Case File: Jane aka The Hunt For The Nutcracker Of Sacktonshire

*Contains: >!castration focus, gynarchy?, public nudity, assault!<*

“...coinciding with a general rise of genital violence carried out by women of all ages upon boys and men throughout our community.”

“Inspector Picklepelter,” one of the reporters began with a lilt that betrayed her amusement. Of course, only female reporters had shown up for the press conference she had called. “I don't mean to criticize police investigations just yet, but… I believe I speak for most of Sacktonshire when I ask - don't you believe you're blowing all of this out of proportion? A guy had his bollocks cracked, I mean, so what? They're only balls.”

The other reporters concurred, nodding and murmuring. Emilia Picklepelter spared the TA a pitying look. It was the first press conference he was helping put on, and it had to be about a serial castratrix. It was no wonder most places struggled to get guys to join the workforce these days. The sexual harassment even her colleagues at the police station put the lads through under the guise of banter, making lewd jokes and fondling their nuts was bad enough. But then they also had to deal with the ever-present threat of getting their balls pranked by their colleagues. After all, what’s a sack tap among friends, right?

“We may think so, because as women we're blessed that we don't lug around two big, freely accessible off switches around between our legs, ready to get beat whenever, without any way to stop it.” The TA blushed and sank in on himself as Emilia pointed towards him during her explanation. He probably appreciated her being so caring. “But that's exactly why we must take this recent string of nut crunchings seriously, the men in our lives need us to protect their weak, fragile testes from bad women. I want all of you here today, and all the women of Sacktonshire to remember this: the only way to stop a bad gal going for the balls is a good gal who isn’t afraid to stand in her way. It is up to all of us to stop the Sacktonshire Nutcracker.”

“Inspector Picklepelter, it has been suggested that you are incapable of handling this case, given that your ex-fiancé had his balls crushed when he was attacked by a drunk woman, turning his nutsack to jelly just a day before your wedding. What do you say to those people that are suggesting you are prejudiced by your lover losing his man-marbles, and that you’re making a mountain out of a deflated nut because his castrator has never been caught?”

Emilia knew the reporter who had asked that question very well. She worked for the worst gossip magazine around and had run a weeks-long series of articles on John’s unfortunate loss of manhood. Emilia had to file a restraining order when she found the woman rooting around in her rubbish, hoping to find the photos Emilia had allegedly taken of her fiancé’s ruined nutsack.

She sighed. “Alright then, it might be a fool’s errand, but let me try to put the rumours that all of these ball poppings were just unfortunate accidents to rest. All of the men were attacked when they were alone, and all of them were disabled with a swift, hard kick to the goolies before the ballkiller went to town on their nuts. Blinded by getting booted in the crotch first, they didn’t see their attacker coming – and now no one else will ever see them coming again.

First victim: João Amedoim, a tourist visiting Sacktonshire for our famous hot springs. He was found in the male-only section of the hot springs, with a towel wrapped around his sack that someone had tied in an intricate knot. The Nutcracker then tightened and tightened the knot, squeezing his balls like she wanted to squeeze peanut oil from them until…” Emilia made a little popping sound with her lips. “It was a blessing in disguise that the Nutcracker used a towel, otherwise nut butter would have covered the entire room.”

“Guess he’ll have to buy his speedos a size smaller now,” one of the reporters joked. She earned a round of laughter from the room.

Emilia glared at her, even if she couldn’t suppress the smirk on her own face. “Records of the old woman who runs the hot spring show that he was the only male visitor that day. Plenty of female guests, in fact, almost the entire female part of the village was bathing that day, but no one wants to have seen or heard the only guy there getting his rocks ground to dust – despite the fact that staff later testified they saw some women drag João into the women’s changing room, where they stripped him and spent an hour smacking rolled-up towels into his bollocks before allowing him back into the men’s section.”

“He could’ve crushed his own testes after that, hoping it might to stop the pain in his smarting nuts,” one of the reporters from the back shouted.

