The Training Room was large, empty, narrow and windowless, its squat walls painted a dreary gray to match the pitted, cold concrete floor. Overhead a single large glowing orb cast a glaring and ironically dank bluish-white light that flooded the room. There were two doors — utilitarian slabs with black knob handles — directly across from each other on the room’s long dimension. One door was painted the same dreary gray as the walls, a sign read ‘NO ADMITTANCE’ , but most of its letters had faded with age; where the door lead and why it was blocked off were long forgotten.
With a soft whoosh, the one unlocked door opened into the room and a tall, beefy man — The Admiral — marched into the room. He was wearing black pants, a black uniform jacket, black boots and a non-descript black beret. On his waste was a holster with a small pistol, presumably standard equipment for someone of his rank. Blue and white chevrons that adorned the shoulders of his otherwise bland uniform indicated he had attained at least some manner of rank in the Navy. He had a folded flag under his arm, which we proceeded to pin in the middle of one of the room’s long walls; it was a white rectangle with a black circle in the middle. An ordinary looking flag for what was in actuality an extraordinarily powerful and vicious world power.
The Admiral stood back from the flag, making sure it was hung just so, and, after a few adjustments, turned toward the still open door and barked “Bring them in!”
There was an almost mechanically rhythmic marching of forty booted feet as twenty Navy Cadets entered the room one by one. Without instruction, the cadets fanned out, assuming four evenly spaced rows of five, all facing the flag on the wall. Each young man, ranging between the ages of 18 and 20, wore uniforms similar to that of the Admiral, only theirs were dark blue instead of black and were missing the rank insignias on the shoulders. They all had two pips on their collars to indicate they were two year cadets. Thanks to generations of ruthless eugenics, none of the men were shorter were 5 foot 10, and all were in exceptionally good shape. They weren’t bulging with muscle, but were powerful and fit, their tight muscular bodies filling out their uniforms nicely.
The cadets stood at attention, holding their right fist an inch from their left eye — the standard salute. For what seemed like a long time, nothing happened. The room was silent.
“Close it,” the Admiral instructed to no one in particular and, as if by remote operation, the heavy door closed with an audible clanking to indicate it had been locked.
The Admiral slowly strode between the rows of boys humming something softly. A few of the boys subconsciously joined in. It was the anthem of the Federation — the world state symbolized by the draconian flag. Compared to the surrounding dreariness, the simple tune was a relatively rousing piece.
When he was done humming the piece, the Admiral didn’t even try to hide the tear of pride streaming down his face.
“Do you know what that song represents?” He asked to no one in particular, standing in front of the flag, “It’s the Federation March, the anthem of our Federation and of the Navy that protects it.”
“At ease, cadets,”
The cadets lowered their fists to their sides and listened intently to the Admiral, their eyes locked forward in gazes of concentration.
“Before the Federation, the world was chaos. Hundreds of quote-unquote nations squabbling and fighting with each other. Wars. Diseases. Now, there is only the One,” the Admirals words were rousing but there was a sense he was holding something back.
“But there are still those who would oppose us and that is why we have the Navy. Zachary, front and center.”
A blonde boy in the second row silently marched in front of the group, facing the admiral, his fist raised in attention. Despite appearing icy calm on the outside, Zachary suddenly had a chilling realization as to why he and this particular group of cadets was called into the Training Room in the middle of the night. His heart raced and, despite his best efforts, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“Like most of you, Cadet Zachary here is too young to remember the pre-Federation world so he could be forgiven if he believes the fairy tales about ‘freedom’ and ‘liberty’ constantly being spewed out by the other side.”
The Admiral locked eyes with Zachary as he continued.
“He could be forgiven… but he won’t be,” with that the Admiral thrust his hand into Zachary’s raised fist, causing the cadet to blacked his own eye.
If any of the cadets were at all startled by this, years of training had made them too good at hiding it for anyone to know. Zachary winced and stumbled backward, but like a good cadet, kept his fist raised over his eye in salute. The Admiral grimaced and rammed his hand into Zachary’s fist again. This time his fist was rammed so hard that the already swollen eye socket now turned even more purple and blackened.
