Rupture Fest: The Banquet

The large, cavernous interior of the Country Club pole barn had been totally transformed into a posh banquet hall.  Delicate white and canary yellow bolts of silk fabric were suspended from ornate Corinthian columns to give the vaulted ceilings a softer depth.  The concrete floor had been covered over in white marble tiles.  A string quartet of men dressed all in black played softly in the corner, their music combined with the glow of huge candelabras giving the banquet hall an air of sophistication.  Evenly spaced throughout the hall were five large, semi circular tables draped in red fabric, a black column bolted to the floor at each table. The place settings complete with fine china dishes with platinum accents and solid silver flatware.  The water goblets were Italian crystal.  Indeed, the whole setup was so refined that the fifty well dressed gathered businessmen, ten per table, hardly seemed to notice - or care -- that the atmosphere was in stark contrast of what was about to happen there.


When everyone was settled, the string quartet fell silent and an announcer, dressed entirely in black with slicked black hair, took to the middle of the room and began to speak.

"Good evening, gentleman.  I hope everyone enjoyed this year's Rupture Fest,"

The crowd broke into riotous applause.

"As always, we are going to be dispatching of the last... candidates... in our annual banquet."

The announcer had barely finished his statement when five men in black suits emerged from the sides of the venue, each roughly escorting a naked bound and gagged young man.  The captive men ranged from their early twenties to late thirties, and covered a range of body types and races, but the thing each had in common was a large, dangling pair of testicles swinging helplessly between his legs.  The men were struggling fruitlessly as the men in black effortlessly lead each one to a table and shackled them tightly to the black column.  Their arms were tied behind their backs and their ankles were shackled to the bottom of the column in such a manner that the men couldn't close their legs.

They were all trapped, legs spread wide, balls swinging in full view of the ten men gathered around their respective tables.  When the men were all secured, the men in black silently left the room, replaced almost immediately by ten men in white chef's uniforms. The ten chefs were all wheeling in small wooden prep carts, the tops were filled with a variety of knives, tenderizing mallets, seasons and other cooking paraphernalia.  Some of the chef's carts had hot plates. Some had open flame burners. One of the carts had a black box the size of a large microwave oven, but its function was not immediately clear.  The chefs took their stations, one per table, in front of the bound men, and quickly got to work setting up their work stations.  The gathered executives licked their lips an asked questions casually about the mallets and knives and what the chefs were planning on doing with the huge nuts offered up for the banquet.

At the first table, a Latin man in his mid twenties with heavy, firm balls the size of eggs that hung a few inches from his body was struggling valiantly against his bonds. He was tall, with perfectly tanned skin and well defined but not overwhelming muscles, his shoulder length black hair was styled carefully to frame his handsome face.  Despite his struggling, the black column didn't budge. Instead, his efforts only made his large bollocks swing wildly between his legs.  His cock, totally limp, was quite thick but only a small nub against the base of his balls. The chef readied a hot plate directly under the dangling sack and placed a large cast iron frying pan on it.  He turned on the plate and applied a small amount of extra virgin olive oil to it with a brush.  After a few moments, he held a hand over the pan, nodded in approval and turned to address the businessmen.

"At this table we're going to be making scrambled eggs," he said laughing.

The gathered executives, all of them growing hard in their designer suits, nodded in approval. 

Meanwhile, the heat wafting up from the plate several inches below the base of his sack was starting to heat up the Latino's balls.  Beads of sweat formed all along the length of his scrotum, and the heavy balls sank further in their sack from the heat.

"First, we need to thoroughly scramble the eggs," said the chef picking up a spatula.

He began brutally beating the Latin man's sack like an overstuffed piñata.  He screamed into his gag as his defenseless nuts were batted with blow after blow, bouncing wildly in a vain attempt to escape.  The chef was raining down blow after devastating blow, purplish welts and bruises were appearing all over the once pristine scrotal skin.  After ten minutes of non stop pounding, the chef calmly put down the spatula and examined the now swollen, red nuts with his hands.

