The Super Bet: Part 2

References the Tau Omega Chi fraternity mentioned in Epic Roshambo, A Woman Scorned and The Conquest of Tau Omega Chi so you may want to re-read those stories before continuing but isn't necessary.

And now the conclusion of The Super Bet: Part I 

The roar of the crowd in Miami coming from the two massive TVs filled the lounge of the Tau Omega Chi house, mingling with the riotous cheers coming from the watching boys.  On screen, commentators were breathlessly exalting Kansas City for their blowout victory over San Francisco whilst highlights of the game and halftime performances, flashed on the screens.

In the excitement, no one noticed Monty and Pip coming back into the room.  On Lyle's instruction, they had slipped out right after Shakira's halftime show to prep for the evening's main event.  A sign had been placed on the front door declaring 'House Closed: Party Starts at Midnight' to ward off the crowds of party goers who would normally fill in the house, at least until the Tau Omega Chi boys themselves had had some fun with their sacrificial stress balls.

Next, two sets of ropes had been suspended from the lofty basement ceilings with additional ropes secured to eye bolts in the floor. The bolts had been installed years ago to anchor exercise equipment that had long since been removed, but were still there, hidden under couches and tables that Monty and Pip had moved out of the way creating a large clearing in the middle of the room.  Pip had also rifled through the house collecting an assortment of items he thought could come in handy and had laid them out on a table setup near the makeshift arena and Monty had rustled up two tripods aimed at the scene onto which he placed two Go Pro cameras commandeered from someone's room, though he doubted the owner would mind after realizing what they were going to be used for.

Lyle strolled coolly in front of the crowd and without so much as a word the watching crowd grew silent.  Someone muted the televisions and despite the animated scenes playing out in vivid ultra high definition on the screens and the palpable excitement in the air from watching the game, the grand lounge was eerily quiet, almost studious, as the crowd of randy young men waited from instructions from their commanding president.

"Brothers, it looks like San Francisco didn't quite make it," he began a booming, measured voice.

"We know what that means," he concluded eyeing Mark and Vance, his cold eyes lingering on their mounding crotches.

The watching crowd gave a cheer of delight with foot stomping, clapping and howling with several of the fans of San Francisco shouting out obscenities about what they were planning to do to work out their frustration on Vance and Mark.

"Man, I'm so pissed by that blown call, I could scream," someone shouted as he jumped to his feet, stomping them into the carpet visualizing Vance's screaming sack under them.

"I could really use a stress ball after that!" Ryan Andres shouted, as he flexed his powerful bicep while making a fist, Mark and Vance visualized their own balls being crushed in the rapidly shrinking space between his fingers.

Ryan noticed Mark watching his motion so he stopped his fist from closing completely, making cruel eye contact with them as he pretended to be meeting some resistance that was stopping him from closing his fist. After a few moments of feigning, he closed his fist completely shut, as if finally popping through whatever he was imagining stopping him, and gave them an evil grin.

"Monty and Pip sacrificed watching most of the game to get everything ready for us in the basement,"

That was all the invitation that was needed for the San Francisco fans to surround the Mark and Vance, forcibly lifting them from the ground and carrying them down the basement stairs like garbage sacks.  Vance struggled against the throng of strong arms that were forcing him down the stairs but his efforts were quickly put down by a swift punch to the jaw. Before the pledges were even fully down the stairs their tight underwear and shirts had been ripped from their bodies cast aside like macabre confetti,

In short order the unlucky pledges had their hands tied behind their back and that knot attached to the ceiling ropes, suspending them upright with their hands over their head. Their legs were anchored to the bolts in the ground in a permanent slightly spread position allowing their heavy nuts to dangle vulnerably between their well toned legs.  They were side by side, so close in fact that their legs were touching.

Pip didn't even try to hide his raging, thick erection that snaked down his jeans as he eyed Mark and Vance, licking his lips and visualizing everything he would love to do to them in their totally helpless state.  Indeed, the two were encircled by their fraternity brothers, including Alan and Connor , who were all eyeing them with thoughts ranging from depraved violence, to tender lovemaking, to adoration of their sculpted bodies, to curiosity and everything in between.  For good measure someone had put a thick piece of duct tape over the trussed pledge's mouths, giving their already panicked faces an extra degree of fear.

Lyle stood in front of Mark and Vance and chuckled as he reached out and grabbed Vance's large left nut, feeling its weight in heat as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He was taken aback at how heavy and dense it was and he was excited to test out its limits under pressure.

"Gentleman, that was one helluva football game, I'm I right!"

There was a cheer from the crowd.

"I think San Francisco gave it their all but at the end, Kansas stomped them into the dirt,"

Vance winced as Lyle dug his thumb into his trapped nut and Mark looked on in fear.

"So to help relieve the pain, all of the fans of Kansas City get to use these pledge's as stress balls,"

There was a whoop of delight from everyone but it was especially loud from San Francisco fans as Lyle let go of Vance's ball.   He went on to explain the hastily compiled rules; each brother would have as much time as he deemed appropriate and was more than welcome to use any of the implements that Pip had laid out on the table earlier, including a plastic baseball bat, a rubber mallet, a pair of brass knuckles and a pair of pliers Pip had rigged to prevent from closing completely, among other goodies and once a player had committed to one of the pledges, they had to focus only on him throughout his turn. Once used, an implement couldn't be used again until the next round and there would be as many rounds as they could fit in before midnight when the house was set to be opened for the Fraternity Row party.   This guaranteed at least an hour of brutal, no holds barred nut cracking, which even Monty and Pip found extreme, though it didn't stop either of them from sporting boners. 

Since the brothers who had rooted for the winning team couldn't participate in the main event, they took on the roles of cheerleaders whilst pledges Alan and Connor manned the tripods, making sure to get each pair of massive nuts squarely in the frame and grateful that it wasn't them. They were low, heavy and relatively unscathed, looking pornographically large in the view finder but the camera operators knew they wouldn't stay like that for long.

"Are we allowed to um... break them?"  Pip asked in a loud yet casual voice, the implication of the question stunning several boys into silence.

Tyler gave the question a solid minute of deep thought while rolling Mark's right nut in his hand.  Tau Omega Chi's coffers and connections were deep, but there were only so many insurance claims they could handle after the roshambo incident and the national headline-grabbing debacle of an entire graduating glass being neutered after a night of drunken antics.  However,  finally he gave the ball in his hands a devastating squeeze and answered "Up to you!"

Everyone cheered as Mark and the slightly taller Vance began frantically pulling against their restraints, though they were so tight their writhing only succeeded in making their taught, muscular bodies ripple in a  tantalizing display of raw masculinity.  Without hesitation the fifteen fans of San Francisco who just a few minutes before were reeling from the loss of their team were lined up ready to take out their hurt feelings on four very different footballs.

First up was Trevor, a brawny senior who filled out his jeans and plain white T-shirt nicely. He walked up to Mark who was visibly shaking as his eyes pleaded for mercy he knew wouldn't come.

