Damnd1

Two young men compete in a competition with serious consequences.

 See all of my work at www.damnd1.org

Breeders

Earth - Population 18 billion

William pulled on his face mask and locked the front down across his throat. It was the last piece of armour. He was covered from head to toe in light-weight Kevlar plate armour. It was not strong enough to withstand a bullet, but then it didn’t have to. Even without it, provided he didn’t catch an unlucky hit to the eye or some other sensitive place, the worst he’d walk away with were bad bruises. After all, paintball guns were not designed to be lethal.

He walked out onto the field. He’d been training for this since he was 15. Many men didn’t bother. They took the painless way out, but William was a fighter; a risk taker. The status of getting to pass on his genes, of becoming a breeder was enough to drive him forwards.

The field was small – a circle just 50 metres across. There was no point making it larger; after all, this was not really an athletic event.

William looked across to the opposite side. His opponent was already waiting. William had read the man’s stats. His name was Jacob and he was almost 21 years old. He was leaving it late. If Jacob had not opted to enter the arena, within the next two months he would have become ineligible and the state would have taken matters into their own hands.

There was only a short window in which you were allowed to play. From your 18^th birthday, until your 21^st, after that there was no point, and before that males were not considered legally competent to make the decision.

William wondered if Jacob’s dick was fear shrivelled as his was. It was impossible to tell. It was sheathed inside a Kevlar tube and strapped into place against his belly, leaving his testicles dangling; clear to see. They were the only part of his body that was exposed. They were visible through a circular hole in the light plating that protected his thighs and abdomen.

Although he couldn’t see clearly at that distance, it looked to William as though Jacob’s nuts were riding high, contained in an almost spherical nut sack maybe 60 percent the size of a tennis ball. Fear was probably not helping, but it didn’t seem as though he was packing.

William felt irritation. It wasn’t fair. Why should a man with so little to offer want to take on a real man such as himself? It didn’t make sense. He looked down at his own nuts. He was just 18, but they were each the size of a ripe plum, and even though he was fearful, they still dropped down in a plump, full sack.

“His nuts are a small target,” William thought. “But at least they won’t be swinging around like mine will.”

A voice came over a loud speaker.

“Competitors ready?”

Both men raised their paint guns in the air then lowered them again.

“You know the rules. Any wilful cheating will result in immediate castration. Without anaesthetic. The winner will receive a lifetime licence to become a breeder.”

The matches were usually short, and the consequences for cheating were severe, yet every single day, there were always a handful of guys who tried. Watching the punishment of previous cheats never seemed to deter them. Or maybe the instinct for preservation was so great that it overwhelmed their reason.

The voice continued.

“You can surrender at any time without penalty by waving your flag. If you surrender, you will be taken to a state nullification centre on your 21^st birthday, where your testicles will be painlessly neutralised as per population control mandate 142.3. Do you both understand everything you have been told?”

William and Jacob had already had the rules explained in careful detail before they came onto the field. Both had imprinted disclaimers. This was simply for the holo-vis audience, so that they could see that the competition was fair.

They both raised their guns a second time to show their understanding and their agreement with the terms.

“Please take your places and prepare for start.”

The guns had a maximum range of twice the width of the field, but they were only effective at 25-40 metres. The contestants stepped forwards and adopted a crouching position. Shielding your groin with your hands or legs was forbidden, and contestants were only allowed to turn away a maximum of 45 degrees. Even breaking this minor rule would be enough to void a win, forcing the young man to fight again or join the nuls.

“Start in 3… 2... 1… START!”

Both men ran towards each other. Jacob fired off a rapid stream of paintballs as he ran. Most missed William entirely, but even the ones that were vaguely on target were easy to avoid with so long to see them coming. William dodged left and right, avoiding the bright blue balls.

He had not fired a single shot.

As they halved the distance, he started to fire. Short bursts of five balls, then retarget and fire five more.

