WARNING

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

Monday, December 30, 2013

The Photo Shoot Reloaded



This is a remix of my original story The Photo Shoot done by Jayce, whose blog can be seen here.
 
Travis Bradley dripped with confidence as he strutted toward the pair of steel and glass double doors. Whatever sense of intimidation or grandeur they were meant to convey was totally lost on his youthful arrogance. 
 
Travis was barely 19, though his height and sheer muscular mass made him look older. The 6 foot 5 stud packed over 320 pounds on his massive frame, an awe inspiring physique that had been perfectly sculpted from years of exercise and countless battles on the gridiron. The humongous football jock was positively bulging with muscle, from his bullish neck, yard-wide shoulders the size of large cannon balls, monumental chest, powerful guns, and washboard stomach to his massive muscle butt, columnar thighs, calves larger than footballs, and thick and meaty size 16 feet. The kid was the model of muscular perfection, and even the Greek gods would have looked upon his gargantuan physique with envy and lust. What was perhaps even more astounding was that he was still growing...and all without the benefit of steroids or other muscle enhancers. This young stud had some phenomenal genes indeed! 
 
The young man had strong and powerfully masculine features that were still caught in that magical age between boy and man. He was stunningly handsome like a comic book super hero, and he knew it. Travis had the casual arrogance of a man who was a gorgeous teen that had grown into an even more handsome man. His piercing, cornflower blue eyes melted hearts everywhere he went, and his chestnut brown hair was worn short in a stylish cut that only accentuated his manliness. 
 
Travis was a sophomore at the local university, which he attended on a full athletic scholarship. The young man had excelled at sports all through grade school and high school, so much so that talent scouts started following him when he was just 14. Considering that he was already 6 feet tall and over 220 pounds even at that young age, it was no surprise that he had attracted that much attention. Travis had excelled at every sport he tried out for -- baseball, wresting, soccer, track and field. He had even started powerlifting at the age of 15, and began setting state and national records by the age of 16. 
But his true love was football, and his favorite position was offensive lineman. Travis had led his team to the college championships in his freshman year, and at the same time established a new college record for the number of quarterback sacks in one season. Though there were men 100 or more pounds heavier than him, none were as strong as this teen titan, and he quickly earned a reputation as the most feared and respected lineman in college ball. People were already speculating regarding his draft choices in professional football, even though he was still three years away from graduating.
 
Travis was well on his way toward becoming a nationally known athlete, both for his spectacular strength and skill on the field and for his heart stopping good looks and Superman physique. All of this attention and notoriety had begun to lead to lucrative sponsorship and modeling contracts, and he was even toying with the idea of going into professional bodybuilding. The dirt poor kid from the Midwest was fast on his way toward becoming a huge financial success, a true rags to riches story. 
Though Travis was already landing covers and articles in the physique and bodybuilding magazines, he really wanted to make the crossover into mainstream modeling. Very few men of size had ever had much success in the mainstream modeling world, but Travis was convinced that his movie star looks would earn him a place among the male super models. 
 
That was why Travis was here in this swanky Long Beach neighborhood - he had heard through the grapevine that a world-renowned photographer lived and worked here. The man apparently took very few clients, but the proud football stud was not surprised when he contacted the man and he had agreed to meet with him. Travis' size and good looks had gotten him everything he wanted in life, so why not a photo shoot. 
 
Travis rang the bell and waited. The home before him was large and beautiful, the crown of a cul de sac rimmed with equally impressive homes. The street was awash in bright summer sunlight and not a single house had anything less than a Mercedes parked in its driveway. A woman was casually walking her designer toy dog in laps around the center island. The scene made Travis much more relaxed about meeting for a shoot in a private home, which he typically avoided. But, he figured, he likely wasn't going to find an ax murder lurking in this palatial home with ocean views, and he had heard many good things about this photographer. 
 
Just as Travis went to press the doorbell again the doors opened with a soft whoosh. On the other side was a handsome man with thick, dark brown hair and green eyes, who greeted Travis with a stunning smile and a surprisingly firm handshake. The man looked to be in his early to mid 30's, and his gray, tight-fitting t-shirt and orange board shorts did little to hide an impressive physique. Travis guessed him to be about 6 feet tall and perhaps 230 pounds of muscle. The photographer was a lot younger and way hotter than Travis was expecting. 
 
"I'm Paul, and you must be Travis Bradley. Please, come on in." 
 
Paul motioned as Travis squeezed his hulking mass into the entry way. It was a far cry from Travis’ uptown flat. A sculpture that looked very Greek was in an alcove, a chandelier hung regally from the ceiling. Light bathed the spacious living room from breathlessly tall windows that ran from the floor to the cathedral ceilings. Stone, leather and chrome were everywhere giving a modern appeal to the home. 
 
The two went through the customary greetings as Travis shared his modeling experience and Paul talked up his experience in shooting. Paul was clearly a professional photographer, and his photography equipment was state-of-the-art and extremely expensive. 
 
As they made their way to the sunroom in the back of the house, Travis was amazed by the view. Three of the walls were entirely glass with sweeping ocean views. Clearly there were advantages to being at the top of the cul de sac. 
 
Lights and other equipment were already setup and a curtain had been draped over the back window, blocking the bright sunlight and the views of the ocean. Travis figured this was probably as close to a traditional ‘wall’ this room had ever seen. A large and very thick pole resembling a lamp post, presumably some kind of stage prop, was setup in the middle of the room. Street signs were attached making it look like it was standing at the intersection of 52nd Street and Sunset Avenue. 
 
"So this photography session is actually free?" Travis asked, shocked that such an elaborate setup wouldn’t require a fee.
 
"Absolutely. I just want permission to keep some of the proofs. I've already earned enough money in my career that I no longer have to do photography for a living, so now it's more of a hobby than a career. I only take clients now that I personally find interesting or engaging." 
 
Paul handed Travis a handsome leather bound book filled with dramatic black and white photography. There were a few models, mostly men, in both classic and provocative poses, and some women showing off fashionable dresses on the beach. A few of the vista shots could have passed as Ansel Adams pieces. Paul's work was exquisite. 
 
"Shall we get started then?" 
 
Travis smiled in acknowledgement and approached the lamp post. He was wearing just a pair of tight fitting faded blue jeans that hugged his mighty thighs and showed off a massive crotch bulge, and a red t-shirt that clung to his chest and abs like a second skin and squeezed his huge biceps like a pressure cuff. No sooner had Travis knelt in front of the pole than the rapid string of flashes began. 
 
"Be casual!" Paul assured. 
 
Travis knew that an almost nonstop series of flashes marked professional photo shoots, but none of his previous work even came close to this. In addition to the camera in Paul's hands, there were other cameras set up throughout the room, apparently on some sort of automatic setting. Travis thought he saw a few video cameras among them as well. He was a bit intimidated at first, but quickly got into the rhythm. 
 
Paul moved from side to side with his camera, giving Travis hand gestures on how to tilt his head, which muscles to flex and which ones to relax, if he was smiling too much or not enough, and how to stand. About a half hour in, Paul stopped shooting and motioned for Travis to stand with his back to the post. Paul knelt down and motioned for Travis to stand with his legs wider apart. Travis complied and Paul aimed the camera upward, snapping several dramatic upshots as Travis looked off into the distance, the faux street signs visible in the frame. The position of his legs combined with the camera angle made Travis' crotch mound look even more impressive. 
 
Paul stood up and positioned Travis' head slightly to the right then, to Travis' surprise, proceeded to tussle his hair. Travis was about to say something when he felt Paul grab his shirt and rip it down the font, exposing his gargantuan pecs and washboard 8-pack of abs. 
 
"Look angry, but sexy," Paul instructed. Travis was initially more than a bit angry, but then he got into it, posing with his legs spread wide, his back against the post, and his torn shirt revealing his phenomenally muscular torso. 
 
Paul again took a break from shooting and instructed Travis to take off his shirt, which he did. Travis' muscles looked even more massive without the thin, clinging material of the t-shirt. The young man was now wearing only a pair of tight jeans that hugged and displayed every contour of his muscular thighs and ass, and showed off a crotch bulge that was so large as to appear almost comical. 
 
Travis' massive chest was starting to glisten with sweat from the intense studio lights. Paul came forward with a towel and stood in front of Travis' spread legs, presumably to dab away the sweat. But before Travis could react, Paul lifted his knee into the young man's unprotected crotch. 
 
Paul's knee came to a rest just barely touching the hulking bulge in the front of the young man's jeans. Travis pants left little to the imagination, especially up close, and the bulge of his cock and balls looked even more enormous. Paul could feel that his knee cap was squarely resting on Travis' lemon-sized right nut. 
 
Paul's and Travis' eyes locked, Travis' face a mixture of confusion, anger, and fear. 
 
"That! The expression right there. Do that again." Paul commanded with all the zeal of a Hollywood photographer, stepping away from Travis. 
 
Travis held the look of mild fear as the camera flashes began anew. This went on for a few minutes before Paul set the camera down and approached Travis. Remembering what happened last time, Travis' legs came together slightly. Paul smiled disarmingly and walked behind Travis. 
 
"Give me your hands, please." 
 
Without thinking, Travis put his hands around his back so they were wrapped behind the post. Paul took them and there was click. To Travis' mild terror, his hands were now clasped in a pair of handcuffs; he was stuck to the pole, and the awesome power of his massive arms was now stolen from him. Paul stood in front of Travis and looked him over admiringly. 
 
"Spread your legs a bit –" 
 
Travis timidly spread his massive legs again and Paul's knee again lifted. It connected slightly harder than the last time, but not very hard. It was however startling enough to make Travis gasp. Their eyes locked and Paul lowered his foot. Travis sighed in relief, but only for a moment before Paul's knee came up again, striking his big nuts still harder than the last time. 
 
This time Paul kept his knee pressed into Travis' bulge. Their eyes locked again and Travis' face was contorted in confusion and fear, making it strangely even more handsome. Paul's eyes examined Travis' face while his own face had a vaguely-disguised smirk. Paul started rubbing his knee cap into the massive bulge in a circular motion, increasing the pressure slightly. Travis winced, more from fear than pain, his huge balls compressing in his tight jeans. Travis had taken many a blow to the balls on the football field, so he knew how to endure a bit of nut pain, but the feeling of helplessness was something entirely new. 
 
"Dude, what the hell?" Travis asked in his very deep, baritone voice. 
 
Paul only responded by increasing the pressure on his knee briefly, lowering his foot, then brining his knee squarely into Travis' crotch – hard. Travis gasped in pain and surprise, and Paul could feel the bulge flatten somewhat under the impact. It was far from the hardest knee he could have delivered, but it was still a lot harder of a blow than Travis' boys were expecting. 
 
"That look! Keep that look!" 
 
Paul stepped away from Travis and picked up his camera. Travis, trying to stay professional and remembering that he was - after all - still in a safe, suburban area, did his best to keep his devil-may-care facial expression, despite a growing fear. 
 
"That's great!" 
 
Paul kept shooting blinding flashes of Travis as he walked behind him again. Before Travis realized it, Paul had knelt down and grabbed his ankles. Travis went to move his legs, but with surprising strength and speed, Paul was able to shackle Travis' ankles together behind the pole. Paul had taken advantage of Travis' surprise, unpreparedness, and overall trusting nature to fully restrain the powerful young man. 
 
