Last Man Standing

It was a lazy Tuesday afternoon at the palatial Tau Upsilon fraternity house a few miles from the main campus of Quintero University. It was the week before spring break and the mood on campus, and by extension, fraternity row, was one of barely subdued excitement at the prospect of getting away for a week. That week's regular fraternity meeting was postponed, but that didn't stop Connor Lakeman, a husky red-haired senior, from calling a special meeting in the house's anteroom. The invite had gone out to only a select few. No one was keeping minutes. No record of the meeting was kept in the fraternity log and even cell phones were checked at the door.

When the dozen invitees, only a fraction of the total fraternity, were settled, Connor closed and locked the anteroom door.

"Gentleman, I'd like to call this meeting of the Revenge Committee to order," Connor said rapping a gavel on the desk.

The onlookers laughed at the ironically serious, official manner in which Connor was conducting this nefarious 'committee' meeting.

"There's only one item on the agenda, gentleman. Revenge for what these ass wipes did to us,"

Connor held up a collage of three handsome fraternity brothers and proceeded to tear it to shreds to the applause of the crowd.

"Now, how do you suppose we do that?"

--

Several days later the mansion was virtually abandoned for spring break, except for the handful of brothers who had elected to stay over break. This included Connor and everyone from the so-called 'Revenge Committee, as well as the three young men from the photograph, blissfully unaware that the others were conspiring against them. It was Wednesday and night was beginning to fall. Loud music and movies echoed through the Victorian-inspired halls and men in their underwear did cannon balls into the frigid pool. By midnight, most of the men had gathered in the large anteroom, a roaring fire audible even over the din of chatter.

Conner nodded at another frat boy, who nodded to another. It was time. Although it seemed like a spontaneous, jovial response to a proverbial pissing match amongst the alpha males of the fraternity, someone's suggestion that that the boys play 'Last Man Standing' was entirely calculated.

'Last Man Standing' was a relatively brutal contest, in which three brothers put their balls on the line, taking more and more brutal punishment until only one was left standing and not in a pained heap on the floor. No one remembered how or when the contest started, but it had been going on at least since the late 1970's. Originally three contestants were forced to take continual kicks or punches to the nuts until all but one finally gave up. By the twenty-first century, however, the means of busting had gotten considerably more high tech...

"So let's play!" someone shouted to applause.

Connor took to the front of the room and was about to announce that 'Last Man Standing' had begun when a pleasant chiming came from the hall. Connor tried to disguise his dismay as he made his way to the front door.

The double doors opened with a whoosh and Connor had to fake a convincing smile at who he saw..

Zach, a thin senior whose boyish face made him look much younger than he was, stood in the doorway holding a suitcase.

"Zach? What are you doing here?" Connor asked barely able to mask his displeasure that an unknown element had just appeared in the group's plan.

Zach made his way into the house's ostentatious foyer and dropped his bag with a thud.

"What am I doing here? I live here, goofus. Where is everyone?"

The two made their way toward the anteroom, apparently the only activity in the empty house. Connor's mind raced for excuses to stop Zach, but had only parted his lips to speak before Zach was already in the room.

"Ah, sweet! You guys are playing Last Man Standing! Awesome," Zach laughed playfully.

He had spotted a young man placing slips of paper into an ornately carved wooden box that ordinarily stayed amongst the other decorative artifacts on a high shelf. Through tradition, the only time the box was ever used was to draw names for 'Last Man Standing'.

Zach reached over and plucked the box out of the young man's hands and proceeded to pull a slip and pass it on. When everyone had a slip of paper, three students held up their marked slips and approached the front of the room.

