Lisbug is a vlogger and she does a parody/spoof of Miley's Wrecking Ball with some ball busting and tit punching.
Just something funny. Enjoy!
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Monday, July 28, 2014
Knave brought to my attention that one of his favorite stories was missing from my repost spree last year and darned if he wasn't right. So here is Bubbles, a short-ish story I did quite a while ago. And it's a Christmas story, so naturally it's perfect for reposting in the middle of summer! Enjoy!
The snow was falling softly outside, white wisps of powdery frost, leaving little trails of perfect white, and landing in pillowy mounds just outside the window sill. Inside, all was warmth and light and happiness, even though it was 6am, and the sun was barely peeping through the clouds. Soft Christmas music was playing on the retro-antique radio, multicolored lights were twinkling on the Christmas tree, and everywhere were presents waiting to be opened.
John, his wife Peggy, and their two young twin daughters, Alice and Alison were sitting around the tree and near the roaring fire, and having fun digging into their Christmas presents. Naturally the two daughters were enthusiastic, ripping paper, breaking bows and tearing tape. Soon, there was a pile of loot behind each girl.
Unlike most children, the girls just loved getting cloths, and they had each received some expensive cashmere socks –
peach colored, and Alison’s lavender. They begged their father to help them put
on their new socks, plus their new dresses and some matching bows for their
John was sitting on his knees next to the girls, his legs spread oddly open the whole morning, while Peggy watched from the couch. They adored their two daughters, and would willing sacrifice anything for them. In their hearts, they knew the girls’ happiness was paramount to them having a happy childhood.
As it so happens, the girls not only had a love of fashion, they also had a penchant for anything bubble-like that could be popped. When they were just toddlers, they’d come across some of that bubble wrapping left over from the new LCD HDTV television, and they literally spent hours jumping, hitting, and squishing the big bubbles, laughing innocently as they burst. The popping noise, the sudden deflation, and the springy resilience of the plastic puffs creating a sensory pleasure that simply couldn’t be duplicated by any other means.
Since then, the girls had burst eggs, cherries, blow-up paper bags, balloons at birthday parties and lots of other items, and as a result, they’d also come to expect lots of poppable things at Christmas and during birthdays. And today was no exception. Roll after roll of bubble wrap, little burstable plastic bubbles filled with glitter, balloons filled with candy and helium, and so forth. All of them were attacked by the girls with glee.
With their cushy-soft socks protecting their little feet, they jumped on all their bubbles, hit them, squeezed them between their fingers and spent almost two hours bursting things, just for fun. Eventually, though they ran through their entire stock of burstable items, and the girls began glum. Alison made a pouty face and turned to her father.
“I want more things to pop, Daddy. This isn’t enough. Get us something else. It’s Christmas, and Santa wants us to be happy.”
just made a pouty face too, and nodded
in agreement. Alice
“Well,” started John, “I don’t think there is anything else. All the poppable items in the entire county are laying on the floor, here in this house. I can’t think of anything else to give you.”
Peggy, however, had a wry, thoughtful look on her face, and leaned over to whisper something in John’s ear. As she did so, the girls could see John’s face light up, as he grasped the implications of her plan.
Peggy got up and walked upstairs, then came back, holding some kind of odd tool. She sat down, and began to talk.
“Girls, a while back your father and I decided not to have any more children, because you two are our sweet little angels, and we wanted to devote all our resources to that end. I thought about having my tubes tied, but your father had a better idea. Last night, as has present to me, he gave me this burdizzo to use on him, and let me crush his tubes. See, it’s a farm implement designed to castrate male mammals,”
As the girls examined the odd device,
interject. “What does castrate mean, Mommy?” she asked. Alice
“I means taking away a man’s ability to have children. Permanently. Anyway, last night I placed this tool over first your father’s left testicle, and then his right testicle and sqeeeeeezed real hard and pinched his tubing, and now, we won’t ever have to worry about me getting pregnant.”
The girls followed this story with interested, and kept looking back and forth between their parent’s faces. Peggy looked pleased, and John looked excited.
“However, this now means that your father’s two testicles can’t feel a thing, and can be damaged in anyway we can think of because they’ve already been cut off from their life support. So, now you have two more bubbles you can pop! See, isn’t that wonderful, girls!?”
“But,” said Alison, “what’s a testicle?”
“Oh,” said John, “Here, let me show you what I have.” He stood up from his odd position and pulled down his pajama pants, and then his plaid boxers. Out popped his soft penis and two hugely swollen orbs in a silky pink pouch.
“These are my testicle,” he said, laying them in his hand. “They hang down in this sack called a scrotum. This is my penis, which is used for making children also. Anyway, normally it would hurt me a lot if someone kicked or hit or stepped on them, but right now, I just have an overall, dull ache. I was planning on going to the doctor later on today, anyways, so your mother and I agree, you should have some fun making mush out of them and popping them before they’re removed. Why let them go to waste? And it shouldn’t be difficult to burst them. You two have had LOTS of practice.” John was all smiles.
The girls got up and took his eggs from his outstretched hands, rolling them over and over to see their shape. The organs were unlike anything they’d ever seen or felt before. They really were like huge, balloony eggs.
“Remember girls, this is a very special honor. Most men would never let you do this to their private parts, so say make the most out of it,” commented their mother.
“Daddy, do you mean that these things helped make US?” they said together.
