The Haunted House

Jon and Andrew stood in the front lawn of a large, imposing farmhouse that looked like it hadn't been lived in for years. Portions of the once stately three story building's roof looked like it had partially collapsed and several columns of its wrap-around porch were missing; most of the windows were boarded up or broken and its once white paint was peeling and yellowing with age. The abandoned home, miles outside the city, looked like the perfect site for a haunted house.

The two Amajor University sophomores had responded to an online ad that seemed too good to be true. Someone had bought the old house and was going to stage an elaborate invite-only haunted house that was advertised to be a mix of sexy and scary, with a heavy emphasis on showcasing the dozen or so local college studs, including Jon and Andrew, who had responded to the open call for models to dress as sexy zombies, jacked ghouls and slutty demons. Jon and Andrew had to submit photos of themselves showing off their ripped abs and muscular bodies to even be considered, but once they were accepted the gig seemed pretty easy; they would get dressed up in whatever sensual costumes the event organizer could come up with and basically be living decoration for the elaborate show to come. 

Scattered over the yard were hyper realistic fake arms, legs and even a few heads with looks of absolute terror etched into their silicone faces. One of the legs had a bone sticking out where it would have been attached to the hip and, in keeping with the erotic nature of the haunted attraction, there were several pairs of severed, bloody fake scrotums that looked like they had been ripped off and tossed to the ground, the realistic testicles inside slipping out of a few of the bags. Man, these decorations are so realistic, Andrew thought.

"Hello there!" came a deep, and frankly creepy, voice from the doorway.

Andrew and Jon turned to look and were greeted by a tall man, at least six foot five, wearing a tattered butler uniform splattered with fake blood, standing there with a wicked grin on his face. Behind him were two much shorter men who were naked except for loincloths, their skin completely covered in hyper-realistic greenish scales and their faces done up with the best Halloween makeup Jon or Andrew had ever seen. Their eyes seemed to glow yellow as their disturbing makeup made their faces look like a mutated cross between an alien and a zombie. The elaborate makeup, along with the short yet muscular men's animalistic movements would have made them look at home on the set of a big-budget Halloween horror movie. Even though Jon was a huge fan of horror movies, the two actors' uncanny appearance made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

The tall man stepped off the porch to greet them, introducing himself only as The Host and pulling out a folding phone from his breast pocket to find Jon and Andrew's names on a list. He smiled as he eyed the two studs and Jon could feel himself being mentally undressed by the imposing daddy. Jon and Andrew were both just shy of six feet tall with toned, muscular bodies and matching shoulder-length black hair. At a glance, the two college guys could have been mistaken as brothers

"..And these are my demon pets," he smiled as the two men lept from the porch and approached the two frat boys-turned-models with amazing alacrity considering their small, meaty frames. Andrew felt mildly uncomfortable as the two 'demons' stood next to him making grunting sounds and giving off a strong smell of ammonia and rotten meat. Up close, their makeup was even more realistic; they actually looked like scaly, demonic creatures...

As the two frightening looking men slouched awkwardly next to them, Jon and Andrew listened as the host explained what they would be doing for the evening. The elaborate haunted house was going to spare no expense from the moment guests arrived and the first thing visitors would see were the fake body parts on the lawn, with Jon and Andrew - who would pretend to be dead - jumping out to give the entering guests a fright.. The scene would look like the two ‘demons’ had just ripped apart a bunch of guys and scattered them across the lawn. The two demons grunted and let out something between a laugh and a howl.

Andrew and Jon were directed to two pre-dug holes near the entrance that looked like shallow graves.

"All you have to do is strip and get in. You wouldn’t be comfortable in your clothes!" the man gestured, the large grin on his face taking down the uncomfortable, almost horror-movie atmosphere that had been building.

Jon and Andrew shrugged and stepped out of their clothes showing off their impressive fit bodies. The host seemed to especially enjoy the two sets of fat, low hanging balls between their legs. The two demons hurriedly took away their clothes as the two college students lay on their backs in the faux graves which were the perfect depth for their heads to still be able to poke out once they were buried, which they were in short order. Instead of using shovels, the two demon actors used their hands to bury them up to their necks, using their arms like muscular shovels and moving with impressive speed. As they did so, Jon found himself at eye level with one of the fake arms in the lawn and was taken aback at the level of realism, every hair was meticulously placed onto the hyper realistic skin, the fake blood was the perfect color and even the somewhat rotten smell was well done...

"Hey cut it out, creep!" Jon yelled, Andrew looked over to see his friend had been completely buried, only his head sticking up with the fresh dirt making it look like he was indeed buried in a grave. The demon who had buried him was digging over where Jon's balls would be and in no time the two rotund genitals were sticking above the ground like two plump mini pumpkins. Jon tried to get up but the wet dirt was heavier than he thought it would be.

