LINK - Ball Busting Tales

Hello everyone! I’m hoping you’re enjoying my blog. I hope to have a new story up next week (I’ve been busy turning all of your suggestions into stories, so please, keep them coming!).  In the meantime, I think you’ll get a ‘kick’ out of the stories over at Ball Busting Tales (link below)  a very well done busting story blog over at Blogger.  I’ve gotten countless hours of enjoyment from there and hope you do the same.

http://ballbustingtales.blogspot.com/

Shattering Clay

Hey Guys!: This story contains explicit depictions of a consensual encounter turning more brutal than the bustee wanted which can be uncomfortable for some. Reader discretion advised.

EXTREME VIOLENCE. Reader discretion advised.  This story is not for everyone. Please do not ignore this warning and then complain in the comments section.

Clay’s hulking frame easily towered over most of the other men, and all of the women, at The Firm. The Firm was a relatively upscale martini bar in the neighboring town that catered to up and coming professionals and was quite the departure from the blue collar bars 21 year old Clay typically visited. But this particular Saturday night, the small town jock was up for something, and someone, new and fresh and new instantly upon walking in he had found it.

The Firm was filled with attractive, confident-looking young men and women, dressed in stylish blazers and form fitting cocktail dresses, laughing and dancing while drinking expensive martinis. Clay made his way to the bar, a brightly lit steel and glass affair that wrapped along every wall of the club, trying his best to sway his hulking frame in rhythm to the blaring pop music.

When he got to the bar, he ordered a cocktail and sipped it as he surveyed his surroundings. He was well dressed, by his standards, but wasn't nearly as gentlemen quarterly as the other young men. But he exuded such an air of border-line cocky self confidence, that he seemed right at home at The Firm nonetheless. Clay was six foot six with a strong, husky build. He wasn't particularly muscular, but his well filled, proportioned frame still made him quite intimidating. His face was youthful, still in transition between being ‘boyishly handsome’ and ‘ruggedly handsome’. He had a fairly large nose, but most people looked beyond that, captivated by his alluring, piercing blue eyes. His head was bald, and along with a seemingly permanent - though not intentionally threatening - scowl on his face, made him look like a marine or police officer. Overall Clay was reasonably attractive, his large size and confidence making up for his lack of a gorgeous face.

But despite his cockiness, Clay was feeling out of his element among the beautiful people at The Firm, though you would have never been able to tell from the sly, devil-may-care grin he had as he people watched.
He had come to The Firm with a mission: find and fuck the hottest girl in Central City, another notch in his belt, without the hookup becoming fodder for the rumor mill back home. Although Jamestown was only an hour’s drive from Central City, they were worlds apart. Everyone knew everyone in small Jamestown. No one knew anyone in Central City. If tonight went well, he concluded, this could very well be the beginning of a new chapter in his sexual life. He’d be the cute ‘farm boy’ who would take home and ravage a different big city bimbo every night of the week, all without his girlfriend in Jamestown ever finding out. This was a perfect plan.

Although not every woman at The Firm was Clay’s type, he couldn’t deny they were all very pretty. All of them were well dressed, had flawless faces and shapely bodies. But Clay fixated the most on the women who had the quality he liked best in a women; large breasts. Clay had been a breast man for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know exactly what it was about breasts that turned him on so much, but if it were ever between fucking a relatively unattractive girl with large breasts, or a smokin’ hot one with small breasts, Clay would chose the big boobed option every time. But even small breasts were a turn on in a pinch; feeling a nice firm pair of tits in his big, strong hands always got Clay hard, as did swirling his tongue over the nipples of large breasts , or sandwiching his dick between two mounding breasts and pumping away until he blew a load all over her face. Luckily for Clay, The Firm had no shortage of large breasted women.

The first woman who caught his eyes was a breathtakingly gorgeous red head in a skin tight black dress, she smiled at him as she danced with her friends. Another, a shapely short blond with flowing hair and enormous breasts relative to her small frame was suggestively licking her finger and beckoning Clay toward her. Clay had stood to walk toward her but instantly sat back down when a black man who was even larger than he wrapped his arm around her and ushered the drunken young lady off the dance floor. This long distance flirting and eye contact with various girls continued while Clay finished his second drink. By his third cocktail, he was feeling loose enough to make his move. He had been catching the eye of a well dressed brunette in an attractive white dress with a plunging neckline that showed off her over flowing cleavage. A slit on the leg of her dress revealed a luscious, perfectly tanned thigh and Clay could only imagine what it would be like to lick and suck his way up her thigh, stopping briefly at her pussy, before plunging his face into her chest while fucking her brains out, her svelte form pinned against the bed by his powerful body as she screamed and begged for more…. Clay felt his short, yet comically thick, cock stiffen in his slacks as he eye fucked her from across the bar. Let’s go for it! He chanted to himself as he swigged the last of his martini and made his way over to her, his walk even more of a swagger than usual.

–

“Oh God, he’s coming this way,” Chelsea sighed, laughing as she sipped her cocktail.

“Well you’ve been flirting with him for like an hour. What did you expect,” Zelda laughed.

Zelda and Chelsea were also out in Central City for a change of pace from their home a short drive away. But unlike Clay, their intentions were far less focused on sex. Instead the two single twenty-five year olds were just out to people watch, have a few drinks and pretend to be big city divas for a night before returning to their day to day lives.

Chelsea had recognized Clay immediately when he entered the club as her friend’s boyfriend, but it was obvious Clay didn’t recognize her, probably because the few times they had met Clay had been his usual drunken self. Chelsea and Zelda were surprised that Heather, Clay’s girlfriend, wasn’t’ with him but they quickly realized why. From their perch at a high top table along a wall, they had watched Clay dance and make out with at least a dozen large chested women before finally landing at the bar, which is where Chelsea and Clay first made eye contact.

Chelsea had been flirting with him, literally playing with his emotions, just waiting for the moment he would have he epiphany that not only did he already know her, but that she was one of his girlfriend’s good friends. But Clay, in usual fashion, was too obtuse to make the connection. Instead, he misinterpreted Chelsea and Zelda’s giggling at his dense ignorance as flirting.

“What a block head, he has to realize I’m going to tell Heather about this…”

Chelsea’s voice trailed off as her mind began to formulate a plan.

“He doesn’t recognize you. Go ahead, mind fuck him a bit before you drop the bomb.” Zelda chuckled, unable to believe Clay was so stupid.

“Shh. Here he comes,”

Chelsea straightened her skirt and gave Clay a coy smile as he approached, looking — even she had to admit — quite dapper in his filled out blazer and slacks.

“Hi. I’m Clay. Can I say what a pleasure it is to meet you…”

“Chelsea. Nice to meet you too, Clay.”

Clay was surprisingly adept at conversation despite - or perhaps because of - the three martinis he had. Zelda stayed mostly out of the conversation, confident any minute Clay would realize the trouble he was in for hitting on his girlfriend’s friend. Chelsea and Clay went on for nearly twenty minutes, Clay becoming slowly more and more forward as he at times openly licked his lips while looking down into her shirt. Chelsea even went to far as to drop hints, such as mentioning a party she had attended at Sleepy Hallow State Park where she and Clay had met a year earlier, but Clay was still oblivious, chatting up Chelsea like she was fresh meat ripe for the taking.

Zedla growing tired of the charade, politely excused herself and disappeared into the crowd to mingle.
“Your friend is nice. Very pretty. Not as nice as you, though,” Clay started when Zelda was barely out of earshot.

Chelsea found herself growing embarrassed that she was actually falling for Clay’s cliche, yet charming, pickup lines despite the fact that she knew he was an unequivocal man whore. As their chat stretched to nearly an hour, Chelsea decided that the free drinks from Clay and mildly amusing, albeit shallow conversation weren’t enough to keep her at the table any more. She was just about to blurt out “I know Heather, dumb ass” when Clay abruptly changed the topic of conversation.

“So, whadda’ ya’ say? Do you live around here? How about a night cap?”

Chelsea was incredulous. Clay, a partnered man, was blatantly hitting on his girlfriend’s friend and was now asking her to sleep with him. It was beyond ridiculous.

“Oh, I thought you said you were seeing someone,” she lied, hoping Clay would show some shred of dignity and back away.

Clay’s lips curled into a goofy grin and he laughed casually, “Nah, I’m a free man. Playing the field, for lack of a better phrase. Just trying to find my Mrs. Right,”

Chelsea had to bite her lip not to call him a whore and end the conversation, but she only nodded and smiled, concealing the growing anger she was feeling toward Clay. Even Chelsea had to admit her friend Heather could be a bit crass at times and, in different circumstances she could even have sympathized with Clay wanting to move on. But he could have at least had the courtesy to tell Heather before going out to fuck half the county. How long had this been going on? How many diseases had Clay recklessly exposed Heather to? It was a appalling. Chelsea’s blood was boiling as she tried her best to keep up the pretty, vapid bimbo persona Clay seemed to like so much.

“So, Clay. A handsome, strong man like you. I’m sure you don’t stay single very long,”

She reached across the table and put her hand on his strong bicep.

“Well yeah, I’ve been broken up with my girl for a while now though. Been dating off on and on a few years,”

Chelsea had to look away to avoid Clay seeing her uncontrollable eye roll. So he had been ‘dating’, as in fucking around, for a few years at least. Chelsea felt a deep rage building against the handsome blue eyed man sitting across from her.

“Yeah, her name was Heather. Such a pretty name for such a slut. I had to let her go,” Clay finished the last part laughing and finishing his beer.

Chelsea couldn’t believe it. Heather was alone in Jamestown whilst Clay was out living it up in Central City while calling her a slut. The irony was too thick for words. Chelsea was becoming more upset with Clay as he prattled on. He was perfectly good looking and could carry on a decent conversation. Why on Earth would be feel the need to be such a sleaze. Typical man… Her growing anger coalesced around a single word: Revenge.

“So, what do you say we go back to my place,” Chelsea nearly blurted out.
Her subconscious mind had been hatching a plan that her conscious mind was only just now aware of. No doubt all the alcohol was helping to weaken her brain-to-mouth filter.
Clay’s blue eyes lit up and his cock jumped.
“Sure, let’s blow this Popsicle stand,” Clay said standing, extending his arm to Chelsea and escorting her out of the club in true gentlemanly fashion. How pathetically ironic, she thought.

–

Chelsea’s apartment door had barely closed before Clay grabbed an arm in each of his large hands and pulled her in for a kiss. Although he lacked well defined musculature, his large size still meant he was quite strong especially compared to the five foot five Chelsea. She yelped and he instantly let go, realizing that in his drunken state he was being too rough. He let go of her and a look of genuine concern came across his face.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…” he had barely finished his sincere apology before she had jumped into his open arms. He caught her and she wrapped her legs around his torso.

“I like it rough,” she whispered as she licked his ear.

Clay smiled, precum leaking from the head of his cock, and he carried her into the bedroom, not parting lips until she was laying on the bed.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” Clay gasped breathlessly as he peeled off her dress.

Her breasts were large, quite perky and utterly delicious. He was literally drooling as he leaned in to suck her nipples. Meanwhile, she removed his pants, letting his cock flop freely. It was now completely hard, only four inches long but literally as thick as a beer car. A pair of heavy, oblong nuts hanging in a bag covered in dense blonde hair. Although he was sweaty, Clay actually smelled very good and for a moment Chelsea almost found herself forgetting her master plan…

“Oh baby!” Clay moaned as they progressed from heavy petting to all out fucking.

Cheleas’s pussy opened up completely to take his fat cock and, once he was in, she expertly contracted her muscles, squeezing and milking Clay. He usually lasted quite a while, but Chelsea seemed determined to make him cum as quickly and as hard as possible.

“Oh … you’re so… hot”

Clay and Chelsea fucked like animals, Clay’s deep voice reduced to guttural, squealing moans of pleasure as Chelsea went to town servicing the beefy stud.

“Oh? What’s this now?” Clay stopped his piston like slamming into Chelsea to pick up a shiny pair of hand cuffs on the night stand.

