Rupture Fest 2013: Market Mashup

The fifty businessmen who had gathered for Rupture Fest had broken into smaller groups of 16 or so for the next activities. Greg Robins, a financial executive in his late thirties with neatly styled black hair, was standing with 15 other men in a small room, four posts protruded from the ground along the back wall. At the front of the room one of the hosts, a friendly looking young man in his early twenties and dressed entirely in black, was explaining the rules of the game called Market Mash Up.

"Welcome to Market Mash Up gentleman, I see a lot of familiar faces but a few of you are new so let me just go over this activity,"

As he was speaking, his voice cool and professional, his audience clad in their finest business-casual attire as if preparing for a power lunch, no one seemed phased as a door on the side of the room opened and a line of four young men, gagged and with hands bound behind their backs, was lead in. Each young man was being led into position by one of the events ubiquitous, ruthlessly efficient men in black, mysterious, relatively short men dressed in black suits and black sunglasses who -- while never appearing to speak or signal to each other -- executed all of the event's setups flawlessly.

"Each of you signed up for this event after last year's Rupture Fest and we've been tracking the stock performance of your companies since then to see who had the largest gains..."

The host continued calming talking as the struggling young men were each placed against one of the posts along the room, their arms and hands secured behind their backs and their legs spread apart by a metal bar at the ankles. Each was naked, and all were sporting -- as was a specific requirement to be involved -- massive sets of nuts. The men were gagged and their restraints given a final inspection by the men in black, who stepped away from and to the side of each, as if guarding against the unlikely event of an escape.

The first young man was an athletic, tall blonde with powerful runners legs, a broad chest and ample dangling nuts. The next was a muscular Latino man in his early thirties with scruffy facial hair and truly donkey sized nuts between his tree trunk legs, bulging invitingly in a tight, unyielding sack. The Latin's sack was so stuffed, his scrotum glistened from being so taught. To his side was a skinny, lanky skater type who couldn't have been older than 25 with jet black hair and a pair of modest nuts that hung down a ridiculous, almost comical distance from his body. And lastly there was a bear-cub, scruffy man in his early thirties with fiery red hair, a mustache, huge broad shoulders and arms and a huge, oval shaped nuts protruding from his fire red crotch.

"Well the results are in... having gained the most for the year the representative from Omnicorp gets to be this year's masher! Congratulations, Greg Robins!'

The crowd of men applauded wildly, patting Greg on the back as he made his way toward the host.

"Thank you! This is gonna be a blast."

Greg's Armani slacks strained to contain his growing erection. He had participated in Rupture Fest for three years now and had never been able to personally rupture any of the donkey-balled studs he'd watched get nutted in increasingly creative and splattering ways. This was the chance of a lifetime.

"Now, in the past for Market Mash Up we let the winning executive nut four guys for our amusement using this old fashioned thing," the host held up a heavy, metal mallet and flung it indifferently toward one of the bound young men, the mallet bouncing off his thigh.

"But our friends over at weapons contractor Consolidated Iridium AG have let us try out this..."

The host help up a gray, somewhat bulky glove. The audience's confusion was apparent.

"Anyone ever seen Iron Man? Well this is a real-life exoskeleton - like that movie - there are servos and gyros and lord knows what else..."

"All soon-to-be available from Consolidated Iridium," a white-haired executive in the crowd -- presumably a senior player at the company -- interjected to polite chuckles from his colleagues.

"The workings are straight forward, whatever force you exert, will be amplified by the glove. Let me show you,"

The host slipped on the glow and tapped it rapidly with his other hand, there was a whirring sound as the glove apparently came to life. He motioned for one of the men in black to bring him something, which turned out to be a walnut.

He took the nut in his ungloved hand and squeezed futility as the rigid object barely noticed. Then he put it in his gloved had and, with the slightest effort, crushed the nut to powder.

The men all laughed, eying the captives hungrily, eying the balls they knew were about to face the same fate. The captive's eyes bugged out and all four began to squirm wildly, trying to protect their nuts.

"So, Mr. Robins, I present to you the Inifitrex 76-G, the combat glove for the next generation of soldiers.

Greg took the glove from the host and put it on. It wasn't as bulky in feeling as it looked, but was much heavier than he expected considering it appeared to weight as much as a normal\ leather glove. Greg took a few minutes to flex his fingers and get a feel for the glove, making sure to squeeze and punch the air while making eye contact with each captive, as if to say "kiss your sack goodbye."

The gathered executives were eager to see just how much damage this glove would do to the eight baby makers on display.

"Let's start with you, blondie." Greg walked up to the blonde kid and gave his nuts a playful squeeze with his ungloved hand. The blonde pleaded and struggled.

The blonde's nuts were about the size of large walnuts -- a perfect size considering that day's demonstration -- and hung loosely in their sack. The left hung slightly lower, and was more oblong, so Greg decided to focus on that one first.

