Quinn sat on the cold examination bench quietly as the doctor jotted down a few last minute notes onto his chart. Quinn was getting his annual sports physical at the university medical centre, a usually routine affair that typically only covered the bare minimum requirement for a physical. Quinn was the last patient of the day, just one of a sea of college students the doctor had had to treat today and his indifference was obvious throughout the exam.
Quinn, a powerfully built twenty-two year old rugby player at Amajor University looked uncharacteristically nervous as he waited for the doctor to finish writing. He ran one of his thick hands through his shaggy black hair, cleared his throat and spat out "Doc, I was wondering. How do you give yourself a testicular exam?"
The doctor looked up from his pad and eyed the handsome jock. Quinn was six foot four, with a husky, athletic built. His pecs were perfectly sculpted, outlined nicely under his white polo shirt. His thick, muscular legs filled out his too-small jeans and an ample bulge was visible at the intersection of the jock's legs. Dr. Paulson was openly gay, and always took a professional detachment from the countless attractive, virile young men he treated, but with particularly handsome men his hormones sometimes clouded his professional judgment. This was the case with Quinn..
Dr. Paulson was in his late forties, his grey hair cut short. Being a doctor with a specialty in sports medicine, he took particularly good care of himself and his five foot ten body was quite muscular, with his arms bulging out the sleeves of his white medical coat. Overall Dr. Paulson looked and carried himself like a man ten years his junior.
"Oh, a testicular exam? You mean for cancer screening?"
"Yes. My pa' was just diagnosed..."
Dr. Paulson showed genuine concern as he took a step closer to the sitting jock.
"... They caught it incredibly early. A miracle, actually. He's going to be fine but it got me thinking that I may have a higher risk, ya' know since it runs in the family, and I wanted to start, ya' know, examining myself."
Dr. Paulson set down his clip board and took a step toward Quinn, putting a hand on his knee in a strictly professional, calming way.
"Well, Quinn. Studies haven't linked regular self examination to increased survival rates with this particular cancer, so the American Cancer Society doesn't have guidelines on how regularly it should be done."
The doctor continued, "But some doctors, including myself, do recommend that patients with a family history or other risk factors do perform regular self checks. I can show you how if you'd like,"
Quinn nodded affirmatively and stood up.
"Please lower your pants again," Dr. Paulson said, swallowing hard as the beefy jock pulled his jeans and boxers to his ankles.
Quinn's genitals, matching the rest of his frame, were quite large. Each of his testicles was slightly smaller than a billiard ball and hung low in the bottom of this hairy sack. His cock was five inches long and quite thick even though it was totally limp, hanging slightly to the left.
Dr. Paulson grasped the meaty right nut and felt the organ in his hand. Quinn winced from the feeling of the doctor's cold hand on his junk.
"I usually recommend that patients perform the exam after a hot shower or bath, when the genitals are lower in the sack and relaxed. But I can still show you the basic techniques. Just take a the testicle between your thumb and fingers and roll it applying slight pressure..."
Quinn winced as the doctor squeezed his ball slightly between his thumb and fingers. Dr. Paulson's cock jumped in his slacks as he felt the surprisingly squishy orb compress in his hands. He rolled the nut around for a few seconds before stopping.
"Do you feel that?"
The doctor guided Quinn's hand to a benign lump near the middle of his testicle.
"This is totally normal. Which is why if you do decide to self exam that you do it regularly, so you get to know what's normal and what isn't what your testicles."
Dr. Paulson dropped Quinn's heavy right nut and reached for the left, grasping the huge organ between his fingers and thumb. The doctor rolled Quinn's nut in his fingers, squeezing slightly as he examined the hung stud's sex organs. Quinn winced slightly, apparently his nuts were as sensitive as they were large. As the doctor rolled the ball, Quinn's cock began to stir.
Quinn's entire body flushed red as he looked down to see his penis was quickly swelling. Dr. Paulson, pretending not to notice, grasped Quinn's other ball in his hand and was now gently rolling both orbs in his powerful hand. Quinn winced as his cock continued to grow until was its full nine inch length. Dr. Paulson swallowed hard as the massive organ pulsed with each beat of the jock's heart, the bulbous mushroom shaped head swelling as Quinn's balls were massaged.
Quinn's handsome face was now beet red in embarrassment.
"I'm not gay. I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into him."
Dr. Paulson smiled at the way the stud was addressing his penis as 'him'.
"It's a totally normal automatic reaction. It may even happen when you're examining yourself."
Dr. Paulson had finished actually examining Quinn's testicles, finding nothing wrong, but continued to compress and roll him in his hands, now pressing much harder than necessary.
Quinn winced and his perfect body shuddered as Dr. Paulson's thumbs bore deeper into his fleshy balls. Dr. Paulson kept kneading the large testicles for several minutes until he drove his thumb even deeper into the rugby player's sack.
"Oww, doc. That hurts.:" Quinn yelped as Dr. Paulson's thumbs dug into his balls, now separated from his hands by only a half inch of painfully compressed ball meat. The huge orbs looked like they had been dented in their middles as the doctor continued to press in.
Dr. Paulson's heart quickened and he felt his own seven inch cock throbbing in his slacks. He cleared his throat and did his best to sound professional "Now I'm checking the deeper tissues and membranes."
Quinn screamed and stumbled back, his ass now pressed against the exam table.
"Do I have to do it so rough to myself" Quinn asked, his face contorted in pain but his massive cock still rock hard.
"No. Only your doctor should. We wouldn't want to cause any permanent damage. Hmm. Let me look more closely at the left testicle."
Dr. Paulson released Quinn's now reddened right testicle and grasped his horse like left nut with both hands. One hand was busy compressing the top of the nut and the other hand was compressing the bottom. Quinn let out a gasp and his eyes were tearing up. He went to close his legs out of instinct...
"Please keep your legs spread, please."
Quinn complied, spreading his thick legs giving the doctor easy access to his nuts. Dr. Paulson's heart was pounding as he felt his hands digging further and further into the handsome jocks' nut. The organ was getting flatter and flatter and Dr. Paulson could feel the delicate membranes starting to give in.
Quinn was now screaming, begging Dr. Paulson to stop but he kept pressing into the large ball until it was flattened to a half inch thick. And despite himself, Quinn made a conscious effort to keep his legs open, and his big nuts totally exposed to Dr. Paulson.
"Doc! Doc! Please, that hurts!" Quinn yelped, his voice cracking.
Despite the pain, Quinn's cock continued to throb painfully, a thick stream of precum dripping from the head. Dr. Paulson was tempted to take the handsome stud's cock into his mouth, but stopped himself.
"Uh oh. We don't want your semen to back up."
"You mean like blue balls?" the clueless jock asked while the doctor continued to manhandle his nut.
"Exactly."
Dr. Paulson took his right hand and started pumping Quinn's enormous cock, using the now pouring stream of precum as lube. His other hand was now entirely encircling the swelling left nut, his bicep flexing as he attempted to literally crush the young man's nut. Quin cried out, but his mind was too awash with pleasure and pain to fight back.
This rough kneading went on for several minutes and Dr. Paulson was dripping precum himself as he felt Quinn's battered, bloated nut starting to collapse in his hands. The jock was now screaming steadily, his brute voice echoing in the empty clinical building, but his cock was still rock hard.
"Oh doc! You're crushing it."
"Well you have to ejaculate soon, then I'll stop squeezing."
TWACK! TWACK! TWACK!
The doctor pumped Quinn's enormous dong like his life depending on it...
"Oh doc! You're gonna' squash it!" Quinn wailed, ironically the more the thought about Dr. Paulson's hand crushing his nut the hornier he got.
Dr. Paulson licked his lips and smiled as the powerful muscle jock squirmed, obviously in pain, but going out of his way to keep his balls available to Dr. Paulson. It was as if the jock subconsciously wanted Dr. Paulson to pop his baby maker.
"Oh! That feels so good! Keep squeezing!"
Dr. Paulson was taken aback, and incredibly aroused, by the hapless jock's exclamation.
"I'm gonna' shoot!" Quinn screamed as his back arched in pleasure. Dr. Paulson's face and jacket were plastered with four thick, powerful spurts of seamen.
Quinn stood panting, catching his breath as Dr. Paulson slowly let off the pressure on his nut. It was clear to the doctor that he was only a few minutes away from permanently damaging the stud's bull nut. It was incredibly swollen and red, and the doctor could feel that his thumb was starting to destroy the membranes and connective tissue that was keeping the jocks' nut whole and round. Maybe next time, if the doctor played this right, Quinn wouldn't be so lucky.
Quinn looked down at the doctor's messy face and smiled. He usually wasn't a shooter, but as was evident by the thick splattering of cum dripping off the doctor's face, having his balls squeezed clearly triggered something inside the horny young man.
"Sorry doc. I made a mess. That felt so fucking good."
Dr. Paulson washed his face in the exam room's small sink, then headed back to the hapless jock who was now pulling his pants back up.
Quinn looked at the doctor and said meekly "I've never cum like that.
Dr. Paulson smiled, "I must have squeezed it right out of you."
There was a brief silence as the spent rugby stud looked around nervously as if dancing around an awkward question. Finally he spoke.
"When you were squeezing my nut.. er, testicle, it felt so good. But it hurt. Is that normal?"
Dr. Paulson smiled broadly "Well, some guys do enjoy it."
The two looked at each other for what seemed like a long time before Quinn finally spoke "Maybe I should come in for an exam tomorrow."
"And the next day probably, just to make sure I didn't miss anything."
Thinking back to the weirdly erotic, explosive orgasm he had just had, Quinn nodded his head in agreement.
"Actually, Quinn. I could give you a harder--- I mean more thorough examination at my private office. At home."
Quinn wasn't sure why, but his cock instantly got hard again at the prospect of getting another ball squeezing from Dr. Paulson. Maybe next time he'd press in even harder...
"That sounds great, doc!" Quinn said smiling.
"How hard can you squeeze?"
"As hard as you want,"
Dr. Paulson held out his arm, palm opened, and began clenching his fist as if he was wrapping it around a nice juicy testicle. Quinn's eyes grew large, and his cock began to stir as he watched the handsome doctor's fist close tighter and tighter. Quinn imagined one of his own nuts trapped in the slowly closing space inside Dr. Paulson's hand.
Just as Dr. Paulson's hand compressed to about the same distance it had been when Quinn shot, he made eye contact with the mesmerized stud and licked his lips. Dr. Paulson feigned as if he was encountering invisible resistance, pretending that his fist couldn't close any more.
Quinn's cock was fully erect again as he imagined his nut was being crushed by Dr. Paulson. The doctor smiled broadly as he dramatically clenched his fist totally shut rapidly, as if he'd finally broken through the invisible resistance. Quinn thought he was going to shoot another load as he envisioned what would have happened to his nut had it been in the doctor's palm. Would it have burst?
"Wouldn't that kind of pressure damage me?" Quinn asked breathlessly, his mind racing with a graphic visual of his ruined nut oozing from between Dr. Paulson's fingers.
"Yes. Your testicle would have been crushed."
"Popped?"
Dr. Paulson nodded affirmatively.
Quinn swallowed hard.
"Hot."
The story continues here
M/M ball busting stories featuring ball popping, rupturing and permanent damage.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Ruined Mechanic
Read about Max's previous victim here.
Max had been sitting on the rest stop toilet for nearly an hour. It was well past three in the morning and only two other men had entered the rest stop that evening and none of them were responsive to his suggestive foot tapping. Maybe this was going to be a bust evening. He ran a hand through his now blond hair and was about to exit the stall when he heard the restroom door open. Heavy footsteps lead quickly to the next stall. Max could tell that the man was sitting, but not actually using the toilet.
He gently tapped his foot.
The man, to Max's pleasure, reciprocated.
Max knelt down and removed the toilet paper holder which was only half bolted to the wall, revealing a large glory hole. Almost before the hole was completely uncovered a fat nine inch black cock and two large balls were pushed through the hole. Max inhaled the man's scent slowly. It was clean, yet had a hint of masculine odor that got Max instantly hard. Without further delay, Max inhaled the man's dripping cock and began to suck. He took the long tool all the way to the base of the man's balls, which caused the Stranger to gasp in pleasure.
"Oh yeah," came a deep voice from the other side.
Max bobbed up and down on the truly enormous dong like a champion, putting a hand on his throat so he could feel the bulge as nine inches of cock snaked its way down. The Stranger was moaning heavily and, after only a few minutes, Max could feel the large nuts, which he had been gently cupping, starting to retract. It was time.
"Oh yeah..." the Stranger moaned breathlessly, furiously pumping his cock into Max's face.
Max slowly reached for the butcher knife he'd laid next to the toilet and slowly positioned it. With one hard swoop, he was going to sever the man's dangling nuts right as we was cumming. The anticipation made Max drip with precum, his own cock raging in his jeans. His breathing quickened and his palms became sweaty. This was a large pair of nuts and he was sure they'd go great in his collection. He was studying the stuffed sack, noticing that the right nut was much more oblong and bigger than the left, which felt..
"It's cumming!" the Stranger screamed and Max felt a burst of goo splatter his tonsils.