Tears streamed down Zachary’s face and he slightly doubled over in pain, but — being a good cadet — attempted to right himself, still saluting the Admiral.
“Don’t you do that! Don’t you dare make the salute of the Navy you traitor!” The Admiral roared, grabbing the blonde boy by the hair and pulling him to his feet.
An audible murmur filled the room briefly. Everyone had seen cadets punished for infractions, but never anything like this. And to be called a traitor? That was a serious — and dangerous — charge.
The Admiral, standing nearly a foot taller than Zachary, tossed the dazed cadet against the Federation flag and pinned him there with an arm under this chin.
“Sir… please,” the cadet started, his well-trained facade now cracking.
He was interrupted by the Admirals rock-hard knee slamming into his crotch. Zachary thought he was going to wretch as he felt his twin nuggets compressed between the Admiral’s knee and his pelvic bone.
“…Sir…”
WHAM! WHAM! The Admirals’ knee slammed over and over into Zachary’s softening nuggets, the whimpering cadet struggled futilely to close his legs and protect himself. The Admiral, for his part, was showing little more than thinly veiled rage as he felt the young cadet’s manhood being squashed under his knee.
Zachary, fully aware that he was in real trouble, sobbed and pleaded for the Admiral to show mercy. After the tenth knee, the Admiral released the boy and let him slump to the floor, nearly comatose. Before turning the address the startled cadets, the Admiral looked down at the muscular cadet, his knees open from his lazy slump to the ground, and viciously slammed his booted foot between the helpless Zachary’s legs. Zachary’s mouth opened in a large ‘O’, but no sound came out before he totally passed out from the pain and shock.
“Cadet Costigan, get Cadet Zachary to his feet, I’m not through with him,” the Admiral said with remarkable calm..
A fit olive-skinned cadet in the front row went to move toward Zachary, as instructed, but was startled to find he was stuck to the spot.
“Cadet Costigan, I told you to get up here.”
The olive skinned young man again tried to take a step but his Navy-issued boots felt as if they were glued to the floor.
The Admiral, feigned annoyance and hissed with a grimace “Ah, that’s right, you can’t move can you, Cadet? How about you, Cadet Ward?”
There was a grunt of extreme physical effort as a slightly shorter, dark haired cadet in the back row tried to lift a leg to move, again feeling as if his boot weighed several thousand pounds.
“Oh, I guess none of you traitors can move.”
A wave of genuine terror spread over the room. What was happening?
The Admiral smiled smugly as he watched the 19 young men struggle to lift even a toe from the ground, flaying about but all the while staying perfectly upright.
“Federation Medical has let me try out a very exciting new drug that can paralyze very specific muscles. Its gaseous and totally harmless if you’ve been inoculated, but — oh wait — none of you have been.”
The Admiral let out a maniacal laugh. He turned toward Zachary and lifted him to his feet. Thanks to the drug, despite Zachary wanting to just collapse again, the muscles in his left below the knee were as rigid as boards. He was trapped, legs spread, standing in front of the Admiral.
“The continuity of the Federation depends on snuffing out any possibility that you traitors will be able to spread your lies to the next generation.”
Zachary knew what was about to happen…
The Admiral knelt down and delivered a series of powerful uppercuts to Zachary’s swelling sack. The cadet uniforms didn’t’ include underwear, so the outline of Zachary’s swollen nuts was now straining the already tight pants.
Zachary wretched, showering the top of the Admiral’s beret with that night’s dinner. A visibly annoyed Admiral stood up, removed the soiled hat and tossed it aside.
“These come off, I want everyone to see the moment when the next generation of traitors is silences before they’re even born.”
