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

Friday, October 1, 2021

POPS: Stomp!


Hey, Coach! I know I'm the team screw up lately but come on! Why are you forcing me to sit with my legs spread, back against the wall, forced to sit on my hands? What's goin' on, Coach?

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Coach, I know I really messed up in the game and the team got our asses beat but... what the Hell! Coach! Why are Cody and Brent holding my knees open! Coach?! 

Hey! Coach! Why're you taking my cup out of my shorts? Dude, come on, what are you doing? Gimme' that back... 

Coach, why is the entire team lining up behind you in their cleats and looking pissed! Look, I know I fucked up, I was a total screw up on the field today but what are you guys about to do to me...?

Um... Coach! COACH! Why are you staring at my crotch? Is there something wrong down there, Coach? Coach, not gonna' lie I feel pretty exposed right now with my legs being forced open this wide, my package is just right there, bulging. You know I have the biggest nuts on the team, Coach, you've said it lots of times. Look at 'em, coach!  Looks like someone stuffed two jumbo eggs in my shorts haha.

Umm... Coach. You and the guys are staring right at my lump. And you looked pissed! I'm getting a little scared right now and Cody and Brent have my legs held firm, no way I can close my legs, Coach.  Why are you guys pounding your fists in your palms and grunting while you're staring at my massive nuts? What's going on guys? Okay, this isn't funny anymore.

Umm... Coach! Why is your cleat on my bulge?! Coach, take it easy! I can feel the spikes pressing into my nuts! Coach?? Coach! Hey, man that's starting to hurt. Cut it out, Coach!

COACH! Your crushing my nuts! I can't close my legs! Oh, God! Coach no, please! Oh fuck!

I know I said the next time I cost us a game I'd pay with my balls but FUCK! I thought that was just talk and... oooh! Coach! Please let up the pressure, you're flattening my nuts! COACH!

OOOH! COACH! Fuck! That hurt, thank you for taking your cleat off my nuts. Haha, very funny, now let me up, jerk wads...

Wait! Coach! Stop!  Why are you hovering your cleat directly over my bulging, defenseless nuts?! Coach! You're at least 280 pounds of muscle, dude! Come on! My eggs couldn't handle that. Ooh, Coach, now you're rolling my nuts under your foot and staring into my eyes. You look PISSED! Coach! Coach! Wait! No, please don't hover your foot like that! Oh fuck! Coach! Please...


Ooh! Fuck! Coach! What the fuck! You  fucking stomped on my eggs! Shit! That was awful! Why did you...


FUCK! Coach! Stop! Please! You're fucking stompin' on my nuts like they're two giant, fat cockroaches. Okay, okay, I think I got the lesson. Come on guys, let me up?


CHRIST! Coach! Coach! Come on, this isn't funny! Holy fuck! You stomped straight down HARD. Fuck! Are  you really trying to crush my giant bulge?! Is that why dick wads Cody and Trent are holding me down?? Holy fuck, holy fuck! No! Please don't! Coach! You're way too heavy. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't do this!


OOOOOH! Coach, my fucking nuts! Why'd you grind them down after you stomped last time. They're throbbing, Coach. I feel like I'm gonna' be sick.



Coach! Coach! Cut it out, please! I can't get loose! Tell Cody and Trent to get off of me! Please? I can't close my legs and your hovering your foot again, fuck!




Oh my God! Coach! Please! You're destroying....



Coach... I'm, umm, I'm feeling woozy, Coach. Please! You're wrecking me, Coach. Please, please stop! Please! You look so fucking pissed off right now! You're gonna' crack my nuts! 


Coach! I can't get up! I can't close my legs! Please! Please stop!




Coach! I'm begging you! I'm crying! I'm sobbing and begging you, please stop! PLEASE! You're annihilating my big nuts. You're fucking crushing them... Oh fuck! Coach no! NOOOO! Please don't let the entire fucking team take turns on my balls! Dude what the fuck! This is crazy! I can't....


Nooo! Greg, please stop! Don't do this....


Travis! Travis, dude. We're friends! We're friends, dude!


Oh my God, you guys aren't gonna' stop until the whole fucking team gets to stomp on my lumps, are you?


Please! Johnny, stop! Heath! Please don't! You guy's my nuts are so swollen, they feel like they're on fire and I swear I'm gonna blow chunks if you keep stomping!


No! Kevin don't! Please! 


Bruce! Stop! Stop man, this isn't funny anymore.


Coach! Fucking save me! Please! My legs are fucking forced wide and I can't get up. Please don't...

Marco! Marco! Dude, please don't. You're like a giant pile driver! How much do you even weigh, dude? 300 pounds? Dude don't! DON'T


COACH! COACH! PLEASE  MAKE THEM STOP! I'm getting dizzy... My nuts hurt so fucking bad. Please don't, Coach! Please stop!


David! Stop! Josh, don't do it! Please!



HOLY FUCK! Guys! Seriously, I think I'm really fucking hurt. My nuts felt like they popped open like a zit. Fuck dudes! Help me! Holy fuck! Is my huge bulge flattened? What the fuck! Coach, please stop!




Guys! My nuts cracked! Oh my God! My fucking big nuts cracked! My fucking nuts are broken. Wait, Coach, what are you doing? What is everyone lining up again? 


Guy's I'm passing out! I need help, please!  My nuts are paste, guys! Okay, I learned my lesson! Please! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE STOP!


Holy shit! My bulge! It's fucking gone! What the fuck did you guys do?! Coach!? No, please don't let the team go through again! I'm starting to feel... I'm starting to black out... Coach, please help me!


My fucking huge bulge is flat! Totally fucking flat! Okay, guys, you win! Stop pulping my boys! Please PLEASE take me to a hospital so my nuts can be saved! Please! I'm begging you!




Coach... I'm... please... don't....

... The Coach lifted his huge, size fourteen cleat over the dumb, drooling jock's flattened nuts and stomped as hard as he could, hopping on the jock's ruined nuts until...


Coach... something's leaking in my shorts, Coach... my shorts are full of... mush? Holy shit! My fucking sack burst! My cock! Coach!?

Finally, I passed out. My teammates must've been really fucking pissed because they didn't stop pounding my jock crotch until my entire package was a fucking stain on the locker room floor. Man it sucks being a dumb jock....

Thursday, September 9, 2021

Trimming the Family Tree

Publishing this here for guys who missed this on Twitter.

Justin Geneman and Greg Geneman were twenty-five year old fraternal twins. They were both handsome and athletic and though they weren’t identical twins, they looked strikingly similar except for Greg was slightly taller, standing an inch taller than his already tall six-foot brother. Both of them had black hair and looked permanently tan; they were quintessentially tall, dark and handsome. To differentiate himself from his brother, Greg usually wore a full trimmed beard and mustache which made him look much older.

The two were heirs of the massive Genecontreo Biotechnologies fortune and they were both extremely prodigal, spending lavishly on cars, vacations and homes. It wasn’t unusual for Justin to walk into a nightclub and buy rounds for everyone - for the entire weekend - paid ahead. Their trust funds had lasted them since they got access on their eighteenth birthdays but the funds were starting to run out. But even when the trusts were exhausted, their passive income from dividends, rental properties and investments would provide each of them income most people would consider living richly for the rest of their lives. The snobbish brothers actually laughed when their accountants presented the figures. It was living well money, not Bugatti Centodieci money.

One day Justin and Greg were summoned to their father’s lavish country estate. They both already knew that the house and property was already promised to charity upon his death, but as for the rest of the fortune, that was up for grabs. The Genemans hadn’t been majority shareholders in Genecontreo for decades and were no longer involved in the conglomerate that bore their name. The entire family’s fortune was tied up in the brothers’ trust funds and their father’s accounts. Their mother had died when they were too young to remember her so the future of the Geneman legacy rested with them.

Alex Geneman, their father, explained that he was going to continue the family legacy by immediately giving three quarters of his fortune to the Alex Geneman Foundation, a philanthropic entity rivaled only by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. The remaining quarter would be bequeathed equally to the brothers. The two brothers sat wide eyed, ignoring their father’s droning about the family legacy as they did a quick calculation in their heads. Even with so much going to the Foundation, that still meant the inherence would be in the tens of billions. 

Greg was nearly drooling as he imagined the giant payday; he was literally plotting out which private island he was going to buy when his daydream was interrupted by Justin shouting.

“What! A child!” 

Justin loved falling in love so was constantly out of one red-hot relationship after another leaving a string of broken hearted women in his wake. Children were not in the picture.