Shit! Max thought, he'd gotten distracted. Without further delay he swung the butcher blade and it collided with the man's sack. The Stranger let out a hideous shriek and Max could hear the man fall with a slump to the ground. But the man's balls had retracted between the time Max had took aim and the time he swung. As a result, the blade didn't slice cleanly into the dangling sack, it bisected the juicy testicles, slicing them in half like two black grapefruits. Max looked down and saw the two testicle halves on the floor. He scooped them up and, almost going into the next stall to finish the job, but reconsidered.
As he made his way into the forest surrounding the rest stop Max stopped, looked down at the two testicle halves in his hands and threw them down. He looked at the ruined things just for a moment before stomping them into a gooey paste under his foot.
Those didn't count, he concluded. Only whole nuts did. He continued, satisfied that the two halve testicles were nothing but an unrecognizable mess, and contemplated how best to totally sever his next victim from his balls...
Max wandered for several miles, staying just out of sight of the few headlights that came down the nearly abandoned highway bypass. It was approaching four A.M, but he hadn't collected a proper pair for the night. The thought of aborting, and trying again another time crept to him when suddenly, as if on cue, a small car repair shop appeared on the horizon. Although it was actually only dimly lit, the building shone brightly against the stark dark night sky.
Max hesitantly approached the building. He had almost nutted a mechanic a few weeks prior in a similar back roads repair shop, but the guy's testicles had ruptured from being pulled by the pliers before they were severed. Max left the guy there, crushed balls still attached. After all, he only wanted to take whole testicles. Though he wasn't opposed to crushing them to goo once removed, like over-stuffed stress balls.
Max peaked into the window and saw a small, cluttered counter, behind which was a single automobile service bay, the back wall full of tools. Max pulled at the door, which was locked. He peered through the glass, hoping to find some young, cute mechanic working late...
Suddenly a figure appeared from the service bay. Max's eyes were still adjusting from the transition to near total darkness so it took him a minute to make out the outline of a very handsome, twenty-something blonde standing behind the counter. His short hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, his chiseled face dirty from grease and dirt. The mechanic was wearing only a tight fitting white T-shirt, a name Max couldn't make out from that distance was stitched over the left breast, and blue jeans, both rather dirty and sweaty. He had obviously been just at work, and the thought of un-nutting this muscular young man while he was ripe from work was making Max's cock stir.
As he approached, Max could make out that the Mechanic was about five foot ten, maybe one sixty, and well built, but not too muscular. Max was slightly shorter, but -- mixed with the element of surprised -- he was sure he could handle him. As the Mechanic approached, Max -- remembering his shirt was still bloody from earlier, started playing the role of the victim, pounding at the door and screaming for help.
Oh wow, he's cute, Max thought as the youthful Mechanic flung open the door in a panic.
"Are you okay, buddy?" the Mechanic asked, his soft voice -- even through his alarm - only made him seem even more youthful.
"He just kept hitting me, I was so scared..." Max cried, thoroughly convincing tears streaming down his face as he walked through the door. He made a point of reading the young blonde's name; Adam.
"Oh shit, is he here?" Adam asked, ushering Max to the counter and quickly closing -- and locking the door behind him.
Max was now at the counter, facing Adam, and abruptly stopped his charade. Adam, his adrenaline still pumping from this late night 'victim' was confused, and only just became aware of the bloodied knife sticking out of Max's pocket...
"What the..."
Max grabbed the knife before Adam could act and, in a surprisingly agile move, grabbed Adam's arm, spun him around and pulled him toward himself. Max's now raging cock was pressed against the young man's back, the blade of the knife was held so tightly against Adam's throat, it drew blood when his neck barely bulged with a swallow.
"Don't move." Max whispered with incongruent softness into the now crying man's ear, "Take me into the shop," said Max motioning his head toward the mechanics bay.
"Pl-please! Just take the money, "
"I don't want the money..."
Adam, too distracted by the knife was only just now consciously aware of the hard cock pressed into his back.
"No! No! Please don't rape me...." Adam said through sobs, too petrified to even attempt to move lest the blade plunge into his neck.
Max didn't dignify the plea with a response, instead slowly walking Adam around the counter into the mechanics' bay. As they rounded the counter, Max caught a glimpse of a photograph taped to the computer monitor. It was Adam smiling broadly as another man, a brunette, kissed him on the cheek.
"Who is that?" Max asked still slowly walking Adam into the bay.
"My husband.... please I just wanna' see him again," Adam cried. The young man was hysterical with fear, which was only making Max's cock harder.
"Do what I say, and you just might," Max said softly in Adam's ear as they entered the bay.
The two stopped just a few feet away from a car that was suspended at waist level on a hoist. Max, being mindful not to give Adam an opening to play the hero, glanced around quickly to see what he could use to castrate the unsuspecting mechanic. He grinned to himself when his eyes came across something on a back shelf.
"Get down," Max shouted, lowering the blade and shoving Adam to the ground.
Adam, still too petrified to mount a fight, stayed on all fours, fighting back sobs. "Please, don't hurt me. Plea---"
WHOOMPH! CRUNCH! - Max delivered a kick between the young man's legs so powerful that Adam's backside was lifted into the air. Adam let out a scream and fell over, landing on his stomach. Adam rolled to his back in agony and Max took the few moments the dazed mechanic was rolling in pain to run to the shelf and grab a spooled length of twine. He returned, Adam still clutching his nuts, and promptly stomped on Adam's chest and he was sure he felt something crack.
Adam gasped, his arms instantly clutching his chest, which left his crotch open again...
CRUNCH! CRUNCH! Max stomped on the slight bulge in Adam's dirty jeans several times, each time eliciting a squeal from the young man, who was now in too much pain from his cracked rib and throbbing nuts to mount any kind of response. Adam was pleading, begging Max to stop, but Max kept stomping and grinding the mound, the young man's firm testicles being squashed into his pelvis.
"Shut the fuck up!" Max roared with a ferocity that startled even himself, tiring of Adam's begging.
He kicked Adam in the side of the head so hard his neck snapped violently to the side and the young man almost instantly blacked out. Except for a trickle of blood coming from his nose and the shoe prints on his crotch, Adam looked like he could have just been peacefully sleeping. Max swooped down and put his finger under his nose... a slight puff of air signaled Adam was still breathing. Max got to work literally ripping Adam's sweat and grease stained T-shirt off, revealing a nicely defined, albeit bruised chest. A washboard like trail of abs ran down this stomach into his pants. Max licked his lips, his own pants now soaked with precum, as he dove his head into Adam's chest and began to swirl his nipples with his tongue.
Adam's head rocked slightly to the side and Max thought he heard him groan in pain, but he kept going. While he did this, Max massaged the lump in Adam's pants until he could feel the unconscious cock starting to come to life. That was his cue.
Rubbing a hand over Adam's rippling stomach with one hand, Max unbuttoned Adam's jeans with the other. He pulled them and his underwear down to his knees revealing two shaved walnut sized nuts tight to his body. His hardening cock was only about five inches long but incredibly thick and veiny. His husband must enjoy this, Max thought. Adam's distinct odor of sweat and masculinity wafted up from the now totally exposed crotch and, for a moment, Max had to stop fondling the young man lest he blow his load right there.
For a brief moment, Max considered abandoning his plan to destroy Adam's sex life - and by extension the sex life of his partner. Adam was, Max had to admit, simply beautiful. His rippling, but not imposing physique, the way he smelled, his handsome face.... Max rubbed the bulge in his crotch as he ran a finger to Adam's butt hole. It was so tight Max could hardly get a knuckle in. Adam's ass subconsciously twitched, clenching Max's finger tightly. Max's cock dripped precum and for a moment he contemplated just plowing Adam's tight hole and leaving him be. But then Adam thought back to the very first pair of balls he had crushed into a goo all over a bathroom stall and his cock jumped at the memory. No, Max concluded, castrating Adam would be infinitely more fun than fucking him.
Without any more thoughts about pounding the mechanic, Max tied the twine tightly around the base of Adam's sack, making sure there was still a bit of slack. He then tied it to the underside of the vehicle hoist. Adam was starting to stir a bit.
"Pl-please don't hurt me no more," Adam barely got out, drifting in and out of consciousness.
"Oh this won't take long," Max whispered in Adam's ear.
He quickly found the lever next to the hoist that controlled it going up or down. He pulled it forward and the hoist noisily started to rise, lifting the car and pulling at Adam's sack.
Adam groaned, but was still too out of it to respond. As the hoist rose, Adam's sack was pulled one.. two... three inches from his body. Then it suddenly stopped stretching, even as the hoist kept rising. The noose tightened around the balls, which were being pulled painfully against the top of the stretched sack and were quickly swelling and turning purple as they were starved of oxygen.
Finally it happened. Max smiled to himself as he saw Adam's tight body slowly lifting from the ground. When Adam was clear of the ground by a few inches, Max stopped the hoist. He walked up to Adam and looked down at the unconscious stud.
"Mmm, wonder how long they'll hold up," Max joked to no one.
Adam's body was being suspended entirely by his nuts and it was obvious the strain was getting to be too much for the poor organs. After a few minutes, as Max watched silently, the bulging sack turned completely bluish purple. Adam's balls were dying. Adam slowly began to come around and, as if overcome with a shot of adrenaline, starting begging and pleading in earnest.
"OH GOD! Let me go! Let me down!" Adam screamed at the top of his lungs, his arms and legs flailing. "They're ripping!"
Max watched as Adam's body slowly started to lower, the sack stretching further... and further....
"PLEASE!" Adam screamed a final time before his cries became an unintelligible drone.
Max ignored him and raised the hoist a few more inches. Adam's body lowered further as his sack was viciously stretched. Max walked up the writhing blonde and put a hand on the bulging nuts. They were still warm but didn't feel quite as hot as they should have been. They were also now totally blackish blue.
"Yup, these things are toast, Adam. Hope you're a bottom," Max joked cruelly.
Adam's screaming was at a fever pitch as his sack stretched further... and further... and ...
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP.... THUD!
There was a loud, disgusting ripping followed by a thud as Adam's body fell to the floor. The severed balls still suspended from the hoist. Adam's hand immediately reached for his crotch as he sobbed and begged for Max for help. Max stepped over Adam's gorgeous body and casually retrieved the hanging ball sack. He rolled the organs still in their sack in his hands for several moments, savoring how they felt totally detached from their owner. He squeezed his hand tightly, feeling the dead baby makers compress under the strain. He kept squeezing and squeezing, determined to crush at least one of them right there in the garage. His efforts didn't take long. The membranes of Adam's abused right nut collapsed and Max explosively came in his jeans without touching himself when he felt his fist totally close over what had once been a firm, virile nut.
Max nearly doubled over as gush after gush of seed splattered the inside of his pants. Then, matter of factly he turned to leave the garage, stopping at the desk. He looked at the picture of a smiling Adam and his equally cute husband and thought to himself how they had probably had sex the same day that picture was taken, Adam's balls slamming into his husband's ass as the brunette was bred. The same balls that were now in Max's hands, half crushed. He grinned as he reaching for the cordless phone, throwing it at Adam. It hit him in the side of the face and as Max left, he turned to see Adam frantically dialing for help.
--
"Local. Trusted. Live. This is News Eight at Eleven," came a dramatic voice over rousing fanfare.
"Good evening, I'm Dianne Simmons. We start tonight with breaking news that City officials are launching a dedicated task force to track down the assailant in a string of gruesome attacks on young men, most recently two victims found just miles apart," an attractive woman began the news cast.
"That's right, Dianne. This man is wanted in connection to what police are calling a string of sexual assaults. Although all of the victims have been gay men, police are stopping short of calling this a hate crime..."
A police sketch flashed across the screen.
Max turned off the television, casually sipping a martini. He was sitting on an overstuffed leather couch, a fire roaring in the large fireplace of his luxurious uptown apartment. In front of him on the cocktail table his untouched Surface displayed spreadsheets and charts, work he'd bought home from his accounting firm. As he picked up his tablet and began to scroll through the figures on the screen, but his mind was distracted.
The police sketches were beginning to look a little too much like him. Perhaps he was getting too brazen as his 'trophy' collection had grown. He closed out of the spreadsheet app and opened his email; it was filled with casual correspondences and invitations to cocktail parties. He responded, genuinely laughing and smiling at the routine personal emails.
None of his recipients suspected for a moment that the emails they would be reading in response were being typed by the same hands that had crushed, sliced and ripped off so many pairs of nuts.
After a while, he sat down the tablet and finished his drink. His obligations as the fun loving, goofy sidekick 'Max' were finished for the night. He began plotting his next hunting excursion with the calculated casualness he had just addressed his emails.
He gently tapped his foot.
The man, to Max's pleasure, reciprocated.
Max knelt down and removed the toilet paper holder which was only half bolted to the wall, revealing a large glory hole. Almost before the hole was completely uncovered a fat nine inch black cock and two large balls were pushed through the hole. Max inhaled the man's scent slowly. It was clean, yet had a hint of masculine odor that got Max instantly hard. Without further delay, Max inhaled the man's dripping cock and began to suck. He took the long tool all the way to the base of the man's balls, which caused the Stranger to gasp in pleasure.
"Oh yeah," came a deep voice from the other side.