Trevor reached for the plastic bat and whacked it into his hand a few times to get a feel for its weight which was surprisingly heavy considering it was a children's toy.  Without so much as a witty catchphrase, he swung the bat upward in Mark's dangling nuts causing Mark to howl into his gag while the watching crowd erupted into cheers.

Twack! Twack! Twack!  

Over and over Trevor slammed into Marks' wildly swinging nuts eliciting muted, high pitched squeals from the trapped stud and riotous laughter from the watching brothers.  Alan was sure to capture every nut cracking blow in perfect detail with his camera.

Twack! Twack! 

Twack! Twack!

"That's time!" Lyle shouted after what felt to Mark to be an eternity but in actuality had been less than a minute.

Trevor gave a sly chuckle as he tossed the bat back on the table and gave a high five to Ryan Andres, the next brother in line.  Ryan was a powerfully built, rather stern looking blonde who would have been intimidating even without holding the rubber mallet he had picked up from the table.

Lyle smirked as Ryan took a position in front of Mark, whose large, swinging balls had taken on a slight rosy tint from the last round. The mallet looked seriously heavy and Lyle knew he probably shouldn't let this particular round go on for too long...

THUD!

Mark's eyes bugged out as Ryan slammed the mallet head into his baby makers, just had Trevor had done with the bat. Mark's heavy bag bounced wildly after a few more blows before Trevor realized that most of the energy of his blows as actually being dissipated in the swinging motion itself. That wouldn't do, he thought. He cupped Mark's left nut creating a sort of table for the egg-sized organ to rest on and then rose the mallet over it.  Mark tried to scream as Ryan connected directly with his screaming nut only this time it was trapped in place, flattening into Ryan's calloused hand again and again. 

THUD!

THUD!

"Time!" Lyle shouted.

Ryan rose the mallet high over his head as if he was going to give it one hell of a pounding but winked at Mark as he tossed the mallet back on the table and rejoined the group.  Mark was panting and his rippled abs were starting to glisten with sweat and that round had lasted less than thirty seconds. 

Next up was Kent, a relatively short brunet with shoulder length hair still wearing his San Francisco football jersey.  He opted not to peruse the instruments on the table deciding to use his own fists.  To much applause Kent punched his fists into the air rapidly showing off his incredible speed -- and power -- before taking a stance in front of Mark.

Mark had barely recovered from the last round before being rudely snapped back into reality by several rapid fire blows from Kent's fists connecting with his sack.  Kent, a boxer by training, was literally using Mark's heavy seed pods as a speed bag and the sounds of rapid, hard wet smacks echoed through the basement.  Kent's fists were literally a blur as Mark's nuts, mostly his right, were driven into his pelvis by the slight upward trajectory of the punches.

SMACK! SMACK!

Despite thinking that a round with a guy just using his hands would be relatively tame, Lyle was forced to call time after only ten minutes of Kent's brutal, non stop assault.  Kent was literally sweating from exertion and several of the watching brothers gave him high fives and praise as we retook his spot in the crowd.  

Sculpted red-head Pip jumped to the front of the line with a confused look of lust and malice on his face.  His thick cock bulged in his jeans and he was sure he would end up leaking a sheen of precum through the thick fabric before his turn was up but he didn't care.  He perused paraphernalia on the table looking for an item he had placed there specifically in the event Vance had ended up being on the losing team and his eyes lit up when he noticed it.

There were several evil cheers as Pip held up the foot long, thick dildo and a tiny bottle of lube and approached Vance.  The muscular stud became hysterical as Pip applied a small dollop of lube to the head of the dildo and walked behind him.  Pip could see Vance's truly huge, pendulous nuts swinging between his legs but he was more interested in the stud's perfectly chiseled ass, rubbing the dildo between Vance's ass cheeks slowly before suddenly ramming in the entire length.  

Vance let out a shrill squeal and writhed as Pip proceeded to act out his long held fantasy of plowing the handsome pledge's hot ass, pulling the dildo almost completely out before ramming it all the way in. Over and over Pip piston fucked Vance and it only took a moment before Pip had achieved his desired result. Despite his screams Vance's ten inch dick was now at full attention, protruding from this neatly trimmed pubes and eliciting hoots and catcalls from the watching brothers and drawing his fat swinging nuts toward his crotch.  Pip removed the dildo, using it to playfully smack Vance's sack before ceding his time to the next brother.

By now the atmosphere in the basement had become markedly more sinister as the next young man, Parker Stonestreet, took a stand in front of Mark.  Like Kent, Parker skipped the weapons table opting instead of take out his frustrations sans a job aide.  Parker was a tall, somewhat lanky young man but his long legs were well toned from track, a fact Mark knew that sent a shiver down his spine as he realized Parker was lining up for a kick.

"Mmmph! Mmmmph!"  Mark screamed before nearly blacking out after Parker's toe collided with the underside of this sack.

Marks' nuts were hideously deformed as they were driven into his body, squashed between Parker's shoe and his own pelvis.  A few of the watching boys grimaced in genuine empathy although most of the reaction was of callous laughter and encouragement.

"Kick a field goal, Parker!"

"Dent his football, man!"

Parker gave Mark a look between playful taunting and lust as he reared his leg back and sent it sailing again into his crotch.  Mark's pendulous balls were being absolutely brutalized as Parker used it like a target for kick boxing and they were beginning to swell noticeably, taking on a rosy red color that only made them stand out as more inviting targets.  After a particularly devastating kick caused Mark's face to turn white with shock, Lyle called time. 

The next two fraternity brothers, Winston and his actual brother Cedric, two boyishly handsome jocks with well sculpted bodies, took turns using Mark's reddening sack as a speed bag, filling the basement with wet splats as Mark's body became totally drenched in sweat which accentuated his musculature. Even the straightest man watching couldn't help but admire Mark's body; it was a study of the male form, every muscle outlined in exquisite, sweat glistening detail and a pair of large, swollen balls dandling lower than normal between his toned thighs.  His dick, though flaccid, was still an impressive five inch slap that rested lazily on top of his balls and for his part Pip couldn't wait for his turn to come around again so that he could violate Mark as he had Vance in hopes of making Mark's cock spring to its purportedly huge erect proportions. 

Tyler Long was up next, an olive skinned lad whose body was rivaled only my Mark's. Tyler didn't even try to conceal the erection raging in his pants as he stood in front of Mark.  He had picked up a small dumbbell from the table and Mark's eyes grew huge as he approached.  The weight was only five pounds, but considering the extensive beating his junk had already taken Mark wasn't excited to see what Tyler had in store. 

Lyle raised an eyebrow as he, and everyone else, wondered what Tyler was going to do.  A few of them had recently seen a slasher flick where one of the campy main characters had his testicles crushed - complete with over the top splattering effects - by a maniac dropping a dumbbell on his crotch while he was tied to a weight bench.  But such a setup wouldn't work with Mark trussed up...

WHOOSH!

CRUNCH!

Mark's eyes rolled back into his head and the handsome stud blacked out as Tyler made an arch with the weight on the leading edge, colliding with Mark's now blood red nut sack like a wrecking ball.

Lyle knew Tyler's turn couldn't last very long if there was any hope of the rest of the boys having a shot but before he could call time Tyler had performed the wrecking ball move again... and again.

