Nutsack Knockout - Round 1

Catch up with last week's installment here.

ROUND 1

The scoreboard updated to show each contestant’s name as a starting score of one hundred. As of right now, they all had the same relative odds of winning which filled each with an uneasy mix of sense of confidence and billowing dread as they realized they might be the first once to lose. To add to the anticipation none of them knew what their ultimate punishment would be or how enthusiastically Dominik would lean into them. Technically, Dominik didn’t have to ruin a guy if his score dropped to zero; they could just be let down and taken off stage. But knowing his reputation no one doubted that he would crush the stuffing out of a sack whenever had the chance.

The picking order was always the same; Juan, Lorenzo, Alex then Kabe, Raphael, Diego, Zach then Greg, Kyle and finally Nigel. Each player would make their choices but the results wouldn’t be shown until all ten had chosen.

“Box fifteen!” Juan announced smugly. 

The audience cheered as square number fifteen turned red, letting the other contestants know it was no longer an option. Down the line each man made their selections. Some of them boomed their choices with alpha male confidence but some like Kabe and Kyle weakly responded, panicking that they had just made a terrible choice; their obvious fear made the audience erupt into laughter. Kabe and the others had all come into the game cocky that they’re nuts would prove to be the toughest but now that the game had actually started that veneer of confidence was slipping rapidly. 

Once Nigel had made his choice Dominik took his giant mallet in his hand as the screens showed the results. Juan sighed in relief as it was shown he’d only lost seven points, on the lower end of the range. His relief was short lived though as Dominik slammed the mallet seven times into Juan’s trapped nuts, ruthlessly flattening them against the giant mallet’s head and the white wooden board behind it. Juan screamed as the seven blows seemed to last forever, though in reality the blows had been delivered with surprising speed. Dominik chuckled as Juan’s sack turned a rosy shade of red but otherwise kept their healthy, round shape. 

Next was Lorenzo who was owed eleven hits. The Italian wailed as his middle-aged spuds were squashed nearly flat under each hit. His eyes bugged out as Dominik delivered the eleventh - and hardest - blow to his nuts which, despite the brutality of the assault they hadn’t changed color. Alex was next, his enormous low hangers subjected to ten wicked, violent blows. Dominik had a depraved look of satisfaction on his face as he felt and heard two of the biggest testicles he had ever seen compress between his mallet and the wall. Ironically Alex was screaming and moaning as the vibrations reaching his dick were actually getting him close to the edge. By the time Dominik was done Alex’s nuts were starting to turn pink but Dominik’s mallet was covered in a thin sheen of precum from Alex’s dripping dick.

“Looks like we might be able to knock the cum out of this guy!” Dominik quipped to riotous laughter.

Kabe lost eleven points so he was due that many blows from Dominik’s hammer. Despite his tattoos and Devil-may-care expression making him look quite tough Kabe’s heart was pounding as he watched Dominik rear his arm back for the first blow.

“Please!”

SQUASH

Kabe thought he was going to black out as his huge round nuts were dangerously flattened under the mallet. Despite looking dense, Kabe’s nuts were compressing like collapsing souffles and Dominik couldn’t wait to finish the job. Kabe was still recovering from his own round of blows when the studio was filled with Raphael’s rich baritone screams. The Aussie teen thought he was going to literally die after taking nine blows from Dominik’s mallet. 

Diego, whose nuts were already aching from being pulled so unnaturally low, screamed bloody murder as his plump Mexican babymakers were slammed into the wall eleven times. They felt like they were going to simply burst every time the mallet compressed them to a fraction of their normal girth. Zach made out slightly better with only four hits, though Dominik made up for the relatively low number by almost annihilating the blonde stud’s nuts, holding the mallet with both hands and making sure to slam in as hard as he could. 

Zach and Diego were both still gasping from their first run-in with Dominik when it was Greg’s turn. Greg gave Dominik a cocky smirk as Dominik lined up his aim.

“Give it your best shot!” Greg taunted, his cock twitching not just from the drugs but from being so close to such a legendary ball buster. Greg ran a cam site on the weekends where he showed his swinging nuts being absolutely trashed by boxers, football players and wooden spoons so had built up quite a tolerance. Plus, good old fashioned ball abuse was one of the only things that got the randy lad to climax. Sensing that Greg was genuinely into having his nuts cracked, Dominik nodded with respect to the kindred spirit... before unleashing a truly viscous volley of six blows to Greg’s sack.

Nothing in Greg’s background of being a ballbusting bottom had prepared him for this. Greg’s mouth opened in an ‘O’ as a loud, guttural drone escaped his lips.

“Please! Stop!” 

SQUASH

Dominik was aiming his blows such that Greg’s sack was swinging between the mallet and the unyielding backboard like a pendulum. The audience roared as the camera showed his sack bouncing back and forth wildly after each hit. By the time Dominik was done Greg’s well-practiced nuts felt like they were already suffering damage with a nasty purplish streak appearing across this right nut.

“Oops! Hope I didn’t break one!” Dominik laughed as the camera lingered on Greg’s bruised nut. 

By now the studio was already filled with the defeated groans of the other eight players, though some like Alex were mixing in moans of pleasure, his horned up cocks defying the ache throbbing in from his swollen sack.

Kyle and Nigel were last up.

Kyle’s eyes opened in genuine, soul wrenching terror when it was revealed that he was due seventeen hits, which would bring his score to eighty-three - the lowest - and it also meant he was going to be receiving the most hits any nutsack had gotten so far and having heard the tortured screams of his fellow contestants Kyle was not eager to earn that dubious distinction. Dominik’s handsome face contorted into a look of sadistic evil so malevolent the expression alone made Kyle start to plead and beg.

“No! I give up! I give up!” 

Dominik nearly dropped the mallet in laughter. Several members of the audience were crying in laughter as a huge close up of his as-of-yet untouched Black sperm tanks displayed on the monitors, the sound of him pleading playing on a loop over comical music. 

