Prequel: How I Met Your Father's Family Jewels
Part 1: A Sister’s Guide to Protecting the Family Jewels
I slid the last plate onto the rack and wiped my hands, enjoying a rare moment of peace in our household. It lasted three seconds. A furious bellow erupted from the living room, usually meaning one of two things: something expensive was about to break, or some unfortunate male in the family was about to be reminded of a particularly unfortunate flaw in his evolutionary design.
I stepped in to find Tanya, hands on hips and nostrils flared, glaring murderously at the hideous plastic beast Petr had just hauled into the house.
“You cannot be serious,” Tanya spat, her tone sharp as a meat cleaver. “Tell me you didn’t actually spend my money on that thing, Petr.”
Petr grinned, high on the thrill of a bargain. He slapped the vacuum like it was a prize-winning pig. “Warehouse clearance, Tan. Half price! This baby could suck the patterns out of the carpet.”
Tanya stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "It's ancient. Look at the hose. Look at the nozzle. What kind of Neanderthal buys a vacuum that needs a manual and a gym membership to carry? I said Roomba. Roomba! Not this fossil. I wanted something simple, not another thing for me to wrestle with."
Petr rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall, dripping smugness. "Who cares? It sucks like any other. Maybe better. It's a beast, Tanya."
Tanya’s face flushed a deep, angry crimson. "It’s ugly, it’s poorly designed, and it’s a burden to lug around. Almost like your—"
“Whatever!” Petr shot back, grinning. “Jealous? You probably wish you could suck just as good as this thing. No wonder why all guys you’ve been with dumped your sorry ass!”
He punctuated it with a crude blowjob gesture, grinning like a fool.
The air turned radioactive. I froze, halfway to the door. Petr had just stomped on a landmine. If only he knew the true reason why most men never survived dating her. Well he was about to find out real soon.
Tanya didn’t shout or throw anything. She eyed the vacuum hose, then Petr, a slow, predatory grin spreading across her lips.
"Yeah," Tanya said, her voice turning honeyed with menace. "I might be terrible at sucking cock, sure. But want to guess what I’m really good at sucking?"
Before Petr could blink, Tanya lunged. She grabbed the nozzle and jammed it up his left leg through the loose shorts with lightning speed. With a decisive click, she turned the suction to max.
"My balls!?" Petr yelped, panic giving his voice a shrill edge.
The sound was immediate; a violent, hungry slurp. Petr’s entire body jerked upward as the vacuum’s maw clamped onto his groin. The nozzle swallowed his left testicle with a sickening shloop.
Petr’s eyes bulged. His jaw dropped in absolute horror.
"Tanya! Stop!" I yelled, stumbling forward in disbelief.
Tanya was in a trance of vengeful glee. She yanked the left leg of his shorts higher to get an unobstructed view as the rest of his genitals flopped out into the open. She held the nozzle tight, guiding its mouth to gobble up his right testicle. The massive nut fought back. Its scrotal skin stretched to a translucent, pale pink as the machine tried to drag the organ through its narrow plastic opening. For a few agonizing seconds, the orb vibrated violently against the rim, caught between the machine's relentless pull and the limits of his anatomy.
Then, with a revolting SQUELCH, the right one surrendered, deforming into the tube to join its unlucky twin.
"Nooooo!" Petr wailed, his voice cracking into a cartoon falsetto as his eyes rolled back into his head.
He collapsed to his knees, but the vacuum held him upright, the nozzle like a leash. He couldn’t even reach down to comfort them. He could only feel his nuts rattle inside the hose, pulled farther and farther from his body. His cords, those fragile threads keeping him attached to his manhood, were being pulled taut under the relentless pressure.
"Tanya! Turn it off!" I shouted, my voice cracking as panic spiked through the room.
I shoved her aside and clicked the switch. The motor died with a descending whine, but the vacuum didn’t let go. The seal was too tight. The machine stayed fused to Petr, his testicles trapped in a vacuum-sealed grip.
"Help me get this thing off him!" I barked, adrenaline making my hands shake.
Tanya rolled her eyes but grabbed the nozzle while I gripped Petr’s stretched scrotum by the base. We both pulled.
“AGHHH!” Petr’s scream ricocheted off the walls. He arched violently, eyes rolling back, a froth of spit at the corner of his lips. He looked like a man being exorcised by his sisters.
With every tug, his testicles stretched farther, the skin glistening and taut, threatening to tear loose from his body.
"Wait! Stop pulling!" I yelped.
Tanya ignored me and delivered a final, Herculean yank.
"Think I almost got it!" she grunted, her face twisted in concentration.