Paul stood up and faced Travis. 
 
"Hey man, what's going…" 
 
Travis' question was interrupted by a sharp knee to the balls, this blow far harder than any that had come before. It was a blow that would have brought just about any man tumbling to his knees. Travis gasped and attempted to double, over but couldn't since he was firmly attached to the post. Paul paused and then raised his knee again three more times, each time harder than the last. With each blow, Paul could feel the mound in Travis' pants being compressed flatter and flatter. Despite the fact that Travis was frantically trying to close his massive legs, the jeans were so tight and kept the huge bulge so prominent that Paul had no problem staying on target. 
 
Travis' face was red and all of the muscles of his awesome body bulged mightily as he suffered wave after wave of brutal nut pain. "Please!" he gasped, "what do you…?” 
 
"There! That's it!" 
 
Paul abruptly stopped kneeing Travis' swelling manhood and resumed the frenetic photo taking. Travis’ face was now contorted in fear and pain, tears streaming down his handsome face while his chest heaved, now dripping with sweat. 
 
"That look! That's what my clients are looking for..." 
 
More camera flashes. Travis was in a world of hurt and confusion. He had abandoned trying to keep up the arrogant, haughty face of a fitness model and instead was pleading for Paul to let him go. His muscular body squirmed against the restraints. Paul stopped shooting and set his camera down. He left the room and Travis could hear him going upstairs. 
 
Several moments passed, and when Paul emerged he was holding a large wooden baseball bat. 
Travis' knees attempted to lock together and his struggling increased by an order of magnitude, but he was still firmly in place on the thick pole. Paul approached with deliberate care, taking time to bat the palm of his hand as he slowly approached. When he was within striking distance, Paul took a stand like he was at a batting cage, lining up the end of the bat over Travis' mammoth mound. Travis' nuts, which were unnaturally large to begin with, bulged even more obscenely with the swelling from the earlier abuse. Paul gave a few slow swings, gently tapping Travis' denim-clad balls at the end of each stroke, preparing for his full swing. 
 
"Batter up!" Paul cried as he swung the bat full force. It sailed through the air with an audible whoosh and Travis was sure his nuts would be cracked... but to his surprise the bat only collided gently with the vulnerable lump. 
 
"That look of terror! That's it!" Paul dropped the bat to the floor with a loud wooden thump, grabbed his camera, and proceeded to continue to photograph Travis for several more minutes. 
 
"Now we just gotta take these off..." Paul said as he walked up to Travis, and proceed to unbutton his faded jeans.
 
Travis screamed and pleaded as Paul struggled to get the jeans over the mound of Travis' enormous muscle ass and down a pair of thighs as thick as of oak trees. Paul just ignored the young man's pleas as he finally worked the tight jeans down to the stud's knees. 
 
Travis' white briefs were finally revealed, filled to near bursting with an awesome amount of cock and ball meat. Paul gasped in surprise and awe at the sheer enormous size of the young man's genitals. Rumors had long followed Travis about the massive size of his junk, but apparently the stories had actually UNDERestimated the truth.
 
Travis' fat horse cock was clearly outlined in the white briefs, over 8 incredible inches long completely soft and thick as a beer can, snaking up and across his chiseled left hip. The outline of each fist sized, swollen nut could also be clearly seen, now protected only by the thin cotton of his briefs. 
 
The massive balls looked incredibly heavy and inviting, and Paul couldn't resist the opportunity to fondle the huge nuts. Using both hands (as the twin bull balls filled one hand to overflowing), Paul gave a few experimental squeezes to Travis' huge nuts, and was surprised at their unusual hardness and density, for they barely deformed in his strong hands. He knew that these would be two very tough nuts to crack. 
 
"Mmm, looks like someone wants to play!" Paul said, moving his hands to grab Travis' thick monster cock through the thin fabric.
 
To Travis' surprise, his huge cock started to swell from excitement despite the pain radiating from his balls from the earlier abuse and the panic and confusion that was causing his heart to quicken. 
 
The stroking went on for several minutes, giving Travis' balls a welcome time to rest and recover. In no time, the young stud's thick cock was barely contained within the fabric, making a ridiculously oversize tent at the front of his briefs. Paul marveled at the enormous size of the young man's phallus, for it was clearly well over a full FOOT in length. 
 
Despite himself, Travis threw his handsome head back and was moaning at the surprisingly erotic sensations of the expert hand job. Paul noticed this and, without warning, thrust his hand inside Travis' shorts and grasped the achingly hot shaft. Precum had been oozing out of Travis' swollen mushroom head at such a rate that his briefs had developed a large wet spot. This precum also provided Paul with ample lube as his fist, wrapped tightly around Travis' throbbing cock shaft, pumped up and down its entire enormous length.
 
Paul marveled that his hand could barely wrap halfway around the massive trunk, and he realized that the young man's huge cock was actually thicker than the business end of the baseball bat lying at his feet. 
 
"Oh yeah..." Travis moaned, the pleasure from his cock almost entirely replacing the dull ache still coming from his battered nuts.
 
He could feel the beginnings of a massive orgasm starting to build in his muscular loins. 
 
Just as suddenly as Paul had started the hand job, he stopped. He stood back, looked at Travis in his dazed and sex-struck eyes and - without warning - slammed his knee three times into the young man's vulnerable and cotton-encased gonads.
 
The pain was incredible. Paul's hand job had gotten Travis' baby making juices flowing, swelling his nuts with his man cream. The extra liquid flooding his tender balls, along with the swelling from the earlier abuses, was already stretching the membranes holding Travis' package together to their breaking point. Paul's knee slams threatened to cross past that breaking point. 
 
Travis' massive cock quickly deflated as Paul's powerful knee continued to slam into Travis' bulging underwear, again and again and again and again. Travis cried and screamed and pleaded as his now ridiculously swollen balls were steadily turned into mush. His cock, which was still massive enough even when flaccid to flop over his balls, was also taking a terrible beating by Paul's knee. Travis was so lost in the tremendous pain that he barely noticed the flashing of lights around him. The cameras stationed on tripods and mounted on walls all around the room were capturing the destruction of his mighty nuts in living color. 
 
"Please..." Travis couldn't finish the plea, cut short by a powerful heave. 
 
Paul stepped back lest he be splattered by Travis' lunch, but Travis - keeping with a tip he had heard about never eating before a shoot - only dry heaved and coughed for a few moments, his chest heaving dramatically and his abs powerfully contracting most beautifully. After his victim had recovered, Paul stepped back from Travis a few feet. 
 
"Finally..." the thought was left unfinished, replaced instead by the worst pain Travis had ever felt in his young life.
 
With the strength and precision of an accomplished kick boxer, Paul’s foot collided into Travis' huge mound, extended at the end of an outstretched and muscular leg. 
 
Travis bellowed in agony, every massive muscle contracting in a futile effort to protect his tortured nuts. Travis' mammoth right nut had taken the blunt of the blow, and it radiated fresh waves of nauseating pain even after Paul's foot was retracted. 
 
Paul walked away from Travis and picked up his camera. He proceeded to circle Travis, snapping photos at a blinding speed and barking directions as if this were the most ordinary photo shoot in the world. The muscular young hulk was openly sobbing, pain pulsating from his battered manhood with each heartbeat. 

 The bizarre scene continued for twenty minutes, and Travis' organs had just started to settle back to a state of dull aching when Paul set down his camera and approached. He made a passing comment about lighting and shadows, but Travis was far beyond the realm of engaging in idle chit chat. When Paul stood in front of Travis, the defeated young football hunk immediately resumed pleading in his now hoarse and husky voice, trying to make eye contact, trying desperately to forge empathy with the monster standing before him. 
 

"We have to get these off for the last scene change," Paul said, grabbing Travis' underwear with both hands and proceeding to rip them to shreds. Travis' oversized genitals tumbled free, looking even more massive and masculine than before. 
 
Travis looked down with horror at his mangled nuts. They were clearly still whole, but swollen to nearly twice their normal size. They has started off the day the size of the largest of lemons, certainly among the largest human nuts on the planet, but were now the size of ripe grapefruit. They were bright red from the brutal pummeling, and the right one was starting to turn an alarming shade of purple. They hung amazingly low, both from their own enormous weight and the heat in the room, and they swayed gently at the end of their huge scrotum a full 4 inches from his crotch. 
 
His big flopping horse cock also showed bruising, but was still a magnificent specimen. Travis was terrified that the crazy photographer was going to destroy his spectacular manhood. 
 
To Travis' surprise, however, Paul dropped almost reverently to his knees and swallowed all 8+ inches of Travis' soft bull cock. With masterful skill, he sucked and milked Travis' monster cock as it involuntarily swelled. It was only a few minutes before the stud's super cock was rock hard model and pulsing in Paul's throat. Travis' beautiful blue eyes were wide with surprise, for no one had ever managed to deep throat his entire cock before - it was simply too big. 
 
There was a clearly visible bulge in Paul’s throat as he gobbled up and down on Travis' swollen knob. Travis' balls rolled with yet more baby batter, which only added to his pain. Despite the fact he was getting what was undoubtedly the most skilled blow job in his young life, all Travis could comprehend was the tremendous pain radiating from his bruised and battered balls. For Travis, Paul no longer existed. The stately home, the perfect cul de sac, simply vanished to him. Nothing existed but panic and pain. 
 
Paul slowly pulled the mighty horse cock out of his throat, watching as inch after glistening, spit-soaked inch of the massive shaft came into view. Paul kept one hand clenched around the root of that awesome shaft as a seemingly endless length of hot man cock came out of his mouth. Finally, the apple-sized head popped wetly out of his mouth, and Paul was able to get his first clear look at Travis' hard monster cock. He had to scratch his earlier estimation of the cock's size, for it was WELL over a foot in length. In fact, Paul now guessed that the mighty penis was at least 14 inches in length, possibly even larger. 
 
"Damn, boy! There's nothing small on you, is there?" Paul said, the lust clearly evident in his voice.
 
He waggled the steel-hard cock in the air a couple of times, astounded by its size and power, and said, "This has got to be the granddaddy of all cocks!"
Paul stood up and released his grip of Travis' mammoth cock and said, "Good. Now stroke it. I want to see you cum."  
 
Both men were dripping with sweat from the oppressive studio lights. Paul was also sweating with the excitement of having this incomparable young bull stud literally by the balls. He had never seen such a spectacular specimen of pure, raw, masculine power and beauty in his life, and here he was, completely helpless and at Paul's tender mercies. His own not inconsiderable cock was rock hard in his shorts, and threatening to cum without him even touching it. 
 
Paul walked behind Travis and freed his right hand from the handcuffs, locking his left hand once again to the thick pole. Travis was too dazed to fully comprehend what was happening. Paul spit in Travis' hand and placed it on his now throbbing rod. 
 
"Now, stroke, Travis. Look hot for me." 
 
