Painful training (Hiro meets Phil)

Special thanks to Hiro for the idea for this story! If you (yes, I mean you, the one who enjoys some ballbusting bad luck!) would like to meet the Ballbusting Boys and see yourself in a story please read this post for more details.

Featured in this story: Phil (click for pictures)

Note: I know that I have been inconsistent in my usage of the terms soccer and football. In this story I’ll use the word ‘football’ for the wonderful sport known as soccer in the US. :-))

Warning: Can contain traces of cum.

Phil scratched his head. “Well, if you have never kicked a ball I guess we should start with that”, he mumbled, placing the football on the ground. Despite his youth, 18 year old Phil was an experienced, seasoned football player. He had grown up in Britain as a football wunderkind, and he had recently transferred to a US club for an amount of money that had broken North American records.

He was a handsome young man, at the top of his game, very athletic, with red hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a tight-fitting green jersey, shorts and cleats.

Inexplicably, he had been given the task of showing the new guy around. He had tried to argue with the coach but his legitimate protest had been misinterpreted as childish defiance. It had backfired spectacularly. Now he was stuck with the new guy and looking forward to two hours of locker room duty next week after practice. His mood was accordingly.



The new guy’s name was Hiro, and he was 18 years old like Phil. He was Japanese but his English was impeccable.

“Sounds good”, Hiro said with a smile. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

They were standing at the center circle of the football field.

Phil rolled his eyes. He placed his hands on his hips. “Just kick the bloody football.”

Hiro shrugged and did as he was told. It wasn’t a bad kick for a newbie, and it landed right on target, hitting Phil square in the groin. The short distance and the considerable force behind Hiro’s kick spelled doom for Phil’s chances of ever fathering children, and the look of surprise and shock on Phil’s face said that the young Brit knew it.

Phil’s eyes bulged and his cheeks puffed.

“Ooops”, Hiro said with a sheepish smile.

Phil’s left eye twitched as he tried to maintain his composure. His hand wandered to his knees and he bent over, breathing heavily.

“Sorry”, Hiro added.

Phil nodded silently.

“Bloody hell”, he finally blurted out, his face pale. “Right in the bollocks.”

“I’m really sorry”, Hiro said, grimacing in sympathy. “I---"

“My fault”, Phil croaked. “I stood in the way. My fault entirely.”

He fetched the ball and placed it in front of Hiro. This time, Phil took a couple of steps back and made sure to cover his crotch before asking Hiro to kick it.

It was an admirable kick passed a considerable distance before landing on the ground and bouncing right into the goal.

“Wow”, Phil chuckled. Like every passionate sportsman he knew talent when he saw it. And Hiro was definitely talented. “Not bad, mate.” He smiled awkwardly, realizing that he had been an asshole and that it wasn’t Hiro’s fault that he had been chosen to show him around.

A joke was the perfect way to break the ice, Phil thought. He grinned and grabbed his crotch. “If that had hit me in the bollocks there would be nothing left of them, huh?”

They both laughed, sharing a moment of genuine male bonding.

“Talk about kicking balls”, Phil grinned.

Hiro raised his eyebrows. Then he shrugged and brought his leg back before slamming it into Phil’s crotch. Hiro’s foot connected perfectly with Phil’s nuts, flattening them like pancake.

The kick took Phil entirely by surprise and the young Brit’s face turned white as the pain spread through his body.

“My bollocks”, he whispered in toneless voice as he doubled over in pain. “Why did you do that?” There was a comically high pitched tone which was further proof that Hiro had scored a perfect hit.

“But--- You asked me to”, Hiro mumbled, looking confused. “Right?”

“Why would I do that?” Phil groaned, rubbing his groin.

“I--- I don’t know”, Hiro said. “Didn’t you say something about kicking your balls?”

Phil groaned. “I said, ‘talk about kicking balls’”, he said. “It means---”

He was rudely interrupted by another kick to his testicles. Despite the fact that Phil’s hand was in the way, the tip of Hiro’s foot managed to connect with Phil’s tender nuggets dead-on, making Phil howl in agony.

Phil sank to his knees, clutching his balls, doubling over in pain. “Stop kicking my balls!” he croaked. “Please! Just stop!”

“I’m so sorry!” Hiro said quickly. “I--- I must have heard you wrong again!”

It took a while until Phil was able to get up again. Grimacing, he rubbed his aching nuts, walking gingerly as he tried to create some distance between Hiro and him.

