The Break-In

by corbin crow


"Alright Bill, I'll see you next week." I said to my neighbor as I walked back inside. Finally, I get a chance to get away and clear my head from all this work. Bill was nice enough to volunteer to water our plants and pick up the mail.

"Who was that?" my wife asked inside.

"Just Bill, hammering out some details for the week." I replied.

Now I suppose I should provide some background. I am a 34 year old man with simple dreams and a simple life. I married my wife Alex about 5 years ago and we are settled quite nicely with our own slice of the American dream: two cars in the garage and a green lawn to mow. Since the whole economic downturn, however, things have been getting tougher. My wife lost her job during a downsizing and since then my job at the law firm has been getting busier and busier. But after months of hard work and job searches, we were escaping for a nice tropical vacation. Just as I finished packing my swimsuit, the phone rang.

"Dammit!" I shouted as I slammed the phone down. "Jonathan wants me to finish the Peterson paperwork because the firm moved the negotiations to Monday!"

With a sigh my wife began unzipping her suitcase to unpack. "At least we can still cancel the reservation."

"No, we won't miss out this time. Tell you what, the Peterson case is just a lot of tedious paperwork, but otherwise a shoe-in for quick settlement, so I'll just burn the midnight oil and crank it out tonight. Then early tomorrow, I'll catch the red-eye and join you."

"I can stay and make you coffee and keep you company," my wife offered.

"The stupid internet ticket says you have to be at the hotel by 8pm or they will charge us for nothing and give away our room. Besides, I'll work better without any distractions and the thought of us in bathing suits on the beach will be a wonderful carrot to dangle in front of me."

"Alright pookie, I hope the firm realizes what a good associate they have in you. I love you," my wife says with a kiss.

I waved goodbye to my wife and headed downstairs to the basement office to get working. I knew the task would take me some time, so I got comfortable and dove right in. About four hours later, I was getting a little weary and decided I'd take a break. A little sneaky voice in the back of my head suggested something I haven't done in a long time. I used to frequent the Eunuch Archive and Kramtoad back before I got married, but since then, with my busy job and unemployed wife take up most of my time and energy, there hasn't been much need for action on the side, if you know what I mean. I figured what the heck, it's been a while and I need a break, I'll just finish the rest of the paperwork after a little break.

A few stories later, I was definitely getting back into the groove as a single hand slowly drifted to unzip my straining suit pants. Just then, I heard the sound of shattering glass. A bit flustered, I zipped up, thought for a second, and decided it was just one of those plates my wife left on the mantle--I always told her they are just itching to fall. As I prepared to go upstairs, I heard new and startling sounds resembling footsteps and creaking. I immediately reached for my cellphone only to realize I'd left it upstairs in my suit jacket hanging on a kitchen chair. After scanning the room for anything I could use, I remembered where my wife kept that taser I gave her back when she worked downtown. I retrieved it from her desk drawer and slowly moved to the stairs as quietly as possible. With subtle trepidation my sock-covered feet ascended the stairs, when I heard noises coming from the den over the thunderous beat of my heart. I should mention now, while I like staying in good physical condition with regular workouts and whatnot, I was by no means a competent or experienced fighter. As I rounded the corner I came face-to-back with a hoodie-wearing burglar stooping over my flat-screen television set fumbling about to disconnect it I suppose. As I was leveling the taser behind him, I noticed an even more inviting target: as leaned over the television, he stood widely spread-eagle for balance. I set myself and launched a foot between his legs and connected with a soft lump of flesh. By the loud thwack and the odd noise he emitted, I knew I'd hit my target. A mere split second elapsed as I sent the ticking taser right into the back of his neck. He rushed out a groan and then crumpled sideways, striking the side of his head on the corner on the desk next to the television with a hideous bang. As he fell, I was surprised to see a large KA-BAR knife slip from his right hand. That bastard was just cutting all the cables to save time! Wasting no time, I grabbed an extension cord laying near by and quickly bound his hands together with an old Boyscout knot I was sure he couldn't slip. I went into the kitchen and grabbed my cellphone, dialing 911, but I suddenly stopped short of pressing "Talk."

