These stories are entirely works of fantasy fiction. Please do not act anything on this blog out. Doing so would be extremely dangerous.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Crushed Ginger: The Ghost Network III

A maniacal showman knick-named Ghost devises clever ways to nut helpless studs live on the web to the delight of his every-growing list of fans.  His previous victim's plight was detailed in a previous story: Click Here to catch up!

At exactly 11:30 PM, Eastern Standard Time, two years to the day after the harrowing affair of a Russian police officer who had been kidnapped and tortured live on the web caused a media sensation, an encrypted email linking to a web video feed was dispatched around the globe. Within minutes, thousands of people scattered in twenty-four countries were logging into their computers, enjoying a highlight real of the last Ghost performance in preparation of an upcoming show.  Scientists, respected politicians, dictators, soccer moms, college students, religious leaders and pop music stars were among the motley group of invited watchers and despite their varied backgrounds, they shared one thing in common; all were excited by the content of the message. 
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please click on the attached encrypted link at 00:00 hours Eastern Time for my BIGGEST show yet!  

-Yours Eternally, The Ghost
It was just after eleven at night when nineteen year old Lyle finished his late night treadmill run. He had gone to the campus recreation center about an hour earlier to let off a bit of steam after an exhausting day of classes and what started as a brief set on a rowing machine turned into a stint at the free weights and concluded with a walk, that turned into a jog that became an all out twelve kilometer run. The last three kilometers had been an all out sprint, Lyle's toned legs burned as his muscles were awash in lactic acid, but it was a good, refreshing burn and despite dripping with sweat and being physically exhausted, Lyle's mind was fully alert. Although it was twenty-four hour, the gym was virtually abandoned so late at night, so Lyle had thought nothing of peeling off his shirt around the three kilometer mark, showing off his svelte Irish torso to the few students still working out. Lyle weighed only one hundred fifty pounds and at five foot eight, he was a small young man by most measures, yet with virtually no body fat, his otherwise average musculature was so vividly defined that the handsome student look like a confident jock.

As Lyle reached out to the slow the treadmill down from a run to a moderate jog he ran a hand through his sweat soaked, shoulder length fiery red hair and glanced around. The coed who had been doing late night Pilates on a mat next to him was long gone, as was the frat boy who had been trying to undo a semester of pizza and beer on an elliptical. Lyle was essentially alone, aside from an overweight front desk attendant who was consumed with his iPad, yet he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that he was being watched. And not just by one person. He felt as if he had just walked into class late and was enduring the burning eyes of dozens of classmates, yet there was no one there.

The treadmill slowed again to a brisk walk and Lyle took the slower pace as a chance to admire himself in the wall of mirrors in front of him. His stomach was a solid six pack, his arms and back were lean and well defined, as were his sculpted runners legs. His slight pecs were burried under a patch of curly red hair that matched the top of his head and was in dramatic contrast to his fairly pale skin. The hair on his chest followed a meticulously trimmed trail down his belly disappearing into his sweat soaked knee-length athletic shorts. Beneath the thin fabric, Lyle's enormous genitals had been flopping around for nearly an hour, his low hanging nuts ached from being banged against his thighs as he ran. As the adrenaline rush of his work out started to fade, Lyle became consciously aware of the ache of his nuts and literally slapped himself in the forehead as he realized he had forgotten to wear a jock. His boxer style underwear and running shorts could do nothing to contain his truly massive nuts and eight inch long, five inch thick flaccid penis. In fact, the reason Lyle opted for knee-length shorts was to keep his low hanging fruits from dangling out the bottom of more conservative running shorts.

Lyle hopped off the treadmill and spent several minutes stretching out his muscles, giving quite a show to anyone who may have been watching. His taught frame was glistening with sweat and all of the bouncing had excited his cock to a semi erect state. A modest tent was starting to form in his shorts by the time Lyle had made it into the empty locker room. The water in the shower echoed loudly in the abandoned locker room as Lyle washed away the stress -- and sweat -- of the day, yet the earlier uneasy feeling of being watch wasn't shaken by his empty surroundings.

He was standing under a hair dryer facing the wall, when he heard a slight noise behind him. He turned to see the front desk attendant, a portly student only slightly taller than Lyle, standing just inches behind him holding a hand towel.

Lyle was startled at how such a large awkward person had sneaked up on him, especially given his earlier unease.

"Dude! You scared the shit out of me. What's up?" Lyle asked casually, playing down his earlier fright.

The desk clerk didn't say anything.

Lyle tried to ignore the young man, but was growing increasingly uneasy.

"Can I help you?"

"Nice nuts," the clerk said.

Lyle was stunned, not even trying to mask his disgust at the brazen, unwelcome advance.

"What did you say, fagot?" Lyle roared, his face growing red.

"I said, nice nuts."

The clerk's casualness in the face of Lyle's agitation was startling. Lyle followed the pudgy man's gaze to his balls, each slightly smaller than lemons and almost perfectly round, hanging six inches at the bottom of his hairless sack. his thick cock flopped over them. The entire package was huge and looked especially large against Lyle's svelte frame and clearly the desk clerk was interested.

"Look, guy. I'm not into dudes."

Lyle, trying to suppress his anger, took a step toward the non-threatening out of shape nerd, allowing his impressive package to swing freely. The clerk, despite being physically larger than Lyle, would clearly be no match if push came to shove, yet he stood his ground against the handsome red-headed jock. The clerk's calmness was unsettling. It was so unsettling that it slowly morphed Lyle's anger into fear and it was at that moment that - with no warning - the clerk lunged at Lyle knocking him to the ground.

"What the fuck!"

Lyle's head his the hard tile with a thud, dazing him just enough for the clerk to ram the towel he was carrying into Lyle's face.


A strong, awful odor invaded Lyle's nostrils and filled him with terror. Whatever it was was making him dizzy... The two young men wrestled on the ground, the out of shape desk clerk easily gaining the upper hand on the slowly blacking out Lyle. Soon Lyle couldn't feel his legs, then his arms became heavy. Panic gripped him and, in a last explosion of horror and fear, Lyle screamed girlishly in sheer terror, though it was muffled by the rag. He was getting sleepy and he put up less and less of a fight. His toned muscles became limp and the last thing Lyle remembered seeing clearly before blacking out was a look of sick satisfaction on the desk clerk's acne ridden face. Then there was darkness.


"Wakey, wakey." a booming voice rang through Lyle's head.

His restful slumber was shattered in a jarring instant as the fear and confusion he felt in the locker room came flooding back. As he opened his eyes, shutting them again on impulse after they were flooded with light. He opened them more slowly, giving his tired eyes time to adjust to the glaring white light. He was on this stomach and his arms felt like they were tied behind his back. He instinctively began to struggle but it was no use. As he regained full awareness, he could feel his legs were tied together and again his efforts to shake himself free failed. Most alarmingly, Lyle could feel something extremely heavy pressing against his back, weighing him down, and whatever it is was so heavy it was making it impossible for him to stand up. Lyle tried to turn his head to see what was laying on his back and screamed at what he felt. His neck was shackled to the surface he was laying on, limiting his ability to move his head more than a few millimeters in any direction. He was trapped and utterly helpless. He could only look down, and as his eyes continued to adjust, he realized that he was laying on a clear table, perhaps made of plexiglass, that was suspended about six feet from the ground by four metal poles at each corner. Beneath him was a step stool, a small table made of more traditional wood with what appeared to be a fly swatter, a laptop, a small blender and a bright pink cylindrical object and a standard kitchen colander. What was going on? All around him, the small room was painted entirely white and was awash in light as if the walls themselves were glowing.

"Help! Help me! Help!"

Lyle started screaming into the apparently empty room.

"Silence!" came the voice from earlier and just as booming, as if it was being amplified by some kind of machine.

Lyle was stunned into silence.

Lyle could hear a door opening and closing behind him and measured foot steps approaching.

"Didn't you ever learn that shouting is rude," came the voice, only this time in a more normal level.
Despite his best efforts, Lyle couldn't turn to look toward the approaching voice. Instead he closed his eyes tightly and prayed to himself.

"Aww. Open those pretty eyes," came the man's voice, now coming from directly beneath him.

Lyle's eyes stayed tightly closed.

"I said... open your eyes!"

"Ooooh!" Lyle screamed as his eyes shot open, a burst of pain radiating from his right nut.

That's when Lyle first realized that his ball bag and cock were hanging below him through a hole cut into the glass table and the man under him had grabbed his vulnerable orb and squeezed with a viscous fist. It was the jolt Lyle needed to open his eyes and look down into the man's face, who was looking up at him wearing a hideous goblin mask. Lyle shrieked at the sight, more out of surprise than fear. The man beneath Lyle was average height and appeared to be average build, though it was difficult to tell through his black dress shirt and stylishly loose fitting khakis. If it wasn't for the goblin mask, the man would have easily blended in with any other person on the street. His voice was stern and deep, yet oddly unassuming and relaxed considering the circumstance.

"P-p-please don't hurt me," Lyle began to cry.

"Aww. Oh, I'm going to hurt you, stud. I'm gonna' really hurt you."

The pleasure in the man's voice was chilling.

"But just not yet."