At first, Travis was too out of it to comply. His hand ran the length of his cock weakly, barely keeping its hold. This went on for several minutes, while Paul impatiently barked out orders like "Look this way!" and "Turn your head!" Paul set down the camera with force and stormed out of the room. Travis could hear Paul rummaging through the large, echoing house. In his haze, Travis wasn't able to estimate how long Paul was gone, but it must not have been long enough for his cock to lose interest; it was still rock hard and pulsating as if blissfully unaware of the mortal danger it and the rest of its package was in. 
 
When Paul finally emerged, he was rolling in an odd looking contraption. Travis, who was desperately trying to regain his wits, stared at the machine. Whatever it was, Paul was obsessively positioning it just right. When it was in position, he stepped out of the way so that Travis could fully see what it was. 
 
Travis' eyes bulged in terror and he let out a howl of fear. A wave of such intense panic went through him that he instantly found himself lifted entirely from his haze and painfully aware of his situation. Paul had positioned a baseball pitching machine across the room. Travis could hear the motor humming quietly, the mechanism making an occasional clicking sound. 
 
"Please, please don't..." 
 
"In a moment, I'm going to start the final shoot. I want to see you stroke that big cock of yours and blast a load. I'll bet with nuts the size of melons, you pack quite a wallop. But I don't want it to take all day, so in order to incentivize you finishing quickly... " Paul paused. 
 
He pushed a button on the machine and a baseball went sailing, colliding with fantastic force into Travis' stomach. Despite the solid wall of corrugated muscle protecting his gut, Travis felt the wind knocked out of him, and he knew that the machine was turned to close to full power. He had practiced using such machines many times in his life, and so he knew that the baseballs were being launched at 125 to 130 miles per hour. 
 
"Oops, too high." Paul adjusted the device and fired again.
 
The second ball hit Travis in the belly again, perhaps an inch or so lower than before, again striking with stinging, pummeling force. Paul kept making adjustments and launching baseballs, clearly toying with his prisoner, slowly creating a line of red marks down the length of Travis' phenomenal abdominal muscles. Travis flexed his gorgeous abs with each blow, protecting his gut and causing the ball to bounce harmlessly off of him, but he knew that there was nothing he could flex to protect his vulnerable groin. 
 
Paul made yet another adjustment, and the next ball landed right at the base of the underside of Travis' rock-hard cock, right where the thick cock met the silky scrotum. Travis cried out in fresh pain as the baseball struck him with a beefy smack. His entire cock shuddered with the force of the blow, and flexed even harder in his big hand. A second ball followed, and a third and a fourth and a fifth, all striking the base of that mighty tower of manflesh. Amazingly, Travis' cock didn't wilt in the slightest, but if anything swelled even larger under the abuse. 
 
Paul knew it was time to get down to serious business, so he made another series of careful adjustments, and then launched the next ball. 
 
This time the aim was dead on. The baseball hit Travis' swinging bull balls with a wet thud, crushing the vulnerable organs against the thick steel pole and using it as a sort of a backstop. The impact was biased toward the right, and that nut was stinging especially. The baseball had barely bounced off and hit the ground when the delayed pain hit Travis. He let go of his cock and cradled his nuts in his free hand, letting out a mighty bellow that surely could have been heard a mile away. He was crying and screaming in an inhuman manner, clutching at his wounded balls with his massive hand. His balls were now so swollen that even his oversized paw couldn't contain all of that meat, and the huge balls bulged between his clenching fingers. 
 
"Where was I. Ah yes, to give you an incentive to finish before the auto-cameras run out of film, I'm going to fire a ball every thirty seconds or so until something blows..." 
 
Travis' face froze in fear. He glanced over at the masts holding the automated cameras. An occasional burst of light escaped the flashbulbs behind them. 
 
Travis totally ignored his raging cock and instead kept his hand firmly over his balls. 
 
"I wouldn't do that if I were you..." 
 
A ball went flying, crashing squarely into Travis' hand, which did little to block the force over the blow. Had it not been for the restraints, Travis would have doubled over in intense pain as his balls were literally crushed by his own hand. Despite every instinct telling him to keep his hand on his swollen balls, he stopped his futile effort to protect his boys and got to work on his cock. 
He tried desperately to think of the hottest sexual images you could think of. He replayed Paul's blow job, hoping to work out a load, but it was of marginal use. No sooner as he felt a load starting to build another baseball and then another and another came crashing with deadly accuracy into his defenseless nuts. The pain was unreal, and Travis was having a difficult time trying to focus on anything erotic. 
 
The studio was filled with the din of the machine's motor, the pop of flashing lights, the wet slurping sound of the young muscle stud's hand pistoning his huge cock, and the inhuman grunting and screaming of Travis. By the eleventh ball, Travis' dick started to become limp, not from lack of trying, but the sheer distraction of having his huge baby makers slowly turned into baby food. The slight misalignment that was biasing the baseballs to strike Travis' right nut were causing that ball to swell dangerously. It was hanging heavier in the sack than the left one and was throbbing constantly.
 
Every time Travis jerked his cock, the tugging on his sack only inflamed the right ball more. 
 
BAM! Another ball struck. Travis knew his right nut was about to burst. How much more could it take…? The sound the baseballs made on impact was turning into more of a wet splat, and the pain in the right ball was orders of magnitude greater than the left; which itself wasn't exactly being spared. Travis' panic grew, knowing his manhood was about to be ended and he forced himself to jerk. His cock was just starting to perk up again when... 
 
BAM! BAM! BAM! Three balls in rapid succession came crashing into the Travis' swinging spuds. His right nut was turning a deep purple. Most alarmingly, it was turning numb... 
 
BAM! 
 
Travis bit his lip and started jerking profusely. He focused every ounce of conviction he could muster to think of the hottest sexual images he could conjure. His imagination worked in overdrive, filling his hormone-and-pain washed brain with images of football jocks joined in cum-splattering daisy chains, cum dripping off the faces of the hottest celebrities he could think of, the feeling of having a huge cock ramming into his ass. The imagery was working. 
 
BAM! 
 
Travis kept jerking, and he could feel his balls starting to roll. This load was close. He recalled the image of a twink 'water boy' he'd bedded the other week, his face and upper body drenched in Travis' thick cum as he looked worshipfully at the huge muscle stud. His cock surged with blood, growing even larger than before. It was rock hard and - as if it suddenly became aware of its mission - was close to blowing. 
 
BAM!! BAM!! BAM!! 
 
Another three ball volley, this time striking with considerably more force. Paul had toggled the machine's settings to an even higher gear, increasing the speed and force of each baseball. Travis could no longer feel his right nut, now swollen to absolute bursting. The left was turning beet red and was starting to hang lower in the sack as well. "If I don't blow this load, my balls are gonna..." 
 
BAM!!! 
 
"Come on! Come on!" Travis coaxed himself in his head, fighting a growing sense of panic as he tried to find his nut. "If I don't cum, my balls are gonna be turned to mush! They're gonna pop like grapes!" 
 
Suddenly, and quite to his surprise, Travis felt his cock twitch violently and his pace of stroking quickened. It was the type of response that usually came while he was being bent over a table and plowed by a hung stud, like the beefy Latin wrestler who bent him over a table a few weeks ago, plowing so far into Travis that his big heavy Latin nuts slammed into Travis' ass with each thrust. 
"My balls are going to be turned to mush! They're gonna splatter like two huge cracked eggs" 
 
BAM!!! 
 
The force of the baseballs continued to grow, and Travis' stroking continued to intensify. "Oh crap, my balls are gonna pop! They're gonna POP!!" 
 
Suddenly, Travis was no longer concentrating on cum-glazed jocks or getting fucked to work up his sex juices. He was getting turned on by the prospect of having his massive gonads turned into paste. It was the strangest, and hottest, stimulant he'd ever encountered. The pain radiating from his balls was turning him on, and the prospect of having one mushed was strangely and enormously erotic. 
 
BAM!!!
 
Travis stroked faster and faster, his cock twitched... 
 
"Oh shit! I'm cumming!" Travis screamed as he threw his head back, his brown hair matted to his forehead from sweat. 
 
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! 
 
Multiple balls with virtually no delay between them laid waste to Travis' dangerously swollen manhood. 
 
Then, with a power and ferocity Paul had never seen before, four thick ropes of semen shot out of the young man's cannon of a cock. Travis looked down in amazement as cum exploded from his jerking cock like thick ropes of pearlescent silly string. The 'shortest' distance handedly cleared seven feet, while the most powerful blast actually struck Paul's pant legs, more than a dozen feet away! 
 
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! 
 
Two more ropes of cum shot out with even greater volume and intensity, striking Paul in the chest and belly and painting vividly white stripes across his gray shirt. 
 
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! 
 
Travis could feel his bull balls beginning to crumble, even as another pair of cum blasts rocketed from his cock. 
 
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! 
 
Travis' swollen balls were visibly quivering in their bruised and battered sac with each terrible blow, making them look like they were more liquid than solid. But those mighty lava factories were indeed still whole, which they proved by pumping out yet another pair of cum blasts, each as massive and powerful as the first. Even after blasting out the ten most massive ropes of cum that Paul had ever seen, Travis' already world record shattering load showed no signs of decreasing. 
 
Paul could tell that Travis' balls were gravely weakened, however, and he knew that they were near the breaking point. He turned up the machine's power yet again, and let loose with another volley of baseballs. 
 
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! 
 
Travis bellowed in unimaginable agony as his balls were forced to absorb each new blow, with no time in between to recover. Each baseball was now striking his swollen gonads with such awesome force that the huge orbs were crushed nearly flat, and were actually bending around the curve of the steel lamp post. Surely no man's balls, no matter how colossally huge and meaty, could take this much abuse! 
 
Yet another pair of cum blasts rocketed from his thundering cock, making an even dozen wads thus far. The volume of cum stored in those twin nuggies was truly astounding. Paul was stunned to feel the first rope of cum slash across his forearm and his face, and he moved his camera out of the way just in time before the next wad splashed across his chest and shoulders. This kid was a sex GOD! 
 
BAM!!!
 
The baseball careened into Travis' balls with a very wet splat, and the young man was certain his balls would explode at any moment. At the same time, a massive gout of cum erupted from his cock, joining its brothers in painting yet another thick white line of goo between him and his evil tormentor.
 
BAM!!!
 
Travis could actually hear the baseball strike the pole behind him - THROUGH his balls - making a clanging sound that reverberated up the steel pole. His balls felt like they had been reduced to liquid nut guts, but they proved their strength yet again by sending out two more massive gouts of sperm. 
 
BAM!!! 
 
Spurt!
 
BAM!!! 
 
Spurt!!
 
BAM!!! 
 
Spurt!!! 
Both of Travis' nuts were now a vivid purple, and were swollen to the size of small cantaloupes. The pain radiating from his crumbling balls was truly unimaginable, and Travis knew that his huge balls, the source of incredible manhood and understandable pride, were at their breaking point. His mighty gonads had already endured a beating that would have burst another man's balls a dozen times over, but even his mighty bull balls had their limits. 
 
With terror racing through his body, Travis mustered all of his remaining strength to fight against the steel restraints binding him hand and foot to the lamp post. His gargantuan muscles bulged mightily, creating an awesome display of masculine power and beauty...but to no avail. The shackles binding him at wrist and ankle were simply too thick and too strong for the mighty football jock to break. 
 
