Nutsack Knockout - Round 6

 

Catch up on the last installment here!

ROUND 6

Before the next round started, the horny corporate lawyer joined Dominik on the stage and patted him on the back. “Dominik, how you finished that last guy was fucking perfect! Our data shows it’s the most replayed moment on streaming we’ve had this year! Our sponsors love this!” The lawyer’s slacks were wet from the load he had spilled watching Alex’s violent nutting. “Keep up the good work!” Dominik’s spent cock lurched as he looked at the pile of gunk, formerly known as Alex’s nuts, that was on the floor. He had never damaged a dude that much but it made him hornier than ever and also a little concerned. Alex just had a hole blown into his body, clearly that constituted a medical emergency. “Um, you have medics here, right? Like I just broke that dude’s sack like a pinata...” As if on cue, Alex was quickly untied and carted off the stage, much to Dominik’s relief. He knew these guys had signed up to have their worlds wrecked but actually seeing a dude’s sack burst open made him concerned about the practical ramifications of a guy having his scrotum blown to pieces. The lawyer, despite being incredibly turned on by the prospect of more sacks bursting open like pinatas, got instantly serious. “Death is bad for ratings. Don’t worry, all of your play toys are gonna' be able to go home to mommy," he laughed. Dominik smiled but looked over at Nigel with a tiny amount of guilt. He wasn’t opposed to ruining his junk - after all that was Dominik’s literal job - but now that Nigel had nothing left in his bag, Dominik wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do with them. The lawyer seemed to pick up on Dominik's thought. “Just keep pounding them! We made these pedestals white for a reason, Dominik! Our audience wants to see the splatter! They want the mess!” The lawyer winked as he pointed at the wall that had been behind Alex, its gleaming white surface was sprayed with testicle gore, dripping with chunks and oozing with goo. The lawyer was about to retake his seat but turned to Dominik and said; “But we need to keep the sacks at least somewhat recognizable for the rest of the game so...” The man motioned for one of the stage hands to come up, who traded Dominik with a mallet that looked identical to the one that he had but was significantly lighter. Dominik smiled as the handsome stage hand disappeared behind the scenes. A rousing musical score marked the official beginning of round six. Dominik was again alone on the stage with the remaining nine players, a pile of gunk still on the floor where Alex had been tied up, and bounced the mallet against the palm of his hand, smiling evilly at the contestants who hadn’t realize the mallet had been switched to something far less devastating but still visually intimidating. Most of the men were in too much agony to pick their own squares, so the computer selected them. The box selected for Kabe was the yellow star penalty item and the system randomly selected two players - Greg and Lorenzo - to have their scores drop instantly to zero! The two hollered in terror after seeing how completely Dominik had destroyed Alex’s man bag and knew they were next. Dominik flashed Lorenzo a wicked grin. He was going to punish the other guys on stage first before relieving Lorenzo and Greg of their bloated testicles. Juan endured nineteen blows and though his nuts had been cracked, the much lighter mallet achieved its goal; it gave an impressive visual for the cameras without inflicting too much more damage to his testicles. Though the mallet was much lighter, Juan’s screams of agony indicated the pain was still unbearable. Lorenzo would have been next had he not been chosen to be eliminated this round. Dominik stood in front of him and cupped Lorenzo's swollen, purple Italian soccer balls in his calloused hands giving them a viscous squeeze, chuckling softly as he looked at Lorenzo in his terrified brown eyes. “P-p-please! Please don’t!” Lorenzo was trembling, pleading with Dominik as he glanced up at the symbol on Lorenzo’s pedestal. It was a simple round circle painted in black. Only Dominik and the crew knew what it meant, but judging by the growing bulge in Dominik’s crotch he was extremely excited to unleash Lorenzo's ultimate punishment. “Oh, I’ll be back for you, stud!” Dominik leaned in and gave Lorenzo a peck on the cheek as he walked over to Kabe. Kabe was next, but since he had chosen a special symbol he wasn’t actually owed any hits. That didn’t stop Dominik from pretending to slam the mallet into his balls multiple times, the audience erupting in laughter each time Kabe’s cute face warped in terror at the non-existent blows. Raphael was next. The Australian’s teen’s cracked nuts bounced wildly under the mallet and he screamed in utter agony even though he could tell the mallet hits weren’t as bad as they had been the previous round though the spectacle of his sack bouncing still made the audience roar in approval Dominik delivered all eleven blows with deadly accuracy, causing hideous welts to spread across his sack. Diego was due seventeen hits. The twenty year old Mexican pleaded with Dominik as he smashed the mallet into his swollen testicles which were still being pulled violently at the bottom of his sack, causing his huge nuts to form two perfect spheres which made Dominik’s aim effortless. Diego wailed in a high pitch squeal as his burst right nut continued to crack; even with the lighter, more cosmetic mallet Dominik was still able to deliver testicle-ending blows to the handsome tall stud. Dominik chuckled to himself as he thought about the ruined state of Diego’s busted nuts He took his place in front of Zach who was owed six blows. The terrified blonde’s sack bounced wildly under the mallet. Greg would have been up next but Dominik just blew him a kiss as if to say ‘kiss your boys goodbye’. Greg pleaded with Dominik but his deep, throating pleas just made Dominik’s cock hard. He wanted to get through the last few guys so he could finish off Lorenzo and Greg. Dominik made his way to Kyle who hollered as both of his fractured gonads were slammed into the wall. He moved on to Nigel whose mushy bag deformed almost completely under each of the fifteen hits he was owed. Nigel’s eyes crossed and he thought he was going to pass out but the drugs he’d been administered kept him perfectly alert. Finally it was the end of the round and time for Greg and Lorenzo, who had both been eliminated, to have their nut sacks totally ruined. Dominik stood in front of Lorenzo first and patted the pleading, ridiculously handsome Italian man on his shoulder as a stage assistant hopped on stage and handed Dominik something. Lorenzo's eyes grew comically huge in terror - so big in fact that the audience was riotous with laughter as Lorenzo's horror-contorted face was shown on the screen, his eyes replaced with cartoonish googly eyes. Dominik strapped on a knee pad that was so heavy it was almost difficult for the athletic man to lift his leg, which he did several times as he practiced his aim, coming just centimeters away from ramming Lorenzo’s swollen, massive baby makers. “So Lorenzo here is a junior league soccer player, so we figured it would be fitting to finish him off with off like I’m juggling a soccer ball,” Dominik continued to practice his aim with the heavy knee pad. The front, the part covering his wide knee, was covered in small metal bumps - and some not so small - that were sure to cause serious damage once Dominik started really kicking. “Let’s count down! Say bye to your nuts!” “Five...” “No! No! Please!” “Four...” “PLEASE!” “Three...” “God, don’t! Please!” Lorenzo screamed. “Two...” Lorenzo was filling the studio with a deep, incoherent babble. “One...!” CRUNCH! CRUNCH Dominik had grabbed both of Lorenzo's shoulders to use for leverage and was rocketing his reinforced knee over and over into Lorenzo's’ crotch, mercilessly squashing his swollen nuts into his pelvis. Lorenzo would have dropped to the ground if not for his tight restraints. CRUNCH Dominik loved the visceral feeling of Lorenzo's truly fat nuts flattening and warping under his knee, flattening out dangerously after each blow. To add to the damage Dominik was using his sizable upper body strength to press Lorenzo downward, perfectly timing it with each kick so that Lorenzo's balls were further flattened. The violent impacts were causing Lorenzo's fat dick to bob up and down, causing the organ to stiffen despite the pain. Multiple camera angles were showing the absolute massacre of two of the biggest intact nuts on the stage but it was obvious they weren’t going to stay that way yet the horny motherfucker's cock continued to throb looking like it was going to shoot at any minute. CRUNCH The metal studs and bumps on the knee pad were applying pin-point pressure all over the thick bruised membranes surrounding Lorenzo's testicles and soon cracks were propagating their internal surface with each blow. Lorenzo screamed and screamed, his pelvic bone was starting to bruise which didn’t bode well for the fat nuts trapped in between yet despite everything, thanks to the drugs he'd been given, his wildly swinging dick was throbbing and dripping precum. CRUNCH Lorenzo’s eyes crossed as his beefy right nut cracked in two, the sensation causing his cock to violently expel it's load in a single, incredibly thick shot of semen that drenched Dominik as he was sweating in effort. Dominik slammed his knee over and over into Lorenzo, nearly shooting when he felt Lorenzo's left nut explode. Dominik could feel Lorenzo's battered orb flatten as it had so many times before only this time it just kept getting flatter and flatter until it erupted into mushy nothingness and Dominik’s knee was nearly flush with Lorenzo’s taught crotch. Lorenzo's right nut lasted dozens of more blows before one half shattered and his cock finally started to deflate. CRUNCH Lorenzo passed out as the last chunk of his right testicle burst into goo. But Dominik just kept going and going, the impacts were loud and sounded mushy and devastating as more and more of Lorenzo's former balls were liquified. Dominik didn’t stop until he felt a warm, surprisingly gooey spray all over his pants when Lorenzo’s sack ruptured open, spilling a copious amount of its insides all over Dominik’s leg, his sculptured thighs and the floor. Moans filled the studio as audience members blew their loads left and right. Some who had already lost it earlier when Alex was eliminated squirted out another load as the disgusting explosion of Lorenzo's sack was played on a loop in glorious slow motion. Although Dominik was strong, Lorenzo’s nuts were tough and his unmanning was not a quick process. It took nearly a half hour to get to the finale which was causing Greg to sweat bullets knowing he was up next. SPLAT Dominik delivered a totally unnecessary final kick to Lorenzo's deflated soccer balls causing a massive slug of unrecognizable sludge to be ejected where it landed with a loud splat on the floor. Before the stagehands could come to take him down Dominik delivered four more full-force knees. SPLAT! By the time Dominik stepped aside to let the crew untie Lorenzo, at least half the contents of his sack were now on the ground in a pile of procreate gore. Dominik pressed his heel into the pile and pressed down delighted by the slight squishing sound as the testicle puree oozed from under his boot. “Your turn!” he smiled as he stood in front of Greg. Greg was shaking like a leaf, all the cockiness he had when he had stepped on stage had melted away. “So Greg here is an internet influencer, he lives for attention! So why don’t we give him some!” On the screens facing the audience ten seemingly random numbers were displayed. There was a moment of confusion before someone in the audience, a beefy blonde teenager whose jeans were already covered in a sheen of jizz jumped up and shouted. The numbers were not random, they were the seat confirmation numbers from the audiences’ tickets and ten of them had been chosen to un-man Greg! The ten men made their way on stage as a table full of instruments was wheeled out. Dominik briefly explained the rules; there weren’t any! The men could use anything on the table, or their fists, boots or whatever else they could find to turn Greg’s already damaged, huge nuts into a stain. The only stipulation was that they couldn’t stand in two specific spots that had been marked on the floor. “We don’t wanna block the cameras!” Dominik laughed. Dominik stepped back as the audience members, some of whom had been watchers of Greg’s online channel, descended on Greg’s defenseless nuts like animals. The teen went first, slamming a hammer into Greg’s cracked nuts full force. Greg screamed as another man struck his sack with a baseball bat. A moment later one of his nuts had been ensnared in a pair of pliers and the other was in a man’s mouth who was biting down on it as hard as he could. SQUICK One of Greg’s nuts cracked completely. Another man used his fist to deliver several punches. They were nothing compared to the hammer blows Dominik had been doing but he wanted to get his bare hands on Greg’s big nuts. Another baseball bat, another hammer. SQUICK The man with the pliers cracked Greg’s right nut into goo. More kicks. More punches with brass knuckles. Two of the guys worked together to slam two large mallets into each other with Greg’s bloated sack trapped in between. CRUNCH Greg’s eyes rolled in his head. His nuts were becoming liquified as the lucky ravenous audience members continued to go to town on him. Once it was visually obvious that there was nothing left of Greg’s boys Dominik took two heavy, sharp hooks and ruthlessly plunged them into what was left of Greg’s plums. They stuck out like giant macabre piercings and attached to each end was a thick long length of rope. At first the watching men were confused before Dominik explained that five of them would grab one rope and the other would grab the other and start pulling in opposite directions. Greg wailed as the men pulled his mutilated balls apart, his sack stretching further and further until his scrotum catastrophically ripped, sending all ten audience members tumbling to the ground in laughter like children whose tug of war rope had broken. Greg passed out as everything that had been inside his bag spilled onto the ground, there were just shreds still attached of his enormous scrotum and the size of the mess was unbelievable. Each man took a turn stomping it on their way back to the risers and by the last one - the blonde teen - had stomped down Greg’s nut gunk was beyond unrecognizable. Dominik rubbed his cock through his jeans as Greg was untied and finally taken off stage, the handsome red head looking like he was just sleeping as he was carted off stage. “Not exactly the kind of audience participation Greg was looking for, huh?” Dominik laughed.

