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A commission for \n\t\t\t\t\twatchythecat

Posted earlier on the Unfortunut Subscribestar!", "writing": "Know Your Place\nI accept the hunk of roasted meat from you, leaning back against the cave wall. I bite into it, my thick tiger fangs sinking into the soft, juicy flesh, and peeling away a hunk with a soft tearing sound. I saw you watching as I chewed, rending the thick wad of muscle into chunks small enough to swallow. My throat bulged as I gulped it down, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.\n\n\n\"One bite? Really?\" You ask, your lips pulled back in a tight line of disappointment. \"I worked really hard on that. You could have at least tasted it.\"\n\n\n\"It was delicious,\" I say, as I lick my lips. It was. \"You're a good cook. You'll make a fine wife for someone someday.\" I enjoy watching you bristle from my compliment. Cute. \"You have no idea why I'm here, do you.\"\n\n\n\"None,\" you say, as you take a dainty bite from your own hunk of meat. Your short fangs must not be as good at tearing flesh as mine are. Noted.\n\n\n\"I know you want your balls gone,\" I saw, and hold up my paw to stop you as you try to interrupt me. \"I'm going to provide that service for you.\"\n\n\n\"I most certainly do not want my balls 'gone',\" you say, glaring up at me from where you are sitting on the ground. It makes me want to smack you. \"I'm a man, and a man needs his balls.\"\n\n\n\"Real men do,\" I agree, then gesture to you in general. \"You are barely a man, though, aren't you? Shh-shh-shh,\" I say, shushing you before you can protest. \"You don't have to acknowledge it, but there's no point in protesting it. You're worthless as a male, so I'm going to make things right. As a favor. A favor for you.\"\n\n\n\"Absolutely not, and you can leave,\" you snarl, a deep growl accompanying the request. \n\n\n\"Easy there,\" I say, as I reached down and grasp you by the back of your neck. Your thick dark mane fills my palm, and I search past it, grasping the loose skin of the scruff of your neck instead. \"This is gonna be a lot easier if you just let it happen.\"\n\n\n\"The fuck it will!\" you say, your hand swaping at my face. Dogs don't have retractable claws, which results in them being duller than cat claws. I dodge backwards, tugging at your fur to pull you off balance, but you're already jumping to your feet. \nYou're a big guy, and as you wrench your weight around, a fist coming at my face, I have to let you go and guard myself. I put an arm up, and too late realize that you're snapping your jaws at me. Pain sizzles up from my forearm as your jaws chomp down into my flesh, just beneath the elbow. I grunt and push forward, jamming my arm deeper into your mouth and pushing with my own bulk to knock you off guard. \n\n\nYour knee slams into my gut, and I know you aimed for my groin but the angling was off. I slam you into the wall behind you, rocks shuddering loose from the rough-hewn wall of your cavern, and feel a fresh hot burn of pain as your claws dig into the white fur of my chest, gouging and tearing downwards. \n\n\n\"Listen, you little bitch,\" I snarl, thrusting my chest against your arm and using it to pin your arm between our bodies. \"You're fighting for nothing, Matchy. Your balls are already forfeit, all you're doing it hurting yourself!\"\n\n\nYou were hurting me, too, technically, but that was irrelevant. You were half-feral at this point, kicking with your leg, repeatedly digging your toe-claws into my shins with hard sharp strikes, until I managed to slide off ot the side, just enough to give Matchy the idea that he could wriggle free. He elbowed me in the snout, hard enough that I felt something in my mouth crack, and then violently rolled onto his hands and knees, scrambling to get up to your feet to 'claim dominance'. Exactly as I predicted. \n\n\nI lunge first, my chest wet with blood as I slam into your back, my hand finding your throat. I grip, hold, and manage to snake my other arm around your throat neck from behind. You thrash, crunching your elbow into my ribs. I can't dodge it or deflect it because my arm's around your throat, but my other arm is free, and now I reach down past your belly. I ignore your chubby erection, the steel-hard flesh rubbing against my wrist as I reach past it, and instead wrap my orange-furred fingers around the bulk of your warm, soft scrotum.