Justin sat in an overstuffed leather chair in the fraternity common room, a small fire cracking in the regal fireplace. He was flipping through the pages of A History of the Modern World, seeing the words, but not really paying attention to what he was reading. His mind was elsewhere, too distracted replaying the events from earlier that month which had so totally disrupted his otherwise carefree world of frat parties and juvenile cares. He stopped pretending to read long enough to pull out his bookmark, a folded piece of paper which was in actuality a letter from his family's lawyer. He scanned it, again not so much reading it than looking at the words as if they were strange glyphs. For a moment he contemplated throwing it into the fire like it would somehow undue the chain of bad decisions that resulted in the need for legal advice in the first place. He tucked the letter back into the history tome and closed his eyes to contemplate.
--
"We have to drop one of them, the pledge class is too big as it is," Justin said waving his gavel casually in the air.
Justin, Marcus, Fred and Nigel were sitting together in their fraternity house's Common Room and discussing that semester's incoming group of fraternity pledges. Pi Omega Phi was known for their exclusivity, which was saying something considering the University itself was known for its well-connected alumni. The chapter bylaws set a strict limit of no more than ten new brothers per semester and this semester they had already taken on twenty potentials. Over time most of them dropped out, either because they couldn't afford the exorbitant dues, scored poorly on their fraternity history quizzes or had failed one of the 'rituals' (the fraternity didn't use the word 'hazing' since it was against University rules).. Now it was November, a month before the final induction, and eleven potential candidates remained.
Justin and his group as the New Member Committee were tasked with deciding which of the young men would have to be dismissed. They had narrowed it down to two: Brad, a sophomore and Sam, a junior. Brad was quiet and his family was not nearly as well off as the rest of his Pi Omega Phi brethren. He was relatively short, only five foot six, and on the thin side. Sam, on the other hand, was a paradigm of the privileged frat boy. He was attractive and athletic and, at six foot ten, towered over most of the other boys in the fraternity. Sam had a bright smile and emerald green eyes that seemed to light up entire rooms. People gravitated to him even before they realized that it was his family's name on the campus library. Brad, though not nearly as charismatic, had won favor with a large bloc of the existing fraternity brothers for his tenacity against such fierce competition. It was a tough decision to decide which of them would be cut.
"I say we cut the nerd," Nigel said, referring to Brad, taking a sip from his martini, "he could barely pay his dues..."
"But he paid them," Marcus shot back.
"Sam's way better looking, I think we should keep him. Fraternity image and things," chimed in Fred.
"'Fraternity image' my ass. You just wanna' get in his pants, ya' pervert." Nigel sneered.
"Guys, guys..." Justin said lightly tapping his gavel on a table top.
"Oh, so it's okay for meanie martini to call me a pervert because I'm gay?"
"No, it's because you're a manwhore," Marcus said mockingly.
Everyone laughed, defusing some of the tension.
"Well I think we should settle this with a final ritual. A one on one between Sam and Brad,"
"Are you kidding? Sam would kick Brad's ass. He's like two feet taller," Fred started to protest.
"Well not if it€™s a Star Wars trivia contest," Nigel said taking another swig from his martini glass. Marcus grinned and even Justin had to hold back a giggle.
"No, I was thinking along the lines of Tug O' Balls."
The room fell silent.
"Seriously?" asked Nigel.
"Well yeah, we haven't done it in a while, and the other rituals are..."
"Over done," Marcus interrupted, "I think it's a great idea."
It was possible Marcus was more interested in seeing Sam naked and manhandled than any interest in settling the fraternity feud.
"Okay, so when is this happening?"
"Tonight. House basement."
--
The basement of the Pi Omega Phi house was crowded. The pool table and chairs had been pushed out of the way to create a large cleared opening. Heavy drapes were pulled over the windows, the lights were dimmed and a roaring fire cast an uneasy glow on the scene. Standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by their future brothers, were Sam and Brad, neither one knowing what was being played out.
"Pledges, strip out of your jeans," Justin's voice boomed. The chattering crowd grew silent; the games had begun.
"What?" Brad said in protest.
"Strip, pledge!" one of the brothers shot back, clearly annoyed by the insubordination.
Brad and Sam obediently stripped out of their jeans and underwear and stood facing each other. As expected, Sam also outranked Brad in the genital department. His pendulous testicles were almost perfectly round and hung heavy in his neatly shaved sack. HIs thick penis flopped over them. Brad, on the other hand, had relatively small nuts that were tight to his body, his penis just a tiny shrivel.
"I said strip!" Fred shouted.
Brad sighed as he and Sam peeled off their shirts without a word. Sam's chest was broad and muscular, Brad was lanky. His muscles barely defined. Sam was hot and Fred, and a few other gay brothers, were blatantly eye fucking the studly junior.
"Pledges, you're here before us to show your worth. You'll be connected, ball sack to ball sack, with this rope. When I say 'go', you'll each pull using just your testicles until the other has been pulled over this line," Justin explained the rules as two other brothers quickly tied nooses tightly around the pledges' testicles. The ropes were taught, forcing each of the young man's sacks to be pulled several inches from their bodies, the nuts inside forced to the very end of the sack. They were so taught that the skin of the sack glistened from the bulging package inside.