WHOOSH! CRUNCH!

Mark's balls bounced so violently it looked like they might actually fly off. 

WHOOSH! CRUNCH!

The sick crunching was a startling juxtaposition from the utter silence coming from the passed out Mark. The watching boys howled in delight at Tyler's unorthodox approach.

"Good one, man!"

"Hope Mark didn't want kids!" Monty shouted out to laughter.

"That's enough," Lyle barked and Tyler obediently stepped away. 

Mark was also the target of the next three players.  Quinn delivered a volley of devastating uppercuts, Sam grabbed onto Mark's big nuts and pulled and tugged so violently his hand was cramping and Milo decided to kill two birds with one stone - his open adoration for Mark's body and his desire to crush his spuds.  Milo somehow managed to fit both of Mark's ridiculously swollen, jumbo egg sized testes in his mouth and proceeded to bite down hard.  Some of the brothers gathered closer to watch the spectacle of Milo's adorable face deformed by two huge lumps in his cheeks that were slowly losing their shape.  Lyle ended Milo's turn after only a minute after it became obvious the horny stud wasn't going to stop until Mark's baby makers had turned into splattered baby food coating the back of his throat. 

By now the basement was alive with chanting and cheering, each player encouraging the next to unleash ever more diabolic punishment to Mark's swollen, sagging nards.  Alex was up next, a handsome German athlete who at first had questioned the purpose of fraternities in general but at this moment was convinced he had made the right decision in joining Tau Omega Chi.

"Hey guys, poor Vance hasn't had any attention in a while,"  he started in an exaggerated accent for comic effect. 

Vance became increasingly nervous and the usually playful jock sauntered toward him, stopping briefly at the table to pick out a weapon and Vance started to cry when he saw that Alex was now wearing a pair of brass knuckles.  Alex was beefier than Vance and his large, powerful fists would have been forces to be reckoned with even without the aid of the hard plastic knuckles. 

"Mmmphmmph! Mmmph!" 

No one cared to decipher Vance's frantic, gagged screaming as Alex took position between his legs. Vance's nuts were large - nearly as big as Mark's already large nuts were in their swollen state - and hung quite low in his neatly trimmed bag. His cock was a monstrous eight inches totally soft draping on top of his man pods.  Vance wasn't nearly as ripped as Mark, but he was slightly taller, quite toned and undeniably attractive with a chiseled jaw and dark, defining features. 

"What do you say I knock this porn star wanna' be out of the gene pool?"

There was thunderous applause from the crowd and Connor made sure to capture their reaction as he expertly worked his camera.

Alex wasted no time slamming his fist repeatedly into Vance's enormous nuts.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! 

The rigid brass knuckles sank terrifyingly far into Vance's sack with each blow, eliciting muted howls from him and gleeful shouts from the crowd.

"Look at those big fuckers bounce!"

"Yeah Alex, save some for us!"

SPLAT! SPLAT!

Despite the fact Vance had been relatively spared so far, his pornographically huge package was quickly starting to look quite damaged, with the brass knuckles leaving deep red imprints on his sack which was already starting to turn pink. Lyle thought he should call the round but the crowd was into it and Alex was following up every blow with delightfully witty catchphrases.

"Oh man, Vance. I used to dream about having your nut all over me... looks like that might just come true!" 

With that Alex made two fists, trapping Vance's nuts on either side and sent them crashing into each other. Vance's eyes grew large as saucers as he felt his tender gonads violently compressed and squashed into each other in the rapidly decreasing space between Alex's fists.

Alex had just pulled his fists apart and was preparing for another double-fist pound when Lyle called time on his turn.

Next was Mario, a handsome senior who spent nearly ten minutes pounding Vance's screaming nuts with his fists before passing the proverbial bottom to his friend Tom who gladly kept up the rhythm of slamming his fists into Vance's balls as hard as he could.  For good measure, Tom encircled Vance's swollen right nut with one hand to force the bloated ball as far down the sack as it would go, then proceeded to use his other fist like a hammer to pound it.  Vance's nut was trapped between Tom's piston like fists, and it couldn't dissipate the energy by bouncing wildly or deforming at all. At this rate it was just going to burst and there wasn't anything the writhing stud could do about it. 

"Time! That's time!" Lyle shouted when he noticed Vance's right nut was now swelling significantly more than the left and was an angry shade of red. 

Last up was Axel, easily the tallest young man in the fraternity with a hulking though toned frame to match.  To everyone's delight he had picked up the pliers from the table before standing in front of Vance.  He held the tool to Vance's face and slowly clamped the jaws showing Vance - and everyone else - that though the jaws clamped together much smaller than the girth of one of Vance's nuts, the jaws literally could not be closed all the way.  

"I'm gonna' enjoy this, mega nuts,"

Connor zoomed the camera on Vance's battered nut sack as Axel proceeded to ensnare his engorged right nut in the jaws of the pliers and squeeze.  Hard.

"Mmmmphph! Mph!" 

Every muscle on Vance's body glistened with sweat as his nut, which had swollen to slightly smaller than a kiwi, was bisected by the pliers.  The space between the jaws got smaller and smaller and even though they had been handicapped to avoid closing outright, Axel was surprised - and a little aroused - to realize that the sheer density of Vance's nut was now effectively stopping the pliers from closing further. Never a quitter, Axel slowly increased the pressure of his grip, feeling the fleshy ball warp and deform from the pressure. He could have just slammed the jaws as hard as they would go in one brutal movement but he didn't want the game to be 'over' quite so quickly.  Instead, over what felt like an eternity to the trapped stud, Axel methodically increased the pressure, stopping occasionally to relieve it a bit - like an animal who'd realized it was attempting to eat something too big for it's mouth.  Suddenly, to his amazement, Axel couldn't squeeze the pliers shut anymore.  They had reached the limit of their squeezing and Vance's gigantic, usually-round ball had been compressed to less than an inch flat around its middle, the ball meat that didn't fit under the pliers jaws bulging obscenely.  He couldn't believe he had actually crushed Vance's truly enormous testicle so flat without breaking anything...

Determined, he quickly opened the pliers to their full width and was prepared to close them again in one brutal, instant clamp when Lyle stopped him.

"Well gentlemen.  We might not have reversed the outcome of the game but who here feels a little less stressed?"

The fifteen boys who had just taken turns trying to permanently un-man the pledges gave a cheer.  Lyle roughly grabbed Vance's balls and was surprised at their condition; apparently size didn't determine strength as the massive bag was purplish red, swollen and welted compared to Mark's battered, but only red, sack. Vance cried as Lyle roughly squeezed and prodded his package with his hands before moving on to do the same to Mark.  

Nothing felt broken in either sack, though the area under the pliers' mark on Vance's nut felt decidedly less firm than normal and Mark's left nut was now hanging lower than the right.

Turning toward the crowd of still-disappointed San Francisco fans Lyle asked slyly "Are you all still stressed about that game?"

Everyone shouted "Yes" in unison.

Lyle eyed the table which still full of as of yet unused implements of male-specific torture and his grey eyes sparkled so wickedly that Vance and Mark shuddered in terror. 

