Palimpsests » Busting Bobby's Balls
Bobby is a fifteen-year old boy with enormous genitals. The men in the story, led by Bobby's own stepfather, take it upon themselves to torture and humiliate Bobby, primarily through pummeling his gigantic testicles. Unrealistic so suspend your incredulity and enjoy.
Bobby stepped off the school bus and began to shuffle slowly towards his home at the end of the long driveway. At fifteen years old, Bobby was a smaller boy, five feet in height and weighing just a little over seventy-five pounds. He had short black hair and brown eyes.
It was snowing heavily and quite cold out, but Bobby was in no rush to get home. He knew what was awaiting him, the same thing that had awaited him every day for the past four years. Bobby’s life had dramatically changed at the age of eleven when his mother died. Earl, an extremely strict man and disciplinarian and Bobby’s only parental figure had, then and there, decided that Bobby was mentally ill. Pulling a few strings at the hospital at which he worked, Earl had Bobby, an intelligent boy, classified as having severe mental retardation. This had allowed him to have lifetime custody of Bobby, which he told Bobby in private would allow him to “cure him” of his sissy attitude. Secretly, Bobby wondered if it was because of his femininity or his freakishly large genitals.
As Bobby neared the house, he could see his stepdad waiting for him on the porch. Sitting next to him were two of the neighbor boys, Alex and Cody. Alex was a tall, beautiful, blonde with piercing blue eyes. Beneath his thick winter coat, he was a skinny boy with light skin. The other boy, Cody, was shorter and brunette. While Alex was conventionally beautiful, Cody was cute and energetic. Cody was not as skinny as Alex, but Bobby had always admired Cody’s body. Earl was also a brunette. At just over 40, his face, while attractive, was also creased with age. However, his body put both of the teenage boys sitting next to him to shame. He was 6’0”, an inch taller than Alex, with huge barrel chest, defined abs and a narrow waist; he was a stunning man.
“Hi, honey,” Earl greeted Bobby, “your friends Alex and Cody braved the cold today just to come see you and help you with you therapy.”
“Hi, Bobby,” both boys said in unison with big smiles on their faces.
Earl moved Bobby’s “therapy program” outside, because Earl had said it was becoming too messy inside. When it was nice out, it was not uncommon to have the two boys over to serve as aides in Bobby’s therapy. The neighbor boys always wanted to help.
Bobby assumed his “therapy position,” grabbing hold off the metal railing on the side of the porch and spreading his legs. Earl pulled down Bobby’s thin sweatpants to reveal Bobby’s shame. Trapped behind his legs, in a homemade humbler Bobby had gotten for Christmas two years past, were two bulbous, dark-purple testicles.
Earl released the humbler, causing Bobby to gasp in pain as blood flowed back into his gigantic nuts. Hanging halfway to his knee, Bobby’s testicles each looked like fleshy grapefruits. There was not a hair on either orb, or anywhere on his genitals. Earl, an extreme clean freak, could not stand pubic hair. If he found even a single hair, there was hell to pay.
Strapped to his right leg with two belt straps, reaching almost 2/3rds the way to his knee, was Bobby gigantic, erect penis. Bulging with veins and a dark shade of purple from lack of blood flow, Bobby’s fifteen-inch cock looked horrific. The member was not only long, but had matching girth, having a greater circumference than a typical baseball bat by several inches. Stuffed in his cock-hole was one of Bobby’s plugs, which was used to, as Earl put it, “stop my little man’s leaks.” According the package the plug came in, it was indeed meant for human insertion, being designed as anal plug. Earl had simply put it to a different purpose or rather a different orifice.
Earl left Bobby’s cock tied to his leg, but took out the big, black plug. As usual, Bobby’s cock instantly began to drool. It was hardly surprising, as aside from Bobby’s once monthly release, Bobby was never allowed to cum. For that matter, he wasn’t even allowed to touch his genitals without permission.
With his pants at his ankles, Bobby was freezing. However, the cold was currently the least of his worries. Now that everything was prepared, Bobby’s therapy could begin.
“Well boys,” Bobby heard Earl say from behind him, “which one of you would like to run Bobby’s session today?”
“Alex can,” he heard Cody say. “He’s better with him than I am. I’ll just watch.”
“It’s nothing to feel bad about,” Earl responded. “You’ll get better with practice. The important thing is your trying to help Bobby, which I am so thankful for…Well Alex, why don’t you begin? It’s really getting cold out here.”
With those words, Bobby gritted his teeth. Having been taught not to turn around, Bobby stood there, sweating despite the cold weather, waiting for the inevitable. Despite the thousands of times Bobby had gone through this, it never became any easier.
Alex chose to take a running start, so he heard it coming. And then, it was there. Alex’s knee cap met Bobby’s right testicle with a thud. Although it occurred in a quarter of a second, Bobby could feel, through his agony, exactly what was happening. The kneecap smashed directly into his nutmeat, sending a jolt through his body. The pain increased when the now flying orb met his pelvic bone. As the final crescendo, Alex’s knee, still swinging upward, met with the meaty sphere, mashing it nearly flat against Bobby’s pelvic bone. Being a veteran, Alex then performed a half-second long grind, to added effect.
Bobby whimpered. Alex giggled. Cory clapped.
Then the assault continued in earnest. Repeatedly, Alex drove his knee into Bobby’s dangling balls. Half way through, in order to maintain balance, he grabbed onto Bobby’s shoulder, allowing the assault to continue. After three minutes, and what seemed to Bobby like three years, his attack halted and the three men examined Alex’s handiwork.
“That was very nice,” said Earl.
“You really did a number on that right nut,” Cody added.
“Looks like I did,” Alex said with a giggle.
“Yes, it looks quite swollen,” Earl said sweetly, “You did a good job. Would you care to continue? Perhaps you could focus on the swollen area?”
“Of course,” replied Alex, “anything to help Bobby.”
Bobby had been using the break to cry quietly. Daddy had ingrained in him, early on in his therapy, that “nobody likes a crybaby.” Crying was a sign that he needed more therapy.
Alex stepped up to his target and sized it up. Bobby’s mangled right nut was now hanging lower than his left and swollen a great deal larger. Planting his left foot, Alex drove the tip of his winter boot straight into the back of Bobby’s dangling nutmeat, sending the swollen testicle flying into the porch railing. The second kick caught Bobby’s right nut directly on the bottom, shooting it into his pelvic bone. The third kick again caught Bobby directly from behind. This time it was done with the bottom of the boot, and Alex made sure to follow through, mashing the tortured orb between the bottom of his boot and the metal railing.
Bobby really did not remember much about kicks 4 through 139. He would not have known there were 139, except for the fact that Cody was quietly chanting the numbers.
At 139, Earl stated, “Well, I’m getting cold and you boys must be chilled too. How about one more and we call it a night?”
“Of course, Sir,” Alex said, positioning himself for the last kick.
“Wait!” shouted Cody, meekly adding, “can I help on this one?”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Alex.
“What if you did a running kick? You know, like a karate kick.”
“I don’t know,” said Alex. “It’s just going to slip away. Trust me, it wouldn’t be any better than a normal kick.”
“Well I was thinking,” Cody paused. “…Well, what if I held it? You know, held it tight so you could get a good kick in.”
“Awesome!” Alex said, as his eyes lit up.
“Boys, boys,” Earl interjected. “I know you just want to help Bobby, but I don’t know if this is a good idea. One of you could get hurt.”
“What if Alex misses,” Earl went on, looking at Cody. “You could break a finger.”
“Please Sir,” Both boys said in unison.
There was an awkward silence, which Earl finally broke stating, “I just pray neither of you gets hurt.”
Earl sat back down on the bench and both of the boys planned their stunt. Bobby was already in so much pain that he barely knew what was going on. His cock however, the engorged, purple monster strapped to his right leg, belayed another story. As Bobby genitals never received any sensual, physical contact, his meaty cock had come to crave any contact at all, no matter how brutal. Even as the two boys were planning the imminent destruction of his right testicle, Bobby’s cock was straining against its binding and drooling uncontrollably, so that a pool of semen had formed at Bobby’s feet.
Cody finally got a good grip on Bobby’s right testicle, which had come to resemble something of a mangled, flesh-covered football. Alex got in position on the other end of the deck.
“Ready?” Alex asked.
“Just don’t miss,” answered Cody.
Alex came storming down the length of deck like a bull. Approaching his target, he leapt into the air just like some kung-fu movie, eliciting a gasp from Earl. Cody stood his ground and Alex’s aim was sound. Alex’s right boot slammed directly into Bobby’s trapped testicle with the weight of his whole body behind it, before Alex fell unceremoniously on his ass.
“Oh dear!” cried Earl. “Are you ok?”
“Just fine,” answered Alex with a smile while getting to his feet.
“Look!” cried Cody.
Bobby lay face down on the deck, trying to stifle his sobbing. The boys weren’t interested in that, however. Imprinted deep in the meat of his mashed right nut was Alex’s boot print.
All three men broke into uncontrollable laughter.
As the laughter subsided, Earl said, “Well I think it’s time we head in. Bobby do you have anything to say?”
“Thank you,” whimpered Bobby.
“You’re welcome!” The boys responded, followed by a series of giggles.
“Come along Bobby!” called Earl impatiently. Bobby crawled over and Earl brutally crammed the black anal plug back into Bobby’s cock hole.
Bobby began to slowly crawl to the entrance of the house. Daddy had always taught him to crawl when guests were over. However, even if he had been allowed to stand, he probably couldn’t have at the moment. Bobby slowly pulled himself into the house, his mutilated right testicle dragging on the ground behind him.
Earl turned to the boys, put a hand on each of their shoulders said, “Bobby really is lucky to have friends like you.”
Bobby groaned as he slowly crawled along the wooden floor of the house. After that afternoon’s exceptionally intense therapy, his testicles ached horribly. His right nut in particular pulsated with a fiery pain as it dragged along the floor behind him. He could wish that this was something out of the ordinary, but the reality was, for the last four years Bobby had lived with perpetually mashed nuts.
Bobby reached the staircase to the second floor, and used the railing to pull himself to his feet. His legs were weak, quaking from the assault he had just endured. With the help of the railing, he was just barely able to make it up the stairs. A few more unsupported, wobbly steps and he entered the bathroom. He turned the handle on the hot water faucet and began running a bath. When the tub was full, he trembled as he eased himself into the water.
This was something of a ritual. Every day, after his post-school therapy, Earl made Bobby take a bath. His stepdad’s two main concerns were that Bobby clean his semen covered legs and shave his gigantic testicles. Earl could not abide messiness.
Bobby released the straps on his swollen, purple member. His meaty cock immediately swung upward violently so that, seated in the bathtub, the head of his raging member was about six inches from his chin. Generally speaking, this was its natural state. The mess on his right leg washed off easily. Bobby then proceeded to shave his two mangled orbs of nutmeat, along with the rest of his pubic area, being especially gentle with his swollen right testicle. After his tasks were completed, he soaked in the tub another ten minutes, as the warm water felt good on his tortured testicles. Knowing that dinner was waiting, Bobby slowly extracted himself from the bathtub. The pain that had wracked his body had subsided to some degree, allowing Bobby to stand more steadily. He dried off and proceeded back down the stairs.
Earl was waiting for him, sitting at the island in their kitchen. He had changed out of his winter clothes and was dressed in gray sweatpants. Bobby joined him at the island butt naked, except for the anal plug still crammed up his urethra. Bobby wasn’t allowed to wear clothes in the house, Earl told him that this was to keep him from hiding any secrets. Thankfully though, when at home, Bobby did not have to wear his humbler or strap down his monstrous penis, except of course if guests were over, in which case his stepfather felt it best that his cock was firmly tied and that, according to him, “his two meat bags were in their proper place.”
“Hi honey,” Earl greeted him, “how was your day at school?”
“Good daddy,” Bobby lied, not wishing to upset his stepfather. His day at school, as most days at school, had been anything but good. The students on the bus, as always, had taken it upon themselves to give Bobby a little un-prescribed “therapy.”
“I’m glad to hear that sweetie,” Earl said with a smile. “I made chicken pot-pie for supper.”
Bobby awkwardly walked over to the stove and served his stepdad and then himself. Between his freakish genitals and the therapy they received, everything Bobby did was somewhat awkward. They then sat down to a meal that, if not for the presence of a naked, battered, fifteen year old boy, would have been reminiscent of a typical family dinner.
When Bobby had finished dinner he did the dishes and began his homework. Earl opened a can of beer and began reading a book. Bobby’s homework last him a while, and it was 7:30 before he packed up his books. Then, what he had been dreading since he had seen the first snowflake occurred.
“Bobby,” Earl said, “I know this is the first snowfall of the year, but I hope you haven’t forgotten that shoveling is one of your chores.”
“No sir” Bobby said. The tears already welling up in his eyes.
“Go get the shovel, honey,” Earl said somewhat sternly.
Bobby went out to the garage and retrieved the big wooden handled shovel. He returned inside and handed it to his stepfather. In the meantime, Earl had fetched the container of Vaseline from the bathroom. Bobby sat back down in his chair. Knowing what was going to happen, Bobby could barely control himself, and let out a audible whimper.
“Bobby,” Earl said somberly, “If you can’t control yourself, we won’t need the Vaseline.”
Bobby held in his anguish and Earl proceeded to prepare Bobby for shoveling the driveway. Two winters ago, Earl had devised a method so that the chore of shoveling could be part of Bobby’s therapy. When Earl had the shovel ready, he pulled out Bobby’s plug and set it in the kitchen sink.
“Now hold on to him,” Earl firmly commanded, referring to Bobby’s penis “And for heaven’s sake don’t let him drip on the floor, I don’t want a mess.”
Bobby griped down on his huge cock. Both of his hands just barely fit around the base. Once he had had his grip, Earl made his move. With all his might, he rammed the greased handle of the snow shovel down Bobby’s cock hole. On its initial assault, the shovel made it about 8 inches in. With more pressure from Earl, and some strategic twisting and turning, the shovel eventually made it in another 5 inches. Earl took some bands and worked them around the very tip of Bobby’s pee hole, so the shovel could not escape. Wracked with pain, Bobby gasped for air, practically hyperventilating. Sitting there in the chair, with a shovel jutting out of the head of his cock, Bobby was a sorry sight to behold. Only adding to the pitiful sight was the fact that Bobby’s heavy breathing caused the head of the shovel to repeated smack him in the face.
When Bobby was finally coherent, Earl ushered him outside, completely naked except for the snow shovel protruding from his mangled cock. Daddy had trained his boy well. Through his tears and with his hands clasped around his back so as not to ease his suffering Bobby began shoveling the driveway. Earl went into the living room and lit a fire in the fireplace. He left momentarily to fetch his beer and then curled up in a comfy chair facing the Bay window to watch his stepson work.
Bobby’s ordeal was made worse by the fact that their long driveway was not paved, but rather of the gravel variety. Every time the shovel hit a large stone or an unseen ridge on the driveway, agony would engulf Bobby’s demented shovel-cock. Upon hitting on particularly large stone halfway through his task, Bobby collapsed on his back in the snow, writhing in pain. After a moment, with no other choice, he clambered back to his feet and resumed his work. And so, it continued.
Adding to his suffering was the fact that he knew his bedtime was rapidly approaching. If Bobby was not in his bed by 9, his insolence would be punished. So he hurried along, sobbing with each hidden stone in his path. It was 8:50 when Bobby reached the end of the drive. Of course did not know this, as he did not have a watch. He might have made it in bed by his curfew if it had not been for the shadowy figure sneaking up behind him. As Bobby was shoveling away the last strip of snow, the shadowy figure made its move.
Bobby never saw or heard the snow boot coming his way. For some reason, it was always infinitely more painful when Bobby could not sense a blow coming so when the man’s size 8 snow boot, sailing through the cold winter air with incredible speed, met Bobby’s frozen, mashed testicles, the result was exquisite agony. Bobby stumbled forward, driving his shovel-laden cock, with his full body weight behind it, into the snow bank. Bobby wanted to release a horrific wail, but all that came out was a gasp as the boot made acquaintance with his balls a second time. A third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh meeting followed shortly thereafter. While not as powerful, these kicks were more precise and swifter, racking one mangled ball at a time, causing Bobby’s swollen nutmeat to jiggle to a sickening rhythm and also inadvertently driving the wooden shovel handle further and further up Bobby’s pee hole.
When the barrage stopped, Bobby could barely breathe. His cock-shovel, wedged in the snow bank was the only thing keeping him from collapsing. His legs trembled and his arms trembled at his sides. His posture was reminiscent of some demented postmodern sculpture.
“Hi Bobby!” A voice squealed from behind him.
It was Matt, one of the neighbor boys. He was a short boy, two inches shorter than Bobby. He was not fat, but neither could one call him slender. He was a full-bodied boy. Chest, hips, waist, butt, legs, in all aspects he big. This did not mean he was not attractive. His body, while big, was still appealing. His face, tan and with an sweet look about it, was cute. Locks of beautiful, chestnut brown hair framed it.
In terms of personality, he was always happy and always trying to be helpful. He had taken a personal interest in “helping” Bobby almost immediately upon moving to the neighborhood. That is why Earl had asked him to be Bobby’s after school tutor two days a week. The only problem with that was that the boy was dumb as bricks.
“Sorry I didn’t make it over today to help with your therapy,” Matt continued in a sickeningly sweet voice. “I was just so busy.”
Bobby whimpered as way of reply.
“I thought you might be upset I didn’t come,” Matt continued, “so I just wanted to stop over and say ‘hi’ and let you know I’ll still be over tomorrow to help you in math.”
“Anyways,” Matt said after waiting for a response from Bobby that physically couldn’t come because the whole of his brain had switched over to the task of processing pain, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As way of parting, Matt blasted Bobby’s mangled nuts one last time and then turn and began to skip back down the street toward home.
How long Bobby remained there, propped up in the snow bank, he did not know. Eventually, when the pain had subsided enough, he continued his work, removing the last agonizing shove loads of snow from the driveway. He then stumbled toward the house with the shovel still protruding from his cock, although not as far as it had when he first went outside.
His step-father, who looked none too pleased, greeted him when he entered through door. Earl said nothing and simply pointed to the clock the read 9:03. Bobby wanted to sob, but knowing it would make matters only worse, kept it to a sniffle. He knew his evening was not over yet.
In silence, Earl unwound the bands holding the shovel in Bobby’s cock hole. When the last band came loose, Bobby ejaculated a shovel. Earl then unceremoniously inserted the black plug into Bobby’s member before he could make a mess.
“The shovel needs to be cleaned and returned to the garage,” Earl said coldly.
Bobby knew the drill. He picked up the shovel and began working the handle over with his tongue, making sure to lap up every trace of semen. He then walked the shovel back to the garage and returned to the front door where his stepdad was waiting for him.
“Listen sweetie,” Earl said in a softer tone. “I saw you and Matt playing out there. I know he is a sweet boy and I know you just want to play with your friends, but your bedtime is important.” He paused, then continued, “Daddy has to take a bath, but then I will visit you in your room.”
Bobby followed Earl upstairs. Earl went into the bathroom and began filling the tub. Bobby went to his room and prepared himself. He dropped down onto all fours on the white carpet, with his knees splayed out as wide as possible, his head facing the radiator, and his butt facing the door. Then he waited. The alarm clock on his nightstand read 9:12.
Despite Matt’s handiwork outside, Bobby’s balls, particularly his right nut, weren’t as swollen as they had been earlier that afternoon. Perhaps that was due to the cold weather his nuts had endured while shoveling or perhaps they were simply healing. After several years of abuse, Bobby had begun to notice that no matter what happened to his massive testicles, no matter how badly they were mashed, mangled, mauled, battered, crushed or beaten, they always recovered within a day or two. His freakish genitals had, over time, adapted to his stepfather’s therapy.
Even so, that evening Bobby’s testicles were not a pretty sight to behold. Waiting on all fours for Earl, Bobby’s dangling nutmeat hung only inches off the ground. As his right nut had suffered the better part of the day’s torments, his gigantic meat sack hung pathetically lopsided, looking as though Bobby had a grapefruit for his left testicle and a small melon for his right. Only adding to the frightful sight was the series of bruises that covered Bobby’s dangling meat. Bobby did not bruise easily, but where exceptionally solid blows were dealt, Bobby’s nuts would generally turn dark purple for at least twenty-four hours. Sometimes, after therapy, the neighbor boys would make Bobby keep his pants down while they examine his mangle nuts. The boys would giggle with each bruise they found, being sure to all jab their fingers deep into throbbing area, while speculating over which assailant had caused the injury. If Earl was not busy, he often joined them in this game.
