Thursday, September 15, 2016

Swinging Beef - Original Version

Swinging Beef
Original story by an unknown author

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Author's Foreword
I got the idea for this story whilst I was on holiday on a remote Scottish island. I was eating in a pub when I noticed a very busty young waitress and her colleagues setting tables. They really weren't the most professional group, as in front of me the other girls began teasing the busty girl about the size of her boobs which, from the way they were talking, were recent developments.
I remember they made various jibes about her 'big boobs', but the one quote that got me thinking was this:
'If I squeezed them, would milk come out?' which one girl asked causing the blonde to giggle with discomfort and embarrassment and maybe, I thought, perhaps a little curiosity...
********

In the uppermost bedroom of a lighthouse on a remote Scottish island, a blonde teenager was excitedly packing her bag in preparation for one of the few nights each year she got to escape the suffocating supervision of her parents and actually have some fun.
She was a slim girl with supermodel-long legs made well-toned from the many stairs she had to ascend daily and, again much like a supermodel, she had little to boast about up top, though she was by no means through developing. In fact, much to her prudish parents’ dismay, puberty had really begun to work its magic and her body grew more curvaceous and womanly with every passing day.
‘Melanie,’ came her mother’s voice echoing up the endlessly winding staircase. ‘Time to go.’ 
‘Coming!’ she called back giddily. Still zipping her bag, she raced down the stairs, out of the lighthouse and into the car. She fell into the back seat; buzzing with excitement.
‘Melanie, what have I told you?’ chided her mother. ‘Good girls keep their knees together.’
Disheartened, Melanie pressed her knees together and said, ‘Sorry, Mum.’
‘And seatbelt on,’ came her mother’s disapproving reply.
Melanie was being taken to a sleepover at her best and only friend Siobhan’s house. Siobhan (pronounced Sh-vaun) lived on a cattle farm and though it was many miles away it was still the closest house with a girl her age living in it.
To say Melanie lived a sheltered life was an understatement; Siobhan and her family were the only outside contact Melanie ever got, what with being home-schooled by her puritanical parents in a lighthouse on a jutting peninsula of a windswept and sparsely inhabited island.
Quite why her parents even allowed her this brief chance to enjoy herself Melanie couldn’t imagine; especially since this would put their little girl in close proximity of Siobhan’s rakish older brother, Farley, who grew more cocky with every visit.
***
Melanie’s mother drew the car up alongside Siobhan’s house and, before the vehicle had even come to a full stop, Melanie was throwing open the door. She grabbed her bag and raced to the driver’s door to kiss her mother goodbye through the wound down window.
‘Just remember what I told you,’ said her mother as Melanie pecked her on the cheek.
‘Good girls bend at the knees, bad girls bend at the waist?’
‘Well, yes, but about your visit. If I hear you’ve been anything but ladylike you will not stay over again.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
She heard the front door of Siobhan’s house open and looked over the roof of the car to see Siobhan racing down the garden path towards her, giddy with excitement. As her mother pulled away, the pair met in a joyful embrace.
‘I missed you so much!’ cried Siobhan only to stop squeezing her friend suddenly. ‘I have to show you something,’ she said. She took Melanie’s hand and led her through the house and into her bedroom, making sure to shut the door firmly behind them.
‘Look what I found,’ she said, presenting Melanie with a torn out page from a magazine. Melanie gasped. Upon the torn page stood a young woman so breathtakingly top-heavy that it seemed incredible that she didn’t just topple forward. But the young woman’s measurements weren’t the only thing which shocked Melanie as the woman’s breasts were left completely uncovered.
Can you believe it?’ asked Siobhan excitedly. Melanie couldn’t. She had never seen such a scandalous image in her young life. The young woman was bearing her breasts! And not only that, but from the shameless pout on her face she seemed to be taking pride in it. It was this which horrified Melanie’s modest sensibilities the most.
‘She gets paid for showing her boobs!’ 
Siobhan gripped her friend by the shoulders and, with her green eyes twinkling like emeralds, she asked, ‘Can you imagine?’
Melanie could imagine and it filled her with horror, shame and humiliation and left her feeling quite queasy. Yet Siobhan seemed positively thrilled by the notion; Melanie could tell from the way the young redhead’s nipples poked obviously through her T-shirt; the same way hers did whenever she thought about her friend’s brother, Farley.
‘Can we... do something else?’ asked Melanie.
‘Okay,’ said Siobhan; a little hurt that her friend hadn’t shown the slightest interest in her find. ‘Oh,’ she said, her eyes lighting up once more, ‘I have just the game. Wait here!’ She rushed out of the room leaving Melanie holding the torn page.
Melanie wanted desperately to drop the offensive photograph, but there was something about the young woman’s breasts which rendered her unable to stop staring. They were so immense and bloated that the skin was stretched and shiny with tension.
