#on the other hand can you imagine if somebody managed to control both Clara and Gotham itself somehow

[leatherforhell]

not to mood swivel but I cannot stop thinking abt Clara getting mind controlled

[groggycascade]

Ballbusters Anonymous, Pt. II

Continued from Pt. I, for which all credit to squishednuts. Pt. II is mine.

Tiffany chuckled softly. She looked Zoe up and down.

“Sure,” she said. “But this is maybe not the place.” She directed a meaningful look towards the group secretary. “I see you watching me, Clara,” she called across the room.

“Just don’t want you corrupting the youth, Tiff,” the secretary replied, falsely cheerful.

Tiffany rolled her eyes. Zoe looked nervously at the floor. She could feel Tiffany’s eyes on her again. The older woman’s confidence was making her feel very small and inexperienced.

“What are you doing right now?” Tiffany asked her at last.

                                                              ___

They walked towards Tiffany’s home. As they made their way through the streets, Tiffany told Zoe the story of her encounter with the would-be muggers, lowering her voice whenever somebody passed them in the dark, silent street.

“I’d already castrated one of those assholes, so he was out of commission,” Tiffany told her. “Now, for most women like us,” (here Zoe felt herself blush. She was both afraid and thrilled to be included in the sorority of ballbusting women). “For most women like us,” Tiffany continued, “that would have been enough. When I felt his balls like jelly in my hands…” Her laughter echoed loudly in the street. “I don’t mind telling you, no other man ever gave me an orgasm that good!”

Zoe bit her lip, her insides fluttering.

“But I was feeling, well…” For the first time in their short acquaintance, Zoe thought that Tiffany sounded uncertain. They stopped walking. “How old are you, anyway?” Tiffany asked her.

“Twenty-two.”

Her new friend laughed. “Honey,” she said, placing a hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “You have a lot to look forward to. I guess you’ve never been both incredibly angry and incredibly turned-on at the same time, right?”

Zoe didn’t answer. They continued their walk.

“Well, when it happens, it’s like you aren’t really in control of your own body. All you know is what your body wants, what it needs. And right then in that alley I knew my body needed me to ruin these men, destroy them for all time. Take away their most precious possessions.”

Zoe could tell Tiffany was enjoying spinning out her story, prolonging the moment when the two muggers would suffer the ultimate humiliation at her hands.

“I walked towards the second guy. He was still blind from when I’d maced him, but he must have heard my boots clicking on the floor, because he started trying to crawl backwards. His pants were still around his ankles, so the best he could manage was this pathetic kind of shuffle. If he’d known what was about to happen, he’d have been a lot less concerned about his eyes and a lot more concerned about his other two orbs.” She laughed again. “I should say at this point that I have a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Protective cups are mandatory at my dojo, ever since… actually we don’t have to get into that. I’d been attending classes for years, they allowed me to release my ballbusting urges without worrying that I’d end up neutering some poor kid who never even got to use his dick and balls with a real girl. It wasn’t much but it was… better than nothing. Barely,” she said with bitterness.

Zoe snapped her attention back to her companion. Tiffany had unwittingly touched on one of her most private fantasies: to castrate a virgin, some weak shy boy who would never, thanks to her, in his whole life feel the pleasure of being with a woman…

“The point,” Tiffany said, “is that I’ve been taught to kick quite expertly. Now, when you kick a man in the groin – assuming your intention is to put him on the ground – your best bet is to kick with the instep. It’s a large, hard area of the foot, so not only will you not injure yourself, but you have an excellent chance of striking both testicles. The average schoolgirl is more than capable of overcoming an attacker in this way.”

Zoe sensed that this was a lecture Tiffany had delivered on many occasions.

“But for real, permanent damage, the experienced ballbuster uses the point of her shoe.” As they walked Tiffany demonstrated with some snap kicks. Left leg, right leg, left leg. “The force of the kick, rather than dissipating across the instep, is concentrated entirely in the small surface area of the shoe’s tip,” Tiffany said. “Caught between the pubic bone and a hard-toed shoe, a testicle has absolutely no chance. It bursts like a grape. Even a babe-in-the-woods ballkicker like you could scramble a guy’s eggs for good in this way.” She smiled at Zoe, who felt a surge of affection for this woman. Still, she was hoping Tiffany would get to the good part already.

“So, I lined up my target. His cock and balls were jiggling between his legs as he tried to get away from me. I started to jog forward.” She laughed again, but quietly to herself this time. “I remember, through everything, being kind of disappointed his hands were rubbing his eyes. I wanted my face to be the last thing he saw in his life as a man.”