The man used the step stool to get at eye level with the shaking teenager then proceeded to pull a moist handkerchief from his pocket, ramming it into Lyle's tear streaked face.

Then came the same obnoxious, dizzying smell from the locker room. Then darkness.

Lyle awoke from another groggy forced rest an unknown time later, still in the same restrictive position in the same white room, apparently nothing changed. Now the laptop which had been on the lower table earlier was now setup just in front of Lyle's face. Because of the shackle on his neck, the only views Lyle had were looking straight down at the floor below or looking up at the laptop screen, at that distance it took up his entire frame of vision. Though he was still groggy, the video playing on the screen was so disturbing it jolted him to alertness.

The grainy, often black and white video clips showed scenes of Lyle withdrawing cash from an ATM, buying groceries, walking down sidewalks and otherwise going about his business. It was a seemingly endless string of clips that seemed to have been pulled from the thousands of otherwise innocuous times Lyle, and everyone else in modern society, was recorded on closed circuit TV. The last video was especially disturbing. It was a full color video of Lyle jogging at the recreation center clearly taken from the vantage point of the front desk. The sickening realization that he had been systematically hunted made Lyle feel sick to his stomach.

"Ah he's awake," came the same voice.

Lyle looked down to see the masked man standing beneath him. He used the step stool to reach the laptop, pressing a button that changed the screen from the looping videos of Lyle being stalked to an even more alarming view. There on the screen were Lyle's huge, hanging nuts and his massive limp cock. There must have been a camera somewhere out of his line of sight that was aimed at them. Lyle was oddly mesmerized by the sight of his balls on the screen, realizing that his extremely low hanging, round plump balls were ridiculously vulnerable.

"Please let me go!" Lyle pleaded.

"What? Let you go? But you're the star of the show." the man laughed coolly.

The man stepped between Lyle's balls and the camera, his goblin mask taking up the entire screen. Despite Lyle's loud pleas behind him, the man calmly began to address the camera as if he was introducing a television show.

"Hello boys and girls from all over! I, The Ghost, have an extra special show for you tonight."

The man's showmanship conveyed a bizarre sense of normalcy to the preceding. 

"My dear friends, one of you, a loyal viewer from the United States of America, helped to bring us what are easily the largest pair of grade-A testicles this show has ever seen."

Ghost stepped out of range of the camera, allowing the unseen audience to get a full look at Lyle's nuts. Their proportions were pornographic, big plump and exuding masculinity, coupled with a fuck stick that - even completely flaccid - was bigger than most cocks raging hard. And here they were, as defenseless and vulnerable as they were awesomely large. As Lyle watched the screen a number appeared: 5,670 VIEWERS And to his horror the number was steadily increasing.

Lyle was too overwhelmed by the situation to listen to the rest of Ghost's absurd introduction, instead he was focused on the image of his balls on the screen. The screen cut to a wide shot of Lyle laying on the glass table as Ghost showed off this macabre setup and it was from that angle that Lyle could finally see what was pressing against his back. A large anvil shaped weight was pressing against the middle of his back, suspended from the ceiling by a chain. He was trapped.

Ghost let the wide shot of the helpless stud linger for a moment before putting the camera back on the tripod, Lyle's swinging sack on full display.


Standing slightly to the side, so as to not block the view of Lyle's gorgeous nuts.

"Just look at these beauties,"

Ghost reached out and cupped Lyle's left nut with his calloused, large hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Lyle winced in anticipation of something more, but it never came. Instead, Ghost released the nut and cupped the right one, giving it a slightly harder squeeze. The delicate orb bulged against the bottom of the sack, making it look even bigger.

Lyle was begging to be let go, but Ghost pretended not to notice.

"They kind of look like punching bags, don't they?"

Ghost took a bent knee stance, somewhat like a boxer and made a fist. He was standing behind the swinging sack, but Lyle knew what was about to happen.

"No! No!"


Ghost landed three hard punches in rapid succession, alternating between Lyle's left and right nut. Lyle's sack bounces wildly, being knocked toward the camera much to the delight of the thousands of twisted viewers watching the show live on the web. Lyle thought he was going to get sick from the pain, he screamed just as ...


More rapid, and powerful, punches plunged into Lyle's sack. He tried desperately to free himself or thrust his hips to spare his balls but the restraints and the suspended weight on his back made all his efforts futile. Lyle's enormous hanging sack was being literally used as a punching back and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Please! Stop!!"


The brutal beating just kept coming and coming without reprieve. Lyle dry heaved, his balls were on fire and an unbearable ache was building in the pit of his stomach. The louder and more hoarse Lyle's screams began, the more viscous the punches became. Lyle could see, and feel, that his balls were turning red and swelling to even more massive proportions under the assault yet they remained totally intact.
After nearly five minutes of having his prized jewels used as a sparring ball, the viewer counter on the screen surpassed eight-thousand and Lyle's nuts were his entire world. All he could focus on was the image of his screaming red nuts bouncing on the screen, his voice long ago reduced to a pitiful, worn out whimper. Then, abruptly it stopped. Ghost stepped back to the side and again cupped Lyle's left nut in his hand. Only this time it wasn't followed by a gentle squeeze.

"Ooooooh! Shit! Ooooh! Stop it please! Please!"

Lyle was hysterical as Ghost's strong fingers dug into the tenderized ball meat as this fist tried desperately to completely crush the nut. Lyle had a front row seat as Ghost's fingers kneaded Lyle's oversized nut like a stress ball.


Lyle thought he was going to pass out from the sudden shooting sensation that came from Ghost's thumb suddenly sinking much deeper into the weakening nut, as if some membrane had started to give way. Ghost must have felt the weakening nut too, because his grip became even tighter and more determined. Lyle's nuts were tough, but they had just been pounded non stop and they just couldn't take much more.

"Uh-oh. What's all this now?" Ghost said playfully.

All of the bouncing and jiggling of his nuts have gotten the unwanted attention of Lyle's horse cock which was slowly growing. Ghost released Lyle's nut which was now purplish and covered with hemotoma and walked to the wooden table, picking up the pink cylinder Lyle had spotted earlier. Meanwhile, to Lyle's embarrassment his cock had grown to its full length, 12"  beer-can thick glory. Even Ghost seemed stunned by the sight of it, though his viewers were cheated from the full effect. Because of the angle, all they could see was the giant mushroom shaped head of Lyle's cock looking directly at them and couldn't see its length. Ghost seemed to recognize this and adjusted the camera so that it showed Lyle's package from the side, focusing on Lyle's ridiculously huge cock.

"Look at this thing!" Lyle's captor gushed, "It's fucking huge."

Ghost proceeded to slip the pink rubbery tube onto Lyle's cock. It was a hollow tube with a rubbery lubricated membrane lining the walls, and it felt remarkably like a warm pussy to Lyle. The tube barely fit over Lyle's girthy tool and was only eight inches long so there was no way it could cover the entire length at once. Ghost, however, was unfettered. He slowly stroked the tube up and down the length of Lyle's cock, increasing the speed slowly until it was a nice, rhythmic pace.


Lyle's mind was awash in pleasure, though it did little to distract him from the lingering, throbbing pain in his nuts. But his cock obviously had a mind of its own. The massive rod hardened and got even longer until a full foot of stud cock was being stroked by Ghost. Lyle moaned despite himself as the expert masturbation sleeve did its job.

"I have never seen a cock like this!"

Twack, twack, twack.

Ghost needed both hands to stroke the masturbation sleeve faster and faster down the length of Lyle's cock. He could feel a load boiling in his tortured nuts and knew he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer. Lyle screamed when he saw on the screen the Ghost had taken one hand off of stroking duty and was cupping his right nut.

"No! Ooooh!"

Ghost unleashed a truly devastating squeeze to Lyle's nut. Lyle started to black out from the agony, yet his cock remained hard and was starting to twitch in anticipation of the coming load. Ghost kept squeezing Lyle's nut and stroking his cock. The combination of extreme agony and pleasure was overwhelming to the young jock.

"Please stop!"

Twack, twack, twack!

Lyle watched in horror on the screen as Ghost's fingers began to deflate and deform the giant ball. It was being squeezed so hard it felt like it was going to burst at any moment, but Ghost's fist kept squeezing and squeezing. The wet sounds of the masturbation sleeve stroking Lyle's foot long cock married with the sound of his animal like screaming, creating a sort of music to Ghost's ears.

21,720 VIEWERS

Lyle knew his nut was about to explode and there was nothing he could do to stop it, and Ghost could feel the trapped nut attempting to retract into the teenager's body as it prepared to fire off its load.


Lyle's cock shot off one single spectacular glob of cum that landed with a splat on the floor. Ghost loosened his grip on the young man's nut and resumed his two handed stroking. By now Lyle's brief, tortured orgasm was over but Ghost continued to milk his spent cock. The teasing hand job was excruciating to the young jock who pleaded for Ghost to stop, which he eventually did... ten minutes later. Lyle was close to delirious from the prolonged post-orgasm milking and his swollen nuts were aching, purple and throbbing.

Ghost removed the sleeve and threw it to the ground, and still openly in awe at the size of Lyle's flaccid cock. It was eight inches and incredibly thick, but totally soft.

"Hmm... I wonder."