“Oh, what was that? You want these to crack?” Dominik asked with a shrug before sending the mallet slamming with devastating impact into Kyle’s nut bag. 

SQUISH

SQUASH

Despite his tight bindings, Kyle’s fit runner’s body was shaking and vibrating as he desperately tried to get free and even though in Kyle’s mind he was putting up an admirable fight, in reality his best attempts to get free were barely doing anything against the ropes, especially the ones keeping his legs locked open.

His big Black testicles were precariously flattened over and over and over into the pillar behind him. By the fifteenth blow both of his nuts were crisscrossed with purplish-red bruises visible on the high-definition cameras even against his dark skin.

“Oooh!” Kyle wailed. 

Kyle’s nine inch cock had been bobbing up and down from the vibrations of each hit and despite the mind numbing pain, his dick was absolutely oozing precum. What was harder to see was that his cock was visibly throbbing even without the impacts, as he was getting incredibly close to blowing his load. Kyle wasn’t into ballbusting, per se, but had seen the viral videos of Dominik’s lineage-ending work and even in its panicked state, his mind couldn’t help but get turned on from being in this position. His testicles completely disagreed and the contradictory thoughts were making Kyle belt out screams of pain, pleads for mercy and moans of pleasure.

SQUISH

“Again!” Kyle surprised himself as he screamed out for Dominik to slam the mallet into his sack again. Fortunately for Kyle, and unfortunately for Dominik, he had just delivered the final seventeenth blow leaving Kyle’s sack covered in bruises.

Nigel was only due five blows, one of  the smallest number of hits so far, but you couldn’t tell from the banshee-like screams he was belting out. At times it sounded like a young girl was being tortured, the high pitched screams emanating from him were such a juxtaposition of his beefy, hairy body that it made the audience laugh and chant.

“Crack that nut! Crack that nut!” 

The audience chanted as they watched forty-year old sperm makers being flattened five times to a mere fraction of their normal thick girth. What the audience couldn’t hear but what Dominik was feeling without a doubt was that Nigel’s nuts were literally starting to crack. Although they were quite large, the huge ovals were clearly not as tough as their size suggested and Dominik knew he was already starting to take Nigel out of the gene pool. Despite being insanely aroused, Dominik was a little sad since he thought Nigel was the hottest contestant, but he had a job to do so delivered the fifth and final blow with such force that Nigel’s screams were silenced, literally stopped in in throat as he gave Dominik a pleading expression that almost tugged at Dominik’s heartstrings.

As the crowd was cheering from the replay of Nigel’s plump eggs getting beaten, Dominik leaned in and whispered something into Nigel’s ear.

“You can give up between rounds, hottie,” Dominik winked as he finished his message which hadn’t been captured by any of the cameras or microphones. Despite the excruciating pain, Nigel’s dick twitched from the feeling of Dominik’s hot breath against his ear. A squirt of precum splatted a foot from Nigel’s body which only made Dominik more desperate to save the studly forty-something from a grizzly ending and instead let him blow his boiling load in his dressing room after the show. Although Nigel’s mounding, enormous nuts were turning red his eleven-inch cock was still rock hard and he wanted nothing more than to be set free and be ravished by Dominik. They were both clearly hot for each other and Dominik was hoping Nigel wouldn’t let his pride get in the way and just give up before the next round. 

“I want you badly,” Dominik mouthed to Nigel, licking his lips and imagining all the nasty things he wanted to do to him.

Come back next week for Round 2!

Nutsack Knockout - Introduction

 

A small studio audience composed entirely of men sat in rafters looking down at a large, brightly lit stage where workers were busy making finishing touches but a black curtain hid most of the gameshow's mechanics from view. This was the first filming of a controversial new game show called The Nutsack Knockout which had promised to be a ratings bonanza due to its unapologetic premise. Ten men would compete for a chance to win a life-changing amount of money but instead of the losers going home just empty-handed, there was a very real possibility that they'd go home with an empty-sack. The exact mechanism hadn't been revealed in the pre-taping information but the promotional images featuring cracked walnuts, splattered eggs and deflated soccer balls made it clear it wasn't going to be pleasant for the losing players.

Finally the lights went low and rousing music filled the air and the audience didn't wait for the neon 'applause' sign to light up before erupting into cheers. Mixed into the jaunty instruments of the show's theme song were the unmistakable sounds of men screaming and moaning - most likely from nut pain - that had been autotuned to fit the music. "My balls are gone! My balls are gone!" came the anguished voice of some random young man, his normally deep voice pitched comically high to layer perfectly over the music; the audience burst into laughter.

Meanwhile a tall fit man wearing jeans, heavy boots and an untucked button up shirt sauntered onto the stage holding a microphone. Most of the audience recognized him instantly as Dominik Patterson, an MMA fighter who had become quite a draw thanks to his merciless below the belt fighting style. Dominik had permanently cracked at least a dozen nuts before the officials, who were more than willing to turn a blind eye for the sake of ratings, finally had to acknowledge his flagrant disregard for the rules and banned him from the ring. The grizzled yet handsome former-fighter didn't mind too much since his notoriety made him a darling for endorsement deals and cameos on shows like Nutsack Knockout. Funnily enough, he was a spokesman for an erectile dysfunction drug, ironic considering he had nearly ripped off an opponent's dick through his shorts.