Hiro apologized profusely, explaining that while it might seem like he had a good grip on the English language there were certain linguistic traps that could cause misunderstandings.

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it”, Phil mumbled, clutching his nuggets.

Unfortunately, as they toured the premises, there were several instances where misunderstandings led to pain on Phil’s part.

“God, you have a lot to learn”, Phil groaned, his face buried in the grass after Hiro had accidently kicked him in the nuts while trying to play the ball.

“Yeah, you are right”, Hiro mumled, smiling sheepishly.

“At least you’re hitting the balls”, Phil quipped, grimacing.

He instantly regretted his little joke because Hiro took it as a request, delivering a nut-crunching kick to poor Phil’s rapidly swelling balls.

Phil yodeled in pain as he curled up in a fetal position, writhing in pain.

Hiro watched him. “That wasn’t a request, right?” he said after a long, long pause.

“No, it wasn’t. It certainly wasn’t”, Phil whimpered.

There were some more instances of accidental nut pain, most notably when Phil had Hiro attempt to shoot at the goal. Phil’s goalie qualities were seriously questioned when Hiro nailed him square in the nuts three times in a row.

“Sorry!” Hiro raised his hand, smiling sheepishly.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re doing this on purpose”, Phil moaned, clutching his balls, doubled over in pain in between the goal posts.

By now, Phil’s balls were seriously swollen inside his pants. He was walking bow-legged, wincing with every step.

The pain was almost unbearable – but it was nothing compared to what was about to follow.

After Phil decided that being a goalie was too dangerous for his reproductive success they switched to a one on one football duel. At first it seemed that this decision was nothing but beneficial for his tortured testicles – but that turned out to be wrong.

Ironically, it wasn’t Hiro’s fault that Phil’s chances of ever fathering children were subject to a considerable reduction. It was a disaster of Phil’s own making, aided by a bit of bad luck and the fact that his testicles had already received more blows than the lone male trainer at a cheerleading camp.

It was an astounding sequence of events, not unlike a slapstick choreography.

Hiro and Phil were fighting for the ball, and Phil managed to snatch it and go for the goal. When he delivered the shot, he slipped on the grass and the ball bounced away. Unfortunately, Phil didn’t just fall, which would have been painful enough. Instead he slammed into the goal post, nuts first, crotching himself on the post.

There was a loud CLANK when Phil’s body connected with the post, followed by a moment of silence before a SPLISH SPLASH SPLISH indicated that this nutshot was different from the others.

Phil was frozen in agony, his face a mask of pain, as his body convulsed and his balls released their precious load into his pants.

Maybe it was because his testicles feared that this could be their end, maybe they wanted to prove that they weren’t useless, maybe it was just a scientifically inevitable result of a fateful combination of gravity, biology and force.

Hiro watched, an amused expression on his face, as Phil came into his pants, breathing heavily as jet after jet of perfectly good gravy was wasted, soaking his football uniform.

For obvious reasons, they decided to end the tour right then and there.

Hiro helped Phil get back to the locker rooms.

They passed a couple of Phil’s team mates who couldn’t help but smack him in the nuts, mocking his sorry state and the wet patch in his crotch.

They took a shower together.

Phil’s nuts were ridiculously swollen and beet red, and soaping them was quite painful.

Back in the locker room, Hiro switched on the TV before getting dressed.

Suddenly, Phil spotted a familiar face on the news. He turned up the volume.

“… in one of the priciest transfers of the season. After all those successes in the Japanese league he hopes to find more fame and success in the United States …”

Phil’s jaw dropped. “You’re not a beginner?”

Hiro chuckled as he buttoned his shirt. “Don’t take it personally. We were just having a bit of fun.”

Phil blinked. He was bare naked, standing in the middle of the room, stunned, his red balls dangling between his legs.

Hiro winked at him. Then he grabbed a towel and snapped it at Phil’s balls.

It hit his sack dead-on.

The SMACK of the impact echoed through the locker room, followed by Phil’s anguished wail as he sank to his knees and rolled to his side, kicking his legs writhing in pain.

Hiro chuckled. “Damn, we’re gonna have fun. Your pained face is such a turn on…”

With that, he walked out, leaving Phil behind, clutching his battered balls.

“See you in training”, Hiro said matter-of-factly.

The door closed.

Phil let out a whimper. “See you in training.”