Back to the lockers...

The locker room smells of vomit and ball pain. Groans and retching echo off the tiled walls as dozens of defeated competitors hunch over buckets, their battered nuts swollen to comical proportions between trembling thighs.

A petite blonde nurse weaves between the rows, checking on each boy. She stops at your side, eyeing your purple, grapefruit-sized balls.

"How're we doing, champ?" she asks, gently probing your swollen sack. "Still feeling nauseous? That's normal. Your body's working overtime to rebuild those smashed nuggets."

She gives your shoulder a squeeze. "Just keep puking. It helps flush out the trauma. And don't worry about the swelling - your balls will shrink back down eventually. Well, what's left of them anyway," she adds with a wink.

The nurse moves on, leaving you to your misery. All around, boys moan and heave into their buckets, the air thick with the stench of defeat and shattered gonads.

The boy next to you groans, clutching his bucket. His massive purple balls hang low, swollen to the size of grapefruits. Through gritted teeth, he begins to describe his demise:

"This redhead with huge tits... fuck, she was relentless. Kept distracting me, shaking those melons in my face. Then BAM! Her foot connected right between my legs. I doubled over and she just kept coming. Kick after kick, right in my nuts. I puked all over her feet but she didn't stop."

He retches violently into his bucket before continuing:

"I felt my left ball pop first. The pain... jesus. But she wasn't done. Grabbed my sack and squeezed what was left of righty until it burst in her hand. Fucking sadistic bitch smiled the whole time."

He looks down at his ruined manhood, wincing. "Now I'm stuck here, puking my guts out while my balls try to grow back. If they even can after that beating."

The boy across from you grimaces, his face pale as he recounts his brutal defeat:

"This tall blonde... she was a real sadist. Knocked me down with a knee to the nuts, then just... stood there. Right on my balls." He shudders, dry heaving into his bucket.

"F-fuck... I can still feel her weight crushing them. She just smiled, grinding her heel in deeper. My nuts were like grapes under her feet." He gestures weakly at his grotesquely swollen scrotum.

"Tried to beg, but she just laughed. Said she loved the feeling of balls popping under her toes. Mine didn't stand a chance." Another violent retch interrupts him.

"When they finally burst... god, the pain. Thought I'd die right there. Now I'm stuck puking while my body tries to regrow what that bitch crushed."

He looks at you, eyes watering. "How'd they get you, man?"

"I don't really know..." you manage, between heaves, "all I remember is perky tits and hot feet everywhere and then I was down with my eggs scrambled..." HURK-URK... URK...

The nurse tending to you nods sympathetically, her eyes roving over your battered form. "Poor thing, it's all a blur, huh? That's not uncommon after such intense trauma to the boys downstairs."

She gently pats your shoulder, her soft hand lingering. "Those girls can be real vixens, using their assets to distract you ball-bois. Before you know it, you're down for the count with scrambled eggs."

Her eyes flick down to your swollen, purple sac. "But don't you worry, sweetie. We'll have you feeling better in no time. Just keep purging all that pain and your body will do its best to rebuild those precious jewels."

She leans in close, her breath tickling your ear. "And who knows? Maybe next time you'll be the one doing the scrambling, hmm?"

The nurse takes one final look at the group of ballbusted boys, her eyes lingering on their swollen, purple scrotums. She shakes her head, a mix of sympathy and fascination in her gaze.

"Poor things," she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the chorus of retching and groaning. "Those girls really did a number on you all."

She turns to leave, her bikini-clad form swaying as she walks. Just before exiting, she pauses, looking back over her shoulder.

"Remember, boys, keep those buckets close. It's going to be a long night of puking while your bodies try to rebuild those shattered nuts. Good luck!"

With that, she's gone, leaving you and the other battered competitors to your misery. The room falls into a rhythm of heaving, groaning, and the occasional whimper of pain as you all struggle to cope with your flattened orbs.