"Well then, let's get on with round two!"

Ryan picked up a candle from the table and approached the two studly pledges for another round.

To be continued...

The Super Bet: Part 1

References the Tau Omega Chi fraternity mentioned in Epic Roshambo, A Woman Scorned and The Conquest of Tau Omega Chi so you may want to re-read those stories before continuing but isn't necessary.

It was a bright, unusually warm February afternoon and up and down Fraternity Row was abuzz with activity.  Up and down the mansion-lined street, some students were unloading grocery bags, decorations and kegs of beer out of cars and trucks while others were busily hanging football themed banners or setting up elaborate party sized tents in front yards of stately manor houses.

The Sigma Ro sorority had erected a large cardboard cutout of San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge and across the street another sorority countered by building an  enormous paper machete arrowhead on their front lawn with "Kansas Or Bust" spray painted across the front.  Several of the girls were mingling about drinking cocktails, wearing slightly less clothing than was appropriate for the weather, and mingling with passersby, among which was Tau Omega Chi's charismatic chapter president Lyle Morgan.

"If you ladies are looking for a party, stop over later,"

He motioned his head toward the stately brick mansion down the lane he was walking toward and gave a wink to an attractive young woman holding a beer.  The coed nodded back and licked her lips suggestively.

Lyle, who was carrying a box full of top shelve liquor bottles whistled approvingly as he made his way up to the door of the Tau Omega Chi house and before he could rap on the door, it flew open and the box was practically ripped from his hands by Pip.

"Just in time, Lyle!" the handsome red head smiled, "the natives are getting restless. 

Lyle followed Pip through the grand foyer, down the hall to the large parlor at the back of the house.  The large overstuffed dark leather couches and chairs into rows of facing two massive smart TVs on either side of the the fireplace, whose usual roaring fire had been replaced with ice filled buckets of beer.  There was palpable excitement in the air as the young men, their faces painted either in the color schemes of the San Francisco 49er's or the Kansas City Chiefs, talked boisterously among themselves or watched the pregame coverage intently on the televisions.   A cheer went up when Travis, a shorter brown haired brother spotted the bounty in Pip's arms. 

A crowd of thirsty, rowdy boys descended and the box Pip was carrying was quickly emptied of its contents.

"Mmm, that's smooth," Monty Garcia laughed as he took a heavy swig of Lagavulin scotch straight from the bottle.

"You're a lush, Monty," Travis teased as he cracked open a can beer.

Lyle's strikingly gorgeous yet eerily dispassionate eyes scanned the room, pleased with himself at the revelry he had orchestrated.  Tau Omega Chi was the premier fraternity on campus and he prided himself on keeping up appearances and this year's Super Bowl watch party was no exception; no expense had been spared.   He had tapped the fraternity's large coffers to provide a gourmet spread of heavy hors d'oeuvres splayed out on the heavy oak tables the lined the room, premium liquors and seemingly bottomless coolers of beer that were silently replenished by pledges whom he had forced to wear white T-shirts with the phrase 'Water Boy' scrawled on them in black, bold marker.  As was customary for Amajor University's fraternities, the big game watch parties were closed affairs with the house opening up to visitors after the final touch down, at which time Fraternity Row became a massive block party.  Sorority sisters paraded from fraternity to fraternity enjoying being lusted after by throngs of horny young men and fraternity brothers would meander from house to house as if to take stock of the competition.  But Tau Omega Chi wasn't so much 'competition' as it was the gold standard all of the other young men on Fraternity Row looked up to and Lyle was excited to reinforce that superior image... 

Lyle's self adoration was interrupted as a short, muscular young man wearing only a white T-shirt with 'Water Boy' written across it and a pair of tight blue underwear bumped into him holding a bucket full of beers.

"Where are your pants, Mark?" Lyle barked.

Mark flushed red.

"Brother Monty told me to take them off, sir. Sorry, sir."  

Lyle rolled his eyes and dismissed the clumsy water boy, though he was pleased at the military like discipline he had drilled into his fraternity brothers.  As Lyle made his way around the room he noticed that none of the beer refilling pledges were wearing pants, only tight white shirts that clung to their taught upper bodies and underwear that seemed to barely contain their packages. 

"I take it you had a hand in this?" Lyle smirked as he approached Monty Garcia, a bronze skinned runner with almost comically beefy calves.

Monty laughed "Well, the food spread is great, but I thought it this whole thing could use a bit of... eye candy."

Monty licked his lips as Alan, a tall, handsome pledge with black, slicked back hair bumped past him.  Alan's rippled abs were barely constrained by his comically-too-small shirt and his large nuts were nearly bursting out of his yellow briefs.

"Besides, it helps remind them they aren't quite one of us yet,"

Lyle nodded approvingly.

To keep up with Tau Omega Chi's air of exclusivity only four pledges had been selected this term. There was Mark, a short but powerfully built sophomore. Alan, a tall handsome junior and Connor and Vance, two devastatingly handsome blondes.  In what was becoming the aesthetic of the fraternity under Lyle's rule, all of soon-to-be members were athletic, confident and handsome young men with notably large packages between their well-toned legs, traits that were evident in their skimpy costumes.  Even the straightest Tau Omega Chi brother couldn't help but admire these young men as they displayed themselves like pieces of meat.

There was a riotous cheer as the a dramatic anthem announced that the pre-game show was over and that the actual football game was about to start.  All of the brother's gathered on the couches while the four pledges stood by ready to snap at any command they were given.  The national anthem had just started when Pip barked "Bring me some nachos!" to no one in particular.

Alan sprang into action, his muscular body moving with speed as he obeyed the command.

The sports commentators were giving their last minute insights and predictions and there was tangible excitement in the air as the watching frat boys leaned in as if doing so would magically transport them to the stadium.

"Go Fourty-Niners, go!" half of them shouted.

"Fuck the Fourty-Niners!" came the other.

"Bring it, San Fran-trash!" Monty bellowed.

"Kansas is gonna' get stomped!" came another voice.

Suddenly Lyle had a mischievous thought and he pushed pause on the remote control.  There was an audible gasp from the watching crowd as suddenly the image on the screen stopped, the camera showing a dramatic overhead shot of the stadium.

Lyle stood in front of the screen and shouted "Can I get a 'hell yeah' for San Francisco!"

Roughly half the boys shouted back.

"Can I get a 'hell yeah' for KC!" 

Again, roughly half of the boys shouted back.

Lyle kept alternating between the teams, working his fellow brothers into a raucous crescendo of 'hell yes', feet stomping in unison and excite building in the air.  He loved the way something as ultimately inconsequential as a football game, combined with his own charisma, had worked nearly twenty men into a frenzy.  He was confident he could have literally gone all night, the screens showing nothing but the frozen image of the stadium, and the rowdy crowd wouldn't have noticed, but he did want to see who actually won the game because...

"Brothers! I think we need to raise the stakes!"

Without even knowing what Lyle was getting at, everyone gave a shout.  The charismatic fraternity president had gotten them completely under his spell. 

