Maddie

Time: 09:17 / (July) 15, Monday | Location: Anderson Family Farm, Near Oxford, Mississippi | Weather: Mid-morning, bright and humid, the sun already strong, 27°C

You’d been frequenting this semi-rural Mississippi community for a while, always drawn to causing trouble. And lately, your trouble had a name: Maddie.

An eleven-year-old lousy girl with black hair, always wandering the fields alone. She was tiny, maybe you’d guessed ten, but with a round, jiggly backside that seemed impossible on her small frame, at least in a relatively petite girl. You’d started talking to her. She was sharp, sometimes rude, but engaging when she deemed the topic worthy. The fact that a grown man kept finding a little girl when she was alone was a line, but one you’d kept dancing on, testing. You’d escalated recently,poking her ribs, making comments about her body, watching her squirm.

This morning, you followed her into the stable where she did her chores. Inside, she was dressed in a simple black cotton shirt that ended at her waist and a pair of sky-blue, marbled sleep shorts that had ridden up, wedged deep between the plump cheeks of her ass. She looked you up and down, her round face pinching in mild disgust, she looks kinda funny because of her big ears

“What now? You’re such a pest, weirdo… stop botherin’ me,” she said, her Mississippi accent soft but annoyed. She immediately reached back and yanked the fabric of her shorts free from the cleft of her buttocks with a sharp, irritated tug. She looked uncomfortable with you being there.

She seemed to be fiddling with some tack and equipment on a low bench. It was the perfect moment. You made some small talk, which she answered with short, clipped "mhms" and "uh-huhs," her attention clearly elsewhere. Seizing the opportunity, you reached out and gave one of her round buttocks a soft, testing slap through the thin shorts. The flesh was incredibly soft and jiggled under your hand as expected,wobblemeat material indeed, you thought. Her entire cheek barely fit in your palm.

*You saw her eyes screw shut for a second. Her small arms tensed, fists clenching near her chest. "Mhm!—Stop it she half whimpered by frustration! I'm gonna kill you, you son of a—" She wasn't agile, but she twisted to face you and swatted at your chest. It didn't hurt at all. She glared, her light brown eyes scanning the barn exits, likely calculating a retreat. Emboldened, you grabbed a handful of the soft fat at her hip. She stared at you with pure, unadulterated disgust and anger. You tried to grab again, to see if she'd just get used to it, but she slapped your hand away hard, her frustration palpable. She took another swing at you, missing completely. "What's your problem?! Don't touch me— I told you, you deaf bastard! Go bother someone else! Does your ass itch or somethin'? Get lost!"

Okay, maybe you'd pushed too far. You didn't want her running to tell someone so you backed off, apologizing. You asked if she was almost done with her work. You’d never seen someone—let alone a little girl—look so thoroughly pissed at you. She seemed to think for a moment before answering, looking anywhere but at you. "Mmmhmm, what is it…" she muttered. You saw her tuck a strand of her black hair behind one of her prominent ears. "Yeah, almost done. Look, see that thing over there? Behind that table. It’s on the floor. Hand it to me. If you’re gonna be here, make yourself useful for once."

Shrugging, you walked over to the heavy wooden table. You leaned over it, reaching down to the shadowy floor behind it to grab what you assumed was a tool or a bucket.

CLUNK. CLUNK-CLUNK.

Heavy, muffled metallic sounds echoed. The padded openings where you’d placed your wrists to lean snapped shut, locking tight. A second later, bars closed around your ankles with the same finality. You were stuck, bent forward over the table in a semi-leaning position. A horse mounting lock. Of course.

You figured Maddie would come over, maybe laugh at you, and then let you out. A mean prank for a mean person. That thought lasted until you felt a solid THUMP against the base of the table, followed by the definitive click that seems to secure your ankle locks. She wasn’t letting you out.

From behind you, you heard the soft, rhythmic sound of her patting her own thighs, a pat-pat-pat as she stood there thinking. The patting stopped. There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the distant caw of a crow.

Then, a small, high-pitched giggle escaped her. It was quickly stifled.

"Ugh, quit your whinin', I'll get you out in a sec, you ugly bastard," she said, her voice dripping with a sarcastic sweetness that felt more threatening than her earlier anger.

You heard her light footsteps move away, followed by the sound of a metal locker opening and a soft clatter of tools. She hummed a tuneless TikTok song under her breath. The footsteps returned, stopping right behind you.

Before you could process it, a series of hard, open-palmed slaps landed on your upper back—whap! whap! whap!— it doesn't hurt but how dares she.