Alfred, the youngest among them was a somewhat tall, muscular jock with closely cut blond hair and a thick mustache and goatee that aged his handsome face. He was wearing loose fitting jeans and a T-shirt that hugged his well-exercised upper body. Even through the lose fitting jeans, a slight mound was obvious between his legs. Next was Byron, an Italian junior who was shorter and less muscular than Alfred, though his tight Armani jeans sported an obscenely large bulge at the intersection of his svelte legs. His slick, black hair came to a stylish point just beyond his ruggedly handsome, round face. Last up was Clinton, a senior like Connor who was as tall as Alfred but noticeably bulkier, his rippling muscles barely contained by his conservative cardigan and khakis. Clinton tussled his uncombed, shaggy brown hair and smiled broadly as he approached the other two chosen ones at the front of the room, his self-esteem at his unquestionably good looks straddling the line to outright self indulgence. Zach, having taken command over the game, summonsed three other brothers as volunteers, presumably to hold the chosen ones in place during their punishment.

The mood in the grand fraternity anteroom was one of thinly veiled excitement as Alfred, Byron and Clinton stood in front of the other young men, the three brothers Zach had summoned had taken their places behind the the three chosen brothers, standing just inches behind them. The frat brother who was standing behind Alfred was forming an obvious tented bulge in his pants as he inhaled the muscular jock's cologne.

Meanwhile, Zach left the room, the sound of him rustling through a far off closet echoed through the abandoned mansion. He returned a few minutes later awkwardly carrying a large plastic tote that looked quite heavy and a cheap plastic mannequin under his arm. He set them down with a loud clang in front of the room and got to work sorting out the contents. First he pulled out a two relatively small, almost perfectly round oranges and held them up for the crowd. He then produced a small flesh colored sack that appeared to be made out of an old pair of nylons and shoved the oranges inside so that they bulged at the bottom of the sack like an engorged scrotum. Some of the men giggled at the visual as he affixed the proxy scrotum to the mannequin so that it was hanging several inches between its legs.

"I think you all know the rules , but just in case our friend Mr. Mannequin here is going to demonstrate how the game works."

Zach got to work assembling an odd contraption at the base of the mannequin's feet. It consisted of a large wooden cube as a base, an iPad which was affixed to the front, facing the crowd, acted
like a display, its large screen was totally black except for two large red zeros. Coming up from the wooden base were two metal rods with large metal balls at their ends. they looked like mallets with disproportionately long handles. The mallet heads were positioned so that the mannequin's swinging sack was positioned between them.

Zack took a moment to examine everything then stepped back to admire his handiwork. He then pulled out his cell phone and entered in several commands, the screen of the iPad at the base of the contraption changed from 00 to 01.

"So this is level one..." Zach said, pressing another button on his phone.

The mallets came together, gently compressing the oranges between them before quickly retracting. The iPad's screen flashed red and reset to 00.

Zach entered more commands into his phone and the iPad's screen changed from 00 to 10, causing several of the watching boys to lean in for a closer look.

"And this is level ten..."

The mallets came together rapidly, smashing into the oranges with such force that the nylon bag split and the oranges burst open, spraying the first row of onlookers with the mushed innards. As the mallets retracted, the onlooking crowd erupted into applause. Alfred, Byron and Clinton gulped nervously, looking on at the now split oranges.

"And this is level ten again," Zach said pressing more buttons on his phone.

The mallets came together again, further pulping the oranges and sending bits of pulp flying into the audience. Everyone was laughing, except for the three chosen brothers who were visualizing their own 'oranges' between the mallets. The onlookers were clearly getting the same visual and many of them were openly rubbing the crotches of their slacks and jeans at the prospect.

If Clinton or the other two had wanted to flee they were stopped as the three boys behind them secured their hands behind their backs with zip ties. Before Alfred or the others could protest, their legs were shackled at the waste with spreader bars. The three studly frat boys, while fully clothes, were now totally restrained, paraded in front of the increasingly rowdy crowd like bulls to slaughter.

Alfred's turn was first. The tall jock was guided in front of the contraption, his bulging crotch just inches from the mallet heads.

"Let's take these off, shall we," Zach laughed as he walked up to Alfred.

He pulled a pocket knife out of his jeans pocket and proceeded to cut away Alfred's jeans. Then his tight T-shirt, revealing his now sweat soaked, rippling chest. The crowd spent several moments jeering at the stud who was now only in his overflowing, tight underwear. Zach smiled at him as he cut away the elastic band of Alfred's shorts, totally exposing his low hanging, large nuts which were covered in thick blond hair. They swung defenselessly between the two mallets.