Without warning, Ghost grabbed the base of Lyle's donkey cock with both hands and took a small leap into the air. To Lyle's horror, the man, who looked like he weighed at least one-hundred seventy pounds, was now hanging from Lyle's cock like a twisted version of a playground toy. Lyle wretched and screamed, his eyes still locked on the screen. There was Ghost hanging several inches off the ground being held up only by the chords that were attaching Lyle's cock to his body... and they were starting to tear.

Lyle let out a continuous drone as he could literally feel the chords that joined his cock to this taught frame starting to tear. Even his massive fuck stick wasn't designed to handle such a heavy load.


Ghost was reveling in the irreparable damage he was inflicting onto Lyle's amazing young sex tool. Lyle could feel his body being pulled closer to the glass as his cock tried desperately to hang on. Large purple welts appeared up and down the entire length of his giant cock as blood vessels started to burst under the strain. Slowly, Ghosts body started to lower as Lyle's cock was stretched to its breaking point.


Ghost released his death grip on Lyle's cock and fell the few inches to the ground. The rush of blood coming back into the organ was nearly as painful as the pulling. It was so overwhelming Lyle didn't notice that Ghost had fetched the fly swatter from the table and was standing under him again. Ghost held the fly swatter to the camera so that his viewers -- and Lyle -- could see that it wasn't just a fly swatter. It was an electrified fly zapper. Lyle pleaded as Ghost hovered the zapper dangerously close to his dangling nut sack.

Closer and closer...

Lyle's body tensed in anticipation.

Zzzt! Zzzt! Zzzt!

Lyle screamed as Ghost alternated the zapper from nut to nut over and over. The jolt was much stronger than a regular bug zapper and each nut convulsed so violently on contact that they appeared to be dancing in their sack. But Ghost was only tapping each nut quickly, not letting the zapper linger too long.

"Oh boy! This is so much fun!"


Ghost touched the zapper to Lyle's battered and bruised left nut and held it there. Lyle was in such a world of unbelievable hurt, all he could do was drool, his mouth open in a silent 'O' as he watched his nut being roasted on the screen in front of him. The enormous ball rolled and shook in the bag so violently it looked like the convulsions alone was going to blow it apart.

A minute passed. Then two...


The left side of Lyle's sack was turning blackish red, smoke was rising from the zapper yet Ghost held the device firm. Finally, after three minutes, Ghost threw down the zapper and resumed to use Lyle's dangling, bruised and incredibly swollen ball sack as a punching bag.


Lyle continued to drool and scream as Ghost worked to turn his big strong balls to paste.


"Oooh! Stop!"

But Ghost clearly wasn't going to stop until there was nothing left of Lyle's gorgeous testicles but lumpy mush. The fists came so rapidly, it didn't seem human and Lyle could feel himself starting to pass out.


Lyle could feel something break in left side of his scrotum upon a particularly violent one-two punch targeting that side of his sack. Lyle's jaw erupted in pain as it opened so wide in a scream he thought he had broken it. As he screamed, Lyle could see that the perfectly round shape of his once-perfect left nut had been broken. It looked more oblong now and seemed to be sagging lower than the right. Ghost noticed too and with a wide smile, proceeded to focus all his punches just on the swelling , blood red left side of Lyle's scrotum.


Lyle wailed, but couldn't take his eyes off the screen. His left testicle was toast. The huge, sexy organ had shattered in its sack and was now being methodically pulverized. Lyle couldn’t believe his amazing studly package was being totally destroyed.


"Oh what a waste, right?" Ghost seemed to be asking the crowd.

Ghost stopped punching and seemed to be reaching for the zapper again when suddenly the view counter on the monitor, which had reached 22,878, suddenly began to drop. There was a high pitched, screeching tone, like an alarm, from the computer and Lyle could have swore he heard a flurry of activity behind the unseen door behind him.

"Oh give me a break," Ghost laughed, though he was clearly annoyed.

"Looks like we've been caught again, kids. But don't worry, we've saved the best for last!"

A count down timer appeared on the top right of the screen.



Ghost hastily made his way to the wooden table and fetched the blender. It was a relatively small model, like the ultra-powerful single serve models that were all the rage for making smoothies and protein drinks. Lyle was in a fog of pain, so didn't immediately notice when Ghost roughly shoved the glass blending cup over his genitals, but as soon as he saw what was happening on the screen, he became beyond hysterical. He could feel the chain holding the anvil weigh against his back rattling, the first time he had ever mustered enough strength to even disturb the crushing weight.

There on the screen, stuffed into the glass mixing chamber were both of his large, heavy nuts and his entire eight inch, swollen cock. Ghost has shoved the cup on so roughly that Lyle's already destroyed left nut was partially impaled by one of the three blades, while the other two pressed precariously into this bruised, yet still whole right nut. Ghost let the visual linger on the screen for his viewers.



The mixing cup was barely large enough to hold Lyle's meaty genitals. His nuts were pressed against the glass and his cock was folded onto itself. Virtually every square inch of space in the mixing chamber was stuffed with nuts and dick and Lyle knew they were about to be turned into jock puree.

"No! No! Please!"



The twisted visual must have been enough to keep the 15,870 people watching the show from logging off from the compromised data stream as the number of viewers stopped dropping and actually began to climb again.



All Lyle could focus on were the two meaty balls and Irish sausage crammed into a blender that were about to be pulped into one helluva protein shake. There they were, damaged but otherwise recognizable, and in a matter of seconds they'd be reduced to an unidentifiable goop. But despite it, the sick visual of so much man meat in peril was so jarring as to be hard for Lyle to look away from. It was the same compulsion that keeps people looking at train wrecks despite the carnage.



"No! Please! Please!"

The chain holding the weight on Lyle's back continued to rattle as Lyle trashed, but his package was firmly in the blender.



Ghost held the blender firmly against Lyle's doomed nuggets with one hand while the finger of his other hand danced over the blender's buttons. It hovered briefly over the 'ICE CRUSH' button before moving on to the 'STEADY PULSE' button...


Ghost smiled behind his mask as his finger incremented over the buttons until it stopped on the last option: LIQUIFY.





Lyle let out a scream so tremendous, the sound seemed to startle even Ghost.




The high speed blades made quick work of Lyle's manhood, though the destruction played out as if in slow motion for Lyle, who was forced to watch it up close on the monitor. When the blades first started spinning, the vortex created caught hold of what was left of Lyle's left nut and ripped it from his body. Meanwhile, the blades that had been pressing into the right nut, sliced that nut cleaning in half, and the halves were halved again, and again, and again, as the blades whirred around. The perfect mushroom shaped cap of Lyle's penis exploded instantly, splattering the side of the glass with a stain. As his nuts were turned to viscous, chunky gunk, the vortex sucked the beefy cock inward until it was liberated from his body and into the spinning blades. On the first pass, the bulk of his cock was split into 16 distinct chunks before each of them exploded into a shower of gunky flesh the consistency of ground beef. The sound of chunky jock bits bursting made a sickening splattering as Lyle's manhood was turned from a soupy, semi-solid mixture into a fine puree and finally a totally liquefied substance.



The timer was flashing red, warning messages about '...data stream compromise...' were appearing on the screen, but still the viewer counter stayed unchanged.

When he was satisfied at the complete destruction of Lyle's sex organs, Ghost turned off the blender and set it back down on the table, removed the mixing bowl and picked up the colander. The mixing chamber was so full of liquid, that the bloody, gooey mixture was overflowing and Ghost made his way back to the view of the camera. Lyle was bleeding uncontrolled from the gaping wound in his crotch and was starting to black out and turn pale, but Ghost ignored him.

Instead, with dramatic flare, he proceeded to poor the Lyle Protein Shake from the mixer through the colander. The remains of Lyle's once porn star equipment was making a massive puddle on the floor at Ghosts' feet. When he was done pouring, he held the colander up to the camera so that all of the viewers - and the dying Lyle - could see there were no chunks in it. Lyle's entire studly cum-squirting, pussy-pounding, jeans-stretching monstrous testicles and penis were reduced to liquid.

"Alright kids, I'd better end this data stream. Don't want to spoil our chances for another one!"

Ghost made his way toward the camera, pretending to slip on greyish-red mess on the floor and laughing.

Lyle felt a terrifying chill run through his body... then all was cold.

inspiration for Lyle :)

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Good Doctor: Followup

Sorry for the delay in posting!

Here is the second part of the 'Good Doctor' series. (Part 1 is here

Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound of a basketball being dribbled wafted into Quinn's open bedroom window as a group of young men played a pickup game on the street outside. It was twilight, yet the summer heat was relentless, the muggy air was a stubborn ninety degrees even as the sun had already disappeared behind the apartment buildings on the horizon.

In an attempt to stay cool, Quinn had stripped down to his underwear, bright yellow bikini cut briefs that contrasted sharply with his well-tanned, thick thighs. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he lay in bed ticking off his grad school preparation to-do list in his head in an effort to forget the heat, but it was no use. It was just too hot.

Quinn stood up and made his way to the window, peering down at the basketball game below. His blinds were adjusted in such a way that he could look out fairly easily without the players being able to see in, giving him the perfect vantage point to take in the scene.