He had been so occupied at trying to nut in the attractive young woman, he hadn’t really noticed the furniture or decorations in the room around him. Chelsea’s face flushed in embarrassment as he held up the trick hand cuffs. She grabbed them from him and quickly closed one around his wrist, then the post of the bed. Clay smiled and willingly offered up his other wrist that she quickly shackled to the other post.

“Oh yeah, baby. I’ve been a naughty boy.”

Clay’s cock was rock hard at the prospect of being at the ‘mercy’ of this petite woman. Despite his imposing stature, Clay was very submissive in the bedroom, willing to do pretty much anything — within reason — as long as it meant he got to feel a handful of tit and his cock inside a warm, wet pussy. There was also something weirdly hot to him about being restrained, totally at the mercy of another person, though he didn’t’ know why.

“Yeah you have, Mr. Ward. Now you’ve gotta eat out my dripping wet pussy until I gush,”

Clay’s cock twitched as Chelsea squatted over Clay’s handsome face until her pussy was right over his mouth.

“Mmmm. So what happens if I can’t make you squirt,” Clay licked his lips and inhaled Chelsea's sweet odor.

“Oh, I’ll think of something,”

Clay stuck out his tongue and sent it plunging into Chelsea. He was in heaven as his thick tongue played inside the same hole his cock had been slamming just moments ago. His arms instinctively tried to reach up to grab her tits while he tongued her, but he couldn’t move them from the posts. Chelsea, figuring she might as well enjoy Clay’s truly talented tongue before proceeding with her plan, threw her head back and enjoyed the ride, bobbing slightly up and down effectively fucking herself with Clay’s tongue.

“Mmm baby!” she moaned; Clay was very good at this.

Clay plunged his tongue all the way into her pussy, licking and swirling and giving her so much pleasure she nearly forgot her plan. She focused, trying to ignore her growing orgasm , as she balled her fists and rose them, one each, over Clay’s huge, harry nuts. She counted down in her mind from ten and, when she hit one, sent both fists crashing down into Clay’s balls. There was a loud, wet SPLAT as her fists collided with and slightly compressed the sweaty orbs. Clayton gasped, but didn’t stop his tonguing, though his back did arch in pain.

She slammed her fist into his balls again and this time Clayton pulled his tongue out and yelped.
“Not so rough, baby,” he said gasping, a sickening knot had formed in the pit of his stomach from the pain.

Chelsea didn’t’ turn to see it, but knew Clay’s blue eyes were probably scrunched in pain.

“Uh oh, you’d better make me squirt,” she said, her tone soft yet threatening.

SPALT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

“Oh God!” Clay screamed, his legs bucking, though he was careful not to kick her lest he spoil the sex game.

“Please, not so hard,”

SPLAT! SPLAT!

I’d better hurry and make her cum, Clay thought to himself sticking his tongue back inside her. Chelsea continued to pound into Clay’s nuts with her fists, enjoying the sensation of feeling them flatten against the firm mattress. Clay, for his part, was trying to ignore the pain, concentrating all his focus on the gorgeous, delicious pussy right in front of his face. His face was contorted in pain though as his stomach knotted into a dull, painful ache with each blow. Clay actually liked having his balls squeezed and tugged during sex, but this was much, much harder. It almost seemed like she was really trying to hurt him.

“Oh! Baby please!” He shrieked as she suddenly began slamming her fists one after another, focusing on his swelling right nut.

Chelsea, despite her disgust toward Clay, was getting incredibly aroused by his expert tongue and the feeling of mashing his balls. The harder she struck them, the more turned on she was. How hot would it be to crush his nuts right as I’m cumming? She thought.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

“Oh God!” Clay said, starting to struggle against his bonds as Chelsea continued to drive her fists into his defenseless nuts.

She stopped briefly and grabbed his still hard, dripping cock and used his precum as a lube as she stroked with one hand while grabbing his left nut with the other. Clay sighed at the reprieve and could tell he was close to getting Chelsea off. Little did he know though, it wasn’t his tongue that was doing it for her the most , it was the feeling of having his vulnerable, squishy nuts right in front of her that was getting her off.

She gently squeezed his left nut, which was more Clay’s liking, and he knew he was close to spewing his load. Meanwhile, Chelsea was carefully examining Clay’s left nut in her fingers, squeezing here and there to see if any part of the enormous ball was softer or firmer than others. It seemed uniformly firm, and very dense. Clays’ nuts were the heaviest, densest balls she had ever felt. She squeezed a bit harder, then harder and almost exploded on Clay’s face when she felt her fingers starting to flatten the unyielding orb. Clay moaned at the ball play, which was continuing while Chelsea was continuing to stroke his cock…

“Oh… oh… I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” they both screamed in near unison.

A jet of cum exploded upward from Clay’s cock nearly three feet into the air, leaving a gooey sticky mess all over his broad torso when it landed with a splatter. He shot again, and again — each larger than the last - - as he felt Chelsea orgasming all over his face. Clay’s back arched and his legs convulsed as a powerful orgasm overtook him. Chelsea could feel Clay’s bloated left nut contracting with each spurt and thought how nice it would have been to simply crush it in her hands right then and there.. but that would wait.

“Oh baby,” Clay said gasping for breath after his explosive cum shots subsided.

Chelsea let Clay lick her pussy clean before laying in the bed next to him.

“Let’s do that again,” she said breathlessly, still grasping his swelling nut in her hand.

She applied a quick squeeze that caused the still panting hunk to yelp. These are going to be so much fun to crack, she thought, as she rolled his nut in her hands.
-
It had been a week since Clay and Chelsea first met and he had made a trip to visit her each night, despite the drive from Jamestown, in order to get his hands on her breasts and his tongue in her hole. He fucked Chelsea in every position imaginable, and despite pounding her like his life depended on it, always held her tenderly in his arms. it was as if he knew his large size meant he had to treat everyone gingerly. Chelsea on the other hand, squeezed, tugged and beat Clay’s nuts relentlessly, Clay thinking it was only rough play , but being too smitten by her to forcefully ask her to stop. During their multiple meetings, he never once mentioned Heather or too many details about his life Chelsea hadn’t already gleaned from their conversation at The Firm.

It was now Friday night and Chelsea, playing on what appeared to be genuine attachment Clay was developing for her, convinced him to rent a romantic cabin in the woods outside of town. Clay left without telling anyone where he was going; for all anyone knew he had gone to Central City for one of his ‘work’ trips.

“This is a cute place…” Clay had barely closed the cabin door before Chelsea was down on her knees unbuckling his jeans.

“Oh yeah, baby,” he leaned against the door as Chelsea proceeded to lick and stroke his cock until it was fully hard.

Despite being relatively short, it was so thick she had trouble getting the whole thing in her mouth at once, but Clay appreciated the effort nonetheless and rewarded her with a spurt of steamy precum. The two went on for hours, Clay getting so horny from the marathon foreplay that he eventually simply picked Chelsea up like a sack of potatoes and carried her into the bedroom as she laughed and pretended to fight back. He threw her on the bed in feigned dominance and proceeded to climb on top of her. His leaking, fat cock was just about to penetrate her well stretched hole when she put a finger on his lips and said, “I think you should be on the bottom. I want to ride you.”

“Yes ma’am”! Clay flopped places with her and was soon on his back, spread eagle. His broad, husky body was incredibly vulnerable, Chelsea thought. What a shame though. Clay actually was a tiger in bed, and despite not being very muscular, his broad, well proportioned and powerful body was still very hot.

“Wait, I want to get something,”

She left the room returned with her overnight bag. She pulled out four pair of what Clay assumed were trick hand cuffs and Clay readily let himself be tied to the bed posts, only this time even his legs were tied,forcing his thick legs wide apart and totally exposing his sex life to Chelsea's every whim.

“You know what I’m gonna’ do to you, Clay?” she said in an airy voice.

Clay’s cock jumped

“Mmm, what’re you gonna’ do to me, ma’am?” he licked his lips and winked at her, wanting desperately for her to lean in and kiss him, letting her breasts rub against his pecs.

“Well, for starters I’m going to teach you a lesson about cheating on Heather. And how many other women have you done that to?”

It took Clay a moment to realize what she had said, then his face went pale.

“What? What are you talking about? How do you know… AAAH!”

Clay’s back arched in pain Chelsea proceeding to slam her fist into his totally defenseless right ball with a loud SPLAT. She could feel the ball comperes slightly under her fist and he could feel a dull ache building in his stomach coupled with a sharp, stinging pain.

“You’re a pig, Clay. Always will be. We can’t have that,”

SPLAT! SPLAT!

Tears were streaming down Clay’s face as the dull ache became a shooting pain. Who was this woman and how did she know Heather. Clay went to twist his wrist, that normally unlocked the handcuffs but they stayed tightly shut.

“Oh, those are real, Clay.” she said laughing as she left the room.

Clay, now in a panic, struggled to get free, or at least close his legs but the handcuffs stopped him from doing anything. Chelsea was gone for what seemed like a long time and he could here her rustling around the cabin as if gathering supplies, though for what Clay couldn’t be sure. Clay’s arms were growing tired from his fruitless struggling, but the handcuffs didn’t budge.

Finally, she emerged carrying her overnight bag which was obviously now stuffed with much more than clothes.

“Wha-what is that?” Clay asked, his voice shaking in genuine fear.

Chelsea laughed at the look of terror that seemed to be sapping the life out of his usually sparklingly, playful blue eyes.

“Oh, just a few things.”

Chelsea let the bag drop with a loud clank, the mystery objects within rattling about. She bent down and fetched a meat tenderizer from the bag along with a spool of bandages she had swiped from the bathroom. She approached him with slow, deliberate steps, thoroughly enjoying the shameless terror in Clay’s eyes.
Without saying a word, she straddled his midsection facing his waist and proceeded to tightly bandage his nuts at the base of the sack so that the huge organs bulged obscenely against the pale skin of his sack. The resulting tugging was uncomfortable, but not particularly painful to Clay, his heart pounding as she wound the bandage tighter and tighter.

“Wha- please. Please don’t hurt me,”

Every ounce of tough guy bravado was gone as Clay whimpered and pleaded. Even the tone of his voice seemed different, a higher octave, like a frightened teenager instead of the confident young man from moments before. Despite his size, Clay was shaking like a leaf under the petite Chelsea.

“Ah, that should do. Wouldn’t want them to get away,” Chelsea admired her handiwork as she set the bandages aside.

Clay’s hens egg sized nuts were both so tightly bound at the base that they were turning beet red. There was no way the defenseless baby makers would be able to retreat back into the safety of Clay’s body…
She chuckled as she picked up the meat tenderizer and positioned it over Clay’s bloated sack.

“You know, Clay. All you had to do was not be pig,”

She didn’t give the helpless stud a chance to react before she sent the mallet plunging into his sack. The over sized head of the tenderizer violently compressed Clay’s testicles, the membranes of which were struggling to stay firm.

“OH GOD!” Clay screamed, barely registering the deep, radiating pain of the first blow before the mallet came down again, biased toward his left nut.

SPL-A-T!

SPLAT!

Chelsea was enjoying the ride of Clay’s bucking body as he tried desperately to free himself, but she didn’t let it distract her from sending the mallet down into the abused organs again and again and again, with barely no time between blows to give poor Clay a chance to recover. Clay was sobbing and begging Chelsea to stop, to show mercy, but that only seemed to make Chelsea more determined to crush his balls. A deep, throbbing pain built up in Clay’s stomach and he thought he was going to heave. He had never experienced anything so terrible in his life…

SPLAT! SPLAT!

Chelsea could feel that Clay’s balls were starting to flatten, becoming less resistant with each blow, but she couldn’t stop. Clay bucked like a wild animal under her, but his strength was starting to wane as his brain started shutting down, unable to process the tremendous, throbbing pain coming from between his legs.

“Please! Please don’t hurt me no more,” he barely managed to get out in a voice hoarse from inhumane screaming.

Chelsea threw down the mallet and grabbed one of Clay’s swollen balls in each hand. She had been pounding them flat for ten minutes and it was obvious permanent damage was starting to happen. His right ball in particular was much softer and easier to compress than the left, and welts now marred the surface of his once proud, flawless sack. Clay’s nuts were swollen to twice their regular size and Chelsea could feel them throbbing with each heart beat. As she rolled and squeezed his gonads in her examination, a whimpering Clay pleaded with her to let him go.