\n\n\nYou go completely stiff as you feel that, your balls in the grip of a predator, a tiger, me, cupping and squeezing them in an almost friendly matter. This happened frequently with dudes being confronted with the destruction of their own masculinity. It usually lasted a couple seconds, as they tried to play dead, to fawn in the hopes that the threat around their testicles would leave on its own. Of course, that's not going to happen, and as you feel my fingers tighten around the neck of your scrotum, a fresh surge of resistance erupted from inside you.\n\n\n\"GET OFF!\" You shout, and I work with you to get to your feet, letting my weight rest on top of you, setting your center of balance off. \"THEY'RE MINE, YOU FUCKING MONO BALLER!\"\n\n\nI'd heard worse, but I tightened my grip around your neck anyways, your protests choked off into gargling groans. You sank your fingers into my arm, raking and gouging claws into the striped flesh, trying to pull it free so that you could escape. It didn't work, and after a few moments you reached blindly up and behind you, going for my eyes. I could hear your scream vibrating through my arm, but it was too late. \n\n\nWe both felt the tension in your scrotum as my fingers clenched down tightly, tight enough that your puny little grapes couldn't slither free, and then pulled them free. The scrotum did its best, stretching into a long thin band between my hand and your groin, your cock throbbing and straining with all its might as the two berries that fueled it were plucked away from it. Admittedly, while I felt the feeling of the balls coming loose in my paw to be quite satisfying, it was probably more painful for you, feeling that part of your body being physically, violently, unforgivingly removed from your presence. That sensation of tearing, of flesh peeling away, of cords snapping and - even worse - the sensation of nothing that replaced the pain, as what had been there was there no longer. That must have sucked. \n\n\nYou just kind of melted, then. All the aggression, the fronting, the little masculine performance you had been doing for years, ended. You were castrated, and even if you didn't want to believe it, you could see your ball-sack and the two bulges of your balls still inside it, dangling from my fist. I lifted it up in front of you, so that you could see them nice and clear, could smell the salty musk of your own crotch, now removed. \n\n\nI felt the sob that wracked your body then, and I knew you weren't going to try and hurt me anymore. I relaxed my grip around your throat, letting my arm slide down your chest to grip snugly around your belly. I tugged you back, letting you collapse against me, keeping you from sliding to the floor.\n\n\n\"Isn't that better?\" I asked, and in response you turned, burying your chest in the bloody fur of my chest. It was. I wrapped my other arm around you, snugging you close and letting you purge out the last of that masculine hysteria from your body. I stroked down your back, feeling your own arms wrapping around my chest, hugging me back, thankfully. I could feel your tongue as you lapped apologetically at the gash on my chest, probably regretting having lashed out.\n\n\n\"Yeah, it's all better now,\" I consoled. I paused, just hugging around you, nice and snug, stroking the back of your head with my one paw. \"That was really tough for you, but it's over now. You don't have to worry about being a male anymore.\"\n\n\nYou didn't say anything, merely whimpering in relief, or shock. Maybe both. I carefully helped you lay back down, getting you to lay on your back before you swooned from the realization that you were no longer ever going to have to pretend to be an alpha male anymore. You pushed your head against my belly, rubbing your forehead and cheek through my fur apologetically. I could feel you hugging me tightly, desperately, and I patted along your head in a soothing way.