Brad and Sam fidgeted, the tugging on their junk already quite severe and the game hadn't even started yet.
"On your marks, get set... go!"
The basement erupted into cheers as Sam and Brad began walking backward in an effort to pull the other boy forward. It took several minutes for either of them to establish a rhythm. To everyone's surprise, it was Brad who first seemed to be getting an advantage. He grunted and tugged, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he pulled. Sam's balls were being pulled to the very end of the sack and were turning beet red. Sam struggled to hold his ground, but after he had gave an inch, it wasn't long before Brad could gain a mile.
"Pull! Pull!" Brad's supporters chanted as the more muscular Sam was being pulled literally by the balls across the basement.
"Oh! My balls! Stop it!" Sam shrieked, the alarm in his voice almost causing Justin to call the match.
Sam's large balls were bright red, veins were pulsing on the surface and his sack was pulled at least six inches from his muscular thighs. Brad was straining in effort as he was practically falling backward in an effort to coax Sam forward.
"They're gonna' pop!" someone shouted laughing.
Brad stopped pulling just for a moment, concerned that he really was going to hurt Sam. This was all the opening Sam needed as he quickly sprang up from his feigned position of weakness and began walking backward with such little effort it didn't even look like he was pulling Brad's weight by his balls. Brad struggled to hold his ground as the larger student made quick work of him, his nuts bulging obscenely in the sack. They were literally begin stretched off, any effort Brad made to stop being tugged just made Sam pull harder, straining the delicate chords that were keeping his manhood attached to his body.
"What a snake! Pretending to be hurt like that!" Marcus protested and, before anyone realized what was happening, he ran behind Brad, wrapped his arms around his waist and started pulling.
Sam's cocky smile quickly melted and his eyes bulged in pain. His mouth formed a perfect 'O' but no sound escaped. He was being pulled by the balls by two frat boys and it was almost too much for him to take.
"That's right!' another student said jumping up and wrapping himself around Marcus' waist. Sam's testicles were now being ripped off his body by three men. Sam let out a blood curdling scream as his nuts were pulled forward in the sack. A blood vessel must have bursts then because the veins on his sack were quickly swelling and turning bluish red.
"Not so fast," came Nigel quickly running up and grabbing Sam by the waist. Two others joined him. Another boy joined Brad's side and soon there was a line of ten young men pulling for Brad and only five for Sam. Despite their best effort Sam's team was clearly loosing. By now Sam was babbling and sobbing, he could feel his nuts were literally about to be ripped off. His sack had gone purple, starved of oxygen for so long, and if the noose tightened any further it looked as if his nuts would simply pop out the front of the boy's stretched sack.
"Oh God! It's ripping!" Sam wailed, but by now the commission in the basement made it hard to hear.
"Stop it you guys! Stop!"
"Everyone stop!"
"His nuts are gonna' pop!"
The scene was simply too chaotic for anyone to comprehend the mortal danger Sam's genitals were in. His sack was starting to tear at the base, trickles of blood were apparent, but over the jeers and cheers of the crowd, two more guys actually joined the Brad side of the rope -- clearly unaware of Sam's true plight. The added strain was just too much...
SPLA----RIIIIIP!
The line of boys who had been pulling for Brad suddenly fell backward in a heap. The thing which they had been pulling -- namely Sam's package -- no longer offered any resistance. With a loud, wet ripping sound Sam's entire scrotum was ripped from his body. The severed testicles flew across the basement landing with a plop at the base of the heap of boys.
"We won!" one of the young men on the ground shouted, still not realizing what had happened.
A hush quickly filled the basement, except for the inhuman shrieks coming from the denutted Sam. He was finally allowed to crumple to his knees, clutching the empty hole below his cock, sobbing and wailing. It took nearly a minute for everyone to become aware of what had happened. Two of the boys immediately got sick, spewing their dinner all over themselves. Someone fainted. There was yelling, shouting. Running.
"Those aren't real balls!" Someone shouted in disbelief, "This is a joke,"
But it was no joke. The force of having so many grown men pulling on Sam's balls had not only ripped them off, but the lateral tugging had caused the testicles to implode just before being severed. In a flash, Sam's once plump balls had been reduced to a bag of mush on the basement floor.
"Oh my God! Call an ambulance!" Someone finally shouted.
Sam passed out before any paramedics had arrived.
--
Justin again scanned the letter from his family lawyer. He, as the head of the fraternity house was being sued. Making matters worse, Sam had suffered an infection from the injury and was now laying in the hospital perilously close to adding 'manslaughter' to the list of charges. He genuinely liked Sam, and the thought that he could die because of a frat prank gone amok made Justin sick to his stomach.
Justin stood up and made his way upstairs. He had might as well get a good night's sleep before his court appearance the next day. As he made his way up the grand stair case he was struck by how quiet the house seemed. Several of the boys had moved out in the subsequent weeks after the incident, but even still it seemed oddly quiet. Everyone is probably already in bed, he concluded as he drifted off to sleep.