“Please, I don’t — let me go,”

His sobbing was starting to annoy Chelsea and she was able to quickly replace it with a loud yelp as she started squeezing her hands. Her petite hands pressed and crushed into Clay’s collapsing nuts as hard as she could, but it was obvious even the assaulted nut tissue was too sturdy for her. She briefly released them as she plotted her next move, smiling evilly as she recalled their first night together and how hot she imagined it would be to crush his junk in her bare hands. She grabbed Clay’s battered right nut and sandwiched it between both hands and squeezed like she was trying to juice a lemon.

Clay’s mouth formed a large ‘O’, though no sound came out as he struggled to even comprehend the pain. His beautiful blue eyes crossed in agony as she pressed and squeezed, determined to feel the satisfying sensation of Clay’s ball splitting in her hands. She was getting wet imagining what it would be like to feel half of Clay’s manhood literally bursting in her hands.

“Ooooh!” he wailed approaching unconsciousness.

Chelsea’s twat got wet as she felt her hands starting to compress further together. She had been relentlessly squashing Clay’s nut for nearly five minutes and was sure she was starting to feel it breaking under the pressure. Her face was red with effort, and frustration, as his ball flattened noticeably but didn’t break. Just when Clay thought he was going to pass out, he felt a rush of relief as she let go of his aching testicle and hopped off the bed. He was panting heavily, unsure what was going to happen next, as she fetched something out of her bag.

“No! Please God! No!” Clay begged, his voice shaking in terror when he saw what she was carrying.
Chelsea was on her knees between Clay’s wide spread legs holding a pair of pliers. She held them, jaws open, in front of her breasts licking her lips as she closed the jaws, showing Clay that they wouldn’t stop until they were touching all the way. He sobbed, not even trying to beg, as he felt the jaws ensnare his engorged right nut. Chelsea slowly tighten the pressure around the huge ball, feeling the pliers effortlessly compressing the ball meat. She kept closing the jaws, making Clay’s ball get flatter and flatter, dimpling at the peripheries as the contents of the sack were compressed to their limit.

Clay’s mind was going hazy. Chelsea was looking directly into his eyes… and laughing. How could she be laughing? He thought. Here he was, totally at her mercy, sobbing, begging. Pleading. His eyes were begging for mercy and all she could do was laugh? What kind of monster was this?

He could feel his nut getting dangerously flat and expected it would suddenly burst from the pressure. Then it stopped. Chelsea let the right nut go and quickly had the pliers around the swollen left ball. She alternated from ball to ball, enjoying the feeling of the ball meat flattening and compressing like overstuffed water balloons that were about to pop. She looked down at the helpless, hulking young man and enjoyed how utterly she was able to dominate him. Chelsea knew his left nut wasn’t going to last much longer, so she purposefully let it go, wanting the torture to proceed for a while.

“I’m going to give you a bit to rest,” she said casually leaving the room.

She left Clay to stew in his thoughts for what seemed like hours, though Clay couldn’t be for certain. He cried softly to himself, panicked that he would never see his mom or his brothers or any of his friends again. And would anyone even know to look for him? He had left town without telling anyone where he was going. Was this monstrous bitch going to kill him quickly or keep torturing him? Would it hurt to die? Clay was reduced to a blubbering, exhausted wretch by the time a still-naked Chelsea finally returned to the bedroom.

“Ready for round two?” she grinned to herself.

Clay, who had had some time to compose himself, was able to get out a relatively calm, articulate plea for mercy.

“Chelsea. Please don’t hurt me. I don’t wanna’ die. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry…”

Clay had never been more sincere in his life, but she ignored him as she rummaged around in the bag. She grabbed a cheese grater and the mallet from earlier and climbed onto the bed, straddling his face with her pussy.

Despite himself, Clay was getting turned on by the smell of her wet pussy in his face.

“Mmm. You’d better use that tongue of yours if you know what’s good for you,”

Clay’s tongue plunged into Chelsea and he licked, sucked and swirled his tongue like his life literally depended on it.

SPLAT! SPLAT!

Clay gagged as he felt his testicles being pounded under the mallet.

“Did I say you could stop?”

SPLAT! SPL-A-T!

Clay tried his best to satisfy Chelsea despite the fiery pain in his balls. He knew she was really doing permanent damage to him and his brain was cloudy with pain and fear. But he kept going, hoping she’d show him mercy if he got her to gush like he was able to so many times before. To his relief, it seemed to be working. The time between hits to the balls was getting longer as his excerpt tongue was distracting Chelsea.

“Oh you like that, baby?” he said breathlessly, trying his best to sound sexy, hoping to win sympathy from her.

“Oh! Oh yea!” she screamed in  ecstasy as she rose the mallet far above her head and sent it crashing down.

“No! Nooooo!”

SP-L-A-A-T!

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

Clay was getting sick to his stomach. He was trying desperately to make her cum, but it seemed the more turned on she got, the harder and more determined she was to destroy his manhood. Clay could feel his nuts were cracking. The left was taking longer to plump back up and the right had taken on a permanently flattened look.

“Oh, I don’t wanna’ be having all the fun,”

She set down the mallet and grabbed Clay’s short, thick cock with her hand and started stroking. Although he felt like his balls had literally been flattened, Clay quickly got hard. He sobbed in embarrassment as his cock betrayed him, growing its full rock hard length in a matter of minutes. Chelsea grabbed the cheese grater and held it against the length of Clay’s fat cock. Clay twitched at the feeling of the icy metal against his skin and had barely registered what it was before Chelsea started slowly grinding it back and forth.

“Aaaaagh!” Clay screamed.

Chelsea nearly squirted on Clay’s face as she felt the grater slicing into Clay’s proud cock. Clay was screaming and writhing under her like a dying animal, each back and forth of the cheese grater being interjected with a sensual stroke of his now bloody cock by her hand. His blood made an effective, and macabre, lubricant, as she jerked him closer and closer to cumming. Clay was sure he was going to black out as the grater lay waste to his truly beautiful, fat cock, digging in with its sharpened blades like teeth.

“Oh hey, I think you’re close,”

Chelsea had held Clay’s cumming cock enough to know when he was about to blow. Driven totally by instinct, and with no pleasure whatsoever, Clay’s cock, half of which was now reduced to shredded gore by the grater, was starting to twitch.

“Oh! OOOh!”

Clay screamed as a small, pink tortured load erupted from his half destroyed cock. His still bound nuts throbbed horribly as they attempted to contract into his body with the cum shot. While his cock was still spurting, Chelsea fetched the bandages from earlier and tightly wrapped his bloody cock in it, wrapping it tightly to stem the bleeding. After all, she concluded, she didn’t want him bleeding out… yet. Clay’s brain was awash in the pleasure of an orgasm and the pain of having his cock grated. He prayed to black out or for Chelsea to be satisfied with what she’d done so far and just leave him alone…

Clay’s head was thrashing back and forth violently, desperately looking for a way out as Chelsea casually fetched a length of twine from her bag. She tied the twine tightly around the base of Clay’s nuts and proceeded to walk slowly away from the bed, tugging on his balls as she went.. Clay instinctively arched his back to try to lesson the tension, but tied to the bed as he was, could barely move.

The twine was starting to dig into the flesh of his balls as she pulled the length further and further, causing Clay’s bloated sack to be tugged several inches from his body. Clay’s eyes bugged and he screamed continuously, knowing now that Chelsea wasn’t going to stop until his nuts were history. When his nuts were stretched nearly five inches further out than normal, Chelsea casually released the twine. The feeling of blood rushing back into his testicles was a burning relief to the now nearly unconscious Clay. Chelsea walked over to the bed to inspect the damage.

The twine was sharp, and had started to bite into the skin of his scrotum, but it hadn’t done significant damage. She realized that Clay was starting to black out so she, not wanting him to miss out on the finale, left the room to give him time to rest. Clay couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but it felt to be at least an hour. He had fallen asleep, exhausted from his struggling and overwhelmed with pain. His dream was a calming phantasmagoria, as if he was mentally preparing for another round of torture. He was back in his apartment, his dog Max begging for attention at his feet. He bent down and swooped up the little brown mutt and giggled as he felt Max’s tongue lick his face. Clay set down the dog after what seemed to be a few minutes and began looking over pictures on his mantle. The dream mantle was impossibly long, lined with photographs of seemingly every person, pet and sentimental object Clay had ever met or seen.

“Oh, Josh. I love you so much, buddy,” dream Clay started crying softly when he happened across a picture of his teenage brother. A wave of dread washed over him as he remembered that the last words he had said to Josh were ‘I hate you’ over what was in the grand scheme a totally trivial argument.

This is it, isn’t it? Clay thought to himself as he started to wake up, “She’s gonna’ kill me and I’ll never see any of them again,”

Clay awoke some time later, his head almost too groggy to immediately register the now fiery, burning pain coming from between his legs. He looked over to see Chelsea standing over the bed holding the mallet.

“No…” he whimpered.

“Ah, you’re awake. I thought you were dead,”

Clay shuddered at the casualness she was taking about his immanent death.

“Please. Please don’t…. AAAH!”

Chelsea unceremoniously sent the mallet crashing into his still bound ball sack, particularly flattening the left nut.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPL—A–T!

She pounded on his nuts with the forcefulness of pounding a nail into a board, for five minutes until she could feel his ridiculously swollen, blue-black right ball seemed to burst in the sack with a barely audible, but still satisfying wet CRUNCH.

“OH GOD!”

Clay wasn’t even granted the mercy of passing out from the incredible pain. Meanwhile Chelsea threw down the mallet and grasped the right side of his sack with both hands, kneading and squeezing the ruined orb. It had fractured into two, still firm halves. But that wasn’t enough damage, she thought.

She ran from the room and returned a short while later with the small clothes iron from the cabin’s bathroom. She plugged it in and set it to high, holding the heating metal plate just inches from Clay’s sack.

Clay was convulsing from the pain of his fractured right nut, his brain too overwhelmed to even processes the new sensation as heat waves radiated from the metal plate that Chelsea was bringing closer. Closer and closer…

SSSSIIIIIISSSSSS–

“OOOOH!” Clay screamed so loud that for a moment even Chelsea was taken aback, but she continued to hold the plate firmly against Clay’s roasting scrotum.

The metal plate made a high pitched hissing and sizzling as the smell of singed hair and burning flesh filled the room. It seemed like the hulking, trapped jock was going to rip the bed apart he was pulling so hard on the constraints, but he remained firmly at Chelsea’s mercy. She could feel her twat getting wet, but ignored her pleasure to stay concentrated on the task at hand.

SSSSIIISSS….

She held the heavy, scalding hot iron on his balls for several minutes, though to Clay it felt like eternity, before withdrawing it quickly and tossing it to the floor. She smiled wickedly at the results of the nut roasting; his once beautiful sack was now free of the top several layers of skin. The patch of blonde hair was completely gone, singed away by the iron. Oozing wounds marred the entire surface of his still hot to the touch ball sack. Clay was reduced to a whimpering, nearly comatose mess and for a brief moment Chelsea – sure he was already sterilized – considered simply leaving the cabin. But the thought was banished and she literally laughed to herself when she remembered what else she had thrown into her bag of impromptu torture devices.

Ignoring Clay’s begging, Chelsea pulled a tube of Bengay from the bag and squirted nearly the entire amount onto her hand. She balled her petite hand into a fist, climbed on the bed between Clay’s legs, made cruel eye contact with his desperate, handsome eyes and rammed her fist straight between his legs into his asshole.
Clay had never been fucked, and certainly never fisted, so the painful stretching was almost too much for him to bare. He had just registered the violating, sickening plunging of her fist when the wave of burning pain from the Bengay started to set in.

“AAAAAH! MY ASS!”

It felt as if Clay’s entire digestive system; from his anus up to his throat, was on fire. Even counting the pain his balls had gone through, he had never experienced anything so brutal. He was sobbing and pleading as Chelsea mercilessly fist fucked him until her arm was sore. When she finally pulled out, the damage was done. Blood trickled from between his tight ass cheeks and the Bengay that had been deposited up through his guts was still burning. Chelsea calmly wiped her slimy, bloodied fist and forearm on the bed sheets and picked up the mallet again.

