Monday, November 23, 2015


This blog is about both female/male and male/male ballbusting and testicle torture (BB/TT). I have 72 original stories plus a handful written by other people. Most of the stories you will find if you go to the Blog Archive listing on the right and go to the 2013 menu, and then go to June and July. That's where I did all the reposting when my other site closed. Go through the full list to see other month's/year's stories.

Looking at the body of my work, most stories are f/m of one variety or another, and that's because although I identify as gay, I actually prefer to write and read f/m stories. Currently I try to alternate between f/m and m/m stories (more or less).

Most stories don't have pictures associated with them, and that's because I rarely have a real life person in mind when I create characters, plus I like people to plug in their own mental image of what a guy or girl's character looks like.

I have a wide variety of stories that include many different fetishes, scenarios and percipients. You just have to search for them.

I also encourage everyone to comment on stories and start conversations. I almost always respond to comments.

Hope that's helpful.



Thursday, November 5, 2015

Tropes of our Genre

So I thought it might be fun to examine some of the tropes in the ballbusting and testicle torture story genre. What is a trope, you ask? A trope is a truism or cliché used in some media genre type over and over again. Take for example the "noble savage" trope (Westerns, explorer stories, Avatar) used so frequently in novels and in movies. Or the "hero-must-fight-the-big-bad-at-the-end-of-the-story-alone" trope (Harry Potter series, Star Wars, classic myths) used in literature and other media. They are plot devices, descriptions or dialogue that are used (and over used) to make the viewer identify with that which is familiar. And while tropes aren't necessarily bad, they are usually noticeable (sometimes annoyingly so) in any media genre that uses them. So here are mine for the ballbusting/testicle torture genre:
1. Ballbusting is a sexual activity even though in real life it's most definitely not. Erections indicate the degree to which the bustee enjoys BB in lieu of sex.
2. At least one of the characters has to like ballbusting and the story is usually seen through his/her eyes.
3. There are three basic types of bustees in the genre - the ones who want it, the ones who are too submissive to stop it, and those who resent it but have no choice.
4. Testicles can take way more abuse in stories than in real life and they only are destroyed when it's sexually convenient for them to be.
5. As with most sex stories everyone is beautiful, well endowed and sexually available.
6. Classic characters like femme fatals, super butch men and servile males are common
7. Ballbusting only happens to males who have reached puberty. Children are never disciplined with nut pain.
8. There are three main divisions of the genre - ballbusting, testicle torture and cutting.
9. Lots of other fetishes are commonly seen in BB, often relating to feet (foot fetish, trampling, socks, etc.).
10. Ballbusting represents a sacrifice of some kind on the part of the bustee and a power role of some kind of the buster. Power differentials are at the heart of the genre. 

Alex of Ballbusting Boys blog adds these:
1. Psychological humiliation is as important as physical humiliation. The buster(s) mock and humiliate the bustee(s), hurting both their egos and their balls.
 2. Rarely does the genitalia of the bustee(s) fall into the standard size. It's either very big or very small, both of which can result in humiliation (see 1).
 3. Most BB stories are a variation on one (or more) of the following themes: smug asshole gets what he deserves; devoted husband/son/father/partner/friend makes an extreme sacrifice; sexual experiment goes wrong; innocent character gets treated badly.
 4. M/M ballbusting fiction is fundamentally different from F/M ballbusting fiction insofar as the latter usually includes some sort of sexual attraction between the characters. M/M ballbusting fiction frequently works in a "male bonding" context in which the characters within the story do not associate ballbusting with sex (even though the reader might...)

If you can think of any others, add them in the comments section so we can all learn.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

(M/M) Anonymous Nutting - NEW

Not sure if I've ever posted this before or not. I might have on my old blog, but I'm not positive, so I'm labeling it as "new" even if it isn't. It's on the short side but I hope it's still satisfying.

Anonymous Nutting


Guy rang the bell. A moment’s pause and then a spotty boy came out of the backroom and walked to the front desk.

“Can I help you, sir?” he asked.

“Yes, my ‘brother’ has a room and I’d like to know what it is.”

“And you are?”

“Guy . . . Smith. My brother is Dave.”

The attendant looked at his registry and found it. “Room 102. Upstairs and on the right porch. Will you be needing a second bed for the night?”

“I don’t think so,” said Guy with a slight growl.

The boy was unphased. He saw this everyday. If he had a penny for every couple named Smith . . .

“Have a good evening, sir.”

“Thanks.” Guy walked out of the lobby and into the night without a backward glance. Up the stairs, along the hallway . . . 100, 101, 102. Then he paused as he always did. In what state would he find “Dave” in? Tied up on the bed? Strung from the ceiling? Showering in latex? Cuffed to the radiator? Each time they hooked up, the scenario was different, and that was the beauty of the thing. The key was taped under the doorknob and he opened it quickly and shut it behind him. The light was on. On the bed was Dave. His hands were cuffed to the headboard, his legs tied off in opposite directions and his left testicle, just the left one, was tied to the ceiling with a rope, stretched tight.

Guy pulled off his shirt, shrugged off his shoes and let his pants fall. His naked chest was smooth, his pecks huge, and his arms knotted with muscle. His dick was already hard and the cock and ball harness that bound it was tight. He was ready – he was the sadist and Dave the masochist, he the top and Dave the bottom - a perfect match.

Guy looked into Dave’s eyes and saw excitement mixed with fear. A long time ago they had agreed – if ever one of Dave’s balls was tied up completely separately from the other, it meant Dave was ready to give that ball to Guy. To let him utterly destroy it, if he wanted to. It meant he was ready for his anonymous master to half castrate him.

Guy pinched one of his own nipples. “So, tonight’s the night, eh?” David just sighed and closed eyes, nodding slightly.

“Good,” said Guy. “It’s about time.” He took the handkerchief that covered his head (soaked with the perspiration of a long day’s construction work) and straddled Dave’s chest.

“Open up, bitch!” Guy gagged his helpless victim, tying it tight enough to leave welts. Then he ran his hands down Dave’s body. Where Guy was tanned and rugged, Dave’s was smooth and white. Where Guy had the physic of a body builder, Dave had the physic of especially built swimmer. He was also somewhat taller than Guy, and Guy had always assumed this trick was some kind of corporate executive, exercising in swanky gyms when he wasn’t doing PowerPoint presentations. Not that it mattered – to Guy a willing victim was just that, and no more. Dave was just one of dozens of men he tortured monthly, and wouldn’t be the first man he’d nutted.

Guy straddled Dave’s abdomen, facing him, and then reached back. His right hand grasped Dave’s suspended left ball and began to squeeze it. Guy watched Dave’s face. The eyes stayed closed, but as the pressure increased they opened. Deep black eyes up and Guy watched as they betrayed the first hints of pain. More pressure on the ball. Wider eyes and a slight grunt. Guy began to torque the ball and with he free hand, he gently caressed Dave’s right ear, tracing a path around its outer curve, then down to his chin and then into the hollow of his neck. Guy licked his own finger and brought it back down to play ever so lightly on Dave’s right nipple all the while squeezing the testicle with fingers used daily to pulverize granite and quartz. Dave gave a prolonged grunt.