BAM!!! 
 
BAM!!! 
 
BAM!!! 
 
Another almighty wad of sperm erupted from Travis' massive cock causing Paul to leap aside yet again to avoid being painted with another coat of man cream white wash. The load splashed to the ground another six or eight feet beyond Paul, reaching a distance of almost 20 feet from the gorgeous young muscle hunk. 
 
More cum oozed out of Travis' huge cock like a leaking faucet. His orgasm had already lasted more than a minute, and a considerable pool of spunk had formed beneath the handsome young stud, with more of the hot, white goo pouring out of his cock all the time. Paul watched as an unnaturally large, thick rope of sperm hung from Travis' bloated cock head, forming a thick, cream colored, unbroken column of liquid that stretched down from his still raging cock for nearly two feet. 
 
The cum rope hung suspended for several moments, jiggling on the end of the young man's quivering penis as he moaned and screamed in pain and pleasure. 
 
BAM!!! 
 
The rope was broken as another baseball tore through it on its way to its target. The sound was deafening. Travis' right nut, which had been the focus of so much abuse, just couldn't take it. 
Everything happened in what seemed like slow motion. The baseball got drenched in cum as it tore through the hanging cum rope, traveled the remaining 14 inches to Travis' balls in an instant, and collided squarely with his right nut not with a thud but with a painfully audible wet ‘pop’. At that same moment, another wad of cum, Travis' 20th blast of sperm, shot out with the greatest force and volume yet seen, perhaps propelled with even greater power by the bursting of one of his mammoth nuts. 
 
Travis' moans of ecstasy stopped. His handsome head jerked forward and his eyes bulged, his mouth fixed in a noiseless 'O' and his face frozen in a mask of surprise and agony. The veins on his massive, bullish neck bulged and his chiseled abs rippled as every muscle in his massive body tensed. 
 
BAM! 
 
The final baseball was launched at maximum power, and finished the job the previous one had started. Travis' big, swollen, and vulnerable right ball, already cracked by the previous baseball, blew apart in the sack. Travis's thunderous, mind-blowing orgasm ceased immediately as his right ball lost its healthy orb-like shape, the beefy nut guts bursting out of their shell into the surrounding scrotum. The right side of Travis' scrotum now looked like it contained a shapeless water balloon. The left ball still maintained its healthy egg shape, but was swollen to such a great size that it was clearly not in much better condition. 
 
Though only a brief second actually transpired between the instant Travis went from being a virile, muscular young super stud with the two largest bull balls in the world to a defeated stack of muscles with half a sac, to Travis it seemed like an eternity. His mouth was still locked in an 'O', his brain too overwhelmed to generate the appropriate response... 
 
"OH GOD!!!" Travis bellowed, followed by incoherent howls of terror and pain. 
 
Paul turned off the machine, noting with awe that it took a total of 54 baseballs to reduce one of Travis' bull balls to mush, more than twice that of the previous record holder. Paul approached Travis, being careful not to step in the huge streamers and ribbons of cock spew that stretched for more than 20 feet in front of the young muscle god. The sheer volume of spunk on the floor and painting Paul's own body was truly mind boggling. He estimated that Travis had just blown more than a QUART of man milk, and he struggled to grasp how even balls of such enormous size as those possessed by Travis could have stored so much sperm. 
 
He grabbed Travis' rapidly swelling sack and fondled it roughly. The left nut, though swollen nearly as big as a melon, was still solid and intact. Its earlier hardness and density was a thing of the past, however, and Paul found that his fingers could now clench easily into the very heart of the young man's remaining manhood. Paul realized that it wouldn't take much to burst Travis' one remaining ball, and considered doing it right then and there, bursting the huge orb in his hand like and overripe fruit. 
 
Instead, Paul switched his attention to the mess on the right side of the sac. It could hardly be called a 'ball' anymore. The testicular remains were very soft and squishy, with one central mass and several smaller chunks all floating in a liquid mush. The abused testicle had literally blown to pieces with the horrific force of the final baseball. Paul grinned as the restrained stud continued to convulse and screech as he mauled and groped Travis' ruined right ball. 
 
Paul released the young man's brutalized nutsackand walked behind him, unlocking the restraints that bound him to the lamp post. Travis immediately dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, sobbing and clutching his ruined and mauled ballsack 
 
Through his haze of pain, Travis could see daylight spilling into the entry hall, and like a wounded animal he began to crawl on all fours toward it. He passed a stately statue of Greek inspiration sitting on a pedestal. He rounded an Italian leather couch. Such stately and civilized surroundings hardly seemed to blend with the savagery of a crippled young stud literally crawling to safety. 
 
Paul, who was slipping his phone back into his pocket after sending a text, looked down at Travis. In Travis' pain-wracked mind, he had made significant progress toward the door. In actuality, he'd gone only a dozen feet. Paul walked behind him slowly and noticed that Travis' half ruined sack was dangling exceedingly heavy and low between his massive legs like a piece of ripe fruit. The target was entirely too tempting to ignore... 
 
"OH CHRIST!" Travis screamed at the top of his lungs as Paul's foot collided full force with his hanging man fruit. 
 
Paul’s leg had collided with Travis' defenseless package with such tremendous force that all 320+ pounds of offensive lineman was literally lifted from the ground by several inches. His right ball was further mashed and his left nut was on the verge of cracking. His beautiful, veiny cock, hanging heavy and still half hard, was turning purple and swelling from the abuse.
 
Travis, too stunned and pained to go forward, toppled over and mercifully passed out... 

****************************************************************************
Kyle Bradley rang the bell and waited. The home before him was large and beautiful, the crown of a cul de sac rimmed with equally impressive homes. The street was shadowed by a slight autumn overcast and not a single house had anything less than a Mercedes parked in its drive way. A woman was casually walking her designer toy dog in laps around the center island. The scene made Kyle much more relaxed about meeting for his first ever photo shoot in a private home. But, Kyle figured, he likely wasn't going to find an ax murder lurking in this palatial home with ocean views, and besides, his big brother had sent him a letter singing the guy's praises a couple of months ago. 
Several moments passed with ostensibly no response. Kyle checked the scrap of paper he was carrying to confirm the address:

 Paul's address;
2121 Poseidon Vista Road
You'll Love this Guy,
Love Travis!
 

Just then, the doors opened with a soft whoosh. On the other side was Paul, a very handsome man in his early to mid 30's with a charming, disarming smile...

Monday, December 16, 2013

The Federation: Discato


ENTERING THE JAYCE CONFEDERACY

Lieutenant Commander Armstrong sighed as he caught a glimpse of the sign announcing he had left the comfort and familiarity of The Federation and had entered the Jayce Confederacy.   He blinked hard and continued to stare blankly out of the maglev train's window.  As the train went forward, it seemed as if he was going backward in time, the passing scenery free of gleaming, impossibly tall buildings and other hallmarks of the Federation.

The forty-five year old Lieutenant Commander had ascended the ranks of the Federal Navy with marked alacrity and had gained a name for himself for his ruthlessness -- even by Federation standards.  But with every step up in rank came less and less exposure to far flung battlefields and more time in the Federation capitol, being entanglement in the sticky politics of the Federation.  The state had been slackening its iron tight -- and expensive -- grip on outlying territories for a generation and was now haphazardly trying to establish ties with areas that had once been enemies. 

Armstrong cracked his knuckles as he considered that just a few years ago the Jayce Confederacy wasn't even recognized as a state at all, just a rag-tag group of 'rebels' that ought to be exterminated. But here he was on a goodwill mission to spend two weeks at their military academy; the same academy that he had once been taught did nothing but crank out brain washed rebels.  The other five cars of the train were filled with Federation engineers  eager to share technology to rebuild the civilization their own weapons had destroyed.  The Media Bureau had even sent a crew to film "A New Dawn: Peace With Jayce".  How times had changed...

"L'Angeles Station" a voice announced over he train's intercom. 

Armstrong awoke from a nap to find that the train had come to a stop in a noisy and disgustingly primitive station.  He looked across the officers' car at Commander Parker and Lieutenant Wood the two other officers who were along for this excursion.  All three rolled their eyes as the sickening realization that they were actually in the heart of the Jayce Confederacy set in. 

The media reporters and engineers met their Jayce counterparts and were off almost immediately after the train had stopped, leaving the three officers waiting on the platform.  Years ago, the station had been converted into an open air bizarre, the Federation train being the first to actually use the station for nearly a century.

Armstrong, Parker and Wood stood on the bustling platform of the open air train station.  Overhead the ruined, steel skeletons of skyscrapers that had been destroyed in wars long ago teetered against the bright blue sky.  The three Federation officers looked starkly out of place amongst the disheveled city dwellers. All three were dressed in their form fitting white regalia uniforms, they were all around five foot eight and quite muscular, their handsome faces topped off with neatly styled hair cuts.  It was a far cry from the city's natives who looked as if they had hadn't seen a photonic shower, let along clean clothes, in some time.

"Welcome to L'Angeles," came a booming, but young, male voice speaking in broken Federation.
The three turned to see a handsome Jayce officer in a neatly pressed black uniform standing before them.  He was very muscular, but -- like everyone else in the station, relatively short.  He had bright white, stylishly spiked short hair and gray eyes that contrasted with his tan skin.  His young face was scarred and rugged, yet still genuinely warm and inviting.  Armstrong couldn't help but let his eyes wander up and down the young man's tight, muscular frame that was clearly visible through his otherwise unexceptional uniform.

"Ah! You speak Federation," Armstrong started, sighing in relief to himself as his English was terrible.

"Yes, everyone is learning it now that we  have relations with The Federation again,  I'm Major Donald Kent, pleased to meet you."

Major Kent held out his hand to the bewilderment of the three Federation officers. After a few moments he grinned and reached for Armstrong's strong hand.

"It's called a hand shake, It's a greeting."

Despite keeping a nearly expressionless face - a hallmark of Federation officers -- Armstrong felt his heart flutter as he shook the Major's calloused, firm grip.  Kent was exceptionally handsome and Armstrong was finding himself getting lost in his storm-cloud colored eyes. Armstrong wasn't entirely sure how long to keep shaking Kent's hand, so just kept doing it until the smiling Major withdrew his hand. 

Two other Jayce officers, both considerably older and seemingly of much higher rank than Kent, had joined the others on the platform and they, Commander Parker and Lieutenant Wood   were introducing themselves, their voices high with self importance.

Armstrong pretended to be interested in the seemingly endless pleasantries, but could hardly break eye contact with Major Kent.  Kent was beautiful and friendly and articulate. Armstrong couldn't tell if the coy smiles and nods Kent was giving him were reciprocation for his lusting or his misreading of Jayce's unfamiliar customs.  Regardless, Lieutenant Commander Armstrong could feel his cock stiffen within his tight Naval uniform as his mind wandered.

"So, I hear you would like to see our cadet training facilities?"  one of the older Jayce officers asked Armstrong.

Armstrong, who realized he had drifted out of the conversation, abruptly turned toward the officer and smiled.

"Yes, I would like that very much,"  he responded sincerely. 

