Do You Have the Balls for Girl's Wrestling.
Beatrice was hot. She was really on a winning streak-- every high school wrestling match this year. She didn't look like a wrestler. She wasn't stout of frame. She wasn't short or wide. In fact, she had an hourglass figure, a bit like Marilyn Monroe's but thinner and sexier, and but more like a young Jill Ireland, with a similar hair color. Her face was a bit like Jill Ireland's and Audrey Hepburn's-- delicate features. She looked more like a movie star than a female wrestler. At 6'5", in spite of not being fat or husky, she was in the top weight class.
One of the secrets of Beatrice' success was her strong grip. She found that if she exerted extreme force with thumb or finger digging into her opponent's flesh, the other girl would be more inclined to move in the direction Beatrice wanted. She could steer with thumb or finger as her opponent moved away from the pain. She would practice squeezing hand grips. Recently, she'd taken to cracking walnuts, taking two in her hand and crushing one against another. She could crack a pecan between finger and thumb or between her middle and ring finger and the palm of her hand. She could take two pecans and crack them fairly easily using these techniques. This kind of practiced helped her greatly defeat her opponents in wrestling. She could also hold a walnut between two fingers under great pressure, and crack it by pushing it with her pinkie finger.
Beatrice hadn't always been an athletic success. She was from a broken home, bounced around from foster home to foster home from the age of five, carrying her things in a plastic bag. At the age of twelve, the son of foster parents, a boy her same age, had attacked her and taken away her innocence. She doesn't talk about it, but let's say more than one orifice was in great pain afterward. The boy threatened if she were to tell anyone, he would find her and repeat what he'd done to her, and do the same to her other female friends in the foster home, then kill her. He also told her that he did it because she'd been giving off signals that she wanted it, and had dressed in a way that would invite boys to do that to her. This left her confused, frustrated, and angry. After the assault, she resolved that she would not be a victim. Then her friends told her about a boy's weak spot. When she felt harassed by boys in foster homes or at school, she would go for the gonads. In fact, she'd been kicked out of a foster home for grabbing a boy. She almost went to court for sexual assault over that. She didn't really feel bad about it. Beatrice was a little lacking in feeling and empathy, which made her a dangerous opponent on the mat. But she was fiercely loyal to her friends and teammates.
Her current foster parents had had her in the house for three years. Even though she was 18, they still allowed her to stay in their home as she finished out the school year. Colleges were interested in recruiting her for women's wrestling. Her foster parents had taught her to direct her energy away from violence and into sports. They'd given her some good moral instruction, and she knew not to attack a man's package unless it were life or death. She might do it also if she were about to be raped. Beatrice also played the guitar. She had her own method of playing, hitting the strings with her pinky. Using superglue and baking soda, she'd turned her right pinkie into a durable guitar pick. She could play songs by ear, and one school was interested in giving her a free ride for guitar.
Her team was traveling to Massachusetts to compete against another undefeated team. On that team, their star player was Pat. Pat is short for Patricia. It's funny to say short for Patricia, because Patricia, who used to be called Patrick, and he was also 6'5". Patricia kept winning wrestling matches against girls in the top weight class. As a trans individual, Patricia had become a hero for supporters of the LGBT movement. He would walk through crowds of protesters chanting 'Trans rights are human rights', who clapped for him. He enjoyed the attention, but that is not why he identified as trans or as a woman.
As Patrick entered high school, he was having difficulty getting a girlfriend. He had these strong sexual urges, and he knew if he didn't satisfy them with a willing girlfriend, he was just going to satisfy them with a girl who wasn't willing, but that was a last resort, and a habit he thought he should probably break.... unless the girl was really hot and she wasn't interested.... then he might consider it. He'd gotten into some legal trouble in the past, but good lawyers had kept him out of court.
After having watched the news about trans teens, talk from 'woke' children in the LGBT movement in his school, and several tik tok videos, Patrick got to thinking. He overheard some female wrestlers talk about using the showers after a match. He'd seen showers in the locker room... open showers... but no one used them after PE class. He casually asked a girl in PE class if there were open showers in the girl's room. There were! If he joined the girl's wrestling team, he could wrestle with them and shower with them, out int he open. Most of the girls had bodies like a minifridge, but a few of the girls were really hot. One had a beautiful face, and was a bit lanky, but still feminine in form, and the other was his favorite-- a tall curvy girl with a Marilyn Monroe type figure.