Every one of the players looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, neighborhood kids out having a bit of fun before nightfall, and all of them wearing nothing but knee-length basketball shorts as they ran up and down the makeshift court. Quinn could feel his briefs getting tighter as we watched all of the muscular bodies glisten from sweat, competitive concentration etched across all of their young faces, totally unaware that three stories above a hunky grad student was mentally undressing them.

As he watched, Quinn became especially fixated on an extremely good looking Latino with long black hair that was matted to his forehead from sweat. The player, who couldn't have been older than twenty, was about six feet tall and looked to have virtually no body fat on his lean frame. His stomach was a rippling twelve pack that put Quinn's own sculpted, albeit heftier, frame to shame and his legs were slim but well defined and powerful. The Latin kid was wearing a pair of knee-length white shorts that were in stark contrast to his very tanned skin and Quinn licked his lips as he envisioned what those few millimeters of fabric were hiding. Occasionally, the Latin would twist his body in such a way that his big, floppy nuts would swing forward, creating an obvious bulge against the loose fitting fabric.

Soon, all Quinn could focus on were the fleeting bulges that would appear in all the player's crotches as they ran around, apparently none of them wearing underwear. They were just a bunch of gym rats showing off their chiseled bodies to the world and letting their heavy, sweaty nuts swing freely as they did so. All of that raw masculinity just dangling like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked... or smashed.

Quinn's hand began to rub his by now fully hard penis as the ten inch fuck stick throbbed against his tight shorts. In his head, Quinn envisioned going out and making small talk with the Latin kid and inviting him up to his apartment. As the two chatted, Quin would lean in for a kiss and start making out with the hot young man, working over his perfect body until his sweaty shorts came off.

Quinn, whose 6 foot 4, husky rugby-shaped build would dwarf even the built Latino, would lure the unsuspecting hunk into his bedroom. The Latin would splay himself on the bed, face down waiting to get rammed, but instead Quinn would be fixated on the huge, hairy bollocks just laying between the kid's thighs.

“Fuck me!” the hunky basketball player would scream, bucking his hips in anticipation, and Quinn would climb on top of him.

But instead of lining up his throbbing cock to plunge into the guy's waiting hole, Quinn would ball his powerful, meaty hand into a fist, aim and slam it into the man's nuts, crushing them into the mattress.


Before the horny basketballer had even realized what happened Quinn would have plowed his fist into his nuts two more times. The kid screams and attempts to flip over, but Quinn takes advantage of the confusion and climbs on his back, straddling his perfectly-defined back, facing the Latin's balls.

Quinn would grab the man's big left nut in his hand, line up his fist and...


The guy's hysterical, but Quinn's too heavy for him to get up.


Quinn pounds the man's swelling left nut over and over. Quinn can feel that his powerful fist is reducing the whimpering man's testicle into jelly...

Quinn's fantasy was interrupted by a wet sensation in his shorts. He was leaking precum in a steady stream and a large sticky wet spot had formed on his crotch, making the tight fabric even more clingy so that it perfectly outlined his cock and impressively-large, egg-shaped balls.

The randy rugby player stepped away from the window and peeled off his shorts but not before catching one more glance of the strapping basketball players. Quinn then made his way to his unmade bed, lay down and wasted no time getting to work on his meat. Quinn pumped all ten inches of his cock with both hands, his precum making an excellent lubricant, as he played out the scene of him pounding the Latin's nuts over and over.


The closer the big Latin eggs got to being scrambled in Quinn's, fantasy the harder his cock began and the more frantic the stroking. Quinn's husky body bucked in pleasure as he felt one of his signature massive loads building in his boiling nuts.

“Please stop! You're gonna pop it!” Quinn envisioned the desperate Latin screaming as his fist pounded mercilessly into his swollen nut.


“Ohh mmm!” Quinn moaned.

He opened his eyes and looked down at himself. His mounding pecs were glistening with sweat, as was his washboard abs and towering over those monuments of masculinity was his raging cock. A steady stream of precum was overflowing out of his mushroom shaped head pooling on his nuts. Wrapped around it were both of his powerful fists, their pumping action causing his large biceps to bulge and flex as he desperately tried to get himself off. I'm so hot, he couldn't help but think as he admired all of the raw, sweaty muscle on display.

And at the center of it all, literally the source of all of his studly hormones and masculinity were his two large, shaved nuts just resting on the bed between his thighs.


Quinn's jerking was causing his nut sack to bounce wildly, slapping against the bed and his thighs. He couldn't help but think about how vulnerable they were just then. What if those alpha-male jocks had caught his spying on them and stormed into his apartment; they could pin him down while one of them, maybe the Latin guy, used his fists to pound Quinn's worthless sack into mush...


Quinn closed his eyes as his fantasy resumed in ernest, only now it was he whose balls were being pounded into oblivious. The more Quinn thought about his giant sack being turned into a bag of mush, the more precum he leaked. Just the thought of having his nuts squashed was turning the steady leak of precum into squirts of the sticky liquid. Was this normal? It didn't matter at this point, Quinn was close to shooting and his macabre fantasy about having a line of teenage hunks take turns trying to crush his spuds was about to send him over the edge.


Quinn released a hand from his cock and used it to rub all over his body. His inner thighs, his rippled abs, his pecs, running his hand through his shaggy, sweat-soaked black hair, taking in all of his own raw male essence like an aphrodisiac. But no matter how impressive Quinn pumped up his pecs, worked his arms or sculpted his powerful legs, none of it would matter if those basketball players succeeded in popping his man cherries...


“Oh... oh shit! Oh shit!”

Quin let out a guttural scream as his ball bag finally collapsed into mushy ruin at the hands of his fantasy attackers. At the exact moment that grisly image flashed in his head, Quinn's cock erupted. Gob after gob of cum showered over Quinn as his hips bucked wildly, sending cum flying in all directions. Cum now soaked his pecs and neck, but Quinn was still cumming. He was in awe at the seemingly endless waves of orgasmic pleasure and looked down at his cock hoping to catch a glimpse of his powerful fuck stick delivering its sticky load. The timing couldn't have been better as just then Quinn's out of control dick shot three powerful blasts that would have easily hit the headboard, had his ruggedly handsome face not been in the way.

Quinn's face was absolutely plastered in jizz, at nearly point blank range as his cock squirted again and again. He was in such ecstasy that his entire hunky frame was writhing and he couldn't help but squeal girlishly as the last few spurts of cum landed on his abs.

By the time the torrential cum shot was over, Quinn was a pile of sticky, cum scented muscle. Jizz was dripping from the tip of his nose and had plastered his right eye shut. Cum was in his hair, all over his pecs and had his abs resembled a a heavily glazed doughnut. He lay breathing heavily for a few minutes before making his way to the bathroom to cleanup. As he strolled down the hallway, his cock already semi-hard again, he thought to himself: How much force would it actually take to turn these into mush? He grasped his sagging, spent nuts and gave them a squeeze so firm that it actually made him double over. And at that moment, Quinn was determined to answer that question.

Quinn didn't even bother finishing his stroll to the bathroom, instead he grabbed his laptop and pecked out a short yet to the point online ad that read as follows:

Hunky, handsome and horny rugby stud wants to test out just how much these babies can take. Do you have the balls to crack these oversized jock nuts?

He attached a picture of his huge nuts, thick black hair still matted to them with jizz, next to an egg to show off their size and a body shot that ended just above the neck. He took the last pic from many different angles, picking the one that made his frame look the beefiest. When he was satisfied with the ad, he clicked 'upload' and gave his balls another squeeze.

Unfortunately, no one responded. As summer gave way to fall, Quinn complete forgot about the ad. Time passed and Christmas decorations came and went, then came spring. The first summer flowers were just starting to bloom marking nearly a year since Quinn had posted the ad...

It was an unusually warm early summer's day and Quinn was sunbathing by the pool of his apartment. His skin was a perfect shade of tanned golden brown which, combined with a sheen of sweat that was forming, made his muscular frame look amazing. He was only wearing a tight blue speedo that showed off every inch of his genitals much to the delight of girls who were stealing glances from the balconies above.


Quinn was awakened from a half sleep by the vibrating alert of his cellphone. He lazily picked up the device and instantly felt his speedo tighten by what displayed on the screen: “Ready to have those nuts cracked?”

Quinn could feel his cock starting to stretch the fabric of his swimwear and hastily made his way back to his apartment so he could finish the email without risking tenting his speedo in broad daylight. As soon as the door closed behind him, Quinn opened the email in full and read:

Hey Rugby Stud,
Those are some mighty large nuts you've got there between those powerful legs. I can just imagine all those hours you must spend at the gym sculpting such an awesome body. Pushing your body to the limit. And now you want to test out those big man eggs, too? Hmm. I have a mallet right here on my desk that I bet I could pound them so hard they explode in the sack, instantly turned to hamburger meat. Mmm, Just imagine a bag of mush swinging there. Or how about you sit with your back against the wall, legs spread wide and I take my size twelve cleats and stomp them like grapes until they burst and splatter all over those muscular thighs. How many stomps would that take? I think we should find out. Perhaps we start out with a light mallet and increase the weight until they crack? Hey, I have ten mallets ranging from feather light to I-can-barely-lift-it, no guy has ever been able to take more than the third one, so what do you say we see if a big stud like you can't beat that record, and then some.