During the era when Jayce was a sworn Federation enemy, Armstrong had developed an ambivalent relationship toward the Jayce soldiers he had faced -- and slaughtered -- in campaigns.  He loathed them on principle thanks to years of propaganda yet couldn't help but admire them as fellow warriors in their own right.  Despite being woefully behind in technology and manpower, the Jayce Confederacy had managed to survive as the only other functioning nation  --and a thorn in the side of the Federation -- for more than a a century.  While one free republic after another folded as the Federation marched across the contents, the Jaycians setup and maintained a rebel network that was always just slightly ahead of them.  Even the most callous Federation officer had to admire the bravery and ethos these 'primitives' had against such impossible odds.

Armstrong was excited to see what kind of training Confederate cadets went through that made them such effective adversaries.

"Well, please allow me to give you a tour of one of our facilities,"  Major Kent said smiling.

"Thank you. Lead the way," 

Armstrong was glad to be free of the pompous conversation as he followed Kent off the platform and into a waiting shuttle car.

It took Armstrong a while to get accustomed to the sensation of riding in a wheeled vehicle, as opposed to one that hovered slightly off the ground. 

"I'm sorry for the rough ride," Kent said laughing, finding an ironic humor in watching the pampered Federation officer get accustomed to his primitive way of life.

The car left the ruins of L'Angeles and traveled along winding foothills for nearly an hour, hardly seeing any signs of civilization.   In different circumstances, the Lieutenant Commander would have thought Major Kent was setting him up for a rebel ambush.  But it was clear that wasn't at all what was happening.  Major Kent was as fiercely loyal to the Jayce Confederacy as Armstrong was to The Federation, a true warrior at heart, but it was obvious in his manner that the young man was infinitely relieved that peace had finally arrived.  Kent was strikingly good spirited, warming up the usually aloof Armstrong enough to make the Interleukin Commander actually crack a few smiles.  Even though there was plenty of seats in the car, Armstrong was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Kent, and could feel the young man's muscular shoulder and thighs as they brushed against his.  Armstrong's heart was pounding as he tried not to come across to forward to the Major who admitted to only being 35 years old.

"If I'm correct, major is the same rank here as lieutenant commander is in the Federation. Thirty-five is pretty young for such a promotion."

Major Kent's gray eyes hardened slightly.

"Well, we don't tend to live as long as you do in the Federation.  The radiation..."

Kent ran a hand through his white hair and Armstrong was instantly struck by the realization that the reason Kent -- and everyone else in Jayce -- had white hair and gray eyes was because of residual radiation from Federation weaponry.   Armstrong, feeling uncharacteristically awkward, lowered his head and fell silence.  Kent seemed to notice the sobering mood and quickly smiled again.

"War is a bitch, Commander." Major Kent laughed, giving Armstrong a playful punch to the shoulder.

"Ah, we're here."

The car pulled into a meadow, what had been the parking lot of a now badly decayed pre-Federation shopping mall. One hundred years without maintenance had allowed the exterior walls to collapse in several places, the gaps filled in with large trees.

M  - A  - C - Y - S.  Armstrong scratched his head at the site of the large glyphs on the side of the building, still visible through the encroaching vines.  He was far from a history buff, but couldn't help but wonder what they meant.

When they entered the building , Armstrong was amazed to see it was in much better condition than it appeared to be.  What had once been the mall's broad walkways had been replaced with paved roads, though the decorative fountains at intersections remained intact and were actually still pumping water.  Overhead, a seemingly infinite number of bright glowing orbs gave the training facility the look of perpetual daylight. 

Major Kent explained how they had converted malls, the ruins of suburban homes and other pre-Federation buildings into military bases because the Federation rarely bothered targeting ancient ruins.   This particular shopping mall's shops had long ago been replaced with dormitories, training areas and weapons caches on all three of the mall's levels.  All around was the hustle and bustle of vehicles and people moving about.  A line of cadets jogged passed them as they marched in formation toward what had once been the food court.

Armstrong spent the day with Kent exploring the facility and was impressed at the  level of sophistication the Jaycian military had been able to maintain during such a long war.
Outside night was falling, though inside the compressed military base was still abuzz.  Armstrong and Kent found themselves standing outside of a department store that had been divided into row upon row of double-stacked dormitories.

"Well sir, I must say I am thoroughly impressed,"  Armstrong said sincerely.

"Thank you. I'm glad you liked it Matthew."

Armstrong rose his eye brow.  He had gone by his rank and last name for so long he almost forgot what his first name sounded like aloud. He'd told Kent his name in passing, not thinking the formal Major would actually use it.

"Would you like to come in? Not everyone in Jayce is excited to have Federation soldiers strolling around. The roads may not be safe after dark,"

Armstrong nodded and followed Kent to one of the nondescript dormitories. It was tiny, barely large enough for the small bed and dresser, but for Major Kent it was home.  It was a humbling, far cry from the soaring arcologies most Federation citizens called home.

Once inside, Armstrong noticed the room was so cramped that no matter where he stood he was almost always less than a meter away from Kent. Major Kent unceremoniously started stripping out of his uniform. Armstrong flushed with embarrassment as Kent stepped out out his pants, letting his sweaty, smooth genitals flop out.

"What's wrong, Matt?"  Kent asked quizzically, "Don't tell me you sleep in your uniforms in the Federation."

"No, it's just we usually wear pajamas,"

"Pajamas?"  Major Kent looked genuinely puzzled, mispronouncing the word as if he had never heard it before.

Armstrong was about to explain the concept, when he decided against it.  Instead he peeled off his uniform in silence.  The two men stood naked and facing each other.  Armstrong could feel his heart pounding and knew his face was turning red.  He ran a hand through his graying but still bright red hair and swallowed hard. Major Kent's body was absolutely perfect. A flawless testament to the male form.  His frame was tight and muscular from his mounding pecs, down his washboard stomach and his thick thighs.  He was moderately hairy except for his nut sack which was shaved smooth.  Armstrong couldn't help but stare at the heavy, bulbous  testicles and ridiculously thick cock that swung between Kent's legs.

Armstrong was in excellent shape himself, though years of giving orders from a desk had softened his abs a bit. Like Kent, Armstrong's body was moderately hairy, his rusty hair contrasting with his pale skin.  His arms were still very thick, as he liked to work his biceps to make sure his grip was always strong enough to utterly crush a man's testicles in his bare hands; a favorite interrogation technique.  As he looked at Kent's nuts, he couldn’t help but wonder if they too would have ended up in his grasp had things not worked out so well between Jayce and The Federation.  His mind wandered; could he have brought himself to burst such perfect gonads? Especially when they were attached to such a beautiful man?

"Matt, I'm glad I got assigned to you. You've made quite a name for yourself. We call you the Crushing Commander,"

Armstrong flushed with embarrassment and his cock started to twitch. Kent noticed and licked his lips, taking a step toward the commander. 

"So how many of these do you think you've crushed?"

Kent grabbed his bulging sack in his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.  Armstrong's cock was really starting to stir despite his best efforts to contain himself.  Kent smiled, his own cock starting to stiffen with each heart beat.

"You know, I really, really wanted to meet you. I think we have more in common than you think,"

Kent approached Armstrong, whose seven inch cock was now sticking straight out like a pole.  He reached for Armstrong's hand and guided it so that both of his heavy, vulnerable nuts were resting in the commander's palm. 

Armstrong licked his lips, his heart pounding, as he felt Kent's sex organs warm and heavy in his hands.  Almost instinctively, Armstrong’s hand started to close around Major Kent's nuts.  He could feel them being mashed into each other inside the bag, the sensation was familiar and never failed to get Armstrong incredibly horny.

He could feel the incredibly dense testicles being compressed into each other, his hand closing tighter and tighter.  Armstrong positioned his thumb so that it was pressing into the middle of Kent's juicy left nut and started really digging in.  Then, quite suddenly, Armstrong felt his thumb sink much, much deeper into the fleshy orb.

"Aaahh!" Major Kent squealed.

Armstrong instantly released Kent's balls and looked into his eyes with sincere apology.

"I'm sorry, I just ---"

"Do that again."

Kent's cock had swelled to its full nine inch, thick length and was throbbing, pulsing up and down with each beat of his heart.

"You like that?"  Armstrong smiled broadly and reached for the hanging sack, this time focusing on just the left ball.

He pressed into the ball meat, easily the densest testicle he had ever felt in his hands.  As he pressed, he could feel the delicate membranes starting to deform and give way.

Major Kent bit his fist and struggled not to scream out, but couldn't help himself. Armstrong let go of Kent's now red ball and Kent instantly dropped to his knees clutching his balls.

"Oh yeah, sir,"  he panted.

"Major Kent I -- "

"Call me Donald,"  Donald Kent said smiling broadly, looking up at the Lieutenant Commander.

Before he realized what he was doing, Armstrong had grabbed the back of Kent's head and plunged his rock hard cock down Kent's eager throat.  The young man's head bobbed up and down the entire length of Armstrong's cock as he gently rubbed his balls.

"Spread your legs,"  Armstrong could barley get out through his heavy panting.

Kent obliged, spreading his  legs as far as he could, his huge balls dangling like easy targets between his legs.

CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

Armstrong sent his bare food crashing in Kent's crotch over and over. The young major was squealing and crying, but kept his legs spread wide and barely slowed down on his expert blow job.

"You want it harder?"

"MMhmm"  Kent nodded 'yes', his mouth too full of Federation cock to speak.

CR-U-NCH!

Armstrong kicked Donald's so hard between his legs the young officer was sent into the air. 

Armstrong's cock twitched as he felt the meaty organs being flattened between his shin and Donald's pelvic bone.  Donald squealed as he fell to his side.  Armstrong was about to ram his foot into Donald's crotch when he stopped. Donald was sobbing.

Armstrong knelt down and moved Donald's hands away, grabbing a ball in each hand and roughly squeezing and rolling.  Despite being blood red and swelling slightly, they appeared to still be intact.  Armstrong recalled the countless times he had given this type of exam to a rebel captive who was just minutes away from having his sex life turned to paste. 

Armstrong's cock leaked precum as his thumbs dug into the unyielding ball meat.  His face turned red from effort as he was determined to give this little Jayce solider exactly what he had wanted...

"Please! Matt!" Kent screamed, desperately grabbing Armstrong's hands.

Armstrong was amazed that Kent's balls were still not yielding.  He was applying full pressure to each fist, ignoring Donald's sobs.  Any second, one of Donald's balls was going to explode in his bare hands and Armstrong could hardly wait to feel the heart warming, CRUNCH....

"Matt! Please! Please squeeze harder!" 

Armstrong was so shocked by Donald's plea that he lessened his grip for a moment.  All of this time Donald hadn't been crying 'please stop' he had been saying 'please squeeze harder'.  Armstrong nearly shot his load knowing that the dangerously compressed sex glands in his hands were about to burst -- and the owner actually wanted it to happen. 

Matt Armstrong squeezed harder and harder and Donald screamed and grabbed for Matt hands again. To Matt's amazement, the young man was squeezing Matt's hands even tighter together.
Matt knew the end was going to come soon -- and explosively -- to Donald's balls. Which one is going to implode first? He thought to himself. Both of the meaty orbs had been compressed to their absolute limit... it was a matter of time.   Matt twisted his hand, causing Donald to scream several octaves higher and Matt's cock spewed precum at the sounds the young solider was making. 