"Eeeeeeeee!" Petr’s screech went ultrasonic. He writhed, limbs flailing like a beached fish.
Mom burst in, took one look at Petr on the floor, genitals exposed, vacuum hose latched to the base of his scrotum, and froze, her face a perfect mix of disbelief and resignation.
"Tanya. What on earth—" Mom’s voice was flat, more tired than angry, like this was just the latest in a series of familial catastrophes.
"He insulted me," Tanya replied, deadpan, as if that justified her harsh punishment.
"Enough! Let’s get him out before he’s a soprano for life," Mom snapped, rolling up her sleeves.
We converged on Petr’s groin, a makeshift surgical team. Sliding the nozzle didn’t work; his scrotum was sealed in the machine’s mouth. We twisted and tugged, contorting his balls into shapes testicles weren’t designed for, drawing new sounds from him in the process. We even had to rip off his shorts and underwear to avoid any obstructions.
"I can't get them to budge!" Mom sighed and stepped back. "He's going to lose them if we keep this up. I'm calling the fire department."
“You’re calling the fire department? For his nuts?” Tanya echoed, stifling a snort, as her finger drifted toward the vacuum’s power button.
"Yes, for his nuts!" Mom said, swatting Tanya’s hand. "Natasha, go make the call!"
I grabbed my phone and dialed the emergency line.
“Emergency services, what’s your emergency?” The operator’s voice was flat, probably expecting a cat in a tree, maybe a mild heart attack. Not what I had to offer.
"Uh, my brother... his, um, testicles are stuck in the vacuum cleaner." I cringed at my own words, feeling the absurdity of the situation.
A beat of silence passed, then a tiny, stifled laugh slipped through the line.
"Sorry? Can you... just repeat that one more time?" The operator had already lost the battle with her composure.
"Yes. My brother’s testicles are stuck in a vacuum cleaner. Please send someone."
Another pause. I could hear the woman on the other end fighting to stay professional.
"His testicles?" she asked, barely holding it together. "You mean his, uh, balls?"
"Yes, his balls!" I snapped, glancing at Petr, who looked ready to faint.
"Ma'am, I need you to answer honestly. Is this a prank call?"
"No! Why would anyone make this up?"
"I have to ask. We receive prank calls, and this is a rather unusual situation."
"It’s unusual because my brother’s testicles are in a vacuum!"
"Oh for God’s sake—" Mom yanked the phone out of my hand. "Can you send someone? My son’s sperm count is plummeting as we speak!"
Twenty minutes later, sirens blared outside. Three firefighters piled in: two mustached veterans with years of questionable wisdom, and a third, a young woman buried in her gear, all nerves and determination.
As they entered the living room, I froze. "Mia?"
The trainee blinked. "Natasha? From high school?"
"Oh my god, you're a firefighter!" I exclaimed, momentarily forgetting the disaster in the center of the room.
"I'm still in training," Mia said, blushing and giving a small wave.
The two men locked onto Petr and his vacuum appendage like moths to a bug zapper. Miller, the larger of the pair, let out a low whistle.
"Well, that's a new one."
Henderson rubbed the back of his head, trying not to laugh. "Now, I've seen a lot of things in this job. Cats in toilets, fingers in drains... but bollocks are in a vacuum? That's a first."
Mia blushed a deep shade of scarlet, her eyes fixed on Petr's exposed, vulnerable groin, the moment she entered the room.
"How does this even happen?" Henderson asked, stepping closer to inspect the predicament.
Mom sighed. "Natasha, explain it. I can't even wrap my head around the stupidity."
I looked at the firefighters, then at Petr, who was sobbing for his manhood. "My sister got mad because he bought the wrong vacuum. They argued, he mouthed her off, and... well, she made him regret it."
Miller snorted and clapped Henderson on the back. “Poor lad. Every bloke learns his place sooner or later. Usually takes an angry lass and a good ol’ whack to the sack.”
Henderson chuckled. “We’ve all been there, son. Ain’t nothing more humbling than a woman reminding you that all them muscles ain’t worth squat when she knows exactly where to hit you. I still remember the day I learned that lesson the hard way.
“I was out on a date with the missus. Caught me sneaking a peek at the waitress, she did. Next thing I knew, her designer heel was buried square in my nuts under the table. Nearly had me seeing stars, I tell you. Had me walking bowlegged for the rest of the evening, and my poor bollocks stayed bruised for days.”
He shook his head, chuckling at the memory.
“Never did look at another waitress the same way again.”
