Diary of a Boy with Big Balls - Part 2

Dear Diary,

After that incident about a year ago when my poor balls were mashed against my bike, I wondered if it was just a fluke that my boy berries could hurt so much. My brothers kept saying about how these two dangling pink round things produced something that started with a "T" that made men big and strong. Surely they would be tough! I reasoned that the force of the bike accident was to blame. After all, if you stub your toe, that would hurt like hell too.

Today, however, I was rudely reminded about how vulnerable these squishy, pingpong ball-sized things were, again. This new kid, Adam, moved in a few blocks away. He's about my age but only about half my size (I'm a big kid!). I was riding by his house when he called out to me and asked me if I wanted to play and I agreed. I went to his backyard where he had about five other kids there, who introduced themselves as his friends. They then explained that they were playing wrestling like the WWE matches on TV. I loved watching wrestling and thought it would be cool to play with them. Judging their smaller sizes, I was confident I would be able to beat all of them easily.

We all took turns wrestling each other for a bit, and I really overpowered all the boys who wrestled me. When it was Adam's turn, I easily trapped him in a headlock and then hauled him around his backyard, parading him like my prize. Suddenly, I felt his hand snake up the leg of my shorts and boxers. I was a bit shocked and wondered what the heck he was trying to do. Before I could react, he had grabbed hold of my right ball and began squeezing and tugging on it. I could feel my fleshy organ being crushed between his fingers and palm (I swear I could feel my nut meat protruding between his fingers!) and soon, that deep-seated, nauseating pain hit me right in the gut again. Memories of the bike accident I had a year ago where I smashed my balls came racing back. I tightened the headlock, and wiggled my hips around to make him let go but he refused; instead, he only crushed my poor testicle harder than ever. The pain and nausea were getting so bad I could hardly muster the strength to fight him any longer and I let him go.

Instead of releasing my aching right nut, he grabbed a hold of the left testicle. Now he had me by both balls and kept squeezing them as hard as he could. I could hardly take any deep breaths and began making weird animal noises from the sickening agony in my groin and gut. I began seeing stars as my legs and body began spasming in agony like I was having some kind of seizure. After what seemed an eternity, he let go and I dropped to the ground like a rock, hugging my badly-aching abdomen, whimpering but trying not to cry in front of the boys. I cradled both my injured boy-nuggets, and rocked about in an attempt to suppress the awful, deep pain. The boys began laughing at me cruelly, talking about how weak my genitals were. Ashamed, I finally managed to struggle to my feet and muttered something about not wanting to play anymore as I hobbled towards my bike and went home, painfully limping all the way home. Every ten feet or so, I had to sit on the curb and nurse my badly-aching boy balls. Needless to say, it was a long and painful journey home.

As I am writing this, I have tears streaming down my face because my poor swollen balls still hurt so badly... I feel like throwing up but am suppressing the nausea as much as I can. How can a big hefty, strong boy like me have two big bobbing balls that are so sensitive?!!

Until then,

DL