Amy to do her worst. Hopefully he wouldn’t pass out on her.


“Ok. I’ll do it for your sake, Daddy. I want you to be a good boy.” She took off her shoes (because it was wrong to get on the bed with shoes), and stood between his spread legs, open and completely unable to stop her from doing whatever she wanted to him.


“Well,” said Phil with a smirk, “I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t scare the neighbors.” He closed the door behind him as he left.


“Amy, I think you should pop my right ball, just with your hands, so why don’t you tie Daddy’s left testicle to the bed post, so it will be safe for later. Take that rope over there, and tie Daddy’s ball to it.”


Amy complied, and soon the bigger left nut was arcing off to the right, suspended mid-air with nylon rope.


“I’m completely at your mercy, Amy. Destroy Daddy’s right nut and make him pay for his sins.” Mike looked down eagerly at his isolated right testis, just hanging there in its share of the sack, and waited for Amy to soften it up.


Amy didn’t kick it, though; she first knelt down and balled up her first. She started making straight punches to her father’s naked nut, punching it as hard as she could. The testicle popped around under her fist, but with so much of the scrotum stretched out with the left ball, it couldn’t go too far to escape her fist.


“Daddy’s been VERY VERY BAD!” said Amy as she beat on the little gland. The testicle began to swell but by Mike’s estimation, she wouldn’t be able to do it enough damage to actually pop.


“Amy, I think you need to kick me.” Mike watched her stand up, and flinched a little at her first kick. WHAM. Straight into his helpless ball. ‘Oh god, this hurts so much,’ he thought to himself. He focused his attention on the porn playing all around him, trying to take his mind off the brutal blows Amy was delivering. Images of huge breasts being sucked on, pussy’s being licked, fat cocks being sucked by cherry lips, voluptuous bodies being mounted by both men and women, red and flesh color everywhere.


After about ten minutes of straight kicking, his bloated gonad seemed soft enough to maybe crush, and he told Amy so, partially hoping the squeezing wouldn’t be so painful as the punting. He was wrong.


Amy grasped his right ball with one hand and squeezed it as hard as she could, and with the other hand grasped his pulsating dick and squeezed it as hard as she could. That was just as painful, her little thumb digging into the delicate skin of his penis, and her little fingers burrowing into his ball-flesh. On and on she squeezed, putting her most earnest intention behind it. His cock was bruising but also leaking more and more cum. His right testicle was rapidly approaching destruction, its contents ready to burst from the pressure, and the sounds of the porn were overwhelming his senses. Moaning, licking, sucking, fucking, the red lights in his room, the pungent smell of his own cum and sweat, the sound of his little Amy grunting with exertion – the experiences crashed over him like a drowning wave, and he dry heaved violently as the experience reached its peak.


“Daddy, here goes your ball! Now you won’t be a bad boy!” Amy put a last burst of effort into popping the precious nugget of her dad’s maleness, and it burst its confines, squishing all around, pleasantly, between the fingers of Amy’s left hand. Mike’s penis tried to spew forth semen at the same time, but Amy’s little hand had a tight grip around the shaft, and she prevented the explosion of cum, making Mike scream in agony as the jism backed up into his system instead of flying out all over his stomach. Amy squished the destroyed ball with one hand and strangled his cock with the other.  Mike flailed around in mortal agony.


Amy didn’t let up on the torture until Mike was croaking “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” in a small, dry voice. He was half castrated, and his plumbing had been horribly violated. It was certain he wouldn’t be masturbating any time soon. Maybe aversion therapy could actually work – if made painful enough.


Amy looked down on him, and smiled in a serious way. “I’ve taught you a good lesson, Daddy M. I don’t want to see this red light on anymore, or these people doing these bad things.” She stood up, and just for fun, flicked his strung-up left testicle with her fingers, just to watch Mike twitch violently in pain. Then she jumped down, and went off to do some homework, leaving her father tied up, groaning louder than any of the women in the videos still playing all around him.