“Yes, I want the Geneman name to mean something for generations, and that can’t happen without grandchildren,”

Alex stipulated that, upon his death, the fortune would be divided between his sons based on the number of children they had when he died. If none of them had children at the time of his passing, he would donate the balance to the Foundation.

“What about adoption?” Justin asked.

“No, only genetically-related offspring count,”

Justin rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide his annoyance at his quirky father’s ridiculous demand. Alex had let his two sons run wild for decades, ignoring their more selfish tendencies, so it seemed preposterous that all of a sudden the two would have to agree to take on the life-altering responsibility of children.

Suddenly he grinned. Since he didn’t want children anyway he asked what would happen if he was sterile.

“You’re not,” Alex shot back. He had already had both of his sons tested during their last physical to make sure their swimmers were healthy and both twins were spotting a pair of extremely productive gonads. Their sperms counts were so high that the lab thought it was an error.

“So that’s why they needed a sperm sample, I thought that was weird but I didn’t argue because the doctor was hot and gave me a hand,” Greg said with a chuckle.

The three had a light supper before parting ways. That night the twins discussed the strange stipulation over cocktails at Greg’s penthouse. Neither one of them  wanted to be burdened with children but both knew that there would be no way to carry on their extravagant lifestyles in perpetuity without the money.

“How much longer do you think the old man has?” Justin asked more of an aside than an actual question.

Greg grinned, “Actually, not long. He has cancer. The treatments are not working,”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Justin joked.

Greg sipped his drink.

“I’m being serious. His oncologist and I hook up. He has three, maybe four years max. We should start seeing deterioration pretty soon,”

Justin felt like someone had stomped on his soul. He dropped his cocktail glass with a crash. It had barely hit the ground before a maid swooped in as if out of nowhere to clean it up. Justin craved the fortune but wasn’t in a hurry if it meant losing his best friend so soon.

“Jesus this sucks! Fuck this sucks,” Justin started crying but Greg just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t act upset, I know you want the money,”

“I do, but fuck. It's dad, asshole,” 

Justin wasn’t going to win any awards of empathy but even he was appalled by Greg’s coldness. Not the type of man who should be carrying on the family legacy, he thought. Besides, he had already mapped out all kinds of ways to spend the cash and having it split two or more ways wasn’t going to fit into his plans. What if Greg managed to have six kids and he had one? He shuddered at the thought of the office buildings he wouldn't be able to invest in. And the more he thought about it, the concept of a true Geneman legacy helmed by him and his sons became more appealing. The children wouldn't be a burden, they would be vehicles to ensure the Geneman name, specifically Justin Geneman, became synonymous with wealth for generations.

He wiped his eyes as a butler handed him a replacement cocktail. The two continued chatting and drinking but Greg was having similar thoughts. What if Justin cranks out ten kids? He was a stud after all, so finding the mother would not be a problem. And the more martinis he drank, the more his delusions of grandeur swelled until he was imagining the logo of a future Greg Geneman Foundation helmed by him and his children, each of them helicoptering into board meetings from their island estates. He had even started picking out names! Heather Geneman and Travis Geneman sounded good, but Greg Geneman the Second had a nice ring to it.

By the end of the evening the two had both come to the same conclusion; it was imperative that the other twin not have kids. For about a month the two brothers tried logic and reason to convince the other one to reconsider. They shared articles about the cost and burden of raising children and how having kids is a major lifestyle cramp. 

When that didn’t work, Greg took advantage of the fact Justin was a bit of a softy and went right for the emotional jugular, sending Justin articles about children and teenagers who had died tragically along with links to books like ‘How to Survive the Loss of A Child’. 

“You wouldn’t wanna’ go through that, right? Especially after dad passes,” Greg said. Justin did cry - a lot - just at the prospect of losing a child that didn’t even exist. Unfortunately for Greg, that just made Justin want children more, and it wasn't entirely about the money anymore.

When it became clear convincing wasn’t going to work, Greg and Justin decided that the only way to stop the other would be to permanently decommission his sperm tanks. They knew they couldn’t just buy a shotgun and blast the other one’s junk off, or pound them with their fists. Not only would it be hard to spend any money in prison, it was highly likely that their father would disown them or worst - especially for Justin - the nutted brother might be grievously injured, or even die. Neither wanted the other out of existence, just out of the gene pool.

Each brother had seen the other naked countless times so had intimate knowledge of their targets. Both of them had fairly massive, beefy nuts that were quite oval. At least the targets wouldn’t be hard to miss. Greg’s tended to hang looser in the bag and Justin’s were tighter to his body. Both of them had nearly identical thick cocks that were five inches totally flaccid. Justin and Greg openly talked about their sex lives to each other so both knew that the other could go all night, sometimes fucking multiple women at once but neither cared that his soon-to-be-neutered brother might end up loosing his ability to do even that if their cock was ruined. They were both okay with the idea of the other’s cock being collateral damage. It was just hard to avoid hitting that big of a cock especially since it was always protecting the boys. 

Greg struck first.

The two were meeting for their weekly tennis game on the rooftop court of Greg’s condo tower. Greg had been practicing his targeting for days on a dummy on which he had affixed a plastic baggie with two jumbo eggs at the crotch. By the time of the match, Greg could pulverize the eggs from anywhere on the court. He had also upgraded his racket and had been working on his power swing.

The first serve was flawless, slamming into the lump in Justin’s shorts. Justin clutched his junk and collapsed to his knees, letting out a high pitch squeal so loud it seemed to ricochet off the surrounding skyscrapers. 

“Oh fuck! Man, I’m so sorry!” Greg almost convinced himself he was sincere as he jumped over  the net and helped his brother to his feet.

Justin recovered and prepared for the next service. Greg aimed and swung.


The tennis ball slammed into Justin’s crotch, catching his beefy right nut. Then his left twice. Justin was struggling to keep up by the time the game was full on. The tennis match continued on like normal for a while because Greg wanted Justin to think the opening hits were just flukes from being out of practice. When Justin’s guard was down Greg took his shot. Justin screamed and fell to the ground holding his battered nuts. Greg had put everything he had into the last blow and the ball was a yellow blur as it slammed into his brother’s babymakers. Justin was in so much pain he couldn't believe it. His nuts were starting to swell and Greg was standing over him pretending to care.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” Justin said through sobs. 

Greg almost felt bad that his brother was literally crying from ball pain, but then he got a vision of his future super yacht off the coast of the French Riviera while Tiesto DJ’d a private party. Suddenly Greg didn’t  feel so bad. As soon as the match resumed, Justin’s nuts were pulverized by another accident. The ball had slammed into his sack so hard that the vibration was making his actual testicles bounce into each other like billiards.  Justin could barely stand so decided to call it quits. As they made their way to the elevator, Greg was swinging his racket as he walked, accidentally-on-purpose slicing the narrow edge into Justin’s balls. Justin let out a shriek. Greg was definitely doing this on purpose. Justin pretended to accept Greg’s weak apologies but declined a post match snack in case Greg ‘accidentally’ dropped a cheese knife in his lap.

Fuck, Justin thought, I need to get a move on. The next day Greg went out for an early morning bike ride in the city park. He always took the same route and Justin was waiting for him. Greg would always park his bike at a certain spot at the top of a hill and run a mile loop before continuing his bike ride. As soon as he was out of sight, Justin got out of his hiding spot, and squirted the seat with a generous amount of slick grease and hid behind a tree. Greg sweat like an animal, so by the time he got back to his bike his shorts were soaked. They were so wet he didn’t notice the seat was also wet and started pedaling away. As soon as he was midway down the hill and gaining speed, a jogger - whom Justin had paid - ‘accidentally’ ran in front of him.

“What the... FUCK!”

Greg slammed on the breaks. The bike stopped. He didn’t.  Inertia carried him forward, sliding off the seat until he slammed into the center handlebar post. Greg’s nuts were squashed painfully between the bar and his toned body and he squealed as he hit the ground, clutching his balls. Greg had been moving at speed when he slammed on the brakes and all of that energy went into crushing his nuts. His balls had been compressed dangerously flat by the post. When he finally recovered, he noticed the grease on his seat and was immediately suspicious.

Greg was in so much pain he cut his bike ride short and headed home to shower. Justin had crashed at Greg’s a lot and it wasn’t unusual for Justin to be brushing his teeth while his brother was taking a shower in the morning so Justin knew his habits. Greg would always take the handheld shower wand in one hand, hold it over his balls, and turn on the water. The gentle cold water was a delight to his boys while he waited for the water to warm. That wasn’t going to be the case this time.