Even though awed by Tiffany’s cruelty, Zoe didn’t feel any revulsion. In fact, she was imagining herself in the other woman’s shoes, preparing to inflict the most painful, humiliating punishment imaginable…

“I kicked forward with the point of my shoe. I kicked as hard as I’ve ever kicked in my life, but that power came at the expense of accuracy. I felt his left ball briefly resist my shoe, then burst. Crunch.”

Zoe whimpered softly. Beneath her skirt, her panties were almost soaked through.

“I knew right away I’d only half-succeeded. His one testicle was complete pulp, totally irreparable. But I’d missed the other. By now the guy was screaming his lungs out, as you’d imagine. What was worse, the third guy had rolled over and started crawling up the alley on his hands and knees. I don’t know if he knew what I’d done to his friend, but he probably had a pretty good idea. I had to act quickly. I knelt down and pulled the guy’s hands away from his balls. Or ball, I should say. His right ball was clearly intact, but where the left one had been was just mush. I closed my fist around his remaining ball. He was still screaming in pain, so I covered his mouth with my free hand. He barely resisted; I think he was already passing out at this point. I bent down so that my mouth was close to his ear, and I said, ‘My name is Tiffany Tine, and while you’re in the hospital I’ll be fucking myself senseless to the memory of taking away your worthless balls. I hope you remember my name every time you can’t get your dick up, asshole.’”

“Yeah!” said Zoe. She realized she’d been holding her breath for almost thirty seconds, captivated by Tiffany Tine’s story.

“Then I started squeezing. His last testicle barely lasted five seconds. It must have been the adrenaline – when I was younger, I once squeezed my brother’s balls until he passed out, but I never did him any permanent damage. That was the first time I ever burst a testicle with nothing but my hand. Usually they need softening up with some kicks first. The feeling of power it gave me was… literally indescribable. You have to understand that all this took place in less than a minute. In that time, I’d turned two men into eunuchs. They were useless now thanks to me. Freaks, losers, nobodies.”

“And the last guy?” Zoe asked. Her voice came out husky and hoarse. All thoughts of that evening’s meeting, of her efforts to curb her ballbusting fetish, had been long since abolished. Tiffany chuckled.

“He’d gotten to his feet by this time,” she said. “He was still rubbing his eyes, he hadn’t even pulled his jeans up. Obviously he decided that the only way he was getting out of there with his balls intact was by begging me for mercy. ‘Please, just let me go,’” said Tiffany, impersonating the mugger’s pathetic pleading. “‘I can leave, I’ll just go home, you’ll never see me again…’ Blah, blah blah.”

They had reached Tiffany’s house. Under the porchlight, Tiffany jiggled her purse, searching for the doorkey. Turning to Zoe she laughed at the expression of need on her face.

“I guess you really want that ending, huh?” she asked, grinning. Zoe nodded, speechlessly. Tiffany turned the key in the lock and entered the house. She turned back to Zoe.

“Come on in, then,” she said.

With the door closed behind them, Tiffany said, “I’ll tell you the rest of the story. But,” she held up a finger. “I want something in return.”

Zoe followed her into the lounge. The house was clean and tastefully decorated. Silently, Zoe noted the lack of male influence in the décor. Clearly Tiffany was single, or more likely divorced. Her hostess settled into a deep leather couch, patting the seat next to her. Obediently, Zoe sat down.

“So, what is it you want?” she asked, after a moment of silence. She was feeling strangely disoriented, as though half of her was still in Tiffany’s story.

At that moment, the women heard footsteps descending the stairs. A few seconds later a guy a few years younger than Zoe, no more than a kid really, came slouching through the door. A baggy t-shirt enveloped his skinny frame, above a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was unkempt, and he regarded Tiffany and Zoe with eyes that were heavy-lidded.

“Hello, Jadon,” Tiffany said warmly. “My son,” she told Zoe. Zoe tried not to look surprised. It had never occurred to her that the serial castratrix with whom she had left the Ballbusters Anonymous meeting might have any kind of maternal instincts.

“Jay,” said Tiffany’s son, sullenly shaking Zoe’s hand. He sniffed. “You a friend of my mom’s from Kung Fu, or whatever?”

“It’s Tae Kwon Do, honey,” Tiffany replied, indulgently, before Zoe could answer. “And yes, Zoe’s a new member of our dojo. We think she has great potential.”

Jadon rolled his eyes. Zoe wondered how this scant, sulking youth could belong to the poised, attractive, self-confident woman who sat next to her on the couch.

“Jadon doesn’t believe martial arts are effective in a… what was it, dear? ‘A street-fighting scenario?’” Tiffany said, by way of explanation.

Zoe saw Jadon’s face colour.

