Rupture Fest 2013: Market Mashup

The fifty businessmen who had gathered for Rupture Fest had broken into smaller groups of 16 or so for the next activities. Greg Robins, a financial executive in his late thirties with neatly styled black hair, was standing with 15 other men in a small room, four posts protruded from the ground along the back wall. At the front of the room one of the hosts, a friendly looking young man in his early twenties and dressed entirely in black, was explaining the rules of the game called Market Mash Up.

"Welcome to Market Mash Up gentleman, I see a lot of familiar faces but a few of you are new so let me just go over this activity,"

As he was speaking, his voice cool and professional, his audience clad in their finest business-casual attire as if preparing for a power lunch, no one seemed phased as a door on the side of the room opened and a line of four young men, gagged and with hands bound behind their backs, was lead in. Each young man was being led into position by one of the events ubiquitous, ruthlessly efficient men in black, mysterious, relatively short men dressed in black suits and black sunglasses who -- while never appearing to speak or signal to each other -- executed all of the event's setups flawlessly.

"Each of you signed up for this event after last year's Rupture Fest and we've been tracking the stock performance of your companies since then to see who had the largest gains..."

The host continued calming talking as the struggling young men were each placed against one of the posts along the room, their arms and hands secured behind their backs and their legs spread apart by a metal bar at the ankles. Each was naked, and all were sporting -- as was a specific requirement to be involved -- massive sets of nuts. The men were gagged and their restraints given a final inspection by the men in black, who stepped away from and to the side of each, as if guarding against the unlikely event of an escape.

The first young man was an athletic, tall blonde with powerful runners legs, a broad chest and ample dangling nuts. The next was a muscular Latino man in his early thirties with scruffy facial hair and truly donkey sized nuts between his tree trunk legs, bulging invitingly in a tight, unyielding sack. The Latin's sack was so stuffed, his scrotum glistened from being so taught. To his side was a skinny, lanky skater type who couldn't have been older than 25 with jet black hair and a pair of modest nuts that hung down a ridiculous, almost comical distance from his body. And lastly there was a bear-cub, scruffy man in his early thirties with fiery red hair, a mustache, huge broad shoulders and arms and a huge, oval shaped nuts protruding from his fire red crotch.

"Well the results are in... having gained the most for the year the representative from Omnicorp gets to be this year's masher! Congratulations, Greg Robins!'

The crowd of men applauded wildly, patting Greg on the back as he made his way toward the host.

"Thank you! This is gonna be a blast."

Greg's Armani slacks strained to contain his growing erection. He had participated in Rupture Fest for three years now and had never been able to personally rupture any of the donkey-balled studs he'd watched get nutted in increasingly creative and splattering ways. This was the chance of a lifetime.

"Now, in the past for Market Mash Up we let the winning executive nut four guys for our amusement using this old fashioned thing," the host held up a heavy, metal mallet and flung it indifferently toward one of the bound young men, the mallet bouncing off his thigh.

"But our friends over at weapons contractor Consolidated Iridium AG have let us try out this..."

The host help up a gray, somewhat bulky glove. The audience's confusion was apparent.

"Anyone ever seen Iron Man? Well this is a real-life exoskeleton - like that movie - there are servos and gyros and lord knows what else..."

"All soon-to-be available from Consolidated Iridium," a white-haired executive in the crowd -- presumably a senior player at the company -- interjected to polite chuckles from his colleagues.

"The workings are straight forward, whatever force you exert, will be amplified by the glove. Let me show you,"

The host slipped on the glow and tapped it rapidly with his other hand, there was a whirring sound as the glove apparently came to life. He motioned for one of the men in black to bring him something, which turned out to be a walnut.

He took the nut in his ungloved hand and squeezed futility as the rigid object barely noticed. Then he put it in his gloved had and, with the slightest effort, crushed the nut to powder.

The men all laughed, eying the captives hungrily, eying the balls they knew were about to face the same fate. The captive's eyes bugged out and all four began to squirm wildly, trying to protect their nuts.

"So, Mr. Robins, I present to you the Inifitrex 76-G, the combat glove for the next generation of soldiers.

Greg took the glove from the host and put it on. It wasn't as bulky in feeling as it looked, but was much heavier than he expected considering it appeared to weight as much as a normal\ leather glove. Greg took a few minutes to flex his fingers and get a feel for the glove, making sure to squeeze and punch the air while making eye contact with each captive, as if to say "kiss your sack goodbye."

The gathered executives were eager to see just how much damage this glove would do to the eight baby makers on display.

"Let's start with you, blondie." Greg walked up to the blonde kid and gave his nuts a playful squeeze with his ungloved hand. The blonde pleaded and struggled.

The blonde's nuts were about the size of large walnuts -- a perfect size considering that day's demonstration -- and hung loosely in their sack. The left hung slightly lower, and was more oblong, so Greg decided to focus on that one first.

Gregory reached out, positioning the dangling left nut between his thumb and forefinger and began to squeeze. Through the glove he could feel the warm, pulsing organ being squeezed between his fingers. It was almost perfectly round, firm to the touch and... SQUISH! To Greg's surprise, his thumb and forefinger were now virtually touching, separated only by a thin piece of scrotum.

The young stud screamed hysterically through his gag and his legs convulsed wildly attempting to protect his manhood. Although Greg thought he was only barely touching the boy's nuts, the added strength provided by the glove proved otherwise. He opened his finger and observed his handy work. The left nut had been totally blown apart, crushed effortlessly by only two fingers. Greg grinned.

"Ooops!" he said mockingly to the crowds delight.

He reached for the right nut and again trapped it between his thumb and finger. Not wanting the end to come quite so quickly, or unexpectedly less he miss the sensation, he was mindful to close his fingers slowly. He met eyes with the quivering stud and he felt in great detail the membranes and tissues of the doomed nut crumpling and exploding until again his thumb and finger were touching. The whole thing took less than a few seconds, but to the trapped young man it felt like a thousand years. His eyes shot open in bright panic, then his head went limp. He was out.

"This thing is great!" Greg said grinding this thumb and finger together, feeling the already cracked nut being turned into paste inside the sack. "Whose next!"

"Pop the Latin kid!"

"Crush the skater!"

Greg stepped back from the comatose blonde and eyed the remaining three men. He was incredibly aroused by the power this seemingly incurious glove gave him over the six ample baby makers before him. He paced back and forth, making telling gestures such as clenching his hand and making fists which he fired into the air -- a hit that would almost certainly destroy a pair of genitals. He eyed each man, licking his lips and imagining the best way to wreck someone's sex life.

"Let's pop these balloons" he said laughing as he stopped in front of the taller, lanky skater type kid.

The kid was trembling, tears streaming from his eyes. He knew he only had mere moments to remain a full man.

"Hmm how should be burst these bad boys?"

The crowd went wild calling out suggestions. Punching them, squeezing them. Ripping them off.

"Ah, I know, these things are already hanging so low, I might as well get in some sparring practice."

The skater's eyes shot open in sheer terror and he screamed uncontrollably into his gag. Greg, ignoring the muffled pleas for mercy, knelt down so that he was at eye level with the skater boy's large, swinging nutsack. The skater's nuts were big and were by far the lowest hanging. They swung nearly six inches in the loose, hanging bag, resting at the bottom like two fleshy eggs. Greg balled his gloved hand into a fist and positioned the knuckle directly at the seam of the boy's sack, he wanted to make sure his aim was dead on.