Clay barely got out a whimper as he looked down, watching her pound his already charred sack over and over.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! CRUNCH!

Clay blacked out again and Chelsea almost orgasmed as she felt the already cracked right nut totally burst.
SP-A-A-T! SPLOSH SPLOSH

To be sure she focused the mallet head so that it came down directly on just the right ball and didn’t stop until the testicle was obviously reduced to a lumpy mush. She again threw down the mallet and grabbed the right side of the sack with her hands, squeezing and compressing, relishing in the feeling as she felt chunk after tortured chunk burst and collapse in her hands. The feeling was so incredible, she could hardly believe it, and she still had one more left.

Clay awoke to the stinging odor of smelling salts. The temporary rush of alertness only heightening the pain in his crotch. Chelsea looked down at him and smiled before climbing on top of him, straddling his chest facing his crotch. He could feel that she was rubbing a cold, gooey liquid all over his still-plump left nut. He couldn’t tell what it was but it had an oddly familiar odor he thought he recognized as…

“OH SHIT! NO! NOOOO!”

Chelsea ignored him as she picked up a match and lit his left nut on fire. She had rubbed it with fire starting gel, that Clay had brought with him in case he wanted to make a romantic fire, and she just sat and watched as his left nut bubbled and burned.

Clay’s bucking nearly knocked Chelsea off, but she just sat there continuing to watch his nut being roasted. The sperm and liquids inside were boiling and expanding rapidly.. too rapidly..

POP! TISSSSS! TISSS!

Ruptures started to appear all over Clay’s sack as the boiling contents started oozing out, forced out by the building steam.

“That should do,”

She began pounding the left nut with the large mallet. Although it was effectively putting out the small flames, it was also crushing Clay’s barely in tact last ball.

“Break! Break!”

She screamed in a rage as she sent the mallet into his last nut over and over. Clay’s manhood was entirely at her mercy. She could have stopped pounding the defenseless orb any time, but she wanted to feel the amazing sensation of a testicle rupturing under her mallet again…

Clay was screaming and struggling to get free but it was no use, Chelsea wasn’t going to stop pounding until…

CR-UU—NCH!

Clay nearly choked on vomit as he felt his last, huge ball finally implode.

Chelsea thought she was going to orgasm right then, but still had some things she wanted to do with Clay. She positioned herself so that she was literally fucking herself with his large nose. Clay, despite being delirious with pain, was getting aroused by the smell – though it was purely instinct. As she bobbed up and down, nearly suffocating him, he wasn’t getting any pleasure whatsoever. His entire world was now reduced to his two crushed balls. But Chelsea wasn’t done.

She moaned in pleasure, and he in delirious pain, with each plunge of her pussy onto his face, pounding his flattened sack with the mallet full force as she did.

“Oh! Oh! Yeah!”

She knew she was close and was now sending the mallet down so hard and so fast it was barely a blur. Clay’s nut sack split open as she continued to near orgasm. SPLAT! SPLOSH!

The mallet was now directly smashing Clay’s exposed, shattered testicles, sending chunks of the destroyed sex organs splattering upward. Clay passed out as his abs were covered by the gory remains of his ounce proud balls. His nuts reduced to a pulpy mess, Chelsea focused her attention on his cock.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SQUISH! SPLAT!

The defenseless, fat tool was still wrapped in bandages, but they did little to protect it as she pounded down on it like a giant nail. The thick, fat dong lasted only a few blows before she could feel it snap at the base. Then she just started hammering indiscriminately all over his crotch. There was literally nothing left. She kept comparing the splattered, unrecognizable mess in front of her to the once plump, huge eggs and thick, throbbing penis… the visual was so hot that she squirted all over Clay’s still blacked out face.

It took Chelsea several minutes to regain herself after what had been the most intense orgasm of her life. She hopped off just long enough to fetch a small chain, like a bicycle lock, from the bag, then returned to straddle his chest, only this time she was facing Clay’s face.

Clay looked like a handsome young man who was only sleeping, not passed out from the pain of being utterly de-sexed. She wrapped the chain around his neck, his well-built, beefy muscles powerless to stop her, and pulled. She could feel his throat being crushed, but he just lay there lifeless for a moment before jolting awake from a rush of adrenaline. His eyes bugged out and he struggled with renewed vigor, every ounce of strength going toward saving himself.

Chelsea only smirked and laughed, turned on at how utterly powerless the studly young man now was. She looked down at the dying bald idiot on the bed under her, her face red with determination as she held the chain loop tight against his throat. The whites of his eyes were turning pink and red from bursting blood vessels and his valiant bucking and attempts at escape were slowly starting to die down. Clay’s young, piercing blue eyes stared into hers pleadingly as they started to gloss over and lose their luster.

“Please! Please let me go,” Clay thought he was crying out, though in actuality his last breaths were making only gurgled, barely intelligible noises.

Tears of unimaginable sadness over everything he was about to lose ran down Clay’s pale cheek as he finally stopped struggling and went limp.

Chelsea snorted in contempt at the pathetic man under her perplexed by the coy, almost joyous grin his lifeless face was contorted in as his eyes stared up into nothing. She could only imagine what kind of sick final fantasy was playing in his mind… … …

Clay suddenly felt a rush of warm relief as Chelsea loosened the chain around his neck. He gasped, struggling to get enough air to satisfy his starved lungs and between gasped the bound jock could only get out muffled ‘thank yous’, as Chelsea undid his bounds.

“Thank you,” he gasped, holding his throat.

Chelsea lowered slightly, putting her luscious, firm tits just inches above Clay’s face. He smiled and reached out, gently rubbing and massaging each of her pert breasts in his strong hands. Despite everything, her breasts still felt amazing. He absolutely loved breasts and now, finally, he was getting to play with hers again.

Clay smiled, still weak from his earlier strangulation, and closed his eyes as Chelsea leaned in to kiss him. Clay’s lips curled into a coy, joyous grin as the world around him collapsed into black.

Don't Trust the Guy in Apartment 2-I

 I had been watching him for a while. He was incredibly cute and although I was sure he was straight, he always smiled warmly at me whenever we crossed paths at the elevator.  He was new guy in apartment 3-I.  He was in his late twenties or possibly early thirties, with a handsome, well defined face, thick black hair that he always had neatly cropped and a broad, muscular chest. I had caught glimpses of him in the building’s gym; he was ripped. He had a chest like a washboard!  He was a stud.

I’m not too bad looking myself. I’m forty-five, six foot tall. Two hundred pounds, very beefy. I’m a gym rat. I’m a solid guy and I’m rarely interested in guys my own age; usually they’ve let themselves go by their forties but not me.  Which is another reason this young, beautiful male was almost addicting. Even the way he smelled was intoxicating.  He was a stud.  He had only been living in my building for a few months and I already knew his routine.  In the elevator every morning by 7:30, breakfast in the lobby cafe, then picked up in a black Town Car by 8 A.M sharp. He was home by eight most days, when he would go to the building’s gym, then the sauna, then back to his apartment.  I lived in 2-I, an exact replica of the layout of his apartment, so it made it easy for me to visualize what he must look like alone in his apartment.  He probably jacked off nightly, showering the marble vanity with his studly seed.  He probably paraded around naked, letting his big nuts swing.  I had caught glimpses in the locker room — my workout schedule conveniently overlapping with his — and his nuts were enormous.  The size of eggs and heavy looking. They weren’t particularly low hangers but they exuded male power.  They were hot. 

By summer I knew his routine enough to launch my plan. It was late and he was working out in the gym.  I had just finished, making sure to time it so that we would go into the showers at the same time.  I stood behind him watching, pretending to be adjusting the water on my showerhead.  He probably had no idea what was about to happen…

CRACK!

My foot sailed between his spread legs. I could feel my shin crushing into his balls. He was nearly lifted from the ground by the force. I even surprised myself.

His handsome mouth made a silent ‘O’ as he crumpled to the ground.  I knew that the next gym patron wouldn’t arrive until at least midnight when the woman from 5-G came for her daily run. Even still I didn’t want to drag this out.  The stud was dazed and hadn’t even realized it was me doing it when my foot sailed through the air, slamming into his hanging nuts has he squatted on the ground.  He fell on his back, wailing and then that’s when I lunged on top of him.

He was totally taken aback to see me, his nice talkative neighbor, sitting on his chest. I was facing his beautiful nuts. He was struggling to get me off of him.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

 I pounded his nuts into the cold tile floor over and over. He was babbling, begging me to stop. But I wasn’t done.

I had decided I was going to destroy him one at a time, so I grabbed his bloated right nut with both hands  – I told you they were huge — and grabbed. I could feel the ball meat yielding in my hands as I squeezed, then began pulling my hands in opposite directions.  He let out a squeal of agony and he was frantic to get me off of him, to save his nuts.  But I was heavier than him, and I was using his dazed confusion as a weapon.  His gorgeous, chiseled abs heaved and tensed.  I ignored his please and kept compressing his nut. I could feel it getting softer as I literally tore it apart like an animal…

SPL—ITCH—-

I nearly shot my load from the sensation of his huge right bull nut being ripped into two pieces in the sack.  I had literally half-nutted the stud with my bare hands.  He screamed. He begged for his nuts. I reached for the left nut and grabbed it the same way.  He knew what was going to happen..

But I stopped, instead taking the time to pound his trapped nut with a fist over and over. I felt his body go limp. He had passed out.  Too bad, he wouldn’t be awake for the ultimate nutting.  I again grabbed his enormous nut in my hands, squeezed until I could feel my fingers rupturing the ball meat, then pulled the nut apart. This nut seemed to hold up longer than the first, even though it had been tenderized, but within minutes I felt it crack open in the bag like a huge broken egg.  The power of absolutely dominating this stud was amazing. 

I stood up quickly and faced him. His ruined sack was quickly swelling, but - to my surprise - his cock was raging hard.  No doubt all the ball handling had got him aroused, even if it was a bit harder than he would have liked.  His nuts were totally cracked. The lumpy sack looked ridiculous.  I had turned to leave, but pivoted on one foot. 

Without thinking, and this wasn’t pat of the plan, I stomped straight down on his rock hard cock.  Seven inches of steely hard cock barely lasted a second under the crushing force.  I felt it snap at the base.

STOMP! STOMP! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLOSH!

I kept stomping and stomping, I was getting high off the feeling of totally emasculating this handsome jock.  I was in animalistic euphoria as his cracked and crushed genitals sploshed like huge crushed grapes under my foot.  His penis exploded open like an over stuffed sausage, his balls were ground to  paste

I was sweating, my heart was racing, but I was oddly calm.  I quickly got dressed and headed back to my apartment.  As I passed through the lobby I gave all the money I had in my wallet to the night concierge. He looked on in astonishment at the enormous tip.  But I figured I wouldn’t be needing money soon… I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but I knew one thing. Tonight was the last time the stud in 3-I would ever get hard. The last time his horse nuts would bounce and swing as we walked. The last time he would ever feel like a man.  And it was that realization that finally got me over the edge.  That night I blew the thickest, messiest, most copious load I had ever spewed in my life, hardly noticing the authoritative knocking, no pounding, on my apartment door…

Mini Update - Poll Results

Thanks to everyone whose taken my ball busting story survey (it’s still up here if you’d like to take it).  I thought I would share some insights into what the results look like so far.

 Question 1: What method of busting do you prefer?
Crushing by hand, such as squeezing and punching was the dominant winner followed closely by blunt force, such as bats. Ouch, that has to hurt!  Machines, like vices and stomping kicking and kneeing were also pretty popular.   Burning/heat wasn’t an option on the original survey, but it was the most popular write in so I’ll definitely be visiting that genre soon.

Question 2: Describe the perfect busting victim
The responses here were all over the map. The ‘winner’ (or loser, if you’re the stud about to be nutted) was the quintessential, muscular jock, usually younger (come on guys, can’t any of the victims get a shot at having a kid hehe) and with a lot of bravado.  Beefy studs, hapless straight guys, nerds, older men, students desperate to satisfy a teacher, hot soldiers, mousy bookish guys packing huge toolsl, rugby players, bears, cubs… you name the type of guy and someone wants to see him busted.  Guys with huge nuts, guys with modest ball and everyone in between, according to the survey, deserve to be busted.   I will certainly be trying to incorporate all of your body/guy types into future stories.