"Now let's make this interesting," Zach said swiping his finger across the screen of his phone.

The screen on the iPad flashed through several random numbers, like an animated roulette wheel, before settling on 01. From their positions, neither Alfred, Bryon or Clinton could see what was on the display but it was obvious to the onlooking crowd, who erupted into laughter and cheers.

"Oh yeah, that's gonna' sting!" one of the boys yelled, clutching his own crotch in mock sympathy.

"Now Alfred, you can't see what the screen says. You can only guess what level it's on based on what the crowd reacts." Zach explained, his finger hovering over the launch button on his phone.

"So you either have the choice of taking the hit as it is, or getting a second spin that might be harder or softer, or simply giving up. Your choice..."

"Do another spin!" some called.

"It's way too high man, don't risk it! Spin again!"

The crowd's attempts to convince Alfred that some dangerously high number was on the display were almost convincing, and for a moment Alfred thought he'd take his chances with a second spin.

"Tick tock. What's it gonna' be?" Zach asked, his finger prepared to press the button that would send the mallets crashing into Alfred's dangling scrotum.

"Um... I dunno. Um, Just do it!"

SPLAT!

The mallets came together, barely making contact with Alfred's large sack before retracting. Alred winced, mostly from dread than from actual pain, and his eyes were tightly shut. He let out a sign of relief has he felt that the mallets had barely closed.

"Good call, Alred. And now for our next contestant."

Byron was lead up to the machine next and his clothes were stripped off of him like Alfred's were. Byron's chest and muscles weren't as defined as Alfred's, but his naked olive skinned body was still quite a sight, especially the enormous testicles swinging beneath his thick, flaccid penis. Even the straight brothers in the crowd gasped as the truly huge organs were positioned between the mallets.

Zach swiped his finger over his phone, making a roulette style animation appear on the iPad's screen. When the numbers finally stopped cycling, a prominent 08 appeared on the screen.

"Uh oh!" one of the boys called out in sincere dismay.

"Take it, it's only a one!" another boy called out.

"Spin again! It's too high."

"No it's not!"

The crowd was going wild shouting out suggestions and counter suggestions. Some of the boys trying to trick Bryon into taking the devastating blow and others trying to warn him to take his chances with another turn.

Byron's handsome face turned from side to side through the crowd, trying to discern which of the factions was telling the truth....

"Spin it again," he finally called out.

"As you wish," Zach said cooling, flicking his finger across the screen of his phone.

The controlling iPad cycled through the numbers again before landing on 10. There was a collective gasp from the crowd and a nervous Byron attempted to close his legs , but couldn't.

"Here it goes," Zach said winking at the helpless young man.

SPL--AA--T!

The mallets crashed toward each other in one quick snap, crushing Byron's nuts between them in the process. Even Zach shuddered and looked away and the huge orbs were instantly compressed to a collective width of less than an inch. For a brief minute it looked like the mallets were going to touch -- totally blowing apart Byron's sex life in the process-- before they retracted just as violently.

The crowd was silent for a moment before erupting cheers, several of the onlookers were giving themselves high fives.

Bryon's whose mouth was open in a comical 'O', let out a high pitched squeal as he attempted to buckle at the knees, but Quinn, the husky junior who was holding him up, kept the sobbing Byron upright as he walked him back to the queue.

"Now remember guys, you can give up at any time, but only one of your will be the last man standing." Zach instructed.

"Or only one of you will be the last man period," someone joked to riotous applause.

As Byron was lined up for his next turn, he looked down to see that his now beet red balls were slowly plumping back to their original shape. He nodded his head 'yes', as if he wanted to continue playing, though his mind was still unable to form any words.

Next up was Clinton, who swaggered to the machine with a look of incongruent calm. He spread his legs wide as Zach cut away his clothing, revealing his beautifully rippled, muscular chest, bulging arms and powerful, thick legs. Between them were two relatively modest, but quite full looking nuts than bulged at the bottom of his sack Clinton's balls weren't the biggest and didn't hang the lowest, but they were definitely much denser and heavier than Alfred or Byron's.