"Welcome! Welcome! Are you guys ready for some fun!" Dominik called into his mic as he took center stage. His voice was deep but his enunciation was excellent, as if he was made to be a charismatic television host. He flashed a toothy, mischievous smile as the curtain finally rose revealing the complete setup for the coming gameshow. Spaced evenly across the length of the stage were ten large slabs of wood, about two feet wide and standing six feet tall, all of them painted with a high gloss white paint that was reflecting the dramatic studio lights shining overhead. At the top of each post were ambiguous symbols painted in black; a stylized snowflake, the outline of a flame, a pair of eyes wide open and a dumbbell. No one except the crew knew what they meant but they likely had something to do with how each contestant could potentially lose his nuts. Hovering above the middle of the stage were several enormous displays, one of which had a grid of squares numbered one to one hundred. The others were displaying an idling graphic of two cracked walnuts and the Nutsack Knockout logo.

“Welcome to the first taping of our new show Nutsack Knockout!” Dominik’s deep voice boomed over the audiences’ cheers. 

It took nearly a minute of the stage hands signaling for quiet before the raucous crowd finally settled down and Dominik could begin to explain the rules of the game.

“Every round each player is gonna’ pick a square, one to one hundred, and behind that square is gonna be a number...”

As Dominik talked, two assistants wheeled out a muscular, anatomically correct male mannequin, about five foot ten, sporting a pair of egg-sized nuts that had been bound with rubber rings to force them to the bottom of its extremely-realistic looking bag. One of the secondary screens flashed to show a leaderboard with a single name “Demonstration Dummy’ showing a score of one hundred points. The other screen was showing a close up of the dummy’s bound sack, the hyper realistic skin glistening against the white backdrop of the wooden plank it had been placed in front of.

“So every contestant starts with one hundred points each time they pick a number...”

Dominik motioned toward the middle screen that had the grid of one hundred squares.

“There’s a random number from one to twenty. Every time they pick a number their score goes down by that amount and they’re eliminated when their score goes below zero.” 

The crowd collectively leaned in, most of them fixated on the two very large proxy testicles on the second screen.

Dominik walked up the mannequin and put his hand on his shoulder, giving the dummy a look of mocking apology. A short while later a stage assistant rushed on stage to hand Dominik a comically large mallet, the head easily being five inches across on top of a thick wooden handle.

“So let’s say this guy picked the second square...”

The screen with the grid of squares flashed and the second square revealed a value of twenty.

Dominik chuckled as he grasped the mallet with both hands, being sure to stay out of the way of the camera that was focused on the dummy’s nuts. 

Without ceremony he smashed the mallet twenty times into the proxy ball bag, making it swing and bounce against the plank behind it like a fleshy pendulum. The audience roared as they watched the two fat pseudo-nuts being pancaked over and over. At the same time the scoreboard for ‘Demonstration Dummy’ decreased by one point after each hit. When Dominik was done, the score was eighty.

Dominik gave the proxy testicles several more vicious whacks, the loud impacts making it obvious that the real pair in that predicament wouldn’t have been having a good time, before turning to the audience and chuckling.

“...and when a guy runs out of points,  I get to unleash their ultimate punishment! And let’s just say they won’t be having any more kids! What is that you ask, well it depends on the symbol above them.” 

Dominik pointed to a black flask, like something out of a laboratory, that had been painted above the dummy though it was still ambiguous what punishment the various symbols actually represented. 

Dominik gave the fat rubbery nuts one more devastating blow, causing the left one to permanently dent, the comical image plastered on the screen overhead and the audience roared in laughter. He went on to explain that each symbol at the top of the planks represented an ultimate punishment tailor made for each contestant. 

After Dominik slammed the proxy testicles until one of them popped out of the sack, the dummy was carted away and the ten real contestants sauntered on stage. All of them were naked, a few of them hard, smiling and waving at the audience as they stood in front of their pre-assigned wooden slabs, their backs against the blanche white wood facing the audience. 

The first contestant was Juan, an extremely handsome Latino, somewhat short clocking in at only five foot two, but he was quite muscular - almost like a caricature of a short bodybuilder - sporting a pair of egg-sized nuts. The adorable middle aged man old stood in front of the slab of wood with a snowflake engraved on it as stage hands quickly got to work securing him in place.

Contestant number two was Lorenzo, a tall thirty year old Italian with shoulder length hair and a fit, svelte body. He waved to the crowd as he stepped under the position with an ambiguous round circle on it. 

Next was Alex, a twenty-eight year old blonde who exuded cockiness as he strode onto the stage, his truly enormous babymakers literally swinging between his thighs like a pendulum as he walked. The fit lad nodded with unearned confidence as he took his place on stage. 

Kabe was next. The thirty-eight year was well over six feet tall with a thick beard that framed his strikingly handsome face. His lack of body fat made his abs stand in sharp relief. His abs were so well defined that one couldn’t help but follow them down to his crotch and his round nuts which were so huge the seemingly shy thirty-year old almost seemed embarrassed by them, holding his hands over his crotch as he walked. His torso and neck were covered with tattoos and his striking cheek and eyebrow bones made his face look like a couture model. 

Raphael was next, a jaunty nineteen year old Australian who skipped whilst he walked to purposefully show off his modest yet dense low hangers. The teenager clapped his hands before he took his place on stage and his arms were tied behind his back as he took his place on stage.

Contestant six was Diego, a twenty year old Mexican with blonde tips on the ends of his jet black hair. He was tall with a pair of huge fuzzy nuts that were tight against his body. 

The seventh and eighth contestants were Zach and Greg, respectively. Zach was a handsome twenty-three year old blonde with a fit swimmer’s build, a handsome smile and a pair of fat ovals swinging between his sack nearly as low as Alex’s. Greg was a ridiculously handsome British thirty-something with vivid red hair and a medium athletic but not overly-muscular build. His toothy Devil-may-care grin made him look younger than he was and he radiated a sense of optimism and excitement that totally contradicted the grave danger he was putting his manhood in. As his arms were being tied behind his back and his legs secured to the wood slab he was standing in front of he gave the audience one last smile as he waited for the games to begin.