Emilia ignored her. “Second victim: Peter Cummingham. Janitor for the Sacktonshire Kickers, our beloved football team. The girls of the team admitted that they always ended training by tying Peter up spread eagle between the goal posts. They say smashing their hard football shoes into his nuts and pounding them until they're swollen helps their aim. They left Cummingham cradling his decidedly still whole balls to go hit the showers.” A few knowing whoops and wolf-whistles made their rounds, as everyone knew how the Kickers girls liked to end a training session with each other under the showers.

“How do you know the girls didn’t just go overboard and accidentally broke his balls?”

“Because several police officers are members of the club and can vouch that he was still in possession of both of his cum tanks when they left him on the pitch. Cummingham was found later that evening under one of the team’s benches, a jersey stuffed into his mouth. His ballbag had been slipped through the slats of the bench and then trampled and squished until his nutsack was a completely flattened ruin. I'm talking testicles flatter than a credit card. Both of his nuts were stomped so hard, they popped like balloons and were replete with imprints of studs.”

Emilia started pacing up and down to try and hide the blush that was creeping onto her cheeks, and her nipples hardening under her uniform. It was tough to talk about all of these ballbags getting destroyed without also imagining them swinging back and forth. She imagined how they would feel in her hands, or on her tongue as she sucked on them… not good! She needed to keep her fetish under control and get through this press conference. There would be time to blow off some steam later in her office – the stack of photographs of nutsacks used as evidence were securely put away in the locked drawer of her desk. Even if most of the balls in them were red and swollen due to kicks from irate girlfriends or wives, they made for excellent masturbation fodder for Emilia.

“Ahem! Third victim: Lonnie Tallywaxer, also known as ‘Backseat Wanker Lonnie’ or ‘Lonnie Pretzel Stick’. Maybe the most concerning victim of them all.”

“Because you were hoping to take a ride on that dimwit’s beanpole dick on your commute to work?” one of the reporters asked.

“No, because Lonnie and his rail-thin but impressively long shlong was a beloved sight in our dear Sacktonshire!” *And if anything, I wanted to play with his balls rather than that needle of a dick*, Emilia added in her mind. “If you have ever taken the Green Line bus in the mornings, you will know what I'm talking about. The girls taking the bus to university every morning loved to tease Lonnie, exposing their tits to him or giving him a peek at their slits. And Lonnie, may God rest his nuts, jerked his slender pole like a monkey at the sight. Girls travelled from all over the region to take a picture with the famous ‘Backseat Wanker’. Lonnie polishing his skinny pickle was a sight that amused any girl, and selfies of girls sitting on his lap so his string dick would come up between their legs, or with their faces close and sticking their tongues out as if they were going to blow it were a popular Sacktonshire souvenir.”

The reporters chattered away at their memories of the weird but lovable guy sitting in the last seat of the bus line and wanking away his mornings. “I actually touched it once.”

“Really? What did it feel like?”

“Like one of those really long and thin sausages, you know? Oh, but he came the moment I touched him, I'm pretty sure he was a complete virgin.”

“With a dick like that, of course he would be. Can you imagine fucking that thing? You wouldn't feel it until it came up and poked around your tonsils.”

“Anyway!” Emilia Picklepelter said loudly. “Lonnie was found by a pair of construction workers on their lunch break, dangling from the scaffolding. The Nutcracker tied Lonnie to the scaffolding by his penis, managing to tie another elaborate knot into his meat. Now as you might suspect, since he is a virgin and chronic wanker, Lonnie's balls were *very* large and *very* full that day, since he’s used to spilling his cum the moment he sees a pair of tits. His balls must have been so hot and heavy, churning with all that loser virgin cum- I mean, his balls were exceedingly large. The Nutcracker used his ballsack as a speed bag, expertly drilling his testicles with an absolutely brutal series of strikes. Her knuckles must have bored into Lonnie's nuts over and over again for hours until they started breaking down, splintering into a million infertile nut pieces.”

“And these construction workers that found the little wanker, have you cleared them as suspects?”

Emilia nodded. “They are hosting livestreams on a channel called ‘Muscle Mommy Simps’ where they grab random men by the balls and convince them to wrestle a girl live on stream. They always win, since… you know.”

“Because they go for the nuts?”