Clinton tussled his thick, shaggy hair as the iPad's screen flipped through the numbers before landing on 04. The crowd instantly starting warning Clinton to take his chances with a different number..

"Dude! Seriously, don't do it."

"Back out, man. It's not a big deal,"

Clinton sneered, seeing easily through the rouse.

"Crush 'em," he instructed to Zach who complied by pressing the launch button on his phone.

The mallet heads collided with moderate force, smashing Clinton's heavy testicles between them. He let out an exaggerated scream and turned to look at Byron, who was still catching his breath, to laugh mockingly.

When Clinton was back in the queue, and Alfred was up again, Zach looked at the three and asked -- his voice taking on a disquieting, serious tone -- if anyone wanted to back out.

"Now is the time, gentleman. This thing doesn't have a safety...."

The crowd laughed as Zach spun the numbers again. The machine landed on 10, the mallets ready to crush Alfred's plump balls into mush.

Alfred's head turned from side to side trying to read the audience's reaction.

"Um, I'll um... Do it. Push the button!"

SP--L---AA--T!

Alfred's tall, muscular frame attempted to double over in agony but was being held up by the equally well built Christopher. The mallets had crashed into each other, compressing Alfred's balls nearly totally flat. For a moment Alfred was afraid his nuts had actually cracked, and he looked down with relief as his swollen nuts started to plump back to shape, though they were beet red and throbbed painfully with each step.

The crowd cat called and teased the limping jock as he made his way back to the line. He was barely back in line when Byron was placed back in position. His knees were shaking as Zach swiped his finger over his phone making the display cycled through the numbers. It landed on 01.

"Uh oh!" someone shouted.

"They're gonna pop!"

"Walk away, man!"

"They're lying! Take the hit, it's just a one!"

The shouting match started in the crowd. Some of the boys, who were clearly not going to be satisfied by anything short of a total testicular rupture, were doing their best to convince Byron to take his chances with another number. After all, they concluded, anything would be harder than a 01,

"Spin it again!" Byron shouted frantically to the crowds delight.

Zach smiled as the display cycled through the numbers again, this time landing on 09.

"Uh oh!" someone called out, only this time deadly serious.

Byron's eyes grew wide as the heavy mallets crashed into his huge nuts. They were again compressed dangerously thin, merely an inch, before the mallets retracted. There was a devastating, wet Splat as his sack was assaulted from both sides. Byron screamed girlishly as he felt his testicles being mashed together in his sack. The delicate membranes that separated them were pushed to their limits as the mallets attempted to turn Byron's two nuts into one...

Quinn was struggling to keep the smaller Byron upright as he guided him back to the line. He was sobbing and his hands were flaying, instinctively trying to cup his injured genitals but stopped short by his restraints. His nuts were pulsing painfully as they slowly plumped back to their shape.

"Ouch, two tens in a row for Byron. That has got to hurt." Zach said laughing as Clinton was put into position over the machine.

He gave the crowd a cocky smirk, winking at a tall red head in the back who was openly rubbing his crotch at the sight of the handsome, bound jock. Zach spun the wheel and the number settled on 09.

"Seriously! How the fuck does he keep getting so lucky?" one of the watching frat boys called out in disgust.

"Come on, give us a ten!"

Clinton couldn't tell if his fraternity brothers were trying to trick him into thinking he had a low number -- hoping he'd spin again and get a higher one -- or if he actually did have a low number. After several moments, he smiled broadly and called out "Smash 'em flat!"

The mallets came together with an audible whoosh, then a sickening, CRUNCH as Clinton's meaty balls were crushed together. His smaller nuts, clearly more dense than the others, didn't compress as readily, which seemed to only multiply the pain. Clinton screamed in an inhumane drone as his rippled abs tensed. He struggled against his captor, a short yet powerfully build young man named Victor, who seemed to be taking particular pleasure in his role in keeping Clinton hostage. Clinton's cool facade totally crumbled as fiery pain radiated from his nuts.

Clinton, Byron and Alfred, all panting heavily from their ball smashing, stood by whilst Zach gave them a moment to catch their breath.