Gregory reached out, positioning the dangling left nut between his thumb and forefinger and began to squeeze. Through the glove he could feel the warm, pulsing organ being squeezed between his fingers. It was almost perfectly round, firm to the touch and... SQUISH! To Greg's surprise, his thumb and forefinger were now virtually touching, separated only by a thin piece of scrotum.

The young stud screamed hysterically through his gag and his legs convulsed wildly attempting to protect his manhood. Although Greg thought he was only barely touching the boy's nuts, the added strength provided by the glove proved otherwise. He opened his finger and observed his handy work. The left nut had been totally blown apart, crushed effortlessly by only two fingers. Greg grinned.

"Ooops!" he said mockingly to the crowds delight.

He reached for the right nut and again trapped it between his thumb and finger. Not wanting the end to come quite so quickly, or unexpectedly less he miss the sensation, he was mindful to close his fingers slowly. He met eyes with the quivering stud and he felt in great detail the membranes and tissues of the doomed nut crumpling and exploding until again his thumb and finger were touching. The whole thing took less than a few seconds, but to the trapped young man it felt like a thousand years. His eyes shot open in bright panic, then his head went limp. He was out.

"This thing is great!" Greg said grinding this thumb and finger together, feeling the already cracked nut being turned into paste inside the sack. "Whose next!"

"Pop the Latin kid!"

"Crush the skater!"

Greg stepped back from the comatose blonde and eyed the remaining three men. He was incredibly aroused by the power this seemingly incurious glove gave him over the six ample baby makers before him. He paced back and forth, making telling gestures such as clenching his hand and making fists which he fired into the air -- a hit that would almost certainly destroy a pair of genitals. He eyed each man, licking his lips and imagining the best way to wreck someone's sex life.

"Let's pop these balloons" he said laughing as he stopped in front of the taller, lanky skater type kid.

The kid was trembling, tears streaming from his eyes. He knew he only had mere moments to remain a full man.

"Hmm how should be burst these bad boys?"

The crowd went wild calling out suggestions. Punching them, squeezing them. Ripping them off.

"Ah, I know, these things are already hanging so low, I might as well get in some sparring practice."

The skater's eyes shot open in sheer terror and he screamed uncontrollably into his gag. Greg, ignoring the muffled pleas for mercy, knelt down so that he was at eye level with the skater boy's large, swinging nutsack. The skater's nuts were big and were by far the lowest hanging. They swung nearly six inches in the loose, hanging bag, resting at the bottom like two fleshy eggs. Greg balled his gloved hand into a fist and positioned the knuckle directly at the seam of the boy's sack, he wanted to make sure his aim was dead on.

"Count down with me!" he encouraged the crowd as he began moving his fist away from the swinging targets.

"Five... four.... three..."

Greg's fist was as far back as it would go, as if such preparation was hardly necessary considering the glove could likely have cracked his nuts with the equivalent effort of a light slap, but Greg wanted to be especially sure these nuts were mushed. The boy was writhing and screaming, his nut sack bouncing from the movement but still in harms way. The excitement in the room was palpable. Would the boy's nuts be mushed totally in the sack on impact? Would the sack split open? Would the dangling sack be knocked clear off like a sparring target hit off its supports?

"... two... one!"

There was an audible whoosh as the fist sailed through the air, followed by a satisfying, echoing wet splat. Greg's fist collided full force with the swinging sack which promptly exploded open like a pinata. Since the brunt of the force was directly between the trapped nuts, the outward force forced each nut -- each instantly turned to goo on impact -- to explode out of the left and right sides. the nut goop sprayed out in both directions for several feet, and Greg's cock twitched in his dress pants as he replayed the feeling of so viciously snuffing out any hope skater boy would ever have kids. Skater boy's head instantly rolled to the side and he was out, the liquefied remains of his nuts now dripping out of the holes in his sack.

And then there were four nuts.

"Latin boy next!" Greg shouted to the crowd's approval as he sprung to his feel and stood face to face with the Latino captive. Although he had tried to remain defiantly stoic through the affair, watching two sets of huge, proud nuts be totally annihilated in a matter of seconds had turned the Latin stud into a quivering mess as it became clear that --in just a few moments -- he would never be able to spew any of his rich, creamy salsa.

"Please! Don't!" the young man screamed, muffled unintelligibly by the gag.

Ignoring him, Greg reached down until he could feel the warm, throbbing balls in his fist. By now, Greg was getting the hang of the glove so was able to cradle the Latin's donkey balls in his fist without instantly crushing them like he had done to the blonde. The two made eye contact for what -- to the Latin -- seemed to be a long time. His pleading eyes ostensibly having no effect on Greg.

"Ya' know what guys," Greg started, not taking his eyes off his victim.

"I think these balls might be too nice to just be burst open, at least not yet."