Max bobbed up and down on the truly enormous dong like a champion, putting a hand on his throat so he could feel the bulge as nine inches of cock snaked its way down. The Stranger was moaning heavily and, after only a few minutes, Max could feel the large nuts, which he had been gently cupping, starting to retract. It was time.
"Oh yeah..." the Stranger moaned breathlessly, furiously pumping his cock into Max's face.
Max slowly reached for the butcher knife he'd laid next to the toilet and slowly positioned it. With one hard swoop, he was going to sever the man's dangling nuts right as we was cumming. The anticipation made Max drip with precum, his own cock raging in his jeans. His breathing quickened and his palms became sweaty. This was a large pair of nuts and he was sure they'd go great in his collection. He was studying the stuffed sack, noticing that the right nut was much more oblong and bigger than the left, which felt..
"It's cumming!" the Stranger screamed and Max felt a burst of goo splatter his tonsils.
Shit! Max thought, he'd gotten distracted. Without further delay he swung the butcher blade and it collided with the man's sack. The Stranger let out a hideous shriek and Max could hear the man fall with a slump to the ground. But the man's balls had retracted between the time Max had took aim and the time he swung. As a result, the blade didn't slice cleanly into the dangling sack, it bisected the juicy testicles, slicing them in half like two black grapefruits. Max looked down and saw the two testicle halves on the floor. He scooped them up and, almost going into the next stall to finish the job, but reconsidered.
As he made his way into the forest surrounding the rest stop Max stopped, looked down at the two testicle halves in his hands and threw them down. He looked at the ruined things just for a moment before stomping them into a gooey paste under his foot.
Those didn't count, he concluded. Only whole nuts did. He continued, satisfied that the two halve testicles were nothing but an unrecognizable mess, and contemplated how best to totally sever his next victim from his balls...
Max wandered for several miles, staying just out of sight of the few headlights that came down the nearly abandoned highway bypass. It was approaching four A.M, but he hadn't collected a proper pair for the night. The thought of aborting, and trying again another time crept to him when suddenly, as if on cue, a small car repair shop appeared on the horizon. Although it was actually only dimly lit, the building shone brightly against the stark dark night sky.
Max hesitantly approached the building. He had almost nutted a mechanic a few weeks prior in a similar back roads repair shop, but the guy's testicles had ruptured from being pulled by the pliers before they were severed. Max left the guy there, crushed balls still attached. After all, he only wanted to take whole testicles. Though he wasn't opposed to crushing them to goo once removed, like over-stuffed stress balls.
Max peaked into the window and saw a small, cluttered counter, behind which was a single automobile service bay, the back wall full of tools. Max pulled at the door, which was locked. He peered through the glass, hoping to find some young, cute mechanic working late...
Suddenly a figure appeared from the service bay. Max's eyes were still adjusting from the transition to near total darkness so it took him a minute to make out the outline of a very handsome, twenty-something blonde standing behind the counter. His short hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, his chiseled face dirty from grease and dirt. The mechanic was wearing only a tight fitting white T-shirt, a name Max couldn't make out from that distance was stitched over the left breast, and blue jeans, both rather dirty and sweaty. He had obviously been just at work, and the thought of un-nutting this muscular young man while he was ripe from work was making Max's cock stir.
As he approached, Max could make out that the Mechanic was about five foot ten, maybe one sixty, and well built, but not too muscular. Max was slightly shorter, but -- mixed with the element of surprised -- he was sure he could handle him. As the Mechanic approached, Max -- remembering his shirt was still bloody from earlier, started playing the role of the victim, pounding at the door and screaming for help.
Oh wow, he's cute, Max thought as the youthful Mechanic flung open the door in a panic.
"Are you okay, buddy?" the Mechanic asked, his soft voice -- even through his alarm - only made him seem even more youthful.
"He just kept hitting me, I was so scared..." Max cried, thoroughly convincing tears streaming down his face as he walked through the door. He made a point of reading the young blonde's name; Adam.
"Oh shit, is he here?" Adam asked, ushering Max to the counter and quickly closing -- and locking the door behind him.
Max was now at the counter, facing Adam, and abruptly stopped his charade. Adam, his adrenaline still pumping from this late night 'victim' was confused, and only just became aware of the bloodied knife sticking out of Max's pocket...
"What the..."
Max grabbed the knife before Adam could act and, in a surprisingly agile move, grabbed Adam's arm, spun him around and pulled him toward himself. Max's now raging cock was pressed against the young man's back, the blade of the knife was held so tightly against Adam's throat, it drew blood when his neck barely bulged with a swallow.
"Don't move." Max whispered with incongruent softness into the now crying man's ear, "Take me into the shop," said Max motioning his head toward the mechanics bay.
"Pl-please! Just take the money, "
"I don't want the money..."
Adam, too distracted by the knife was only just now consciously aware of the hard cock pressed into his back.
"No! No! Please don't rape me...." Adam said through sobs, too petrified to even attempt to move lest the blade plunge into his neck.
Max didn't dignify the plea with a response, instead slowly walking Adam around the counter into the mechanics' bay. As they rounded the counter, Max caught a glimpse of a photograph taped to the computer monitor. It was Adam smiling broadly as another man, a brunette, kissed him on the cheek.
"Who is that?" Max asked still slowly walking Adam into the bay.
"My husband.... please I just wanna' see him again," Adam cried. The young man was hysterical with fear, which was only making Max's cock harder.
"Do what I say, and you just might," Max said softly in Adam's ear as they entered the bay.
The two stopped just a few feet away from a car that was suspended at waist level on a hoist. Max, being mindful not to give Adam an opening to play the hero, glanced around quickly to see what he could use to castrate the unsuspecting mechanic. He grinned to himself when his eyes came across something on a back shelf.
"Get down," Max shouted, lowering the blade and shoving Adam to the ground.
Adam, still too petrified to mount a fight, stayed on all fours, fighting back sobs. "Please, don't hurt me. Plea---"
WHOOMPH! CRUNCH! - Max delivered a kick between the young man's legs so powerful that Adam's backside was lifted into the air. Adam let out a scream and fell over, landing on his stomach. Adam rolled to his back in agony and Max took the few moments the dazed mechanic was rolling in pain to run to the shelf and grab a spooled length of twine. He returned, Adam still clutching his nuts, and promptly stomped on Adam's chest and he was sure he felt something crack.
Adam gasped, his arms instantly clutching his chest, which left his crotch open again...
CRUNCH! CRUNCH! Max stomped on the slight bulge in Adam's dirty jeans several times, each time eliciting a squeal from the young man, who was now in too much pain from his cracked rib and throbbing nuts to mount any kind of response. Adam was pleading, begging Max to stop, but Max kept stomping and grinding the mound, the young man's firm testicles being squashed into his pelvis.
"Shut the fuck up!" Max roared with a ferocity that startled even himself, tiring of Adam's begging.
He kicked Adam in the side of the head so hard his neck snapped violently to the side and the young man almost instantly blacked out. Except for a trickle of blood coming from his nose and the shoe prints on his crotch, Adam looked like he could have just been peacefully sleeping. Max swooped down and put his finger under his nose... a slight puff of air signaled Adam was still breathing. Max got to work literally ripping Adam's sweat and grease stained T-shirt off, revealing a nicely defined, albeit bruised chest. A washboard like trail of abs ran down this stomach into his pants. Max licked his lips, his own pants now soaked with precum, as he dove his head into Adam's chest and began to swirl his nipples with his tongue.
Adam's head rocked slightly to the side and Max thought he heard him groan in pain, but he kept going. While he did this, Max massaged the lump in Adam's pants until he could feel the unconscious cock starting to come to life. That was his cue.
Rubbing a hand over Adam's rippling stomach with one hand, Max unbuttoned Adam's jeans with the other. He pulled them and his underwear down to his knees revealing two shaved walnut sized nuts tight to his body. His hardening cock was only about five inches long but incredibly thick and veiny. His husband must enjoy this, Max thought. Adam's distinct odor of sweat and masculinity wafted up from the now totally exposed crotch and, for a moment, Max had to stop fondling the young man lest he blow his load right there.
For a brief moment, Max considered abandoning his plan to destroy Adam's sex life - and by extension the sex life of his partner. Adam was, Max had to admit, simply beautiful. His rippling, but not imposing physique, the way he smelled, his handsome face.... Max rubbed the bulge in his crotch as he ran a finger to Adam's butt hole. It was so tight Max could hardly get a knuckle in. Adam's ass subconsciously twitched, clenching Max's finger tightly. Max's cock dripped precum and for a moment he contemplated just plowing Adam's tight hole and leaving him be. But then Adam thought back to the very first pair of balls he had crushed into a goo all over a bathroom stall and his cock jumped at the memory. No, Max concluded, castrating Adam would be infinitely more fun than fucking him.
Without any more thoughts about pounding the mechanic, Max tied the twine tightly around the base of Adam's sack, making sure there was still a bit of slack. He then tied it to the underside of the vehicle hoist. Adam was starting to stir a bit.
"Pl-please don't hurt me no more," Adam barely got out, drifting in and out of consciousness.
"Oh this won't take long," Max whispered in Adam's ear.
He quickly found the lever next to the hoist that controlled it going up or down. He pulled it forward and the hoist noisily started to rise, lifting the car and pulling at Adam's sack.
Adam groaned, but was still too out of it to respond. As the hoist rose, Adam's sack was pulled one.. two... three inches from his body. Then it suddenly stopped stretching, even as the hoist kept rising. The noose tightened around the balls, which were being pulled painfully against the top of the stretched sack and were quickly swelling and turning purple as they were starved of oxygen.
Finally it happened. Max smiled to himself as he saw Adam's tight body slowly lifting from the ground. When Adam was clear of the ground by a few inches, Max stopped the hoist. He walked up to Adam and looked down at the unconscious stud.
"Mmm, wonder how long they'll hold up," Max joked to no one.
Adam's body was being suspended entirely by his nuts and it was obvious the strain was getting to be too much for the poor organs. After a few minutes, as Max watched silently, the bulging sack turned completely bluish purple. Adam's balls were dying. Adam slowly began to come around and, as if overcome with a shot of adrenaline, starting begging and pleading in earnest.
"OH GOD! Let me go! Let me down!" Adam screamed at the top of his lungs, his arms and legs flailing. "They're ripping!"
Max watched as Adam's body slowly started to lower, the sack stretching further... and further....
"PLEASE!" Adam screamed a final time before his cries became an unintelligible drone.
Max ignored him and raised the hoist a few more inches. Adam's body lowered further as his sack was viciously stretched. Max walked up the writhing blonde and put a hand on the bulging nuts. They were still warm but didn't feel quite as hot as they should have been. They were also now totally blackish blue.
"Yup, these things are toast, Adam. Hope you're a bottom," Max joked cruelly.
Adam's screaming was at a fever pitch as his sack stretched further... and further... and ...
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP.... THUD!
There was a loud, disgusting ripping followed by a thud as Adam's body fell to the floor. The severed balls still suspended from the hoist. Adam's hand immediately reached for his crotch as he sobbed and begged for Max for help. Max stepped over Adam's gorgeous body and casually retrieved the hanging ball sack. He rolled the organs still in their sack in his hands for several moments, savoring how they felt totally detached from their owner. He squeezed his hand tightly, feeling the dead baby makers compress under the strain. He kept squeezing and squeezing, determined to crush at least one of them right there in the garage. His efforts didn't take long. The membranes of Adam's abused right nut collapsed and Max explosively came in his jeans without touching himself when he felt his fist totally close over what had once been a firm, virile nut.
Max nearly doubled over as gush after gush of seed splattered the inside of his pants. Then, matter of factly he turned to leave the garage, stopping at the desk. He looked at the picture of a smiling Adam and his equally cute husband and thought to himself how they had probably had sex the same day that picture was taken, Adam's balls slamming into his husband's ass as the brunette was bred. The same balls that were now in Max's hands, half crushed. He grinned as he reaching for the cordless phone, throwing it at Adam. It hit him in the side of the face and as Max left, he turned to see Adam frantically dialing for help.
--
"Local. Trusted. Live. This is News Eight at Eleven," came a dramatic voice over rousing fanfare.
"Good evening, I'm Dianne Simmons. We start tonight with breaking news that City officials are launching a dedicated task force to track down the assailant in a string of gruesome attacks on young men, most recently two victims found just miles apart," an attractive woman began the news cast.
"That's right, Dianne. This man is wanted in connection to what police are calling a string of sexual assaults. Although all of the victims have been gay men, police are stopping short of calling this a hate crime..."
A police sketch flashed across the screen.
Max turned off the television, casually sipping a martini. He was sitting on an overstuffed leather couch, a fire roaring in the large fireplace of his luxurious uptown apartment. In front of him on the cocktail table his untouched Surface displayed spreadsheets and charts, work he'd bought home from his accounting firm. As he picked up his tablet and began to scroll through the figures on the screen, but his mind was distracted.
The police sketches were beginning to look a little too much like him. Perhaps he was getting too brazen as his 'trophy' collection had grown. He closed out of the spreadsheet app and opened his email; it was filled with casual correspondences and invitations to cocktail parties. He responded, genuinely laughing and smiling at the routine personal emails.