"So, does anyone want to bow out. Last chance before things be interesting..." Zach's voice trailed and a hush came over the crowd.

What did he mean "before things get interesting."...

After letting the three bound studs recover for a bit, Zach motioned to Christopher to lead Alfred back up to the stage. When Alfred's juicy plums were dangling between the mallets, Zach's finger was just about to swipe the screen of his phone -- setting the roulette wheel spinning -- but stopped. He walked up between Alfred's legs - admiring the swollen, red sack - and knelt down. He tapped the iPad screen and it turned back into its normal desktop. He swiped a few screens over and grinned broadly as he tapped an icon to launch what was ostensibly another number generating app.

It looked the same as the other round, only the numbers were blue instead of red.

He stood up and proceeded to spin the virtual wheel using his phone. Despite the conflicting, often false, tones of surprise that had been coming from the crowd, there was a collective gasp of legitimate shock at what was displayed in burning blue on the iPad screen: 12.

"That can't be right. That can't be right," someone said shaking his head.

"How is that even... no, it's a joke or something,"

Poor Alfred was totally lost trying to read the crowd. Were they only pretending that the wheel had landed on some impossibly high number -- when in actuality it was really only on 1 or 2 -- or had it actually landed on some shockingly high value? He tried to read the faces of the few fraternity brothers he genuinely trusted, but even that was proving inconclusive.

"Tick tock, Alfy. What's if gonna' be?' Zach said, his finger teetering dangerously close to the launch button on his phone.

Alfred, figuring he had already endured a ten -- the highest the machine could do -- swallowed hard as he called out "Push it!"

Zach turned away and winced in sincere sympathy as he pressed the button. The mallets crashed together with such force that the gears hidden in the wooden box screeched loudly in effort. The mallets collided with a squishy, echoing SPLAAAT into the trapped orbs.

Alfred convulsed so hard that Christopher struggled to keep him upright. He felt a tremendous, burning sensation coming from between his legs and a warm, wet feeling. As if something were gushing or oozing in his sack.

"Oh God! They popped!" Alfred screamed between sobs.

Zach knelt between his thrashing legs and grabbed each of the large red nuts in his hands, rolling them around roughly before announcing to the crowd "They're okay, still whole!"

Zach was only being half truthful. While Alfred's balls were still whole, they were terribly swollen and felt softer and mushier than they should. Zach gulped at the prospect that his macabre contraption might actually hurt someone, but he put on his best game show host smile and called Byron back to the stand.

Bryon, whose throbbing balls were still recovering from the last two rounds, didn't even try to conceal his tears as his spuds were placed between the mashers.

"Anyone want to give up yet?" Zach asked as he sent the wheel spinning.

The iPad's screen seemed to take longer than normal to finish cycling through the numbers before finally landing on 10.

"Oh shit! They're gonna blow!" one of the boys shrieked in genuine delight, pulling out his penis and shamelessly stroking at the prospect of watching Byron's truly huge nuts explode like the oranges from earlier.

The crowd shouted and shrieked, the collective tone being for Byron to either drop out or pick another number.

"Spin it again," Bryon called out, his chest heaving and his heavy balls throbbing between the mallets.

"As you wish,"

Zach swiped his finger over the screen of his phone and the iPad's displayed cycled through the blue numbers before finally landing on 19.

"Oh shit!" someone near the back screamed.

"Wholly fuck! Wholy fuck! Aaah!" the young man who had been stroking blew a thick, sticky load all over the floor in front of him, unable to hold back his excitement at seeing Byron's doomed balls about to be hammered by a force nearly twice what had already nearly caused them to rupture.

"Okay. Here it goes, three, two... one." Zach pressed the button and winced, though was unable to look away from Byron's huge, throbbing balls.

SPLOSH! The mallets collided into each other violently, crushing Bryon's spuds nearly flat. The sound they made was much wetter, and more stomach turning than the previous two hits. Despite their massive size, Byron's nuts were instantly compressed to less than an inch thick, the compressed ball meat bulging out from between the plates before they retracted just as quickly.