“Yup, and I give you full permission to burst them under your feet, kick them, hit them, do anything you want to them. Here, Peggy, you show them.” John got up and spread his legs, his white socks sliding along the carpet sideways, then his hands when up, above his head which stretched his white undershirt at the seams. Peggy went up behind him, took carful aim, and nailed his balls from below. They made a pleasant squishing, slapping sound, and the girls were delighted.
“Ok, girls, now your turn.”
The girls gladly got up and stood before their half-naked father. The noticed that his dick was getting hard, and it made them happy, for some reason. Then, they looked at each other, each thinking the same thing. “Left,” said
, “Right,” said
Alison together, and they aimed their lavender and peach feet at their chosen
testicle. BAM, they booted the balls as hard as they could. Alice
“Good shot, girls,” cheered their father, having fun watching his own balls bounce.
BAM, BAM, BAM. The twins punted their father’s nuts as hard as they could, and were rewarded by the two helpless orbs bouncing around and spinning in their protective sack.
“Girls, do your best to soften them up, so that they’ll be easier to pop!” exclaimed their mother.
“OK,” they said in unison. Then they stopped kick, and instead each grabbed a nut in one hand and began hitting the bright red orbs with the other. SMACK SMACK SMACK. Johns’ scrotum was fiery red but still loose enough to allow for any range of movement. “Girls,” he said as he watched them bludgeon his manhood, “Squish my balls which you hit them.”
The twins obliged, and began to knead the semi-circular eggs along with the lumpy tubes as hard as they could, while continuing to hit them.
“Those are the tubes where my sperm grow up,” said John. “It’s where the sperm that made you developed before coming out of me.”
“And,” said Peggy matter-of-factly, ”that’s where I separated your father’s balls from his body last night.”
“Daddy, I can feel the tubes squishing under my thumb. Is that OK?” asked Alison with concern.
“Squish away. It can’t do any more damage than bursting the ball completely. Push as hard as you can.”
Both girls readily pressed their thumbs into the mound of tubes, and heard pleasant little squishing sounds as they were popped and destroyed. “This is fantastic,” said Alison in utter pleasure. “Do all men’s balls make these sounds?” she asked innocently.
“Well, you’d have to find a pretty special guy who’d let you do this to his reproductive organs, but yes, I think it would be exactly the same,” remarked John.
When all the tubes had been squished, they rotated their respective nut and asked their daddy to get on the floor, so they didn’t have so far to reach. He got on his hands and knees and happily spread his legs so his children could attack his dangling baby-makers. Despite their enlarged size, they hung low between his knees, and girls were only too happy to take running kicks at them, savoring the way they bouncing around, and how his rigid dick felt when they kicked it too.
Then, John raised his legs so that his feet were flat on the ground again but his arms still on the floor, a told the girls to hit him with other things. SLAM went the new croquet mallet that the twins had gotten that morning. SMACK when the new high heel shoes, with
hitting with heel so that it dented one of his balls. CRACK when a new bedtime
story book straight into his balls. Everything that was able to punish their
father’s goolies wound up between his legs with breathtaking velocity. Alice
As the morning wore on, John finally suggested they explode the testicles that they’d been manhandling, and he lay down on his back with his legs spread wide open. Peggy went and got the family bible, an heirloom that traced the genealogy of the Connor family for 15 generations, and seemed symbolically appropriate to Peggy for use in this situation. Alice and Alison would be breaking their father’s balls, the essence of his very being over the essence of their entire family.
Peggy placed with between his legs, and then placed the Family Jewels on top.
“OK, girls, I think you know what to do.”
The twins clapped in unison, and ran up to stand between their father’s legs.
“Can we really do this, Daddy?”
“Burst the seeds that made us?” they chimed.
“Yes, sweeties, I want you to make all their insides squish out from your feet, like that water balloon you popped yesterday in the kitchen. Jump up and down on them, if you have to.”
“Ooookkkaaaay,” they said simultaneously. They each stepped forward and placed their socked feet on their chosen testicle – Alice in peach on his lefty, and Alison in lavender on his right ball. They then lifted their other foot off the ground, and immediately wobbled around. “Help, Daddy,” they shouted.
John reached out to claps their hands with his so they could steady themselves, and with his support, they place their small body weight fully on each testicle. As if trying to escape their fate, the precious bubbles slipped around under their fuzzy heels, but with some determination, each girl was able to make their heels stay fixed over their chosen nugget.
Then, they jumped. Up and down, up and down, letting the dense but springy ball flesh cushion the jolt to their legs. Each time, their testicle seemed to feel softer, and softer, bouncing back less and less, until finally, the girls said in unison, “It’s going to go, Daddy!”, and go they did. With a resounding wet pop, the twin orbs gave way under the twin girls’ feet, and everyone could hear their explosive collapse. It was a breathtaking, spine chilling organic pop, which left everyone in dead silence for a full thirty seconds
Then, Peggy clapped her hands and cheered, while John just squeezed his daughters’ hands and said, “Good work, girls.”
After jumping around a bit on what remained of his balls, the girls stepped off the bible and smiled widely. In response to the amazing scene they’d just been partner too, the girls only had one thing to say to their parents, “That the was best gift we’ve ever had!” The girls beamed.
“You're welcome, girls,” said John.
“I love you mommy,” said Alison.
“I love you Daddy, “ said
Peggy, just beamed at her girls and said, “Merry Christmas!!! Now, who’s up for some eggnog?”
