Before they were Ballbusting Boys: The Little Fish by Harry

 Dear Ballbusting Family,

Harry is continuing the series of Before They Were Ballbusting Boys with this number. I wrote the first two parts, but this is such a sweet story (for ballbusting), and really hit the spot for me. In addition it's by one the best ballbusting writers out there Harry. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did!

Sincerely,

Jimmy

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Before They Were Ballbusting Boys

The Little Fish

 

“Bro!” Kev shook his head, exasperated. “I totally call bullshit! Seriously, Sammy, have you never gotten a physical before?”

 

In the Green Room of the BallBustingBoys studio, the studio’s stars were filming a trailer for their upcoming season. The theme was “Our First Times,” and the hotly disputed topic was whether the story Sammy contributed counted as ball busting or not.

 

Kev assumed that the skinny skate-dork had no idea what a hernia test was, and hunky frat boy looked around at his fellow jocks for confirmation. Ben, Cal, Logan, and Zack nodded their agreement. Sammy likewise looked to his skater buddies Leo and Tristan for support. They shrugged their shoulders, not sure what Kev’s problem was, or what he was talking about. The newest member of the studio, Gino Gomez, slouched a little lower in his chair to keep a low profile. He wasn’t sure exactly where he fit in yet, so he figured it was best not to take sides.

 

“The student nurse pinched them really hard though!” Sammy protested. The cute redhead’s ears were flushed from the memory of getting his bits manhandled. “She kept saying ‘Cough please, cough please’ and I was trying but I couldn’t, and her nails were digging…” Sammy trailed off. He looked like he was getting emotional.

 

Kev leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head, where his skimpy tank top made his biceps really pop. He looked down his nose at the skater boy and shook his head.

 

“Brooo-ooo,” he chided. “We had to get a physical every year to play varsity. Nothing to it, man! You just drop your sac in her hand. Bam! Then she tickles your boys a little. Then assuming your nuts are big enough, she invites you back into her office.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Or if your marbles are too small, she just gives them a pinch and sends you back to the skate park.”

 

The jocks in room boomed with laughter while Sammy and the other skaters glowered at the diss.

 

“And that, bro, is why you’re such a shit doctor to this day.” Kev concluded. He propped his feet up on the table, satisfied that he’d made his point.

 

Well after the tumult quieted down, the black-haired jock Ben was still quaking with laughter. “…because…their marbles…haha…too small…haha…” he pointed at Sammy, shaking his head. “Man, that must suck. The nurse sprained her wrist trying to lift mine last time,” he said, groping his junk through his jeans. The feel of his warm, heavy nads spread a happy smile over his handsome face.

 

Sammy’s narrow face was pinched and insulted, but now his green eyes shifted slyly toward Ben.

 

“So what should I do next time?” Sammy asked in a quavering voice. “Help me out…bro?”

 

“Easier to show than tell, little buddy,” Ben said, standing up and walking over to stand in front of Sammy. The redhead remained seated, and his eyes went wide as Ben opened his fly and pulled out his nuts just inches from his face.

 

Ben appreciated the respectful look on Sammy’s face, and he looked fondly down at his own fat gonads. He wiggled his hips to make his ripe fruits twitch, like it was the best trick anybody’d ever seen.

 

From the back of the room, Kev hooted: “Biggest balls in the room!” and Ben couldn’t detect any irony in the subsequent laughter. Meanwhile Sammy reached out tentatively toward the voluptuous plums that had been presented to him so generously.

 

“So, speaking as a Doctor,” Sammy began, “…um, that is to say, if I were a doctor…” he yammered away meekly until his fingers were wrapped firmly around Ben’s nuts. Then his green eyes flashed up and stared into Ben’s. Suddenly Sammy no longer looked sulky, and the quaver disappeared from his voice. Ben looked slowly between Sammy’s smirk and the fat balls in the skater boy’s grasp. His balls. The biggest balls in the room. Ben’s eyebrows shot up in alarm.

 

“…and if I squeezed here,” which he did, causing a sharp yelp from Ben. “…then if I rolled it around and pinched the other side…” which he also did, eliciting another small shriek from the muscular jock.