"Hmm.. not quite scrambled. With hard eggs like this , I sometimes use something a bit harder."

The chef reached for a wooden mallet with a large head and started hitting the Latin's left nut repeatedly. The entire sack bounced as the left ball was thoroughly mashed in the sack. The Latin was sobbing and rolling his head back as half of his man hood was being pulverized. The chef was drawing his arm back as far as he could each time before striking the nut. 

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

The chef continued this for several minutes before changing his focus to the right nut...

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

The man's balls were swelling and the impact sounds were getting softer and wetter.  The chef set down the mallet and again examined the man's eggs, rolling them roughly in the sack.

"Hmm.. they're starting to crack," the chef said smiling letting go of the beet red sack, "This should do it,"

The chef reached for an immersion blender and turned it on. The plastic blades whirred to live, spinning so fast it looked like a blur.  The chef moved the blades with deliberate slowness toward the hanging sack and the Latin's eyes bugged out in anticipation.

"See, I've dulled the blades on this model, we wouldn't want to cut the eggs, so they'll just beat them until they crack in their shell."

As he spoke the blades made contact with the bulging left nut.  The Latin stud threw his head back and screamed, though it was barely audible through the gag.  Spinning and hundreds of revolutions per minute, the blades beat relentless into the quickly swelling, bruising organ.   He then moved to the right, then the left.  The chef alternated which nut was beaten for nearly ten minutes.  By then it was obvious that the man's balls had ruptured.  He had long since passed out, by the time the chef put the blender down and again reached for the clearly deflating organs.

"Mmm, almost there."

He picked up two wooden mallets and positioned one on each side of the man's sack, then slammed them together..

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

The Latin sack was now totally flat, filled with nothing but nut mush.  The chef put down the mallets an again examined his eggs. The contents were thoroughly scrambled, just a few small chunks could be felt through the mush.   Without a word, the chef diced tomatoes, shredded cheese and mixed spices, adding them into the pan.  He then reached for a large knife and, in one swoop sliced through the bottom of the man's sack. The Latino groaned slightly as the chef proceeded to grab the top of the sack and squeeze downward, squeezing out the gooey innards like chunky salsa.  The remains of the bull nuts landed with wet splats into the pan, where they were quickly mixed with the other ingredients.  When the gooey mass had cooked thoroughly, the chef removed the omelet from the pan onto a serving plate adorned with parsley sprigs. 

"Those were some rather large eggs," he joked as he looked as the enormous nut omelet.  He portioned it up and served it to the ten waiting executives.

Meanwhile,  at the second table a short, lanky man in his late twenties with shaggy blonde hair was awaiting his fate.  Between his then legs two truly enormous testicles hung several inches from his body.  The young man had boyishly good looks, and gorgeous deep blue eyes.  His vaguely defined abs were tensing intensely from fear and panic.

The chef at this table had brought a large, clear pot of water to rolling boil immediately under the hanging sack and was casually dicing carrots, onions and other vegetables into the water.  He was casually sprinkling in salt as he spoke.

"Today I'm going to be making a nut soup for you," 

The executives at the table applauded politely; the young captive struggled and cried.

"First, we need to thoroughly boil the nuts to firm up the insides."

Without ceremony, the chef pressed a button on his prep table and the black column that was holding up the blonde began to lower into the ground.  The blonde screamed as he was forced into a squatting position.  His dangling nuts inched closer, and closer, and closer to the boiling liquid until they just breached the rolling surface.

The entire bloated sack turned instantly red and the blonde's eyes grew wide and he passed out.  He continued to be lowered until his balls were totally submerged, then the column stopped lowering.  The blonde man was now squatting, his large nuts totally covered in boiling water, visible through the transparent glass. The executives took sick pleasure peering into the pot and watching the balls turn blood red, bobbling slightly in the rolling bubbles.