A few days later, Halloween came around, and Phil was Amy’s escort for collecting candy from the building near where they lived. When they got back to the apartment Phil inspected all of her candy for puncture marks, and he pulled several from her bucket, telling her they might be dangerous. Amy naturally pouted and began to cry, wanting to have all the candy that she’d trick’or’treated for. Phil thought for a moment, and then decided to show her how much damage needles could do. He left the room for a while, and then came back. He’d taken off his pants and underwear, and was only in a tee-shirt and white socks. One hand was reflexively kneading his remaining testicle, and the other was holding a clear ziplock baggy with several items.


“There are a lot weird, perverted people out there, Amy. You need to learn how much damage a needle or a razor blade or some poison can do” Phil sat down on the couch and motioned for Amy to come kneel between his legs. He opened the baggy and handed her a long, sharp hypodermic needle.


“Ok. Use this needle on my ball. Slide it in and out, jab my ball with it. Let’s see how much damage you can do with just this needle. First though, help tie Daddy up.” Amy retrieved the handcuffs from where they were sitting on the couch, and cuffed his hands behind his back. Then she tied each of his legs to opposite legs of the coffee table. Now he was open and helpless.


Amy returned to kneel between the spread legs, took his ball in one hand and the needle in the other, and then began jabbing it as hard as she could into his perfectly shaped ball. Phil began to jolt and twitch as the stabbing heat of the needle pieced his scrotal flesh with a small popping sound and violating his ball meat. The pain wasn’t nearly as incapacitating as getting kicked or hit in the nuts, but rather like getting a tattoo directly onto your naked testicle. Jill stabbed and stabbed and stabbed, sometimes letting it sit in his ball for a while, then jerking it out and then ramming it back into the ball. Phil’s breath hissed in and out as he tried to cope with the pain.


“Ok, Amy. Now I want you to put it in slowly and then I want you to waggle it around inside my ball. Let’s see if you can’t start destroying its insides.”


Amy happily complied. She grasped both testicle and needle firmly and then slowly pushed the need through the outer sheath and then deep into the ball’s center. Then, she began to torque the needle. At first this was rather difficult – the dense, sperm packed interior of his ball resisted being destroyed, but Amy stubbornly kept at it, and she was eventually able to twirl the needle in a wide ark, the section of needle inside his ball beginning to destroy the delicate tissue inside.


Phil was now moaning loudly as he felt his ball being destroyed internally, and his head thrashed from side to side. Amy took the needle out and put it into a different part of it, at a different angle, and repeated the torquing moment, softening up a different section of his egg. She repeated this several until a good 75 percent of his nut was horribly mutilated. The testicle itself had tripled in size, and little drops of liquidized ball meat were oozing out of the needle holes, glistening on his scrotum like sticky pearls.


Phil roused himself, and then gave Amy her next lesson in the dangers of Halloween. “Amy, a lot of crazy people out there like to hurt people, and sometimes they inject poisons into food. Take the little bottle and the syringe out of the bag. Pour the contents of bottle into the syringe, cap it with the needle and then squirt the liquid into my ball. We’re going to see the effects of Draino on a testicle. Be sure not to touch the liquid or get it on you.”


Amy nodded, but said, “Aren’t we supposed to sterilize needles, Daddy? Couldn’t you get a bad infection?”


Phil smiled weakly. “I don’t think my ball is going to be around long enough to make that matter.”


“What will this Draino stuff do to you?” asked Amy curiously, as she filled the syringe.


“We’re going to liquidize Daddy’s ball from the inside, and cause Daddy a lot of wonderful pain.”


“Ok, Daddy. I’m ready.” Amy held up the syringe so they could both see the vicious, clear fluid swirling inside of it. Then Amy placed the tip of the needle close to his ball, and rammed it in, all the way to its vulnerable heart. Phil moaned loudly this time.