 

“…then that’s when I would invite you back into my office?” Sammy asked. “You are a big fella, after all,” he complimented. Ben nodded briskly as chuckles rolled around the room from the rest of the guys.

 

Gifted this unexpected opportunity, Sammy proceeded to pinch and prod and push and pull Ben’s fat nuts in every way he could imagine. He was so focused on his task that a light sheen of sweat broke out over his forehead. Ben raised up on his toes, holding a pose that might have even impressed the ballet dancer David. But the pressure did not relent. Ben’s head rolled back and he groaned up at the ceiling as his two favorite things in the word were mauled by Sammy’s slender fingers.

 

“Turn your head and…Ouch!” Sammy yelped, pulling his hand back suddenly. Both boys looked pained, but only one was genuine. “Your nuts sprained my wrist, asshole,” Sammy said accusingly. He rubbed his wrist and then reared back and slapped Ben directly across his sac. The smack rang off the walls as Ben sank slowly to his knees, cupping his naked, reddening balls. The jock’s brown puppy-dog eyes looked miserable.

 

Keeping his buddy’s back, Kev stomped forward and stared down Sammy. The brown-haired hunk looked pissed and grabbed the skinny skater by the front of his shirt. Sammy’s eyes were wide, but surprisingly he didn't back down. Then both young men grinned and stepped back from each other. They shook hands, and Sammy pulled out his wallet and handed Kev a twenty.

 

“Son of a bitch, I can’t believe that he would fall for it here of all places,” Sammy said, wringing his hands like he was re-living the weight of Ben’s testicles. “Totally worth twenty bucks though.” He looked down at Ben hungrily and groped his crotch.

 

“Never doubt that the Kev-ster will come though, good Doctor.” The frat boy pocketed his winnings and looked around the room. “Beer at my place later, dudes.” The guys all cheered, even the skaters. Gino looked around the room, amazed by how quickly alliances could shift. He would have to remember to stay on his toes around these guys if he didn’t want to leave with a sac full of mush.

 

“Actually,” Cal interrupted, “Ben’s physical reminded me of something: My boy Brandon’s first time.” The swim jock’s white smile flashed against his smooth, black skin, as if recalling a favorite memory. Then he grunted when an elbow stuck into his ribs from the young man next to him.

 

“Oh no, no, no,” Brandon challenged, “You are not gonna to tell my first time unless I tell yours. And from what I remember, you had yours first?” The best friends locked eyes, while the details of their first meeting coalesced in their minds.

 

“A’ight,” Cal agreed, raising his knuckles for a bump. “You’re up first.”

 

Brandon raised his knuckles to reciprocate, but Cal’s fist swung down like a hammer, smushing his bulge into his chair. The pain registered a moment later and Brandon’s dark eyes twitched as he stared forward rigidly. His full lips hung slightly open. 

 

“Aww man!” Cal laughed. “That’s the look! Bro, that look really takes me back!” Brandon cupped his crotch and said nothing, so Cal continued. “Ya’ll, I’m gonna kick this off since my boy here is feeling shy today. Come to think of it, he was shy on the day we met, too.”

 

**********************

 

Calvin looked out over the crowded cafeteria and sighed. He felt like the stereotypical new guy.

 

“If this is some kind of teen reality show, ya’ll better stop playing,” he mumbled under his breath and looked around the room suspiciously.

 

Moving to a new school always sucked. But moving during junior high had to be the worst. Everybody else had their friends already, had their routines, had their spots in the cafeteria.

 

Cal passed by a table of girls and couldn’t help notice them twittering and craning their necks in his direction. Probably gossiping about who the new guy was. Cal slowed his gait and beamed a smile around the whole table. From a young age he’d recognized the effect that his dimples had on girls, and girls at this school were no different. He observed a couple of them turn away shyly and whisper to each other, and the nearest girl was even bold enough to point directly at his crotch.

 

“Damn,” Cal gulped. “The females around here don’t waste time.” He put his shoulders back proudly under the microscope of their evaluation; he didn’t have anything to be shy about. He was a handsome young buck and tall for his age. He had even managed to skip over the worst pitfall of puberty—his chocolate brown skin was blessedly clear of blemishes.