Justin had paid Greg’s private maintenance contractor to adjust the shower. The water would always turn on full blast and would always start scalding hot. Greg peeled out of his sweaty clothes and stepped into this shower,  holding the shower sprayer just inches from his swinging  nut sack. He examined his swollen nuts and was alarmed by a slight bruise from the bike accident. Greg turned the valve and screamed as a powerful jet of steaming hot water slammed into his balls so hard that the pressure alone caused a bruise to erupt on his left nut. His entire sack was lobster red as it was instantly headed. He screamed and dropped the wand, which  landed between his legs pointed straight up.

“Oooh!” his nuts were blasted from underneath by the scalding hot water. By the time Greg jumped out of the shower, his scrotum and thighs had suffered pretty bad burns and his sack was swollen. Greg rolled around screaming and crying in panic has he felt the skin of his sack blistering from the burn. I have to call maintenance, Greg thought. He dismissed the freak incident as an accident.

The next day Justin was having lunch at Greg’s and feigned surprise that his brother was sitting with his legs spread and an icepack on his screaming balls. Greg explained the incident with the shower and Justin looked shocked. He was secretly pleased; the shower trick must’ve really done some damage if it was still throbbing the next day.

The following day, Justin did the greased bike seat trick again only this time Greg was moving too fast and actually struck the jogger, suspiciously the same one from the other day. Like before, Greg went sailing forward - his balls moving at full speed - slamming in the handlebar stem. There was a sickening crunch as Greg’s balls were horribly flattened, getting down to half their girth before the compression stopped. Greg’s eyes crossed and his brain rightly interpreted the alarm bells coming from his crotch as signs of serious danger.

The poor jogger was knocked to the ground.

Greg was rolling in a ball, screaming as the jogger got to his feet looking down at him.

“You dumb fuck! You were supposed to stop like last time!” the irritated jogger sent his running shoe slamming into Greg’s crotch eliciting a soprano scream from the injured heir. The jogger limped away, lucky to have survived serious injury but something he had said piqued Greg.

“You were supposed to stop like last time.” It was very suspicious, kind of like the jogger had done it on purpose. Greg went back home and took a bath instead of a shower, his nuts swollen and bruised and skin still peeling from the hideous burn. As he soaked, Greg had an inkling that Justin was behind his balls’ recent brushes with death.

Several days past with no shots fired. Greg struck next. They were at Justin’s condo bowling at the mini-lane in his living room. Justin was walking behind Greg carrying drinks and Greg accidentally swung his arm back way too far, slamming into Justin’s crotch like a wrecking ball. Greg could feel his twin’s nuts compressing extremely flat and Justin let out a yodel. He dropped the drinks and Greg rotated his torso to see if Justin was okay. Of course he was still holding the bowling ball which crushed Justin’s balls again. The impact was full force - Greg might as well have thrown the ball. Justin’s testicles were dangerously compressed and the handsome twin’s eyes crossed as he slumped to his knees.  He was sobbing and his right nut had nearly cracked, though neither knew how close it had gotten.

Justin was down for nearly fifteen minutes. Greg offered his hand to help Justin to his feet. That gave Justin a wicked idea. He pretended to be more dazed than he actually was and instead of grabbing Greg’s hand, he grabbed Greg’s swinging ball bag through his shorts. Greg gasped and screamed and Justin grabbed his bag with his other hand, using them to pull himself up. Greg was drooling as his brother’s athletic weight was yanking on his balls. Justin pretended to fall, pulling Greg’s orbs violently toward the ground. Greg screamed and landed on top of Justin in a heap. They two were red in the face with very sore balls but Justin was first to his feet. 

“Let me help you up,” Justin reached for Greg’s hand but accidentally missed, grabbing the bulge of his shorts instead.

“Justin no that’s my.... OOOOH!”

Greg was lifted slightly off the ground before Justin let go. “Oops, sorry bro! I’m really dazed!” he lied. Greg rolled, clutching his balls and making all kinds of funny high pitched noises. They felt like they had been only seconds from being pulled off. Justin went into the kitchen to fetch plastic bags to fill with ice for each of them. By the time he got back, Greg was sitting on the bowling bench still clutching his junk. He looked up toe see the ice pack - a peace offering - and reached for it. Justin had other plans.


He rammed the ice pack, that might as well have been a ball of ice, into Greg’s crotch, feeling his nuts flatten. “You want to keep pressure on it,” Justin said, grinding Greg’s crotch as he pretended to be helpful.

“Okay, okay, I got it!” Greg snatched the ice pack and they both sat moaning and enjoying the numbing cold. 

A few days later they were at Alex’s estate. He seemed tired but was happy to see them both. After lunch, the three went into the garden for a game of skeet shooting. Although it was tempting, Greg knew he couldn’t just blow his brother’s balls off with the shotgun. Luckily, he had time to set something else up. Their dad only lasted a round before he retired for a nap. Greg could tell Justin was sick with worry, which made him distracted and an easy target.

“Fuck, the damn thing’s jammed,” 

Still worried about his dad, Justin just agreed to fix the skeet launcher. As he was approaching it, Greg suddenly figured out the problem - it was unplugged - and plugged it back in. Justin heard the machine spring to life but it was too late. CRUUUNCH. A clay birdie slammed full force into his crotch with devastating consequences. His right nut felt like it had exploded and ... CRUUUNCH. Another clay target. Justin let out a blood curdling scream and sank to his knees, clutching his swollen, puffy nuts. Greg unplugged the machine and not a moment too soon; on his knees, Justin’s handsome face was in the line of fire and Greg actually would have felt bad about knocking out Justin’s perfect teeth.  Justin was balling, rolling in the grass clutching his junk. They felt soft and lumpy and Justin panicked that his baby makers - and shot at billions - was gone. Greg helped Justin to his feet, fawning as he apologized.

The two went back and forth with increasingly creative and devastating setups. Speed was a factor; they had both figured out what the other was trying to do so it was a race to the finish. They still had to be careful to make the linage-ending blows seem like accidents. After a week both of them had horribly swollen, awful looking sacks and Greg called a truce. One night where they could enjoy each other’s company without fear of losing a nut. Of course Greg was lying but he knew Justin was sentimental enough to fall for it. Justin was going to use the evening to declare an actual permanent truce. All of the run-ins with almost losing his baby makers had made Justin acutely aware of how vulnerable he was, and he really wanted kids. He was going to have his dad take him completely out of the inheritance so that Greg wouldn't feel compelled to compete anymore. Greg's future fortune would no longer be dependent on Justin's ability to have kids and maybe, finally, the two antagonistic brothers could finally be a bit more normal. After all, Justin didn't want his future kids growing up resentful of their Uncle Greg.

Unfortunately, Greg wasn't quite so forward thinking.

It had taken him several practice runs, and a ton of champagne, to get the timing and aim down for Greg's next trick.  He proposed that the two give a toast and Greg fetched a bottle of campaign from this collection. It was no ordinary bottle though. It had already been uncorked and then recorked with a metal cork under so much pressure the glass was bulging slightly. It took quite a bit to position himself just right relative to Justin but when he finally popped the cork the results were exactly as he expected.

POP! The bottle explosively released the metal cork like a projectile, perfectly aimed at Justin’s crotch just a few feet away. 

POP! Justin’s right nut burst in his sack. Justin’s eyes crossed as he reached for his balls. He knew something serious had happened. His right nut was swelling rapidly and felt broken! He could make out two... no three distinct chunks floating on that side of his bag. Justin opened his jaw as wide as it could go and screamed before blacking out. 

Justin’s right testicle was toast. All they could do at the hospital was remove and clean out the scar tissue left over from their antics. Greg was sure he had convinced his father that it was a horrible accident. Everyone at the hospital, who were used to seeing legitimate freak accidents all the time, believed the sobbing, apologetic brother. Justin, of course knew better, and vowed to exact horrible revenge on Greg. A tiny voice in the back of his head, perhaps the whispers of his unborn kids, begged him to reconsider and just go forward with the permanent truce he had planned, but Justin had made up his mind. Greg's balls needed to be snuffed out.

When he was released from the hospital, Justin knew he had to pluck Greg off the family tree decisively. Greg had taken to wearing cups and the two avoided each other except for their visits with their father. And when they were there, they were never out of his sight so there would be a witness for any ‘accidents’. Luckily, having money meant that Justin could just pay others to do his dirty work for him.