Patrick hatched his plan. He would declare himself to be transgender-- a female cross-dressing lesbian. That means he could be a 'girl', like girls since he's a 'lesbian', and dress like a boy. Since he lived in a liberal town in Massachusetts, school officials applauded him for being brave. He even got to 'come out' in a school assembly where the school cheered. Even though the team had already been selected, they made a special exception to let him wrestle after he came out. He knew nothing of wrestling, but as a fit gym rat of a male, he quickly learned to out-wrestle other girls. A few parents protested when they found out he was rubbing his body all over their daughters' bodies, but the teachers, school board, and parents treated them like a pariah for attacking a vulnerable trans person, and accused the parents of being responsible for the suicides of trans teens. Pat was upset that the lanky and feminine-looking girls left the team as he joined. He wasn't completely satisfied looking at the remaining stout, mini-fridge girls in the shower. They would occasionally giggle at his erections in the shower, but tried to be respectful and would speak to one another of 'her erections.' Pat figured if he couldn't have the hot girls, maybe he could temporarily slake his thirst with one of the minifridges. So he would flirt, talk about sex, touch them a bit. Patricia was a groomer. It came naturally to him, and he'd actually studied how groomers groom their victims by watching YouTube videos to get some ideas.
After a while, Patricia started winning matches, and he decided to embrace the trans look a bit more to be a more credible male in female wrestling. He grew out his hair and wore eyeliner. Many in the media cheered him as a hero to trans youth. Conservatives complained about him, especially after a female opponent's neck was fractured as he pinned her. He didn't feel bad about it. She put herself at risk by playing the game. In fact, the girl was a pretty good wrestler, and he was a bit proud that he'd put such a hurting on her. Honestly, he was a bit of psychopath. Patricia figured he'd ride this trans wrestler thing out to see if he could get some scholarships out of it. He was 18 and ready for college. Maybe the naked girls in a university shower could look better, and maybe he could get a steady supply of what he was looking for without having to risk getting in trouble by just taking it... which he could as a powerful wrestler. he had with a couple of drunk girls, who he had persuaded in the morning to think it was consensual. Patricia was a bit of a psychopath.
Media attention included online interviews. In one interview, Patricia stated that he didn't know for sure if he had the courage to go full trans physically, but he was considering it. Honestly he knew he had no interest in it.
His team was going up against another undefeated team. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw this tall, elegant movie star in tights on the opposing team. He couldn't weight to rub his body all over hers. And other teammates were quite attractive as well. He didn't get the curvy movie star girl at first. Instead he got a slightly smaller girl, still in the top weight class. He handled her well. She was like a little puppet in his hands. He got cocky and decided to do wrestling moves that simulated lewd acts, including a 'doggy' move.
Beatrice was getting angry. This tall, strong man had humiliated her friend, feigning a lewd act on her. This was women's wrestling, not men's wrestling! Beatrice was already irritated by the idiots in politics, the news, and in schools who were stupid enough to think that if a boy claimed to be a girl, that that made him a girl. She'd picked up the conservative ideology of her red-state foster parents. She thought that a man who got his balls chopped off and replaced by a fake vagina was really a male eunuch with a fake vagina. She could see that this boy had balls, rather large ones, because they bulged through his shorts. In fact, if she wanted, she could grab them. She'd learned that in the past, that even through tight shorts she could isolate a pair of testicles, pulling them a bit away from the body, and squeeze them. She could see how to easily do that with this big Patricia dude.
After several matches, Patricia wrestled another of Beatrice friends. This time, he used the same move that he'd used to break the neck of that other wrestler. Beatrice' friend was carried off on a stretcher, but since Patricia hadn't broken any rules, he was still in the game.
During one of the matches, a girl on Beatrice' team had caught a shin to the groin. A debate between coaches and referees had arisen over this issue. The coach noticed a restriction against hitting girls in the 'vulva.' The rules were explicit, disgustingly so. A left-wing organization, some kind of Southern Poverty something or other Legal organization that had written the explicit sex ed program had also been given the right to contribute to the rules for sports, so rules now forbade explicit sex acts and mentioned sexual parts in such detail it would be controversial for state legislators to read the rules in the state house, or for parents to read them to the school board at PTA meetings. Since the rules forbade contact with the vulva or clitoris, the coach pointed out that it did not say 'crotch', just these specific parts to the ref and other team's coach. The rules were written just before the social movement toward trans picked up in 2014.
The coach sat down next to Beatrice and showed her the rules. He said, "Pardon my French, but the rules do not forbid hitting, grabbing, or squeezing a man's testicles. That Pat dude over there broke your friend's neck. I just wanted to point out what the rules said, and what they didn't say. I've trained you well, and how you fight in the next round is up to you.
Beatrice knew what she would do. She would grab this boy by the sack and take him down as roughly as she knew how. She'd seen the smirk before he injured her friend. She'd seen him simulate lewd acts until just before time went out with her friend, then pinned her friend. This act of molestation reminded of the one she'd experienced, then something clicked in her memory. She looked at Patrick, and he looked at her. He looked familiar. As their eyes met, she realized he was a very good-looking fellow. She'd never dated anyone. She didn't know if she could after that sexual assault, which included vaginal intercourse and anal intercourse that were not consensual, when she was twelve. Then she realized why he looked so familiar. Pat was the name of the boy who'd assaulted her. This was that boy.