\n\n\n\"It's fine, little gelding. It's fine,\" I said, brushing my calloused fingers through your long hair, stroking my paws along your big doggy ears. \"You just did what every male is required to do, to keep their masculinity. You didn't do anything I wasn't expecting. You're not the first turbo brat that I've needed to clip before they got themselves in trouble.\"\n\n\n\"I'm not a brat,\" you said, a small smile lifting up the corners of your lips. You reach up to wipe at your eyes. \"Actually, I should kill you for-\"\n\n\n\"No,\" I said, and dabbed your sack against your own nose. \"We won't be having any of that, not today.\" I brushed your hair out of your eyes, making sure that you were comfortable as you laid down on the ground. Then, I stood above you. \"There's more to you knowing your place than just removing the parts of you that would have you think you would be a 'real male', Matchy.\"\n\n\nYou sniffle, gripping your ears and tugging down on them like the drawstrings of a hoody. It draws them tight along your cheeks like a babushka's scarf, which is cute. You stare upwards, at my foot, as I hold it up above your face. I'm a pretty big tiger, and tigers have pretty big feet. My foot was easily as long as your snout, and I rested my heel on your brow, above and between your eyes. I stepped down, letting my paw fold over your snout until the toes squeezed down on either side of your nose, and rubbed slowly, so that my rough feet pads scrubbed through your short fur and against your brow. I clenched my toes, pushing down, until I wrestled your cheek against the ground. \n\n\n\"Good boy, I'm glad you're not fighting this. Though, then again, I get the feeling you like it.\" I could see your erection, all six inches jutting painfully upwards, oozing a steady flow of precum. Poor little guy, wasting the last of his precum on absolutely nothing. \nThat was the most damning thing of all - if you had really wanted to be a breeder, a 'real male', you would have at least tried to keep those dregs of your seed that were still in your body. \n\n\nPlap.\n\n\nYour balls dropped to the ground, in front of you, your head kept in place by the gentle pressure of my big, heavy, rough foot holding it there. You whimpered, and I felt you try to pull your head free, just an instinctual resistance, so I pushed down harder, letting you feel the weight of my body resting on top of your brainpan and delicate snoot. \n\n\n\"Masculinity,\" I said, as I thoughtfully kneaded your snout with my scratchy toes, \"is not a mantle that can be worn by just everyone - and that's okay. You have struggled to shoulder the burdens of your guise of manhood, and I sympathize with that. You wanted it to work. But sometimes, it just didn't.\" I was speaking in a low, clear, resonant voice, and I knew that the low purring vibration would be soothing to your ragged spirit. \"Your masculinity... you wore it like an ill fitting garment, and I could see how it chafed your spirit. Believe me, Matchy, you will find peace in your new existence, like all of the others who've been plucked before you. Just imagine what your life is going to be like; unshackled from the weight of those falsely-worn testicles. You're free, now, free to explore the world as who you truly are. It's only a shame that you were forced to keep them, that you were prevented from being able to be where you truly belonged, for so very long.\"\n\n\nI leaned forward, and pressed down a bit harder, not enough to crack anything but enough that you knew that you could not pull your head away, that your head was where it belonged: Under my foot. I smiled, as I felt you relax, your whole body going limp. I felt your tongue, as you shifted just enough to give soft, adoring licks. \n\n\n\"Good little gelding,\" I said, and lifted my foot back up. I let you admire it, the big strong foot that belonged to a real man, and then I moved it to hover over your balls. They rested on the floor, right in front of you, the plump pouch still fresh enough that... if you had actually wanted to keep them, they could be reattached. I needed to fix that, though, so that you didn't get tempted to fall back into those toxic former habits. I lowered my foot, slowly, teasingly, as you watched. I don't know if you realized you had stopped breathing, but I did. My foot rested on top of your severed nuts, and I rocked my foot back and forth, massaging the rough pad of the ball of my foot with your balls.