 

As the nearest girl continued to point at him and some others began to giggle, Cal traced an invisible line from her manicured nail to his midsection. And he realized that she was not in fact pointing at his crotch, but rather at the lunchbox that he was holding next to his hip. Cal loved his Batman lunchbox. He’d had it since second grade, and at his old school it was his signature accessory. Girls there had thought he still carried it because he had a good sense of humor. But now as pair after curious pair of female eyes landed skeptically on him and his lunchbox, he was starting to wish he’d retired it back at the old school.

 

Suddenly self-conscious, Cal turned away from their mocking eyes and slouched down awkwardly in the first open seat that he found.

 

“Ok now I’m sure I’m getting Punk’d,” he grumbled to himself. He could hear the girls’ giggling a few tables over, and his face felt hot from embarrassment.

 

“Why? Are you famous?”

 

Cal looked up to find dark, almond shaped eyes blinking at him from behind giant lenses. Observing the taped frame of the Asian boy’s glasses and the bowl haircut that he was sporting, Cal knew he was doomed.

 

“Oh my god please don’t tell me I’m at the nerds’ table.” He looked left and right anxiously. To his relief, he was not surrounded by nerds. But unfortunately there was nobody else at the table at all.

 

Cal’s new companion raised an eyebrow at the insult. He glanced at Cal’s lunchbox and snickered.

 

“Holy peanut butter sandwich, Batman! Are we under attack by nerds?” the boy dead-panned. 

 

Cal was not used to being mocked and he glowered at the impertinent boy. But he noticed the playful glint in his companion’s eye and chuckled despite himself. So he resigned himself to a lunch at the nerds’ table.

 

“I’m Cal,” he said, holding out knuckles.

 

“Brandon,” the smaller boy said, accepting the truce. “And you can sit here as long as you acknowledge that Batman is inferior to Spiderman, like DC is inferior to Marvel.”

 

Cal’s brown eyes bugged out of his head. The nerve of this kid was crazy. “Bro, there are some things that you just do not say…” he paused mid-rant, noticing Brandon’s tee shirt. “Hey, do you swim for the team?”

 

“Yep,” Brandon answered, appraising Cal’s muscular arms as he dug into his lunch. “Let me guess: football for you?”

 

“Uh, actually I was gonna go out for swimming. I was on the team at my old school and it’s pretty dope.”

 

“My MAN!” Brandon’s face lit up. “An aqua-jock and a comics dweeb?” He looked around conspiratorially from behind his enormous glasses like maybe he was the one getting Punk’d. “What’s your 100 time?”

 

“54.6”

 

Cal spoke with a mouth full of peanut butter, so Brandon assumed he heard wrong. “No seriously, what’s your time?”

 

Cal swallowed and took a drink of milk. “You mean 100 Free, right? 54.6. What kind of time do you guys do?”

 

Brandon snorted, neither believing nor disbelieving that a guy his age could post that kind of time. He studied Cal intently with his chin on his fist and opted to test out the new guy a little more.

 

“I’ll trade you this Twinkie for your Ding Dong.”

 

“Hell no.” Cal leaned back in his seat with crossed arms. “What fool wants a Twinkie instead of Ding Dong?”

 

“Touché.” Brandon reached out and they bumped knuckles again.

 

As the lunch period passed, Brandon felt more and more like he’d met a long-lost brother. Just so happened that his long-lost brother happened to be a foot taller than him and Black.

 

“So are you coming out to practice today?” Brandon asked as the bell rang.

 

“Uh, I hadn’t planned on it,” Cal shrugged. “But I guess there’s no time to waste.”

 

“Did you bring your gear?”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“For swim practice.”

 

“Oh. I usually just wear my gym shorts. And goggles don’t fit me very well, so no biggie.”

 

Brandon paused, aghast at the idea that his new friend could swim a 54.6 in freaking gym shorts.

 

“Bad call, bro. The Big Fish is not gonna like that.” Brandon warned ominously.

 

“The who?” Cal laughed, but Brandon’s face was serious.

 

“The Big Fish. He’s the top swim stud. He runs practice, and he will smell blood in the water if you show up to practice in gym shorts. You don’t want to cross him.” 

 

Cal frowned. It sucked not knowing the etiquette at a new school.