“Because they go for the nuts,” Emilia said, nodding. “Then they get the losers in a chokehold and jerk them off with a finger or two to make their dicks look even smaller in comparison. Apparently, their content is very popular. As it turns out, they were streaming that day, and as they walked out of their workplace they happened upon Lonnie. Thinking he had accidentally tied himself to the scaffolding, they rubbed his thin dick full force and as fast as they could. I’m talking friction burn levels of stroking. After about thirty minutes without a single drop of cum from Lonnie’s prick, they realized what happened. They phoned the police right after.”

“Sorry, I don't get it,” a reporter said. “How did Lonnie not cumming make them realize he had his bollocks crushed? They should've realized when they saw his flattened sack!”

“Normally I would agree, but the knot in Lonnie's thin todger meant his mushy nuts couldn't leak out of his dickie. So the construction workers thought his sack was full with two big, beautiful nuts, when in actuality it only contained two testicles worth of finely crushed nutbutter.”

“Still, these two women could have split his walnuts earlier and then come back to film it-”

“AAAH!”

“Inspector!” Sara, a well-endowed redhead and Emilia's colleague, had barged into the room. Since the TA was in her way, she had unceremoniously booted him in the nuts from behind and then stepped over him. “We found another one, another nutless eunuch. The Nutcracker struck again.”

Emilia immediately leapt into action. She always carried everything she needed for a castration investigation on her body. It allowed her to shift gears from nonsense like this press conference to real detective work.

“On it. You, the TA with the smarting balls, don’t let these reporters out of the room, you hear? We can't have the media messing up the crime scene.”

Emilia rushed after Sara and out of the police station. The TA, getting up with a whimper, headed to the doors to close them for the time being. When he turned back around, a horde of reporters faced him. From the back, someone screamed, “Kick him in the balls! He can’t stop us if he’s holding his balls!”

With a shriek, a horde of women that wouldn’t let a pair of testicles stand between them and the biggest scoop of the week, attacked the lone man.

---

“What do we have, Bella?”

The scene of crime officer, an external contractor despite her title, took a drag from her cigarette and then put it behind her ear, still burning. Her French bob was perfectly coiffed to avoid touching it.

“The dangler is a twenty-three year old Caucasian male- well, former male. Says a female identifying herself as ‘Jane’ approached him in the club, giving him compliments about his balls. They left around four in the morning because she promised him that he could bust a nut on her face while she sucked his balls. And bust his nuts he did – another female assaulted him with a swift kick to the undercarriage when he left the club with Jane. Then she fucked his nuts up in this back alley. Double nut fracture it looks like,” Bella said and pressed her thumb into the left testicle. The victim, some ginger guy, screamed in agony, but several police officers had pinned him down, sitting on his arms and legs and even on his face.

“Good work securing the crime scene,” Emilia told the officers. She turned back to Bella. “Well, yeah, obviously, it’s the Nutcracker, of course she fractured both his nuts. Is that really all you can tell me about the state of his testicles?” Emilia stared at Bella’s outfit. “Your outfit is very unprofessional, too, I really should talk to the chief constable about that. I mean, a tiny bomber jacket, nipple pasties and hot pants?”

“Hold your horses there, Inspector Picklepolisher. You misunderstand me.”

“It’s Picklepelter, you know that. We’ve been working together for five years. Alright, so what did I miss?”

“This bitch, this Nutcracker, she inflicted a double fracture on *each* nut. And that’s only the ruptures in his nuts I could find by poking and prodding them.”

“What? That can’t be!”

“You’re welcome to feel up those nuts yourself. It’s a clean two-way rupture at least. She’s a real professional.”

Emilia didn’t need to be told twice to fondle some balls, even if they were ruptured. She took the swollen sack in both hands and could immediately tell the victim had been thoroughly castrated. Instead of two big, fat balls rolling around in her hand, it was like his ballbag was filled with little lego pieces of testicle. Emilia’s breath quickened.

“Oh, they- they must have been so big before and round before!” If she was being honest, it still felt nice to touch this guy’s busted cherries.

“Yeah, if you ask me, it’s definitely part of the Nutcracker’s M.O. Find a guy with huge nuts and then destroy them.”

“And now they’re completely broken beyond repair… his penis is basically a useless slab of limp meat.”