"Pledge Mark! Pledge Alan! Pledge Connor! Pledge Vance! Front and center!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

The four pledges shouted in obedient unison as they lined up in front of the room.  There were some lusty cat calls from the crowd as the four handsome young men stood at attention waiting for Lyle's instructions and Lyle took a moment to eye the four overstuffed pouches admiringly.

Lyle strolled coolly so that he was standing behind and between Connor and Alan and then, without warning, reached his hands between their legs and cupped each pledge's junk gently in each hand.  Beads of sweat formed across Alan and Connor's forehead; they had heard the infamous rumors about brothers who had long since graduated being permanently removed from the gene pool...

"These are some prime pledges we have this year, wouldn't you agree, Brother Monty,"  Lyle shouted.

Monty and few of the other watching brothers whistled approvingly.

Lyle let go of Alan and Connor only to take up the same stance - and hold - behind Mark and Vance.  Vance couldn't help himself from getting aroused as he felt Lyle's hot breath on his neck and his balls resting in the handsome president's hands.  Monty howled in approval as Vance's thick cock swelled in his shorts, straining against the fabric.

Lyle held the pose for a few more seconds before letting go of Vance and Mark's heavy nuts and standing before the crowd of randy - and now horny - frat brothers.

"Let's make this game interesting, shall we.  Vance and Mark, you stand here and Alan and Connor, here."

Lyle motioned for them to separate into two pairs, one in front of each giant television which roughly split the room in two. 

There were confused murmurs from the crowd as the pledges stood stone faced and on full display in front of them.  Lyle smirked, waiting for someone to give him the opening to explain his devious plan.

"So what'dya mean, Brother President?" someone shouted from the back.

Lyle's cold grey eyes glinted as he cleared his throat and casually began his proclamation.

"First, I need everyone who is rooting for San Francisco to sit on this side of the room, and Kansas fans on the other,"

There were several minutes of shuffling and activity as all of the  young men rearranged themselves, some of them grudgingly as they had already settled into comfortable perches. After everyone was settled again, half the brothers, fifteen of them, were sitting on the side in front of Alan and Connor and the other fifteen were in front of Vance and Mark.  Lyle was pleased at the unwavering command he had over the group.

"So, since these four fine pledges want to be full brothers one day, I think it is fair that they offer up their... services to the fans of the losing team."  Lyle bellowed.

"If San Francisco loses, Vance and Mark let those fans take out their stress on them. And if Kansas City loses, Alan and Connor do the same for the Kansas fans."

There was growing excitement in the room, even though no one quite knew what Lyle was ultimately getting at.  Monty, and several others, hoped that Lyle was suggesting that the scantly clad pledges would be forced to bend over and be raged fucked by the losing team...

"And by take out frustration I mean..."

Without warning, Lyle grabbed Alan by the shoulders and rammed his knee into his crotch, causing the taller Alan to nearly topple on top of him.

There as a shout from the Kansas City side of the room.

"I kinda' hope KC loses now," one of them laughed while Alan regained his composure.

"Of course, this is a free country, if a pledge doesn't want to commit to the brotherhood now's the time to leave,"

Lyle's eyes flashed almost with rage as he motioned toward the door and, not to his surprise, none of the four pledges dared make a move toward the door. 

The entire room erupted into hoots and cheers and the brothers openly joked about what they would do to the stress balls offered up to the losing team's fans.  Monty and Pip were especially vocal, and violent, remembering their own harrowing hazing experience.

With that, Lyle un-paused the game, retook his seat in the front and the pledges, whose hearts were now pounding, took their stations along the side of the room ready to bring drinks and snacks on command.  The brothers leaned in to watch the game intently... but the pledges were watching even more closely...

To be continued. 

Winter Charity Ball(s)

It was Saturday, the day before winter graduation and the brothers of Chi Beta Tau were huddled close together on the sprawling backyard of their fraternity house, the ground still coated in a fresh layer of snow several centimeters thick.  Despite the fact that the sun was shining brightly in the cloudless sky, the dial on the little thermometer that hung outside the fraternity house window barely registered four degrees Celsius which is what made three of the waiting young men look especially out of place.

Although most of the shivering young men were bundled up in thick pants, pea coats and hats, some of them taking swigs out of flasks to stay warm, three of them were standing shoulder to shoulder wearing nothing but boots and a thin white T-shirt with the fraternity's letters scrawled hastily across them in thick black marker.

"Brothers!" came a booming voice that instantly quieted the den of chatter. 

Trevor, a tall handsome young man wearing a red sweater but no jacket stood in front of the group of current and soon-to-be graduated students and clanged the inside of a small metal bucket with a stick like a crude bell. 

"Thank you all for coming to the 2018 Winter Charity Ball!" he announced to roaring applause.

"First of all, let's hear it for our brothers who volunteered risking pneumonia for our entertainment."  

There was another round of applause as Trevor called out the names of the three T-shirt clad fraternity brothers.  

Winston was a tall, lanky fair skinned freshman with jet black shoulder length hair and a pair of medium sized nuts that clung tightly to his body.  Next up was Kevin, a husky, somewhat short young man whose legs and arms were covered in a thick layer of comically orange-red hair that matched the wild mop on the top of his head and nearly obscured the ample balls that were swinging slightly below his legs. Finally was Patrick, easily the most fit of the three, whose defined pecks and abs could be made out even through the tight-fitting T-shirt and whose shaved scrotum hung several inches between his legs as if weighed down by the large, pendulous balls inside.  He made a cocky pose as he name was called, flexing his arms and kissing his biceps, the movement of his body causing his junk to swing like a pendulum.

"So this is just like our Summer Ball," Trevor began to explain "I'm going to put the bucket down in front of our heroes and if you wanna' try to make one of them sing soprano you gotta' pay,"  

Trevor dug in his pocket for some loose change, throwing it into the bucket and rattling it around for effect. 

"Last guy left standing wins the bucket,"

Trevor set the bucket down in front of Patrick, who was between Winston and Kevin, as he pulled out his wallet and produced a crisp bill which he threw into the bucket.

"Oh, and guys, no coins allowed.  These guys will need all the money they can get to pay for the reconstructive surgery,"

Trevor gave Patrick's low nuts a playful slap that sent them flopping and elicited giggles from the watching young men.

The first young man to come forward was Bruce, Patrick's roommate who was equally svelte and toned, though it was impossible to see under this thick coat and jeans.  He reached into his pocket and threw a few small bills into the bucket before stepping in front of Winston.

Winston gave an exaggerated face of defiance, trying not to laugh, as Bruce drew his leg back and sent his booted foot flying into Winston's waiting crotch.

The force of the impact caused Winston to gasp, the frozen air stinging his lungs, but he barely shifted from his pose.  Not deterred Bruce threw a few more bills into the collection bucket, drew back his fist and sent it sailing into Winston's nuts.  

This time Winston let out a shrill squeal, mostly from surprise than pain, but kept his legs spread wide as if daring Bruce to try again.  Bruce chuckled and gave Winston a high five before stepping away to clear room for the next player.

