WARNING

These stories are entirely works of fantasy fiction. Please do not act anything on this blog out. Doing so would be extremely dangerous.

Monday, November 21, 2022

Frat Boys Gone Wild: The Pink Load





Like many poor decisions of the young, Carl and Nick barely remembered the alcohol-fueled boast that had gotten them into their current predicament. The two popular Delta Epsilon juniors were sitting in the common room naked, secured to two wooden chairs by ropes that crisscrossing their toned upper bodies and their arms tied behind their backs. Impromptu pieces of wood were secured across their spread knees with duct tape, trapping the two frat boys with their legs wide open exposing their pendulous nuts and semi-hard cocks to whatever devious machinations awaited them. As the two squirmed in place, their fraternity brothers had circled them showering the two with cat calls and more than a few whistles of genuine admiration.

They whole evening had started like any other typical Friday night at the Delta Epsilon house of Amajor University. It was the last weekend of the semester before final exams and although the university library was crowded with students studying, the young men of Delta Epsilon had a decidedly more laissez faire attitude about the end of the semester; if they weren't prepared for finals by now there was no use spending the last weekend of the school term cramming. Instead, the small fraternity house had been filled with blaring pop music, laughter and sounds of other juvenile antics of lads barely in their twenties. And of course a healthy supply of alcohol which had been chipping away at any lingering inhibitions.

At some point of the evening Carl had been dared into a game of Pink Shots by his frat brothers and Nick was cheered on to be his opponent. Pink Shots was a game with only vaguely defined rules mostly passed on from class to class through urban legend but the gathered brothers were sure they knew the rules well enough to cobble together a game. 
Carl, Nick and the rest of the brothers sat quietly as the group's charismatic leader Scott, the fraternity president, explained the rules of the night's activities. It had been years since anyone in the house had actually played the legendary game so listened to Scott as he melodramatically outlined the proceedings.

"So, these two brave brothers have volunteered to be Delta Epsilon's first players of Pink Shot in a long, long time," Scott began.

Scott stepped between Carl's spread legs and lifted a foot. Carl instinctively flinched as Scott placed the heel of his shoe on Carl's large, fat nuts and pressed gently downward, squashing them into the seat of the chair but not hard enough to elicit more than a slight whimper. Nick and Carl's hearts pounded as Scott explained the rules.

Nick and Carl would spend the entire game trapped in place, their ample genitals exposed, while the watching crowd took turns trying to turn their spuds into paste. Each of the watching young men would get five minutes working over Nick and Carl's junk followed by a five-minute reprieve during which Nick and Carl's 'teammate' would do whatever they could to try to get the two horny young men off. After the five minutes of pleasure, there would be an additional five minutes of pain and the game would continue until either Nick or Carl shot his load or - if the other players were too rough - had their nuts thoroughly cracked.

The crowd cheered as Scott stepped aside, stopwatch in hand, and called for the games to begin. Nick and Carl's chairs were positioned so that they were facing each other, fully able to see the pounding the other's nuts were getting. Not like they were going to be able to focus on much else other than their own packages in a few minutes.

The first contestants were Charles and Blake, two muscular freshmen who had excelled on the school's rugby team thanks to their massive upper body strength. Charles took his place in front Nick and Blake in front of Carl anxiously waiting for the signal to start.

"Let's crack some nuts!" Scott roared as he started the timer.

Charles and Blake wasted absolutely no time slamming their fists into the two waiting sacks. Carl, whose massive nuts were slightly bigger than Nick's, let out a girlish squeal that immediately made his watching brothers erupt into laughter. Nick gritted his teeth as Charles unleashed full-force devastating blows into his crotch. Charles didn't particularly dislike Nick but a game was a game, so he wasn't holding back as he threw all of his weight into each punch. The freshman nut buster couldn't help but sport a thick bulge in his jeans as he unloaded on Nick, feeling Nick's naked, huge nuts compress between his knuckles and Nick's pelvis. Shockingly, Nick only responded with mild grunts and the occasional deep breath as he tried to count down the time in his head. Carl's response to Blake's punches were less restrained. 

Carl was screaming at the top of his lungs as Blake's fist slammed into his sack like a piston. Even though Charles and Blake were similar in strength, Blake's rhythm was faster meaning that Carl's balls were taking a collectively more brutal beating. Blake for his part, was thoroughly enjoying crunching Carl's nuggets. The younger frat boy had always found Carl to be a pretentious prick so was really enjoying knocking him down a peg, and if there was any doubt the obvious precum stain in his jeans was all the evidence anyone needed that Blake was really, really getting into the prospect of crushing Carl's chances of ever having kids.

The watching crowd cheered as Carl squealed and Nick held his composure, the sound of Blake and Charles grunting with effort and the sound of the solid hits reverberating off of the captive's defenseless nuts filled the room.

"Okay, that's time!" Scott declared.

Carl was midway through a preemptive scream as Blake's overpowered fist stopped midway through yet another punch at the sound of Scott ending the match. Even though Blake wanted to just keep pounding, rules were rules.

Charles and Blake blended back into the group, their worn-out fists finally unfurling so that they could receive lots of high fives. Nick and Carl were starting to sweat, their chests heaving as they awaited the next round. Now it was time for the first pleasure round. Both Nick and Carl's cocks twitched at the prospect of relief and their pain wracked brains were desperately conjuring the hottest images they could think of to help get their rocks off and end their suffering.

Nick had chosen his roommate and not-so-secret crush Zach as his fluffer and Carl had picked the devastatingly handsome senior Peter. With a flourish Scott started the timer and Zach and Peter quickly got to work.

Peter wasted no time as he dropped to his knees and took Carl's flaccid cock into his mouth, expertly massaging it with his throat until Carl was able to barely ignore the throbbing in his nuts. Carl threw his head back and moaned as the cock-hungry Peter hungrily slurped on Carl's rapidly swelling dick. Meanwhile, Zach has straddled Nick's lap, facing him as he grinded Nick's swelling cock with only the thin fabric of Zach's underwear separating Nick's cock from his muscular, tight ass. Nick inhaled sharply, trying to ignore the pain in his balls, which were being slightly squashed by the hot lap dance but his dick was feeling nothing but pleasure. Nick had gotten off so many times thinking about plowing his dick into Zach's perfect ass so the provocative lap dance was quickly getting his cock to its full, meaty ten inch hardness despite the pain in his nuts. 

Several tents were starting to appear in the jeans of the watching, raunchy brothers as the sounds of screaming and the twack of fists colliding with nut sacks was gradually replaced by Nick and Carl's throaty moans of pleasure.

"Okay, that's time. Next up!" Scott declared to Nick and Carl's chagrin. 

Zach and Peter stepped away to make room for the next set of players. Devin stood in front of Nick and Tyler in front of Carl.

"Looks like somebody's getting close!" someone hooted. 

Indeed, despite their five minutes of punches, both Nick and Carl had seemingly recovered after five minutes of pleasure, both of their cocks were fully hard, literally pulsing with each heart beat. Nick's cock was fully hard, a thick, veiny ten inch monster that was aching for a hole to ram. Carl's slightly smaller eight incher wasn't nearly as thick as Nick's but there were still plenty of guys in the audience who would have gladly bent over to take it - so long as their girlfriends didn't find out. 

"Oh, this is gonna' hurt! "someone cat called as Devin flexed his biceps. Nick gulped as he looked the tone junior up and down, his cock throbbing at the perfect male specimen in front of him even though he knew any second all of those beautiful muscles would be dedicated to taking him out of the gene pool.

Tyler wasn’t as muscular as Devin, but the eighteen year old frat boy was hardly a weakling.
Moments before Scott started the next round, Tyler leaned in and whispered into Carl’s ear.

“How much pressure does it take to pop a nut?” he whispered softly with a seriousness that made Carl’s entire body shudder.

“Okay... begin!” Scott declared and the room was once again filled with screams from Carl and cheers from the crowd. 

“Oh fuck!” Nick screamed, his voice dropping several octaves as Devin’s fists smashed into his sack.

Charles’ punches had been strong but nothing compared to Devin. The once stoic Nick was wailing in a rich, deep vibrato as Devin pulverized his manhood with rapid fire, alternating punches. Left right, right left. Nick’s large nuts started to turn bright pink as Devin smiled.

Meanwhile, Tyler’s fists were almost disappearing into Carl’s sack, completely smashing Carl’s fat sack into his pelvis.

“Oooh!” Carl screamed, rocking back and forth in a desperate attempt to deflect the blows but he was firmly held in place. 

Nick and Carl’s bodies were starting to glisten with sweat as Devin and Tyler treated their nuts like a sparring bag. 

“Okay, that’s time!” Scott declared, a moment too late for Carl who screamed bloody murder as Tyler’s fist sank dangerously into his left nut.

