Crackin' Dad's Nuts Wide Open

Thanks to Mr. G for this great story (adapted from Spanish)! I'm always willing to share my small platform so if you'd like to be featured shoot me an email trumansmith [at] gmail.com

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Hey, I’m Luke. Some people call me arrogant. Am I? Possibly, but facts don’t lie. People have always called me attractive and I really came to form in high school. I’m a blue-eyed muscular stud who has girls and boys lining up to be around me. And I don’t just mean sexually, though I do get as much pussy and ass as I want (and never underestimate the throat of a horny quarterback on his knees haha). I was one of the most popular boys in high school, voted ‘Most Likely to Succeed’, ‘Best Athlete’ and ‘Most Attractive’, a blond trifecta of brains and brawn and beauty.

No matter how many sports I played, girls I banged or hours I spent at the gym to max out my masculinity card, my dad used to always insult me for being a ‘boy’ and not a ‘man’. It’s like he knew my Kryptonite and poked me about daily for years. Instead of being glad that his household had two strong men, the bastard was hell bent and determined for me to stay a ‘boy’ forever. That all changed on my eighteenth birthday. 
 
I woke up that morning feeling like I had aged a decade. I’d gone to bed the night before an seventeen year old kid and awoke a bona fide eighteen year old man. Pops didn’t see it like that. I had a small get together with friends and as soon as they had cleared out my dad came up to me, placed his hand on my shoulder and gave me one of his fake, two-faced smiles that I knew meant he was preparing to unleash some kind of messed up mind game. Like I said, he’s a bastard.
 
"And now you think that because you're eighteen you're a man, right?" he asked.
 
Of course I answered with something like "That's right, I'm already a man,"
 
He grinned.
 
"To be a man, you have to prove it,”
 
I had just had a great party and really wasn’t in the mood for his shit, but I played along.
 
“How can I prove I’m a man?”
 
He laughed and made the biggest mistake of his life, though at the time I doubt he realized it. He challenged me to a fight and I accepted without hesitation. I was a man, after all, and playtime was over as he would soon find out. 
 
"Hey, son, how about we make this fight more interesting?"
 
I remember he flashed a wicked grin, as if he had been rehearsing the next line for days. I’ll never forget the look on his face because it turned out to be the most consequential thing he had ever said to me:
 
"How about, in order to win you have to crush the other person’s balls so the loser can never be a man,”
 
Without thinking I blurted “Sounds good, guess that means you won’t be the man of the house anymore.”
 
He scoffed like the arrogant prick he is and we shook hands to lock in our no-holds-barred agreement.
 
Adam, my father, explained the rules of the game. We wouldn’t be having a fight, per se (I remember being upset about that because I was a stud in the boxing ring and on the wrestling mat). Instead, we would have to be naked, facing each other, and would take turns punching each other's balls until one managed to burst the other's.
 
I remember eyeing his enormous bulging crotch. My dad may have been a prick, but no one could claim he didn’t have the balls to back up his shit talk. Literally.
 
We both quickly stripped out of our clothes. Like I said, I was on several sports teams so I was rippling with muscles, the most impressive being the monster between my thighs, a cock that was eight inches flaccid and two gigantic, low hanging balls the size of juicy tomatoes. I remember watching Adam stripping. 
 
At the time of the fight he was forty-one. He had a hard, physical job so was a heavy, muscular dude covered in thick dark blond hair. We looked so similar that people sometimes confused us for brothers, a fact that must’ve made him furious because it proved that I was looking more like a man who could be his younger brother and less like a child who was just his ‘boy’. His body was jacked and as soon as he took off his underwear I knew instantly that my own endowment was not some genetic fluke. His own cock was a ten-inch monster - and it wasn’t hard - with absolutely titanic hairy, nuts the size of ripe avocados. 
 
“Go ahead, birthday boy,” he sneered as he stood with his legs spread.
 
I balled up my fist and sent it sailing into his nuts. They were so large it felt like striking a sparring bag. He barely flinched.
 
"Too bad, I guess I’ll stay an only child,” I hissed.
 
"I really think what you're not going to have are children," 
 
I had barely registered the dumb taunt when he punched me square in the junk. I screamed in pain as a knuckle-shaped red mark was left on my bag.
 
It didn't take me long to recover and take revenge on my father with a punch from below that bounced his balls into his crotch. He didn't wait to recover, but swiftly struck back, causing my nuts to crumple into his pelvis.
 
I gasped. Just looking at dad I knew he was strong but holy fuck! I was not prepared. I took a moment to steady myself, balled my first and sent it crashing into his oversized sack. I felt my fist sink a bit into the hard-as-rock sperm tanks and he let out a funny yelp. I don’t think he was expecting such a good hit. 
 
That’s when I recall the game got serious.
 