Come back next week for the next round!

Breakfast for One

This story was written in collaboration with by buddy Charn. He's open for commissions so hit him up because he's really quite talented :) You can reach him at Charndatiger@gmail.com

Justin and Drake woke up before their alarm, the light coming in from the stunning picture windows was enough to stir them. Justin had booked a weekend at The Lux Resort Hotel in the City's bustling downtown as a way for them to reset their relationship. Justin had caught Drake cheating on him with their housekeeper Kyle. Well, "Caught" was the wrong word. Justin had been checking up on Kyle's OnlyFan's page and found a video of the slinky tousle haired Kyle being Chicago deep-dished by a very, very familiar cock. Granted, Kyle was a delicious 20-year-old twink but Justin had assumed that Drake would have taken their wedding vows as seriously as he had... though Justin could hardly be surprised Kyle had fallen for Drake.

Drake’s truly enormous, heavy cock made a constant bulge in his pants even when he wasn’t hard. The massive thing was 10 inches flaccid and ballooned to a hole-stretching 15 inches when fully hard. Justin loved it, the thick shaft with its bulbous head and ridged veins was enough to make any man whimper. It had such a presence that Justin could hardly believe he was allowed to touch it. He loved how it felt in his hand as he stroked it, the texture of the skin on his fingertips as he ran them up and down. 

Drake’s cock was truly something to behold with its crown-like shape at the top and its girthy thickness at the base. Every time Justin held it in his hands, he had to take a moment just to admire its size compared to his own smaller organ. He would wrap both hands around it and feel every inch of its length, marveling at how perfectly designed Drake's huge tool was for pleasure. 

As impressive as that powerful cock was, Drake’s testicles were just as much a show stopper. They were massive and heavy, like two egg shaped oranges in Justin’s hands. The density of his testicles was remarkable; they felt as solid as a rock when Justin squeezed them gently, the scrotum so tightly stretched around them that it seemed as though it might split with even the slightest pressure. He could feel their weight in his hands, the meatiness and richness of them made him gasp out loud. No matter how many times he had seen them before, Justin still found himself amazed by Drake’s impressively heavy testicles. Between the hormones they filled Drake with, and the size of that massive piston between his thighs, Justin was actually surprised Kyle hadn’t been split in half!

Drake had spend the intervening week desperately apologizing but Justin seemed oddly undisturbed, suggesting a staycation in the city would be a good way for them to reconnect.

“I love you...” Drake whispered into Justin’ ear.

Justin pretended not to hear him as he rolled out of bed, put on a robe and picked up the room phone. Drake slipped into his robe admiring the city views from the window as his husband placed their breakfast order.

“Food will be here in about thirty minutes. Think that’ll be enough time?”

Justin pulled the belt of his robe, letting it fall to the floor revealing his taught, middle aged body.

“I mean, I’m not a twink or anything but...” Justin gave his husband a sly grin. Drake flushed with embarrassment as he disrobed and approached Justin.

"Now, let me see this big bad piece of meat," Justin smiled as he knelt down in front of Drake. Ten inches of thick, soft dick hung down in front of him, the broad hose lazily curling over the twin weights of Drake's equally impressive testicles. Justin know that Drake's cock was what made Kyle fuck Drake, and that those fat eggs were what made Drake fuck Kyle. He cupped them, one big ball per palm, lifting them up and grinding them together against the root of Drake's rod.

Drake got harder, looking out the window at the city laid out below them. He was standing right by the window and he knew that someone out there was staring up at the sexy daddy with the massive cock in the window.

Justin began to lick and suck along Drake's cock. Drake moaned at this; Justin had given up long ago trying to get his behemoth into that cute little mouth of his, and the feel of his husband's hot wet lips and firm tongue had him throbbing hard and needily against Justin's lips.

Justin continued to taste him, increasing the pressure and speed as he went. His tongue traced a delicate lin along the stud's puffy cumslit, tasting the salt and musk that clung to the man's massive, beautifully shaped cockhead. He refused to suck on his husband's cock, instead only letting him feel the tip of his tongue, as his hands massaged and stroked the rest of his body.