"Count down with me!" he encouraged the crowd as he began moving his fist away from the swinging targets.

"Five... four.... three..."

Greg's fist was as far back as it would go, as if such preparation was hardly necessary considering the glove could likely have cracked his nuts with the equivalent effort of a light slap, but Greg wanted to be especially sure these nuts were mushed. The boy was writhing and screaming, his nut sack bouncing from the movement but still in harms way. The excitement in the room was palpable. Would the boy's nuts be mushed totally in the sack on impact? Would the sack split open? Would the dangling sack be knocked clear off like a sparring target hit off its supports?

"... two... one!"

There was an audible whoosh as the fist sailed through the air, followed by a satisfying, echoing wet splat. Greg's fist collided full force with the swinging sack which promptly exploded open like a pinata. Since the brunt of the force was directly between the trapped nuts, the outward force forced each nut -- each instantly turned to goo on impact -- to explode out of the left and right sides. the nut goop sprayed out in both directions for several feet, and Greg's cock twitched in his dress pants as he replayed the feeling of so viciously snuffing out any hope skater boy would ever have kids. Skater boy's head instantly rolled to the side and he was out, the liquefied remains of his nuts now dripping out of the holes in his sack.

And then there were four nuts.

"Latin boy next!" Greg shouted to the crowd's approval as he sprung to his feel and stood face to face with the Latino captive. Although he had tried to remain defiantly stoic through the affair, watching two sets of huge, proud nuts be totally annihilated in a matter of seconds had turned the Latin stud into a quivering mess as it became clear that --in just a few moments -- he would never be able to spew any of his rich, creamy salsa.

"Please! Don't!" the young man screamed, muffled unintelligibly by the gag.

Ignoring him, Greg reached down until he could feel the warm, throbbing balls in his fist. By now, Greg was getting the hang of the glove so was able to cradle the Latin's donkey balls in his fist without instantly crushing them like he had done to the blonde. The two made eye contact for what -- to the Latin -- seemed to be a long time. His pleading eyes ostensibly having no effect on Greg.

"Ya' know what guys," Greg started, not taking his eyes off his victim.

"I think these balls might be too nice to just be burst open, at least not yet."

As he spoke, Greg bounced the balls in his fist, squeezing them and sizing them up. They were by far the largest in the room and firm. They were tight in their sack, so bulged invitingly, especially with the added pressure from Greg's gloved hand. In different circumstances, Greg would have been on his knees licking and sucking such beautiful baby makers, but this was Rupture Fest and popping them would be much more fun, Greg concluded.

"Why don't we give this guy a break..."

SPLOSH! CRUNCH!

"... or not!"

The Latin stud, who actually had believed he was going to be shown mercy, opened his eyes wide and screamed in genuine surprise and horror. He looked down to see that his liquefied nuts had exploded in the now clenched fist, Latin sperm and nut gunk oozing from between Greg's fingers. Greg clenched his fist so tightly that his biceps bulged and his face became red in effort. He watched -- and felt -- as the destroyed nuts were mushed further and further, oozing between his fingers and dripping to the floor. The sight was too much and Greg explosively came, coating the inside of his slacks with ropes of jizz he could feel running down his leg.

With a quick twist of his wrist, Greg pulled his still closed fist away from the young man, ripping off his entire squashed scrotum in one quick motion. The screaming and writhing were at a fever pitch as Greg help up the bloody glob, which had mostly already dripped through his fingers, then proceeded to smear it all over the Latino's face.

"Great new moisturizer!"

"It really does wonders for the skin!"

The businessmen cat called as the now passed out stud stood suspended on the pole, his face dripping with the innards of his nuts.

Then there was just one pair to destroy.

The last young man, a burly, bearish red head with meaty oblong testicles was beyond hysterics. He was attempting to close his legs so hard that for a moment it looked as though he may actually be successful, though the same men in black who had secured him stood silently in the background ready to restrain him if he did.

"Hmm.. a fire crotch. What oh what shall we do with these..." Greg mused, giving the boy's nuts a slap with his gloved hand.

SQUISH!

Although there was virtually no effort on Greg's part, the red head's right nut instantly burst from the blow.

"Damn it! I wasn't ready yet! You piece of shit! Lousy weak balls!"

Greg was enraged. Getting the chance to be the Crusher during Market Mash Up was a once in a lifetime chance, and here this prick was ruining his last moments to savior crushing testicles by having one blow apart at the slightest hit. Greg grabbed the now mushy right side of the sack and began to squeeze, splitting the sack open instantly and letting the mashed ball squirt out.

The red head's eyes rolled in horror and pain and he promptly passed out.

"Oh no you don't, fucking prick!"

Greg punched the boy in the face -- with his gloved hand -- shattering most of his teeth and breaking his jaw like glass. Several of the watching businessmen winced in feigned sympathy.

"Wake him up! Wake him up!" Greg shouted at the men in black, who came over and calmly administered smelling salts to the red head. They removed his gag so that he could spit out his shattered teeth and blood.

"Please! Please!" he wailed, though he knew it was hopeless.

Greg grabbed the left nut with the glove and was about to simply rip it off as he had done with the Latino but stopped. He had a better idea. He inserted his gloved finger into the hole made by the exploded right nut and began to rip and tear the remaining scrotum. The red head writhed and pleaded, screamed and begged, his head rolling in a desperate effort to pass out and escape the pain, but Greg kept instructing for the men in black to keep him awake with salts.

When the scrotum had been ripped to shreds, Greg removed the glove and placed it gently on the ground. He then knelt down and examined the now totally exposed left nut with his bare hands. It was firm, large and a greyish-reddish color. Even the slightest touch to the sensitive, vulnerable organ made the red head scream in pain. Greg grabbed the orb in his bare hand and squeezed as hard as he could. Although such an action would have caused the red head's sex life to instantly explode had he been wearing the glove, Greg was annoyed to find that the organ resisted any deformation when using just his hand.

Greg then proceeded to place the red head's last, whole nut in one palm while pounding into it with this fist, hammering the rapidly swelling nut mercilessly. The red head's squeals were now inhuman sobs, which only helped arouse the crow even more, many of them had already creamed their pants from the nut bursting spectacle.

"Break damn thing..."

WHACK WHACK WHACK

"Break!' Greg shouted as he attempted to mush the poor nut with his bare hands.. but it didn't crack.
Greg continued pounding the nut until it eventually started to get softer, and softer ... and softer....

SQUICK.!

Though it wasn't nearly as explosive as when he had blown apart balls with the glove, the wet popping sound and satisfying, membrane crunching sensation told Greg that this red head bear wouldn't be siring anymore children.

Awake for his entire, slow denutting the red head was mercilessly allowed to finally pass out.

Greg felt the nut in his hands, it had split open down the middle and was oozing nut guts.

"Look, just like a cracked nut."

The gathered executives laughed.

Greg took one final look back at the line of destroyed, nutless studs and thought to himself  "This is a helluva lot better than a weekend at the office."

Rupture Fest 2013: The Game Show

It was Friday. The beautiful, sophisticated and most well-heeled women in the City were prattling among themselves at a charity ball at an art museum, absent their powerful, businessmen husbands who usually accompanied them to such things. While they sipped champagne and pretended to be experts on cancer, world hunger or whatever other cause celebre their family's charitable foundations were championing, their husbands were off at their annual 'boys weekend' at the City Country Club. Cocktails, gossip and society magazine photo ops for the ladies. Golf, backroom politicking and brandy for the men. It was all a decidedly sexist affair, but it was a tradition among the City's elite power couples that continued with hardly any debate, lest they upset a social order that had allowed them to maintain their shiny images for generations.