Greg had been frequenting a high end strip club and had a favorite dancer we would take to a private room for a lap dance. It  was actually quite sad, really. Greg would pay the women to give him a lap dance in the private room but at the end instead of letting her get him off, he would just sit and talk like the dancer was a long lost friend. It was like an extremely expensive confession booth but with scantily clad women and music. In a more normal family not obsessed with an inheritance, Justin would have seen Greg’s pretend friendships as a sign of a serious problem. But the Genemans were not normal. 

Justin knew Greg’s favorite dancer and had paid her enough to make sure she would keep herself free until Greg arrived. As soon as he was in the room with Trixy, he took off his cup and took a seat. She was wearing stilettos, at Justin’s request, and gave the horny heir a great lap dance until his cock was throbbing hard. The club had a strict no touching policy and Greg obediently kept his hands behind his back. 

Trixy had very specific instructions, and a large check, from Justin. They had even rehearsed the little maneuver. Midway through the dance, Trixy whispered into Greg’s ear for him to stand up for a special treat. Of course he obliged and she moved the chair so that it was in front of the dancing pole in the middle of the room. Greg sat back down, his legs wide, as he stepped onto the seat of the chair between his legs and grabbed the pole for stability. Her pussy was right at Greg’s face and it was all he could do not to release his hands and explore. The club was no-touch but that only applied to the men. Trixy grabbed the back of his head with one hand and pulled his face into her crotch and Greg thought he was going to bust his nut in his slacks.

Trixy was gyrating and dancing when suddenly she lost her footing. To recover she lifted her stiletto and slammed it down into the chair, accidentally landing on Greg’s left nut. Greg let out a loud high pitched scream as the heel pressed into the middle of his ball like someone trying to make a donut hole within a ball of dough. Not wanting to panic, he tried to tell Trixy to lift her foot but she pretended not to notice.

“My ball!”

Trixy pretended to be a clumsy bimbo, raising and stomping her foot as he pretended to be trying to regain her balance. Greg went to stand but couldn’t since all of her weight was concentrated on a very small portion of his nut.

“My nut! Trixy! My nut!”

Trixy ground her foot in, still pretending it was a wild accident, but more determined. She had never seen a check with  as many zeroes as the one Justin had written her and she wasn’t about to blow it.

“Oh babe, I’m sorry, I just keep slipping!”


Greg’s eyes crossed and he screamed. The space under Trixy’s heel was getting smaller and smaller and smaller. Greg, in desperation, pushed Trixy forward causing her to actually lose her balance, she twisted her foot reflexively.


Greg was a screaming, drooling mess as Trixy’s heel was separated by a fraction of an inch from the seat. Greg’s nut had exploded, then pinpoint pressure was just too much. As he sat cupping his ruined junk and feeling like he was going to vomit, Trixy hopped down and screamed for the bouncer.

The door opened with a whoosh and a scary looking thug burst in. “He tried to push me,” Trixy screamed. She wasn’t lying, though she didn’t give the crucial context that would have made Greg’s push seem perfectly reasonable. Greg yelled as the giant bouncer effortlessly lifted him to his feet and slammed him against the wall. The bouncer was surprised to see that Greg was the one causing problems, but Trixy seemed horrified. Her acting was suburb. The bouncer hated rich guys who thought they could whatever they wanted to the dancers just because they had money.


Greg screamed and pleaded as the bouncer’s knee slammed into his crotch, his already burst nut was turned into heir sauce in the bag and his last nut was quivering on the edge. The bouncer could feel that the impact on Greg’s nut felt very different than normal, but to be sure he slammed his knee in one more time and ground it into Greg’s lumps. Yup, there was definitely something wrong. Greg was clawing and scratching at the giant man who was holding him up. He knew his chance at having kids was dwindling with each impact. CRUNCH.

“My balls!” 

CRUNCH. His fractured nut was turned into rich boy soup and the structural integrity of his last whole nut was failing. 

“Not my...”


Greg blacked out with a look of stunned horror on his face.

Greg’s shattered nut had been so thoroughly destroyed by the bouncer’s knee that it wasn’t just removed, it was suctioned out. It was just gunky liquid. His last nut had ruptured but the damage was repairable and he was out of the hospital and back home within days with one missing nut and one that had literally cracked but healed. He knew he had to be extremely careful if he was going to have any hope for kids. 

The two brothers plotted for their final strike, but neither one could set up a convincing accident that would be devastating enough. Justin considered just hiring a mugger to end his brother’s sperm making days but that would have probably been suspicious. The two avoided each other so couldn’t physically do it themselves either. They were at a stalemate. It was a Friday evening and both of them had come up with the perfect end game, unbeknownst to the other, they were launching the final attach at the same time.

Justin was preparing to go for an evening jog burn off stress. He made sure to put on his athletic cup before heading out. As he approached a specific part of the trail teenagers playing with squirt guns accidentally hosed Justin's crotch He immediately though it was a trap, but the liquid was just... water. It smelled bad, was just water The kids seemed sorry and Justin was just about to continue on his way when suddenly a huge Rottweiler jumped on him. The person who had been walking him half-heartedly pretended to catch his dog but it was too late. The dog, which the owner had accidentally forgotten to feed that morning, sank its jaws into Justin's crotch. It bit again, salivating over the wet stain. The liquid had actually been drippings from a cooking steak mixed with water, making it look otherwise clear when diluted. The the dog could taste it. Justin punched at the giant animal but it was no use. CRACK

The cup cracked in the dogs jaws. Justin looked down and screamed as the beast chomped on his crotch, destroying the cup and crushing Justin's nut and cock. The dog pawed at Justin's crotch while the owner gave a lame attempt at stopping until Justin's nut was freed from his shorts. The dog sank its jaws into Justin's cock, totally severing it. Justin exploded in agony shrieking so loud that the dog was temporarily stunned before chewing Justin's cock into dog food. "Not my kids!" Justin screamed - though all that came out were incomprehensibly babbles. The dog took another bite, ensnaring Justin's big fat nut in his mouth.

Justin, the more sentimental twin, couldn't believe that he was actually about to be yanked out of the gene pool. He didn't even are about the inheritance, and actually hadn't for a while. He just wanted to feel the unconditional love of a little Justin Jr. As the dog's jaw clamped around his testicle, compressing it horribly, Justin thought back with dread on how ridiculous his contest with Greg had gotten. The dog's jaws were nearly closed... Justin knew he was about to completely miss out on having kids of his own - the one desire no amount of money could ever satiate. He truly wished he had just called a truce with Greg and sobbed as he thought about the horrible trap Greg was going to stumble into later that night. Justin was so overwhelmed with grief over a future that would never exist that he blacked out, though anyone watching probably assumed it was because the dog had closed its jaws completely, making Justin's last nut explode like a tomato.

Meanwhile, Greg had stumbled upon Justin's final trap. Justin had intercepted a parcel in Greg's mailroom. It was a self-administered syringe with a mixture of pain medication and antibiotics. His nut had suffered a pretty bad rupture and the doctors had been having him inject the solution directly into his sack once a week. The needle was so sharp that it barely hurt, then he would depressed the plunger and pull out, the pain medication numbing immediately. Unfortunately, Justin had swapped out the normal harmless solution with acid. It wasn't going to dissolve Greg's nut like a horror movie but the damage would be too severe to fix. Greg cleaned his scrotum with an alcohol swap and pricked his skin with the syringe. As soon as he plunged it in he immediately knew something was wrong. The shell of his last nut started bubbling in his sack, dissolving around its internal structure. He quickly withdrew the needle but it was too late. All of the acid was now sloshing around his last nut, slowly weakening it. Greg screamed, it felt like his nut was on fire. The top layer of membranes was disappearing, allowing the acid to creep deeper and deeper into his fat nugget. He raced through his condo wearing just his boxers. If he could get to the hospital fast enough they could suction out whatever evil liquid Justin had put in the vial.

He was in horrible agony, unable to see clearly. His grand plan of making it to the hospital ended before he even got out of the door. As he opened the front door, the side of the door hit his crotch. His nut, which was barely holding on as it was slowly dissolved, burst into a million gooey pieces upon impact. Greg fell on his back hollering like a banshee, barely having the presence of mind to have Alexa call for help before he lost all track of the world around him and started sobbing into the floor. His hands desperately fondled his jelly-filled bag. It was gone, ruined. Along with his shot at his father's fortune.

The Geneman family line was over.