He used both hands to twist and tug on Drake's massive balls, pulling and stretching them down until the already-stretched scrotum gleamed and seemed ready to tear loose of the man's tensed groin. He held them in place with one hand, keeping them stretched, helping those tight cords and muscles relax and get used to them being pulled away from Drake's body, as he stroked up and down the length of that thick, veined shaft. He smiled, his fingers pausing at the tattoo of a curling knot of barbed wire that lined the root of his husband's shaft. It was that tattoo that had confirmed that Kyle was fucking Drake, after all. He owed that tattoo some credit. 

Drake moaned softly and Justin smiled, pleased with his work as his husband began to try and thrust into his mouth. Justin let that broad head just brush through his lips, nudging against his teeth, and bit down gently at the big head, but at the last minute he eased off. Drake groaned, but Justin was unwilling to let Drake cum just yet. H preferred to keep him teetering on the edge of orgasm, while re-exploring every inch of his husband's body, as if for the last time. Justin stroked down from Drake’s cock to his inner thighs and lower stomach, stroking fingers through that thick fragrant bush, and massaging Drake's muscles, encouraging him to relax. He shifted hands on Drake's balls, always keeping them held down, stretched lower and lower, even after Drake complained about the ache it created in his belly. The pain grew, but so did the pleasure, and Justin seemed perfectly adept at keeping them in balance to make sure Drake was always just unable to cum. 

Drake was enjoying the frustration; his massive 15 inch cock swollen with need but not being allowed release. It felt amazing, and he wanted this attention to last forever. 

'Perhaps if Justin had done this sooner, I wouldn't have cheated on him,' Drake thought, eyes closed and smile wide with satisfaction.

"Come on, Justin... let's see if we can get this whole thing down your throat," Drake suggested, eyes gleaming. "You know how much I love a good deep throat."

"Maybe," Justin replied, as he licked slowly over the precum bubbling from Drake's dick. "It's been a long time since I've had such a big piece of meat in my mouth." There was a knock on the door, interrupting them. Justin stood up, and the two men put on their robes. In Drake's case, there was barely any point, as the massive tent was not something that could be hidden. He folded his dick up against his belly and tied a knot with the belt around the base, keeping it pinned in place, but precum drooled down the underside of it.

“Room service,” a burly waiter announced as he entered the room with a cart. Drake thought nothing of the two other waiters entering behind him, one of which was carrying what looked like a countertop griddle. They were on the penthouse level, maybe extra servants and food prepared in-room was part of the experience, Drake thought. He stretched his arms above his head, watching the large cart as it was rolled in front of him, not noticing as the extra two waiters stood just behind.

Justin pulled up the silver dome of the delivered food, revealing two plates with pancakes, fresh fruit, even two small cups of grits. a large bottle of syrup rested to the side, glass with a large stopper on it.

“Ah, everything looks great but you forgot the sausage...” 

Drake snickered. "Well that sucks, you love sausages." Drake didn't care if the waiters overheard, he was extremely horny and Justin had left him very close to cumming. He groped his nuts through his robe, leering at his husband. "Of course, if you need one-" but before he could finish, arms wrapped around and under his own, strong arming him into position and pushing his thighs up against the cart.

“What the...”

Justin just smiled and leaned forward. "A sausage, you say?" He pulled the belt on Drake’s robe, a heavy BONG resonating through the room as more than a foot of thick Drake meat slapped down onto the silver platter, oozing precum and nestling up against a stack of pancakes. It was thick, the broad cap reddened from the previous stimulation, and it was unabashedly male. The three waiters were momentarily stunned at the sight, jaws gaping at the display, but all three of them stayed on mission. Justin smiled widely, and gripped his husband's cock by the head, gently squeezing and stroking it.

"Yes, this sausage should do..."

The young man who had been wheeling the cart pulled something out of his pocket and approached Drake. It was a cheese cutting wire, with two wooden handles at the end. Justin tugged on Drake's erection, stretching it as firmly as he could away from the stud's groin.

“What the fuck!" Drake exclaimed, as the waiter used a finger to stroke his scraggly pubic hair back from the root of his shaft, baring the barbed wire tattoo.

"Stop!”

Drake struggled in vain as the waiter casually tucked one of the handles under his cock and looped it around, gently tugging the two handles until the thin metal wire was snugly snared around the root of his cock, exactly around the barbed wire tattoo.

Justin smiled, “I figured that if you're gonna treat this big dick of yours like meat, that I might as well, too. This is gonna be one hell of a breakfast.” He adjusted his grip on Drake's cock, stretching it even further away from his body as the waiter pulled on the two wooden handles. The thin metal wire bit into Drake's flesh with a surprisingly gentle pressure, gradually slicing through the skin like a hot knife through butter. 

Drake felt an odd tugging sensation in his groin as he watched in horror and fascination as tiny red beads of blood bloomed out from where the wire disappeared into the skin of his cock, dripping onto the table below. He could feel the wire, pinching and compressing and sawing through the root of his dick - feeling the whole thing go numb. He could see Justin stroking the end of his cock, but he couldn't feel it. With one final pull, the waiter's hands tugged sharply taut, the cheese wire straightening out now that there was no bulky dick blocking it.  Drake's prized 15 inch cock flopped down, severed by its root, flopping down onto one of the plates with a wet thud. 

Drake had been so transfixed on watching his cock's execution that he hadn't even thought to protest, but as the burn of pain from severed nerves lit up his brain, he began to wail and scream in denial.

"My cock! My cock you sick fuck, you just cut off my COCK!"

The waiters stood motionless as Justin picked and held up what remained of Drake’s member.

"Cock? I don't see a cock here."

Justin brought the severed dick to his face, and licked lewdly up along the length of it, from dripping cockhead to the severed root. "All I see is meat." 

He handled the cock, stroking and kneading it between his fingers. He had never been able to do so so freely, and the thrill of holding his husband's severed dick made his stomach thrill almost as much as the thought of what was coming next did. He moved to the end of the cart, where the waiter who had severed Drake’s dick with wire was setting up the griddle. The waiter wiped the inside of the griddle with a bit of butter and smiled as Justin callously dropped Drake’s severed dick on the hotplate. It hissed, the flesh flexing as steam cooked out from inside. 

Drake screamed as he looked on in horror. 

The griddle sizzled and popped as the fat rendered from the sausage and a nice even char began to form. Justin continued to press down on the sausage, watching as it slowly cooked in a pool of its own juices. The smell of cooking meat spread throughout the room, mixed with the masculine scent of Drake’s arousal that had already been filling the room when the waiters arrived. After a few minutes, Justin flipped the sausage over and gently rolled it back and forth. He smirked and pushed down on the head with the spatula, making sure to pan fry the delicate frenum that was just underneath the dick's head, frying that sensitive patchwork of skin. 

Drake sobbed as he watched his proud shaft turn from an ass-pleasing testament of manhood to a well cooked polish kielbasa. He placed Drake’s thoroughly cooked dong on the plate next to the pancakes and smothered the entire breakfast platter with syrup, making sure to coat Drake’s charred, burned meat sausage with plenty of maple syrup.

Justin took a fork and knife and sliced into Drake’s cooked cock, cutting behind the glans and lifting it up into the air, the meat still steaming and dripping sweet syrup.

“Oh, look honey, isn't this what you wanted, my mouth full of your cock?" Justin teased, as he stuffed the whole piece into his mouth. It was quite the mouthful, and as he bit down, juices and syrup sprayed from his lips. Justin covered his mouth, pretending to be embarrassed, but then made a show of chewing and savoring the massive mouthful of his husband's huge cockhead.

Drake could do nothing but watch helplessly as Justin ate his massive, cooked penis one bite at a time. He felt violated and humiliated, unable to comprehend the horror and degradation he was experiencing.  His hips twitched with each bite as the darkened, crispy sausage was consumed and savored in a way that he had never imagine and would never experience again.  It felt like an eternity before Justin stuffed the last few inches, with bits of barbed wire tattoo still hinted at, between his lips and swallowed them almost whole. Drake's prized fifteen inch dick was... gone. 

Justin put the plate back on the cart and grinned at Drake in a smug, satisfied way. “Wow, I don’t think I’m going to have room for the pancakes,”

Justin wasn't kidding. Drake’s big dick had been surprisingly meaty and filling, the flesh salty and crispy and juicy in a way that Justin couldn't help but savor. He hadn't even realized he had devoured it all until the last bit went down his throat and he went to cut off another piece... and found none. He looked his husband over, enjoying the patched up bandage that the waiter had applied to his husband's groin while he was enjoying his meal. A massive snake had hung down there, between Drake's thighs, for decades... now there was nothing but a couple bandages and two remarkably large testicles.