Kyle and Nigel were the final two contestants. Twenty-five year old Kyle was so handsome Dominik was surprised he wasn’t a literal model. The athletic Black man had a set of hefty nuts swinging between his runner’s legs. Nigel was a rugged looking forty-year old with a mess of shaggy black hair on top of his round face, a thick beard and thick black hair covering his pecs and abs and a pair of plump oval nuts stretching his sack nearly bursting between his legs.

As playful music sounded in the area, all ten contestants were secured tightly to their respective white wood slabs. Their arms were tied tightly behind their backs, straps were secured across their chests and abs to hold them upright and in place, their legs were bound wide and spread open by ropes that were wrapped around their thighs, calves and ankles then tied around the back of the posts making them totally incapable of closing their legs. Most importantly all ten pairs of nuts had been forced to the absolute bottom of their sacks by at least a dozen thick silicone rings hugging the necks of their sacks. For the low hangers like Alex and Nigel it was at worst mildly uncomfortable but for contestants like Diego with a naturally tight sack the strong tug was creating an unbearable ache on their boys. Regardless of their natural swing, the rings had achieved their desired effect, causing all ten pairs of heavy testicles to be pulled so far in their bags that the skin was stretched, shiny and looking extremely vulnerable, especially when compared to the bright white, hard surface they were hovering in front of. The cameras panned all of the contestant’s defenseless bags, lingering over each set just long enough for the audience to burst into cheers.

For the player’s benefit, Dominik briefly went over the rules again and pointed out that a scoreboard was also hanging over the audience facing the stage so that the contestants could see their scores.

“...Oh, and one more thing! There are special symbols hidden on the board. Just to keep things fun!”

The screens showed an animation of two 3D stars rotating, one red and one yellow. Text and a pleasant sounding female voice explained each symbol’s purpose.

“A red star will instantly reduce a player’s score to zero and unleash their ultimate punishment!” 

Alex gulped.

Dominik flexed his muscles as he eyed the players, lingering over Kabe’s tatted, fit body. The handsome man looked at Dominik pleadingly but that only seemed to fill Dominik with more bloodlust. 

“...and if someone finds a yellow star, the score for two random players will drop immediately to zero and they’ll be out of the game.”

The audience whooped in delight as the contestants eyed each other nervously. The game was already going to be a wild crap shoot but the last minute twist of having instant-elimination made the stakes so much higher. Greg was visibly sweating, Juan was shaking though no one could tell since his small muscly body was tied so tightly in place, his legs permanently spread and his fat huevos in full display, easily accessible. 

A neon sign lit up telling the audience to applaud, as if they needed any motivation, as Dominik announced they were cutting to a commercial break before the game began. During the break, Dominik and the stage assistants walked up to each player and placed a small bright yellow pill into his mouth and each contestant obediently swallowed it. Kabe seemed especially nervous and his heart was pounding as he felt the pill slide down his throat. Within less than a minute he felt his dick start to get heavy as it started swelling fuller and thicker with each heartbeat. By the time the commercial break was over all ten cocks were at maximum hardness, jutting out away from their bodies and looking so bloated Dominik was surprised some of the fat dicks weren’t bursting like sausages. Whatever drug the contestants had been given was clearly effective; Nigel was so aroused he was moaning as his pumped up cock throbbed sticking out nearly a foot from his body with its huge mushroom head bright red and literally dripping with precum.

“Welcome back!” Dominik announced to the audience at home. 

“So we’ve given our studs a little something to keep their cocks out of the way,” Dominik chuckled as he walked up to Alex and grabbed the blonde’s enormous ten inch cock with his hand. Alex gasped in pleasure and his eyes rolled back in his head, he felt like he was going to blow his pent up load just from Dominik’s rough touch.

“...We wouldn’t want those floppy dicks to block the view,” 

The camera panned over each contestant's crotch. With their dicks permanently hard and protruding it made the bound hanging nuts look even more endangered. Dominik walked the line checking out each contestant, checking their bindings and gratuitously fondling their horse dicks and defenseless balls. 

“Nice set!” Dominik remarked in genuine praise when he got to Kabe. He ran his hands down Kabe’s chiseled, slim stomach until grasping his truly gargantuan fourteen inch dick with both hands, squeezing it viscously.

Kabe let out a gasp of pleasure mixed with a squeal of pain as a stream of precum oozed out of his dick. He moaned despite his growing panic as the drugs made him feel so horny he thought he was going to cum on the spot. Dominik finished his examination by cupping Kabe’s big ball bag in his hands and giving them a playful squeeze.

“I can’t wait to pop these,” he whispered in Kabe’s ear with a twisted malice that filled Kabe’s chest with a quickening panic. 

After he was done with his inspection, rousing music ushered in the start of the game. The screens all flashed ‘Round One’.

(more detailed contestant profiles can be found on the Meet the Contestants page here)

Tune in next week for Round 1! 

My Meeting with a Sadist

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The DILF Bet

 

Vince had been an avid football fan since he had accidentally stumbled upon clips on YouTube in highschool when a search for ‘football shocking last minute upsets’ bought up videos from a World Cup, which features a sport most Americans like himself would not have called ‘football’. Lucky for Vince, the linguistic quirk was a blessing in disguise and he quickly became a super fan.

Vince had been excited for the 2022 World Cup for months so was surprised when his dad Mike had suggested he’d throw a viewing party with his college buddy Nolan. Neither Nolan or Mike knew the first thing about the sport. However, Mike had found himself swept up in his son’s growing excitement, plus he hadn’t hung out properly with his good mate in some time and his wife was going to be out of town the day of the match so - regardless of genuine interest in the World Cup - it was the perfect opportunity to get drunk, cheer at sports (an American pass time regardless of sport) and throw in some bonding time with his son.