Devin and Tyler fist pumped the air in triumph as they stepped away from the two whimpering captives. Nick and Carl were moaning, Carl outright crying, as they tried to recover from the overpowered blows to their junk.

Zach and Peter got to work quickly to get their teammate’s cocks back at full attention. It didn’t take long for the always-horny Nick to be back at full mast, his meaty cock making a nice bulge in Zach’s throat as he bobbed up and down on Nick’s cock like his life depended on it. Carl wasn’t so lucky. Although Peter’s blowjob was world class, the pain radiating from Carl’s crotch was stopping his usually randy cock from getting more than semihard. As Scott ticked down the last few seconds, Carl desperately tried to will himself to cum and his cock had barely regained full hardness before the round was over. 

Nick’s cock was throbbing, fully hard which made his swollen nuts an even more tempting target. Unfortunately for Carl, his eight inch fuck stick was nearly totally flaccid even before the next pair of ball busters took their turns. Travis, a muscular senior cracked his knuckles as he stood in front of nick and Carl was visibly shaking as Clint - a monstrously huge muscle stud - stood in front of him sneering. Clint was six foot ten of farm-raised muscle. He wasn’t on a sports team, but he worked out practically every day when he wasn’t honing his muscles working on the university farm.

“Mmm, reminds me of castration day at the ranch!” he said, only half joking, as he eyed Carl’s enormous vulnerable testicles. 

The promised bashing was too much to even imagine for some of audience and several hard cocks were pulled out of jeans to be stroked while Clint unleashed his raw power onto Carl’s boys.

Before starting the next round, Scott took a moment to make a quick announcement. 

“So Carl, Nick, there’s shame in quitting. You’ll lose the game but you might keep your manhood,” 

Scott winked as he squeezed Clint’s bulging bicep through his shirt, genuinely awestruck at the massive rock-like muscle. Scott compared the seemingly unbreakable muscle to Carl’s every breakable nuts; the juxtaposition made him make yet another announcement, much to Clint’s annoyance. The hulking brute wasn’t shy about his love of ball busting and would routinely share links to videos and stories in the fraternity group chat that made the other brothers’ legs cross.

“Don’t forget guys, you can bow out wherever you want. You’d lose but it might beat the alternative,”

Scott snickered.

“Are you sure guys?” 

Nick and Carl nodded affirmatively.

“Okay, but remember the loser, the guy who cums last, won’t be released until we get a pink load out of him. You guys sure you’re up to it?”

The watching crowd waited with baited breath as Carl and Nick both contemplated the offer to bow out gracefully. Neither conceded. 

Scott winked at Carl as he gave Clint’s bicep another squeeze before stepping out of the way and starting the timer.

“Ooooh shit!” Carl screamed out even before the first blow. 

Turns out his preemptive reaction was muted compared to what happened when Clint’s massive fist actually collided.

Carl’s face went white and his mouth opened in a comical, silent scream as he felt Clint’s fist plow into his nuts. Again and again and again. Barely two minutes into the round, Clint was grunting and sweating in effort as he unloaded all of his darkest fantasies onto Carl’s poor nuts. The fact that Carl’s nuts were huge made Clint even more eager to permanently flatten them.

Nick wasn’t fairing much better. Travis was focusing exclusively on Nick’s left nut, trapping it over and over between his fist and Nick’s body. Nick and Carl howled as the watching crowd cheered Travis and Clint on.

“Oh yeah, man. Crush them flat, Travis,” someone shouted.

“Crack ‘em!” came another.

As if Travis or Clint needed any encouragement. Carl was starting to become hoarse and Nick felt like he was going to pass out as blow after blow smashed into their crotches. Alarm bells were going off in Carl’s head as he watched the unbelievable mass of muscle focused on destroying his nuts and Carl nearly screamed out that he was giving up right before Scott stopped the round. 

Carl was crying, willing himself to stay in the game and Nick - trying to regain his composure - had his eyes closed, inhaling deeply as he tried to focus on anything other than his throbbing nuts. 

Zach and Peter again got on their knees and took Nick and Carl’s soft cocks into their mouths. Peter was mildly alarmed by the nasty shade of red Carl’s sack was taking and Zach grimaced empathetically at the front-row view he had of Nick’s swollen bag. A blood vessel had ruptured under the skin of Nick’s bag and a nasty welt was developing. Despite their dramatic screaming earlier, Nick and Carl’s packages hadn’t really been submitted to any abuse that would have left more than a swollen, bruised sack in its wake.

“Okay, that’s time! Next ball busters step right up!” Scott declared.

Carl groaned as Peter’s expert mouth withdrew from his raging cock. Nick’s eyes had rolled into his head multiple times during the break period when Zach was sucking the life out of his ten inch pole, but the ecstatic feeling wasn’t enough to push Nick over the edge. Nick’s cock throbbed with each heart beat, desperate to shoot the load Zach had been just minutes away from coaxing out. 

The game continued for several turns and by the time the eighth set of ball busters had finished their turns Carl and Nick’s scrotums has swollen significantly, making their already meaty nuggets look even bigger.  Both frat sacks were covered in bruises and Carl’s right nut was starting to turn an uncomfortable shade of purple. 

Zach and Peter tried desperately to get their assigned cock to spew, sparing their crushes from further nut-destroying-abuse but their efforts were mostly in vain. After the fourteenth round, Nick and Carl’s balls were so swollen and bruised they had become the center of their entire worlds. Nothing Zach or Peter did - sucking, stroking, even literally trying to ride Carol and Nick’s cocks was working. Nick’s dick barely got semi hard and Carl’s was a shrunken limp noodle. 

Max, a skinny freshman, turned out to have a devastating right hook and Nick screamed hoarsely as Max's fists pulverized his swollen balls. At the same time Paul, a chubby junior whom Carl had never been particularly nice to, pounded the fuck out of Carl’s ridiculously bruised, swollen sack. Carl squealed - desperately trying not to scream out the safe word - as Paul nearly shot his load from the feeling of his fist compressing Carl’s massive nuts nearly totally flat.  Unfortunately for Carl, his limp dick was drooping over his engorged sack so the defenseless fuck stick was being pulverized along with his aching nuts. 

By the next pleasure round, Nick and Carl were in tears. Their macho persona’s were completely stripped away and the two naked, sweaty frat boys were starting to genuinely fear for their future ability to have a family. Carl’s nuts looked like a complete, purplish disaster and Nick’s weren’t far behind. Nick’s massive nuts screamed with every breath and even some of the watching crowd winced at the site of it. Though moans of sympathy were far outnumbered by moans of pleasure as the watching young men stroked themselves as they patiently waited for their turn to bash Nick or Carl.

After a few more rounds, every brother had gotten at least one go at either Nick or Carl’s nuts. And their bloodthirsty dedication to the task was obvious by the rapidly deteriorating appearance of the target ball bags.

“Okay, so it looks like no one is giving up after the first wave!” Scott declared to thunderous applause.

“So we’ll just go again, every guy gets a turn, and again. And again!” 

The crowd whooped in delight. Scott used the crowd’s distraction to approach Nick and Carl separately whispering the same message into each ear.

“No shame in giving up, just say the word guys,”

Despite his ostensibly pleasure at watching Carl and Nick getting demolished, Scott was joined by Zach and Peter in mild alarm at Carl and Nick’s packages. Their sacks were swollen and purplish red, their dicks - which were both taking devastating blows along with their balls - could barely get hard anymore. Nick’s once monster cock was covered in welts and Carl’s mushroom head was actually swollen from being on the receiving end of one-too-many punches. Despite everything, Carl and Nick were both too proud - or deluded by hubris - to bow out. Scott shrugged (after all he had given them ample chances to quit) and stood to face the crowd, his stopwatch in hand. 

Although there wasn’t a fixed order that the busters were going in, they had collectively agreed that they would go in the same order for the next round.

Charles once again stood in front of Nick and Blake in front of Carl. Each buster was determined to finally crack a nut and from the looks of the sacks the end didn’t seem that far away. Scott declared the start of the match and Nick and Carl erupted into renewed - urgent - screams but neither young man willing to just admit he had the weaker nuts and end both of their torment. After all, if someone quit before the other shot his load the game would be over for both of them. No fabled ‘pink load’. No more ball abuse. But Carl was willing to endure even more testicle-membrane-rupturing blows if it mean Nick’s sack soufflé collapsed first.

After Charles and Blake had their turn, and Zach and Peter tried desperately to get the two tied up studs to shoot, Scott made a cheeky announcement that made Nick and Carl’s blood run cold.

“So you guys have been really going to town with your fists... “

Charles and Blake flexed to applause.

“... But aren’t you forgetting about your feet. Your teeth. Or even that thing over there,”

Scott motioned toward a ceremonial gavel on the mantle and the room burst into cheers.
“Fuck yeah, let’s take it up a notch!” someone shouted.

“Play time is over, studs!”