Question 3: What kind of damage should balls receive?
This was a one to five question with one being ’sore’ and five being ‘nothing but mush’. The average score was 4.5, so as I suspected testicle rupturing, no holds barred total ball destruction will continue to be this blog’s main theme.  There will however be more ‘no permnent damage’ and ‘partial castrations’ along with some cock busting to help even out the splatter fest of flying nut chunks I’ll be unleashing in the coming months

 Question 4: What are your thoughts on women in ball busting?
The response to this was overwhelmingly that women should be left out and the stories should be M/M, which is personally my preference.  However, since ’straight stud’, was a popular response to Question 1, it stands to reason that at least some of the guys’ testicles are going to meet their SQUISH-ing end in the presence of women.  I’ll be sure to label these under the ‘Females Present’ category so if that’s not your thing, you can skip over them.

 Question 5: What are your thoughts on multiple victims?
Overwhelmingly the response was that the focus should be on just one set of nuts at a time so that every membrane rupturing, vein popping, nut cracking baby-maker squashing detail can be graphically followed along, without destraction from some other pair being mashed in the distance.  I’ll try to keep a balance, but ’single victim’ stories will be the focus for at least a while.

 Question 6: Are there any stories published to date that you think should be continued?
To be clear, most of the stories on here will be one shot deals: Handsome man has his balls mercilessly turned into paste. The End. But based on feedback I got on this question, you can expect follow ups (depending on when I can get them finished…) to at least these stories in the future: Cousin Busting, The Federation, Epic Roshambo, Inglorious Hole, Ghost Network and possibly a ‘messier’ re-write of The Photoshoot and a revisit to Seth’s ultimate revenge.  I’m also putting the finishing touches on Rupture Fest, a multi-story arch in which businessmen brutally destroy the sex lives of hung, handsome young men in increasingly creative and devastating ways just for entertainment.  I’m also collaborating with a fellow writer on a series where an entire football team is hunted down and nutted in a single night by The Stranger.    On a related note, I’ll try to publish updates every two or three weeks (maybe four if I get busy, sorry).  Email me at trumansmith@gmail.com if you’d like to be notified of updates and if you can’t get enough excellent ball busting action I would strongly suggest you visit the story blogs listed in the right menu

Question 7 and 8: Do you have any ideas, fantasies or ideas or do you know someone you’d like busted.
As expected I got a lot of feedback on this one and am busy trying to pen stories crafted to your specifications before things get to busy at work. Technology that allows a man to be castrated over and over and come back for more, sibling rivalries that go to far and innocent straight men who undergo the ultimate ‘vasectomy’ when they’re spooked by the prospect of starting a family were just some of the ideas.  I’m also going to try to get more creative as to how balls get turned from plump, firm orbs to liquefied nut mush: I hope these guys bring tarps!

Also, I got a lot of suggestions for characters — some of them very detailed — that people either want to see busted or do the busting.  The character Kyle from Kyle Gets Put in His Place was directly inspired by a visitor’s comment. I always have specific guys in mind when I’m writing and I’m pleased that there soon will be guys (and ladies) out there with a busting story featuring their favorite deserves-to-be-busted men.  Oh, and to the person who requested ‘Clay’ be busted, give me a couple weeks on that one. I re-read your request and concluded that the first draft wasn’t brutal enough ;).  So if you gave me a name/description you can be sure I’ll use it!

Thanks again for all your feedback and for stopping in on my blog! I love knowing that I’m helping guys get off every day

Regards, Sack Stomper

Kyle Gets Put in His Place

The Places at Avalon Park were easily the most exclusive condominiums in the City, consisting of twin ultra-modern eight story apartment towers soaring above the City’s glamorous ocean coast. Despite the fact each tower’s footprint took up nearly a city block, each held only fourteen apartments, each of the seven floors above the lobby divided into two massive units with absolutely no expense spare in their construction. The fourteen condos of the West Tower were filled mostly with well-heeled older residents. Judges, doctors and even a regional celebrity. The East Tower, on the other hand, was filled with a much younger, hipper crowd, twenty-one young men and women who were either prodigies of business — or heirs to wealth.

Because of their youth — and some would argue privileged upbringings– the social dynamic and drama in the East Tower was comparable to a university campus. There were ‘the nerds’, in Apartments 1 and 2, couples Jenny and Tristan Monroe and Noah and Wesley Parker, all of whom were in their mid twenties and still in law school. There were the ‘popular kids’ represented by power couples, Sam and Paula Greystone and Phillip and Miranda Dyson of Apartments 5 and 10, respectively, wielding their often manipulative social influence like a blade. And at the top, literally since his unit was on the eighth floor, was Kyle Avalon, the Tower’s resident ladies man.

Twenty-five year old Kyle was, as he so often liked to remind people, a member of the entrenched Avalon family, the developers who partially financed The Places, along with half of the office buildings in the City. Although Kyle had a degree from Yale, he had never been employed, instead spending the Avalon fortune to live a comfortable, if not particularly flashy, lifestyle. The attitude toward him in the Tower ranged from outright resentment to muted fascination, though only one tenant Jacob Meyer– the Tower’s ‘class clown’ — treated him as a true friend.

Kyle was undeniably attractive. His short, dirty blonde hair was always neatly styled so that it framed his perpetually tanned, ruggedly handsome face. Kyle’s light blue eyes and bright, deceptively cheery smile, made him seem much softer and nicer than he actually was. His svelte yet muscular body was a towering six foot four, though his perfectly sculpted, though not bulging,muscles made him seem even taller. Kyle didn’t even have so much as a visible freckle on his apparently blemish-free body.

Unfortunately, years of being treated as the most handsome man on the planet had severely warped Kyle’s world perspective. He was slow to compliment, quick to criticize, and an expert at delivering biting one line insults disguised as innocent statements. He was a relentless ladies man, a different woman would be seen leaving the East Tower from Kyle’s apartment so frequently it was a running joke amongst the residents. When he had first moved into The Places, before his reputation had caught up to him, he had even briefly dated Amanda Jackson, a young woman from the second floor.

Because of his attitude, by his second year at the Places of Avalon Park, the words ‘arrogant’, ‘entitled’ and ‘ass hole’ were frequently used to describe him by the other residents; his more admirable qualities of ‘attractive’ or ‘athletic’ were rarely discussed.

It was a typical Thursday evening at The Places. Twenty five year old Jenny and her thirty year old husband Tristan were jogging on side by side treadmills in the Tower’s spacious ground level gym while Jacob worked on a rowing machine. Kyle was lifting weights not far from Jenny and Tristan, his powerfully defined, slim frame buried in ill fitting baggy sweatpants and a white T-shirt. HIs sweat pants were sitting low at the waist, revealing the waistband of his American Eagle boxers, Kyle’s signature style.

After barely lifting the weights to his chin several time, Kyle let the weight bar hit the ground with a clang and sat on on the weight bench. As usual, his legs were wide spread, showing off the large bulge visible between them even through the baggy sweat pants.

“Avalon! Think fast!”

“Wha— OOOH!” Kyle screamed, clutching his crotch and folding over, his handsome face contorted in pain.

Jenny and Trison paused their treadmills and turned toward the commotion. Tistan began instantly laughing and Jenny frowned at the immature display. Jacob, a jock like Kyle, though noticeably shorter, had ran up and playfully let a fist collide with the mound between Kyle’s legs.

“Jacob, what did you do?” Jenny asked in a scolding tone, convincing even her husband that she was serious, although secretly she was quite amused at the sight of the nutted Kyle rolling on the ground.

“Come on! It was all in fun! I barely sack tapped him,” Jacob said in an exaggerated tone.

Kyle was openly crying as he slowly rose to his feet, Jacob still laughing as he extended a hand to help.

“Dude! What the hell! That shit hurts! Why do you always do that?” Kyle said wincing.

“Well if you didn’t flaunt such a big target,” Jacob joked, giving Kyle a playful punch to his left pec.

Kyle winced, thinking Jacob’s fist was going to collide with his crotch. Kyle composed himself as he tried to block the dull ache coming from his enormous balls. If, as Jacob claimed, that was just a tap, he shuddered to think what it would be like if the playful stud ever unleashed a real punch.

“He’s got a point,” Jenny said dryly, a sly smile crossing her lips as he stepped off her treadmill and wiped her brow.

“Anyway, I’m glad he got your attention,” she continued, “We’re forming a baseball team to go against the residents of West Tower. We were going to sell tickets for charity and I know you were on the baseball team at Yale so…”

Kyle waved his hand dismissively ‘No thanks. I have better things to do than play with the geezers over there,” he finished gesturing in the general direction of the West Tower.

“Well, Kyle, I do hope you don’t cry and play the victim next time Tristan and I forget to invite you to a party,”

Kyle rolled his eyes as Jenny and Tristan departed. When they were out of site, Jacob turned to speak to Kyle.

“That was kind of mean, bro. She was only trying to be nice. Remember the last time we didn’t tell you about an event at The Places…”

“Yeah, and I threatened to have her and her loser husband kicked out?”

“Exactly. You really should try to be a little nicer,”

Jacob finished, putting his hand briefly on Kyle’s shoulder. For a moment, Kyle’s expression genuinely softened, a rare flash of humility as he actually took what Jacob was saying to heart. But just as soon as it had slipped, Kyle’s icy facade erected itself again.

“Ooooh!” Kyle screamed and fell to his knees.

“Dude, seriously. I barely, literally barely, tapped you that time,” Jacob said laughing hysterically.

He had swatted Kyle between his legs with the back of his muscular hand and could feet the fleshy mound compressing. Jacob was a closeted gay, and loved using his position as Kyle’s ostensibly straight friend to make playful body contact. He was especially turned on by the enormous, firm balls that swung between Kyle’s legs. They were both particularly oblong, and as large as meyer lemons and were very firm, as Jacob could tell through his frequent, innocent sack taps. Jacob also got oddly aroused from sack tapping Kyle. Not necessarily because of the chance to feel up the attractive stud, but by Kyle’s reaction.

When Jacob, playing the role of The Place’s resident clown, first snapped Kyle’s balls with a towel during their first meeting in the locker room, Jacob thought Kyle was exaggerating in his near-hysterical response. But over time, Jacob concluded Kyle’s mega sized gonads were as sensitive as they were large. Maybe that was the reason he seldom wore pants taht actually fit, instead opting for baggy jeans or sweat pants despite the fact he had the body to pull off the latest tight fitting jeans.

“Let’s hit the showers” Jacob said helping Kyle to his feet.

Kyle suffered one more towel snap from his friend, which sent him to the ground writhing, before finally retiring to bed.

–


Meanwhile, several floors above, Bethany Jackson was paying her sister Amanda a less than friendly visit.

“You slept with Kyle Avalon! Seriously? He’s an asshole, or am I missing something?” Bethany said stunned.

Bethany a twenty-five year old with an attitude as fiery as the mess of red hair on her head, looked at her twin sister Amanda in shocked disbelief. Bethany and Amanda both lived in The Places at Avalon Park, Amanda living alone on the second floor and Bethany on the fourth. The younger Amada had called Bethany up for some girl talk, which Bethany knew by now meant some kind of revelation about some kind of trouble the perpetually between-jobs Amanda had gotten herself into.

Bethany rolled her eyes as he looked at her sister, as if hoping to physically see whatever defect had drawn her to Kyle.

“Honey, don’t you think once on that ride was good enough?” Bethany asked, alluding to Amanda and Kyle’s fling from years earlier.

Amanda plopped down on her Italian leather sofa and sighed.

“Well it was different this time. He had just broken up with Tatiana and we went out for some drinks at Astro’s. One thing lead to another and before I knew it we were in his penthouse and he said he loved me.”

Bethany shook her head in astonishment. Amanda, the heiress of a family fortune comparable to the Avalon’s, was a sincerely sweet — although naive — young woman with incongruently low self esteem
considering her charming nature and perfect, curving body and convincingly dyed blonde hair.
Bethany sat down next to Amanda and put her arm around her.

“Well, it’s okay. But you’ve got to stay away from —”

“I’m pregnant.” Amanda blurted out.