We went back and forth trading increasingly unhinged blows to our swelling, reddening balls. A half hour passed and both of our sacks looked like shit. They were incredibly swollen, bruised - I’m talking purple-blue bruises and both of us were struggling to stay focused on the task. I can’t speak for my dad, but I was sure my right nut was going to crack. I was noticeably more bruised and felt numb yet on fire. Weird combination, right? Trust me, if you’ve ever been punched in balls for a half hour straight by a ripped middle aged man, you’d know the feeling.
 
Adam’s sorry sack looked slightly worse. It was swollen so much that the purple-red mess looked like it would just explode, the left one felt mushy on contact which I had taken advantage of, targeting that crumbling spud with everything I had.
 
I remember my dad looking so pitiful, dripping in sweat, looking like he was going  to spray me with vomit. All those muscles, his handsome face and huge cock and he was being reduced to a yodeling, sweaty mess by his own son threatening to revoke his ‘man card’.
 
I sent my fist into his left nut so hard my fist actually hurt as it slammed into his pelvis like a brick wall. He gave me a weird expression as he opened his mouth and let out a deafening scream as he fell to his knees. Not surprisingly, instead of just staying down and admitting I had won, he stood up, flexed his muscles and motioned for me to spread my legs further apart. My heavy, swollen nuts must’ve made a tempting target because dad did seem to perk back up at the prospect of punching them out of existence. 
 
"Don't you want to give your old man grandkids? Why don’t you just give up?”
 
He didn’t give me a chance to react, as if he would have stopped anyway, and he delivered an epic punch to my throbbing right nut. Apparently it looked as bad as if felt because he targeted it dead on as if convinced it was close to breaking.  
 
"Well old man, you might as well forget about sex with mom since we both know how this ends,”
 
SPLAT!
 
I didn’t give dad any time to analyze my words, I just threw everything I had into his left ball. Eighteen years of pent up malice and my gym-honed muscles was too much for Adam’s Lefty. It exploded inside his furry nutsack. I remember vividly the feeling of taking away half of my dad’s coveted manhood. 
 
He gave me a look of terror and let out a howl and I made some kind of dumb joke about him being a one-nut-wonder but he sprang to his feet with a mission. He had lost a nut, but was determined to completely snuff me out before I could finish the job.

He balled his massive fist and slammed it so hard into my right nut that he might as well used a mallet. The effect was the same.
 
CRUNCH!
 
My right nut flattened and flattened and flattened and flattened. I kind of flashed out for a bit, but I remember the sensation of his knuckles blasting through my testicle like it was a ball of mud. My eyes crossed as little pops - that honestly sounded like the loudest sounds I had ever heard even though I know they weren't audible -  rang in my ears. One of my balls was nothing but teenage nut sludge.
 
He promised I would never be a man as I crumpled over clutching my balls, I mean ball.
 
Despite the fact that we both had one of our nuts turned to mush, we continued slamming everything we had into ruining the other. He’ll never admit it, but both of us got such a high feeling of a nut crack under our hand that we were desperately trying to replicate the experience. I don’t recall how many more blows I got in on my old man. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t many considering neither of us could barely stand up, but suddenly the heavenly sound of angels singing filled the room.
 
"Aaaaahhh,"
 
Okay, so it wasn’t divine music, but dad’s screaming as his last testicle was mortally wounded sounded like music to me. Even though he knew he was on the brink of being totally destroyed, the idiot actually used his last strength not to wave his hands in mercy, but to deliver one final blow to my own pretty messed up sack. He struck the middle of my last nut, causing it to bulge and flatten and I remember being horrified that I was going to feel the same collapsing soufflé sensation in my last nut. I thought I was going to vomit, but the fiery pain - and his cocky, evil laughter as he saw how close I was to quitting - filled me with a blinding rage-adrenaline rush.
 
While he was still cackling I pulled my fist all the way back, rotating my torso for extra impact, and sent it into his last ball. 
 
SPLOTCH

I chuckle to this day when I remember how abruptly he went from laughing and pointing at his ‘defeated’ son to looking at me in stunned silence. His last nut had split wide open in his sack. If I had x-ray vision I would have seen the destroyed thing looking like a smashed melon.
 
That was the end of the fight...
 
Haha! You really thought I stopped there? Naw, a fraction of a second later I slammed both of my fists together, trapping his heavy fat sack between them. What sucks is that they hit each other so hard I ended up fracturing one of my fingers with that little maneuver. It was the worst.
 
I mean, I’m pretty sure my dad would argue that my hurt hand paled to what happened to his balls that had been sandwiched between my freight train fists

What was left of his nuts was pulped, his bag flattening until it split between my fists. He gave me a devastated look and I smiled as I sent my fists slamming together again. His sack was toast. Pieces of his huge destroyed testicles squirted all over the place. One of the chunks, a meaty lookin’ thing, fell right near my foot. I didn’t think twice about stomping my foot into it. By then he had fallen onto his back, screaming and clutching what was left of his balls. 

"Guess I’m the man of the house,"

Dad doesn’t call me boy any more.