When Siobhan returned a few minutes later, Melanie finally snapped out of her trance and set the page down on the sideboard. Siobhan was carrying a basket containing several variously filled water-balloons and a garment of clothing which Melanie recognised as a bra, but which had proportions unlike any she had ever seen.
‘Whose bra is that?’ she asked, her eyes locked on the gigantic cups.
‘It’s my mum’s old maternity bra,’ she told her.
‘Your mum’s boobs aren’t that big.’
‘Not anymore, but they get really big when they fill with milk.’
‘When they what?’ asked Melanie, horrified.
‘Fill with milk,’ repeated Siobhan with a frown. 
Siobhan’s understanding of how and why boobs filled with milk had been gleaned from references her mother had made to breastfeeding her and her brother, and the rest was wild speculation on the young girl’s part.
‘All girls’ boobs fill with milk, Melanie,’ she continued confidently. ‘It’s to feed their babies and what she doesn’t use just stays in her boobs.’
The news came as a worrying revelation to Melanie who clutched her tiny breasts protectively.
‘The minute I get my milk I’m going to run away and become a model in one of those magazines,’ said Siobhan with an assured grin. She lifted from the basket two extremely over-filled water-balloons and dropped them into the cups of her mother’s bra before unexpectedly lifting her top up to her chin and hoisting the bra and its sloshing contents to her bare chest. When she stood upright the near transparent, bloated orbs which spilled out of the top of the bra bore a shocking likeness to the bloated breasts of young woman from the magazine page.
‘What do you think?’ she asked Melanie, seductively jiggling them with her hands.
‘Um, Siobhan...’ said Melanie, shocked by the young girl’s degrading aspiration, but noticing a dark circle expanding across one of the bra’s cups.
‘Oh no!’ cried Siobhan, pulling the cup out to peer inside only to be sprayed in the face by a fine jet of water. ‘My boob has a puncture!’
Melanie watched as the young redhead raced to the set of heavy wooden drawers and began tugging insistently on one of the stubborn drawers until it was open enough for her to push her hand in and fish around desperately for what it was she was searching for. When she withdrew her hand it was holding a sheet of tiny star-shaped stickers, one of which she quickly peeled off and stuck over the infinitesimal puncture in her pretend boob.
With the flow stemmed, she turned back to Melanie who was surprised to find the leaking breast reduced to half its size. ‘Phew,’ said Siobhan, ‘saved most of it.’ She walked back to the basket and lifted out the remaining clutch of water-balloons which had been arranged in such a way to make them instantly obscene to anyone even slightly familiar with the male genitalia, which Melanie most certainly was not.
‘What are these?’ she asked as they were thrust into her hand. 
‘Well, I’m the woman,’ she said cupping her lop-sided boobs. ‘So that means you’re...’ she pushed Melanie’s hand lower until the drooping balloons were held at groin height, ‘...the man.’
Melanie’s eyes widened as she began to comprehend what she held in her hand. ‘Is this what boys’ parts look like?’ she asked in a shocked whisper.
‘It’s what Farley’s look like,’ said Siobhan with a shrug which jostled her balloons. This was true as far as proportions went, but the scale was wildly optimistic. The cucumber-thick penis was almost ten inches long and each sagging, water-laden testicle was the size of an orange.
‘You’ve seen his parts?’ asked Melanie, suddenly enthused.
‘Of course I have,’ scoffed Siobhan.
Having never noticed the lack of bath or shower in the bathroom, Melanie was surprised when Siobhan told her that her family bathed in an old tin tub by the fireplace in the living room. She was even more surprised to hear that, as neither sibling had any respect for the other’s privacy, there had been numerous occasions that Siobhan had seen Farley naked and, shockingly, vice versa.
As Siobhan finished telling her blushing friend the sordid details, a sudden devilish grin spread across her pretty face. ‘Hey, Melanie,’ she said. ‘Do you want to see them?’
***
That evening Siobhan’s parents left on an unscheduled cattle delivery which would see them gone all night. Being the oldest, Farley was left in charge and, having been out in the pastures all day, he was not on the mood for his annoying sister and her sweet, but simple friend so he banished them to their bedroom for the rest of the night whilst he took a nice long bath.
When Melanie heard him drag an old tin bath across the living room and set it down indelicately on the stone in front of the fireplace she asked Siobhan impatiently, ‘Can we watch yet?’
‘No, he’ll catch you looking. Wait until he gets out. He’ll have forgotten we’re here by then.’
Melanie groaned impatiently, but remained by the door listening intently as Farley continued to prepare his bath by dragging over a heavy oak coat stand upon which he hung his towel.
The girls had changed into their pyjamas. They both wore strappy vest tops of white cotton and woollen pyjama bottoms in differing tartans. Due to the coldness of the farmhouse’s mainly uncovered stone floors, the girls also wore thick woollen socks which made their footsteps almost silent.