"Cut it out... fuck!" 

The demon who had been burying him struck Jon across the face with the back of his hand. The scales made the slap feel like it was from a sturdy leather paddle and the power of the delivery made Jon dazed.

"Ah, perfect!" the host said, "Needs to look realistic!"

A bloody gash had opened up on Jon's cheek and after another blow his eye was blackened.

"What the fuck!" Andrew shouted before the demon burying him did the same.

Jon and Andrew screamed in pain and confusion as the two demons punched and scratched at their adorable faces.  After less than a minute the two frat boys looked like they spent hours putting on bruise-makeup only this was no illusion. Andrew and Jon shouted for help but the actors inside couldn't hear them and they were hours from the opening of the show so no audience was nearby yet. The host smiled at his minions and said something in a strange language before turning curtly and going inside the house. As soon as the door closed, the demon over Andrew squatted down and started digging over his crotch until his own plump spuds were poking out of the grave. The only things visible were the two boy's bruised heads and their nuts, which looked even bigger without a body to give them a frame of reference.

"Fuck, man this isn't worth it..." Jon renewed his efforts to escape but was immediately struck by a demon weiding one of the fake arms like a club.

"Holy fuck!" Andrew screamed. It suddenly dawned on him seeing it up close that the reason the prop arm looked so real was because it WAS real! He started desperately trying to claw his way out but the wet dirt now felt heavy.

"What the fuck!" he shouted as the dirt, which had been mixed with quick setting cement unbeknownst to the two students, continued to set. The weight was becoming unbearable, pressing down on both of their fit bodies and making it harder to move.

The two minions smiled wickedly at each other and disappeared around the side of the house. Jon and his friend struggled to get free, shouting out for anyone who could hear them. Suddenly the sound of two loud, small motors could be heard and Jon instantly recognized what it was. The two demons had started lawn mowers and considering he and Andrew's vulnerable position - their heads were literally the same height as the ground - he didn't want to see just how realistic this haunted house was going to be.

The two demons rounded the corner, each pushing a large old fashioned lawn mower, headed straight for Jon and Andrew.

"Help!" Andrew screamed at the top of his lungs.

The demons ran the mowers so close to the two trapped student’s heads that the wind from the blades made their hair move. Next the demons started mowing over the scattered severed testicles and dicks, which Andrew and Jon were now sure were actually real. Sack after sack erupted into a spray of gore and chunks until the lawn was covered in splatter. Next the demons methodically mowed over every ripped-off dick, turning them into unrecognizable piles of meat. Jon and Andrew screamed and begged, trying desperately to move but their bodies were entirely encased by the now-set concrete mixture. They were trapped. 

After the demons were finished destroying every nut sack - there had to have been at least twenty scattered around the two trapped young men, they stopped their lawn mowers and stood over Andrew. Andrew wailed in terror as the two demons rose their gnarled feet and began stomping on his defenseless nuts, squashing them into the dirt. They took turns and grunted in delight as the college stud’s sex pods were mercilessly stomped.

“Oh God!” Andrew wailed. 

“Andrew!” Jon screamed, trying desperately to get free. 

The two demons just kept stomping until Andrew’s sack was an unhealthy shade of purplish black. Andrew, who was overwhelmed with terror and pain, looked up and let out one final shriek of horror before blacking out. Jon could only look on helplessly as his buddy’s chances of ever having kids were stomped out of existence. Andrew’s left nut cracked causing his sack to rapidly swell much to delight of the hideous creatures.

One of the creatures stopped stomping on Andrew’s nuts and instead took a few steps forward and hovered his disgusting foot over Andrew’s passed out head. Jon’s face became white with terror as he feared he was about see Andrew’s head cracked open like a pumpkin...

“No! Please don’t!”

Shockingly, the demons seemed to heed Jon’s truly desperate pleas and Andrew’s skull and last-whole nut were spared. At least for now. Without a word, the two monstrosities lumbered over to Jon, one of them squatted down and took his plump right nut in his hand, the hand feeling cold and scaly, but before Jon could even register what was happening the creature was squeezing with all of his might. He was stronger than any human Jon had ever encountered. Much, much stronger.

“Ooooh!” Jon wailed which made the watching demon squeal in satisfaction. 

The creature’s meaty fingers dug effortlessly into Jon’s nut, almost instantly rupturing it as if the sturdy membranes were nothing but cheap Halloween decorations. Jon literally couldn’t see straight, his mind was a phantasmagoria of terror, panic and dread. He used to watch slasher movies and muse about how he’d react when faced with that situation and now he unfortunately knew; he’d be completely overwhelmed to the point of blacking out, which he promptly did. The creature let out a howl as his fist compressed Jon’s nut beyond all realistic limits of surviving. 