Miller cackled. "Ha! That’s nothing, Henderson. My sister caught me stealing her Valentine’s chocolates once. I thought being bigger meant I was safe. One second I’m savoring sweet cocoa; the next, WHAM! She kneed my stones so hard, I’m pretty sure I tasted chocolate with my prostate. I didn’t sit right for a week."
Henderson smirked. "Your greedy gut probably deserved it."
"I thought she wasn't gonna eat them all!" Miller protested. "My sister was a real terror. Bet all the boys in her class were terrified every February. Probably handed her chocolate so that she wouldn’t bust their berries."
While the men reminisced about their testicular traumas, Mia knelt beside Petr, trying to remain professional, her voice soft and comforting.
"It's okay, just breathe. The pain will be all gone once we get you free."
Petr looked up at her, his eyes watery. He knew she had no idea. Testicular pain doesn't just "go away."
The firefighters set up their equipment. Using a specialized lubricant and a pressure-release valve, they broke the seal. As they worked, the nozzle shifted.
Squelch.
Petr let out a strangled, animal yelp. The release was slow and torturous. As the seal loosened, his right testicle slid out with a revolting wet pop. Petr recoiled, twitching in agony as Mia tried to steady his head in her lap. A moment later, the left one followed with another obscene pop echoing in the room.
"Fuuuuck!" Petr groaned, his eyes beginning to cross.
"See. No more pain, as I said," Mia said.
"Done and done," Miller said, standing up. "Now, final step. We gotta check for damage. Make sure nothing's ruptured or twisted."
He looked at Henderson. Henderson backed off, arms folded.
"No way. Not paid enough to fondle another dude's sweaty balls, sorry."
Miller nodded. "Nope. That's outside my pay grade. Union says nothing about ball inspections."
They both turned to Mia. She froze, her eyes widening.
"Mia, you're the trainee," Miller said, his voice full of mischief. "Part of the training is the physical assessment of the patient. Get in there."
"What? No!" Mia squeaked, her face turning a shade of red that matched her uniform.
“Come on, rookie! Don’t be shy,” Henderson teased, grinning. “It’s only a couple o’ bollocks. Go on, lass, do your duty!”
Mia looked at Petr, then at her superiors. She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She knelt between Petr’s legs and reached out, her gloved hand trembling.
"You've gotta take the gloves off, Mia," Miller said, leaning in. "You can't feel for hemorrhage through leather. You need a 'better feel' for the goods."
Mia looked horrified. "I can't!"
"All part of the training, Mia! Gotta be thorough," Henderson said, barely containing a snicker.
Blushing, Mia slowly peeled off her gloves. Her bare hands reached down, and I watched her tentatively touch Petr's tender testicles, her grip nervous and clumsy.
Squelch.
"Uuungh!" Petr shrieked, his hips jumping.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Mia gasped, her fingers rolling over the sensitive organs. She was trying to be thorough, but her lack of anatomical knowledge meant she squeezed too hard in some places and poked too sharply in others.
Petr moaned, a mix of pain and humiliation. He lay there, naked from the waist down, while a girl he'd never met poked and prodded his balls under the supervision of two laughing men and his family.
Suddenly, click.
Miller had snapped a photo with his phone.
"Got it!" he roared. "The whole squad at HQ is going to love this. 'Rookie fondling her first balls!'"
Mia, caught off guard, unconsciously squished Petr’s balls as her thumbs pressed deep into his nutmeat, deforming them. Petr’s eyes rolled back as the veins in his neck throbbed. She let go and jumped up, her face deep red.
"Delete it! Please delete that!"
She hopped around, flustered, reaching for the phone, but Miller held it high above his head, laughing as she scrambled to get it.
I rolled my eyes and slumped against the wall. "Unbelievable."
Later, after we were sure Petr didn’t suffer any serious damage, the firefighters left. Mia and I exchanged numbers.
Mom called Tanya and me into the kitchen. She looked exhausted. Meanwhile, Dad made himself a sandwich.
"Listen, girls. At this rate he'll be castrated before he has his first kiss."
Tanya snorted.
Mom looked at her, annoyed. Then her expression softened. "That’s why I’ve thought of a new challenge for Petr."
“Tanya. How would you like to have the opportunity to crush one of your brother’s testicles?
Everyone froze. Even Dad stopped mid-sandwich.
"I'm sorry, what?" Dad asked, slowly setting aside a slice of cheese.
Tanya blinked twice. "Wait. Are you serious?"
"Perfectly," Mom replied. She held up five fingers. "If I witness or hear that your brother injures himself down there five times this month, Tanya gets to crush one of his testicles."
