Prometheus Busted — Part 3 (CBT, Sounding)

Here it is, the third chapter of my ongoing superhero ballbusting story! I've decided this time around to take a little breather from Tristan's adventures and focus on an evening in the life of Copycat, partly because I wanted to flesh her out a little and partly due to some much-needed catharsis in the face of some recent events in the Internet celebrity circles. The fantasy of a lecherous creep getting wrecked, figuratively and literally, is one that's always appealed to me, and the satisfaction to gain from this scenario has only intensified in light of all those celebrity sex scandals last year. In this case, it also shows that despite Copycat's brutality and penchant for grievous genital harm, she's got standards like the rest of us, has no tolerance for unwanted attention, and has practically made a living out of giving all those sex abusers that walk among us unseen on a daily basis what's coming to them. As nasty as this chapter is, it was very satisfying to write, and hopefully it should be just as satisfying to read as well!

On a related note, I would like to express my gratitude to fellow CBT writer sfzephyr, whose stories about muscle studs in genital-centric peril were a big inspiration for my own stories on the subject. If you enjoy reading my ballbusting stuff, I cannot recommend his own writing blog enough, especially his Brick Haus and Haunted Mansion stories which were the primary inspirations for my Prometheus Busted series in general and this chapter specifically. For all of his works, check out Jayse's Brutal Ball Busting Stories!

Jayse, if you ever happen upon this blog, I cannot thank you enough for inspiring me to branch out into CBT, seeing as the simultaneously aroused and visceral reactions I experience whenever I read your stuff are sensations I wish to emulate in my own ballbusting fiction. I look forward to future writings from you, and I hope that you find this story as fantastic as it is cringe-worthy. ;D

________________________________________

Prometheus Busted — Part 3

By Skaea

Contains: F/M, M/M, and */M ballbusting, femdom, peril, violence/gore, and graphic castration.

Word Count: 6,855

 

________________________________________

Chapter 3: The Pervert’s Penance

There were two qualities Chihiro Tachibana was lucky to have: honor and modesty. Her culture had raised her on those two essential virtues, and so had her family and her experiences in life.

Her parents had come to America from their birth nation of Japan during the 80’s, hoping to find greener pastures after escaping a life of poverty. She herself had been born and raised on the west coast, and had lived there throughout her childhood until, in search of the college education her parents had long insisted for her, she eventually got accepted into a community college in — where else? — the suburban outskirts of Monumentropolis. Her parents, true to form for her culture, had moved to the city with her: her father became a software engineer and her mother a chop shop owner. Usual stuff for her origin story. So it was that life seemed to be moving up for her and her family.

Then a massive economic depression hit the entire city. In the wake of a series of consecutive disasters that had left the economy struggling not to fall to its knees, many, many budget cuts and tax hikes had to be made to ensure that the city had enough money for repairs. College tuitions spiked to an all-time high, and the lower-income students who couldn’t afford to continue their classes were the first to go. Chihiro was one of these students. 

She had hoped to graduate with a major in medicine, find a profitable job as a doctor, and join the ranks of life-savers hoping to make the world a better place. But without the money to pay for her education, she was forced to swallow the shame of being a college dropout by necessity, abandoning her dream and her future. 

Her parents were devastated. She had always been a bright student, always eager to show off her talent, but bad luck couldn’t care less about how skilled she was at identifying every artery branching from the Circle of Willis or describing the proper treatment for acute onychocryptosis. By the time she’d turned legal, she was forced to get by on fast food restaurant paychecks and ancillary earnings from helping her mother at her shop. It wasn’t even close to enough to get an apartment of her own, not in the least because the mental health issues that had stemmed from her being forced to drop out prevented her from getting a job lasting longer than 6 months. 

Eventually, she couldn’t stand disappointing her parents anymore, and finally told them that she was going to find her own place and a sustainable career if it killed her. Her parents didn’t want her to go — most people who struck out on their own met terrible fates. But she had to at least try. And so it was with a heavy heart that she set off on her own to find the heart of the city, and hopefully discover an opportunity in the place where stories began. 

It is not known how Chihiro had discovered her ability to copy the ability of virtually any other superhuman she physically touched, or what led to her becoming the small-name villain called Copycat. But those who know her have claimed that it was her bitterness over fortune favoring the big over the small that led to her pursuit of crime, the same as almost every other supervillain who called the city home. Perhaps this is why, when not making a nuisance of herself around the big names in Monumentropolis, she made a career of acting as a sort of modern Robin Hood — a rogue in cat ears, stealing from the rich to help the poor survive. 