"How long do you boil them?" one of them asked casually after five minutes.

"Just a bit longer..." The chef answered as he calmly mixed together beef broth in a nearby bowl.

As he continued to prep the rest of the ingredients for his soup, the blonde's balls, now swollen to bursting, were fiery red, blisters were appearing all over the scrotum, but the balls inside looked to be getting more firm.  The chef looked into the water and nodded in approval. He reached for a spoon and jammed it into the pot, striking the boy's right nut viciously.  Through the clear pot, the impact was clearly visible, the spoon colliding with the now cooked, tough nut with a thud.

"Ah, they're ready."  the chef said, putting down the spoon and reaching for a butcher knife. 

The executives leaned in, breathless in anticipation, when the chef stopped the knife in mid swing.

"Oops, almost forgot something,"

He turned on a  second hot plate and picked up a large flat branding iron with his free hand. He warmed it until it was glowing red.  He then lopped off the blonde man's balls at the base and quickly pushed the brand into the gaping hole, sealing it and stopping too much blood from entering the water.  The men watched as the heavy round balls sank to the bottom, and then were bobbled to the top by the rolling liquid. 

"Now we blend,"

The chef grabbed a rather large blender and put it into the pot. At first, the huge red ball sack simply spun around the resultant vortex.  The chef repositioned it slightly and grinned cruelly as the balls were snagged by the whirling blades.  The bloated sack was sliced cleanly in two, and as the chef expected, they were now totally firm. It looked like a large piece of meat had been split in half, not gooey, mashed nuts.  As the blender continued, the balls were pulverized further, bursting into meaty chunks.  When he was satisfied, he poured in the beef broth and a few spiced, blended the soup further -- totally turning the tough nuts into small chunks -- then ladled the steaming hot mixture out to the gathered executives.

"Bon apetit!" he said, as the men slurped down the rich, flavorful nut soup.

At the third table, a beefy red headed man in his early thirties with scruffy facial hair was sobbing and trying to beg for mercy through his gag.  He had powerful, muscular arms and powerful tree trunk like legs and thighs, his well defined, if a bit pudgy stomach as heaving as he breathed.  Despite himself, his cock was fully erect, protruding nearly nine inches from his body, the thick organ culminating in a mushroom head.  His pendulous nuts, oblong golf ball sized things, had been shaved clean. The gathered executives couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer size of them.

"I think we're going to get full!" one of them joked.

The chef turned on a flaming burner just inches from the doomed balls and began,

"Today, we're just going to be doing an old fashioned nut roast,"
.
He then rose the burner so that the top of the flame was literally a quarter inch from the man's large balls. The red head was screaming horribly, blisters appearing on his nuts and cock shaft.

"I like mine barbequed,"  the chef said applying a thick coating of barbeque sauce over the roasting ball sack and over the entire length of the man's cock.  The red head's cock stayed hard, pulsing with each heart beat as his nuts were slowly boiled in their sack.  After a few minutes, the chef looked at the sack, the right side starting to bulge, and rolled his eyes.

"This sometimes happens, usually the sack splits when heated this long, releasing the steam. But sometimes it doesn't, so it builds up until..."

POP!

As if on cue the man's right nut suddenly exploded violently, spraying some of the executives with hot nut meat.  The red head looked down in horror before passing out.

"Damn, what a waste of a meaty nut, Oh well," the chef said coolly as he watched the remaining nut be roasted. 

"For the last part, I usually remove them..."

He picked up a long, sharp rod, about six inches long and rammed it into the man's mushroom head, impaling the still hard organ. He then took a butcher knife and sliced off the red headed stud's entire sexual package at the base.  He motioned for a man in black to come to the table, he quickly removed the bleeding red head, getting him out of the way.  The chef then held the man's last nut, via the rod sticking out of his cock, rotating it slowly over the flame until both the nutsack and the cock were charred black.