Seth stepped up next, pulling out his designer wallet and casually throwing a wad of cash into the bucket.  Seth was slightly short but powerfully built, a feature that could be made out even through the chunky Christmas-themed sweater he was wearing.  Smiling, Seth stepped up to Kevin and slammed his jean-clad knee hard into Kevin's groin.  

Kevin squealed as he felt both of his nuts compress into his pelvis and the cold air only seemed to magnify the pain.  Kevin had barely fully registered the first knee when another was crashing into his junk, then another, each time preceded by Seth throwing a few bills into the bucket.  Both Seth and Kevin were nearly crying, though for totally opposite reasons, as Seth stepped back, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes as the next young man stepped up.

"Oh man, it was like cracking chestnuts!"  Seth chortled.

"Good one, man,"  Xavier said giving Seth a high five as he took his position.

Xavier was just slightly shorter than Kevin, but he filled out his sweater nicely, holding some bills in one hand and a flask in the other.  The slightly staggered way he approached Patrick made it obvious there was something more powerful than eggnog in it.

Patrick mentally braced himself for the kick and his eyes shot open as the tip of Xavier's booted foot caught the bottom of his swinging sack and sent both of his nuts rocketing upward into his body.  Xavier nearly fell backward from the high kick and Patrick could feel his tender nuggets colliding with his pelvis.

"Holy fuck!" Xavier exclaimed "Did you see how those suckers bounced!"

Patrick flushed with embarrassment as Xavier tossed a few more bills into the bucket, took Patrick by the shoulders and slammed his knee into Patrick's crotch.  Xavier felt his jeans get a little tighter in the crotch as he felt Patrick's over sized baby makers instantly flattened between his knee and Patrick's muscular body.  Despite the wave of pain, Patrick laughed and struck a pose as if he was in a body building competition. 

The watching boys laughed as Jason stepped up for his turn.  Jason was bundled in a long coat and his boyishly handsome face was red from the cold but he eagerly threw some bills into the bucket before standing in front of Winston and delivering a powerful uppercut to his sack, stopping precisely at the end of the motion as he twisted his knuckles.  This final move was simple yet effective and Winston shrieked at the unexpected burst of pain. Patrick and Kevin couldn't help but chuckle as Winston howled after another devastating punch.

Seth took out a few more bills and tossed them into the bucket before taking a stance in front of Winston.

"You like peanut butter?" he asked the lanky underclassman.

Winston's eyes instantly turned from a look of confusion to being crossed in pain as Seth slammed his fist twice into Winston's now reddening nuts, being sure to twist his knuckles into the young man's fleshy sack after each blow.

"Well I hope you do, because I just thoroughly cracked your nuts, kid,"  Seth laughed as Winston bit his lip and placed his hands on his knees hunching slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

No sooner had Seth stepped away than Jose took his station in front of the still recovering Winston. 

Jose was quite short but his aged face made the freshman look several grades older and his thin black long sleeved T-shirt and tight fighting jeans showed off every one of his rippling muscles.  His face was flush  from the cold but he seemed hardly to care as he casually tossed a wad of cash into the collection bucket and, almost simultaneously, drew his leg back and sent his boot smashing into Winston's tight nut sack.

Winston's stomach was instantly overcome with waves of nausea that nearly countered the fire like pain in his balls, so much so that he actually put a hand to his mouth out of instinct.  The waves of pain were amplified as Jose's muscular leg was drawn back and his heavy boot again laid waste to Winston's balls.  Winston could feel his balls starting to swell as they were mercilessly crushed into his body and for a split second he nearly took himself out of the game, but a quick glance into the collection bucket firmed his resolve.

Jose ran a hand through his thick black hair and winked at Winston as Seth once again stepped up.  Without fanfare he drove his massive fist squarely into Winston's throbbing manhood, inadvertently crushing the left nut between his knuckle and Winston's pelvic bone.  Again Winston thought he was going to puke and his eyes crossed as his mouth was stuck in a comical 'O' shape.  His knees were shaking and his balls were now in so much pain it was starting to cancel out the numbing cold that was starting to overtake him.  Winston's red, battered balls looked especially striking against his pale skin and the white snowy backdrop, which was entirely too tempting for Jose to pass up as he threw more bills into the collection bucket.

Meanwhile, Xavier sauntered up to Kevin, his gait still a bit wobbly, and proceeded to send his fist flying into Kevin's swinging nuts.  Kevin's eyes crossed and he let out a squeal in unison with Patrick whose massive hangers were being wrecked by Jose's rapidly swinging boot; Jose had a wad of bills in one hand and tossed in a few before sending his boot arching into Patrick's testicles. Patrick's heavy nuts bounced wildly and were always still in mid swing when the next kick came making Patrick think he was going to be sick but the massive wad of money Jose was casually throwing into the bucket strengthened Patrick's resolve.

"Oh fuck!"  

Winston squealed, barely able to stay upright as Jose, Seth and Bruce had huddled around him delivering rapid fire fists, knees and kicks to his swelling sack giving the freshman's balls literally no reprieve between blows.  The three attacking frat brothers had their sequence down like a twisted ballet.  Seth would pile drive Winston's screaming nuts into his pelvis followed immediately by Bruce giving a strong knee and ending with Jose's boot stomping into Winston's groin with a twist.  Then the cycle continued again. 

The collection bucket was literally overflowing with cash, not like the three contestants could focus on that as more rowdy young men stepped forward, eager to give a few dollars for the chance to turn one of their own into a castrato.

"Nailed it!"   Jason laughed.

"Yup! That had to hurt!" Jose joked not taking a break from his kicking.

"They're gonna' fucking pop!"  Xavier said almost growling.

"I swear I just felt something snap!"   Paul joked as his fist sailed into Patrick's beet red balls.

Paul was a powerfully built, tall blonde jock who had been watching the scene shirtless to show off his chiseled abs and powerful upper body. Every ounce of strength in his powerful upper body had gone into the punch and Patrick's eyes crossed as this hands raced for his crotch, confident that his nuts had just cracked.

Winston, Kevin and Patrick made a pitiful chorus of squeals and shrieks as each one was surrounded by at least three or four guys in rotation who were all determined to be the first one to get one of the players to quit.

"I give up! I give up!"  

Winston  covered his throbbing, purple and swollen testicles and collapsed to his knees to riotous applause.  Xavier, who had literally just been pulverizing Winston's nuts with his knee, reached out a hand to his fallen brother and helped him to his feet.

"Nicely done, freshman! Nicely done!" the older boy bellowed to more applause.  

Xavier took Winston's arm and hoisted it into the air like he was a prize fighter, allowing Winston's hideously swollen package to be seen by all. The sack was nearly black and swollen to twice its normal size but, after a rougher than necessary squeeze by Bruce, was declared to still be mostly whole.  Winston hobbled into the house as the ravenous crowd turned their attention to Kevin and Patrick's low hanging, puffy sacks.  Each pair of balls was red, Kevin's was covered in welts, and the swollen organs inside made their impressive swings look even more dramatic.