Far from the titillating, provocative outfits most female supervillains wore, Copycat chose a more conservative attire, a combination of body armor and flexible covering that sheathed every part of her except her head, fingers, and toes. Combining tiger-skin-colored spandex and bulletproof fabric, it was capped by a pair of wiry cybernetic tails, each tipped with a tiny adamantine mirror, and a cat-ear headband doubling as a surveillance and monitoring system. 

She’d picked those last two add-ons as an homage to the nekomata, a two-tailed supernatural feline which could use its strange abilities to pass as a human. She liked that motif, not only because she always considered her guile and agility to be cat-like, but also because just like a nekomata, you could pass right by her on the street and never suspect that you’d just seen a villain in disguise, ready and waiting to unsheathe her claws. 

********** 

Tonight was one of those nights where Chihiro felt very, very close to snapping. There were some occasions where she wanted so badly to rip someone’s face off, but knew better of it — not just because it’d expose her identity, but also because she just didn’t want to look like a dangerous person. 

If someone was going to take advantage of her supposed meekness, though, well… Let’s just say that they had only themselves to blame for what was coming to them. 

The blonde, blue-eyed twenty-something currently getting within a hair’s breadth of her was just asking to become one of those people. Just five minutes after she’d set foot inside Bento Oh No, her favorite bar and grill, this obnoxious lout had sat down next to her, introduced himself as “Stanley the Manly”, and offered to buy her a drink. She’d flatly refused, offering to pay for her own, not in the least because she suspected that it wouldn’t have been out of character for him to slip something nasty in the glass if she’d taken up his offer. 

She’d hoped Stan would get the message and leave her alone after that. Nope. And now, almost an hour after she’d taken her seat, she was stuck with a passive-aggressive lunatic literally breathing down her neck, and couldn’t even afford the luxury of dashing her glass of sake over his head. 

“So then I was like, ‘Oh, you just don’t know when to call it quits, huh?’” Stan said, gesticulating in an overly dramatic fashion and just missing her ear by an inch. “And I was like, kapow! And bam bam BAM, right in the kisser!” 

“Mm-hmm.” If he noticed her glass trembling ever so slightly in her hand, he ignored it. 

“Um, excuse me, but… Are you even listening to my story?” asked Stan. “You’re supposed to be goin’ ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ and ‘Will you marry me?’” 

“Go on. Ask me to ask you that.” She had to slip her hand under the seat of her pants to avoid extending her claws — something which she’d been itching to do all evening. 

“Alright then. Ask me if you wanna marry me.” 

“Okay, one, I won’t; two, I was being sarcastic; and three, if you ever imply that I want to ride whatever pixie stick your attitude is compensating for ever again, I swear to all the gods of every single religion in existence that I will rip your fucking testicles off right here and now.” 

Even though Chihiro was certainly capable of doing just that, however, she also knew that he’d think she was just bluffing. She certainly didn’t look like she had the nerve to publicly castrate someone, let alone being capable of doing that. 

Thus, it wasn’t long before Stan called her nonexistent bluff. “Oh yeah? Well, I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” he said, leaning on the counter. At the same time, he knocked her glass of sake over by accident, spilling the clear liquor all over the polished wood. 

“Oh, whoops! That’s on me. Here, lemme make it up to you, babe…” 

She turned her head to face him, her expression furious. But she hadn’t even opened her mouth before his lips met hers, the force of his unwanted advance almost knocking her to the floor. 

There was a sudden CRUNCH as knee met groin, and a yell of pain. Next moment, Stan had collapsed to his knees, whimpering, while Chihiro loomed above him, struggling not to pop her adamantine claws out of her fingertips and tear his nuts off right then and there. Both of their chairs had been knocked to the floor during this altercation. 

“I’m only going to tell this to you once,” she hissed. “Never fucking speak to me ever again. You are the most intolerable sack of shit I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet, and if your disgusting lips or any part of you touch me just one more time, you’ll be answering to at least a dozen people no sane person would ever want to meet in a dark alley. Ketsumedo yarou!” 

He shot to his feet, not understanding the meaning of her last insult but fully getting her infuriated tone. He lunged at her with a drunken yell, but she was quicker. She grabbed her shot glass and rammed it into his forehead, sending him sprawling onto the floor with a groan of pain. And then, for good measure, she raised her boot-clad foot and stomped on his package with all the force she could muster, grinding it under the thick rubber sole like it was a venomous spider. 