For a brief moment Nick nearly gave up, but just looking at the smug look on Carl’s face was enough to banish the thought.

The next busters were Devin and Tyler. Devin stuck with tried and true punches that were devastating Nick’s reproductive organs but Tyler decided to finally switch it up.

“FUUUUUUCK!” Carl bellowed so loudly the windows seemed to shake. 

Tyler had raised his foot and sent the bottom of his sneaker smashing into Carl’s bloated sack, instantly crushing them against the seat of the chair. Carl’s reaction was so violent that for a moment Tyler was stunned into inaction - before his leaking cock prompted him to continue. Carl’s nuts were being absolutely wrecked under Tyler’s shoe and by the end of the round the distinct imprint of shoe treadmarks were visible even among the sea of bruises on his sack. The pounding had been so brutal that Clint, who was watching excitedly as he awaited his turn, had to stop jerking off lest he blow his load before the quickly approaching grand finale he envisioned in his mind.

After another pleasure round, that neither Nick or Carl benefited much from, Travis took his place in front of a sobbing Nick and Clint - the hulk of a man - was in front of Carl.

“Nick. Carl. Really guys, there is no shame in giving up. Worst you’ll get is some teasing in the shower whenever anyone sees your battered junk,” Scott declared, half joking, half serious. 

Nick and Carl’s bags looked awful. They had each taken nearly an hour of ball busting abuse with only slight reprevies between rounds.  By now, despite Zach and Peter’s best efforts it looked like a testicle would literally burst before either floppy cock actually shot a load. Zach was especially distraught as he watched Nick’s massive equipment - which would be better served fucking him all over the house - being turned into a ruined shadow of its former self. Even if the game stopped right now, it would be days or even weeks before Nick was in any shape to slam his massive cock into Zach’s waiting hole. Despite serious alarm bells blaring in the logical parts of their brains, Nick and Carl were too proud to give up now. Scott nodded in admiration at their tenacy - or stupidity - as he stepped back and started the next round.
For Nick, it felt like the longest five minutes of his young life. Travis had dropped to his knees as if he was going to give Nick a blow job. Instead, he nearly dislocated his jaw as he took both of Travis’ truly massive testicles into his mouth and proceeded to bite down. Hard.

While Travis was gnawing on Nick’s increasingly mushy sack, Clint was borrowing a move from Tyler. Every bound of Clint’s massive weight was sent slamming into Carl’s nuts as he stomped them into the chair. The sensation of feeling Carl’s fat nuts compressing nearly flat was making Clint’s cock leak. Clint could barely focus on the task at hand as his mind raced with depraved thoughts with Carl’s manhood trapped under his foot. Carl was delirious with pain, knowing he could stop this madness at any moment, but he still refused. His sack looked simply awful and that was before Clint’s eyes grew wide as he got a particularly nasty idea.
With just a minute left on the clock, Clint placed his heavy right foot on Carl’s sack. Carl’s eyes widened in terror as Clint took a hop. Suddenly,  the massive farmhand was literally standing on Carl’s squishy nuts. Clint thought he was going to blow his load as he felt Carl’s nuts shifting and flattening under this foot. Clint reached down to use Carl’s shoulders for support as the stood bouncing his foot on Carl’s rapidly deflating sack. Carl squealed as Clint - unable to hold back - pulled his cock out of his jeans and stroked it, his own fat tool pointed at Carl’s face.

“Oh fuck!” 

Clint’s knees buckled, which placed even more weight on Carl’s trapped sperm pods, as he unloaded all over Carl’s face. Multiple ropes shot right down Carl’s throat and his gurgled screams resulted in several loud moans as guy after guy in the audience lost it and shot their own loads. 

“Okay, that’s time!” Scott declared.

Carl, his face dripping with cum and tears, was barely forming words as he continued to scream even after Clint had stepped off his nuts. Nick’s sack was covered with teeth marks and his scrotum had been slightly torn in a few places under Travis’ relentless chewing. There were a few moments when Nick’s nut was trapped between his teeth that Travis honestly expected to feel a sick wet splat in the back of his throat as Nick’s sack burst open. Alas, to Travis’ genuine annoyance, Nick’s testicles proved tougher than Travis’ bite.

Zach and Peter rushed to Nick and Carl. It was obvious their dicks were too bruised to get aroused by themselves to Zach and Peter both tried something new. Carl’s eyes opened in surprise - and pleasure - as Peter tenderly locked lips as he caressed Carl’s chest. Meanwhile, Zach, who suspected Nick had a thing for facials, was stroking his own thick tool just inches from Nick’s face. Zach and Peter’s approaches seemed to be working. Nick - despite being nauseated from the pain in his black-purple balls, couldn’t help but get excited at the prospect of taking a load from Zach. He was so eager that he was sticking out his tongue, a signal Zach correctly interpreted as he stuck the head of his dick into Nick’s mouth. Nick moaned and his fat, bruised dick actually started to get hard as he expertly milked Zach’s nearly foot long monster of a cock.

“Mmm.. it’s so... mmm. Big...” 

Nick was fully hard as he slurped and gulped precum from Zach’s cock. Zack, desperate to help Nick blow his load, was stroking Nick’s cock at the same time. 
Carl was nearly fully hard, his battered cock leaking precum as Peter continued his expert makeout session. It was so hot Carl couldn't help but let out guttural moans interspersed with squeals of delight. He could feel his shaken up load boiling in his loins as he made out with his hot frat brother but alas it wasn’t enough. Scott called time up and Zach and Peter were forced to step back powerless as Max and Paul took their turns as ball busters for the next round. 

Nick and Carl were both rock hard and leaking, each confident they were right at the edge of finally shooting their load, so neither one was willing to give up even as Max and Paul eyed their ball bags with maniacal grins. Max had actually cum - twice- from watching the pair getting their nuts cracked but he was ready to have another turn himself. Max was holding the gavel, the ornamental wooden mallet feeling much heavier than it looked, and Paul - who had disappeared at some point to the garage to gather a tool which he was holding behind his back. Even though Carl didn’t know what Paul had in store, the open-mouth gasps - and the sound of at least three brothers moaning as they sprayed the floor with their loads - made him realize that Paul meant business. Even Scott grimaced.

“Are you absolutely sure, Carl?”

Carl, his cock still throbbing hard, nodded yes. All he had to do was ensure one more round of busting and he was sure he’d be creaming down Peter’s eager mouth during the next break.
Scott shrugged, “Alright then. Time starts now!”

CRUNCH

Nick’s eyes crossed and for a moment he was frozen. His body literally was unable to process what had just happened. Max had slapped the mallet down full force, trapping Nick’s doomed right nut. Nick was pulled out of his daze and screamed at the top of his lungs as Max continued to slam the mallet into his nuts, squashing them into the chair. 

“Order! Order in the court!” Max laughed, pretending the gavel was a judge’s mallet as he reckless slammed down on Nick’s testicles, alternating left and right. The puffy things flattened nearly to cracking after each hit but despite the urgent signals coming from his crotch, Nick willed himself not to give up since Carl was having a much worse time with Paul.

“Fucking brutal!” 

Clint let out a half-squeal, half-moan as his recently depleted cock spat out a single thick, hands free load. 

Paul had fetched a pair of pliers and had ensnared Carl’s dangerously swollen right nut between the gripping teeth of the pliers. Carl screamed and was sobbing as he felt his right nut getting flatter and flatter. And flatter. Holy fuck, Paul isn’t going to stop! Increasingly urgent, frantic triggers from his collapsing nut were racing to Carl’s pain wracked brain. Despite the fact Carl was screaming and thrashing back and forth, his ego won out and he bit his lip in a desperate effort not to give up.

“Mmmmmph!”

Carl bit his lip so hard that a trickle of blood ran down his face. If Paul had had any mercy for Carl, it was totally evaporated despite the increasingly poor state of Carl’s nut.

“It’s gonna’ pop like a zit!” Scott laughed.

Carl bit his lip and threw his head back and forth as Paul’s fist tightened full force. Paul was desperate to feel Carl’s oversized nut finally crack, but despite this efforts Carl was still one-hundred percent male by the time the round was over.

Scott gave Nick and Carl a minute to recover before letting Zach and Paul have their turns to try and coax out a load. Nick was too delirious with pain, and blinded by ego, that his brain hadn’t fully registered that hairline fractures were erupting on his actual testicles. Despite the sad appearance of his sack, up until now the damage was cosmetic but now his reproductive organs themselves were starting to cave in. Carl’s right nut hadn’t burst like Paul (and the watching Clint) wanted but the tunica albuginea around his right testicle had started to rupture. They were microtears really, which could probably be fixed by his body’s own regeneration if he only gave them a rest. Carl was too cocky to concede.