Byron let out a blood curdling scream and seemed to pass out, though he was held upright by Quinn who was slowly walking him away from the machine. Sweat poured from Bryon's forehead, which was now matted with his thick black hair. The handsome stud was barely coming to when Zach stopped them and knelt down to examine the damage to Byron's now very swollen, blood red balls. Blotchy purplish marks marred his scrotum, clear indicators that blood vessels had been ruptured. Zach rolled Byron's heavy nuts in his hands and prodded them so hard that Byron winced in pain.

"Dude, not so rough," Byron managed to say through gritted teeth.

"They're still whole, just barely though." Zach called out.

Byron's nuts were turning soft to the touch, and weren't as round as before he had started the game, but they were -- as far as Zach could tell - still whole .

Clinton was lead to the machine by Victor, who was thoroughly enjoying dragging the helpless stud into position to have his eggs scrambled.

"Say bye to your nuts, ass hole." Victor hissed into Clinton's ear.

Clinton shuddered at the prospect, and became increasingly alarmed that the person holding him legitimately didn't like him and probably wouldn't care if his balls actually did get permanently flattened. He struggled a bit, but Victor held steady, keeping Clinton's pendulous, red nuts between the mallets.

Zach spun the wheel which cycled even longer than normal before slowly settling on a number. Zach gasped.

"Wait wait, something must be wrong, it's not supposed to go that high," Zach said spinning the wheel again, only to have it land on the same number.

Sweat was beading on Zach's forehead as he and the other brothers -- most of which were cheering -- looked at the sapphire blue number glowing on the iPad's screen: 30.

The watching fraternity brothers had started into their usual attempts to either trick Clinton, or warn him, depending on how they felt about him. If Victor's comment from early was any indication, it seemed like Clinton was the one most of them sincerely wanted to see nutted.

"Fuck, say bye to your boys, Clint," someone called out.

Clinton couldn't tell it Zach's earlier dismay at the apparently large number was a rouse to make his pick another number or if something had actually gone wrong with the machine.

"Wait, wait. Something's wrong," Zach said, approaching the iPad.

"No, no, no. Rules are rules," Victor shot back,

Zach ignored him and tapped the tablet's screen, clearing the ominous 30 and returning to the home screen.

"He said rules are rules, Zach." Connor said grabbing Zach from behind and pulling him away from the machine. Zach shrieked in surprise as he was lifted by his collar and flung aside like a rag doll.

Conner, pressed an icon that resembled a clock and yellow double-zeroes appeared on the screen. Zach was gaining his feet, still clutching his cell phone when Victor yelled 'Grab it!"

Conner lunged at the much smaller, still dazed Zach and grabbed his phone. Zach reached for it before being punched viciously on the side of the head by the redhead. Zach let out a scream before blacking out.

The basement was now in full hysterics, everyone focused on Clinton, who was now struggling and begging to be let go. He could see the blood lust in his fraternity brother's eyes as they eye fucked his gorgeous body, focusing on his about-to-be pulverized nuts.

Conner casually swiped his finger on the phone's screen and the iPad again cycled through a set of numbers. The yellow numbers seemed to cycle more than the blue, as if there were more of them, before landing on 42.

"Hmm, I think we should go higher," he laughed wickedly, giving the screen another swipe.

The screen landed on on 01, then 10 then 36. Connor, clearly frustrated, gave the screen a final swipe and shrieked in delight: It had landed on 50.

"Pop! Pop! Pop!" the watching crowd chanted.

"Go ahead, push it. Make 'em burst!" Victor said egging him on.

"No! Noo!" Clinton pleaded, "I give! I give!"

Clinton's once cool, collected devil-may-care attitude was totally dissolved now, the hunky stud sobbing and thrashing as Victor kept him held tightly. Clinton could feel Victor's pre-cum slicked cock head rubbing against his back.

"Please! Please! I give! I give!" Clinton screamed as the red head's fat finger hovered over the launch button on the phone at a tauntingly slow speed.

"No!" Clinton screamed as Connor's fat finger finally tapped the screen.