The undignified scream made all the males in the vicinity wince in sympathy, but every single person at Bento Oh No that evening had witnessed the entire confrontation, and they all knew that it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person. The bartender, of course, could only pinch the bridge of her nose in second-hand embarrassment. 

“And when you’re done crying, Stanley the Lamely, get out of this fucking bar and never come back,” Chihiro added through gritted teeth. 

Stan wanted to get to his feet and try hitting her a second time, but now all eyes were on him, and more than a few formidably armed and powerfully built bystanders had their guns out in multiple senses of the expression. One false move and he could very well lose his life. 

After several more moments of writhing in agony on the floor, he wisely decided that retreat was the better part of valor, and outed the first chance he got, leaving Chihiro to fume in silence. 

“Can I have another sake?” she asked the bartender. “I need it so bad it’s not even funny.” 

“That makes two of us,” replied the fetching twenty-something blonde, before turning to head for the Asian liquor compartment. 

As soon as she’d left, however, her patron felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Chihiro took it out and answered. 

“Hello?” 

“Is this Chihiro Tachibana?” It was the voice of a young woman, definitely trying to restrain an unfathomable anger of some kind. 

“Yes. How can I help you?” 

“I hear you’re Copycat’s agent. Do you think you could ask her to handle a little… problem?” 

“I’m sure she has the time. What happened?” 

“I got butt-dialed by my boyfriend, Stanley, about an hour ago, and I just listened to forty-five minutes of him flirting with some bar-hopping whore, followed by making some very inappropriate advances upon her. I think it’s about time Copycat taught him a lesson.” 

“Funny you should mention that. I had a nasty run-in with someone calling himself Stanley the Manly this evening, and had to fend him off when he got drunk and tried to cozy up to me. Ring any bells?” 

There was a moment of utter silence. And then the voice on the phone let out several unprintable obscenities. 

“I know, right?” 

“Ugh, oh man… Copycat is not gonna like this, I can tell. Y’know, I think I’ll pay you two double. I’m sure you deserve the money after what he did to you. And I’m so, so sorry for his behavior.” 

Chihiro smirked, the claws hidden under her black-polished fingernails quivering in anticipation. “It’s a deal.” 

********** 

As much as Copycat hated to admit it, she was not exactly what you’d call successful as far as “evil deeds” were concerned. From her perspective, that meant opposing the various heroes of Monumentropolis without rhyme or reason. When it wasn’t committing crimes like burglary or vandalism, it was usually either tormenting them or simply trying to kill them — after all, that was what she’d seen of so many other villains since starting her life of crime. But with the sheer influx of extraordinary people lately, she was nowhere near successful, and it seemed that she couldn’t commit one evil act without being caught red-handed. 

When it came to picking off other despicable people, however, the odds changed almost completely. 

One thing that she’d learned to take advantage of not long after she’d started her new life was that while the majority of decent, well-meaning, innocent people were always vigilant, ready to call 911 or get help when a crisis emerged, those closer to the underbelly of the city weren’t quite as watchful of either themselves or others. In the villainous circles, it was every man for himself, and those who were too steeped in their own vices to pay heed to potential danger inevitably paid a hefty toll. This was in fact a boon for certain small-time villains who’d started their careers in evil as hitmen, assassins, or vigilantes, ready to jump at any phone call with the promise of money to avenge those who had been abused, jilted, or otherwise wronged. 

As one such person, Copycat’s talent had been sought out by many, many people hoping to get back at a cheating husband or boyfriend, and they all too often requested a metaphorical pound of flesh in exchange for payment. Knowing her own fetish for genital torture, however, it was only fair that the payment included quite a bit of actual flesh as well as money… 

Stan, of course, was completely unaware of both this and his girlfriend’s betrayal. And he was none the wiser when a shadowy figure snuck into his bedroom that night and sprayed him with just enough sevoflurane to keep him asleep for an hour or so. 

It wasn’t easy driving all the way across the city at this hour of the morning, especially not in a stolen vehicle with a hostage almost twice her size stashed in the trunk, and especially not with police around almost every corner. But in spite of the odds against her, she’d had a lot of practice — it was all a matter of finding the right routes, knowing where her enemies usually patrolled, and occasionally making the car and everything inside it intangible and driving it straight through a building or two, just to shake things up. 