The Admiral reached out and literally tore Zachary’s pants to shreds with his bare hands like a crazed animal. Zachary whimpered as he watched the last tiny sliver of defense between the enraged Admiral and his precious balls disappear. When it was over, the remains of Zachary’s pants lay strewn at his feet. The Admiral stood back to admire his handiwork. Cadet Zachary’s two plums, now beet red and swollen to the size of large eggs, swung freely between his thighs. His cock, totally deflated and shriveled, barely poked from his body.
The Admiral reached out and grasped the swollen pouch in his hand, encasing Zachary’s nuts in his thumb and forefinger like a ring, causing them to bulge against the sack. The Admiral stood slightly to the side so that Zachary’s red orbs were on full display of the other cadets, some of whom were still struggling to take a step.
WHACK! WHACK! The Admiral pounded the fleshy mound trapped in his hand with a fist from the other. Zachary screamed and twitched, but still was unable to move his legs.
“This is what happens… ” WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! “… to traitors!”
The Admiral’s face flashed red with rage and he proceeded to close his fist as tightly as he could around the two throbbing organs. He could sense the virility coursing through his hands as he squeezed, attempting to snuff out Zachary’s manhood.
“Use your thumb, sir,” came a cadet from the front row. It was Cadet Costigan, who was — unlike some of the other men standing at attention and not at all attempting to struggle.
The Admiral turned toward Cadet Costigan and smiled. “That is a good idea, I see you were paying attention during interrogations after the battle of Old Paris,”
The Admiral released Zachary’s nuts just long enough for them to fall, painfully, back to the bottom of the sack. He trapped the left ball between his thumb and the rest of his fingers and proceeded to push his thumb inward. He could feel the strained membranes of Zachary’s nut start to soften as the concentrated force dug into the helpless organ.
Zachary wailed and howled unintelligibly. It was bone chilling, even for those who had seen real battle.
“Come on… it’s starting to pop,” The Admiral announced gleefully, the ball struggled to hold its shape, Zachary screamed even louder and… SQUICK!
The Admiral’s thumb nearly touched the rest of his fingers as Zachary’s ball finally exploded in the sack, the Admiral’s thumb and fingers separated only by the mushy remains in the scrotum. Zachary’s eyes went wild — he let out an unearthly howl that seemed to startle even the hardened Admiral — and he passed out. It was a bizarre sight. A handsome, blonde cadet, slumped over but still standing perfectly upright.
“We’re not quite through…” the Admiral released the ruined nut and turned his attention to the last remaining vestige of Zachary’s once proud manhood.
Some of the cadets gulped nervously, terrified at what they were seeing but too oddly captivated by it to look away. The most pressing concern was why were they — loyal cadets — being trapped in the same vulnerable position on account of one bad traitor?
“This is my favorite way to do the job,” The Admiral pushed Zachary flush to the wall and spread his stiff legs as far as they could go. Zachary’s half deflated sack swung invitingly…
WHAM! WHAM! The Admiral’s rock-hard fist proceeded to power drive the remaining right nut into the wall. WHAM! WHAM!
“Oh yeah! Crush the traitor!” a cadet in the middle row shouted, his heart welling with pride in the Federation.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The Admiral’s face was red with concentration as he felt the softening, ridiculously swollen testicle being continuously crushed between his fist and the wall. It couldn’t possibly hold up for much more of this punishment.
WHAM! WHAM! SPLAT! WHAM WHAM! Zachary’s huge right nut exploded violently against the wall, splattering the flag with blood and nut goop.
WHAM! SPLAT! WHAM! SPLAT!
SPLOSH!
Zachary’s sack literally blew open, spraying the mushed innards all over the wall and covering the Admiral’s fist with the gooey remains of what had once been a large pair of cadet testicles.
When the Admiral was quite confident there would be no chance of Cadet Zachary ever fathering children. He stood up, wiped the ball goop onto his pants and shouted out “Medics! Get him out of here,”
The door whooshed open and two men wearing plain white uniforms with red crosses on their backs, swooped in and — without making eye contact with anyone, picked up the still passed out Zachary and carried him out the door. The door slammed shut and locked again.