\n\n\nYou tried to whimper out some kind of protest, something you felt obligated to say, but I shushed you. \"If you listen, carefully, you'll be able to hear your balls... splatter. Do you want to hear that?\" And, then, as you tried to respond, I pushed down\n\n\nIt was a wet sound, similar to grapes being crushed, as the hidden bulbs of your precious maleness distended from the pressure of my big foot. I could feel them flattening, getting wider under my foot, and I grinned as I felt the orbs churn into a pulpy slick mess, popping one and then the other with a satisfying crunch. \n\n\nThe splatter of your balls in your severed sack coincided with the splatter of your last cum against the dirty floor of your cave. You hadn't even touched yourself, but your cock spurted regardless, your body gushing a slick dribble of pinkish seed out of your body. One last expulsion, a pathetic attempt to try to fertilize something. \n\n\nI remembered, three spurts in, that I had meant to offer to save it for you. I reached into the small pouch on my belt, and took out a vial, as your body twitched and dribbled beneath me. No rush or anything, just casually showing it off. \n\n\n\"Hey, did you...want me to save that for you? I mean, you know, 'just in case'.\" I smiled, brightly. \"It may be worthless, but you might want to save it, as... a memento.\"\n\n\n\"N-no,\" you wheezed, your eyes half-lidded with the satisfaction that came from having finally found one's place. I shrug, and smile, and twist my foot, noting how your softening dick twitched in empathy with the sound of your grisly remnants of your sack and nuts being shredded against the dirty floor. \n\n\n\"Good boy,\" I commend, as I lift my foot up from the floor. There is a sticky paste underneath it, gooey chunks stretching from the floor to the heel of my foot, the stringy tissues snapping wetly to plop back onto the ground. There was still quite a bit of it stuck to the underside of my foot, but you could make out the general heart shape of your scrotum, mashed into unrecognizable pulp clinging to the underside of my foot. \n\n\nThe squeal that you let out, seeing your ruined balls on my foot, was adorable.\n\n\n\"You like that, huh?\" I asked, as you nodded, staring happily up at the ruined nuts. There was no getting them back, now. They were more a part of me than they were of you, and there was no way that you would ever be able to get them back now. I had removed all responsibility to be a male from you, had destroyed it effortlessly, with the same amount of work it would take to crush out the butt of a cigarette. Your nuts are gone and you are free.\n\n\nJust to make sure you got that, though, I stomped down on the small puddle of cum that you had dribbled onto the dusty floor. I crushed the remnants of your nut into your seed, smushing flesh and cum into the dirt until it made sticky, crackling mud. It bubbled up between my toes, and I lifted my foot again. There was nothing salvageable in that. I smeared my foot along the ground, scraping the slimy cummy mud free of my foot. Your masculinity was now a dark muddy smear on the ground. That was all that was left of any 'future' as a male you might have been asked to have. \n\n\n\"So,\" I said, and leaned down to offer you a hand. \"Come on, get to your feet. I'm driving you into town, and getting you chalupas.\"", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Know Your Place
I accept the hunk of roasted meat from you, leaning back against the cave wall. I bite into it, my thick tiger fangs sinking into the soft, juicy flesh, and peeling away a hunk with a soft tearing sound. I saw you watching as I chewed, rending the thick wad of muscle into chunks small enough to swallow. My throat bulged as I gulped it down, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.


