Tyler Makes a Porno

Tyler Gripentrog was still wearing his sleeveless gym shirt and black shorts he'd been working out in at the gym earlier and he wanted to get in a few more power reps at his impromptu home gym before calling it a night.  Today's workout had been especially intense and he wanted to capitalize his especially pumped, taught muscles by filming a short clip for his esoteric and decidedly NSFW vlog.  The particular setup he had in mind would appeal to the small, but generous, subset of his fans who enjoyed watching the handsome young jock subjected to various predicaments like lifting weights wearing a chastity cage that he had to have custom modified to contain his thick flaccid dick and plump, kiwi sized balls while being forced to listen to lusty bitches being fucked through his headphones.  

The previous week he had bound his shorts-clad balls with rope, tied an extremely heavy weight to the other end then held it along while flexing his toned arms and looking pleadingly into the camera asking "Should I drop it? You know what would happen if I drop it?".  Toward the end of the video he pretended to accidentally drop the weight and edited a cut to black followed by the sound of him screaming and a cartoonish ripping sound effect; the visual of Tyler's huge baby makers makers in mortal peril must've struck a chord  as he was rewarded with the largest haul of tips he had made and that was while being essentially fully clothed.

For this video he decided to strip out of his sweaty gym shirt to show off his corrugated abs but keep on the shorts. They were still slightly damp with sweat so clung to his large nuts and he couldn't help but admire himself in the reflection of the window over his weight bench.  It was dark out so the window acted as a an impromptu, black mirror for Tyler to admire his own masculinity as he flexed his biceps and made his pecs dance to a jaunty rhythm that was playing in his head.  Workouts always made Tyler horny and today was no exception and he felt his heavy cock stirring in his shorts and briefly thought about just filming yet another wank and spurt vanilla clip but quickly decided that the tips he would rake in for what he was planning on would be far more lucrative.

He took a pause from his ego stroking to go rifle around his bedroom closet for something, smiling in delight as he found an old firework from independence day that had an unusually long, thick almost yarn like fuse. It was small almost perfectly round yellow orb the size of a small egg with a wicked looking smiley face painted on it. He held it up to the twin mounds in his shorts and smiled at the visual.  His audience would go wild for this.

Soon everything in his impromptu bedroom studio was setup.  He had to move the weigh bench to be almost flush to the wall under the window to accommodate the oblique angle he was going for from the tripod-mounted camera that captured the entire length of the bench.  Tyler put two large but relatively light weights on either end of the bench press bar he had setup and was pleased by the overall setup.  To be sure the view was just right, he flipped the viewfinder screen so that he would be able to see if whilst laying on the bench.  

He proceeded to stuff the bomb into his shorts with the fuse sticking out from the waistband and positioned it so that it appeared to be a small third testicle nestled between the other two then lay on the bench with his bottom half closest to the camera and grasped the weight bar as if he was preparing to do a set of bench presses. 

As was customary the camera was already recording and he was planning on editing in a slick intro for the resulting clip, perhaps something like "Jock Bets His Balls", he chuckled at his own cleverness.

"He guys an gals, its the Gripe Man coming at your again and this time I've seen to have gotten myself into quite a pickle..."  

He feigned fear as he stared down at his crotch, his eyes fixated on his mounding crotch and obviously unnatural third lump.

"See that lump in my shorts? It's a bomb, a big one, and Master says if I don't finish this set in time he's gonna' light the fuse.  No fucking way!"

He then proceeded to lift the bar from its safety rests and pretend to struggle to lift the bar.

"One..."

He groaned out, being sure to lift his head slightly to make his pecs stand out.

"Two..."

His arms started to shake and his face took on a convincing look of panic, eyes still fixated on his junk.

"Thre..ee.... oh fuck!"

He then pretended he was being over come by the weight pressing down on him and his muscular frame wiggled as he struggled to control the weight.  The look of absolute panic on his face was beyond convincing, so much so that anyone watching would have been surprised to see his handsome face break into a smile as he effortlessly returned the bar to the safety supports and sat upright on the bench.

In his mind we was envisioning a cut to black at the moment when he looked the most fearful and put up a title card explaining that the never seen 'Master' character -- really his own twisted imagination -- had overloaded the weight stack and was standing by to light the fuse and paint the walls with Tyler's unborn kids. And that's when the money shot, so to speak, would begin.

Tyler spent several minutes imagining how to setup the second part of the scene.  He envisioned elaborate setups where the weight bar could be attached to the bar to make it look like it would detonate if the stack fell too quickly.  He thought up a Rube Goldberg idea where the up and down motion of the weights as he lifted them would somehow light a match... Whatever he came up with he quickly shot down by the simple fact that he simply wasn't that good at making things.  He already had to pay a guy he had chatted with in the comments section of his vlog to build him an automatic ball slapping machine that was really just a motor with a paddle at the end; simple for someone with even a modicum of craftsmanship, but not for this gym rat.

