The Super Bet: Part 2

References the Tau Omega Chi fraternity mentioned in Epic Roshambo, A Woman Scorned and The Conquest of Tau Omega Chi so you may want to re-read those stories before continuing but isn't necessary.

And now the conclusion of The Super Bet: Part I 

The roar of the crowd in Miami coming from the two massive TVs filled the lounge of the Tau Omega Chi house, mingling with the riotous cheers coming from the watching boys.  On screen, commentators were breathlessly exalting Kansas City for their blowout victory over San Francisco whilst highlights of the game and halftime performances, flashed on the screens.

In the excitement, no one noticed Monty and Pip coming back into the room.  On Lyle's instruction, they had slipped out right after Shakira's halftime show to prep for the evening's main event.  A sign had been placed on the front door declaring 'House Closed: Party Starts at Midnight' to ward off the crowds of party goers who would normally fill in the house, at least until the Tau Omega Chi boys themselves had had some fun with their sacrificial stress balls.

Next, two sets of ropes had been suspended from the lofty basement ceilings with additional ropes secured to eye bolts in the floor. The bolts had been installed years ago to anchor exercise equipment that had long since been removed, but were still there, hidden under couches and tables that Monty and Pip had moved out of the way creating a large clearing in the middle of the room.  Pip had also rifled through the house collecting an assortment of items he thought could come in handy and had laid them out on a table setup near the makeshift arena and Monty had rustled up two tripods aimed at the scene onto which he placed two Go Pro cameras commandeered from someone's room, though he doubted the owner would mind after realizing what they were going to be used for.

Lyle strolled coolly in front of the crowd and without so much as a word the watching crowd grew silent.  Someone muted the televisions and despite the animated scenes playing out in vivid ultra high definition on the screens and the palpable excitement in the air from watching the game, the grand lounge was eerily quiet, almost studious, as the crowd of randy young men waited from instructions from their commanding president.

"Brothers, it looks like San Francisco didn't quite make it," he began a booming, measured voice.

"We know what that means," he concluded eyeing Mark and Vance, his cold eyes lingering on their mounding crotches.

The watching crowd gave a cheer of delight with foot stomping, clapping and howling with several of the fans of San Francisco shouting out obscenities about what they were planning to do to work out their frustration on Vance and Mark.

"Man, I'm so pissed by that blown call, I could scream," someone shouted as he jumped to his feet, stomping them into the carpet visualizing Vance's screaming sack under them.

"I could really use a stress ball after that!" Ryan Andres shouted, as he flexed his powerful bicep while making a fist, Mark and Vance visualized their own balls being crushed in the rapidly shrinking space between his fingers.

Ryan noticed Mark watching his motion so he stopped his fist from closing completely, making cruel eye contact with them as he pretended to be meeting some resistance that was stopping him from closing his fist. After a few moments of feigning, he closed his fist completely shut, as if finally popping through whatever he was imagining stopping him, and gave them an evil grin.

"Monty and Pip sacrificed watching most of the game to get everything ready for us in the basement,"

That was all the invitation that was needed for the San Francisco fans to surround the Mark and Vance, forcibly lifting them from the ground and carrying them down the basement stairs like garbage sacks.  Vance struggled against the throng of strong arms that were forcing him down the stairs but his efforts were quickly put down by a swift punch to the jaw. Before the pledges were even fully down the stairs their tight underwear and shirts had been ripped from their bodies cast aside like macabre confetti,

In short order the unlucky pledges had their hands tied behind their back and that knot attached to the ceiling ropes, suspending them upright with their hands over their head. Their legs were anchored to the bolts in the ground in a permanent slightly spread position allowing their heavy nuts to dangle vulnerably between their well toned legs.  They were side by side, so close in fact that their legs were touching.

Pip didn't even try to hide his raging, thick erection that snaked down his jeans as he eyed Mark and Vance, licking his lips and visualizing everything he would love to do to them in their totally helpless state.  Indeed, the two were encircled by their fraternity brothers, including Alan and Connor , who were all eyeing them with thoughts ranging from depraved violence, to tender lovemaking, to adoration of their sculpted bodies, to curiosity and everything in between.  For good measure someone had put a thick piece of duct tape over the trussed pledge's mouths, giving their already panicked faces an extra degree of fear.