"Damn, Drake..." Justin said, and he could swear his belly growled in hunger, despite having a pound and a half of cooked meat inside it already. "I never noticed how big... and meaty... those balls of yours were."

Drake was crying, and afraid, and in pain. "I'm sorry, honey. I'll never cheat again, I swear. Please. Please just let me go."

"I don't know..." Justin replied, a playful smile on his face. "Those balls look delicious. They look like they'd go great with pancake syrup."

"No!"

Justin sighed in mock exasperation. "You don't get it, sweetie. You don't get to decide whether I'm gonna ruin your balls or not. If you're really nice, I'll let you decide HOW I'll ruin them. What do you think? Should I pan fry them whole, like your dick? Perhaps I should scramble them in their sack and make a soufflé? I've got a coffee maker - maybe I should boil them? The possibilities are endless! What's not endless, is your genitals. We only have one chance to cook them juuuuust right. I just can't WAIT to see what they're going to taste like. It's not my fault, though, I mean, I watched the porno with you and Kyle. You really REALLY wanted him to gulp down your nuts, right? So... here I am. Ready to gulp down your nuts. And you just seem so ungrateful!"

The thought of the juicy meat that would come out with each bite excited him as he imagined all the different spices and seasonings he could use to make these balls taste like something entirely new. Whatever way he chose, Justin knew it wouldn't be boring - Drake's big, meaty 'eggs' promised a delicious breakfast treat.

He grabbed a few spices from under the cart and sprinkled them onto the griddle before adding a few drops of olive oil for good measure. Then he placed Drake's oversized testicles onto the griddle and started cooking them slowly over low heat. As they began to sizzle and brown, Justin inhaled deeply, savoring their aroma. He scooped up some of the butter and oil with the spatula, drizzling them over the crisping flesh.

"No, no, please! OW! NOOOO!" Drake pled, but Justin was smiling, living in another world. For too long Drake had ruled their relationship with his oversized package... and Justin was enjoying 'evening the score', as it were. He hmmed. These fat balls were too big. They were going to take far too long to cook like this. Making an executive decision, Justin held the metal spatula by the handle, so that the front edge of it was perpendicular to the griddle. He pushed down, slicing the blade down into the center of Drake's left testicle, feeling the flesh simmering around the hot blade. He pulled it loose, and repeated the process on the right one, half-bisecting both egg-shaped balls. White flesh sizzled in the oil that crept into the opened organs, as Drake screamed and passed out at the excruciating pain.

That was fine. Justin picked up a hamburger press, the asterisk shaped metal weight perfectly suited for Drake's hamburger-patty-sized nuts. He lined it up on top of the first one, and pushed down with both hands, putting his weight behind it. The weakened testicle bulged, and then crushed, collapsing into itself. Frothing meaty gunky flesh spit out across the griddle, as sperm juices immediately cooked from clear to white. Justin grinned and moved it to the second testicle, repeating the process. The big balls were completely ruined now, the undersides cooked, the tissues crushed and simmering in their own juices. Taking the spatula, Justin flipped the massive scrotum over. The waiters blushed, watching this morbid recipe be created, but Justin just smiled at them.

"I like my eggs fried hard, don't you?" He used a spatula to cut the flesh free of Drake's entirely denuded groin, and the waiters brought the unconscious man over to the bed, to sleep off the trauma.

Then, the waiters left the room, surreptitiously checking their own goods, glad that they were not the guy who got caught cheating.

As for Justin? He sat down with his plate of scrambled eggs and syrup, and loaded up with his delicious, meaty breakfast.

POPS: The Pile Up

  

What was supposed to be a friendly match between two rival college fraternities devolved into complete chaos with only seconds left on the clock. The small field, barely large enough to even host an American football game in the first place, was littered with a pile of mangled, moaning frat boys, gore and shattered family trees. It was such a complete disaster that several of the first responders added insult to injury by losing their lunches all over the crumpled heap of male flesh. It was the result of an incident that would go down in urban legends as simply The Pileup.

It had been a heated game and the guys were becoming more and more aggressive leading up to The Pileup; with the players - who were only wearing helmets and tight pants and shirts for protection - becoming increasingly rough. Before The Pileup, several players had to be taken out of the game due to brutal injuries. One senior suffered a broken leg, another had a likely concussion. But all of the players lucky enough to have left the game before The Pileup would look back and consider their relatively mild injuries to be a Godsend.

It was the last few moments of the game. The score was tied. Every player on the field was battered and bruised and more than a few low-blows had probably already culled the gene pool. Since it was a casual match, there weren't spectators to witness the ridiculous calamity, but the game was being photographed by a pledge named Aleksi, whose camera captured the moment everything went to complete shit; through all the chaos the amateur photographer captured The Pileup it all of its testicle-splattering glory.

Several players - or at least their ruined junk - could be seen in the iconic photograph. First up were Trevor and River. The two sophomores had been running toward each other toward a wild pile of bodies in the middle of the field when they collided. Trevor had tried to jump over Wojciech when he collided spread-leg with River. River's fist had been outstretched and the beefy player's mass was just too much for Trevor's unprotected gonads.

BLOOOSH

Trevor - whose legs were straddling River mid-air - let out a horrified gasp as he felt his sack burst in his pants, covering River's hand in chunky sack sauce. The combined force of the inertia from his muscular body colliding with River's fist was just too much for them to take and they explosively burst into a gory slurry. 

CROOOOSH

River's fist was still annihilating Trevor's eggs when he felt a stupendous, unbelievably crushing pain in his own crotch. Someone in the pile had slammed their helmet into his own crotch, instantly rupturing the two goose-egg sized nuts. Though they weren't as destroyed as Trevor, the impact guaranteed that the only way River would ever be a dad was through adoption. Mean while in the riot of bodies, Wojciech, who had been trying to tackle River ended up being knocked onto Fred, an attractive senior whose ass was arced in the air. Wojciech's face was slammed into Fred's rock-hard ass, stunning him and making him open his mouth in surprise before immediately biting down full strength from the force of Trevor landing on his back. The results of Fred were as messy as they were devastating. ..

SPLORTCH

Fred's barely-clad bulge was bisected by Wojciech who let out a loud scream that made his mouth open so wide his jaw cracked before slamming shut. Over and over. Fred's manhood exploded like huge grapes inside Wojciech's mouth, covering the horrified red-head's face with gore. And the only reason Wojciech was screaming was because...

CRUUUNCH

Trevor, in midair, his balls ruined and desperate to grab onto something, had clutched Wojciech's balls through his uniform and had clutched them as hard as he could. Unfortunately for Wojciech, Trevor's already massive arms were even more powerful due to the rush of adrenaline and Wojciech's testicles exploded in his pants, filling Trevor's closed fist with a disgusting goo.

Meanwhile Clint, a muscular senior, found himself head over heels in the pile, his legs in the air and wide spread which left his exposed balls open to Justin's grip. Justin, who had tried desperately to stop as he ran toward the chaos, had reached out and grasped Clint's huge nuts. The enormous organs bulged and squeezed in Justin's panicked grip until...

RIIIIP

Clint's balls were liberated from his body, mostly whole in Justin's grip, as Justin let out a tremendous howl of absolute terror. The horror and pain that came from a young man who knew his family line had ended...

BLOOOOSH

Justin blacked out. In his attempt to avoid the pile up, Justin tried to leap but it wasn't enough. His bulging crotch was crushed between Trevor and River's colliding helmets with devastating effect. Trevor and River's helmets actually cracked from the force and Justin's bulge might as well have been in a vice. His sack flattened way beyond the red line in a fraction of a second, causing the bag to burst - sending on of his nuts flying into the air, extruded from his sack like a pimple being popped. His other nut pulverized, showering River and Trevor's helmet with goop. 

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the pile was poor Seth. The handsome footballer felt a terrible pain in his crotch as his balls were crushed flatter and flatter and flatter by Fred, a player who had stumbled over him. Seth lay on his back, buried by guys and unable to get up, as the falling Fred's fist  slammed into Seth's nuts. The force of Fred's fist multiplied by the weight of the pile was just too much for Seth's nuts which didn't simply crack, they literally exploded. Fred felt the warm gooey mixture filling his meaty fist and splattering Seth's spread thighs.