“I was just telling Zoe a story that would probably change your mind, Jay honey,” continued Tiffany. She flashed a smirk at Zoe.

“People in the real world don’t care about Kung Fu rules, mom,” Jay muttered. “You don’t get points,” he went on contemptuously. “It’s eat or get eaten out there.”

“And I tell my son,” Tiffany replied, “that it’s exactly that kind of male arrogance that makes our training so effective. Maybe,” she said, “before I finish telling you that story, you could give Jadon a demonstration?”

Zoe looked quickly at Tiffany. Was she saying what Zoe thought she was saying?

“Mom,” Jadon whined. “She’s a girl.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Tiffany said decisively. “Up, up, up,” she said, shooing Zoe to her feet.

The room was large and spacious. Zoe stood in its centre, looking pleadingly at Tiffany. She couldn’t believe she had interpreted the other woman’s intentions correctly. That was when Tiffany banished all doubt.

“Why don’t you show my son that technique I was showing you on the walk home?” she said, all innocence. Zoe’s eyes widened. Jadon dragged his feet across the carpet to where she was standing. For all his apparent reluctance, Zoe could tell the prospect of putting his hands on a woman’s body excited him. This kid had definitely never been laid, Zoe decided. Probably never even seen real boobs, or had his hand between a girl’s legs.

“I’ll try not to hurt you,” he told her, winking lazily.

“Alright then, Jadon,” Tiffany called across the room. Zoe could hear amusement in her voice, and perhaps even a trace of… anticipation? “Show us how they fight on the streets,” Jadon’s mother said.

Jadon started bouncing on his heels, jogging his arms like a video game character. Zoe was inclined to laugh at how absurd he looked, this skinny kid feinting and shuffling as though he were some kind of MMA fighter.

Suddenly, Jadon lunged forward. The carpet was thick, and broke most of Zoe’s fall. Jadon had his arms wrapped around her legs. As she struggled to free herself, Jadon started climbing up her body, reeling her towards himself. Tiffany shouted encouragement from the sidelines.

“Come on, Zoe! Remember what I told you!”

Jadon’s arms were up around Zoe’s waist now. Suddenly, she felt his hand slip between her thighs and roughly caress her pussy. She looked up to see him leering at her, an insulting smile plastered across his face. In a burst of anger she began kicking her legs and succeeded in shaking Jadon off. Quickly, they both leapt to their feet.

Zoe was breathing more heavily now – not from exertion, but from anger. With disgust she noticed Jadon’s sweatpants tenting. The little fucker had a semi on after feeling her up on the carpet!

Jadon began moving towards her again.

“Do it, Zoe!” Tiffany called from the couch.

Zoe fixed her narrowing eyes on Jadon’s crotch. In her mind, she was back in Tiffany’s story – Jadon was no longer Tiffany’s teenage son, he was the mugger who deserved everything that was coming to him.

As though in slow motion, she kicked forward with her right foot. Even afterwards, she wouldn’t be sure if she had used the tip of her shoe deliberately, the way Tiffany had told her to if she wanted to cause permanent damage. Everything else, though, was clear – the way Jadon’s momentum carried him unstoppably into her kick; the feeling of his balls compressing as she crushed them against his pelvis; she slow way his expression crumpled in a rictus of agony.

Jadon hit the floor, gasping and dry-heaving.

“Oh!” cried Tiffany, jumping to her feet.

Zoe stepped backwards, her hands over her mouth. She’d kicked dozens of guys in the balls before. She had become used to their reactions – the paralysis, the moans of pain – but Jadon looked worse than any guy Zoe had ever busted before. She didn’t know if he was even more of a wimp than she’d thought, or if she had actually just destroyed his testicles in front of his own mother.

Tiffany knelt down next to her son. “Jadon, honey,” she said, her voice full of distress. Jadon’s eyes were screwed shut in pain, so that only Zoe saw that the expression on his mother’s face was not one of concern. Zoe would almost have said she looked as though she found her son’s agony amusing. Surely not, she thought. Tiffany might have been a self-professed ballbusting bitch, but there was no way her love of ballbusting trumped motherly concern. Right?

Tiffany tried to pull Jadon’s hands away from his crotch, but he clutched determinedly on to his wounded balls.

“Darling, I need to check if your testicles are ruptured,” his mother told him. “You might have to go to the hospital.”

Jadon gave no reply except a loud sob – of pain or fear, Zoe couldn’t tell. She wondered if she ought to flee. If she had injured Jadon, would Tiffany call the police? Would anyone believe that this had been a joke that got out of hand?