Castrating a military official at a Jaycian military base -- even if the victim was willing -- would probably lead to a diplomatic row.  But Matt didn’t' care, the feeling of absolutely owning the hot Jaycian totally clouded his thoughts...

"Oh yeah. They're about to burst! I can feel 'em caving in..."

"OH FUCK YEAH!"

Matt's face was plastered by three shots of thick, creamy jizz as Donald explosively came several feel into the air.  The cum ropes landed with splats, showering the Jaycian major with sperm as his body writhed in pleasure.  Matt felt the contracting nuts suddenly get even flatter and squishier as the volume freed up by the escaping sperm let his hands crush even deeper. 

Matt looked down at the blisteringly hot Donald who still writhing in pain and ecstasy, his muscles gleaming with sweat.  It was too much for him to take and he released both of Donald's nuts,  rolled Donald onto his stomach and plunged his steely hard cock between the young man's ass cheeks. 

Donald' ass was so tight and warm Matt lasted only a few seconds before he could feel Donald's hole being literally stuffed with cream. 

"Oh yeah sir!" Donald squealed in pleasure as he felt Matt's thick cock squirting what felt to be gallons of cum in his guts.

Matt collapsed onto Donald and the two took nearly ten minutes to catch their breaths.  Matt rolled Donald back on his back and gently examined the swollen, throbbing nuts.  Despite being subjected to a squeezing that had cracked literally dozens of nut sacks, Donald's balls were still in tact.  This is one hot stud, Matt thought to himself before lunging at Donald, sending his tongue into his willing mouth as the  two went for another round...
-
The rest of the Federation delegation spent most of their time in L'Angeles.  Lieutenant Commander Matt Armstrong ventured into the city during the day, touring ruins and sitting in on meetings, but spent his evenings and nights at the military base. Ostensibly it was to share military knowledge and best practices, though those priorities  were a secondary to what had become Matt's primary goal in the Jayce Confederacy; fucking the hell out of Major Donald Kent.

Not only was Major Kent incredibly attractive and erotic, he was nice, intelligent and passionate about his small role in helping keep the peace.  Matt often scoffed at the concept of 'love at first sight', but he was quickly finding himself falling hard for the handsome Major.

The sun had just set on the day Matt had been dreading since his first night with Donald. The maglev train heading back to the gleaming cities of the Federation would be leaving the next morning not to return for at least a year while the tracks were modernized.  Diplomatic efforts would continue over the enhanced communications array the Federation engineers had build during their stay, but no one saw any need to rush the train project.  And even if they had, Armstrong knew his diplomatic duties would keep him in the Federation almost indefinitely.  Come morning, Matt would have to wait at least a year to hold Donald again.

"I'm so glad you came," Donald, sighed.

They were laying in bed snuggling tightly after another one of their marathon sessions.  Donald's nuts were bright red and throbbing from the near constant abuse they had taken, but were still totally whole. Matt stroked Donald's hair and looked down at him smiling. 

"These things are so tough,"

Matt reached around Donald and cupped his aching nuts in his hand, giving them a firm squeeze.  Most men would have at least winced; Donald hardly noticed. Instead he turned to face Matt, a wicked playful glean in his eyes.

"Well I was the champion at Discato during my time at the academy."

Matt looked at his lover quizzically. 

"What is Discato?" 

Donald only smiled and rose from the bed.

"I was hoping you'd say that.  Put these on, I'll show you."

Donald handed Matt a rather bland looking shirt and trousers from the dresser and pulled out a similar outfit for himself.  When they were both dressed, Donald took Matt by the hand and lead him out of the dormitory, out of the mall-turned-military base and into the surrounding woods.

It didn't take long for the faint light coming from the base to disappear against the stark black horizon.   Matt wanted to ask where they were going, but stopped. Instead he just enjoyed the feeling of Donald's hand in his and the brisk forest air as they walked for what seemed to be a mile. 
In the distance a darkened building could barely be seen as nothing more than a black blob against the starlit sky.

"This is it," Donald whispered.

The building was another pre-Federation ruin, although unlike the mall, so much of the exterior was overgrown Matt couldn’t determine what the original function could have been.   They made their way into the ostensibly empty building to find it was actually full of at least a dozen people.  It was fairly small, perhaps once a restaurant or cafe, but all of the interior walls had been removed.  Like the mall, it was brightly lit from overhead.  In the center of the area was a waist-high round metal table with a black pole protruding from the center into the ceiling.  At the top of the pole were several presumably metal discs stacked tightly together.  It wasn't apparently obvious what was holding them up, as if they were floating in mid air.

Surrounding the table was a group of a dozen men Matt instantly recognized as young cadets from the Jayce military academy.  They ranged from nineteen to twenty-three years old and, like Donald, all were relatively short yet bulging with well-toned muscle.  All of them had nicely tanned skin, and some of them had dyed their hair from its natural white.  They were all dressed in their tidy gray cadet uniforms, that left nothing to the imagine. Matt's cock twitched as he eye-fucked each cadet, licking his lips at the site of so much raw, delicious muscle.  He couldn't believe he had once neutered such beautiful specimens for sport. 

Some of the recruits looked at Matt suspiciously, and he could hardly blame them considering his record with the Federation.  Being surrounded by so many hostel men made Matt feel uncomfortable, an exceedingly rare condition for him, and he held Donald's hand tighter as they took a place standing toward the back of the crowd.

"You're fine, they're just young."

Donald gave Matt's hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go to start clapping with the others.
A relatively tall young man with blonde dyed hair rose his hand to call the others to attention.

"That's Cadet Morgan, he's the captain of this squad," Donald whispered in Matt's ear.

"Gentleman! Cadets Greystone, West, Alan, Smith and Spencer, to the front!"  Morgan shouted.

The crowd fell deathly quiet as five studly, young cadets stepped forward.   Greystone seemed to be the oldest. He was  five-foot six tightly packed muscle with disproportionately thick legs and a bright wide goatee.  The hair on his head had been dyed blonde and was a messy mop atop his rugged face.  Cadet West was slightly shorted, and notably younger looking.  He was muscular, though not nearly as built as the others, his whte hair cut in a conservative hair cut.  He was wearing blue contacts which, on top of his naturally grey eyes, looked especially piercing.  Matt smiled coyly as he imagined his cock bulging the young cadet's long neck.

Cadet Alan was as tall as Greystone, but his hair was dark black and fashionably styled in pointed spikes.  His face was scarred and he seemed to have a perpetual scowl on his face.  Meanwhile, Cadet Spencer was strikingly lanky compared to the others. He was well toned, but not nearly as beefy as his fellow cadets.  His boyishly handsome, narrow face was topped with orange red hair that was cut close to the scalp.

Cadet Smith, who looked to be around Spencer's age, was uncharacteristically tall for a Jaycian. He was tone, not overly muscular, and wearing brown contact lens and had dyed his hair brunette.  His handsome face had a very devil-may-care smirk, quite the contrary of the others who looked a cross between stoic and nervous. 

The five chosen cadets stood shoulder to shoulder in the front of the room.  Morgan walked down the line slowly, eyeing each young man up and down with a cold detachment.

"This is your last chance, gentlemen.  Do you still want to play Discato?"

All five young men nodded in silence.

"Good. Let the game begin. Strip."

Matt looked on in confusion as the five cadets stripped out of their uniforms.  One by one, five sets of large, plump balls were liberated from their pants and allowed to swing between each pair of muscular legs.  Greystone's eggs were by far the largest, easily the biggest Matt had ever seen.  He openly gasped at the site of the truly enormous testicles that swung four inches in the bottom of a bloated, hairy sack.    Cadet West's balls were slightly larger than walnuts and almost perfectly round, bound tightly to his crotch in a hairless, baby-smooth nut sack.  Alan's balls were shaved, like West's and about the same time but were much more oval, the shape barely visible under a jungle of bushy white hair.

Spencer, despite his relatively lanky frame, boasted nuts nearly as big as Greystone's.  They were huge, dense looking sex organs that were stuffed so tightly in his sack that the stretched, shaved skin glistened in the light, the right ball hanging slightly lower than the left.  Last was Cadet Smith, who average-sized, oblong balls were encased in thick brown hair and hung an almost comically long distance from his crotch.  Smith's balls were extremely dense looking, as if two metal balls had been inserted in his scrotum instead of fleshy orbs; they were exactly the kind that made the most satisfying CRUNCH when they exploded suddenly and violently under a boot. The thought made Matt's cock twitch.

The five naked, muscular studs was like a visual smorgasbord for Matt, who was getting so turned on by the site of them he was starting to sweat.  What on Earth were these cadets up to?

"Cadets, take your positions."

With military discipline, the five naked studs took positions around the circular platform facing it, leaving their luscious, firm asses and well built backs on full display of the crowd.  No sooner had Matt taken in this latest visual than Cadet Morgan snapped his fingers three times into the air, causing a flurry of well orchestrated activity. Several of the watching cadets swarmed on the five chosen ones and proceeded to inject something into each of their biceps and shins. The cadets winced at each injection, but otherwise seemed unaffected.  Matt continued to watch as each of the five pair of  nuts was stretch out several inches and rings were applied between their crotches and the balls bulging at the end of the sack, preventing them from retracting into their bodies and keeping them vulnerably exposed.  This seemed especially painful for West, whose balls were naturally tight to his body.  Matt licked his lips as the young man squirmed uncomfortably. 

Finally,  all ten balls were placed on the table, resting there bulging and vulnerable just waiting for something heavy to smash them into paste.

When everything was setup, the cadets who had helped merged back into the watching crowd which was now arranged evenly around the table.  Matt looked on quizzically while, for several minutes, nothing seemed to happen.

"Cadet Greystone, front and center!" Morgan finally spoke.

The handsome Greystone's torso turned as if he was going to leave his spot at the table, but his legs stayed firmly in place.   The watching crowd began to murmur.

"Cadet Smith, step away from the table!" Morgan barked.

Morgan too seemed frozen to his spot, unable to lift either foot.

"I think you'll recognize this bit of tech we stole from the Federation," Donald whispered to Matt.

"We couldn't figure out how you were able to deliver it as a gas, so it was abandoned. But as you can see we still have some use for it."

Matt smiled broadly. He instantly recognized the muscle paralyzing serum that rendered a victim unable to walk or move from a standing position. Very handy for forcing someone to keep their legs spread during an interrogation... 

The crowd cheered when it was confirmed that all five young men were now frozen in place, leaving their balls extremely vulnerable.  Greystone's shoulder rotated, as if he was trying to move his arm, but the powerfully built arm barely moved.  Matt couldn't believe that these men were willing to have their well-sculpted, perfect, muscles rendered utterly useless to put their balls on the line -- though he wasn't entirely sure what was going to come next.  Apparently the urge to be submissive and busted that the otherwise alpha-male Donald had was fairly common in Jayce.

"The rules are simple," Morgan began pulling a small black device from his pocket.

Matt instantly recognized it as the control for a gravity disruptor, a relatively mundane piece of technology in the Federation but extremely out of place in unsophisticated Jayce.