"That was a big package I nailed," I hastened out with a nervous whisper.

I walked back into the den and beheld my capture. He was clearly knocked out cold from the blow, so I spun him over to assess the damage. This was the first chance I'd had to actually see what he looked like. He was a young man, maybe late teens or early twenties, his skin was a golden tan and he had light brown hair cut short around his head. He wore sneakers with quarter-socks, baggy athletic shorts and a dark hoodie, maybe black or dark blue. He had a clearcut chin, set atop a strongly and manly neck. His face was punctuated by his statuesque nose and his plump red lips, I could only imagine he had deep sea-green eyes behind those closed eyelids. I might consider myself a heterosexual man, but this boy was undoubtedly handsome. I felt the welt on his head, certainly a nasty bump but my no means life-threatening. I reached down a patted him down, finding a wallet in his pocket. "Brandon eh, and only 19," I muttered to myself. That little sneaky voice returned in the back of my head, this time suggesting something much more sinister. "This is what all those stories are about isn't it? What's the harm?" Over the ever increasing volume of my heartbeat thumping in my ears, I noticed looking him over had given me a growing erection. I glanced down at his legs, in the fall his shorts had ridden up a little, revealing a clear tanline mid-thigh. In between those legs rested a polyester-clad mound, bulging obscenely in this position. Over my better judgment, the roweled up hormones of an interrupted jack-off session won out and I reached down and lifted his hoodie to his armpits. This revealed a gorgeous rippled chest, not too overly muscular but shapely enough to make out every muscle in his abdomen. Starting at his navel, a small trail of hair led into the band of his Joe Boxer boxers, peeking out over his shorts. Slowly, I eased his shorts down past his knees, the subtle bulge in his shorts jiggling as I did. I laid my hand on the package, depressing the clothing slowly until I contacted the soft warm flesh below. My body shook with the beating of my heart now, as I hooked my thumbs over the waistband and began lowering. First the tan line matching its counterpart on the thighs came into view, then more white flesh, then finally, nested in a small tuft of pubic hair, his cock made its first appearance. I completed the disrobing and glanced back up to see the true treasure, two distinct large eggs resting in a nearly hairless and loose scrotum. I was really taken back by the sheer size of his package, one that put my own above-average genitals to shame. Reaching for the tape-measure kept in the den, I quickly measured his flaccid cock at an incredible 5 1/2 inches.

I stood back to admire the boy. That sneaky little voice returned once in the back of my head. "Isn't this a setup for a fantasy story? He broke into your house!" I was unable to bear it any longer and knelt down and grasped his low-hanging scrotum in my hand. It was warm to the touch, and I could feel the two individual testicles floating around, along with his spermatic cords and the squishy little sack behind each ball. Rolling them around in my hand, it was clear the large size advantage of his nuts over my own. After all those stories I read, I half expected everyone's nuts to be the size of lemons bulging obscenely out of the scrotum hanging at the knees. I realized now that even the truly blessed, which he clearly was, don't attain that freakish size without some kind of unnatural condition. Then, I moved on to his dick. It was epic. I fondled the sponge mass, bending it around, squeezing it and rubbing it a bit. Although it grew in size to about 6 1/2 inches and thicker, it was by no means at attention. (His half mast was as big as my erection!) I somewhat expected it to become a raging rod of steel like in the stories--I suppose unconscious dicks don't necessarily rise to the occasion. But reminding myself I'm not really homosexual, I decided I didn't really care too much about the function of his dick, so that did not bother me. I let it flop back onto his stomach diminishing in size and returned to my actual interest. I'd never held the testicles of another man in my hand and it is really quite a rush. I decided to increase the pressure to see his reaction, garnering little more than a heavier breath than usual. With a renewed courage, I roughly massaged the balls with both hands, feeling the firmness of each as they were lightly compressed. The only result was that of his dick, twitching ever so slightly and dribbling out a few drops of precum. A quiet rage was building inside of me, possibly because he broke into my house and cut up my TV, or maybe because he was just so damn handsome and hung like a horse to boot. Maybe I was just curious to see a sexual beast cut down in his prime. (Those always were my favorite stories, after all.) Regardless of the reason, I kept increasing the pressure on his balls, resulting in a few more twitches from his cock and a few more dribbles of precum. After what felt like a few minutes of squeezing with all my might, I released my hold gasping and massaging my hands from near cramps. No way this stud's bull nuts are going to defeat me while he's unconscious, I reasoned in my head. I grabbed his left nut with both of my hands, thumbs in the center, fingers around back, and I crushed as hard as I could while pushing straight down with my thumbs. An especially virulent twitch of his cock and a small spurt of thick white semen oozed out his flaring cockhead--I guess that part of the stories was true. After letting up the pressure, I went back to full push, again yielding a gooey glob of white cum from his dickhead. A small pool had formed in his navel following a few more repetitions. Now I knew I was winning the battle, literally squeezing the cum out of him. I threw in my final effort and a wet crunch accompanied a hefty spurt of nut butter from his cock. My thumbs had pressed their way into the meat of his testicle, and as I released my hands, I noticed its odd distended shape as a cool pink hue took coloring on his scrotum.