Peter, a burly jock, had been knocked head over heels in the chaos and as he was falling Fabian, another player buried in the pile, was also falling at an awkward angle. As Fabian grasped desperately into the air, he grabbed onto Peter's bulge, yanking it. The combined force of Fabian's tugging and Peter's falling was too great for the connective tissues holding his gonads to his body and they were ripped cleanly off. Peter mercifully passed out as he felt his nuts both burst in the sack before being ripped off by Fabian. Ordinarily the mild-mannered Fabian would have been devastated for injuring someone so grievously, but he was too consumed by his own world of hurt to be concerned about Peter...

BLOOSH

Fabian let out a girlish squeal as he was castrating Peter. An errant fist had grabbed onto and squeezed his own balls so hard that they erupted open like two crushed tomatoes before being yanked violently away from his crotch. The sound of tearing fabric was barely audible over Fabian's mortified scream 

When it was all over, at least eighteen balls had been pulverized, including two that belonged to Kyle who ironically wasn't in the camera frame. Kyle's nuts had been utterly ripped off in a below the belt grab by another player and tossed callously onto the field; the massive sex organs laying in the field were what caused players to slip in the first place, leading to the calamitous pile up.

When gravity finally won out, all of the young men fell to earth, screaming and crying, a writhing pile of destroyed lineages. It was quite the pile up.

Naughty Santa

 

Merry Christmas :) I hope you enjoy this short story about a malevolent entity who uses the spirit of the holidays to disguise himself as Naughty Santa, a magical daddy (or at least that's his human form...) with a love of teaching young men on the naughty list a lesson they'll never forget.  Illustrations by Whistle :) 

---

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, three burglars were fleeing because Naughty Santa was aroused. 

Stockings that had been hung by the chimney with care, were now torn to the ground as if nobody cared. Upstairs, the family was nestled, all snug in their beds, unaware that downstairs their presents were being pilfered instead.

“What was that!” one of the burglars screamed out in a panic, no longer concerned about being detected. 

Naughty Santa, a magical brute of a man, had appeared out of nowhere with lumps of coal in his hands. Before the three thieves could react or reply, the vengeful Naughty Santa and pegged all three in their eyes. They stumbled and panicked and dropped their stolen loot, and each one had a run in with Naughty Santa’s boot. It crashed into their tightly packed pouches with deadly precision, one by one, blurring their vision.

“Who is that!” one screamed, totally panicked. It was clear that Naughty Santa was not kidding around. 

The three thieves raced toward the window they had used to break-in in the first place, desperate to escape, but the bumbling idiots only managed to get themselves stuck, wedged on top of each other with their muscular asses and legs stuck inside the house and their heads buried in a bush outside.

Naughty Santa snapped his fingers and to the burglars’ surprise, their quivering nuts nearly tripled in size.

The three were screaming and writhing and making such a clatter that Naughty Santa knew any moment the family would come racing down to see what was the matter. 

Away to the Christmas tree he ran in a flash, tore open some presents and smiled at the cache. 

The first was a race car with eight tiny wheels, it was shiny and metal and lively and quick. Naughty Santa snapped his fingers and to one of the burglar’s surprise, piano wire suddenly ensnared his bulging nuts, crisscrossing their clear outline in his leggings. Very real engine noises started coming from the now-enchanted race car and the burglar screamed as Naughty Santa took the controls and started driving the car across the room. 

Unfortunately for the burglar, the wire was attached to the back of the car and the powerful, demonic toy made quick work tugging on the wire, which sliced and diced the guy's massive sack into chunky ribbons. 

Naughty Santa wasted no time, he dropped the remote and reached for his next present, an immersion blender which - with a snap of his fingers - suddenly turned into a beast of a machine with ultra sharp blades and motor that would have pulverized concrete.

“Is that a blender...?” the second thief screamed. He recognized the sound from earlier when he had used a stick blender to make a protein shake...

Bzzz.. splotch!

The stick blender tore through the jock’s bulge like a hot knife through Christmas cookie dough, instantly turning it into a spray of gore that painted all three of the stuck burglars' legs.

“Whose there?” a frightened voice came from the top of the stairs. 

Naughty Santa had to act fast. He grabbed the last thief by his thighs as he opened his powerful jaws unnaturally wide. His pearly white teeth became fang-like as he bit straight down on the last dude's bulging sack, effortlessly slicing through his leggings. Naughty Santa chomped down over and over while pulling the magically enlarged organs away from the burglar’s crotch...

“No! Please! Not my...”

SPLORTCH

Naughty Santa cackled as the thief's sack exploded into a gooey mixture in his mouth moments before...

RIIIIP

His ruined sack tore from his body. Naughty Santa spat out them out and they landed at his feet with a splat. 

Naughty Santa surveyed the room. The thieves had made a mess with ransacked presents and destroyed decorations, but the biggest mess was between their toned legs. They wouldn’t be having a Merry Christmas, Naughty Santa thought. 

Suddenly Naughty Santa heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He surveyed his handiwork before snapping this fingers. All of the stolen presents magically were back under the tree, the stockings rehung themselves. The oozing testicle matter that painted the floor under the pile of passed out burglars disappeared. 

It was as if nothing had happened. Finally Naughty Santa lifted his boot and violently kicked the three idiot burglars out of the window. He snapped his fingers and the window instantly - yet silently - slammed shut. With another snap of his fingers Naughty Santa disappeared.

The confused family looked around their pristine living room. Despite all the commotion they had heard, everything looked fine.

Meanwhile, the three nutted burglars stumbled through the darkened street leaving a trail of broken nut guts in the snow. 

A passing red sports car slammed on the breaks, the driver clearly alarmed at the three injured random men out on the street in the middle of the night.

“Help us!” one of the burglars shouted as he fell to this knees.

“HOLY FUCK!” 

The other two tried to run away when they realized the driver was Naughty Santa. With a snap of his fingers the three were sitting shoulder to shoulder in the sports car’s small back seat, tightly buckled in. To their shock, their once bleeding crotches looked totally fine, bulging and healthy though their nuts were still magically enlarged. 

Naughty Santa looked back at his captives and eyed their holiday packages evilly.

“Don’t look so glum, boys. You wanted big packages for Christmas and now I’m going to have fun with them over and over and over...”

The three screamed as the car vanished from the street, leaving behind nothing but tire tracks and its license plate: SLEIGH 

---

Merry Christmas everyone, see you in 2023. Enjoy this red and green (very festive) brutal nut kick.

Trimming the Family Tree

Publishing this here for guys who missed this on Twitter.

Justin Geneman and Greg Geneman were twenty-five year old fraternal twins. They were both handsome and athletic and though they weren’t identical twins, they looked strikingly similar except for Greg was slightly taller, standing an inch taller than his already tall six-foot brother. Both of them had black hair and looked permanently tan; they were quintessentially tall, dark and handsome. To differentiate himself from his brother, Greg usually wore a full trimmed beard and mustache which made him look much older.

The two were heirs of the massive Genecontreo Biotechnologies fortune and they were both extremely prodigal, spending lavishly on cars, vacations and homes. It wasn’t unusual for Justin to walk into a nightclub and buy rounds for everyone - for the entire weekend - paid ahead. Their trust funds had lasted them since they got access on their eighteenth birthdays but the funds were starting to run out. But even when the trusts were exhausted, their passive income from dividends, rental properties and investments would provide each of them income most people would consider living richly for the rest of their lives. The snobbish brothers actually laughed when their accountants presented the figures. It was living well money, not Bugatti Centodieci money.

One day Justin and Greg were summoned to their father’s lavish country estate. They both already knew that the house and property was already promised to charity upon his death, but as for the rest of the fortune, that was up for grabs. The Genemans hadn’t been majority shareholders in Genecontreo for decades and were no longer involved in the conglomerate that bore their name. The entire family’s fortune was tied up in the brothers’ trust funds and their father’s accounts. Their mother had died when they were too young to remember her so the future of the Geneman legacy rested with them.

Alex Geneman, their father, explained that he was going to continue the family legacy by immediately giving three quarters of his fortune to the Alex Geneman Foundation, a philanthropic entity rivaled only by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. The remaining quarter would be bequeathed equally to the brothers. The two brothers sat wide eyed, ignoring their father’s droning about the family legacy as they did a quick calculation in their heads. Even with so much going to the Foundation, that still meant the inherence would be in the tens of billions. 

Greg was nearly drooling as he imagined the giant payday; he was literally plotting out which private island he was going to buy when his daydream was interrupted by Justin shouting.

“What! A child!” 

