I want to pop your balls

-Corbin: I wrote this story on a whim after coming a across the profile mentioned in the story. I have no connection to the profile and didn’t collaborate with him on this story. It is a fictionalization and not intended to represent the profile or its owner. If you are curious to see the profile it’s here: http://www.kramtoad.com/site/users/IWantToPopYourBalls.
I enjoy receiving comments and constructive criticism. My email: corbin_crow(at)yahoo(dot)com**

Why would anyone want to meet a person with the profile name "IWantToPopYourBalls"? That question crossed my mind while I perused the survey answers on Kramtoad, a usual activity of mine when I felt a little horny before bedtime. But that profile stuck out to me in an unusual way, both for the singularity of his purpose and the violent nature of his fantasy. I moved on to other profiles and to more vigorous activities soon there after, not giving it another thought, but the seed was planted. Two tissues and a stirring orgasm later, I was soon drifting gently off to sleep.

I suppose I should take this time to introduce myself. My name is Ben, and I'm a 23 year old recent college graduate. I was never clear of my sexuality and I'm still not positive. I've had girlfriends before, never for terribly long plus a few passionate swings with dudes in colleges, nothing official though. But one constant has been my love for ballbusting, a closeted desire I've kept for most of my life. I have a steady job doing something I don't care about but it pays well enough that I can have my own place in the city and a night life on the weekends. I work out some when I get the chance, but I wasn't any kind of a body builder. But I keep myself in decent shape and I've always been big into proper hygiene and style.

As the alarm shook me out of my sleep, my first thought was of that profile I read last night. "Odd," I said, as I was bemused to see my dick bulging obscenely through the sheets–usually a night time jack off is enough to keep the morning wood at bay. I slid off the sheets and looked down my body to see the bulge in my shorts, slightly bouncing with the beat of my heart. I always liked the look of boxer-briefs defining my legs and showing off my cock and low-hanging balls so well, I mean why else did they make boxer-briefs except for aesthetics?

A shower and commute later and my loins were back to their normal relaxed status and I was on to my day. As I typed a boring report on my computer, I couldn't help but let my thoughts stray back to that profile again and I felt a stirring in my pants. What was I doing? With some effort, I managed to focus up and finish my work. On the car ride home, I ran over what I remembered from his profile meticulously and my cock slowly snaked its way down my left pant leg until it was straining against the fabric.

As soon as I arrived home, I raced inside and to the computer to looked up his profile again. "Why on earth would anyone want to be tied up by this guy? He says right here he would just break your balls, especially if you begged him not to," I vocalized to myself. But the scenario was just too much for me, as I almost tore open my pants and, while vigorously patting my low-slung balls, pounded my throbbing cock to orgasm in less than a minute.

This cycle continued for the next few days until Friday. I returned home, ran inside and read his profile again. But this time, I did something I can't explain: I clicked send private message. I simply introduced myself and explained I thought his profile was hot. Silly, he probably will never even reply. As I regained my composure, I whipped out my dick and began lovingly stroking it. A few minutes in I saw I'd received a message back.

"What!" I exclaimed, rushing to read it.

"Dear Ben, Glad you liked my profile. I see you only live a few hours from me, plans for this evening? Here's a great restaurant near my house and my picture so you can recognize me, in case you are interested in talking about this in person. -Brian. P.S. Oh, by the way, please don't jerk off before you come over [wink]."

I was flabbergasted, frozen in time as my dick swelled in my hand. I know they say you should never meet someone online quickly. But the hormones pumping out of my balls thought otherwise. I mean, we were going to be meeting in a public place and he looked normal enough, hot too. Even if he's crazy or a creeper, I can just leave and be down only a few hours of driving. So, against my better judgement, I sent a reply and I hopped into the car.

Arriving at the restaurant, I saw him off in the corner, much hotter in person that his picture did him justice. After general pleasantries we had quite a normal conversation. He was in his late 20s, worked a job similar to mine, and lived in a cool place in the city. Dinner was delicious and we had a lot in common, including our mutual love of ballbusting. Although we were clearly flirting and hitting it off, we never once mentioned the specifics of his profile. A little odd I suppose, but I didn’t care at the time. Thus, when he suggested heading back to his place for some dessert, I accepted wholeheartedly.