What seemed like a long time passed before a still visibly perturbed Admiral turned back to the 19 remaining cadets and said coolly “The thing about traitors is , you never know how deep the subversion goes…”
“Sir?” Cadet Costigan asked quizzically.
“You were all Zachary’s flat mates for years… but yet none of you were aware of his plotting? I — we — the Navy Council — find that hard to believe.”
“No! Sir, please…” one of the cadets pleaded, fully aware that his legs were trapped in the same exposed position as Zachary’s.
The Admiral ignored him and strode over to Cadet Costigan. Beads of sweat were forming on the dark haired young man’s forehead.
“Sir…”
THUD! The Admiral’s knee connected squarely with Costigan’s bulging crotch, taking knocking the wind out of him.
“Sir, I had… I had no idea… “
THUD! THUD!
Costigan was in tears, begging for mercy and spouting one piece of Federation propaganda after another in an attempt to prove his loyalty.
The Admiral seemed not to care as he knelt down and pulled Costigan’s pants to this knees. The young man’s balls were truly enormous, not even taking into account the mild swelling from the previous kneeing. They hung several inches, almost to his knees, in a loose hairless sack. His thick penis was an impressive six inches long even when totally flaccid.
The Admiral trapped Costigan’s left nut between his thumb and fingers, then did the same with the right, a move that had proven brutally efficient on Zachary, then proceeded to squeeze. Costigan screamed at the top of his lungs and struggled to close his legs, but they still felt as if they were made of lead. The Admiral grinned as he felt the virile orbs getting flatter… and flatter.. and flatter…
SQUICK!… POP!
Both orbs collapsed in rapid succession. “I guess bigger balls isn’t always stronger,” the Admiral joked “Zachary’s held out longer than yours and his were.. tenderized first.”
Costigan blacked out and slumped over, and the Admiral reached down and grasped the mushy sack in his fist. The right ball had totally blown apart, but the left felt like it was only split in half, like a huge grape. He proceeded to squeeze and grind, further turning the Cadet’s nuggets to paste until he was satisfied that Costigan too would no longer be able to father children.
“Alright, Cadets, only thirty-six more to go…” The Admiral announced to the room full of now openly panicking and screaming young men.
POP! SQUISH! SPLOSH! SQUICK! CRUNCH! POP! POP! SPLOSH!
The Admiral laid waste to eight more innocent, defenseless balls in short order, tiring his fist in the process. He was also growing bored with the ‘thumb maneuver’ even though it was proving surprisingly effective.
The Admiral took his place in front of the next cadet in line and grimaced. By now the whimpering, terrified red-headed twenty-something had already witnessed the gory destruction of six of his colleagues balls and knew there was nothing he could do to prevent begin the seventh victim. The young cadet’s pecs strained his uniform shirt, his powerful muscular arms stretched the fabric of his sleeves. Rippling muscles defined his legs through his pants. He was, by all measure, a perfect specimen on a Federation soldier. It was ironic that so many perfectly sculpted young men would have to live out the rest of their lives without balls – the ultimate symbol of masculinity– swinging between their muscular legs.
“Cadet Stevens.. what should we do with you? Were you in on the subversion?”
“N-n-no, no Sir, I swear I…” Stevens broke down into tears. He had already seen the previous four cadets mercilessly neutered despite begging and pleading and knew he would fair no better.
Without ceremony the Admiral pulled down Steven’s pants, exposing his walnut sized balls which were tight in their sack. The Admiral reached through the bush of fiery red hair and grabbed them. He squeezed mercilessly and felt the orbs mashing into each other in the bag. Stevens moans and screamed.
The Admiral attempted to tug the nuts but, to his pleasant surprise, found that they — unlike the other cadets — were quite taught. This gave him a sinister idea.
“How much can a strapping lad like you bench press?”
Stevens only whimpered.
“I bet those bulging muscles could lift hundreds of pounds,” without loosening his death grip on the doomed nuggets, the Admiral reached out with his free hand and gave Steven’s bulging biceps a squeeze. They were hard as rocks.
