Don Fucks Himself

Don nearly snatched the large package out of the delivery man's hands, barely scribbling a delivery signature before slamming the door. Don had just turned thirty and had treated himself to a birthday present. The newly-middle aged man made his way through his house to the bedroom, leaving a trail of wrapping material in his wake. He entered just as he had finished unwrapping the Violator, a powerful butt fucking machine he had seen on a fetish website. it was a rather bland looking black metal box, the size of a shoe box that held the counter weight, gears and electronics, with a piston about twelve inches long protruding from its front. The piston itself wasn't particularly thick, designed instead to act as a mount for the user's favorite dildo. Don, however, was a top and had no interest in using the machine for its intended purpose.

He set the machine on his night stand and turned it on. He watched as the piston came to life pumping back and forth at a snails pace. He gathered the speed regulator, a control box the size of a deck of cards that was attached to the machine by a cable. He turned the knob to intensity 2 and the piston's speed increased. He kept going, until the piston was moving as fast as intended by the manufacturer; level 10 which would have been a gut busting fuck for even the hungriest bottom had there been a dildo attached. But it wasn't quite fast enough for what he needed. He turned off the device and went to leave the room. He caught a glimpse of himself in his bedroom mirror and smiled.

Don wasn't particularly vain, but was instead genuinely impressed that he had been able to stick to his diet and exercise regime for a year and counting, and the results were starting to show in earnest. Don was a taller man who had always been fairly husky, but in his early twenties he had stopped working out and drank fairly heavily. The weight piled on, slowly at first, but by the time he was 28 he was six foot eight and over three hundred pounds. Now, however, he was back down to a beefy, muscular two hundred pounds. His college years muscles were starting to reemerge, outlined even under his oversized t-shirt and ill-fitting jeans. He winked at himself as he took the machine into the garage.

There, he flipped the machine upside down and unscrewed the bottom plate, immediately greeted by a warning plaque from the manufacture warning that they 'shall not be responsible for damage or injury caused by modification, failure to follow instructions...' bla bla. Don removed the warning plaque and tossed it in the trash. The innards of the machine were shockingly simple and he was able to quickly find a logic circuit marked 'SAFETY'. He carefully got to work removing it, replacing it instead with a dummy circuit from the local Radio Shack. Satisfied by his work, he reattached the bottom and set the machine upright. He set the speed knob back to 'Intensity 1' and plugged it in. The machine whirred to life, but made a strange series of noises from its gears. The piston retracted back and forth slowly, then appeared to stop. He was about to reach for it, thinking it had gotten jammed whilst it was upside when the machine sprung to life. The piston -- at level 1 -- was now moving with the same intensity as it had shown at Level 10 before the safety circuit was removed.

Don beamed at his accomplished and turned the knob to Intensity 2. The piston surged forward and back with even more power and by the time he moved it to Intensity 3, the piston was moving so quickly it was nearly a blur. He could hear one of the cooling fans hissing it was slowly so quickly in an attempt to cool down the over clocked motor. By Intensity 4, the piston was moving with such ferocity Don was sure that even the toughest bottom would have literally been ripped open had they attempted to use it. The machine was also becoming unstable, the counterweight insufficient to halt the inertia the piston was now throwing its way. He looked around the garage and found a large heavy brick. When he placed it on the machine, the added weight was enough to put it back in balance and the base stopped rocking to the rhythm of the piston.

Satisfied, Don took the device into his room. He positioned the Violator on his night stand, then positioned the night stand in front of a pedestrian looking folding chair he had grabbed from the garage. He positioned the chair so that the back was against a wall, preventing it from tipping over. Now came the relatively tricky part. He stripped to his underwear, stopping again to admire himself in the mirror. He had a beefy, solid build. A slight six pack was poking through his stomach fat and his legs were thick and powerful. He ran a hair through his thick black, though thinning , hair and turned to stand in a flexing pose. Don's large tanned arms were the paradigm of raw male power. He was especially pleased by his mounding briefs. The briefs were deliberately two sizes too small so as to huge every inch of his massive, meaty testicles and his cock, which was snaking down his leg at nearly 7 inches completely flaccid. Don's sexual package was truly huge and magnificent, solid and powerful like the rest of his body, and he never wasted a moment to show it off.

He took a seat in the chair, making sure to spread his legs wide, exposing his bulging crotch to waiting piston of the Violator. He reached for the remote, the wire just barely long enough to reach, and turned the machine on, his stomach tensing in anticipation.