After noting the heat in the room, we barely made it inside the bedroom before we were making out with each other. He pushed me back down onto a couch of some kind and I began exploring his body. His shirt didn’t conceal the musculature of his body and I could feel his cock pressing hard up against my leg. I felt his hand slip inside of my pants and begin caressing my rock-hard dick. Around the same time, I heard a click, and froze momentarily, locking eyes with his–my left hand was cuffed to something.

As our mouths were inter-twinned, I was able to make no complaint other than a soft moan. I was overwhelmed with passion at this point, his head leaving mine and tracing down my body, his free hand pulling out my shirt and undoing my belt. Once my pants were open he thrust both hands into my boxer-briefs and hefted out my genitals. I saw his eyes flair when my low hanging balls came into view. His right hand immediately returned to stroking my cock as my hips began firing in rhythm with his movements.

“Why is my hand...” My question was swallowed as his tongue returned to my mouth, swirling about. The concern drifted back away as I was enveloped by pleasure. {Click} My eyes darted as I realized my right wrist was now secured firmly above my head as well. My hips now hastened their pace as I realized my orgasm was impending.

“Why...Why...Why would you... Oh God yes!” My question was lost in my throws of my own orgasm. I came violently, my twitching cock spurting load after load in lines all over my exposed chest. After the third spurt, he released my cock to swing on its own, and by the time I’d reached my seventh weaker spurt, I heard two more clicks in rapid succession. My ankles were now cuffed as well. In my afterglow, I looked at him and saw his devilish expression. As the hormones receded, I realized the error of my ways. I was now his to do with as he pleased.

He silently reached out and began massaging my low-hanging balls, his eyes intently focused on his hands. I could feel him checking every aspect of my scrotum thoroughly; hefting the weight of each ball, groping every corner, pinching the epididymis on the back side, tracing the cords into my body. Because my sac was a slack as I can remember it, he had no difficulty articulating each detail. To my chagrin, all the attention was returning my flaccid dick to its engorged state. The silence in the room and the intensity of this examination drove my blood-pressure sky high.

“I enjoy a little fantasy role-play as much as the next man,” I smiled at him with my a mild panic in my voice, trying to cut the tension. I was answered with a swift punch to my dangling nuts.

“You know what this is,” he replied curtly as I coughed out my air in pain. “This isn’t a fantasy, not any more. Not like I didn’t warn you too, my profile detailed the exact course of events. I mean you meet stranger on a whim? One who you know wants to destroy your balls against your will? I know your type, lonely fellow jerking off to fantasies online. But you can’t blame me, you contacted me. I figured you were all horned up so I just needed to keep you in that state over here, so I told you not to jerk off. Most people don’t listen, most people come to their senses right after blowing their hot load. Sounds like you did too, you just blew it after you’re all tied up right here.” He punctuated with another swift whack to my junk.

“Little late.” He continued, using a pair of sheers to remove my clothing. “I mean you’re the fool that I mentioned in my profile, stupid enough to, after all my warnings, still end up tied up by me. I knew the second I saw your profile and those big loose nuts swinging in your picture I’d love to nut you.” As each article of clothing was cut away, I felt his eyes drinking in my body while he continued. “You’re not the first to contact me, sure, you’re not even the first to come to dinner or my place. But you’re the first to end up in this predicament.

“I’m glad too, closest I came before you was a fat 45 year old twat who blew his wad in his shorts before I could cuff him, he saw the cuffs and bolted. But I’m much happier to ruin your young beautiful bull balls than his fat ass pea nuts. What luck I have! The first guy dumb enough happens to be the hottest, best hung guy of the bunch.” After finishing his monologue he whipped out his own impressive cock and began slowly stroking it.

“Please man, don’t...” I said, gasping in pain. “I’m only 23. I love my balls and what they give me. Please don’t...” I was cut off by a rough backhand to my sac.