By the time Stan began to wake up, she was already deep in her evil lair, finishing up with the last strap tying him to the sturdiest concrete pillar she could find. It took him less than a second to realize not only that he was not going anywhere, but also that he was completely naked, leaving his enormous package — consisting of two egg-sized nuts and a monster cock that could reach nearly a foot in length when fully extended — dangling freely below his waist. 

“WHAT. THE. FUCK?!” 

“Oh hey, you’re awake!” Copycat smiled warmly. “Welcome to my humble abode, Stanley.” 

The dripping sarcasm with which she said his name made him frightened deep down, but he struggled not to show it. 

“YOU FUCKHEAD, WHO ARE YOU?! UNTIE ME THIS GODDAMN INSTANT!” he screamed. 

“Oh… I can’t do that. I’ve got a job on my hands, and it involves you as well.” 

His eyes widened incredulously. “It’s like what, four in the morning?! What are you, one of those brothel cunts peddling fucking drug money?!” 

Copycat tsk-ed several times, shaking her head. “Nice try, bozo, but you’re completely wrong. Does the name ‘Chihiro Tachibana’ ring any bells to you?” 

He blinked. “Uh, what?” 

“That girl you tried to mosey up to yesterday evening. Let’s just say she has some…” She smiled cruelly, unsheathing her claws with a menacing SHHHK. “Connections.” 

Stan glared daggers at her, but there was no hiding the bead of sweat running down his forehead. “Y-you — She — B-but — HOW?!” 

“Oh, hush. It’s like the say, a true villain never reveals her secrets.” 

He opened his mouth to shout at her, but she swiftly interrupted him by jabbing at his balls with two needle-sharp finger claws. As expected, he shrieked like a little girl, and she would swear that the initial poke was already enough to draw blood. 

“You know how they say you can tell a woman by the contents of her purse?” she asked, forming a pincer with her index finger and thumb. She proceeded to press the deadly claw tips of said fingers into his left testicle, making him scream and whine in pain. 

“I think a more accurate statement would be that you can tell a man by the contents of his ‘purse’, if you know what I mean,” she finished, relishing the sensation of blood — and possibly just a hint of man-milk — trickling down her fingers. 

Screams were his only reply. After a few more painful moments, she released her hold on him. “Oh, that reminds me. I’ll be right back, Stan. Don’t you move a muscle!” 

He growled at her, teeth clenched with rage. It didn’t make a difference to her, though. 

A few moments later, Copycat returned to where her captive was, pushing something very large towards him. The pair of boards which one’s head would normally be trapped between were two solid pieces, with no notches to form a neck-sized hole, but the fifteen-foot frame and heavy metallic blade were unmistakable even in the dim light of the lair. 

“W-what are you doing?!” Stan now began to panic in earnest. “IS THAT A GUILLOTINE?! YOU’RE NOT — NO! PLEASE DON’T!” 

“You had your chance, and you blew it the moment you started talking with Chihiro.” She smiled evilly, sliding forth the cruel device, which looked almost straight from 19th-century France, until his cock and balls were resting neatly atop the lower stockade board. “So stop complaining. Besides, I have much worse in store for you after I add another… trophy to my collection.” 

“TROPHY?! NO! YOU WOULDN'T DARE! GET ME OUT OF HERE YOU FUCKING BITCH! I'LL WRING YOUR FUCKING NECK THE INSTANT I—” 

He was interrupted when she touched a single claw tip to the very tip of his cock. A potent, tingling feeling flowed down the massive organ, spreading to his balls and then the area around his crotch. It was as maddening as it was arousing, like a hundred tiny feathers tickling the insides of his balls and his sensitive urethra. 

He squirmed in his bonds, instinctively thrusting, his eyes closed as a rush of terrible lust seized his privates. So taken was he by the indescribable feeling that he didn't notice his captor sliding the upper board of the stocks down until it rested just over the base of his manhood until he heard the lock on the side of the frame click shut, fixing the boards — and his junk — firmly in place. 

“And a one…” 

“AAAAAAAH! NONONONONONOOOO!” 

“And a two…” 

“OH GOD NOOOOO! PLEASE FUCKIN’ DON'T! PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEEEAAAAASE!!!” 

“And a three!” 

Before Stan could protest any further, she flipped the switch that would loosen the lethal blade, which up to this point had been at least ten, maybe fifteen feet high. That changed very quickly, however, as it descended almost in slow motion towards the helpless flesh caught underneath. 

SCHLL-THUNK!! 

“EEEEEYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!” 

His world was nothing but pain. Pure, nerve- searing, all-consuming PAIN. The sensation of his cock and balls being severed cleanly from his body was unbelievably horrific, but the feeling of the cold, rusty metal scraping against literally exposed, bleeding flesh made it so much worse. 

The blade slowly rose, revealing the surreal, terrifying stain of scarlet dripping along the middle of its razor-sharp edge. Stan nearly fainted at the sight of it, still unable to believe that this psychopath before him had nust emasculated him with dreadful ease — even though the sheer pain clearly told him otherwise. 

“Oh, don't worry,” said Copycat, lifting up a bowl containing some kind of lump of bleeding flesh he couldn't recognize at first. “You'll get this back in short order. I've made sure of it. But don't get your hopes up that you'll be walking away intact!” 

Stan could only let out a terrified whimper, having realized what was in that bowl. At the same time, however, he could feel the pain in his wounded crotch begin to build to heights he'd never thought possible. 

“W-what have you done?!” he asked through teeth gritted in an agonized grimace. 

“Oh, so you noticed,” replied Copycat, casually tipping the severed sack and chode into a nearby jar full of formaldehyde. “I've also acquired the ability to transfer any one of my abilities temporarily to someone else. And yes, I specifically said ‘any one of my abilities’, as in the ones I copy. I've recently gotten ahold of a remarkable regenerative power, capable of completely putting a man back together if he's been sliced apart.” She pointed down, indicating which direction he should turn his head. 

He looked down, and let out a yell of surprise. The stump where his precious bits had once been now had two twitching nubs of flesh sprouting from it, one on top of the other! He was quite sure he could tell which was which, too… 

“Incidentally,” Copycat continued, “I also got myself the ability to enhance the powers of others a while back, meaning that a healing process which would take hours or even days normally would last, oh… About a few minutes with the effect applied. Just give it a bit, and then we can move on to the next order of business.” 

Stan didn't know whether to feel relieved or horrified. His manhood wasn't completely lost after all, but then again, it seemed like this madwoman was only growing it back to torment him even further! 

All that came to him through a haze of pain, his body straining under the sensation of flesh expanding and stretching over multiple square inches within just a few seconds. Within less than a minute, he could feel the skin around the stump stretching and creeping over the regenerating organs as well, which pained him even more. 

Copycat smiled at her handiwork. Her prey was ripe and ready for the next round, without even a scratch to suggest the nasty encounter with the guillotine. Sliding open the restraining board, she proceeded to take his balls in her hand and then rest them on top of the board. Before Stan could react, she'd forcefully pushed the top board back down, so the hapless testicles were squeezed like grapes in a vice, flattened in the midsection to half their width. 

The reaction was instantaneous, as poor Stan began to holler and struggle against his restraints. “NOOOOOOOO! NOT AGAIN, PLEASE DON'T! PLEEEEEEASE! NONONONO NOOOOOOOO!!!!” 

Copycat simply blew a kiss at the trapped man. “You made your choice by kissing Chihiro. Now be a dear and grow a pair!” With that last quip, she flipped the switch again. 

There was a flash of silver, and a scream of terror as the blade descended once more. 

SCHRRR-THONK!!! 

“AAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” 

This time, the blade hadn’t hit the base of his genitals, but along the lateral midline of his scrotum, resulting in both of his sensitive, delicate testicles being sliced cleanly in half! Stan watched the part of his scrotum still attached to him drop towards the floor, and then screamed in utter terror and overwhelming pain as the halves of his nuts still dangling from their cords fell out of the opening, leaking a horrendous mix of nut guts, spunk, and blood. 

For several dreadful moments, his wounded nuts hung freely from his ruined sack like grisly pendulums, dripping awful red goop onto the floor. And then Stan passed out in his bindings, his head lolling against his shoulders. 

Even Copycat herself winced at the sorry sight. “Yeesh, I felt that, and I don't even have balls. Anyway, moving on…” 

Stan would look back on this moment with eternal gratitude that he was unconscious the entire time his captor had returned his balls to normal, stuffing the testicles back in the sack and letting the regenerative process do its work. But there was worse to come. 

When he awoke some ten minutes later, he was greeted by the sight of Copycat polishing a metal rod, about the size and shape of a pencil. There was a wheeled table next to her with several more metal rods, a syringe, and a vial containing some kind of liquid. 