Though Vince fancied Belgium, who wasn’t playing this particular match, the two goofy man-children on the couch had chosen the team to cheer for seemingly at random, literally basing their decisions on their color preference of the team’s uniforms. Mike had picked one team and a jocular Nolan, always the contrarian, had picked the other. After thirty minutes of no scoring in the match, but lots of drinking by the two men, Nolan stood up during a commercial break and made a sophomoric bet.

“If my team loses, you can kick me in the nuts... “ 

He pretended to count on his fingers, “Fifty times!” 

It wasn’t a random number; Nolan had just turned fifty and his version of a midlife crisis meant leaning even harder into his juvenile tendencies in an attempt to fight back the hands of time. Time, as it always does, was winning. Even though Nolan’s body still rivaled even twenty-somethings under his shirt, he was starting to feel the time slipping away, all the more reason he jumped at the chance to just hang out in Mike’s basement and pretend that they were young again. Mike’s bar stocked with premium liquor and his fabulous 80” television with immerse surround sound was an added bonus.

Mike roared with laughter as the usually-buttoned up Nolan threw back another shot of vodka before lifting his shirt and striking a victory pose he imagined the scoring player on his chosen team would eventually make. Nolan was in much better shape than Mike due to his near obsession with the gym and serendipitous genes, but he wasn’t showing off. He was genuinely just being goofy but the brief glimpse of Nolan’s rippled, fuzzy abs got Vince excited. He awkwardly shifted his popcorn bowl to hide the bulge growing in his shorts.

As the game neared its end, Vince was offered drinks every time his father or Nolan went to the bar for a refill, but declined.

“I’m only twenty, so I’m underage,” he said politely to Nolan as he headed to grab yet another beer.

Nolan noticed that Vince was blushing uncontrollably, and though he was tempted to poke good-humored fun, he remembered he was the literal adult in the situation so took the mature route and ignored it.

“Right, only twenty. But it’s the World Cup and most of these countries have a drinking age of 18 so...”

“Stop corrupting my son, Nolan!” Mike laughed, “That’s my wife's job!” 

Everyone erupted into laughter just as the game took a sudden turn.

Nolan sat at the bar holding a half-empty beer, draped in the flag of his team, his gaze fixated on the giant screen in front of him as he shouted out totally random advice at the players on the screen. The final moments of the match slipped away and at the absolute last moment there was a goal. The stadium, and pubs around the globe, exploded into cheers and groans. The final buzzer marked the end of the match.

“What the fuck was that!?” Mike screamed in excitement.

“Are you kidding me!” Vince, the only actual football enthusiast in the room, frantically rewound the scene to watch the miracle kick over and over. Even though Vince's dad and Nolan didn’t fully grasp the technical aspects of the shocking win, they couldn’t help but be swept up in the moment. 

“Not going to lie, I didn’t; know what I was watching most of the time but that was awesome!” Mike said with zero sarcasm, the slurring forty-seven year old heading to the bar for a refill.

Vince continued to sip on his soda chuckling in bemusement as the two middle aged men jumped around and cheered and did celebratory tequila shots.

“See, dad! I told you you’d like it.”

Mike smiled warmly. He had actually enjoyed watching the match with his friend and his son even if the World Cup hadn’t been top on his list of priorities.

“You did say I’d like it! I love you, Vince!”

Mike stammered over to Vince and gave him a big hug, practically pinning his still-sitting son to the recliner. 

The three men stood around talking about the match, everyone but Vince just repeating the announcer’s analysis in an attempt to sound smart on the subject. Suddenly Mike jabbed Nolan in his chest with his pudgy finger and couldn’t help but nod in honest admiration at Nolan’s rock-hard abs. But that didn’t take away from the momentous announcement he was about to make.

“Hey! Don’t forget, Nolan, you said you’d take fifty to the bag if your team lost... and they just lost!” Mike roared. 

Nolan blushed and his hand hovered instinctively over the front of his jeans.

“I mean, I was just being silly. I was drunk...” Nolan stammered.

Mike only gave a telling smile as he took a step closer to his buddy.

Vince looked on quizzically as his dad stepped forward, sometimes stumbling, until he was face to face with Nolan secretly wishing he was in his dad’s place. 

“So? Are you going to pay up?” Mike laughed.

Nolan winced as his inebriated friend reached out and clutched the bulge in his jeans. Vince’s cock twitched at the site of his long-time, DILF crush having his goods grabbed, even if it was by his own father.

Nolan gulped and tried to take a step back but Mike’s surprisingly strong grip on his boys only made him wince. The two middle-aged men stood in silence for a moment, almost forgetting another young man - Mike’s son - was still watching.

Mike, whose alcohol fueled brain suddenly became aware that his son was watching, released the huge bulge in his hands and smiled. Mike wasn’t nearly as ripped as Nolan but his job as a construction worker meant he still had a decent amount of physical strength. Vince could feel a weird tension building so wanted to call an end before things got weird.

“Hey guys, you both literally randomly picked teams. My dad just got lucky! Why don’t you just forget about the stupid bet?”

Vince finished his self righteous speech without being able to pull his gaze away from the bulge in Nolan’s crotch. Vince had been hard ever since Nolan had shown off his body in his boastful dance.

Mike laughed as he went to the bar and poured three shots of premium tequila. He returned and handed one to his buddy Nolan and his son.

Vince grimaced at the site of it and the look suddenly reinforced the fact that Mike was a dad. He snatched the shot glass from his son and handed it to Nolan.

“Bottom’s up!”

Vince snickered as he watched his dad and his crush getting more and more drunk. Just seeing Nolan, a usually conservative DILF, showing off his body, drinking and acting half his age was getting Vince rock hard. Nolan, and Mike, noticed.  Although Vince thought he wasn’t obvious, it wasn’t a secret to his dad or Nolan that Vince had a crush on Nolan, his father’s bestie and family friend, since highschool.

After a bit more chatting and laughter, Mike made a random, drunk proclamation, “Actually, son, I think Nolan oughta pay up. It would be a good life lesson on keeping your word... or something,”

Vince gulped as his eyes darted to the bulge in Nolan’s jeans.