Kevin's orange hair made the paleness in his face especially pronounced and his shaking knees seemed to invite more blows than Patrick like vultures circling dying prey.   Jason's fist smashed into Kevin's groin, followed by Bruce's then Paul.  Jose's boot caught Jason's left nut flattening it severely against his pelvis.

"Oh!" Kevin screamed, unable to focus as brother after brother took turns trying to destroy his nuts.  To his horror, his thick cock was starting to get hard despite the fact that its two best friends were about to die.

Patrick wasn't exactly being spared as Seth and a few other brothers were desperately trying to end his chances of ever fathering children.  

"Here it goes! On three!"  Seth shouted out after throwing a wad of cash into the overflowing bucket.

Patrick was too unfocused to hear the resulting count down but certainly felt the result.

"Fuck!" he screamed as Seth and Jose's fists smashed into his sack from opposite sides, pulverizing his huge testicles as they were forced into each other.

He had barely registered the pain when it happened again, and again.  In his mind Patrick could visualize his balls compressing together, flattening until they were impossibly flat.

"Oooh!" 

Patrick thought we was going to vomit as a short dark haired brother who had been sitting out until now slammed his knee into his swinging sack with such force that they were instantly compressed to a quarter of their girth when they were trapped between his body and the boy's knee.  Had they gotten any flattered they certainly would have...

"Fuck!"

Kevin screamed at the top of his lungs as his cock, now fully hard and sticking out nine inches, defied him.  Jason, Seth and Bruce had formed a trifecta of pain around him like they had done with Winston and were unleashing kicks, punches, knees and uppercuts with such power and speed that Kevin's scrotum looked like a swinging blur, the organs inside being pushed right to the limit.  

"Please!" Kevin cried out.

"Please what? Please crush your nuts?" Jason sneered as he felt his fist smashing into Kevin's mushy sack. 

"I think he likes it!"  Jose laughed as he pointed at Kevin's thick, hard cock.

Kevin's sack was now alarming black and blue and felt much less firm than when the game started and the more Kevin struggled to keep standing the more boys circled him.  Money was being thrown into the bucket so fast that most of it was just ending up on the ground and each bill was met with a devastating, family tree trimming kick or punch.  Kevin's right nut throbbed and his left had gone numb, he could barely stand yet despite it his cock was throbbing.

"I think I might actually make him cum!" someone shouted.

More fists. More boots. Kevin's testicles were swollen and bruised yet his cock was starting to throb. It was almost like he was trying to blow one final load before...

"Oh fuck! I give! I give!"  Kevin wailed as his cock exploded several ropes of jizz as he collapsed to his knees.  

Seth and Bruce's chests were painted with thick ribbons of thoroughly scrambled baby batter which caused them both to erupt into laughter as they immediately helped Kevin to his feet.  Despite the fact that he had been trying to destroy them just moments earlier, Bruce was now gently massaging Kevin's balls, rolling the heavy organs in his hands in a genuine, if a bit clumsy, inspection for any signs of serious damage.

"He's still whole!"  

The crowd whooped as Seth helped Kevin walk into the house while cradling his virtually cracked nuts.  

"Our champion!"  

Trevor took Patrick's arm and raised it into the air.  There was righteous applause and shouts of congratulations which Patrick accepted with a weak smile whilst gently cradling his truly battered sack in his free hand, each ball felt swollen to the size of eight balls and were nearly numb, though the biting cold was starting to break through the ball-busting haze.  Patrick eyed the bucket and pile of money and his smile widened and he gave a small bow to the crowd, ignoring the sickening pain in his stomach.

"I can't wait to buy a ball crusher with that," Patrick thought.

Inspiration for Patrick

Bully's Just Deserts

It was just after three in the afternoon on Saturday and Travis was standing in the locker room admiring himself in the mirror after a workout.  Travis was an Adonis, with more rippling muscles than most guys even realized they had, strong legs and a handsome face that was framed by his neatly cropped hair.

Today Travis had been especially aggressive on the weight bench and his back and shoulders were aching from the effort, but boy did it pay off. Travis flexed, actually getting hard at the stunningly ripped reflection staring back at him.  It looked as if someone had Photoshopped the perfect male body, only this was no special effect, it was all real.  He was only wearing a pair of grey knee-length basketball shorts that were clinging to him with sweat leaving little to the imagination.

He was so caught up in his self admiration that he didn’t notice the sound of three pairs of feet walking up behind him.

“Fuck!”  

Travis screamed in agony and buckled to his knees as an unbearable pain struck the small of his back, right above his bubble butt.  Travis didn’t realize it, but he had just felt the sting of a Taser.

Before he could regain his senses two sets of arms were lifting him up from underneath, propping him against the lockers like he was a sack of potatoes, his perfect male form on full display.  Travis’ head aches as he slowly regained his bearings.

“Tyler? What the fuck!”  

Travis’ voice as venomous as he screamed at the man standing in front of him.  He instinctively lunged but was held in place by two other men who were mere shadows of Travis’ exquisite frame but were nonetheless keeping the hunky stud firmly in place.   Tyler actually looked a lot like Travis with a handsome face and short brown hair, only he was much heavier and far less muscular.

“You know what, Travis. You think you’re such hot shit,” Tyler laughed as Travis tried desperately to break away from this assailants.

“I’m gonna’ kill you!” Travis screamed. It wasn’t hyperbole.

“So you need your two faggotty helpers? Can’t even face me by yourself?”  

Travis was enraged. The veins on his thick neck were bulging and his face was flashing red with pure hatred.  He couldn’t wait to see what pathetic attack Tyler had planned so that he could endure it and turn around and beat Tyler’s ass.

Tyler grinned as he revealed a steel baseball bat he had been holding behind his back. Travis sneered and struggled but the two helpers Tyler had recruited were proving to be especially capable for the job.

“You know what, Travis. I’m tired of your shit. And ya’ know what? Everyone else is, too,”

Travis recognized the two men holding him from passing. They were just two equally out of shape guys, like Tyler. Nothing to worry about...

Tyler placed the business end of the bad on Travis’s nose and Travis, feeling both terrified and pissed, braced himself for the horrible nose-breaking blow he knew he was about to get.  Tyler wasn’t a muscle god like him but anyone could do a lot of damage with a metal baseball bat against a defenseless opponent.

“What are you gonna’ do, fat ass?  Couldn’t even face me alone?”

Travis’ heart was pounding in panic but his outward appearance was nothing but hatred and malicious arrogance as he struggled against his bonds.  He couldn't’ even believe Tyler and his goons would even be attempting this...

Tyler rubbed the bat over Travis’ perfect nose reveling in the terror Travis was trying so hard to keep behind his steely-grey eyes.

“I think you need to be knocked down a peg...”

Tyler moved the bad down Travis’ rippled midsection slowly stopping when it rested over the slight bulge in Travis’ shorts.

“... or two!”

Before Travis even heard the words Tyler swung the bat full force into his baby makers.

“Mother fucker!” Travis screamed.

Whack!

“Fuck!”

Whack!