I'm 45, five foot ten, not in as good of shape as you but take care of myself. My pic is attached. If you're interested in really testing those nuts to their limit, message me. This will be no holds barred, consider this your only warning. Just how much CAN those tough nuts endure...?

-- J.P

Quinn was stroking his fat leaking cock as he opened the attached images. J.P was in remarkably good shape for being 45, Quinn thought. His rippling abs disappeared into a pair of tight leather pants with a huge bulge in the crotch and he was holding a rubber mallet in his flexed right arm. J.P's arms looked almost disproportionately large, even against the rest of his muscular frame, and Quinn could just imagine the damage those guns could inflict on his boys.

Quinn pecked out a brief “I'm interested! Want to meet Saturday?” reply before putting down the phone and starting to stroke his cock with both hands.

Quinn had just starting cumming when his phone vibrated again. It was J.P confirming their meeting that coming Saturday night.

The rest of the week flew by for Quinn as he anxiously awaited meeting J.P. By the time Saturday night arrived, Quinn was trembling in anticipation, not out of fear for what was about to happen to his nuts, but sheer excitement. Quinn's car made it's way down the whimsically named streets of a subdivision near campus just before 6 o'clock and as he turned onto Blossoming Chrysanthemum Lane he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. This was it. This was the street J.P lived on, there was no turning back now.

Quinn passed four almost identical two-story Colonial brick houses before arriving at the address in J.P's email. Quinn couldn't help but feel he was being watched as his car eased into the driveway. As the handsome stud made his way to the stately front entryway all he could hear was the now thunderous booming of his heart and he could feel his dick already starting to stiffen.


Quinn stood patiently for nearly a minute and was just about to press the doorbell again when the door swung open. Both Quinn and J.P stood in muted shock for a moment as a flash of recognition came upon them both. Quinn instantly recognized J.P as Dr. Paulson, a physician with the university health clinic who had given him a rougher-than-necessary testicular exam the previous summer and Dr. Paul recognized Quinn as the handsome jock who got off having his balls smashed.

“Well come on in,” Dr. Paulson said with a warm smile.

“I'm Joel Paulson.”

“Quinn. Nice to meet you,” Quinn couldn't help but feel relieved he wasn't meeting with a complete stranger.

Joel was wearing black slacks and a white button up dress shirt that seemed to be straining to contain his broad torso and the arms bulged from his biceps. His hair was slightly longer than Quinn remembered, but still fairly short and steely gray.

Quinn was wearing a pair of blue jeans, his junk bulging at the front, and a plain white T-shift that clung to this upper body. He had trimmed his hair so it was a neat military style buzz cut instead of the usual mess of shaggy black. The hairstyle aged his face slightly and Joel couldn't help but lick his lips as slightly as he eyed the young man up and down.

“Take off your shirt,” Joel barked.

Quinn obliged leaving the T-shift on the foyer floor. Joel seemed to like what he saw and began rubbing his string hands up and down Quinn's washboard abs and pecs.

“Mmm. Nice.” Joel said, leaning in closer to inhale Quinn's scent.

“Thank you. You aren't bad yourself.”

Joel was a tightly build jock Quinn would have loved to bend over and fuck mercilessly, and maybe he'd get the chance if things went well tonight.

“So, you really wanna' test these to their limit?”

Joel asked in a soft voice as he rubbed his hand over the obvious ball-shaped lumps in Quinn's pants.

“And beyond, sir.”

“Mmm. Very nice.”

Joel didn't break eye contact with the gorgeous jock as he slowly unzipped Quinn's jeans. Without being told, Quinn stepped out of the jeans so that he was standing in the entry way in only his underwear. Joel's eyes brightened as he saw the outline of Quinn's enormous nads through the thin fabric. Quinn's cock was already semi-hard and was poking up from the waistband.

Quinn's face flushed red as Joel slowly pulled down the underwear, the last thin line of defense between Quinn's nuts and whatever macabre designs Joel had in store for them.

Joel dropped to his knees in front of the hulking jock and looked up at him for a moment before inhaling Quinn's entire ten inch cock at once. Quinn gasped in pleasure. No one had ever taken his entire cock before, but here was Dr. Paulson expertly bobbing up and down like his life depended on it.

“Oh... oh...” Quinn moaned as Dr. Paulson grasped Quinn's legs as if to brace himself.

Quinn put his large hands on the back of Joel's head and slowly started pushing it forward, increasing speed until Joel was moaning even loader. The young jock increased his rhythmic hip thrusts until he was violently skull fucking the hot little jock below him.

Quinn grunted and moaned like and animal as he rammed Joel's head up and down his cock so hard that his heavy nuts were slamming into the good doctor's chin .Joel, incredibly, was moaning in pleasure as if Quinn's long cock hardly phased him. Quinn had never had such an expert blow job and could feel he was about to shoot his load. Joel, meanwhile was sucking Quinn's thick cock like a vacuum and moaning loudly as he worked to help Quinn spew his load.

“Oh shit! I'm gonna' bust in your mouth,”

The slutty doctor looked up into Quinn's eyes as if pleading for the horny jock to coat the back of his throat with jizz. Quinn grunted and moaned, bucking his hips as he felt his boiling load about to be unleashed. Something about looking down at another buff jock literally begging to get a mouth full of man milk was a huge turn on to Quinn...

“Oh shit!”

Quinn screamed as he felt ropes of cum splattering the back of Joel's throat. Joel expertly swallowed every drop of the copious load, continuing to lick and suck the heavy fuck stick until Quinn's entire load was sloshing around in his stomach.

“Mmm, tasty. Would be a shame if that was the last load.”

Quinn's cock jumped at the thinly veiled threat.

Joel stood up, licking cum off his fingers like it was a delicacy. Quinn was panting from his explosive release, but his cock remained rock hard.

“Already ready for another round I see,” Joel said softly as he grasped the base on Quinn's fully erect cock.

“I haven’t been fucked in so long. I'm probably super tight.”

Joel turned and backed his slacks-clad ass into Quinn's cock. Quinn spurted precum all over the slacks as Joel teasingly rubbed his ass against the young jock's fuck pole.

“You'd probably rip me in half, right stud.”

Quinn couldn't hold back and wrapped his arms around the handsome older jock, pulling him against his body. Joel could feel the sticky head of Quinn's cock as it poked into his back.

“Mmm. Such a stud,” Joel moaned as he turned to face Quinn.

“But I wonder how much of a stud you'd be without these,”

The words hadn't fully sunk into Quinn's hormone soaked brain before Joel grabbed Quinn's balls, one in each hand, and squeezed. Quinn gasped and would have doubled over had Joel's grip had it not been for Joel's powerful grip holding him up. Joel's face was contorted in effort and his powerful biceps bulged and flexed as Quinn's firm balls were slowly crushed in his grip.

Quinn let out a throaty scream followed by a whimper as Joel released his death grip on his nuts and allowed the taller stud to crumple to his knees. The viscous squeezing lasted less than ten seconds, but to Quinn it felt infinitely longer. Despite the pain radiating from his sack, Quinn's rock was raging and an odd yet familiar feeling of tortured pleasure flooded his his mind.

“Alright, let's get started.”

Joel lead Quinn through the house to a small back bedroom. The room, like the rest of the house, was decorated in heavy, conservative wooden furniture. In the middle of the room was a sturdy looking wooden chair with a disproportionately elongated seat.

“Have a seat, Quinn.”

Quinn wasted no time obliging. His bloated sack was still slightly red from the earlier squeezing and was now resting on the chair seat between Quinn's legs.

“They look so vulnerable like that, don't they?” Joel began, admiring the two huge targets.

“Yeah, they are.”

Quinn's heart was pounding. What was Joel going to do to him?

Joel went to the room's closet and pulled out a knapsack filled with jangling objects and approached Quinn. First, Joel produced several lengths of rope that he used to secure Quinn's ankles to the legs of the chair, then crisscrossed the studly athlete's chest until he was tightly bound to the chair back. Next Quinn's arms were bound behind his back so tightly he could barely move. Joel stepped back to admire his handy work. Here was a gorgeous, hulking twenty-something in the prime of his life utterly defenseless with his heavy nuts exposed for whatever Joel could think of.

The same thought was going through Quinn's head as his throbbing cock pulsed in rhythm to his excited heart.

Next, Joel produced four doughnut shaped thick yellow elastic bands which he slipped over Quinn's nut sack. The bands kept Quinn's sex organs from being able to retreat into his body, making them bulge obscenely against the skin of his scrotum at the bottom of his sack. They were stretched nearly five inches away from Quinn's crotch, resting against the hard wooden chair seat. Quinn was absolutely defenseless...

Joel reached into the back and produced a small metal wrench. Quinn's eyes grew wide with a mix of fear and excitement as Joel approached. When Joel saw the look on the young stud's face he smiled broadly.

“Oh, this isn't for those nuts,” he began motioning to Quinn's lap.

“I need to make sure the chair is secure. Don't want a big jock like you getting loose.”