He looked down, and his eyes widened in terror. His balls were once again completely unscathed, which could only mean that his captor wasn’t quite done with him yet. 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Copycat said cheerily. “So, ready to swear off forcing yourself on people?” 

“I don’t!” He struggled feebly in his bonds again. “Let me go, before I call the police!” 

“Relax, I will, but only if you promise to never so much as glance at any woman — no, anyone with selfish or hurtful intent. Are we both clear on this matter?” 

“I said let me go! I've got one button on the phone for 911!” 

“Liar. Your hands are completely empty! I would know, I checked before tying you up.” 

He spat at her, his expression seething with raw hatred. She ignored it. 

“If you aren't gonna give in, I might as well turn things up a notch. No, I'm not going to cut your balls open, in case you're wondering,” she added upon noting his suddenly terrified expression. “I tried that already, remember? Not exactly my style.” She shuddered ever so slightly at the memory. 

That didn't sound comforting to him at all. “W-what are you gonna do, then?!” 

“First off, I've gotta make some preparations for the next part of the procedure. Let me ask you this, Stan. Ever had your dick probed?” 

“W-what?!” 

“With a red-hot sounding rod to sterilize the inside?” 

“AHHHHH! NONONONO YOU FUC—” 

She put a finger over his lips to shush him. “Now now, let's not be too fidgety over this. It's for your own safety, along with that of the sample.” 

He assumed that meant his seed, but judging from the vial on the table, a small part of him doubted it. To his long-term detriment, he ignored that doubt. 

By this point, Chihiro was now caressing the rod in her hand as though it were somebody’s member, which would’ve made him pine with envy if it weren’t for the menacing red glow the implement was now emitting. Was she heating it up with her own hand?! 

If it hadn’t dawned upon him by this point that she was anything but a small-time supervillain, this was certainly the moment when he realized that. 

“Please don’t… P-please…” he said, wanting nothing more than to get himself untied and run like the fucking dickens, whether or not his loins were still attached. 

“Oh, I’ve made it this far, pal, and I’m not going to let up until we’re done.” She grinned like a shark, and then waved her hand twice. 

Two things happened in quick succession after that. First, his dick sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, extending up to a monstrous eleven and a half inches and almost twice as thick as a man’s thumb. Second, and more worrying, a force that felt like four tiny, invisible lobster claws clamped down painfully on the rim of his piss slit, stretching it wide open like the end of a rubber tube! 

Unbeknownst to Stan, both of these were actually of Copycat’s creation. The lust-inducing field was pretty straightforward, but what he didn’t realize was that his dick was being held open by a psionic projection, which used this combination on several previous victims to the same effect. Of course, the different sounding implements used for each occasion had varied in terms of how they damaged the cocks they went inside, from dowels lined with numerous flesh-ripping barbs to freezing cold icicles and in one infamous case, a radioactive cadmium rod that gave a hapless child rapist an ultimately lethal case of prostate cancer. 

“Brace yourself, Stanley the Lamely,” said Copycat, looming over the massive member like a stork cornering a big, juicy frog. “This is going to hurt like a bitch.” 

He didn’t even get a chance to beg before she pointed the very hot sounding rod at the opening in his cock and then forced it in with one swift movement. 

“AYYYYIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” 

As if the inside of his member weren’t already excruciatingly sensitive, the intensely hot metal seemed to rub painfully against every single square centimeter of his urethra, literally roasting his dick from the inside out! So painful was the sensation that Stan squeezed his eyes shut, unable to do anything but scream and scream and SCREAM. 

So overcome by agony was he that he didn’t notice that while the sounding rod was inside his dick, Copycat was currently in the process of injecting each of his meaty testicles with a substantial amount of liquid from that strange vial. Compared to the red-hot metal scorching his insides, the prick of the hypodermic needle lancing straight into the flesh of each man-egg felt pathetically insignificant. But as he was about to find out, that wasn’t the villain’s intention… 

As soon as she was done, Copycat grabbed the end of the sounding rod with one gloved and no doubt heat-resistant hand and yanked it out with a single tug. Stan screamed like a man possessed, the rush of air flowing into his urethra only heightening the burning sensation for a moment before she released her hold on his member. 

Eventually, his shrieking died down, becoming reduced into a pained whimpering. For a few long moments after that, all was still. 

And then Stan’s balls began to twitch. And squirm. And grow. 