As he spoke, Greg bounced the balls in his fist, squeezing them and sizing them up. They were by far the largest in the room and firm. They were tight in their sack, so bulged invitingly, especially with the added pressure from Greg's gloved hand. In different circumstances, Greg would have been on his knees licking and sucking such beautiful baby makers, but this was Rupture Fest and popping them would be much more fun, Greg concluded.

"Why don't we give this guy a break..."

SPLOSH! CRUNCH!

"... or not!"

The Latin stud, who actually had believed he was going to be shown mercy, opened his eyes wide and screamed in genuine surprise and horror. He looked down to see that his liquefied nuts had exploded in the now clenched fist, Latin sperm and nut gunk oozing from between Greg's fingers. Greg clenched his fist so tightly that his biceps bulged and his face became red in effort. He watched -- and felt -- as the destroyed nuts were mushed further and further, oozing between his fingers and dripping to the floor. The sight was too much and Greg explosively came, coating the inside of his slacks with ropes of jizz he could feel running down his leg.

With a quick twist of his wrist, Greg pulled his still closed fist away from the young man, ripping off his entire squashed scrotum in one quick motion. The screaming and writhing were at a fever pitch as Greg help up the bloody glob, which had mostly already dripped through his fingers, then proceeded to smear it all over the Latino's face.

"Great new moisturizer!"

"It really does wonders for the skin!"

The businessmen cat called as the now passed out stud stood suspended on the pole, his face dripping with the innards of his nuts.

Then there was just one pair to destroy.

The last young man, a burly, bearish red head with meaty oblong testicles was beyond hysterics. He was attempting to close his legs so hard that for a moment it looked as though he may actually be successful, though the same men in black who had secured him stood silently in the background ready to restrain him if he did.

"Hmm.. a fire crotch. What oh what shall we do with these..." Greg mused, giving the boy's nuts a slap with his gloved hand.

SQUISH!

Although there was virtually no effort on Greg's part, the red head's right nut instantly burst from the blow.

"Damn it! I wasn't ready yet! You piece of shit! Lousy weak balls!"

Greg was enraged. Getting the chance to be the Crusher during Market Mash Up was a once in a lifetime chance, and here this prick was ruining his last moments to savior crushing testicles by having one blow apart at the slightest hit. Greg grabbed the now mushy right side of the sack and began to squeeze, splitting the sack open instantly and letting the mashed ball squirt out.

The red head's eyes rolled in horror and pain and he promptly passed out.

"Oh no you don't, fucking prick!"

Greg punched the boy in the face -- with his gloved hand -- shattering most of his teeth and breaking his jaw like glass. Several of the watching businessmen winced in feigned sympathy.

"Wake him up! Wake him up!" Greg shouted at the men in black, who came over and calmly administered smelling salts to the red head. They removed his gag so that he could spit out his shattered teeth and blood.

"Please! Please!" he wailed, though he knew it was hopeless.

Greg grabbed the left nut with the glove and was about to simply rip it off as he had done with the Latino but stopped. He had a better idea. He inserted his gloved finger into the hole made by the exploded right nut and began to rip and tear the remaining scrotum. The red head writhed and pleaded, screamed and begged, his head rolling in a desperate effort to pass out and escape the pain, but Greg kept instructing for the men in black to keep him awake with salts.

When the scrotum had been ripped to shreds, Greg removed the glove and placed it gently on the ground. He then knelt down and examined the now totally exposed left nut with his bare hands. It was firm, large and a greyish-reddish color. Even the slightest touch to the sensitive, vulnerable organ made the red head scream in pain. Greg grabbed the orb in his bare hand and squeezed as hard as he could. Although such an action would have caused the red head's sex life to instantly explode had he been wearing the glove, Greg was annoyed to find that the organ resisted any deformation when using just his hand.

Greg then proceeded to place the red head's last, whole nut in one palm while pounding into it with this fist, hammering the rapidly swelling nut mercilessly. The red head's squeals were now inhuman sobs, which only helped arouse the crow even more, many of them had already creamed their pants from the nut bursting spectacle.

"Break damn thing..."

WHACK WHACK WHACK

"Break!' Greg shouted as he attempted to mush the poor nut with his bare hands.. but it didn't crack.
Greg continued pounding the nut until it eventually started to get softer, and softer ... and softer....

SQUICK.!

Though it wasn't nearly as explosive as when he had blown apart balls with the glove, the wet popping sound and satisfying, membrane crunching sensation told Greg that this red head bear wouldn't be siring anymore children.

Awake for his entire, slow denutting the red head was mercilessly allowed to finally pass out.

Greg felt the nut in his hands, it had split open down the middle and was oozing nut guts.

"Look, just like a cracked nut."

The gathered executives laughed.

Greg took one final look back at the line of destroyed, nutless studs and thought to himself  "This is a helluva lot better than a weekend at the office."