Bethany jump up and screamed as if she had seen a ghost. Her hand quivered over her gaping mouth, unable to even speak through her dumbfoundedness.

“He wants me to have an abortion…”

“What? Why? It’s not like the Avalons and the Jackson’s couldn’t afford it. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if ma’ma gifts a new wing to the children’s hospital in the baby’s honor.”

Amanda sat in quiet despair, barely able to look through the waves of disappointment that were virtually radiating from her sister.

“We’ll just have to talk to him. If the great Kyle Avalon can’t own up to his without trying to make this into a Lifetime movie then I don’t know what’s what.” Bethany declared resolute.

–

Several weeks passed. Jacob was able to convince Kyle to play in the charity baseball game, and Kyle actually seemed to be enjoying himself., except for a nasty incident on home base. Kyle was sliding into base, his legs spread as his back slipped against the dirt. He was nearly safe when the man on base reached out to catch the flying baseball; Kyle couldn’t change course in time and the crotch of his spread open legs slammed into the man’s shin with a sickening crunch.

Even Jenny winced in genuine sympathy as the handsome blonde stud flayed and screamed on home base. He had felt both of his huge, tender nuggets compress violently to less than half their normal thickness, the ridiculously dense ball meat and membranes compressed to bursting.

Kyle sat out the next two innings, and had managed to make it to bat when his nuts were assaulted again. He batting stance was text book perfect thanks to his years at Yale. Unfortunately, the pitching skills of the East Tower pitcher weren’t as sharp. By the time Kyle realized that the heavy, solid baseball was on a collision course with his unprotected crotch , it was too late to react. The baseball tore into Kyle’s still pulsing right nut, crushing the large organ against Kyle’s chiseled pelvis. The poor nut was compressed even flatter than when it had slammed into the baseman’s shin. Kyle thought he was going to throw up as his delicate testicle membranes were crunched and crushed. He howled in agony and his hands raced for his crotch so quickly he forgot to throw down the bat.

“OOOH FUCK!” Kyle wailed as jammed the end of the bat into his own throbbing nuts. He honestly thought they had been permanently damaged, the pain was so intense.

However, although the impact would have been painful, most guys probably wouldn’t have described it as ‘ball popping’, considering the pitcher was a seventy year old superior court judge with a bad arm. Jacob smirked as the powerful jock was taken down yet again by his overly sensitive balls.

That evening, Kyle and Jacob were sitting in Jacob’s palatial, modernly decorated apartment drinking beer and talking about sports. Despite the crip ocean breeze wafted through the balcony French doors, the apartment was still stiflingly warm. Kyle was stripped down to his blue American Eagle boxers, as he sat with his legs spread on Jacob’s couch. His rippling, slim upper body was glistening slightly from sweat and his hair was unusually messy and frizzy. He hadn’t bothered to style it since he was only going to around one of the guys. Jacob could make out two comically large lumps even through the loose fitting fabric of the boxers.

Jacob was equally stripped down to a pair of Angry Birds boxers that were relatively tight compared to Kyle’s. The outline of Jacob’s much more modest genitals was clear against the beak of the Angry Bird. He was noticeably more muscular than Kyle, his small frame only making his muscles look even more hulking than they actually were. He we was sitting next to Kyle, his legs also spread so their their knees touched.
The two watched sports highlights on Jacob’s seventy-four inch television and prattled on about their latest sexual conquests. At one point during the night, the two already tipsy, scantily clad jocks decided to switch from beer to liquor. Jacob’s head was starting to spin as he and Kyle toasted their third gin martini.

How is he doing it? Jacob asked himself as Kyle seemed totally unaffected by the large quantities of alcohol even as Jacob was starting to find sitting upright a challenge. Jacob scootched closer to the much taller Kyle, as if using him as an armrest, so that they their two sweaty thighs were now totally touching.

Kyle looked down and smiled at the obviously drunk Jacob, his demeanor genuinely softening.

“I think you’ve had enough, Jacob.” Kyle said reaching for Jacob’s martini glass and setting it on the coffee table.

“No — I - uh - drinking that,” Jacob leaned over the fetch his class and Kyle reached for and grabbed Jacob’s hand.

“I’m sorry. We should’ve stopped. I don’t want you to get sick.”

In an exceedingly rare showing, Kyle - still holding Jacob’s hand — looked into his friend’s glossed over eyes with genuine concern. Although he would never admit it, Kyle was pretty sure Jacob was his only actual friend, a type of relationship Kyle’s usually cynical demeanor might lead people to think he didn’t care about
Jacob, for his part, was starting to feel incredibly close to the usually distant Kyle. Kyle had confided things he had literally never told anyone to Jacob, and Jacob was one of the few was ever able to get Kyle to show his true feelings instead of putting up a mask, even if they were only passing glimmers. Jacob looked up giving Kyle a goofy grin, his strong hand tightening around Kyle’s. Jacob, who was usually so careful about ever letting down his ’straight’ persona, especially in front of Kyle, suddenly found himself being overwhelmed with the urge to kiss Kyle. The thoughts was crazy, though. Kyle was straight….

“I like you, Jacob,” Kyle said in an almost dreamy tone, his eyes glossing over as if the copious amounts of booze had hit him all at once.

As his body relaxed, his legs spread even wider, further pressing his thigh into Jacob’s. Jacob looked at Kyle, who was now looking back with the same starry eyed, spaced out glassy eyed expression and, before he could stop himself, knelt in and kissed Kyle Avalon on the lips.

“Dude! What the fuck!” Kyle shouted pushing Jacob off of him as he rose to his feet.

Jacob, who was too drunk to fully comprehend what had just happened, but sober enough to realize he had just made a serious mistake started to speak but was cut short by Kyle’s roaring voice.

“You fucking faggot! Is that why you’re always so quick to play hoops with me or go jogging, so you can watch me shower? You fucking perv,”

Jacob stood up.

“Bro, I’m… I’m sorry, I just thought….”

“Bro? Don’t ‘bro’, me. Fucking predator. This is why you can’t be nice to fags because sooner or later they’re gonna’ want in your pants.”

Jacob stammered for something to say, he had never seen Kyle so hateful or angy. He reached to put a hand on Kyle’s arm in an effort to calm him down, but that only made the enraged, blodne stud violently push Jacob away, sending him tumbling to the floor.

“You are a perverted sack of shit…” Kyle said, his voice lowering slightly as he stepped over the sprawled Jacob.

“Kyle. Kyle, I’m sorry. I just thought –”

“Read my lips, Jacob. All of you fags should just fucking die. You’re sick.”

Kyle raised his foot and stomped onto Jacob’s defenseless, bulging crotch. Jacob gasped in pain and had barely registered what had happened before Kyle’s size fifteen foot smashed into his aching balls again and again.

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

Kyle looked almost gleeful as he attempted to extinguish Jacob’s manhood like a pent cigarette.
“Kyle! Oh God! Stop!” Jacob screamed as Kyle finally stopped.

As Jacob rolled around clutching his junk and sobbing, Kyle snorted “That’s for all the sack taps, and if you touch me again I’ll crack those sorry nuts,”

The door to the apartment slammed behind Kyle and Jacob continued to writhe in pain. He was sobbing not just because of the pain in his balls but because of the shockingly negative reaction his friend had had over one drunken kiss. He didn’t mean it, Jacob tried to assure himself as he replayed Kyle’s homophobic rant in his mind, but he couldn’t even convince himself. He had heard Kyle take that tone only a few other times; when he was telling an honest-to-heart truth.
–
The tone at The Places at Avalon park grew decidedly darker in the following weeks. Several weeks passed without Kyle and Jacob, once close friends, saying a word to each other. Meanwhile, Bethany and Amanda’s attempts to make Kyle fess up to the pregnancy only resulted in the now visibly pregnant Amanda being served a court summons for slandering Kyle Avalon. Kyle, for his part, like a spoiled child, was going out of his way to impart misery on everyone he could. Jenny and Tristan were forced to move temporarily into Jose Quinta’s seventh floor apartment after Kyle convinced his brother - the president of Avalon Properties - that their apartment was in need of immediate renovation. Kyle’s sexual appetite seemed to be even more voracious, Jose and his temporary roommates awakened frequently by the sounds of wild orgies taking place across the hall.

Kyle, feeling particularly bitter, that he wasn’t invited to a mayoral fundraiser, was spending the evening blowing off steam in The Place’s gym. He was alone, laying on a weight bench grunting loudly as he lifted a slightly-too-heavy weight bar above his head. Though he would never say it aloud, he was starting to feel pretty bad about himself over how he had treated Jacob, and frankly, missed having someone to talk…
“How could you!” Jacob’s screeching interrupted Kyle’s ruminations.

Kyle set the weight bar on the resting brackets and sat up, his callous smirk totally masking the fact that he had literally been seconds from heading up to Jacob’s apartment to apologize.

“How could I do what?” Kyle asked mocking innocence as he ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair.
“Asshole!” Jacob roared throwing a binder into Kyle’s lap, causing him to wince as a sharp corner caught his left testicle.

Some were photographs, obviously taken surreptitiously from a distance, of Jacob kissing an attractive Latin man outside a club. Others were transcripts of romantic emails between Jacob and someone named Juan. Another was a print out of Jacob’s Manhunt.net profile, which was usually locked.

Kyle feigned interest as he flipped through the papers.

“So?”

“Kyle! How could you? You hired someone to spy on me, then passed out binders full of this at my office?”
“What? These are all pictures of you, aren’t they? Faggot.” Kyle threw the binder across the gym and looked up at an enraged Jacob.

Jacob was crying, but it seemed to be more from frustration and anger than anything else.

“I know you don’t believe in having a job, but do you know what you’ve done? You have no fucking idea how hard it is to be gay and out in my industry? And especially in this City! We were friends, Kyle, doesn’t that mean fucking anything to you, you worthless prick?”

“Cry me a river. I thought you’d like to be exposed for what you are. What about all that shit about pride and being proud.”

Kyle laughed derisively, which only made Jacob’s blood boild more. Kyle’s fists balled up as he held his arms tightly to his side, sneering with hatred at his former ‘best bro’. Any lingering friendship between them had totally disappeared. Now Jacob only saw his worst enemy sitting on the weight bench laughing. He wanted to grab the blonde stud’s throat and squeeze, relishing the look of terror in his light blue eyes as his life slipped away; and to Jacob’s surprise his fists started to loosen as if he was actually about to open his hands and lunge in for the kill.

Jacob pivoted on one foot and made his way out of the gym before he did anything he was going to regret. He had just reached the doorway of the gym when something incredibly strange happened. One moment he was looking out onto the expansive, gleaming marble floor of the lobby — the front desk clerk already gone for the night — and the next he was looking down at his fists slamming one after another into Kyle Avalons’ mounding crotch like pistons. In his unbridled rage, his mind didn’t even form a memory of him turning from the doorway, running through the gym and jumping on top of Kyle’s chest. Jacob had caught the still smirking jock totally off guard. Jacob was sitting on Kyle’s heaving chest, facing his crotch, pounding as hard as he could into the easy target in the crotch of his baggy sweat pants.

“OOOH! GET OFF — AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Kyle screamed so loudly his voice cracked. He sounded like a dying animal as he flayed, trying to knock the smaller, but denser, Jacob off of him.

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

Jacob’s fist pumped as hard as he could into Kyle’s throbbing nuts, Jacob getting sick satisfaction as he felt the huge testicles being squashed under this fist. Kyle’s legs flayed, but he was so disoriented from pain - and Jacob was so heavy - Kyle was powerless to escape. Kyle thought he was going to black out from pain, each nut sending shooting pulses through his body. Jacob’s eyes were wide with raw hatred as he pounded over and over, feeling the dense orbs getting less and less resilient. Unbeknownst to Jacob, Kyle’s screams had drawn the attention of someone walking through the lobby, and two pairs of feet were now sprinting toward the gym entrance… But all Jacob could hear was the dull SPLAT of his fists destroying Kyle’s manhood; all other sound was blocked out. CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

Jacob’s furious nut cracking was abruptly interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. He snapped back into reality, his palms sweating and his heart racing as the severity of what he was doing set int. He looked up toward the gym door to see a Paula and Sam Greystone standing in mortified disbelief.