The captive man began to struggle, his eyes zipping from his balls to Copycat and back repeatedly and with alarming speed. He had no idea it was even possible, but the insides of his nuts suddenly felt itchy. Not the standard kind of itch which could be relieved with just a scratch, but horribly, infuriatingly, maddeningly itchy. It was as though something — no, dozens upon dozens upon dozens of tiny little things were burrowing around inside his juicy ball meat, with no obvious way out! 

“Wha… What have you DONE?!” Stan yelled, his forehead drenched in sweat. 

“Oh, this?” Copycat replied, holding up the now empty vial. “I got it as a gift from a friend of mine a while back, one of the few still around that is. She’s an evil microbiologist, and she’s been experimenting with a couple of varieties of parasitic organisms lately, and she sent me a sample of genetically modified nematode eggs.” 

“English, please?” He would’ve spat at her if it hadn’t been for the sheer panic racing through every nerve in his body. 

“Those baby worms I introduced to your testicles have been altered so they looooove the taste of human sperm. It seems like they’re pretty happy to get to know you!” She pointed down at his balls. 

Stan looked down, his face turning white as chalk. Multiple tiny worm-like things were now moving about just beneath the skin of his scrotum, and many more were no doubt feasting upon the sperm inside his gonads this very moment. 

“You’re a pretty fertile young man, if you ask me,” said Copycat, picking up another jar full of liquid from a nearby table. “Or rather, you were. ‘Cuz I’m pretty sure those worms will eventually run out of sperm to eat, and after that they’ll have to look to other sources of food if they’re gonna continue growing,” she added with an evil toothy grin. 

Stan struggled harder than ever, and not because of the itchiness inside his balls. “N-NO! YOU CAN’T! GET THEM OUT BEFORE I—” 

“Sorry, pal. I’m afraid you bought this on yourself hours ago. Commencing emasculation in three… two… one…” 

Right on cue, Stan let out his loudest, longest, most piercing scream yet. It was a long, continuous, high-pitched wail of pure, primal agony, and it could only have been caused by one thing. Inside his testicles, the worms that Copycat had implanted had indeed started gorging themselves upon the highly sensitive and delicate filaments and tubules inside his balls, their microscopic lamprey-like maws snipping off mouthful after tiny mouthful of flesh at an excruciating pace. Worse, Stan hadn’t realized it yet, but shortly after pulling out the sounding rod, Copycat had taken away the healing ability she’d bestowed upon him earlier, so there was no way he was ever going to recover from this final stage of this horrible genital torture. 

The young man couldn’t compose himself enough to speak even a single word — all he could do was scream endlessly, barely pausing only to breathe. All the while, his captor could see his nuts begin to shrink while the worms continued their deadly work. 

Amazingly, while all this was happening, his crippled dick still remained as stiff as a flagpole, pointing high into the air. Copycat smiled cruelly, stepping forward. With one petite hand, she started bending it down, angling the jar so that by the time his massive cock was horizontal, its purple head was aimed at an angle directly into the opening of the jar. 

“N-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Stan couldn’t believe that this amount of pain was possible. Not only were these insidious worms practically eroding away at his once proud manhood like masses of sentient acid, but Copycat was threatening to snap his dick clean off as well! 

Next moment, he felt something wrap around his penis like some kind of cold, metallic tentacle. Looking down through his tear-soaked eyes, he realized that it was one of Copycat’s tails, squeezing his dick until his urethra had been closed off like a pressure valve — just in time for the worms to start slithering with amazing speed through his spermatic ducts, heading straight for the exit route. 

The villainess took this moment to give him the death glare of a lifetime, almost gazing straight into his soul with a sudden primordial fury. 

It was only another second before the worms met the constricted part of his urethra, their inch-long, thread-like bodies rubbing against each other and the now blistering, inflamed lining. Unable to get through, they turned upon said lining and began to bite, their microscopic razor-like teeth easily tearing into the sensitized flesh!

It seemed as though his agonized scream could be heard for miles.

“I’m only going to say this once, fuckhead,” Copycat snarled. “If you ever so much as meet the gaze of anyone with the intent to make love to them without their consent…” 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—” 

“…if you ignore the simple fact that ‘no means no’…” 

“—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—” 

“…if you ruin the lives, relationships, and dignities of anyone from this point forward out of your own petty, lustful selfish sense of entitlement…” 

“—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—” 

“…then I will find you. I will finish what I’ve started tonight. I. Will. Kill. You. Nod if you understand that. Nod!” 

“—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!”

Through his almost inhuman shriek of absolute anguish, Stan shook his head up and down frantically. 