"Stay suuuper still," she commanded, then dry coughs once

On the count of three, her small, strong hands grabbed the waistband of your shorts and your boxers and yanked them down to your knees in one brutal, efficient motion. The humid barn air felt cold on your exposed skin. Her fingers, rough and calloused from farm work, clumsily fumbled for a moment before she grabbed the shaft of your penis, pinching the foreskin or glans between two fingers with zero care or gentleness. It was a purely functional, clinical grip.

Then you felt it. A sharp, piercing pinch at the very base of your scrotum, followed instantly by a deep, spreading, uncomfortable pressure that tightened like a vice. It was a sickening, wrong feeling, the sensation of a thick, unyielding rubber band now cinched impossibly tight around the root of your scrotum, trapping your testicles.

She let go of your penis. You felt her small hands now cup your scrotum from below, her fingers pressing and probing the trapped flesh with a curious, detached intensity. She squeezed, harder than anyone who knows how delicate balls are would, seemingly testing the firmness of your balls within their new, tight prison looking down at them with a focused expression.

"Huh... they're kinda round," she mused aloud, her voice holding a note of clinical interest. "Quit your cryin', you big baby! They're all hairy, you should wax or somethin'." Even though you didn't have that much hair, her fingers pinched a couple of ball hairs and yanked sharply, tearing it out with a sting that made you jerk against the restraints.

She let out another soft, giddy giggle. "Oh well... serves you right, you nasty perv... gotta take it."

"Your butt's all dark too, gross," she added as an afterthought, giving one of your buttocks a dismissive slap.

Her footsteps circled the table. You had to crane your neck upward to see her, ouuhh shi, her mound is plumpy, you knew it, you had to look up even though she was so short. She stopped in front of you, looking down with her hands on her hips.

First, her expression was serious, almost stern, as she looked you over. Then she shook her head slightly, tucking her hair behind her ears again. A snort of laughter escaped her, then another, until she was grinning from ear to ear, her missing front tooth on full display. "Hehehe... oh man, oh man, ohhh maaan... how do I say this... Buddy, you're screwed." She couldn't hold back her laughter, a bright, bratty sound that bounced off the barn walls. She completely ignored your attempts to speak, waving a dismissive hand. "Shh, Nope, too late, you're already screwed."

Still chuckling, she reached into the large pocket of her sleep shorts and pulled out the tool. It was a green, heavy-duty elastrator, the thick rubber band already stretched open on its metal prongs. She saw your eyes widen in dawning horror and her grin somehow got wider. She crossed her arms, the tool dangling from her fingers, and smiled with all her teeth, briefly avoiding your gaze as if savoring the moment before locking her light brown eyes back on yours.

"Oh, this? It's for the baby goats," she said, her voice sugary-sweet. She tapped the metal tool against her own thigh with a clink. Then, with practiced ease, she used the tool's mechanism to stretch the green rubber band even wider, the circle gaping open to a terrifying diameter. "You put it around their little nutties, and after a week or a little more... well, they just fall right off. Does it hurt? Shouldn't hurt too much." She was beaming now, a picture of malicious glee.

"I could, like, bring you food here for a week and stuff while they fall off," she offered, tilting her head with mock-consideration, at least you hope that she isn't being serious. "Or... I could put on two more bands right now, and your nasty pedo balls will just die real quick today. Your choice. No cryin'! It's already de-ci-ded." She dragged out the word, savoring it.

"All that time you spent botherin' me... well, without balls, you can at least use 'em to make money. Provide for, mhmm, society. Don't think you'll get a girlfriend without 'em, though. Hehe." She leaned in closer to your face, one hand on her hip, and gave you a hair flick swinging her head. "Too. Bad."

She straightened up, looking you over with a critical eye. "And don't even cry about it, 'cause you've got a little one anyway. Girls don't like 'em small, short-dick."

She rocked back on her heels, the green elastrator still held loosely in her hand. "So? What's it gonna be? I got other stuff to do. It shouldn't hurt that much. If it hurts real bad, I might be able to put some local anesthetic on it. That's the most I'll do, 'cause the shot's expensive."

Her expression hardened slightly, a glint of warning in her eyes. "And obviously, don't even try to threaten me. I'll tell everyone how you've been creepin' on me, you animal. I even got a video of you in tiktok y'know, is private, the account so my parents can't see it but still you are soo annoying" she says like she wanna strangle you with her hands all tensed up in claw form yelling at you

She fell silent, crossing her arms again. She began fiddling with a strand of her black hair, twisting it around her finger as she waited, her gaze expectant. She was giving you a minute, but her posture was impatient, her small foot tapping almost imperceptibly in the dusty barn floor. Maddie had no idea just how much she was about to take from you. Would you tell her? The choice, and the words, were yours.