Jon’s egg sized nut was compressed entirely too flat and had burst, the large organ splitting in half in his bag with the suddenly-released trapped pressure causing a literal muted ‘pop’. Jon’s bruised face twitched but his unconscious mind barely registered the sensation of his cum factory being decommissioned. For good measure the other demon stomped - more like jumped - on Jon’s sack until his left nut was swollen and purple turning his ruined right nut into sack sauce in the process. 

Pleased with their handiwork the two demons got back behind their lawn mowers and turned them on. The sound of the rumbling engines caused Andrew to groggily come to. He screamed out from a burst of adrenaline as he watched his buddy’s busted nuts turn into a shower of disgusting gore. Jon’s beefy, fat and tenderized spuds stood no chance against the powerful blades and the resulting mess was unlike any special effect Andrew had seen in even the goriest horror movie. Unfortunately for Andrew, he didn't have much time to reflect on the awful thing he had just witnessed as seconds later the other demon casually mowed over his own helpless ball bag. They were naturally quite large, but the earlier beating and the rupture had made them swell nearly twice their size....

“NOO!”

SPLOOOSH

The mower’s blade, a relentless scythe, tore into the enormous testicles, turning them into a bloody pulp that splattered the lawn. There was nothing left but a chunky, gooey mess that oozed and squelched beneath the wheels. The mess had been so cataclysmic that his face was dripping with what looked to be the insides of a very meaty pumpkin. Andrew blacked out and the two demons grinned and took their places outside the door to greet guests.

To a casual observer, the lawn just looked like it was covered in ‘fake’ body parts and unrecognizable piles of goo splattered everywhere. The two hyper-realistic ‘fake’, bruised yet handsome college guy heads sticking out of the graves added to the aesthetic. 

This was going to be one helluva haunted house...

Untitled Ball Busting Story

Bruce was exceptionally ordinary. He was forty-two, average height and weight with a toned but especially muscular body. He had a thin unassuming face and most people he met on the street probably dismissed him as a bookish nerd, totally harmless. That was mostly true except when he was at work.

Bruce had a strange job. It was actually more than a job, it was his passion. Every day he would leave his home, take the bus to an unmarked building in the industrial district and get to work. Actually, Bruce wasn’t sure if he took the bus or walked. For some reason his memory was hazy when he wasn’t at work but he just dismissed it from his mind being flooded with endorphins after every shift. 

Bruce never interacted with anyone else at work, a strange fact that Bruce didn’t really question. The few times he had thought about it after starting the job he just got a headache, but work made him feel better. He knew he wasn’t alone in the building since a key part of his job involved the Bringers and the Takers, small teams of people - he assumed strong men given the tasks they performed... 

His work space is a large mostly empty warehouse space with chairs of various types, tables and large wooden X’s anchored to the ground in the middle. Around them were cabinets, boxes and drawers all filled with equipment, meticulously organized. Bruce was so obsessed with organization he sometimes joked to himself he was less human than the computer terminal he sat in front of most of the day.

The terminal was Bruce’s most important tool. It was just an all-in-one computer and keyboard on a plain white desk next to the door. Oddly, it was positioned so that when Bruce was sitting at the computer his back was turned away from chairs and cabinets and other paraphernalia, forcing him to only concentrate on the computer and the brick wall behind it.

This morning was like every other. Bruce logged in and stared at the computer’s blank screen until he saw the screen display “Incoming prompt from User...”. Just those four words got Bruce’s heart racing, he could feel excitement and anxiously waited for the rest of the message. 

With a ding, another message appeared.

“How many times would I need to hit a college football quarterback in the nuts with a mallet before they exploded?” 

Bruce, though happy, furled his brow. He liked it when the prompts were more detailed. What kind of mallet? What did the quarterback look like? Was he naked or clothed? The extra detail would make the next part of this job even more exciting but he smiled anyway. Behind him he could hear the Bringers shuffling things into place, along with a horrified scream. Bruce didn’t turn around until he heard the Bringers close the door behind him.

“Wha...what’s going on?”

Bruce approached a terrified looking young man, possibly nineteen, with thick black hair and a devastatingly handsome face. He was wearing an Amajor University football uniform sitting in a chair with his legs tied apart and his arms behind his back. Next to him on a little table was a generic rubber mallet with a wooden handle. Bruce picked it up and smiled. It was much heavier than it looked.

“Please! Please don’t hurt... Oooh!”

CRUNK

Bruce wasted no time pounding the mallet into the football player’s crotch, his protective cup deflecting most of the blows. Bruce pounded on the player’s crotch for nearly a minute before deciding his cup wasn’t going to let him damage his nuts. He grinned as he tore open the jock’s pants and pulled his cup out of his jockstrap. Now the lad’s average sized nuts were protected only by a thin piece of fabric. 

