I squeeze onto the packed train, pressing up uncomfortably against you. It’s rush hour, and we’re packed in here like sardines. Suddenly, I feel something slip between my legs. You’ve decided to take advantage of the situation we’re in. After all, what can I possible do to you? You grope me awkwardly, pressing your greedy fingers into my pussy.

I grab your hand and look back at you, smiling. You can’t believe it. You were just looking for a quick grope on your morning commute, but I actually seem to like it? I return the favor by reaching between your legs. I fumble around a little until I find what I’m looking for. Your little cock is rock-hard, but my hand keeps moving until I get a hold of your swollen blue balls. I massage them gently at first, smiling up at you as you try to hold in a moan. You clearly haven’t cum in a while, and I suspect I’m the first woman who’s laid hands on your cock and balls.

Then I isolate the left one with both hands.

“Keep quiet, ok? This will only take a second.” I whisper into your ear. You nod quickly, confused, but too turned on to realize what’s going on.

Then I press both my thumbs down, HARD into your testicle. Pain shoots up your delicate nut cords and into your abdomen, and you hunch over, tearing at your groin futilely. I smile pityingly up at you. “Come on now, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. It’ll be ok.”
I pull myself closer to you, digging harder into the round little organ in my hand. “I’m only going to pop this one, ok? There’s no need for alarm. You just need to be taught a little lesson.”

My grip tightens as half of your manhood flattens out in my grasp. I sigh as a look of realization sets in on your face. “I know boys like you can’t help yourself. Big balls, just stuffed full of cum, and a dick too small for you to ever satisfy a woman with.” I see a flash of anger on your face, but the words are too true to deny. “Let me help you out. You only really need one of them anyway. Really, I’m doing you a favor. Half of the testosterone means half of these…urges.”

Then it happens.

Your left testicle gives way, and my fingers meet the palm of my hand. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I can see from the look on your face that it’s not pleasant. You manage to stay conscious through the pain of your half castration somehow. I can feel the pulverized chunks of your manhood squishing around in your scrotum. I put a little more pressure on them to ensure that things can’t be repaired.

I smile up at you, and your face is a contorted mixture of emotions. Pain, loss, shock…and anger.

Through the agony, you manage to whisper one phrase.

“You….you bitch.”

My smile fades. After what I’d done for you…After how much better I had just made your life by removing half of the source of your frustrations, you call me a fucking bitch.

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“You…you crazy fucking bitch! You popped my testicle. I need…I need to go to a hospital. Somebody help, oh god…I need to go to the fucking police!”

I keep my hands in your pants. I wasn’t going to do anything else to you. I can only imagine how much pain I’ve put you through with your first testicular rupture. But… You must have so much pent up frustration with your virginity and your little dick…removing just one of your testicles isn’t going to be enough. Besides, nobody calls me a bitch and gets away with it.

I begin to fondle your half-empty ballsack more, looking for the larger, now solitary testicle that remains intact.

“Sorry honey, looks like just one isn’t enough for you.” This time, I put my hands fully around the offending organ, and start pulling down gently. I know from experience that rupture a testicle this large could take a while, and I need to get to work soon. “Don’t worry, this won’t take as long.”

I yank hard. As fragile as men’s nuts’ are, spermatic cords are even weaker. The thin, sensitive nerves that hold your remaining orb onto your body can’t take the pressure, and snaps instantly. You try to scream, but are cut off by an intense sensation of pain, then bizarrely, pleasure.

“See, this commute wasn’t so bad, was it?” I giggle. “When you get castrated, your body has a kind of…evolutionary response. It knows it’s the last chance of impregnating anything ever.”

Your cock gets hard, and an absurd load of semen spews out all over your pants. You collapse as the doors of the train open and I step off. You see my perfect ass disappear into the crowd, as the remains of your manhood continue to push themselves out through your now-impotent dick.