The alarm clock read 9:44 when Bobby final heard the bathroom door open. He heard Earl’s soft footsteps as he walked toward his room. Bobby did not dare look at him, but from a quick glimpse, out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that his step-father was naked. For reasons Bobby did not understand, when in the house, Earl often administered Bobby’s therapy naked.
Whether naked or fully clothed, Earl never let Bobby watch his therapy be administered, that is, except for one time. On his thirteenth birthday, after all the guests had left the house, Earl had brought Bobby up to his room and made him sit in a stool positioned against the wall. He had then exited the room, leaving Bobby there. Bobby’s nut pulp, and pulp they were after the day’s festivities, had oozed a third way down the legs of the stool.
Within a minute, Earl had returned naked. Bobby had sat there with his jaw agape. His stepdad stood before him, His face, arms, neck, and legs, normally an olive complexion, had been turned chestnut brown in the summer sun. While his face belayed the fact that he was 40, his body that day had looked as though he were 20.
Below his massive chest, Earl’s stomach was absolutely flat and narrow. His legs had appeared incredibly muscular that night, with small little cuts pronouncing his powerful calves and thighs. Between his thighs to Bobby’s surprise, was a smaller than normal cock and balls and above them was a massive patch of curly brown hair, which Bobby had found glorious.
This had all last only a second, before Earl switched off the lights. Bobby had always wondered if what had happened was an accident or one last birthday gift. He had already received several gifts that day from Earl, including a new humbler, a nail gun, a new, more-powerful Taser gun, and a larger dildo to plug his cock.
In the dark, and outlined only by the light of the moon coming in the window, Earl had begun finishing the task of demolishing the pulp dangling between Bobby’s legs. Over and over again, his step-father’s shadowy figure had driven his feet into Bobby’s destroyed nuts, mashing them against the wooden legs of the stool. It was agony, but at the same time, Bobby could not help but stare at the silhouette, at the shaking and jiggling small cock and balls, and especially at the deadly feet that made him feel so much pain.
So it had continued for two hours and twelve minutes according to the alarm clock, Earl unmercifully pummeling his testicles. Yet, somehow, he knew daddy was not kicking him his hardest. During those two hours, Earl never let out a sound, nor did he miss, he had simply proceeded to annihilate Bobby’s mangled nuts in a steady rhythm. These kicks had been more brutal than anything Bobby had experienced before or since.
The assault only end when the impact of one of Earl’s blows, driving through Bobby’s nut mush, had broken one of the legs of the stool, sending Bobby tumbling to the floor. Sobbing uncontrollably and trembling all over, Bobby had tried to rise to receive more. He did not want to upset daddy. He wanted to please him. He wanted to be dominated by him, despite the utter, excruciating agony. Bobby had not been able to get up that night. Rather than continuing his assault, Earl had picked his stepson up and, cradling his head next to his left breast, had carried him to his bed while stroking his hair. Before leaving the room, he had covered him with a blanket and whispered “happy birthday.”
That had been the first and last time Bobby had seen Earl or any other man naked. The currently naked Earl was now standing directly behind Bobby, indicating that his punishment was set to begin. Standing six foot tall, Earl towered over tiny, little Bobby as he trembled in anticipation.
The opening blow was a good one, sending both of Bobby’s pulverized nuts slamming against his inner thighs. The following blows, a good three dozen or more, brought about the same effect. Each one brought Earl’s pulled back toes crashing into a different portion of testicle meat. He was probing Bobby’s mangled genitals.
Finally, Earl found an angle he liked, and began raining steady blows down on Bobby’s right, fleshy melon with the bridge of his foot. How many he delivered Bobby could not say. Despite the pain, Bobby’s cock bucked and strained, red in color and with every vein bulging, in its own agony. Earl’s personal therapy sessions, like no other, seemed to always illicit this response. Bobby thought that if he could only see his stepfather’s nakedness, the plug in his pee hole would shoot out like a cork. There was no release for Bobby, neither for his cock or his balls, as the massacre continued and he did his best to endure it silently with tears running down his cheeks.
After an untold number of blows, one well place kick to the aching sack of hamburger meat flopping between Bobby’s legs finally broke the proverbial camel’s back. Bobby collapsed, but rose quickly enough to absorb the next torturous blow. He fell again and rose again, fell again and rose again. Each time he got up quick enough to ensure that Earl’s right foot was able to find his mauled genitals. Over, over and over again, this was played out, until abruptly the blows stopped. Through the tears in his eyes, he read 10:17 on the alarm clock. The torture had ended.
“I’m so sorry daddy!” a barely coherent Bobby blurt out. “I should never have been late for bed, please forgive me.”
“Your forgiven honey,” Earl responded adding, “You know daddy loves you.”
With that, Earl unleashed one, last, ferocious kick into Bobby’s sore and badly beaten nut sack. The blow was hard enough to drive Bobby’s nuts under him, so that when Bobby collapsed in shock, his pelvis smashed down on the two brutalized orbs of meat. Fighting through the pain, Bobby quickly got back on his badly carpet burned knees and presented his mangled genitals again to his daddy for any additional treatment.
No kick came. Instead, Earl traced his hand along Bobby’s naked backed and whispered, “Goodnight sweetheart,” before turning and leaving the room.
It was 7:00 am and Bobby stood at the end of the driveway waiting for a short, yellow school bus. He wore a red jacket and gray sweatpants. Hidden beneath his gray sweat pants, his monstrous cock was firmly strapped to his right leg. His balls, both still extremely swollen from the activities of the previous night, were trapped behind his legs in a black humbler. They had ached horribly when he woke up that morning, and felt infinitely worse when Earl had yanked them upwards between Bobby’s legs and cruelly mashed them between two large pieces of wood. Now, with his every heartbeat, Bobby testicles throbbed with pain.
Bobby had only had only begun going to school three months ago. Before this, Earl had taught him at home. Earl had actually done a good job of instructing his stepson, but thought that he lacked socialization so in September, he had enrolled Bobby in a nearby private school, the Captain Bobel-Turnball Academy. The school was specifically designed for young adults, between eighteen and twenty-two, who wished to receive a high school diploma. This drew a wide range of students, including high school dropouts, felons, recent immigrants, and those who had had childhood careers that had come in the way of conventional schooling.
Bobby, however, was different from CBT Academy’s other 212 students because Bobby was only fifteen. Bobby only got into the academy because Earl had friends on the board of directors. Bobby was allowed into the school on the condition that he wore clothes, something that Earl had continued to lobby the school board about ever since, claiming that clothing hindered his stepson’s therapy.
The school bus pulled up at 7:05 and Bobby climbed aboard.
“Hey there Bobby,” the bus driver, Leo, said with a grin. “How are they hanging?”
Humiliated as always, Bobby performed the daily ritual of lowering his sweatpants to show Leo his brutalized testicles.
“Someone must have been a bad boy last night,” Leo said with a chuckle. “Did you upset Daddy?”
Bobby was silent as usual, not knowing what to say.
Leo was in his late 20’s with bleach blond hair; he always wore punk attire. He had a pretty face, but otherwise had the body of a teenage boy.
“Well you better get to your place,” Leo said, not waiting for a reply. “You don’t want to upset Caleb too, I’m not sure your balls could handle it.”
Bobby stumbled down the aisle, and took his typical seat on the bus across from Caleb. Rather than sitting, he laid face down on the bus seat, with his knees in the aisle. He then proceeded to drop his pants and waited for it to begin.
On Bobby’s first day of school, Earl had come on the bus to introduce his stepson to the bus driver and the four boys that rode the bus. In the front of the bus, he had explained his stepson’s “condition,” while pulling down Bobby’s pants, exposing him to the group of awe-struck boys. He told them all that if his “perverted son” ever bothered them in any way, all they had to do was “show him who’s boss.” In order to illustrate his point, Earl had then driven his right fist repeatedly into Bobby’s testicles until Bobby collapsed onto the floor of the bus gasping for air.
Earl had then thanked the boys for sharing the bus with his “sexual deviant of a stepson” and had wished them a good day. Once Earl had exited the bus, it only took moments before the twenty-one year old Caleb, once convicted of being an accessory in an assault and battery had summoned Bobby over and initiated the now daily ritual.
Sitting across from him now, Caleb made Earl look small. He must have been at least 6’2, with an absolutely huge chest and an even bigger cock. Bobby had always found him face quite handsome, with his ebony colored skin and curly brown hair.
Behind Caleb sat Ian, a 19 year old, Swedish-born, model. He had blonde hair and a typical model’s body.
Across from Ian, sat Kelly and Angel, eighteen and twenty respectively. They were both shorter than Bobby, with petite builds. Kelly had brown hair, Angel red.
Behind them sat a boy Bobby had never seen before. He was tiny, no taller than 5’0 and quite skinny. He had brown skin and pretty, brown eyes. His eyes were currently bulging out of their sockets as he tried to process what was happening two seats in front of him.
“Hi Sugar,” Caleb said greeting Bobby. “Looks like that stepfather of yours did a number on you last night…they look worse than usual.” And they did. Bulging out from between Bobby’s legs, his entirely purple testicles were covered in a series of dark-purple bruises. Both were swollen, but the right more so, as to make them appear comically lopsided.
“Sometimes I do feel sorry for you,” Caleb continued. “Perhaps I should give you a break today.”
He turned to the other boys. “Should we give him a break today?”
The response to the question was incredulous laughter from Ian, Kelly and Angel. The boy in the back remained absolutely silent.
“Sorry Bobby,” Caleb said in a teasing voice. “The crowd has spoken.”
With that, he began. His right fist collided with Bobby’s right testicle and, as it withdrew, his left fist made contact with Bobby’s left testicle. His punches came on methodically, in a one-two rhythm. With each blow, Caleb drove his knuckles further and further into Bobby’s tender nutmeat. Trapped in the humbler, Bobby’s aching nuts had nowhere to hide. Each blow mashed the targeted orb of flesh against hard, oak wood.
As the strength of the blows increased, it felt to Bobby as though his poor nuts were being split in half, as the meat was being driven with unbelievable force into the wooden bar behind his legs. Bobby response was a series of sobs and screams. His whole body quivered with pain and he eventually bit into rubber bus seat just to achieve some measure of relief. All told, it was the typical ride to school.
The boys loved it. The sounds of the massacre were far outweighed by the cheers coming from behind Caleb. Leo was silent as always, but he watched from the rear-view mirror. Through his tears, he noticed that Leo’s pants belt buckle was undone and he was driving with one hand. Bobby did not understand this phenomenon, but it occurred often when Caleb began “therapy.”
By the time Caleb was done, both he and Bobby were covered in sweat. Caleb and Ian traded seats, as it was now Ian’s turn to play with Bobby’s pulverized manhood. Ian had the bad habit of being a smoker, and the worse habit (in Bobby’s opinion) of putting his cigarettes out repeatedly on Bobby’s genitals.
Today he was focusing on Bobby’s bulbous cock head. Swelled with blood, it looked like a giant, purple mushroom. He entertained himself by getting his cigarette glowing hot, and then extinguishing it on the head of Bobby’s cock, which Bobby had ironically just learned in his human biology class was called the corona. However, while repeated shrieking and writhing in pain, the irony was lost on him.
“Oh Bobby,” Ian said in a thick accent, “your just too much fun. What would I do without you?”
When Ian had seared a rough pattern into Bobby’s cock that he liked, and after he had been sure to singe Bobby’s balls a bit with his lighter, he turned what was left of Bobby’s burned and mangled genitals over to Kelly and Angel.
They scratched, squeezed, kneaded and slapped Bobby’s balls the rest of the way to school. Bobby moaned softly. Throughout the whole thirty-seven minute ride, the new boy, seated silently in back, never took his eyes off the torture.
When they arrived at school, the Ian did honors of administering the boys’ farewell, by way of holding his lighter to the tip of Bobby’s prick for at least a dozen seconds, which had the curious effect of causing the boy to sequel like a pig, which all onboard, except Bobby, found very amusing.
When the bus stopped, all of the boys filed out. As the new boy past Bobby, still lying prostrate on the seat, he paused. He waited until the last boy had left the bus and Leo was looking down then he quickly punched Bobby’s right testicle, eliciting a soft whimper. He then quickly scurried off the bus.
Bobby was not surprised. Ever since his genitals had grown to their current freakish proportions, every boy he met wanted to hurt him, and eventually did. Of course, Earl encouraged it. He showed Bobby’s massive meat orbs and bulbous cock to every man he encountered, from the men in his card club to the pizza delivery boy. If the boy in question did not immediately want to destroy Bobby’s genitals (or was “shy” as Earl put it) Earl would show them how it was done with a couple well placed knees to Bobby’s nutmeat. It never failed. Eventually the boy in question, whom Bobby usually had just met, would be driving blow after agonizing blow into Bobby’s nuts.
When they had all left, Bobby managed to stand and pull up his pants. Still in agony, Bobby slowly made his way to the front of the bus.
“Hope you had a pleasant trip,” Leo said with a cruel smile. “See you this afternoon.”
Granted, school did represent a break from any nut pummeling. However, daddy rigged Bobby’s humbler each day so that his freakish testicles were trapped behind his buttocks. This, in effect, forced Bobby to sit through every class with his full body weight crushing his tortured testicles. It certainly didn’t help Bobby pay attention in class.
School had been over for twenty-five minutes now, and Bobby was back on the bus. He was in his typical seat, in his typical position, with his sweatpants once again at his ankles. At the moment, Caleb’s large, left fist was driven deep into the swollen flesh of Bobby’s gigantic, left testicle.
His left withdrew, and like a piston, his right fist came hurtling forward, slamming into Bobby’s mangled, right testicle. The incredible power of the blow ensured that Caleb’s fist was forced deep into Bobby’s mashed genital meat. Then the right withdrew, and his left came fly through the air to pulverize Bobby’s trapped, left orb once again. With colossal force, Caleb’s left punch drove home, engulfing Bobby’s pulverized, left testicle in searing pain. Then the left fist was gone, and Caleb’s right was speeding through the air yet again.
Left, right, left, right. So it had begun twenty minutes ago when Bobby had first gotten on the bus, and so it would continue for the next fifteen to twenty minutes, unless another boy wanted to take a turn hurting Bobby’s genitals. For the moment though, it appeared that the other boys were content to watch Caleb work on Bobby’s balls, which, trapped in a humbler, continuously jiggled in unison under the onslaught. Left, right, left, right. Caleb’s blows were even more ferocious than usual. After the abuse Bobby nuts had received in the last twenty-four hours, his nutmeat was nut mush and it appeared that Caleb intended to turn his nuts into jelly. Left, right, left, right, left, right. School did not afford Bobby much chance to recuperate.
Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right. Bobby sometimes tried to count the brutal blows to his genitals as a way to take his mind off the pain. The pain was too much this bus ride. Bobby had lost track in less than ten minutes. Left, right, left. Bobby was reaching the point where the sheer pain he was enduring was sapping the tiny fifteen year old of what little strength he had. Right, left, right. Bobby began the bus ride with cries, shrieks, and wails. He was now reduced to a state of moans, whimpers, and quiet sobbing. Left, right, left, right. This wasn’t at all to say that the pain became any easier. If anything, it became worse. Bobby had long ago learned that his “therapy” had a tenderizing effect on his enormous genitals. Each punch, kick, slap, knee, elbow, stomp, uppercut, and squeeze he was forced to endure only caused his freak-balls to become sore, tender, and swollen, making any additional violence he was forced to suffer all the more painful. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right.
Suddenly, the blows stopped. Bobby wondered which boy would be taking Caleb’s place in torturing his genitals. He turned his head, and through tearing eyes saw the new boy with the lovely, brown eyes talking with Caleb. Now it was the new boy turn to torture him. The boy spoke softly and Bobby couldn’t hear what he was saying to Caleb.
“I’m Caleb, nice to meet you,” Caleb replied. “You want to try working ‘em over?” He said pointing to Bobby’s bruised testicle meat. “Bobby would love it. Wouldn’t you Bobby?”
“Yes sir,” Bobby responded as daddy had trained him. “Please hurt me as badly as you like.”
The new boy shook his head and Bobby was stunned. He did not want to beat his genitals. The boy showed something to Caleb and the whole bus gasped. Clearly, the boy had something else in mind.
“Awesome!” squealed Kelly.
“That should be fun,” said Leo from the front of the bus. “Just make sure you hit your target.”
Bobby did not have much time to wonder about his fate before Caleb grabbed him and laid him face up on the floor on the bus. He went to sit on his stomach, but the floor of the bus was wet, and he slipped. His large body slammed down on Bobby’s pelvis region, the impact of which mashed Bobby’s balls, which were currently trapped under him, between his humbler and the floor of the bus. Bobby wailed and the boys laughed.
“Do it again!” yelled Angel.
Caleb got off Bobby, stood, and with his left hand holding on to the top of a bus seat for balance, he did a deliberate freefall on Bobby’s pelvis. Bobby shrieked in utter agony as the testicle pulp under him was mashed with incredible force into the floor of the bus.
Caleb quickly got up and did it again. SLAM! This one was particularly stylistic, done with as much flair as any profession wrestler. Bobby, with his nutmeat being horribly mangled, was unable to fully appreciate the spectacle. Instead, he was mostly focused on the indescribable pain the utter destruction of his testicles was causing him.
Once more. SLAM! This time Caleb did not get up, but instead stayed seated on Bobby’s pelvis. He grabbed the feet of the two bus benches in front of him and pushed up on them with all his might, increasing the force that was causing Bobby’s humbler to flatten the meat underneath it like a pancake. Then, still pushing up the seat legs, he then began twisting his pelvis, grinding Bobby’s mutilated nuts into the floor of the bus.
“Turn them into chunky peanut butter,” exclaimed Ian.
“Actually, I was going for extra smooth,” Caleb said with a smile.
Bobby screamed, caught his breath, screamed again and then resigned himself to quiet sobbing, as Caleb continued to mangle his testicles.
Eventually, the assault relented, although Caleb remained seated on Bobby’s pelvis. He began untying the binding securing Bobby’s engorged cockhead to his knee. He then undid the other strap connecting Bobby’s thick shaft and thigh. Bobby’s cock was free, and pointed straight at the ceiling. Nobody had ever freed Bobby’s cock beside Earl.
“Holy crap!” Caleb exclaimed, with Bobby’s cock just several inches from his chin.
Caleb then began to take out the enormous anal plug crammed down Bobby’s hole. Earl said Bobby could never take his plug out as he wouldn’t have him making messes in public. Although Bobby had been taught not to protest, no matter what horrible things were done to him, he was afraid of upsetting daddy by making a mess.
“Daddy…Daddy says…I can’t” Bobby began whining in an awkward manner, both due to pain and fear. “I’ll…I’ll make a mess…” Those were all the words Bobby got out, before Ian planted his ass on Bobby face.
“Well daddy isn’t here now is he little Bobby?” He said in a sickeningly sweet voice that did not seem right given that the boys were just moments away from doing yet another horrible thing to Bobby.
Pinned on the floor of the bus with the majority of his face jammed into the white underwear between Ian’s ass cheeks, Bobby could only lay there and wait for whatever new torment was coming. Still, in some strange way, Bobby was excited. His rock hard, monstrous cock betrayed this fact, pulsing with his every heartbeat and drooling even more than usual.
Bobby was no masochist. The pain his genitals endured, day in and day out, was horrible. However, as daddy had told him many times, they were made for it. It was Bobby’s duty to suffer. It was what he was good at. The boys in Bobby’s life entertained themselves by beating, mauling and otherwise mangling Bobby’s gonads. In some profound way Bobby enjoyed giving them pleasure through his pain. He wanted to suffer for them. He would endure unbearable agony if it amused them. Above all, he would suffer any misery if only to make Earl proud.
The boys were busy preparing him for whatever new agony he was fated to endure. Caleb held his cock firmly at its base. Then his drooling cock hole was stretched as wide as it would go by four penetrating fingers. Bobby was scared, but not as scared as he should have been. Then again, how was he to know that the tiny boy he had only met that morning was about to spray a whole can of mace down his gaping pee hole
Fire! That is what it felt like to poor Bobby. It felt like fire was burning his cock from the inside out, as the boy emptied the can, for over thirty seconds, point blank into Bobby’s urethra. Bobby screamed and screamed and screamed, and continued screaming long past the can being emptied. All his cries were muffled by Ian’s butt. The pain was too intense his whole body began to tremble and shake. He could hear Ian jokingly telling the others how Bobby’s sobbing had made his underwear sopping wet.
It was about fifteen minutes before the burning inside his cock had subsided to a level where Bobby could even form thoughts. The tip still burned horribly and Bobby nuts ached from being squashed under Caleb’s full weight.