"Sweet Jesus!" I exclaimed out loud.

I reached back and grabbed the testicle once more feeling its odd shape. As I increased the pressure once more, it held firm for a second, and then I felt a squick in my hands as the testicle lost its lumpy shape. I continued rolling that whole side of his scrotum around until I was sure that all the contents of his former ball had been squished out of the outer walls. My crotch felt wet, and I thought for a moment that I came in pants without any external stimulation, but the grasping of my massive erection proved that wrong. Apparently my dick was enjoying itself, but had by no means spoiled its fun too early. As I regained my composure I looked over at his scrotum, clearly distended and discolored on one side, a large shapely egg resting comfortably on the other. Well, the job is half done, no reason to stop now. I went right back to work, grasping the remaining half of his manhood firmly in both hands. This time, I was curious to see the limits of my control. After a increasing the pressure up high, I rapidly squeezed and released his ball quickly and hard as possible. With a few mighty twitches of his swelling cock, a series of short thick shots of sticky white cum burst out with incredibly force, splashing on the bottom of his pectoral muscles, just short of his sweatshirt. When I was satisfied I had fully milked the pent up cum (and there was plenty, believe me) out into the pool on his shapely stomach, I returned to full force. In a matter of moments, that same unearthly crunch reverberated through my fingers, although this time I did not stop until I was sure the delicate interior of his ball was pulverized into a soupy mush residing in his scrotum. Over the next few minutes, I sloshed the remains of his manhood around in the loose scrotum, feeling it slip around my fingers. My cock flared and threatened to either rip open my pants or blown them apart with a torrent of cum, so I decided it was time to take care of myself. I took in a full look of his now liquefied manhood and ran to the bathroom, tore open my pants and underpants and beat my raging cock like a recently pubescent teenager. With a grunt and a shudder I launched into my most powerful orgasm of my life, blasting steaming white cum all over the mirror with such force I could feel it tearing through my urethra. After a good 8 or 9 massive spurts of semen, I braced myself on the wall, panting and massaging out the few remaining drops from my trembling cock. The mirror was painted with grotesque spurts of thick cum containing little thick bits of whatnot dripping down several feet of the mirror. As my orgasm subsided, the reality of the situation dawned on me.

"What the fuck have I just done?" I asked my reflection stained with streaks of semen. The boy I just brutally castrated still laid in the den, unmoving and heaving in breath, when I returned to inspect the reality of the situation.
"Shit." I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of paper towels to clean up the mess. Fortunately for me, the copious amount of ejaculate has stayed on his chest and not dripped onto the floor or squirted up to his sweatshirt. As I whipped him clean, I was treated to the incredible definition of his muscle. "What a pity," I muttered with a smile on my face, still avoiding some of the reality facing me. After flushing the cum-stained towels down the toilet, I slowly lifted up his shorts and pulled down his sweatshirt. His now-empty scrotum and bulbous cock still made an impressive bulge in the shorts. I kicked and stomped on his groin and the surrounding area a few times before taking one last look to admire the entirely gorgeous, masculine, and sexually impressive male before me and enjoyed the irony of his hidden neutering and the future deterioration of all those studly assets he likely held so dear. I collected myself and dialed 911 once more on the phone.