“So was that fifty kicks total or fifty kicks from each of us?” Mike laughed.

Mike wrapped his arm around his son’s shoulder as he playfully poked Nolan’s pec with his free hand.

“Dad!” Vince recoiled in feigned disgust. He wasn’t so much grossed out at his dad’s toilet humor than the fact that the conversation was revolving around Nolan’s package; the same package Vince had spent years dreaming about.

Nolan took another sip of his drink before taking a wide-footed stance, as if he was just waiting to be kicked.

“I guess fifty each!” Nolan shrugged. Alcohol is often called liquid courage and it couldn’t have been a more appropriate moniker in this situation. Nolan knew he was a stud, and often showed off in the gym locker room. He knew he was strong. He knew he was tough. And now he was feeling cocky enough to literally put his balls on the line against his dad-bod best friend and his scrawny son.

Before Vince could change the topic, his dad smiled and chortled “Okay man, it’s your funeral!”

Mike reared back his foot and sent it sailing between his friend’s beefy legs. Nolan winced slightly at the less than powerful kick. Mike had been more focused on not spilling his drink than actually hurting Nolan so the well-aimed kick barely connected. 

Nolan collapsed to the ground clutching his jeans-clad balls faking fits of hysterics. Mike laughed as he helped his friend back to his feet as if he had taken a truly devastating blow. The theatrics were adorable and Vince almost forgot he was watching men in their late forties and early fifties, one of which was his dad.

“Okay, your turn!” Nolan chuckled and he put his hands behind his back and resumed a spread-legged stance.

Vince tried to joke his way out of the increasingly off-the-rails situation but his inebriated dad and Nolan were able to coax him into playing along. Vince gave Nolan’s balls a half-hearted kick. Whereas Mike’s first kick had been weak from a combination of alcohol-induced inattention, Vince was willing himself not to unleash his full strength. With his clothes on the twenty-year-old Vince still looked like a scrawny high schooler, but in actuality he was a ripped, svelte young man who was as adept at streaming on Twitch as he was hitting the gym and his accelerated metabolism only helped him keep off fat.

Nolan barely winced as Mike and his son let out a few more playful kicks. Nolan could tell his best friend and his son were holding out, and his earlier tequila shots were clouding his judgment so he spread his legs wider. He was starting to get hot so ditched the flag and scarf he had been wearing, then his sweater until he was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Vince’s mouth was watering but his dad and Mike were totally obvious to how turned on the young man was getting.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize two sorority girls were invited. These kicks are so weak!” Nolan roared in laughter.

Mike acted offended, though his smile made it obvious he was joking, as he unleashed his first true kick. He wasn’t as fit as Nolan and especially not as fit as his son, but he was strong enough to do some real damage with his kicks if he wanted to. Nolan’s eyes crossed and he clutched his bulging nuts. Mike and Vince laughed as if Nolan was still joking but the handsome daddy wasn’t kidding. He had been totally taken aback by the impact of Mike’s shoe colliding with his junk in the game’s first sincere, actual kick that wasn’t just played for laughs.

Vince was up next and unleashed a devastating blow to his crush’s groin, his own cock twitching as he felt Nolan’s meaty bulge deform under the blow. Nolan pretended to laugh off the pain and stood again with his arms behind his back, legs spread, bulge on full display. Mike had seen Nolan naked dozens of times over the years so new his DILF friend was packing an extremely hefty set of sperm pods, though they were smaller than the monster pair of nuts Vince had always imagined Nolan having.

Father and son took alternating turns on Nolan’s bulge until, after Mike’s fifteenth kick, Nolan’s eyes crossed and he slumped to his knees clutching his sore nuts through his jeans. In that position he just happened to be eye-to-eye with Vince and Mike’s crotches and Vince couldn’t help but imagine the hunky man ripping open both their jeans and going to town with his mouth. Afterall, he had seen porn where father-son pairs had tag-teamed some bimbo, so why not swap out the woman with Nolan?

After Nolan got to his feet, Vince grabbed his shoulders and slammed his knee into Nolan’s jeans, feeling the beefy bulge flatten from the impact. Nolan gasped and reached out for Vince’s shoulders for support. Vince was aroused - and alarmed - by the studly man’s reaction.

“My turn!”

CRUNCH

Mike wasted no time kicking Nolan’s balls so hard that Mike’s leg ached. It reminded him of their crazy roshambo games in college.

“Hey fellas, I may need a break,”

Nolan laughed to cover the increasing pain in his groin. He and Mike headed to the bar for another drink and Vince stood there barely trying to conceal his boner. He had been hard nearly the entire game so it was too late to hide anyway.

Nolan took the next twenty blows - ten per kicker - like a champ thanks to a combination of true bravado, alcohol and a playful need to ‘win’ the silly game he was was playing with his best friend Mike.

Vince opted to use another knee for his thirty-seventh turn. It has hard. Really hard.

Really, really hard.

Vince instantly felt terrible as he watched Nolan’s eyes roll into his head as he screamed, a genuine, pained scream, and collapsed to the ground. Mike chuckled, holding a beer, as he watched Nolan fall. He knew him and his son weren’t really going to hurt Nolan... on purpose at least.

“Mr. Matson!” 

Vince dropped to his knees to make eye contact with the writhing stud. Vince’s cock twitched as he helped Nolan to the couch.

“Aww, does the baby need an ice pack?” Mike joked.

Vince cut his drunk dad a look of annoyance.

Nolan jumped to his feet and approached Mike and for a moment Vince thought the two were going to fight. Instead Nolan let out a deep laugh and gave his friend a bear hug and a kiss on the cheek. Vince had never seen his father kissed, even on the cheek, by another man and was relieved that his one-hundred percent straight dad didn’t have an unhelpful reaction. Instead, Mike laughed and gave Nolan a peck on the forehead. 