Abruptly, Ian and Caleb both got off Bobby when the school bus came to a stop. He used the opportunity to look damaged cock, the head of which looked like a bright red Portobello mushroom, with the hole having a deeper, darker shade. The pain was made worse just by looking at it. On his thighs and all over the floor was a large pool of semen. The little, brown-skinned boy, his tormenter, still stood there holding the can of mace, shaking from excitement and with a great big smile on his face.
“Bobby, what have you done,” Earl’s voice shouted from the front of the bus.
Bobby looked to the front of the bus, in absolute terror, to find Earl standing there. The bus had arrived at his house and stopped and he did not even know due to his ordeal. Leo was standing next to Earl with a smirk on his face.
“You make me wait for you, and then when I do come on the bus, I find that you’ve made mess of your bus!” Earl was irate.
“I’m sorry Daddy, it’s all my fault…” Bobby began.
“Silence,” Earl said in a low harsh voice, “You and your meat sacks will get over here immediately.”
Bobby got off his back and on to his knees, prying his mashed meatballs off the floor of the bus in the process. He took his penis plug in his mouth and crawled over to Earl on his hands and knees as fast as his pain-wracked body would allow.
“Turn around,” Earl said sternly.
Bobby did as commanded and was greeted in turn to the tip of Earl’s boot driving into his the tender flesh of his left testicle. Harder than any punch Caleb could ever deliver, Bobby went sprawling onto the floor of the bus. He quickly and silent got back on his knees to receive the similarly devastating blow to his right orb, that once again sent him sprawling.
When Bobby had gotten back on his hands and knees, Earl took the penis plug form his mouth and jammed it back in and then undid his humbler. Bobby legs and arms trembled with the pain of blood rushing into his now free testicles. Both mangled testicles unceremoniously fell to the bus floor with a thud. They were grossly swollen from the abuse, the size of two small bowling balls. They were covered in bruises, scratches, welts, and, where they had been mashed against the floor of the bus, the imprint of the bus walkway remained along with a great deal of imbedded gravel (the boys giggled when they saw this). Damage aside, they were covered in grime and the wet, grey water that covered the floor of the bus.
“Lay down,” Earl ordered.
Bobby laid on his stomach as commanded.
Then in a very sweet voice Earl said to Caleb, “Would you come over here? I could use your help.”
When Caleb reached the front of the bus, Earl told him, “Step on them please.”
Caleb followed instruction, squashing each of Bobby balls under his winter boots, and for the second time today, Bobby’s manhood was mashed between the floor of the bus and Caleb’s full weight.
“Now clean the bus,” Earl said sternly.
The boys seemed confused, but Bobby knew what he had to do. He was determined not to fail Earl again.
The boys watched in amazement as Bobby slowly pulled himself forward by the legs of the bus seats. The still burning and tender tip of his penis was ground into the floor of the bus by the weight of his sternum. Astonishingly, his gigantic scrotum began to stretch further and further, until Caleb and his squashed balls were well behind his feet. Then even more incredibly, Caleb began to move. Bobby was pulling him along on top of his huge balls, even as they were further ground and pulverized by the floor of the bus. All the while, tears ran down Bobby’s cheeks, but he remained silent.
After several minutes, Bobby reached the mess he made. He began lapping it up like a dog. It burned in his mouth because of the mace, but still he licked up every ounce, along with a fair amount of cold, gray water and gravel. Ian, at one point, put the toes of his bare right foot in front of him, and he licked those too for a minute until Ian withdrew them.
When Earl was satisfied that the bus was clean, he thanked Caleb for his help and Caleb stepped off the two sacks of mutilated mush that were Bobby’s testicles.
Bobby crawled back to Earl, and Earl asked him, “Do you have anything to say?”
“I’m so sorry I made a mess of the bus,” he said whimpering with shame as he addressed the boys and Leo.
“Well, you’ve gotten into enough trouble for one day,” Earl said with a more jovial voice. “Why don’t we leash you so you don’t get into any more mischief? Daddy will carry your things. Matt’s inside waiting to start your lessons.”
Bobby slipped off his sopping wet sweatpants from ankles, took off his jacket and shirt and handed them to Earl who already held his humbler. Earl put a studded, black leather collar around Bobby’s neck and attached a leash he had in his pocket. He then walked him naked stepson off the bus, who did his best to crawl after him.
As they crossed the snow covered front yard, the boys watching them out the right side bus windows stared in amazement. Bobby’s pulverized nut mush was so distended from his body, that he was dragging it through the snow just behind his feet. The other effect of Caleb’s full weight stand was that the undersides of Bobby’s mangled testicles matched the grooves on the floor of the bus and were speckled with gravel that had been mashed into his flesh.
“Poor kid,” Caleb said with much more amusement than sympathy.
“Snow probably feels good on his balls,” Ian chuckled.
“I betcha his balls will need a lot more icing before his night is over.” Leo said with a big smile on his face.
Earl traversed the snow-covered lawn quickly in his black, leather boots. Bobby, naked except for his collar and leash, did his best to keep up. As he crawled up to the house his enormous dick, the head of which was still fire hydrant red, wobbled beneath him; his mashed ball-meat dragged behind him in the snow.
Upon reaching the door, Earl dried him off with an old towel, while he remained on all fours.
“Matt’s already here for your lessons,” Earl said. “Because you dawdled on the bus, your bath will have to wait.”
Once Earl had unhooked his leash, Bobby crawled into the house. On his hands and knees, he made his way to the kitchen counter where an ever-cheerful Matt was seated.
Matt informed him that he would take a algebra quiz today. Once seated at the counter, Bobby began the quiz, trying his best to ignore his aching genitals. Matt observed him work while Earl sipped his beer and watch TV in the adjacent room.
It was a long and difficult quiz, one hundred twenty questions in total, which was made all the worse by the pounding pain in Bobby’s testicles. After nearly an hour, he finally handed it to Matt to correct.
Bobby thought he had done fairly well, but he watched as Matt began marking one problem after another wrong. It took him a moment before he realized that Matt was grading his algebra quiz using the answer key in his geometry book. Matt was certainly not a bright boy, but this was a new low, even for him.
“Matt,” Bobby began tentatively, “are you sure you’re using the right answer key?”
Matt didn’t have time to respond before Earl interrupted, “Did you just question your tutor?”
“Yes, Sir,” Bobby responded. “I’m sorry.”
“Get on the floor,” Earl said sternly.
Once Bobby was prostrate on the floor, Earl continued chidingly, “Oh Bobby, what are we going to do with you?” His anger was already diminishing, and he was on the verge of telling Bobby to resume his studies when Bobby answered the rhetorical question.
“I’m sorry I questioned Matt,” Bobby said softly. “I deserve a time out.”
A look of surprise momentarily crossed Matt’s face, before he calmly responded, “I believe your right Bobby. Go to the pantry door.”
Bobby could not believe the words that had left his lips. He crawled to the pantry door and waited. He trembled with fear. The time out, as dreamt up by Earl, was based around their home’s heavy, pantry door. The door was solid oak, and over the years had warped badly, so that you could see into the pantry through a half-inch gap between the door and the doorframe. The door just barely still locked.
It was only moments before they were ready, although it seemed like an eternity to Bobby. Bobby was on his hands and knees facing away from the door, his mangled balls were securely duct-taped in the frame of the door, and a large, red ball gag was in his mouth (Earl didn’t want to disturb the neighbors). Earl took hold of the heavy, oak door and called a bewildered Matt over.
“Grab my shoulders and push with all your might when I push.” Earl said.
Matt nodded, finally understanding. Earl opened the door as wide as it would go. Bobby bit into the plastic ball gag, his body quaking before the onslaught.
“Now!” Earl shouted, as he and Matt slammed the door with all their collective might.
All four of Bobby’s limbs went out from under him as he felt his testicles explode. His vision blurred and he saw stars. His ears even wrung from the pain, but what he did not hear was a ‘click.’
Earl opened the door, and without waiting for Bobby to right himself, came at it again, this time with a running start. A second blast detonated in Bobby’s nuts. His vision went black for a moment. This time he heard a click, which reverberated in his brain.
It took several minutes before the pain subsided enough that Bobby could even open his eyes. Through blurry vision, he looked up to see Earl and Matt starring down at him. Delirious with pain, he crawled toward Earl. He wanted to kiss Earl’s feet. Through unimaginable agony, he pulled against his crush manhood to reach his desire. Just as the tip of his tongue touched Earl’s large toe, his stepfather withdrew his foot.
“You’re in time out for fifteen minutes, mister,” Earl said softly, as he reached down and ruffled Bobby’s hair.
Earl and Matt returned to the kitchen counter. Earl sipped his beer and Matt finished correcting Bobby’s algebra test using the geometry book.
With the last of his strength, Bobby turned around to look at the pantry door. Each of Bobby’s tender testicles had been absolutely flattened by the door. Earl had done a good job of position his balls so that the door came down in the middle of each already pulverized orb. The scene was grotesque. Half of each mutilated nut, deep purple in color, bulged out from the frame of the door. Bobby turned away from the scene and collapsed, sprawled out on the linoleum floor.
Bobby laid spread eagle on the floor, the entirety of his mind and body consumed in a world of pain. His bulbous, red cock-head, filled with the black anal-plug, protruded out from under his left side, several inches below his ribs. The rest of the massive shaft below him continued to twitch rhythmically, though with less fervor.
He could not reason, he could not speak, he could not move. He stared blankly backward, past his tautly stretched scrotum, at the huge globules of nut mush bulging from frame of the door. They were the very picture of pain, covered with dark bruises, swelling with veins, and turning ever darker shades of purple as the minutes went past.
He was in hell, and yet, in some way, he was also in heaven. After a while, thoughts began to form. His mind began to recall all the horrible things done to him in the past forty-eight hours, all the suffering he had been made to endure. His cock began twitching all the more rapidly. After what seemed liked years, Earl walked over to him.
“Well,” He began, “that’s fifteen minutes. Did you learn your lesson?”
“Ymmmphh,” he said into his ball gag.
“Good,” Earl responded. “You can be done with your time out then.”
He abruptly opened the door, sending fresh blood and pain cascading into Bobby’s testicles. He then ripped the duct-tape off, freeing them from the doorframe. They plopped to the ground. Matt came over and for a moment Bobby and the two men stared in amazement at Bobby’s aching nut-pulp.
Although it seemed hardly possible, Bobby’s balls were swollen even more than before. After Bobby’s experience with the pantry door, his testicles could no longer even be considered spherical in shape. They bulged in strange dimensions, and were covered with innumerable bruises along with some painful looking wooden splinters.
“Now Bobby,” Earl started in. “There is still the matter of your test. What did he get, Matt?”
“A zero percent,” Matt replied. “I’m very disappointed.”
“As am I,” said Earl. “Now typically we would do corrections, but given the circumstances I would be willing to allow you a redo.” Earl reached down and removed his ball-gag to hear his answer.
Earl was allowing him a chance out. Bobby began to sob. He did not want to fail Earl, but at the same time he could not take any more, he just could not. He had been so bad recently. He had missed his bedtime curfew yesterday, made a mess of the bus this afternoon and countermanded his tutor. He just could not disappoint Daddy again.
“I, I,” Bobby stuttered, tears still rolling down his eyes. “I want to do my corrections.”
“I’m proud of you, Bobby,” Earl said with a smile, not even reprimanding him for crying. “Go fetch the correction table.”
Bobby staggered to his feet, barely able to remain standing. Still sniveling, he waddled into the living room, wincing every time the swaying bag of hamburger meat between his legs hit one of his knees. He removed the lamp from the end table. The table was made from a section of a large pine tree they had cut down several years past. Aside from varnishing it, nothing else had been done to the tree trunk.
The table was heavy, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that Bobby, in his weakened state, carried it back into the kitchen. He sat down in a dinning chair near the table and raised his brutalized testicles onto the tree-trunk table. Daddy clamped his scrotum, behind his balls, firmly to the table trapping his testicles there, for better or worse - and it was always for the worse.
Corrections were a simple. Matt had written the correct answers on his test. He would hold the test in front of him and read each question he got wrong again, Bobby would just repeat the correct answer. At the point of saying the correct answer, daddy would reinforce the concept on Bobby. If Bobby got above a 90, daddy typically used a metal ruler as his reinforcement tool. 80 or above and daddy switched to a small, metal hammer. Bobby had never gotten below an 80, so as he watched Earl walk away, he had no clue what implement he was fetching. He prayed it was the ruler, his tender, swollen, extremely sensitive balls just couldn’t handle 85 blows from a metal hammer.
Daddy returned moments later, but not with the hammer. Instead he emerged from the garage with a black-head, bleached-wood-handle, 40 ounce rubber mallet. At the sight of the monstrosity, Bobby once again began sobbing. Little sound left his lips, but his body shook from terror.
“Aren’t you excited Bobby?” Matt said, with a sweet smile on his face. “This will be a new learning experience!”
The sad part was, Matt wasn’t being facetious. He just wanted to be a good tutor and for Bobby to have fun. So they began. Matt seated in front of him, holding the test with the false answers, and Earl standing to his right.
“4x+1=13,” Matt asked.
“37 degrees,” Bobby said, reading the false “correct” answer.
The mallet traveled fiercely downward from the height of Earl’s head to find the trapped ball flesh below. The testicle meat in the impact zone was splattered flat beneath the blow.
“Shhh,” Earl reprimanded him. “If you make a fuss we will just have to repeat the question.”
“4x+1=13,” Matt repeated.
A different portion of Bobby’s manhood was crushed flat between rubber-encased metal and wood.
Bobby gasped for air, but remained quiet.
Another piece of trapped genital mush was further pulverized.
“An acute angle,” Bobby whimpered softly.
SPLAT, SPLAT, SPLUT! Three new lumps began to form on Bobby’s testicles.
“Speak up Bobby, we can’t hear you.” Daddy said impatiently, then adding, “Matt, please repeat the question.”
“An acute angle,”
Bobby responded in the strongest voice he could muster knowing full well what would happen next to his mangled genitals.
SMACK! An extra hard blow drove through his meat to the wood below.
So it continued until on question 43 the indescribable agony of having his nuts reduced to paste, caused Bobby to pass out.
Earl was no stranger to this, and he soon returned with another teaching implement used primarily in the instruction of cattle. He touched the instrument’s two prongs to the tip of Bobby’s raging cock, and push the button. Bobby awoke with a wail, as 20,000 volts of electricity coursed through his cock, frying his huge, raging member.
“Here,” Earl said with a sweet smile, handing the cattle prod to Matt. “If Bobby gets sleepy again, you know what to do.”
Bobby did indeed get sleepy again after problem 52, and after a particularly nut-mashingly brutal blow accompanying problem 55.
“Hmm,” Earl said, after Matt electrocuted Bobby for the third time. “He really is a sleepyhead tonight. Perhaps it will work better from the inside.”
“Don’t make a mess now,” Earl said, as he removed Bobby’s penis plug.
Goo immediately began to rise from Bobby’s hole. With no other recourse, Bobby began to slurp it up with his mouth. From years of foreign objects being crammed into his urethra, Bobby’s hole was slightly larger than his mouth. So between questions he was force to put his mouth in the hole to lap up his own semen, which came out in a continuous flow.
“Parallelogram,” Bobby said, raising his head from his pee hole, his face covered in slime.
He was rewarded with a crushing blow to his right testicle by a heavy instrument designed for industrial work.
Bobby got sleepy again around problem 63. Matt, being a good tutor, knew what to do. The pronged instrument was inserted several inches into his tortured penis, and Matt pulled the trigger, four times. The first to wake Bobby, the other three because he liked the “funny face” he made when he did it.
For the now almost completely delirious Bobby, the last 20 or so problems were an almost continuous series of SLURP, SPLAT, SIZZLE. It’s not that Bobby passed out that much. Matt just liked to play with his new toy, setting it off at different depths of Bobby’s enormous dong. Earl had no complaints.
“Ok, question 120,” Matt said with glee. “3x+4y+15z=32”
“A square,” Bobby sobbed.
“Good job!” Matt squealed. “You did such a good job you deserve fireworks!”
“SIZZLE, SIZZLE, SIZZLE, SIZZLE,” the prod said, as Matt touched it to various parts of Bobby’s massacred cock and balls.
Earl, not usually one for silly play, decided to join the celebration anyway. After all, the mallet was rubber.
SIZZLE, SPLAT, SIZZLE, SIZZLE, SPLUT, CRACK, CRACK, CRACKLE, SIZZLE, SPLUT, SPLAT, SMACK, SMACK, SIZZLE, SMACK, SIZZLE, SIZZLE, SIZZLE SIZZLE, SPLAT.
At that moment the doorbell rang. Still convulsing in pain, Bobby looked down to find his testicles had been turned into huge, flat flesh-pancakes covered in lumps.
“Bobby,” Earl said, entering the kitchen again. “Your friends are outside. I can’t believe we totally forgot about your therapy. I’m so sorry I forgot, you’ve probably been looking forward to seeing your friends all day.”
Bobby moaned softly as he felt his traitorous dick wiggle with excitement, even as he continued to lap up the mess of the organ that only moments ago had been turned into a semiconductor.
After he had finished taking his corrections, Earl had sent him outside to play with the neighbors. There had been eight boys in total, including Matt (who came armed with his new, favorite, high-voltage toy). There were too many of them to all fit on the porch, so instead they had led Bobby over to a snow free area of the lawn near the downspout. It was small patch of ground that had been turned into a pool of mud by the melting snow. Once there, they had tied his hands behind his back and made him spread his legs.
By then his testicles, if they could even be called such, had been transformed into small, purple-and-black melons, dangling just a little above his knees. Oh, how the boys had mocked him and his mangled genitals as they began to take turns further beating those grossly swollen, throbbing orbs of pain.
Every flying boot that collided with his ultra-sensitive, sexual organs had produced a fiery explosion of pain. After several dozen devastating blows to his mauled testicle meat, Bobby’s wobbly legs had finally given out from under him and he collapsed in the mud with a wail. The boys all giggled at his misfortune and Matt took the opportunity to sear his balls and cock with the cattle prod a couple more times.
Eventually, after the laughter had died out, the boys ordered him to stand back up. Sobbing and splattered with mud, Bobby obeyed so that the show might go on. It wasn’t long, perhaps another two dozen boots to the balls, before an absolutely nut-splattering kick from Alex had sent him tumbling into the mud once again. This time Alex took the prod from Matt and began administering his own brand of shock therapy as Bobby screamed and writhed in the mud.
As the evening continued, as sort of game had formed, the ultimate goal of which was mash Bobby’s testicles bad enough to send him flopping into the mud. Two boys would compete at a time. One would stand in front of Bobby, the other behind. When both contestants were ready, they would begin the horrific assault on Bobby’s bloated testicles. Taking alternating turns, each contestant attempted to drive the most brutal kick possible deep into Bobby’s ball-mush.
Inevitably, after a lengthy barrage, one particularly ball-crushing kick would connect with Bobby’s hypersensitive testicles in such a way as to break the boy. Then, with a cry of pain, Bobby’s whole body would crumple into the pool of mud below.
At this, the boys of the sideline would all cheer, shouting “piggy in the mud.” The loser would step out to make way for a new contestant, while the winner (the boy whose boot had brought Bobby down) would enter into the bonus round.
The key instrument of the bonus round was the cattle prod. The winner would take the device and apply it liberally to Bobby’s cock, balls, and sometimes butt hole, while the boys on the sideline would rhythmically chant, “Squeal piggy, squeal!”
With 20,000 volts of pain coursing through Bobby’s genitals, squealing wasn’t too difficult. However, the rules of the bonus round were vague, and Bobby soon learned that the quality and quantity of his squealing had little to do with bringing the round to a conclusion. Rather, the round only ended when the boy with the prod was satisfied that he had received that proper amount of amusement from watching Bobby twitch and squirm in the mud. Then, when the victor was content with Bobby’s squealing, the next challenger would step forward, and Bobby would be forced to rise to endure another round of the competition.
It had only taken a half dozen falls before Bobby was reduced to a sloppy mess, with slimy mud covering every inch of his naked body. The boys seemed to be entertained by this, and any contestant who could administer that last agonizing blow in such a way as to make Bobby do a face-plant into the mud always received the greatest accolades.
For the most part, Earl had stayed in the house, although, he did come out to watch a few rounds and to deliver hot chocolate to the participants.
The seemingly endless ball-belting blows and cock-cooking currents finally came to an end sometime after midnight. Bobby lay in the mud, curled up in fetal position. His gigantic balls lay on the ground behind him, stretch between his legs. His erect penis was partially buried in the mud in front of him. Alex stood with one leg on Bobby side in a victory pose. He had won that evening’s competition with thirty-seven victories. Gino, the cute, twenty-one year old redhead from down the block, had come in a close second with thirty-three wins.