However, the golf courses and parlors of the City's secluded country club were markedly quiet considering a group of fifty bombastic men were supposedly on holiday there. Most of the support staff waited around in perfectly-pressed uniforms in these empty venues, not speaking a word of the oddity at the risk of losing what was clearly an easy job. All of the day's activities were taking place in a building at the edge of the club's grounds whose vaulted ceiling and old world architectural touches made it look more like a stately manor house than a modern pole barn.

Inside the large empty building bleachers had been erected facing a stage. Behind the stage was a white wall outlined in various colored lights. In the center of the wall was a mural, an artistic conglomeration of the world-famous logos of the various companies whose top executives were at the club for the weekend. On stage right was a glass and metal podium as modern as it was pretentious, with a small remote-control type device attached to its top. The stage was awash with light from array of ceiling lights and gels would have rivaled a Hollywood movie set. And above the middle of the stage suspended from the ceiling by two massive metal beams, a strange contraption hung. It was a long box shaped object about the size of a refrigerator resting on its side, covered in a silky black cloth. Whatever the object was, it was humming slightly, barely perceptible in the empty auditorium.

Moments later, the businessman filed in coolly as if attending a board meeting. They were all dressed in tailored suits, some wearing jackets but most without, and were sharply groomed. Even the oldest of the group, a banker in his 60s, had the vigor and youthfulness of a man twenty-years his junior - the reward of a privileged, comfortable life. The men took their seats and a hush came over the crowd. The lights in the auditorium dimmed so that only the stage was lit, the lights along the wall began to flash in rhythm to thumping techno that was playing from nowhere but everywhere at once. As the crowd began clapping in rhythm, the music got louder, the lights flashed faster and the lights shinnying down on the staged shuddered and flashed to add an air of almost game show excitement to the scene.

"Are you ready?" came a disembodied male voice.

"YES!" the men chanted in unison.

"I said are you ready?" the voice asked again.

"HELL YES!" the crowd, again in unison, answered more soundly and started to clap and cheer.

"Let's play!” the announcer said waving as he emerged as if from nowhere and took his spot behind the podium.

The announcer was a middle-aged, well dressed man with slicked black hair and was holding a stack of note cards the backs of which all had the same amalgamated logo that was over the stage. He had a toothy grin and exuded charm like a professional TV game show host, pointing to various executives in the gathered crowd to greet them by name . This was clearly not the first time he had seen this crowd. When the crowd quieted down again, the stage lights dimmed, the techno faded out and a spotlight shone on the announcer.

"Gentleman, welcome to the 2013 Annual City Club Rupture Fest!"

The crowd went into hysterical cheers, an older weapons contractor executive in the front row threw his tie and jokingly cat called "We love you!" to the announcer. The techno music briefly roused before fading again, and the audience quieted back down, leaning in as if hung on the announcers every word.+

"I'm Jack and I'm glad to be your host again this year. We have a busy agenda as you saw in invite letters you all received, and a lot more events so fella's this is gonna be the only time all of you are at the same event until the banquet Sunday night."

The sound of paper shuffling could be heard as men pulled out the invitations Jack had alluded to and briefly glanced over the itinerary. Friday, Saturday and Sunday were each broken into three sections 'Morning', 'Afternoon' and 'Evening'. Friday's 'morning' slot was marked simply 'Arrival, guests settling into their rooms', and Friday afternoon was marked 'The Game Show', its font red to indicate that it was new for this year. The executives had already RSVP'd in advance which events throughout the weekend they wanted to attend. Friday evening had three listed events -- 'Market Mash Up', ˜Darts and 'Power Grab'. No further explanatory text or information was given as if the attendees already had long-standing knowledge of what these events were... Saturday and Sunday's three slots each listed three more events each with names such as "Intern Interview" and "Golf", but Sunday evening only listed one event "The Banquet". After a few moments, and some excited whispering amongst themselves, the men put their programs away and turned their attention back to the stage.

Jack continued, "You're probably all wondering what The Game show is this year. It's not as hands on as 'Power Grab'..." a few of the executive chuckled knowingly, "But we're sure you're going to like it. Let's just give these boys a few minutes to get everything setup."

While Jack made chit chat and poked playful fun at the executives, strikingly-efficient men dressed entirely in black and wearing mirror-lenses sunglasses were busily setting up the stage of the 'game show'. Two waist-high white tables, supported by only one slightly curved, elegant leg that seemed ostensibly insufficient to hold the table top's weight were put on the stage a few feet from each other. On the table tops, as could been seen more clearly by the executives on the higher tier seats, were red circles at the middle. Behind the table, a sleek white pole at least eight feet tall was erected, each bolted to the ground and tested for strength by being shoved and pushed on by three of the men in black at once. Meanwhile, the shroud was removed from the object suspended over the stage, and a man in black seemed to take a quick measurement to verify that the tables were positioned equally under the thing. Compared to the sleekness of the rest of the stage props, the box over the stage was an unpolished mess of visible gears and pulleys. Audible murmurs of confusion filled the crowd.

Finally, the last man in black to leave the stage, stopped, turned around and reached into his pocket for something. He placed two large walnuts -- one each --inside the red circles on the tables, looked up one last time to verify everything was in position, and then left the stage giving Jack a thumbs up.

"Here's how the game works," Jack pressed a button on the podium and two black chains slowly descended from the box toward the tables.

At the end of the chains were small black weights, about the size of a grapefruit, and perfectly round. There was no indication of how much the balls weighed, but given the elaborate contraption needed to keep it and the chains aloft it could be concluded that it was heavier than it appear. The chains descended until the weights touched the walnuts slightly, then -- without any input from Jack's control panel -- the chains retracted slightly as if it was able to sense it had touched something, until the weight was just barely touching the top of each nut.

Jack continued "In a moment we're going to bring out two of the boys you're companies so graciously volunteered and set them up just so, " he indicated to the tables, "so that their family jewels are on the table like these walnuts. Then I'm going to ask each of them a series of trivia questions, some hard some easy."

The crowd nodded.

"If he gets it wrong, this happens..." Jack pushed a button. The contraption holding up the chain made an odd series of clicking sounds but nothing appeared to happen; the crowd's confusion was palpable.

"And if he gets it right, this happens..." jack pushed another button. The chain above the left table rose slightly.

"The object is to answer as many questions right as you can..." Jack pressed a button multiple times until the chain above the left table was nearly twenty feet in the air -- the chain nearly totally retracted back into the mechanism.

"That way you place your opponent in the most peril if his weight were to, say... drop."

A chuckle erupted from the crowd.

"However, if you get cocky and the other player starts answering questions right too..." Jack pressed some buttons and the chain over the right table rose until the weight was five feet above that table's walnut.

"And if you get nervous and start answering questions wrong." Jack pressed another button. The strange clicking sound filled the theatre until the chain above the right table quite suddenly was released, sending the weight crashing onto the walnut, cracking it into two pieces.

"You see, when a player answers a question wrong, the mechanism holding his chain is loosened until... well you see what happens. So the object of the game is to answer as many answers right as you can to make sure opponent's nuts are in the most danger. Oh, and to make it more interesting, the higher the weight goes for a player, the harder his questions become making it more and more likely that he'll answer wrong and..." Jack smiled wickedly as he pressed another button on his control panel.