The Admiral sneered “Let’s see if other things are as good at holding weight…” with that the Admiral released Steven’s arm and proceeded to fall backward, stopped only by Steven’s taught ball sack as it was pulled painfully away from his body.
“I weigh almost three-hundred pounds, pure muscle…” said the Admiral, by now Steven’s nuts were pulled out nearly a foot and quickly turning red. The Admirals entire weight was being held up by the cadet’s defenseless balls and — with the position still in effect — Steven’s rock hard legs were keeping him upright.
“Ooooh! Please….!”
SPLOSH!
The force of three hundred pounds of muscle tugging on it in a free fall was too much for Steven’s right nut and it exploded. Now all of the weight was on the left ball.
THUD! The Admiral fell backward, landing on his back, his hand clutching Steven’s sack that had been pulled completely from his body. Stevens looked down in muted terror, not fully comprehending what had happened for a moment. Then the screams came, which were quickly muted by the Admiral ramming the bloody sack into Steven’s wide open mouth. The young man, bleeding heavily from the gaping hole in his crotch, passed out. The Admiral, considering these men were all wanted for high treason anyway, didn’t even bother to summon the medic to save Steven’s worthless life before he bled out.
“Whose next,” The Admiral asked mockingly, moving to the next cadet in line. There was a loud thud as Steven’s lifeless body crumbled to the floor, this dead muscles no longer locked in place by the nerve agent.
The Admiral locked eyes with the next cadet, a strappingly handsome young man with jet black hair and steely gray eyes.
“Sir, yes sir.” Cadet Wood said, his voice cracking slightly as he gave the customary salute.
The Admiral reached for the bulge in Cadet Wood’s pants and, for a moment, he hesitated squeezing. The Admiral knew full well that not every cadet in the room was a traitor, and was especially confident that Cadet Wood was as loyal as any Navy officer he’d ever served with. But orders were orders…
The Admiral commenced squeezing Wood’s egg-sized testicles through his pants, kneading and twisting them. Cadet Wood tried to maintain his composure as long as he could but finally let out a scream of pain.
“I’ll make this quick…”
The Admiral retrieved the pistol from his holster and, without fanfare positioned it so that the barrel was snugly against the bulge in Wood’s pants.
BOOM!
Cadet Wood’s testicles exploded into a gory mess as the powerful point blank bullet totally destroyed their target.
“Medic!”
The door opened again and the same white clothes medics ushered in and carried Cadet Wood out of the room.
When they were gone, the Admiral continued. “Well, I have four more bullets left…”
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Four more sets of huge, defenseless testicles were transformed from bulging, solid monuments of male power into gory mounds of ball goop. However, unlike Cadet Wood, these poor cadets were allowed to bleed out and collapse dead on the spot.
The Admiral checked his watch and sighed. “The toxin should be wearing off by now. And I have a meeting with the High Council, so here is what we’ll do.”
He approached the door which opened with a whoosh as he drew near “I’ll leave the rest of you alone and — whoever still has their balls in, say, the next hour will be spared. Banned from the Federation and forced to live with the savages in the Old Territories, but at least you’ll still be able to sire worthless children. The rest of you will be muscle-bound, nutless wonders in a slave camp.”
With that the Admiral marched out of the door which promptly closed and locked again. Several minutes passed and some of the remaining men could feel their legs returning to normal. The first to be able to move, albeit sluggishly, was a tall brown hair cadet named Wesley. His legs stung as if they had been asleep a long time, but at least he could move. He took the few labored steps to the cadet immediately to his right, who was still paralyzed, and proceeded to uppercut several times into the trapped man’s sack.
“Wesley! Please! It’s me, James! Aaah!”
WHAM! WHAM!… SPLAT!
Wesley could feel one of James’ nuts — one of his best friend’s orbs — explode under the wave of hits. But he didn’t care. There would only be one guy who escaped whole and…
WHAAAM!
Wesley crumpled to his knees holding his crotch. WHAM!
