Jealousy

Hi, my name is Samual, my parents named me samantha but I knew from the earliest age that I was male, even if I had a female body.

I never played with the girls, I was always outside with the boys, running, playing football, wrestling. More than just a tomboy, I knew I was meant to be a boy.

Up until the age of 14 or 15 we played and wrestled as equals, then two things happened at about the same time. Firstly I discovered their weakness, how easily they got hurt between the legs and I wanted the same. I wanted balls, I knew I could never live as a female, I was a boy, but I also knew that without balls the boys would never accept me. Secondly the boys got bigger and got stronger and stopped playing and wrestling with me. It wasn’t just them, it was the system, society, everything was preventing me from being with the boys and playing with the boys.

I increasingly resented their balls, their manhood, which gave them their size, strength and confidence. And at the same time I envied them their balls.

I became obsessed with testicles and googles them all the time, pictures of them, facts about them and before long I had found ballbusting fetish sites. Full of men excited about getting kicked in their balls. I couldn’t understand this, all the boys I knew had seen protecting them as the most important thing a man could do, they all loved and cherished their balls. And here were men offering their precious balls for abuse and damage.

How dare they, I would do anything to they I. Would do anything to have a precious pair of balls between my legs. I would be so proud of them, cherish them, protect them always. But these men wanted theirs hurt.

I joined groups, read their stories, both fiction and nonfiction. I got into conversations. I couldn’t believe what they were saying, blessed with balls they waned them kicked, squeezed and hit. Some only in fantasy, others seriously damaged in reality. I was so angry, they didn’t deserve to have testicles. I resented them I stated to want to hurt them.

I also wanted to hold their balls, the balls I didn’t have and so desperately wanted. To feel their weight and everything about them.

So I let a guy book a hotel room. When I got there and he let me in I told him to strip. In his 30s his height and strength instantly made me angry. His balls hung there under his erect cock. The organs that gave him his size and strength, not to mention his erection.

If I had been him I would have been so proud of my heavy testicles. I would have dominant. But he knelt when I told him, spread his knees wide when I told him. Put his hands behind his back when I told him. Told how crippling the pain was going to be when I kicked his balls.

So I kicked them, kicked them hard, felt them flatten against his pelvis. He deserved every ounce of the agony that ravaged his insides as he thrashed, screamed moaned at my feet.

Minutes passed, his muscles and limbs flexed helplessly.

I knelt down between his thighs and pulled his hands from his scrotum. They looked magnificent, I wanted them living between my thighs.

I gripped them his eyes went wide with fear “you don’t fucking deserve these” I said and I squeezed. His body convulsed then went limp, unconscious.

I was so turned on, if I couldn’t grow my own balls at least I could punish those that didn’t deserve them.