Guy suddenly let the nut go and began to knead Dave’s pecs with both hands, then licked Dave’s flaired nipples, flicking his tongue over them. He bit the right one. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to elicit a jolt. More tonguing, more biting. Then the other nipple. Both became red and hard. Guy traced his tongue down to Dave’s bellybutton. Guy could feel Dave’s rock hard dick pressed against his ass and his own dick was pressed against Dave’s lower stomach. With his mouth still swirling around Dave’s navel, Guy reached behind himself and sent his left fist into Dave’s free ball. Once. Twice, Three times. Washboard abs spasmed. Then he closed his fist around the thing and pulled it up and in the opposite direction of the left bollock. He squeezed it, rolling it around in his fingers like it was a cigar. Now his mouth was at Dave’s neck, kissing and licking. Then sucking under Dave’s right ear, giving him a hicky and pulling Dave’s nut with him to reach it. He squished the untied ball in his fist, cruelly, mercilessly.

“Guess what,” he whispered into Dave’s ear. “I’m not going to punish your leftie., tonight. Just pop it. When it’s time.” He stood up and survey the scene – nipples raw, hickey on the neck, flushed skin. Good so far. Guy stood up and positioned himself between Dave’s splayed legs. Time to kick some nuts. Or nut, rather.

Mushing around the right nut a bit with his toes, just to gauge the distance, and then a light punt to it, resulting in a jolt from Dave. Now a stronger kick, then stronger. Guy worked his way up to a healthy slam and repeated the maneuver until it was a steady rhythm, each one eliciting a reflexive spasm from his victim. Certainly not strong enough to damage the organ, just enough to make it miserable for Dave. Guy watched his victim with erotic dispassion, his own cock leaking a pearl or two of cum, his own nuts swelling with anticipation. Guy contemplated his next move. The right ball was swelling. Good. He jumped off the bed and went to Dave’s gym bag. Inside was some Tiger Balm. Back on the bed he knelt and began to rub some on Dave’s cock, stroking it in, squeezing it in. Naturally, Dave began to writhe. It was like his dick had been dipping into napalm.

Guy stopped rubbing the burning cream into Dave’s cock and instead began to choke the cock, as if he were trying to strangle it. With both hands, just underneath its head. The head swelled and turned a nasty shade of purple. Guy was determined to leave a bruise. He squeezed the rock hard dick, grunting with effort and then finally let it go. He bent down and sucked in Dave’s dick head and tongued out the little dribbles of precum. He released it. The organ dropped back onto Dave’s stomach with a “thwack”. Guy got off the bed, and this time he brought back a toothbrush.

Holding Dave’s dick with one hand he gently teased open its piss-slit with the handle end of the brush. The slit widened. Blooming open, Guy started to push the handle into Dave’s urethra, further and further. Guy mused ‘This must hurt like a motherfuck’. He pushed the damned thing all the way until only the bristles were sticking out of the end of Dave’s 8 inch cock. It looked comical. Like some novelty butt plug which could be used for dental hygiene as well stuffing bungs. To make sure he was driving home the pain, he grasped the brush head and rotated it, waggling it about. Dave screamed inside his gag. Guy stroked himself. This was good. Now to plug something else. Back to Dave’s bag. He returned with Dave’s water bottle. It was four inches across and eight inches long. ‘This should make an impression,’ thought Guy.

Some Tiger Balm used as lube, and Guy first used his fingers to loosen Dave’s hole. Then he pushed the bottle in, cap first. Oh, it must be painful. Ass’s weren’t meant to accommodate such wide objects. Hard objects, too. The bottle was completely full. The hole unwilling dilated as he pushed it in. A quarter of the way. Halfway. Dave’s eyes grew along with it. Almost all the way in, but not totally. It might be hard to get back out again and who, after all, wanted to pay for proctological surgery?

Satisfied with that, Guy moved back to the right testicle, now swollen and kinda lumpy. What to do with it? The left testicle remained untouched and would remain so until it was destroyed. He put his face close to the right teste. He licked it gently, letting it loll about. He lapped, this way and that. The more he licked, the more Dave twitched. The little thing must be sensitive. Excellent. Guy sucked it fully into his mouth and clamped it tightly with his lips, pushing the nut to the roof of his mouth with his tongue. He held it there, making Dave’s ab muscles tense. Then he tugged and sucked on the ball. Hard. There was explosive nostril exhalation from Dave. Now he pulled the ball bag surrounding the nut as far as he could, whilst boring the tip of his tongue into the underside of it. Ouch! Guy kept this up for about five minutes.

When he spit the nut out it looked bruised, and the bag was all red and inflamed, but he wasn’t done with it. Guy arranged himself and began to beat the bollock with his fist. Nothing light or delicate, but full on hammer-fists to the ball. SMACK SMACK SMACK. He pounded the fat pud as hard as he could. The walls began to shake. Well, nothing out of the normal for a seedy hotel . . .

On and on he pounded poor Dave’s ball until tears seeped out from clenched eyes, and a gurgling ululation from out of the bandanna gag. OK. Enough of that. Pain always needed to be balanced with pleasure, and Guy breathed on Dave’s pulsating dick, and licked the shaft. The Tiger Balm was minty. He took out the toothbrush with a SLURP and swirled his tongue around the bruised head and sucked the whole thing in, sucking on it as hard as he had the ball. He swallowed its entire length, stopped there, with his nose in Dave’s bush, and pulsed his throat to massage the member. Then, he backed off from the root of the penis and began to piston on the thing. He could feel Dave writhe in tortured pleasure.

The penis began to leak precum, a sticky sweet taste in back of Guy’s throat, and he stopped sucking just short of an explosion. It wouldn’t do to end the party yet. Guy grasped Dave’s sack and yanked, cutting short the ejaculation.

While Dave was groaning from the almostgasm, Guy went back to work on the nipples, sucking and biting and pulling on them. Meanwhile he rubbed Dave’s body with his two strong hands. “Having fun, ‘bro’?” said Guy into Dave’s ear. “Want some more? Man, I could hurt you all night long.”

Dave squeezed his eyes shut but he nodded. He loved the pain too.

“But I’m not going to,” said Guy curtly. “I’ve got a family to get home to. Let’s skip to the good part - time to take your ball.” Guy untied Dave’s right ankle and bent the leg upwards. Keeping it there, he pulled out the water bottle from Dave’s butt. The orifice was perfectly primed for Guy’s rock-hard prick. He guided it in and felt the slippery snug warmness of Dave’s hole. It was bliss, as any top knows. Guy’s right hand enclosed the sacrificial ball and began to squeeze.

“I’m going to fuck you and squeezed your nut. When I cum, I’ll burst it. Whether you get off or not is up to you.” With his left hand keeping Dave’s leg out of the way, and his right hand pressing itself into Dave’s left ball, Guy started to pump. He reached a healthy speed fairly quickly and the bed shook hard, thumping the wall behind it.

Dave could feel his big marble in a vice-like grip and could tell how close his tormentor was to coming by growing pain. He felt Guy’s exceptionally fat penis filling his ass and that hurt almost as much as the testicle crushing. He knew he was giving up an irreplaceable part of himself tonight, but he’d wanted this for so long, and he new “Guy”, no matter what his real name was, would do it like no other.

Guy rode Dave like a stallion, alternating slowing thrusts with vicious bouts of gut-ripping pounding. Now Guy was the one making noises. Open throated groans of ecstasy. The warm, moist heat of Dave’s hole was heaven, and he knew he was being cruel by not using any lube. So what? Guy’s hand began to tighten around the nut, its meat was beginning to warp, to balloon out from between his fingers. From prior experience he knew he’d need a lot of pressure to rupture the ball, and pressed his thumb in as deep as it would go.