Thursday, August 26, 2021

Dominik's Balls of Steel


Hey guys! This is the last weekly story of Cruel Summer 2021 :) Thanks for tuning in. I have been quite busy with work this summer so have not been able to write as much as I wanted to; Unfortunately the planned final story of this summer - the conclusion of the futuristic Federation series  did not turn out how I wanted and I didn't have time to finish. I will try to finish that series one day (for now, you an read the existing stories here).  I plan to keep up with weekly posts and as always I'm always open to suggestions collaborations or guest writers. (don't forget to follow me on Twitter; I'll post updates there).

Oh, an by my estimate the damage from his summer's stories from April 1 through today is: 99 ruined balls and 19 destroyed dicks... what a mess! Did I get the count right? Feel free to re-read them all and check my math ;) 

Enjoy this week's story :) 



“Wow, that’s incredible!”


Sixteen year old Greg and his friend Terry were watching the view counter of a broadcast that had just started on ShockTube increase at a rapid clip. The clip entitled Ball Race 4: End of the (Family) Line had just started streaming and was already at more than three-hundred views. The boys chuckled as an adorable red-headed twenty-something in tight pants was navigating an obstacle course with traps especially made to aim for his junk. 


“Owww!” he winced as a swinging metal pendulum knocked him off the platform he was crossing and into a pool of water. Of course it hit him right in the boys


A little further along the course he had to jump hurdles that would unexpectedly rise mid-jump, causing the bar to smash into his crotch. All of the hits were mixed with hilarious sound effects and there was a little animation of two eggs on the bottom of the screen. Every time he got hit in the balls, one of the eggs would crack more and more until it broke. 




The handsome contestant screamed and fell to his knees after being beaned in the nuts repeatedly by an onslaught of Nerf guns on a motion sensor. The last egg on the screen broke and the words ‘GAME OVER’ appeared over the video. Greg and Terry looked at each other; the viewer count was at nearly 10,000. The video stopped streaming and the boys were greeted with a video ad for a sports drink.


“That was hilarious!” Greg laughed, he was still replaying the hilarious expressions the poor redhead had made in his head.


ShockTube was the latest site to become an Internet craze. People, mostly young with too much time on their hands, would live stream shock-value content like pranks or mini game shows and would be paid per viewer. Some of the top content makers seemed to focus on testicular torment with the popular ‘Ball Race’ raking in thousands of dollars per show, and all it took was a couple of guys to convince one of their friends to risk not being able to have kids. The obstacle course was rudimentary - literally just some basic props set up in someone’s backyard - the visual overlay of the egg ‘scoreboard’ was nothing fancy and the camera work was basic. The only thing that made ‘Ball Race’ such a hit were the funny impact sound effects and the parade of hot guys who participated. Greg and Terry knew they could do much better than ‘Ball Race’ and Greg already had a model in mind.



Greg’s twenty-two year old brother Dominik was home from college break and was laying out at their pool wearing only a tight speedo as he worked on his tan. Their parents were out of town and Dominik was charged with watching Greg and by extension Terry since he was always around. He didn’t mind since the two teens were always into some kind of shenanigans and usually left him alone. But not today.


“Hell no, dweeb, quit asking,” Dominik sighed in annoyance.


Greg had been asking him all week if he would volunteer to be on him and Terry’s new internet show ‘Balls of Steel: Will They Crack?’. Just the title made Dominik cross his legs and squirm and he was definitely not interested after the boys explained the premise. They wanted to kick, punch and shoot things at his nuts, overlaying comical sound effects until they broke. Not actually broke, but they would imply permanent damage by playing a loud, wet bursting noise and flashing a cartoon sperm with a frown on the screen. Dominik would look at the camera and moan exaggeratingly. Even though the boys promised it would be all in good fun, Dominik didn’t want to risk firing blanks - or having his chambers being destroyed entirely - for the internet’s amusement.


Greg frowned and sat next to Terry who was dangling his legs in the pool. The two swimsuit clad friends sat silently for a few moments.


“I take it he said no,” Terry rolled his eyes.


“Let’s just tackle him and force him?” Terry said only half-joking.


Greg was just shy of five-foot eight, a slim yet extremely toned teenager with spiked brown hair and Terry had an equally svelte build. Though their almost complete lack of body fat made the muscle they did have stand out nicely, the two were no match for Dominik. At six-foot ten, Dominik towered more than a foot over them and easily had at least one-hundred fifty pounds on Greg dripping wet. He was jacked with a broad chest, clearly defined pecs and massive biceps. His abs were rock hard and ripped and his torso made an attractive ‘V’ as it disappeared into his speedos. He had equally impressive, muscular legs but it was the mound in his crotch the boys knew would skyrocket their internet show’s ratings. It looked like someone had stuffed two large eggs and a thick sausage into Dominik’s pouch. His package was so obscenely large that Greg and Terry would have thought it was fake had they not caught sight of Dominik’s huge equipment in the locker room. Terry had spilled countless loads fantasizing about his best friend’s sexy older brother.


“Look at him, he’s a fucking Abercrombie model,” Terry said looking at the sunbathing jock longingly.


“Maybe we should try to convince him to start an OnlyFans? I’ll be the fluffer!” Terry laughed.


“Sick man! He’s my brother!” Greg faked like he was going to throw up.


The two laughed as they continued to eye Dominik; Terry fantasizing about ripping off his Speedo and Greg looking at the hapless dumb jock and seeing dollar signs and subscriber counts. There was definitely a lot riding on Dominik’s balls.


“Hey, I have an idea,” Greg said as he nodded toward the house.


Terry got the hint and headed inside with Greg. Dominik hadn’t even noticed they had left until they noisily returned. Terry went back to the side of the pool and Greg stood over Dominik holding something toward him.


“You’re blockin’ the light twerp!” Dominik shouted as if his already-bronzed body needed any more sunlight. 


Greg rolled his eyes and handed his brother a beer. Dominik took it and eyed his brother suspiciously.


“What’s this for?”


“It’s for you to keep your mouth shut,” 


Greg winked as he made a toasting motion toward Terry and the two teens held up their own beer bottles. Greg took a large swig. Dominik sighed. He wasn’t a huge fan of his underage brother and his friend drinking but he was even less of a fan of them being in the way and harassing him about their dumb internet show. Dominik took a drink and closed his eyes, his arms to his sides, as he soaked up the sun.


Greg joined Terry and the two pretended to drink but were really watching Dominik. Halfway through his bottle, Dominik dropped it onto the pool deck as his upper body seemed to go numb. The color drained from Greg’s face and he turned to Terry.


“Dude! Did you kill my brother?” Greg’s sincere concern was canceled by the absurdity of the question.


Terry laughed.


“No. Besides, no dead bodies are allowed on ShockTube, it’s in their T’s and C’s.  Now help me get him in the house,”



Dominik awoke feeling groggy and confused. He was in the basement gameroom but had no memory of getting there. One minute he was laying by the pool thinking about girls - and guys - and fucking, normal youngman thoughts, and the next he was waking up inside. His head was pounding.


Instinctively he tried to move and quickly realized that he was tied to a chair with his arms behind his back, a sloppy knot around his wrists. His calves were tied to the front legs of the chair and his ankles were forced apart by a crude spreader bar made of a piece of a broom handle and duct tape. It was crude but effective. In front of him a webcam was on a tripod pointed directly at him, slightly down, with its cable running into a laptop on a folding table. There were two tall ring lights blinding him as he tried to survey the scene but he immediately knew what was happening.


“I’m gonna’ kill you and your little friend you creepy little fucker!”


The veins in Dominik’s neck were bulging as he screamed at his little brother and his friend who were nowhere in sight.


The now wide awake jock struggled to get free, his rich baritone voice thundering through the entire house as he demanded to be released. He heard the sound of two footprints coming down the steps and that only made him shout louder. Greg and Terry, now fully dressed in T-shirts and jeans, walked slowly up  to Dominik, chuckling.


“You’re finally awake, took long enough,” Greg smiled.


“Yeah, no kidding. Also, what do you eat?  Cement? You weigh a fucking ton!” 


Though Terry had thoroughly enjoyed getting up close and personal with Dominik’s passed out body, he and Greg had struggled to haul the solid block of muscle into the house and down the stairs.


“Untie me you fucking fairy!” Dominik roared, his face turning red as he became more and more irritated.


“What did you call me”


Dominik immediately stopped shouting as Terry rested the business end of a sledgehammer against his bulging swim trunks, the two huge lumps looking even bigger under the lights. 


“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Dominik pleaded.


Terry raised the huge hammer over the young captive’s lap and Dominik let out a blood-curdling scream. The two teens were momentarily stunned at how horrified Dominik looked, before looking at each other and collapsing into laughter. Dominik looked on in confusion as Terry and Greg were literally rolling on the floor laughing and pointing.