‘Are you really going to stand there all night?’ asked Siobhan with a sigh. She fell onto her bed heavily; the water-balloons rolling up her chest to crash against her chin. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth and enveloping softness of the by now body-temperature balloons against her chest and neck. Feels so good, she thought. Like a real woman. She found herself squeezing the squeaking balloon breasts with a groan of satisfaction. 
‘I think I can hear him unbuckling his belt,’ whispered Melanie, excitedly. Siobhan ignored her and, slipping her right hand under the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, set her fingers to work. Though only recently discovered, Siobhan had quickly become so practiced at masturbating in silence that Melanie didn’t even notice. With her ear pressed to the door, she mistook the wet noises of the redhead’s furious fingering for the sounds of Farley splashing as he bathed.
‘I think he’s getting out of the bath!’ she hissed. She looked back to find Siobhan on the bed with her legs hitched up and breathing in sharp pants.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked with concern.
Siobhan stopped what she was doing immediately and said guiltily, ‘Nothing.’ She carefully withdrew her hand and sat upright; sending her sloshing balloons falling back into the waiting cups of her bra. 
‘He’s getting out you say?’ 
Melanie nodded excitedly so, with a groan of effort, Siobhan pushed herself up off the bed and dragged herself over to the door. Silently, she pushed it open crack and peered out across the expansive living room of the old farmhouse.
Farley had indeed lifted himself from the steaming water, but this (she knew from watching him many times) was only the start of a set of strange rituals he went through before stepping out of the tub. She motioned for Melanie to join her. The young blonde dropped to her knees and shuffled in beneath her friend and barely noticed the heavy water-balloons which came to rest on her head as she was too busy gasping at the sight of Farley who stood in the tub with his wide, powerful back to the girls as he brushed the water from his hair.
Despite his impressive body, the only thing Melanie noticed was his pale white bum. She looked up at Siobhan and the pair shared a titter. Melanie’s laughter trailed off, however, when she caught sight of what dangled beneath his pasty cheeks.
‘What is that thing?’ she asked, referring to the sagging pink sac which swayed hypnotically in-between the young man’s well-muscled thighs as he went on to brush the excess water from his thick arms.
‘What thing?’ whispered Siobhan. 
Stooping next to brush the water from his legs, Farley inadvertently exposed the curious appendage further, though only when he was near grabbing his ankles did light fall over the flapping sac to make suddenly apparent the pair of large orbs which filled it.
Melanie had no idea what she was looking at and nothing to judge them against, but something deep down told her that what she was seeing was extremely impressive.
‘Oh, those,’ said Siobhan, appreciating suddenly the plump and hefty nuts which, over the years, had drawn his supply scrotum down to hang some several inches from his crotch. ‘Those are the parts Mum takes from the bulls so they don’t annoy the cows. She calls it their “swinging beef”.’ She chuckled and whispered mischievously, ‘Maybe if I take Farley’s swinging beef he’ll stop annoying me.’
Her words struck a chord with Melanie who looked back at Farley’s “swinging beef” and asked seriously, ‘How would you take them?’
‘Same way Mum does,’ said Siobhan with a shrug, ‘smash them between two bricks.’ She held out her hands and brought them together savagely. ‘Splat!’ 
Melanie stared up at her friend with wide, twinkling eyes and let the image sink in as something stirred inside her.
Done removing the excess water from his naked body, Farley half-turned and reached for the towel hanging from the antique coat rack stood at the head of the bath. He tugged it indelicately from the hook and, turning back, stepped out of the tub unaware that he had unbalanced the top-heavy rack enough to send it toppling after him. 
As Farley lifted the towel to his face, the large, decorative acorn which sat atop the coat rack fell a fraction too short to strike him in the coccyx and instead slipped between his buttocks to strike him on the back of the low-hanging left nut.
The impact send his bollock swinging up into the air, taking with it his meaty sausage cock so that his entire genitalia was flipped up on itself in a shocking display that had both the girls gasping out loud.
Farley did not hear their surprised intakes of breath, however, as he was too preoccupied with the unexpected shock of an assault on his bollocks, the recognition of which he had barely processed before the malevolent coat rack hit the rim of the tin bath and rebounded to smash the testicle it had missed in its first strike as it flopped back down into its path.
Knocked backwards by the impact, the girls watched wide-eyed as Farley’s lengthy scrotum disappeared between his legs only to reappear once more to curl up around his arse with a slap!
It was all too much for Siobhan. She covered her mouth and raced to her bed where she leapt on top of the covers and buried her face in her pillow to let out her mirth. 
Farley too was overwhelmed by the event, but in an entirely different way. As the coat rack returning to upright and settled back on its feet as if nothing had happened, the towel fell from his hands to reveal his face with its fixed expression of shock and distress. With his eyes wide open and his mouth silently screaming, he curled slowly forward and reached down with trembling hands for his battered manhood. 