"One bite? Really?" You ask, your lips pulled back in a tight line of disappointment. "I worked really hard on that. You could have at least tasted it."


"It was delicious," I say, as I lick my lips. It was. "You're a good cook. You'll make a fine wife for someone someday." I enjoy watching you bristle from my compliment. Cute. "You have no idea why I'm here, do you."


"None," you say, as you take a dainty bite from your own hunk of meat. Your short fangs must not be as good at tearing flesh as mine are. Noted.


"I know you want your balls gone," I saw, and hold up my paw to stop you as you try to interrupt me. "I'm going to provide that service for you."


"I most certainly do not want my  balls 'gone'," you say, glaring up at me from where you are sitting on the ground. It makes me want to smack you. "I'm a man, and a man needs his balls."


"Real men do," I agree, then gesture to you in general. "You are barely a man, though, aren't you? Shh-shh-shh," I say, shushing you before you can protest. "You don't have to acknowledge it, but there's no point in protesting it. You're worthless as a male, so I'm going to make things right. As a favor. A favor for you."


"Absolutely not, and you can leave," you snarl, a deep growl accompanying the request.


"Easy there," I say, as I reached down and grasp you by the back of your neck. Your thick dark mane fills my palm, and I search past it, grasping the loose skin of the scruff of your neck instead. "This is gonna be a lot easier if you just let it happen."


"The fuck it will!" you say,  your hand swaping at my face. Dogs don't have retractable claws, which results in them being duller than cat claws. I dodge backwards, tugging at your fur to pull you off balance, but you're already jumping to your feet.
You're a big guy, and as you wrench your weight around, a fist coming at my face, I have to let you go and guard myself. I put an arm up, and too late realize that you're snapping your jaws at me. Pain sizzles up from my forearm as your jaws chomp down into my flesh, just beneath the elbow. I grunt and push forward, jamming my arm deeper into your mouth and pushing with my own bulk to knock you off guard.


Your knee slams into my gut, and I know you aimed for my groin but the angling was off. I slam you into the wall behind you, rocks shuddering loose from the rough-hewn wall of your cavern, and feel a fresh hot burn of pain as your claws dig into the white fur of my chest, gouging and tearing downwards.


"Listen, you little bitch," I snarl, thrusting my chest against your arm and using it to pin your arm between our bodies. "You're fighting for nothing, Matchy. Your balls are already forfeit, all you're doing it hurting yourself!"


You were hurting me, too, technically, but that was irrelevant. You were half-feral at this point, kicking with your leg, repeatedly digging your toe-claws into my shins with hard sharp strikes, until I managed to slide off ot the side, just enough to give Matchy the idea that he could wriggle free. He elbowed me in the snout, hard enough that I felt something in my mouth crack, and then violently rolled onto his hands and knees, scrambling to get up to your feet to 'claim dominance'. Exactly as I predicted.


I lunge first, my chest wet with blood as I slam into your back, my hand finding your throat. I grip, hold, and manage to snake my other arm around your throat neck from behind. You thrash, crunching your elbow into my ribs. I can't dodge it or deflect it because my arm's around your throat, but my other arm is free, and now I reach down past your belly. I ignore your chubby erection, the steel-hard flesh rubbing against my wrist as I reach past it, and instead wrap my orange-furred fingers around the bulk of your warm, soft scrotum.


You go completely stiff as you feel that, your balls in the grip of a predator, a tiger, me, cupping and squeezing them in an almost friendly matter. This happened frequently with dudes being confronted with the destruction of their own masculinity. It usually lasted a couple seconds, as they tried to play dead, to fawn in the hopes that the threat around their testicles would leave on its own. Of course, that's not going to happen, and as you feel my fingers tighten around the neck of your scrotum, a fresh surge of resistance erupted from inside you.


"GET OFF!" You shout, and I work with you to get to your feet, letting my weight rest on top of you, setting your center of balance off. "THEY'RE MINE, YOU FUCKING MONO BALLER!"


I'd heard worse, but I tightened my grip around your neck anyways, your protests choked off into gargling groans. You sank your fingers into my arm, raking and gouging claws into the striped flesh, trying to pull it free so that you could escape. It didn't work, and after a few moments you reached blindly up and behind you, going for my eyes. I could hear your scream vibrating through my arm, but it was too late.


We both felt the tension in your scrotum as my fingers clenched down tightly, tight enough that your puny little grapes couldn't slither free, and then pulled them free. The scrotum did its best, stretching into a long thin band between my hand and your groin, your cock throbbing and straining with all its might as the two berries that fueled it were plucked away from it. Admittedly, while I felt the feeling of the balls coming loose in my paw to be quite satisfying, it was probably more painful for you, feeling that part of your body being physically, violently, unforgivingly removed from your presence. That sensation of tearing, of flesh peeling away, of cords snapping and - even worse - the sensation of nothing that replaced the pain, as what had been there was there no longer. That must have sucked.