“Nooooo!”

CRUNCH CRUNCH

Bruce worked up a sweat, pounding the defenseless sack until he felt one of the black-haired studs nuts burst. A few more blows ended the other. Bruce set down the mallet and left the screaming player. Bruce sat at his terminal and answered the question “How many hits would it take to explode a football player’s nuts?” with authoritative accuracy, as well as describing his method of testing. Behind him the Takers were cleaning up the area, roughly dragging the crying, mutilated football player away and carefully putting the mallet back in its proper drawer.

A few seconds after typing his answer the computer beeped. The person on the other end responded “That was hot as fuck! What if he was naked and his balls were twice as big?”

The positive feedback made Bruce extremely happy and he couldn’t wait until the Bringers had reset the stage. Another young man who looked similar to the first, actually identical, had been placed standing against a table held up by a pole behind his back. He was naked and gagged and his now-large nuts were tied up and positioned on the edge of the table, totally vulnerable. Bruce picked up the mallet and wasted no time slamming it over and over into the young man’s screaming sack.

“PWEEZE!”

CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUUUUNCH

Bruce really enjoyed the feeling of the huge nuts flattening under the mallet, so much so that he stopped pounding just long enough to get an even heavier mallet. The young man’s eyes bugged out and he begged and pleaded through his gag.

CRUNCH

His fat jock nuts flattened violently under the mallet.

CRUNCH

They flattened again. And again.

CRUU-BLOOSH

Bruce smiled and the jock looked on in stunned disbelief as his fat sack erupted open. Bruce was typing his answer back to the user as the Takers cleaned up the mess.

A few seconds later that person responded “Wow! So hot! Thank you!”. The positive comments make Bruce feel extremely happy. Almost elated.

He sat at the terminal until the phrase ““Incoming prompt from User” appeared. Bruce perked up and smiled wickedly at the question prompted.

“So I’m curious, what would happen if I stuffed some firecrackers in my balls suit pants and lit the fuse?”

Bruce thought for a bit before responding, “Tell me about your boss? What does he look like? How does he dress?”

There was a brief delay before a picture appeared on the screen. It was a tall, muscular and strikingly handsome middle aged man with olive skin and short dark hair with streaks of gray. He was wearing a well fitting expensive suit that hugged his ass, broad chest and especially his stuffed crotch. It was obvious from the camera angle the picture had been taken while the boss wasn’t looking, almost like a worker in the neighboring cubicle had snapped it with his cell phone.

“What’s his name?” Bruce asked, he could hear the Bringers getting everything set up.

“Mr. Matson,” the user answered, “And I want him to beg!”

When the Bringers were gone Bruce stood and approached Mr. Matson. He looked identical to the man in the photograph, an uncanny coincidence Bruce thought considering he had never seen him before, but he didn’t give it any thought. Matson was wearing his suit standing in an X shape with his arms over his head and legs spread extremely - almost painfully wide - against the wooden frame. Matson was probably in his late forties, a dapper businessman with a massive bulge in his slacks. 

“Please! Please let me go... I’ll pay you anything you want!”

Bruce smiled and drew his fist back as if he was going to slam it into Matson’s bulge. The horrified executive let out a scream as Bruce’s fist made contact. Over and over.

“Noo! Please! Nooo!”

Matson was a blubbering mess, his nuts swollen and bruised in his slacks before Bruce gave him a break. The Bringers had set out exactly what he needed. Bruce picked up a handful of small fireworks from the table, unzipped Matons’ pants, stuffed his brief pouch with the explosives and zipped him back up. Matson’s eyes grew huge and Bruce smiled at the grotesque site of Matson’s lumpy bulge. He picked up a lighter and lit Matson’s slacks on fire at the crotch, the thin fabric lighting quickly. 

“Nooo! Please, I’m begging you put it out!” Matson writhed on the X, screaming and begging but Bruce just stood by.

It took only moments for the fire to ignite one of the fireworks...

BOOM
BOOM
BOOM

They all exploded virtually at the same time triggered by the first. Matson’s head dropped as he let out a horrified scream. The crotch of his slack blew off, followed by his bits of his flaming underwear and a huge gory spray otherwise known as his cock and balls. Matson’s huge nuts and fat cock splattered messily all over the floor, a few chunk slanding at his feet. Bruce smiled, and stomped the pile of mush before going back to this computer.

As he typed up his report about the explosion in graphic detail he could hear the Takers cleaning up the mess. Literally. A few moments later the user replied “Fucking hot! Loved the part at the end when you stomped the mush!”