“Did you hear how he screamed! Like a dying cat!” 

Dominik could only look on in annoyance as the two continued to laugh at the hulking jock, his powerful muscles useless to stop them. Greg was the first to his feet. Though he was wiping away tears of laughter, in his gut he did feel a little guilty at the terror Terry’s little stunt had filled Dominik with.


“Big bro, you know we wouldn’t really hurt you, right? It’s just for ShockTube”


Greg put his hand on Dominik’s shoulder. Dominik wasn’t exactly reassured. 

As Terry sat at the laptop and set up his video editing program, Greg explained how ‘Balls of Steel’ was going to work. Greg was going to take turns kicking, punching and otherwise trying to deflate Dominik’s enormous balls all while his torment was being streamed live. To give the setup more polish, Terry was going to overlay comical sound effects and graphics to amplify the lineage ending shenanigans. At the end of the clip, all Dominik needed to do was look at the camera and say “I think they’re broken!”. To keep Greg on pace and give real-time audience feedback from the live chat, Dominik was going to be speaking to Greg via a headset, the earpiece mostly hidden by Greg’s messy brown hair.


Greg positioned a table behind Dominik that would serve as a backdrop and filled it with all manner of over-the-top instruments of torture that made him queasy even thinking about actually using on Dominik; but they would be especially eye catching to a certain set of viewers. There was the sledgehammer from earlier, a blow torch, hammers, wrenches, vices, even a blender. Basically anything the boys could find around the house that made them stop and say “Hmm, this would take Dominik out of the dating scene!”


Not feeling he had much of a choice, Dominik settled down. At least ShockTube automatically stopped streaming after an hour so there was at least a time limit and Greg continuously promised that Dominik’s reactions - not actual ball pain - would sell the realism, so he wasn’t going to go all in with punishing Dominik’s boys.


“So when do I know it’s time for me to give my big line?” Dominik deadpanned.


“Terry will give you a thumbs up when he flashes the dead sperm graphic, about five minutes before the stream ends,”


A strange thought came to Dominik’s mind.


“Wait! Can I get a safe word,”

“Why?” Greg asked annoyed “It’s all fake, just act like it hurts, but don’t ham it up!”




“Okay, we’re starting in three... two...  one... action!” 


“Welcome to Balls of Steel where we ask man’s most pressing question: How much can a man’s nuts take before they crack,” Greg said in his most serious voice, looking at the camera.


A comical crunching noise interjected the video. Greg stepped away allowing his brother’s beautiful body to be on full display. Terry was sure to let the lingering shot of the big-balled stud on the screen as the viewer count started to rise. If the title and hashtags like ‘ballbusting’ and ‘cbt’ had gotten viewers interested, the tied up porn-star-looking dude being broadcast in 4K is what kept them hooked and lured in more. Since he was supposed to be inserting sound effects and graphics in real-time Terry had to work extra hard at not being entirely distracted by his fantasy man sitting with his legs spread right in front of him.


“First, let’s see what we’re working with,”


Greg knelt down next to Dominik, making sure not to block the view, and grabbed the massive lumps in his shorts tugging them forward so that they bulged even more for the camera. Dominik’s eyes crossed as his wiry yet strong little bro viscously yanked on his spuds.


Greg smiled as Dominik reported in his ear; “Dude, the chat can’t believe how big they look! They wanna’ know if they’re real!”


More viewers logged in.


“Hmm, well I could show you all how real they are, but only in adult only-chat,” Greg laughed.


It was a risky gamble. Taking the stream adults-only was lucrative - since anyone watching had to pay by the minute with a credit card to verify their age - but it could mean underage viewers or people not willing to actively pay for it would be booted out. Terry excitedly gave Greg a thumbs up. Nearly a dozen people had clicked on the button to join the x-rated stream and they still had over an hour to gain viewers.


“Okay, we’re x-rated, and we’re making a dollar a minute... PER VIEWER!” Terry nearly shouted into Greg’s headset. 


The view count was up to twenty when Greg grabbed a pair of giant garden shears and ran the tip over Dominik’s Lycra-covered left nut. Beads of sweat formed on Dominik’s forehead as his kid brother used the oversized sheers to snip off his underwear, coming close to actually slicing into his scrotum. With a flourish, Greg pulled off the pieces and let Dominik’s enormous babymakers flop forward.


A graphic declaring “Holy Fuck!’ flashed on the screen and the group chat was exploding as the two huge man eggs took center stage.


“Do they look like they’re made of steel? How long before they break? Let us know in the comments” Greg said with a wink


He squatted down, balled a fist and slammed into Dominik’s sack. Full force. Dominik had actually believed Greg’s promise to only pretend to unleash on his boys but Greg had no intention of keeping his word. He knew his meat-head brother had the fineness of a drunken diplomat, so he wasn’t going to let Dominik ‘act’ like he was in pain, he was actually going to make Dominik be in pain.


Dominik let out a high pitched scream as his brother slammed his fist over and over into his sack. The big shaved things bounced and jiggled but barely deformed.


“Man these things are dense!” Greg chuckled. 


“Let’s try mixing it up,” 


Left. Right. Left. Right. Greg alternated slamming his fist into his brother’s sack, alternating which nut was struck. Terry was mixing in funny impact sound effects for particularly harsh looking hits and Dominik was yelling, mostly for Greg to stop than out of pain. His stones really were as tough as they were big, though that was a natural phenomenon. Ordinarily Dominik guarded his nuts with his life. 


“Greg! Stop! Ooooh!”


Dominik’s eyes crossed as this brother’s fist compressed his beefy right nut into the chair. Dominik let out a shrill scream as Greg laid into his rock-hard testicles not holding anything back and the sack was starting to take a rosy color.


“Stop! Stop! Oooohh!” 


Dominik’s abs rippled and he felt a fire in his guts as Greg clasps his hands together to make a single huge fist that he promptly smashed into Dominik’s lap. Dominik threw his head back and screamed as Greg casually looked to the camera.


“These things are tough! Let’s see is any of our tools can help break ‘em,”


There were now fifty people watching, a guaranteed income stream of fifty dollars a minute and this was just their first show. Dominik really should start an OnlyFans, Greg thought. He strolled over to the table and ran his finger over the sledgehammer and the wrench before settling on a small rubber mallet. Though it almost looked cartoonish, the mallet was totally real, the price tag from the hardware store still on the handle. Greg walked in front of Dominik, mindful not to block the camera, and got on his knees. He rubbed the mallet head of Dominik’s juicy right nut. 


“I’m gonna’ ask Terry - our special effects guy - to not play any sound effects for this next hit. I want everyone to know that this is a real mallet,”


Greg slammed the mallet full-force into the ground, so hard that his forearm was vibrating as the mallet’s head crashed into the concrete floor. The loud booming impact left no doubt to anyone watching that the mallet was real. Dominik’s eyes grew huge in genuine terror. He wasn’t necessarily afraid that Greg would hurt him on purpose but it wouldn’t be difficult for the showboating teenager to accidentally go overboard and really do some serious damage. Dominik’s entire sex life flashed before his eyes.


Greg lifted the mallet over Dominik’s crotch and sent it down with a whoosh. Dominik let out a deep, petrified scream and the mallet stopped just short of making contact. Greg did that a dozen times at least, filling Dominik with increasing fear until the stud thought his heart was going to explode from his chest. Dominik’s heaving, powerful chest and look of fear must have struck a nerve because several of the audience were now tipping them directly. The chat was blowing up.


“Someone in the chat said ‘stop teasing and smash them already’”, Terry reported.


Greg nodded




Dominik thought he was going to hurl all over his kid brother as waves of nausea exploded from his sack. The incredibly dense, big organs flattened under the mallet. What was worse, Dominik knew Greg was barely trying, the mallet was just too heavy. 


“Greg! No! Stop man, please!”




Dominik’s nuts were flattened again, this time even harder and the beginning of a bruise was starting to form on the left one. Terry zoomed in






“Please! Stop!” 


Dominik pleaded, sweating and struggling to escape. Either Greg didn’t realize how much pain he was causing or didn’t care but Dominik was urgently trying to convey the message.


Terry’s eyes grew huge as he looked at the monitor.


“Dude, shut him up! I just got a warning that ‘only willing participants are allowed on ShockTube’. If they pull our stream we lose all our money!”

Greg nodded in acknowledgment and set down the mallet. He took Dominik’s huge heavy left nut in his hand and squeezed between his fingers and thumbs. Dominik’s eyes crossed and he tried to double over but he was tied in place. Still smiling for the camera, Greg leaned and whispered into Dominik’s ear. 


