if i have been hearing it improperly my entire life or something

Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

Summary: This is all @feelmyroarrrr‘s fault.
Word Count: 3422
Fandom: Supernatural
Summary: Cassie likes her job as a gerontology nurse, despite dealing with death on what feels like a daily basis. Her patients are lovely and even the ghosts are sweet at her workplace. Until one day they aren’t. Also, I suck at summaries. And love Shakespeare.

I pulled a pair of gloves on, and prepared the syringe, screwing the needle to the hub. Using the discarded wrapper, I snapped the top off the dark amber ampule, and with the filtered tip needle, drew the clear fluid into the syringe. It was a quick process, taking less time than the time it’s take me to describe it. Collecting the rest of my supplies, I headed down the hallway to my patient’s room briskly, slowing my steps as I approached the door. With a practiced and deliberate quiet, I slipped into the patient room, nodding and making eye contact with the husband sitting at the bedside. There were tears glimmering at his eyelids and as he blinked, a tear splashed across his glasses, and trailed down his cheek.

“She’s gone,” his voice broke with the words. “When you left the room she let out this breath and was just - ”

I slipped the syringe into my pocket and pulled the stethoscope from around my neck, skirting Mr. Madison’s seat. Once on the other side of the bed, I carefully slipped the stethoscope under her gown and listened for her heartbeat. After a full minute, I nodded, and checked her eyes for responsiveness before checking the time on my watch.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Madison,” I offered. “Would you like some time alone before we call the doctor and the funeral home?”

“Please.” He managed to nod. I stopped and opened the window a crack before leaving the room.

“Ring the bell if you need anything, and when you are ready I’ll head back down,” I reassured him.

“Why did you open the window?” He asked. I paused and bit my tongue.

“Nurses are a superstitious bunch,” I offered with a self-deprecating laugh. “We all do it. It’s to make sure she knows she can go.”

“Go?” He asked.

“Wherever her spirit needs to be,” I replied with a shrug. “There has to be somewhere better than this room, and opening the window ensures she can get there.”

Mr. Madison tilted his head in appraisal, taking in every part of my appearance. “You don’t strike me as the religious type. But I’d be mighty obliged if you would help me offer a prayer.”

I tried to hide my discomfort with the idea and then nodded. “Of course.” I moved over to stand beside Mr. Madison, and he looked up at me.

“Can you say some words? I don’t trust myself,” he admitted, taking my hand in his. I nodded with a sigh.

“Our revels are now ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded in a sleep.”

It was the only thing I could think to say, knowing just how divergent my beliefs were from his and Marieta’s. He looked up and smiled. “Not much about Jesus, but that was nice,” he said. I smiled and squeezed his hand before excusing myself.

Keep reading

Three Strikes, Part 8

Full story at https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zyUxRmHgU6U5N1dR88LsKftG-scEIstZDmABpVbpq9M/edit?usp=sharing,  feel free to comment there or here :). Probably a few parts left.

As soon as the boy entered her shop, Stephanie knew what he was looking for. All high school boys buying cups have the same awkward, nauseous look on their face. He was a weedy little freshman, with a weasel face and limbs like spaghetti. He had come in, followed by a black-haired bombshell. The poor little guy had clearly inherited nothing from his beautiful mother.

They walked over to the “Injury Prevention” section and began arguing almost immediately. “No, mom! I can fit in a bigger one! Trust me!”

“Don’t get fresh with me, mister! Just because I’m not your biological mother doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s best for you. We’ve both seen what you’ve got down below, and unless you’ve had a very recent, very localized growth spurt, we’re getting you the smallest size they’ve got.”

“MOM! Be quiet!” Stephanie stifled a giggle.

“You’re lucky I don’t go up to the lady and special order you a children’s cup. Especially after your little…incident at school. This is the only place in the area that even sells protection for one-nuts. Do you want to keep your manhood, or do you want another slut to crush your only remaining testicle?”

Stephanie perked up at that. She had stocked up in One-Ball© cups after hearing about the rise of testicle injuries in the area, hoping that half-men would shell out extra to better protect their only asset. So far, it had proven a wildly unsuccessful endeavor. The special cups attracted more girls than boys, and they only came in to giggle at the idea of a boy who had lost a ball.

The lady approached the counter. “Excuse me, miss, can we try on one of your XS One-Ball cups? My son is looking for some protection.” Normally, sanitation laws prevented her from letting customers try groin protection on, but Stephanie was desperate to make a sale. “Sure thing! Second door on the left.” The boy walked towards the dressing room, and Stephanie watched him intently to see if he was lop-sided.

“I’m going in there with you to make sure you know how to put it on.”