Thus satisfied, Copycat released her stranglehold on his cock, still angling it down towards the jar. Almost instantly, his orgasm finally exited like an erupting volcano. A veritable fountain of inch-long white worm larvae, along with just a little bit of blood and pus, shot out of his dickhole and into the jar like a fire hose. It seemed like the spray of insidious grubs would never end, the tiny fiends wriggling around inside their new aqueous environment as though they were research subjects in some marine biologist’s laboratory. Stan continued screaming all the while, the worms rubbing against the wounds inside his member and occasionally scraping with their teeth along the mangled inner membrane. 

Time seemed to slow down for the luckless captive, magnifying the pain and sense of primal loss. But at long last, it was over. The last worm peeked out through the opening of his dick and wriggled its way free to join its siblings, along with a few drops of what looked like a mix of blood, pus, and possibly urine. 

The jar was quickly sealed, keeping its new inhabitants from trying to make a break for it — and before setting it aside, its owner took one look at her now thoroughly unmanned victim, and then blew him a flirtatious kiss. 

What was left of Stan’s stamina finally gave out at that moment, and once again, he fainted right then and there. 

It would take another hour of undoing his restraints, hauling him back to the car, and evading the police once again, but Copycat managed to get him to the hospital without too much trouble. Medics would rush through the entrance gate to find a naked young man lying unconscious on the sidewalk, with a scrotum devoid of testicles and a small puddle of blood trickling from his penis. 

********** 

The following evening was probably the best Chihiro had ever had. She hadn’t had so much fun with a captive in weeks, and her tale had been immensely popular with a lot of the other thugs at Bento Oh No. Even the guys she’d made acquaintance with there enjoyed it, even if they still couldn’t help but wince in sympathy whenever she described any one of the testicular torments she’d inflicted upon that luckless bastard the previous night. Apparently, Stan had been a regular here before then, and had caused no end of trouble to the patrons while he was there — at least, prior to his untoward run-in with a certain small-time supervillain. 

It was widely agreed that not only did Stan get what he’d deserved, but he wasn’t going to stick around this place any longer, not after he’d suffered the consequences for that fateful visit. Better yet, the call to confirm the payment had also come with another pleasant surprise: his girlfriend had broken up with him during the hospital visit, and had even placed a call to the police while she was there. As it turned out, Chihiro hadn’t been the first person Stan had made miserable, and in fact, according to the police records, he had been arrested for at least three different sexual harassment charges over the past two years, having been let go each time. That said, it was all but guaranteed that as soon as he was released from the hospital, he’d be going straight to jail, and hopefully staying there for a good long while. 

“A toast to Copycat, for a job well done,” said Chihiro, raising her sake glass. Almost everyone else in the bar followed suit, before downing their respective drinks. 

“How do you two know each other so well?” asked the bartender. “It’s like you and Copycat are identical twins or something.” 

“Heh, you don’t know the half of it,” Chihiro replied, smiling. “She was one of the first people I got to know when I moved here, and I’m proud to be her trusted friend. Seriously, I don’t know how she does it, but if there’s anyone causing trouble, I’m sure she’ll hunt them down.” 

“Preferably by pouncing like a wildcat, I take it?” The bartender made a purring noise, winking at her patron. 

“I wouldn’t call it that, honestly, but pretty close! One thing’s for sure, though: you mess with the cat, you get the claws!” 

The two women laughed heartily, though in Chihiro’s case her laughter was nominally uncomfortable. 

The conversation moved on after that, and after some more small talk, the bartender moved on to serve another patron, leaving Copycat alone with her thoughts. As much as she’d enjoyed the previous night, her ears and eyes were still on the lookout. Stan was just one of the many, many people who were likely to turn up on the seedier side of town. 

Sure enough, her heightened hearing soon picked up a noise coming from just outside the bar. It started as simple arguing between a man and a woman, but then it turned to shouting, and then screaming along with the sounds of fists meeting flesh. There was the thud of a body hitting the ground, and the woman started crying while her partner continued yelling, using a variety of words that made their eavesdropper cringe. 

A few unbearable moments later, the fight ended with the man grabbing the woman by her arm and dragging her off to who knew where. Little did they know that a certain someone was about to get off her chair and follow them home. 

Chihiro rubbed the bridge of her nose, making a mental note to ask the bartender for yet another glass of sake the next time she stopped by. A vigilante’s work was never done.

Stanley the Lamely (née Manly), as played by Logan Paul