The mallets came together with so much force that the wooden box housing the gears actually bounced upward. Clinton's tight left nut instantly burst in the sack with a loud SPLOSH upon impact, then a split second later his right nut imploded with a sickening SPLISH. Clinton screamed and blacked out as the mallets continued toward each other, only stopping when they were literally touching, only a thin flap of scrotum separating them.

Chunks of the arrogant jock's once beefy nuts splattered outward, landing with wet plops on the basement floor.

For a moment, the basement fell silent, the de-sexed Clinton writhing in subconscious agony as Victor continued to hold him tightly. Then suddenly a loud cheer went up.

"Whose next?" a wickedly gleeful Connor called toward Alfred and Christopher. Christopher held Alfred, who was now hysterical with fear, tightly and forced him into position in front of the machine. Alfred's tone body glistened with sweat as his pendulous balls were placed between the mallets.

"I give up! I give up!" he shrieked, trying to escape Christopher's grasp.

Connor spun the virtual wheel which landed on 24. He didn't even give the crowd a moment to react before pressing the launch button... over and over..

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLOSH! The mallets crunched together three times as Alfred screamed like a tortured girl and tired to escape. Each time he could feel his pulsing nuts being crushed flatter and flatter, and with no time to recover, the damage was only being compounded.

"Chris! For God's sake, let me go," Alfred pleaded directly to his captor.

Christopher only sneered, precum dripping from the head of his cock that was now poking from the top of his jeans.

"Do it again," Christopher shouted.

CRUNCH!

The mallet heads came together once more, this time totally destroying Alfred's abused left nut which shattered into meaty chunks inside the sack.

"Oh fuck!"

Christopher let out a guttural groan and spewed several thick globs of semen all over the passed out Alfred's muscular back. Several other onlookers threw their heads back and moaned as they pumped equally large loads at the sight of the emasculated stud.

Christopher, his knees still weak from his explosive orgasm, dragged the blacked out, half de-sexed stud out of the way so that Quinn could bring Byron into position.

"Please! Guys! What the fuck! Let me go!" Byron sobbed and tried to get away from Quinn, but he was the smallest of the three captives as it was, and was still dizzy and weak from this previous testicle pounding.

Quinn's thick penis throbbed against Bryon's back as the red head spun the virtual wheel. The yellow numbers hovered in the 1 to 10 range for several spins before finally landing on 50.

The crowd applauded, the wet twacking sound of multiple cocks being stroked filled the room. Two more onlookers spilled their seed with guttural moans as Connor's finger danced over the launch button. He was sure it would only take one blow at such a high level to totally annihilate Byron's enormous nards, but he was going to press the button multiple times to make sure there was absolutely nothing left between Byron's legs.

Byron was sobbing and streaming piss out of his flaccid, yet still thick, penis as Zach, who had been all but forgotten in the heap where he landed, started coming to.

"Ten, nine, eight..."t he started counting down dramatically.

"No! No! Please! I give up!"

"...seven, six, five."

"Stop! No! Nooo!"

"four, three..."

"What the hell is going ... Holy Fuck! What did you do ? Zach screamed hysterically. Zach nearly threw up at the sight of Alfred and Clinton's destroyed genitals and he raced for Bryon.

"Zach! Help me!" Byron screamed as the red head pushed the button.

Zach lunged, attempting to knock Byron away from the machine..

SPLA---AA---TCH!

Zach, who was in mid lunge, and Byron made eye contact as the mallets crashed together so hard that the mallet on the right actually dented the mallet on the left. Meanwhile, Byron's over stuffed scrotum was instantly flattened to less than a quarter inch which was simply too flat for his enormous gonads which both instantly crushed into each other, the membranes separating them rupturing. The right ball went totally inside the left, forming one grotesque, massive, flattened ball that only survived for a split second before being ground into a gooey paste.

Zack knocked over Byron and Quinn, the three landing in a heap. Byron, who was sandwiched between was hollering and thrashing.

"What the..." Zach shouted as he felt himself being lifted to his feet by his collar.

He turned to see an uncharacteristically angry looking Connor was holding him up by his color.

"Connor? Connor dude, what the fuck? What the fuck did you do?" Zach screamed out, his voice choking back tears.