Justin loved falling in love so was constantly out of one red-hot relationship after another leaving a string of broken hearted women in his wake. Children were not in the picture.

“Yes, I want the Geneman name to mean something for generations, and that can’t happen without grandchildren,”

Alex stipulated that, upon his death, the fortune would be divided between his sons based on the number of children they had when he died. If none of them had children at the time of his passing, he would donate the balance to the Foundation.

“What about adoption?” Justin asked.

“No, only genetically-related offspring count,”

Justin rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide his annoyance at his quirky father’s ridiculous demand. Alex had let his two sons run wild for decades, ignoring their more selfish tendencies, so it seemed preposterous that all of a sudden the two would have to agree to take on the life-altering responsibility of children.

Suddenly he grinned. Since he didn’t want children anyway he asked what would happen if he was sterile.

“You’re not,” Alex shot back. He had already had both of his sons tested during their last physical to make sure their swimmers were healthy and both twins were spotting a pair of extremely productive gonads. Their sperms counts were so high that the lab thought it was an error.

“So that’s why they needed a sperm sample, I thought that was weird but I didn’t argue because the doctor was hot and gave me a hand,” Greg said with a chuckle.

The three had a light supper before parting ways. That night the twins discussed the strange stipulation over cocktails at Greg’s penthouse. Neither one of them  wanted to be burdened with children but both knew that there would be no way to carry on their extravagant lifestyles in perpetuity without the money.

“How much longer do you think the old man has?” Justin asked more of an aside than an actual question.

Greg grinned, “Actually, not long. He has cancer. The treatments are not working,”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Justin joked.

Greg sipped his drink.

“I’m being serious. His oncologist and I hook up. He has three, maybe four years max. We should start seeing deterioration pretty soon,”

Justin felt like someone had stomped on his soul. He dropped his cocktail glass with a crash. It had barely hit the ground before a maid swooped in as if out of nowhere to clean it up. Justin craved the fortune but wasn’t in a hurry if it meant losing his best friend so soon.

“Jesus this sucks! Fuck this sucks,” Justin started crying but Greg just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t act upset, I know you want the money,”

“I do, but fuck. It's dad, asshole,” 

Justin wasn’t going to win any awards of empathy but even he was appalled by Greg’s coldness. Not the type of man who should be carrying on the family legacy, he thought. Besides, he had already mapped out all kinds of ways to spend the cash and having it split two or more ways wasn’t going to fit into his plans. What if Greg managed to have six kids and he had one? He shuddered at the thought of the office buildings he wouldn't be able to invest in. And the more he thought about it, the concept of a true Geneman legacy helmed by him and his sons became more appealing. The children wouldn't be a burden, they would be vehicles to ensure the Geneman name, specifically Justin Geneman, became synonymous with wealth for generations.

He wiped his eyes as a butler handed him a replacement cocktail. The two continued chatting and drinking but Greg was having similar thoughts. What if Justin cranks out ten kids? He was a stud after all, so finding the mother would not be a problem. And the more martinis he drank, the more his delusions of grandeur swelled until he was imagining the logo of a future Greg Geneman Foundation helmed by him and his children, each of them helicoptering into board meetings from their island estates. He had even started picking out names! Heather Geneman and Travis Geneman sounded good, but Greg Geneman the Second had a nice ring to it.

By the end of the evening the two had both come to the same conclusion; it was imperative that the other twin not have kids. For about a month the two brothers tried logic and reason to convince the other one to reconsider. They shared articles about the cost and burden of raising children and how having kids is a major lifestyle cramp. 

When that didn’t work, Greg took advantage of the fact Justin was a bit of a softy and went right for the emotional jugular, sending Justin articles about children and teenagers who had died tragically along with links to books like ‘How to Survive the Loss of A Child’. 

“You wouldn’t wanna’ go through that, right? Especially after dad passes,” Greg said. Justin did cry - a lot - just at the prospect of losing a child that didn’t even exist. Unfortunately for Greg, that just made Justin want children more, and it wasn't entirely about the money anymore.

When it became clear convincing wasn’t going to work, Greg and Justin decided that the only way to stop the other would be to permanently decommission his sperm tanks. They knew they couldn’t just buy a shotgun and blast the other one’s junk off, or pound them with their fists. Not only would it be hard to spend any money in prison, it was highly likely that their father would disown them or worst - especially for Justin - the nutted brother might be grievously injured, or even die. Neither wanted the other out of existence, just out of the gene pool.

Each brother had seen the other naked countless times so had intimate knowledge of their targets. Both of them had fairly massive, beefy nuts that were quite oval. At least the targets wouldn’t be hard to miss. Greg’s tended to hang looser in the bag and Justin’s were tighter to his body. Both of them had nearly identical thick cocks that were five inches totally flaccid. Justin and Greg openly talked about their sex lives to each other so both knew that the other could go all night, sometimes fucking multiple women at once but neither cared that his soon-to-be-neutered brother might end up loosing his ability to do even that if their cock was ruined. They were both okay with the idea of the other’s cock being collateral damage. It was just hard to avoid hitting that big of a cock especially since it was always protecting the boys. 

Greg struck first.

The two were meeting for their weekly tennis game on the rooftop court of Greg’s condo tower. Greg had been practicing his targeting for days on a dummy on which he had affixed a plastic baggie with two jumbo eggs at the crotch. By the time of the match, Greg could pulverize the eggs from anywhere on the court. He had also upgraded his racket and had been working on his power swing.

The first serve was flawless, slamming into the lump in Justin’s shorts. Justin clutched his junk and collapsed to his knees, letting out a high pitch squeal so loud it seemed to ricochet off the surrounding skyscrapers. 

“Oh fuck! Man, I’m so sorry!” Greg almost convinced himself he was sincere as he jumped over  the net and helped his brother to his feet.

Justin recovered and prepared for the next service. Greg aimed and swung.

CRUNCH

The tennis ball slammed into Justin’s crotch, catching his beefy right nut. Then his left twice. Justin was struggling to keep up by the time the game was full on. The tennis match continued on like normal for a while because Greg wanted Justin to think the opening hits were just flukes from being out of practice. When Justin’s guard was down Greg took his shot. Justin screamed and fell to the ground holding his battered nuts. Greg had put everything he had into the last blow and the ball was a yellow blur as it slammed into his brother’s babymakers. Justin was in so much pain he couldn't believe it. His nuts were starting to swell and Greg was standing over him pretending to care.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” Justin said through sobs. 

Greg almost felt bad that his brother was literally crying from ball pain, but then he got a vision of his future super yacht off the coast of the French Riviera while Tiesto DJ’d a private party. Suddenly Greg didn’t  feel so bad. As soon as the match resumed, Justin’s nuts were pulverized by another accident. The ball had slammed into his sack so hard that the vibration was making his actual testicles bounce into each other like billiards.  Justin could barely stand so decided to call it quits. As they made their way to the elevator, Greg was swinging his racket as he walked, accidentally-on-purpose slicing the narrow edge into Justin’s balls. Justin let out a shriek. Greg was definitely doing this on purpose. Justin pretended to accept Greg’s weak apologies but declined a post match snack in case Greg ‘accidentally’ dropped a cheese knife in his lap.

Fuck, Justin thought, I need to get a move on. The next day Greg went out for an early morning bike ride in the city park. He always took the same route and Justin was waiting for him. Greg would always park his bike at a certain spot at the top of a hill and run a mile loop before continuing his bike ride. As soon as he was out of sight, Justin got out of his hiding spot, and squirted the seat with a generous amount of slick grease and hid behind a tree. Greg sweat like an animal, so by the time he got back to his bike his shorts were soaked. They were so wet he didn’t notice the seat was also wet and started pedaling away. As soon as he was midway down the hill and gaining speed, a jogger - whom Justin had paid - ‘accidentally’ ran in front of him.

“What the... FUCK!”

Greg slammed on the breaks. The bike stopped. He didn’t.  Inertia carried him forward, sliding off the seat until he slammed into the center handlebar post. Greg’s nuts were squashed painfully between the bar and his toned body and he squealed as he hit the ground, clutching his balls. Greg had been moving at speed when he slammed on the brakes and all of that energy went into crushing his nuts. His balls had been compressed dangerously flat by the post. When he finally recovered, he noticed the grease on his seat and was immediately suspicious.

Greg was in so much pain he cut his bike ride short and headed home to shower. Justin had crashed at Greg’s a lot and it wasn’t unusual for Justin to be brushing his teeth while his brother was taking a shower in the morning so Justin knew his habits. Greg would always take the handheld shower wand in one hand, hold it over his balls, and turn on the water. The gentle cold water was a delight to his boys while he waited for the water to warm. That wasn’t going to be the case this time.