Finally Tyler decided on the simplest and perhaps most visually striking setup.  He would just actually light the fuse, pretend to struggle with the weight stack, scream about not wanting to have his nuts blown off and then cut to black before he casually put out the flames.  Followup with sound effects of him screaming mixed with the firework actually exploding then cut to a clip of something bloody looking and chunky hitting a wall. Cut, print, nailed it. 

Maybe he'd put the bomb under some raw hamburger in his garage and attempt to capture splattering effect that way, or maybe there were ready made CGI clips he could buy. He could deal with the editing specifics tomorrow; right now Tyler just wanted to shoot the scene then lay on his bed and finally stroke out the massive load he could feel building in his loins. He was confident he'd end up drenching his own face and chest again and the thought made his nine inch cock tent in his shorts.

He lay back on the bench and fiddled with the fuse until it was positioned just so, snacking up his chest.  However, he quickly realized a problem with this setup; the long fuse would burn his chest as it meandered toward his crotch.  Ever the performer, he fished the yellow orb out of his shorts and rested it on top of the lump in his shorts but it rolled away almost immediately.  Undeterred Tyler fetched a tube of super glue and a pair of trick handcuffs from his desk.  He then  placed a generous amount on the underside of the explosive prop then attached it to his shorts so that it was placed directly on top of balls and the smiley face would be visible to the camera when he laid down. 

Again he laid on the bench and wiggled his hips so that the double mound of his jock pods and the snake like protrusion of his semi hard cock were perfectly in frame. And on top of it all was the yellow bomb grinning wickedly toward the camera.  

"Fuck, the fuse!"

Tyler rolled his eyes as he realized his genius move of using glue didn't solve the problem of him scorching his rippled abs, assuming he could even get it to light now that it had been in contact with his increasingly sweaty body.   Disappointed that he would have to get up from his carefully choreographed position, the young hunk made his way back to his desk and, without giving it much thought, proceeded to cut the fuse to mere inches in length.  To his delight, the relative stub seemed to do a good job staying upright only curling slightly and staying safely away from his body.  

Before he positioned himself on the bench he decided to up the realism of his impromptu predicament by adding more weight to the bar. More and more plates were added until it was pushing the limits of what even the muscled performer could comfortably handle, but he checked the setup in the viewfinder and had a brilliant idea. He added a few more weights then zoomed the camera in slightly.  

"Perfect!"

The weights hanging off the ends of the bar were now extending out of the frame perfectly visualizing the dangerously overloaded visual he was going for.  His cock got hard thinking about all of the people -- men and women -- who would get off watching him scream and struggle as his massive nuts were in mortal danger while admiring his gym-sculpted body and model good looks.   Before taking his position under the weight bar and finally filming the final scene, Tyler caught his reflection in the window, flexed his arm, kissed his bicep and winked at himself.

"You're a fucking stud bro," 

He grabbed his cock through his shorts, being careful not to jostle the most important prop out of place as he lay on the bench.  His towering cock was not also messing up the frame layout he was going for, it was stretching the shorts in such a way that the bomb, though still in place, was now several inches away from his balls which were themselves lost in the tent.  He closed his eyes and tried to blank his mind only to interrupt himself several times as a wandering hand tweaked one of his nipples or he had a vivid memory of having his cock serviced by a twink with an amazing mouth in the gym showers.

Despite his own raging hormones, his cock had deflated to the point it was just a cylindrical lump next to the stars of the show -- the twin, massive orbs between his legs.  He did some last minute adjustments to really make sure the setup was perfect and that his boys - and the device threatening to destroy them - were right in the center of the frame.

Finally, to make this scene especially perilous, he secured his right hand to the weight bar, lit the fuse, then proceeded to secure his left hand to the bar as well.  It took some finesse, but Tyler's hand were nimble enough to perform the task quite expertly and he had become quite versed in self bondage after one of his subscribers, a soccer mom from Australia, had been requesting and tipping quite well for such content. 

The yard like fuse wasn't burning particularly fast but even if it were the cuffs were break-away and Tyler's biceps were more than powerful enough to excise him from the situation should the need arrise.  As the flame slowly made its way toward its final destination, Tyler feigned a look of absolute horror, even managing to quickly generate tears as his eyes fixated on now-lit bomb.

"Oh no! Oh fuck! Not my balls!"  he screamed.

"I gotta' keep doing reps until Master tells me I can stop or else I'm gonna' be a Tina soon!"

Still faking panic Tyler gripped the weight bar, lifted the weights high into the air, then to his chest, counting out the reps as the fuse wandered toward the bomb.  There were occasional wafts of smoke that he imagined enhancing during editing to really draw the viewer to the main event.  He babbled and screamed, begging for his nuts and to anyone giving the scene a cursory glance they would have been convinced Tyler had been kidnapped by some depraved maniac who actually was about to watch his ripe seed pods be splatted all over his rippled chest.  The more into the scenario he got, the more frantically he pumped the weight, hoping that he'd hit the magic number soon. 