Melanie watched with twinkling eyes as his fingers curled around the swinging organs and delicately cupped them whilst his knees turned slowly inwards before finally giving to send him toppling backward into the tub. Though greatly amused by the young man’s misfortune, another feeling was overriding her mirth; a feeling which Melanie had never before experienced. It was like butterflies in her tummy, but she had never felt them fluttering as far south as they were currently. She traced the sensation with her fingers; down her flat stomach and lower until she came to a place, she realised suddenly, that she should not be touching. She withdrew her hand quickly and squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to smother the shameful tingling.
When finally able to control her laughter enough to speak, Siobhan lifted her face from her pillow to ask, ‘Did you see his face, Melanie?’ Then she noticed the huge wet patch which radiated out from around her chest and soaked her duvet. 
‘My boobs!’ she cried, jumping up to grip at the empty, sodden cup of her bra. ‘I popped my boobs.’
Melanie looked suddenly at the water-balloon representation of the male genitalia which she had set down on the sideboard earlier. Tossing aside the thick penis balloon she took hold of one of the testicles and tested its resilience with a few squeezes. The balloon’s stretched rubber gave with surprising ease; showering her hand in water and leaving it clutching only a few shrivelled scraps.
‘Siobhan,’ she said in a thrilled whisper, ‘do you think one of Farley’s swinging beef might have popped?’
Siobhan gasped with genuine concern. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Maybe.’
‘He’ll be okay though, right.’ said Melanie; her words a statement, not a question. She scrunched up her nose and added reasonably, ‘I mean, what does he even need them for anyway?’
Siobhan’s eyes widened as she pondered the question. ‘You’re right,’ she said, suddenly livid. ‘I’ve never seen him do anything with them!’
Realising she was on a roll, Melanie pressed on, asking, ‘And didn’t your mum say that they’re the reason he’s so annoying?’
Siobhan gasped. ‘She said that’s why she takes them from the bulls.’
Seeing that her friend was visibly bristling with indignation, Melanie decided to go for broke. ‘Siobhan,’ she whispered fiendishly, ‘we should totally take Farley’s swinging beef.’ Though she had no idea what “taking” Farley’s boy parts would entail, the mere thought of it caused the tingling in her naughty parts spread to her budding breasts and stiffen her nipples into bullets.
Siobhan looked up at the blonde wearing a dark expression and without breaking eye contact she snatched up the remaining balloon testicle from the sideboard and held it out in front of her. Melanie’s lustful eyes flickered between the swollen orb and the heavy penis which swung after it and flopped around comically beneath. With a flash of rage, Siobhan clenched her fist. The turgid rubber ballooned out from between her fingers briefly before bursting over the two girls to drench their cotton vests. The wet fabric clung to the outline of the girls’ chests, making apparent their exceptionally erect nipples. But while arousal was the cause of Melanie’s stiffness, it was fury which hardened Siobhan’s pink nubs. 
‘Let’s do it,’ she growled.
There came a sudden loud clang and splash of rushing water. 
The girls rushed over to the crack in the door to investigate. They peered out to find that Farley had managed to tip the bath on its side and now lay motionless, face down in an expanding puddle of water.
Melanie excitedly pulled open the door, but Siobhan caught it before she could exit. The young blonde looked back at her friend quizzically.
‘Maybe they popped already,’ said Siobhan.
The pair looked back at Farley as he let out a pitiful moan and began to lift himself onto his hands. His legs appeared to be uncooperative so, with a whimper, he began to crawl towards his bedroom, simply dragging his legs limply after him. His legs were not the only thing dragging limply against the floor. The girls ducked down to get a better look at the pink meat which dangled from his groin.
‘I can’t tell,’ said Siobhan; her squinting eyes searching for trace of shape in the loose trailing sac.
All of a sudden he collapsed, exhausted, to the floor. 
‘We should just go out there and make sure,’ insisted Melanie, becoming frustrated with her friend’s reticence.
With another piteous groan, Farley rolled onto his side. Siobhan gasped and went to close the door, but this time Melanie caught it. Farley was far too intent on his intimate agony to notice the girls in the doorway, and, in full view of the pair, took hold of his scrotum and began to probe it tentatively with both hands. 
The girls watched in suspense as his fingers traced the full, round shapes of his individual testicles with what little pressure he applied to check their integrity drawing much wincing and high-pitched squeaking, until, satisfied he was intact, he curled slowly into a ball and went to sleep to escape the torment.
Melanie shoved Siobhan aside and marching through the puddle towards him, but before she reached him the living room was unexpectedly illuminated by headlights as a car pulled into the drive.
‘It’s Mum and Dad! They’re back!’ hissed Siobhan, rushing past Melanie who had frozen on the spot to take her unconscious brother by the wrists. With a grunt of exertion, Siobhan hauled him a few inches toward his bedroom. 