The piston collided with his left nut with a THUD. He yelped, more from pent up anticipation than pain, and leaped to his feet, quickly turning the machine off before it could strike again. He realized then that the piston, without a dildo or anything attached, was too narrow to strike both of his large balls at once. He had also easily overturned the chair in the process of getting up. If he really wanted a good busting, he was going to have to modify his setup a bit...

Don  got dressed and drove to the nearest home improvement store. He surgically picked out some bolts and nuts then made his way over to the millwork desk. He selected a large, round wooden finial, the size of grapefruit and was pleased to see that the predrilled hole was approximately the same width as the piston; this should work great, he thought. Don left the hardware store clearly anxious to get back home and had barely gotten back into his house when he stripped in the foyer back down to his underwear. He made a pit stop in the garage for a few tools then back to the bedroom.

He wedged the large wooden ball onto the end of the piston and turned the machine on low. The finial ball was rammed forward like a giant wooden fist, clearly wide enough to impact both of his balls at once. When he was satisfied, he got to work bolting the chair's legs to the floor. He was careful to make sure that the bolts could be removed when he wasn't playing with his new toy, leaving only small, seemingly innocent holes in his otherwise pristine oak floor. After all, he concluded, he was going to be doing this several times a week. Virtually no one knew of Don's busting fetish, and those he had found didn't mesh well with his upper middle-class, ostensibly conservative lifestyle, so he had gotten rather inventive at busting himself.

When the chair was bolted to the floor, he gave it several hard shoves and attempted to lift it from the floor, but it didn't budge. He was satisfied. The final step was to get three pair of trick handcuffs. He again took his seat, making sure the remote was resting on his crotch since he wouldn't be able to use his hands fully in a moment. First, he cuffed his ankles to the chair legs, forcing his legs wide. Then, holding the remote behind his back with one hand, he self-latched the cuffs around his writs. Don's experience with self-bondage was more extensive than his conservative facade would suggest, but the task was made slightly more difficult by the fact he was holding the wired remote, the chord just barely reaching around to this back. He rocked back and forth as much as he could and nodded in satisfaction when he realized he was securely tied to the chair.

He inhaled deeply and turned the knob to intensity one. The machine false started and Don's eyebrows curled in annoyance. He was about to twist his wrist and undue the cuffs so he could repair the machine when suddenly the Violator came to life.

 WHOOMP! CRUNCH

 The large wooden finial slammed forward, painfully compressing both of his meaty bollacks with the force and impact of a large fist striking. Don gasped, his mind awash with pleasure in pain. He had just barely recovered before the piston struck again, and again.

CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

 Don's balls were taking quite a beating. His cock, snaked out of the way down his leg, started to stir. He was imagining that the wooden ball colliding with this package was the large fist of a powerful, ball busting college jock. The visual, and the feeling having his balls crunched, was driving him wild.
 He moaned slightly as the machine struck again ... and again. Each time making a soft, yet solid SMACK as the finial collided with his balls.

Without breaking the visual of the hot college jock who was pounding his balls, Don turned the knob to intensity 2 and inhaled deeply in anticipation.

CRUUUNCH

The finial slammed into his junk with nearly double the force of before. Don was winded and, as he writhed in pain, he dropped the remote which fell to the floor with a clang. HIs fingers wiggled in the air futilely as if trying to reach for the fallen remote...

CRUUNCH!

The finial again slammed into his sack. Don was sweating in anticipation, pain and pleasure. The wooden ball was really...

CRUUUNCH!

Slamming into his junk good. This was the hardest he had ever taken...

CRUUNCH..

In the balls, by a machine or otherwise and it was actually starting to....

CRUU---SPLAT!

Don let out a howl of pain as the wooden ball impacted with his swelling, bulging underwear with such force that tears instantly formed tears in his eyes. Out of instinct, he attempted to stand out of harm's way but was stopped cold by the bolted down chair. He twisted his wrist to loosen the cuffs but...

CRUU-SPLAT! CRUU-SPLAT!

The piston was driving in harder... and faster, than it had been just a moment before. Don let out a guttural scream as his defenseless balls were being crushed by the machine.

CRU---SPLOSH!

Don was screaming at the top of his lungs, tears were streaming down his face and the fire like pain coming from his crotch was far beyond anything he had ever experienced. He was in too much pain, and panic, to be having any sexual fantasies, but if he had still been imagining the hot jock busting his balls, the jock would now have been swinging a baseball bat with a wicked gleam in his eye.