Lyle stood in front of Mark and Vance and chuckled as he reached out and grabbed Vance's large left nut, feeling its weight in heat as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He was taken aback at how heavy and dense it was and he was excited to test out its limits under pressure.

"Gentleman, that was one helluva football game, I'm I right!"

There was a cheer from the crowd.

"I think San Francisco gave it their all but at the end, Kansas stomped them into the dirt,"

Vance winced as Lyle dug his thumb into his trapped nut and Mark looked on in fear.

"So to help relieve the pain, all of the fans of Kansas City get to use these pledge's as stress balls,"

There was a whoop of delight from everyone but it was especially loud from San Francisco fans as Lyle let go of Vance's ball.   He went on to explain the hastily compiled rules; each brother would have as much time as he deemed appropriate and was more than welcome to use any of the implements that Pip had laid out on the table earlier, including a plastic baseball bat, a rubber mallet, a pair of brass knuckles and a pair of pliers Pip had rigged to prevent from closing completely, among other goodies and once a player had committed to one of the pledges, they had to focus only on him throughout his turn. Once used, an implement couldn't be used again until the next round and there would be as many rounds as they could fit in before midnight when the house was set to be opened for the Fraternity Row party.   This guaranteed at least an hour of brutal, no holds barred nut cracking, which even Monty and Pip found extreme, though it didn't stop either of them from sporting boners. 

Since the brothers who had rooted for the winning team couldn't participate in the main event, they took on the roles of cheerleaders whilst pledges Alan and Connor manned the tripods, making sure to get each pair of massive nuts squarely in the frame and grateful that it wasn't them. They were low, heavy and relatively unscathed, looking pornographically large in the view finder but the camera operators knew they wouldn't stay like that for long.

"Are we allowed to um... break them?"  Pip asked in a loud yet casual voice, the implication of the question stunning several boys into silence.

Tyler gave the question a solid minute of deep thought while rolling Mark's right nut in his hand.  Tau Omega Chi's coffers and connections were deep, but there were only so many insurance claims they could handle after the roshambo incident and the national headline-grabbing debacle of an entire graduating glass being neutered after a night of drunken antics.  However,  finally he gave the ball in his hands a devastating squeeze and answered "Up to you!"

Everyone cheered as Mark and the slightly taller Vance began frantically pulling against their restraints, though they were so tight their writhing only succeeded in making their taught, muscular bodies ripple in a  tantalizing display of raw masculinity.  Without hesitation the fifteen fans of San Francisco who just a few minutes before were reeling from the loss of their team were lined up ready to take out their hurt feelings on four very different footballs.

First up was Trevor, a brawny senior who filled out his jeans and plain white T-shirt nicely. He walked up to Mark who was visibly shaking as his eyes pleaded for mercy he knew wouldn't come.

Trevor reached for the plastic bat and whacked it into his hand a few times to get a feel for its weight which was surprisingly heavy considering it was a children's toy.  Without so much as a witty catchphrase, he swung the bat upward in Mark's dangling nuts causing Mark to howl into his gag while the watching crowd erupted into cheers.

Twack! Twack! Twack!  

Over and over Trevor slammed into Marks' wildly swinging nuts eliciting muted, high pitched squeals from the trapped stud and riotous laughter from the watching brothers.  Alan was sure to capture every nut cracking blow in perfect detail with his camera.

Twack! Twack! 

Twack! Twack!

"That's time!" Lyle shouted after what felt to Mark to be an eternity but in actuality had been less than a minute.

Trevor gave a sly chuckle as he tossed the bat back on the table and gave a high five to Ryan Andres, the next brother in line.  Ryan was a powerfully built, rather stern looking blonde who would have been intimidating even without holding the rubber mallet he had picked up from the table.

Lyle smirked as Ryan took a position in front of Mark, whose large, swinging balls had taken on a slight rosy tint from the last round. The mallet looked seriously heavy and Lyle knew he probably shouldn't let this particular round go on for too long...

THUD!

Mark's eyes bugged out as Ryan slammed the mallet head into his baby makers, just had Trevor had done with the bat. Mark's heavy bag bounced wildly after a few more blows before Trevor realized that most of the energy of his blows as actually being dissipated in the swinging motion itself. That wouldn't do, he thought. He cupped Mark's left nut creating a sort of table for the egg-sized organ to rest on and then rose the mallet over it.  Mark tried to scream as Ryan connected directly with his screaming nut only this time it was trapped in place, flattening into Ryan's calloused hand again and again. 