Guy rode his pony faster, and faster. The bed was threatening to fall apart, Dave was keening into his gag, and the big fat left ball was nearing its end. Dave’s body was tense with pain, Guy’s mind was focused on careful timing, and as he felt his wad begin to boil up from his balls, he squeezed Dave’s left testicle as hard as he could, knuckles white with pressure. Dave’s eyes were like saucers and dilated black, and both dicks in the room were swelling like balloons. In one titanic moment, the cocks erupted cum, Guy’s into Dave’s gut, and Dave’s onto his own chest and in that moment there was the humble sound of Dave’s nut popping. Just a gentle “pop”, like someone stepping on an exceptionally juicy plum. Guy kept pumping, and he kept up the pressure on the ruined gland.

He pumped and pumped ‘til his seed was spent and his body was covered with a light sheen. In his right hand the remains of Dave’s ball squished around, and Guy watched with satisfaction as Dave thrashed weakly. This was the best part – inflicting untold agony on another guy. Sexual agony.

Eventually his softened member pulled itself out of Dave’s hole and he let Dave’s right leg drop. Then he massaged Dave’s jizz all over the guy’s stomach and pecs, trying to sooth his agony, kneading Dave’s sheet-white and clammy skin.

“Mmm. That was great. Your nut lasted twice as long as the last guy’s. And he didn’t even cum. You’re a racehorse, you big stud. I can’t wait till I get to take the other one.” Dave just whimpered.

Guy got up and put on his clothing, his own cock and balls still harnessed. He left Dave tied up there, on the bed, one testicle ruptured, the other bruised and swollen. But just before he left, Guy leaned over to whisper in Dave’s ear, “Text me again some time. I’ll be back in this area again next month.” Dave’s eyes just rolled around in their sockets. Guy chuckled softly. Well, time to drive home and take the wife and kids out for pizza. Guy shut the motel door behind him and didn’t look back.

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Just a heads up

I was rereading some of my stories today and found one that I'd written in the style of Caligula and Number 2 which a lot of people might like. It's called Demonstrations and I thought I'd mention in case it got missed among the shuffle. It has foot worship and lots of ball busting. Just thought I'd mention it.

Saturday, October 24, 2015

Tomorrow's my Birthday!

I'll be 104. But I SWEAR I don't look a day over 80. It's all that water I drink, keeps my skin clear.

I've written 72 BB/TT stories. My site is getting close to 1 million views and that's just amazing.

My most popular stories are: #1 The Classroom: The Busting Lesson, #2 Big Blond and Dumb, #3 Experiments Part 2, #4 Sadistic Aunt Sabrina, #5 Tom's Testicle II The Nut Busting Club, #6  Pussy-Boy Mike, and finally #7 The Wives Club. All of which, with the exception of SAS I wrote myself. I'm particualy pleased with Pussy-Boy Mike. It was lots of fun to write, and I think it's one of my best stories ever.

Anywho, here's to lots more years churning out tortoruos drivel.