From his position on the floor, one hand squishing around the remains of his own balls to see what it felt like, John raised his hand and said “I am!” and then pointed to his rock hard cock, “And I think this fellow is too!”
And so it was a very, merry Christmas, indeed.
Posted by Nicholas at 12:58 AM
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
So, throughout my writing career I've written both long stories and short stories. My shorter stories (5 pages or less) tend to have one arc, usually one ball busted wide open, and one man ruined (or partially ruined). Things like Jack and Jill series or the Self Defense class series. One man, one ending, one opportunity for the reader to "get off"
My long stories, on the other hand, I structure in such a way as to have many "cumworthy" points. Many ball descructions, many men and many points where things climax. My favorite example of this is my Jill series, especially Jill's Summer Continues. There are at least six or seven ball destructions in that. And I do that because I feel people deserve to climax at many points along the journey of the story, not just the last page.
I have a big stack of physical BB/TT stories I keep at home in a drawer, and that I've printed out over the years. And what I like about them is that many of them ARE long, and have multiple busts/bursts and I can pick and choose which part of the story I cum to. Unlike short stories where if you want it quick, you just read the last page.
So, I ask you, my dear readers, to tell me - which do you personally prefer, long or short stories, BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, do you like multiple cumworthy points or just one. And WHY?
Posted by Nicholas at 7:52 PM
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
So here is my latest submission. DON'T WORRY, this site isn't going to become an animal busting site, but when a long time reader shared with me his real life experiences crushing testicles I just had to put it into a story. So, some of these activities are actually real and just think on this - someone has actually crushed a testicle while still attached . . . . and it wasn't you.
ps. sorry for the weird formatting in one part but there was something wrong with the Word file, and it was all I could do to make the text visible in that section.
The Ballbusting Ranch
I had put down the paper and the advert. ‘This was it! This is the answer,’ I said to myself.
Hi, my name is James Harriet, and I am a 26 year old small animal vet. I live in Mendocino Ca, and have my own private practice there where all the people know me and everything is blissful. Well, almost. See there’s this thing that I’ve always wanted to do, and I can’t, or at least I didn’t think it was possible. I’ve always wanted to burst a testicle on a male while it’s still attached. I want to feel the thing between my fingers just burst and split its seams. Naturally as a vet I’ve done a jillion castrations, but that’s not the same as having a real, live pulsing testicle in your hands and then squeezing down on it until it just gives. And that’s what I wanted to do, so badly. Every time I saw a guy in porn with beautiful balls or a dog come in with a hefty set of hangers I’d imagine doing wicked things to them. But of course, being a respectable member of society my outward façade never betrayed even a flicker of my inner impulses and it wasn’t until I found this advertisement in a zoophilia zine that ever felt my outer life could reflect the inner one.
The advertisement read, “Have you ever wanted to castrate an animal the old fashioned way? Have you ever wanted to take part in the complete destruction of a male? Then save up your money and your sperm and come visit us at the Ballbusting Ranch! Five days of guaranteed pleasure. Price: $50,000 for 5 days, food and lodging included. Call 1-800-POP-THEM and set up a reservation NOW!”.
The price was a little steep, but if it meant what I thought it meant, that I would get to nut some animals, then great and it would be well worth it. I mean it would be better to nut some guy, but since the possibility of that was virtually nil, then animals would be the next best thing!
I called and made a reservation and discovered that the ranch was only open during the spring and fall, and it was already winter, which was perfect because it gave me half a year to save up my money. My practice was rather lucrative, so by the time it came to pay the bill, and adding a little something from my savings, I was more than able to pay for it.
So, when May came around, I was more than ready for my adventure. I packed, said goodbye to my friends and left. The ranch was in the bottom right hand corner of Wyoming, not too far from Cheyenne. So, I flew to Denver and then rented a car and drove north. The landscape was open prairie and beautifully vast with mountains in the distance. I drove for a while, following the directions on my smart phone until I turned off on a long, unmarked road. The tires growled their way along the dirt road until I passed under a wooden arch welcoming me, “The Ball Busting Ranch.” Underneath that was the ranche’s motto “The Ranch Hand is the toughest breed”. ‘What an odd motto,’ I thought. I kept driving a ways until I reached the main building of the ranch. It was almost sunset on Sunday, and I was tired and hungry. I parked in the small lot, and got out. The air smelled of hay and horses. It was a true ranch. I walked to the main building and entered. There was a handsome man in jeans and a plaid shirt standing behind a desk. He looked at me and said, “Mr. Harriet?”.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said, putting on my best smile. I wondered if all the help was as good looking as this guy.
“Great. I have some paperwork for you to fill out and then you’ll be taken off to your cabin. I’ll have your dinner sent to you there.”
“Uhm. OK. Thanks,” I replied. I couldn’t help but stare at his bulge, just below his huge belt buckle. He sat down, I sat down, and we cleared up the red tape. And then, out of nowhere, five male teens appeared and offered to help me with my bags. They were all wearing cowboy hats and boots, and jeans and plaid shirts. It seemed to be the uniform of the “West”. I led them out to my car and they got all my luggage. Then they led me to my cabin. My cabin was one among many all set in the same area. It was small but perfectly equipped. There was a huge bed and a couch, a dining table, a bathroom with a shower and a tub and a toilet. It was warm and cozy and my helpers opened my suitcases and put away my cloths into various bureaus and armoires. They were quick, quiet and efficient, and handsome. And instead of leaving me when they were done, they all began to undress. I was astonished. The five teens methodically removing their cloths until they were in nothing but their cowboy hats, boots and underwear.