“Listen carefully you dumb piece of shit. We are raking in more than a hundred bucks per minute. I swear to God if you don’t shut the fuck up and make it look like you’re playing along I am going to destroy your nuts for real.”


Dominik’s blood ran cold; there was a seriousness and venom in Greg’s tone that made it obvious that there would be very real consequences if he didn’t comply. He might not actually lose a nut but Greg wasn’t one to make idle threats, especially in that tone. Domink gulped and looked into the camera.


“Is that all you got!”


Greg released his death grip on Dominik’s nut in a tacit acknowledgement of their détente. Greg pummeled his brother’s nuts, Dominik being sure to interject his screams with playful taunts about how strong his nuts were.




A nasty bruise was forming on Dominik’s sack. His eyes bulged and he genuinely wanted to warn Greg to get out of the way of what he thought was going to be a spray of vomit.


“Greg please...” he shouted.


“... don’t be such a pussy! Pound them!” he quickly pivoted, remembering that anything that sounded like begging might get the stream banned and unleash Greg’s fury. 


At the half hour mark Terry gave a signal.


“Good job, big bro. Halfway done,” Greg whispered in his ear while he squeezed his swollen right nut. 


Dominik sighed, his hulking frame completely unable to help him. He was struggling against his bonds, hamming it up like it was part of an act, though he was seriously trying to get loose. Greg kept mouthing things like “They’re gonna’ pop” and “Goodbye balls” that were perfectly clear to Dominik but hidden from the censors. Of course Greg had no intention of actually hurting Dominik, and was stunned his early threat of ruining him had actually worked, but figured he should keep up the charade to keep Dominik in line. In a fight Domink would obviously dominate Greg, but apparently Greg had found his big brother’s rather massive Achilles heels.






Greg punched his fists down into Dominik’s lap two more times, sandwiching them against his knuckles and the seat. Dominik roared in pain and had to fight back an uncontrollable scream as he noticed a large red bruise forming on his ball bag. 


“Next, let’s try some kicks!”


Greg lifted his leg and placed the soul of his barefoot on Dominik’s nuts. They felt even bigger than they looked as he gently rolled them, looking deep into his brother’s pleading eyes as he applied more and more pressure.


Dominik let out a yelp as his nuts flattened out suddenly under Greg’s foot. Greg nearly lost his balance but compensated by pressing down even harder. Dominik’s mouth made an ‘O’ but no sound came out as his enormous testicles were compressed to nearly half their normal size. Greg placed his hands on his crushing knee and leaned in, placing even more pressure on it. 




“You know, if I keep bouncing on it like this, I might actually be able to pop it,”


Dominik’s eyes grew huge in terror. It was the first time Greg had openly threatened to pop his nuts out loud for everyone to hear. 




Greg applied even more weight, his brothers massive nuts flattened out again. Dominik screamed.




Dominik’s eyes rolled into his head as his hands frantically tried to break free. Greg’s face took on a sinister expression. He had no intention of hurting Dominik, but his balls were so fucking big, just like the kinds he loved reading about getting busted - and destroyed.




“Fuck!” Dominik wailed as his testicles flattened even more. 


They felt like two impossibly dense patties under Greg’s foot, and he felt like they would rupture if he applied any more force. So of course he pressed in again. 




Terry was expertly mixing in gross crunching sound effects as Greg’s foot demolished his brother’s balls. Dominik let out a drone as Greg started bouncing his weight on his sack, loving the feeling of the big flattened things plumping slightly before being squashed again. Dominik had just gotten used to the sick rhythm when he felt his entire world shatter.








Greg was kicking and stomping into Dominik’s lap like a man possessed, sending Dominik’s seed pods rocketing around in his bag. Dominik had taken kicks on the football field before but this was different. These kicks were nonstop and deliberate. He rocked in his chair as he felt his hands starting to work free, but his legs were still secured tightly.






Greg was working up a sweat.


“Why...” CRUNCH


“...won’t” CRUNCH


“They...” CRUNCH


“Break?” CRUNCH


Greg laughed into the camera, but Dominik was hardly in a laughing mood. He was screaming and crying, trying desperately to stay in character, egging his brother on - as if he needed encouragement.


“Oh yea! Pop my nuts!” Dominik screamed, ironically in an attempt to spare his nuts. 


Greg seemed to have interpreted it literally.




Dominik’s face was a mask of sickening pain, every muscle in his hot body tensed as Greg stomped on his baby making factories and ground his foot in, Greg thoroughly enjoying the big boys struggling to maintain their shape. He was so excited that he did it again. And again. And again.


“Dude! You’re getting hard,” Terry chuckled, pointing at his buddy’s growing erection.


Greg flushed in embarrassment as he removed his foot from Dominik’s extremely swollen sack. 


“So Terry, how much longer do I have?”


“About fifteen minutes,”


“Wow, we only have fifteen minutes to crack this sack! Time to get serious!”


Greg pretended to mull the various tools of bag destruction on the table before settling on a huge Nurf-style dart gun. Dominik recognized it from when they were kids and while he wasn’t afraid of the toy’s plastic projectiles, he knew Greg’s mind could come up with all  kinds of wicked ways to use it.


Greg stepped back and fired at Dominik’s crotch. He let out a whimper as the plastic ball struck his sack. Greg stepped closer and fired. Then another step. The impacts, though hardly punches, were getting harder and harder with each step until Greg was sitting between Dominik’s legs, firing the gun rapidly from point blank range. Dominik screamed and writhed as the harmless plastic balls collided with his already battered balls so hard that the projectiles were denting and it felt like Dominik’s flesh and blood balls were about to do the same.


“Ooooh fuck!” Dominik wailed, embarrassed that a child’s toy was making him scream three octaves higher.


Dominik’s sack was a disturbing shade of purplish-red with streaks of blue, so sensitive a strong breeze would have been painful, let alone plastic balls being shot at speed. Dominik was giving a lovely operatic performance of rich baritone mixed with castrato shrieks and staccato yodels. His pecs were bouncing up and down as his entire body convulsed disproportionately to the impacts of the plastic balls that were steadily wearing at the outer shell of his testicles. The only reprieve he had was the short time it took Greg to reload.  The streaming audience was loving the show and the chat was erupting with jokes about how weak the big strong man’s balls really were that a toy was making him dance in his chair. Although most of the shaking and jarring was real, some of it was exaggerated, Dominik using it to further work on breaking his bonds. 


“They still will not break!” 


Greg put down the gun and grabbed Dominik’s right nut. It was hugely swollen and blotched with bruises. Dominik winced as Greg squeezed it between his thumb and finger, digging into the markedly soft tissue.


“Hey, Terry at the control booth. How much longer are these going to last?” 


Terry played a graphic of a radar scope and some beeps and boops like a scifi scanning device before flashing text on the screen.




The live chat was going crazy. Greg gave Dominik’s ball a final devastating squeeze that elicited a funny sharp yelp from his muscular brother before stepping off camera and returning a short time later a car battery that had jumper cables attached to the terminals. To demonstrate that the battery was no prop, Greg clashed the cables together and grinned as sparks flew. Dominik thought he was going to shit on himself, literally. Greg and his dorky friend had taken this way too far, he thought.


“Greg! Man! What’re you doing!”


Dominik was in a complete panic. Every molecule of his massive body was tearing at his restraints which were becoming more loose by the second. 


“Greg, stop! Cut it out man!” 


Greg just grinned as he brought the clamps closer to Dominik’s colossal nut sack; Terry had the perfect sound effect of a large electric arc already queued up.


“You guys ready for me to fry these eggs?” Greg asked the audience.


“What the...”


Greg was tackled to the floor by Dominik who had broken free, driven by terror and adrenaline. Terry acted fast and killed the stream early showing what was supposed to be the final graphic; a blank screen with a cartoon sperm with X’s for eyes to indicate it was dead and the words “Balls of Steel? Guess Not!”


Terry looked on, too stunned to move as Dominik and his brother wrested on the floor. Dominik’s hulking size allowed him to quickly overpower Greg even with the constant throb between his legs. As if to show off just how much more power Dominik had than Greg, Dominik grabbed Greg by the hair and effortlessly lifted him to his feet.




Greg thought he was going to vomit as his beefy bro’s knee crushed his nuts.