“Yes that’s right, follow the script in my profile, beg me to stop. Ask me not to turn that bulging scrotum into a worthless sack of mush. This is perfect,” he cackled. “You already know what’s happening, but I appreciate you filling out my end of the fantasy. I mean I planned it from start to finish: explain the dangers completely in my profile, tell you not to cum beforehand, avoid details at dinner, turn the heat up to keep you sac loose and floppy, get you all horned up and near cumming before I start clicking on the handcuffs. But I couldn’t be sure with all that you’d actually change your mind and beg me to spare them. Remarkable.”

“What you’re doing is illegal! If you let me go now I won’t tell any...” This time his heel colliding brutally with my exposed sack cut me off, sending me rolling back and forth dry heaving in pain, tossing my loose reddened balls back and forth obscenely. With a tug, he yanked the cushions out from under me, leaving my ass up against a hard piece of smooth plywood.

“I think we’ve crossed that bridge already,” he pontificated. “I mean I’ve battered your nuts, locked up you and imprisoned you against your will. And besides, you think I am going to get this close after all this time only to wimp out and give up? You’ve got to be joking. Besides, you are clearly the perfect completion of my fantasy. You don’t know it, but I am also the completion of yours. Why else would you be here tied up? Why else would your cock be bouncing up and down with your heartbeat? You wanted this as much as I do. No more bargaining, just beg me to spare those nuts.” As he finished, he stepped up onto the wood, kicking my legs apart. Once my legs were spread, my nuts flopped onto the wood, resting there. He place his bare foot on both of my balls and slowly increased the pressure.

“Please, don’t turn my balls to mush.” I cried weakly, saying anything that came to my fuzzy mind. “Please I love my big low-hanging balls! I love cumming with them them bouncing up and down around my shaft. Please please don’t ruin my testicles!”

“YES! Keep going, beg me more! Tell me about your balls!” He yelled, increasing the speed of his own jacking and the force he was applying to my testicles.

“They are big and loose, and flop around most of the time. I love to fondle them when I jack off. One of my girlfriends would suck them when she gave me a handjob. I love my balls, please let me keep them. Please don’t pop them!” I begged threw gritted teeth, trying to assist in his fantasy.

Then, his cock exploded cum, launching rope after rope over my face and chest, mixing with the mostly dried cum I’d sprayed there moments earlier, pooling and mingling in my navel. He let up on my balls and breathed heavily. Oh thank god, I thought, he was just horned up like me, putting on airs to scare me to complete his fantasy. I relaxed against the wood and smiled.

“You might think because I came I’m not going to pop your balls, that this was just fantasy–but you couldn’t more wrong.” He said, as cold as ice, staring directly into my eyes.

Suddenly, his foot isolated my right ball and pressed down with tremendous force, his other foot raising off the ground and his body weight resting squarely on my nut. A slight bounce and I heard a small crunch, like the sound of someone’s noise being broken and a stabbing pain in my stomach. I blacked out.

As I came to, I tasted vomit in my mouth and saw him waving something in front of my face. “Don’t think I’d forget smelling salts.” He said, cheerfully.

“My ball! What did you do?!” I hissed at him dryly.

“Don’t worry, it’s only partially ruptured and can be repaired if we get you to a doctor right away. But we’re not going to a doctor.” He said as he stood up and placed the ball of his foot once more on the cracked testicle. With the motion of man putting out a cigarette, he brutally ground the testicle into paste. As the outer membranes were already fractured, it didn’t take much effort to force out the delicate coiled tubules into the sac, turning a damaged but still viable testicle into nothing but a bunch of mush. Not until there was no major pieces still resisting his foot and he could feel the contents sloshing around his toes did he let up.

“Now it’s not worth trying to repair,” he said coyly, his cock once more hard and in his hand.

I was in too much pain to say much, only gasp and pant, shaking my head back and forth. I wish I could black out again like last time.

“Please . . . don’t unman me.” I finally managed to squeak out.

“True,” he replied. “If I left you in this state you would still technically be a man, although only half one. But that wouldn’t be fair to either one of us, honestly. No, I’m going to finish what I’ve started. As I don’t imagine you’ll be doing much talking in the coming minutes, I thought I’d just say how happy I am you came here, how happy I am you let me tie you and let take your beautiful perfect nuts from you. Well, I’ve never been one to drag things out.”