Despite his best effort, Zach wasn’t able to get Nick’s cock beyond barely-hard. Zach was face fucking Nick at this point, his own heavy nuts slamming into Nick’s chin, and despite the face Nick was as horny as he had ever been, the pain - and literal damage - to his cock was taking a toll. Nick willed himself to get hard, he could feel he was about to bust his nuts, but it was no use. The sensation of a nut starting to crack was so overwhelming that despite the fact Nick was living a fantasy being brutally face fucked in front of a crowd - he couldn’t get any harder.
As Peter made out with Carl, he mixed in some gentle hand play with Carl’s nearly broken dick. Carl tried to enjoy it but it was no use. He knew that if he didn’t give up soon - or shoot his load - his dreams of having a family were about to be turned into literal mush.

“Come on Carl, your nuts are about to crack,” Peter whispered softly in his crush’s ear.
 
“Carl, they’re gonna explode, man. Be reasonable. Just give up,” Peter implored.

Scott motioned that the ‘pleasure’ round was half over and Peter became even more urgent in his pleas as he whispered into Carl’s ear as he rubbed his hands all over Carl’s sweaty chest and abs.

“Carl, they’re gonna rupture...”

To his own shock, Carl’s cock started to swell up. The more Peter warned in increasingly graphic terms what was ultimately going to happen to his junk, the more turned on Carl got.  Peter noticed and grinned.

“Yeah, stud. You want these to crack open, don’t you?” Peter snarled as he grasped Carl’s partially failed right nut and squeezed. Hard.

Carl gasped as the micro tear in the shell of his egg radiated out over the entire surface of his nut but Peter just dug his fingers in harder. 

“I bet you get off thinking about this huge thing just bursting open, don’t you? You want it to splatter, that’s why you signed up for this isn’t it? You want your baby makers turned into goop...”

Carl’s cock twitched.

“... You want this to just explode right now, don’t you?” Peter snarled as he dug deeper into Carl’s collapsing nut. Serious ruptures were immanent and Peter could feel the otherwise solid, oblong testicle starting to permanently warp.

Carl’s cock twitched violently, pulsing at it’s full eight inches. Even covered in bruises and swollen, Carl’s cock was beautiful and Peter had to resist the urge to just drop to his knees and take Carl’s load.

“... Carl, just admit it, you want your nuts turned into paste...”

Carl’s cock twitched.

“...Turned into goo, bro...” 

Carl’s cock got even harder, dripping with precum. Peter licked and kissed Carl’s neck as the trapped stud threw his head back in pleasure.

“Times almost up, guys,” Scott declared.

The next set of ball busters had already taken their stations, just behind Zach and Peter, eager to have a turn at Nick and Carl’s already cracked nuts. Greg cracked his knuckles as he eyed Nick’s nearly destroyed sack and Justin was holding the gavel, practically unable to resist the urge to wait his turn before pounding Carl’s sack flat.

“Carl, he has a mallet, bro! You’re nuts are really going to crack...”

Carl’s dick twitched.

“Bro! They’re gonna look like two tomatoes pounded under that thing. Just slop in the bag...” Peter whispered into Carl’s ear as he gave Carl’s nut a final squeeze.

Carl nearly blacked out as his right testicle split lengthwise in the bag, much like a grape under a heel. Peter felt it. Carl obviously felt it. Some guys who were close swore they heard it...

SQUICK

“FUUUUUUUCK!”

Carl had been so turned on at the prospect of his testicles meeting the gory ending Peter was egging him on with that he involuntarily erupted cum. There were gasps as Carl’s cock spewed ropes of sperm that caught Peter - and everyone else - by surprise. Carl bucked and screamed and moaned and squealed in delight at the most intense orgasm he’d ever had wracked his body. Every muscle was etched as if he was made of marble and his toes curled in different directions. His eyes rolled back in his head. Despite suffering a serious - but repairable - rupture Carl’s dick was spraying jizz like a confetti cannon. Watching Carl convulsing in pleasure was too much for Peter and he stroked out his own built-up load all over Carl’s spasming chest. 

Everyone watched spellbound as Carl’s body convulsed and his eyes twitched and rolled as if he was possessed by a demon. Even after the last explosive jet had rocked out, Carl’s body continued to be wracked with pleasure.

“Oooh fuckl” 

Carl squealed in delight as a final slug of cum oozed out of his cock. He’d been orgasming so long people who hadn’t seen it themselves would write it off as hyperbole.  But it wasn’t. Carl’s battered sack, his face, his thighs and his chest looked like he had just taken every guy’s load.

“Fuck that was so fucking hooooooot!” 

Clint moaned in a voice so low it sounded mechanical as he drenched his jeans yet again. Scott, who had held off pleasuring himself during the entire game, was literally on his knees wracked by his own pants flood. He had never seen anyone cum like that and all he wanted to do was crawl over to the cum-drenched stud and try to milk out another load from Carl’s still rock-hard dick.

It took the gathered crowd several minutes to recover from watching the truly epic load Carl had just blown. The pain-wracked frat boy looked like he’d been in the center of a bukkake. Even Zach - who knew that Carl’s winning meant Nick losing - couldn’t help but blow his own load which shot with such intensity that his cum coated Nick’s stomach without ever touching his throat. 

Finally, Scott gained his composure and addressed the crowd. The gooey sheen on the front of his jeans was matched by every other pair. At the end of the collective orgasm, everyone had blown their loads - some multiple times. Everyone except for Nick.

All of the color drained from Nick’s face as everyone gathered around him like animals circling prey. Despite the fact that his nuts were in actual danger from the mob, Nick’s cock was still rock hard and dripping.

“Uh-oh. Guess it’s time for a pink load,” Scott said in a  matter of fact tone.

Scott left briefly and came back with a bottle of lube. He squatted between Nick’s legs and started stroking Nick’s battered, but still very hard and functional dick. Nick groaned in pleasure, he was so close to cumming, but the thought was immediately overwhelmed by the feeling of his sack being slammed by the mallet. Then a fist. Then a shoe. Scott stood to one side as he expertly milked Nick’s cock. He wanted to be out of the way as the guys took turns on Nick’s sack. There wasn’t a timer this time, just a gentlemen's agreement that no one would take ‘too long’ lest they deprive the guy behind him of a turn.

“Oooh!”

Clint was squeezing Nick’s left nut with the pliers with all his might.

“Pop it, Clint!”

“Come on man!”

Clint squeezed tighter, his huge biceps fully hard, his knuckles white as he put every once of strength into crushing Nick’s ball.

“Yeah bro, pop it!” Devin cheered.

SQUICK

Nick’s nut cracked. Clint kept going.

SQUICK.

Nick’s massive ball split in two in his sack, spilling its copious insides all over the inside of Nick’s sack. Nick was delirious - but his cock still hard - as the next brother took his turn. Even though he was still tied up, Carl could see the methodical destruction of Nick’s one-huge nuts and his already spent cock actually started to get hard again.

CRUNCH

STOMP

SQUICK

Nick knew there was no use begging for mercy. He knew the risks of playing the game, he just didn’t expect HIS would be the load that ended up pink.

SPLOTCH

Nick’s last whole nut shattered. It wasn’t enough for the gathering boys.

STOMP

CRUNCH

Nick was nearly comatose - but his cock was throbbing and rock hard but starting to wilt.

“Come on, Nick. Cum for us!” Scott laughed before going down on Nick’s huge dong.

Nick gasped in surprise as the handsome fraternity president took the entirety of his cock down his throat like a pro. While Scott moaned and sucked on Nick’s cock, playing with his nipples with his hands, brother after brother pounded and flattened Nick’s sack.

SPLOOTCH.

Max came again after feeling a meaty chunk disintegrate under his fist, disappearing from existence as it was slammed into the chair.

CRUUUNCH

Another semi solid chunk of Nick’s testicles exploded. The inside of Nick’s lumpy, mushy bag was filled with nothing but mutilated nut sludge.

Suddenly, Scott pulled his mouth off Nick’s cock and started stroking it frantically. It had started to get soft, but was still steely hard.

“He’s gonna’ blow!”

“Ooooh!” 

Nick, overwhelmed by pain and pleasure blacked out mid-orgasm, his cock spewing uncontrollably, wildly pulsing in all directions as it spasmed out his load. As expected from the multiple ‘crunching’ and ‘popping’ noises that had preceded Nick’s cum shot, the entire load was tinged pink. It was slight at first but quickly transitioned to have more streaks of red. When it was over Nick’s chest and the floor were drenched in a slimy layer of thick, blood-tinted cum.

“Fuck! It looks like he shot out his nut guts!” Clint moaned.

For good measure Scott slammed his fist into Nick’s mushy ball bag. Over and over. Nick barely registered as what was left of his massive nuts was turned into goo. Completely annihilated. 

“Gentleman, I think we’ve made some sack sauce!” Scott roared with laughter has he turned to Carl.

Carl suddenly realized how vulnerable he was especially with the eyes of so many literal castrators on him.

“So, Carl. Have they had enough?” 

