The air in the small, brightly lit room was chilly but not quite cold. Light bounced off three of the highly reflective steely gray walls. On the fourth was an enormous flat panel television, easily 70 inches on the diagonal, playing a test pattern. Cables hung lazily from the bottom of the television to the ground. On the floor directly in front of the screen was a chalk outline of a spread eagle body, with cuff like restraints where the arms and legs would be.
The silence of the room was broken as a dozen sharply dressed businessmen ranging from their early thirties to mid-sixties filed in, casually chatting about business and the weather. None of them were particularly impressed by the 'small' television displaying nothing, but a few of them did remark at the odd marking on the floor, wondering aloud what the point of it was. When they had all gathered, a handsome Asian gentleman in his thirties dressed entirely in black walked into the room and took a spot in front of the screen. The gathered men grew quiet, the titans of industry silenced in anticipation as if the most important person in the world was standing before them. The game had begun.
"Gentleman, welcome! I hope you've all been having a great time this weekend. But what would a weekend at a country club be without a round of golf..."
The confusion in the room was palpable.
"Bring him in," the announcer shouted calmly, ostensibly to no one.
No sooner had he given the command than two tall, broad shouldered men in black enter, their faces obscured by large mirror lens sun glasses. One of them got to work silently handing each of the businessmen a golf club, his stoic expression never wavering. Meanwhile, the other man in black was literally dragging a naked young man into position in front of the screen. The victim, a relatively short but powerfully built blonde who couldn't have been more than 25 had been bound and gagged, but was still managing to put up quite a fight, screaming loudly even through the gag. When he was in front of the screen, the man in black threw him to the ground and before the blonde could gain his bearings, the man in black who had been handing out golf clubs took the last one in his hands and proceeded to beat the young man into submission. The two men in black quickly got to work rolling the young man on his back, outstretching his arms and legs so that he was spread eagle, in the shape of the chalk outline, and shackled him to the floor. The blonde was starting to stir out of the daze of his beating in time to feel one of the men in black roughly grabbing his huge round testicles and banding them tightly in what felt to be athletic tape but it much stiffer. The man kept winding the tape around the base of the blonde man's sack until his large, round nuts were several inches from his body, the stiff binding making his balls stick up perpendicular to the ground, looking like two golf balls waiting on a tee.
The gathered men quickly began to realize what was about to happen, a few of them openly rubbing their swelling crotches at the prospect. One of the men in black, his job finished, abruptly left the room without saying a word. The other proceeded to attach two electrodes held by tape to each of the blonde's bulging testicles, then ran the attached wires and connected them to the apparently useless cables hanging from the television. As soon as he did so, the monitor came to life. As he left silently, two large computer generated golf balls appeared on the screen against a black background. They were rotating slowly.
As soon as the last man in black left the room and closed the door, the announcer continued "This is Rupture Golf. The sensors attached to each of our man€™s balls is telling the system how round, or not, his golf balls are..."
The announcer knelt down between the muscular blonde's quivering legs and grabbed the enormous right nut in his hand. He squeezed, eliciting a squeal of pain from the trapped stud and, like clockwork the golf ball on the right side of the screen, while still rotating, started to change from while to pink. He held the pressure steadily, the animated golf ball corresponding to the blonde's right testicle turning more and more pink.
"See, the more damage you inflict, the more red it gets. The point of this golf game is to get the golf balls on the screen as red as possible."
The men chuckled.
The announcer loosened his grip on the doomed right nut and the golf ball on the screen slowly transitioned back to white. The men formed a line, their clubs at the ready.
"Whenever you're ready, gentleman."
The announcer had barely gotten out of the way before the first man cocked back his club and let it swing wildly into the teed 'golf balls' on the floor. The blonde squealed and tried desperately to close his legs, but he was constrained tightly to the floor. His large, round balls still perched helplessly aloof. As the club connected, both of the animated golf balls flashed red and, for a moment, the left ball stopped rotating. They were both still transitioning from red to pink when the next man took his spot.
The businessman took his time carefully lining up his aim, the crowd behind him cheering him on.
"Fore!" he shouted playfully as he sent the heavy wooden club sailing with a whoosh through the air.
It connected solidly with the left testicle. The left golf ball on the screen shook violently and flashed.
The third man, noticing that the left golf ball on the screen was still vibrating slightly and wasn't turning from red to white as quickly as the other, purposefully took aim at the poor blonde's left nut.
"I think I'm gonna' get a hole in one..." he joked mockingly, not breaking eye contact with crying stud as his club collided full force with his left testicle.
The golf ball on the left side of the screen rocked violently and flashed to burgundy. The ball on the right turned more red.
The fourth man took up position, lining up his club so that it would smack in the middle of the bound sack and swung the club so hard that, when it connected, the resultant shockwaves actually caused pain in his upper arm. The damage to the blonde's junk was equally devastating. To everyone's surprise, an animated 'crack' appeared down the middle of the right golf ball. The left was shaking and pulsing from blood red to dark burgundy.