He placed the large meaty cock and thoroughly roasted nut on a serving plate, ,dicing it into ten pieces, applying more sauce and giving one of the bite sized pieces to the executives. 

"Mmm, this was meaty," one of the executives remarked finishing his section of the man's ball before feasting on the charred wedge of cock he'd been served.

Meanwhile at the fourth table, a powerfully built black man in his mid twenties was struggling against his bounds.  His large, almost perfectly round nuts were stretched several inches from his body by rubber rings.  He were dangling above a microwave-oven sized black box.  The gathered executives were openly confused by what they were seeing.

"At this table, we'll be making dessert.  Testicle and vanilla bean ice cream,"

Some of the men licked their lips.

"First, I like to soften the testicles to release the flavor,"

The chef took two heavy mallets, and positioned them on either side of the nuts bulging at the bottom of the sack...

SPLAT! SPLAT!

The chef slammed the mallets together as hard as he could, squashing the firm black nuts between the mallet heads.  The executives thought the man's balls were going to burst....

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLOSH!

The man writhed and screamed into his gag as the chef brutally flattened his sack.  By the tenth blow, it was obvious the man's left nut had totally ruptured, that side of the sack mushy and lumpy. 

"That should do it," said the chef putting down his mallets. 

He then pushed a button on his table that lowered the man until he was in a squatting position.  His sack was now resting directly on top of the black box. 

"This is a blast chiller," the chef explained, "We use it in the kitchen when we have to instantly freeze ice into water, and things like that." 

He opened a small round door at the top of this specially made blast chiller and stuffed the man's half mashed sack inside.  He then closed the opening as tightly as he could around the sack and pressed a button. The man let out a howl of agony and passed out.  The machine whirred quietly as the chef proceeded to produce pre-made vanilla ice cream in a large bowl, blending in a few other ingredients like heavy cream and mint while he waited for the machine to finish.  There was a ding, and the door opened. The cycle was done.

The chef pulled the man's balls out of the machine, his large black balls covered in frost. The sack as hard as a rock.  With his knife, he sliced the balls at the base and motioned for a man in black to remove the nutted stud lest he bleed all over the pristine white ice cream.  The chef handed the frozen balls to the executive on the far side of the semi circle.

"Feel it, pass it around,"  he said openly.

The men took delight fondling the rock hard, cold sex organs in their hands, remarking on their size and how perfectly preserved the blast chilling had left them.

When the chef had the balls again, he proceeded to coat them in chocolate syrup, then put them on the table top where he proceeded to pound them with the same mallet he had used earlier. The severed, frozen organs shattered like glass as the chef continued to beat and bound them into frozen chunks of testicle. He then scooped the chocolate, crushed nuts and mixed them into the ice cream.

"Enjoy!" he said smiling as he handed the ten executives their vanilla ice cream with chocolate nuts.

Elsewhere, at the last table a gorgeous, svelte yet well defined Italian man in his mid twenties, his chiseled facial features outlined by his slick black hair, was awaiting his fate. He wasn't the largest of the men, but was clearly the best defined.  His abs were like a washboard. His biceps and pecs were clearly defined on his taught frame.  His swimmers legs were perfectly sculpted.  And between his legs two of the largest testicles of that year's rupture rest were tightly held against his body.  The executives were amazed at the sheer size of his balls. They were large even compared to the others they had seen -- and flattened.

"At this table, we're going to be making a classic. Mashed Testicles with butter."

The chef wasted no time roughly grabbing the Italian's meaty balls and pulling them forward to the prep table.  The Italian screamed as the chef tightly bound the sack with tape, trapping them several inches from his body onto the table.  They bulged obscenely against the skin, veins clearly visible.

"The other chefs get a little elaborate with their preparation but I like to take it back to basics."

The chef produced a very large metal mallet used for tenderizing steaks, rose it over the enormous left testicle and sent it down.

SPLAT!