The weight above the left table was released, the weight fell from nearly twenty feet, colliding with the walnut below so hard fragments of shell hit some of the men watching in the front row.

The crowd erupted into cheers. This was going to be a fun game.

The men in black bough out two strapping, naked young men, and tied their hands and feet behind the poles at the tables, holding them firmly in place. They then proceeded to roughly grab and tug out each set of balls, binding their sacks with athletic tape until the contents of each sack bulged obscenely, pulled ten inches from their bodies, the skin so taught on each set that it seemed to shine.

Each set of nuts was then placed inside the red circle on their respective table and held in place by an Upside down U shaped clamp. Each young man struggled and tugged, but their balls were totally trapped, inside the strike zone of the hanging weights. Meanwhile, above, the contraption was making all manner of noise as an elaborate reloading system was readying another set of chains and weights. The chains slowly descended until the weight made contact with each pair of balls, like it did with the walnuts.

"So, let's meet our players, Rob and Abner, graciously um... donated, by the ninety-nine percent. After all, there's 99 of them for every one of us, so who'll miss them?"

The gathered executives erupted into laughter, as if totally undisturbed at the macabre nature of Jack's statement.

Rob, a fairly tall, pale skinned lad couldn't have been more than 25. He had an average build, no strongly-defined muscles, but not quite flabby either. He had dusty brown hair that partly covered his eyebrows and boyishly handsome looks. To this right was Abner, shorter than Rob by a good twelve inches, but in superior physical condition. His Latin complexion glistened under the studio lights. His pectoral muscles where perfectly chiseled, his legs powerful and well defined and his arms, even taught from being pulled behind his back, were rippling with muscles.  

Each 'contestant' had amply large nuts, Robs coming in slightly larger, but each having balls each the size of small eggs. Abner's were more round, Rob's, more oblong, but both were at serious risk of being neither large or round...

Jack dramatically cleared his throat and started the game "Let's begin!"

A dramatic orchestral strike filled the auditorium, the spot light lifted from the announcer's podium and focused instead on Rob and Abner. The intensity of the lights was already causing the two to begin to sweat.

The sight of the two helpless handsome lads -- one an 'every man', the other a hunky 'alpha jock' being held captive, knowing that at any moment all signs of their masculinity could be turned into goo, was too much for some in the audience. The sound of multiple zippers being unzipped filled the air as some of the men began pulling out their own tools to play with while they watched.

"Question one goes to Abner. What color is a red fire truck."

"Red! Please let us go..."

"Correct!" Jack pushed a button and the chain above Rob's bulging sack rose slightly.

"Question two, Rob. What color is a blueberry?"

"Blue! Please..."

The chain above Abner's huge nuts rose.

The crowd erupted into laughter at the boy's plight.

"We just wanted to test out everything, and make sure each guy is at least in a little danger! Now to the real questions..."

Abner and Rob each answered their respective next two questions correctly, making each weight about 5 feet above the doomed sacks. After answering each one correctly, the men would give the other a sidelong pleading glance as if to say "I'm sorry I'm pretty much guaranteeing your nuts are toast by answering this question right."

It was now the seventh overall question, and Abner's fourth. He glanced up nervously, by now sweat profusely dripping from his forehead, and watched the weight dangling five feet over his bloated Latin baby makers, waiting for its moment to squash them to mush.

"Question 7, Abner. What element discovered in 1950 is named after the most populous U.S state?"

A hush gathered over the crowd, some of the men leaning in in breathless anticipation that Abner would answer incorrectly and in turn goo his balls. Up to that point the questions had been getting harder but were still within the realm of 'common' knowledge. Not any more.

"Um..."

"Clock is ticking..." Jack laughed, his hand hovering dangerously close to Abner's penalty button.

"Californium. It's Californium."

"Correct!" there was a cranking of gears and the ball waiting to mush Rob's eggs rose ever higher. A portion of the crowd erupted into cheers, with those who were eager to see Rob's skater boy nuts turned to peanut butter approving of Abner's right answer.

"Now Rob, we always see the same side of the moon. Why is that?"

A hush befell the audience.

"Um... gravity?"

Jack paused, and placed his hand over his right ear as if listening to a hidden speaker there.

"That is incorrect. We were looking for 'tidal locking'. Tidal locking is the answer."

The crowd gasped as a grinding of gears indicated that the mechanism holding up Rob's weight was loosening...

"Okay, looks like you're safe for another round. Next question for Abner.

The announcer went on to ask Abner a surprisingly convoluted question about some obscure accounting rule. Many in the audience assumed the street smart stud would get it wrong and there was a collective audible gasp when the announcer declared.

"Correct!"

The weight above Rob's sack rose ever higher. It was not nearly to the ceiling. There wouldn't be anything left of his nuts if it fell now...

"Okay Rob”

Rob, clearly flustered, was more concentrated on the weight than getting the question he had just been given right. He responded in a rush, realizing he was wrong before the buzzer had even gone off. The gears cranked and ground, but nothing happened. The announcer had just turned to ask Abner the next question when....

"It's dropping!" someone in the first row screamed in giddy excitement.

Rob looked up as the heavy weight fell from the sky toward his nuts. He screamed, begged struggled, and the weight fell as if in slow motion, mocking the end of his manhood.

The weight dropped lower and lower, picking up speed as it fell until

SPLOOOSH!

The weight collided with Rob's nuts and didn't even slow down until it hit the table top with a wet thud. Rob's nuts didn t gradually compress upon impact, they exploded instantly into chunks that showered the audience as if two fleshy cherry bombs had popped. The men in the first two rows were covered with nut meat, which had been turned to chunks of goo. Rob's pent up sperm and pieces of liquefied ball gunk splashed the back row. Rob's eyes were locked in horrified gaze at the weight resting on a pile of gooey mess that once been his huge, firm balls. There was simply nothing left of them now, except the splattered nut goo that was now being wiped off the faces of the City's elite businessmen.

"Well, I guess Abner is the winner!" the announcer said coolly and dramatic music began to play over flashing lights.

By now Rob was in hysterics as the well-rehearsed men in black swooped the stage to clean up the mess. Abner was roughly freed from his constraints and lead off stage. Meanwhile, one of the men lifted the heavy ball weight from Rob's totally deflated sack, dropping it nearly on his foot it was so slick with ball guts. The audience laughed.

Without being prompted a few of the men came to the stage to examine the damage up close. Rob was comatose, freed from his constraints, his limp body being held up by a man in black.

"They're totally flattened," one of the businessmen said grabbing the totally squashed sack in his hands, its mushed contents had been completely squeezed out like a burst sausage.

"I can't believe it! There's nothing left!"

"Just mush"

The men continued to fondle the ruined equipment, totally amazed at how absolute the destruction was. The gooey mess hardly even resembled balls.

"Gentleman, gentleman. This is just a taste of the weekend to come!"

The crowd cheered as the ruined skater was lifted and carried off stage. As they dispersed, a middle age executive named Greg Robins was tapped on the shoulder,

"So Robins, where are you headed this evening?" asked a wide-eyed man in his fifties, a bit of Rob's goop still visible on his forehead.

Greg smiled, "Market Mashup sounded fun. I heard they totally changed it up this year,"

"I would hope so, that damn whack-a-mole mallet thing was so hard to use last year,"

Greg laughed.

This was gearing up to be the best Rupture Fest ever... and it was only the first day.