Paula and Sam had been returning from a shopping trip in the city and had been passing through the lobby when they heard Kyle screaming. In her shock, Paula had dropped a grocery bag full of New England jams, the shattering of which is what finally had snapped Jacob out of his rage.

“Jacob! What the fuck are you doing?” Sam asked as he raced toward the trapped Kyle.

“Should I call the police?” Paula stammered.

Sam, waved his hand no as he approached Jacob and Kyle. Sam, a husky black man in his late twenties, was slightly taller and noticeably bulkier than Jacob, but he was sure Jacob’s gym-toned muscles — especially in a rage — could easily take him down. Same stayed a safe distance from Jacob, who was panting, and Kyle, who was teetering in and out of consciousness, as he spoke.

“Jacob. What’re you doing?”

Sam hesitantly took another step closer, his guard up as if expecting Jacob to lunge at him.
Jacob, panting heavily, could barely respond.

“Kyle… Kyle is such an asshole. He… ” Jacob finished by pointing to the binder that had been thrown across the floor.

Sam walked over and picked it up, his jaw dropping as he flipped through.

“Seriously, Kyle? First you sue your child’s mother, then you kick the Monroe’s out of their home, and now this?” Sam stammered as he made his way back to Kyle.

“Should I call the police? What’s happening?” Paula shouted across the gym, too afraid to come any closer than the relative safety of the doorway.

“Go upstairs, honey. We can handle this.”

Paula didn’t even try to pick up the bag full of ruined jelly, instead scampering quickly away.

“Paula, what’s the matter?” Jenny asked as she passed her still shaking neighbor in the elevator lobby.
Jenny and Tristan had been coming down for an evening game of basketball when they ran into Paula. Paula explained what she and Sam had seen before excusing herself to her apartment. Tristan and Jenny ran into the gym just in time to see that Jacob had lifted Kyle to his feet, holding him tightly from behind.
Kyle’s tall, muscular frame was thrashing trying to escape as Sam lined up his foot.

“Sam stop!” Tristan shouted just as the tip of Sam’s huge leather shoe collided into the mound in Kyle’s crotch.

The tall stud yelped girlishly, the pain of the kick barely registering before…

CR–UU-NCH!

Sam lifted his leg between Kyle’s tone thighs, his shin colliding with Kyle’s balls with such force that he was lifted several inches from the ground from the ground.

Kyle squealed in unbearable agony and Sam was rearing back his foot for another kick as Tristan arrived.

“Sam!”

CRUNCH!

“Aaaah!” Kyle dry heaved as Sam’s toe connected squarely with his now very swollen left testicle.

“This prick has been nothing but trouble since day one and all we ever do is tip toe,” Sam explained himself casually as he grabbed each of Kyle’s shoulders.

THUD! THUD!

Sam’s knee cap flattened Kyle’s lemons mercilessly, the impact compounded by the fact Sam was holding Kyle in place.

“So what? We’re just going to beat his ass? What is this high school?” Tristan implored, running a hand through his dusty brown hair but otherwise doing nothing to stop Sam from kneeing Kyle again.

“Oh God! Please stop!” Kyle managed to scream out through his unintelligible babble.

Kyle’s stomach was turning from the pain and his knees felt weak. He was begging for Jacob to let him go, but his studly former friend just maintained his bearhug, Jacob’s thick cock fully erect and pressing against Kyle’s back as he did so. Jacob wasn’t sure what was turning him on more, the smell of Kyle’s cologne and sweat, the feeling of Kyle’s muscular body pressed against his, or knowing that Kyle’s favorite possessions were being mercilessly beaten flat.

“Well, I suppose he did want to kill Amanda’s unborn child. Not a very Christian thing to do,” Tristan said cooly, twirling his crucifix necklace with his finger.

Sam had taken a pause while Tristan assessed the situation. Kyle looked out at the athletic, slim Tristan longingly, though the look was missing any emotional attachment. Although they seldom talked, from what Kyle gathered, Tristan was a staunchly conservative Republican who was most likely going to make quite a name for himself as a lawyer. Which is why Kyle was so perplexed by his muted response to what was essentially a two-against-one beating.

“Maybe it’s time we teach him a lesson then,” Tristan stopped twirling his necklace and took a step so that he was right in front of Kyle.

Kyle looked on with fear at what the increasingly angry looking Tristan was going to do. Tristan furled his brow as he reached out and cupped Kyle’s crotch. Tristan audibly gasped as the sheer size of Kyle’s nuts, the right orb almost completely filling his now tightening hand. Tristan’s face turned red with effort as his modest, yet effective enough, bicep flexed with effort. He gritted his teeth as he felt the enormous nard getting flatter and flatter in his hand.

“Tristan!” Jenny’s voice came from behind.

Sam turned toward her but Tristan stayed focused on the task of castrating the arrogant Kyle Avalon.
“Honey! What are you…. stop this… ” Jenny stammered, taking a place near Sam.

Sam and Jenny exchanged silent, knowing glances and her objections to what the three men were doing to Kyle was stopped before it began.

She and Sam stood by, slight, wicked smiles coming across their faces as Tristan continued to knead and squeeze Kyle’s right nut. Kyle was going hysterical and could feel the membranes of his nut literally starting to give out under Tristan’s determined assault, to say nothing of the nearly fifteen minutes of non stop abuse Sam and Jacob had already delivered to his delicate boys. Tristan was unloading years of pent up anger and disgust toward Kyle directly into his collapsing nut.

“Ooooh!” Kyle squealed in a high pitch, his eyes crossing as he felt Tristan’s hand suddenly compress much, much flatter.

“Oh yeah, Avalon. Not so tough now. Why don’t you go call your brother for help,” Tristan finished the last bit sneering.

He let go of the battered right nut and let the heavy organ fall back in his sack. By now Kyle was reduced to pathetic, almost silent whimpering. Tears were streaming down his handsome face and the front of his sweat pants were soaked in urine. If it weren’t for Jacob holding him up, Kyle would have long ago crumbled to the floor in agony.

Tristan took a step back, his palms sweaty and shaky and his forehead starting to bead with sweat, but looking otherwise surprisingly calm.

“That felt good, actually.” he laughed.

“Um, Tristan, I’m going to go back up to the apartment.” Jenny said giving her husband a peck on the cheek.
Kyle, who had started to black out, was stirring again as he watched Jenny turn to casually leave the gym.

“No! Help me!” he attempted to shout — only a hoarse, barely audible whimper came out.

Jacob let go of Kyle and watched as the tall blonde teetered like a deck of cards about to collapse.

“Sit your ass down, Avalon,” Sam roared, himself being filled with rage toward Kyle that had been festering for years under his reserved, well-heeled demeanor.

Sam shoved Kyle who stumbled backward and landed on the weight bench. Kyle attempted to stand, but his head was still too dizzy with pain to be effective. He ended up just falling back order and Jacob sat on his chest to keep him still.

Tristan walked over to the gym’s supply area and retrieved several lengths of elastic rope, used for resistance exercises, and returned to the three. He and Sam quickly tied Kyle’s legs and arms under the workbench, trapping Kyle to the bench on his back.

“Please guys…” Kyle pleaded, looking up at the three figures towering over his totally defenseless body.
“Holy fuck!” a voice with a strong Spanish accent came from the doorway.

Sam, Tristan and Jacob turned to see Jose Quinta, Kyle’s seventh floor neighbor, standing in the doorway. He was holding a racket and was dressed in ready for a game of racquetball.

He raced over and gasped at the sign of Kyle tied spread eagle to the bench. Kyle’s torso was soaked with sweat, making the otherwise ill fitting white T-shirt cling to every rippling muscle of his twelve pack abs.
Jose’s jet black, perfectly styled hair contrasted sharply with the crimson shade his tan, Spanish skin was taking. Jacob thought he recognized a discrete lust in the way Jose was eyeing Kyle’s ripped bod. It was the same way Jacob used to coyly look at Kyle after a workout, but Jacob couldn’t be sure if Jose was doing the same…

“Wha — what are you guys doing?”

Kyle couldn't believe how nonchalant Jose was acting, considering the circumstances. Was he really that reviled by everyone at The Places? Even goody two-shoes Jenny chose to walk away rather than intervene.
“We’re teaching this prick a lesson,” Sam snarled.

“I see,”

Jose Quinta batted the head of his racket against his hand as he looked down at the defenseless, vulnerable Kyle. A minute passed as he contemplated the situation in silence, totally looking through Kyle’s pleading eyes.

“About time,” Jose quipped as he sent the racket crashing into Kyle’s bulging crotch, landing with a wet SPLAT.

“Oh! That’s gotta hurt,” Tristan winced feigning sympathy.

SPLAT! SPLAT!

Kyle’s back arched as his body convulsed from the pain of having his nuts hammered mercilessly by Jose’s racket.

“This would be better if we could see the target,”

Jose set down his racket and knelt down to pull Kyle’s sweat pants to his knees. Kyle’s bright orange American Eagle boxers, wet from sweat and urine, were clinging to each of his large nuts, making an inviting neon orange target. The outline of his thick ock hung lazily to the side of his balls.

Jacob couldn’t help himself as he felt his cock stiffen in his pants.

“My turn!” Jacob shouted to a round of morbid applause.

He sauntered over to a bank of free weights nestled in pigeon holes against the gym wall and came back with a ten pound disc shaped weight. Tristan and Sam cut each other approving glances as Jacob stood over Kyle holding the heavy metal disc a foot in the air over Kyle’s clearly outline nuts.

“What’da ya’ think, guys? Should I drop it?”

“Heck yea!” came Tristan's incongruently cheery voice.

“Yeah!”

“Do it man,”

Kyle was screaming and begging Jacob to let him go, but Jacob, just locked an icy stare into Kyle’s pale blue eyes and let the weight drop.

“Oh God!” Kyle screamed just as he felt the disc flatten into his nuts.

The weight made a sploshing thud as it compressed the mound, sinking further and further into the swollen ball meat before finally stopping, the huge testicles underneath compressed to half their normal width. Jacob let the weight rest, still smashing Kyle’s spuds, as Kyle wailed and writhed, desperate to get free. Kyle’s struggling eventually made the weight fall to the floor with a loud thud.

“I think his pelvis took most of the impact,” Jose noted, reaching for the waistband of Kyle’s underwear.

“No! No! Please!’

Kyle’s pleas fell on deaf ears as Jose pulled away the last shred of protection for his nuts. The three men smiled cruelly at the sight of Kyle’s inflamed, purplish red scrotum, and even the straight men among them had to admire how truly enormous they were.

Jacob, however, wasted no time admiring his former friend’s package, instead grabbing Kyle’s left nut and yanking upwards… hard.

Kyle wailed as Jacob pulled the stricken orb further and further from his body. Kyle’s muscular back arched upward as he tried to raise himself to relieve the strain, and it worked for a bit until Jacob pulled the nut even further. Kyle, his taut body tied securely to the weight bench, was literally being pulled upward by one nut. Jacob clenched his fist and could sense that Kyle’s nut was at its absolute limit. Kyle, meanwhile was starting to black out from the pain, his mouth in a permanent ‘O’ as a hoarse drone came out.

“Maybe we should relieve the pressure,” Jose said, a mischievous grin crossed his handsome face.

The Spaniard reached out and grasped Kyle’s right nut in his fist, squeezing as hard as he could as he yanked it to match the left. To Kyle’s relief, spreading his body weight over both nuts instead of just the left actually did lessen the pain, though it was still unberaable.

“Pl–ease! You—re pulling my nuts— off! You’re pulling my nuts off!” Kyle shrieked as he looked down over his washboard abs to see his beautiful balls being pulled further and further from his crotch.

Jose and Jacob kept squeezing and pulling as Sam and Tristan looked on nodding and shouting insults and slurs at Kyle. Kyle’s brain was so wracked with pain he couldn’t even process enough thought to form a plea for mercy. Jacob could feel Kyle’s huge left bollock getting softer and softer.

“Oh fuck!” Jose grinned as he felt Kyle’s right nut suddenly get much flatter in his fist.

“Not so tough now, are you Avalon?” Sam smirked.