THUD!

THUD!

"Time!" Lyle shouted.

Ryan rose the mallet high over his head as if he was going to give it one hell of a pounding but winked at Mark as he tossed the mallet back on the table and rejoined the group.  Mark was panting and his rippled abs were starting to glisten with sweat and that round had lasted less than thirty seconds. 

Next up was Kent, a relatively short brunet with shoulder length hair still wearing his San Francisco football jersey.  He opted not to peruse the instruments on the table deciding to use his own fists.  To much applause Kent punched his fists into the air rapidly showing off his incredible speed -- and power -- before taking a stance in front of Mark.

Mark had barely recovered from the last round before being rudely snapped back into reality by several rapid fire blows from Kent's fists connecting with his sack.  Kent, a boxer by training, was literally using Mark's heavy seed pods as a speed bag and the sounds of rapid, hard wet smacks echoed through the basement.  Kent's fists were literally a blur as Mark's nuts, mostly his right, were driven into his pelvis by the slight upward trajectory of the punches.

SMACK! SMACK!

Despite thinking that a round with a guy just using his hands would be relatively tame, Lyle was forced to call time after only ten minutes of Kent's brutal, non stop assault.  Kent was literally sweating from exertion and several of the watching brothers gave him high fives and praise as we retook his spot in the crowd.  

Sculpted red-head Pip jumped to the front of the line with a confused look of lust and malice on his face.  His thick cock bulged in his jeans and he was sure he would end up leaking a sheen of precum through the thick fabric before his turn was up but he didn't care.  He perused paraphernalia on the table looking for an item he had placed there specifically in the event Vance had ended up being on the losing team and his eyes lit up when he noticed it.

There were several evil cheers as Pip held up the foot long, thick dildo and a tiny bottle of lube and approached Vance.  The muscular stud became hysterical as Pip applied a small dollop of lube to the head of the dildo and walked behind him.  Pip could see Vance's truly huge, pendulous nuts swinging between his legs but he was more interested in the stud's perfectly chiseled ass, rubbing the dildo between Vance's ass cheeks slowly before suddenly ramming in the entire length.  

Vance let out a shrill squeal and writhed as Pip proceeded to act out his long held fantasy of plowing the handsome pledge's hot ass, pulling the dildo almost completely out before ramming it all the way in. Over and over Pip piston fucked Vance and it only took a moment before Pip had achieved his desired result. Despite his screams Vance's ten inch dick was now at full attention, protruding from this neatly trimmed pubes and eliciting hoots and catcalls from the watching brothers and drawing his fat swinging nuts toward his crotch.  Pip removed the dildo, using it to playfully smack Vance's sack before ceding his time to the next brother.

By now the atmosphere in the basement had become markedly more sinister as the next young man, Parker Stonestreet, took a stand in front of Mark.  Like Kent, Parker skipped the weapons table opting instead of take out his frustrations sans a job aide.  Parker was a tall, somewhat lanky young man but his long legs were well toned from track, a fact Mark knew that sent a shiver down his spine as he realized Parker was lining up for a kick.

"Mmmph! Mmmmph!"  Mark screamed before nearly blacking out after Parker's toe collided with the underside of this sack.

Marks' nuts were hideously deformed as they were driven into his body, squashed between Parker's shoe and his own pelvis.  A few of the watching boys grimaced in genuine empathy although most of the reaction was of callous laughter and encouragement.

"Kick a field goal, Parker!"

"Dent his football, man!"

Parker gave Mark a look between playful taunting and lust as he reared his leg back and sent it sailing again into his crotch.  Mark's pendulous balls were being absolutely brutalized as Parker used it like a target for kick boxing and they were beginning to swell noticeably, taking on a rosy red color that only made them stand out as more inviting targets.  After a particularly devastating kick caused Mark's face to turn white with shock, Lyle called time. 

The next two fraternity brothers, Winston and his actual brother Cedric, two boyishly handsome jocks with well sculpted bodies, took turns using Mark's reddening sack as a speed bag, filling the basement with wet splats as Mark's body became totally drenched in sweat which accentuated his musculature. Even the straightest man watching couldn't help but admire Mark's body; it was a study of the male form, every muscle outlined in exquisite, sweat glistening detail and a pair of large, swollen balls dandling lower than normal between his toned thighs.  His dick, though flaccid, was still an impressive five inch slap that rested lazily on top of his balls and for his part Pip couldn't wait for his turn to come around again so that he could violate Mark as he had Vance in hopes of making Mark's cock spring to its purportedly huge erect proportions. 