“Okay, no holds barred, I guess, since these are the final kicks!” 

Nolan had grossly underestimated how many more kicks he had agreed to. Both mike and Vince had over ten each.

Unfortunately for Nolan, Mike’s thirty-eighth kick hit a nerve. Literally. Nolan felt like Mike’s shoe was going to keep crushing into his jeans until his swelling right nut literally burst. His eyes bugged out as he again slumped to the ground clutching his crotch. Only this time he couldn’t joke his way out of the tears running down his face, an automatic reaction to the nut crushing blows.

Mike laughed but Vince was genuinely concerned, especially after Nolan swatted again his hand when he tried to help him up. Nolan was in real pain; Vince was naturally stronger than he looked - and wasn’t holding back at this point - and Mike was too intoxicated to regulate his kicks. They had stopped being friendly roshambo blows and were now full-force, membrane warping blows. And Nolan was too drunk to fully register the severity of the situation, letting his ego and the overall good vibes force him to take blow after blow.

Vince, the only sober one in the bunch, could tell that Nolan was in serious pain, and maybe being injured despite the levity. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Nolan, his dad’s bestie and a friend to the family from before Vince was born.

“Mr. Matson, lemme’ get you some ice..” Vince started.

Nolan chuckled through gritted teeth.

“No, I’m fine,”

Nolan went to stand but was stricken with pain. That’s it, Vince thought.

“Okay, guys. Funs over!” Vince said in a serious tone but trying to laugh it off.

Nolan wasn’t having it. Despite the pain, he was still too sauced up to think straight. He was a stud, afterall. He could take some kicks from his dad-body buddy and a scrawny twenty-year old. 

“I’m fine! Look!”

Nolan stood up and pulled his jeans to his ankles before kicking them off with a flourish. Vince licked his lips instinctively as he drank in the sight of Nolan’s over-stuffed briefs. It looked like someone was smuggling two jumbo hen’s eggs in them. Meanwhile Nolan was getting hot from pain so casually peeled off his shirt too. He was now standing just in his tight underwear, his chest glistening with sweat. Vince’s heart was pounding.

Mike respectively pretended not to notice how turned on Vince was getting and was grateful how classy Nolan was being just treating the whole event as ‘bros being bros’ instead of making a joke out of Vince’s increasingly aroused state. 

On Mike’s fortieth kick Nolan dropped to the ground. And stayed there. He was grasping his swollen nuts and gasping. Mike and his son weren’t holding back at this point and he knew he still had a combined twenty more kicks. His nuts felt like they were going to explode despite the fact they were far from real danger. Fifty years of experience had taught him it took more than a few dozen kicks to actually pop a testicle. Vince, however, didn't’ know any better and was convinced he and his father were doing actual damage to Mr. Matson’s crotch Nolan stood up, arms obediently behind his back and braced for Vince’s kick.

“What are you waiting for, son? It’s your turn?” Mike encouraged; he’d been impressed at the powerful kicks Vince was delivering. Powerful impacts that filled the basement with their loud echoing crunches. 

“I think Mr. Matson’s had enough, dad. This is getting out of..."

Mike didn’t let his concerned son finish his thought before he reached out and pulled Nolan’s underwear to his feet. Vince was mortified as his cock twitched in his jeans; Nolan was totally naked and ridiculously hot, much hotter than Vince had ever imagined all the times he had wanked off thinking about him. His swollen nuts were bigger and puffier than normal, red and hanging quite low after they were freed from his underwear. Above them his completely flaccid cock was an astonishing six inches and thick and Vince couldn’t help but imagine how big it would get fully hard. Vince’s cock was throbbing, his heart was racing and he was finding it hard to focus on the game. Nolan picked up on how uncomfortable Vince was getting and bent down to pull up his shorts but Mike stopped him.

“What? We’re all guys here, just a couple of bros. A couple of drunk bros!” Mike laughed as he grabbed Nolan’s underwear, not letting go until Nolan reluctantly stepped out of them and they were tossed across the room.

Mike and Nolan had been friends literally longer than they could remember so Mike had no qualms about teasing his naked gay friend and was totally comfortable with his clearly enamored son having a chance to sneak a peek. Vince wasn’t feeling so progressive and his hands were getting clammy as the reality of the situation collided with his fantasy... though he was still rock hard.

Nolan chuckled.

“It’s okay, Vince. They’re fine, see?”

Nolan took one of his large nuts in each hand and gave them a playful squeeze, doing his best to disguise his wincing. 

“So, by my count, we each have ten more kicks left,” Mike sneered. 

From the outside it may have looked as if Mike was being menacing but Nolan had known Mike too long and they both burst out laughing.

Mike took a running start for this forty-first kick, nearly launching his hunky friend off his feet on impact.

“Fuck, man!”

Nolan struggled to stay upright.

Vince figured he would just give Nolan another knee. He grabbed Nolan’s shoulders for leverage but before he could strike his dad spat out a joke.

“Don’t worry, Vince. Guys like him don’t want kids anyway!”

Vince, his arms still around Nolan’s shoulder, turned to his father in disgust.

“Guys like him? Like him? You mean, like me? Gay? You meant gay, right?”

Nolan’s heart sank. Mike stammered for a response. He actually hadn’t meant that at all. Mike’s comment was a drunken jab at Nolan’s Devil-may-care, go-it-alone attitude and not any kind of veiled insult. Mike’s face flushed red, he was so embarrassed he didn’t know what to say.

Suddenly Vince burst out laughing. He’d finally succeeded in making the two of them feel almost as awkward as he felt and smiled smugly as he became ‘one of the guys’. His dad and Nolan had only just realized Vince had been feigning his indignation before Vince’s knee slammed into Nolan’s crotch with a disturbing, wet splat. 