The Italian's head threw back as he hollered into his gag.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

The chef's face was red from effort as he laid waste to the huge ball.  It didn't take too many blows before the left nut totally collapsed, quite suddenly, like a balloon that had popped

SPLOSH!


"That's one down," the chef remarked and immediately go to work on the last nut.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

Amazingly the Italian was still conscious, looking down in terror as he watched his ridiculously large nut pounded over and over until...

SPLOOOOOOOSH!

There was a loud wet sploshing as his testicle ruptured under the mallet's assault.  The Italian finally passed out as the chef reached for a slightly smaller wooden mallet. 

"Now we just beat until smooth,"


"Yeah, make sure to get all the lumps out," one of the executives joked.

SPLAT! SPLOSH! SPLAT! SPLAT!

The chef brought the mallet down dozens of time, being sure to strike every inch of the now totally flat sack.  The enormous scrotum was now flattened to a quarter inch, no sign they had ever been filled with testicles that were each almost twice as large as eggs.

"Now we just mixed them in with butter, heat and serve."

The chef sliced into the scrotum right at the seam and squeezed until the nut goop inside was in a large bowl.  The sheer volume of goo in the bowl was a testament to how large this Italian's nuts actually were. The chef then casually mixed in butter and herbs, put the mixture into a pot on his hot plate and cooked until the smell of burning meat was evident.

"Enjoy!" the said as he scooped the mixture, with a consistency of corned beef, into ten waiting bowls for the executives.

When all five tables were done, the remaining desexed men were lead out of the hall so the executives could enjoy their novel dinner in peace without the moaning and sobbing spoiling the atmosphere.

When everyone was done, wait staff cleared the dishes and set down another course for the executives, this time consisting of much more traditional giant lobster tails and steaks.  As the men dined, chatting causally about business, ten more attractive, muscular hunks, ranging in age from early to late twenties were lead. They were stripped naked and were chained to each other at the ankles. Their powerful arms tied behind their backs and their mouths gagged.  Each man's huge nuts were swinging defenselessly between their legs.

"No need to stop enjoying your dinner," came an announcer, "We should thought you'd enjoy some dinner entertainment."

The executives leaned in, eye fucking and examining the muscular, helpless young men
.
"There aren't enough to go around, but if you haven't personally gotten to mash a pair this weekend, step right up and take your pick." the announcer instructed.

Meanwhile a man in black wheeled out a cart with knives, mallets, hammers, large fireworks, lighters, pliers and other instruments of nut torture and placed it in front of the ten hysterical men.

"Oh, I'll go,"  an executive in his late forties said wiping his mouth and standing from his table.

He approached the table and grabbed a wood working clamp, usually used to hold pieces of wood together while glue was drying. The clamp had a squeeze trigger, that got tighter as the user pumped it with his hand.  He carefully positioned the right nut of a sobbing, muscular Asian in his early twenties and pumped the trigger as fast as he could. He didn't break eye contact with the large nut  as it flattened between the clamp plates, The flattening organ bulge between the clamps, dimpled, got flatter...

SPLOSH!

The young man's nut burst open as it collapsed under the pressure. The front of the businessman's slacks were slick with precum as he quickly opened the clamp and placed it over the man's last nut...

Meanwhile, another executive had taken position in front of a relatively short, sandy haired blonde with rippling abs and oblong, large testicles.  He slowly skewered the organs -- as the victim writhed and screamed -- with long, thick metal rods.  When he had shoved three of them completely through the man's testicles he slowly retracted them.  The man was barely conscious to feel the executive finish off his organs with a mallet.

The brutal destruction of the remaining sacks rounded out the evening.  Balls were flattened in vices, blown into shredded gore with fireworks, roasted into charred husks with burners, crushed and mangled by hand and splattered into goop with heavy mallets.  By the end of it there was literally nothing resembling a whole testicle among the line of men. As they were dragged out of the banquet hall, the announcer took his place in the center of the venue and declared.

"Now that was an amazing Rupture Fest! See you all next year."