Scott gave Carl a slight grin. It was obvious Nick’s nuts were history. Totally gone. But Carl had a wicked idea.  After all, he’d have a front row seat to wherever naughty things were next for Nick’s still enormous  package.

“How about one more round for everyone! His cock still looks pretty healthy...” Carl shouted.

Everyone cheered.

Monday, November 7, 2022

Coach Clayton



Hey Guys!: This story contains explicit depictions of a consensual encounter turning more brutal than the bustee wanted which can be uncomfortable for some. Reader discretion advised.

Alex Devereux and Coach Clayton had a uniquely intense relationship. Alex was the star and captain of the Amajor University soccer team and had handedly lead them to a championship every year since he walked onto the squad as a freshman. Even right out of highschool, Alex's skill yet humility demanded respect from Clayton, the rest of the team and even his competitors. He was good looking and popular, his grades were stellar and he was the president of the Kappa Sigma fraternity, a boisterous fraternity with a history of scandal that he almost singlehandedly turned into one of the most prestigious houses on campus. Alex was a driven young man, a nearly flawless student and athlete whose put-together façade covered a twisted secret.

Alex had a pathological need to be the absolute best in whatever he did on and off the field and failure didn't just illicit embarrassment or shame, but an actual physical longing for punishment. It started in highschool; if he blew a game he would punish himself by heading to the local gym and letting himself be used as a punching bag for the local boxers, pretending that he was completely incompetent as older and bigger opponents wailed on him. If he did poorly on an exam he'd carve the word 'failure' into his muscular thighs with a pen; hidden from view but a visceral reminder of his failure. By the time he was a student at Amajor University, he had taken to punching himself in the stomach or resting his big, heavy balls under a toilet seat in the dorms and letting the lid drop, biting his fist to avoid crying out as he took his punishment. Alex wasn't trying to permanently harm himself, he just needed to equate failure as pain to incentivize himself from experiencing it again. And that's where Coach Clayton came in.

It started innocently Alex's freshman year after an embarrassing defeat to archrival Quintero University. In fairness, the entire Amajor team had performed poorly but Alex - as team captain - felt like he was ultimately the one to blame. Alex had pulled a groin muscle during the game so was using the post game locker room time to sooth his muscles under a hot shower. He turned the knob all the way to maximum, purposefully letting the nearly-scalding water turn his muscular body a fiery shade of red, punishment for his perceived failure. He stayed alone with his thoughts under the water until the rest of the team had gone home, losing track of how long the water had been running. The tap was finally starting to run cold when he turned off the water and turned to see Coach Clayton watching him in bewilderment.

Coach Clayton was a towering figure, six foot eight of beefy muscle and a deceptively young looking face. The forty-something coach as a consummate professional and despite being surrounded by hot young athletes all day, never gave into the temptation of hitting on one lest a lifetime of achievement be swept away by the #MeToo movement. And he'd certainly never try to hookup with a straight player like Alex.

At first Alex thought Clayton was eyeing him sexually and coyly covered his pendulous nuts and heavy, limp cock with his hands but Clayton's expression was more questioning than seductive. Clayton talked Alex into letting him give an above-board massage to help him with the slight limp he'd developed after the game and it was during that massage it happened. Clayton's big hands had inadvertently brushed against Alex's crotch quite hard. The coach's handsome face turned beet red and he was hoping that Alex wouldn't say anything but the hit had been hard. The svelte athlete let out a slight yelp but - to Clayton's surprise - just opened his legs wider. Clayton continued with the massage until Alex grabbed his hand and guided it to his massive nuts.

"Do it again, I deserve it, coach!"

Alex snarled barely above a whisper but it seemed to echo loudly in the empty locker room. Clayton's eyes grew huge. He had read a few ball busting stories and followed a few CBT content producers on Twitter but had never done anything in real life; he wouldn't even know where to start. Yet here was this young, straight jock with his legs spread on a massage table literally begging for it. Clayton started to stammer out a response but Alex stopped him.

"Coach, I messed up today. You know it, I know it. I need to be punished,"

Alex thought back to the guys at the gym who gladly used him as a punching bag and couldn't help but imagine his giant coach filling that role. He never attached any sexual meaning to it and his young mind was racing, afraid Clayton would kick him off the team or report him to the administration for his flagrant teasing but to both of their surprise, Clayton took the bait.

Alex nearly bit his fist until it was bleeding after Clayton unexpectedly slammed his fist into Alex's junk, smashing his nuts into the table. Alex's eyes rolled into the back of his head as a hesitant yet excited Clayton pounded his nuts again. And again. Each blow called up a memory of a missed shot, bad call or other slip up during the game. I deserve this, Alex thought, biting his fist as Clayton's barrage of punches became harder and faster. Meanwhile, Clayton, aware of his relatively massive stature, bit his lip and willed himself not to go too hard on Alex's nuts. It was like he was living out a scene from one of his favorite Shotgun videos and Alex's wide-spread legs barely budged. After a few minutes, Alex crying and biting his hand, motioned weakly for Clayton to stop. The burly coach backed away with his hands up, his thick cock raging in his shorts, as Alex grabbed his nuts and rolled over - he had taken enough punishment for the game. 

Clayton walked away, not even bothering to change, driving home knowing that in the morning he was going to get an email form the University President firing him on the spot after Alex told his story. No such email ever came. After the next game, Alex again subjected himself to a flurry of punches from his coach. Only this time the team's bad game was actually Alex's fault so Clayton felt slightly less guilty each time he felt Alex's jumbo-egg sized nuts flatten under his fist. Wow, that is a really big sack, Clayton thought, barely containing a smile, as he laid waste to the young man's nuts. Alex held out as long as he could before screaming out and covering himself. He was crying as he asked Clayton if he had taken enough punishment and it was all Clayton could do to say 'Yes' even though he wanted to keep going at Alex's swollen, red sack. And so it began.

In very matter of fact terms, Alex explained his need to be dominated and punished for failures and Clayton took note. Boundaries were established such as no permanent damage, no marks and nothing sexual. Not pictures or video, nothing on social media and Clayton always had to be mindful of Alex’s safe word; After all Alex was the one with the elaborate scoring system in his head that dictated how much or how little punishment he got. By sophomore year Alex gladly submitted to being punished by Clayton for failures off the field as well. For example, after Alex’s mean-spirited breakup with his first college girlfriend, Clayton forced Alex to walk laps in the locker room wearing a ball stretcher with a kettlebell hanging from it. Alex’s young nuts were strong but the weight was pulling the massive orbs toward the bottom of his sack, making the skin glisten and Alex squeal with each step. After bombing a chemistry midterm in junior year, Clayton used a plexiglass ball crusher he’d purchased just for Alex to squash the jock’s nuts as flat as the crusher would go. His huge nuts were compressed to less than half an inch and while Alex’s muscles flexed and glistened in agony, Clayton couldn’t help but lament he had gotten a crusher with a built in safety. He kept turning the screws, knowing that the machine couldn’t get any flatter, hoping that some malfunction would cause the plates to slam together. 

Alex, for his part, actually enjoyed having an older male figure he could confide in and get the benefit of having his submissive side satiated without fear Coach Clayton would try to take it any further. His tight jock hole was safe but his nuts were another story. Meanwhile, Clayton found himself more and more turned by increasingly violent, depraved stories, videos and Reddit forms about ball busting. Just seeing Alex’s huge mounds made Clayton’s cock twitch. Clayton knew ball busting stories and scenes from movies were hyperbole and special effects but considering he was no longer restraining himself by Alex’s third year, he was honestly surprised he hadn’t sent the randy young man to the hospital by now. Not that he wanted to per se, but a straight young sack could only take so much abuse before it burst, he thought. He’d always walk away from their sessions with a rock hard cock and dreams of doing even more abuse, mildly annoyed by the almost disgusted reaction Alex would have afterwards when he saw Clayton’s raging ten inches tenting in his pants. Alex was many things, Clayton concluded, and tease was one of them. 

By senior year, Alex’s nuts had become so tough he no longer needed to bite his fist to avoid calling out. He would just inhale deeply and growl after a particularly violent punch, literally demanding Clayton dish out more until he felt he’d taken his punishment. Clayton was more than happy to oblige. He ran through multiple punishments, punching, kicking, stomping, ball weights and crushes, each time taking the punishment just a bit further and being delighted to realize Alex was already there. The young man’s testicles were probably wrapped in a thin layer of scar tissue already, making them apparently stronger, though that hardly seemed to dampen his sex life.

Alex had a reputation of bedding girls left and right and openly flirted with the gay players on the team, craving attention and validation more than an actual roll in the sack. If he ever felt like a flirting teammate was getting too serious, Alex would just flash a heart-melting smile, politely decline the offer and give the guy a genuine hug - secretly hoping the rejected jock would raise his knee and slam it into his teasing crotch to punish him for leading him on but none ever did. Indeed, Alex Devereux was the definition of Big Man On Campus.