“NO, mom! I’m in high school n-“

Her hand came down on his groin and made a fist, crushing what Stephanie assumed was his last ball in a very tight grip. “This little nut is the only thing that makes you a boy. If you lose it, that’s it. No children. No jerking off. No hot cheerleader hookups in high school bathrooms. Do you want that to happen? I’ve spent my entire career studying testicles. I know what they’re made of, and how to protect them.”

Her grip tightened. “And I know how to break them. Now let’s get you some protection, before there’s another unfortunate incident.”

The kid looked like he wanted to cry and throw up at the same time. His step-mom led him to the dressing room by his nut, and he struggled to keep up.

When Stephanie heard the door click shut, she turned her attention to the small T.V. near the register. Normally it was set to connect to the security camera out front, but she changed the channel until she found what she was looking for. Stephanie had set up several expensive, high-res in the men’s changing room, complete with audio equipment. As an avid fan of the male form, she enjoyed spending long nights with her tapes of well-hung jocks trying on sports equipment. The delicious thought of those guys, all naked and vulnerable and clueless of her roving eyes, checking out their equipment as they tried hers on, drove her wild. Some were big, some were small, and some were pretty average, but all of them were naked when they were changing. Stephanie felt herself getting wet at the thought.

This time, she was in for a bit of a disappointment. As his step-mom forced the young man out of his shorts and opened the box, Stephanie squinted to see his meager manhood. This boy was kidding himself if he thought he needed anything larger than an XS.

“Now, let me show you how to put it on.” The step-mom grabbed his bare ball in her hand and started jamming the cup onto it. This was the last straw for the freshman. “STOP IT! I’m in HIGH SCHOOL! I don’t need some whore my dad is fucking to help me put on a fucking cup! Let go of my ball, Karen!”

The room went silent. Stephanie held her breath in anticipation. Karen dropped the cup, and went down on her knees. She cupped the little testicle in her palm, like a delicate egg.

“Richard, has your father ever told you what I did to him on our wedding night?”

The kid sighed, and rolled his eyes. “Karen! I don’t want to hear about my dad and step-mom’s gross sex life!”

Karen continued. “We were discussing children. He wanted a couple daughters, or another son to keep you company. I thought you were a handful enough for us. It almost ended our marriage before it even began.”

Her grip tightened. “Luckily, I made a couple of rather convincing arguments against more children. Our financial situation really wasn’t what it needed to be. Therapy really doesn’t pay what it used to. We’d need a bigger house, in a better neighborhood. And by keeping you an only child, we could devote more of our time to you.”

Her nails started digging into the boy’s oversized, mostly empty sac, and Stephanie started to realize that this was not going to end well. The kid squirmed uncomfortably, but his step-mom held fast.

“Unfortunately, your father was too stubborn to be convinced. He tried to tell me I needed to give up my career to stay home and raise the children, while he would become the breadwinner. Some stupid business idea he had with some buddies, a restaurant or shop or something. He said that, as long as he had the balls, he was going to be the man of the house.”

“That night, I put an end to his outdated ideas on gender and the workplace. He’s no longer the man of the house, Richard. You are. You’re the only ‘man’ I live with who has even ONE working testicle.”

She sighed sadly. “Even if it IS the size of a dried pea. Richard, I’m just trying to protect your father’s genetic line. That’s why I’m so intent on getting you a cup that fits correctly. This tender little lump is the only chance of continuing his heritage, and if it’s crushed, or broken, or torn off…”

Her hand dropped lower, pulling the boy’s entire manhood farther than Stephanie thought it could stretch. “It would be so sad! It’s really quite a responsibility for a boy your age to have. Especially since you were so inept at protecting the first one. I really don’t think you can handle it. Can you, Richard? Do you think you can keep this ball alive?”

Richard had started to realize the danger of the situation he was in: one solitary ball in the hands of an admitted castratrix. He nodded his head vigorously, tears welling up as he trying to deal with the growing groin pain.

Karen shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. You’re irresponsible, and headstrong, and stupid. I’ve told you a hundred times to jerk off less-“

With one hand wrapped around the ball, she used her other one to drive her thumb into it. She twisted back and forth, drilling into the boy’s manhood.

“To be more respectful to women-“

Her thumb went deeper, and Richard started flailing around wildly. Stephanie giggled at his situation, and realized she was a little wet down under. With no one else in her store, she allowed herself a low moan, and slid her hand under her panties to soothe her drenched pussy.

“And, most importantly, I told you-“

Karen punctuated each word by driving her thumb a little deeper.








POP! Richard’s genetic line ended violently, and its remains spewed out. The sight of the poor kid losing his only ball was too much for Stephanie, and she came hard, riding out her orgasm as he emptied his last one all over her dressing room. Karen was completely prepared for this. She took out a small vial, and scooped as much of the jizz that covered the room into it, being sure to avoid the large bloody chunks that used to be his manhood.

