bluest of balls

It started out as a game with my friend. At first it was easy — we’d teased a boy from our class when we rode the train home from school, made it seem like she had a crush on him. For a week, we kept this up, teasing him, saying dirty things to him, eating popsicles like little sluts in front of him. And this poor boy didn’t know what to do. He was a little nerd, really into anime, in math club. So we’d go up to him and say “Hey, onii-chan,” just to make him look.

But he wouldn’t look. As much as he could, he’d avoid us, trying to hide on the train any way he could. But every day we’d find him and play our little game of making him wanna fuck us. We thought maybe he was gay, so we made it our mission to make him admit it. “He should just be honest about it,” we’d say. But he wasn’t avoiding us because he was gay. He was just shy, I think.

One day, I’d gotten a little frustrated, and on a fully packed train after school, I scored a lucky hit and got myself right next to our boy. He was reading on his phone, probably some stupid anime shit, and I put my hand on his thigh. He didn’t move, but his eyes shut to slits and rolled in their sockets to stare directly into mine. For a minute I felt some instinct buried deep inside that told me I had to leave or something quite terrible would happen. I thought maybe he would kill me right there, maybe choking me against the glass, but I couldn’t move, frozen in place like one of his figurines. But as he stared at me there was something that changed in him, that cold stare turned into something quite hot. And he dropped his hand to mine, and pushed it up until I was touching his cock. I stroked it quietly, without looking at his face. I was still scared but I thought if I stroked his cock he’d let me go. So I stroked it for a minute until the train stopped. The train emptied a little and I tried to pull my hand away, but he held it there and looked at me again, as if to say “You started this, you better finish it.” So I squeezed his dick and stroked it as the commuters around us stared at their phones and went about their business. “Fine,” I thought. “I’ll finish this but you won’t like it.” Finally, the train stopped and emptied enough that he had to take my hand off his dick. But he still held it tightly in his hands. He made a look at this seat that told me I had to sit there, and I had no choice. So I sat there and he sat next to me. But just in time, my friend came up behind us and asked what was going on and where we were going. He said that he gets off on Avenue F and that I’m going with him to his house, but I said I’m actually busy and forgot my friend and I had plans together. But my friend misread me, said “That’s ok, we can both go to his house.” Our boy’s more excited at the thought of a threesome. What happened to the shy boy who’d avoid the sight of us? I’d broken through that shell and shattered it on accident, and inside was something dangerous. That was my first experience with such a transformation.

She flirted with him some while I quietly assisted, and he grew more bold, trying to get my friend to sit on his lap in a nearly empty train car. His stop came and I froze again, and tried once again to tell him that we were gonna go home, but my friend said she’d go alone with him then, and I got worried. So we left the train, all three of us, when my friend suddenly says she forgot her purse and ran back into the train. I ran after her and got in before the doors shut on us. I cursed at her — what kind of bitch doesn’t say anything before almost leaving her friend with her would be rapist? She just laughed and laughed and laughed, and pointed out the window. The boy was pissed, calling us sluts and whores, giving us the finger. The next day he was back to normal, avoiding us like hell. I was worried for a bit that he’d try to get back at us, but nothing ever happened.

A few days later, she showed me a picture album on her phone called The Bluest of Balls. Inside were pictures of boys at a train station, taken from the inside of a train. It was zoomed in on their faces, particularly their eyes. Most of them were old men who looked dumbfounded, some angry, some disappointed. She said thats the look men have when they’ve fallen in and out of love in quick succession. She said we do it so fast we give them whiplash. She said if they don’t look like that when you leave ‘em, then they never loved you. The picture of the boy who’s cock I played with was frightening. His teeth was bare, and his hand reached out like it was trying to grab a hold of me. I wanted to know what would happen if he had.