‘Help me, Melanie!’ she pleaded. The terrified blonde quickly complied and took Farley by the ankles. His body sagged in the middle as they hauled him up. This left his poor eggs dangling low enough to be bounced painfully off the floor’s uneven flagstones.
The girls had him at the threshold of his room when Siobhan told Melanie, ‘Get him inside,’ and lowered her end to the floor.
‘Where are you going?’ demanded Melanie as he friend carefully stepped around the naked obstacle filling the doorway.
‘I need to fetch the mop,’ the young redhead called back as she dashed across the room into the kitchen; her waterlogged socks splashing with every hurried step.
‘But...’ began Melanie, hopelessly. Realising her protests were pointless, she looked down at Farley’s hulking frame. She doubted she could budge him even an inch on her own, but with no other option, she gave a growl and made sure to set the sock-clad ball of her foot down on the plump pink eggs which peeked out from between Farley’s buttocks as she stepped over him.
Even in his insensible state, Farley’s back arched and he let out a strangled mewling noise as Melanie transferred her entire weight onto his tender testes.
Melanie took a moment to enjoy the sensation of his eggs flattening beneath her foot. Even through her thick woollen socks she could feel the protests of the rubbery flesh and what she would come to know as her female intuition was telling her that it wouldn’t take much more. 
She imagined Farley’s eggs popping beneath her. It would barely affect her at all, she would merely drop a couple centimetres as the orbs gave way, but that same intuition told her that the effect on Farley would be life-changing. 
The yearning in her rude bits grew once more; urging her hand to see to it, but before her fingers had slipped far beneath her waistband, the sound of car doors being slammed snapped her back to reality. 
She set the foot she had purposely held raised down on Farley’s still arching back and forced him back into the floor before, ever-so-grudgingly, removing the other foot from his swinging beef.
Melanie had him held by both wrists when the sound of the key twisting in the lock echoed around the room. With her adrenaline flowing, she made light work of hauling his carcass into the room and quickly raced for the exit, but as she reached the doorway she saw the farmhouse’s front door swing open and caught herself. As Siobhan’s parents walked in she swung the door shut and pressed herself against it breathlessly.
Siobhan rushed back into the living room clutching a mop and smiled guiltily at her mother who was shocked by the pool of water with filled her lounge. ‘Siobhan, did you do this?’ her mother demanded.
‘Sorry, Mum. I’ll mop it all up.’
‘It’s late,’ said her mother with an irritated sigh. ‘Get to bed – I’ll sort this out.’
Siobhan crossed the room and hugged her mother, before handing her the mop and retiring to her bedroom where she was shocked to discover Melanie wasn’t.
‘Crap!’ she hissed.
***
Melanie was frozen against the door for fear of Siobhan’s mother trying to enter. In front of her Farley began to stir. Feeling she might faint, the young blonde slid down the door until her ass hit the floor.
Without questioning how it was he had come to be in his bedroom, Farley reached for the frame of his bed and hauled himself halfway onto the mattress before collapsing with exhaustion. The wooden slats groaned beneath his weight. With a wretched sigh he closed his eyes and fell asleep once more.
Melanie, who had had held her breath the entire time, was finally able to exhale with relief. She put her hands to her chest and felt her heart trying to beat its way out through her ribcage. Only when it settled was she able to climb to her knees and cautiously open the door a crack. She peered out into the living room to find Siobhan’s mother mopping the expansive puddle of bath water.
Siobhan’s mother was a redhead like her daughter and her fiery locks were set swinging by her energetic sweeping motions. Her locks weren’t the only parts which swung as she leaned forward and worked the mop vigorously; her large breasts could be seen clattering left and right down the gaping front of her camisole, which she had stripped down to given the heat of working in front of the raging fire. Melanie’s twinkling eyes followed their fluctuations. She watched open-mouthed as Siobhan’s mother wrung the mop into the bucket, her huge boobs squashing together and rising out of the camisole like baking dough. They were beautiful. Nothing like the bloated, shining spheres flaunted by the big-boobed women in Farley’s magazines.
All of a sudden, as if conscious she was being watched, Siobhan’s mother stopped what she was doing and looked about the room causing Melanie to silently push the door shut once more. Realising she would be trapped in Farley’s room for quite a while, she decided she would pass the time by satisfying her lingering curiosity about boys’ parts.
On her hands and knees she crawled over to where Farley lay sprawled on the bed. The way he was positioned, with one leg on the bed and the other hanging limply over the edge, left his genitals dangling exposed between. It was too good of an invitation for Melanie to refuse. She pushed her face up close to the sac of pink skin. It sagged from his crotch under the weight of its contents which she eyed with fascination. 
‘They’re like eggs,’ she said of the curious orbs, before recoiling slightly when she noticed they were moving. The big eggs-shaped things squirmed and rolled about the loose, pink pouch with surprising animation given their owner’s stillness. 