"...Twenty...twenty.... one... "

Tyler screamed and pretended that he was struggling with the weight stack which was actually starting to cause his pecs and arms some serious discomfort. But ever the cocky jock, Tyler just grunted and thrust the bar back into the air being sure to lift in such a way to really show off his sculpted pecs and...

"Ouch! Shit!"  

He felt a sudden tightness in his chest and, not wanting to break character, screamed out.

"Master! Please! Not my balls! Please I wanna' have kids!"

His eyes were frozen in Oscar-worthy panic when he felt his chest and arms spasm.  He had been so focused on benching the weight faster and more frantically to show off his body and build up the scene, he had long ago abandoned proper form and had quite suddenly was paying the price.

Tyler had done his fair share of over-doing it at the gym so wasn't particularly alarmed. Beside, the fuse was down to just under two inches and even at its leisurely pace was getting too close for comfort.  He'd leave the castration part of this clip to special effects.  This would be the part where the clip ended he concluded so suddenly stopped his wild lifting and began to slowly lower the bar onto the safeties. 

"Fuck!" 

Tyler let out a yelp of genuine pain as his right wrist suddenly bent too far back and for a brief moment he lost his grip on the bar.

"Ooomph!"

The weight bar landed with such force, his pecs acting like rock hard pillows, that Tyler the wind was literally knocked out of him and he instantly started seeing stars.

Tyler was snapped out of his daze by a strange, acrid smell filling his nose.

He looked down and his eyes widened in legitimate horror as he noticed that the flame had gotten much larger and was now burning much faster. The material of the fuse was different at this terminal length, which perhaps explained why the the otherwise limp fuse could stand upright; probably something he should have checked first he thought. 

Despite the flame now munching away at the fuse like a fiery version of Pacman, Tyler wasn't particularly alarmed and started to lift the bar off his chest.

"Fuck!" 

Tyler bellowed and his eyes welled up with real tears as he felt something pop in his wrist.  He could hear the sizzling of the fuse but was doing a surprisingly good job keeping panic at bay as he tried to pull his arm free from the prop handcuffs so that he could at least extinguish the flame before dealing with the crushing weight.

The handcuffs rattled and clanked against the bar but refused to break free. 

Tssss...

Tyler looked down and could see that the fuse was quickly getting shorter.  He tried reaching for the flame with his fingers but the constraining  handcuffs severely limited his range of motion.

Tssss...

"Holy fuck! Holy fuck!"

The reality of the predicament was starting to dawn on Tyler and his struggle against the handcuffs became much more desperate all the while the weight was crushing into his chest and he was starting to find breathing painful.  

Tsss...

The fuse was at just over an inch, burning faster than when the video had started but still relatively slow, Tyler thought, enough time to get out of this ridiculous situation.

Tsss...

In a desperate move Tyler decided to try simply sitting up, hoping that the thrust of this toned upper body could give him the leverage he needed to get out from under the bar. 

CRACK!

Tyler's forehead slammed into the marble window sill so hard it cracked. The dazed stud fell immediately backward, his forehead bleeding and the weight bar sinking painfully into his chest.

"Help! Help!"  

Tyler was alone, his pleas being entirely automatic and quite hoarse as air was being pressed out of him. His head was splitting, his wrist felt broken and despite his wild gyrations, the glued bomb stayed firmly in place and the handcuffs refused to yield.  There were instances where Tyler's finger was just inches from the flame, but they might as well been miles away.

Tsss...

His level of panic was now so high he couldn't think straight, with truly random thoughts clouding any effort to escape.  His heart, whose chest cavity was quite literally caving in, was racing and the pain in his head become all unbearable; then his vision started to blur.

Stunned by panic and pain, Tyler could only look down at his crotch and scream, his upper body struggling to get out from under the weight and his trapped arms flailing comically in an attempt to reach the flame.

Tsss...

The fuse was practically gone at this point and Tyler became hysterical. His vision was starting to blur around the edges but one thing was in laser focus - his manhood. He could see his balls and cock bulging under the bomb that barely had any fuse left.

"Oh no! No!"

Tyler was horrified into inaction and his crotch became his entire world.

Tsss..

Tyler's big fat, perpetually horny balls and most of his thick defenseless dick were about to be blown into meaty chunks in what sure to be a gross, brutal explosion far beyond anything Tyler could have dreamed up with special effects. 

Tsss...

His mouth was opened with an 'O' shape that would have been humorous in another context 

Tsss....

Tyler's eyes opened wide and he gave out a howl of defeat, panic, horror and incredulity...

BOO--SPLOSH---OOM!

The hapless jock passed out instantly as he felt bits of something hot and gooey striking his face.

Wanna 'watch' the video? Check out Part II: Tyler.mov

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.