"Mom," I interrupted, "That’s insane."
"She's right, Honey," Dad finally joined in. "Think about what you're saying. This is his balls we're talking about."
"Yeah, I know," she said nonchalantly.
"Do you have any idea how painful losing a testicle is?"
The three of us didn’t answer, giving him just enough silence to realize he'd asked the stupidest question you could ever ask a woman.
"Oh, relax, Hun. He’ll still have the other one. And if Petr really wants to keep his nut, he only has to avoid getting hurt five times over the next couple of days."
"But… still," he uttered. "We all know, Petr. This task is impossible for him."
"I know your concern, but with his balls on the line, I truly believe this’ll finally give your brother more motivation to protect them." She turned to me. "Natasha, you get it better than anyone, right?"
I thought for a moment. "I guess that’s true. Ignoring what happened today, Petr has been improving slightly at being vigilant."
"You said it best: pain is the best teacher. Or, in this case, the risk of pain is the best motivator. So we’re all in agreement."
"Can’t Tanya just stop going for his groin whenever she’s mad?" Dad asked.
"Don’t be ridiculous, dear," Mom said, waving him off. "Starting now, let’s see how this plays out."
"Mom waits. Suppose this is a challenge, as you say. Does that mean there’s a reward for Petr if he succeeds?"
"Yes, but that’s up to him to decide. Now, are we all in agreement?"
"Hell yeah!" Tanya said.
"I suppose so," I replied.
Mom didn’t wait for Dad’s answer. "Good. Then Natasha, could you tell your brother? Make sure he understands what’s at risk."
"Uh-huh," I said.
"Hey, Dad," Tanya piped up, "which of your balls was your favorite? Was it the one that hung lower? That’s probably Petr’s favorite, too. I wanna crush that one!"
I left as Tanya kept asking Dad uncomfortable questions.
Later that evening, I walked toward Petr's room, planning to tell him about the challenge as gently as possible. Without thinking, I went in without knocking.
I stopped in the doorway, and what I saw made me freeze.
Petr was on his bed, legs spread wide. He stared intently at his phone, a woman's voice moaning, his hand moving in a rhythmic, frantic blur. He was jerking his cock with single-minded intensity.
What caught my eye were his testicles. They were swollen, nearly double their normal size from the vacuum incident, still vivid and angry red. With every stroke, they bounced and bobbed, swaying like pendulums of raw, irritated globes.
"Petr, what the hell!" I shrieked, whipping my head away.
Petr jumped so violently he nearly flew off the bed. In a panic, he slammed his legs together to hide his erection. He shut his legs with such speed and force that he effectively crushed his own swollen balls between his thighs.
His eyes immediately watered. He winced, a strangled gasp escaping his throat, as he rolled onto his side, curling around his groin to ease the pain and hide his exposure.
"Do you not know how to knock?!" he yelled, his voice an octave higher than usual.
"Ever heard of a lock?" I snapped, cheeks burning. "Are you decent yet?"
"N-no!" he shouted.
"Well, hurry and put your dick away, cause I’m turning my head back around."
He sat up, covering himself with both hands. I looked over, half disgusted, half incredulous. "Seriously? Nearly lost your nuts and the first thing you do is jerk off? Wait a day, at least!"
Petr glared at me, though he was still groaning. "I... I wanted to see if I could still... 'shoot' properly."
"Oh, gross. Now that's an image I can't unsee," I muttered.
I noticed he was still wincing, his hand hovering over his lap. My protective streak kicked in. I sighed. "Come here. Let me see."
"Huh?"
"Let me see them. You're probably bruising them further by ignoring the swelling."
"What? I’m not showing you my balls!" he shouted.
I sighed, moving closer. "Quit being a baby, Petr. I’ve seen your balls more times than I care to count. Just let me check before they fall off."
I sat beside him on the bed. I placed a hand on his thigh, my fingers gently tugging it, signaling for him to spread his legs. After a long moment of hesitation, he complied. His penis was now half-erect, just a soft, pink length of flesh resting atop his heavy, low-hanging testicles.
I reached over, gently nudging his penis aside and cupping those sore orbs in my palm. They felt hot, the skin tight and pulsating. I began to massage them gently, feeling for any hard lumps.
As I worked, I noticed Petr's expression change. The tension left his shoulders. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, a soft moan escaping his lips. The pain was easing, replaced by a strange, rhythmic pleasure.
Then, I felt it. His dick was starting to stir. It grew slightly, the pink mushroom head brushing the back of my hand before slowly pointing upward.
Him getting hard while I was checking his balls was weird, so I tried to distract him.
