Oh brother!

After having worked hard for more than four months, it was time for a break. We had just finished a great first season with  "The Balls Of Others", and Nikolai, the TV station's manager had told me that we'd be renewed for a second season. Of course, Nikolai's sister had started a show on her own TV station that covered the same ground and was even more successful - but we had worked hard to stay competitive.

In the last few weeks, I had done dozens of interviews promoting our show. Nikolai's channel was broadcasting all over Europe, so I found myself travelling from Stockholm to Madrid, from Warshaw to Paris, from Vienna to Oslo, from Rome to London. It was exhausting. And on top of that, I didn't even like the attention. I didn't like doing interviews - I was used to working behind the camera. But Nikolai had decided we needed a face for the promotion. And since we didn't have a host, I was the next best thing. Most of the time, I'd take a couple of stagehands with me to provide a bit of entertainment. I'd do the interview and then there'd be a short segments where our stagehands would ask a good looking guy from the audience or - if there was no audience - the host of the show to step up and get their balls busted.

I vividly remember the show in Italy. The musical guests were One Direction, some boy band from the UK. After my interview, the host asked the boys on stage and the stagehands had a great time crunching their nuts. The audience was mostly teenage girls who didnt' stop screamed while their idols' genitals were manhandled. One of the guys (I think his name was Henry or Harry or something) even dropped his pants and showed off his naked nuts, and the stagehands gladly accepted the challenge. They made him place his junk on the host's table and smashed them repeatedly with a wooden mallet. The girls went wild, and the guy nearly puked.



That was a highlight. But most of those shows were pretty much the same: 5 minutes of blah blah blah, followed by 5 minutes of young men getting their marbles damaged some way or another. It may sound exciting and fun - but, believe me, if you do that 10 times a week for four weeks, it gets incredibly boring...

Anyway, I was in desperate need of some rest. I hadn't seen my family for a couple of years now, so I decided to go to Hamburg and visit my brother Peter.

Peter was 33, a couple of years older than me. When we were younger, we got along really great. But when I struggled with puberty, we grew apart somehow. Nowadays, I write him a Christmas card and phone him on his birthday (if I remember the date), and that's it.

I thought that it would be nice to reconnect with my brother, and while he didn't sound too enthusiastic about it on the phone, I was really looking forward to seeing him again.

Peter was an average looking guy. Average height, average build, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was married now, but his wife was on a business trip. I had never met her, but judging from the wedding photo they had sent me, she was a perfect match for him: average height, average build, with brown hair and brown eyes. I wonder what their children would look like...

I arrived at the main station and spotted Peter right away.

"Hey!" I shouted.

Peter turned his head and smiled. "Alex! Long time no see!"

We hugged briefly and walked to the bus stop.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Fine, thanks", Peter answered.

I waited for him to return the question. After a couple of seconds I added, "Still working at the bank?"

Peter nodded.

More silence.

"It must be rough right now with the Euro crisis and everything", I tried a bit of small talk.

Peter shrugged. "Not really. You know, people have their savings account. They come to me and I give them their money. Nothing changed."

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess." I looked at my watch.

"The bus is coming any minute now",  Peter said.

"Ah", I said, desperately trying to think of a topic to talk about. "Merkel is fighting a losing battle in Europe now, after Hollande was elected, huh?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't pay much attention to politics."

"Ah", I said. "Well..." I lokked at my watch again.

"The bus is coming any minute now",  Peter said.

"The European Championship is going to start this week, huh? Do you think Germany will make it to the final?"

"I don't watch soccer", Peter said.

Barely ten minutes had passed since I had left the train, and I was seriously considering turning on my heels and getting on that train again. I had wanted some quiet time - but this was defintely a tad bit too quiet... Maybe I could go to Amsterdam. Two of my cousins lived there. The last time I had seen them, they were two hyper teens, and spending time with them was like being in the middle of a 24/7 circus performance with all the clowns on a bad speed trip. But right now everything would be better than---

"There's the bus", Peter interrupted my thoughts.

Finally, I thought.

We entered the bus and I sat down while Peter got the tickets.

In front of us, there was a group of three boys in their late teens, fighting for the two remaining seats. They were shoving each other back and forth, laughing and shouting at each other.

Peter sat next down next to me.

Suddenly, one of the boys let out a high pitched shriek. "My nuts! Fuck, my nuts! Fuck you, spazzer!"

His friends laughed.

"My nuts! Fuck! My nuts!" the boy didn't stop shouting even though he didn't seem to be seriously injured. He lunged at his friends, trying to grab their crotches.