None of his recipients suspected for a moment that the emails they would be reading in response were being typed by the same hands that had crushed, sliced and ripped off so many pairs of nuts.
After a while, he sat down the tablet and finished his drink. His obligations as the fun loving, goofy sidekick 'Max' were finished for the night. He began plotting his next hunting excursion with the calculated casualness he had just addressed his emails.
The End - Max The Ripper
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Sliced At The Gym
Read bout Max's previous victim here.
Babylon was ostensibly a gym and sauna that sold day memberships for forty dollars. From the outside it was a rather bland, dilapidated and windowless building sitting in the shadow of a massive stacked expressway interchange. All around were empty lots and boarded up buildings. Seedy characters were gathered outside the only un-shuttered business in site - a liquor store on the next corner.
It was late, just after midnight and the traffic on the interstate above was light. Max walked into Babylon carrying a gym bag, wearing running shorts and an unusually thick red t-shirt. Inside, Max could hear the faint sound of pop music coming from behind the plain brown door just beyond the counter. Behind the counter a squat, balding man wearing a stained ill-fitting dress shirt barely looked up from his tattered copy of Fifty Shades of Grey as he collected Max's twenty dollar bills and handed him a small key and a slip of paper with the number 23 printed on it.
Max thanked the man coldly as there was a loud buzz and a click from the unlocking door. As he passed the odd looking desk attendant, Max cringed his nose at the offensive body odor and hoped he wasn't a representation of the types of people he'd find inside.
After going down a short, dank hallway, Max went through another door into the main gym. Pop music was playing a bit louder than necessary over the gym's one crackling overhead speaker. It was larger than it looked from the outside and there were four doors along the mirrored walls presumably leading to other work out rooms, the saunas and the restrooms. None of them were marked as if it was expected that everyone who visited Babel had already been there before. The gym was brightly lit, but was lacking in actual gym equipment. There were a few elliptical that looked rather old, two rowing machines, several weight benches, a few treadmills and a other miscellaneous equipment.
The arrangement was haphazard, some of the machines weren't even plugged in, and it was obvious that whoever designed it wasn't even trying to pretend that Babylon was a legitimate gym.
Along the back wall were a bank of small stacked lockers; Max made his was, striding confidently through the work out area. There were only a few scantily dressed men present, mostly older and not in particularly good shape, going through the motions on the elliptical or lifting weights on a bench. As he passed, he could tell that the forty and fifty year old men were mentally undressing him, fantasying about his svelte, yet toned 25 year old body. Max smiled and winked at them as he stopped at the lockers. He found locker 23 and opened it, finding a supposedly clean, dingy gym towel. Max scoffed; this place was a dump. He stuffed his gym bag into the locker....
"Hi there, " came a soft, yet oddly commanding voice from behind.
Max turned, a bit started that he hadn't heard anyone coming considering his guard was up, to see one of the men from an elliptical machine was now standing next to him. He was a muscular Asian man wearing a tight-fitting pair of red running shorts. Max flashed a convincing smile at the man.
"I'm Blaine, nice to meet you red," Blaine said in reference to Max's bright red hair.
Blaine extended his hand in greeting and Max's hand felt like it was being crushed by the man's powerful handshake. Max couldn't immediately tell how old Blaine was. He had a youthful smile on his chiseled face, but subtle crows feet around his eyes and a slight sagging of his what were probably once well-defined pecs made him look to be in his mid to late forties. He was a few inches taller than Max, perhaps six foot even, and quite a bit heavier. Unlike some of the other gym patrons Max had seen so far, it was obvious that Blaine had spent at least some time in an actual gym.
"Hi, I'm Alex," Max smiled convincingly.
"Nice to meet you, Alex. I haven't seen you around here,"
"I'm from out of town, just passing through. Checking this place out."
"Ah, well then. Maybe I'll see you around,"
Blaine winked and licked his lips, eyeing Max up and down hard, then turned to get back on his machine. As he did so, Max eyed the man's bubble butt as he walked away, but the most pressing impression Max had was the bulge in the front of the man's shorts. It wasn't huge by any means, but ample and sexy as hell. Blaine was definitely a daddy Max would have liked to fuck.
Max decided to explore the gym, picking a door at random to go through. The door he chose lead to a small room filled with steam. He could hear moans coming from multiple men, presumably engaged in sex acts in the mist. He walked through, bumping into a man who was down on his knees servicing a ripped middle age jock and the two barely seemed to notice. On the other end of the sauna was another doorway leading to yet another sauna which was also filled with moans.
"I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" someone screamed, though Max couldn't see who was shouting through the heavy fog.
This sauna, bigger than the first, eventually lead to a large tiled open room with a Jacuzzi in the middle and a bank of shower heads along the wall. A few men were standing along the wall talking casually as a pudgy young man in his twenties was bent over the side of the tub being plowed mercilessly by an older, and very beefy black man. His moans of pleasure filled the room and the wet 'thwack thwack' of the top's pelvis slapping the boy's ass bounced off the walls. There was a final door in this room and, when Max went through it found himself back in the main gym; it was a loop.
Max glanced over at Blaine, still on the elliptical and working up a legitimate sweat. Blaine smiled at him. The other men who had been there were now gone. Max then went through the second door and found more saunas -- filled with more breathless moaning -- which lead to yet another steam room.
The steam in this room was less intense than the other three and Max could clearly make out a towering hulk of a man standing in the middle of the room . At his feet was a kneeling Latin young man wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He was the most fully-clothed person besides the attendant Max had seen at Babylon. The Latin's shirt clung to his well-defined pecs from the moisture in the room and he was moaning and begging for the man above him to 'shower him'. In short order, the hulking man, who had been jerking his cock furiously with both hands, let out a high pitched, throaty scream of pleasure.
"Oh yes!" the Latin said, gladly taking the copious facial he was receiving.
As Max walked by, he could see that the Latin kid's face was totally covered with sperm, this was clearly not his first cum load of the night. When the man was done cumming, the Latin kid wiped a hand over his face, licked his cum filled fingers and went back to the adjoining sauna, presumably to find another person to spray him with cum. Max continued to find another large Jacuzzi room, only this one was empty. A generic porn played on the TV hanging in a corner, filling the room with echoing moans and grunts. Max noticed two doors, one, which presumably went back to the main gym in a loop like the other saunas, and another door with a sign reading 'emergency exit - alarm will sound.' Max took careful note of the exact position of the emergency exit relatively to the Jacuzzi, the only landmark feature in the room. He even went so far as to count the number of paces between the emergency door and the hot tub the far wall and the entrance to other sauna.
After he was sure he knew the layout, Max went out the last door, and as expected was back in the main gym. All in all, Babylon wasn't particularly large but was clearly large enough to be satisfying multiple men.
"Meet anyone fun," Blaine asked approaching Max.
Blaine wiped the sweat from his brow, his chest was glistening with sweat and his already tight shorts were now clinging to his package. Max could now make out two rather large, almost perfectly round nuts and another lump, Blaine's cock, lazily laying to the right.
"Yeah, there was a guy taking a bukkake in there," Max laughed.
"Ah, Cummy Carlos," Blaine said licking his lips, "He's a nasty little cum whore. Comes here at least once a week. Gives amazing head,"
Blaine's gaze settled in squarely on Max's crotch. Max blushed.
"Well, I'm going to hit the hot tub, soak out some tension," Blaine winked and headed into the door leading to the second hot tub room. Perfect, Max thought.
Max waited a few minutes in the gym, pretending to be reading the instructions on an exercise machine. An older man in unflattering speedos walked in and winked suggestively before getting on a rowing machine but Max pretended not to notice. Instead, he made his way to his locker, retrieving a small object, then headed into the Jacuzzi room Blaine had gone into earlier.
Blaine was standing in the Jacuzzi moaning softly, his head cocked back. Max approached slowly, and noticed that 'Cummy Carlos' was kneeling in the tub, water swirling just below his chin, with his lips wrapped around Blaine's monstrously thick cock. Max stood watching in silence as Carlos's head bobbed up and down the entire length of Blaine's shaft, his throat bulging as the beer-ban cock slid in and out. Clearly Blaine was a 'grower not a shower', Max mused to himself. He could feel his heart racing as he took another few steps closer to Blaine. He was now standing just three feet behind Blaine, his beautiful ass was clenching with each thrust of his cock down Carlos' throat. The cum hungry Carlos was slurping and sucking loudly, trying to cox out yet another load. Max made a note of Carlos' clothes which were sitting, conveniently enough, in a pile in front of the emergency exit.
Carlos and Blaine were both too occupied to notice Max standing there, his own crotch bulging from this throbbing cock. Max could feel his hands become clammy as he eyed Blaine's large nuts hanging low between his wide spread, muscular legs. The heat was making his loose, trimmed sack sag especially low, his left testicle noticeably lower than the right. Max's cock throbbed as he took another step closer.
Blaine grunted loudly, grabbing the back of Carlos' head and increasing the speed of his face fucking. Carlos nearly gagged, but continued sucking like the whore he was. Carlos' eyes were shut, presumably to avoid the splashing tub water, so he was unaware of the scrappy red head now standing almost directly behind Blaine. Max was so close to the muscular Asian's torso that he could smell him; it was a musky, masculine scent and a hint of long-faded cologne. Max's cock throbbed.
His eyes were now fixated squarely on Blaine's nuts, which were now bobbing wildly from the frantic pace of Carlos' skull fucking. The Latin guy was being utterly dominated by this muscular daddy, and Max was almost mesmerized by his swinging nuts -- the root of all his dominate masculinity. Max slowly readied the object in his hand, a long-blade knife that had been, until just moments ago, folded into itself. The blade was nearly a foot long when unfolded. Max barely touched the blade with a finger and winced, biting his tongue to avoid making a noise, when the blade effortlessly cut into his skin.
He squatted slightly at the knee, his head moving back and forth frequently to keep an eye on the doors.
"Oh yeah. You want this load?"
Carlos' head shook in affirmation, his lips never leaving the fat cock.
"Here it comes,"
Max watched as Blaine's testicles began to rise in his sack, his sack tightening as his load boiled up.
Max took a deep breath as Blaine let out a deep, guttural moan, then in one swoop slashed the blade across Blaine's swinging scrotum as hard as he could. There was an explosion of blood and a scream the likes of which Max had never heard. Without thinking, Max quickly extended his hand, the severed ball sack landing with a wet plop. For a moment time stood still for Max. He cradled the ball sack, still warm and heavy from their unreleased load. Blaine's sack was heavier than it looked, Max thought to himself, giving the nuts a squeeze.
"Oh my God!" Blaine shrieked in pain and confusion.
Carlos' eyes opened and he shrieked, falling backward into the water at the sight. Only a few inches of the now ripped open scrotum were hanging between Blaine's thick legs. Both Carlos and Blaine were too blinded by confusion to clearly see Max as he sprinted to the door, grabbing Carlos' shirt and pants along the way and pressed against the exit door. It opened after a few seconds, which seemed an eternity for Max as he looked to see Carlos was quickly gaining his bearings.
A screeching alarm sounded and Max literally fell, almost impaling himself with his blade, into an alley. He looked back as the door was shutting to see that Blaine had collapsed onto Carlos in the sauna; Max thought he saw shadows as other men came running toward the screams, then the door closed.
Max wrapped Blaine's severed ball bag in Carlos' shirt. He moved quickly down the alley onto the street. The light traffic from the nearby interstate sounded like a river and a seedy crowd was still gathered outside the liquor store. Otherwise the blocks around Babylon were abandoned and quiet. As he hustled away from the scene, Max wiped the blade and his hands as best he could with Carlos' pants casually tossing it into a dumpster as a police car screamed past traveling toward Babylon.
Without stopping, Max removed his shirt, turned it inside out and slipped it back on, the blood stains from his attack now effectively hidden inside the shirt. He checked his reflection in one of the few abandoned storefronts that wasn't broken or boarded. Other than the look of panic, he looked totally normal and clean. He then ducked into an alley and fetched a small glass jar he had stashed away before he'd headed to Babylon. He dropped the sack into the jar and it landed with a plop, the left testicle rolled completely out of the sack. It was a solid whitish mass, a long connecting tendril still attached.
Max threw the shirt into a dumpster and headed back to the street, he nearly skipped in boyish delight at himself as he mused.
"I wonder how many nuts this jar can hold?"
--
"Local. Trusted. Live. This is News Eight at eleven." a dramatic voice announced over soaring, dramatic fanfare.
Max had never been inside this particular bar, he sat sipping a scotch and watching one of the flat screens above that was tuned to the local news.
"Good evening. Police are asking for your help tonight to identify a suspect in last week's attack at a gym on the city's north side," began a sharply dressed anchorwoman.
"That's right, Dianne. Police are looking for this man who is wanted for questioning in what police are calling a brutal attack at the Babylon Health Club in the Canterbury Park neighborhood."
A police sketch flashed on the screen and Max couldn't help but grin in self satisfaction as he looked at the sketch. The round faced, bespectacled character looked nothing at all like him.
"If you have any information, please contact Metro Police. In other news, the city council moved forward with plans..."
Max tuned out the rest of the report, instead focusing intently on the swirling patterns in the wood grain bar top.
"So, what's a cute guy like you doing watching the news at a bar?" asked a handsome young man as he took the stool next to Max.