Nolan’s eyes crossed and he would have collapsed to his knees if Vince hadn’t been holding him up. 

CRUNCH

CRUNCH 

Nolan’s deep screams made Vince nearly shoot his load as he slammed his kneed over and over into Nolan’s crotch, slamming his heavy balls into his pelvis until he had completed all fifty of his kicks, with a few extra. Vince had lost count. 

“Yeah, I don’t think Mr. Matson wants kids,”

Vince let Nolan slump slightly after the rapid fire knees but just before Nolan could fall to the ground Vince held him up, feeling Nolan’s sweaty chest against his as he whispered one more thing into Nolan’s ear.

“I really hope you don’t want kids, Mr. Matson,”

Nolan’s eyes crossed as he slumped to his knees, mildly disturbed by the indifference in Vince’s voice. Vince really didn’t want to actually hurt Nolan- or at least not unless his dad was on board. After all he was a close family friend, but the act of threatening him nearly made Vince blow his load by itself.

Mike gave his son a drunken high five.

“That’s my boy!”

Mike reached down and took one of Nolan’s ankles in each fist before rising to his feet. Mike looked down as his stud best friend, whose legs were wrenched into the air, leading down in a perfect V shape with Nolan’s fat, swollen balls at the intersection.

Nolan knew instantly what was about to happen and shouted - in genuine terror - begging. But a bet’s a bet, Mike thought.

CRUNCH

CRUNCH

CRUNCH

Nolan thought he was was going to vomit as Mike slammed his shoe down onto his bare nuts over and over, grinding each time. Nolan was certain Mike wasn’t trying to actually ruin him or anything, but Mike also wasn’t going easy on him as he stomped out the last ten or so of his turns.

Finally, Mike let Nolan’s legs go and the hunky man grabbed his balls and curled into a fetal position. Mike laughed but Vince was incredibly turned off at the site of the naked, muscular daddy on the ground.

It took Nolan a long time to compose himself enough to stand. His nuts were swollen and bruised and he was glad Mike and Vince were just playing a friendly - albeit unrestrained - game. He didn’t even want to imagine the outcome if the father-son team had actually been trying to really hurt him.

“Cover yourself up, idiot!” Mike roared in laughter as he threw Nolan’s underwear at his face.

Nolan rolled his eyes in comic annoyance, “Ugh, Mike you’re such a loser!” he laughed as he put his underwear on and rose to his feet. Even though the mood was jovial, Mike and Vince both winced, and were kind of turned on, at the look of pain on Nolan’s face as his swollen nuts were compressed by the fabric of his tight underwear. Nolan smiled trying to play off his autonomic response lest he make his best friend or his best friend’s son uncomfortable. 

At that moment Mike’s phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. 

Mike’s son and Nolan were impressed at how the clearly drunk DILF was able to sound totally sober over the brief conversation with someone who was clearly from Mike’s job. 

“... Yeah, I’ll send you the file right now. Gimme’ a bit.”

“I’ll be right back, duty calls.” Mike headed up the basement stairs to send whatever file his work colleague was asking about but before he disappeared up the stairs he shouted for Nolan to make him another cocktail.

Nolan headed to the bar, still only wearing his underwear, and Vince followed behind. As he made himself and Mike a drink Vince laughed.

“Wow, you two are tanks! You’ve been drinking all day!” 

Nolan smiled and winked “We’re very experienced,”

They made their way back to the couch. Nolan smiled as he eyed his best friend’s son up and down and Vince bit his lip at the site of the sweaty, busted stud. Finally Vince blurted out.

“Wow, Mr. Matson, you’re a DILF!” 

Nolan raised his eyebrow.

“I’m... umm.. I’m not a dad, Vince. But thanks! I don'ts want kids anyway,” 

Nolan took a sip of his drink.

“Well then maybe next time we need to make sure you can’t be,”

Vince gave an evil laugh as he bought his hand down - hard - onto the two oval lumps in Nolan’s briefs. Nolan gasped, spilling some of his and Mike’s drink on his crotch and the sofa. 

It was just in time for Mike to reappear down the basement steps.

“My couch!” You ruined it!” Mike declared dramatically, racing to the piece of furniture as if an actual person had died. Nolan laughed at his friend’s theatrics.

The two DILFs were laughing so hard that at first they didn’t hear Vince, whose cock was dripping as the literal man of his dreams was sitting almost naked on the couch. 

“Mr. Matson, my mom just got this couch. She’s gonna’ be pissed. I think that’s worth at least fifty more kicks...” Vince said half joking.

Nolan laughed, but started to get nervous as Mike and his son stood over him on the couch. They wouldn’t really hurt him, right?

“Oh, dad! Fun fact, when you were upstairs Mr. Matson told me he really doesn’t want kids,”

“Not a problem at all!” Mike laughed, still drunk and eyeing his buddy’s mounding crotch.

Nolan smiled as he started to stand, trying to diffuse the weird tension that was building, but was stopped by Mike pressing down on one shoulder and Vince on the other.

“Wha... what’re you guys doing?”

There was a brief pause with all three giving darting glances between themselves.

“What do you think? We’re gonna stop you from having kids!” Mike chuckled.

Nolan again tried to stand but was held in place. Then he noticed Mike and Vince were both eyeing the massive lumps in his briefs with different perspectives - admiration from a drunken Mike and lust from Vince - but the same goal; destruction.

“Umm.. guys...” Nolan said through a smile but was becoming increasingly nervous by how vulnerable he was wearing only his underwear as two strong blokes held him sitting on the couch.

“...Guys!” Nolan screamed dramatically, trying to use humor to break the spell his semi-busted nuts were having on his best friend and his young admirer.

It didn't work.

Family-line-ending commotion ensued in Mike’s basement while the next match of the World Cup played on in the background.

In the end, it was a good thing Nolan really didn't' want kids...