“Uhm,” I said. “Is this part of the service or something?”
The boys smiled and looked at each other smugly. The blond one spoke.
“You get to choose one of us to be your companion for the week, Sir. We’re trained to take care of all your needs. Inspect us. Choose the one you like the most.”
“Is this for real?” I asked. “Are you joking?”
“It’s all real, sir. We’ve been extensively trained to cater to your every whim.”
“Aren’t you all too young?” I said this as if I were actually concerned about the issue, but in fact I was already getting hard at the thought of plowing any one of them.
The black haired one spoke, “Age of consent in Wyoming is 17, sir. We’re all 17. Don’t make us wait, sir. Inspect us. Give us all a test ride. We’re ready. We’re willing. Try it.” He said all this staring straight ahead. In fact all five of them were staring straight ahead, their hands clasped behind their backs and their packages on display.
Now I wasn’t hard on the eyes either. I’m on the tall side, six foot, with a hard muscular body and very little body hair. I ran every day and went to the gym three or four times a week. I was four inches soft and eight inches hard, and nicely shaped with two pendulous balls in a heavy sack. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a good jawline. Well, that was my assessment of myself, so I sized each one up.
“Can I touch you?” I asked.
“Of course sure. Touch us, tweak us, inspect us. We’re ready. And willing.” The blond boy smiled.
So I ran my hands over each one’s muscled chest and I tentatively groped each one’s package. None of them made a move to stop me, I pulled down their underwear to get a better look at what they were packing and stroked some cock, tweaked some sacks and squeezed some balls. In the end, I liked their blond leader’s goods most, so I said, “You, I choose you,” as I gently pulled on his balls. The blond boy’s mouth split into a huge self satisfied grin, and the other boys broke formation, gathered their things and left.
Soon I was alone with just him, and he suggested we take a shower before retiring to bed. I removed my cloths and let him start the water. He was naked, I was naked, and both of us were hard. We got into the steaming shower and both stood under the water. We explored each other’s bodies, then he went down on me, kneeling between my legs. His hot, warm mouth engulfed my member and I let out a big sigh. He was obviously adept at sucking dick because he took in most of my length, and had the sucking power of a Hoover. When he came up for air I kissed him, sucking in his tongue and chewing lightly on his lips. Oh, his lips were so soft. Then I went down on him. I took his young cock in my mouth and swallowed it whole. It was divine. So springy and vibrant. It must have been at least seven inches, a respectable size for someone of his age. I tongued his slit, winkling out a few drops of precum. Mmmm. It was sticky and sweet. He moaned, so I kept up the sucking and pistoned my head like I was a seal swallowing a fish. In, out, in, out.
Finally I stopped and stood up. We lathered each other with the lavender scented soap and I paid special attention to his cherry hole. I planned to plow it the moment we got out of the shower. We rinsed, turned off the water and toweled each other dry. Then it was off to the bed. We slipped ourselves under the covers and I told him to lie on his stomach. I began to gently finger his tight hole and eventually managed to get three fingers in. He was ready. I lined up my cock and slid it inside of him. Oh, the heaven. It was warm and tight, and wet from the shower. He moaned a little, probably from the pressure of my cock on the insides of his sigmoid intestine, but he didn’t tell me to stop, so I continued. I began to pump him, slower at first and then faster and faster. My fat balls began to slap themselves on his taint and I bit the back of his neck, gently of course, but hard enough to make him feel pressure in two places at once. He obviously enjoyed this because he pressed his ass against my pelvis with each thrust, making sure my cock buried itself as deeply as possible inside of him. It also made his own cock rub against the bottom sheets, bringing him one step closer to ejaculation.
I was making my usual sexual vocalizations; lots of “fuck yeahs” and “shit you’re good”. After about five minutes of some heavy pounding I felt my nuts begin to tighten and I knew I was about to burst. “I’m gonna cum inside of you,” I whispered into his ear. He moaned in response and then said, “Fill me with your load. Fill me.”
And fill him I did. My cum boiled out of my balls and prostate and exploded inside of him, deep in his warm, dark cave. Oh, it felt so good. The orgasm drew upon all of the life vitality in my body, right down to my toes, and it spurted into his niche. Sticky and blood-hot. I continued for a while, pumping until I was soft, then I disengaged. I lay on my back and told him, “Feed me your cum.” The boy grinned and kneeled over my face, then he began to jack off while I sucked on his dangling balls. Faster and faster his hand slipped up and down the length of his cock, and with the other hand he caressed his own pecs and nipples. Soon his dick was pulsing with life and dribbling increasing amounts of prejack, which reached my mouth via his ballsack. A steady stream of sticky fluid was dripping onto my face and into my mouth. And then just as he was about to blow, he shoved his dick into my mouth and pumped himself to completion. His young stud spunk exploded into my mouth and I swallowed eagerly, drinking in his young, healthy, youthful vitality. I nearly choked on his ram rod, but he pulled out before I could. The last remnants of his juice spurted out onto my face, which he then leaned down and licked off me. Oh, it was so hot.
