Quote from Founder on January 13, 2025, 10:50 am

Original post by Aaron

Becky was the kind of person who could spot a good cup of coffee from a mile away. She had that uncanny ability to sniff out the perfect blend of beans and brewing temperature. It was a talent that had earned her the nickname "The Coffee Connoisseur" among her friends. With her sleek black hair pulled into a high ponytail, and her nose buried in a paperback novel, she sat at her favorite café, sipping from a steaming mug. Her eyes flitted over the words, but her mind was a million miles away.

Amanda, on the other hand, was all about the thrill of the moment. She had a wild streak that Becky found both exhilarating and slightly terrifying. With her electric blue hair in a messy bun and a smirk that could melt the coldest of hearts, she was the one who dragged Becky out of her comfort zone and into the most unexpected adventures. They had met in a self-defense class a few years back, and it was love at first punch.

The bell above the café door chimed as Amanda burst in, her cheeks flushed from the crisp autumn air. She slammed the door behind her, sending a ripple through the quiet chatter of the patrons. She spotted Becky in the corner and grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey, Becks," she said, sliding into the chair opposite. "You'll never guess what happened on my way here."

Becky raised an eyebrow, setting her book down. "I'm guessing it involves you, a dare, and someone's pet llama?"

Amanda chuckled, shaking her head. "Better. I saw a guy trying to steal a bike. So, I taught him a little lesson about respecting other people's property." She flexed her hand, and made an air punch that ended where the average man's groin would be, and Becky thought she could see the faint outline of a bruise forming. "It was some punch." Amanda said with her happiest grin shining.

The two of them shared a knowing look, and a smile. They had both been through enough to know that the world wasn't always a fair place, especially for women. But they had each other, and together, they were ready to face whatever came their way.

Their friendship was like a well-oiled machine, a symphony of laughter and support. They balanced each other out perfectly, Becky's calmness to Amanda's fire, and Amanda's boldness to Becky's introspection. It was a beautiful, unspoken dance that had carried them through the toughest of times.

But little did they know, their quiet afternoon was about to be interrupted by a sound that was all too familiar, yet never welcome. As they stepped out of the café, the whistle cut through the air, as sharp as a knife. A young man leaned against the lamppost, smirking at them. "Hey, ladies," he called out. "How about you make a sandwich with me as the filling?"

Becky's grip tightened around her book, and Amanda's hand inched closer to her pocket, where she kept her trusty pepper spray. They had dealt with their fair share of idiots before, but something about this one made the hairs on the back of their necks stand up.

"You know," Amanda said, her voice sweet as honey but her eyes as cold as steel, "I've been craving something with a bit more... substance." Becky couldn't help but smirk at the subtle threat.

The young man's smile faltered, unsure of how to respond. But before he could say another word, the two of them had already turned and went back into the cafe..

They didn't look back, but they could feel his eyes on them, his leer a palpable presence in the air. And as they rounded the corner, Becky whispered, "You know we can't just let that go, right?"

Amanda's smirk grew wider. "Oh, I know. But let's enjoy a coffee first. Then, we'll show him what real substance is made of."

When they left the cafe, they walked in silence, the warmth of the café fading into the cool evening.

As they approached the end of the street, the whistle came again, he was closer this time. Becky felt a knot of anger form in her stomach, the taste of it bitter on her tongue. She knew that tone, that look. It was the same one she had seen a hundred times before, from men who thought they could say or do whatever they wanted just because they felt like it.

But Becky and Amanda weren't just any women. They had spent hours in the gym, perfecting their moves, and even more hours in the dojo, sharpening their instincts. They had each other's backs, and they weren't about to let some punk ruin their day.

As they turned the corner, they saw him, leaning against a different lamppost, his smug grin now a sneer. "Didn't think ya had the guts to come back"

Amanda stopped, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, we're back all right. And we brought a little something for you." She pulled out her pepper spray, flicking off the safety cap with her thumb.

The man took a step forward, but Becky was already in motion. Her book flew through the air, hitting him square in the face, momentarily blinding him. Before he could recover, Amanda was there, spraying him with a mist of burning fire.