Joel knelt down and tightened the four nuts that were keeping the chair bolted securely to the floor. This was clearly not the first time Dr. Paulson had used this setup, Quinn realized. When he was satisfied, Joel stood up, grasped Quinn's hulking torso and gave him – and by extension the chair – a powerful shake. To Joel's pleasure the chair didn't budge.

“Okay, so here is how we're going to do this. I have ten mallets in the bag that I'm going to use to pound down on these babies. I'll only use each mallet for one stroke before moving on the next. When you feel like you've hit your limit, let me know.”

“Like a safe word?” Quinn asked excitedly.

“Yes, the safe word is chrysanthemum.” Joel said calmly as he produced a ball gag from the bag.

“Better make sure I can understand you through this,”

Before Quinn could object the large black ball was stuffed into this mouth and secured to his head via a strap. The ball gag was stretching Quinn's mouth so wide it was almost painful and a singe tear formed in his right eye. Seeing Quinn's handsome face contorted was a thing of beauty for the horny doctor and he gave his cock a squeeze through his slacks.

“Okay, let's start with mallet number one, shall we.”

Joel produced a small mallet with a red rubber head. He knelt down between the jock's legs and aimed the mallet over Quinn's ample nuts. It was instantly apparent that the mallet head was too small to strike both of the massive organs at once, so Joel positioned it over Quinn's left nut, raising and lowering it several times as if to guarantee the aim was perfect.

“You ready, stud? Wanna' see if I can crack this walnut on the first try?”

Quinn shook his head 'yes' excitedly, all the cue Joel needed to raise the mallet over his head and send it crashing into the rugby star's right nut. The purposeful misdirected blow achieved the desired effect. Quinn had been bracing for a hit to his left gonad, so when the pain came from the right he was overwhelmed with a feeling of pain and confusion.

“Mmmph!” Quinn screamed into his gag, though it was mostly from built up anticipation than pain.

Quinn had taken harder blows than than on the rugby field and, after the initial excitement had died down, he realized his nut not only hadn't cracked but was far from it.

“Very good.” Joel smiled as he set down the small mallet and pulled out another red mallet, this one with a slightly larger head.

The head was still too small to totally cover both balls, but would certainly inflict some pain. Joel positioned the mallet so that it would crash down at the seam of Quinn's ball sack. Quinn's breathing grew rapid as he locked his eyes on his about-to-be-crushed manhood.

“Ready, steady... go!”

The mallet came down right on target, and with significantly more force than the previous blow. Quinn's eyes crossed and he screamed into his gag, to Joel's delight. Despite his bounds, Quinn writhed as the pain coming from his balls radiated up his spine. That was, by far, the most extremely ball pain he had ever experienced in his entire young life.

“Mmmmph! Mmmph!”

Quinn screamed as he saw Dr. Paulson reaching into the bag to produce the third mallet.

This mallet had a black head that was large enough to easily strike Quinn's entire ballsack at once. Quinn knew his sex life was about to be toast, yet somehow the thought only served to make his cock throb even more. Precum was dripping from onto Quinn's balls as Joel lined up for his next blow.

“This is really gonna' hurt, stud. These things might not make it. I'm not holding back.”

Quinn was going crazy hearing Joel's gruff voice egging him on.

“Three... two... one...”

Quinn's eyes grew wide with a sudden burst of terror as Paul rose the mallet about his head and sent it crashing into his balls as full force. Quinn thought he was going to be sick from the onslaught of pain that was now starting to form a bit in his rippling stomach. In the blink of an eye, Quinn's titanic nuts had been flattened to less than half their girth, flattening out under the mallet head.

Quinn was panting and crying as his screaming nuts pulsed in agony. They were beet red and even the slightest movement caused great pain. He had never experienced anything like this in his life and the pain was starting to negate his waves of erotic pleasure. His donkey cock started to slowly deflate as the pain in his balls seemed to be getting worse. Quinn let out a loud continuous scream into his gag, not stopping at all as Dr. Paulson took his cock into his mouth and gave Quinn the same caliber of expert sucking as before.

Within a minute, Quinn had calmed down a bit, though he was still panting and breathing heavily, and his cock was back to its full throbbing ten inches thanks to Joel's expert oral skills.

Joel produced the forth mallet that appeared identical to the third only with a blue head. Quinn began to whimper pathetically as Joel lined up for the next blow, though it was hardly necessary. The mallet head was so large that it easily could crack both of Quinn's jock nuts in a single blow.

Joel kept raising the mallet and lowering it, stopping just short of Quinn's nuts. Each time the mallet moved with such speed that it was just a blur to Quinn, who was becoming aroused by the sense of panic the situation filled him with. Here he was, about to have his man eggs totally scrambled and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

“Oh yeah. Those nuts are about to crack. Pop. Squish. But that’s what you want, isn't it?”

Joel and Quinn's eyes locked as Joel continued to hover the mallet over Quinn's nuts. They were still red and throbbing from the previous blow and had almost no time to recover.

“When this mallet hits, boom. Your nuts are probably gonna' be blown apart.”

The mallet head rested on Quinn's huge nuts, totally covering them.

“Ready... aim...”


Quinn's cock erupted with a thick rope of cum that splattered his pecs just as the mallet made contact. Quinn's egg sized nuts were instantly compressed to a quarter of their usual meaty roundness, flattening dangerously against the chair seat. Quinn's eyes crossed and his cock instantly deflated from pain. All he could think about were his screaming nuts. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else registered. In hysterics, Quinn looked down at his crotch through his tearing eyes, fully expecting to see them flattened and destroyed. They did appear slightly less round, and now blood red, but otherwise they had survived. But the pain building up in his stomach was starting to make him feel sick. His balls ached so badly he could feel it in his ears and they were still just sitting there. Waiting to be turned to mush.

Quinn didn’t notice as Joel produced the fifth mallet, as large as the last with a red rubber head.

Joel was already midway through his torturous routine of aiming the mallet and giving it several practice swings before Quinn snapped into reality.

“Mmmph! Mmmph! Crmmmph!” Quinn was pleading with Joel not to use an even heavier mallet but it was no use.

Joel either couldn't make out the safe word or didn't care.

“Well stud, prepare to have your nuts blown open.”




“Mmmph! Crrmmphumum!”


Joel sent the mallet down full force. Both of Quinn's meaty nuts were instantly flattened to pancakes. There was no way they could have survived so much force. Quinn screamed and struggled against his restraints. He was crying, every muscle in his hot body was flexed and straining. His cock was completely limp and his nuts were in such a world of pain, it was beyond his mind's ability to even comprehend. He could feel himself starting to black out, his heart pounding so hard he thought it was going to come through his chest. As he became more light headed, he looked down at his crotch to discover that his swollen, purplish red nuts were still whole but, to his absolute horror, Joel had produced yet another even heavier mallet.


“But this is what you want, isn’t it stud? You want your nuts to crack. You want them to blow apart like two huge eggs, don't you?”

Joel leaned into Quinn's ear and whispered softly “Do you want me to crush your nuts?”

Quinn, despite his panic, felt his cock start to stir.

Quinn looked pleadingly into Joel's eyes and slowly nodded 'yes'.

“Okay then.”

Joel took his position between the handsome jock's powerful thighs and rose the mallet high over his head.





Quinn instantly blacked out as the heavy mallet collided with and flattened his nuts. A surge of sensation that probably lasted no more than a fraction of a micro second racketed through his skull with such an intensity he was unable to comprehend it. It was both awesome in its novelty and terrible in its ferocious pain, yet underlying it all was an erotic realization that the sensation, whatever it was, was totally right.

His battered right nut ruptured so spectacularly that the inside of Quinn's ball bag was coated with its gunky remains. Every muscle of Quinn's hulking frame went limp as his manhood was half destroyed under the heavy rubber mallet. The site of seeing a half de-sexed rugby jock strapped to a chair was too much to Joel, who began to squirt into his slacks without even touching himself.

A strange little smile formed across Quinn's face as Dr. Paulson removed the ball gag and got to work untying the helpless stud. As Joel got to work patching up the battered sack, a procedure he had performed before, Quinn's unconscious mind replayed the final moments of his right ball over and over.


The sound of the echoing sound of the ball exploding was so loud in Quinn's mind, it was almost comedic. His mind looped the scene over and over.

As Dr. Paulson worked on the passed out jock's junk, something strange happened. Quinn's throbbing cock was at full attention, twitching excitedly as the Doctor expertly removed what was left of Quinn's shattered right nut. To Joel's amazement, Joel's left nut, though slightly swollen, appeared to have held up much better than its twin. That was certainly one tough nut, though just how tough would have to be a determined another time.

“Mmm. Very nice,” Joel remarked to himself as he finished up the procedure and lay Quinn down to rest, a calm smile on the hunky jock's gorgeous face.

Dr. Paulson couldn't wait to test out just how tough Quinn's last ball really was...

Quinn ;)

Monday, June 23, 2014

Football Camp Incident

Dust flew as the short blue and white bus traveled down the heavily wooded lane one Saturday morning.  On board were eleven members of the local college football team, Pierre, the team’s physical trainer and the coach on their way to a team building weekend at Camp Charn.  Situated miles outside the city, Camp Charn was a university-owned twenty acre patch of walking trails, forests, a small lake and a central complex of a few minimalist brick buildings.