As he stroked out the last few drops of sperm, I looked up at him. “What’s your name?”I asked. “Tony Mandrose,” he said, “But everyone calls me T.M.” His whole body shuddered as his cum continued to drip. Again which he dutifully cleaned off my face with his pink tongue. We fell asleep together, and slept a calm, peaceful night away until early morning. Tim woke up before me and prepared a hot bath and ordered my breakfast for me. Bacon, eggs and toast with jam, a pot of coffee and some OJ. I woke up with the smell of his semen still in my nostrils, and let him bath and dress me.
“So what am I doing today?” I asked.
“Well, first you’ll get to choose your two dogs, then it’s lunch time, then you get to burst your fist pair of balls.”
“Wow. Excellent,” I said. “Are you going to have breakfast?”
“I already did, sir. We only have a liquid diet when we’re with a client. Cuts down on the number of enemas we have to use to keep ourselves cleaned out.”
“Oh, I see.” He showed me to the door, and I followed him out across the ranch to the kennels where there were lots of dogs in cages. It was there I met the owner of the ranch, Steve, who was a hot guy with a mustache and beard. He welcomed me to his ranch and told me to choose my two dogs. He told me that they were more than used to being touched on both the cock and the balls, and so not to be shy about handling them.
“These dogs are washed and groomed every three days, and their teeth and tongues are cleaned every day to keep the ‘dog smell’ under control.” And it seemed to be true because the dogs all smelled fresh and clean. All the dogs displayed the effects of excellent care – their noses were wet, their coats glossy, and their attitude perky. I went down the line. There were all sorts of breeds to choose from, but I knew I wanted two sets of balls that looked almost human. In the end I chose a great Dane with huge gray balls and an English bulldog with fat pink swingers.
There were several ranch hands, all of them handsome, tending to the dogs, and one of them let out the two dogs that I had picked. “Have a feel of their huevos before you decide finally, sir,” he said. “Present!” he said to the two dogs as I walked up to them and both dropped onto their backs and spread their legs for me. Clearly they’d been trained to accept handling of their balls.
“Our dogs are trained from an early age to accept and welcome both punishment and pleasure to their testicles,” commented the ranch hand. I first felt the great Dane’s nuts. They were large and rather hard. Far firmer than my own balls. “Give them a good squeeze, sir. Dogs like it rough,” said the ranch hand. I started to squeeze his big floppy nuts. Harder and harder I squeezed, but instead of whining, the dog just panted happily and started to sprout an erection. I’d never squeezed a dog’s balls before, and was fascinated by the sensation. Try as I might, though, I couldn’t pop them with my hands. I switched over to the bull dog, and the same thing happened with him. He just lay there, panting in pleasure while I tried to mangle his manhood.
“How am I supposed to burst these? It’s impossible with just my hands,” I said to Steve.
“Ah, that’s why we have these.” Steve handed me this large custom made plier thing. “Use this and you can crush testicles easily.”
“Ok. Sounds good,” I said. Me, the ranch hand and T.M. went back to our cabin with one of the dogs, the great Dane, while the other dog went back into his kennel, apparently to be brought out at some future date during my stay.
We got to my cabin and T.M. immediately undressed and then led the dog to a stationary frame which would hold him while we crushed his nuts. T.M. took the great Dane and secured him to the frame. The naked teenager beckoned me over.
"Look at these Mr. Harriet, nice big balls, we'll have a lot of fun outta these big balls.”
I reached down and groped the fat nuggets. They were completely solid and silky to the touch. The dog looked back at us with two bright eyes, and he seemed eager to give up his nuts to our orgasms. He was already panting. I looked down between his legs, and yup, he was getting hard too. T.M. reached in and started to stroke the dogs swollen cock, while I slipped my pants off, then my underwear, and let my raging boner breath free air. I positioned myself behind the bent over teenager, and prepared to enter him. I did so with a sigh of joy, he was slippery smooth, tight and warm. It was better than any vagina, as I recalled from my early days of being in the closet as a teen.
“I’ll show you how it works, sir,” T.M. brought out the plier device and positioned it around the dog’s right bollock, while I grabbed a hold of the dog’s left bollock. I started to pump and T.M. started to squeeze. The testicle started to flatten, and the dog started to croon softly. The dog’s ragged breathing indicated his horniness, and so did the drops of semen issuing from his turgid member. It coated the floor in a sticky glaze. I never imagined that a beast could be so happy to give up his nuts.
I rocked my hips back and forth, plunging in and out of T.M., all the while holding on to the Dane’s left nut. Through it I could feel the pressure building up as the pliers squeezed his right nut.
“Oh, yeah, Oh, yeah. You’re so big. Fuck yeah!” T.M. was making throaty vocalizations as I plowed his ripe cherry hole. The dog’s cock was swelling, and it was taking short breaths, while T.M. and I were breathing deeply, I watched as the pliers flattened the huge ball, and I could feel it bulging through his other ball.
I was groping the nut and fucking T.M. like there was no tomorrow. Slurp, slurp, slurp. I squeezed the ball in my hand as hard as I could, and a *little part of me felt sorry for the dog that he was about to become a eunuch, but such was the way of life for pets. At least he was going to get multiple orgasms from it. More than could be said for most neutering/spaying procedures. My own balls were slapping against T.M.’s ass as I buried my sword deep into his sheath.