"More stolen tech?" Matt smiled at Donald.

"The discs above the table are being held in place by a gravity sink and with the push of a button, the gravity returns to normal..."

Morgan pushed the only button on the device.  There was a blinding flash of blue light from the disc at the bottom of the stack.  Suddenly, the disc was no longer floating above the table, but crashing down to it. All five pair of eyes of the trapped cadets watched as the heavy disc slammed on top of their meaty testicles.  Greystone yelped girlishly as the disc finally came to rest, the now slightly compressed ten nuts the only thing separating the disc from the table top.  Matt figured out that the pole wasn't actually holding the discs -- the gravity device was doing that -- but the pole kept the discs on 'track', so that they landed directly on the table instead of tumbling onto some poor cadet's head.

Matt couldn't be sure how heavy each disc was, but gravity disruptor were commonly used to help everyday Federation citizens lift objects that were up to one hundred pounds with ease. Even a child could lift a couch one handed if a gravity disruptor was involved.  And judging by the beet red color of Cadet Alan's face and Greystone's earlier squeal, the weight was quite heavy.

"This is it, gentleman! No turning back.  Discato has begun!"

There was thunderous applause followed by another flash of blue light as another weight fell from the sack. It landed with a clank on top of the first disc, further compressing the trapped spuds.  The watching young men were jockeying around the table, shifting from side to side to get the best angle  of the impending castrations.

Matt was fully erect, and imagined Donald was as well, as they moved closer to the table to watch the action.  Cadet West's balls were already starting to turn blood red and were being compressed much flatter than the others.  Greystone's huge nuts on the other hand had barely compressed and seemed like they could have easily taken the weight of the entire stack themselves. Alan and Spencer were taking controlled, steady breaths as if trying to distract from the dull ache of having their balls crushed and Cadet Smith, still grinning, seemed hardly to notice his balls were not much flatter than when the game started.

Matt shielded his eyes as there was another flash of light and the third weight landed on the stack.  Greystone gasped as his meaty balls, suddenly compressed much flatter, though the huge organs were still more plump than the others.  Cadet West screamed and his bright blue eyes teared as his flattening orbs turned purplish blue under the weight.  Alan and Spencer nuts were compressed further, a look of anguish starting to creep over Alan's scarred face. 

"Oh yeah, I don't think West has too much longer," one of the onlookers sneered. 

Morgan gave the trapped studs a few minutes to catch their breaths before releasing another disc.  Spencer screamed as his testicles were further smashed and the pain had barely registered with the men before another disc was allowed to drop.

"OH GOD!" Cadet Alan wailed.

By now all of the cadets were crying, panting and -- in Alan's case sobbing loudly -- as their balls were compressed to their limit.  Even Greystone's huge testicles were compressed to meaty, blood red patties that were about to burst.  Matt couldn't help himself as he rubbed his rand over the tent in his crotch and several of the watching cadets did the same.

Alan and West's balls looked to be in the worst shape. Even with Greystone and Spencer's huge nads keeping the bulk of the weight off the other sets, Alan and West's nut sacks looked like they were literally about to blow open from the downward pressure.

Morgan stood directly behind West and whispered something in his ear.

"Say bye to your nuts, Cadet."

With a maniacal glean in his eye, Morgan pushed the button two more times, sending two more weights crashing onto the stack one after another.

SPLISH! 

West's mouth stretched open as far as it could go and he let out a deep, guttural scream.  His testicle had both burst in the sack, the weight stack now resting on the fractured organs.  His chiseled stomach muscles were convulsing in unbelievable pain as the shock of losing his nuts registered in his brain.  Meanwhile, by virtue of having the largest, rounded nuts, Greystone's organs were holding a disproportionately large amount of the weight, and were shouldering even more now that West's nuts had failed. 

Spencer was sobbing and begging as his mighty, gonads slowly got flatter and flatter... and flatter being compressed by the stack of weights as they settled downward, the little bit of support West's nuts had been offering now gone.

"Looks like we lost a pair already." Morgan laughed.

There was anther flash of blue as another weight fell.

SPLOSH!

Cadet Greystone instantly blacked out, too horrified to even scream as his enormous, flattened nuts violently exploded like tomatoes that had been stomped.  His sack split, sending the pulped contents spilling onto the table top, though the tight rings kept the bleeding to a minimum.  Cadet Alan looked over in horror as his comrade's huge glands were utterly destroyed, his own balls how less than a quarter inch thick and burgundy in color. 

The sinking stack of weights continued to grind into Cadet West's already fractured testicles, causing him to wail and plead to be let go.  Cadet Spencer, whose balls were now the largest still in tact, was shouldering even more of the weight on his dangerously compressed testicles.  He hadn't known just how much weight Greystone's nuts were taking until it had all instantly been transferred to his.  Cadet Smith, meanwhile, was letting out a steady, girlish squeal as his nuts were pinned against the table top, though they were still much closer to their original roundness than the others.

Morgan slowly walked around the table, examining the damage so far. He stopped when he was behind Cadet Greystone's hulking, blacked out frame.  He licked his lips as he sent two more heavy discs on to the pile.  Greystone's exposed testicles were being utterly pulped and West's sack was on the verge of splitting open, spilling the destroyed contents on to the table. Cadet Alan's rugged face was contorted in extreme pain and he was starting to black out when...

SPL--O--O-SH!

Before Morgan had even released another weight, Alan's entire sex life imploded like crushed bugs.  With Greystone's and West's balls no longer bearing any weight, the shifting, sinking weights had rested almost entirely on Alan's delicate balls. The membranes just couldn't take it, holding out for as long as possible before they catastrophically failed.  The right side of his sack blew open and, as the weights continued to settle, forced the chunky, mutilated testicles onto the table.  The weight stack was now listing, Greystone's balls totally pulped, West's sack split open and Alan's balls oozing out.  There were now only four extremely compressed, flattening balls holding up the weight that had once been shouldered by ten balls.  It was proving to be too much for Spencer. His toned, svelte body was glistening with sweat and he was desperately trying to move but his legs were stuck to their places.  He tried reaching for the weight stack, but as a result of the drug, his muscled arms were totally powerless to help. 

The crowd went wild as another, and then another weight fell from the stack.  Greystone and Alan, who were both now mercifully passed out and slumped over, had nothing but goop where their balls used to be.   Greystone's one titanic nuts had made an incredible  mess, the beefy nuts being so large that their splattered remains painted nearly half the table under the weights. West's dense nuts, though crushed before repair, weren't being quite as mutilated but the table in front of him was still slick with nut gunk. 

Morgan smiled broadly, his finger dancing, over the button on his control pad.

"Crush! Crush! Crush!" Matt chanted along with the others, caught up in the excitement. 

He wasn't the only person getting off watching this macabre contest.  Donald' pants were slick with a sticky sheen from an explosive hands-free cum shot.  A few of the other cadets' pants had matching stains and even Morgan was now stoking his fat, short cock with one hand while holding the control pas with the other.

Spencer was screaming at the top of his lungs as the weight of nearly the entire stack of weights crushed his balls. Cadet Smith was nearly comatose, but his balls seemed to be resisting any further deformation despite weight after weight crashing onto the table.

"Two more discato rings left," Morgan announced, sending the penultimate weight crashing down.

"OOOOH!" Spencer shrieked, his narrow face contorted in agony, his rippled chest convulsing and his voice cracking as his testicles finally caved under the weight.

The membranes of Spencer's testicles collapsed in cascading order, the orbs flattening like deflating balloons, filling his once proud sack with nothing but testicle gunk.  It was obvious Spencer wouldn't be having any children.

"We have a winner!"

The crowd erupted into cheers as Cadet Smith, his face now red and his voice growing hoarse from screaming, attempted to smile at his victory.

CLANK!

Morgan released the last weight which collided with the others with a metallic clanging. Smith gasped and -- if it hadn't been for the drugs -- would have crumpled to his knees. His strong, beefy testicles, which were now shouldering the weight of the entire stack, were finally starting to compress.  The crowd watched breathlessly as the organs got crushed flatter and flatter, waiting for them to explosively fail, but they held firm.

Matt, who was close to blowing his load just from watching, didn't notice as Donald stepped away and whispered something in Morgan's ear. The lead cadet's face lit up and he clapped his hands to call everyone to attention. The room was silent, except for the droning screams of Smith who was begging to be let go.

"It has come to my attention that we have a very special Federation guest here tonight.  Lieutenant Commander Matthew Armstrong, please come up here."

There were gasps of shock and whispers of dismay amongst the crowd.  It then dawned on Matt that most of these cadets had only seen him in passing on the base and didn't know his name. 

"It's the Crushing Commander!" one of the watching cadets shrieked, the front of his pants being drenched with sperm as if just the mention of 'the Crushing Commander's' name was enough to push him over the edge.

Matt made his way to Morgan and Donald and the cadets watched him as if in awe.

"So what do you think of our game, Commander?"  Morgan asked.

"I fucking love it!" Matt blurted out to applause.

"Well it looks like we have a pair here even Discato couldn’t crush. I wonder if he would have held up under you,"  Morgan said, stuffing his own cock back into his pants long enough to shake Matt's hand.

"I dunno, they're pretty tough and..." Matt suddenly had an amazing epiphany.

He remembered back to his first night in Jayce at the base when he had been squeezing Donald' ball while Donald was blowing his load. He recalled how squishy and flat the balls had gotten when they were free of sperm and thought -- if they had been under the Discato discs -- the sudden loss of internal pressure would have certainty caused them to burst.

"I have a question, Cadet Morgan." Armstrong started.

"Sir?"

"Is Cadet Smith a bottom?" 

There were hoots of approval from the crowd.

"Well he has a girlfriend in the city, but he's taken more cock than the Federation's First Lady." 

Everyone, including Matt, laughed at the good natured swipe at the President of the Federation’s notoriously scandalous wife. 

"Well then, I have an idea.  As you can see I'm getting really turned on,"

Matt slowly stood behind a whimpering and pleading Smith, pulling his pants down just enough to let his eight inch, rock hard cock flop forward.

"That's what you've been taking every night, Major Kent?"  one of the cadets asked incredulously.

Being incredibly tender, Matt wrapped his arms around Cadet Smith's waist and proceeded to bend the confused young man forward.

"What're you doing? I won! Let me go!" he managed to get out through gritted teeth.

The weight of the entire stack was still resting on his apparently unyielding orbs, which were quite flat and -- like eight balls before them -- about to burst.  But with no more weights, Smith's full, dense orbs could hold out indefinitely...

"Ah, well I think a good will present to the Federation officer would be okay," Morgan laughed.

"Breed his ass!"  someone shouted.

Matt proceeded to lean in and kiss the back of Cadet Smith's neck before nibbling his eat.  Despite the pain, Smith was getting incredibly turned on by the handsome, sensual Lieutenant Commander. Cadet Smith's back arched in pleasure as he felt Matt's precum soaked cock plunge into his ass.
Despite his nuts holding so much crushing weigh, Smith was in absolute heaven.  Like Donald, Cadet Smith was totally getting off by having his nuts crushed whilst being fucked, and with no more weights to threaten him, he was enjoying the dull, incredibly painful ache of his balls holding so much weight.