“Definitely, that penis is never fucking anything ever again. And I think the Nutcracker improved her method of popping balls,” Bella said, “before she just kind of went at them with blunt force trauma until she heard that sweet, little double *pop*. But this guy? It’s like she crucified his nuts. No doctor is going to stitch that mess of a testicle back up. It’s *snip-snip* for him.”

The man cried out even louder now, not just because his broken testicles were still being unnecessarily handled by Emilia, but because he heard Bella confirm he would never again be a whole man. The nutless eunuch screamed between the police officer’s legs.

“But the weird part is that we didn’t make it public that Peter Cummingham and Lonnie Tallywaxer had a nut stitched back together. It’s like she somehow caught wind of it, so now she’s not just popping balls but downright destroying those nuts.”

One of the police officers, a young blonde that idly watched inspector Picklepelter fondle the man’s nutsack said, “so is this ‘Jane’ part of this whole nut killing thing? It sounds like she was working together with the Nutcracker. If she was, it would have made popping the guy at the hot springs easier, too. One gal to turn staff and horny women that are trying to sneak into the men’s section away. And one to, you know… juice those berries.”

“No!” Emilia yelled and shut her fist tight. Only when the man started convulsing did she realize she had just further crushed his nuts and let go. “No, that is complete conjecture. We are still working under the assumption there is only one ballbuster and not two, understood?”

The young police officer nodded.

“Good. If word has got out about the repaired nuts of Cummingham and Tallywaxer, we might want to look into the medical staff at the hospital as our next suspects.”

“They would have the required knowledge of testicles to make them burst so thoroughly…” Bella said thoughtfully.

“And speaking of which,” Emilia said, “do you happen to know when Cummingham and Tallywaxer are getting released from the hospital?”

Bella thought for a moment. “Should be in two days’ time. Their nuts won’t have healed by then, but the stitches will allow their testes to heal if they aren’t disturbed. Those two are lucky they got to keep one.”

“Should we put them in witness protection, Inspector Picklepelter?” another young officer asked.

“No, no, let’s not go too far. I’m sure Lonnie will be back the next day to wank at the back of the Green Line bus anyway, right?” That got some laughs from the newbies.

“Inspector? There’s a reporter here to see you. She must have stumbled upon the crime scene somehow. Should I send her away?”

Emilia got up and dusted off her uniform. “No, that’s alright, I’ll set her straight. You girls have fun with each other in the meantime.”

The reporter waited for her behind a large dumpster. Emilia quickly peered over her shoulder to see if she was being followed, but all of the officers and Bella had stayed by the freshly castrated man.

“We’re alone, we can talk,” the reporter said.

“Fine. Do you have them?”

“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with nutsacks but yeah, I do. Here you go.” She handed Emilia several photographs of the testicles that used to be attached to the man lying in the alleyway behind them.

“I’m obsessed? You proposed this whole thing! God, just look at those fat nuts…”

The reporter chuckled. She hid her large chest well under a plain jacket, but when she laughed, it was like she had two massive bowls of pudding strapped to her chest that were now jiggling and quaking. “Try not to frig yourself silly. And of course I did, the ‘Nutcracker’ is the best thing to happen to Sacktonshire in a long time! I get my fresh scoop about the serial nut killer, and you get plenty of big, juicy ball pics to masturbate to.”

Emilia scoffed. “You don’t get it. Now that they’re popped, it’s like these become photos of rare, extinct species. That makes them so much hotter.” The reporter sighed and just shook her head. “Speaking of which, both Lonnie and Peter managed to get one of their nuts fixed. You need to act fast and pop them completely!”

“No, *we* need to act fast. We will need to hit two testicles in different locations at the same time. That way we can make it look like it was an accident and not the Nutcracker. Face it, ‘Jane’: you can’t just play bait any more, you need to start cracking balls as well.”

The code name her partner in crime used for her made Emilia shiver.

“Tch, fine…” Emilia looked at her feet for a moment. “With their nut stitched up, do you… do you think it will be really swollen? So that it’s even bigger than before?”

“Oh, definitely,” the reporter said and smirked, “super big and swollen. Don’t worry, Jane, you’re going to have so much fun playing with their last nut before it cracks a second time.”