He stumbled back, hands flailing, screaming obscenities that were lost in his coughs and sneezes. Becky stepped up, her voice low and dangerous. "Next time you think about disrespecting a woman, remember this. We're not just here to make sandwiches. We're here to kick your kind to the curb."

Amanda's laughter was a sharp bark as she took a step closer, her free hand curling into a fist. The man tried to wipe the pepper spray from his eyes, but it only made it worse. He stumbled away, trying to put distance between himself and the furious duo.

But Becky wasn't about to just stand by. She grabbed his shoulders, her grip like steel, and without a moment's hesitation, she drove her knee upward with all the force she could muster. The sickening thud as it connected with his groin, echoed through the otherwise peaceful street. He crumpled to the ground, his hands cupped around his balls, his breaths coming in pained gasps as his legs flailed and kicked.

The two women looked down at him, their expressions unreadable. For a brief moment, there was no sound but the harsh coughing, moaning and wheezing of their attacker. Then, Becky leaned down, her voice a whisper as she turned to Amanda. "How old is he, is he even eighteen yet?."

Amanda's smirk grew into a full-blown smile. "Nah, I bet he's still playing with Legos." She knelt beside him, peering into his pain-stricken face. "You know, we're just trying to get home. Maybe you should learn some manners before you go around bothering strangers."

The young man's eyes watered, his face a mask of agony. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled gurgle. Becky squated next to him, her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. She got close to his face and asked,"Did I hurt you? Of course I hurt you." Becky shakes her head and bites her lip. She was feeling pity now that she realized how young he was.

The young man was unable to answer, he was in far too much pain to even talk, all he did was moan and cough and gag.

Amanda chuckled darkly, "Becky, he deserved it"

"I know," Becky said, her voice tight with anger, "But we can't just go around assaulting kids."

"He started it," Amanda reminded her, her hand still gripping the pepper spray, "And we finished it. End of story"

Becky puts her hand on his chest, she notices how skinny he is, and she asks him, "When was the last time you ate?"

He groaned, his voice strained with pain, "Wha...?"

"Your dinner," Becky repeats, her voice firm but with a hint of concern. "You're too thin to be out here causing trouble."

He gasped for air, trying to find the words to respond, but only manages to wheeze, "Fuck...off." The unmistakable sounds of testicular agony in his voice.

Still defiant even as he sits on the ground, unable to walk and barely able to talk, put there by a woman's knee and by his humiliating weakness.

Becky sighs, her face a mix of anger and pity. "Look, kid, you're not the first to think you can just whistle at us like we're dogs. But you're definitely the last one for tonight. Now, you are getting up and coming home with us, I'll make you something to eat, and we'll call your family to come and get you"

The young man, barely out of his teens, glares at Becky through his watering eyes, his voice thick with both pain and resentment. "I don't need your charity, bitch."

Amanda's smirk turns into a full-fledged grin, seeing his impotent anger. "Oh, but you do," she says. "You see, Becky here has a bit of a soft spot for lost puppies. And you, my friend, are looking pretty lost right now. Now don't make me any angrier than I am now, it won't end well for you"

They help the groaning boy to his feet, his eyes still stinging from the pepper spray. He tried to protest, but Becky's firm grip and the promise of food win out. They start walking back to their apartment, the young man leaning heavily on Becky for support, one hand cupping his aching balls. As they walk slowly, evidence of how much his balls still ached, the tension between them gradually eases, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional cough or moan from their unwilling guest.

Once inside, Becky leads him to the kitchen, where the aroma of a simmering stew fills the air. She sets him down at the table and places a steaming bowl in front of him. "Eat," she says, her voice still firm but with a softened edge. "You're going to need your strength if you ever want to go outside again without getting your ass kicked."

He looks up at her, surprise flickering in his eyes. He's not used to kindness, especially not from a woman who had just kneed him in his balls. But his stomach growls, betraying his hunger. He tentatively takes a spoonful of the stew, the warmth spreading through his body, and for the first time that evening, he feels something other than anger or pain.