“Coach,  how much further is this place?”  asked one of the players sitting toward the front, a husky lineman with fair skin, a mess of red hair and an almost comical amount of freckles.

“Not too much further, Cody,”  the coach said as he slowly navigated the bus down the unpaved road.

“Yeah, that sign said ‘Welcome to Camp Charn’ like ten minutes ago.  I don’t even have a cell signal out here,” another player -- the short yet powerfully build quarterback -- Blake shouted a
few seconds later.

Blake dramatically held up his smart phone was flashing a ‘no network coverage’ animation. and pretended to scoff in annoyance.

The other players laughed.
“Ooh, you’re right. How are ya’ gonna get texts from you boyfriend back home?”  mocked Matt, a dark skinned running back sporting a bright yellow bandanna in his hair.  The bus erupted into
jeers and laughter right as it finally rolled to a stop.

The bus had stopped in the middle of a large grassy field, that doubled as a parking lot. Surrounding the field were the camp’s only five buildings. Two  small dormitory buildings , able to  house about twenty people each, a small administrative office building, a cafeteria building and a relatively large gymnasium that could also double as a conference. center  It was spartan, to  say the least, but it was (even the most macho football player would have to admit) nestled among a gorgeous early spring landscape of forests and wildflower fields.  Camp Charn filled  quickly in the late spring and through summer with band camps and conferences so Coach Maxwell had booked an early spring weekend to beat the rush.

“Here we are gentleman,” said the coach as he flung open the door, “Let’s unpack in Dorm Building A and meet at the fire pit in, say, twenty minutes.” he motioned through the bus windows to a large stone fire pit about a football field away from the buildings.

The players were a rowdy bunch as they made their way off the bus carrying so many bags and equipment it looked as if they were going to be staying longer than their three night stay.

Freshman Jake Pennington was the last player off the bus. He had a slight limp and was using the seat backs as guides as he made his way down the bus aisle.

“Are you okay?” asked  Pierre, his French accent especially thick, as he made his way back onto the bus and stood on the landing.

Jake smiled “Yea, I’m fine. Just this damn foot.... oww!” Jake winced as he put too much pressure on his hurt right foot.

Jake Pennington had silvery-blonde hair and gray eyes which stood out prominently against his tanning booth bronzed skin.  At five foot eight he was the shortest person on the trip, with the
exception of the non-athlete Pierre, but he had a very well-defined, but not overly- build muscular frame, his washboard abs clearly discernible under his muscle-fit Abercrombie sweater.
Despite the slight chill in the air, Jake was wearing a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts that showed off his powerful lower legs and let his egg-sized nuts and thick penis sway as he moved.

Jake caught Pierre gazing at the obviously free-swinging package under his shorts and grinned “Later, guy. Calm down.”

Jake motioned toward Pierre’s own crotch, an erection at least seven inches long snaking down the front of the skinny trainer’s  blue jeans.  Pierre was an average-build 25 year old graduate student, a bit softer around the middle than Adonis like Jake, but compared to the football players he was in charge of looking out for, he was quite out of shape. But what he may have lacked  in physical strength was more than made up for my his charm and his European accent which he played up regularly with the ladies and -- in Jake’s case -- the gentlemen on campus.

“Oh, sorry. What can I say, “ Pierre laughed, his face flush with embarrassment as he adjusted himself.

“There you two are, come on!” Blake shouted, reaching into the bus just far enough to give Pierre a playful pat on the ass. “This whole place is deserted! We have  run of it!!” Blake let out a  sophomoric laugh and ran back toward the dorm.

As Jake, assisted by Pierre, made his way to Dormitory he did notice an eerie sense of isolation on the camp grounds.  Since the football team was the first group to use the facility that season the entire complex was, quite literally, still in mothballs.  All of the buildings’ windows were still blacked out with insulating foam, their power washed facades looked almost new.  Some of the buildings’ bright red doors still had bold ‘wet paint’ signs on them.  Jake couldn't help but feel a certain sense of foreboding amongst such surreal quiet.

Dormitory A consisted of a two long rooms stacked end to end with bunk beds joined in the middle by a narrow shared bathroom.  All of the beds still had protective plastic sheets on them, the
toilet water was purple from antifreeze and the whole place smelled and looked as if it had just been scrubbed down thoroughly in preparation for the busy season to come.  The rowdy football
players hooted and howled, running up and down the rows of bunk beds like excited children, claiming beds and haphazardly dumping suitcases and bags full of clothes onto their chosen  bunks.

“Alright guys, settle down!” Coach Maxwell shouted running a hand through his thick yet graying hair, “Fire pit in ten minutes, be there!”

The coach walked out of the door and a few of the players filed out immediately afterward.

Cody climbed to the top of bunk and shouted out, “Alright guys, we have to get serious!” in a tone playfully mocking the coach.

The players laughed.

“So Jake, you going to be joining our reindeer games anytime soon,” Matt asked, motioning toward Jake who was visibly in pain leaning against the wall.

“Ha, I hope so, this damn sprain. I might need to sit  out the first night run,”

“What a tragedy, and miss out on all the fun,” Matt laughed.

The ‘first night run’ was a tradition of these football camps where the players all met at the fire pit and went on a several mile run around the campgrounds, rounding the lake and finally returning to camp for more drills. Though in actuality many of the players would feign being too tired from the run and instead return to the dorm for the traditional football camp party night of  drinking games and pop music.

The group joked around for a bit longer before finally Cody, bringing everyone to order with  a clap of his bear-like hands called “Alright, kids. Over and out.”

All the players made a point to high five Jake as they made their way out of the door. And just like that, the mothballed dorm that had just sprung to life so dramatically was quiet.

Pierre stood in the doorway and watched as the players’ silhouettes became small dots along the horizon. A few moments later the fire fit erupted into flames, there was a barely audible cheer
from the gathered players and then - as they had done every year before - all  of  the figures on the horizon slowly disappeared beyond the grassy field into the forest on their run. Pierre and
Jake were alone.

“Are they gone,” Jake asked, managing to hobble over to Jake’s side at the door.

“Yeah, they just left.”

“Good, I really could use a nap, “ Jake smiled, stretched out his arms and yawned dramatically.

“Do you want me to wrap that for you?” the dark haired trainer asked kneeling to softly massage Jake’s foot.

“Mmm that feels good,” Jake signed, his head tilted back slightly.

Pierre slowly massaged Jake’s foot, slowly inching up to his shin, then his calves, finally his thighs.  Pierre’s hands stopped just inches from Jake’s bulging package and Pierre looked up at Jake  and winked.

The two looked at each other coyly for several moments before Pierre suddenly sprung to his feet, grabbed Jake around the waist and pulled the quarterback toward him.  The two locked lips and pressed so close together Jake could clearly feel Pierre’s rock hard, jeans-encased cock rubbing against his thigh.  Jake’s muscular hands roamed Pierre’s body, caressing him with a tenderness that wouldn't be expected from such a ruggedly built ostensibly straight jock.

The heavy making up went on for only a few minutes, but just long enough for Jake’s basketball shorts to be soaked in precum.

“Shit! I forgot my medical bag in the bus, I can’t wrap your foot. I gotta’ get it,”  Pierre grudgingly pushed Jake away.

Jake signed “Come on, Pierre. Just a quick...”

“No, we gotta’ wrap that. Seriously. It has to hurt, doesn’t it?”

Jake rolled his eyes while nodding yes.

“See, I don’t wanna’ see you hurt, Jake,” Pierre said kissing Jake tenderly on the cheek, “I’ll just be a minute. And when I’m done with your foot I am gonna suck your cock until your balls
fucking implode.” Pierre growled.

“Feisty, I love it!”  Jake reached out and gave Pierre’s bulging crotch a playful squeeze before the trainer ducked out the door for the bus.

The bust had been parked at least half a football field away from the complex of buildings, Jake thought, enough time for a lightning-quick shower to wash off the road grunge. After all, he didn’t want to disappoint Pierre.

Jake made his way to his bunk along the furthest end of the dorm, grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom.  The bathroom was long and narrow with only two doors, one leading to the first
bank of bunks -- where the team was staying -- and the other leading to the  other which was still moth balled.  The shower area didn’t have dividers, which would play well for the towel-snapping and horseplay that was sure to come.  Jake stripped in front of the mirror, leaving a pile of clothes as a hint for Pierre to join him  in the shower. As he did so, he couldn’t help but to  admire the well-defined muscular young man in the reflection. He curled his bicep and kissed it playfully before stepping into the shower.

Jake turned on the water and was startled at how bone chillingly cold it was.

“Jesus!” he shrieked as he squirmed in place waiting for the temperature to slowly increase.

When it finally did, Jake relaxed and let the warm water cascade over his body, rippling down his washboard stomach, dripping off his large egg sized nuts, running down his toned legs and
pooling at his feet.  The warmth was incredibly relaxing and for a moment his mind  was clear from what had been a constant nagging pain from his sprained foot.

“I can’t wait until Pierre gets back! I’m gonna pound...” Jake’s thought was interrupted by a noise in the distance.

“Pierre?”  Jake called out.

Jake could hear the outside door to the dormitory close; “Pierre’s back!” the young jock smiled.