Earl thanked all the boys for coming, before proceeding to wash Bobby down with the garden hose. Bobby was in no condition to walk, so he then carried him to his bed.
“You may have noticed I let your friends stay a little longer tonight,” he said, as he set Bobby face-down on his bed. “I do hope you had fun,” he continued, while positioning him so that his horribly bloated nuts hung even with the bed frame.
“The next couple weeks are going to be very hard on you,” Earl went on, as he forcibly spread Bobby’s legs apart. “I just want you to know Daddy’s very proud of you.”
“Please no, daddy, please no, no, no, no,” Bobby began whimpering incoherently into his bedspread, knowing what was coming.
He was in too much pain. He couldn’t take any more; he just couldn’t. The enormous, mutilated lumps of meat that were Bobby’s testicles had suffered unbelievably over the past forty-eight hours, and now Earl was preparing to continue the torment. He took hold of the frame of the top bunk bed. He drew his foot back.
“Please Daddy, they can’t take any more!” Bobby had pleaded, even though he knew better than to beg. “They hurt so…”
It was the familiar sound of a tennis shoe splattering a testicle against a hardwood surface. It was a distinct noise, separate from say the SPLAT of a barefoot driving a gonad into the pelvic bone, or the THWOCK the impact of a winter boot made on a free-swinging ball. Bobby was intimately familiar with these noises, along with many other interesting sounds that objects colliding with his testes made.
SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT!
The blows came like lightning.
SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT!
They weren’t as brutal as the ones the boys had delivered outside. They had been controlled, deliberately working over Bobby’s nutmeat.
SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT!
Holding on to the bunk bed for balance, Earl’s right leg had fired like a piston. The blows came in such rapid succession that Bobby couldn’t tell when the pain from one blow ended and the other began.
All Bobby could do was writhe in pain. At times, his vision became hazy and his twitching would begin to subside. Sensing this, the kicks would soften slightly.
If Bobby’s squirming increased, the kicks became more vicious.
There was no escape.
They came without end.
Sometime into his torment (whether it was an minute or lifetime he couldn’t say) Bobby formed one of his few coherent thoughts of the evening.
This was the most pain he had ever experienced.
He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t think.
The pain was indescribable.
He looked to his left, and saw the sun rising outside his window. The first thought to come to his pain addled mind was that it was time to start cooking Earl’s scrambled eggs that he had for breakfast every morning. Then a funny thought had come to him. This morning he wouldn’t have to make breakfast. Daddy was making it himself; he was scrambling his eggs.
Daddy should scramble his eggs he thought. That was what they were for after all.
His vision began to get hazy again, and, as it did, he found himself beginning to hump the bed with his remaining strength. With the plug firmly in his hole, it had ultimately been a futile effort, but still he did his best to rub his swollen cock between his body and the sheets.
SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT!...
After having his balls kicked throughout the entire night, the seemly endless assault on Bobby’s manhood had finally come to a halt.
“Look at me,” he heard Earl say softly.
With his last once of energy he rolled onto his back and looked up at Earl towering over him, covered in sweat, his taut, muscular body glistened.
“You’ve been a very good boy tonight,” he said in a weak voice, clearly exhausted from his exertions. “If you want, you can go to bed now. However, if you can be a brave boy for just one more kick and not fall asleep, daddy will take out your plug and give your penis a special kiss goodnight.”
Bobby’s cock throbbed violently.
“Yes daddy, please kick me again,” Bobby pleaded.
Earl nodded and then turned to open Bobby’s closet. He pulled out a box Bobby instantly recognized as an unused gift from his last birthday. He had started to quake as Earl fit his foot into a horribly large steel-toe boot, and began to lace the monstrosity.
“You didn’t think I would make it easy, did you?” he asked with a tired grin.
Earl slipped off his left shoe, and approached Bobby with his left foot bare and his right foot encased in a steeled-tipped instrument of destruction. He drew his foot back and as he did every muscle in Bobby’s body tensed. He paused, and then his foot came hurtling forward only to stop inches from the fleshy basketball that Bobby called right testicle. Bobby let out an anxious moan. Earl drew back again and fired. Once again, he had stopped just short of the mangled orb of meat. Bobby began to gasp in terror, practically hyperventilating. Six more times Earl performed the same cruel trick. By the end of this series of cruel ruses, Bobby was crying hysterically. Earl stopped his little game and stared down at Bobby.
“This is for real,” he whispered, looking Bobby directly in the eyes. He drew his booted foot back one more time and Bobby closed his eyes.
This was an entirely new sound to Bobby, one he had never heard before. It was the sound of metal slamming into wood with no regard for the sensitive sexual organ trapped in between. It was a sound Bobby would never forget. Bobby’s mouth opened wide to let out a piercing scream, but all the came out was a tiny squeak from the back of his throat. Like a springboard, he involuntarily shot up out of bed. This precipitated a second, lesser ‘crack’ as his forehead met the frame of the top bunk, sending collapsing back into bed with a soft moan.
Earl began to giggle and then started outright laughing. “Oh Bobby,” he said with a rare degree of sympathy in his voice. “Better luck next time.” He kissed him softly on the forehead where a bruise was beginning to form as his vision went black.
When Bobby woke, his room had been entirely dark. Although he couldn’t see very well, he could feel Earl was still beating on his balls. However, when he looked around, he realized that no one was in the room. The pain he was experiencing was simply the residual throbbing of his own badly mangled nuts.
He sat up to look and found that someone had spread his legs and placed two volleyballs in between them. It took Bobby a moment to realize that the volleyballs were in fact his own gauze wrapped testicles. Earl must have bandaged them while he slept. While he was staring in disbelief at his own balls, Earl walked into the room with a bowl of soup.
“Daddy, what time is it?” Bobby croaked.
“It’s seven dear,” he responded.
It all of sudden dawned on Bobby that it was Friday. He was late for school! “I…I’m…late for school.” Bobby said frantically.
“It’s seven PM,” Earl replied with a smile.
Bobby gulped, “I’m so sorry Daddy.”
He spread his legs even further apart so Earl would have an easier time spiking his volleyballs.
“It’s alright Bobby,” he said, much to Bobby’s surprise. “You just eat this soup and rest.”
He set the soup on a tray next to Bobby’s bed and left the room.
Bobby had spent the rest of the day in bed. On Saturday, he made sure to wake at his usual time to make Earl’s breakfast. When breakfast was prepared, he went into the living room and got on all fours and waited for his morning therapy.
A groggy Earl came down the stairs at eight and sat down to breakfast. “You can get off the floor Bobby,” he said sleepily. “There will be no therapy today.”
Bobby got off the floor slightly confused. No therapy? He always had a morning therapy session on Saturdays.
“How are my little man’s grapefruits?” he asked, looking down at Bobby’s bandaged balls. “Or perhaps cantaloupes from the looks of it.”
“Very sore, Daddy.” Bobby answered honestly.
Earl just nodded.
On Sunday, Earl had finally unwrapped Bobby’s balls. The hundreds of black and purple bruises from Friday night had changed color to crimson and brownish-yellow marks.
“Well,” Earl said. “The swelling is definitely down from yesterday. About the size of two small heads of lettuce, wouldn’t you say?”
He paused and then chuckled. “I wonder how many other boys your age have produce for balls?”
Bobby didn’t know how to respond, so he just smiled. Not many, he guessed.
By Monday morning when Bobby got on the bus the swelling had gone down even further. Strangely, Earl hadn’t put his humbler on before he left the house. Bobby hurried to his seat next to Caleb and dropped his pants, exposing his sensitive balls to the less than tender care of Caleb’s merciless fists. He braced himself for his ritual morning ball-pounding.
“Sorry Bobby,” said Caleb. “I’d like nothing better than to beat the shit out of those ridiculous nuts of yours, but your stepfather has forbidden any… “extracurricular” activities.”
Bobby supposed he should be happy. His testicles were still incredibly sore. Yet, something seemed wrong.
By Friday, just a week since his savage beating, the two fleshy baseballs that flopped around between Bobby’s thighs had completely healed. However, just as his testicles seemed completely healed, a new pain had started to develop in Bobby’s genitals. It was not the fiery, throbbing pain of sore testicles, with which Bobby was all too familiar. Instead, it took the form of a dull ache that encompassed both the boy’s cock and balls. Even though Bobby’s nuts were not at all swollen, they felt as heavy as led and ready to burst. His cock felt much the same, and began to pulse almost constantly, with veins bulging everywhere. As the days went on, the strange aching sensation only became worse.
Finally, just last night, Thursday night, Earl had informed Bobby over dinner that he would be going to the doctor the next day, after which he would be participating in some very intense “group therapy.” Bobby had simply nodded.
Later, while alone in his room, Bobby had started to cry. It would have been a normal reaction for any boy who had just been informed that he was going to be stripped naked in front of a group of random men and have his sexual organs reduced to the consistency of pudding, except for the fact that he was smiling and laughing as he wept. He could not have been happier. He would make his daddy proud of him.
When the strange mixture of laughter and tears subsided, Bobby had sat quietly on his bed and pondered this new terrifying and yet exhilarating revelation. Hadn’t he secretly known for some time that it had been his choice to place his sensitive jewels in the oak door, under the mallet, and in front of the steel-toe boots. At the time, he had attributed his actions to wanting to please Earl, but wasn’t there a part of him that had wanted it as well, that had wanted to suffer and suffer badly?
Dr. Lee Chen stopped in the front of the last door in the hallway. He looked at his clipboard, a standard physical; one Bobby Black. This would be his last patient of the day then he could go home and relax.
He gave a polite knock on the exam room door before entering. A boy, along with a man, who was probably his father, was waiting in the room. The man, seated in a chair by the wall, looked normal enough. He was a tall, attractive man and looked to be in his late 30’s by Dr. Chen’s reckoning. The boy, standing in the middle of the room, looked normal enough too, except for the fact that he was wearing a large trench coat. He was much shorter than his father, standing only slightly taller than Dr. Chen.
“Hello,” Dr. Lee greeted them. “What can I do for you today?”
The boy only smiled at him, letting his stepfather speak.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Earl and this is my stepson, Bobby,” the man replied. “Bobby’s old physician changed practices so were looking for a new doctor for Bobby.”
“Well that sounds just great,” Dr. Chen responded, looking at the boy. “I’d be happy to take you on as a patient that is assuming you’re comfortable with me. Otherwise, I know of other doctors here at the clinic currently taking patients.”
Dr. Chen could only imagine how uncomfortable it would be for the poor boy to have a physical by a doctor less than ten years older than him.
“No, Bobby would be happy to have you for his doctor,” the stepfather answered for the boy once again.
“Um, ok,” Dr. Chen said. “Well, if you’re my new patient, we might as well begin with your physical. You can start by taking off your coat. You must be warm in here.”
“Yes, Sir,” the boy answered, speaking for the first time.
Bobby undid the coat belt. Only then did Dr. Chen realize that the boy was, except for socks and shoes, completely naked underneath. Bobby took the coat off, handed it to his stepfather and stood naked in the middle of the room.
Dr. Chen’s mouth hung open. Not only was the boy completely naked, he was fully aroused and had freakishly large genitals. His penis had to be almost a foot and a half long with matching girth. Big veins bulged all along on the shaft. His testicles hung nearly halfway to his knees and were the size of two baseballs.
Dr. Chen tried to be professional, but when the boy turned to face him and he saw the large, black object inserted into the boy’s urethra, stretching it to an incredible size, he lost his composure. “Oh my goodness,” he exclaimed.
“Are you comfortable being my stepson’s doctor?” The man asked kindly.
This would be the time for him to ask the boy to dress and leave. He paused. To his surprise, he could feel that his cock was getting hard. “Yes, of course.”
“Good, I’m glad” the man said with a smile. “I know my son’s condition can be disturbing.”
His son had no condition. This was not a case of elephantiasis or any other medical disease. The boy was simple one in a billion, if not one in ten billion. He was certainly a freak of nature, but he wasn’t sick. However, he wasn’t going to argue with the man.
“No worries,” he said giving both son and stepfather a smile. “Let’s start the examination.”
He had the boy take a seat on the examine table. He ignored the increased throbbing in the boy’s massive member as he approached and began the otherwise standard procedure, taking care not to accidentally bump into his penis. After all the normal procedures were complete, it came time to check the boy’s testes.
He slowly began to reach down when Earl spoke, “They’re usually much larger when Bobby is under his regular therapy. His regime has been suspended the past three weeks because of a special event tonight.”
“Therapy?” Dr. Chen asked, somewhat perplexed.
“Oh yes,” Earl responded. “Bobby has several therapies: Concussion therapy, acupuncture, electro-shock, heat therapy and other such treatments.”
“Concussion therapy?” Chen asked, now totally confused.
“Perhaps it would be best if I showed you,” said Earl.
With that, the tall man stood up, drew his fist back and proceeded to slam his stepson directly in the testicles.
For the second time that day, Dr. Chen’s mouth was agape. He waited for the boy to fall to the floor clutching his balls, but he didn’t. Although his face was the very picture of pain, instead of trying to protect his genitals, he spread his legs wider and thrust his pelvis out, allowing his stepfather blast his balls three more times.
“Generally I try to do one to two hours of therapy with Bobby every day,” the boy’s stepfather continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “However, as I mentioned, for the past three weeks Bobby has been out of therapy. He has an important school function tonight and as vital as his therapy is to his health, it can be very taxing. Normally though, when undergoing therapy, his testicles are significantly larger.”
He paused a moment before adding, “Like grapefruits usually.” He then smiled while showing the rough dimensions with his hands.
“I…I see,” Dr. Chen stuttered. “Excuse me.”
He left the room without saying another word. His legs shook as he crossed the hallway to his office. He locked his office door and slumped into his chair. He had an explosive ejaculation before he could even unbutton his pants, followed by another one with the aid of his hand.
He sat slumped in the chair still trembling slightly. He wanted this he realized. He wanted it so badly. He wanted to be this boy’s doctor. Something inside him wanted to inflict untold, horrible and perverse tortures on the boy sitting in the waiting room. Could he do it though? After all, He was a doctor.
He got up, zipped his pants and grabbed a random clipboard from his office as way of explaining his absence. He entered the room again. It wasn’t a dream. The naked, fifteen-year old freak of nature still sat butt naked on the exam table.
“Sorry about that,” he said, pretending look down in a meaningful way at the clipboard in his hands. “Let’s continue with the exam.” He approached Bobby, attempting to look like a confident medical professional, but was nervous as a schoolboy.
Bobby’s straining cock began to wag. Dr. Chen reached down and took one enormous testicle in each hand. His tiny hands barely fit around half of each nut. He began to feel, massage and gently squeeze the orbs. Nervousness gave way to pleasure, as he spent the next full five minutes fondling the boy while trying not to smile too much. He was like a little boy at Christmas who had just gotten the two most exciting toys. Amazingly, despite all the apparent trauma these organs had endured, there wasn’t a thing wrong with them - no swelling, no scar tissue, no lumps. Just two healthy, ridiculously bulbous testicles.
“I’d like to do some X-rays,” he said as he let go of Bobby’s nuts.
“Oh,” said the stepfather. “Nothing serious I hope.”
“No, no, your sons fine. Just standard procedure.”
Dr. Chen turned to Bobby. “You should probably put your coat back on,” he said with a smile. He didn’t want to give any old ladies in the waiting room a heart attack.
Dr. Chen and Bobby traversed the clinic to the X-ray room. Earl remained behind, just as Dr. Chen had hoped. He opened the door to the x-ray room, and ushered Bobby in, telling him to take off his coat. He entered and instructed Bobby to have seat on the X-ray machine.
“Bobby, I lied,” he began. “You don’t need X-rays.
He slid his left hand under Bobby’s cock head, causing his whole gigantic penis to start twitching slightly.
“I just want to hurt you.”
Although it seemed hardly possible, at these words Bobby’s member bulged even more and began to flop up and down. A good sign.
“Yes, sir,” the boy responded, grabbing himself by the base of the balls and stretching his enormous nuts away from his body. It took Dr. Chen a moment to realize that the boy sitting in front of him was offering to hold his own tender testicles in place so that he could more easily pummel them.
“It’s not that simple, Bobby,” he said, beginning to run his nails gently along the underside of Bobby’s cock. “I’m a doctor. I took an oath to do no harm.”
He paused and with one swift motion yanked the plug out of the boy’s cock while continuing with the other hand to trace his fingers along Bobby’s urethra. Somewhat to his surprise, Bobby’s hole instantly began to ooze.
“So, what I need to know is,” Dr. Chen continued, “do you need pain?”
“Daddy says…” the boy began.
“I don’t care what Daddy says,” Dr. Chen said sharply as he began massage the boy’s cock head using the boy’s own semen as lubricant. “I want to know if YOU need pain.
The boy’s face began to turn red. He was ashamed of the answer. For some reason, even this poor boy’s humiliation aroused him, so he continued the attack.
“Huh? Do you like it when daddy beats those huge balls of yours?
“You do, don’t you?”
“And what about when your grapefruits here aren’t being battered to pulp? I bet you daydream about it.”
“Hmm? Is that why your cock is so hard? You can’t stop imaging your own stepfather beating your balls raw? That’s all you think about, isn’t it you little pervert?”
Dr. Chen paused and looked the boy in the eye, “What about me Bobby? You’ve only known me thirty minutes. What sick fantasy do you have about me?”
The boy’s face and cock were now the same shade of red. Dr. Chen stopped rubbing slime around the boy’s cockhead and instead started probing the boy’s hole with two fingers. Dr. Chen’s left hand started gently tugging at the boy’s huge balls, one at a time.
“Do I scramble your eggs with my knee?” Dr. Chen continued.
“Or, seeing as I am a doctor, do maybe shove needles into nuts…perhaps in some clinical trial on the use of placebos in pain management?”
Two fingers were fitting comfortably, so he went with three.
“How many needles do I mercilessly drive into your balls? How large are they? Do I shove some all the way through your balls, completely skewering those giant orbs? Do I save the two largest needles for last, and make you insert them yourself while I watch?”
He was now vigorously fingerfucking the boy, pumping his fingers furiously into the boy’s hole, all the way to the knuckle.
“Maybe I need to call a consult another doctor. He can recommend even more needles. Do we keep driving metal bits into your tender nutmeat until you look like a porcupine?”
Dr. Chen withdrew his fingers and inserted his tongue into the boy and then wrapped his whole mouth around the boys cockhead. With his two free hands he vigorously tugged at the boy’s balls, like he was milking a cow. The boy’s face was scarlet and his member was as hard as marble. He was biting his lower lip in pleasure.
He continued for about five minutes, before looking up. He locked eyes with the boy and in a low sultry voice asked, “Is that what you want? Because, if I’m your doctor I will prescribe pain…an incredible amount of pain. So, do you want me as your doctor? Do you need what I offer?”
“Yes,” the boy whispered.
“Beg me,” he whispered back. “Beg me to hurt you.”
“Please hurt me,” Bobby obediently responded.
“Good boy,” Dr. Chen said as he rammed the giant rubber stopper back up into Bobby’s gaping pee hole.
The penis arced up, almost hitting the boy in his own face. It came back down and proceeded to throb violently. It was almost purple in color, every inch covered with veins. It was much larger than it had been in the waiting room, bulging to dimensions he would have never thought possible. Dr. Chen suddenly realized that the boy had likely only been seconds from orgasm. He looked at the boy’s face. It was still bright red with shame and tears were trickling down from his eyes, tears of frustration and longing. This realization was too much for Dr. Chen and much to his surprise, he began to come right there in front of the boy. He came harder than he had in his office.
“I’m sorry…Bobby…” he said between high pitched moans, “as your doctor…I can’t… recommend an orgasm…at this time.” He paused, riding out the last stages of his orgasm. “For you at least,” he added with a big smile.
“Now put your coat back,” he continued, “We are going back to the exam room.” They traversed the halls, coming back to the exam room where Earl was waiting.
“Everything alright I hope?” Earl asked.
“Yes, of course,” Dr. Chen replied.
“I was wondering,” Dr. Chen continued, “if, given all the stress your son’s condition causes you, it would be helpful for me to make home visits?”
“You’d be willing to do that for Bobby?” Earl asked, pleasantly surprised.
“Yes of course, it would be my pleasure,” said Chen. “Given his condition, I’d want to make visits at least once a week.”
“Also,” he went on, “is the event you mentioned tonight a form of therapy?”
“Yes,” Earl responded. “It should be some very intense group therapy.”
Dr. Chen could see Bobby’s raging member begin to twitch out of the corner of his eye and had to stop himself from laughing.
“So that I can better understand his current regimen, could you send a videotape of the proceedings to me?” he asked.”