Amy deftly squeezed the plunger down, and injected the cleaning solvent into his gland. The effect was immediate – it felt to Phil as if liquid fire had been put into his ball. He yelled out-loud and began whimpering and thrashing about. The Draino, now introduced into the most sacred part of a man’s body began to dissolve his testicle, and Amy watched happily as orangey-tan goo started to stream out the little holes she’d made with the needles. She put her face close to the doomed testicle and watched it squirm in its sack, like it was a torture victim in his final throws of pain. Phil began to gibber and drool, now only partly coherent.


After about five minutes of activity, the Draino had pretty well liquidized the whole of his nut-meat, and now Amy decided to have some final fun with it. She was going to make it burst like the big water-balloon that it resembled. She wrapped her fingers around the massive testicle, and began to squeeze, Without its normal density to shape and support it, the ball’s tough outer sheath burst easily, and they both experienced a delightfully loud “POP” as the testicle exploded in the sack. Amy was thrilled, and Phil was in a ecstasy of unbelievable, gut wrenching pain, which almost made him pass out. But, he was able to issue some final instructions.


“Now,” he said panting and sweating, “Take the razor blade and cut open Daddy’s scrotum and let all the ball stuff drain into the bag. We can keep it in the freezer to remind us of the dangers of Halloween.”


Amy took the razor and held it close to the pink bag that had once held her father’s two proud reproductive organs. The razor sliced easily into the thin scrotum, and Amy held the bag under it. A massive amount of white sperm and squashed testicle dripped into it, and when it had finished disgorging its contents, she held it up to the light so they could both see it – a delicate pink and white orb with a creamy, tan colored sauce to cover it. Even in his pain-dazed state, Phil was fascinated by the site of his own manhood.


“You’re right, Daddy P.,” said Amy. “Getting candy from strangers IS dangerous. Thanks a lot.”


All Phil could croak in response was, “Be a dear, and go get Daddy a needle and thread.”


November passed with only the usual ball busting for routine infractions, and now that Phil was happily a eunuch, he liked to participate in the busting of his two fellow men. He’d often hold them down from behind, using his own legs to spread theirs, while Amy racked the remaining nuts, or hold their balls still and firmly in one hand so she could tortured them. With only two balls left in the household, the finish line was within reach, and all four of them relished the last ball busting sessions they had, actually taking longer and going slower in each session than they normally would. Every minute of nut-torture counted.


In the first week of December, Mike took a chance, and had a hooker come over to release the sexual tension that had built up since he was no longer masturbating. He made the woman squeeze and slap his ball-bag while she lapped at his dick, and in-between fucking her, Mike told her to knee him in the balls as hard as she could. For $1500 an hour, she’d do anything he wanted.


The prostitute had just left when Amy came home from visiting a friend two floors down. She found Mike spent and naked on the floor of his room, his dick red and shriveled from being hard for an hour and half, and his big left ball sensitive from him cumming like a racehorse.


Amy looked sternly at her father. “I know you’ve been doing bad things, Daddy. Tell me the truth!”


Mike blushed furiously, and looked away in shame. “I have, Amy. Maybe it’s time you took Daddy’s other ball, so he can’t do bad things anymore.”


Amy nodded solemnly at him, and this time she decided how to pop her Daddy M’s last plum. The only way he was going to learn his lesson was to experience more pain than he ever had before, and what could be more painful than having his nut chewed into pulp?


She told her father get down on his hands and knees, and willing let her bust his ball, before she destroyed it. Mike eagerly agreed, completely ready to be neutered, and got on all fours. When he’d spread his legs for her, he said: “Daddy’s ball already aches from having sex and is especially vulnerable right now. I think you’ll really enjoy this.”


Amy took off her shoes and socks, told him to spread his knees more, and started off with some running kicks to his last gonad, from behind.


“OH YEAH, OH YEAH,” yelled Mike, using enthusiasm to overcome the pain. The ball was indeed extra sensitive, and each kick made him want to barf, but he surrendered to it anyways. This was good for him!