Although Alex had always been athletic, four years on an elite college soccer team had honed him into a devastatingly handsome stud. His meticulous diet and exercise had molded him into a five foot nine Adonis with virtually no body fat. He wasn’t bulging with muscle like Coach Clayton, but Alex’s six pack would flex rock hard just from a sneeze. He was gorgeous and that wasn’t even including his low hanging sack or eight inch flaccid penis that swung between his toned legs. Countless sessions with Clayton had turned his nuts into indestructible, tough spuds to the point he routinely played without a cup, soaking in any errant hits to his junk as punishment for not playing well. All the while, Clayton had watched Alex mature into a handsome twenty-two year old senior with an enormous set that made him think: That is a REALLY big package he’s letting me play with!

All of that leads to tonight. Amajor University’s years’ long winning streak had come to a shocking end. And it wasn’t to Quintero or some other highly-ranked school. It was during a friendly match with the local community college. The game had been for charity with no real stakes, but the loss stung the team and Alex was feeling it especially bad. The rest of the dejected players had long since left the locker room, headed to get shitfaced at a college bar and pick up one-night-stands to erase the stink of defeat, but Alex sat in the locker room pouting. His girlfriend and teammates had called multiple times to convince him to come out, but Alex didn’t hear his phone from the locker over the pounding silence of his own thoughts. He had really let the team down and needed to be punished. Really, really punished. There were only a few more games left in his entire collegiate career and he shuddered to think that he’d reached his peak. Man, I need to punished so bad for that fuck up, he thought.

That’s when Clayton walked in. The game had ended hours ago but Clayton was sure he’d find Alex on a bench outside the showers. The muscular, tall couch stood over Alex, who was only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, and tapped his foot. He was wearing an Amajor T-shirt and baggy shorts though Alex was sure he detected the telltale sign of a bulge growing.

“What the hell was that, Devereux?” Clayton barked, his deep voice rocketing through the empty locker room. Per usual, Coach Clayton had locked the door, though it was unlikely anyone would randomly walk in so late and the juxtaposition between the brightly lit, usually bustling locker room and the current sense of isolation made the whole scenario even hotter. 

Alex was a tough little fucker, but Clayton knew that if it came down to it he could easily overpower and absolutely destroy his star player. It was a dark rabbit hole of a thought that had made Clayton spill countless loads over the years as he thought through scenarios in his head. Even now the thought alone made his cock jerk so violently in his shorts Alex raised an eyebrow before looking back to the ground in defeat.

Coach Clayton took another step toward Clayton, so close that his crotch was now just inches from Alex’s face. He gently kicked at Alex’s ankles which caused the submissive stud to spread his legs wider as Clayton looked down at the thin towel covering Alex’s ample nuts and his hands reflexively tightened into fists. He then flew into a fiery tirade denigrating Alex’s poor performance, making fun of his ‘over hyped’ skills and basically knocking the otherwise cocky soccer player down several pegs with biting words. Although the criticisms were functionally true, the cruel delivery was exactly what Clayton craved. He tried to maintain eye contact with his coach but found himself staring at the ground mostly as Clayton’s booming voice ricocheted around him. I deserve this, obviously, Alex thought as his coach’s literal beer-can sized cock tented his shorts, pulsing up and down nearly hitting Alex in the nose. Clayton usually got excited degrading Alex but this reaction seemed especially pronounce, especially since the coach hadn’t even started busting Alex’s balls.

Clayton knew Alex was close to graduating and soon their regular sessions would come to an end. He had hinted at Alex stop over to his condo for extra attention but Alex seemed content to be dressed down in the locker room, take his punishment and go back out into the world refreshed and humbled. It seemed unlikely Alex would have any interest in meeting up with the coach after he’d graduated off the team and out of the locker room.

For Alex it was a perfect arrangement; he got to have his darkest, most socially unacceptable urges satiated without the added drama of being in any kind of relationship with Coach Clayton. Clayton, for his part, seemed to enjoy it too judging by the wet precum stains that ended up on his shorts after a session. On a few occasions, the coach even blasted hands-free loads as he mangled the young player’s nuts in his hands. Alex had cum a few times as well, involuntarily, which was met with even more ferocious ball beating to completely ruin his orgasm. Despite the copious amounts of jizz and precum the two had unleashed over the years, their little sessions - at least from Alex’s perspective - weren’t overtly sexual. If Coach Clayton had been able to humiliate and degrade Alex by punching him in the arm, for example, with the same effect as threatening his manhood that probably would have been enough for Alex. 

But it had never been enough for Clayton, not really. He respected that his straight punching bag didn’t want his cock rammed down his throat but the closer graduation came, the more the coach wanted to take Alex to the next level - begging and screaming if needed.

“Stand up!” Coach Clayton roared.

Before Alex could even respond, Clayton grabbed him by the hair and wrenched him to his feet like a rag doll. Alex’s towel fell to his feet with a swoosh revealing his pendulous nuts and cock shriveled up from the verbal abuse he had suffered so far. Despite Alex’s fit body, the submissive naked jock looked absolutely meek compared to the clothed, burly coach. Alex looked his coach in the eyes pleadingly before crossing them and letting out a short yelp; the coach had slammed his big knee upward into Alex’s crotch, smashing the soccer stud’s heavy orbs into his pelvis. Alex’s eyes bugged out as Clayton slammed his knee into his crotch again and again, hitting them at a perfect well-practiced angle to ensure the low hanging fruit were violently slammed against his knee cap and Alex’s body. The tough orbs couldn’t escape so virtually all of the energy of the kick went into deforming them as they were pancaked between the two unyielding surfaces. Alex fought back tears but kept his arms dutifully behind his back even after a dozen blows. Coach Clayton was nearly double Alex’s weight and he was using ever ounce of extra mass to his advantage.

Clayton took a step back as his star player stood with his lip quivering, his nuts looked entirely untouched which only made them more of a target.

“You were terrible today...” Clayton started in on berating Alex as he clasped Alex’s beefy right nut in with both hands and began to squeeze.

Alex gasped as Clayton’s bear-like palms squeezed together, determined to destroy the fat ball trapped between them. As he squeezed, Clayton leaned in an whispered degrading slurs into Alex’s ear.

“You know you deserve this, don’t you, you dumb-as-rocks jock,”

Alex nodded yes as he let out a scream. Clayton’s palms had sandwiched his nut to less than half its normal girth and the strong coach wasn’t slowing down. The coach had gone hard on Alex’s balls before but never quite so quickly.

“... I should just pop this thing right now, shouldn’t I? Not like any woman would wanna’ have kids with you you pathetic piece of shit. Star player my ass,”

Alex felt Clayton’s hot breath against his ear as the coach continued to knead his ball like dough.

“Yes sir, coach!” Alex replied through gritted teeth. 

Clayton’s cock twitched; he didn’t know which he enjoyed more the actual act of squeezing Alex’s nut or watching the hunky idiot turn into a subservienty sex object. He smiled as he released Alex’s nut. They had both lost track of how long Clayton had been squeezing full force but the effect on half of Alex’s manhood was visible.

Alex was about to clutch his junk before stopping and asking permission from Clayton.

“May I, coach?”

Clayton nodded yes as Alex cupped his huge nuts in his hands. His right nugget had turned noticeably red under the constant squeezing and felt like it was even hanging a bit lower than the left.

CRUNCH

Alex’s eyes went wide as Clayton’s knee slammed into his cupped hands, sandwiching both nuts between his knee cap, Alex’s own hands and his pelvis. Alex yelped in genuine surprise before collapsing to his knees. Uh oh, he thought.

It was a well-established rule that Alex needed permission before nursing his wounds or taking a break and falling to his knees covering Clayton’s stress balls without permission was quite the faux pas.

“I’m worthless sir... Aaah!” Alex screamed as Clayton’s sneaker-clad foot slammed between his slightly spread legs. 

CRUNCH

Clayton roared as he kicked Alex between the legs with reckless abandon, taking delight as Alex begged him for a break.

“Please sir! Please!”

Despite years of practice, after a few minutes of having his seedpods violently smashed between Clayton’s shoe and his body, the desperate stud collapsed onto his back, his head bouncing as it hit the tile floor. 

Clayton was tempted to stomp straight down on Alex’s vulnerable bag, but stopped to give the stud a break, clutching his nuts and rocking from side to side.

“Thank you, coach! I deserve that!”

Clayton’s coach twitched. Every muscle in Alex’s tight body was tensed up, making him look like a life-sized action figure begging to have cum splashed all over him. The coach nearly pulled out his cock and stroked off all over Alex but was too distracted by the increasingly dark thoughts he was having about his favorite athlete. Alex had recovered from the kicking and squeezing and his hands were now at his side as he looked up at his coach.

“Please coach, punish me more,”

“How much did you fuck up today? How much should I punish you?” 