Connor let Zach go, and he stumbled backward toward the crowd, that was now forming a circle around him. Zach thought he was going to be sick as we looked at his three ruined frat brothers. His head was spinning with fear, confusion, shock, sadness....

"What... what the hell! WHAT THE HELL!" Zach screamed, unable to comprehend what was going on. He hoped this was some kind of joke, but it was obvious that this was actually happening.

Zach had tuned out the commotion in the room, his eyes fixated on the still flaying Byron and his wrecked, crushed sack, so barely heard someone yell 'Grab him!"

He turned in time to see two men lunging at him. Before he could react he was being held tightly by the two, his hands helplessly behind his back. While Zach struggled, a third boy pulled down his jeans and underwear, letting his medium sized, shaved sack flop out.

"Please, what're you doing?" Zach sobbed as he was lead toward the machine.

"Spread his legs,"

Two brothers crouched on either side of Zach and held his ankles out so that his legs were forced open, leaving his now totally defenseless balls dangling between the mallets, which were still covered in blood and goop.

Zach struggled wildly, his balls bouncing to and from, but wasn't able to escape. The boys holding him were snickering as Connor picked up the phone and spun the wheel. It landed on 25.

Zach couldn't see what the iPad was displaying, but could tell by the applause and whoops from the crowd that it must have been a high number. His head was pounding from the sound of his panicked heart beat. What was happening? This was the kind of plot from a horror movie, not something that actually happened at Quintero University. He was starting to black out from panic...

"No! No! Please!"

Connor smirked and ran his finger dangerously close to the launch button.

"You weren't supposed to be here, Zach." Connor said coldly.

"What? I live here, what the..."

SPLAT!

Connor had pressed the button midway during Zach's plea, instantly quieting the blubbering stud as his nuts were mercilessly crushed between the mallets. Zach thought he was going to be sick. He had never experienced anything so painful. He looked down to see that his balls had turned a fiery red and were throbbing painfully with each heart beat. Were they seriously going to nut him...?

"Connor! Connor dude we're friends," Zach pleaded before he dry heaved.

The watching crowd laughed so evilly at Zach's retching he was instantly filled with an icy chill. When he recovered, he tried to speak but was silenced by the mallets coming together again..

CRUNCH!

Zach's spuds were already starting to rupture, his sack swelling heavily from the brutal smashing. They couldn't possibly take much more of this, he thought.

"Connor! Connor, dude, we're friends! We're friends! I've sucked your dick, man. What the fuck!"

If the apparently straight Zach was trying to make an emotional connection to Connor by publicly sharing this intimate detail, it fell on deaf ears.

"Like I said, you weren't supposed to be here," Connor started motioning toward the three now blacked out, crushed studs.

"Those guys, deserved it. They had to pay. We had everything planned out and then you showed back up."

"Wha---?" Zach couldn't even finish the thought, his mind was so wracked with fear, panic and now incomprehensible confusion.

It was no secret that not every Tau Upsilon brother liked each other, which would be expected in any large group of people, but what on Earth could Alfred, Byron and Clinton have done to this particular group of men that would have justified such a brutal response? Zach's mind raced, trying to piece together what the hell was going on.

Connor swiped his finger over the phone's screen and the roulette animation spun again, landing on 52.

"Yes!" someone shouted gleefully, knowing Zach's nards were about to be utterly crushed.

"Ten, nine, eight..." Connor and the others started counting down.

Zach struggled, his swollen, half ruptured nuts swinging wildly between his legs, but couldn’t get out of harm's way. He just couldn't believe what was happening, and couldn't think of anything that would have prompted this from Connor or any of the others. It was totally disgusting. Zach looked down in wide eyed terror as the countdown neared one.

A primal terror beyond anything Zach had ever experienced nearly paralyzed him, and his thrashing ironically stopped as the countdown reached five. He spent the remainder of the countdown staring at his about-to-be destroyed sex organs, his heart pounding so hard his ears hurt. He was hyperventilating from fear, he was getting dizzy...

"...three, two... "

Zach mercilessly passed out from sheer terror just moments before Conner pressed the button...