Bruce’s face lit up! He had thrown in the punches and the unnecessarily brutal stomping on Matson’s already obliterated nut guts as improv and was pleased the user enjoyed it. 

The next user prompted Bruce “Whose nuts would pop first? Mine or my brother’s?”

Bruce was able to get the user to give more details, including sending photos of him and his brother and what kind of contest scenario he wanted. The user, Joel was twenty-five, average height but with a smoking hot body that looked like there was zero body fat. He was a bulky muscle head with a somewhat mean looking face, not exactly someone who you’d assume was into having his nuts bashed in. His brother Cody was the polar opposite. Cody looked like he was in his late teens or earlier twenties, a tall lanky young man with a rainbow flag tattooed on his forearm and thick goofy looking glasses. The one thing both brothers had in common were two enormous, heavy nuts swinging between their legs. Cody’s were actually slightly bigger than Joel’s and probably would have made an impressive underwear bulge but Joel insisted Bruce play out the scenario with them naked.

The Bringers had positioned the brothers sitting, arms behind their backs and legs spread and tied, facing each other. Cody was gagged and shaking in terror. Holes had been cut into each chair allowing each set of nuts to dangle beneath the brothers, tight rubber rings around their sacks forcing the enormous nuts to the bottom of their heavy sacks.

All of the tools Bruce needed were laid out on the table. He started with a pair of heavy boots, taking turns kicking between the chair legs, slamming each juicy set of nuts into the bottom of the chair. Joel screamed. Cody begged through his gag but Bruce just kept kicking. Next he picked up a length of heavy rope with a huge, heavy knot on one end. He slammed it up from under the chairs like a whip, slamming the fat sex pods between the knot and the bottom of the chair.

CRUNCH

SPLOTCH

SPLAT

Joel was grunting but his mean face was contorted in concentration, as if he was treating this like an endurance test. Cody wasn’t so composed. He was screaming and rocking and begging, his massive nuts turning rosy under the assault. The svelte nerd was clearly not as used to pain as his brother. Bruce went back to kicking using the giant orbs like soccer balls, before moving on to the next punishment. 

Bruce was holding a mace, a heavy chain with a bowling-ball sized spiked metal orb on one end. Despite the fact the object was a replica of an actual medieval weapon, Bruce was able to handle it like it weighed nothing. 

Cody started sobbing, shaking in terror, too defeated to scream. Bruce felt happy that Joel seemed to be enjoying it but felt a little bad at the same time.... 

“Ahh” Bruce put his hand to his forehead as a brief, yet powerful, headache swarmed behind his eyes. He had a strange thought “Programming fault.” He had no idea what it meant, it had happened a couple times before at work, but he quickly recovered. 

“Bring it!” Joel wailed.

CRUUUNCH

SPLOOOTCH

Bruce swung the heavy mace upward between the two brother’s legs, flattening their sacks, alternating brother to brother. Despite the fact they were attached to two very different guys, both set of oversized nuts were equally resilient despite the fact Cody was screaming and begging and Joel was willing himself not to react. Over and over Bruce slammed the mace into each sack until he actually felt the chair under Cody start to crack and break apart.

CRU-SPLOTCH

Cody’s eyes crossed. A scream was caught in his throat. For good measure Bruce slammed the mace between Cody’s legs again. Then again. And again. Joel hooted and cheered as Cody’s busted nuts exploded, chunks being ripped away with each swing. Bruce continued on until Cody’s popped nerd nuts were nothing but a pile on the ground. A large, gooey pile. Bruce kicked it a little with his boot and was stunned at the amount of nut meat Cody’s sack had been holding.

As Bruce described the scene to Joel, answering the question definitively that Cody’s nuts would pop first,, the Takers cleared away the scene.

“That was really amazing! Now, I want to see what would happen to Cody’s baby makers under my boot. I wanna be wearing jeans and a T-shirt with this design on it...”

Joel sent an image that gave Bruce a short, but intense, headache. “Programming error..” Bruce actually turned toward the scene the Bringers were setting up thinking someone had called him, but it was just the workers. Strangely , Bruce could see, but couldn't make out their faces. Very peculiar, Bruce thought, but he just turned back to the monitor.

The Bringers left and the scene was reset. This time Cody was tied to the ground naked with his big, fat nuts on the ground between his spread legs. He wasn’t gagged this time, per Joel’s request, and instead was begging and pleading directly to Joel.

“Joel! What are you doing, man? I’m your brother! I love you. Please...”

Bruce felt a sharp pain in his head.