Alex seemed to give the question serious thought; “Really bad, sir. I’m a screw up, a cocky pussy-chasing asshole with a fucking terrible ego...”

To Clayton’s surprise Alex got to his knees as his feet, Clayton’s tenting shorts were literally touching Alex’s nose. Alex looked up at his burly coach with his eyes nearly begging.

“Coach, I deserve to be knocked down a peg,” 

Alex cross his arms behind his back, letting his slightly swollen nuts dangle freely between his muscular thighs. Despite his coach’s cock touching his face separated only by the thin fabric of the shorts, Alex’s cock was starting to stir. He absolutely loved being owned by his macho, queer coach.

“You want me to knock you down a peg, uh?”

Alex spread his legs. Clayton couldn’t help but lust after Alex’s truly massive, swollen, red testicles swinging down, their color contrasting the white tile floor nicely. 

“You don’t deserve my attention, Alex,”

CRUNCH

Clayton kicked forward, the bottom of his shoe connecting with Alex’s left nut. The aim was sloppy but the kick had so much force it didn’t matter; Alex’s jock nut was still compressed dangerously flat by the over-powered kick. Alex tumbled onto his back and his head hit the edge of the bench as he fell. He moaned as his body was spread eagle, his heavy nuts resting several inches from his crotch on the hard tile. Well he WAS begging for it, Clayton thought to himself - as if he needed encouragement.

STOMP

Alex gritted his teeth and clasped his hands together over his chest in a disciplined effort to avoid crying out. Clayton’s sneaker stomped down full force on his testicles, flattening them into the ground. The coach repeated the cliché yet effective ball busting technique thrice more before starting in on a more viscous variation. After starting with the fourth stomp, Clayton twisted his foot each time he stomped down, grinding Alex’s nuts into the ground and increasing the agony of each impact. The massive things warped and flattened filling Clayton with delight and Alex with twisted satisfaction until Clayton suddenly found himself jumping up between stomps. The extra force of nearly three hundred pounds of muscle landing with force from a jump was an intense escalation from mere stomping and Alex wasn’t prepared. He screamed and begged Clayton for a break but the muscular coach just kept jump on his swelling nuts and grinding.

“Coach please...”

“Please what?” 

CRUNCH

“I’m sorry, coach! I’m sorry for being a fuck up!” 

CRUNCH

Alex screamed and his hands raced to his crotch, clutching his swollen nuts and gasping, his taught body glistening and straining in pain. Clayton however, was having none of it. This might be our last session after all, he thought, and Alex really needs to feel what a fuck up he is. Clayton swooped down and grabbed Alex by the hair, standing him up just enough to toss him onto the bench. Alex yelped as he sat on his own low hanging balls, squashing them nearly flat. Before he could adjust himself Clayton grabbed Alex by the shoulders and pushed the stud’s body into the bench, forcing him to pulverize his nuts with his own toned ass. Alex wailed.

Clayton continued punching, squeezing and kicking Alex’s nuts in various ways, not holding back and pretending not to hear Alex’s increasingly urgent calls to take a break. For his part, the more deranged Clayton became the less of an alpha stud Alex felt and the further down the rabbit hole he wanted to go. Their sessions had never been gentle but the coach seemed to have unleashed a beast he’d been hiding all this time and Alex was loving it.

CRUNCH

Clayton’s shoe slammed down especially hard, compressing Alex’s nuts into the bench. Coach Clayton - and Alex - swore they felt something give slightly inside the young player’s bag. Alex’s eyes rolled back into his head and he screamed, his hoarse from nearly an hour of punishment. Coach Clayton stepped back to give his star player a well deserved rest. Alex gently clutched his balls and tumbled off the bench, landing in a muscular heap at his coach’s feet. The defeated athlete looked up at Clayton with a face streaked with tears and two massive, swollen nuts that were bright red with disturbing dark red streaks where blood vessels had ruptured.

“Coach... I’ve learned my lesson, coach. I won’t fuck up again.” Alex barely got out before curling into a fetal position.

Clayton’s face turned dark. “I’ve learned my lesson, coach” was Alex’s safe word, usually marking the end of a session. It was what the dumb jock’s brain had been conditioned to say when the actual damage to his boys was starting to surpass the twisted catharsis of being used as a human punching bag. As Clayton looked down at the dry-heaving, crying and naked Alex he was overcome with a thought that had been with him all night. This might actually be their last session together. The season was winding down after all so there wouldn’t be many more opportunities for Alex to be taught a lesson.

Clayton picked up the towel and threw it at Alex.

“Go clean yourself up, pathetic loser,” Clayton barked and headed back to his office.

The coach’s small office had a large window so that he could monitor the shenanigans going on in the locker room. However the only activity was Alex slowly getting dressed since the slightest touch made his balls feel like they were imploding. After a while Alex was back in his street clothes, a tight-fitting Amajor University T-shirt Alex got purposefully a size too small to hug his hot torso and show off his mounding pecs. He’d styled his hair with gel and to finish off the look he was wearing a pair of well-fitting jeans that hugged his body in all the right places, especially showing off his enormous bulge - made bigger by the coach’s brutal assault. Given that every step made Alex wince he was likely reconsidering the wisdom of wearing pants that were quite so tight, but it didn’t matter. He had finally responded to his friends and was on his way to meet them and his girlfriend at some off campus afterparty. Before closing his locker, Alex ran a hand through his well-sculpted hair and gave a shit face grin to himself in the mirror as if he was rehearsing for later. The stud’s rapidly-regained cockiness was the last straw for Clayton and he reached into his drawer for something he’d been keeping handy for such an occasion.

As Alex made his way past Clayton’s office the coach stood up and approached him. Alex gave a shy smile as his eyes darted to the floor. Coach Clayton licked his lips at the site of his awesomely handsome star. Alex cleaned up quite well and looked nearly as good in clothes as he did out of them. It was almost like he was taunting the coach with this especially form-fitting outfit.

“Where are you headed, Mr. Devereux?” Clayton barked as he stepped in front of Alex, blocking his path. Alex could tell Clayton was hiding something behind his back but thought nothing particularly suspicious about it.

Alex stammered out the answer and Clayton rolled his eyes in disgust.

“So let me get this straight? After today’s fuck up of a game, you think it’s a good idea to go out and get drunk with your loser friends? Is that really the best idea?”

Alex’s face turned bright red. He could feel shame welling inside as he mumbled out an especially pathetic reply. Coach Clayton was having none of it.

CRUNCH

CRUNCH

Alex’s eyes bugged out in genuine, horrified surprise and he let out a low, guttural scream as Coach Clayton slammed his knee into his mounding crotch. The sound was music to Clayton’s ears, though he preferred the tone to be a couple octaves higher. The tight fabric was keeping everything in place so his huge baby makers had no place to go except into his pelvis. Clayton had finally had enough of Alex’s bad decisions.

Alex tried to double over but the much larger - and surprisingly agile - coach grabbed him under his arms and effortlessly hoisted him upright. Alex was initially too dazed from the unexpected hit to fight back as Clayton dragged him to a bench, throwing him down on his back. 

“Coach?” 

Despite the turn of events, Alex was too submissive to get up, instead laying down on the bench as he looked up at Clayton in confusion. Only a few of their sessions had ever had an encore and none of them happened after Alex was already dressed and ready to go. Something was up...

“Coach Clayton! What the hell... Oooh!” Alex’s questioning was quickly stunted by Clayton’s fist slamming into Alex’s pretty face, blacking his right eye and sending him into a daze.

It was all the opening Clayton needed. He quickly secured Alex’s dangling arms with handcuffs so that they were trapped under the bench. Alex’s legs were next, with each ankle secured to a leg of the bench. Clayton finished just in time as the young jock was starting to recover and immediately tried to stand, only to find he was trapped on his back on the bench. He could only raise his torso as far as his handcuffed arms would allow, which wasn’t very high. But it was too high for Clayton’s comfort; after all, even tied down Alex was still dangerous fueled with panic and adrenaline. Clayton smiled as he left the struggling jock to hunt down more supplies. 

Alex could only struggle helplessly as he was tied down on his back on the table. As he struggled he realized that his mounding bulge was a huge target for his ball busting coach and the sudden realization that he was actually defenseless filled Alex with a sense of urgency he’d never displayed in his young life. The locker room was filled with Alex’s pleas for help and the sounds of the handcuffs rattling but the only person who could hear it was Clayton.

The coach returned a few minutes later with - of all things - jump ropes which he used to quickly crisscross Alex’s muscular chest and abs, securing them with unbreakable knots. Alex was now firmly tied in place. Clayton looked down at the helpless stud and his cock raged in his shorts as he went to fetch more supplies. The waiting felt like hours to Alex who was struggling mightily but was still firmly tied on his back to the bench, legs spread and totally vulnerable. 