 

“But not to worry. Since we’re friends, I’ll hook you up. Report to the pump room next to the lockers at 3:30, and I’ll get you some team speedos. And then—if you’re really, really lucky—I’ll show you the most unforgettable parts of the school.” Brandon winked conspiratorially.

 

Cal had no idea what his new friend was implying, but he shrugged and agreed. Brandon added, “And then tomorrow, you’ll trade me a Ding Dong for a Twinkie, right?” The mischievous glint had reappeared in the Asian boy’s eye.

 

Cal rolled his eyes. “Better be unforgettable.”

 

*************

 

Cal stared at the Pump Room door. The institutional gray paint had been marked with a crude pen drawing of a shark. It’s mouth was all teeth and it was consuming several tiny fish.

 

“The Big Fish…” Cal muttered. Just his luck that new schools always seemed to be populated by big egos. Bravely, he pushed the door open and stepped forward.

 

Although the steamy, humming mechanical room was little more than a closet, somebody had taken the time to set up a desk against one wall. The guy seated at the desk was shirtless, and his powerful shoulders and pecs spoke to dedicated training in the pool. His bare feet were propped up on the desk, and he regarded Cal with challenging, dark eyes.

 

“Mother fucker,” Cal exhaled, his anxiety vanishing as he stepped into the room. “How are you gonna play me like that, after I did you the favor of having lunch with your ass?”

 

Brandon smirked. Perhaps the steam and the stench of chlorine agreed with him, but either way the nerd from the cafeteria had been transformed. His glasses and oversized tee shirt were gone, revealing a tight, muscular torso and the swagger of a stud-in-the-making.

 

“Fool, did you think there was another Big Fish around here?” Brandon taunted lightly, bumping knuckles with Cal. He flipped the newbie a team speedo. “I guessed at the size, but that should work. Get changed quick and we’ll be first in the pool.”

 

Cal stared at the skimpy lycra in his hand. It seemed impossibly small. His rational mind knew that serious swimmers wore stuff like this, but he’d hoped irrationally that he could just keep wearing gym shorts. He looked at Brandon. His new friend was stretching out while wearing a suit that matched the one Cal was holding. The suit fit Brandon like a glove, stretching over his toned glutes in the back, and bulging impressively in the front. The ridges of Brandon’s abs tapered down into the top of his suit, and the neat V shape made his junk look full and mature. Some guys their age developed late and weren’t so lucky. But the macho sight reassured Cal, and he dropped his shorts to change.

 

“You’ll probably notice that we always size down. ‘Cuz the high school guys do. My brother says if you show a little crack, it intimidates the other…” Brandon trailed off. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his new friend step tentatively into the tight speedo. The profile of Cal’s cock and balls swayed heavily between his legs, and the view made Brandon’s jaw drop open. Even when he’d trained with the senior team, Brandon had never seen such a long, fat cock. And for the junior team, it was even more prodigious.

 

“Holy secret weapon, Batman,” Brandon mouthed silently. His unsophisticated teenage brain was pulled between admiration and jealousy and back again. Even for a good-natured guy like Brandon, it was a little hard to take that this new kid would not only have a better 100 Free time — in fucking gym shorts — but would so far outrank him between the legs. Where it mattered most, according to the older guys.

 

Meanwhile Cal was struggling. He’d gotten the skimpy suit up over his strong quads, but there just didn’t seem to be enough fabric to cover his ass and his junk at the same time. Each time he tugged in one direction, something got caught on the other side.

 

“It’s too small, bro,” Cal whined. He dropped his hands to his hips in resignation with the globes of his ass still hanging over the back of the suit.

 

There were voices outside the door, other swimmers making their way from the lockers to the pool deck. Brandon looked anxiously in the direction of the door. “Okay, it’s not gonna fit like gym shorts. Swimmers always size down.” He walked over behind Cal and gripped the back of the suit.

 

“Anyway there’s something special about this room that I want to show you.” Brandon’s eyes glinted again. “So we don’t have all day to fuss about our uniforms.” With that he gave a great heave upwards, nearly lifting the taller boy off his feet. It was hard work, but he was gratified when Cal’s muscular glutes tucked into the snug suit. Cal was less happy about his buddy’s assist, since the taut fabric flossed his crotch at the front, causing his fat nuts to pop out either side of the suit. He wailed loudly.