see yas,


Sunday, October 18, 2015

(ff/m) Bubbles 2 - The Cousin Gets Popped - NEW

So Knave requested I do a follow up to Bubbles, one of his favorite stories, for winning my sequel contest so here it is, Bubbles 2. Hope you all enjoy it!
Bubbles 2 - The Cousin Gets Popped
The truck pulled up. Inside was John, Peggy and Anthony. Alice and Alison greeted them at the door when they came in. Seventeen year old Anthony was their cousin, and they had just brought him back from the funeral, where Anthony’s parents had been buried. It was a sad time, to be sure, but also a hopeful one. Several years ago Anthony’s parents had sent him off to military school to cure him of his bad habits and his propensity to masturbate, and now he was going to have a more normal life (plus a substantial trust fund). John and Peggy seemed to really care about him, unlike his now gone parents, who at times barely talked to him, and never gave him affection. They had been too wrapped up in their careers and their religious lives to pay him any love or attention.
Several weeks went by and Anthony settled into his new routine. Highshool and sports during the days and playing games with the twins at night or watching movies and TV on Netflix. Peggy was a terrific cook, unlike Anthony’s late mother, and he really loved the things she fixed. After all, they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but in Anthony’s case it was also through his balls and it happened this way: about four months into his residence, Anthony was putting the twins to bed, and they began to tell him the story of how they popped their father’s balls one cold but cozy Christmas day.
“Didn’t it hurt him?” asked Anthony.
“Not at all,” said Alice. “He seemed to enjoy it. He squished them around after they’d burst and seemed to like it.” Neither girl seemed to remember or care to share the reality that his testicles had already been burdizzo'd and that John couldn't feel them anymore.
“Wow. That’s amazing,” said Anthony. “I wonder what it felt like when they popped?” Like most men Anthony was intrigued by the idea of being neutered in such a violent way. What would it feel like? Was it a sexually fulfilling experience? The one thing military school had taught him was that repressing sexuality didn’t really work, but removing the source of one’s temptation was the real way to go. His parents had been diehard religious types, and had impressed upon the Anthony the evilness that sexuality was. Now here was an interesting opportunity to be freed of it forever.
“Say,” commented Anthony,” You two girls wouldn’t be interested in popping my nuts would you? I mean you could practice kicking and hitting them or whatever, and then you could pop them. It would be fun!” he said enthusiastically.
“Really?” said Alison. “We’d like that a lot. We love bursting bubbles, especially man-bubbles. Here, let us see them.” Anthony was sitting on Alison’s twin bed, so she was closest to them. She snaked her hand around and pulled down the zipper on his jeans. He let her. She snaked her hand inside and found his underwear. He let her. She found the flap and wriggled her hand until she found was she was looking for, his big, fat and exceptionally round balls. With all her strength she yanked her hand and pulled them into view. Alice clapped and then hopped out of bed. The two gonads were pink, supple and lots of fun to play with. Alice and Alison each plucked one up and toyed with it. The sack was hairless and chamois smooth while the testicles themselves were like wonderful rolly-pollys. You could pull on them, squeeze them, dig your thumbs into them, and even smack them, which both of the twins did. Anthony was pretty tough, so all he did was twitch a bit, but he enjoyed all the attention his balls were getting, and didn’t try and stop them. But after about ten minutes of ball play, Anthony stuffed his nuts back into his pants and promised the two girls lots of future play time with his balls, but that it was time to go to bed.
Several days later, Anthony was babysitting the twins while John and Peggy were at a friend’s house, and Alice commented that she wanted to play with Anthony’s nuts. Now Anthony had a ripped body, smooth, muscular and very toned. He had brown military style hair, close cropped, and beautiful green eyes. The twins also had brilliant green eyes, a trait they inherited from the same side of the family, their father, but had flaming curly red hair. They were also cute and delicate little things – dainty and feminine in the extreme, where Anthony was definitely masculine but gentle also. Anthony stripped off his shirt revealing his smooth muscular chest and then unzipped his jeans and pulled his testicles through his fly.
The two girls sat on the couch and wiggled their feet. “Take our shoes off for us so we can kick you in our socks!” exclaimed Alison.
“OK,” said Anthony. On his knees he scootched over to the couch and took off their shoes. Alison was wearing a mint green dress with white polka dots and Alice was wearing a pink dress with frills. Naturally they had matching socks. Alison’s mint green socks were extra fuzzy and Alice’s pink socks were slightly less fuzzy but no less cute. The girls continued to wiggle their feet, so Anthony each gave their feet a gentle rub which they loved.
Then Anthony positioned himself in the middle of the room, He spread his knees and put his hands on top of his head. “OK girls, come kick the sin out of my eggs.” For Anthony, raised in a relentlessly repressive born-again Christian household, getting ballbusted was near to a religious experience and he envisaged getting a lot of it before culminating in the complete destruction of his balls. It made him shiver with illicit pleasure. He would beat sin and temptation even if it meant becoming an eunuch, which it would.
For Alice and Alison this was something new and fun. Man bubbles looked so delicate and yet they also seemed so elusive. They rolled out of the way as often as not and seemed to have some connection to a man's stomach because with each kick to Anthony's nuts his muscular stomach rippled and flowed, presumably with pain.
"Is this hurting you?" asked Alison.
"OOF. Yeah, a little bit, but I'm a man. I can take it. Keep going. OOF."
Alice stopped taking her turn to kick his blushing sperm makers and whispered something into Alison's ear. Alison giggled and nodded. She then took a position behind Anthony and she and Alice then took timed turns punting his puds, one of them in front and one of them behind. THWACK THWACK THWACK. The two little girls shrieked with delight as their dainty fuzzy-socked feet found their way back to his hanging heuvos over and over. Anthony had his eyes closed, but his whole world was centered on his balls, OMG it ached to have them brutalized like this. But, he wasn't worried, neither girl was strong enough to rupture them prematurely and yes, it hurt, but there was also a tingle of pleasure from the endorphins as well as psychological satisfaction that the sin inside his nuts was being beaten out of him.
After a while the two girls tired of kicking and wanted to do something new. Alison found a big plastic bat for playing ball with, and told Anthony to "hold still", then she began to hit his testicles with bat. The two red orbs were starting to swell, and they looked like two hen's eggs popping out of his pant's fly. CRACK CRACK CRACK. It sounded like Alison was breaking his eggs with each hit, and she wondered how long they could play with his balls before they really did crack.
Alice watched with pleasure until she had an idea of her own. She ran into the garage and got her father's rubber mallet. It was heavy in her hand and hard to get off the wall, but she managed to extract it and ran back to the fun. "Alison, let me try this!" she exclaimed.
"OK," said Alison, who backed off.
Anthony opened his eyes to see what new torment would be visited on him that evening, and those eyes nearly popped. A mallet! This would definitely hurt. But Alice, being kind, started out slowly and gently, so as to ramp up the intensity of the sensation. First rubbing them, then gentle taps to his balls, then stronger hits, and then stronger and stronger until she was using all her child's strength to bring the black mallet smashing down onto his testicles. Finally Anthony reached his limit to nut pain and doubled over, not quite throwing up, but definitely wretching quietly. If this hurt, how much worse would popping his balls be?
The two little girls stroked his head gently and cooed to him as he lay on the floor just sort of holding himself and occasionally moaning, sotto voce. He lay there for quite some time, and then got up, pushed his balls back to safety and suggested he make milk shakes for them all to enjoy. The two little girls clapped excitedly at the prospect.
For the next month whenever John and Peggy were away the Holsten twins found opportunities to get Anthony to pull out his testicles for them to abuse and play with. And what Anthony noticed was that his balls did indeed seem to get a little tougher each time. He could take one more round of kicking, one more spate of hitting before calling it quits. Like in most things biological, conditioning could work miracles, and after a month of it, he decided he wouldn't wear a cup during sports, because he figured his nuts could handle a lot. And, indeed, there were three nut-shots he took which he was able to shrug off, one in a football game, and twice during water polo. In the back of his mind, Anthony just smiled to himself, because it wouldn't be long before he would be completely immune to such attacks. He'd be able to do any sports and not fear for his balls. It would be a decided advantage in his kick-boxing classes.