Justin had paid Greg’s private maintenance contractor to adjust the shower. The water would always turn on full blast and would always start scalding hot. Greg peeled out of his sweaty clothes and stepped into this shower,  holding the shower sprayer just inches from his swinging  nut sack. He examined his swollen nuts and was alarmed by a slight bruise from the bike accident. Greg turned the valve and screamed as a powerful jet of steaming hot water slammed into his balls so hard that the pressure alone caused a bruise to erupt on his left nut. His entire sack was lobster red as it was instantly headed. He screamed and dropped the wand, which  landed between his legs pointed straight up.

“Oooh!” his nuts were blasted from underneath by the scalding hot water. By the time Greg jumped out of the shower, his scrotum and thighs had suffered pretty bad burns and his sack was swollen. Greg rolled around screaming and crying in panic has he felt the skin of his sack blistering from the burn. I have to call maintenance, Greg thought. He dismissed the freak incident as an accident.

The next day Justin was having lunch at Greg’s and feigned surprise that his brother was sitting with his legs spread and an icepack on his screaming balls. Greg explained the incident with the shower and Justin looked shocked. He was secretly pleased; the shower trick must’ve really done some damage if it was still throbbing the next day.

The following day, Justin did the greased bike seat trick again only this time Greg was moving too fast and actually struck the jogger, suspiciously the same one from the other day. Like before, Greg went sailing forward - his balls moving at full speed - slamming in the handlebar stem. There was a sickening crunch as Greg’s balls were horribly flattened, getting down to half their girth before the compression stopped. Greg’s eyes crossed and his brain rightly interpreted the alarm bells coming from his crotch as signs of serious danger.

The poor jogger was knocked to the ground.

Greg was rolling in a ball, screaming as the jogger got to his feet looking down at him.

“You dumb fuck! You were supposed to stop like last time!” the irritated jogger sent his running shoe slamming into Greg’s crotch eliciting a soprano scream from the injured heir. The jogger limped away, lucky to have survived serious injury but something he had said piqued Greg.

“You were supposed to stop like last time.” It was very suspicious, kind of like the jogger had done it on purpose. Greg went back home and took a bath instead of a shower, his nuts swollen and bruised and skin still peeling from the hideous burn. As he soaked, Greg had an inkling that Justin was behind his balls’ recent brushes with death.

Several days past with no shots fired. Greg struck next. They were at Justin’s condo bowling at the mini-lane in his living room. Justin was walking behind Greg carrying drinks and Greg accidentally swung his arm back way too far, slamming into Justin’s crotch like a wrecking ball. Greg could feel his twin’s nuts compressing extremely flat and Justin let out a yodel. He dropped the drinks and Greg rotated his torso to see if Justin was okay. Of course he was still holding the bowling ball which crushed Justin’s balls again. The impact was full force - Greg might as well have thrown the ball. Justin’s testicles were dangerously compressed and the handsome twin’s eyes crossed as he slumped to his knees.  He was sobbing and his right nut had nearly cracked, though neither knew how close it had gotten.

Justin was down for nearly fifteen minutes. Greg offered his hand to help Justin to his feet. That gave Justin a wicked idea. He pretended to be more dazed than he actually was and instead of grabbing Greg’s hand, he grabbed Greg’s swinging ball bag through his shorts. Greg gasped and screamed and Justin grabbed his bag with his other hand, using them to pull himself up. Greg was drooling as his brother’s athletic weight was yanking on his balls. Justin pretended to fall, pulling Greg’s orbs violently toward the ground. Greg screamed and landed on top of Justin in a heap. They two were red in the face with very sore balls but Justin was first to his feet. 

“Let me help you up,” Justin reached for Greg’s hand but accidentally missed, grabbing the bulge of his shorts instead.

“Justin no that’s my.... OOOOH!”

Greg was lifted slightly off the ground before Justin let go. “Oops, sorry bro! I’m really dazed!” he lied. Greg rolled, clutching his balls and making all kinds of funny high pitched noises. They felt like they had been only seconds from being pulled off. Justin went into the kitchen to fetch plastic bags to fill with ice for each of them. By the time he got back, Greg was sitting on the bowling bench still clutching his junk. He looked up toe see the ice pack - a peace offering - and reached for it. Justin had other plans.

CRUNCH

He rammed the ice pack, that might as well have been a ball of ice, into Greg’s crotch, feeling his nuts flatten. “You want to keep pressure on it,” Justin said, grinding Greg’s crotch as he pretended to be helpful.

“Okay, okay, I got it!” Greg snatched the ice pack and they both sat moaning and enjoying the numbing cold. 

A few days later they were at Alex’s estate. He seemed tired but was happy to see them both. After lunch, the three went into the garden for a game of skeet shooting. Although it was tempting, Greg knew he couldn’t just blow his brother’s balls off with the shotgun. Luckily, he had time to set something else up. Their dad only lasted a round before he retired for a nap. Greg could tell Justin was sick with worry, which made him distracted and an easy target.

“Fuck, the damn thing’s jammed,” 

Still worried about his dad, Justin just agreed to fix the skeet launcher. As he was approaching it, Greg suddenly figured out the problem - it was unplugged - and plugged it back in. Justin heard the machine spring to life but it was too late. CRUUUNCH. A clay birdie slammed full force into his crotch with devastating consequences. His right nut felt like it had exploded and ... CRUUUNCH. Another clay target. Justin let out a blood curdling scream and sank to his knees, clutching his swollen, puffy nuts. Greg unplugged the machine and not a moment too soon; on his knees, Justin’s handsome face was in the line of fire and Greg actually would have felt bad about knocking out Justin’s perfect teeth.  Justin was balling, rolling in the grass clutching his junk. They felt soft and lumpy and Justin panicked that his baby makers - and shot at billions - was gone. Greg helped Justin to his feet, fawning as he apologized.

The two went back and forth with increasingly creative and devastating setups. Speed was a factor; they had both figured out what the other was trying to do so it was a race to the finish. They still had to be careful to make the linage-ending blows seem like accidents. After a week both of them had horribly swollen, awful looking sacks and Greg called a truce. One night where they could enjoy each other’s company without fear of losing a nut. Of course Greg was lying but he knew Justin was sentimental enough to fall for it. Justin was going to use the evening to declare an actual permanent truce. All of the run-ins with almost losing his baby makers had made Justin acutely aware of how vulnerable he was, and he really wanted kids. He was going to have his dad take him completely out of the inheritance so that Greg wouldn't feel compelled to compete anymore. Greg's future fortune would no longer be dependent on Justin's ability to have kids and maybe, finally, the two antagonistic brothers could finally be a bit more normal. After all, Justin didn't want his future kids growing up resentful of their Uncle Greg.

Unfortunately, Greg wasn't quite so forward thinking.

It had taken him several practice runs, and a ton of champagne, to get the timing and aim down for Greg's next trick.  He proposed that the two give a toast and Greg fetched a bottle of campaign from this collection. It was no ordinary bottle though. It had already been uncorked and then recorked with a metal cork under so much pressure the glass was bulging slightly. It took quite a bit to position himself just right relative to Justin but when he finally popped the cork the results were exactly as he expected.

POP! The bottle explosively released the metal cork like a projectile, perfectly aimed at Justin’s crotch just a few feet away. 

POP! Justin’s right nut burst in his sack. Justin’s eyes crossed as he reached for his balls. He knew something serious had happened. His right nut was swelling rapidly and felt broken! He could make out two... no three distinct chunks floating on that side of his bag. Justin opened his jaw as wide as it could go and screamed before blacking out. 

Justin’s right testicle was toast. All they could do at the hospital was remove and clean out the scar tissue left over from their antics. Greg was sure he had convinced his father that it was a horrible accident. Everyone at the hospital, who were used to seeing legitimate freak accidents all the time, believed the sobbing, apologetic brother. Justin, of course knew better, and vowed to exact horrible revenge on Greg. A tiny voice in the back of his head, perhaps the whispers of his unborn kids, begged him to reconsider and just go forward with the permanent truce he had planned, but Justin had made up his mind. Greg's balls needed to be snuffed out.

When he was released from the hospital, Justin knew he had to pluck Greg off the family tree decisively. Greg had taken to wearing cups and the two avoided each other except for their visits with their father. And when they were there, they were never out of his sight so there would be a witness for any ‘accidents’. Luckily, having money meant that Justin could just pay others to do his dirty work for him.