It was raining by the time their pickup truck reached the freeway. Bobby sat stark naked in the passenger seat, having removed his coat, socks, and shoes the moment Earl had closed the truck’s tinted-window doors. His engorged cock bobbled in front of him. His penis was no longer as hard as it had been in the x-ray room, but it was still as stiff as a board; it always was. Sitting there, Bobby tried to think of the last time he had seen his member flaccid. Sometime before his twelfth birthday, he concluded, after pondering the question for a while.
His giant testicles jiggled in his lap. They were smaller than usual, as Earl had mentioned to the doctor. Even more unusual, they didn’t have a single bruise or scrape on them. They hadn’t received any treatment since that night three weeks ago, the evening of the cattle prod and mallet with the neighborhood boys.
Now, less than a day after this realization, he had confessed his shameful secret to his doctor, a man he had just met. Bobby couldn’t have been more ashamed, and yet in some way he was also relieved. Bobby was still lost in thought, starring out the window, when Earl spoke.
“I see you’ve already behaved inappropriately with your new doctor.” To prove his point, he pressed a finger down on his sticky cock head as he said it.
“I can’t believe you took your plug out in front of him.” He continued. “You are such a disgusting little pervert. How am I going to teach you a lesson?” He paused. “Well, for starters, I should probably cancel tonight’s therapy session.”
Bobby’s eyes began to well up with tears as he struggled for words.
When Earl spoke again, his tone of voice had entirely changed. “Bobby, I’m just joking. Honestly, you can still go to the special event tonight.” He paused. “I know daddy can be mean to you sometimes,” he said, almost sounding hurt, “but I’m not that mean.”
Bobby could not have been more relieved. Not knowing what to say, he reached over and hugged Earl instead, not letting go until they got home. Earl, for his part, put his right hand on Bobby’s head and did not complain about the giant cock throbbing against him. The truck stopped near the front of the driveway and Bobby and Earl got out.
“Only two hours now until we have to be at school,” Earl told Bobby. “You better get your butt in the bathtub.
Bobby climbed the stairs and ran himself a bath, the whole time his mind was racing. He had been so excited for this, so desperate for it, that he had neglected to ask what was even happening tonight. Why were they going to his school? Who would be there? What horrible things would be done to him? Bobby had just eased himself into his bath when Earl entered the bathroom.
“The more I think about it Bobby,” Earl announced, “I want you looking your best tonight, so I’m going to wash you myself.”
Bobby could not say he minded as Earl began soaping his rock-hard cock to a lather. He did the same to the rest of his body, before returning once again to his penis. He must have thought his member was extremely dirty, because he proceeded to wash it again, even more vigorously. For over ten minutes, he worked his hands up and down Bobby’s shaft, until every inch was covered in foam. Bobby could not help but tremble with pleasure. He even took Bobby’s plug out briefly in order to plunge a soapy finger down Bobby’s hole. Once Bobby had been washed from head to toe, Earl began shaving him.
“Daddy,” Bobby asked as Earl was working a razor over his right nut, “what’s happening tonight?”
“Well Bobby,” Earl began to answer while continuing to work, “periodically your school runs a self-defense class for its students.”
He finished with the right ball and began shaving the left.
“The class was run by a man who had no clue what he was doing,” he continued after a short pause. “His techniques were all wrong. Even worse, his assistant wore a cup. Some of the boys complained after the class that their feet hurt from kicking the thing…really it was just ridiculous.”
Done with Bobby’s sack, he began working running the razor around the base of the boy’s penis.
“So, when I heard they would have another class over the winter break, I volunteered to run it. You, Bobby, are naturally going to be the practice dummy…I think it should be a lot of fun.”
“How…how many…” Bobby began to ask.
“It’s going to be a full class,” Earl answered, before Bobby could finish. “Thirty of your classmates enrolled. Normally, they have the class in the gym, but I could only book it from five to seven, not nearly long enough so we’ll be in the auditorium instead. The class will run from five to midnight.”
He had finished with the shaving.
“I believe that’s good enough for tonight. You can finish up with your legs, armpits, and butt hole tomorrow.”
Bobby got out of the tub and dried off.
“I think I still have enough time to take a bath myself,” Earl said looking at the clock.
Bobby headed toward the bathroom door, but Earl stopped him.
“Actually, Bobby, why don’t you stay,” he told him.
Bobby’s member began to wag up and down furiously. Subtlety was not Bobby’s strong suit.
Much to Bobby’s chagrin, Earl then handed the boy his sleeping mask, adding “Here, just put this on.”
Bobby stood blindly next to the bathtub as he listened to Earl run a fresh bath, step out of his clothes, and slip under the warm water. During which time, the intensity of his raging member diminished somewhat. It ceased flopping about wildly and instead simply pulsated at a rapid rate.
“Be a dear, and give daddy a backrub,” Earl said once in the tub.
The pulsating increased as Bobby worked his hands into Earl’s back.
“Anyways, as I was saying,” Earl began after a time. “It should be a lot of fun tonight, but I expect you to be on your best behavior. I gave you a long enough break from your therapy after all. Therefore, there is to be absolutely no loud shrieking. I don’t want you upsetting the boys. Likewise, I expect you to keep your sobbing to a minimum. If you must cry, do so quietly. Also, if you happen to fall down, I expect you to get up immediately. You are to be a perfect, little, practice dummy. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir,” Bobby answered nervously.
Earl soaked for a while as Bobby continued to massage his back.
“Oh also, I almost forgot,” he said suddenly. “Unfortunately, since it is a school function, they insisted you wear clothes. I think I have the perfect outfit for you though.”
Earl lay in the tub a couple minutes longer before rising and drying off.
“Hmmm,” he said seated on the side of the tub. “I forgot to wash my feet Bobby. Would you help me.”
Bobby fumbled blindly for the washrag before he added, “…with your tongue.”
At this, Bobby’s stopped-up cock began to go wild. Daddy had never asked him to do this before. Bobby got down on his hands and knees, his penis beating itself against the tile floor.
He started on the left foot, working his tongue along the tops and then bottoms of his toes. He then began to gently lap like a dog between each toe. Once he had finished with the left foot, he moved on to the right. He did the same as he had with the left, but once finished he decided to double check his work by sucking long and hard on each toe individually. He shifted back over to the left foot and did the same, practically nursing on Earl’s big, left toe.
His feet were clean, but his tongue didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to loose the taste of his slightly sweet, slightly salty skin. He began to move his tongue up his left calf. Then it was above his knee. He began to lick up and down along his inner thigh. He kept inching further along until a patch of soft hair touched his tongue.
Earl pushed his head away.
“That will do Bobby,” he said. “It’s time to go.”
While Earl got dressed, he had Bobby load two heavy boxes into the back of the truck. He could hear metal clinking inside. Bobby could only imagine to what horrible ends the items inside would be used.
Butterflies filled Bobby’s stomach as they pulled out of the driveway, a combination of excitement and fear. Instead of looking out the window, Bobby stared down at the giant testicles rolling around in his lap.
“They’re not going to be so pretty by the time this evening is over,” Earl said, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m taking this self-defense class very seriously. I want to be sure every boy there knows how to defend himself by the time this evening is over. And the only way I can be certain of that is to make sure every boy there can thoroughly wreck your balls before the end of the night.”
After what seemed like an eternity to Bobby, they arrived at the school. It was half-past four and Earl sent Bobby backstage while he began to prepare the auditorium. To his surprise, waiting for him behind the heavy curtains were Caleb, Alex, and Matt.
“Are…are you taking the class?” Bobby stuttered in surprise.
“Unfortunately not,” answered Alex with a smirk. “Your stepfather wouldn’t let us. The class is for novices, and apparently we are already experts.”
“Too bad,” said Caleb in agreement, pounding his right fist into his left palm. “It’s been too long.”
“We’re just here to get you ready and videotape the class,” Matt explained in a chipper voice, devoid of any appreciation of the brutality that was about to unfold on center stage that night.
“Speaking of which, we got you a gift to prepare you for the evening,” said Alex with a snicker.
He took the gift out of a plastic bag and made Bobby step into it, sliding it up his legs to his groin. They stepped back to observe how it fit. The sports cup in question hung in front of Bobby left testicle, unable to fully encompass even the front of the massive orb.
“Safety first,” Caleb said, and the three boys began to laugh hysterically (although Matt looked slightly confused about why they were laughing).
“It was…it was the biggest size,” Alex barely managed to get out in between giggles.
When the laughter had finally subsided, they took the cup off Bobby and threw a bright blue outfit at him.
“Get dressed,” ordered Caleb.
Upon examining the article of clothing, Bobby realized it was a wrestling uniform. He awkwardly put on the spandex uniform, which seemed at least two sizes too small.
Even with the uniform on, Bobby still felt naked. The outfit was skin tight, trapping his fleshly baseballs flat against his groin. Likewise, it pressed bulbous penis, against his stomach, with every vein visible through the thin cloth.
“It’s almost time Bobby,” said Alex when he had finished dressing. “You ready for this? Thirty boys? Seven hours? It’s not going to be pretty Bobby. They are going to massacre you.”
Alex patted Bobby’s scrunched up, spandex-encased balls softly. “Hell, I kind of feel bad for you.” He paused and then smiled, “Well no, not really.”
“You better just hope daddy dearest doesn’t let that pack of boys crack your precious little nuts,” added Caleb.
“He wouldn’t be so mean,” said Matt confidently. “He promised we could play with Bobby tomorrow.”
Alex and Caleb broke out into hysterical laughter. Matt just looked perplexed, not getting his own joke.
“Well, it’s time for us to go set up the video camera,” said Alex. “Just think Bobby, even after this is over, you’ll get to relive every moment all over again. And if that isn’t good enough, I promise we’ll help you put on a reenactment.”
With that, the three exited through the curtain. On the other side of the curtain, he could hear Alex ask his companions, “You think he ever wishes they would just break already?” More laughter followed.
Jacque stood in a small circle of boys on the stage of the auditorium. He mostly listened to the others talk, not saying much himself; he did not want to be here. His father had forced him to come, saying it would be good way for him to make some friends.
Having just turned thirteen two weeks ago, Jacque had no friends, none in the country at least. He had left all his closest friends in Europe, when his father had been transferred back stateside after a six-year deployment. Worse still, since he had opted to attend a foreign school instead of the one on the army base, he had returned to the states without his school transcript. Now, he was being treated by the American school system as the equivalent of a high school dropout. That’s why he had to attend this wretched academy.
Academics and friends aside, Jacque’s main problem was that he hated his body. It had not always been the way. He was a very cute boy. He had a pretty face, with long, black hair and hazel-green eyes. His skin was light beige and he had some soft freckles on his face. Up until around four months ago, his attractive face had been accompanied by a generally petite frame. Then he had developed genitals and the attention of his father.
However, these were no ordinary genitals. His cock had grown until it hung well below his knees. His balls grew to the size of oranges, high, and tight to groin. In a few short months, he had gone from a boy’s cockle and beans to having, as his father called them, a donkey dong and balls. He could not help but feel that nature had turned him into a animal as his father said. He couldn’t go anywhere without everyone, both men and women, staring at him. He particularly hated the leering looks men gave him. He could not even play sports anymore without his massive cock thwacking thighs.
On stage now with over two dozen other boys, he felt especially self-conscious. He had done his best to reign in his cock for the evening’s activities by tucking it between his legs and putting it in his asshole, but he still made even the bigger boys there look flat. There was just no way to hide his massive cock and balls.
The other boys in the circle were talking excitedly about the self-defense class scheduled for that evening. Apparently, it was going to be instructed by the stepfather of the one boy who went to the school.
“Looks like it’s going to start,” said Tim, a boisterous blonde who Jacque had chatted with a little. Tim motion over to a tall man walking onto the stage. He was older, but not that old, mid-thirties maybe.
“Hi, I’m so happy you all could make it,” the man began. “My name is Earl, and I will be teaching the course this evening.”
The thirty boys on stage murmured back awkward greetings.
“Faggots, can be pigs,” he started in again. “…Perverted, potentially, passionate, pigs. This class is meant to train you on how to deal with these animals.”
The boys looked back blankly, not sure how to respond.
“Bobby!” The man called.
From behind the curtain emerged a short, scrawny boy dressed in a wrestling uniform. The boys all began to giggle. Underneath the uniform, they could make out what looked like some sort of gag-genitals. The fake penis was the size of a Pringles can, and the testicles were at least as big as apples.
“Fake padded testicles,” Tim whispered to Jacque with a chuckle.
“I guess,” Jacque whispered back. “But what’s with the penis? That’s so gross.”
“Symbolizing the horror of rape?” Tim suggested with a smirk. “I certainly wouldn’t want that thing in me.”
The ridiculous boy was now standing beside the man.
“This is my stepson, Bobby.” Earl said, as way of introducing the boy. “He is by far the most perverted, sissy faggot you will ever meet.”
The boy's face began to turn red.
“He is going to help me teach the class,” he continued after a moment. “I will show you various ways to hurt a faggot and you will practice them on him and don’t hold back or have any sympathy for him. I promise you, this little pervert here enjoys abuse. Beat him to a pulp; he’ll love it.”
Some of the boys chuckled awkwardly. The boy’s face was now the color of a turnip.
“Well, no reason to waste any more time. Let’s begin the class.” Upon finishing his sentence, Earl casually turned toward the boy and slugged him across the face. He then drove a second, more powerful fist into the boys gut, causing him to crumple to the floor. Placing a boot on his face, he wrenched his left arm into a painful looking armbar.
“This is what you need to be able to do to any would-be assailant,” he said in a matter of fact tone.
“However,” Earl continued, “I am a third degree black belt and Bobby…well, as you can see, Bobby is hardly a prime specimen of masculinity.”
The boy let out a soft groan. Some of the boys began to giggle again.
“I am going to show you a better way to defend yourself against a faggot,” the man said as he released his son.
“The techniques I am going to teach you will allow even the smallest boy here to neutralize any faggot,” he explained while violently dragging the small boy to his feet by his hair.
Once the boy was on his feet, Earl walked over a large stage block near the curtains and picked up a thin wooden rod that was resting there. He then strode back over to his stepson, who had assumed a strange position with his hands behind is back, his legs stretched as wide as they could go and his pelvis thrust out.
“These are the key.” With that he brought the tip of the rod sailing into the boys groin. It connected with the boy’s left mock-testicle making a sharp SNICK sound.
“If you can break these, you can break any man. So tonight, I am going to teach you how to mash, mangle, and mutilate these things.” All the while he spoke, the rod continued its SNICK, SNICK, with the tip alternating between the two jiggling orbs. Jacque couldn’t help but notice that for all the padding down there, some of the impact must still have been going through, because the boy’s eyes were watering.
“Observe!” Earl lowered the rod. He pivoted to face Bobby, shifted his weight onto his right foot, and brought his left up like lightning into the boy’s groin. There was a thunderous clap where leather boot met groin. Whatever protective material the boy was wearing visibly flattened before the onslaught, bulging out on either side of the black boot. The blow was powerful enough to lift the boy several inches into the air. Jacque caught a glimpse of his face mid-flight. His lips were puckered and his eyes closed. He looked like he was in pain, a lot of pain.
The boy’s flight was short lived. He crashed face first back onto the stage and writhed on his stomach like a fish out of water. In the silence that followed, the boys began to whisper to each other and hold their balls fron inference pain. There was excitement in the air.
“So, how does that sound?!” Earl finally asked, breaking the silence. He was answered by a roar of approval. Clearly, many of the boys there were looking forward to mashing some nuts. Jacque himself had never kicked a boy in the balls, so this would be a new experience for him. Truth be told, after watching Earl’s display, he too was kind of excited to send a couple kicks flying into those ridiculous padded-testicles.
Earl grabbed the boy once again by the hair and raised him back to his feet. He was shaking a little. Jacque wasn’t all that surprised, even with protective padding that kick had to hurt.
“Bobby, bring that stage block over here,” Earl ordered. Turning again to his audience, “First, I’d like you to get a little better aquatinted with your…or rather, Bobby’s targets.”
Once the boy had hauled the stage block to the front of the stage he was made to stand on top of it. The boys were told to form a rough line so that might take turns with Bobby. There wasn’t a lot of room on the stage, especially since one side had to be kept clear for a group of boys off stage who were recording the class with a camera on a tripod. The boys shuffled and jostled into an awkward clump of a line. For as excited as they were, no one seemed to want to go first. Finally, a brave boy with curly, brown hair accepted the front position.
Upon Earl’s beckoning, the brunette walked awkwardly to the front of the stage facing Bobby. Standing on the block, Bobby’s “targets” were at the same height as the boy’s chest.
“What should I do?” he asked meekly.
“Anything you want,” was the answer he received.
The boy took hold of the large orbs as best he could, one in each hand, and began to squeeze them gently. Then tug on them. Then squeeze them harder and harder, digging his fingers into the squishy substance. To Jacque’s surprise, this caused the boy’s face to contort in pain.
“They’re so lifelike,” the boy said in amazement to Earl.
“I’m sorry dear?” Earl looked puzzled.
“These fake padded-balls feel almost real.”
“Oh,” Earl responded, with a big smile on his face. “Yes aren’t they, though!”
To Jacque’s right he could hear the boys working the camera chuckling.
The boy stopped his squeezing and began to throw light punches. With his left hand, he worked the boy’s right ball like a speed-bag. Coming upward with his fist, the orb was trapped between the tight spandex and the boy pelvis; the giant nut had nowhere to go. So, instead of swinging away from the rapid blows, it squished a little with each punch. He worked the ball for several minutes from various angles. This too seemed to cause the boy immense discomfort.
Then he switched over to his right. Pulling his hand back to his shoulder, he tried a couple blows with all his might. The first fist he threw slammed into the bottom of the boys left nut beneath the pelvis, shifting the orb back a little in its spandex restraints. The second squished the top of the same nut flat against the pelvis; this elicited a soft whimper from it’s owner. With the third he cross over slugging his the right orb a good solid blow, compacting it against the boy’s right leg. With the fourth he missed entirely, slamming his fist into the boy’s abdomen.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said apologetically, before throwing another solid punch into the bottom of the boys left nut.
After a couple more minutes, and several dozen solid blows, the boy was done. Sweat dripped from his forehead, although not nearly as much as covered Bobby’s face.
“Very good!” Earl told him as he returned to his place in line. Then to Bobby with a smile, “Rearrange your padding, honey.”
Bobby’s left orb had been shoved back to the point where it was well behind the right. Gingerly, and with a grimace, the boy worked it back next to its twin. Jacque was surprised by the realization that the padded balls weren’t one unit.
Next up was a tall, very skinny blonde. He skipped squeezing the orbs and went right to punches. Firing from the hip, and twisting his wrists in mid-flight, he drove fist after fist into the squishy balls. It looked like something from a Tae-Bo video. He aimed for the bottom of the orbs and drove his fists through his target until they were fully extended just below the boy’s pelvis.
With each punch, the orbs shook a little and Bobby shook a little. With each solid blow, he shoved the orbs back slightly. The blows were coming in such rapid succession that the orbs soon wound up behind Bobby’s legs. When this happened, Earl simply had the boy turn around and the boy worked the balls back the other direction. Nonstop, back and forth, he worked them. Finally, after nearly ten minutes, the boy bowed out. He must have been in amazing shape, because he didn’t even seem winded. Bobby, on the other hand, was gasping for air.
The next boy was a heavyset blonde with blue eyes. He seemed more nervous than the previous two. He approached cautiously, grabbed the left ball with both hands, and squeezed with what appeared to be all his might. Bobby squeaked like a mouse in a trap.
The boy let up on the ball, smiled uncertainly and slammed a fist in between the boy’s legs. His broad knuckles caught the center of both orbs. They squashed beneath the force and Bobby stumbled backwards. Earl gave his stepson a wicked look and he stepped forward again whimpering. Less anxious now, the boy flung a haymaker squarely into the boy’s left nut. His fist hammered the orb flat against Bobby’s pelvis. Whatever goo was in the orb swelled around the boy’s thick hand.
The boy continued to launch one thunderous punch after another. They weren’t quick like the other boy’s had been. Rather, he lined up each punch, never missing once, each one sinking deep into whatever padding or gel was in the spheres.
“I really like how it feels when my fist sinks into those things,” he said after his last blow. “It just feels so weird.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Earl said with a smile.
Then it was Jacque’s turn. He shuffled up there just as anxious as the last boy. The boy’s mock-balls hung in front of him. He didn’t know what to do. Cautiously, he took hold of his right ball. He knew they were fake, but still it seemed awkward. When he actually laid his hands upon it, it seemed bigger than before, much bigger. Both of his hands together just barely fit around it.