Another cadet had regained his ability to move and had delivered a devastating kick from behind right between Wesley’s legs
WHAM! THACK! CRUNCH!
More and more cadets regained their legs, mercilessly finishing off those who were still glued to their spot.
One cadet, Cadet Thad, found himself on the receiving end of four other cadets as they punched into his truly enormous, mounding sack one after another with their fists. Cadet Thad’s balls didn’t hold up long to the brutal quadruple attack. POP! SPLOSH!
The four boys went right to the next trapped cadet who begged and pleaded… CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
POP! SPLOSH! CRUNCH! SQUICK!
The Training Room was filled with inhumane screaming and howls and sickening, wet ‘popping’ sounds as cadet after cadet had their balls ruptured by the mob. Cadets who had just popped a set of nuts one moment found themselves — and their nuts — on the receiving end of another cadet’s boot the next. it was all out chaos. Best friends trashed each other’s nuts. Training buddies smiled maniacally as they felt the wet, satisfying crunch of a comrade’s nut bursting into pieces in the sack.
POP! SPLAT!
Now there were only two whole cadets left. Cadet Armstrong, limping after taking a series of particularly nasty blows to this right nut, approached Cadet Fredrick. Armstrong was a few inches taller and noticeably bulkier than Frederick, but Frederick — who had deflected most of the blind attacks on his nuts — was moving much better.
Armstrong lunched at Frederick but missed, landing on a heap of passed out cadet bodies. Frederick turned to jump on him but Armstrong had rolled over on his back and kicked out, landing a foot squarely on Frederick’s mounding crotch.
Frederick was winded and stumbled backward, but the weakened Armstrong’s kick was not as powerful as it could have been so he quickly recovered. Armstrong sprang to his feet, wincing from the pain radiating from his right nut and stumbled toward Frederick. Frederick, taken aback with how quickly Armstrong had recovered wasn’t prepared for Armstrong to lunge. Armstrong held Cadet Frederick in a powerful bear hug…
CRACK! One of Frederick’s ribs broke from the pressure causing Frederick to wail in pain. Armstrong smiled and pushed the dazed cadet to the ground. Frederick clenched his chest in agony, completely forgetting for a moment that his position - splayed on his back - left his crotch totally vulnerable.
STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!
Frederick’s howled and passed out as Armstrong continued to lay waste to the now totally defenseless crotch.
STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!
“You fucking traitor!” STOMP STOMP! SPLAT!
STOMP…STOMP…
SPLOSH!
Armstrong sighed in self-satisfaction as he felt the last whole ball in the room — other than his own — explode into goo under his boot. He took sick pleasure in grinding and stomping, totally mushing the remains of Frederick’s nuts….
Whoosh! The door opened and the Admiral entered. He looked about at the piles of dead, passed out and neutered boys and noticed Armstrong was still standing.
“Good show, Armstrong, good show.”
Armstrong barely noticed the Admiral had entered, his heart was pounding, his face flushed with a mix of rage and panic and his fists were clenched in anticipation of an attack that wasn’t going to come. The Admiral approached Armstrong tentatively, lest the cadet’s animal instincts kick in an he lunge.
“Now, let’s get you cleaned up and back in a proper uniform, Ensign Armstrong.”
Ensign? Armstrong was confused and the confusion must have been visible even across his primal, sweat drenched face.
“Yes, this whole exercise was just a population control maneuver. Zachary, for his part, was actually a traitor. The rest of you…” the Admiral looked out over the pile of ruined men before continuing.
“Federation resources are stretched… thin. We can’t keep feeding so many cadets and your numerous offspring. As we speak, these Thinning Out sessions are taking place all across the Federation. Those who make it through continue on. The losers…”
The Admiral looked down with distain at the so-called ‘worthy’ cadets who had been neutered so completely… “the others will just be sent off to labor camps in the Old Territories.”
Armstrong wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Sir, yes sir.”
The two left the room, the Admiral helping the still-limping Armstrong. It was a good day in the Federation.
So erotic
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