A Woman Scorned

Heather Graystone's car came to a screeching halt outside of the nondescript, modest bungalow - one of a dozen virtually identical little houses that lined the street. Her face was flush with anger and beads of sweat formed almost instantly on her forehead from the balmy evening air as she made her way up the short walk to the house.

When she reached the door she pounded non stop until a young woman whose black hair was a stark contrast to Heather's blonde, opened the door in surprise.

"You whore!" Heather shouted as she barged into the house.

--

Cling!

Heather's nearly over flowing cocktail glass clanged into Jennifer's as the two ladies started sipping another cocktail.

"So you're the quote-unquote study group he can't miss on Tuesday?" Heather laughed.

Jennifer, the dark haired girl who lived in the bungalow, nodded while sipping her drink.

"Incredible,"

"What a pig!"

Heather had come to Jennifer Parker's house fully ready to confront the woman her boyfriend Xander was cheating on her with. What she found instead was an equally hoodwinked Jennifer who thought herself to be Xander's 'girlfriend.

After it became obvious that they were both victims of a philandering, horny college jock, the two woman were laughing at themselves and sharing stories about Xander over cocktails. They determined any hard feelings would be put to better use targeted at Xander than each other. Heather and Jennifer were both juniors at Amajor University, petite young woman with similarly curvaceous frames and pretty, youthful faces. Blond haired Heather ran in a more conservative circle than dark haired Jennifer - a much more outspoken girl - so the two rarely crossed paths. However, aside from their almost-feud over their shared boyfriend, senior Xander White, the two had no qualms with each other.

"What a jerk. Playing us like dumb bitches for months," Jennifer sighed putting down her glass.

Heather nodded in agreement "Well I'm glad we found out before he could keep stringing us along. Sorry again I nearly beat your door down."

Jennifer laughed "Oh, girl. I would have done the same thing. Too bad it wasn't Xander you were beating on."

The two young ladies chuckled and clanged their glasses again.

"So, what should we do about it? I liked your beating him idea,"

Jennifer’s face scrunched as if in deep concentration. then set her cocktail glass down and left the room without saying anything. She returned a few moments later carrying a small wooden black box with strange symbols carved into the lid. Heather looked down at the box curiously as Heather set it on the cocktail table.

"What's in there? A gun?" Heather asked quite seriously.

Jennifer opened the box, which had a worn leather bound book and several tiny vials inside, "No, nothing like that."

Jennifer picked up the book and leafed through the pages, which appeared to be written in Greek. Heather could make out bits and pieces from what she remembered from freshman level Greek, but the majority of it was indecipherable. Finally, Jennifer stopped on a page with a language Heather didn’t' recognize.

"Are you familiar with voodoo?" Jennifer asked, her voice taking on a darker tone.

Heather nearly choked on her cocktail in surprise.

"Yes, I've heard of it. But I'm not seeing how it relates."

Jennifer gave Heather a knowing smile; "Well, just wait and see. Xander messed with the wrong girls."

Heather wasn't at all sure what Jennifer was getting at, but her matter of fact tone in speaking of Xander's pending retribution brought a smile to her face.

--

Xander White strolled confidently down the walk to Jennifer's bungalow. He was a large, athletic college student whose six foot nine muscular frame was topped out with a mess of shaggy brown hair. A well manicured goatee added years to his otherwise youthful twenty-five year old face. His bulging pecs and abs were being hugged by a light blue polo, the short sleeves of which were straining to hold in his massive biceps. A pair of form flattering stone washed jeans, a large bulge visible at the crotch, and a pair of brown leather loafers finished his casual date night outfit.

"Xander, you're on time for once,"

Jennifer smiled led as Xander leaned in to give the much shorter young lady a kiss.

"You look smokin' babe!" he remarked sincerely as she closed the door behind him.

Jennifer was wearing a flattering one-piece black dress with an open back and slit up the left leg that went just beyond the knee. Her black hair, which was usually only in simple curls, had been styled in a sophisticated high bun, the style of which was vaguely familiar to Xander. Her makeup, which she seldom wore, was expertly applied and made her look even prettier than she naturally was, especially the cherry red lipstick that Xander was imagining would end up on his cock by night's end.

"Oh? This old thing?" Jennifer said spinning to show off her outfit, "A new friend helped me pick it out,"

Xander smiled and reached to kiss Jennifer again but she stepped back.

"Maybe you'd like to meet her?"

Xander rose an eyebrow quizzically, "Um. Sure, maybe sometime."

"How about now. Heather, can you come out here?" Jennifer called toward the bedroom.

"Heather...?" Xander's voice trailed as Heather emerged from the bedroom.

Heather was in a duplicate dress as Jennifer, only hers was white. Heather's hair was also styled in a high bun and she was holding a bejeweled white evening clutch in her hand.

"Actually, Jennifer picked out these dresses. She's quite stylish," Heather said smiling, stopping when she was shoulder to shoulder with Jennifer.

Xander, stammering for words, took a step back. He went to speak but was silenced by a dismissive wave of Jennifer's hand.

"Save it, ass hole. Did you bring them, Heather?

Heather smiled and reached into her clutch, pulling out two rubber balls about the size of billiards, and handed one to Jennifer. Heather tossed the clutch aside so that she was only holding the rubber ball then both she and Jennifer stood looking at Xander, eying his crotch.

"What the Hell?" Xander's face was beet red and his palms were turning sweaty despite his best effort to play it cool.

"You do know I dabble in magic, don't you." Jennifer began.

Xander rolled his eyes derisively and took a step toward the women.

"You stupid bitch, what the hell..."

Jennifer spoke over him, chanting something in a language that sounded like a cross between Latin and French. It was quite foreign to Heather and Xander but Jennifer was speaking it quite fluently. The lights in the home dimmed slightly and in the distance a car alarm could be hear blaring as she finished her incantation.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Jennifer said, mocking Xander's irritation.

"You crazy bitch. I thought you were going to stop that hocus pocus Wican bullshit."

"And who are you to be calling anyone a crazy bitch," Heather shouted in an uncharacteristically harsh tone, affronted by Xander's attack on her new friend.

Without thinking, Heather lifted the ball she was holding so that it was eye level with Xander and squeezed as hard as she could.

"Oooh!" Xander screamed, his voice cracking, as he clutched his crotch and crumbled to his knees.

"What the fuck! Ooooh!" Xander's grip on his crotch increased as Heather continued to squeeze the ball in her hand.

As she gradually let go, the sudden, mysterious pain in his left nut subsided.

Xander, in shock and breathing heavily, looked at the two woman, tears streaming down his face.

"Aww, we made him cry," Jennifer laughed.

"And we only just started. Jenny, this is amazing," Heather gave the ball in her hand another squeeze and Xander howled in pain.

"You see, Xander. I guess my 'witch shit' isn't bullshit after all." Jennifer said as Xander started to rise to his feet.

She placed her rubber ball on the ground, lifted her foot and stomped the pointed tip of her high heel into it.

Xander's eyes crossed and he let out a blood curdling howl as his hands raced to cup his inexplicably injured nuts. He felt like his right nut had just been stabbed with a knife. Jennifer lifted her foot and sent the heel crashing into the ball again.

Xander jumped from surprise and screamed, falling to the ground in heap.

"What's happening.... OOOH!" Xander sobbed and thrashed on the floor as Jennfer threw her rubber ball to the ground, where it landed with a hard thump.

"Looks like he have you have you by the balls," Jennifer laughed as she picked her rubber ball back up.