Travis struggled valiantly against his captors, cursing and screaming for help as Tyler used his balls for target practice.  Travis’ average sized yet heavy, dense nuts were being slammed with crushing force between the bat and his rock-hard pelvis, each blow landing with gross wet impacts.  Tyler truly didn’t care whether or not the arrogant bully’s manhood survived as he treated them as nothing more than baseballs on a stick, striking the swelling bulge with reckless abandon.  

Tyler grunted in effort and his eyes flashed with pure hatred as he laid waste to Travis’ junk.  Suddenly Travis, in absolute horror, cried out desperately.

“Tyler! I’m sorry, I’m sorry please don’t... ooooh!”

Travis was in hysterics.  He could tell this was no ordinary locker room dust up; Tyler was out for blood. The same muscles Travis had just been admiring flexed and strained in an ironically hot display as he tried desperately to break free. For the first time in his life Travis was crying, begging for Tyler to stop.

“Tyler! Please! I’m sorry!”

Whack!

Tyler had Travis’ whole world under his bat and it was about to literally shatter.  Travis’ sack was turning an uncomfortable shade of blackish purple and his balls were bouncing wildly, desperate to lessen the agony of the volley of blows.  At this point Travis wasn’t even making words, just desperate babbles as the other two men kept him held firmly in place.

Tyler reared the bat back, preparing for another blow when he noticed something quite unexpected.  Travis’ cock was starting to grow, and not just grow.  Throb.

Whack!

Travis screamed shaking his head no, pleading with his eyes for Tyler to stop. For the first time in his life Tyler actually felt bad for Travis, but he quickly decided he enjoyed watching Travis scream too much to stop. Travis’ nuts were rocketed into his body and Travis nearly wretched as Tyler bounced his now hideously swollen nuts around with the bad.   Despite the pain and Travis’ hysterical gyrating to break free, his cock continued to swell. His thick jock cock got bigger and harder until it was its full nine-inch beer-can thick glory, creating an impressive tent in his loose shorts.  Tyler took a pause from his beating and placed the bat so that it was resting on top of Travis’ rock-hard cock.

The two goons holding Travis chuckled as Tyler looked with a truly malice look on his face.

“Looks like you’re getting off on this, Travis.”

Travis was sobbing, terrified at what Tyler could do with his cock so close to the head of the devastating bat.  Tyler thought for a moment before speaking.

“Tell you what? Since you’re liking this so much, I promise I’ll stop swinging when you blow your load.”

Travis screamed in protest as Tyler swung the bat and collided the head of his cock as if he were hammering a nail.  Travis’ eyes cross as the most intense pain he had even experienced racked his brain. Then it happened again. And again.

Travis was silent; he wanted to scream but his brain just couldn’t process what was happening.  Instead his handsome face was contorted into an anguished expression with his handsome eyes leaking tears, half-crossed, trying desperately to make eye contact with Tyler. Trying to make a raw connection as one human being to another. Travis had been an incredibly mean bully to Tyler over the years but nothing he’d done deserved this kind of retribution. It was inhuman.

“Ty... please... please.. Stop...”

Travis was losing consciousness as the bat squished and cracked his nuts and cock.  Despite everything though, Travis’ cock stayed hard and was actually leaking precum, stimulated by its constant bouncing and -- shockingly -- by the agony in his balls.

Crack!

“Travis, you’re really liking this. But you’d better cum soon or else...”

Crack!

Travis’ body went limp as the bat collided with the underside of his sack, sending his nearly cracked nuts flying into his abdomen.  They were literally still sailing upward when they were hit with another blow, and another, and another.  Travis’ ball sack was black inside his shorts but his cock stayed rock hard.

“Tyler... no...”  

Tyler spit in Travis’ face as he sent the bat crashing into the stud’s thick cock, nearly cracking it in half with the blow.  Surprisingly Travis responded with a moan and a shot of precum that made a wet stain in his shorts.  Tyler kept it up alternating between beating Travis’ balls and his cock, desperate to finish this sick game in a spectacular testicular rupture.

“Oh... stop... oh!”  

Travis opened his mouth and let out a deep, baritone, guttural scream as the front of his shorts were soaked with cum. Every muscle in Tyler's sculpted body shuddered in an orgasm so powerful the two guys holding him nearly lost their grip. Tyler kept smashing Travis’ nuts with bat as his busy balls unloaded a dozen squirts that soaked his shorts and ran down his leg in a thick, white stream.   Tyler, to his word, threw down the bat and signaled for his friends to let Travis go allowing the bulky jock to slide to the floor, clutching his junk and sobbing.

Tyler and his friends looked down at Travis as he clutched his battered but still whole nuts, sobbing and curled into a ball.

“Well I hope that taught you a lesson, you bullying piece of shit!”  Tyler said as he hawked a loogie onto Travis’ face.

Travis didn’t even protest, nodding in agreement with Tyler, desperate for the three bullies to leave him alone.  

“Do you think we can get another load out of him?”  one of the goons asked as he picked up the bat and handed it to Tyler.

“No!” Travis screamed as he tried to flee.

He was stopped immediately by a swift kick to the side of his handsome face.  He was out cold.

“Yeah, let’s see if we can make the next shots red,”

Tyler said grinning, holding the bat as his friends held Travis’ defenseless, perfect body against the lockers.

Good Doctor: Ball Drop - New Years Day

"1..."

The group finished their count down just as the clock began to chime midnight.  It was 2018.

At the same moment Kamran and Quinn let go of the weights they were holding and stepped to the side so as to not block Zach and Dr. Paulson's view.  Almost immediately there was a loud clang as the weight that had been suspended from Archie's sack landed harmlessly to the floor.

The sound had barely registered with Lance before his eyes bugged out and he screamed "OH FUCK!"

He wasn't sure what had struck him first, the actual pain or the realization of what was about to happen, but both struck with equal ferociousness.  Lance's huge, swollen nuts were pulled violently downward by the heavy weight and the noose tightened around his sack, causing them to visually balloon as they were crammed into less and less space.

For the watching crowd everything that happened next was watched as if in slow motion.  Lance howled as the weight plunged toward the floor, pulling his sack along with.  His cock lurched and began firing ropes of jizz and his testicles neared his knees but the weigh wasn't slowing down.

"Ooh!"  Lance blacked out, his cock still squirting only the final shots were tinged red.

The entire fleshy balloon that had been pulled to the bottom of Lance's sack burst inside Lance's sack while he was still cumming and the weight hit the floor with a clang.  Both of his fat nuts, close to ruptured from the earlier pummeling, just couldn't withstand the pressure of being yanked and squeezed by the knot.   Dr. Paulson squeezed and inspected the visibly misshapen lumps in Lance's sack and confirmed, to the watching men's delight - including Archie's - that Lance's balls were history.  They hadn't quite burst in the gory shower Lance had always fantasized about, but they were now just chunks in his rapidly swelling sack.

Like clockwork Quinn, Kamran and Dr. Paulson helped the blacked out stud down from the platform and the watching eunuch jocks followed Dr. Paulson as he took Lane to begin the well-rehearsed procedure for dealing with the aftermath of one of his over-the-line ball busting sessions.

"Hey buddy, it's okay. Let's get you down,"

Zach whispered softly, kissing the back of Archie's neck as he undid his handcuffs.