Kyle was on the verge of blacking out, mercifully, when suddenly there was shout from the gym doorway. it was Sebastian Wood, the twenty-eight year old heir to the Wood Pharmaceuticals A.G fortune, a quiet bachelor and Sam and Paula’s third floor neighbor.

Jacob and Jose both released their respective nut in unison as they turned toward the door, making Kyle’s outstretched muscular body fall back to the bench with a thud.

Kyle watched as the short, relatively out of shape Sebastian walked toward the group. Sebastian had literally only been in the building’s posh gym once, three years ago, during his introductory tour of The Places and Kyle never missed an opportunity to call out the rather portly, shy pharmaceutical heir for being out of shape.

“Sebastian?” Sam began, a bit surprised at how nonchalant Sebastian was being at the sight of Kyle Avalon strapped to a weight bench.

“I ran into Paula in the third floor sky lobby. She told me what was going on,” Sebastian explained “I had to come see for myself.”

Sebastian towered over the trapped blonde hunk, looking down with disdain at Kyle’s perfectly sculpted body which was in stark contrast to his own pudgy frame.

“I would have been down sooner but I had to find this,”

No one had noticed Sebastian carrying a small black object in his right hand. It was about the size of a deck of large cards with two small metal prongs on the ends.

Sam and Tristan gave each other high fives while Jose laughed and Jacob’s cock twitched in his jeans as he realized what Sebastian was holding.

“Oh - Oh my God! Is that a - Is that a taser! No! No!” Kyle was thrashing violently, but his restraints held firm.

Sebastian knelt so that he was eye level with Kyle’s large balls, and flipped a switch sending a single small arch of electricity between the two metal rods, just inches from Kyle’s sack.

Kyle’s sobbing was nothing more than background noise to the four tormentors as Sebastian calmly continued.

“My mom actually bought this for me when I moved here. She said The Places was in a bad neighborhood,”
“Well she is a Wood. To her, The Place might as well be a ghetto,” Jacob laughed, alluding to Sebastians’ family’s enormous wealth.

The four chuckled, to Kyle’s amazement, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

“Well needless to say I just threw it in a drawer. Glad I didn’t throw it away.”

Kyle looked down at hiis throbbing nuts in horror as Sebastian’s thick hand inched the electrodes closer to his nuts. He flicked a switch and another arch went between them, this time so close it actually made the hairs on Kyle’s nuts raise and he could feel the roasting heat.

“No! No!”

“You see, Kyle. I don’t need muscles…”

ZZZZIIIZZZ — POP!POP! POP!

“…because I’ve got technology.”

Sebastian finished his sentence just as he lowered the arching taser onto Kyle’s right nut. Kyle’s back arched violently as he felt the electricity surging through his nut meat. The machine made a string of rapid POP POP POP noises mixed with a distinct high pitch, electric arcing sound. Kyle thought he was going to literally go insane from the pain that seemed to go on forever.

“I wonder how much battery this thing has,” Sebastian mused, holding the device firmly against Kyle’s roasting nut, careful not to break contact through Kyle’s thrashing.

Finally, after thirty seconds — which felt like hours to Kyle — the machine’s battery gave out and the hot sting of electricity that was coursing through Kyle’s sperm tubes abruptly stopped.

“Help! Call police! Help! Call police!” an automated voice shouted from the taser.

The four men chuckled at the irony of the machine’s statement as Sebastian turned it off.

“Well gentlemen, I’d say those nuts are roasted,” Tristan snickered kneeling down and roughly grabbing Kyle’s nuts, one in each hand.

His strong hands roughly rolled and massaged the stinging, softening orbs, his thumbs pressing in to check for damage. Despite the nearly hour long beating, Kyle’s nuts were still quite firm, though turning black and hideously swollen.

“Step aside,” Jacob instructed.

He had ducked away from watching Kyle’s nut being electrocuted and had retrieved a heavier weight disc from the rack. He motioned for Jose to place Kyle’s balls directly on the weight bench, so that all the impact from the impending weight drop would go into crushing them into the hard bench.

Jacob smiled wickedly, never breaking eye contact with Kyle as he held the weight a foot in the air.

“What do you think guys? Should I go higher. Let’s take a poll. Tristan?”

Tristan nodded yes, and Jacob obliged by raising the weight slightly higher.

“What about you, Sam?”

Sam nodded affirmatively and the weight went higher.

“Jose?”

“Hell yea, crush the little bitch,”

Jacob grinned and raised the weight ever higher.

“And you, Sebastian?”

Sebastian nodded his head ‘yes’ vigorously and Jacob raised the weight higher yet.

Kyle’s heart was beating so fast he thought we would faint as he looked up to see Jacob was now holding the weight so high, his chiseled arm could barely keep it in the air.

“N-n-no. Jacob, please. Please!”

Kyle was sobbing and for a brief moment Jacob almost considered feeling sorry for him. But then he remembered the binder that outed him at work, Kyle dismissing his own child, forcing the Monroes out of their apartment, always picking on Sebastian and the countless other reasons why he — and the others — utterly hated Kyle Avalon.

“Tell you what, Avalon. I’ll give you thirty seconds to tell us why I shouldn’t drop this and snuff out this particular branch of the Avalon family tree,”

Kyle willed himself to stop screaming unintelligibly and go into a babbling apology to the four men who were literally deciding the fate of his balls. Kyle’s gut wrenching apologies sounded sincere, but no one could tell if they were legitimate revelations or hallow signs of desperation.

“Jacob! Jacob, please, I –”

“Just shut the fuck up, Kyle,” Jacob said interrupting Kyle.

“Sebastian, can you give a count down.”

“Gladly!”

Sebastian started slowly counting down from ten, the four men leaning in, their eyes fixated on the mounding, fleshy eggs they knew were about to be cracked, crushed and crumpled. Kyle was thrashing and writhing like a trapped animal, desperately trying to get his plump balls out of harm’s way, but despite their bouncing, his nuts stayed squarely in the drop zone. It wouldn’t be long now…

“Nooooooooooooooo!” Kyle screamed, carrying the ‘O’ as a continuous noise as Sebastian reached ‘one’ and Jacob let the weight disc drop.

The result drop happened in slow motion for Kyle, his blue eyes fixated on the metal disc as it plummeted toward his nuts. The four watching tormentors smiled with truly evil delight, their eyes locked on the about-to-be destroyed nutsack…

CRU–SPLA—SPOSH!

The weight collided with a sickening, wet sound, resembling a large bug being smashed mixed with the splattering effect of something soft — like a lemon — being crushed . The weight collided with Kyle’s bloated scrotum, sinking further and further into the increasingly flattening organs until his left nut burst from the pressure. As his left nut was further liquefied  the right was being compressed flatter and flatter and flatter until the weight finally came to rest, Kyle’s usually huge right nut reduced to a quarter inch thick, meaty patty.
Kyle howled, then blacked out as the CRUNCH of half his manhood literally blowing apart in his sack echoed in his head.

The four men applauded and gave each other high fives over Kyle’s slumped body. Jacob removed the weight and tossed it aside so they could all see the damage. It was obvious Kyle’s enormous left bollock was utterly crushed reduced to a chunky paste. The right, despite being compressed so flat by the crushing weight, was slowly starting to plump up. Sam reached for it and rolled it roughly between his thumb and palm, trying to determine the extent of the damage.

“And? Is Kyle a Karla now?” Jose asked anxiously.

“Hmm.. I can’t tell — something’s definitely wrong with it, but I can’t tell,” Sam concluded, letting go of the still inflating nut, which landed on the bench with a plop.

Jacob, meanwhile, couldn’t help but rub his throbbing cock through his jeans. Jose blushed as he realized Jacob had caught him staring. Jacob winked and stopped stroking, instead turning to Tristan and calmly asking what they should do next.

“Hmm. I suppose we should probably summon a Town Car.”

Tristan pulled out his phone and dialed for the City’s car service while the others got to work untying the totally blacked out stud, Jacob going out of his way to ‘accidentally’ bump into Kyle’s smashed nuts as he did so.

When Tristan was done, he hung up and dialed another number. A few minutes later Philip and Miranda Dyson, a couple from the fifth floor, entered the gym. Miranda was wearing a hastily thrown on sweat shirt and jeans and Phillip was equally casually dressed. Other than wincing squeamishly at the sight of Kyle’s flattened sack, Miranda could hardly bring herself to be too concerned over the demise of the pompous Kyle Avalon.

“Dr. Dyson,” Tristan began addressing Phillip.

“Tri, I’m just a resident,”

“A resident at Dyson Community Hospital,” Miranda reminded.

“We need this to go way,” Tristan explained, motioning his hand over the blonde stud’s ruined sack.

Phillip and Miranda turned toward each other and whispered among themselves for several seconds before Philip responded “I think we can make that work.”

–

“Welcome to The Places at Avalon Park,” Paula Greystone greeted cheerily, the billowing sleeve of her blouse flowing as she held out her hand.

As the first tenants of the East Tower of The Places, Paula and Sam Greystone fancied themselves as the unofficial welcoming committee, and had greeted every new comer to date — including Kyle Avalon — with a fruit basket in the lobby.

Juan reached for the enormous, ribbon laced basket from Sam and thanked them warmly, balancing the surprisingly heavy gift with a suitcase.

“Oh, come now. Set that down,” Paula waved over the desk clerk who promptly came over and took Juan’s bag.

“Honey, you’re in Avalon Park now. Everything’s taken care of for you,”

“And she means everything,” came Jacob’s voice as he snuck up behind his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around him.

“Oh how fun! We’re so glad you decided to move in. Another couple in the Tower.” Paula smiled.

The two couples went about chatting in the lobby as The Places’ staff busily carted the rest of Juan’s belongings up he and Jacob’s apartment. Paula, who was dominating the conversation, hardly stopped to nod in greeting as Kyle entered the lobby, returning from a mid day jog.

Kyle smiled broadly, wiping his sweat soaked hand on his shirt before extending it to Juan.

“Hi, I’m Kyle Avlon. You must be Juan. Great to finally meet you,”

Kyle’s tone was shockingly warmer and more genuine than it had been just weeks ago, before his testicular come-to-Jesus in the gym. Despite having totally lost his huge left nut, Kyle’s crotch still bulged predominantly from remaining nut. Kyle’s right nut would remain permanently nearly twice its original size, the atrophied, but still barely functioning, testicle enveloped in scar tissue.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Juan replied, being unable to be flustered by the strikingly attractive, tall jock standing in front of him.

Juan, like everyone not living in the East Tower of The Places at the time of the incident, believed Kyle was the victim of a random mugging. No one would believe that the beautiful, upwardly mobile citizens of the City’s most esteemed housing block could have conspired for such a macabre affair.

“Well it’s great to meet you too. Jacob is always going on about you,”

Kyle gave a sincere smile as he made his way to the elevator.

As the door closed, Sam raced toward it and stopped the door closing at the last moment, stepping inside.
Kyle’s smile melted away and his handsome face contorted in fear. The muscular jock’s perfect body was shaking like a leaf and his lip began to quiver as a tear streamed from his eye.

“Please! Please! I was nice to him. Did I say something wrong? Please don’t hurt me.” Kyle’s voice cracked as he backed against the mirrored wall of the elevator.

Despite being quite a bit taller and obviously more muscular, Kyle was literally cowering in the corner of an elevator as Sam looked on. A radical departure from the arrogant way he used to parade through The Places before the gym incident.

Sam gave Kyle a sly smile.

“Remember what we talked about. If you so much as look at Juan, or any of us the wrong way so help me…”

Sam balled his fist and pounded it several times into his palm. Kyle gulped and shuddered with each loud SMACK, unable to even imagine how painful it would be for his last nut to have been in line with Sam’s punches.

“Anyway, I think you get the message,” Sam finished laughing, pointing to the trickle of piss running down Kyle’s leg.

Sam turned and pushed a button to open the elevator door.

“Thank you, sir.” Kyle said, his voice still shaking, so meekly Sam didn’t even hear.

The door to the elevator closed and the elevator began its ascent to the top floor. Kyle slumped against the wall, crying softly as a pleasant sounding recording of a female voice came over the elevator’s speaker.

“Welcome home.”