The man was around Max's age with a dark goatee and a shaved head. He was cute, Max thought.
"I was just watching about that attack. Crazy."
"I know!" the man's eyes lit up," I heard the guy lopped off the guy's balls. Right there in the locker room."
Max refrained from saying "Actually it was the sauna..."
"People are fucking sick these days. You just never know," the handsome stranger sighed sipping a martini.
"Yea, no kidding," Max agreed, feigning total ignorance.
A few moments passed in silence.
"Okay, so sorry if I'm being forward, but I have a thing for brunettes and I've had my eye on your since you walked in," the handsome stranger confessed.
Max blushed, running his hands though his thick brown hair.
"Can I freshen your drink?" the man asked, signally the bar tender before Max had even responded.
Max glanced down at the man's crotch, licked his lips and replied, "Sure, make mine a double."
It was late, just after midnight and the traffic on the interstate above was light. Max walked into Babylon carrying a gym bag, wearing running shorts and an unusually thick red t-shirt. Inside, Max could hear the faint sound of pop music coming from behind the plain brown door just beyond the counter. Behind the counter a squat, balding man wearing a stained ill-fitting dress shirt barely looked up from his tattered copy of Fifty Shades of Grey as he collected Max's twenty dollar bills and handed him a small key and a slip of paper with the number 23 printed on it.
Max thanked the man coldly as there was a loud buzz and a click from the unlocking door. As he passed the odd looking desk attendant, Max cringed his nose at the offensive body odor and hoped he wasn't a representation of the types of people he'd find inside.
After going down a short, dank hallway, Max went through another door into the main gym. Pop music was playing a bit louder than necessary over the gym's one crackling overhead speaker. It was larger than it looked from the outside and there were four doors along the mirrored walls presumably leading to other work out rooms, the saunas and the restrooms. None of them were marked as if it was expected that everyone who visited Babel had already been there before. The gym was brightly lit, but was lacking in actual gym equipment. There were a few elliptical that looked rather old, two rowing machines, several weight benches, a few treadmills and a other miscellaneous equipment.
The arrangement was haphazard, some of the machines weren't even plugged in, and it was obvious that whoever designed it wasn't even trying to pretend that Babylon was a legitimate gym.
Along the back wall were a bank of small stacked lockers; Max made his was, striding confidently through the work out area. There were only a few scantily dressed men present, mostly older and not in particularly good shape, going through the motions on the elliptical or lifting weights on a bench. As he passed, he could tell that the forty and fifty year old men were mentally undressing him, fantasying about his svelte, yet toned 25 year old body. Max smiled and winked at them as he stopped at the lockers. He found locker 23 and opened it, finding a supposedly clean, dingy gym towel. Max scoffed; this place was a dump. He stuffed his gym bag into the locker....
"Hi there, " came a soft, yet oddly commanding voice from behind.
Max turned, a bit started that he hadn't heard anyone coming considering his guard was up, to see one of the men from an elliptical machine was now standing next to him. He was a muscular Asian man wearing a tight-fitting pair of red running shorts. Max flashed a convincing smile at the man.
"I'm Blaine, nice to meet you red," Blaine said in reference to Max's bright red hair.
Blaine extended his hand in greeting and Max's hand felt like it was being crushed by the man's powerful handshake. Max couldn't immediately tell how old Blaine was. He had a youthful smile on his chiseled face, but subtle crows feet around his eyes and a slight sagging of his what were probably once well-defined pecs made him look to be in his mid to late forties. He was a few inches taller than Max, perhaps six foot even, and quite a bit heavier. Unlike some of the other gym patrons Max had seen so far, it was obvious that Blaine had spent at least some time in an actual gym.
"Hi, I'm Alex," Max smiled convincingly.
"Nice to meet you, Alex. I haven't seen you around here,"
"I'm from out of town, just passing through. Checking this place out."
"Ah, well then. Maybe I'll see you around,"
Blaine winked and licked his lips, eyeing Max up and down hard, then turned to get back on his machine. As he did so, Max eyed the man's bubble butt as he walked away, but the most pressing impression Max had was the bulge in the front of the man's shorts. It wasn't huge by any means, but ample and sexy as hell. Blaine was definitely a daddy Max would have liked to fuck.
Max decided to explore the gym, picking a door at random to go through. The door he chose lead to a small room filled with steam. He could hear moans coming from multiple men, presumably engaged in sex acts in the mist. He walked through, bumping into a man who was down on his knees servicing a ripped middle age jock and the two barely seemed to notice. On the other end of the sauna was another doorway leading to yet another sauna which was also filled with moans.
"I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" someone screamed, though Max couldn't see who was shouting through the heavy fog.
This sauna, bigger than the first, eventually lead to a large tiled open room with a Jacuzzi in the middle and a bank of shower heads along the wall. A few men were standing along the wall talking casually as a pudgy young man in his twenties was bent over the side of the tub being plowed mercilessly by an older, and very beefy black man. His moans of pleasure filled the room and the wet 'thwack thwack' of the top's pelvis slapping the boy's ass bounced off the walls. There was a final door in this room and, when Max went through it found himself back in the main gym; it was a loop.
Max glanced over at Blaine, still on the elliptical and working up a legitimate sweat. Blaine smiled at him. The other men who had been there were now gone. Max then went through the second door and found more saunas -- filled with more breathless moaning -- which lead to yet another steam room.
The steam in this room was less intense than the other three and Max could clearly make out a towering hulk of a man standing in the middle of the room . At his feet was a kneeling Latin young man wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He was the most fully-clothed person besides the attendant Max had seen at Babylon. The Latin's shirt clung to his well-defined pecs from the moisture in the room and he was moaning and begging for the man above him to 'shower him'. In short order, the hulking man, who had been jerking his cock furiously with both hands, let out a high pitched, throaty scream of pleasure.
"Oh yes!" the Latin said, gladly taking the copious facial he was receiving.
As Max walked by, he could see that the Latin kid's face was totally covered with sperm, this was clearly not his first cum load of the night. When the man was done cumming, the Latin kid wiped a hand over his face, licked his cum filled fingers and went back to the adjoining sauna, presumably to find another person to spray him with cum. Max continued to find another large Jacuzzi room, only this one was empty. A generic porn played on the TV hanging in a corner, filling the room with echoing moans and grunts. Max noticed two doors, one, which presumably went back to the main gym in a loop like the other saunas, and another door with a sign reading 'emergency exit - alarm will sound.' Max took careful note of the exact position of the emergency exit relatively to the Jacuzzi, the only landmark feature in the room. He even went so far as to count the number of paces between the emergency door and the hot tub the far wall and the entrance to other sauna.
After he was sure he knew the layout, Max went out the last door, and as expected was back in the main gym. All in all, Babylon wasn't particularly large but was clearly large enough to be satisfying multiple men.
"Meet anyone fun," Blaine asked approaching Max.
Blaine wiped the sweat from his brow, his chest was glistening with sweat and his already tight shorts were now clinging to his package. Max could now make out two rather large, almost perfectly round nuts and another lump, Blaine's cock, lazily laying to the right.
"Yeah, there was a guy taking a bukkake in there," Max laughed.
"Ah, Cummy Carlos," Blaine said licking his lips, "He's a nasty little cum whore. Comes here at least once a week. Gives amazing head,"
Blaine's gaze settled in squarely on Max's crotch. Max blushed.
"Well, I'm going to hit the hot tub, soak out some tension," Blaine winked and headed into the door leading to the second hot tub room. Perfect, Max thought.
Max waited a few minutes in the gym, pretending to be reading the instructions on an exercise machine. An older man in unflattering speedos walked in and winked suggestively before getting on a rowing machine but Max pretended not to notice. Instead, he made his way to his locker, retrieving a small object, then headed into the Jacuzzi room Blaine had gone into earlier.
Blaine was standing in the Jacuzzi moaning softly, his head cocked back. Max approached slowly, and noticed that 'Cummy Carlos' was kneeling in the tub, water swirling just below his chin, with his lips wrapped around Blaine's monstrously thick cock. Max stood watching in silence as Carlos's head bobbed up and down the entire length of Blaine's shaft, his throat bulging as the beer-ban cock slid in and out. Clearly Blaine was a 'grower not a shower', Max mused to himself. He could feel his heart racing as he took another few steps closer to Blaine. He was now standing just three feet behind Blaine, his beautiful ass was clenching with each thrust of his cock down Carlos' throat. The cum hungry Carlos was slurping and sucking loudly, trying to cox out yet another load. Max made a note of Carlos' clothes which were sitting, conveniently enough, in a pile in front of the emergency exit.
Carlos and Blaine were both too occupied to notice Max standing there, his own crotch bulging from this throbbing cock. Max could feel his hands become clammy as he eyed Blaine's large nuts hanging low between his wide spread, muscular legs. The heat was making his loose, trimmed sack sag especially low, his left testicle noticeably lower than the right. Max's cock throbbed as he took another step closer.
Blaine grunted loudly, grabbing the back of Carlos' head and increasing the speed of his face fucking. Carlos nearly gagged, but continued sucking like the whore he was. Carlos' eyes were shut, presumably to avoid the splashing tub water, so he was unaware of the scrappy red head now standing almost directly behind Blaine. Max was so close to the muscular Asian's torso that he could smell him; it was a musky, masculine scent and a hint of long-faded cologne. Max's cock throbbed.
His eyes were now fixated squarely on Blaine's nuts, which were now bobbing wildly from the frantic pace of Carlos' skull fucking. The Latin guy was being utterly dominated by this muscular daddy, and Max was almost mesmerized by his swinging nuts -- the root of all his dominate masculinity. Max slowly readied the object in his hand, a long-blade knife that had been, until just moments ago, folded into itself. The blade was nearly a foot long when unfolded. Max barely touched the blade with a finger and winced, biting his tongue to avoid making a noise, when the blade effortlessly cut into his skin.
He squatted slightly at the knee, his head moving back and forth frequently to keep an eye on the doors.
"Oh yeah. You want this load?"
Carlos' head shook in affirmation, his lips never leaving the fat cock.
"Here it comes,"
Max watched as Blaine's testicles began to rise in his sack, his sack tightening as his load boiled up.
Max took a deep breath as Blaine let out a deep, guttural moan, then in one swoop slashed the blade across Blaine's swinging scrotum as hard as he could. There was an explosion of blood and a scream the likes of which Max had never heard. Without thinking, Max quickly extended his hand, the severed ball sack landing with a wet plop. For a moment time stood still for Max. He cradled the ball sack, still warm and heavy from their unreleased load. Blaine's sack was heavier than it looked, Max thought to himself, giving the nuts a squeeze.
"Oh my God!" Blaine shrieked in pain and confusion.
Carlos' eyes opened and he shrieked, falling backward into the water at the sight. Only a few inches of the now ripped open scrotum were hanging between Blaine's thick legs. Both Carlos and Blaine were too blinded by confusion to clearly see Max as he sprinted to the door, grabbing Carlos' shirt and pants along the way and pressed against the exit door. It opened after a few seconds, which seemed an eternity for Max as he looked to see Carlos was quickly gaining his bearings.
A screeching alarm sounded and Max literally fell, almost impaling himself with his blade, into an alley. He looked back as the door was shutting to see that Blaine had collapsed onto Carlos in the sauna; Max thought he saw shadows as other men came running toward the screams, then the door closed.
Max wrapped Blaine's severed ball bag in Carlos' shirt. He moved quickly down the alley onto the street. The light traffic from the nearby interstate sounded like a river and a seedy crowd was still gathered outside the liquor store. Otherwise the blocks around Babylon were abandoned and quiet. As he hustled away from the scene, Max wiped the blade and his hands as best he could with Carlos' pants casually tossing it into a dumpster as a police car screamed past traveling toward Babylon.
Without stopping, Max removed his shirt, turned it inside out and slipped it back on, the blood stains from his attack now effectively hidden inside the shirt. He checked his reflection in one of the few abandoned storefronts that wasn't broken or boarded. Other than the look of panic, he looked totally normal and clean. He then ducked into an alley and fetched a small glass jar he had stashed away before he'd headed to Babylon. He dropped the sack into the jar and it landed with a plop, the left testicle rolled completely out of the sack. It was a solid whitish mass, a long connecting tendril still attached.
Max threw the shirt into a dumpster and headed back to the street, he nearly skipped in boyish delight at himself as he mused.
"I wonder how many nuts this jar can hold?"
--
"Local. Trusted. Live. This is News Eight at eleven." a dramatic voice announced over soaring, dramatic fanfare.
Max had never been inside this particular bar, he sat sipping a scotch and watching one of the flat screens above that was tuned to the local news.
"Good evening. Police are asking for your help tonight to identify a suspect in last week's attack at a gym on the city's north side," began a sharply dressed anchorwoman.
"That's right, Dianne. Police are looking for this man who is wanted for questioning in what police are calling a brutal attack at the Babylon Health Club in the Canterbury Park neighborhood."
A police sketch flashed on the screen and Max couldn't help but grin in self satisfaction as he looked at the sketch. The round faced, bespectacled character looked nothing at all like him.
"If you have any information, please contact Metro Police. In other news, the city council moved forward with plans..."