Now they were all shouting and screaming. "Fuck you!" - "Spazzer!" - "You're the spazzer!" - "My nuts!" - "Fuck!" - "My nuts!" "Fuck you!"

I chuckled, and noticed Peter glance at me.

I turned to him, grinning. "Boys will be boys, huh?"

Peter blushed and looked out the window.

The boys in front of us were shrieking and laughing, engaged in a heated sack tap battle.

I leaned forward and grinned, "You should try the elbow. That's very effective..."

The boys looked at me, and one of them took the opportunity to drive his elbow into the groin of one of his buddies.

"Fuck, you spazzer! You castrated me!" the victim screamed, making his friends roar with laughter. He grabbed the perpetrators groin and squeezed hard, prompting another fierce round of fighting accompanied by shrill screams and ecstatic laughter.

When the boys had gotten off at the next stop, Peter turned to me, red-faced, and mumbled, "You shouldn't have encouraged those boys to hurt each other's privates."

I chuckled. "Come on, Peter, they were just having fun."

Peter shook his head. "It's dangerous. And it's inappropriate. What would you think if those were your kids?"

I grinned,. "Oh please, they were just having fun..."

Peter nodded gravely. "Is it still fun if one of them loses their ability to procreate?"

I rolled my eyes.

We rode in silence for another ten minutes until we reached Peter's apartment. When I had put my bag in the guest room and freshened up, I joined Peter in the kitchen where I found him preparing a salad.

Surprisingly, we managed to have a rather smooth conversation about family stuff (How are our parents? How long have you been living in this apartment? How is your wife? Do you want to start a family?), and when we sat down for dinner in the dining room, I was feeling a lot less uncomfortable.

I didn't realize just how hungry I was until we sat down at the table. I finished my salad in not time.

Peter looked up and grinned. "You are hungry, huh? Don't worry, I have prepared Schnitzel and Potatoes..."

"Great", I smiled and watched Peter who was a much more civilized eater.

"So", Peter said, munching on his salad. "Are you seeing someone?"

I thought for a moment. "There is someone. We've just had our second date."

Peter looked down at his salad. "Why didn't you bring... them...?"

"It's too early for that", I said.

Peter nodded. "Do you think it could be a long-time thing?"

I shrugged.

"It's very important to have a stable relationship", Peter said. "Nina and I have been together for more than six years."

"Six years? Wow, that's great!"

Peter nodded. "So, if you ever feel like you want to introduce us to your... friend... then... well..."

"Thanks", I said. "I appreciate it."

Peter looked up at me and smiled. "Sure." He finished the salad and got up to clear the table.

I heard him putter around in the kitchen. "Can I help you with anything?" I shouted.

"No, thanks, everything is fine", he answered.

I got up and walked into the kitchen nevertheless.

When I opened the door, Peter had his back to me.

Just when I was standing next to him, Peter rather forcefully opened a drawer that was at crotch height. Why the hell do they design furniture like that? Are all those designers women?! Anyway, the clattering of the cutlery did very little to drown out the shriek I let out as the drawer connected with my nuts. The sharp end of it met my right nut dead-on and it felt as if Peter had stuck his fork into my testicle.

I moaned in pain, and Peter spun around, taken aback by what he saw. "Oh my, what happened?" he whispered as I doubled over, clutching my crotch.

"Right in the sack", I croaked, trying to smile as I was coping with the pain. "Congratulations. That was dead-on..."

Peter blushed. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

I tried to breathe normally, one hand on my knee, the other hand rubbing my aching nuts. "Didn't you say that this was dangerous?" I said, trying to make light of the situation.

Peter's face turned purple. "I'm so sorry! Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

I laughed. "Don't be stupid... I'll be alright in a minute."

"I'm so sorry!" Peter repeated, watching me squirm in pain. He looked extremely embarrassed.

"Man, you really got me good", I whispered. "Right in the right nut."

Peter grimaced, his face the color of a ripe tomatoe. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay", I groaned. "Accidents happen. But you sure knocked the life out of my nut!"

Peter's face couldn't get any redder. "Do you want me to get you a bag of ice?" he offered weakly.

I shook my head. "I'll be alright in a minute."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Sure", I said.

I watched him prepare our dinner from a safe distance, occasionally groaning when an afterwave of pain washed through my body. I noticed that Peter winced with every groan, and I couldn't help but smile at his discomfort.

Five minutes later, we were sitting in the dining room again.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, placing a schnitzel on my plate.

I raised my eyebrows.