Clayton returned carrying an armload of items Alex couldn’t make out before dropping them into a pile at his feet. After all, Clayton thought, there was no need to be especially tidy. The first order of business was stuffing a dirty jockstrap Clayton had stolen from an open locker into Alex’s mouth followed quickly by an overkill amount of athletic tape over his mouth to keep it in place. Alex’s muffled screams made Clayton’s cock literally squirt precum and his mind began to race with all of the ball busting fantasies he’d dreamed about.

The coach’s eyes were fixated on Alex’s bulging jeans and Alex pleaded with his eyes as he watched his coach ball his powerful fists before squatting slightly for a better angle.

CRUNCH

Alex’s eyes bulged as his coach unloaded full-force punches straight down onto his bulge with such force he might as well have been stomping. Alex could feel the coach’s knuckles digging into his balls with each blow and it was apparent that Clayton - for the first time in any of their sessions - wasn’t holding any of his powerful strength back. Clayton continued until Alex was sobbing and screaming into his gag, alternating fists as he slammed down so hard he could feel the jock’s pelvic bone. They both lost all track of time - Alex from horror and Clayton from being overwhelmed with lust - as Clayton tired his fists on Alex’s nuts. 

Clayton didn’t stop even as Alex started fading in and out of consciousness from the pain radiating from his crotch. Alex’s entire world was now the trembling bulge between his legs; none of his gym-hewn muscles, good looks or swagger meant anything.

“Mmmmmph!” 

Alex’s eyes went wide before his handsome face slumped to the side as Clayton unleashed a rapid fire volley of punches.

The coach stepped back to admire the site of Alex passed out on the bench but his massive bulge looked no worse for wear. Clayton was sweating heavily and his heart was pounding from the work out, a testament to how much energy he was laying into ensuring Alex never had any kids. Clayton rubbed his own fat cock through his shorts as he contemplated his next move.

STOMP! CRUNCH

Alex let out a weak, subconscious groan that hardly conveyed the damage Clayton was unleashing on his sack. Taking advantage of his relatively high position over the laying-down Alex, Clayton rose his leg and slammed the bottom of his cleats into Alex’s totally defenseless bulge. 

CRUNCH

Clayton kept it up, sweat literally soaking his shirt in effort, as he stomped on Alex’s crotch until he was panting heavily, his cock leaking and bouncing with each brutal stomp. Before giving Alex a moment of respite, Clayton mixed up his approaching, stomping Alex’s bulge at a slight upward angle, forcing his nuts to sandwich between the bottom of the coach’s shoe and Alex’s body resulting in a very different feeling for the coach. 

Alex barely stirred as Clayton stepped back and admired Alex’s passed out body. Part of him wanted to rip Alex’s jeans off so that he could see the damage he was inflicting, but another part of him had a more devious idea. The coach reached down and picked up one of the kettle bells he'd collected earlier.

A kettlebell weight 

He however the heavy round weight over Alex’s bulge for what seemed like a long time, his heart pounding with anticipation, before letting it drop.

CRUUUNCH

“Mmmmph!”

A sudden, alarming pain caused Alex to spring to life out of his semi blacked-out state. His eyes were open wide and he was struggling against his bounds with renewed effort. Unfortunately for Alex, Clayton was especially good at tying knots.

The coach picked up the kettlebell which had rolled to the floor and again held it as high as he couch over Alex.

“Ummmph!” 

Alex screamed into the dirty jock in his mouth as the weight landed on his rock hard abs. Clayton, annoyed at his messed up aim, picked up the weight and tried again. This time it hit right on target.

CRUNCH

The bulge in Alex’s jeans visibly flattened on impact before regaining some shape as the weight rolled off. Clayton wasted no time getting back into position. This time he stood on his tip toes to get as much height as possible and held the weight aloft as Alex pleaded with Clayton. The two locked eyes and for a moment Alex thought Clayton had a change of heart...

CRUUUNCH

Alex screamed as the weight landed full force on his nuts.

Clayton kept it up for nearly an hour before changing his strategy. He ran to his office and dragged out his chair so that he could stand on it to get even more height, but instead of simply letting the weight fall naturally, Clayton grasped it with both hands and lunged it at Alex’s crotch as if he was dribbling a basketball.

Alex’s head rocked violently from side to side and his face was taking on a deep shade of red and Clayton kept up this new, apparently more effective, method. 

CRUUUNCH CRUUNCH

Clayton watched in delight each time the weight flattened the swollen bulge in Alex’s jeans. Although the pain was beyond his jock brain’s ability to comprehend, the adrenaline rush was keeping Alex from passing out. Instead the veins on his neck were bulging as he screamed full throated into his gag. Something isn’t right, Clayton thought as he replayed the graphic end of some of his favorite ballbusting stories in his head.

Clayton dismounted the chair and set down the kettle bell. Alex let out a sigh of relief as the coach removed his gag and the tied-down stud gasped for air. The ordeal was over.

Clayton went toward Alex’s tied ankles as if he was preparing to free them; instead he was picking up the kettle bell.

“Please, coach! Don’t!”

CRUUUNCH

Clayton used the kettlebell like an evil mallet, wailing it into Alex’s crotch with deadly precision only this time he was rewarded with Alex’s deep, frantic, throaty, un-muffled screams. Alex serenaded the locker room with an ode to his destroyed manhood and the sound combined with the feeling of Alex’s bulge flattening under each blow was enough to nearly bring Clayton to orgasm. 

“P-p-please, please stop!” 

Clayton set the kettlebell down on Alex’s heaving chest to free his hands while he tore open Alex’s jeans and slid them down just enough to show off Alex’s ridiculously swollen, mounding white briefs. There were a few stains of blood where Alex’s bloated scrotum skin had broken during the assault but all things considered the two huge lumps looked otherwise fine. Clayton used his thick fingers to prod and poke at them individually, moaning in delight as his digits were able to effortlessly plunge into each ball like tough clay. Alex squealed as Clayton continued his macabre examination.

Despite Clayton’s best efforts, Alex’s nuts stayed nearly perfectly round and huge, plumping up after each violent poke. The two white lumps made achingly hot targets, Clayton thought. He picked up the kettlebell and began swinging it rapidly into Alex’s crotch. The trapped stud let out a final, desperate scream before blacking out. But Alex just kept swinging. He could tell from the changing feel of the impacts that Alex’s nuts didn’t have much more to go.

CRUU-SPLOTCH

Clayton doubled over, his hand still grasping the kettlebell weight, as his shorts were absolutely flooded with sperm, soaking his shorts and dripping down his leg. Alex’s swollen, puffy right nut had catastrophically burst inside his bag, completely flattening the bulge in his shorts. It took Clayton nearly five minutes to recovered from his shuttering orgasm. 

Clayton tossed aside the weight and rose a cleat, resting it on top of Alex’s still whole left nut. He pressed into it slowly, loving the feeling of the collapsing orb yielding under the pressure, toying with Alex’s last faint hope of fatherhood.

Clayton suddenly stopped his relatively gentle foot massage and stomped down on Alex’s bulging underwear. Over and over until he felt the massive thing explode with a muted splotch.

The coach kept stomping down on the increasingly mushy former mound until it was nearly flat. Everything in Alex’s young sack had been pulverized and Clayton could tell by the shapeless outline that the jock’s thick cock had also been mutilated beyond recognition in the assault.

Clayton continued mushing Alex’s junked junk under his foot until he had one more wicked idea. He picked up the kettle bell and hovered it over Alex with both hands, carefully preparing his aim. Alex’s heavy breathing seemed almost peaceful and for a moment Clayton was annoyed Alex wouldn’t be awake to enjoy the grand finale.

Mustering every bit of strength in his hulking body, Clayton send the weight crashing down landing with a wet explosion into the ruins of Alex’s crotch. Then again. And again. It was clearly overkill but any moment now...

SPLOOOOOSH

Alex’s body shuddered as his mushed sack erupted open and wet slugs of his former testicles splattered out, trapped in place by the fabric but still oozing out of the sides. A few more blows caused even more testicle slurry to be squirt out until a gooey trail was oozing down his jock thighs.

Finally satisfied with his handiwork, Clayton dropped the weight and stepped back. He casually picked up Alex’s phone, long sense dropped, and used the stud’s finger to unlock it. He sent out a quick mass text message to the ‘team’ group chat:

“Guys, come back to the locker room, ASAP! I’ve got a hot surprise!”

Before Clayton made his way out of the lockerroom he smiled as he saw a few of the players actually responding with drunken responses like “Sure, be right there!” and “What happened? Did Coach finally nail you?” He glanced back at the passed out, desexed soccer player at least comfortable in the knowledge that someone would be coming soon to rescue him.

Clayton tossed the phone onto Alex’s chest before leaving, causally walking to his car and driving away. The lights of the City faded in his rear view as he merged onto the nearly abandoned highway out of town, one hand on the steering wheel and the other in his shorts.