Greg screamed as Dominik’s knee again found his boys. Terry screamed for Dominik to stop as he threw Greg into the seat and tied him up with his legs spread. Terry jumped on Dominik’s back in a futile attempt to stop him, but Dominik just grabbed Terry by the bicep and flung the scrawny teen aside. In hindsight, Dominik was glad he hadn’t ripped Terry’s shoulder out of its socket. Terry lay on his back motionless.


“Terry!” Greg screamed in genuine panic. His brawny brother had just tossed his best friend like a ragdoll and now he wasn’t moving.


“Dominik, I think Terry’s hurt... Oooh!” 




Greg’s eyes felt like they were going to bulge out their sockets and his stomach filled with a primal fiery ache as Dominik’s fists piston pounded his sack into the seat of the chair. Dominik practically lived at the gym and was in peak physical fitness; his size alone would have made him formidable never mind that he appeared to be made of nothing but muscle. And now all of that raw strength was focused on making sure only Dominik would be able to give their parent’s grandkids. 




“Oh! Stop! Oooooh!” 


Greg was hysterical as his hunky brother grunted and fumed in uncontrollable rage, pounding Greg’s nuts until they were red and starting to swell. Dominik was pumped with adrenaline and fury so wasn’t thinking straight but even in his altered state he could tell he was risking doing real permanent damage to Greg’s nuts. But he didn’t care. His massive fists were squashing Greg’s grapes into sour wine, smashing them so hard that Dominik could feel the chair seat through Greg’s swelling teenage nuts.


“STOP!” Greg screamed, rocking the chair so hard that it tipped over. 


Dominik just stood up, lined his toe over his screaming brother’s sack and let loose.


“Dominik! You’ll fucking kill him stop!” 


Terry had recovered from being dazed and ran toward Dominik, but was held back effortlessly by one outstretched arm while Dominik landed a dozen blows to Greg’s balls. He could feel Greg’s nuts flattening and bouncing, being horribly fucked up under each blow. Greg’s nuts were being demolished and it was evident that the big man really could pluck Greg from the gene pool.


“Doms!” Greg shrieked through sobs and something snapped in Dominik’s head.


‘Doms’ is what Greg used to call his big brother when he was first learning how to walk and talk. The mispronounced nickname stuck until Greg became a teenager and decided he was too ‘grown up’ to use it any more. But now Greg was calling out his brother’s childhood nickname in a frantic effort to convey to his out of control brother how urgent the situation was. Greg was literally a few more vicious kicks away from suffering at least one ruptured testicle.


“Whoa! Whoa!” 


Dominick said as he backed away with his hands up, stunned at what he’d just done. He was so much bigger than Greg that he knew the situation could have gotten really ugly, really fast.


“Bastard!” Terry lunged at Dominik but was deflected by a quick punch to Terry’s crotch.

As Greg sobbed and tried to work himself loose from the fallen chair, Terry fell to his knees groaning, landing right in front of Dominik.






Terry thought he was going to black out as Dominik kicked him so hard between his legs he was lifted from the ground. Terry was yanked to his feet by the hair and Dominik’s knee slammed into his groin over and over and over and over. Terry lost count, he struggled futilely to escape while Dominik just laughed in his face.


“You dumb little cocksucker. Greg’s my baby brother, dude. I’d never really hurt him no matter how pissed off I got. But I have absolutely no problem popping your cherries,” 




Dominik was not making an empty threat. Unlike before when he was in a blind rage, he was now fully in control of his faculties, knowing that he could easily destroy Terry’s berries and was consciously determined not to stop until he felt a satisfying double pop.


“Terry!” Greg screamed, amazed at how much better at knot tying Dominik was compared to him. 


“I’ll do anything! Please!” 


Terry shrieked, his nuts throbbing. Dominik landed his huge knee one more time into Terry’s crotch before throwing him to the ground. Terry landed on his knees again and before he knew what was happening Dominik had grabbed the back of his head and was forcing his nose into his nutsack. Dominik winced as the handsome twink’s nose poked his still sore nuts.


“Suck it, loser!”  Dominik barked.


Terry looked up at the guy he had dreamed about for years and despite the situation quickly had Dominik’s semi-hard cock in his mouth. Dominik kept a firm grasp on Terry’s blond head, moaning in pleasure as the eager cocksucker expertly worked his shaft until it was at full attention. 




Terry moaned as eleven inches of thick jock cock was rammed down his throat. Drool was streaking down his face as he struggled to keep up with Dominik’s frantic skull fucking. Terry was trying to enjoy himself but Dominik didn’t care if the kid was enjoying it or not. Terry’s warm throat felt amazing and the horny jock was piston fucking Terry’s face violently, causing his swollen balls to slam Terry’s chin so hard it hurt them both.




Terry thought the brutal throat fucking was going to make him throw up. His eyes were watering and he was desperately trying to push Dominik away but that just made Dominik want to degrade him even more.


“Suck it bitch!” 


Dominik growled as he rammed his dick so far down Terry’s throat it was bulging, the outline of his bulbous head clearly visible in Terry’s throat. Terry was gagging and choking but Dominik just held his head in place.  Greg was working himself loose, his own balls throbbing, screaming out in horror as he watched his big brother raping his best friend.


“I bet your ass is so fucking tight, I know you want it...”


Terry had barely registered the words before he was being lifted up like a sex doll and heaved over Dominik’s shoulder. The burly stud cleared a space on the prop table - sending hammers and wrenches tumbling to the ground, before throwing Terry against it, grabbing the back of his neck and forcing him to bend over, the perky virgin ass sticking straight up. Dominik ripped down Terry’s jeans.


“Dominik no! It’s too big!” Terry shrieked but it was too late.


His forced blow job had gotten Dominik to full mast and the sight of Terry’s toned ass was just too tempting. 


“I know you want it, you fucking faggot!” 


Dominik scowled as he plunged his entire beer can cock into Terry. The young kid’s entire body seized as nearly a foot of cock slammed into his prostate, flooding his ass with its hot, massive length. Terry felt so full he thought Dominik’s cock was going to knock his front teeth forward.




Dominik was grunting and screaming in pleasure like an animal as he totally demolished the slim teenager bent over the table. Terry tried to fight back but it was like he had been mounted by a bull who wasn’t going to stop until he was finished. Dominik wasn’t even trying to make the experience enjoyable for Terry. In fact, the nerdy teen’s screams fueled Dominik’s rage fuck  as he thought back about how cavalier Terry had been to his own pain. Dominik’s hole was being torn wide open as Dominik plowed all the way in and all the way out, jabbing Terry’s abused hole.


“Stop!” Terry screamed out.


Dominik just pulled Terry forward, forcing him to arch his back, and nibbled at his ear as he continued to pound Terry’s brains out. By now Greg was mostly free, desperate to save his friend but the prison-yard-style fucking continued apace. Terry gasped and cried out as his cock, which had gotten hard by the constant pounding of his prostate, let out a single rope of jizz. It was the first time Terry had ever cum totally out of his control and he hated it. Unfortunately for him, Terry’s orgasm caused his stretched guts to tighten, massaging Dominik’s cock. It was too much stimulation.




Dominik wrapped his strong arms around Terry and pulled him closer as he plunged all the way into Terry’s ass before pumping out a gallon of cum. Terry felt squirt after huge squirt absolutely flooding his hole. There was so much it was dripping out his ass before Dominik had even pulled out.


“Monster!”  Greg shouted as he finally sprang to his feet.


Greg ran up to Dominik but was stopped dead in his tracks. Without even loosening his grip on Terry’s torso - or removing his spent cock - Dominik had picked up a wrench from the table with his free hand and sent it sailing into his brother’s crotch.




Greg clutched his junk, convinced something had broken, and sank to his knees. Dominik kept fucking and fucking Terry until a second much smaller load came out. He was finally done, pulling out and letting him fall to the ground.


Dominik felt the thrill of domination as he looked down at his brother and his friend curled into the fetal position. He grabbed Terry by the hair and dragged him on his knees over to Greg, then grabbed Greg’s hair and hoisted them both to their feet; his muscles making the taxing maneuver look effortless.


“You’re both my bitches now!” Dominik roared. 


He slammed his knee into Greg’s crotch three times as hard as he could, feeling his bro’s swollen package deform. Greg screamed like a banshee and fell to the ground. 


“Please don’t hurt me!” Terry shrieked. 


Dominik lifted his knee and slammed it into Terry’s battered plums over and over, effectively bouncing the violated, defeated teen by his crumbling balls.




Gee, I hope I don’t turn his plums into jelly, Dominik thought. 


CRUUUUNCH. But he didn’t really care if he did or not. Terry blacked out as Dominik continued to crush his balls until they got flatter and flatter until....