"Uh oh. Doesn't look good for our friend," the announcer said mockingly. Everyone, except the blonde, laughed.
Amazingly the blonde was still conscious for the fifth and sixth hits. By now the golf ball on the right side of the screen had split into two pieces and the one on the left had developed a large crack. They were now both dark burgundy. No longer fading back toward white.
"Look at how detailed the animation is," the seventh man remarked coolly, impressed at how life like the golf ball animation was.
"Fore!" with a whoosh his club sailed into the young man's swollen sack. There was a sickening, wet SPLAT as the golf ball on the left exploded into four pieces. The one of the right shook violently and began to crumble into chunks.
"My turn!" the eighth man laughed, taking a casual golf stance. By now the blonde's sack was a swollen mass, the once obvious outline of two balls was starting to disappear.
WHOOSH!
POP! The animated golf balls both shattered into multiple pieces. The computer was now rendering them not as solid objects, but as gooey masses that were starting to 'drip' and 'ooze' on the screen. The men laughed and pointed.
"Did you hear that? It actually went 'pop'" said one of the onlookers. Indeed, the blonde's right nut had exploded with an almost comical sloshing 'POP' sound.
The ninth man took his spot. He wanted to be sure to do the most damaged, so lined up his shot carefully, grabbing the club firmly with both hands.
WHOOSH! SPLAT!
The image on the screen looked less and less like two broken golf balls and more like two piles of red goop.
The tenth man wasted no time, swinging wildly into the deflating sack. There were now just two piles of mushy goop showing on the screen.
"I think we broke them,"
Everyone laughed.
"I still get a shot!" came the eleventh golfer as he took his spot.
He had just let his club sail toward the purple, mushy mass between the blonde's legs, stopping just before the head of his club connected.
"I have an idea, Jon, come up here."
Jon, the twelfth and final golfer, a tall attractive man in his forties, stood next to the eleventh golfer.
The on looking group looked on curiously as Jon and the other man whispered amongst themselves, clearly coordinating a finishing finale to the blonde's sex life.
"Okay, let's do it,"
The two stood on either side of the doomed sack and raised their clubs. They were going to slam their clubs into each other, with the blonde's sack being mashed in between.
"Three... two... one..."
"FORE!" everyone shouted at once as the two clubs sailed toward each other.
The pulpy mass was viciously crushed between the two golf club heads, which were practically touching the contents had been so liquified. And before anyone thought anything of it, the clubs were retracted...
"Three... two... one... FORE!"
The clubs again slammed into each other, only this time they connected completely. The blonde, who had long since passed out, shot his head up and let out a guttural scream as his assaulted nut sack burst open, splattering the two men standing over him with the gooey remains of his once truly enormous testicles. The golf balls on the monitor, now looked to be nothing more than piles of unrecognizable goop.
Golfer 11 and Jon threw their clubs down, making sure the goo covered heads landed on the blonde's face. They gave each other triumphant high fives as they joined the others. Without prompting, the door of the room opened and the two men in black from early swooped in, quickly uniting the passed out young man and carrying him out of the room. The gathered businessmen looked on, almost in pity, as the desexed muscular jock was carried off.
The announcer again took this spot in front of the room as the door closed behind the men in black.
"Well, gentleman. I'm glad you enjoyed that practice round. Let's see if we can't get a hole in one on the next go,"
Again, demonstrating the amazing choreography of the whole affair, the door opened right on cue, the men in black again carrying in a bound and gagged man. A strikingly good looking, olive skinned Italian in his early thirties, with rippling muscles and enormous, swinging nuts dangling between his tree trunk legs. As he was being restrained to the ground, the second man in black began exchanging the golf clubs from the first round with croquet mallets with heads so heavy some of the businessmen -- none of them particularly frail -- actually had difficultly holding them up.
When the two men in black left, the first golfer took his position between the doomed Italian's muscular legs. The animated goofballs had returned to the screen, white and pristine.
The Italian, begging and sobbing through his gag was able to lift his head just far enough to look down over his rippled chest at his huge balls perched straight up in the constraints. His eyes bugged out and he struggled futilely against his restraints as he saw the first heavy mallet being lined up. The businessman holding it, a tall man in his forties, was clearly struggling to control the bottom-heavy mallet... this was going to be quite an impact...
WHOOSH!
The Italian screamed into his gag so loud even the businessman who had just took a swing look startled. But it was too late. The animated golf balls on the screen were both instantly turned to animated piles of red goop. There was a vicious, wet double SPLAT as the mallet head collided with -- and blew apart -- the huge Italian bollocks in a single blow. The Italian's eyes rolled as he watched a gooey mixture splatter all over his washboard stomach.
"Oops!" The businessman laughed derisively.
"Bring in the next one," the Italian heard the announcer shout out before mercifully passing out.