 

Not understanding what all the fuss was about, Brandon covered his mouth from behind. “Ssshh, the Big Fish will hear you.”

 

“Mmmprggh…”

 

Brandon released Cal and turned him around.

 

“I thought YOU were the Big Fish,” Cal whispered accusingly, while he fumbled with his uncooperative equipment. 

 

“Not exactly,” Brandon admitted sheepishly. “But I will be some day. Now stop playing with yourself and...”  Brandon noticed the fat gonads poking out from under the seams of Cal’s suit. He rolled his eyes. Brandon was not about to let his new friend’s oversized junk get them both in trouble with the Big Fish.

 

With audacity that made Cal’s jaw drop, Brandon cupped his nuts and began to pry them inside the tight suit. He couldn’t believe that this nerd he’d just met today was holding him by his nads. His soft brown eyes gaped at Brandon as his sensitive orbs finally squished into the speedo. A wheezing breath stuck in Cal’s throat as throbbing pain roiled through his midsection. Brandon stood back to inspect his work.

 

“Perfe…” Brandon was interrupted by the soft plopping sound of Cal’s meaty schlong escaping the top of the waistband. He glared at Cal, who looked back helplessly.

 

Brandon stomped his foot in exasperation. “Ok, now you’re just trying to show off…”

 

Just then there was a scrape at the door and a deep voice just outside. “Go get them started, I’ll be right there. Tell Lane Six they better not play around either, or I’ll know about it.”

 

“Shit,” Brandon looked desperately around the room, as if he might conjure an exit out of thin air. “The Big Fish! You’ve got to hide.”

 

“Me?” Cal pointed at himself, bewildered. “What did I do?” He didn’t move.  

 

Brandon heard the scrape of the door knob. He gritted his teeth, looked apologetically at his new friend, and then used the nuclear option. He rammed his knee up into Cal’s bulging speedos, completely wrecking the jock-boy’s plums. In the process he undid all their hard work, since the contents of Cal’s skin-tight suit were again squeezed out in all directions. The scream died silently in Cal’s throat, and he folded like a wet towel. He rolled on the cold tile floor, coming to a stop behind one of the large pumps. Hidden by the drone of the machinery, Cal tasted the epic, nauseating pain of his first real blow to his nuts. He felt sweaty and shivery and was sure of only one thing: he would never be able to stand up again.

 

The door opened and the real Big Fish stepped into the pump room. Brandon turned around just in time and pasted a grin on his face. “Hey bro!”

 

“B,” the Big Fish nodded curtly. “What are you doing in here again?”

 

“Uuh, just…killing time before practice.”

 

“Are you sure you weren’t looking…”

 

“Oh definitely not! No way. Actually I don’t even know what you mean?” Brandon smiled weakly.

 

“Huh. Because you remember what I told you would happen if you perved on the girls again, right?” The Big Fish’s deep voice sounded like he was used to being obeyed.

 

“My fucking balls…” came a plaintive voice from behind the pumps.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Um, nothing!” Brandon said hurriedly. “And anyway, I’d totally forgotten where the peep hole was. That is I’d forgotten about the peep hole altogether. Is there even a peep hole here?” he finished lamely, then decided it was better to shut up.

 

The Big Fish was going to respond, but a dull hammering sound from below the pipes made both boys pause. Brandon chewed his lip while the Big Fish walked around the back of the mechanical equipment. Cal was easily discovered, as he was slowly banging his head against a pipe to distract himself from the agony in his testicles. Having never been hurt in his balls before, Cal couldn’t understand how the pain could spread so cunningly through the rest of his body. His legs were closed so tight around his hands that he was probably cutting off his own circulation. Then a strong hand around the back of his neck hauled the nauseous jock to his feet.

 

Cal found himself face to face with an older version of Brandon. The Big Fish had the same angular jaw and dark, almond-shaped eyes as the younger boy. But his pecs and shoulders rippled with muscle, and his abs popped in a way that Cal and Brandon could only hope to one day achieve. It was obvious that he was Brandon’s older brother.