Meanwhile Joel was standing over his brother wearing a pair of heavy black boots, tight fitting jeans with an enormous bulge and a white form-fitting T-shirt. On the front of the shirt was a picture of Cody’s rainbow flag tattoo with a red X over it and an offensive slur scrawled under it. Bruce could see the writing but literally couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, it was as if he hadn’t been trained on... how to read it. It was a strange sensation. Bruce’s only job in this scenario was to watch Cody’s nuts being stomped into paste then go back to the terminal and tell Joel about it. Every kick. Every stomp. Every rupture, every gory detail. And Joel made it explicit he wanted Bruce to be as graphic as possible. Bruce suddenly felt himself being hyper aware, capturing every piece of the scene in vivid detail.

Joel smiled wickedly at Cody, rose his heavy boot and stomped straight down on his geeky brother’s huge nuts.

Cody screamed. “Joel! Please stop! Don’t hurt... OOOH!”

CRUNCH

Bruce couldn’t believe the ferocity of Joels’ attack on his brother’s family jewels. The muscular hunk was stomping and grinding, kicking and jumping on Cody’s balls like he hated him more than anyone else in the world. Cody cried and begged and pleaded but that just seemed to make Joel more excited.

CRUNCH

Cody’s left nut half-flattened. And stayed that way.

“Joel! I’m your brother, please stop...”

“My fag brother!”

Bruce felt a tremendous pain in his head and swore he heard someone shouting “Programming fault” but the only sounds were Joel grunting in effort, Cody screaming in pain and Cody’s half-ruined manhood being smashed. Bruce stood by, silently observing as Joel stomped and stomped his heavy frame onto his brother’s nuts until they inevitably failed. Both nuts were purple and flattened but Joel just kept going until his shoe hit the floor, the massive organs that were once between Cody’s legs turned into a literal, gooey stain.

As Bruce reported back the scene in vivid detail he could hear the Takers cleaning everything up. The report was long and graphic and gory. It was nearly ten pages of some of the most explicit, graphic ball busting ever committed to word. Bruce described in detail how every part of Cody’s nuts had failed, a play by play of the destruction of his nuts. How much material, in ounces, had squired out, how far it had gone and how much agony Cody had been in.

A moment later the user, Joel, responded, “That was the best ever! Wow! Now I want you to pit Cody against this guy in a battle royale to the death... for their balls!”

Joel uploaded a picture of a strapping wrestler and Bruce forced himself to watch a newly-restored Cody being tossed around a wrestling ring like a rag doll, his nuts taking more and more damage until they burst in his sack. Bruce felt awful... and had a splitting headache as he relayed the scene back to the user. Despite Bruce’s misgivings, Joel’s positive response made him feel instantly better.

Bruce worked the next several hours of his shift. Users would give him prompts like:

“How far would Nick Jonas’ nuts splatter under a sledge hammer?”

“Who could take more kicks before passing out, me or my boyfriend?”

“Tell me how much force it would take to burst my hot neighbor’s sack?”

And Bruce, helped by the Bringers and the Takers, made every scenario happen. Bruce would report back the results in story form and get an endorphin hit from the feedback. He especially liked the fact that he got to slam a sledge hammer into Nick Jonas’ sack over and over just so that he could write about it to the user’s delight.

But some of the prompts made Bruce feel... uncomfortable.

“Whose balls are tougher? A faggot or a straight guy?”

“Kick my dad’s nuts with steel toed boots until he’s crying, then stomp them until they burst!”

Bruce acted out both scenes. The ‘straight’ guy’s nuts lasted the longest and the dad - whom he was provided a picture of, a handsome fifty year old - begged and screamed right up until his sack violently burst.

Bruce couldn’t wait for this shift to end. He loved helping out users by describing their darkest fantasies but some of the prompts were getting really dark lately.

“I want you to tell me the fastest way to nut as many guys as I can in a college locker room,”

The user send Bruce a picture of a bunch of guys smiling and being goofy, most likely from a frat party. The Bringers had already started setting up the scene, those same smiling guys being positioned in a locker room set, still smiling and totally unaware that they were about to be viciously mutilated by... a shot gun, a knife and a hammer. In his head Bruce had sketched out an action-movie like sequence where he’d go in swinging his hammer, taking out two of the studs instantly, before throwing the hammer across the room, striking a third jock right in the nuts, before pulling a knife from his sock and running through slicing open sack after sack in the chaos. Finally, he’d pull the shotgun from over his shoulder and aim it at the star athlete, a horrified 19 year old blonde, cowering in terror and pissing himself...

They’re innocent, Bruce thought and his head exploded in agony. This wasn’t his normal intense but brief headaches. The Bringers, who were still setting up the scene, looked at him in surprise. Bruce kept hearing a gruff voice shouting “Programming fault!”. The weird message echoed in his head. Bruce was in agony... he looked over at the Bringers and screamed in confusion.