You just kind of melted, then. All the aggression, the fronting, the little masculine performance you had been doing for years, ended. You were castrated, and even if you didn't want to believe it, you could see your ball-sack and the two bulges of your balls still inside it, dangling from my fist. I lifted it up in front of you, so that you could see them nice and clear, could smell the salty musk of your own crotch, now removed.


I felt the sob that wracked your body then, and I knew you weren't going to try and hurt me anymore. I relaxed my grip around your throat, letting my arm slide down your chest to grip snugly around your belly. I tugged you back, letting you collapse against me, keeping you from sliding to the floor.


"Isn't that better?" I asked, and in response you turned, burying your chest in the bloody fur of my chest. It was. I wrapped my other arm around you, snugging you close and letting you purge out the last of that masculine hysteria from your body. I stroked down your back, feeling your own arms wrapping around my chest, hugging me back, thankfully. I could feel your tongue as you lapped apologetically at the gash on my chest, probably regretting having lashed out.


"Yeah, it's all better now," I consoled. I paused, just hugging around you, nice and snug, stroking the back of your head with my one paw. "That was really tough for you, but it's over now. You don't have to worry about being a male anymore."


You didn't say anything, merely whimpering in relief, or shock. Maybe both. I carefully helped you lay back down, getting you to lay on your back before you swooned from the realization that you were no longer ever going to have to pretend to be an alpha male anymore. You pushed your head against my belly, rubbing your forehead and cheek through my fur apologetically. I could feel you hugging me tightly, desperately, and I patted along your head in a soothing way.


"It's fine, little gelding. It's fine," I said, brushing my calloused fingers through your long hair, stroking my paws along your big doggy ears. "You just did what every male is required to do, to keep their masculinity. You didn't do anything I wasn't expecting. You're not the first turbo brat that I've needed to clip before they got themselves in trouble."


"I'm not a brat," you said, a small smile lifting up the corners of your lips. You reach up to wipe at your eyes. "Actually, I should kill you for-"


"No," I said, and dabbed your sack against your own nose. "We won't be having any of that, not today." I brushed your hair out of your eyes, making sure that you were comfortable as you laid down on the ground. Then, I stood above you. "There's more to you knowing your place than just removing the parts of you that would have you think you would be a 'real male', Matchy."


You sniffle, gripping your ears and tugging down on them like the drawstrings of a hoody. It draws them tight along your cheeks like a babushka's scarf, which is cute. You stare upwards, at my foot, as I hold it up above your face. I'm a pretty big tiger, and tigers have pretty big feet. My foot was easily as long as your snout, and I rested my heel on your brow, above and between your eyes. I stepped down, letting my paw fold over your snout until the toes squeezed down on either side of your nose, and rubbed slowly, so that my rough feet pads scrubbed through your short fur and against your brow. I clenched my toes, pushing down, until I wrestled your cheek against the ground.


"Good boy, I'm glad you're not fighting this. Though, then again, I get the feeling you like it." I could see your erection, all six inches jutting painfully upwards, oozing a steady flow of precum. Poor little guy, wasting the last of his precum on absolutely nothing.
That was the most damning thing of all - if you had really wanted to be a breeder, a 'real male', you would have at least tried to keep those dregs of your seed that were still in your body.


Plap.


Your balls dropped to the ground, in front of you, your head kept in place by the gentle pressure of my big, heavy, rough foot holding it there. You whimpered, and I felt you try to pull your head free, just an instinctual resistance, so I pushed down harder, letting you feel the weight of my body resting on top of your brainpan and delicate snoot.


"Masculinity," I said, as I thoughtfully kneaded your snout with my scratchy toes, "is not a mantle that can be worn by just everyone - and that's okay. You have struggled to shoulder the burdens of your guise of manhood, and I sympathize with that. You wanted it to work. But sometimes, it just didn't." I was speaking in a low, clear, resonant voice, and I knew that the low purring vibration would be soothing to your ragged spirit. "Your masculinity... you wore it like an ill fitting garment, and I could see how it chafed your spirit. Believe me, Matchy, you will find peace in your new existence, like all of the others who've been plucked before you. Just imagine what your life is going to be like; unshackled from the weight of those falsely-worn testicles. You're free, now, free to explore the world as who you truly are. It's only a shame that you were forced to keep them, that you were prevented from being able to be where you truly belonged, for so very long."