Along with the percussion to his nuts, Anthony prepped the two girls for the actual popping. Anthony found seed pods from a certain tree near the house that were about the size of testicles and when stepped on make a lovely "crunch" sound. He brought them home by the dozens and the girls loved stepping on them. He also found for them cherries, acorns, leechee fruits and other small crushable things for them to practice on. They popped them all out on the back yard deck so that the mess made was easily cleanable. Bubbles were fun, but bubbles were messy also.
On one particular day, when again John and Peggy were out of town, the three kids played out in the back with water balloons and it wasn't long before each of them was soaking wet. Alison suggested they all strip to dry off and both girls had mentioned they wanted to see more of Anthony's muscular body. With some slight reservation, Anthony stripped for them, getting down to his boxers. He was going to stop there but Alice and Alison each ran up and grabbing a side pulled those down too. In an instant Anthony was as naked as the day he was born, outside, in the sun. Thankfully the house next door was only one story tall and the fence gave perfect privacy. The twins ran their hands over his smooth muscular body and then Alison cupped his nuts while Alice stroked his dick. In response the thing began to stiffen and each girl marveled at male anatomy. It was an interesting toy men kept hidden in their pants.
"Anthony, what is this thing all about?" asked Alison as each girl stroked and squeezed his woody.
"Well, it's for making little kids like you. See, these" he said, squeezing out his swollen agates, "Things make a stuff called 'sperm' and when a guy gets excited that sperm travels into his body and then out this thing. This is my penis and it's like a syringe. It injects my sperm into a lady."
"Can we kick it too?" asked Alice.
"Yah!" exclaimed Alison. "We could crush it just like your balls!"
Well, there wasn't much point in having a cock if he didn't have any balls. "I suppose so. If you want to. Just don't tell your parents about this, OK?"
"We promise," said the girls in unison.
From that point on, Anthony got completely naked for their ball bashing, and he stroked his cock to rigidity before the busting commenced so that they could injure that too. They beat his cock and balls black and blue with sticks, kitchen utensils, bats, rackets, ping-pong paddles and anything else that was close at hand for them to do damage to his eggs and sausage. It was so much fun.
What became tradition between them was that the twin's parents would leave, then the girls would find Anthony, who was usually either doing homework or watching the TV, and they'd make him put on a fresh pair of their fuzzy socks. The girls had a whole collection of fuzzy socks which their mother bought at a little boutique in town run by a couple, some of which were cashmere others angora, and some even made from vicuña and they came in all sorts of colors and styles. Anthony reverently put the fuzzy socks on his two little cousins, and then he would strip for them, shrugging off his shoes, peeling out of his shirt, sliding down his pants and slipping off his underwear, leaving him in only his white ankle length socks which he left on to keep his body warm and his balls loose.
Anthony would kneel so that his groin was at their level and then put his hands on top of his head and close his eyes. Then the magic would happen. The girls would do running kicks to his junk, smack his rigid pecker, punch his vulnerable balls, and do so over and over and over again. And they worked their way up to an hour. A full hour of cock and ball busting before Anthony couldn't take any more. Sometimes they'd do it in the living room. Anthony would place his naughty bits on the coffee table and they'd take turns standing on his rock hard cock and his two man-bubbles. Other times he'd sit in a hard wooden chair and they'd smash his breeding junk into its hard surface with various paraphernalia.
But it became an even more illicit game when the twin's parents were around. If they were all watching a movie together, the girls would make sure it was dark, sit on either side of Anthony and then reach their hands down his pants to pinch and squeeze his eggs, with no one the wiser. On car trips the girls would take pot shots at his groin and Anthony would have to pretend that nothing untoward was happening, and some of those hits were pretty painful. They'd play sports together, and the little girls would throw their balls at his balls and sometimes they'd actually hit him! Anthony would simply fall to the ground and groan.
And Anthony never said a word against it all. He felt he was suffering for God and believed he would be rewarded handsomely when his emasculation occurred.
One fun thing they discovered one day was how Anthony's nuts could be tortured with plain water. Anthony had just gotten out of the shower when the twins came home from school. He was naked and had left the door open. The girls found him toweling off and naturally went to play with his balls while he did so.
"Why are your man-bubbles so loose today?" asked Alison.
"Yeah," said Alice, "Sometimes they're all shriveled."
"Oh, well my scrotum, that is the bag my balls are in, responds to temperature. Hot water makes they loose, cold water makes them shrivel and ache."
"Ache? You mean cold water hurts them?" asked Alice.
"Well, it doesn't damage them, but it sure makes you wish you didn't have them."
"I have an idea," exclaimed Alison. "Let's dunk them in hot and cold water and see what that does."
Alice clapped with glee and ran to get some bowls. The three of them, and Anthony with only a towel around his waist, got ice cubes from the freezer to make ice water and put another bowl of water in the microwave to make it steaming hot. When Anthony judged that the cold water was bitingly cold and that the hot water was not so hot that it scalded him, they poured the some of each into mugs and each of the girls got one mug. Then they went into the living room, and the two girls ripped off Anthony's towel to reveal their play toys. He sat on the edge of the couch so that his balls hung off of it, and then the girls took turns dunking his balls in first ice water and then hot water, hot, cold, hot, cold, over and over and over again. Anthony began to moan. There was deep ache building in his groin that reminded him of having blue balls and the girls watched in enjoyment as his scrotum seized up with the cold water and then relaxed and hung low with the hot. The dunking stopped when each mug of water became tepid rather than hot or cold, and they progressed onto their usual hitting, kicking, squeezing and punching of hit nuts and culminated in a orgy of creativity when the girls broke out their crayons and finger paints and began to decorate Anthony's body as he lay there, just silently clutching his bruised manhood. As well as being exquisitely feminine the twins were also highly creative, and they turned his naked body into a landscape of stars, flowers, birds, butterflies and kitty-cats. They turned his throbbing penis into a tree and his two balls into soccer balls, made for kicking. All of which meant that Anthony had to take another shower when they were done.
After several months of using and abusing their handsome cousin, Anthony thought it time for them to relieve him of his temptation for good. It just so happened that John was leaving for the weekend to go to a conference and Peggy would be visiting her sick mother. Once again, Anthony was to play the role of babysitter, and he felt that this weekend would be the perfect moment. When he told the girls they got so excited that they squealed and ran around in circles for many long minutes.  But Anthony reminded them they had to be hush-hush about the whole thing, and admonished them not to mention it in front of their parents. For the whole week before the girls were bursting with excitement, and Peggy found it quite odd how her two girls kept whispering to each other all the time and giggling.
As for Anthony, well, he was torn between jacking off as much as he could to savor it's pleasures one last time or denying himself as much as possible to show his dedication to chastity. In the end he chose denial. He even refrained from looking down at his own wedding tackle so as not to be reminded of sex. And that wasn't too hard to do, because his junk was an unsightly black and blue all the time from being stepped on and hit and kicked at point blank range.
The weekend arrived and the parents left. It was Saturday morning, and after making the twins breakfast, Anthony suggested to the twins that they all spend the day in the pool. It was a hot June day and spending it in the pool seemed a sensible plan. The little girls put on their bathing suits and Anthony put on his trunks. But when they got out there, the girls told their older cousin they wanted him naked all weekend so they could play with his wedding tackle. So Anthony slipped off his bathing suit and jumped in the water, bare naked. The girls used the steps and each got on a blowup raft and paddled to the middle.
The first torture they inflicted on their cousin was giving him some lengths of rope and told him to tie each to one of his testicles and the other end to their rafts, and then he had to pull the girls from one end of the pool to the other and back again, which he did. Or at least he tried his best to do. He tied up his nuts and then attempted to swim with the rope yanking on them. He swam breast stroke and with each stroke the ropes yanked on his balls. It hurt like hell, but . . . in a good way. He kind of liked the idea of having as much pain forced on his manhood as possible as it would be his way of remembering what it was like to have them.