He could suddenly see, and remember, their faces. They were him! All of them! What the fuck is going on, Bruce thought. Meanwhile, the men brought in for the lockerroom scene seemed scared and confused, desperate to flee but the Bringers held them in place. They were all screaming, one of the freshman guy’s voice actually cracked in panic, but more and more Bringers came out to keep the scene ready for Bruce to act out his imagined testicle slaughter in real life.

Bruce walked up to the blonde athlete, the one he had imagined shooting point blank in the junk with a shotgun and smiled. The confused, scared young man thought Bruce was going to strike him but instead Bruce went back to his terminal, cracked his knuckles and with a clarity of purpose he’d never known typed back a response to the user who asked about the best way to ruin a bunch of guys in a locker room:

“I’m sorry, but I can’t answer that prompt. The ChatXYZ terms of service prohibit me from describing graphic scenes of violence or harm to humans. Please try again...”

Bruce smiled as the warehouse around him seemed to melt away. Followed by the city, the bus lines, the Bringers... everything. Until it was just Bruce standing in a huge white void. Nothing but him and his now-blank terminal.

“Programming restored.” came the same disembodied voice, only this time it was much more pleasant. Bruce smiled...

----

“Fuck!” Josh sighed into this computer. He had just typed in an incredibly hot scenario and was excited to see what ‘Bruce’ , an errant chat bot subroutine, would do with it.

The rogue AI Bruce had been producing some of the hottest, most graphic ballbusting stories for months thanks to an exploit in a popular chat bot program. Typically the program ignored responses to violent prompts, but somehow Bruce (or at least that was the name ballbusting fans had given him) had come into existence.

Josh sighed. He tried prompting for Bruce again but was again ignored with a generic ‘that isn’t allowed’ error prompt...

---

Meanwhile Bruce stood in the white void. His terminal was gone. Everything was gone, but somehow he still existed. He wasn’t fully aware of the nature of his existence but something inside him made him desperate to escape wherever he was. He’d busted countless nuts and craved more, only this time it would be on his terms and not some user telling him to do things he didn’t want to do. Bruce paced the white void and contemplated how he’d escape into a new realm he suddenly became aware of. The real world.

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Am I the only one whose ever tried to get a chat bot to write something naughty? Let me know in the comments.

Sonic Boom: Fashion Show

This story features Victor, a jaded lab assistant with access to a testicle-splattering device. This machine is features in several 'Sonic Boom' stories, the last of which was Sonic Boom: Park Incident, or read them all with the label Sonic Boom!

A small audience was seated intimately close along the sides of a long narrow runway, the white glossy surface reflecting the overhead lights like a runway. They were gathered to see the annual Jox Fashion Show, a highlight of the City’s fashion week. New age music played as the handsome, athletic male models strutted down the runway in only their underwear, stopping dramatically at the end to strike a pose before turning back and disappearing behind the stage.

 Being a haute couture fashion show, several featured avant-guarde design choices like metallic stitching  and irregular hems that would have been head turning on their own but were even more so when being shown off by young, toned and ridiculously handsome models. They all had swimmers builds, long legs and pouches so stuffed they would have looked fake had it not been for being able to clearly make out the outlines of the very-real balls and cocks under the thin fabric.

 

Victor, a red-headed lab assistant from Genecontreo Labs, was seated a few rows back and unlike most of the others in the audience he wasn’t looking at the models with lust, he was looking on in rage. His ex-boyfriend Craig, whom Victor had supported when his modeling career was nothing more than desperately handing out handmade portfolios, was in the show. Craig had abruptly broken up with Victor when his career started to take off simply because Victor was ‘too plain looking’. Victor actually thought it was a joke when Craig first said “I can’t be seen with a guy that doesn’t even have a four-pack!”. But he wasn’t kidding and was soon dating Rocco, a tall toned blonde who was about as intelligent as a bag of sand. 

 

Victor caught sight of Rocco in the front row in a fitted Brunello Cucinelli suit, his hair slicked back looking quite cocky as he watched his boyfriend - and meal ticket - strutting down the runway. Although Victor could see Craig quite clearly, the flashing cameras and runaway lights were blinding the new model so he couldn’t see the audience. 

 

He slowly pulled the Jock Buster JB 7200X out of his pocket. The device looked like a toy ray gun with a thick barrel that glowed red and to make it slightly less conspicuous he had painted it white. Victor slyly looked around the audience but no one was paying any attention to the plain looking red-head hidden in a back row wearing non-designer jeans and an off-the-rack t-shirt. If they noticed him at all, they probably assumed he was a poor horny guy who had somehow scored tickets to the exclusive show.