CRUUUU-SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT

The machine was now slamming the wooden ball into Don's crotch so quickly, and so hard, he was sure his precious balls were on the verge of being seriously damaged. What was happening? Don, in his fits of pain, looked behind him on the floor and screamed at what he saw. The remote had landed on its dial and the flimsy control was actually rotating as the pads weight rested on it. He wasn't sure what intensity it was on now, but knew that if it kept going it would eventually get to intensity 10... and he had seen the machine practically shake itself apart with force several levels before that...

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! CRUUUU-SPLOSH!

The sound the piston was making with each hit was now turning into a softer thud than before. Don looked down in horror as his visibly swelling pouch was being literally pulverized. He struggled against the cuffs, but the lock was jammed. He couldn't get free! He struggled and writhed, but his attempts were frequently interrupted by the sickening CRUUUNCH of the piston crashing into his nads.

"OH GOD!" he screamed as the machine lurched into an even higher gear.

He was going hysterical, but his struggling was useless. He was trapped, unable to save his now softening balls.

CRUNCH! CRU-SPLOSH! WHAM!

Don was starting to fade in and out of consciousness, his brain simply unable to deal with what he had gotten himself into. The piston was mercilessly laying waste to his manhood, the wooden finial was driving further and further into the softening, bloated nuts with each hit. As it continued to power drive into his nuts, the sound the finial made with each hit was getting wetter and softer...

WHAM... CRUUUUU-SPLOOOSH! Don's head rolled and his eyes bugged out as the piston slammed into his crotch so hard he honestly thought his pelvis was going to break. This impact felt, and sounded much different. It was noticeably wetter, sloshier. And infinitely more painful. In his haze, he looked down at his crotch and saw the white briefs were turning red.

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

"OOOOOH!" Don screamed as his battered, ridiculously swollen left nut imploded on impact.

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! SQUIIIIISH!

Don blacked out totally two impacts later when his last, meaty testicle imploded like a collapsing soufflé. Both nuts, swollen to bursting, had now been crushed, but the merciless machine just kept pounding, the wooden ball sinking further and further into Don's ruined sack, pulping the contents further.

SPLOSH! SPLOSH! Hideous, wet, sploshing sounds came with each rapid fire impact, any vestige of the once firm, enormous testicles was now reduced to a liquefied pulped that was sloshing with each impact... Without a user to stop it, the machine kept pounding and pounding, reducing the goop and barely recognizable membranes to a fine puree. The scrotum had long ago burst open, and the boxers were soaked with a gooey sheen, blood mixed with totally pulverized manhood. But the machine kept going...

SPLOSH! SPLOSH! SPLOOOSH... SPLOOOSH

After having totally destroyed Don's balls, the piston kept driving further, no longer encountering any resistance. The wooden ball was now mashing into the base of Don's cock. It was just barely out of range, but it was impacting just enough to make a sick CRUNCH as it mushed the softening penis shaft.

CRUNCH! CRUUU---SPLIISH-SQUIISH!

Don moaned, still blacked out, and rolled his head to the side. After nearly a minute of being pounded, the once sturdy base of his huge dong had been totally ruined. The remaining 6 inches of his cock, which had been snaked down his leg protected from the earlier assault, was now only attached by a partially ruptured base.

Another fifteen minutes passed and the machine just kept going. There was literally nothing left of Don's balls that hadn't dripped onto the floor or was laying in a mushy heap in the chair. Don was slowly starting to stir, at first thinking he had only had a terrible nightmare...

SPLOSH! SPLOSH! The pounding of the wood ball into his pelvis quickly alerted him that this as no dream. He sprang to life, resuming his struggling under the near constant assault of the Violator. Finally the trick cuffs around his hands released, and he was able to outstretch a hand to stop the maniacal machine before it could do any more damage . As the finial pounded into his fist, he undid his leg restraints, in too much panic and shock for the pain from his ruined balls to fully register and stood up...

He knew his balls were history, but slowly peeled off his underwear, hoping that there would be at least something left... there wasn't. The empty scrotum had been ripped to shreds by the constant pounding and...

RIIIPP – SPLAT!

Don screamed in horror as his heavy cock fell to the ground with a splat. The damage to the base had been too much and, when he stood up allowing his thick cock to hang unsupported, it was too much for the last chords still connecting it and it ripped off. Don looked at himself in the mirror, he could feel he was going to pass out. Here was this beautiful, beefy stud with nicely defined muscles, a tight ass and bulging pecs... but with absolutely nothing left at his crotch.

Don took a few haggard steps, his brain starting to shut down from the horror and pain of it all, and collapsed in a heap in front of the vanity. Goop continued to drip from the wooden ball busting finial as it continued pumping into the air uninterrupted.