“It’s about to go, Mr. Harriet,” shouted T.M. who was wrapped up in the twin pleasures of being buttfucked and crushing a testicle, and then it happened, the dog’s bollock exploded in the sack with a “squick” sound, and I could feel the thing explode while I held on to its brother. Oh, it was so good. The dog let out a howl as if to acknowledge the loss of half his manhood and a few ropy streams of semen gushed out the tip of his dick. T.M. was stroking his own cock now, getting ready for his own splooge-fest, and I was getting near to release too. He handed me the pliers and with one hand I fitted them around the dog’s remaining bollock. I squeezed it slowly to savor the stages of flattening the ball went through. I wanted to time its demise with my own orgasm. I squeezed and squeezed, and amazingly the ball began to warp. It wouldn’t be long now until it split its seams and exploded. The dog had gone back to its crooning and panting.
Pump, pump, pump, on and on I went plowing his fertile poop-shute until at last I felt the eminent tightening in my nuts. I whispered into his ear, “You ready, boy? I’m gonna cum and this ball’s gonna pop.” T.M. twisted his head and arched back to kiss me. “Fuck yeah,“ he replied as his own fist was pumping himself to completion.
“Here we go,” I said, “Here we go.” Faster and faster I pumped, harder and harder I squeezed, and then in one magnificent explosion all three of us males in the room rocketed to orgasm. I came, then the ball exploded and the dog came (for the last time in his life), and T.M. came, his seed spurting onto the wooden floor. My seed filled up his ass, making it even slicker, and I continued to buck my cum into him. Oh yeah, oh yeah. So good, so good. I was in heaven. I dropped the pliers and just grabbed the dog’s whole scrotum, and squished around the remains of his balls. They were deformed, and I could actually feel their insides ooze out into his ballbag as I squished and squeezed. The dog was also bucking his own seed out onto the floor and making litte “yip” noises as he did so, but panting happily too.
It was a while before we separated. T.M. twisted up to kiss me again, and I rubbed his sweat-slick body with one hand, and his left hand went down to join mine in mushing around of the dog’s destroyed nuts. We groped them and kissed deeply. It was so sexy, his body was so sexy. Lithe, muscular, tanned, trim. He stood up fully and turned to face me so we could kiss even deeper. He pressed his muscular chest against mine and we macked for a while until it was obvious that the dog needed to be attended to. Still naked, T.M. got out the castration kit and preceded to first administer a local anesthetic and then cut open the scrotum and fish out the two busted balls. It looked like a testicle soup, full of tan cells and edema and sperm. Then he stitched the whole thing up and packed it with antiseptic gel. The ranch hand who’d come with us had stood outside waiting for us to fuck and crush nuts, and now he came back inside, and collected the dog, who was led away back to the kennels, and there to be sold to some deserving civilian as a properly “fixed” pet. The new owner would never know that the dog had nobly sacrificed his balls so that sick fucks like me could get off on it.
“That’s some nice work, Tim. You must have done a fair number of castrations in your time.” We were now lying together on the bed.
“Yeah, I’ve been doing stuff like that since I was twelve. My dad owned a dude ranch, and we learned all the techniques for nutting male animals. My dad actually did it the old fashioned way, he’d open up the scrotum and bite through the cords with his teeth. He was tough as hell.”
“Mmmm. Sexy.” I said as I nibbled on T.M.’s delicate little ear. He was such a hot little honey. I held his tight body close to mine, and we both dozed for a while, taking an hour long nap. Then it was time for lunch. It was scrambled eggs, chicken fried steak with gravey and freedom fries. Mmm. So good. After getting dressed, T.M. and I went to stables, and we got to ride some horses into the countryside. It was beautiful, with the mountains in the background, and a clear stream running through it.
That night we had an outing to a campfire dinner where calf and horse testicles were roasted on a spit. It was the first time I’d ever eaten them. They were slightly tough and tasted like bacon, but they were good, and I wondered why they hadn’t made their way into common cuisine. The ranch hands told stories around the campfire about great castrations they’d participated in, especially with full grown horses or steers. Animals with huge, heavy nuts. Balls so big you couldn’t hold them in one hand.
T.M. and I returned to my cabin and we settled down to a night in front of a roaring fire. T.M. talked about his life on a ranch, herding cattle and sheep, getting up at the crack of dawn, and going to sleep at dusk. About an hour in, he unbuttoned my fly and went down on me. He was so talented at it. Suck, suck, suck. He squeezed my balls and popped them back and forth, giving me some pain to enjoy. It made me wonder what it would be like to lose my balls at the hands of some sadistic person just so they could get off. It made me shiver in exquisite terror.
I blew my load into his mouth, but I was still horny, so he got undressed, leaned over the edge of the bed and I fucked his ass raw. He came into the duvet and I came inside of him. We went to sleep that night thoroughly replete.
The next day started like the previous one – a bath, breakfast, and a walk out to the sheds. Today was going to be a cow castration, but with a twist. They were going to use a traditional Thai method of crushing a bull’s testicles. Not a calf, but a bull with huge swinging balls. I was going to get to watch and fuck T.M. while two of the ranch hands deballed a virile bull.
It was sunny and warm as T.M. and I positioned ourselves so we could watch the show. He dropped trow and so did I. They brought at the big Angus bull and simply tied up to the side of a shed with nothing but a rope through a nose ring. I was surprised at this, because I assumed they’d have to completely secure the bull’s four legs to keep it from thrashing about, but in fact the bull seemed simply resigned to his fate. He kept looking back at me like he knew what was coming.