The two young ladies stood over the stricken jock, not even trying to mask their delight in watching him flay about, his hands clutching the crotch of his tight jeans. They gave him several minutes to nurse his throbbing genitals before Jennifer ordered him to stand up.

"I said stand!" she roared as Heather looked on smiling. Jennifer squeezed the ball in both of her hands, compressing it into a rubber oval.

"Ooh fuck!" Xander wailed as he struggled to get to his feet.

The slower he was, the more Jennifer squeezed. His eyes were watering and it felt like his right nut was going to implode. When he was finally standing. his knees were still slightly bent and he was cupping his crotch. The buff jock winced in pain and looked at the two women in confusion.

"What's going on?" he managed to get out through gritted teeth.

"I told you, we have you by the balls. I have the right one and Heather has the left. Let's show him."

Both women held their rubber balls just inches from Xander's face and squeezed, alternating between left and right. Xander watched in horror as each squeeze corresponded with a nagging, painful squeeze in his balls. He was speechless by this impossible event, but the evidence was clear; the two woman were somehow crushing his testicles without even touching him.

"Please... please sto--- OOOH!"

Xander began sobbing as Heather's heal smashed onto her rubber ball which she had placed on the ground. Xander's hands raced to his crotch in a panic. He was sure his left testicle had been punctured. The nut was throbbing and sore, but still whole.

"Strip." Jennifer barked.

Xander, who was back on his knees from the pain of having his left nut virtually stomped, looked up at them in wide eyed terror.

"I said strip!" Jennifer cupped her ball and balled a fist, preparing to pound it.

"No! No! Please, I'll do it!" Xander said getting to his feet.

He was sobbing as he peeled off his polo, revealing his hairy, rippling upper body. His chest was heaving and he was giving the girl's pleading expressions as he unbuckled his belt and slowly began removing his slacks, mindful not to bump his throbbing testicles as he did so.

Despite their disdain for him, both of the women couldn't help but admire Xander's truly gorgeous, muscular body, especially the mounding genitals clearly visible through his tight white boxers.

"Take 'em off," Jennifer said pounding the ball in her hanad with her fist.

Xander shrieked "Okay! Okay!"

He removed his underwear and stood in front of the women totally nude. He was still unable to believe that something so seemingly impossible was happening, but a quick squeeze of Heather's wrist, that corresponded with a sharp pain in his left nut, assured him that it was actually happening. Heather in particular was enjoying the feeling of dominance she was having over the hulking jock. Xander had never been violent with either of them, but if he wanted to he could have easily taken out Heather and Jennifer. But here he was, a nearly seven foot rugby player being held captive by two petite coeds.

Xander's huge nuts were throbbing and beet red, as if they had actually been being squeezed and hit. The egg sized gonads were tight against Xander's body, his thick penis - five inches flaccid - drooped lazily to the left.

The two women stood admiring the handsome stud for several minutes, rolling their voodoo balls in their hands gently. Xander's face flashed with embarrassment as the his balls felt the massaging and despite his fear he could feel his cock starting to stir.

"Please. Please stop." Xander said pleading as his ten inch cock stuck out like a metal pole from his body.

"What a hunk," Jennifer said in true admiration, "Too bad we're gonna have to neuter him."

Xander's eyes grew wide and he took a step toward them, "No! Nooo!"

The big stud's advance was instantly stopped as he fell to his knees clutching his crotch. Both the women were squeezing their respective ball as hard as they could.

"OooH!" Xander's screaming was a loud, inhuman continuous drone as they relentless squeezed and kneaded his manhood for ten minutes straight.

Xander could feel his testicles being crushed and squeezed as if by invisible hands, but was powerless to stop it. Jennifer took her ball and began squeezing it between her thumb and fingers, making Xander's actual nut begin to bulge and compress in the middle. He let out a girlish scream and pleaded with her to stop.

"Please! You're gonna' pop it... please!" Xander begged as he writhed on the ground.

Jennifer and Heather let up their grip and let Xander, who was rolling on the ground like an injured animal, catch his breath.

"Isn't this fun," Jennifer asked laughing.

"Yes, very! Why haven't we talked before?" Heather said smiling, raising her ball in the air.

THUMP!

The two balls collided like as if the two were making a toast with Xander's balls and the feeling of his testicles crashing into each other made Xander wail in agony. He managed to get to his feet and clasped his hands together in front of his chest, begging.

"Please! I"m sorry! I'm sorry! Just stop this.. OOOH!"

The girls giggled as they watched Xander's huge right nut dimpling in the middle as if beign crushed in a vice. Jennifer kept squeezing and squeezing the ball in her hand, causing Xander's right nut to deform.

"Oh God!" Xander screeched as he felt the membranes of his right nut starting to collapse. He looked down in horror as his oversized ball got flatter and flatter, as if it were being squeezed by a giant invisible hand. He instinctively reached for it to comfort it, but could do nothing to stop the pain. He fell to his knees sobbing as his nut got flatter... and flatter... and flatter. He could feel it was about to rupture and was pleading and begging for Jennifer to stop.

"Oh, let me try something," Heather said throwing her ball to the ground.

The impact sent shock waves through Xander's left nut and Heather kicked off her heels. She placed her small foot on the rubber ball and slowly began lifting her other foot so that she was balancing on one foot on the ball. Jennifer offered her an arm for balance and Heather began bouncing mericlessly on the ball.

Xander blacked out as his right nut got dangerously flat, resembling a blood red pancake. Heather kept bouncing, fully expecting the helpless jock's testicle to explode as it got flatter adn flatter.

"Come on! Crush it!"

Heather kept bouncing on the red ball before switching it up to simply hopping on it with one foot. They watched as Xander's ball kept being squeezed and crushed by an invisible force, dimpling at the middle as the enormous organ was squashed flatter... and flatter...

Xander's head shot up and he let out a howl as a resounding SQUICK echoed in his body. He looked down at this sack to see his right nut had fractured in half.

He cupped his crotch and cried out "OH GOD! STOP! Please stop!"

Xander was sobbing and nursing his half ruined sack, much to the girls' delight.

Jennifer walked up to him and knelt down, now eye to eye with the sobbing young man. She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead as she ran a hand gently through his shaggy brown hair.

Xander looked up at her pleadingly. He had never felt so totally vulnerable in his life and was hopeful his sincerely apology and begging would spare him any more harm.

"Tell you what. If you jack off for us, I'll remove the enchantment," Jennifer said reaching for the ball Heather was holding.

She nodded at Heather who went off into the kitchen, disappearing for what to Xander seemed like several minutes. She returned into the living room carrying a large, shiny metal box. Whatever it was seemed to be more bulky and awkward than actually heavy, it's relative size made larger against her petite frame. Jennifer chuckled at the site of it and it took Xander's pain wracked mind nearly thirty seconds to recognize the mystery object as a sleek, stainless steel microwave oven.

She set it down on the coffee table and plugged it in, which was Jennifer's cue to place both of the rubber balls into the machine.

"Oh God, no! Please! For God's sake..." Xander screamed as he heard the microwave beep as Jennifer entered in an inordinately long cooking time into the control panel.

"Start stroking," Heather barked.

Xander couldn't take his eyes off the microwave – more specifically Jennifer's small finger dancing over the power button – as he spit in his hands and began furiously pumping his cock. Despite the throbbing, unbearable pain coming from his crushed testicle, Xander was able to will himself to a full erection. The two ladies watched, licking their lips as Xander pumped all ten inches of his veiny thick cock with both hands. The mushroom head swelled and started dripping precum as he closed his eyes, trying desperately to think of the hottest visuals he could in order to blow his load.