"I mean, are your... you know... are they okay?" Peter blushed again.

"Oh, sure, don't worry", I said.

Peter shifted uncomfortably on his seat. He reached for the bowl of potatoes,

I smiled. "I wasn't planning on having sex tonight anyway..."

That comment was meant to ease the situation, but ironically, it manged to do just the opposite. Peter startled and knocked over the bowl, sending the potatoes flying all over the table, heading directly for my lap.

"Oh no", Peter whispered and quickly reached across the table to stop the potatoes from making contact with my junk.

At the same moment, I jumped up, trying to help him. It was the right thing to do - but it put my crotch right in the line of fire... The potato that hit my groin wasn't too bad. Much worse was Peter's fist, just having grabbed a potato, that slammed into my balls full force.

I yodelled in pain and stumbled backwards.

Peter was flat on the table, watching me in horror, a potato in each of his hands, while a few more of those cheeky vegetables dropped off the table.

"Fuck!" I screamed. "Bull's eye!"

Peter was devastated. "I'm so sorry", he whispered. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry..."

This time, I wasn't in the mood for calming him down. The pain in my crotch was too excruciating. The drawer had been bad - but now Peter had scored a perfect hit. I jumped up and down, howling in pain, before I collapsed on the ground, curling up in a ball.

"I'm so sorry", I heard Peter repeat again and again.

"My nuts!" I whimpered. "You crunched my fucking nuts!"

Peter groaned in sympathy. "I'm so--- Let me--- Wait--- Let me just---" He ran out of the room.

I rolled back and forth, trying to ease the pain.

A couple of minutes later, I was able to get up. Peter was nowhere in sight. I sat down at the table annd waited.

Finally, Peter came back, looking mortified. Apparently, he hadn't done anything, he had just waited outside until I was presentable again.

"I'm so sorry", he whispered, collecting the potatoes that were left on the table and putting them back into the bowl. The table was splattered with little pieces of potato.

"Well", I tried to smile. "At least this time you got both of them, righty and lefty..."

Peter blushed. "I'm---"

"I know", I said. "It's okay. I'm okay."

Peter nodded and reached for the bowl of potatoes. "Do you want me to---"

"Why don't you just stick a fork into my testicles right away and be done with it?" I joked.

Peter bit his lower lip and sat down. "Help yourself", he said weakly.

"You know", I said. "Maybe tomorrow we'll go out to eat something, huh? This is just too dangerous for my danglers..."

When we were finished eating, we decided to call it an early night. We met in the bathroom, just like we had when we were boys. Peter was wearing a pair of grey pajamas, while I had just left on my boxer briefs as usual.

We brushed our teeth side by side.

"Can I put my washbag here?" I asked, placing it on one of the shelves.

"Sure", Peter said. "Here are the towels." He opened a drawer, not without checking that my crotch was in safe distance. "And here is the hairdryer", he said, showing me an old-fashioned pale orange monstrosity.

"Great", I said.

When Peter wanted the hairdryer back onto the shelve, it slipped from his hand. He gasped and managed to grab it by the cord - but of course fate took its course...

We both watched in horror as the huge orangish thing made its way through the air, heading directly for my junk. My boxer briefs did very little to cushion the impact, and the hard plastic frame of the hairdryer swung into my junk in a very elegant arc.

I guess Peter had a much better view of the spectacle. My testicles were clearly outlined in my tight boxer briefs, both of them having already taken their fair share of pain today. But this incredibly improbable accident clearly took the cake. The hairdryer managed to squish both of my tender testicles into my groin, coming to an aprupt halt as it connected with my groin.

Peter's face went pale.

My vision blurred.

"I'm so sorry", I heard Peter whisper from far, far away, before I screamed from the top of my lungs.

"Fuuuuck!" I sank to my knees, reaching into my underwear to grab my nuts. "Fuuuuck! My fucking nuts!" I collapsed on the ground, writhing in pain, while Peter just stood there, the evil hairdryer in his hands.

After what seemed like eternity of eyewatering, mindnumbing pain, I managed to get up. "Fuck", I whispered.


Peter looked crestfallen.

"God, you really know how to hurt a guy", I whimpered. "If I ever have kids, they will come out cross-eyed..."

Peter blushed. "Good night", he mumbled and quickly walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

I hobbled into the guest room, but before I closed the door, I shouted, "If I had known what you'd do to me, I would have brought my cup!"

I heard Peter groan in embarrassment before I closed the door and gingerly climbed into my bed. This was definitely enough pain for the day...