Max tuned out the rest of the report, instead focusing intently on the swirling patterns in the wood grain bar top.
"So, what's a cute guy like you doing watching the news at a bar?" asked a handsome young man as he took the stool next to Max.
The man was around Max's age with a dark goatee and a shaved head. He was cute, Max thought.
"I was just watching about that attack. Crazy."
"I know!" the man's eyes lit up," I heard the guy lopped off the guy's balls. Right there in the locker room."
Max refrained from saying "Actually it was the sauna..."
"People are fucking sick these days. You just never know," the handsome stranger sighed sipping a martini.
"Yea, no kidding," Max agreed, feigning total ignorance.
A few moments passed in silence.
"Okay, so sorry if I'm being forward, but I have a thing for brunettes and I've had my eye on your since you walked in," the handsome stranger confessed.
Max blushed, running his hands though his thick brown hair.
"Can I freshen your drink?" the man asked, signally the bar tender before Max had even responded.
Max glanced down at the man's crotch, licked his lips and replied, "Sure, make mine a double."
Max's story concludes here...
Monday, December 30, 2013
The Photo Shoot Reloaded
This is a remix of my original story The Photo Shoot done by Jayce, whose blog can be seen here.
Travis Bradley dripped with confidence as he strutted toward the pair of steel and glass double doors. Whatever sense of intimidation or grandeur they were meant to convey was totally lost on his youthful arrogance.
Travis was barely 19, though his height and sheer muscular mass made him look older. The 6 foot 5 stud packed over 320 pounds on his massive frame, an awe inspiring physique that had been perfectly sculpted from years of exercise and countless battles on the gridiron. The humongous football jock was positively bulging with muscle, from his bullish neck, yard-wide shoulders the size of large cannon balls, monumental chest, powerful guns, and washboard stomach to his massive muscle butt, columnar thighs, calves larger than footballs, and thick and meaty size 16 feet. The kid was the model of muscular perfection, and even the Greek gods would have looked upon his gargantuan physique with envy and lust. What was perhaps even more astounding was that he was still growing...and all without the benefit of steroids or other muscle enhancers. This young stud had some phenomenal genes indeed!
The young man had strong and powerfully masculine features that were still caught in that magical age between boy and man. He was stunningly handsome like a comic book super hero, and he knew it. Travis had the casual arrogance of a man who was a gorgeous teen that had grown into an even more handsome man. His piercing, cornflower blue eyes melted hearts everywhere he went, and his chestnut brown hair was worn short in a stylish cut that only accentuated his manliness.
Travis was a sophomore at the local university, which he attended on a full athletic scholarship. The young man had excelled at sports all through grade school and high school, so much so that talent scouts started following him when he was just 14. Considering that he was already 6 feet tall and over 220 pounds even at that young age, it was no surprise that he had attracted that much attention. Travis had excelled at every sport he tried out for -- baseball, wresting, soccer, track and field. He had even started powerlifting at the age of 15, and began setting state and national records by the age of 16.
But his true love was football, and his favorite position was offensive lineman. Travis had led his team to the college championships in his freshman year, and at the same time established a new college record for the number of quarterback sacks in one season. Though there were men 100 or more pounds heavier than him, none were as strong as this teen titan, and he quickly earned a reputation as the most feared and respected lineman in college ball. People were already speculating regarding his draft choices in professional football, even though he was still three years away from graduating.
Travis was well on his way toward becoming a nationally known athlete, both for his spectacular strength and skill on the field and for his heart stopping good looks and Superman physique. All of this attention and notoriety had begun to lead to lucrative sponsorship and modeling contracts, and he was even toying with the idea of going into professional bodybuilding. The dirt poor kid from the Midwest was fast on his way toward becoming a huge financial success, a true rags to riches story.
Though Travis was already landing covers and articles in the physique and bodybuilding magazines, he really wanted to make the crossover into mainstream modeling. Very few men of size had ever had much success in the mainstream modeling world, but Travis was convinced that his movie star looks would earn him a place among the male super models.
That was why Travis was here in this swanky Long Beach neighborhood - he had heard through the grapevine that a world-renowned photographer lived and worked here. The man apparently took very few clients, but the proud football stud was not surprised when he contacted the man and he had agreed to meet with him. Travis' size and good looks had gotten him everything he wanted in life, so why not a photo shoot.
Travis rang the bell and waited. The home before him was large and beautiful, the crown of a cul de sac rimmed with equally impressive homes. The street was awash in bright summer sunlight and not a single house had anything less than a Mercedes parked in its driveway. A woman was casually walking her designer toy dog in laps around the center island. The scene made Travis much more relaxed about meeting for a shoot in a private home, which he typically avoided. But, he figured, he likely wasn't going to find an ax murder lurking in this palatial home with ocean views, and he had heard many good things about this photographer.
Just as Travis went to press the doorbell again the doors opened with a soft whoosh. On the other side was a handsome man with thick, dark brown hair and green eyes, who greeted Travis with a stunning smile and a surprisingly firm handshake. The man looked to be in his early to mid 30's, and his gray, tight-fitting t-shirt and orange board shorts did little to hide an impressive physique. Travis guessed him to be about 6 feet tall and perhaps 230 pounds of muscle. The photographer was a lot younger and way hotter than Travis was expecting.
"I'm Paul, and you must be Travis Bradley. Please, come on in."
Paul motioned as Travis squeezed his hulking mass into the entry way. It was a far cry from Travis’ uptown flat. A sculpture that looked very Greek was in an alcove, a chandelier hung regally from the ceiling. Light bathed the spacious living room from breathlessly tall windows that ran from the floor to the cathedral ceilings. Stone, leather and chrome were everywhere giving a modern appeal to the home.
The two went through the customary greetings as Travis shared his modeling experience and Paul talked up his experience in shooting. Paul was clearly a professional photographer, and his photography equipment was state-of-the-art and extremely expensive.
As they made their way to the sunroom in the back of the house, Travis was amazed by the view. Three of the walls were entirely glass with sweeping ocean views. Clearly there were advantages to being at the top of the cul de sac.
Lights and other equipment were already setup and a curtain had been draped over the back window, blocking the bright sunlight and the views of the ocean. Travis figured this was probably as close to a traditional ‘wall’ this room had ever seen. A large and very thick pole resembling a lamp post, presumably some kind of stage prop, was setup in the middle of the room. Street signs were attached making it look like it was standing at the intersection of 52nd Street and Sunset Avenue.
"So this photography session is actually free?" Travis asked, shocked that such an elaborate setup wouldn’t require a fee.
"Absolutely. I just want permission to keep some of the proofs. I've already earned enough money in my career that I no longer have to do photography for a living, so now it's more of a hobby than a career. I only take clients now that I personally find interesting or engaging."
Paul handed Travis a handsome leather bound book filled with dramatic black and white photography. There were a few models, mostly men, in both classic and provocative poses, and some women showing off fashionable dresses on the beach. A few of the vista shots could have passed as Ansel Adams pieces. Paul's work was exquisite.
"Shall we get started then?"
Travis smiled in acknowledgement and approached the lamp post. He was wearing just a pair of tight fitting faded blue jeans that hugged his mighty thighs and showed off a massive crotch bulge, and a red t-shirt that clung to his chest and abs like a second skin and squeezed his huge biceps like a pressure cuff. No sooner had Travis knelt in front of the pole than the rapid string of flashes began.
"Be casual!" Paul assured.
Travis knew that an almost nonstop series of flashes marked professional photo shoots, but none of his previous work even came close to this. In addition to the camera in Paul's hands, there were other cameras set up throughout the room, apparently on some sort of automatic setting. Travis thought he saw a few video cameras among them as well. He was a bit intimidated at first, but quickly got into the rhythm.
Paul moved from side to side with his camera, giving Travis hand gestures on how to tilt his head, which muscles to flex and which ones to relax, if he was smiling too much or not enough, and how to stand. About a half hour in, Paul stopped shooting and motioned for Travis to stand with his back to the post. Paul knelt down and motioned for Travis to stand with his legs wider apart. Travis complied and Paul aimed the camera upward, snapping several dramatic upshots as Travis looked off into the distance, the faux street signs visible in the frame. The position of his legs combined with the camera angle made Travis' crotch mound look even more impressive.
Paul stood up and positioned Travis' head slightly to the right then, to Travis' surprise, proceeded to tussle his hair. Travis was about to say something when he felt Paul grab his shirt and rip it down the font, exposing his gargantuan pecs and washboard 8-pack of abs.
"Look angry, but sexy," Paul instructed. Travis was initially more than a bit angry, but then he got into it, posing with his legs spread wide, his back against the post, and his torn shirt revealing his phenomenally muscular torso.
Paul again took a break from shooting and instructed Travis to take off his shirt, which he did. Travis' muscles looked even more massive without the thin, clinging material of the t-shirt. The young man was now wearing only a pair of tight jeans that hugged and displayed every contour of his muscular thighs and ass, and showed off a crotch bulge that was so large as to appear almost comical.
Travis' massive chest was starting to glisten with sweat from the intense studio lights. Paul came forward with a towel and stood in front of Travis' spread legs, presumably to dab away the sweat. But before Travis could react, Paul lifted his knee into the young man's unprotected crotch.
Paul's knee came to a rest just barely touching the hulking bulge in the front of the young man's jeans. Travis pants left little to the imagination, especially up close, and the bulge of his cock and balls looked even more enormous. Paul could feel that his knee cap was squarely resting on Travis' lemon-sized right nut.
Paul's and Travis' eyes locked, Travis' face a mixture of confusion, anger, and fear.
"That! The expression right there. Do that again." Paul commanded with all the zeal of a Hollywood photographer, stepping away from Travis.
Travis held the look of mild fear as the camera flashes began anew. This went on for a few minutes before Paul set the camera down and approached Travis. Remembering what happened last time, Travis' legs came together slightly. Paul smiled disarmingly and walked behind Travis.
"Give me your hands, please."
Without thinking, Travis put his hands around his back so they were wrapped behind the post. Paul took them and there was click. To Travis' mild terror, his hands were now clasped in a pair of handcuffs; he was stuck to the pole, and the awesome power of his massive arms was now stolen from him. Paul stood in front of Travis and looked him over admiringly.
"Spread your legs a bit –"
Travis timidly spread his massive legs again and Paul's knee again lifted. It connected slightly harder than the last time, but not very hard. It was however startling enough to make Travis gasp. Their eyes locked and Paul lowered his foot. Travis sighed in relief, but only for a moment before Paul's knee came up again, striking his big nuts still harder than the last time.
This time Paul kept his knee pressed into Travis' bulge. Their eyes locked again and Travis' face was contorted in confusion and fear, making it strangely even more handsome. Paul's eyes examined Travis' face while his own face had a vaguely-disguised smirk. Paul started rubbing his knee cap into the massive bulge in a circular motion, increasing the pressure slightly. Travis winced, more from fear than pain, his huge balls compressing in his tight jeans. Travis had taken many a blow to the balls on the football field, so he knew how to endure a bit of nut pain, but the feeling of helplessness was something entirely new.
"Dude, what the hell?" Travis asked in his very deep, baritone voice.
Paul only responded by increasing the pressure on his knee briefly, lowering his foot, then brining his knee squarely into Travis' crotch – hard. Travis gasped in pain and surprise, and Paul could feel the bulge flatten somewhat under the impact. It was far from the hardest knee he could have delivered, but it was still a lot harder of a blow than Travis' boys were expecting.
"That look! Keep that look!"
Paul stepped away from Travis and picked up his camera. Travis, trying to stay professional and remembering that he was - after all - still in a safe, suburban area, did his best to keep his devil-may-care facial expression, despite a growing fear.
"That's great!"
Paul kept shooting blinding flashes of Travis as he walked behind him again. Before Travis realized it, Paul had knelt down and grabbed his ankles. Travis went to move his legs, but with surprising strength and speed, Paul was able to shackle Travis' ankles together behind the pole. Paul had taken advantage of Travis' surprise, unpreparedness, and overall trusting nature to fully restrain the powerful young man.
Paul stood up and faced Travis.
"Hey man, what's going…"
Travis' question was interrupted by a sharp knee to the balls, this blow far harder than any that had come before. It was a blow that would have brought just about any man tumbling to his knees. Travis gasped and attempted to double, over but couldn't since he was firmly attached to the post. Paul paused and then raised his knee again three more times, each time harder than the last. With each blow, Paul could feel the mound in Travis' pants being compressed flatter and flatter. Despite the fact that Travis was frantically trying to close his massive legs, the jeans were so tight and kept the huge bulge so prominent that Paul had no problem staying on target.
Travis' face was red and all of the muscles of his awesome body bulged mightily as he suffered wave after wave of brutal nut pain. "Please!" he gasped, "what do you…?”
"There! That's it!"
Paul abruptly stopped kneeing Travis' swelling manhood and resumed the frenetic photo taking. Travis’ face was now contorted in fear and pain, tears streaming down his handsome face while his chest heaved, now dripping with sweat.
"That look! That's what my clients are looking for..."
More camera flashes. Travis was in a world of hurt and confusion. He had abandoned trying to keep up the arrogant, haughty face of a fitness model and instead was pleading for Paul to let him go. His muscular body squirmed against the restraints. Paul stopped shooting and set his camera down. He left the room and Travis could hear him going upstairs.