With her chest tightening and her breaths coming in shallow little pants, Melanie found herself reaching out a trembling finger to touch one of the bulging eggs. Her soft fingertip made only the slightest contact with the sticky skin of the sac, but the eggs reacted like they had received an almighty flick; they lurched high up the sac causing Melanie to gasp with fright. She covered her mouth and watched with wide eyes as the hefty organs reached the pinnacle of their ascent only to plummet back down. They struck the bottom of the springy sac and bobbled about for a time before settling back into their subtle squirming.
Their sudden overreaction was, it seemed, entirely independent of the rest of Farley which had remained completely unperturbed by her probing finger. He continued to sleep deeply. Seeing this, Melanie plucked up the courage to go further; gently curling her fingers around the neck of his scrotum, she delicately drew her fingers down the loose, lightly-haired skin until they caught on his fat orbs. Farley let out a gentle groan and though his eggs did attempt another retreat, Melanie’s grasp prevented them from going anywhere. The young blonde bristled with delight at the sensation of the orbs jerking helplessly against her grip.
With her confidence and lust growing, she tightened her grip around Farley’s sac further to force the eggs into an ever more compacted and shining bunch. This drew a more aggrieved groan from Farley, but he remained unconscious.
Melanie was pleased to see that her grasp subdued the squirming of the eggs and allowed her to make out more details in the curious shape of the organs. They were indeed similar in size and shape to chicken eggs, though slightly longer and less plump. They were also not as smooth; having a lumpy protrusion from the aspect in which she studied them.
It was at that moment that Melanie became aware of her desire to squeeze the organs, to test their resilience to its limits and even beyond. Wrapping her free hand around the tight package of rubbery meat, she began to squeeze and found that her urges only grew with every increase in pressure she applied.
Her squeezing put an end to Farley’s stillness. His legs began to twitch, sporadically at first, but as the impetuous young blonde’s fingers sunk deeper into his testicles the twitches turned into sustained writhing, and, as a wave of pleasure swept Melanie’s loins, he woke with a start. Panicking, Melanie released his gonads and threw herself under the bed.
‘My balls,’ sobbed Farley, immediately curling himself into a ball to rock himself gently whilst clutching them. 
They seemed to him to be bigger than usual. This worried him so, sitting up, he scooted over to the edge of the bed and went about examining them in the light of the full moon which poured through his window. 
With his thick cock held aside in one hand, he probed his jewels one-by-one with the other. They had indeed swollen noticeably, but were at least unruptured. He sighed with relief, but relief alone wouldn’t allay his pain. Taking a firmer hold of the flaccid length in his other hand he decided to take his mind off the discomfort by causing his genitals the type of swelling he enjoyed.
Whilst stroking his shaft lovingly, he reached blindly under the bed for his usual wanking paraphernalia. Melanie stifled a scream as his hand curled under the bed almost copped a feel of her boob. Luckily, his fingertips set down on one of the magazine she was lying on top of. She quickly lifted herself off the obscene material as he slid it out from under her.
Over the soft, rhythmic sound of him pumping his stiffening rod, Melanie heard him open the magazine and purr, ‘Oh, you filthy slut.’ Though the innocent young blonde’s ears had never before heard the derogatory and hurtful word, the disrespectful way in which he said it made her shudder. 
She found she was actually lying on top of a small pile of similar magazines. She slid out the top one which she didn’t realise was upside down and flicked through its pages. As the magazine’s latter half consisted mainly of advertisements for a bewildering array of terrifying-looking “toys” it was several pages in before she reached the first photograph. Its obscenity caused her to recoil with a gasp. 
Not only did the model have her breasts bared, but, spread with her fingers as if eager to display every nook, the barely-legal babe presented her most intimate part. Melanie recoiled, but couldn’t take her eyes off the part which she had never had a chance to study in such detail, due to her father having purposely secured every mirror in the lighthouse at an inconvenient height on the wall.
Melanie closed the magazine. The old wooden bed frame was creaking furiously as above her Farley subjected himself to some form of violence.
Desperate to know what he was doing whilst looking at such offensive material, Melanie shuffled forward and peered up through the slats of the bed frame. 
While his mattress obscured most of the scene, a gap of about two inches was left and between two of the slats she could see the tantalising bulge of one of his eggs. She pressed her eye closer. The heavy orb was just narrow enough to fit through the gap, only its partner was resting happily on one of the slats and held it from falling through.
Eager to get her hands on the plump pair, Melanie tested each slat and found to her delight that the one upon which the stubborn egg was rested was loose enough to slide aside. She was unprepared for the avalanche of hairy pink meat which plummeted toward her face the moment the slat was shifted. She dropped to her elbows and braced herself for the impact, but when, after a few anxious seconds, she was not struck in the face by his heavy swingers, she opened her eyes to find them swinging a literal pubic-hair’s-length from her nose.