"Better hurry," Jennifer said as she continued to run her finger perilously close to the microwave's shiny 'ON' button.

Xander tried to ignore her taunts as he felt his tortured load starting to boil in his nuts.

Heather screamed "He's getting close! Do it!"

Xander barely registered with Heather had said and opened his eyes wide just as a rope of jizz erupted from the head of his cock.

He was still shooting when he cried out "Noooo!" and attempted to make it to the microwave, but his knees buckled under his explosive orgasm...

He was spewing a third rope of cum when Jennifer's hand touched the power button of the microwave. Xander's eyes crossed and he instantly collapsed as the microwave began heating the rubber balls. Although the rubber balls themselves weren't being damaged, the enchantment on his testicles made them both instantly heat up. Xander sobbed as he felt his testicles getting hotter and hotter, his entire sexlife literally being boiled from the inside out. It felt like someone was applying a branding iron directly to his sack. The rapidly expanding liquids in his scrotum made his sack puff and grow like a heinous, flesh colored balloon. Xander let out a howl as his left nut violently exploded in the sack. His swelling right nut lasted a moment longer before it too burst with a wet SPLOSH that was audible even over his inhuman screams.

The jock, who had long since fell on his back, kicked his legs in the air and screamed "OOOO!" once more before blacking out.

Jennifer and Heather kept the microwave going for another minute and watched as his nearly flattened sack rose and bubbled in random spots as the nearly liquified contents continued to cook.

Jennifer turned off the microwave and the two made their way over to the fallen stud. Xander's legs were spread wide, totally exposing his junk. His deflated cock was still leaking bloody semen and Heather reached out to examine his scrotum. She smiled as she felt the mushy remains of his destroyed testicles. Xander's once huge, solid testicles had literally melted into gook apart, turned to shredded gore in the mushy, lumpy sack.

"There's still some lumps left," Heather called to Jennifer.

Jennifer reached into the microwave and tossed a ball to Heather. They both smiled at each other as they placed the balls on the ground and proceeded to stomp on them, enjoying the wet SPLOSHING sounds coming from Xander's crotch as they watched his scrotum get flatter and flatter until it was nothing but a totally flattened mass on the ground. The two women felt their crotches getting wet as they mangled and crushed the hapless jock's sex life into a gooey, liquified mess.

When they were satisfied Xander would never be able to father a child, they stopped stomping and Jennifer said an incantation in the same strange dialect as before. The lights dimmed again and the rubber balls presumably became ordinary rubber balls again, no longer attached to Xander's now totally mushed nuts.

"Guess that'll teach him to ever try that again," Heather said smiling as she looked down the passed out Xander's pancake-flat sack.

“Oh, we aren't quite done,” Jennifer smiled as she disappeared into the bedroom.

Jennifer came out of the bedroom carrying a dildo that was a near perfect replica of Xander's massive cock. Heather beamed as Jennifer again chanted in her mysterious dialect, causing the lights to again dim briefly.

Jennifer smiled as the handed the now enchanted rubber cock to Heather, who quickly grasped it in both hands and began twisting and stretching it. To her delight, they watched as Xander's actual cock began twisting and pulling in unnatural directions. She smiled at Jennifer as she tossed the rubber cock to the ground.

She rose her foot over it and stomped over and over. Huge bruises and welts started to appear all over Xander's once beautiful cock as it was brutally flattened. Soft, squishing SPLATS echoed from Xander's cock as his jock meat was pounded by the angry coed.

“Oh! I have an idea!” Jennifer suggested, motioning for Heather to stop her ruthless stomping.

By then, Xander's cock had split in several places like an over stuffed sausage breaking out of its casing, and it was obvious it would never again be able to inflate to its ten inch glory.

“Let's see what happens when we put it in the blender,” Jennifer said licking her lips and smiling.

Heather wasted no time picking up the dildo and following Jennifer into the kitchen. They tossed it in and carried the blender back into the living room, plugging it in next to the microwave.

“Okay, here we go! Five.. four... three...”

Jennifer counted down slowly, her hand hovering over the blender's power button and both of their eyes locked on Xander's about-to-be mutilated cock.

“...two... one!”

“Do it!”

Jennifer depressed the button, her panties now soaked, and smiled cruelly as Xander's abused, but still huge, flaccid dick instantly exploded into a shower of meaty chunks.

The Fun House

Larry looked down at the small slip of paper to verify he had gotten the address right. He had. He looked up at the stately entrance to the brownstone apartment in the middle of Brooklyn Heights. The neighborhood was quite posh and well taken care of. Hardly the type of place he expected to find a Fun House, the invite lists for which were extremely selective. The background check involved was disguised as a mortgage application through an ostensibly reputable New York bank. Larry had waited years for his invite, which is why he was feeling sad at the prospect he had been lead astray at the eleventh hour. He sighed, running a hand over his bald head and knocked on the door. He was fully prepared to give an excuse if a middle aged house wive came to the door, but instead was greeted by a large, husky man in a white suit.

"Larry, come in. Come in," said the man.

Larry smiled as he entered brownstone, the door closing quickly behind him. Inside, only the entryway of the brownstone had been left in tact, presumably so that it looked like any other apartment should someone walking by peer in while the door was opened. However as soon as Larry walked beyond the ordinary looking foyer, he found that every interior wall of the original brownstone had been removed, the now open floor plan divided into small rooms with numbered doors connected by winding hallways.

"Welcome to the Fun House! The time you have in the Fun House is random... " the man in the white suit said handing Larry a pager.

"When this goes off, your time is up. it'll be time for you to leave. The rules are pretty simple. Take no pictures, and wash up when you're done." the host pointed to a small laundry sink on the wall near the entry way.

Larry made his way to Door #1 and opened it. The room was rather small, only six fee by six feet square, a glaring lamp overhead basking the drab gray walls. In the middle of the room a studly young blond was bound to the ceiling and floor, his arms and legs outstretched so that his body was an 'X'. Larry licked his lips and the blonde smiled at him. He was probably only in his early twenties, with a slim, yet defined build and shoulder length shaggy hair. He was cute and youthful and was licking his lips suggestively at Larry.

"What are you gonna' do to me, sir?" the blond asked as Larry walked to stand directly in front of him.

Without thinking, Larry reached out and cupped the boy's relatively small but low hanging balls in his hand. He squeezed until his bicep bulged in effort, causing the young man to gasp. Larry was getting hard in his jeans as he felt the trapped organs compressing into each other.

"Oh yeah, sir. Crush 'em," the blonde begged breathlessly between winces of pain.

Larry stopped squeezing and let the now red balls swing freely for a moment.

"Oh, I'm gonna' pop them," Larry whispered in the boy's ear and - the Larry's surprise - the boy's cock started to stir.

Larry grabbed the young man by the shoulders for balance and then unleashed a volley of a dozen knee kicks directly into the swinging orbs. The blonde winced and tried his beset not to cry out but he finally screamed at the twelfth kick. Larry roughly grabbed a nut in each hand and began squeezing, trapping each nut between a thumb and forefinger.

"I'm gonna' rupture them. Crushed with my bare hands," Larry said, his voice filling with an animalistic intensity as he felt the testicles flattening in his powerful hands.