“This bull has had a long, healthy life as a breeder and now his time has come,” commented Steve. “They seem to know that the end of their sex life is near and they rarely put up a struggle.”
Then the two ranch hands brought out a strange looking device. It was two long, thick, heavy bamboo rods, held together at one end with rope and open at the other end – like huge tweezers. The two men sat down underneath the bull and brought the bamboo device up to the top of the scrotum, and closed the ends to start crushing the balls’ cords. It made a loud “CRICK CRICK” sound as it did so, and I started plowing my stable lad. T.M. just moaned softly, and we both watched as the ball crushing device descended on the testicles themselves. The bull lowed loudly as his balls were pulverized from the tremendous strength the two ranch hands were exerting on them. “CRICK CRICK”. The two rods were turning the bulls big fat balls into soupy goo, and T.M. and I were loving every minute of it. I fucked the boy with abandon. They were now halfway through the thorough destruction of the bull’s nuts. The strange device cracked, creaked and snapped as it brutalized the bull’s bollocks. CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH. While I pump pump pumped. T.M. reached between both our legs to squeezed my balls while I fucked him. He knew I’d love to have a little sympathetic pain. And I did. I hurt so good. He squished around my fat balls while we watched the complete destruction of a male animal. The animal’s two fat balls were being squished to death by the device and I yelled out that I was close. T.M.’s hole was so tight and hot, and the sun was shining down on us, warming us and creating a slight sheen of sweat. I unbuttoned my shirt to let wind play against my chest. The bull was making low moans but he just let his balls get turned to mush. Talk about well trained cows!
MOOOOOOOOO. The bull’s nuts burst and I came into T.M.’s ass “Ah, SHIT, that’s good,” I said to no one in particular. The sun, the air, the mooing cow and his now crushed nuts, all felt so natural and so life-affirming. Still half naked the ranch hands invited me to come over and feel the remains of the bull’s destroyed balls. I popped out of T.M., pulled up my pants and reached underneath the bull to feel the huge testicles. They were soft and mushy, and sort of slippery, which big chunks of nut meat floating around inside a smooth sack. It was wonderful and warm and squishy. The cow mooed again, but didn’t sound displeased that his genitals were being mangled by me.
When I’d had enough of that, the ranch hands brought out a bowl and a knife and slit the whole scrotum open, and l watched as a soupy mess of stuff fell out. And soup it was going to be, because for lunch that day was testicle soup made from the bull we had castrated. It had lots of other things in it, but it was extraordinarily delicious and I enjoyed it immensely. The event that afternoon was riding up to a clear lake in the mountains where we all got naked (T.M., myself, and three ranch hands) and went skinny dipping in the warm air of spring. Then we laid out in the sun, naked, and naturally sex happened.
So it was a small intimate orgy of five people. I don’t usually bottom but I was double fucked this time, had a cock in my mouth, and one in my hand, pumping it furiously. By the end I was covered (and filled) with cum, and I enjoyed every second of it.
Later that evening it was just T.M. and I again, and this time he went down on me in the shower, and I blew my third load of the day right down his hot throat. I was exhausted by it all, and we went straight to bed, snuggling up to one another, warm and naked under a fluffy down comforter.
The adventure for the next day was a horse. Now horses are exceptionally sensitive creatures, so I was informed that they had been given anesthetic into both testicles and that they’d been specially trained to be comfortable with ball abuse.
My horse had huge brown/gray balls, and I gently held them, feeling the hot life-pulse of a not-so-wild stallion. It was amazing to hold a fully grown horses testicles, and they were so big I couldn’t fit the whole thing in my hand. They were oh so heavy and dense and delicious. Then the ranch hands described what was going to happen. First I was going to soften up the stallion’s big balls by kicking them from behind. Then while one of the ranch hands sucked the horse off, I would use a bigger version of the pliers I used on the dog to crush them. The trick would be to get the horse to cum at the moment of testicular destruction.
So, while one ranch hand held the horse steady, I went up behind it and began to kick its huevos. My boot made a healthy SMACKing sound as it connected sharply with the horse’s balls. The horse didn’t startle or bolt so I really laid into kicking them. WHAP WHAP WHAP. I could actually feel the balls warp and distort as my boot toe penetrated deep into the testicles’ hearts. I kicked that horse so hard that its body actually shifted with each kick. When they’d determined that I’d sufficiently softened the balls up, the ranch hands had me stop and handed me a pair of the pliers. One ranch hand started jacking the horse off, its big dong hanging down and already half hard, and T.M. kneeled underneath me and the horse, unzipped my pants, pulled out my raging hard-on, and started to suck me off. Boy, could that boy suck. I began to squeeze the bollock closest to me. Even with the added force provided by the pliers I could tell this was going to take all my strength. The testicles were just so damn huge. But spurred on by the force of T.M.’s mouth on my cock I knew I could do it. I knew I must do it. Harder and harder I squeezed the handles until the huge horse nut burst under the pressure with a big, wet SPLAT and I nearly came, but managed to suppress it. I wanted to release on the second ball.
Meanwhile the ranch hand had started sucking the tip of horse’s enormous cock. He was going down on the horse like a seal. The horse seemed to like that a lot, and didn’t seem to mind that half his manhood had just been taken away.