Upon reaching the one end of the pool, he dove under water and switched directions, this time pulling them backstroke, that way they could see his nuts being pulled. The girls squealed with delight as they saw his big purple plums being pulled out by their roots. And they really did look like plums. Anthony's balls were remarkably round unlike other guy's nuts that were more oblong, and they were huge from the months of abuse they'd received. Not to mention purple from being tied up. Back and forth the three of them went until Anthony was too tired to pull any more. He untied himself and took a short break in the shallow end before the girls got bored and wanted more ball play. They were both excellent swimmers and so they made up a game where Anthony had to get into the black inner tube that was floating around, but make his cock and balls dangle through the hole. Then the girls would swim up from underneath and mangle and mutilate them. They pretended to be fish and octopi and pinched and squeezed and pecked at his pecker and two eggs. The random abuse made Anthony gasp and even yell since the little girls were unpredictable with what they did to him.
Eventually they pulled on his ball bag so hard he slipped through the center hole and Anthony swam free. The next thing they did was Anthony's idea. He straddled the diving board so that his cock and balls lay flush with it, and then the girls, in the pool, tossed baseballs, footballs, and soccer balls at him, hoping to smash his junk. As one would expect the girls had very poor aim, but they did occasionally connect with their targets and Anthony would let out an "OOF" when they did. After about an hour of that Anthony went inside to make them lunch. They ate out on the porch before the girls wanted to go in and watch some TV, so Anthony had the afternoon to himself, and he reflected on the amazing things that dangled between his legs which could bring such joy to the hearts of others.
That night they had pizza for dinner and afterwards Anthony first put fuzzy pink socks on the twins, and then got on all fours and let the girls kick his dangling heuvos. Alice liked to do running kicks to them, from behind, while Alice liked to kick from the side so she could also kick his cock. In either case his danglers bounced with dozens and dozens of brutal impacts and after about 45 minutes of this Anthony was reduced to curling up in the fetal position, moaning, and holding his gonads tenderly. They were so swollen, and hurt so much, not to mention the deep ache in his lower abdomen. But the girls weren't tired yet, and they wanted him in a new position. So Anthony rolled on his back, brought his knees to his head, locked his arms around his legs and gave the girls first-rate access to his junk, which hung over his ass-crack. Alice kneeled in front of them and began to punch his balls with her little fist. CRACK CRACK CRACK went her naked knuckle flesh against his nuts while Alison watched. Then they switched. Not to be outdone Alison used both her fists and smashed his eggs as hard as she could, WHAM. Then down on his rigid cock, SMACK. Then back to his eggs, eggs that kept trying to roll out of the way of her blows but failing miserably.
On her next turn Alice decided to punt his cahones and the two little organs tried valorously to get out of the way but again failed. The two testicles were huge by now, perfect for tomorrow's popping.
At 9 it was time for the girls to go to sleep, and that was after they'd hurt Anthony so badly between the legs that he actually did hobble off to the downstairs bathroom and vomited into the toilet. But the girls were thrilled, and satisfied, with their work and went to bed willingly. After Anthony had turned out the lights and left the girls whispered to each other and hatched a small plan.
The next morning they woke up early, knowing that Anthony like to both sleep in, and sleep au natural. They snuck into his room and found him under the covers, on his back, snoring softly. The two girls gently and quietly pulled back his comforter and top sheet, leaving him naked on the bed. Then Alison carefully climbed up on the bed, stood between his legs and kicked his sleepy balls as hard as she could, three times in succession. Anthony curled up and groaned for a while and the two girls made for the kitchen so their cousin could make them breakfast. Which he did after a while, cupping his nuts as he did so.
After they all had partaked of breakfast, the two little girls decided they wanted to start the morning off by tying Anthony to one of the chairs and smashing his fruit with a metal spatula. They tied him up with is legs spread and tied to the legs, and in anticipation his cock became rock hard. So as to keep it out of the way, Alice used some duct tape to tape its pulsing length to his stomach so that his balls could be whacked with the spatula as they lay on the hard surface of the chair. SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT. The two girls hit his nuts as hard as they could. They showed their cousin no mercy as they all knew the balls would be destroyed soon anyway. Then Alison had the bright idea to use the meat tenderizer on them, which although it hurt dreadfully, Anthony approved of since it would make his balls soft enough to crush. After a while of that Alice pulled off the tape on his cock, flattened it against the wood and between his two balls and kept it there while Alison whacked it with the tenderizer. CRACK CRACK CRACK. His cock was in bad shape after 30 minutes of that, but it stayed hard no matter what.
His dick half bruised and his balls swollen to the size of peaches, they let Anthony up from the chair and dragged him into the living room. First Anthony put new socks on the girls, Alice got peach colored ones, and Alison lavender, and then they had him kneel and put his hands on his head, which he did, and they stood in front of him and kicked his soft swollen bollocks. While they did so they watched Anthony's six pack abs ripple. It was hypnotic, and they started a contest to see who could make them ripple the most. WHAM ripple, WHAM ripple. It was so fun!
When Anthony finally slumped to the ground to protect his nads, the girls decided that there would be a break and then they'd actually pop his nuts. Anthony groaned agreement and the girls turned on the television and watched it for a couple of hours. Anthony went upstairs, went to the bathroom, and then took a shower, hoping for the hot water to make his nuts extra droopy. It was his last chance to jack off before the big moment, but with a supreme effort of will, Anthony resisted, and went back down stairs, wearing a pair of white ankle length socks and nothing more.
"OK. I'm ready," said Anthony. "You two ready to burst my bubbles?"
Both girls giggled and clapped with excitement.
"How are we going to pop them?" asked Alison.
"Well, I was thinking of kneeling in front of the coffee table and then you could both stand on them. You're probably both heavy enough to do that. I think. I hope."
The two girls looked at each other. "Well," said Alice, "There's only one way to find out."
"First, tie my hands behind my back so I can't stop the process out of instinct." The twins did so.
"OK, now I'll kneel. Lift my cock and balls onto the table. Good. OK. Climb up and do your stuff," he said.
"We want to destroy your man-syringe first," said Alison.
"OK. Go get the rubber mallet from the garage," said Anthony calmly. He was now past the fear of losing his manhood, and was as excited as the girls to witness their destruction.
Alison ran to get it, and brought it back. Then the girls took turns smashing his bruised and damaged cock until it actually broke with a large CRACK. The thing swelled with blood and edema and looked strangely misshapen and yet it still remained half hard. They again taped the remains of his mighty, 8 inch weapon to his stomach and got onto the table. Alison chose his left ball and Alice his right. They climbed onto their chosen nut and began to put pressure on it. But balls, even swollen ones, are slippery customers, and both girls had to place their hands on Anthony's head to steady themselves. Alice patted his head.
"Are you happy we're going to pop your boy-bubbles cousin?" she asked as her feet wobbled on the testicle.
"Mmmphhmmff," mumbled Anthony. His whole world was subsumed by the pain in his nuts.
"Yeah, tell us how much you want us to burst your berries!" giggled Alison.
They both began to hop up and down on their trapped nuts and the testicles became flatter and flatter as their weight was forcing them to warp from the pressure.
"TELL US!" said Alice in a loud and commanding voice.
As any man instinctively obeys the commands of his woman, Anthony, with his eyes close and part of him praying for all this to come to a speedy consclusion, burst out, "CRUSH MY NUTS, PLEASE! MAKE ME A CHASTE EUNUCH, TAKE AWAY MY BALLS" screamed Anthony, giving away his deep plan to escape the evils of sexuality.
His huge balls were now almost flat in the center and with a final vicious stomp the two little red-heads, in their fuzzy socks and their innocence, burst Anthony's two bubbles with audible 'POPS'. The two nads exploded and then the things went slack beneath the twin's feet. A wave of horrible dizziness swept over Anthony and he almost fainted but instead just fell side ways and just lay there, twitching in inhuman agony. The girls got off the table and went over and spread his legs, of which he was helpless to stop them, and they began to kick what was left of his balls, They punted his mush over and over and Anthony screamed over and over again until finally he couldn't take anymore ball-agony. And just before he did pass out, the two girls told him they'd put on his boxers so mom and dad wouldn't see him naked and then blackness took him. But as he fainted away, he did so with a smile upon his face for Anthony had beaten Satan, and now begun his peaceful life as a eunuch, far removed from temptation and all that much closer to God. Amen!