Tyler Long was up next, an olive skinned lad whose body was rivaled only my Mark's. Tyler didn't even try to conceal the erection raging in his pants as he stood in front of Mark.  He had picked up a small dumbbell from the table and Mark's eyes grew huge as he approached.  The weight was only five pounds, but considering the extensive beating his junk had already taken Mark wasn't excited to see what Tyler had in store. 

Lyle raised an eyebrow as he, and everyone else, wondered what Tyler was going to do.  A few of them had recently seen a slasher flick where one of the campy main characters had his testicles crushed - complete with over the top splattering effects - by a maniac dropping a dumbbell on his crotch while he was tied to a weight bench.  But such a setup wouldn't work with Mark trussed up...

WHOOSH!

CRUNCH!

Mark's eyes rolled back into his head and the handsome stud blacked out as Tyler made an arch with the weight on the leading edge, colliding with Mark's now blood red nut sack like a wrecking ball.

Lyle knew Tyler's turn couldn't last very long if there was any hope of the rest of the boys having a shot but before he could call time Tyler had performed the wrecking ball move again... and again.

WHOOSH! CRUNCH!

Mark's balls bounced so violently it looked like they might actually fly off. 

WHOOSH! CRUNCH!

The sick crunching was a startling juxtaposition from the utter silence coming from the passed out Mark. The watching boys howled in delight at Tyler's unorthodox approach.

"Good one, man!"

"Hope Mark didn't want kids!" Monty shouted out to laughter.

"That's enough," Lyle barked and Tyler obediently stepped away. 

Mark was also the target of the next three players.  Quinn delivered a volley of devastating uppercuts, Sam grabbed onto Mark's big nuts and pulled and tugged so violently his hand was cramping and Milo decided to kill two birds with one stone - his open adoration for Mark's body and his desire to crush his spuds.  Milo somehow managed to fit both of Mark's ridiculously swollen, jumbo egg sized testes in his mouth and proceeded to bite down hard.  Some of the brothers gathered closer to watch the spectacle of Milo's adorable face deformed by two huge lumps in his cheeks that were slowly losing their shape.  Lyle ended Milo's turn after only a minute after it became obvious the horny stud wasn't going to stop until Mark's baby makers had turned into splattered baby food coating the back of his throat. 

By now the basement was alive with chanting and cheering, each player encouraging the next to unleash ever more diabolic punishment to Mark's swollen, sagging nards.  Alex was up next, a handsome German athlete who at first had questioned the purpose of fraternities in general but at this moment was convinced he had made the right decision in joining Tau Omega Chi.

"Hey guys, poor Vance hasn't had any attention in a while,"  he started in an exaggerated accent for comic effect. 

Vance became increasingly nervous and the usually playful jock sauntered toward him, stopping briefly at the table to pick out a weapon and Vance started to cry when he saw that Alex was now wearing a pair of brass knuckles.  Alex was beefier than Vance and his large, powerful fists would have been forces to be reckoned with even without the aid of the hard plastic knuckles. 

"Mmmphmmph! Mmmph!" 

No one cared to decipher Vance's frantic, gagged screaming as Alex took position between his legs. Vance's nuts were large - nearly as big as Mark's already large nuts were in their swollen state - and hung quite low in his neatly trimmed bag. His cock was a monstrous eight inches totally soft draping on top of his man pods.  Vance wasn't nearly as ripped as Mark, but he was slightly taller, quite toned and undeniably attractive with a chiseled jaw and dark, defining features. 

"What do you say I knock this porn star wanna' be out of the gene pool?"

There was thunderous applause from the crowd and Connor made sure to capture their reaction as he expertly worked his camera.

Alex wasted no time slamming his fist repeatedly into Vance's enormous nuts.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! 

The rigid brass knuckles sank terrifyingly far into Vance's sack with each blow, eliciting muted howls from him and gleeful shouts from the crowd.

"Look at those big fuckers bounce!"

"Yeah Alex, save some for us!"

SPLAT! SPLAT!