Relieved, she took in a deep breath of the pungent salty scent of his sweat-glistening, rhythmically swaying testicles.
Above her, Farley continued to abuse himself. Oblivious to the peril in which his treasured testicles were in he worked himself to the edge of climax. 
Melanie watched with agitation as his swinging beef began to rise with urgency. It was clear to her that within seconds they would withdraw back through the gap and out of her reach so she quickly slid the loose slat back the way it came. The gap it left wasn’t tight enough to pinch his sac, bit was easily tight enough to prevent his fat eggs from slipping back through. Farley was too lost in throws of ecstasy to notice the abrupt halt in the rise of his testicles as they met the wood. 
The sight of his trapped testes satisfied Melanie immensely, but it was clear from the quickening sounds of his pumping that Farley’s self-abuse was building up to a crescendo and this filled her with an inexplicable feeling of resentment.
He shouldn’t be looking at girls’ parts! she thought and, in a sudden flash of rage, she was overcome by the urge to punch him square in the plump organs. She thought briefly of her mother’s warning not to be anything but ladylike, but smashing his fat eggs felt like the most ladylike thing in the world to do under the circumstances. She balled her fist and pumped it upward, her knuckles striking the spongy orbs with a soft thud and flattening them wide across the wooden slats.
The room fell silent; the violent pumping ceasing instantly. For what felt to Melanie like a long moment, nothing happened. Then suddenly everything happened.
Farley leapt from the bed as if a fire had be lit under him only to be yanked abruptly short when his fat testicles refused to slip back through the gap in the slats. The incredibly heavy bed was jerked almost an inch off the floor and the cords which held Farley’s reproductive organs suspended tore at their anchorage and sent lightning bolts of pain through his guts.
‘Nngh-zzzzt!’ cried Farley, his voice reaching new heights of pitch. But instead of doing the sensible thing of dropping back to the bed, Farley’s agony consumed brain spurred him to put as much distance between himself and the pain as possible.
Melanie could barely believe her eyes as Farley began to stagger forward. It was at the same time moronic and genuinely impressive and Melanie couldn’t help but be awed by the Herculean effort which saw him wrestle control of his powerful, but shaking legs and actually succeed in taking a few steps forward with the solid oak bed under which she was hid being dragged several inches after him.
Though scared, she couldn’t take her eyes off his bright red eggs which shone in the moonlight as the skin was pulled tight around them.
Despite Farley’s pig-headed determination, it was only a matter of seconds before he could no longer ignore the excruciating pain that came from lifting an oak-framed double bed with only your nerve-packed nut cords. Sensibility having finally caught up with him, he was knocked immediately insensible. 
His legs gave out from under him and he fell to the floor only to bungee ruinously on his stretched scrotum. The sudden stop folded him in the middle and meant Melanie was suddenly confronted by his upside-down sweat-soaked face. She held her breath and awaited his cry, but his eyes were crossed and showed no trace of recognition. As she studied him, still dreading him noticing her, he let out a strangled mewl and the thick sausage, which pointed down at the floor and seemed both longer and more terrifying than she remembered, gave a sudden jerk and issued forth a torrent of thick steaming goo. It hit the floor and spattered noisily to form a glistening puddle with the look and the consistency of water mixed with lots of corn flour. Melanie eyed it with disgust and gave it a wide berth as she crawled out from under the bed.
She climbed to her knees and watched with interest as the long leaking appendage returned to its less intimidating sausage state; its pulsing veins sinking back into the flesh whilst its shining purple mushroom head softened and retreated slightly beneath its foreskin. It was all very interesting but still nowhere near as interesting to her as the parts which he remained suspended by.
Farley hung from the sac which contained his eggs; his body swaying side-to-side slowly. There was an audible sound of creaking, the source of which Melanie couldn’t place. It was either coming from the straining wooden slats or his impossibly stretched scrotum which was twice, if not three times as long as it had been in at bath time.
She was imagining taking a pair of scissors to the stretched flesh and putting him out of his misery for good when the door burst open and the light from the fire illuminated the scene. She spun around with a gasp and fund to her horror that without her knowledge her hand had crept down the front of her pyjama bottoms.
Thankfully it was Siobhan in the doorway. ‘What did you do to him?’ she demanded as Melanie retracted her suspiciously slick fingers with embarrassment. 
‘It was an accident, I swear,’ she told her shocked friend, unsure of her reaction. Much to her relief, Siobhan’s mouth slowly began to turn up at the corners and she quickly placed her hand over it in order to stifle a giggle.
‘We have to get back to my room,’ Siobhan said through her smile, without taking her eyes off her tortured brother. ‘Mum will be back any minute.’
‘What about Farley?’ asked Melanie turning back to her swaying victim.
‘What about him?’ said Siobhan, turning to leave.