After some strong kicks, she grasped his hips from behind, and rammed his testicle with her knee. She drove it straight into his sack, trying to soften it up with her small, delicate kneecap. It worked. Both she and her father felt the nut start to distort and change shape.


Amy stopped pumping his crotch and rolled the jewel around in her hands, assessing her progress. It was kinda squishy now, and she could make it take whatever shape she wanted if she squeezed hard enough.


“I think it’s ready, Daddy.” Amy then laid down on the floor, and Mike looked back at her, wondered what she was going to do to him.


“Daddy, I think I’ll chew your ball until it bursts. Put it in my mouth, please.”


Mike smiled to himself. His daughter was so talented at punishment. He got up off the floor, walked over to Amy, and knelt so that his knees were on either side of her head.


“Daddy, the only way you’re going to stop doing bad things is if you WANT to. That’s what the nuns say. It’s a choice you have to make, for yourself. So I want you to drop your egg into my mouth yourself, and beg me to burst it.”


“All right. I can’t wait for you to make it worthless, actually. It’s been my dream to overcome the Devil’s snare of sex. All I ask is that you don’t make the same mistake Daddy has made. Hold on to your virtue as long as you can. ” Amy nodded and looked up at him patiently, waiting for him to sacrifice his nut in the name American decency.


As he thought about what he was about to do, Mike’s dick began to stiffen, and he smiled down at his daughter. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to us, Amy. I’m going to drop my soft ball into your mouth so you can castrate me. It would make me so happy for you to take my ball from me, Amy. It’s evil.”


Amy opened her mouth. The testicle dangled above her. Then, as Mike spread his knees it dropped smoothly into her cute little mouth, pink lips opened wide to accept it. The pink orb slipped effortlessly into her mouth as she sucked it in.


Her Daddy’s manhood filled her mouth, and she got her first taste of a testicle. It was both sweet and salty. She sucked on it for a while, swirling it to one side of her mouth, and then to the other. Whenever her teeth touched his scrotum, Mike twitched, and she tortured him by clamping down on the ball and scraping her teeth along it, and then letting up so she could do the same thing on the other side of her mouth. Whenever she sucked hard on the ball, Mike moaned, and she knew he was starting to regret even having a bollock.


Harder and harder she sucked, almost trying to swallow his big egg, and pulling in as much of it as she could. She could feel the cords behind the ball with her tongue, and she pulled down on them, yanking his ball away from his body. She could feel the thin loose skin of his scrotum bunching around the ball, and it felt silky-smooth in her mouth.


It was so enjoyable torturing her father’s nut that she almost forgot to crush it, but Mike finally said, “Aaaaaaahhhhh, pop, it Amy, The sucking hurts so bad.”


Amy twirled the ball to lay on its side in her mouth so that one end was sticking between one set of molars, and the other end under the other set. That way, it couldn’t pop out in either direction. Then, she simply bit down as hard on the ball as she could, Her little white teeth began to bury themselves in his ball flesh. Since the testicle had already begun to lose its inner structure, it warped beneath the pressure and began to bulge in the center.


Amy felt it expand in her mouth, become more like a sphere than an ellipse. Mike was actually crying, feeling the last vestige of his manhood achieve critical mass. It was more wonderful and more painful than he could have imagined, and he could barely breathe from the pain. It paralyzed him.


In under a minute of pressure from her little jaw, the organ burst all over Amy’s tongue, and she could feel its squishy contents spread out in her mouth. It had burst like an enormous grape, and she could feel the little lumps of his testicle in her mouth. She swirled those around in her mouth and then chewed them up. Meanwhile, Mike’s dick had discharged its last volley of cum, landing on the carpet above Amy’s head. The ejaculation was excruciating, and it was, indeed, the last time he would “ever bust a nut” - without a doubt, the end of his sex life. Mike collapsed in a heap next to Amy and passed out.