The two came out to the counter, the step-mom dragging along the barely-conscious teenage “boy”. “Sorry, but it doesn’t really fit properly. It’s a little too…roomy.” She tossed the cup and the box on the counter, and Stephanie grimaced as she packed it away, wiping off some of the ooze the kid had left behind. “Oh, and do you know of a sperm bank and a hospital around here?”

Stephanie shook her head, a little annoyed at the two. As much fun as it had been to watch Karen castrate the boy, her dressing room was covered in spunk (which she would surely be the one to clean up), and the One-ball© cup remained unsold.

When the two left, another boy walked in, much taller and handsomer. Sam was one of her favorite customers, although of course he didn’t know it. She loved ogling his long, fat cock and oddly shaped sac when he came in to try on some new Speedos. She was surprised when he went to the area the last two had just come from, and picked out an XL One-Ball cup. He came up to the counter and pulled out his wallet, avoiding meeting Stephanie’s eyes. She realized the reason she hadn’t sold any of these cups was because of how embarrassing it was to admit to a woman that you’d lost half your manhood.

Stephanie wondered what had happened to him. Why would a strong jock, with an extra full sac, buy a cup meant for men who only had one ball? Had he lost two of them somehow?

“Um, excuse me? Miss? Do you take debit?”

She snapped out of her daydream. As eager as she was to finally sell one of these wretched cups, Stephanie had to see what was going on beneath this kid’s shorts.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try it on first? Improperly fitting cups can be more dangerous that no cup at all. If it’s too large, it could slip out of place easily. If it’s too small, testicles could get pinched in it, and bruise badly.”

She grinned, and her pussy started tingling again. “Or even rupture. Surely, you wouldn’t want that?”

Sam’s face indicated that he did not want that one bit. “Oh…uh, ok. I’ll go to the dressing room.”

“Ok. Don’t take the second one on the left; it’s a bit…messy at the moment.”

When she heard the door shut, Stephanie eagerly turned to the TV and flipped through the channels until she found what she wanted. Sam was just stepping out of his shorts, and his long, fat cock dangled obscenely as usual. Just as she suspected, his sac was a little…empty. Two scars, one in the middle and one on the right, indicated that someone had removed 2/3 of his manhood. She sighed disappointedly. She had always wondered what getting pounded by a guy with three balls would feel like, and it looked like she wasn’t finding out anytime soon now.

As she watched him try the cup on, Stephanie thought about how he must have lost the other two nuts. Stephanie imagined the load that Richard had shot out, and how much bigger it would be coming from Sam’s hefty balls. She started to daydream of the girls that must have gotten pissed off at him and stomped his bits into oblivion. And now he was coming here, so desperate to protect the last one. It was his only hope.

“Hey, uh… I’ll take it. It fits fine.”

Stephanie came too, and realized she had drifted off long enough for Sam to come out. She rung up his purchase and put the empty box in a bag for him. He was smart enough to wear the cup out of the store. Stephanie had learned today that nowhere was completely safe for a guy with only one ball.

As he walked out the door, Stephanie snuck up behind him. Sexually assaulting a minor was surely some kind of crime, but if he was wearing a cup, it was all fun and games. Stephanie had always been a nice girl, but after watching the incident in the dressing room, she really, really wanted to slam some guy between the legs. And if he had a cup on, no one would get hurt!

She pulled her leg back and slammed her foot up between his legs. She hoped the oddly shaped cup was as strong as her other ones. In high school, she had been quite the soccer player, and her kick was surely stronger than anything he would get hit with during sports. Unfortunately, the cup didn’t seem to provide any protection. She felt her foot sink deeper than it should have, and Stephanie realized too late that the box she had given him hadn’t been empty. She had just kicked him, full-force, in his swollen nut.

“Oh my god! I’m sooo sorry!” Her apology wasn’t entirely sincere. Although she hadn’t really meant to hit him in his solitary ball, it was so much more satisfying than she could have imagined. She wondered if she had known the whole time that he wasn’t wearing his cup. Then she realized she didn’t care. Whatever feelings Richard’s castration had awoken in her made her a different person. Her slit cried out for attention, and Stephanie though about how easy it would be to pull Sam’s jeans off and pound his tortured manhood into a fine mush on the pavement outside.

She went back inside and sat behind the counter. No way was she castrating a boy in broad daylight, right outside her door. She may be new to this whole “ball-busting” idea, but even she knew better than that. But her last two customers had given her a new business strategy. If customers weren’t buying what she was selling, maybe she would have to make some new customers…