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

(M/m) Daddy and Me (part 1) - NEW!

So here's the m/m story I've been working on for a while. Hope it pleases. Cheers!
Daddy and Me Part 1
My name is Jamie and my lover/master/daddy is Kris. We met when I advertised on an S&M site, looking for someone to bust my balls and eventually pop them. We hooked up initially at a local leather bar and when, after a few weeks, we found that we clicked I moved in with him so that I could receive consistent abuse.
Kris isn’t your average daddy. Yes, he’s 35, but he’s fit, smooth, muscular and has a chiseled face and a nice, neatly trimmed beard. He’s got an eight inch penis with unusual girth, and it fills me up like no other dick I’ve been fucked by. He’s got a swimmer’s build, a swimmer’s height, is incredibly strong and is sexy as hell. I on the other hand am about 5’7”, muscular but slight, with black hair, a nine inch dick, and most importantly two really fat nuts in a really loose, pendulous sack. Like Kris, my body is hairless and unblemished.
What you have to know about me is this: my thing is pain. I’m addicted to it. For me pain is pleasure, and I’ve been inflicting torture on myself for years. Even when I was a little kid I’d jam needles into my arm just to see what would happen, and when puberty hit I discovered my nuts – how sensitive they were and how easy it was to cause pain through them. I began to bust my own balls by the age of 14 and I would spend hours alone, when my parents were away, jacking off and busting myself in the nuts. Oh, it was heaven. But of course it’s always much more fun to have someone else do the busting for me, and get off on it themselves. So, when I reached 18 I began to look for someone to keep me in perpetual agony, and thanks to the advertisement, I found Kris. Before him I’d only gotten the odd kick to the balls by friends or boyfriends, mostly done as experiments or dares, but I wanted something more predictable, consistent and fulfilling.
Our first night together we left the bar where we’d met up and came to his place which was an upscale apartment just a few blocks away. Kris was a rising executive in San Francisco investment firm, and was rolling in the dough. He had a fast car, a huge apartment, expensive furniture and every conceivable modern gadget. Like most sadists, his home decor tastes were spare and clean, with lots of metal and polished wood surfaces, and as soon as we went through his front door he had me pushed up against a wall and was kissing me fiercely. Our physical chemistry was off the charts. I was groping him, he was groping me, and we were like two wild animals in heat. It wasn’t long before he had my pants off and he started squeezing my cotton-clad bulge rather firmly. We both knew, as my advertisement stated, that I wanted to be in nut pain, and Kris was only two happy to oblige. While kissing my neck and nibbling on my earlobe, he reached under my underwear and fondled my balls, to assess their size, their heft and their vulnerability. He was an expert at this, and his right hand singled out my fat left nut and began to squeeze it harder and harder. Oh god, it was great. He began to press his thumb into my ball, and he was an obviously an experienced dom because he knew just how long and just how hard to squeeze to cause maximum pain. I gasped in pleasure and moaned for him to continue.
He let up in the pressure to stroke my rigid cock through the fabric of my boxer-briefs and I pressed my erection into his hand. “Hurt me,” I whispered, “Hurt me so good.”
“Of course,” was his soft reply. He started kissing me even more passionately and grated my two vulnerable rocks together, like he was trying to make peanut-butter out of them. His grip was inescapable and relentless. I loved it. Eventually we made it to his bedroom and we undressed each other as quickly as possible, although I left my socks on to keep my balls loose and ready for action. I flopped down on the bed, and lay with my legs spread. He took the hint and positioned himself so that his knee was between them. Then while he held me by the shoulders, he began to ram his knee into my nutsack. THWACK THWACK THWACK. Naked knee flesh smacked naked ball flesh. He started off quick but slowed down eventually so that we could both stroke our cocks while my balls got pasted. STROKE SMACK STROKE SMACK. He began to look into my eyes as we did this, and watched each pulse of pain pass through them, my black eyes to his hazel ones, and he loved seeing that pain. I groaned loudly. I could feel my balls swelling with the punishment. It was wonderful. That night I secretly wondered how big my balls would get with Kris as their buster, and how big they would get before he popped them for me.
Over the course of that evening the kneeing progressed to hitting, and then pulling, and finally squeezing. He spread my legs, lubed up his extra-fat cock, and plunged it inside of me, practically splitting me in two, all the while squeezing one ball in each hand. I had pain in my ass and pain in my balls and I couldn’t have been happier. I think by the time we both came I was drooling on myself, and only half coherent, but man oh man, what an orgasm it was! The pain in my balls and ass blurred into this mass of tingling pleasure, and I came so hard the cum hit the head board behind me. His cum injected itself deep into my guts, and I reveled in the thought that this hot daddy had breeded me.
That night we cuddled for while, and then had two more exhausting sex/busting sessions before we fell asleep at 3 in the morning. I saw him every night after that for three weeks, meeting him at his door when he got off of work. He always varied his punishment of me: kicks, hits, knees, pulls, smacks, squeezing, and even pulling and twisting. Our sex also varied. Sometimes he wanted a blowjob, sometimes he’d give me one at some point. He liked to fuck me in various positions too, but always with those strong hands of his mangling my manhood. And my ballsack stayed perpetually red and inflamed, while my nuts nearly doubled in size. They were getting to look impressive, by any standard. They were bigger now than AAA hen eggs, but thanks to my voluminous sack, still loose and free. My hope was to get them to turkey egg size before they were destroyed. I looked forward to having to squeeze them into my jeans and having the pain of their compression with me all day long.
He would tell me to do things during the day to keep up my pain threshold. Like punching my own balls or putting weights on them or tying them up for hours on end until they turned purple. And after a few weeks we progressed to the next step of pain and torture. One night he unlocked the door to his “dungeon”. It was full of chains and hooks and leather harnesses and everything else you’d normally find. Evil looking toys, needles, a car battery, and so forth. He put a black hood over my head, and while I was naked strung me up so that my arms and legs were spread wide. I couldn’t see what he was doing, I could only listen. Now that there was no possibility of protecting my nuts (not that I’d ever tried), he began to seriously damage them. He rammed his kneed between my hips, and jerked his knee into my balls. He kneeled down and did straight punches to my dangling nuts so that they slapped against my ass. On one occasion he even sucked in just my left ball and began chewing on it. Not hard enough to pop it but hard enough to make me squirm like a little kid at the doctor’s office.
After several nights of that he decided to up the ante. While I hung there, in the leather harness, he swabbed my sack with alcohol and then got out his needles. He chose the fattest ones and after binding my balls with twine, he began to push needles into my testicles, which were so swollen and fat that he had twice the real-estate to work with when compared to the size of an average guy’s eggs. With each needle inserted it felt like someone had my nuts in a vice and was turning the screws tighter and tighter. It was agonizing heaven. Then to cause extra pain, on one occasion, he electrocuted my balls, and on another occasion fried my balls by lighting the exposed end of the needles with a cigarette lighter. The heat traveled all the way through my onions, causing an ache in my guts unlike any other I had ever experienced.
Night after night of torture, each night culminating in him splooging all over me while he stroked himself and ruined my nuts, and me cumming on myself without anyone touching my dick, but with vomit inducing pain roiling up from the pits of my abdomen all the while. On one morning after such a session, he was leaving for work, and I was still naked in bed. I walked over to the window and rapped on it so he’d look up as he stepped out into the street and headed for his car. He did look up and I pressed my naked cock and balls against the window pane, so that they turned white from the pressure. I wanted to show him my utter devotion, and tease him for what he could do to them when he got home from work. I didn’t care one whit whether anyone else saw me. I loved him that much.
Sometimes we’d go out for dinner to a restaurant. If we sat at a table, across from each other, he’d invariably plant his foot between my legs, and juice my nuts with pressure. Sometimes he’d surreptitiously take off his shoe so that he could roll around my balls with his toes. If we sat at a booth, side by side, he’d slide his free left hand down my pants to grasp just one testicle, and then he’d squeeze it between his rock-hard fingers until my eyes watered. But I never made a noise, and the waiters never knew that such sexual activity was going on. I loved it.
Sometimes we’d be at some diner and we’d both go to the bathroom at the same time. If we were alone, he’d ram his knee between my legs until I fell the floor, coughing and clutching my groin in abject agony; the fact that we might get caught made the whole activity that much more sexy.
But things all came to a head about five months after I moved in. It was Kris’s birthday and he said he wanted to burst one of my balls as his present. I agreed unhesitatingly and asked him how he wanted to destroy it. He said he’d bought a new device designed specifically for bursting human male balls. He showed it to me. It looked like a pair of pliers except it had an especially broad, flat head. He let me choose which ball was popped, though. I reached down and groped my naked package. Even though both balls were swollen and distended, my right nut was still smaller than my left one. It had been that way all my life. So I decided he should crush my right nut, saving the bigger leftie for my final bursting. Kris grinned at that, then he kissed me and grated my rocks together with his free hand.