In the Land of Nod, Justin was dreaming of being with a still healthy, whole Sam on the beach. He, Nigel, Marcus and the rest of the boys were laughing and living it up like nothing had ever happened. It was a good dream...
Meanwhile, Nigel hovered over Justin's bed, a stern look over his face. He was clad all in black, holding a large, heavy object in his hands. The object was weighing down the relatively lanky Nigel, but he was holding it with fierce determination. His heart was racing as he looked down at the sleeping House Master, who had stripped down to his boxer shorts and was splayed spread eagle on the bed.
"Are we ready," came a voice over a Bluetooth device in Nigel's ear.
He pressed a button on the side of the headset and responded "Yes," and in turn four other voices replied that they too were ready for whatever was to come.
"Okay guys, ready... aim." came the whispering voice over the headset.
Nigel grasped the heavy object in his hands, a sledge hammer, with both hands. His hands were sweaty and he could literally hear his heart pounding in his ears. He rose the awkward, heavy hammer far above Justin's bulging, defenseless crotch and waited for the final instruction.
"Mash em!" came the voice, and before Nigel could change his mind, he sent the sledge crashing onto its target.
The destruction of Justin's entire package, including his limp cock, was nearly instantaneous. Pieces of crushed genitals splattered all over Nigel.
Justin's head shot from the pillow and he screamed hysterically, falling out of the bed while clutching his crotch. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he could feel that his balls were gone. His crotch was just a mushy mess. His cock had split. He was in indescribable agony.
At the same time, The stillness was broken by four other screams, one of them was Marcus, and three other boys who had joined in on Brad's side during the tugging match. The upstairs of the drafty fraternity house quickly erupted into chaos and screams as the ruined studs stumbled into the hallway. Meanwhile, the assailants quickly made their way out of the house. Along the way there was another blood curdling scream. One of the fraternity boys in black had stumbled across Jordon Messer, a husky senior who had also been on Brad's side, and proceeded to crush his testicles with one quick swing of his sledge hammer. Poor Jordon, obvious to what had just happened upstairs, had turned toward his attacker and was actually saying 'hello' when he felt something gooey and warm splash onto his chin. It was all that was left of his nuts.
"Did we get him?" came the whispering voice over the intercom.
'Yes,"
"Okay, meet outside,"
The four attackers made their way into the parking lot, stuffing someone whose head was wrapped in a burlap sack into the trunk. They sped away just as police sirens wailed toward the house. The car drove for nearly an hour, well outside the city, coming to rest in an empty field. The four piled out and roughly picked up their captive, forcing him to stand in front of the car.
"Not so big now, are you?" Nigel hissed, pulling off the hood.
Brad gasped for air, having nearly suffocated in the trunk, his legs weak from having fallen asleep.
"Please... don't" Brad's pleases were interrupted by a punch to the side of the head.
"Tie him!"
The others held Brad down as his pants were removed. They then tied a rope just like the one that had been used in the fateful game around his sack, being sure that only his left nut was in the loop.
Brad was in a state of panic, every attempt to even try to beg was met with a kick to the stomach or a fist to the head.
"See, I don't think you meant to hurt anyone. It was the guys behind you who did it," Nigel said, his voice surprisingly tender as he knelt to be at Brad's level.
"That's why we're not gonna rip off both or your nuts. Just one. Just the left one so every time you piss or jack off or fuck you'll be reminded,"
"Pull!"
Brad expected to feel a tugging but was totally unprepared for what happened next. The engine of the car revved and the vehicle slowly inched forward, the other end of the rope attached to the bumper. Brad started jogging, trying to reduce the slack on his scrotum, but as the car neared 10, then 15, then 20 MPH he was barely able to keep up. Brad let out a scream as he fell. The car continued to accelerate as he desperately tried to extend his legs as a break. He was drug several yards by his left nut, he could feel his chords starting to snap...
"OOH!" Brad screamed so loud even Nigel flinched.
Brad had been dragged over a particularly bumpy patch of ground and his testicle, pulled to the limit of the sack, burst through a hole that had split in the skin. The vehicle stopped and the attackers gathered around. To their surprise, the nut was still attached to Brad's body by several chords, the bare organ sitting helplessly in the dust. Nigel approached and gently put his foot over the exposed nut.
Brad winced.
"Oh my God you guys! He can still feel it!"
"Let me stomp on it!"
STOMP! STOMP!
Brad threw up as the boys took turns flattening his bare nut into the dirt. He was comatose in pain and horror and had nearly blacked out when he felt a tremendous, wet popping sensation.
SPLOSH!
A nearly deranged looking Nigel had been jumping up and down on the tough, round organ until it finally exploded like a ripe grape.
Brad was starting to pass out, his ruined nut still radiating unbearable pain.
Nigel knelt down, grabbed Brad by the back of his head and declared "Welcome to P-O-P. Yeah, that's why we call it that,"
Then all was darkness.