The match started and after dancing around a bit Patricia's reaches for a hold, but Beatrice reached for Pat's testicles. She managed to get thumb and forefinger between testicles and his body. He puts both his hands on his crotch, to no avail, and Beatrice slides right between his legs, without breaking the hold. After all the moves, the audience saw quite a spectacle, Pat bent all the way over, leaning over on his left hand, while Beatrice stood directly behind him with her hand firmly gripping his testicles.
Pat didn't know if he could endure this. This gorgeous giant woman had a grip on his testicles. each testicle was very firmly compressed, not just with regular testicle pain like getting kicked in the nuts, but with a stronger, tighter type of compression that was dizzying. He was overcome by fear.
Patricia's coach argued with the referee, who pointed out to the coach that no contact had been made with the wrestlers vulva or clitoris.
Standing behind Patricia, Beatrice now did not have to worry about him fighting back. He could do nothing, and she had more than two and a half minutes yet. She thought she should be full of anger about the past events, but she didn't really feel much. Her mind went into a cool, calculating mode. How could she do the most damage possible to the man who had assaulted her--stealing her virtue and innocence, who had sexually humiliated her friend in public, who had broken her friend's neck? How could she maximize his pain? How could she make him cry the most humiliating tears that he would never live down? She remembered her walnut and pecan cracking practice. Using her left hand, she carefully positioned Patricia's nuts in her hands. She got his right testicle firmly between her index finger and palm with pressure from her palm also. She positioned his left nut between her ring and index fingers and the palm of her hand. With all of her might, she squeezed, but these nuts were tough and wouldn't crack like a couple of pecans.
Patricia could feel his testicles being painfully positioned while still under great pressure.... then the super-squeeze. He began to feel woozy and wanted to pass out. As he looked up, he could see and hear a great stir in the crowd.
Beatrice added an upward pull with her arms, putting Pat on his tip toes, as he could feel great pressure on his cords, intensifying the feeling of pain into his gut.
The crowd was full of high school students. Some of the boys were nauseous. Some of them looked kind of green and were shifty uncomfortably as they sat on the bleachers, blocking their crotches with their hands. But many teens had started to chant, "Crush his nuts! Crush his nuts! Crush his nuts!"
But others in the audience were upset, and some of Pat's minifridge-shaped were outraged that their teammate was being misgendered, rose to his defense. So they stood up and started chanting, "Crush HER nuts! Crush HER nuts!" Groups of people were facing off at each other in the stand, with some yelling 'Crush HER nuts!' and others yelling, 'Crush HIS nuts!'. Pat caught a glimpse of this, distressed that the whole audience seemed to be in agreement that his testicles should be crushed.
Beatrice noticed Pat looking at the audience. She wasn't doing her job well enough if he could pay attention to that. Somehow, she managed to muster more pressure as her hands trembled from the extra muscle tension.
Now for Pat, with this added tension and vibration torture, it felt like the only thing in the universe was the pain in his testicles, that and keeping himself in position so as not to rip them off by passing out and falling forward. A very tiny part of his mind was left, to feel betrayed by his mini-fridge-shaped female friends chanting for his manual **********, and the rest of the crowd delighting in his suffering.
Beatrice decided what she was doing was boring so she managed to muster up a stronger pulsating squeeze, which caused Pat to gasp, and scream from the torture she was inflicting on him. With a minute and a half left, slowly and deliberate, she slides between his legs, still holding his testicles, now in a twisted upside-down position. As she pins him, she says, "Remember me? You evil child-******." And Pat did remember her, and his fear for his balls turned into terror. He could hear his heartbeat both in his ears nearly as strongly as he could feel her painful rhythm in his tortured testicles.
"Please, just let go of my balls." He pleaded. "I didn't mean it. It wasn't me."
Just before Beatrice got his limp compliant body into position to be pinned, she remembered her strong guitar pick pinkie. She pressed it into Pat's left testicle.
"Do you remember you said in that interview that you didn't have the courage to decide to go all the way with your transgender **********? Well, I decided to help you out with that decision."
Beatrice was able to put more pressure on her nut-sack squeezing hand to help push that little pinkie where it wanted to go. Pat could not believe the agony as something sharp pierced through his left testicle. He felt another incredible jolt of pain as it pushed deeper through another layer of his testicle. As this large, sexy victim of his pinned him for the win, his balls could no longer take the pain. Nor could his stomach. Out of his mouth and nose spewed green bile vomit, lots of it. He vomited all over his sexy attacker.