The water continued to cascade over Jake with such force that he didn’t open his eyes as he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

“I was wondering what took you so long, Pierre. Did you bring...”

Jake wiped the water from his face and turned to face to Pierre and screamed in sheer horror at who he saw instead.  A man, standing a little over six foot tall wearing black pants , a black sweatshirt and black boots was standing just a few feet from him.  The man was average build, though the outfit was a bit baggy so it was hard to be certain if he was muscular or not. The outfit wasn’t particularly off-putting except for the black ski mask that totally obscured the stranger’s face.

The man in black stood looking at Jake for a few awkward seconds before Jake, clutching his chest from the earlier fright laughed and reached to turn off the water.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing! You nearly scared me to death. Who are you, Matt?”

Jake reached toward the stranger’s face mask to reveal him, but as he did so the man reached out with incredible alacrity and grabbed Jake’s hand.

“Dude what the hell...”

WHAM! The stranger drove his free fist into Jake's right eye, catching the naked stud  totally unprepared

“Hello,”  the stranger rasped, his voice totally unknown to Jake and filled with a mix of annoyance and anger.

Jake staggered backward, clutching his eye, too startled by what had just happened to fight back immediately. It was just the opening the Stranger needed....

WHAM! the Stranger punched Jake again in the same eye sending Jake into a world of hurt and falling backward to the ground. The quarterback landed on his tailbone with a loud thud and
tried to scoot away from the Stranger who was lumbering toward him.  However the pain in his sprained right foot made even this difficult and the Stranger seemed to notice.

“Oh,” said the Stranger as he stomped his boot several times into Jake’s right foot.  Jake howled and was filled with so much pain he thought he was going to be sick.

“Who the fuck...”

WHAM! the Stranger delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of Jake’s head that sent him sailing into the wall.  Jake slumped there, totally dazed and clutching the side of his face. He could
feel blood running from his nose and eye. The Stranger stood looking down over Jake, whose perfect body was still dripping from the shower, and for a moment neither of them moved. Jake
knew this was no sophomoric prank and that he had to get out of there...

“Aaah!’  Jake grunted springing to his feet in a bid to run, but falling right to the ground again in pain from his foot.

Jake slumped against the wall, defenseless, his legs spread lazily.

“Please, take anything you want, please don’t hurt me,”  piss ran from Jake’s leg as he trembled in genuine fright.

“Not interested,” came the sinister voice as the Stranger lifted his large, booted left foot over Jakes nuts which were laying in a heap between his legs.

Jake looked down and knew instantly what was about to happen...

“No, don’t!”


The boot slammed down with tremendous force three times in rapid succession, crushing Jake’s balls into the tile floor. Jake’s eyes rolled in his head and his mouth was open, yet no actual  sound was coming out. Jake had never experienced any pain so intense in his entire life and his brain had quite literally shut down for a moment.  The Stranger lifted his boot and steadied it  over Jake’s now red balls again and stomped down.  Jake was able to  reach out and brad the Stranger’s leg at the shin, using all his strength to hold the Stranger’s foot just an inch above his battered sack.

For what seemed to Jake to be a long time, the Stranger grunted in effort as he attempted to finish stomping down. Jake’s arms were strong, but the Stranger’s legs were stronger, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop him from stomping long.  Jake let out a primal grunt and lifted his arms into the air in an attempt to lift the Stranger’s leg and unbalance him.  It didn’t work. Instead, Jake lost his grip on the man’s leg and the Stranger stomped twice more on Jake’s nuts.


Jake howled in agony, and flopped on his stomach in a desperate attempt to save his nuts. He tried crawling away but the Stranger gave out a grunt-like laugh and effortlessly lifted the blonde
quarterback by his hair.  When Jake was a few feet from the ground, the Stranger flipped him like he was a rag doll, holding Jake in a bear hug with Jake’s back against his chest.  The Stranger
carried Jake kicking and pleading in front of the same bank of mirrors Jake had been posing in front of just a few moments ago.

“Pretty little quarterback,” the Stranger hissed in Jake’s ear.

The Stanger had Jake firmly held from behind, forcing the quarterback to ‘admire’ himself in the mirror.  His muscles were glistening with sweat and the strain of trying to get lose, and his large red nuts swung wildly between his legs.  Jake couldn’t believe the strength this guy must of had to be holding him so effortlessly with one arm across this chest...

Jake’s struggles intensified when he felt the Stranger’s clammy hand reach between his legs and clutch both of his nuts. The squeezing started immediately and didn’t stop...

Jake looked at his reflection in horror as his prized ball bag was kneaded and squashed in the Stranger’s large hand.  It felt like they were in a vice, and he could feel -- and see in the reflection --
each testicle being mashed into the other. Tighter and tighter...

“Oh God!” Jake screamed, his eyes locked on the image of his genitals being destroyed.

“They’re gonna pop...” the Stranger whispered softly in Jake’s ear.

Pop? Jake’s mind was in panic but he was too overwhelmed by pain and terror to do much more than the feeble attempts to get away he was already doing.  The Strangers vicelike grip continued, Jake’s sack was turning beet red and was bulging obscenely, no longer able to discern the right nut from the left. They were being mashed into each other and Jake knew any moment  they were, like the Stranger had said, going to pop...

Jake was starting to pass out when he felt the pressure suddenly release from his balls and the arm that had been keeping him in place let up.  The Stranger stepped back and let Jake fall to the ground with a thud.

“I gotta’ get out of here,” was all Jake could think about as he crawled toward the bathroom door. The aching from his crotch was tremendous and combined with his still hurt foot what he  perceived to be a decent-pace crawl was in actuality a slow slog across the floor.  The Stranger stood over Jake laughing at the stud’s pathetic attempt to escape, then kicked Jake hard on his  side, rolling him onto his back and again exposing his football player balls.

Jake quickly went to cup his privates with his hands, but the Stranger had swooped to kneel down between his legs and, without warning, slammed both of his fists into Jakes’ tight solar plexus. Jake gasped in pain and his hands instinctively raced to his chest, again exposing his goodies.  The Stranger took the opening to roughly grab the Jake’s nuts with one hand while doing  something with them with the other. Jake was too distracted by pain to notice at first what was happening. The Stranger had wrapped Jakes sack with twine several times, pulling the egg sized  nuts inside several inches from his body, trapping them at the very limits of  the sack.  This also totally exposed the testicles to whatever force was applied to them.  If the Stranger hit them in  that position, they wouldn’t be able to deform or flatten; all the force would go straight to the tender membranes and tissues holding the ball’s shape together...


The Stranger sprang to his feet and before Jake could cover his genitals with his hands the Stranger had stomped twice on the trapped balls.

Jake attempted to roll over in pain but the Stranger’s boot was still on top of his balls.

Jake pleaded with the Stranger, who just laughed as he slowly lifted his other boot from the ground.  Even in his pain-soaked mind, Jake knew what was about to happen.  All of the Stranger’s
weight was going to end up on the foot that was standing on the trapped balls, so by extension all of the Stranger’s weight was going to end up on Jake’s balls.

Jake screamed and howled like an animal, grabbing at the Stranger’s shin in an effort to lift his foot off of the doomed balls.  The Stranger painstakingly lifted his other foot until it was knee
high, and the Stranger was standing entirely on Jake’s balls.  Jake could feel  the pressure mounting as the eggs flattened under the tremendous weight.   By now Jake was beyond even
screaming, his arms limp in shock and pain... but the Stranger didn’t let up.

The Stranger stood on one foot for at least a minute, but the sturdy jock spuds held firm. He then began to slowly bounce on his foot, mashing the orbs into the tile floor. He bounced harder and
harder as if he was on a trampoline but his foot never completely leaving the balls. Jake moaned and his eyes lost focus.  He could feel his nuts getting flatter and flatter and flatter.  He didn’t
know how much more they could take...

“Here they go, stud.  Gonna’ burst!”  the Stranger was taking sick pleasure in feeling the two firm eggs lose their shape under his boot.

“Here they go... they’re gonna' blow."

Indeed Jake could feel his ball membranes giving way.  They weren’t plumping back up after each bounce and the pain was unbelievable.

“Oooooh!” Jake wailed in a pitch and volume he had never produced as he felt his right nut explode like a huge crushed grape.

Now all the Stanger’s weight was on his left battered nut.  Lefty was the biggest of his nuts, but even if couldn’t hold up...


Jake’s last ball finally caved in with a loud, wet squashing sound.  Both of Jake’s hug jock nuts had totally blown apart in the sack, the Stranger’s heavy boot not standing on a flattened sack.   Jake’s eyes shot open, his body convulsed and he passed out on the cold tile floor.  The Stranger stepped off the squashed scrotum that was totally flattened and swelling purple-blue just long  enough to raise his boot and stomp violently a dozen times. The first five blows totally liquefied the contents of Jake’s sack. Stomps six and seven split the sack almost exactly at the seam and the remaining crushing blows ripped open the sack splattering the stud’s perfect abs, the floor and the Stranger’s boot with mutilated ball goop.

“One down,” said the Stranger, looking down at the passed out stud.

Jake truly was a paradigm of male perfection; strong arms, firm pecs, perfectly toned legs... and a splattered mess between his legs.