Several moments passed, and when Paul emerged he was holding a large wooden baseball bat.
Travis' knees attempted to lock together and his struggling increased by an order of magnitude, but he was still firmly in place on the thick pole. Paul approached with deliberate care, taking time to bat the palm of his hand as he slowly approached. When he was within striking distance, Paul took a stand like he was at a batting cage, lining up the end of the bat over Travis' mammoth mound. Travis' nuts, which were unnaturally large to begin with, bulged even more obscenely with the swelling from the earlier abuse. Paul gave a few slow swings, gently tapping Travis' denim-clad balls at the end of each stroke, preparing for his full swing.
"Batter up!" Paul cried as he swung the bat full force. It sailed through the air with an audible whoosh and Travis was sure his nuts would be cracked... but to his surprise the bat only collided gently with the vulnerable lump.
"That look of terror! That's it!" Paul dropped the bat to the floor with a loud wooden thump, grabbed his camera, and proceeded to continue to photograph Travis for several more minutes.
"Now we just gotta take these off..." Paul said as he walked up to Travis, and proceed to unbutton his faded jeans.
Travis screamed and pleaded as Paul struggled to get the jeans over the mound of Travis' enormous muscle ass and down a pair of thighs as thick as of oak trees. Paul just ignored the young man's pleas as he finally worked the tight jeans down to the stud's knees.
Travis' white briefs were finally revealed, filled to near bursting with an awesome amount of cock and ball meat. Paul gasped in surprise and awe at the sheer enormous size of the young man's genitals. Rumors had long followed Travis about the massive size of his junk, but apparently the stories had actually UNDERestimated the truth.
Travis' fat horse cock was clearly outlined in the white briefs, over 8 incredible inches long completely soft and thick as a beer can, snaking up and across his chiseled left hip. The outline of each fist sized, swollen nut could also be clearly seen, now protected only by the thin cotton of his briefs.
The massive balls looked incredibly heavy and inviting, and Paul couldn't resist the opportunity to fondle the huge nuts. Using both hands (as the twin bull balls filled one hand to overflowing), Paul gave a few experimental squeezes to Travis' huge nuts, and was surprised at their unusual hardness and density, for they barely deformed in his strong hands. He knew that these would be two very tough nuts to crack.
"Mmm, looks like someone wants to play!" Paul said, moving his hands to grab Travis' thick monster cock through the thin fabric.
To Travis' surprise, his huge cock started to swell from excitement despite the pain radiating from his balls from the earlier abuse and the panic and confusion that was causing his heart to quicken.
The stroking went on for several minutes, giving Travis' balls a welcome time to rest and recover. In no time, the young stud's thick cock was barely contained within the fabric, making a ridiculously oversize tent at the front of his briefs. Paul marveled at the enormous size of the young man's phallus, for it was clearly well over a full FOOT in length.
Despite himself, Travis threw his handsome head back and was moaning at the surprisingly erotic sensations of the expert hand job. Paul noticed this and, without warning, thrust his hand inside Travis' shorts and grasped the achingly hot shaft. Precum had been oozing out of Travis' swollen mushroom head at such a rate that his briefs had developed a large wet spot. This precum also provided Paul with ample lube as his fist, wrapped tightly around Travis' throbbing cock shaft, pumped up and down its entire enormous length.
Paul marveled that his hand could barely wrap halfway around the massive trunk, and he realized that the young man's huge cock was actually thicker than the business end of the baseball bat lying at his feet.
"Oh yeah..." Travis moaned, the pleasure from his cock almost entirely replacing the dull ache still coming from his battered nuts.
He could feel the beginnings of a massive orgasm starting to build in his muscular loins.
Just as suddenly as Paul had started the hand job, he stopped. He stood back, looked at Travis in his dazed and sex-struck eyes and - without warning - slammed his knee three times into the young man's vulnerable and cotton-encased gonads.
The pain was incredible. Paul's hand job had gotten Travis' baby making juices flowing, swelling his nuts with his man cream. The extra liquid flooding his tender balls, along with the swelling from the earlier abuses, was already stretching the membranes holding Travis' package together to their breaking point. Paul's knee slams threatened to cross past that breaking point.
Travis' massive cock quickly deflated as Paul's powerful knee continued to slam into Travis' bulging underwear, again and again and again and again. Travis cried and screamed and pleaded as his now ridiculously swollen balls were steadily turned into mush. His cock, which was still massive enough even when flaccid to flop over his balls, was also taking a terrible beating by Paul's knee. Travis was so lost in the tremendous pain that he barely noticed the flashing of lights around him. The cameras stationed on tripods and mounted on walls all around the room were capturing the destruction of his mighty nuts in living color.
"Please..." Travis couldn't finish the plea, cut short by a powerful heave.
Paul stepped back lest he be splattered by Travis' lunch, but Travis - keeping with a tip he had heard about never eating before a shoot - only dry heaved and coughed for a few moments, his chest heaving dramatically and his abs powerfully contracting most beautifully. After his victim had recovered, Paul stepped back from Travis a few feet.
"Finally..." the thought was left unfinished, replaced instead by the worst pain Travis had ever felt in his young life.
With the strength and precision of an accomplished kick boxer, Paul’s foot collided into Travis' huge mound, extended at the end of an outstretched and muscular leg.
Travis bellowed in agony, every massive muscle contracting in a futile effort to protect his tortured nuts. Travis' mammoth right nut had taken the blunt of the blow, and it radiated fresh waves of nauseating pain even after Paul's foot was retracted.
Paul walked away from Travis and picked up his camera. He proceeded to circle Travis, snapping photos at a blinding speed and barking directions as if this were the most ordinary photo shoot in the world. The muscular young hulk was openly sobbing, pain pulsating from his battered manhood with each heartbeat.
The bizarre scene continued for twenty minutes, and Travis' organs had just started to settle back to a state of dull aching when Paul set down his camera and approached. He made a passing comment about lighting and shadows, but Travis was far beyond the realm of engaging in idle chit chat. When Paul stood in front of Travis, the defeated young football hunk immediately resumed pleading in his now hoarse and husky voice, trying to make eye contact, trying desperately to forge empathy with the monster standing before him.
"We have to get these off for the last scene change," Paul said, grabbing Travis' underwear with both hands and proceeding to rip them to shreds. Travis' oversized genitals tumbled free, looking even more massive and masculine than before.
Travis looked down with horror at his mangled nuts. They were clearly still whole, but swollen to nearly twice their normal size. They has started off the day the size of the largest of lemons, certainly among the largest human nuts on the planet, but were now the size of ripe grapefruit. They were bright red from the brutal pummeling, and the right one was starting to turn an alarming shade of purple. They hung amazingly low, both from their own enormous weight and the heat in the room, and they swayed gently at the end of their huge scrotum a full 4 inches from his crotch.
His big flopping horse cock also showed bruising, but was still a magnificent specimen. Travis was terrified that the crazy photographer was going to destroy his spectacular manhood.
To Travis' surprise, however, Paul dropped almost reverently to his knees and swallowed all 8+ inches of Travis' soft bull cock. With masterful skill, he sucked and milked Travis' monster cock as it involuntarily swelled. It was only a few minutes before the stud's super cock was rock hard model and pulsing in Paul's throat. Travis' beautiful blue eyes were wide with surprise, for no one had ever managed to deep throat his entire cock before - it was simply too big.
There was a clearly visible bulge in Paul’s throat as he gobbled up and down on Travis' swollen knob. Travis' balls rolled with yet more baby batter, which only added to his pain. Despite the fact he was getting what was undoubtedly the most skilled blow job in his young life, all Travis could comprehend was the tremendous pain radiating from his bruised and battered balls. For Travis, Paul no longer existed. The stately home, the perfect cul de sac, simply vanished to him. Nothing existed but panic and pain.
Paul slowly pulled the mighty horse cock out of his throat, watching as inch after glistening, spit-soaked inch of the massive shaft came into view. Paul kept one hand clenched around the root of that awesome shaft as a seemingly endless length of hot man cock came out of his mouth. Finally, the apple-sized head popped wetly out of his mouth, and Paul was able to get his first clear look at Travis' hard monster cock. He had to scratch his earlier estimation of the cock's size, for it was WELL over a foot in length. In fact, Paul now guessed that the mighty penis was at least 14 inches in length, possibly even larger.
"Damn, boy! There's nothing small on you, is there?" Paul said, the lust clearly evident in his voice.
He waggled the steel-hard cock in the air a couple of times, astounded by its size and power, and said, "This has got to be the granddaddy of all cocks!"
Paul stood up and released his grip of Travis' mammoth cock and said, "Good. Now stroke it. I want to see you cum."
Both men were dripping with sweat from the oppressive studio lights. Paul was also sweating with the excitement of having this incomparable young bull stud literally by the balls. He had never seen such a spectacular specimen of pure, raw, masculine power and beauty in his life, and here he was, completely helpless and at Paul's tender mercies. His own not inconsiderable cock was rock hard in his shorts, and threatening to cum without him even touching it.
Paul walked behind Travis and freed his right hand from the handcuffs, locking his left hand once again to the thick pole. Travis was too dazed to fully comprehend what was happening. Paul spit in Travis' hand and placed it on his now throbbing rod.
"Now, stroke, Travis. Look hot for me."
At first, Travis was too out of it to comply. His hand ran the length of his cock weakly, barely keeping its hold. This went on for several minutes, while Paul impatiently barked out orders like "Look this way!" and "Turn your head!" Paul set down the camera with force and stormed out of the room. Travis could hear Paul rummaging through the large, echoing house. In his haze, Travis wasn't able to estimate how long Paul was gone, but it must not have been long enough for his cock to lose interest; it was still rock hard and pulsating as if blissfully unaware of the mortal danger it and the rest of its package was in.
When Paul finally emerged, he was rolling in an odd looking contraption. Travis, who was desperately trying to regain his wits, stared at the machine. Whatever it was, Paul was obsessively positioning it just right. When it was in position, he stepped out of the way so that Travis could fully see what it was.
Travis' eyes bulged in terror and he let out a howl of fear. A wave of such intense panic went through him that he instantly found himself lifted entirely from his haze and painfully aware of his situation. Paul had positioned a baseball pitching machine across the room. Travis could hear the motor humming quietly, the mechanism making an occasional clicking sound.
"Please, please don't..."
"In a moment, I'm going to start the final shoot. I want to see you stroke that big cock of yours and blast a load. I'll bet with nuts the size of melons, you pack quite a wallop. But I don't want it to take all day, so in order to incentivize you finishing quickly... " Paul paused.
He pushed a button on the machine and a baseball went sailing, colliding with fantastic force into Travis' stomach. Despite the solid wall of corrugated muscle protecting his gut, Travis felt the wind knocked out of him, and he knew that the machine was turned to close to full power. He had practiced using such machines many times in his life, and so he knew that the baseballs were being launched at 125 to 130 miles per hour.
"Oops, too high." Paul adjusted the device and fired again.
The second ball hit Travis in the belly again, perhaps an inch or so lower than before, again striking with stinging, pummeling force. Paul kept making adjustments and launching baseballs, clearly toying with his prisoner, slowly creating a line of red marks down the length of Travis' phenomenal abdominal muscles. Travis flexed his gorgeous abs with each blow, protecting his gut and causing the ball to bounce harmlessly off of him, but he knew that there was nothing he could flex to protect his vulnerable groin.
Paul made yet another adjustment, and the next ball landed right at the base of the underside of Travis' rock-hard cock, right where the thick cock met the silky scrotum. Travis cried out in fresh pain as the baseball struck him with a beefy smack. His entire cock shuddered with the force of the blow, and flexed even harder in his big hand. A second ball followed, and a third and a fourth and a fifth, all striking the base of that mighty tower of manflesh. Amazingly, Travis' cock didn't wilt in the slightest, but if anything swelled even larger under the abuse.
Paul knew it was time to get down to serious business, so he made another series of careful adjustments, and then launched the next ball.
This time the aim was dead on. The baseball hit Travis' swinging bull balls with a wet thud, crushing the vulnerable organs against the thick steel pole and using it as a sort of a backstop. The impact was biased toward the right, and that nut was stinging especially. The baseball had barely bounced off and hit the ground when the delayed pain hit Travis. He let go of his cock and cradled his nuts in his free hand, letting out a mighty bellow that surely could have been heard a mile away. He was crying and screaming in an inhuman manner, clutching at his wounded balls with his massive hand. His balls were now so swollen that even his oversized paw couldn't contain all of that meat, and the huge balls bulged between his clenching fingers.
"Where was I. Ah yes, to give you an incentive to finish before the auto-cameras run out of film, I'm going to fire a ball every thirty seconds or so until something blows..."
Travis' face froze in fear. He glanced over at the masts holding the automated cameras. An occasional burst of light escaped the flashbulbs behind them.
Travis totally ignored his raging cock and instead kept his hand firmly over his balls.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you..."
A ball went flying, crashing squarely into Travis' hand, which did little to block the force over the blow. Had it not been for the restraints, Travis would have doubled over in intense pain as his balls were literally crushed by his own hand. Despite every instinct telling him to keep his hand on his swollen balls, he stopped his futile effort to protect his boys and got to work on his cock.
