"Give it back," yelled Kimberly, chasing her little brother down the hallway.
He was running with her journal open in front of him. His sister was nineteen years old and she still wrote in a journal, how pathetic. Though in defense of Kimberly, her little brother was eighteen years old and still was immature enough to sneak into his big sister's room and steal her diary.
"Come on you little creep," she hollered.
"You'll have to catch me first," he replied.
She chased him down the stairs. They crashed through the living room, knocking over a lamp in the process. Then they flashed through the kitchen where their mother, Mason, was standing over the sink washing dishes.
"What's going on you two?" She asked, but they were out the door and in the backyard before she could even finish her sentence. She watched them through the kitchen window, practically adults and still wrestling with each other, rolling around on the ground like a couple of toddlers fighting over a toy.
Kimberly had developed nicely, beautiful long blonde hair, crystal blue eyes that could gaze you into a trance, and a body that most women kill for. Perfect, full and succulent breasts that bounced with every step she took protruded out from her chest. Her hips were wide and seductive, and she had an ass that was just the right size: not too small or flat, and not too big or flabby, just the perfect little bubble-butt, as some might say.
Jeffrey, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He was eighteen years old and he looked like he was still right smack dab in the middle of puberty. Pimples still covered his oily face; only a little peach fuzz was all that grew out from his chin, and he was still as afraid to talk to girls as a fourteen-year-old boy. Obviously his mother wasn't going to come right out and ask him the question, but there was no doubt in her mind that this kid was still a virgin.
I mean for God's sake what does he care what his sister writes in her diary? And why in the hell is a nineteen-year-old woman still keeping a journal hidden in her room?
Then the rolling around outside stopped and Jeffrey let out a high-pitched squeal.
Mason, concerned for her son, ran out the back door and into the yard, where she could get a better look at them and see what had happened.
Her jaw dropped at what she saw.
Sweet young Kimberly, the innocent and perfect daughter, had her little brother on his back with her hands on his knees holding his legs spread apart and the heel of sneaker grinding mercilessly into his ball sack.
"I warned you," she hissed.
Jeffrey whimpered something inaudible.
Appalled, Mason yelled, "Kimberly!"
She let go of her brother and spun around, her innocent hands behind her back, while he curled up in the fetal position, whimpering like a little puppy dog.
"What on earth is going on out here?"
"It's his fault," Kimberly snapped back. "I told him that if he didn't give me my journal back that I'd make him pay. He started it, mother. He was taunting me. For Christ's sake I'm a nineteen years old! I deserve a little-"
"Shut-up," interrupted her mother, her voice quiet and stern, no longer yelling. "You go into the house. I'll deal with you later."
Kimberly sighed, rolled her eyes, threw her hands in the air, and stamped along the yard back into the house, like a toddler marching down the hall and off to her room after a temper tantrum.
Mason watched her until she heard the back door shut, her eyes like that of a hawk, then she relaxed and knelt down beside her son, still curled up and whimpering. She stroked his hair and said tenderly, "Are you okay my baby boy? She really hurt you down there, huh."
He nodded, tears quietly running down his cheeks.
"Okay," said his mother, "Why don't we get you up and get you inside, get a nice bag of frozen peas for your ball sack, and have a little chat with your sister about what she did to you, okay honey?"
He cradled his swollen manhood, whimpering on the ground like a puppy dog.
LATER THAT EVENING
"Kimberly?" Mason called from the bottom of the stairs.
There was no response.
"Kimberly!" she said again, shouting this time.
The innocent and perfect little Kimberly came out from her pretty pink bedroom, stood at the top of the stairs, and in her schoolgirl voice said, "You called for me mother?"
"Don't play games with me young lady," said Mason. "You did something really awful today, you know that? Do you understand how much pain your brother is in, how painful it is for a man to be hit there?"
"He started it-"
"And you didn't even just hit him," interrupted her mother, "You twisted your sneaker with all of your body weight on his poor little balls. You could have irreversibly damaged his testicles like that, you know, could have prevented him from ever being able to have children. Do you think that's a fair exchange? His nuts for your Goddamned journal?"
"Yeah well I don't think he deserves to have children. He's a rotten little brat."
"Kimberly!" shouted her mother, appalled at what she was hearing.
"It's true," little miss perfect persisted, "Besides, I didn't hurt him THAT bad; you're so exaggerating. I just gave his pathetic little marbles a taste of the bottom of my shoe, and he SO deserved it."
"Is that really what you think, that you didn't hurt him very much?"
She put her hands on her hips at the top of the stairs and rolled her eyes.
"That is IT young lady," raged her mother. "You come down those stairs this instant!"
Kimberly yawned, unimpressed, and said, "I'm actually kind of tired, mom."
"Right now young lady!"
The little princess sighed and nonchalantly replied, "Fine."
Her mother watched furiously as she leisurely strolled down the stairs.
"Come with me," said Mason, grabbing her daughter by the wrist and dragging her down the hallway and through the living room.
"Ouch mother! You're hurting my wrist," whined Kimberly. "Please let go or at least loosen up your-"
Just then they entered into the kitchen.
Kimberly couldn't finish her sentence. Her jaw dropped. Sitting at the kitchen table was her little brother Jeffrey, naked from the waist down, gently rubbing ice cubes on two incredibly swollen and blue lumps that were protruding from his crotch. He was in so much pain, his eyes clenched shut that he didn't even hear or notice his sister and mother come in.
"So, young lady," said Mason, "Still think you didn't hurt him very much?"
She just shook her head, her mouth open wide. Then, getting a hold of herself, she said quietly, "No . . . I . . . I didn't know they were so sensitive."
"The poor thing," said her mother, rubbing her hand on her daughter's back.
They both stood there for a few minutes, watching poor little Jeffrey rub ice cubes up and down his swollen nut sack. Then, wanting to give him a little privacy, and figuring that her daughter had learned her lesson, Mason said, "Why don't you go back upstairs, sweetie, okay? You said you were tired . . . and you look tired . . . I'll help Jeffrey upstairs shortly and we'll all go to bed and put this incident behind us."
"Yeah," said Kimberly numbly, staring sadly at her brothers testicles.
Then she brought herself to look away, which was quite painful, and walked out of the kitchen. When she was halfway down the hallway, trying to get the image out of her head, Kimberly's mother jogged lightly out from the kitchen and down the hall to meet up with her daughter.