“Zoe, hold his arms please.” Tiffany’s businesslike voice snapped Zoe out of her thoughts. She bent down and, with difficulty, succeeded in releasing Jadon’s grasp on his balls. With her son’s arms restrained, Tiffany wrestled the waistband of his sweatpants down around his knees.

Instinctively, Zoe stifled a giggle at the sight of Jadon’s small dick. The image was made more ridiculous by his testicles, which were already so swollen they seemed like they might burst out of his scrotum.

Gently, Tiffany palpated each of her son’s balls in turn, drawing howls of pain. Eventually she withdrew her hands and wiped them on her pantlegs.

“Nothing seems to be broken,” she announced. She patted her son on the head. “But I doubt you’ll be chasing the girls for at least a few weeks, hon.” Turning to Zoe, she said, “Help me get him up.”

With each of their heads under one of Jadon’s arms, they succeeded in lifting him to his feet. Letting Zoe take his full weight, Tiffany pulled her son’s pants back up. “I think Zoe’s seen enough of your little bits and pieces for one evening,” she commented.

Zoe waited in the lounge as Tiffany half-carried her son up the stairs. Her head was almost spinning. She was relieved that she hadn’t caused any lasting damage to Jadon’s balls, even if she was still furious with him for groping her. She was angry with Tiffany for putting her in that situation, even if she had relished the opportunity to punt her little prick of a son right in his fragile nuts. And, as her heartbeat settled, she began to experience the familiar feeling of excitement that accompanied dropping a guy with a solid kick to the balls.

Eventually she heard Tiffany descending the staircase.

“You little minx,” Tiffany said, entering. “I can’t believe you tried to rupture my son’s testicles.”

Zoe jumped up from the couch where she had been gathering her thoughts.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she stammered.

Tiffany laughed, waving her back down onto the couch. “I said ‘tried to,’ didn’t I?” she said. “It’s a good thing you’re not wearing boots. If you had been, or if – heaven forfend – that had been one of my kicks, it’s safe to say my son would have a sack full of mush right now instead of two unimpressive but healthy testicles.”

She took a seat next to Zoe. “You did wonderfully,” she said, stroking Zoe’s hair.

“Why did you make me do that?” Zoe asked quietly. Tiffany was quiet for a moment before replying.

“Last time I tried to quit ballbusting cold turkey, I ended up neutering three guys in an alley,” she said. “Do you know how long it’s been since I kicked a pair of balls?”

Zoe shook her head.

“Three months, a week, and two days,” Tiffany said at once. “I was starting to feel as though if I didn’t get some action soon, even vicariously, I was going to fall off the wagon hard. Then, who knows how many guys would end up getting involuntary sex changes. Didn’t I say at the meeting that I almost relapsed today?”

“I guess, when you put it like that,” Zoe said after a thoughtful pause. Tiffany nodded encouragement.

“You really helped me tonight, Zoe,” she said. “Thanks to you, I think all my male colleagues’ balls are safe. For a week at least.”

Zoe grinned in spite of herself. “I can’t believe I almost ruined your chances of having grandkids,” she said.

Tiffany tossed her head and laughed. “What the hell, I still have a daughter,” she said. “In fact, you ought to meet her. It’s about time she started learning how to put her older brother in his place.”

“Maybe some other time,” Zoe said. “I think your family’s had enough of me for one night. But, umm…”

Tiffany looked at her enquiringly.

“Before I go…” Zoe said. “Would you mind, um…”

At last Tiffany understood. With a broad smile she settled deeper into the couch, and finished the story of the castrated muggers.

                                                            ___

“Please, just let me go. I can leave, I’ll just go home. You’ll never see me again.”

The mugger’s pleadings almost stirred a hint of sympathy in Tiffany’s heart. He did look pathetic – pants around his ankles, his exposed dick and balls flopping around as he begged for mercy.

Frantically, the mugger tried to wipe the burning mace from his eyes. “I don’t even know these guys,” he whimpered. “I’ve never done this before, it wasn’t my idea…”

As she walked towards him, Tiffany realized the mugger was probably being truthful. Up close, it was clear he was hardly any older than her own son.

“His too bad,” she thought to herself. After he’d learned the hard way not to fuck with strange women in dark alleyways, there was no chance of him ever trying to pull something like this again.

“Please, lady, swear to God…” The mugger was still blubbing.

“Shut up,” Tiffany snapped. She was standing a foot away from him now. “Lie down on the ground.”

“Please…”

Tiffany slapped him across the face. “Do what I tell you, and maybe I’ll let you get out of here with your life,” she told him.

The kid shuddered. To Tiffany’s amazement he lay down on the ground. The sound of his friends’ agonized screams and sudden silence must have convinced him that she really could kill him. Tiffany kicked his legs as wide as they would go, still hobbled as he was by the jeans around his ankles.