While he eats, Becky and Amanda watch him, their expressions unreadable. They've seen this kind of entitlement before, but they've also seen the potential for change. And as the young man's guard slowly comes down with each bite, they start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they can make a difference in this one's life.

After he's finished eating, Becky hands him a glass of water. "What's your name?" she asks gently.

He pauses, considering whether to lie or not, but decides on the truth. "It's... it's Jimmy."

Becky crosses her arms, leaning against the counter. "Well, Jimmy, I'm sorry I hit you where I did, but we need to have a little talk about how to treat people with respect."

Jimmy grumbles, his eyes still on the empty bowl. "you're not the first girl who's kneed me in my balls"

Amanda laughs, "Well, that doesn't surprise me one bit"

Becky nods in agreement, "What does surprise me is that you haven't learned your lesson yet. You think that just because you're a man, you can say and do whatever you want without consequences?"

Jimmy, his voice still a little hoarse, finally looks up at Becky, his eyes red from the pepper spray, and a hint of realization dawning. "I... I guess I never thought about it that way."

Amanda leans against the counter next to Becky, arms crossed. "Where do you live, Jimmy?"."

Jimmy mumbles an address through clenched teeth, still nursing his bruised ego and even more bruised crotch. "Why?"

"We're going to call your folks, make sure you get home safe," Becky says, her voice a mix of firmness and kindness.

He snorts, "Well if you can find my folks let me be the first to know"

Amanda's smile drops and she says, "Okay, then we're taking you to the nearest police station."

The color drains from Jimmy's face, "What? No, wait, I'll be good, I swear."

Becky's eyes narrow, "You should be grateful, we're giving you a second chance. But know that we won't be so lenient next time."

The three of them sit in silence for a moment, the only sound being Jimmy's occasional cough from the pepper spray. Becky sighs and pulls out her phone, not even needing to scroll down her recent call list, she calls a freind. "Hey, it's Becky. We've got a little situation here." She explains the events of the night to the person on the other end of the line.

A few minutes later, a car pulls up outside the apartment. It's Becky's friend, a police officer named Laura. Laura steps inside, looking at Becky and Amanda with a mix of concern and amusement. She's seen them in action before. "What have we got here?"

Jimmy's eyes widen, realizing his mistake. "I didn't do anything," he stammers, trying to stand up, but the pain in his groin sends him back down.

Becky rolls her eyes. "Just a little misunderstanding," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "This one thought it was a good idea to whistle at us and make a sandwich joke."

Laura's eyebrows shoot up. "Ah, the classic sandwich joke. How original." She looks at Jimmy, her expression turning serious. "You're lucky they didn't decide to press charges. You've got a lot to learn about respect, kid."

Jimmy hangs his head, his cheeks red with embarrassment. Laura helps him to his feet, and he winces, still trying to recover from Becky's well-placed knee. "Come on," she says, guiding him to the door. "I'll give you a ride home. And maybe along the way, you can think about how to be less of a dick in the future."

Becky says "Laura, that's an issue, I think Jimmy is homeless"

Laura's smile fades, she looks at Becky and nods. "Okay, I'll take him to the station, we can get him some help there. Maybe a shelter for the night."

The young man, Jimmy, looks at Becky and Amanda with a mix of anger and fear, "I ain't going to no shelter, I can take care of myself."

But Becky can see the desperation in his eyes. She knows that look, she's seen it before in the mirror. She had been there once, on the streets, before she found her way. "Look, Jimmy, we're not trying to get you into trouble. We just want to make sure you're safe."

Amanda adds, "We're not going to let you go out there in this condition, not with that attitude."

They exchange a look that speaks volumes about their shared past, the battles they've won and lost together. Almost in unison they say, "Jimmy do you want to stay here?"

Jimmy's eyes widen in shock. "Here? With you two?"

"We have a spare room," Becky says, her voice gentle. "It's not much, but it's a safe place to stay until you can get back on your feet."

Amanda nods, her smirk fading into something softer. "We won't bite, unless you're into that sort of thing."

Jimmy's shoulders slump, the fight draining out of him. He nods, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay."