I repositioned the huge pliers and clamped down on the horses last ball. This testicle seemed to be softer than the other one, and perhaps I simply kicked it more times than the other. But whatever the cause I knew this one would take only a few seconds to crush. I told the ranch hand so, and his sucking increased to a furious pace. The horse started to buck his seed out and the huge testicle I was crushing flopped about a bit. Then all three things happened at once – I let out a huge yell as I dumped my load down T.M.’s thirsty gullet, the horse ball popped and the horse let a whinny as his own seed splooged into the ranch hand’s mouth. Apparently the phrase “came like a racehorse” was accurate because I could hear the ranch hand choking on the volume of semen being deposited in his mouth, but he also must have been used to it because I heard him chuckle.
I wanted in on the horse action, and pulled the ranch hand out from under the horse so I could kiss him and taste the horse’s cum in his mouth. It had a salty flavor, more so than a humans, but was every bit as alkaline. With the hand that wasn’t grabbing the ranch hand’s flannel shirt I was groping the ruined remains of the horse’s assets. Like the bulls they were squishy and lumpy and it was immensely satisfying to pulp. T.M. was still sucking on my cock although it had started to deflate, and the day was moved to completion by T.M. and I going back to the cabin and me eating a huge dinner followed by me fucking the boy again on the bed. I couldn’t get enough of him. Man he was a hottie.
The next day was a little different, we did the hiking in the morning, up the mountain along hard trails, and did the ball busting in the afternoon. Well, it was more testicle torture than ball busting. The bulldog I had picked out the first day was brought to the cabin and instead of just popping the ball, we stuck needles in his nuts and waggled them about inside to destroy tissues. T.M. showed me how to bend the last quarter inch of the needle so that you could twirl it about inside the nut, and the dog just let us do it all to him. There he was, his nuts full of sharp needles and him just panting happily, his own pizzle as hard as a rock. Dogs were so much easier to train than horses. Then we popped his balls together, each with a pair of pliers and each jacking each other off as we did so. It was a beautiful thing. In the back of my mind, though, I was wondering what would happen on my last day there. We’d run out of animals. Or had we? There were always things like goats and sheep.
When Friday came after a sound night’s sleep I found out. I was let by a grinning T.M. to a barn. Outside was Steve who’d come to see my last day there.
“It’s the animals that get people to come here, but it’s this that keeps guys coming back.” Steve opened the bard door and inside was about seven naked guys in hats and boots. “Choose one of these studs to destroy. Any one you want.” I went suddenly hot, then cold, then hot again. And my dick started to twitch. I was really going to get to crush a man’s balls!
I walked up and down the line and inspected each man. There were some with black hair, others with brown hair, and one with blond hair. I ran my hand over their uniformly rock hard bodies and hefted their balls to judge size. In the end I chose the blond again. It wasn’t that I was particularly into blonds, but I just happen to feel most comfortable with guys who looked like me.
Like T.M. he was hot as hell. Him still naked, we walked back to the cabin and I took charge. I told the ranch hand to start by sucking me off. The idea that a guy would submit his balls to me as well as service me was intoxicating. After a bit of that, I told the guy to stand with his legs spread, hands on top of his head, and prepair to be kicked. He took off his ten gallon hat and did as I instructed. I got out of my own cloths and stood behind him and kicked up and through his legs, nailing his balls each time. Boy did he have self control. I must have kicked him over three dozen times, but his hands slipped down to protect himself only once and he quickly raised them again. Then I told him to lay down on the bed, take off his boots and spread his legs so I could punch his nuts. He did so and with one hand wrapped around his nuts to squeeze them out and the other pistoning down I began to pulverize his balls. They warped around my fist and he started moaning. I told T.M. to suck the guy off while I pounded his nuts, and T.M. unhesitatingly complied. WHAM WHAM WHAM, suck suck suck. The poor guy was getting it mercilessly in the balls while having T.M. give him expert head. The combination of pleasure and pain must have been almost unbearable.
By this time his nuts had softened and swelled to twice their normal size and I knew it was time to finish him. I reached for the pliers and fitted them around his droopier left testicle. I jacked myself off while I squeezed down on his nut as hard as I could as I wanted to cum on the second pop. And pop it did, but the guy bucked his own cum down T.M.’s throat even as I started to crush his right ball. I ramped up my jacking and squeezed down on his last ball. I was going to do it! I was going to neuter a human male who did so as a willing offering to my orgasm. In the heat of the moment I gritted my teeth and gave the handles the most vicious, brutal squeeze that I could. The testicle exploded in it sack, he came (again) and I came for the last time that week. My jism gushed all over the bed and his legs, while his cum was soaked up by T.M.’s darting tongue. Then, under his own power the man got up, showed himself to the door and hobbled out of the cabin to go have his bits and pieces removed. Now I understood, ranch hands really were the toughest breed.
I left the next morning, and as I did so the desk guy handed me a gold plated penis on a chain. It was the ranch hand's. “Our cowboys have the option of giving their manhood’s to clients if they want. He said you did such an expert job of taking control that he wanted you to have that.” It was the ranch hand’s fully erect penis, plaited in 24karat gold and it was a beautiful sight. I slipped it on so I could remember this day forever. And as I drove to Denver I thought to myself, ‘I could use a good vacation next year, maybe I’ll come back’. I looked down at the penis on the chain and thought, ‘Oh, who am I kidding? I’m definitely going to come back!’
Posted by Nicholas at 10:12 AM