“Wha… what are you going to do to me?” the kid stammered.

Tiffany raised her foot above the young man’s crotch. The light from the moon glinted dully on the thick rubber of her bootheel.

“Since you asked,” she said, “I’m going to stomp on your testicles until there’s nothing left down there but goo. It’s going to hurt worse than anything you’ve ever felt in your life, and afterwards you’ll never function as a man again. No woman will ever look at you without laughing.” She paused. “That clear enough?”

The kid sobbed fearfully.

“Look at me,” Tiffany ordered.

Blinking furiously, the kid opened his red-raw eyes. Tiffany waited for him to fully comprehend the spectacle of her shoe, poised high above his unprotected balls.

Then she stomped down.

The kid screamed shrilly as his testicles compressed under Tiffany’s boot. To no avail he tried to remove her foot from his crotch. As she lifted her leg a second time, he covered his balls with his hands. With a grunt of impatience Tiffany bent down and ripped his hands away. Holding his arms at his side, she lay on top of him and began driving her knee over and over again into his crotch. Her large breasts muffled his screams.

Whump.

Whump.

Whump.

Before long the sound coming from between the kid’s legs was less of a thud and more of a wet crunch. His screams had subsided to a delirious sobbing. With one final knee – crunch – Tiffany stood up and looked down at her work. The kid was somehow still conscious, barely. With her toe, Tiffany sloshed around the contents of his scrotum. It felt like a half-empty water balloon.

As the reality of what she had done set in, Tiffany’s hand slipped almost of its own accord under the waistband of her pants. Her breathing became heavier.

“Oh… oh, my God… oh, fuck,” she gasped, sinking to her knees, convulsing with pleasure. She didn’t know how long she stayed there. When she regained her senses, the kid was still moaning softly. Unsteadily, Tiffany got to her feet.

“Wow,” she said to herself.

Looking both ways first, she emerged from the alley. The street was quiet and empty. She quickly began walking in the direction of home. Someone, somewhere must have heard the commotion in the alley, and Tiffany wanted to be nowhere near when the police arrived to find three men brutally castrated. This though wasn’t the only reason for her haste.

As she thought back to what she had done to those men, replaying every moment in her head, she could feel herself getting wet again.

                                                         ___

Zoe felt like a ball of static energy. A strand of hair had come loose over her forehead, which was glazed with sweat. Tiffany patted her on the knee.

“It’s okay, hon,” she told her. “You don’t have to be shy around me.”

For a further second, Zoe was completely still on the couch. Then she thrust her hand down the front of her skirt, rubbing herself desperately. While she masturbated, she murmured softly to herself.

“… his balls were turned to mush… I bet he never fucked in his life… I bet his dick was the size of a cocktail wiener… oh my God… he can never… never… oh, yes, yes, yes…”

Afterwards, she sat hunched over in embarrassment. She had never lost control like that before. Tiffany’s story had been the hottest thing she’d ever heard.

She felt Tiffany’s hand brush against her hair again.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” the older woman said. “I know. I know what it’s like.”

Eventually Zoe looked up.

“You said… back at the meeting, you said that night was your rock bottom.”

Tiffany sighed.

“I never thought any of those guys would tell anyone what I’d done to them. I mean, who would actually go to the police and tell them they lost their testicles to the woman they were trying to mug?”

Zoe nodded.

“Well, it turned out one of those guys would. The one I’d told my name to, as it happened. There was a trial. He’d already been sentenced for the attempted mugging. I guess he figured he had nothing else to lose. Once he got in the witness box, he described every detail of how I ruined his life. There were a few female giggles from the gallery, I remember.”

Tiffany looked melancholy, however.

“The judge – a woman, by the way, thank God – instructed the jury to find me not guilty on the felony assault, but there was no beating the misdemeanour. I did thirty days in jail. My boyfriend left me, and I almost lost my business. Still,” she said, more brightly, “I’m moving on. Getting better.”

Somehow Zoe doubted that was the case. Still, who was she to talk? She had started the evening sincerely wanting to gain control of her ballbusting urges, and had ended it by almost castrating a horny teen then frigging herself stupid at the thought of finishing the job.

She got up from the couch.

“I should go,” she said.

Tiffany walked her to the door. As Zoe stepped out into the night, Tiffany spoke behind her.

“We’ve got to help each other out, hon,” she said. “We’re all in the same boat here.”

Zoe turned back and looked at her wordlessly.

“I guess I’ll see you,” Tiffany said. “At next week’s meeting?”

“Definitely,” said Zoe, at last.