 

“Hi,” Cal said hoarsely. He raised a hand to give knuckles, but the Big Fish didn’t reciprocate. By moving his hand away from his crotch, Cal had inadvertently revealed that barely any of his impressive boyhood remained inside his speedo. Noticing his mistake, he covered up again in embarrassment.

 

The Big Fish’s eyes narrowed on Brandon. “So you want to tell me again how you didn’t know there was a peep hole in here?” he asked rhetorically, nodding at Cal’s exposed cock. “And who’s your pervy friend?”

 

Brandon’s eyes shifted. “His name’s Wayne. But he goes by Bruce.” Cal ground his teeth but didn’t dare say anything, while Brandon paused for dramatic effect. “And his 100 time is 54.6.”

 

Both brothers turned to Cal for verification.

 

“Uuh, yea. That’s what I hit last month at my old school.” He looked at the Big Fish. “I think I can do better here though.”

 

Brandon’s serious-looking brother looked sufficiently impressed. He beckoned Cal forward. “Okay Bruce. I’ll give you a shot. But two things.” Cal was nodding vigorously, feeling like he was close to getting off the hook of whatever faux pas he was supposed to have committed. “First, never come into my office without permission. There are important…team secrets…here you’re not prepared for yet.” The Big Fish had a mischievous glint in his eye that made him look exactly like Brandon.

 

“Second,” he stooped down and pinched the front of Cal’s speedo, where his heavy nuts were still hanging out. “This is a co-ed team, Bruce. Show some respect, man.” He let the taut fabric snap back against Cal’s nads with a stinging thwack. Cal shrieked like baby and curled up to cuddle his abused junk. But miraculously, his full endowment was now contained inside the tight lycra. Finally, the suit fit.

 

“Now get out there, Bruce, you’re late. 500 warm up at 60% and then 5x100s on the 115. B, you stay here. You have some explaining to do.”

 

Cal nodded. He bumped knuckles with Brandon and limped out of the pump room, cupping his junk. As he was closing the door he heard Brandon begin to plead, “Steven, in case you’re mad, just…”

 

***********

 

The cool water felt amazing on Cal’s skin, and it did wonders for the throbbing pain in his speedo pouch. Although he was slowed by his freshly racked nuts, Cal was easily able to keep up with his new teammates. And while he would miss his gym shorts, Cal had to admit that the rush of the water over his tightly packed suit made him feel like a man. He was never more in his element than when he trained hard, and by the end of practice, his worries about his new school had been soothed by the satisfying burn of a hard sprint.

 

At the final whistle, Cal pulled himself up to the deck with a single, smooth push. He looked around but didn’t see Brandon anywhere. And now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen him all through practice either. He was bummed, because he’d been curious to see how his new friend handled himself in the water.

 

As Cal made his way back toward the locker room, the line of athletes seemed to file more slowly than necessary. Like there was some kind of traffic jam. He stood on his toes, curious about the delay. A group of girls was crowded around the door to the Big Fish’s “office,” but he couldn’t see what they were doing. 

 

“Hey, keep your hands off of my…” The voice was familiar to Cal. He pressed in closer.

 

The girls moved on toward their lockers on the far side of the pump room, so the boys were able to proceed along the other side. But again the pace was slow, since each boy paused at the office door. Cal could hear banging, laughing, and squealing but still couldn’t tell what the commotion was about.

 

However as he got closer, Cal saw the source of the delay; he winced sympathetically. Brandon was hanging from the knob of the pump room door by the back of his speedo. He was short enough that his bare feet kicked a couple inches above the floor, and his full weight appeared to be supported by his tight suit. The lycra rode up over his young manhood, leaving nothing to the imagination of his classmates who passed by. Scrawled in marker across the unfortunate aqua-jock’s chest was an unambiguous message: “HORNY LITTLE FISH.” Apart from his team speedo, the only other thing Brandon wore was a swim cap, which was pulled down over his eyes.

 

As the teen athletes retuned to their respective locker rooms, each boy and girl walked by the helpless Brandon. Some just ignored the kicking jock-boy, but others teased him and mocked his thrashing reactions. The girls dared each other to pinch his small, dark nipples or tickle his ribs. Most of the guys were happy to test his abs with a punch or poke him in the nuts. Cal recognized one particularly bold girl from the cafeteria. She had her friend take a picture while she ran her nails up across Brandons’ cock head. The revealing suit made it easy for her to tease the sensitive underside of his shaft, making him squirm like crazy. All the attention made Brandon harden inevitably, and his pulsing erection threatened to break out of the lycra waistband at any moment. His voice was breaking as he hollered for them to stop touching him. As soon as she got her pic, the girl moved on without another thought.