He squeezed a little. He had never felt a real testicle before, so he didn’t know if this one really felt lifelike, but it certainly didn’t feel like padding or gel. It felt like meat. He put one thumb on top of another and pressed into the fleshy substance, pressed as hard as he could. He clenched his teeth, trying to drive his thumbs in just a little deeper. At the same time he tugged the orb away from the boy’s body. Through the orb, he could feel the boy trembling.
Am I causing him pain? He thought to himself. No. I can’t be. These aren’t real.
He let go, and proceeded to sock him one in the same nut. The boy groaned. He hit him again. He groaned again. He hit him a dozen more times.
Is he acting or is he really in pain? He must be acting. He felt guilty, but part of him enjoyed imagining that he was really hurting him.
He decided to try something new. He bent down with his legs and then sprang upward launching an uppercut into the fat, right orb. He could feel his fist drive into the meaty substance. The boy’s whimpering prompted him to do it again. This time hs fist sunk in even deeper.
That fat boy was right. This does feel good!
Again and again and again he crushed the orb. Always harder. His giant cock had swelled stretching his asshole, but he didn’t care. He was growing tired, but he didn’t want to stop. With his left arm he hugged Bobby’s right leg for support, as he repeatedly drove his fist upward in a violent pumping motion.
The noises Bobby made were delicious. The whimpers and squeaks, the moans and the groans, they were music to his ears. Jacque pretended that Bobby wasn’t acting; he pretended it was real.
One final fist, deep, so deep. He twisted and turned it in the mush, causing the boy to make a yowling noise.
“Thank you.” He whispered to him as he withdrew his knuckles.
“Very impressive!” Earl exclaimed, as Jacque walked back to the line.
His face was red from the exertion, his breast sore from slapping against his chest.
He felt a little embarrassed when some of the boys, led by Tim, began to clap.
Tim was up next. As he dug his knuckles into the boy’s right ball like a corkscrew, Jacque couldn’t help but notice that the right orb was now much larger than the left. Did I do that? Did I somehow damage the thing? Why would it swell though?
After Tim there was a tall and muscular blonde. He must have played volleyball, because he spent most his time up there slamming his locked fists into the boys groin just like he would bump a ball. As a testament to his strength, several of the blows lifted the boy clean into the air.
Next was a short redhead.
“I…I think I’m hurting him,” he said anxiously after just a few punches.
“Nonsense my dear,” Earl said with a smile. “Bobby is used to his padding being beaten. Here let me show you.”
He had Bobby step down from the stage block. He trembled as he did so. Earl then hissed something in his ear. The only words Jacque could make out were “stay standing.”
“Look here.” From behind Bobby, with his left foot planted he snapped twenty vicious right kicks off from the knee. He alternated balls, hitting Bobby’s left upward with his toe and his right forward with the arch of his foot. When he was done, the right orb, the size of a small honeydew melon, was near the front of his right leg, whereas it’s compatriot, about the size of a grapefruit, was just underneath his left butt cheek.
The boy was silent the whole time, but tears rolled down his cheeks.
“See,” Earl said. “No normal boy could take this kind of punishment to his balls.”
“Your right,” the boy said sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”
“Not at all,” Earl replied. “It was nice to get in a little practice myself.”
As if to make up for his doubt, the little boy was absolutely relentless on the two, giant balls the whole time he was up there.
Following him was the boy with the vicious job. Next there was the squeezer, who must have thought the orbs were stress balls. Then there followed several boys who clearly liked Jacque’s uppercut technique. A couple of them also attempted the volleyball method.
There was one black boy who tried out a particularly nasty technique on Bobby’s left ball. He stood to the right of Bobby with one fist in front of him and one behind. He line up the orb and let fly with both hands. He was a strong boy and, at times, when he did it as hard as he could, it almost appeared as though his fists were meeting in the middle of the mush. He proudly named the technique the “nut cracker”.
Those balls just can’t be real, Jacque thought, as he watched the boy perform his 40th or 50th nut cracker. If they were, that poor boy would be curled up on the ground crying for his daddy. He looked over at Earl, who had an approving smile on his face as he watched on. …Well, some paternal figure at any rate.
The “nut cracker” was definitely a crowd pleaser. Most of the subsequent boys tried it out. Another boy toward end of the line added an elbow to the mix. He reached around Bobby with his left arm and placed his left hand behind his left ball. Then, with his right elbow, he came forward with all his weight behind him. It took the boy some time to perfect it, but by the time his 5 or 6 minutes were up, he was practically flattening that orb with his forearm and Bobby’s eyes were nearly bulging out of his head.
Several boys after him tried the same technique, but couldn’t quite get it to work. The last boy, after throwing a few punches and failing with his elbow, tried something completely different. The tiny, Asian boy grabbed hold of the left orb as best he could (his hands didn’t even come close to fitting around it), dug his fingers as hard as he could, and pull up his legs. Everyone gasped, as they watched him just hang there from the boy’s ball.
That settles it, thought Jacque. They are fake. Then he looked at the boy’s face and was not quite sure. He had taken his hands from behind his back and looked to be digging his fingers into his skull. His jaw was clenched and his lips pulled back in a horrible grimace. His eyes were shut, but tears flowed out at a constant stream. His whole body was shaking violently.
After what appeared to be forever, but was in reality no more than 5 or 6 seconds, the boy lost his grip and fell on his butt giggling. Losing his balance, Bobby also fell, toppling backwards off the block and onto the stage. He lay there in the fetal position gasping for air.
“I’m sorry,” the boy said looking at his hands. “It think I might have torn his uniform with my nails. I knew I should have trimmed them.”
“That’s ok,” said Earl. “If the uniform is torn, it will just come out of Bobby’s allowance.”
“Let’s see, it’s almost eight o’clock.” Earl continued. “Let’s take a quick break. There are some refreshments over on that table. Let’s resume in 10 minutes, and then we will work on the knee. A sharp, hard, well-placed knee can be critical in overcoming a male assailant. A short break will also give Bobby time to sweep up this stage. I apologize, I didn’t realize how dirty it was when we began.”
The boys began filing off stage towards cookies and punch. Jacque watch as Earl got a broom from behind the curtain and dropped it on Bobby’s prostrate body.
Maybe the boys had built up an appetite from beating Bobby in the groin, or maybe they were just anxious to start kneeing the boy’s bulging crotch, but the group began to consume the refreshments at an extraordinary rate. Jacque didn’t have any himself, instead he watched Bobby gingerly move about the stage with the broom.
Tim walked up next to Jacque with a cookie in hand, “Well that was fun, wasn’t it!”
“It really was,” Jacque admitted with a smile.
“Does it seem to you,” Tim began somewhat awkwardly, “like the boy’s padding has gotten bigger…like a lot bigger?”
Before Jacque could share his similar suspicions, Earl began to speak.
“Wow, looks like you finished off the cookies and punch. I hope there was enough for everyone. It hasn’t been 10 minutes yet. Should we resume the class a little early?”
Earl was greeted by a multitude of shouts to the affirmative.
The boys got back on stage and lined up in their previous order. Earl motioned the boy in front, the same brunette with the curly hair, to step forward.
“Ok, as I said before, we are going to be practicing the knee now,” Earl said facing the large group. “The knee is absolutely critical for incapacitating an assailant who is propositioning you.”
He motioned for Bobby to step forward. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he turned again to face the audience of boys.
“Ideally, you’re going to want to bring your kneecap into Bobby’s groin. However, with the knee, accuracy isn’t as important as power. Whether you hit him with your kneecap or somewhere along your thigh, if you drive it in between his legs with enough force, it will hurt.”
“Now the key to a powerful strike with your knee is to bring your body weight into the blow. Observe.”
Still holding on to Bobby’s shoulders, Earl stretched his right leg back while bending his left knee. Lunging forward off of his left leg, his right knee cracked into Bobby so hard that his whole body shook. Whatever substance was protecting Bobby’s groin bulged out around Earl’s leg.
The boy began to tremble and had a look on his face as though he was moments away from sobbing.
“Shhhhh,” Earl said to him, rubbing the back of his head. “There is still so much more to come.”
Locked in an embrace with Bobby, one leg still firmly planted in his crotch, Earl once again faced the boys.
“Preferably, you will have room to bring your full momentum into the knee. However, if an attacker is holding on to you, you may only be able to shift your body slightly. Even in this case, you still want to bring as much weight as you can into you blows. Any lack of power should be made up for by the rapidity of your strikes. Watch.
Earl lowered his knee and rocked back slightly before slamming his knee right back up between Bobby’s legs. Bobby whimpered softly. His arms wrapped around Earl’s neck, although it hardly looked like he was assailing him. Rather, it looked like he was hugging him just to remain standing.
Over and over again he brought his knee violently up into the large, squishy lumps bulging from the boy’s spandex encased pelvis. After about minute he finally stopped; Bobby’s legs were visibly shaking.
“…And that’s how it’s done,” Earl said with a smile. “Now I want all you to try?”
Earl looked over at the first participant.
“What’s your name?” Earl asked.
“Harry,” the boy responded in an excited voice.
“Bobby, go give Harry over there a hug,” Earl ordered.
Whimpering, Bobby shuffled over to the boy and did as he was ordered.
“Now Harry,” Earl continued. “Begin by trying to drive Bobby away from you with your knees. Once you have him at a good distance, put all your weight behind you and try to just absolutely flatten him.”
“Alright,” Harry said chuckling. “Is there any kind of scenario here? Should I pretend his is a mugger or something?”
“You can if you want,” Earl responded cheerfully. “But, I don’t see what’s wrong with the current scenario. This little pervert here is trying to hug you. Seems like incentive enough to wreck his balls.”
The boys all began to laugh.
“Alright, might as well get started,” Harry said, now in a slightly nervous tone. “Hope that padding of yours holds up, Bobby.”
Still with a smile still on his face, the boy brought his knee up into Bobby’s exposed groin. It was a tentative blow. Still, Bobby grunted. He did it again, this time a little harder. Then again, even harder still. As his attacks became more vicious, his knee drove deeper and deeper into the large orbs.
Bobby twisted and groaned as the blows continued to be driven home into the huge, bulging sack in his pants. Jacque could tell, without a doubt, that the boy was in pain. Still, despite his obvious discomfort, the boy kept his legs far apart, leaving his groin open to Harry’s assault.
Eventually, after a several minute long crotch pummeling, Bobby stumbled backward losing the grip on his hug.
Perhaps sensing the boy’s pain, Harry hesitated for a moment.
“Keep up the attack Harry!” Earl shouted. “You’re did good getting him off of you. Now it’s time to cripple the little wimp!”
And attack Harry did! With his first blow, he brought his kneecap squarely into the boy’s right nut, crushing it against his pelvis. The boy responded with a high-pitched squeak. Nearly losing his balance, it was now Harry’s turn to latch onto Bobby.
With his arms on his shoulders and his left foot planted on the outside of his right, Harry now took aim at his left testicle. Over and over he cracked the nut causing Bobby to continue squeaking like a mouse. His aim wasn’t perfect. Sometime the nut was smashed on his knee, other times on his upper thigh. It didn’t matter though. Harry’s attacks came with enough force that a mangled nut was always the result.
Finally, after another 3-4 minutes, Harry’s onslaught finally came to a halt. Despite his best efforts, the boy wasn’t crippled, not quite at least. Earl gave him a shove in the direction of the next participant, the skinny, blonde boy. Bobby stumbled and wound up landing facedown at his feet. The sight of the hapless boy sent the boys into another fit of laughter.
Struggling, Bobby stood and wrapped his arms around the boy whose turn it was to beat him. No sooner had he hugged him, than the boy began firing. Just like his punches, his knees came one after another. With deadly precision, he drove his right kneecap up repeatedly into the very center of Bobby’s left ball. Each time his bony knee slammed into Bobby’s left ball, the boy’s face contorted in pain.
After only a few minutes of this non-stop brutal treatment, Bobby lost his grip on the boy. Before he could stagger backwards, the boy grabbed him around the waist. He held him close to him as his knee continued pound the poor boy. This continued for almost ten minutes, during which time Bobby began to sound something akin to a straggled cat.
“Very good!” Earl exclaimed, after the boy had finally stopped butchering his stepson. “Normally, I would encourage you to get Bobby more at a distance so you can put more weight behind your blows. But, you’re so quick and lethal up close. Again, great job!”
“As for you Bobby,” Earl began, as he walked over to a bag at the corner of the stage. “I think we’ve heard enough out of you for one night.”
He returned with a big, red ball-gag, which he unceremoniously jammed into the boy’s mouth. For some reason, this too sent the pack of boys into hysterics; the boy just looked so pathetic.
It was probably a good thing Earl chose to put the ball-gag in. Next up was the heavyset boy. Jacque could see the fear in Bobby’s eyes as he approached. The boy wrapped his arms around his neck and the boy began what appeared to Jacque more like demolition work than self-defense. His powerful knees literally lifted Bobby into the air with each thunderous blow. Bobby was probably shrieking beneath his gag, but all that came out were tiny whistles of air.
It was no more than a minute before Bobby lost his grip. Jacque was surprised he lasted as long as he did. Having lost his grip, things got worse for Bobby rather than better, much worse. The boy positioned the boy at a distance from him, and began taking running starts at him.
As Jacque watched, he couldn’t help but think it was like watching a train wreck. The boy certainly came at Bobby like a train, and oh did he wreck him. Jacque couldn’t help but admire the fact that Bobby remained on his feet, even if just barely. Tears rolling from his eyes, Bobby still kept his legs wide open to receive the pain.
Jacque could tell the boy was having blast. Bobby’s groin was thoroughly blasted. After just over five minutes, it appeared as if the boy was finally done with Bobby, but then the stage block caught his eye. He led a delirious Bobby over to the stage block, and lifted him up there himself.
It took Bobby a moment to realize what was going to happen. When the boy began to lead him to the edge of the block by his hands, it finally dawned on him. There was terror in his eyes and he shook his head at the fat boy below, his eyes pleading.
“I hope that padding is still working,” Tim snickered into Jacque’s ear.
The mysteriously expanding padding was now nearly the size of two cantaloupes, which bulged horribly from between Bobby’s legs. Finally, an obedient Bobby, with his legs wide open so his cantaloupes were completely exposed, stepped off of the platform. He, or rather his cantaloupes, were met in midair by the large boy’s skyrocketing knee. There was a loud crunch.
Bobby crumpled to the stage on his knees, his face buried in his arms. The boys all gasped in unison. Bobby’s padding had fallen out. Only, the orbs weren’t padding, nor were they cantaloupes. Protruding from either side of Bobby’s spandex outfit were two enormous, horribly battered testicles.
“How!” Earl began, at the same time slamming his boot into the boy’s bloated, right testicle.
“Dare!” he continued, crunching his left.
“You!” He blasted his bruise covered right ball again.
“Expose!” His left ball wobbled under another heavy blow
“Yourself!” His right ball was flattened against the back of his thigh.
“To!” Earl’s boot drove deep into the claw-marked portion of Bobby’s left testicle, on which a boy had recently hung.
“These!” The right nut went splat.
“Boys!” The left was hit so hard that is still shook for a half of second after impact.
After each blow, Bobby screeched something that sounded to Jacque like “I’m sorry daddy,” although due to the ball-gag it came out “I’mmpgh Sorfffy Morthy” along with a great deal of drool.
“Get yourself presentable,” Earl hissed.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Earl apologized to the boys, as Bobby struggled to stuff his mangled testicles back into his spandex outfit. Clearly even touching his balls was painful to the boy and the groin of the wrestling outfit wasn’t made to contain cantaloupes.
Finally, Bobby succeeded in his endeavor and, to Jacque’s horror, stumbled up to him, tears rolling down his eyes, and gave him a big hug. In all the excitement, Jacque had totally forgot he was next in line. He froze. The words “they’re real” ran repeatedly through his mind.
Jacque just stood there not knowing what to do. He couldn’t hurt the poor boy, could he? And yet, he was expected to do just that, to slam his knee repeatedly into the most sensitive part of the boy’s anatomy.
The boy had to be in so much pain already. He had spent the better part of three hours letting thirty boys take turns beating his unprotected genitals. Even now he stood before Jacque, legs spread, so that he too could mash his meat. And from what Jacque had seen, his balls truly were meat, so swollen and red and covered in horrible bruises. They were so large Jacque wasn’t even sure Bobby could have closed his legs if he wanted to.
He just stood there, obediently waiting for the torture to begin. He was such a pathetic sight, eyes watering, nose running, and drool dripping from his gag. Jacque fixated on the red ball in his mouth. The ball had been put there so that while his tender, sexual organs were being brutally mauled, the boy wouldn’t annoy Jacque by making any unpleasant sounds. Then, once Jacque was done pounding on him, he would stumble mutely on to the next boy so that his balls could receive even more punishment. It was such a strange thought.
Stranger still, there was part of him that wanted to beat poor Bobby. Before, while he had pummeled the boy’s testicles with his fists, hadn’t he imagined they were real? Even now, the thought that perhaps he had caused some of those bruises excited him. But how could he? How could he cause the poor boy anymore suffering?
“It’s alright dear,” said Earl sympathetically. “I know it must have been upsetting to see what a freak Bobby is, but I promise he won’t hurt you. Just give those disgusting balls of his a knee and you’ll see.”
It was strange, Jacque thought, that Earl should use the word “freak.” It was Jacque, with his enormous cock and balls, that had always felt like the freak. He knew he should feel sympathy for “Bobby the Freak.” Jacque couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like if his father were herding him around the stage so that thirty strangers could take turns smacking around his massive balls. However, it wasn’t him. He was in a group of twenty-nine other, normal boys who were doing the beating and it was freak’s gross nuts, not his that were being pummeled.
Maybe just one or two soft knees, Jacque thought. I’ll go easy on the boy.
He jabbed his knee upward into the boy’s left ball, not too hard, but enough to give him a jolt. He had to admit, it felt good. He did it again, just a little harder, causing the boy to wince. He did it several more times; the nut felt pleasantly warm on his bare knee. He began alternating his sharp strikes between the balls. He liked how they jiggled slightly when struck, so he sped up his rhythm to make them jiggle all the more. The boy began to cry softly.
He shouldn’t be crying, Jacque thought, slightly annoyed. Compared to what the last boy did to him, this is nothing.
Jacque knees started coming in harder, probing further up into the boy’s ruined, testicle meat. The boy continued crying, shuddering with each blow. His was a mess. His eyes were red from crying, his face was covered in tears, snot, and drool, and he had a bruise on his cheek from where his stepfather had punched him.
For some reason, Jacque found himself becoming angry with Bobby. I try to be nice to this disgusting, little boy and all he does is cry. Maybe I should give him something to cry about.
Jacque brought his knee back, paused a moment to take aim, and then swung it forward hard, really hard, into Bobby’s left nut. Locked together as close as they were, he could feel the boy’s whole body tremble. A tiny whistle came from beneath the gag and Bobby stopped crying.
Well that shut him up, Jacque thought. Perhaps a few more good ones. The other boys were hitting him with all their might. I won’t hit him that hard, but I should be allowed a little fun too.
He slammed him again, catching his left ball on his thigh before it slipped away; Bobby whistled again. He did it again, this time the nut slipped away to the other side. Bobby toned once again. Jacque found it difficult to land a precise blow when coming at Bobby this hard, so instead he just increased his power and threw accuracy to the wind. Bobby’s balls were so big that no matter where his knee landed it was certain to mash some meat.
As Jacque drove home blow after devastating blow, he occasionally would score the lucky “perfect shot.” He would catch one of Bobby’s rotund balls squarely on his knee. Nut and knee would both accelerate upward until the ball met Bobby’s pelvis. Usually, at this point, the nut would just slip away to one side or another. However, if he caught it just right, sometimes it didn’t and it would be flattened under the force of Jacque’s powerful knee. It felt so good when that happened. Jacque could feel his knee driving through Bobby’s inflamed ballsack. Then it would find the bloated lump inside. He could feel as his knee drove deep into the rubbery object, grinding it against Bobby’s pelvis. As if to say “good job,” Bobby would then whistle an octave higher.
A hundred or two knees into things, Jacque noticed that Bobby had begun crying again, well not so much crying as sobbing. He had long ago lost his grip on Jacque. It was now Jacque who was grabbing him by the shoulders for balance.
Hitting him harder shut him up before, Jacque reasoned, kneeing him even more brutally.
He brought another several dozen extremely hard knees up into Bobby groin, further pulverizing his spandex encased sack, and producing further musical accompaniment from Bobby. Jacque looked at the clock only to discover he had been beating Bobby for nearly twenty minutes now. He realized he had to stop.
One more good one before I send this little, sniveling wimp on to Tim, Jacque thought to himself. Let’s give him one to remember, as hard as I can.