"So," I asked casually, "which one is your favorite?"
I cursed Tanya in my mind; her earlier questions had influenced me.
Petr froze. "What?"
The silence was suffocating. I panicked and blurted, "Which is your favorite?"
"The left one?" I rolled his left gland between my fingers. "Or your right?" I did the same, careful and clinical.
There was another awkward silence.
"I guess my left one," he answered.
Thank God he answered; I was red as a beet. And, weirdly, Tanya was right? Boys really do favor the lower-hanging one.
I thought of another question before I told him the news. "Do you have a type of girl you like?"
"What’s with the weird questions?" he asked.
"Just humor me, please," I snapped, still massaging his battered anatomy.
Petr sighed. "I don't know. Someone nice and cute, I guess."
"I see… Like the woman in that video you were watching just now? Was she your type?"
Petr hesitated, then muttered, "No, not really."
I was confused. "What do you mean, not really? I saw your dick. You were fully erect."
He blushed and looked away. "Yeah, well, it's not about her being my type. Just... you know, the action of her getting fucked. That’s enough sometimes."
I felt his penis grow harder as he said the word "fucked."
"Petr, that makes zero sense," I said, unable to hide my exasperation.
"I don't know any other way to explain it!" he snapped.
"So you're telling me a guy can still get off even from a girl he's not into?"
Petr turned his head away, his face crimson. "Well, if he's horny enough... yeah."
His penis was now at full mast again, pulsing in the air. I don't know why, but his answer ticked me off. A sudden, cold wave of irritation washed over me.
Do all men see women as nothing but sexual objects to get their rocks off? I thought. No passion, no romance, no love. They bust a quick nut to any random naked chick?
As the thought solidified, my grip changed. I wasn't massaging anymore. I was squeezing. Hard.
Petr squealed, the pleasure instantly vanishing. "N-Nat?"
I barely registered his voice; I was lost in a red mist, every muscle in my arm channeling the fury of every woman ever objectified. I squeezed harder, feeling the testicles compress and shift, slippery and yielding, veins throbbing under my grip. My knuckles blanched, but I didn't let up.
"Ooooooh... Nat! You're crushing them! Eeeeee!"
Petr grabbed my wrists, trying to pry my hand away, but I was latched on. His hard cock twitched violently, the pain in his balls intensifying. He was shaking, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.
Then, it happened.
His testicles bulged, straining against their limits, the outer membranes quivering at the edge of rupture. I gave one final, merciless squeeze, grinding them together until I could feel the strange give of tissue about to give way.
SCRUNCH!
"My Baaaaalls!" Petr’s eyes crossed. His mouth formed a perfect O. His body must’ve thought this was his final chance to spread his genes, as this was surely the end. His entire body went rigid, and suddenly, his dick began spurting rope after rope of built-up cum.
I snapped out of my daze. I watched in shock as his cock spurted thick, white streams everywhere, across my hand and onto the carpet. I sat frozen in a strange awe until he finally went limp.
When I finally regained my senses, I realized my hand was still locked around his balls. Flustered, I pried my fingers loose, feeling the sticky heat of his baby batter in my palm.
Petr whimpered, hunching over and curling himself around his ruined groin. He slid off the bed and landed with a wet splat, face-first in his own cum.
I stared at my hand, frozen between horror and embarrassment. The silence stretched, so I let out a shaky, awkward laugh.
"At least we now know you can still shoot," I said.
Petr didn’t even crack a smile. He just let out a guttural moan, already drifting off to that faraway place guys go when their balls are in agony.
I turned and left the room, closing the door behind me. I looked down at my hand, covered in the sticky, white fluid. The smell hit me; strong, salty, almost like squid. It wasn't repulsive, surprisingly.
I was embarrassed to admit it, but this was the first time I'd ever seen or felt semen. The female part of me wondered what it tasted like, but the sister part recoiled in disgust. There was no way my first taste of semen was going to be my brother's.
I was halfway down the hallway when I suddenly stopped.
Oh, shit. Mom's challenge!
That was why I'd gone into Petr's room in the first place. Between seeing him masturbating and fondling his balls, I'd completely forgotten to warn him that his balls were on the line.
I glanced back at his closed door.
Yeah, no. I wasn't going back in there after what had just occurred.
Then my phone chimed. A message from Mia.
Hey Nat! Great seeing you today. Let's catch up sometime whenever you're free?
I smiled. At least something good had come out of today's incident: I'd reconnected with an old acquaintance.
I started typing a reply.
I'd tell Petr about Mom's challenge tomorrow morning. Surely nothing else would go wrong before then.