He tried desperately to think of the hottest sexual images you could think of. He replayed Paul's blow job, hoping to work out a load, but it was of marginal use. No sooner as he felt a load starting to build another baseball and then another and another came crashing with deadly accuracy into his defenseless nuts. The pain was unreal, and Travis was having a difficult time trying to focus on anything erotic.
The studio was filled with the din of the machine's motor, the pop of flashing lights, the wet slurping sound of the young muscle stud's hand pistoning his huge cock, and the inhuman grunting and screaming of Travis. By the eleventh ball, Travis' dick started to become limp, not from lack of trying, but the sheer distraction of having his huge baby makers slowly turned into baby food. The slight misalignment that was biasing the baseballs to strike Travis' right nut were causing that ball to swell dangerously. It was hanging heavier in the sack than the left one and was throbbing constantly.
Every time Travis jerked his cock, the tugging on his sack only inflamed the right ball more.
BAM! Another ball struck. Travis knew his right nut was about to burst. How much more could it take…? The sound the baseballs made on impact was turning into more of a wet splat, and the pain in the right ball was orders of magnitude greater than the left; which itself wasn't exactly being spared. Travis' panic grew, knowing his manhood was about to be ended and he forced himself to jerk. His cock was just starting to perk up again when...
BAM! BAM! BAM! Three balls in rapid succession came crashing into the Travis' swinging spuds. His right nut was turning a deep purple. Most alarmingly, it was turning numb...
BAM!
Travis bit his lip and started jerking profusely. He focused every ounce of conviction he could muster to think of the hottest sexual images he could conjure. His imagination worked in overdrive, filling his hormone-and-pain washed brain with images of football jocks joined in cum-splattering daisy chains, cum dripping off the faces of the hottest celebrities he could think of, the feeling of having a huge cock ramming into his ass. The imagery was working.
BAM!
Travis kept jerking, and he could feel his balls starting to roll. This load was close. He recalled the image of a twink 'water boy' he'd bedded the other week, his face and upper body drenched in Travis' thick cum as he looked worshipfully at the huge muscle stud. His cock surged with blood, growing even larger than before. It was rock hard and - as if it suddenly became aware of its mission - was close to blowing.
BAM!! BAM!! BAM!!
Another three ball volley, this time striking with considerably more force. Paul had toggled the machine's settings to an even higher gear, increasing the speed and force of each baseball. Travis could no longer feel his right nut, now swollen to absolute bursting. The left was turning beet red and was starting to hang lower in the sack as well. "If I don't blow this load, my balls are gonna..."
BAM!!!
"Come on! Come on!" Travis coaxed himself in his head, fighting a growing sense of panic as he tried to find his nut. "If I don't cum, my balls are gonna be turned to mush! They're gonna pop like grapes!"
Suddenly, and quite to his surprise, Travis felt his cock twitch violently and his pace of stroking quickened. It was the type of response that usually came while he was being bent over a table and plowed by a hung stud, like the beefy Latin wrestler who bent him over a table a few weeks ago, plowing so far into Travis that his big heavy Latin nuts slammed into Travis' ass with each thrust.
"My balls are going to be turned to mush! They're gonna splatter like two huge cracked eggs"
BAM!!!
The force of the baseballs continued to grow, and Travis' stroking continued to intensify. "Oh crap, my balls are gonna pop! They're gonna POP!!"
Suddenly, Travis was no longer concentrating on cum-glazed jocks or getting fucked to work up his sex juices. He was getting turned on by the prospect of having his massive gonads turned into paste. It was the strangest, and hottest, stimulant he'd ever encountered. The pain radiating from his balls was turning him on, and the prospect of having one mushed was strangely and enormously erotic.
BAM!!!
Travis stroked faster and faster, his cock twitched...
"Oh shit! I'm cumming!" Travis screamed as he threw his head back, his brown hair matted to his forehead from sweat.
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!!
Multiple balls with virtually no delay between them laid waste to Travis' dangerously swollen manhood.
Then, with a power and ferocity Paul had never seen before, four thick ropes of semen shot out of the young man's cannon of a cock. Travis looked down in amazement as cum exploded from his jerking cock like thick ropes of pearlescent silly string. The 'shortest' distance handedly cleared seven feet, while the most powerful blast actually struck Paul's pant legs, more than a dozen feet away!
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!!
Two more ropes of cum shot out with even greater volume and intensity, striking Paul in the chest and belly and painting vividly white stripes across his gray shirt.
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!!
Travis could feel his bull balls beginning to crumble, even as another pair of cum blasts rocketed from his cock.
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!!
Travis' swollen balls were visibly quivering in their bruised and battered sac with each terrible blow, making them look like they were more liquid than solid. But those mighty lava factories were indeed still whole, which they proved by pumping out yet another pair of cum blasts, each as massive and powerful as the first. Even after blasting out the ten most massive ropes of cum that Paul had ever seen, Travis' already world record shattering load showed no signs of decreasing.
Paul could tell that Travis' balls were gravely weakened, however, and he knew that they were near the breaking point. He turned up the machine's power yet again, and let loose with another volley of baseballs.
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!!
Travis bellowed in unimaginable agony as his balls were forced to absorb each new blow, with no time in between to recover. Each baseball was now striking his swollen gonads with such awesome force that the huge orbs were crushed nearly flat, and were actually bending around the curve of the steel lamp post. Surely no man's balls, no matter how colossally huge and meaty, could take this much abuse!
Yet another pair of cum blasts rocketed from his thundering cock, making an even dozen wads thus far. The volume of cum stored in those twin nuggies was truly astounding. Paul was stunned to feel the first rope of cum slash across his forearm and his face, and he moved his camera out of the way just in time before the next wad splashed across his chest and shoulders. This kid was a sex GOD!
BAM!!!
The baseball careened into Travis' balls with a very wet splat, and the young man was certain his balls would explode at any moment. At the same time, a massive gout of cum erupted from his cock, joining its brothers in painting yet another thick white line of goo between him and his evil tormentor.
BAM!!!
Travis could actually hear the baseball strike the pole behind him - THROUGH his balls - making a clanging sound that reverberated up the steel pole. His balls felt like they had been reduced to liquid nut guts, but they proved their strength yet again by sending out two more massive gouts of sperm.
BAM!!!
Spurt!
BAM!!!
Spurt!!
BAM!!!
Spurt!!!
Both of Travis' nuts were now a vivid purple, and were swollen to the size of small cantaloupes. The pain radiating from his crumbling balls was truly unimaginable, and Travis knew that his huge balls, the source of incredible manhood and understandable pride, were at their breaking point. His mighty gonads had already endured a beating that would have burst another man's balls a dozen times over, but even his mighty bull balls had their limits.
With terror racing through his body, Travis mustered all of his remaining strength to fight against the steel restraints binding him hand and foot to the lamp post. His gargantuan muscles bulged mightily, creating an awesome display of masculine power and beauty...but to no avail. The shackles binding him at wrist and ankle were simply too thick and too strong for the mighty football jock to break.
BAM!!!
BAM!!!
BAM!!!
Another almighty wad of sperm erupted from Travis' massive cock causing Paul to leap aside yet again to avoid being painted with another coat of man cream white wash. The load splashed to the ground another six or eight feet beyond Paul, reaching a distance of almost 20 feet from the gorgeous young muscle hunk.
More cum oozed out of Travis' huge cock like a leaking faucet. His orgasm had already lasted more than a minute, and a considerable pool of spunk had formed beneath the handsome young stud, with more of the hot, white goo pouring out of his cock all the time. Paul watched as an unnaturally large, thick rope of sperm hung from Travis' bloated cock head, forming a thick, cream colored, unbroken column of liquid that stretched down from his still raging cock for nearly two feet.
The cum rope hung suspended for several moments, jiggling on the end of the young man's quivering penis as he moaned and screamed in pain and pleasure.
BAM!!!
The rope was broken as another baseball tore through it on its way to its target. The sound was deafening. Travis' right nut, which had been the focus of so much abuse, just couldn't take it.
Everything happened in what seemed like slow motion. The baseball got drenched in cum as it tore through the hanging cum rope, traveled the remaining 14 inches to Travis' balls in an instant, and collided squarely with his right nut not with a thud but with a painfully audible wet ‘pop’. At that same moment, another wad of cum, Travis' 20th blast of sperm, shot out with the greatest force and volume yet seen, perhaps propelled with even greater power by the bursting of one of his mammoth nuts.
Travis' moans of ecstasy stopped. His handsome head jerked forward and his eyes bulged, his mouth fixed in a noiseless 'O' and his face frozen in a mask of surprise and agony. The veins on his massive, bullish neck bulged and his chiseled abs rippled as every muscle in his massive body tensed.
BAM!
The final baseball was launched at maximum power, and finished the job the previous one had started. Travis' big, swollen, and vulnerable right ball, already cracked by the previous baseball, blew apart in the sack. Travis's thunderous, mind-blowing orgasm ceased immediately as his right ball lost its healthy orb-like shape, the beefy nut guts bursting out of their shell into the surrounding scrotum. The right side of Travis' scrotum now looked like it contained a shapeless water balloon. The left ball still maintained its healthy egg shape, but was swollen to such a great size that it was clearly not in much better condition.
Though only a brief second actually transpired between the instant Travis went from being a virile, muscular young super stud with the two largest bull balls in the world to a defeated stack of muscles with half a sac, to Travis it seemed like an eternity. His mouth was still locked in an 'O', his brain too overwhelmed to generate the appropriate response...
"OH GOD!!!" Travis bellowed, followed by incoherent howls of terror and pain.
Paul turned off the machine, noting with awe that it took a total of 54 baseballs to reduce one of Travis' bull balls to mush, more than twice that of the previous record holder. Paul approached Travis, being careful not to step in the huge streamers and ribbons of cock spew that stretched for more than 20 feet in front of the young muscle god. The sheer volume of spunk on the floor and painting Paul's own body was truly mind boggling. He estimated that Travis had just blown more than a QUART of man milk, and he struggled to grasp how even balls of such enormous size as those possessed by Travis could have stored so much sperm.
He grabbed Travis' rapidly swelling sack and fondled it roughly. The left nut, though swollen nearly as big as a melon, was still solid and intact. Its earlier hardness and density was a thing of the past, however, and Paul found that his fingers could now clench easily into the very heart of the young man's remaining manhood. Paul realized that it wouldn't take much to burst Travis' one remaining ball, and considered doing it right then and there, bursting the huge orb in his hand like and overripe fruit.
Instead, Paul switched his attention to the mess on the right side of the sac. It could hardly be called a 'ball' anymore. The testicular remains were very soft and squishy, with one central mass and several smaller chunks all floating in a liquid mush. The abused testicle had literally blown to pieces with the horrific force of the final baseball. Paul grinned as the restrained stud continued to convulse and screech as he mauled and groped Travis' ruined right ball.
Paul released the young man's brutalized nutsackand walked behind him, unlocking the restraints that bound him to the lamp post. Travis immediately dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, sobbing and clutching his ruined and mauled ballsack
Through his haze of pain, Travis could see daylight spilling into the entry hall, and like a wounded animal he began to crawl on all fours toward it. He passed a stately statue of Greek inspiration sitting on a pedestal. He rounded an Italian leather couch. Such stately and civilized surroundings hardly seemed to blend with the savagery of a crippled young stud literally crawling to safety.
Paul, who was slipping his phone back into his pocket after sending a text, looked down at Travis. In Travis' pain-wracked mind, he had made significant progress toward the door. In actuality, he'd gone only a dozen feet. Paul walked behind him slowly and noticed that Travis' half ruined sack was dangling exceedingly heavy and low between his massive legs like a piece of ripe fruit. The target was entirely too tempting to ignore...
"OH CHRIST!" Travis screamed at the top of his lungs as Paul's foot collided full force with his hanging man fruit.
Paul’s leg had collided with Travis' defenseless package with such tremendous force that all 320+ pounds of offensive lineman was literally lifted from the ground by several inches. His right ball was further mashed and his left nut was on the verge of cracking. His beautiful, veiny cock, hanging heavy and still half hard, was turning purple and swelling from the abuse.
Travis, too stunned and pained to go forward, toppled over and mercifully passed out...
****************************************************************************
Kyle Bradley rang the bell and waited. The home before him was large and beautiful, the crown of a cul de sac rimmed with equally impressive homes. The street was shadowed by a slight autumn overcast and not a single house had anything less than a Mercedes parked in its drive way. A woman was casually walking her designer toy dog in laps around the center island. The scene made Kyle much more relaxed about meeting for his first ever photo shoot in a private home. But, Kyle figured, he likely wasn't going to find an ax murder lurking in this palatial home with ocean views, and besides, his big brother had sent him a letter singing the guy's praises a couple of months ago.
Several moments passed with ostensibly no response. Kyle checked the scrap of paper he was carrying to confirm the address:
Paul's address;
2121 Poseidon Vista Road
You'll Love this Guy,
Love Travis!
2121 Poseidon Vista Road
You'll Love this Guy,
Love Travis!
Just then, the doors opened with a soft whoosh. On the other side was Paul, a very handsome man in his early to mid 30's with a charming, disarming smile...
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