With Siobhan’s back turned, Melanie quickly picked up the obscene magazine which Farley had left on the bed. She folded it and stuffed it down the back of her pyjama bottoms. She gave Farley’s scrotum one last, longing look and then hurried after her friend.
***
Unsurprisingly, Farley failed to make an appearance at breakfast, but the two boiled eggs which awaited him caused the girls much amusement.
After breakfast, Siobhan’s mother shooed them out of the house so she could go about the housework in peace. They were only allowed back in when it was time for Melanie to be picked up by her mother.
She had her bag packed and was sat on the sofa with Siobhan and her mother waiting her mother’s arrival when there came the first signs of life from Farley’s bedroom. Miserable groans were followed by pained squeaks and the sound of him hitting the ground. Then it went silent once more.
‘What is he up to?’ asked Siobhan’s mother with irritation. ‘He hasn’t moved all day, the lazy so-and-so.’ She got up from her chair and stormed over to his door which she knocked on furiously.
‘Farley! Get out here,’ she snapped. ‘Melanie will be leaving soon and you can make yourself useful by carrying her bag to the car.’
Farley’s response was unintelligible.
‘Do I have to come in there?’ demanded his mother.
‘No!’ he squeaked. His movements, however laboured, assured his mother and she returned to her seat.
‘Men,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
***
When Melanie’s mother pulled up outside and honked her horn, Siobhan threw her arms around Melanie and sniffled sadly.
‘Farley,’ called his mother. ‘Get out here.’ Slowly his door opened and he shuffled out, his legs spread awkwardly far apart.
‘Wearing your kilt for a change,’ remarked his mother with approval. He grunted miserably.
The girls knew exactly why he was wearing his kilt: freedom to swing. 
Melanie imagined that, having spent the night and most of the day hanging from them, Farley’s testicles would be dangling mere inches from the hem of the kilt, but she was keen to prove it.
‘Be a gentleman and carry Melanie’s bag out to the car,’ his mother told him.
He tried to protest, but his voice cracked as soon as he spoke and an embarrassingly high pitched squeak came out instead of words. Grudgingly, he shuffled over to Melanie, but as he was about to snatch the bag from her hand she dropped it.
‘Whoops,’ she said. Farley eyed her angrily and, grunting with exertion, he widened his stance further, hitched his kilt and gradually lowered himself after the bag on bending knees. Melanie grabbed Siobhan’s hand and, after leading her around behind Farley, silently urged her to join her in sneaking a look up her brother’s kilt.
With her mother only in the next room, Siobhan was reluctant, but Melanie had no such reticence. She ducked down and could barely restrain her glee when his big red eggs came into view; bigger and redder than ever. Her laughter caused Farley to straighten up quickly and look back, angry and suspicious. Melanie quickly wrestled away her smile and gave him an expectant look. He grunted and, with bag in hand, began his waddle to the front door.
‘Did you see them?’ Melanie hissed.
‘No,’ said Siobhan distraught.
Melanie looked back at Farley as he staggered through across the room. Her eyes fell on his kilt once more and a devious grin spread across her face. Siobhan recognised it immediately.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked excitedly.
‘You’ll see,’ Melanie told her.
The girls said their emotional goodbyes and by the time they stepped outside, Farley had made his way to the waiting car. He pulled open the back door and tossed the bag in.
‘Hello, Farley,’ said Melanie’s mother. ‘You look smart in your kilt.’
He nodded, unwilling to speak in case he embarrassed himself again although he did let a squeak of surprise when he was rudely shoved aside by Melanie who pushed past him to get in the car.
‘I enjoyed seeing so much of you, Farley,’ she whispered devilishly, as she leaned back out to take hold of the door and slam it shut.
Farley failed to register the implied slight, being completely unaware of her participation in either of his accidents, but the way she said it made him uncomfortable enough to want to make a quick exit. Seeing him turn to leave, Melanie told her mother, ‘Okay, we can go.’ 
When Farley tried to retreat back to the house he was quite perturbed to discover he was held back. He looked around and found to his horror that the loose corner of his kilt had become caught in the car door and that Melanie was giddily winding down her window as the car’s engine rumbled into life. His eyes filled with dread. ‘No,’ he whimpered as the young blonde grinned out at him.
‘I guess I’m about to see a little bit more of you,’ she quipped, before the car pulled away and Farley was twirled violently around on the spot by his unravelling kilt until he was left spinning without a stitch to cover the sausage and eggs which flapped comically after him.
Melanie heard Siobhan’s shriek of riotous laughter, but kept her eyes on Farley as he caught his balance only to have his swinging beef slap at speed into his the side of his knee. She watched with twinkling eyes as, dizzy and crippled by pain and humiliation, Farley sank to the ground and lay there in a gently rocking ball until he vanished from view.
‘Did you have fun?’ asked her mother, unaware that Melanie hand one hand down her trousers and was furiously working her fingers.

‘Oh, yes,’ she answered, breathlessly. ‘So much.’

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