Jacque drew back and cracked Bobby’s left ball with all his might. It landed perfectly, practically flattening the mangled nut. Jacque could even hear the scream in Bobby’s throat, despite the ballgag. It felt amazing; he didn’t want to stop. One more for his right, have to make it even after all.
This blow wasn’t quite as perfect. He squashed some meat against his thigh to be sure, but it didn’t feel nearly so delightful as the last.
“We can’t have that be our last one, now can we Bobby,” Jacque whispered to the sobbing, pain-racked boy. Bobby nodded in agreement, but Jacque doubted he had any clue what he actually said.
Alright, one more, then I’m done.
Whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle, whistle.
Ok, seriously now, Jacque thought. One last knee, then I really have to be done.
His kneecap caught Bobby toward the bottom of his left ball, knocking the ball up towards Bobby’s stomach, and knocking the snot out of Bobby, literally. A small globule of snot landed on Jacque’s hand.
“How dare you get your snot on me you sick freak,” Jacque hissed. “Get over here!”
He pulled him by the hands, and as he was coming at him, drove his knee into his left ball, which was still trapped by spandex at a height even to his pelvis. He pushed him away by his wrists, then pulled him back, crashing his knee into the same spot. Over and over he did this. Because Bobby’s meaty, left orb was trapped against his lower stomach, it was an easy target. Each shot was glorious, for Jacque that was. For Bobby, it was devastating.
Adding to Bobby’s pain was the fact that he was literally running square into each blow. Bobby was so well trained that Jacque did even have to pull him by the end. Obediently, he would run at Jacque as quick as his deformed balls would allow, sobbing all the while. Jacque’s knee would meet his left testicle head on, and squish would go the nut. Bobby would stumble backwards, usually while whistling repeatedly out of his ball gag, and would then dutifully come at Jacque again for his next dose of pain.
Time to finish the freak off, though Jacque, after he had pulverized the boy for at least the 40th time.
As he began to clumsily waddle at him yet again, he charged. Bobby never saw it coming; he was too wracked with pain to notice much. At a full sprint, Jacque collided with Bobby. His knee, like a spear point, drove into the center of its intended target. Bobby’s eyes went comically wide, and he didn’t make a sound; he had reached a new level of pain.
Jacque wasn’t done with him yet, though. Before he could stumble back, Jacque grabbed him around the waist and pulled him tight. At the same time, he twisted around the knee imbedded in Bobby’s left testicle, grinding the tender organ. Jacque heard a gurgle come from he back of Bobby’s throat, and the saliva around his ball gag began to bubble. Jacque must have moved his kneecap too far up, because suddenly the mangled testicle slipped out from under him, and fell back down between Bobby’s legs.
The slipping testicle must have been extraordinarily painful, because Bobby let out an ear piercing whistle. In his agony, he twisted around and nearly fell. He stood for a second, doubled over, with his back toward Jacque. A second was all he got. The temptation of seeing the backsides of Bobby’s bloated testicles just dangling there was too much for Jacque. His knee came crashing into them with a sickening squish sound. Bobby let out another whistle, accompanied by a spray of saliva, and stumbled forward. Jacque pursued.
Around the stage they went, Jacque’s knee thrashing the poor boy’s balls. With each impact the boy would stumble forward and some pitiful sound would escape the gag. Jacque would follow, almost as if he was herding him. This continued on for several minutes, until Bobby could barely stand. Half way through, Bobby began to make pleading sounds in between the whistles of pain.
“Dardy, dardy,” Bobby begged.
It took Jacque a moment to realized he was calling for his daddy. However, it didn’t look like Earl was going to step in anytime soon. He just stood on the sidelines with his arms folded and a big smile on his face.
“You want daddy to beat your balls too?” Jacque whispered in Bobby’s ear teasingly, as he approached to inflict more violence on him. “My, my, you just can’t get enough.”
Jacque continued until it looked like Bobby couldn’t take anymore. Then, he gave him a moment’s respite. Thinking it was over, Bobby bent over in half, his face in his hands.
That was a mistake.
Jacque came at him like lightning, driving his knee into the boy’s crotch so hard he did a somersault and landed on his back.
Stunned, Bobby just lay there, legs and arms sprawled out wide, convulsing slightly. Jacque circled around and stood directly between Bobby’s legs. He looked down a moment at Bobby’s spandex encased ballsack, imagining what a wreck his testicles must have been by this point. Then, without warning, he leaned his right knee forward slightly, and fell forward. His kneecap jack-hammered, with Jacque’s full weight behind it, into Bobby’s left ball, squashing it like pancake against the stage floor.
Bobby bolted upright, so they were eye to eye. The salvia around Bobby’s gag gurgled, tears flowed. His eyes were wide with pain and terror. Jacque stood, looked him in the eye, and gave him the most ironic sad face he could muster, before dropping knee first onto his right testicle. Another direct hit. He could feel the meaty substance of his nut roll around between the floor and his knee. He also noticed the giant rod in his pants was twitching.
Good heavens, he thought, if his massive balls are real, that thing must be real too! And it’s twitching! His stepfather must not have lied. The freak must really be liking this. Guess I’ll just have to give him more of what he likes.
Jacque continued to mash Bobby’s balls in this fashion for quite some time. After a while, he got into a rhythm. Left, right, left, right, left, right…
“I don’t want to encourage vigilantism,” Earl told the rest of the class as Jacque continued. “If this were a mugger, rapist, or robber, you should call the police at this point.”
“Please, don’t make him stop!” He heard a couple boys exclaim.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” responded Earl. “This isn’t a criminal, this is Bobby.”
“Well I think he should stop before he injures him,” Tim said disgustedly. “I mean, if he breaks him, I won’t get my turn.”
“He won’t break him,” Earl said confidently. “And, even if he did, you could still have a turn.”
They quieted down again to watch the massacre. Bobby was practically foaming at the mouth. Snot bubbles were forming around his nose. He was surprisingly quiet though, making only the tiniest of squeaks each time his manhood was mangled.
Eventually, Jacque knew he had to stop, if for no other reason than that he was absolutely exhausted. He was so sweaty that his shirt clung to him. He stood above Bobby panting. He looked down and their eyes locked.
“Thank you,” Jacque whispered to him sincerely.
Then, without really planning it, he leapt into the air, and came down on both knees, one for each of Bobby’s throbbing balls. He stuck the landing; both balls were crushed beneath his kneecaps. From behind Bobby’s gag he could hear a series of throaty squeals. He wrapped his arms around his neck, and began to rock on his kneecaps, mashing Bobby’s meat. The drool began to froth around the gag. The boy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head when Jacque started bouncing slightly on his bags.
“You’re a sweetie,” he whispered into his ear. He gave him a kiss on his bruised cheek.
“And just think,” he continued after a moment, “only twenty-six more boys to go.”
He stood and Bobby flopped onto his back. Part of him wanted to come at him again, but he figured he really should leave something for Tim.
The other boys were absolutely silent for a moment, and then broke into wild applause.
As Jacque walked back into line, Earl approached him. All of a sudden, he became very afraid. He had just mutilated this man’s son. Perhaps he had gone too far with Bobby. He wanted to tell him he didn’t mean to, he had planned to just go easy on the boy, things went too far.
Before he could open his mouth, Earl spoke. “Excellent job, son. You are really quite talented.”
“Thank you,” Jacque stuttered, relieved.
“Please be sure to see me after class before you leave,” Earl went on. “I’d like to talk to you about putting your skills to use.”
Jacque didn’t know what to make of that. Before he could say anything, Earl was shouting across the stage.
“Bobby, get your lazy butt up! Tim over here is waiting.”
Jacque looked over and saw Tim was indeed waiting most eagerly, launching practice knees into the air.
No one was surprised when it happened. They had all been waiting for it, hoping for it; they knew it had to happen eventually.
For the past hour and half, Bobby had staggered his way down the line of boys, allowing each one a chance to pulverize his manhood thoroughly with their knee. For an hour and a half, since his encounter with Jacque, he hadn’t stopped crying. That’s not to say his crying didn’t vary from time to time. Depending on the violence being inflicted on him, his state varied anywhere between gentle sobbing and horrific wailing. Most of it was muffled of course by the large red ball strapped in his mouth. The exception had been when the tall, muscular volleyball-boy had taken his turn. He had told Earl that he had bad knees, and was wondering if he could wear a knee guard. Earl had not seen a problem with him wearing the hard, plastic protective-device, although Bobby certainly had; not even the ballgag had been able to quiet his screeching.
By all rights, his nuts should have been mush by now. However, as Bobby suffered the non-stop mashing of his testicles, the orbs only continued to swell in size. By the time he neared the end of the line, they were huge, looking to be about the size of two, elongated volleyballs. They had grown so large that his silly, spandex outfit could just barely contain them. Testicle meat had begun bugling out of its spandex casing on both sides.
There might have been something virile and masculine about nuts half that size, if they had hung on a proportional man, perhaps a 6’6 body builder. However, for Bobby, the little wimp of a boy being savagely beaten by a pack of boys, the bigger his genitals swelled, the more pathetic he looked.
He had just stumbled up to the last boy in line. His outfit was stretched to its limit, torn in several areas. Perhaps it was fitting that it happen then, since it was the little, Asian boy who had first torn Bobby’s uniform. He only had the chance to bring one tentative knee into the boy’s tender testicles. As his knee came away, there was a ripping sound, and, to all thirty boys’ great delight, two huge testicles came spilling out.
All the boys just stared in amazement at the train-wreck that was Bobby’s genitals. They had all known what they were doing to the poor boy, but seeing his pulverized meat dangling there just made it all the more entertaining. From dark-purple to sickening yellow, his nuts were covered with every shade of bruise imaginable within the spectrum of pain.
Bobby stared down at his own exposed genitals with a look of terror on his face. At first, Jacque thought that Bobby was simply horrified by the damage done to his manhood, but when he heard Earl’s hard footsteps moving in Bobby’s direction he knew the true reason for his fear.
Earl rapidly crossed the stage and grabbed Bobby by the hair.
“I warned you, didn’t I,” he yelled at him angrily.
With Earl’s right hand still clutching Bobby’s hair, he began walking briskly back to the other side of the stage, dragging Bobby with him. The whimpering boy did his best to keep up, his naked and mangled nuts flopping wildly between his legs.
“But, yet again, you had to be a little pervert and expose yourself to these poor boys,” he said, throwing him into the stage block.
The stage block caught Bobby square in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. For the moment, the whimpering and crying stopped. Earl roughly shoved him further up onto the block, so that he was lying on his stomach. Then viciously grabbed both his legs and splayed them out, so that one stuck out from either side of the block.
Now Bobby’s two rotund balls dangled flat against the back of the block. The back of Bobby’s massive testes were mostly virgin territory. With the exception of a couple smaller bruises, probably caused when Jacque kneed him from behind, this portion of the boy’s balls had escaped largely unscathed.
“You’re going to regret being such a gross, little pervert,” Earl continued to rant, as he crossed the stage to grabbed something. As he turned, Jacque could see Earl was holding the wooden rod he had used earlier in the class. Earl stormed over to where Bobby lay and raised the rod into the air.
This is going to be good, Jacque thought excitedly.The rod came sailing down into Bobby’s naked balls. SNICK! Up and down again like lightning. SNICK! Yet another into the exact same spot on Bobby’s upper testicles. SNICK!
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! The testicle meat around the rod started to jiggle slightly.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK!Earl began to methodically work his way down his son’s ballsack.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK!Muffled shrieks and whimpers, along with gurgling and all sorts of frantic noises began coming from the boy.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! Ignoring the sounds, Earl continued raining down blow after blow, causing the boy’s tender balls to quiver like gelatin.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! Jacque was a little disappointed. For all the boy’s shrieking, the wooden rod seemed to be having little physical effect on the huge, dangling gonads.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK!Earl was working the middle of his son’s testicles. when Jacque first noticed the red streaks forming towards the top of Bobby’s balls.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! Hundreds of bright red welts were now forming on the area of the boy’s ballsack that had been worked over by the rod.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! Earl was nearing the bottom of his son’s balls.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! As always, Bobby presented quite the comical sight. With each blow from the rod, his splayed out legs had begun to shake violently.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! Upon reaching the bottom of his son’s gonads, and thoroughly caning them as well, Earl began to work his way back up.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! Where the new blows intersected with the old, darker, meaner looking red welts raised up.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! By the time Earl reached the top of his son’s genitals again, the ballgag could no longer muffle the boy’s shrieking.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! He wasn’t done with him yet, though. He began to methodically work his way back down.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! Jacque had always wonder what strangling a cat would actually sound like. He was pretty sure he now knew the answer.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! Where the strokes overlapped yet again, nasty crimson and purple welts formed.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! Down and up.
SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! SNICK! Up and dow.
After beating his stepson’s testicles incessantly for over a half an hour, Earl finally let the cane come to a rest at 11:21pm. The result of his work was a checkerboard of stripes and welts crisscrossing one another. The brutality encompassed the whole backside of Bobby’s massive balls. Earl had been very thorough in his work, very few areas of nut flesh had been left unmarked. In some areas where the cane had landed one too many times, ever so slight trickles of blood formed.
“I hope you learned your lesson,” Earl told the boy.
Jacque wasn’t exactly sure what lesson Bobby was supposed to take out of this. Wear stronger fabric if you are going to let a pack of boys beat your genitals or, perhaps, don’t let little Asian boys claw your testicles, Jacque thought to himself, causing him to chuckle quietly. In any case, it probably didn’t matter. Jacque was almost sure Bobby hadn’t heard his stepfather. He was too busy still sobbing violently into his ballgag, his whole body glistening with sweat.
The boy clearly wasn’t doing well. On the other hand, Jacque was doing great. He had long ago realized that he enjoyed watching the boy suffer, but he hadn’t thought about the nature of his enjoyment. Now that things had slowed down for a moment, Jacque was forced to come to terms with his hard, drooling cock.
“I’m getting aroused by this boy’s pain,” Jacque admitted to himself, much to his own surprise.
“Well class, I’m sorry,” Earl began. “Due to Bobby’s awful behavior tonight, we are going to have to end the class early. I’m sorry you had to see this.” He drove the cane one last time into the nut-mush, eliciting a garbled wail from Bobby.
Earl was answered by thirty voices crying their dismay.
“We don’t mind seeing his balls!”
“Please let us kick him some more!”
Listening to them beg Earl to let them beat his stepson some more, Jacque couldn’t help but wonder if the enjoyment they were having wasn’t the same as his own; maybe there wasn’t a soft cock in the auditorium.
“I’m sorry boys,” Earl answered them. “Really I am, but I could get in trouble with the school board. Bobby already flashed you all twice tonight. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get expelled.”
“You won’t get in trouble,” Tim’s voice rose above the rest. “I promise. My dad is the head of the school board. I’ll talk to him.”
“Your Mr. Swanson’s son?” Earl asked surprised.
“Ok, we will continue on. Just promise me if any issues arise, you will explain the situation to your father.”
Tim nodded again.
“Ok boys,” Earl shouted to them all. “We don’t have a lot of time, and none of you have passed the class yet.”
“You are all going to take the final test as a group,” he continued and he strode over to the side of the stage a picked up a water bottle. “You pass or fail as a group.” He walked up to Bobby and removed his ball gag. “Each of you gets one kick. By the time all thirty of you have gone, this water bottle should be empty.” He then poured a large portion of the water into Bobby’s mouth, where he held it in his cheeks.
Oh I see, thought Jacque after a moment. We have to kick him so hard that he spews out the water. His cock pumped more cock sap into his ass.
Bobby knew what was happening right away, without any instructions. I wonder how many times he’s played this game.
“Now before we begin,” Earl addressed them again. “I just want to make sure you are all wearing rubber tennis shoes, or some other firm sole shoe. That stage block is very hard, and if one of you should be off target you could stub, or even break, a toe. And, I don’t want to see anyone get injured.” He paused a moment before adding, “Also, try to aim for the center of the testicle. That should cushion your foot against the impact.”
The boys all nodded.
As always, Harry was first to go. He took a long time lining up his target. Finally, he took one large step with his left leg, and brought the flat of his shoe into the very bottom of Bobby’s engorged, right orb.
It wasn’t a very good kick, but Bobby sent out a fountain of water all the same. Harry was going to go to the back of the line, but Earl waved him over.
“Given Bobby’s awful manners this evening, I think it would be a good idea if he took this opportunity to thank each of you for coming.” Earl stated.
“Thank you,” Bobby sobbed, water still dribbling from his mouth. Earl poured more water in.
The skinny blond was next and he drove the point of his shoe high into Bobby’s left nut with a solid kick, but there was not much weight behind it. Bobby snorted in pain, but the water stayed in.
“Thank you,” Bobby garbled, with water in his mouth and then let out a pathetic whimper.
The heavy set boy was next and his foot connected dead-center into Bobby’s right ball. Flat in the middle, with meat bulging out on every side, it momentarily looked like a testicle donut. A geyser of water came from Bobby’s mouth. Hysterical sobbing preceded his high-pitched thank you.
Jacque lined up the same nut. The water had barely been poured into Bobby’s mouth when he struck. Instead of going with a more conventional kick, he went with a sidekick and landed it perfectly. His foot, just slightly longer than the middle of Bobby’s right nut, brutally squished the hemisphere of the orb. He heard the water splattering on the floor.
He had an odd thought for a moment. What if it were semen instead of water? What if I kicked him so hard that it blew his load out his mouth? He knew it was impossible, but that did not stop his cock from throbbing.
He walked up to the front of the block. Bobby was sobbing wildly again, causing his whole body to shake. When Bobby heard Jacque approaching, he sniffled a little and looked at Jacque with glassy eyes and whimpered his thanks.
It is weird, Jacque thought looking down at him. There is no anger in his voice. It is not even a perfunctory thanks, done because he has to. He is legitimately thanking me.
Jacque realized then that he liked the boy. He was handsome, even if a bit pale. He was definitely scrawny, but what little muscle he did have was well defined. It wasn’t a crush. You can’t have a crush on a beaten dog, can you? Whatever it was, he legitimately liked him.
“You’re welcome,” Jacque replied with a giggle and tussled Bobby’s dark blonde hair.
Bobby’s mouth was refilled with water, and within five seconds Tim had blown it back out of him by gouging the tip of his shoe into the tender looking bottom of his left nut.
“Thank you” he croaked, before his mouth was filled again.
“What a gentleman,” Earl said with a smile. “Only five of you have gone and the bottle is almost half empty. He must be trying to let you win. I think we are going to have to find an incentive for Bobby to try harder.”
He walked over once again to the side of the stage, and retrieved one large boot
“Bobby,” he began, holding the boot in front of him. “You remember this from the other night?”
The boy nodded, trembling all over as though he had been kicked.
“If you lose,” he continued, “I’m going to let them have a bonus round with it.”
His eyes grew wide, and he began to cry so violently that he lost the water already in his mouth. He looked down in terror at the growing puddle beneath him and began to cry some more.
“Not a good start,” Earl chuckled.
“What is it?” At least a dozen boys asked at once.
“A steel-toed boot.”
The answer sent the boys wild. Jacque was not sure if the boot had made Bobby any more determined, but it certainly had a dramatic effect on the rest of them.
The volleyball boy was next. He targeted Bobby’s left ball and drove his foot home with deadly precision. Bobby whimpered his thanks as the last of the water leaked from his mouth.
The short redhead, who had been worried before about hurting Bobby, was next. He didn’t seem too worried about that now. He drove his shoe upward into the underside of Bobby’s swollen, right nut. It flew up violently and then flopped back down, the bulbous sack continuing swaying slightly.
The boy scowled when no water spewed from the boy’s mouth. He came closer to the boy, then unexpectedly, drove his knee square into the same nut, grinding the mashed meat as hard as he could into the stage block. The boy writhed violently in response to the unexpected assault, but somehow still managed to keep the water in.
Despite the fact his balls were looking more tender and grossly swollen by the minute, Bobby began to hold his own.
A solid punt by a lanky brunette.
A heel driven deep into his left ball by a cute blonde.
A solid roundhouse to his left nut delivered by an athletic looking blonde.
A nice, solid jump kick by a tall redhead that sent Bobby’s left nut so high that it smacked him in the butt before flopping back down.
A hard but misplaced kick by a short brunette that ricocheted off Bobby’s inflamed, right orb causing it to wobble a little.
Then there came a tall and heavy-set brunette. From what Jacque had seen, he had not been especially vicious that night. (That is to say, no more vicious than any of the other boys there that night, who were now all single-minded in their desire to mangle the little boy’s genitals.)