Cadet Smith's hole was well stretched, but he was incredibly good at milking Matt's long, hard cock with his ass muscles.  Matt had never experienced such an expert bottom, which was saying something since Donald was no amateur himself.  He could feel the trapped cadet's prostrate being pounded with each thrust and Smith's back arched as he positioned himself to give Matt he easiest access to his hole.  Matt's stymy became faster and harder until he was pounding Smith's ass like his life depending on it.

"Oh yeah! Oh fuck, yes! Yes!" Cadet Smith squealed in a high pitch voice as his own cock started to leak precum.

Matt looked over at the naked, beautiful bodies of the four other cadets were were still slumped over the table, the drug still stopping their legs from buckling and sending  them from falling over.  Meanwhile, he could hear the watching crowd moaning as they watched the impromptu sex show of the older Federation officer plowing the younger Jaycian cadet.  It was a strikingly ironic showing of goodwill and was giving the watching men a better impression of the Federation than any
reconciliation propaganda campaign ever could.

TWACK! TWACK! TWACK!

The sound of hands stroking big, wet cocks filled the room as Matt continued to pound into Smith.  Matt was grunting like an animal, holding the bent-over Smith by the shoulder so that he could pull the young man into each thrust.  The violent fucking was doing its job and Matt knew his plan was working... any moment Cadet Spencer was going to blow his pent up load, emptying his balls.  The filled sperm tubes were literally the last bit of structure keeping Smith's tortured testicle membranes in tier proper shape... Matt got so turned on thinking about what was going to happen to the unsuspecting young cadet that he picked up his pace even more. 

"Oh yeah!" Smith screamed, pleasure now totally overriding pain despite the fact his usually plump nuts were now the thickness of a pancake.

"Mmm. Yeah, sir! You're gonna make me blow,"

Smith was going crazy at the feeling of Matt's thick tool pounding into his guts and slamming his prostate.  He could feel his load building in his tortured nuts, totally unaware of the damage blowing his load could cause.  Matt reached around Smith's waist and grabbed the Young man's cock, a shockingly thick ten inch tool ,and proceeded to stroke it in rhythm to his plowing.  Matt could get used to having such a big cocked, gorgeous young man around to be nothing more than a living sex toy...

"Oh!" Mmm!"  Matt couldn’t' even form words as he licked and sucked Smith's neck. 

The young  man turned to face the handsome Federation daddy who had been pounding his ass and the two locked in a passionate kiss.  It was too much for Matt and his body shuddered as squirt after squirt of his hot cum flooded inside Cadet Smith.  Matt's cock was spewing with so much force that Smith felt like the load was going hit the back of his teeth.  The young man gasped, his face contorted in pleasure as Matt continued to pump his cock and fill him with cum.

"Oh! I'm gonna... I'm gonna.."

Cadet Smith's arched his back as he screamed in ecstasy.  A huge, thick rope of seamen blasted out of his cock, shooting across the table where it splattered Greystone's rippled abs .  Greystone's abs were dripping jizz as another rope of cum, then another, and another flew from the cadet's penis.

Poor, de-sexed Greystone looked like he had been the target of a circle jerk, with cum now dripping off his blacked out face, pecs and abs.  Matt watched in amazement at the volley of cum, knowing that Smith's balls were rapidly losing volume...

CRUNCH! SPLOSH!

Smith was still in mid spurt so didn't immediately realize what had happened at first.  His sperm tubes empty, the weakened membranes of his testicles just couldn't compensate for the empty volume and -- one after another -- his mighty gonads burst.  The tissues that had been struggling to keep Smith's balls round catastrophically failed, sending the entire weight landing on the table top where it settled with a clang.   The implosion at been so cataclysmic, that the fleshy orbs burst like bombs, sending chunks flying several feet beyond the table in all directions. 

"OOOOOH!" Cadet smith, who was sill spewing bloody jizz, wailed like a dyign animal as Matt continued to plunge his still hard, spent cock into the ruined young man's ass.

"Holy fuck that was incredible! A fucking busting genius .... oh!"

 Morgan couldn’t finish the thought as a glob of jizz flew from his cock -- which he had been stroking with both hands during the show.

Two cadets hopped on top of the weight discs in front of Greystone and stroked their cocks the final times to get them over the edge.  Greystone's chest was splattered with their double load.  No sooner as they hopped off than another cadet got on the table and blasted Cadet West's face with a massive, gooey load.  Cadet Alan was next, then Spencer.  By the time everyone had cum, the five blacked out Discato players were dripping with cum, an ironic conclusion considering how none of them would ever be able to coat anyone with sperm again.

Matt, who had been fucking the passed out Smith during the bukkake session, creamed in his hole a final time before finally pulling out.

"You were brilliant, Matt," Donald said hugging his lover tightly.

Matt was about to lean in for a kiss when he was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.

"Lieutenant Commander! Can you crush mine,"  a beefy cadet who had stripped out of pants asked breathlessly.  

Cum was still dripping from the muscle stud's fat cock, but it was already getting hard at the prospect of being a willing victim of the Crushing Commander's fist.  Without hesitation, Matt clutched the man's heavy, big orbs in his powerful fist and squeezed.  The other cadets gathered around, many of them already hard again, and watched as Matt expertly kneaded, twisted, pulled and compressed the young man's nuts flatter and flatter.

"Oooh!"  the young man screamed just as he felt his right ball explode in Matt's hand.

That left all the pressure on the left orb that barely lasted a few seconds longer than the right...

SQUISH!

Matt's cock, which had already blown twice, was rock hard again as he felt the satisfying crunch of the young man's balls bursting in the sack.  There was something infinitely erotic about crushing the balls of a totally willing victim, and Matt desperately hoped another cadet would volunteer.  He released his grip and let the beefy cadet fall to his knees.  On a cursory glance, his ball sack still looked whole, but Matt knew there wouldn't be anything able to save the yougn man's now fractured, testicles.

"Did you see how fast he nutted that guy?" 

"That was amazing!"

"Commander Armstrong. Please, please do me next,"

Before Matt even knew what was happening a tall young looking cadet with jet black hair, a tone build and adorable freckles had placed his low hanging , small balls in Matt's palm.  Matt considered unleashing his signature one-handed ball busting squeeze but stopped, instead forming a ring around the base of the cadet's scrotum, causing the balls inside to bulge obscenely against the sack.

"Oh fuck yea!" the cadet, his face a mixture of fear and pleasure, moaned.

Matt locked eyes with the young man and was struck at the look of pleading in his eyes.

"You want me to mush these?"

"Oh hell yes!"

Matt balled his other fist, lined his knuckles so that they would collide squarely at the seam in the cadet's sack and drew his fist back.  Matt particularly enjoyed busting a pair like this since the first few devastating blows cracked and pulped the nuts and -- in the case of weaker balls -- the sack would split and the remaining blows would leave Matt's fist covered in splattered nut goop.  Matt gave this cadet's balls a quick squeeze and grinned. They had the perfect firm, yet disproportionately yielding, consistency that meant they were going to really make a mess.

Matt's fist collided with the willingly offered, bloated sack with a wet, horrendous SPLAT!
----

Counting Cadet Smith, Matt had ended five cadet's chances of having children that night in the ruins.  He took pleasure in slowly de-nutting each victim, describing to the awe-struck onlookers in painstaking detail exactly what damage each blow, squeeze, kick and stomp  was doing to the doomed testicles.

Lieutenant Commander Matt Armstrong was struck at how prevalent the need to be totally subservient was amongst Jaycian men, especially considering how fiercely masculine and powerful they appeared on the surface.  With war ending and the Federation slowly starting to peacefully ceded back territory to other states, it would be unlikely that Armstrong would ever be able to practice his brutal ball busting on a captured set of balls, so he was beyond grateful for the 'gift' the cadets had left him with.  He was also saddened that he likely wouldn't be returning to the Jayce Confederacy for some time...

There was a deep, drone as the maglev train powered up in the station.  The watching Jaycian civilians looked in awe as the enormous train began to rise from the ground until it was hovering three feet above the track.   The train slowly departed the station, drifting silently through the air as if by magic. 

Confetti rained down, people cheered and waved Jaycian  and Federation flags and music played. Eventually though, the crowd dispersed, the politicians were done giving their speeches and train -- which had long left the station -- was nothing more than a memory beyond the distant hills.

Major Kent stood alone on the platform.  He was wearing his full dress uniform, a sign of respect that had been markedly absent when he had first met the train.  Major Kent looked up at the ruins of the skyscrapers, their leaning skeletons making the scene even more foreboding, and bit his lip trying not to cry.

"So long," he mumbled sadly. 

He turned on one foot to leave when he was startled by a familiar voice.

"Cheer up,"

Major Kent looked toward the direction fo the voice and squealed in delight when he saw Lieutenant Commander Armstrong standing there. Major Kent jogged over the Armstrong beaming, not stopping until the two were only inches apart.  Donald, who was struggling to behave in a manner befitting his regal uniform, refrained from jumping into Matt's arms.

"Lieutenant Commander?"

"It's just Matt, now."  Matt said holding up a glossy identification card.

Donald raised his hand to his mouth and gasped when he read the headings on the card: "JAYCE CONFERACY - CITIZEN IDENTIFICATION CARD"

"Wha-- I don't understand,"

Matt explained that, when his superiors informed him that he was to be stationed indefinitely at a military base in Australia to oversee the military's de-Federalization of that continent, he simply resigned. The act of resigning and enjoying the generous retirement benefits wasn't itself unusual, especially now that the Federal Navy was retracting.  But Matt's superiors were dumbstruck when he requested that, instead of being put up in  a comfortable retirement arcology, he simply wanted to be left behind in the Jayce Confederacy.  The Jaycian government jumped at the opportunity to extend their first permanent visa in centuries and officially open their borers to 'everyday people' for the first time in memory. 

"So you gave up all that, technology, the prestige. All of those things for me."

Matt blushed.

"Well, for you.. and these." 

He reached into the waist band of Donald's uniform pants, clutched his balls and gave them a squeeze.  Donald expected it to be a quick, playful squeeze.  But Matt didn't let up, instead giving Donald's nuts a devastating, crushing squeeze that filled the pit of his stomach. 

The two locked eyes briefly until Donald closed his tightly, tears of pain streaming down his face, as he tried desperately not to cry out.  If Matt kept going, Donald knew for a fact, he was going to castrated right there in the station.  For the first time since he had been with Matt, Donald actually thought his balls were going to be totally crushed.

"Matt...stop..."

Matt smiled and let go of Donald's throbbing testes.

"Besides, Donald.  You said it yourself, people don't live as long in Jayce so I didn’t wanna' waste any more time."

Donald, his mind still flooded from the painful, yet deliciously pleasurable feeling of having his balls nearly popped, could barely comprehend the extend of what Matt was saying.  Matt leaned and gave Donald and deep, passionate kiss instantly conveying more feeling than any high-minded soliloquy ever could.

Donald took off his uniform jacket, revealing a sweat soaked, pec-hugging undershirt, and casually tossed it to the ground.

"Alright, Matt. Let's have an adventure."

THE END