Despite the fact Vance had been relatively spared so far, his pornographically huge package was quickly starting to look quite damaged, with the brass knuckles leaving deep red imprints on his sack which was already starting to turn pink. Lyle thought he should call the round but the crowd was into it and Alex was following up every blow with delightfully witty catchphrases.

"Oh man, Vance. I used to dream about having your nut all over me... looks like that might just come true!" 

With that Alex made two fists, trapping Vance's nuts on either side and sent them crashing into each other. Vance's eyes grew large as saucers as he felt his tender gonads violently compressed and squashed into each other in the rapidly decreasing space between Alex's fists.

Alex had just pulled his fists apart and was preparing for another double-fist pound when Lyle called time on his turn.

Next was Mario, a handsome senior who spent nearly ten minutes pounding Vance's screaming nuts with his fists before passing the proverbial bottom to his friend Tom who gladly kept up the rhythm of slamming his fists into Vance's balls as hard as he could.  For good measure, Tom encircled Vance's swollen right nut with one hand to force the bloated ball as far down the sack as it would go, then proceeded to use his other fist like a hammer to pound it.  Vance's nut was trapped between Tom's piston like fists, and it couldn't dissipate the energy by bouncing wildly or deforming at all. At this rate it was just going to burst and there wasn't anything the writhing stud could do about it. 

"Time! That's time!" Lyle shouted when he noticed Vance's right nut was now swelling significantly more than the left and was an angry shade of red. 

Last up was Axel, easily the tallest young man in the fraternity with a hulking though toned frame to match.  To everyone's delight he had picked up the pliers from the table before standing in front of Vance.  He held the tool to Vance's face and slowly clamped the jaws showing Vance - and everyone else - that though the jaws clamped together much smaller than the girth of one of Vance's nuts, the jaws literally could not be closed all the way.  

"I'm gonna' enjoy this, mega nuts,"

Connor zoomed the camera on Vance's battered nut sack as Axel proceeded to ensnare his engorged right nut in the jaws of the pliers and squeeze.  Hard.

"Mmmmphph! Mph!" 

Every muscle on Vance's body glistened with sweat as his nut, which had swollen to slightly smaller than a kiwi, was bisected by the pliers.  The space between the jaws got smaller and smaller and even though they had been handicapped to avoid closing outright, Axel was surprised - and a little aroused - to realize that the sheer density of Vance's nut was now effectively stopping the pliers from closing further. Never a quitter, Axel slowly increased the pressure of his grip, feeling the fleshy ball warp and deform from the pressure. He could have just slammed the jaws as hard as they would go in one brutal movement but he didn't want the game to be 'over' quite so quickly.  Instead, over what felt like an eternity to the trapped stud, Axel methodically increased the pressure, stopping occasionally to relieve it a bit - like an animal who'd realized it was attempting to eat something too big for it's mouth.  Suddenly, to his amazement, Axel couldn't squeeze the pliers shut anymore.  They had reached the limit of their squeezing and Vance's gigantic, usually-round ball had been compressed to less than an inch flat around its middle, the ball meat that didn't fit under the pliers jaws bulging obscenely.  He couldn't believe he had actually crushed Vance's truly enormous testicle so flat without breaking anything...

Determined, he quickly opened the pliers to their full width and was prepared to close them again in one brutal, instant clamp when Lyle stopped him.

"Well gentlemen.  We might not have reversed the outcome of the game but who here feels a little less stressed?"

The fifteen boys who had just taken turns trying to permanently un-man the pledges gave a cheer.  Lyle roughly grabbed Vance's balls and was surprised at their condition; apparently size didn't determine strength as the massive bag was purplish red, swollen and welted compared to Mark's battered, but only red, sack. Vance cried as Lyle roughly squeezed and prodded his package with his hands before moving on to do the same to Mark.  

Nothing felt broken in either sack, though the area under the pliers' mark on Vance's nut felt decidedly less firm than normal and Mark's left nut was now hanging lower than the right.

Turning toward the crowd of still-disappointed San Francisco fans Lyle asked slyly "Are you all still stressed about that game?"

Everyone shouted "Yes" in unison.

Lyle eyed the table which still full of as of yet unused implements of male-specific torture and his grey eyes sparkled so wickedly that Vance and Mark shuddered in terror. 

"Well then, let's get on with round two!"

Ryan picked up a candle from the table and approached the two studly pledges for another round.

To be continued...