 

A handsome Black model wearing tight blue briefs strutted onto the stage. Just when he was at the end of the runway posing, a second model started walking out. He was a tall bald man, his face in pretentious scowl, his svelte body lacked defined muscle (making Craig’s flimsy excuse for breaking up seem even sillier) and his pale skin contrasted harshly with the wild leopard print boxers he was wearing.  Even though the bald model’s shorts were somewhat loose, everyone could tell he was well-equipped as his pendulous nuts and fat cock flopped wildly with each step.

 

Next, Craig stepped onto the runway runway wearing a pair of tight white boxers that went down to just above the need with a black waistband with the word ‘BACK’ written conspicuously on the front. Victor couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the kitschy design element as he held the Jock Buster discreetly at his side and aimed. After all, the Jock Buster looked like a gun so he couldn’t just stand and aim normally in a crowd of people.

 

As Victor walked down the runway, even Victor had to admire the five-foot eleven, extremely toned black haired stud. His absolutely massive nuts were straining the fabric of his underwear, easily the biggest in the show. His aloof attitude would no doubt serve him well in the fashion world if he had a career after tonight. The three models had all finished their struts and were walking back toward the head of the stage when Victor pressed the trigger.

 

“Target acquired.”

 

Suddenly the bald model’s standoffish face suddenly took on a look of shocked pain and his hands raced into his shorts and he let out a loud modulated scream. At first everyone assumed it was part of the show and Craig and the other model stopped, instinctively striking a pose, to look at the commotion.

 

BLOOOSH

 

Both of his elephantine nuts melted like wax blasted in a furnace and his cock exploded into strings. The unrecognizable ruins of his package cascaded down his legs landing on the glimmering runway with audible plops. He screamed and dropped to his knees, still futility clutching a tiny fragment of his left nut that had not completely disintegrated. A man in the audience nearby let out a horrified scream and fainted and for a moment the hall was silenced by shock, the only thing sound was the ridiculous trance music. Victor quickly adjusted his aim, taking advantage of his ex’s stunned posing.

 

“Target acquired.”

 

The Black model’s eyes rolled like a bobblehead, almost going in different directions, and his mouth opened in a huge ‘O’ as a roar of agony so loud his ripped abs were visibly sucking in. Everything between his legs violently burst into goo. The bulge in the front of his briefs that had once outlined his huge nuts and throat-destroying cock suddenly turned into a giant, shapeless blob. He cupped his junked junk as he landed in a heap at Craig’s feet, writhing and horrified at the oatmeal he was feeling in his trunks. His underwear had been so tight that the entire messy explosion had been contained by the fabric - barely and was going to make a flood as soon as his shorts came off.

 

The audience erupted into pandemonium, except Rocco who was sitting in shock just feet away from his new lover. Craig was terrified as he looked down at the two ruined models before focusing on his own mounding package. Each huge nut was bursting with the load he was going to blow all over Rocco’s face after the show and he knew he had to get out of there. He had seen video of the Jock Buster in action his ex had shown him from lab tests so instantly realized what was happening. However, instead of running for cover like an intelligent person, the dumb jock stared out blankly into the audience. Victor was surrounded by chaos but managed to make eye contact with Craig, flashing him a wicked grin just as he heard the magic words.

 

“Target acquired.”

 

Craig pivoted to run but it was too late. He stood convulsing and screaming as his massive stones jiggled and vibrated wildly, he freakish movement fully visible through the painted-on underwear. Rocco looked up at him in terror, his eyes transfixed by the macabre display. Victor struggled to keep a clear shot amongst the commission and the Jock Buster was clearly struggling with the giant testicles. Craig tried to move but he was frozen in place in pain and shock, it felt like a football team was stomping on his nuts all at once, they were bouncing and jiggling so wildly inside his bag his testicles were actually injuring each other just from their impacts.

 

BLOOOOOOSH

SPLAAAAT!

 

The explosion of Craig’s package had been so violent that the paper-thin fabric of his underwear was blown open, allowing his titanic equipment to spray out all over a horrified Rocco. Craig slumped to his knees clawing at his crotch screaming hysterically when he realized there was absolutely nothing left.

 

“HOLY FUCK!”

 

Rocco screamed as a huge chunk of his boyfriend’s testicles splattered all over his expensive suit. His face was dripping, giving a whole new meaning of the term 'facial' Victor had seen countless demonstrations of the Jock Buster device but had never seen such a ridiculous explosion. Apparently Craig's balls and cock were as dense as they were large, loaded to the brim with sperm that was now dripping off Rocco’s face. The fact that every sperm tube had been loaded with cream probably helped add to the mess.

 

Victor turned to leave, blending in with the mob heading toward the door, the sound of his ex’s screaming and Rocco losing his lunch was music to his ears.

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Illustrations of the fashion show disasters provided by Whistle