There were differing opinions on the best tactics. The basic competition was organised like a blitz match – two contestants running at each other over a short distance. There were no inflatables or other features to hide behind, so the most accurate man in theory should win.

But some competitors, especially the less athletic ones, preferred not to run at their opponents at all, opting instead to wait or shoot at range.

The ball hoppers on the guns held 200 balls each, and once they were gone, there were no top ups. With the high-speed loaders and automatic triggers, it was possible to discharge an entire hopper in about ten seconds. Nerves often got the better of players and they’d blow their metaphorical load long before they were ever a serious danger to their rival. Indeed, some men used this as an option, in the hope that they would get lucky. If they were not, then they would surrender the second their ammo was gone. There was still a danger that it would be THEY who were hit by a lucky shot, and many were, but it was a way of minimising the risk for the reward of a lifetime. It was against the rules to continue shooting at a man once his flag was waved, so for many this was their best hope.

William stopped running, took careful aim, squeezed the trigger. It would only take a second and… Bang! A paintball hit him dead centre in the scrotum. He yelped and jumped. It had not hit either of his nuts square on, but it clipped them both on its way through. A jolt of pain filled his abdomen.

“That’s not right. This isn’t supposed to happen!” he thought indignantly.

But he kept his cool, fired off another salvo, 7 shots this time as he evaded left. All 7 were on target, but Jacob was also moving left. The first ball hit him dead centre in the sack, as his had hit William, but he ignored it as though it was nothing.

The next four exploded across his thigh plate and the last two missed entirely.

He fired back but William was already gone.

William felt a sickening wave of pain radiating from the inside curve of his nuts. He frowned, knowing that he had hit Jacob square on. Then he realised the problem. The man was so fearful that his nuts has risen to either side of his dick. William’s paintball had hit nothing but empty skin.

To his shock, he felt one of Jacob’s shots hit him square in the middle of his left testicle. They were just 15 metres apart now and at that range, with no protection, the impact was devastating. On the holo-vis, a super slow-mo replayed the impact. The paintball was travelling at just over 300 feet per second. The high-speed camera showed it moving into view, then it crashed into the large soft orb that was William’s left testicle. The paintball sank deeply into the orb, deforming it like a squash ball hitting a wall, then the testicle rebounded, swinging away from the exploding paintball, constrained at its farthest limit by William’s scrotum. As it bounced and swung back to its neutral position, it was clearly horrifically misshapen.

William collapsed to his knees, but he knew that if he could keep his cool, he could still win the right to become a breeder.

He looked at Jacob’s groin, took a two-handed police grip, and squeezed the trigger, holding it down for 5 full seconds. A stream of 100 paintballs were launched in the direction of the older boy’s groin, tracking left to right, anticipating both his movement and the higher location of his testicles.

1… 2… 3… 4 paintballs hit Jacob, first in the left, then the right testicles, smashing them both against his pelvis, and instantly ruining any chances he might ever have of becoming a breeder.

Jacob rolled to the floor – not out of any tactical or athletic desire, but because the shock was so extreme. The pain consumed him. He had just one chance left. If he surrendered, medics would immediately run to the field and administer powerful pain neutralisers.

He scrabbled at his waist for the white piece of cloth, tugged it from his belt and waved it over his head, signalling the end of the match.

William struggled to stay on his feet. He stood watching; his own gun raised. Jacob turned to him, his face a mask of agony as he waved his flag. The medics were already on the field. Then Jacob pulled his grimace into  a sadistic grin and fired his gun again. William’s testicles jumped and jerked as paintball after paintball slammed into them, turning them into mush.

His face was a picture of shock as Jacob ensured that neither of them would ever become breeders.

The medics diverted their approach from Jacob towards William. When they reached him, they administered a hypo-spray that knocked him out in seconds.

Meanwhile, five men ran onto the field towards Jacob. Four of them were burly men who would hold him down. The fifth held a large pair of pliers in his hand…