I leaned forward, and pressed down a bit harder, not enough to crack anything but enough that you knew that you could not pull your head away, that your head was where it belonged: Under my foot. I smiled, as I felt you relax, your whole body going limp. I felt your tongue, as you shifted just enough to give soft, adoring licks.


"Good little gelding," I said, and lifted my foot back up. I let you admire it, the big strong foot that belonged to a real man, and then I moved it to hover over your balls. They rested on the floor, right in front of you, the plump pouch still fresh enough that... if you had actually wanted to keep them, they could be reattached. I needed to fix that, though, so that you didn't get tempted to fall back into those toxic former habits. I lowered my foot, slowly, teasingly, as you watched. I don't know if you realized you had stopped breathing, but I did. My foot rested on top of your severed nuts, and I rocked my foot back and forth, massaging the rough pad of the ball of my foot with your balls.


You tried to whimper out some kind of protest, something you felt obligated to say, but I shushed you. "If you listen, carefully, you'll be able to hear your balls... splatter. Do you want to hear that?" And, then, as you tried to respond, I pushed down


It was a wet sound, similar to grapes being crushed, as the hidden bulbs of your precious maleness distended from the pressure of my big foot. I could feel them flattening, getting wider under my foot, and I grinned as I felt the orbs churn into a pulpy slick mess, popping one and then the other with a satisfying crunch.


The splatter of your balls in your severed sack coincided with the splatter of your last cum against the dirty floor of your cave. You hadn't even touched yourself, but your cock spurted regardless, your body gushing a slick dribble of pinkish seed out of your body. One last expulsion, a pathetic attempt to try to fertilize something.


I remembered, three spurts in, that I had meant to offer to save it for you. I reached into the small pouch on my belt, and took out a vial, as your body twitched and dribbled beneath me. No rush or anything, just casually showing it off.


"Hey, did you...want me to save that for you? I mean, you know, 'just in case'." I smiled, brightly. "It may be worthless, but you might want to save it, as... a memento."


"N-no," you wheezed, your eyes half-lidded with the satisfaction that came from having finally found one's place. I shrug, and smile, and twist my foot, noting how your softening dick twitched in empathy with the sound of your grisly remnants of your sack and nuts being shredded against the dirty floor.


"Good boy," I commend, as I lift my foot up from the floor. There is a sticky paste underneath it, gooey chunks stretching from the floor to the heel of my foot, the stringy tissues snapping wetly to plop back onto the ground. There was still quite a bit of it stuck to the underside of my foot, but you could make out the general heart shape of your scrotum, mashed into unrecognizable pulp clinging to the underside of my foot.


The squeal that you let out, seeing your ruined balls on my foot, was adorable.


"You like that, huh?" I asked, as you nodded, staring happily up at the ruined nuts. There was no getting them back, now. They were more a part of me than they were of you, and there was no way that you would ever be able to get them back now. I had removed all responsibility to be a male from you, had destroyed it effortlessly, with the same amount of work it would take to crush out the butt of a cigarette. Your nuts are gone and you are free.


Just to make sure you got that, though, I stomped down on the small puddle of cum that you had dribbled onto the dusty floor. I crushed the remnants of your nut into your seed, smushing flesh and cum into the dirt until it made sticky, crackling mud. It bubbled up between my toes, and I lifted my foot again. There was nothing salvageable in that. I smeared my foot along the ground, scraping the slimy cummy mud free of my foot. Your masculinity was now a dark muddy smear on the ground. That was all that was left of any 'future' as a male you might have been asked to have.


"So," I said, and leaned down to offer you a hand. "Come on, get to your feet. I'm driving you into town, and getting you chalupas."", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Know Your Place", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "256" }