Before kicking, he grabbed Bobby’s monstrous right nut with both hands and set it on top of the stage block so that it was hanging off the edge. Then, moving his right leg in large clockwise arch, he brought down a brutal axe kick into the exposed organ. His aim was perfect, cracking Bobby’s egg on the edge of the block. The boy shrieked and water came spilling out. He had to wait for Bobby’s coughing fit to subside to receive his thanks.
It was five more solid punts before the next load of water dribbled out of the boy’s mouth. Earl waited for Bobby’s sobbing to subside before filling his mouth up once again.
“Only one more gulp left in the bottle,” Earl declared. Excited by the news, the boys began to chant, “crack his nuts,” drowning out Bobby’s weeping.
The next boy, a plain looking brunette, did just that. He sent a surprisingly agile flying-kick into Bobby’s right orb and still managed to land gracefully on his feet. Bobby showed remarkably little grace at having his nut thoroughly squished and sent the better part of his water shooting out his nose.
“Thank you,” Bobby wailed as he gasped for air.
“This is it boys,” Earl said excitedly, “one more for the win.”
The boys responded by chanting louder. “Crack his nuts!”
A punt by a redhead. Bobby garbled his thanks, water still in his mouth.
A powerful kick by a blonde. No geyser.
A misplaced kick by a short but muscular black boy. Nothing.
Seven more kicks and seven more whimpers of thanks, but no water.
The little Asian boy was last to go. The chanting had stopped. The boys had all but admitted defeat. Earl was standing at the back of the stage block now. He had moved there after giving Bobby the last of the water. When the little Asian boy came up to take his turn, Earl motioned for him to come over. Earl bent down and whispered something in the boy’s ear. The short boy nodded with a smile and then stepped aside, while Earl eyed the horribly mangled genitals.
The Asian stood there a moment and then charged. It was like testicular dynamite. The result was testicle splattered against wood. Bobby blew the water out so hard at first that it came out as mist. The rest drooled out of his agape mouth.
“Great kick!” Earl told the little Asian boy with a wink.
Bobby didn’t make a sound for a while, not a squeak or a moan. Then the sobbing returned more violent than ever. Jacque was not sure if it was from the kick or from the fact that Harry was already trying on the steal-toed boot. Clearly, Bobby had a lot to be sad about.
“Sorry if they don’t fit you perfectly,” Earl told him. “There the only pair I have.”
“And you,” he said, turning to Bobby with a grin. “Stop your whining. You lost fair and square, and nobody likes a sore loser.”
“Thank you so much for coming!” Earl said, smiling at the tall boy.
Jacque wasn’t sure if the pun was intended, but he began chuckling to himself all the same.
“Uh…well…thank you for putting on this event and for donating your son’s test….err time. I really did learn a lot,” the boy responded, his face slightly red with embarrassment.
The boy wasn’t this shy before when he was driving his knee-guard over and over again into Bobby’s nut sack, Earl thought to himself. The new ones always seem to get like this afterwards though.
“Oh don’t worry about it. I was happy to donate Bobby’s testicles,” Earl responded, watching the boy’s face turn an even deeper shade of red as he stuttered his thanks again and left.
As if in answer to Earl’s comment, there came an agonized groan from the corner of the stage. Just how are those poor testicles? Earl wondered to himself.
Earl had barely been able believe it when, after they had packed the steal-toed boot away, Bobby had still lay conscious, though hysterical, on the stage block. He never would have guessed he would still have the energy to shriek after the third booted kick, much less the thirtieth. Even with four-years of experience torturing the hapless boy, his stepson’s ability to suffer unthinkable pain still managed to astonish him sometimes.
When the booting was done, a conscious Bobby had come as quite a pleasant surprise; the boys could have more fun with him. Instead of carrying a comatose boy to the car as Earl had initially planned, he had let the boys drag a conscious, though thoroughly pain-wracked, boy over to the corner of the stage where Earl had left the little box of toys he had brought from home. Inside the box were hammers, thumbtacks, several staplers, some leather belts and a variety of footwear.
Earl had explained how class was over, but if the boys wanted they could stay longer and play some more with Bobby. He however cautioned them to go easy on Bobby. With thirty bewildered faces looking at him, he added that he had forgotten the smelling salts at home.
They must have gone somewhat easy on Bobby (easy being relative) as that had been an hour and a half ago and the boy was still conscious. Even now, at 1:30 in the morning, eight boys remained on stage, doing their best to mangle the boy’s sexual organs.
Earl strolled over to the side of the stage to see how things were going. Bobby lay butt-naked, spread-eagle on the stage. The only part of him that was covered was his head, wrapped in the tattered remnants of his uniform from the bridge of his nose upward. Earl remembered how the boys had asked to strip him almost immediately after the end of class, then how they had all screamed and giggled upon finally seeing Bobby’s bulbous, fifteen inch prick.
Boys will be boys, Earl thought with chuckle.
One boy currently sat on Bobby’s chest, his knees on his arms to keep him from squirming. Two other boys held Bobby’s legs open. While these three were busy keeping Bobby in the place, the others we tormenting the boy in a variety of different ways.
Tim was wielding a leather belt, which he was working up the underside of Bobby’s cock. He must have been at it a while, because the bottom of the boy’s cock could hardly have looked more red.
Another boy, also brandishing a belt, was smashing the buckle down hard down into Bobby’s massive cockhead. The gigantic, mushroom-shaped piece of meat was already covered in bruises. The two seemed to have fallen into a rhythm, alternating blows that caused the meaty rod to continue wobbling about violently.
While those two saw to Bobby’s penis, two others were paying attention to the boy’s fleshy orbs. One boy had found a high-heeled stiletto in the box, and was pumping his foot up and down into Bobby’s right testicle, switching between trying to stab the huge, fleshy sphere with the heel of the shoe and trying to grind it into the stage with the toe.
Harry was kneeling by Bobby’s other nut, with a large container of thumbtacks in hand. Methodically, one after another, he worked the bits of sharp, pointy metal into the nut, as deep as they would go.
Jacque was the only one not actively torturing the victim. Instead, he simply kneeled by Bobby’s head, looking down at Bobby, a faraway look in his eye.
I would almost think he felt sorry for him, if I didn’t know better. No, there is no sympathy there, that boy is enthralled with his pain. Right now he is trying to imagine what he is feeling, no doubt daydreaming of other cruelties to inflict. Earl smiled to himself. I should know after all. I’m told I get the same look watching Bobby and the neighbor boys play. He looked closely at the boy and his smile broadened. He is definitely the one I’m looking for.
Earl stopped twenty feet away from the scene. He didn’t want to come any closer and make the boys feel self-conscious. They just looked like they were having so much fun.
Bobby, the star of the show, lay there in a constantly writhing state. The uncovered portion of his face was one big mess of snot and drool. He had cried so much that there was even visible wetness on his makeshift blindfold. He was no longer shrieking though, as he was too breathless to do so. The pain he was suffering, coming from every direction, was so constant that he wasn’t able to take in more than a gasp of air at a time, rendering him almost mute. The only sound he made was his constant labored panting for air, coupled with the occasional, high-pitched squeak.
Poor boy, poor little boy, Earl could not help thinking. Still, it is for the best. It has to be this way. Let’s not pretend I don’t enjoy it either. That I don’t love it, need it. Those late nights, after I just spent the day beating him to a pulp, how long do I lie there in bed? Just lying there, dreaming up all kinds of new and terrible things to do to him and doesn’t my free hand always, eventually, gravitate down to my drooling, hard…
“Oh! Sorry Tim, I was just thinking about something,” Earl responded somewhat startled.
Earl hadn’t noticed Tim walk over. The rest of the boys appeared to still be hard at work. Harry and the boy with the belt had switched positions. Harry was now hard at work shoving a ring of thumbtacks into the bruised meat surrounding Bobby’s plugged cock-hole, while the boy with the belt was swinging the buckle down ferociously into Bobby bloated, left testicle, which made a sickening thud sound upon impact. Jacque had once again joined the festivities, and was busy slapping Bobby hard across the face; his cheeks were already turning bright red.
“I have to be going Mr. Black, but I just wanted to thank you again for this evening. I had so much fun!” Tim said with a big smile on his face.
“Call me Earl,” the older man responded, “and it was no trouble at all. It was my pleasure.”
“Well, it really was awesome and I learned so much. I just can’t wait until the next time some faggot gives me crap,” Tim said with a chuckle.
“Now, now, Tim. What did I tell you all at the end of class?” Earl began. “You don’t want to go scaring all the cocksuckers away, do you? What you learned tonight is only for self-defense…and for Bobby.”
He looked briefly over to the scrawny, naked boy being brutally tortured on the stage. He is made for it, he thought to himself.
“Anytime you feel like spending a little time with Bobby,” Earl continued, “just let me know. I’d be happy to have you over to the house. And believe me, we have a lot more fun toys there.”
“Thank you so much,” Tim cried, and lunged forward giving Earl a big hug.
“No problem, no problem,” Earl said with a chuckle. “But…uh…remember if your father should ask you anything about…”
“Don’t worry, Earl. I promise you my father won’t be upset,” Tim interrupted. “Anyways, goodnight!”
“Goodnight Tim.” I hope your right about your father. The last thing I want to do is upset the head of the school board.
Earl looked at the clock on the far side of the auditorium. It was almost 2:00 AM; it was time to go.
Earl walked over to his naked and twitching stepson and the seven boys still beating him.
“I hate to say it boys,” Earl began, “but it’s getting late.”
The boys sighed with disappointment and climbed off Bobby. Earl said his goodbyes to each boy while Bobby lay on the stage moaning and gasping for air.
Jacque was the last boy to say goodbye. When Earl approached him he could tell Jacque was nervous.
“You did a very good job tonight,” Earl began.
“…thanks…thank you.” Jacque said, looking down at his feet.
“Do you currently have a boyfriend?” Earl asked.
“Um…no.” Jacque responded, somewhat confused by the question.
“How would you like Bobby as your boyfriend?” Earl said. “You’ve certainly shown you have the skills tonight, and you could help Bobby on his therapy at the same time.”
“I…I don’t understand,” Jacque stammered, even more confused.
“Well, I need someone to help with Bobby’s therapy as his boyfriend.” Earl explained.
“So you mean…I’d be…?” he looked over at Bobby, now laying in a fetal position, his enormously swollen testicles laying on the stage behind his butt. He turned back to Earl, looking him in the eyes for the first time. Earl could see fervent excitement in the young boy’s face.
“Yes,” Earl replied softly. “But you don’t have to give me an answer tonight. I’m having a holiday party on the evening of the twenty-third, you should come. We can discuss the offer in greater detail then.”
Earl stepped forward and Jacque met him. They embraced in a short hug.
“Thank you…for everything,” Jacque said softly, and then left for the door.
He’s the one, Earl thought, as he watched Jacque go. He is so much like me. He has the same…enthusiasm.
“Well camera crew,” Earl said, turning away from his thoughts, “should we pack it up?”
“Sure thing,” answered Caleb. He looked over at Bobby, who was crying softly, still curled up on the stage. “What a night it was! And we got it all on tape.”
All on tape, thought Earl. For some reason that made him extremely excited. Nine hours of carnage, I can watch over and over again. Why didn’t I do this sooner? Nine hours of pain I can show to everyone Bobby knows. Nine hours I can post on the internet and have strangers watch. Above all, nine hours I can make Bobby watch. For some reason that made him the most excited. Could I find a reason that he has to sit on my lap while we watch it together? Maybe also an excuse for me to massage his throbbing, though ultimately plugged-up, flesh pole all nine hours long?
“Wow, they look like they’re going to burst,” said Alex. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen them bigger!” While Earl was lost in thought, Alex had moved over to Bobby and was now tapping his bulbous testicles with the toe of his shoe. Bobby just groaned.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen them bigger either,” thought Earl. Even that evening three long weeks ago, when I beat him all night long, his testicles hadn’t looked quite this bad. I remember thinking they might have been basketball size then, somewhere between that and a volleyball, but now they certainly the size of at least two children’s basketballs.
He took a couple steps closer to get a better look. Just look at them; they’re huge! They’re the most sensitive parts of my stepson’s body, the parts of him that makes him a man, and every inch of them is covered in bruises and welts, scrapes and scratches, not to forget the occasional thumbtack. Even now, after it’s all over, the pain must be incredible! I can’t even begin to imagine what that poor boy is going through right now. It seemed to Earl that there was something wonderful about that. Something so very tantalizing about the thought that he never would, or even could, experience a fraction of the pain and suffering that had been inflicted on his stepson that night alone.
“Hold on a second,” Earl said excitedly over to Caleb who was still by the camera. “Could you get it running again?”
“Sure, no problem,” Caleb replied, somewhat confused.
Earl had had the idea earlier in the evening, but had dismissed it as something for his notebooks, some dark fantasy to be written down and stored away, but something in that moment told him he had to do it.
He walked over Bobby and grabbed his naked stepson by the ankles. Bobby gave one long, pitiable wail. While there was no intelligible syllable in that wail, the meaning was incredibly clear, “Oh god, please no more!”
He was silent as he dragged him the rest of the way to the foot of the stage block. He gently knelt down beside him and unwrapped the tattered uniform from his face. He looked up through red, tearful eyes.
“Daddy?” he asked.
Earl waited a moment for a question or plea, but it never came.
“Can you do something for daddy?” Earl asked.
“Of course…anything for you Daddy,” Bobby replied, whimpering with the knowledge there was more suffering in store for him.
“Good boy,” he said softly. That was he needed to know. He raised his hand and slapped him hard across his already red cheek. Then again, backhanded, across the other side of his face.
He got up and left his stepson spread-eagle, without a scrap of clothing on him, and with his fingerprints still on his face. He walked over to where the box of toys lay and ruffled through the box until he found the footwear he was looking for.
His legs began to tremble as he sat down on the stage to put the shoes on. The area between his legs, which had already been sopping wet hours ago, was becoming warm, so very warm.
He stood and walked shakily back to the stage block with his metal, baseball cleats. His extra thick underwear, which he specifically wore for that night, must have reached their max absorbency, because he could feel a strand of thick warm fluid slowly trickle down his left leg.
“It’s for the best,” he thought, as he walked back up to Bobby with increasingly wobbly legs. He needs more. The fact he’s still conscious means he needs more. And, the doctor said he could have one more release. Plus the boys will love it. I’ve never let anyone see this before, but they deserve it after all their hard work tonight.
For all his reasoning and justifications, he stood over Bobby hesitating, looking down at his mangled genitals with pity. To continue would give him so much pleasure, and Bobby so much pain. Maybe he had had enough, maybe it was time to call it a night.
As he stood there, grappling with indecision, his thoroughly pulverized son looked up at him and, fully realizing what he was about to do, asked, “Are my legs spread wide enough, Daddy?”
“Oh, how I love him,” he thought as he slammed his first into his gut, causing him to wail as his whole body convulsed.
“No!” He hissed, roughly kicking his thighs further apart. What a wonderful son I have, a wonderful freak of a son. He then reached down and yanked the plug out of Bobby’s beaten and bloody cock-head with one swift motion, large strands of penis drool coming with. The mangle member bobbed about, slapping globs of precum onto Bobby’s chest and stomach. It eventually stopped its tortured dance, and returned to its pulsating, thirty degree angle, still dribbling on the boy’s body like a leaky faucet.
Earl climbed unsteadily onto the stage block. His legs were like rubber, and the flesh between them was hard, so wonderfully hardt. He looked down at his battered and beaten stepson, who lay beneath him shaking with fear. Tears rolled from his eyes and his lips trembled. There was no pity in Earl, though. Whatever little had remained after the past four years had vanished that night.
This is stepson’s place. This is what he was made for - to entertain me and all the other men in his life with his pain. To suffer while we laugh at him. To thank us while we beat him. To beg us, knowing that he won’t receive mercy.
“Ready or not, here daddy comes,” Earl said with a big grin on his face, and leapt off the stage block. It took only a fraction of a second for Earl’s muscular, 170 pounds frame to come down, spiked cleats first, onto Bobby’s horribly bloated sexual organs. The metal spikes did their job, driving deep enough into Bobby’s testicles to prevent the tender, swollen orbs from escaping elsewhere into Bobby’s inflamed scrotum. So, squish went Bobby’s balls.
There could be no doubt that Bobby had recovered his breath from his previous ordeal. The boy’s upper-body shot up, and he let out a long, blood-curdling howl. The sheer agony in his wail, coupled with the amazing feeling of Bobby’s manhood flattened beneath him, was too much for Earl.
“Here daddy cums,” he thought, as he bit his bottom lip.
The boys were right there videotaping everything, but there was nothing Earl could do; he only hoped they wouldn’t notice. Thankfully, Bobby’s continued shrieking drowned out his own moans, as he stood on top of his stepson’s crushed nuts having a mind-blowing orgasm.
After a minute or more of sheer pleasure, Earl regained enough composure to return his attention to Bobby, still wailing beneath his feet. His son’s meaty prick was rock hard and wriggling like a fish out of water against the boy’s chest, smearing goo everywhere. That’s when Earl began twisting his ankles, grinding the boy’s spiked meat into the floor.
The screams for mercy stopped and the boy’s mouth went slack. Earl went right on twisting. Bobby’s ridiculous cock stopped flopping about and got harder yet (if that was even possible). Earl continued to grind. Bobby’s eyes rolled back in his head and he began to fall back to the stage. Realizing the opportunity, Earl caught him by hair with his left hand and held him sitting upright, all the while his ankles still turned this way and that.
Now Earl hadn’t actually measured Bobby’s fluids since before his thirteenth birthday, when he decided measuring it had become far too messy. It was much easier to just have Bobby blow his mess on the floor of the barn. As far as Earl could recall at the present moment, the last time he had measured, the end result had been just shy of about one and a half liters of semen. With this statistic in mind, he used his right hand to aim the tip of his stepson’s flesh cannon in between the boy’s own, parted lips.
The beaten and bruised organ twitched once more and then exploded. A massive geyser of white fluid erupted out of it. A raging stream of Bobby’s own cream gushed down his throat until his mouth could hold no more, and it began to pour from his lips. Bobby began to gurgle and choked on his own seed. When a second jet of hot fluid shot down Bobby’s throat, two white streams of liquid began to pour out of his nose.
Earl aimed the fleshy hose higher, and let the next several torrents of white gush into Bobby’s eyes and hair. He then let his stepson’s slime-caked head fall to the stage floor with a splat. Bobby’s meaty prick wasn’t done though, and it proceed to drop another several cups of jizz onto the boy’s quivering body. All the while, Earl kept grinding, only stopping once he had mashed out the last ounce of spunk.
He stepped off his son’s balls and looked down at the carnage. He smiled, each of his son testicles, the symbol of his manhood, had his shoe print in it; there was something very fitting about that. From several places where the metal spikes had broken the skin, trickles of blood flowed down the mangled orbs.
Earl shifted his gaze to Bobby’s dick meat. The boy’s prick was just as enormous and as always was still drooling. Hopefully the monstrous thing was somewhat satisfied, because this is the last relief it’s going to get any time soon. Earl smiled. Actually, I really don’t care. He drew his foot back and gave Bobby’s dick a hard kick in the head, causing it to wobble about wildly. To his amazement, Bobby let out a groan. Earl’s smile broadened for his poor, sweet boy. His poor, sweet plaything. He walked behind the stage curtain and found what he was looking for. He walked back out and handed it to Alex.
“Be a dear, and make sure Bobby cleans up,” he told Alex, who still had a stunned look on his face. “I’m going to go pack up the truck.”
“Oh…ok,” Alex responded, his eyes still starring in disbelief at the brutally beaten boy laying in a lake of his own juices.
“I…I’ll go get him a mop,” ventured Matt, who seemed equally stunned.
“Nonsense,” Earl responded. “Don’t trouble yourself with that. He has a tongue.” Even as he said it, he could feel the warmth returning.
Earl walked from the auditorium as quick as he could, his legs feeling more and more like jelly with every step. He had just rounded the corner of the hallway when he heard the first shriek echo from the stage; Alex had applied the cattle prod. By time he heard the second scream, his pants were unbuttoned. He had hand wrapped around his cock in time for his stepson’s third wail of agony.
He stood there for several minutes of pure bliss, leaning against the wall, his hand stroking, hips thrusting. All the while, he tried to picture what was happening on stage. His tortured stepson crawling around the stage weeping, dragging his mangled balls behind him, trying to lick up his own filth, never knowing when the next searing jolt of electricity would fry his genitals. Wonderful, absolutely wonderful.
It was few minutes before Earl had composed himself enough to walk again. He moved briskly down the hallway towards the exit, screams still echoing behind him. When he finally stepped outside, the cold air felt good on his sweaty face. He made his way to the truck and unlocked the passenger door. After rummaging around the glove box for a moment, he found what he was looking for.
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