As she leaves, Laura says quietly, "Do you two know what you're getting yourselves into?"
And they nod, and smile. "No" they answer as Laura closes her car door.

Back inside they help him upstairs, his legs still wobbly from the pain. They show him to the spare room, which is surprisingly cozy for its size, with a single bed, a nightstand, and a window that looks out onto a small courtyard. Becky grabs a pillow and blanket from the closet, her movements efficient and motherly. She sets them on the bed, and Amanda pulls out a clean set of clothes from a drawer.

"Here, these should fit," she says, tossing them to him. "You can shower if you want. There's shampoo and soap in the bathroom."

Jimmy nods again, his eyes darting between the two of them, trying to gauge their intentions. They leave him to it, closing the door with a gentle click.

In the living room, Becky sighs and sits down on the couch. "What the hell are we doing?" she asks, running a hand through her hair.

"Giving him a chance," Amanda says, sitting next to her. "We've both been there. We know what it's like."

Becky nods, her expression thoughtful. "But we can't just take in every lost cause we find."

Amanda's eyes are on the closed door to the spare room. "No, but maybe this one's worth it."

Looking at each other they smile,tonight they reversed rolls, at least for a while.

They sit in silence, listening to the water running upstairs, the occasional moan from Jimmy punctuating the quiet. Becky gets up and goes to the kitchen, pouring them both a glass of wine. They need it after the adrenaline rush of the evening.

When Jimmy finally emerges, clean and dressed in the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants they've provided, he looks at them warily. Becky offers him a glass of wine, which he takes with a nod. He sits on the edge of the couch, as far from them as he can get without falling off.

"Look, we're not trying to replace your family," Becky says, sipping her wine. "But we've been where you are. We know it's not easy."

Jimmy takes a tentative sip of his wine, the alcohol warming his throat. "Why are you doing this?"

Amanda leans back into the couch cushions, her gaze on him unwavering. "Because we've had enough of assholes like you ruining the night for everyone else."

He nods slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "So, this is like... a rehabilitation program?"

They laugh, the sound a mix of disbelief and amusement. "No," Becky says, "this is just us being decent human beings. But if you want to learn some manners while you're here, we're happy to help."

The tension in the room shifts, the sharp edges of anger and fear smoothing into something more like curiosity. They spend the next few hours talking, Becky and Amanda sharing their stories, their struggles, and their triumphs. They listen as Jimmy opens up about his life on the streets, the abuse he's suffered, and the moments of kindness that have kept him going.

As the night wears on, Becky and Amanda start to see the person behind the bravado. Jimmy's just a kid, lost and hurt, trying to survive in a world that's often cruel to those who don't fit the mold. They share some of their own experiences with misogyny, the fights they've had, and the lessons they've learned.

After a while, Becky breaks the silence with a question that's been nagging at her since the incident. "Hey, Jimmy," she says, her voice soft, "are you okay down there?"

Jimmy looks at her, his eyes wary, then down at his crotch. "What do you mean?"

Becky's cheeks flush a little. "Well, when I kneed you... I didn't mean to hit so hard. Did I... bruise anything?"

Jimmy shifts uncomfortably. "It's fine," he mumbles, his voice tight. "I've had worse."

But Becky can see the lie in his eyes, and she feels a pang of guilt. "Let me see," she says, her voice firm but gentle. "If it's bad, we might need to get you some ice or something."

Amanda watches, her smirk fading into something more serious. She knows Becky, knows that she's not just asking out of curiosity, but out of genuine concern.

With a sigh, Jimmy nods, and Becky carefully moves his hand away to inspect the damage. He slides his sweatpants down. The sight makes her wince. "Jesus, Jimmy, you're going to be sore for days, are they normally that size?" she says, her voice filled with a mix of regret and anger. Embarrassed,Jimmy pulls his pants up.

Amanda's eyes go wide as Becky gently prods his swollen testicles through the fabric of his pants, even this gentle prodding causing Jimmy to wail in agony. "Becks, maybe we should leave that to a doctor," she suggests, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Guys and their precious balls, what babies" she thinks

But Becky is insistent, her medical curiosity piqued. "It's okay," she says, her voice professional despite the blush creeping up her neck. "I've seen worse in self-defense class."