Greg had been frequenting a high end strip club and had a favorite dancer we would take to a private room for a lap dance. It  was actually quite sad, really. Greg would pay the women to give him a lap dance in the private room but at the end instead of letting her get him off, he would just sit and talk like the dancer was a long lost friend. It was like an extremely expensive confession booth but with scantily clad women and music. In a more normal family not obsessed with an inheritance, Justin would have seen Greg’s pretend friendships as a sign of a serious problem. But the Genemans were not normal. 

Justin knew Greg’s favorite dancer and had paid her enough to make sure she would keep herself free until Greg arrived. As soon as he was in the room with Trixy, he took off his cup and took a seat. She was wearing stilettos, at Justin’s request, and gave the horny heir a great lap dance until his cock was throbbing hard. The club had a strict no touching policy and Greg obediently kept his hands behind his back. 

Trixy had very specific instructions, and a large check, from Justin. They had even rehearsed the little maneuver. Midway through the dance, Trixy whispered into Greg’s ear for him to stand up for a special treat. Of course he obliged and she moved the chair so that it was in front of the dancing pole in the middle of the room. Greg sat back down, his legs wide, as he stepped onto the seat of the chair between his legs and grabbed the pole for stability. Her pussy was right at Greg’s face and it was all he could do not to release his hands and explore. The club was no-touch but that only applied to the men. Trixy grabbed the back of his head with one hand and pulled his face into her crotch and Greg thought he was going to bust his nut in his slacks.

Trixy was gyrating and dancing when suddenly she lost her footing. To recover she lifted her stiletto and slammed it down into the chair, accidentally landing on Greg’s left nut. Greg let out a loud high pitched scream as the heel pressed into the middle of his ball like someone trying to make a donut hole within a ball of dough. Not wanting to panic, he tried to tell Trixy to lift her foot but she pretended not to notice.

“My ball!”

Trixy pretended to be a clumsy bimbo, raising and stomping her foot as he pretended to be trying to regain her balance. Greg went to stand but couldn’t since all of her weight was concentrated on a very small portion of his nut.

“My nut! Trixy! My nut!”

Trixy ground her foot in, still pretending it was a wild accident, but more determined. She had never seen a check with  as many zeroes as the one Justin had written her and she wasn’t about to blow it.

“Oh babe, I’m sorry, I just keep slipping!”

CRUNCH

Greg’s eyes crossed and he screamed. The space under Trixy’s heel was getting smaller and smaller and smaller. Greg, in desperation, pushed Trixy forward causing her to actually lose her balance, she twisted her foot reflexively.

SQUICK

Greg was a screaming, drooling mess as Trixy’s heel was separated by a fraction of an inch from the seat. Greg’s nut had exploded, then pinpoint pressure was just too much. As he sat cupping his ruined junk and feeling like he was going to vomit, Trixy hopped down and screamed for the bouncer.

The door opened with a whoosh and a scary looking thug burst in. “He tried to push me,” Trixy screamed. She wasn’t lying, though she didn’t give the crucial context that would have made Greg’s push seem perfectly reasonable. Greg yelled as the giant bouncer effortlessly lifted him to his feet and slammed him against the wall. The bouncer was surprised to see that Greg was the one causing problems, but Trixy seemed horrified. Her acting was suburb. The bouncer hated rich guys who thought they could whatever they wanted to the dancers just because they had money.

CRUNCH CRUNCH

Greg screamed and pleaded as the bouncer’s knee slammed into his crotch, his already burst nut was turned into heir sauce in the bag and his last nut was quivering on the edge. The bouncer could feel that the impact on Greg’s nut felt very different than normal, but to be sure he slammed his knee in one more time and ground it into Greg’s lumps. Yup, there was definitely something wrong. Greg was clawing and scratching at the giant man who was holding him up. He knew his chance at having kids was dwindling with each impact. CRUNCH.

“My balls!” 

CRUNCH. His fractured nut was turned into rich boy soup and the structural integrity of his last whole nut was failing. 

“Not my...”

BLOOSH

Greg blacked out with a look of stunned horror on his face.

Greg’s shattered nut had been so thoroughly destroyed by the bouncer’s knee that it wasn’t just removed, it was suctioned out. It was just gunky liquid. His last nut had ruptured but the damage was repairable and he was out of the hospital and back home within days with one missing nut and one that had literally cracked but healed. He knew he had to be extremely careful if he was going to have any hope for kids. 

The two brothers plotted for their final strike, but neither one could set up a convincing accident that would be devastating enough. Justin considered just hiring a mugger to end his brother’s sperm making days but that would have probably been suspicious. The two avoided each other so couldn’t physically do it themselves either. They were at a stalemate. It was a Friday evening and both of them had come up with the perfect end game, unbeknownst to the other, they were launching the final attach at the same time.

Justin was preparing to go for an evening jog burn off stress. He made sure to put on his athletic cup before heading out. As he approached a specific part of the trail teenagers playing with squirt guns accidentally hosed Justin's crotch He immediately though it was a trap, but the liquid was just... water. It smelled bad, was just water The kids seemed sorry and Justin was just about to continue on his way when suddenly a huge Rottweiler jumped on him. The person who had been walking him half-heartedly pretended to catch his dog but it was too late. The dog, which the owner had accidentally forgotten to feed that morning, sank its jaws into Justin's crotch. It bit again, salivating over the wet stain. The liquid had actually been drippings from a cooking steak mixed with water, making it look otherwise clear when diluted. The the dog could taste it. Justin punched at the giant animal but it was no use. CRACK

The cup cracked in the dogs jaws. Justin looked down and screamed as the beast chomped on his crotch, destroying the cup and crushing Justin's nut and cock. The dog pawed at Justin's crotch while the owner gave a lame attempt at stopping until Justin's nut was freed from his shorts. The dog sank its jaws into Justin's cock, totally severing it. Justin exploded in agony shrieking so loud that the dog was temporarily stunned before chewing Justin's cock into dog food. "Not my kids!" Justin screamed - though all that came out were incomprehensibly babbles. The dog took another bite, ensnaring Justin's big fat nut in his mouth.

Justin, the more sentimental twin, couldn't believe that he was actually about to be yanked out of the gene pool. He didn't even care about the inheritance, and actually hadn't for a while. He just wanted to feel the unconditional love of a little Justin Jr. As the dog's jaw clamped around his testicle, compressing it horribly, Justin thought back with dread on how ridiculous his contest with Greg had gotten. The dog's jaws were nearly closed... Justin knew he was about to completely miss out on having kids of his own - the one desire no amount of money could ever satiate. He truly wished he had just called a truce with Greg and sobbed as he thought about the horrible trap Greg was going to stumble into later that night. Justin was so overwhelmed with grief over a future that would never exist that he blacked out, though anyone watching probably assumed it was because the dog had closed its jaws completely, making Justin's last nut explode like a tomato.

Meanwhile, Greg had stumbled upon Justin's final trap. Justin had intercepted a parcel in Greg's mailroom. It was a self-administered syringe with a mixture of pain medication and antibiotics. His nut had suffered a pretty bad rupture and the doctors had been having him inject the solution directly into his sack once a week. The needle was so sharp that it barely hurt, then he would depressed the plunger and pull out, the pain medication numbing immediately. Unfortunately, Justin had swapped out the normal harmless solution with acid. It wasn't going to dissolve Greg's nut like a horror movie but the damage would be too severe to fix. Greg cleaned his scrotum with an alcohol swap and pricked his skin with the syringe. As soon as he plunged it in he immediately knew something was wrong. The shell of his last nut started bubbling in his sack, dissolving around its internal structure. He quickly withdrew the needle but it was too late. All of the acid was now sloshing around his last nut, slowly weakening it. Greg screamed, it felt like his nut was on fire. The top layer of membranes was disappearing, allowing the acid to creep deeper and deeper into his fat nugget. He raced through his condo wearing just his boxers. If he could get to the hospital fast enough they could suction out whatever evil liquid Justin had put in the vial.

He was in horrible agony, unable to see clearly. His grand plan of making it to the hospital ended before he even got out of the door. As he opened the front door, the side of the door hit his crotch. His nut, which was barely holding on as it was slowly dissolved, burst into a million gooey pieces upon impact. Greg fell on his back hollering like a banshee, barely having the presence of mind to have Alexa call for help before he lost all track of the world around him and started sobbing into the floor. His hands desperately fondled his jelly-filled bag. It was gone, ruined. Along with his shot at his father's fortune.

The Geneman family line was over.