Even though he couldn’t feel anything, Amy played with his destroyed ball for a while longer, squishing the mushy remains between her fingers and pinching his semi-hard dick. It continued to leak cum in little amounts, and he twitched a bit each time, despite being out-cold. Wanting to see him twitch more, she gathered up the bag full of cum and nuts and began pounding it with her fist.. The warm, mushy bag warped around her knuckles like a bag of jelly, and a thin line of drool form on Mikes lips, dripping onto the carpet. Her father would certainly learn his lesson from this, she thought.


Now there was only one testicle left to punish in the whole house, and since her other two Daddy’s still needed punishing, she’d taken to hitting their dicks with a bamboo stick. This actually corrected Mike and Phil’s behavior far more effectively than the ball busting, since they no longer could interpret the punishment as pleasure, and both men also participated in Ike’s punishment where they held his legs open so Amy could really hurt him. All four of them used every infraction in Ike’s part, no matter how minor, to create an opportunity for pain. Testicle torture was the family pastime that winter.


When the snow piled high outside, and the Christmas tree went up, Amy began to look forward to the gift she knew she was going to get. On Christmas morning, with everyone in pajamas, Amy eagerly opened all her presents, getting wonderful toys, games, and cloths (and yet more socks from Ike). When every last present had been opened, Amy asked expectantly, “Is that all of them?”


Ike smiled. “Of course not, sweety. There’s one last testicle for you to crush, and that’s mine.” He stood up, stripped off his white tee-shirt, pulled down his flannel pajama pants, and let his cock and ball hang free. He squeezed the ball out to her. “This is my final gift to you, Amy, and I have something special in store for it.”


“Do you remember,” continued Ike, “how you wanted to hear a crunching noise when you punished us between the legs?”


Amy nodded and clapped. “Is there a way?” she asked.


“I think there is. Mike and I found a supply of dry-ice and bought a hammer. We’re going to flash freeze my ball and then you’re going to break it into pieces! Doesn’t’ that sound fun?”


Amy got up and did a little dance of happiness.


Ike went and got the runner table from the front hall and placed it in the living room. He got some string and tied up his remaining ball as tight as he could. Then Mike and Phil brought in a tub that was steaming with ice-cold vapor, which they set beside Ike.


Ike sat down on the edge of the narrow table, his ball hanging over the side, and handed Amy a razor blade. “I want you to cut open Daddy’s ball sack and let my nut hang down from its cords. When it’s out, put these gloves on and dunk it into the dry ice. I’ll tell you when to take it out.”


After having used a razor on Phil’s sack she wielded the blade confidently, but as she was about to cut open his ball-bag, she stopped. “Can I punch and slap it a few times first? You’re never going to learn anything if I don’t cause you some pain.”


Ike smiled, “Of course.” He sat their patiently while Amy took some final pot-shots to her father’s nad, punching it, squeezing it, and even giving it some open handed slaps.


“Good one,” coughed Ike after each bludgeon.


When the testicle had swelled to nearly twice its original size, Amy felt it was time to free the ball from its tight bag. She took the razor and sliced along the curve of the ball. With the cord so tight behind it, there was virtually no blood, and the enormous testicle actually popped out of its bag enthusiastically, to dangle in mid air. It was perfectly formed, pinkish white, and pulsing with life.


As instructed, Amy put the thick silicone gloves on and held the bucket under it. She raised the tub until the naked ball was fully submerged in freezing mist, and as the ball hit the hard frozen carbon dioxide it began to squeal and blister. Ike bellowed in pain and then groaned loudly. It hurt so bad. Amy rolled the ball around the surface of the ice, making sure the whole thing became frigid. After two minutes of this, Ike told her to freeze his spermatic cords too. Amy pressed the dangling cords and his epididymis against the ice until they became stiff. Eventually Ike’s breathing evened out, and his body relaxed.