Beatrice stood up, covered in bile, but thrilled to have on the competition and to have gotten revenge on the name who had assaulted her. Pat lay in the fetal position crying. He hoped to use his fingers to keep the contents of his left testicle in the testicle and out of the scrotum, but it hurt too much to touch it, so he kept his hand over the general area, without applying much pressure.
There stood Beatrice, hand lifted high by the ref, in vomit-soaked hair, as the crowd applauded her victory.
A few moments later, the referee decided that based on some technicality neither Beatrice nor Pat nor the narrator understand, they had to fight the match over.
Pat lay in pain, holding his crotch, slowly swelling with blood and the contents of his now busted testicle. He was unaware of the score, but if he won this match, he could be the champion, the best woman wrestler in high school history. So he decided he would protect his remaining testicle as best he could and defeat this girl. She was a girl, after all. And he wasn't going to lose to a girl! She had caught him by surprise last time How could she defeat him?
Beatrice noticed that one of the announcers at the event had to leave early and had taken off a microphone that was live and active, and connected to speakers. She pinned the wireless device on her black wrestling outfit, so that it was scarcely visible and walked back to the mat.
The match started. Pat quickly pinned Beatrice. He decided to have some fun with her, turn her around and thrust his pelvis behind hers to put on a show, like he had done with many of the other girls. She'd hurt him bad, but he was going to enjoy her body by at least pretending to do to it what he longed to do to her.... again. If he survived the match, he reasoned, after he had healed up, he was going to fill her with juices from the remaining testicle. And she was much more developed than she had been back at 12. This would be fun. It was strange he could be in such pain, but still think like this. but he needed to defeat her to get medical care before his scrotum filled with too much blood, he thought. As he got her into position, somehow her hand reached between her legs, and as she contorted her torso and reached further, she got a good solid grip on his remaining well-squeezed but unpunctured testicle.
The crowd laughed at the as Patricia's eyes widened and mouth took the shape of an 'O', a silly face that he made as the fear settled into his soul, and the realization that he had foolishly given up his remaining reasonably healthy testicle to satisfy his pride and honestly, his lust.
Again doing her move where she goes between Pat's legs, she stood behind him, one testicle squished between index and middlle finger, and thumb, with a bit of extra pressure from her ring finger. She used those fingers to push the ball into her palm to press it further. She would be more efficient with it this time.
Now there is severe nut pain, like being hit by a speeding softball, and then there was this whole other level that Patrick now felt.
Beatrice spoke into her microphone. "I want you to here a confession from this young man."
Pierced tattooed girls in the audience hissed in shock and outrage that they would dare call Pat a man.
Beatrice continued, "Many years ago, when I was just a child, this man r@ped me. Now listen to him confess." Away from the microphone she leaned over and muttered in Pat's ear, "Confess now or I'll will yank this ball out of you by the cord.", and she yanked it just a bit to add an unsettling sperm cord pain into his abdomen along with the crushing.
The nut pain was so intense he could barely speak, but Pat managed to squeak out, "Yes, I r*aped her, but we were just children. And the statute of limitations has run out."
Beatrice responded in triumph to the crowd, "She....he confessed. He r*ped me!"
She looked at the crowd expecting empathy and compassion. But the crowd fell silent.
Instead, one of Pat's mini-fridge shaped teammates with her blue hair, tattoos, and nose rings, stood up and said with outrage and disgust, "How dare you say that! SHE r*ped you!"
So the local students stand up and begin to chant, in defense of the trans wrestler they were so proud of, defending him from 'misgendering,' They chanted, "SHE r*ped you. SHE r*ped you SHE r*ped you."
But the visiting students from her school opposed them with their chant. "HE r*ped you. HE r*ped you. HE r*ped you."
Beatrice muttered to herself, "What idiots."
Then, she took her other hand and applied the maximum pressure that she could, causing Pat to vomit nasty bile. She pushed his face into it and rubbed his face around in it, using his testicle to direct him like a pupet, getting the bile into his mouth and nose. She positioned her extra strong pinkie finger and poked it into the less-damaged testicle, piercing through a layer, then another, deep into the testicular tubules. Then, grabbing the other testicle, she squeezed them together with two hands. Contents of both testicles now quickly filled Pat's sack.
Pat passed out, being held up by Beatrice' grip on his nut sack, and as the testicles deflated, he slipped from her grip. Quickly, as he fell with a thud, he regained consciousness. Though in great pain, he was filled with anger. With great force he grabbed Beatrice. Using the move he used previously to crack her friend's neck, he pinned her to the ground. He was, after all a man, and stronger than she was. Well, he was a eunuch, but his great upper body strength prevailed. He pinned her and won the match.
Beatrice left that day on a stretcher, having gotten her revenge.
Pat left that day a champion, but he had suffered the greatest defeat of his life.