Jimmy's face is a mask of pain and embarrassment. "They're fine," he insists, his voice strained. "Really."

Becky ignores his protests, her touch firm but gentle as she assesses the damage. "I don't think anything's ruptured," she says after rolling his balls for a moment, "but you're definitely going to have some bruising. We'll keep an eye on it."

Jimmy curls up in a ball on the couch as a result of Becky's examination, only able to nod as an answer to Becky, his eyes wide in pain.

The conversation turns to how Becky learned her self-defense moves. She tells them about the class she took, the instructor who taught them to fight back with precision and power. Jimmy listens, his hand cupped tight in his groin, eyes wide with a mix of admiration and fear, lots of fear.

"It's important," Becky says, her voice serious, "to know how to protect yourself. And it's even more important to respect others."

Jimmy nods, wincing as he shifts in his seat. "I get it," he says. "I'll... I'll be more careful next time."

Amanda raises an eyebrow. "More careful about what?" she asks. "Being a decent human being or picking fights with lesbians?"

Jimmy looks at her, his expression earnest. "You are lesbians? I never would have whistled at you if I knew"

Becky and Amanda exchange a look. "What, you think we're not worth whistling at because we don't want your sandwich filling?" Becky asks, her tone incredulous.

"No, no," he stammers, "Every guy knows that no girl kicks testicles as hard as a lesbian does, never talk back to a lesbian or she'll rack ya in a heatbeat."

Becky and Amanda share a look of disbelief before bursting into laughter. "Where the hell did you learn that?" Becky asks, wiping a tear from her eye.

"On the street," Jimmy says with a shrug. "Guys talk."

"Well, let me tell you something, Jimmy," Amanda says, leaning forward, "we're not just lesbians, we're power lesbians. And we don't take shit from anyone, but Jimmy, maybe you have a point about that testicle kicking thing." She smirks.

Jimmy nods, his face a mix of fear and awe. "I can tell."

Becky's laughter subsides, her expression turning serious again. "Look, Jimmy, we're not mad at you for being clueless. But you have to understand that what you did was wrong. Now time for bed"

Jimmy nods, his face a mask of defeat. He stands up gingerly, the pain from Becky's knee still a dull throb in his groin. "Thanks," he murmurs, heading towards the stairs.

Becky and Amanda watch him go, their expressions a mix of concern and contemplation. "Do you think he'll change?" Becky asks, her voice low.

"I don't know," Amanda says, her eyes on the empty wine glass in her hand. "But we can't save them all."

They sit in silence for a few moments, the sound of Jimmy moving around in the spare room upstairs echoing through the apartment. Then Becky stands up, a determined look on her face. "But we can try," she says, heading to the kitchen. "Amanda, just how many testicles have you kicked?"

"Too many to count," Amanda says with a grin, following her. "But don't tell Jimmy."

They both laugh, the tension from earlier dissipating. Becky opens the fridge, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. "Here," she says, tossing it to Amanda. "This should help with the swelling."

Amanda catches it deftly. "You think?"

"It's worth a shot," Becky says with a shrug. "Now come on, let's go to bed. We've got a full day tomorrow."

They head to their own room, after giving the peas to Jimmy, leaving the door to the spare room open a crack. They can hear Jimmy moving around, the occasional moans of pain as his balls ache as he settles into the bed.

Amanda and Becky kiss as they get into bed, exhausted from the events of the evening. Amanda says to Becky, "I'm proud of you the way you drove your knee into those balls tonight"

Becky laughs, "Thanks, it was pretty hot, standing there over the guy I just dropped so easily. I think I understand why you kick so many testicles."

Amanda smiles and they kiss.

Becky asks Amanda, "Do you think Jimmy will learn how to respect women?"

Amanda runs a hand through her electric blue hair, looking contemplative. "I think so," she says, her voice tinged with lingering doubt. "But he's going to have a few relapses. Those will be fun.