“I can’t feel it anymore, go ahead and take it out,” said Ike. Then he flipped over and lay draped over the table, letting his testicle lay flat against its hard surface. Phil and Mike tied his dangling arms and legs to the table’s legs, and then Phil went and got the hammer. It was a ball-peen, painted black, and it looked like the ideal tool for testicle destruction. With her gloves still on, Amy picked up the frozen man-fruit, and let it drop on the table a couple of times. PLUNK, PLUNK. The ball was frozen solid and was ripe for fracturing.


Amy gratefully took the hammer from Phil, and held it up threateningly above her Daddy’s ball. Both Phil and Mike were watching eagerly. They’d both become addicted to seeing their little Amy destroy male anatomy.


“OK,” she said, “I’m going to crack your nut, Daddy. I hope this makes you a better person.”


“Oh, it will, sweety, it will,” Ike turned his head the other way, and said, “Go for it baby, let’s hear that crunch.”


Amy smiled and brought the hammer down on the ballsicle.




The testicle cracked in two, showing its frozen yellow center.




The testicle shattered into smaller pieces. Amy kept hammering away on the ball, making sure to hit each fractured part until it had turned into a smear of dusty sperm. Then, she wacked away at the lumpy epididymis and brittle tubes.


In a few short minutes, Ike’s nut was nothing but spermy slush on the table-top. Since he couldn’t feel the testicle anyway, Ike had encouraged Amy throughout the entire process..


But, even when it was over, Amy wanted more. “I wish I could crack some more things, Daddies. What else can I crack?”


Phil and Mike looked at each other.


“Well, we’re all out of balls,” said Mike thoughtfully. “I know, Why don’t the three of us freeze our cocks, and then you can hammer those. We don’t need them anymore anyways.”


Amy jumped up and down with joy. All three of her fathers roused their flaccid cocks, and dipped them into the freezing mist, and soon three cocksicles were flush with the table-top, waiting to be broken into pieces.


This time she used the ball end of the hammer to bludgeon Mike and Phil’s poles, making sure to smash their cock heads first, and watching them break all over the place - countless dick-shards scattered over the floor and table.


With Ike’s dick, she actually grasped the frozen member and broke it off, holding the solid tube in her gloved hand. It was the ultimate humiliation for any man. The cock was perfectly shaped, long, with a big pink head and a smooth, tubular shaft. It curved slightly upwards and lay in her hand, fully hard, as if waiting to be plunged deep into some woman. It was really a shame to destroy such a perfect specimen of manhood. Too bad Amy wasn’t old enough to appreciate that fact.


Down onto the table top she smacked it, WHACK WHACK WHACK. The penis held up for several hits before the cock-head broke off and the shaft split in two. With the hammer she pulverized the remainder, and congratulated herself on the thorough job she’d done.


Amy smiled happily. “This was all so fun! What a great Christmas present.” Amy watched her three Daddies writhe on the floor. Clearly they’d been properly punished.


“Daddy P, do you think the nuns will be proud of me?” she asked as they all moaned and twitched.


 Finally Phil looked up with a weak smile. “Probably. Do you think you could get Daddy a doctor, sweetie?”



  1. this story will go on for a long time because she will never get over the need to crush balls and break cocks.

    I want my balls crushed with the utmost pain but I wasnt my cock to be made into a cunny so I can be a whore

  2. We all want to be whores! *sigh. Reality is such a disappointment.

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    1. Thanx for the heads up, but I have no control over anything but content. The programming is up to the fine people at BlogSpot, so If there are browser issues, you'll have to consult them, not me.

  4. This was always my favorite story. Any chance this will ever get a sequel or spiritual successor? Amy is so cute and her love of crushing nuts makes her one of the best.

    1. Slim to unlikely. WIth the Jill series I had lots of ideas, but Amy and her three dads was just a one-off. Besides, who's left to bust?

    2. Adopted brother, schoolmates, pet dog? Idk it's just a cool story and it'd be a shame to close the door on it forever. Thanks for reading Nicholas.


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