The blonde let out a scream and was trying to contain himself, but as his left nut suddenly got much, much flatter he couldn't hold back and started screaming hysterically. Larry didn't break eye contact with the sobbing young man as he felt his organs getting flatter and flatter...

SQUISH! The blonde's left nut collapsed in Larry's hand and Larry thought he was going to blow his own load at the feeling. He let the ruined left nut fall and then concentrated both hands on the final, swollen right nut. The blonde man was writhing and screaming but still managed to get out "Please, crush it sir,"

Hearing this virile young man begging to be nutted was enough to get Larry over the edge. He felt a jet of steamy hot cum splatter the inside of his jeans just as his hands came totally together... SQUICK! The man's right nut exploded in the sack, compressed totally flat in Larry's hands. The blond was convulsing and sobbing and for a moment Larry was nearly tempted to help him, before he remembered he only had limited time in the Fun House-- the staff would take care of him. He left the room and headed to Door #2.

It was the same sized cell, with a muscular twenty-something Latino laying spread eagle on the floor. His larger balls had been pulled away from his body with cock rings, resting on the floor like two bulging lumps.

Larry had barely closed the door behind him when the Latino practically begged "Oh yeah, Sir. Flatten these bumps."

Larry licked his lips and thought to himself how amazing the Fun House was. He stood between the Latin's legs and was about to simply stomp down his size twelve shoe on the defenseless orbs, when he instead cocked his leg at the knee and let out a violent kick.

WHOOSH! CRUNCH!

His foot connected squarely with the balls, all of the force going into deforming them from round to flat. They slowly plumped back into shape as the crying Latino writhed and screamed, but never attempting to free himself from his bonds.

"Oh yeah, you want them crushed, don't you," Larry asked breathlessly as he cocked his foot back again.

"Yes, turn them to mush ---- OOOH!"

CRUNCH! Larry's foot collided again, and again... and again with the man's sack. The Latino's balls were swollen to nearly three times their size and fiery red. Larry could tell they were starting to get less firm with each kick. He then remembered the time limit for the Fun House and decided to castrate this man quickly lest he miss out on more fun.

He put his left foot over the bulging nuts so that they were both covered then slowly rose his right foot. The Latino man cried and screamed, but continued to beg Larry to crush him between inhuman squeals. Finally, Larry was standing on only one foot, his entire weight being held up by the Latino's swollen, flattening balls.

"Oh yeah. It's starting to pop," Larry said, bouncing on his foot in an effort to totally deflate the doomed testicles.

The Latino screamed and blacked out.

"Oh yeah, they're popping. Here they go!" Larry screamed as he felt himself suddenly lower...

SPLOSH! SQUIIIISH! Both of the huge grapes burst one after another and Larry could feel the ruined, flat sack under his shoe. He rose his foot and proceeded to stomp mercilessly, the young man's head moving slowly back and forth as he moaned in his blacked out state. SPLISH! The Latin sack split open and Larry could feel thick, gunky nut nuts sticking to his shoe. He nearly shot another load before stomping a final time.

He left the passed out Latino and headed for Door #3. Larry's heart was racing. He had just popped four balls and was about to crush another pair, but he didn’t' know how much more time he had in the Fun House. He hoped he'd have all day...

Inside Door #3 was a very muscular dark haired, pale skinned young man in his late twenties. His bulging biceps and perfectly sculpted pecs were covered with tattoos. The man's face was aged beyond his years and quite mean looking. He was propped, tied to a pole and knees bent over a wooden table. His monstrously large, hairy nuts were resting on the table top next to several types of mallets and hammers laid out in a neat line.

"I know you wanna crush 'em," the muscle stud said licking his lips as Larry ran his hands over the various mallets, trying to pick out the perfect one.

"Oh yeah, Sir. That'd really do some damage," the muscle stud said, totally egging Larry on as he selected a heavy looking mallet with a metal handle leading to a large wooden head with small spikes etched in like a large meat tenderizer.

"Oh yeah, man. You're gonna totally blow my boys apart, aren't you? You're gonna make em splatter,"

Larry was going crazy with lust listening to this gorgeous, muscular stud literally begging for his nuts to be cracked.

"Oh yeah, I'm gonna splattter 'em," Larry said, carefully lining the mallet so that it would come crashing down only on the left nut.

"Nice! You're gonna' nut me one at a time! Go ahead, sir. My name's Carl, but you're about to make me a Carla. Go ahead, pound it!" Carl begged, leaning in further so his balls were an even easier target.

The mallet sailed through the air with an audible whoosh.

"Oh fuck!" Carl screamed as his left testicle exploded with a wet SPLAT - the sack erupting open and liquified nut oozing out.

"Sir... oh God! Thank you," Carl managed to get out between squeals of pain.

"Oh, we're not done yet," Larry said, his cock raging. He lined up the mallet over Carl's last, enormous baby maker and let the mallet fall.

SPLOOOOOSH! The wet, explosive sploshing sound Carl's last nut made as it burst and splattered the table top made Larry instantly cream in his jeans again. He nearly doubled over with ecstasy. Carl was convulsing, but remarkably a smile of sick satisfaction was on his face. Larry couldn't believe it. The Fun House was certainty worth the wait.

He left Carl behind and entered Room #4. Larry smiled at what he saw. Two identical twins in their mid twenties with toned, swimmers builds, cute freckled faces and dusty strawberry blonde hair were tied side by side in an 'X' shape like the first man Larry had nutted.

"Twins! Fucking hot!" Larry said, his cock raging yet again in anticipation on these fit young mens' impending destruction. Larry stood in front of the twin on his right and cupped his meaty, low hanging balls in both hands and began to squeeze, never breaking eye contact.

"Oh yay man! Mush my brother's balls," the other twin said in an airy voice, his cock growing hard.

"Oh I'm gonna crack all four of these nuts," Larry said, releasing one of his hands and cupping the second pair of nuts.

He was now holding two sets of identical nuts and squeezing as hard as he could.

"Oooh! Yes! Yes!" the left win screamed in pleasure and pain.

Larry twisted, kneaded and squeezed the trapped nuts for several minutes, the twins' screams being music to his ears.

"I wonder which set is gonna burst first," Larry said ,the testicles being violently compressed into each other.

"I --- -hope it's --- mine!" the twin on the right was barely able to get out through inhuman sobs and screams.

SQUIIIHSH Larry nearly came again as he felt the left twin's entire sack finally implode in his hands.

"Oh yeah, you crushed my brother!" the twin on the right screamed in pleasure.

"You're next!" Larry screamed as he cupped the remaining whole sack with both hands, compressing as hard has could. He could feel the membranes starting to crush and break as the nuts got flatter and flatter in his hands.

"OH YES!" the twin screamed as Larry felt the satisfying CRUNCH of another pair of nuts being ruptured. He took both ruined sacks, one in each hand, and continued to knead and massage the ruined organs in his hands. The right twin had passed out, but the barely conscious left twin looked on lustfully at his handsome brother as his sack was mushed.

BEEP! BEEP!

Larry released the destroyed sacks and looked at the pager. He went into the hallway and sighed as he saw doors numbered up to #20 that he wouldn't be able to explore. But the people who ran the Fun House knew all of his information from the extensive background checks, so he didn't want to risk running afoul of them. He made his way to the sink by the entry way, washing his hands and blotting warm water over this crotch in an effort to clean the thick sheen of jizz that was there. When he felt he looked presentable, he exited the brownstone, leaving the pager on the floor just inside the door and made his way back onto the busy street.