With that, he reached down and grabbed my remaining left ball with both his hands, isolating the testicle between his fingers on one side and his thumbs pressing in the middle, much like a person holds a cookie to break it in half. His strong thumbs bore down directly in the center of my ball meat, relentlessly seeking the soft inside and the fingers pushed upwards and out, as if to meet the thumbs calmly in the middle.

As the pressure grew, a familiar feeling in my loins spread outward, emanating from my balls, as my hips thrust ever so slightly. A softer cartilage breaking sound came once more, followed immediately by a violent twitch of my untouched cock, spraying cum up on to my chin and chest, dripping and mixing with the other loads of cum still pooled on my navel.

Although amused by this, he showed no signs of letting up, a sweat breaking out on his face as veins protruded belying his effort. He focused himself once more and with a tremendous push, his fingers met thumbs and the ball was nearly split in two. From here, it was a simple procedure of using the two hands to coax the broken ball to release its contents into the sac, similar to the last time but with the close up dexterity of two hands. He was surprisingly gentle and deliberate, savoring each step of the destruction.

Unlike the first testicles demise, I was not greeted with unconsciousness this time. Also, he wasted no time between initial rupture and complete destruction, working through bits of shattered testicle until he could find no more substantial chunks. Once he was positive no reproductive capacity remained, he grabbed his cock with one hand and slowly massaged both former testicles in my sac with the other.

He relished the soup-like consistency of all the remained of my manhood and stroked his dick with renewed fervor. Although my head was clouded with pain and shock, I was still distantly aware of his fingers coursing through the mush floating in my scrotum. As a fourth load of hot cum streaked across my chest mingling with the others in my navel just above where my softening cock had fallen, I felt him clamp down on the loose flap of skin remaining of my manhood. If felt as though someone squeezed a bag filled with jell-o squares, slipping and sliding through his tensing fingers. That was the last thing I felt as I drifted into sweet unconsciousness.

Epilogue.

I awoke however many hours later, dazed, in a white hospital room. A nurse, excited to see I was awake, bustled off to fetch the doctor. Through the haze I was able to garner some of my experience. They found me abandoned outside the emergency room, I was seriously injured. Fortunately, due to their fast action, they were able to stop the hemorrhaging and save me from further issues. However, both of my testicles were far beyond repair and had to be removed to prevent necrosis and infection. I could’ve told the doctor that part.

Later, I discovered they also cut away most of my scrotum, leaving only a small bit under my dick. A policeman took down my statement and said they would get the bastard who did this to me. A nurse came in with some pamphlets and told me about life after testicles. It wasn’t all that bad she said. I’m sure she was used to giving this talk to old farts who didn’t need balls that much anyways, but she didn’t change it too much. Testosterone patches. No kids. Got it.

It didn’t take the police long to track down Brian, he used his home computer to send the emails. He had an excellent lawyer though, who managed to convince the District Attorney that this was a simple matter of a consensual sex game gone wrong. The ADA, not wanting to delve into a gay sex fantasy in open court over so simple a case, concurred and offered Brian a plea bargain for misdemeanor assault and battery, dropping the charges of sexual assault, felonious battery, and unlawful detention. In the end, Brian received a sentence of 11 months in jail plus 2 years probation.

Apparently he was from money too, because his parents sent my lawyer a letter offering a settlement of 275,000 dollars to be paid over a series of years in exchange for waiving my rights to sue and a non-disclosure agreement. My lawyer eagerly suggested we take it, and that trying the case in civil court would get less money and cost more over more time, not to mention delving into my very personal losses. So I signed the papers.

Sure, Brian spent a little time in jail–I believe he is getting out next month on good behavior. Sure, I received a pretty decent pay check out of the whole deal. But still, here I am, a sterile freak with a tiny flap of skin where my beautiful balls used to be left to wonder and regret. Why did I send him a message? Why did I go back to his apartment? Why, after he first handcuffed one hand, was I so willing to let him make me cum and tie me up for good? Why did I cum when he broke my last ball? And the most important question of all, why would anyone want to meet a person with the profile name “IWantToPopYourBalls”?