 

Ouch, thought Cal. Not the kind of pic that’s gonna get you much play, buddy. Despite almost getting his balls broken by the guy earlier, Cal felt badly for his new friend. Girls mocking his boner was not going to get Brandon promoted from the nerds’ table any time soon. Or—by association—Cal himself. Shit.

 

Cal was trying to push his way through the crowd when the next boy stepped forward. Cal didn’t like his look, and his instinct was proved right when the boy grabbed Brandon right between his legs. He pulled out and up, straining the wedgied speedo, essentially hoisting Brandon by his nuts. His stretched sac was clearly visible and being pulled away from his body. The claw hold finally pulled down the waistband of the stretchy suit over the glistening head of Brandon’s erection. The situation could hardly have been any more humiliating for the young swim-jock, but his antagonist was going to try.

 

“Turn your head and cough, nerd boy,” the bully said, leering around like he had made a clever joke. Brandon’s cheeks flushed under his covered eyes. But he didn’t obey.

 

The jock squeezed harder, making Brandon gasp as the pointy fingers dug into his tender eggs. “I said, turn your head and cough,” the bully repeated, becoming impatient for the punchline. Brandon was moaning from the relentless mashing of his spuds, but he was in no position to do anything about it.

 

Then without warning the bully found himself thrown up against the wall. Cal’s forearm was pressed against the boy’s windpipe, his face inches away from the boy’s nose.  

 

“Maybe you should cough, jerk.”

 

The boy stared up at the new guy. Cal was several inches taller than himself, and nobody had failed to notice what a stud he was in the water.

 

“Cough,” Cal repeated. When the boy meekly obliged, he released him and let him scurry back to the locker room. Cal’s intervention seemed to break the spell. The other teens quickly went back about their business, leaving Cal and Brandon alone.

 

“I know you’re still there,” Brandon yelled vaguely. “Do your worst, assholes.” His voice broke a little at the end.

 

Cal leaned forward until Brandon could feel his breath over his bare chest. “Funny meeting you here, Boy Wonder,” he said.

 

Brandon gave a relived pant and stopped squirming. He caught his breath for a moment, while Cal pulled the swim cap up from over his eyes. Brandon’s dark eyes were a little teary but defiant. Cal would have expected his new friend to to be somewhat humbled by his recent experience, but Brandon shrugged it off quickly. 

 

“Holy cunning plan, Batman,” Brandon said wiggling his eyebrows. “I’ve got them just where I want them.” He lowered his voice. “Now that they’re all distracted, there’s something very important that I need to show you behind. This. Door.” He gestured emphatically in the direction of the pump room.

 

Cal’s brown eyes went wide. “Is there really a peep hole to the girls’ lockers?” he whispered.

 

“You have much to learn, newbie,” Brandon nodded sagely. “Now, can you maybe get me off of this doorknob? The nuts in my throat are making it hard to talk,” he said in a squeaky voice. 

 

************

 

Around the Green Room, the cast of BallBustingBoys hooted their approval of Cal’s story. Mischief, mayhem, and mangled nuts—all of their favorite things.

 

But seated next to Cal, his best friend Brandon rolled his eyes dismissively. “What a bunch of bullshit,” he said in a bored tone.

 

Cal looked totally offended. “What do you mean? That’s exactly how it went down.”

 

“Oh really? That I was a total nerd and you had to save me like freaking Batman?” The Asian swim-stud snorted at the preposterousness of what he himself was saying. “Not to mention you definitely never swam a 54.6 in junior high…”

 

“Bro! Don’t get all salty just because puberty forgot about you until…”

 

Cal was interrupted when Brandon threw a backhand forcefully into his unguarded basket. His soft brown eyes crossed as he cupped himself. “My nuts…” he whined in a low voice.

 

With that, all hell broke loose in the studio, and Brandon’s version of the events was drowned in the pool of sac-whacking chaos.