As a prelude to the bursting he invited all his friends over to the house for a party, and I was strung up, again, blindfolded, again, and then all the guests (mostly consisting of burly bear gay men), got a chance to kick, hit, squeeze or mangle my silky sack. Some of them, of course, also masturbated me, which was nice, and Kris naturally got the opportunity to make me cum, not just once, but three times throughout the night. Each time my testicles became more and more sensitive, and the guys did several drinking games centered around hitting my sack, punching it as hard as they could. CRACK CRACK CRACK. Hard manly knuckles against my naked ball-flesh. I flopped around like a fish on the hook, my rigid pole waving back and forth. At the end of the night I was taken down, and I had to suck off each guy until they came. I drank gallons of cum that night, some of which even went up my nose or into my eye if they wanted to bukake me. Have you ever had cum in your eye? It BURNS. But I was down for it all. Pain was my pleasure.
Two days after that, on Saturday, it was time for me to lose a ball. My right nut was big, ripe and ready to pop. Throughout the day I would squeeze and knead my orb, trying to remember how it hung and felt. I was going to be half a eunuch by that evening, and I wondered what it would be like to only have a half-full scrotum. Would I like it? Would I miss my nut? What was Kris going to do with it once he crushed it? Would he eat it? Preserve it? Throw it away? So many questions. So many possibilities. I was looking forward to finding out.
Early that morning, before Kris woke up, I took a hot bath and shaved off what little pubic hair I had, mostly on the treasure trail. Then I dried myself off and went to the kitchen to make breakfast for my daddy: hash browns, bacon, fresh fruit, orange juice and my right testicle in a soft-boiled egg cup, along with some spinal tap needles. Since my nut was going to be ruined anyway, I thought we might as well get as much mileage as we could out of the thing. Kris was of the same mind. While he was eating his breakfast I stood next to him, and let him push the needles into my fat trapped ball, twirling them and making mush out of my sperm cells. If you want to know the truth, I was on the verge of puking all over Kris and the bed, it hurt that bad, but somehow I retained my dignity and managed not to.
When he’d finished, Kris wanted to shower together, so back to the bathroom I went. I worshiped his body, soaping it up, cleaning him, his hole, his cock, his delicious balls, and every other body part. After he was clean, I bent over so he could fuck me, and he did so, his balls slapping against my butt. It was his favorite thing to do to me in the shower, fuck me, and fuck me hard. He reserved ballbusting for when we were both dry. He rammed his prick into me until he came, but I wasn’t allowed to. He didn’t want me to ejaculate until my ball had been smashed.
I dried both of us off, and we went into the living room, still naked, to watch some TV, next to a roaring fire; it was a cold November Saturday and warming fires were just the thing to ward off the cold.
For several hours we lay on the white bearskin rug, warm and fuzzy, and kissed, hugged, cuddled and acted like any other romantic couple would. But time marches on, and so must kink, so by noon I was strung up in my usual position with Kris taking kicks to my swollen huevos. SMACK SMACK SMACK. His naked toes were burying themselves deeply into my family jewels. Then after a half-hour of that, he kneeled before me and began to suck me off while also punching my balls. I struggled mightily to keep from cumming; ironically the pain in my nuts only encouraged me to jizz down his throat than rather keep me from doing so. I popped my knuckles, bit my tongue and did everything I could to distract myself from the delicious pain my daddy was visiting upon me.
But before I could really lose control, he stopped his sucking and punching and he let me down for a breather. After an hour he returned to the dungeon, and told me to put on one of the ball pressed over just my right nut. Then he told me to tighten the screws. I did so. He told me to tighten them again. I did. Then some more, then some more, followed by another turn. My poor ball was going flatter and flatter. He told me to make another turn. OMG, the pain was amazing. My hands were shaking. I told him I couldn’t turn it anymore myself. So, he handcuffed me and started to turn the screws himself. Soon he was huffing and puffing. My fat ball was exceptionally resilient. It was quite apparent that he was going to have to do something drastic if he wanted to actually pop the ball. Between my howls of pain I could see Kris assessing the situation. Eventually when he could tighten them no further, Kris had me get up off the floor, hooked me back up the harness, and attached a parachute and weights to my nut-sack. And then left me there for several hours while he left the apartment to get something.
I heard him return and fuss about for a while although I couldn’t totally pay attention to him as the agony in my balls was excruciating. But apparently it was only going to get worse.
Kris walked in, holding a syringe and a clear glass bottle of something.
“You ready to give your ball up to me, my little boy?”
“Absolutely,” I croaked.
“Good, I’m going to let you down, and I want you to go to the bedroom and lay down.”
He untied me, took the weights off my balls, unscrewed the press (which made me scream because of the blood rushing back into my nuts), and I hobbled into the bedroom. There were white silk ropes tied to the bed posts. I lay down between them, and watched my daddy come in. He set down what he was holding and began to tie the ropes to me. Each knot, each twist was done with the greatest care, and viciousness. Soon all four of my limbs were tied up and immobilized, tied so tight that my legs and hands quickly went to sleep. Kris smiled at me. I gave a pained smile back. Then he tied a bandana around my head and over my mouth so that I couldn’t make any sounds.
He retrieved his items and showed them to me.
“This,” he said, “is a syringe, and this is a bottle of hydrochloric acid. I’m going to inject this whole bottle into your ball, so that when it’s time to crush it, I won’t have to struggle. Your ball will be one massive liquid balloon.”
My eyes popped out of my head. This man was a diabolical genius. Now this was REALLY going to hurt. I just sort of groaned while I watched him fill the syringe. He then straddled my crotch, plucked up my right nut, and stabbed the needle deep into its heart. I grunted into my gag. He injected the solution against the minimal resistance my ball put up, and then he refilled the syringe and kept doing that until my ball had swollen half again as much as it was. It looked like a huge red kidney bean, and the acid began its work. I could feel it liquidizing the inside of my testicle. OMG it was painful. It felt like someone was roasting my ball over an open fire while I was still attached to it. I writhed in agony and made kicked-puppy sounds while Kris watched and masturbated himself over me. He was obviously enjoying my torment.
Kris murmurred a little ditty while I moaned, “Johnny was a chemist, but Johhny ain’t no more. ‘Cuz what he thought was H20 was H2SO4.”
After a while I felt a different, sharp pain in my groin. I opened my eyes and looked down. Kris had a scalpel and was slicing the right side of my scrotum open, and with a cauterizer was keeping the blood to a minimum. I watched as he pulled out my huge misshapen testicle into the light of the room. The thing writhed and moved slightly as it lay there, being dissolved from within. Little drops of tan sperm were seeping out of it and onto the duvet through the holes the needles had made earlier in the day. Kris handled my precious ball for a while, caressing it, squeezing it, and letting it dry out a little. Then he retrieved his gadget for popping it, the big-headed flat set of pliers. He maneuvered the thing until it was centered on the ball, and then looked at me.
“Are you ready to give your testicle up to me? To my pleasure, to my sadistic thrill?”
I nodded and gurgled into my gag.
“OK. I’m going to jack you off while I squeeze. Cumming will be the last pleasant thing you feel before you pass out. Stay awake until you cum. Don’t fail me.”
Soon I felt the pressure being applied, and I felt his hand stroking my cock, which had now been leaking cum for a half hour. But that wasn’t as pleasant as it sounded, because the pre-jack was laced with acid and was burning my urethra while it dribbled out.
Kris stroked me harder and harder, faster and faster while the pressure was increasing on my nut. I was screaming into my gag. This was more pain than any human being could reasonably bear, and I was getting my wish fulfilled – getting my nut popped by a sadist who wanted it crushed as badly as I did.
With more and more pressure he bared down on my ball, grunting slightly as he did so. We both watched with horror, fascination and eroticism as my raw white testicle compressed in the center and bulged at the perimeter. It bulged more and more, and I was amazed at the resiliency the testicle had. It was now mush in the center and leaking on the outside, but it put up a good fight, and made us both anticipate its final demise.
I began to hold my breath, waiting for its moment to come, and I could see Kris’s cock getting ready to blow, just like mine was. His extra fat cock-head was purple and pulsing, and mine was red and engorged. More, and more and more he pressed. I could feel a scream building and after a few seconds, it exploded from my lungs. AAAAHHHHHH! For at that moment my liquidized testicle popped with a wet “SPLAT” sound, and dribbled its contents everywhere. My penis pulsed in Kris’s right fist and then spattered me with jizz while his own, untouched penis shot all the way to my face and with his eyes closed, Kris savored the end of my ball, and his orgasm. I passed out, and all that I knew for the rest of the night was . . . darkness.