"There was a break-in here and I've apprehended the victim, he might be injured, please send an ambulance as well. And hurry!" I said in the most agitated, yet likewise calm voice I could muster.

A few minutes later I heard sirens coming in the distance and a knock was soon heard at the door. I lead the officers in and explained the situation as well as I could.

"And then I snuck up behind him and tasered him. When he fell, he hit his head, but as he landed I noticed the large knife in his hand and though he might still be conscious and dangerous, so I freaked out and kicked and stomped on him to make sure he stayed down. I then realized he was unconscious from either the blows or the knock on the head or maybe the taser to the neck, so I took the opportunity to tie him up, regain my composure and call for the police." Just as I finished, a second set of sirens stopped outside the home and some EMTs rushed into the house and looked after the robber.

"Alright thanks for your cooperation Mr. Donaldson, we will conduct a full investigation and let you know if and when you need to be in court to testify against him," said the lead officer.

A half hour and some various procedures and forms later, I thanked the officers as they left the house, ambulance toting away the now softly moaning assailant on the stretcher. Putting the night's events out of my head I walked back downstairs and hastily got back to my work. I looked at the clock and realized I only had a few hours left. The works was no trouble and I emailed it away with plenty of time to spare. I sat back and contemplated the feeling of squishing out the insides of the boy's massive nuts and fondled my own. After my cock rose to the occasion, I stroked it to an intense orgasm in a matter of minutes. I cleaned up, finished packing and called a cab to the airport.

I walked back into my home a new man with an impressive new tan. My wife had heard the whole story and comforted me with some uproarious risque sex over our vacation. She said it was among the best ever, but only I knew why. Anyway, the police had left me a message to call back the detective in charge of the case.

"Hello, this is Mr. Donaldson calling for Detective Nguyen."

"Ah, Mr. Donaldson, I'm Det. Nguyen, I thought I'd call and tell you about the investigation now that we've concluded it. It appears the boy, Brandon McNeil, is a friend of William Parker Jr., your neighbors son, and was home on break from college. He confessed that he overheard you tell your neighbor that you'd be out of town and assumed it would be an easy score for some quick cash to buy himself drugs. His parents and lawyer recommended pleading guilty and confessing everything to avoid the stiff penalties he faced for armed burglary and assault with a deadly weapon here in North Carolina. He sure seemed docile and accepting of the offers, too, a little unusual for someone being sentenced to six years in state prison. Oh, on a side note, I thought you'd should know, while the bump on the head was relatively minor and healed quickly, your defensive blows resulted in a serious ruptures in both of his testicles and some small damage to his penis and scrotum. The doctors tried to save what they could, but as I understand it they were forced to excise the remains of both his testicles."

"Oh my god, that's terrible!" I said in false surprise and concern, imagining a boy that handsome (and gelded) in state prison for six years. . .what they would do to him.

"Well, it's only fitting if you ask me, punk like that breaking into people's homes brandishing knives, and this wasn't his first offense, he was in and out of juvie for a spell because of past crimes. Just thank God North Carolina has such a stringent Castle Doctrine and Stand Your Ground Law, or else you might have been investigated too!"

"What a world we live in." I replied in disbelief.

"You're telling me. Well that's all I've got for you, you have a great day," the detective concluded.

"You too!" I said, hanging up the phone. I knew things were a little iffy, especially because I'd brutally de-maned the friend of my neighbor's son. Perhaps it was time to accept that transfer to Dallas Jonathan was talking about. And I knew that Texas has the most strict Castle Doctrine of all on the books. I leaned back in the chair with a wicked grin of satisfaction on my face.

"What are you so happy about?" asked my wife.

"Oh, nothing."