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The more he thought about it, the angrier Joe got. The memories welled up in his mind and he relived the moments again and agin, as if it were yesterday. When Joe was in high school, he was constantly bullied and harrassed by a bigger guy named Brett. Brett was a true jock -- football, baseball, wrestling. In high school the blond stud was 6'3 and 220 pounds of solid muscle, and he loved showing it off.
Brett always dressed in clothes which accentuated his figure, and every movement drew attention to his musculature. He loved tanktops, including cutoff tanks, which he called muscle shirts. He loved very tight jeans and cutoff shorts which showed off his thigh muscular thighs. Brett was smooth all over except for his pubic patch and armpits. When Brett wore cutoff tanktops or T shirtts, you could see his ripped abdominal muscles. He tight shirts snugly fitted his thick slabs of pectoral muscle. His arms were very impressive, with big shoulders. His biceps looked like cannonballs when he moved his arms. Brett loved raising his arms over his head and flexing for all to see, making a bid scene of stretching and yawning and drawing attention to himself. He was cocky as hell and walked with an air of superiority over everyone else. He liked to push Joe's face into the water fountain, puch him in the back, hit himwith a towelin the showers, and embarrass him in front of the other students. Joe just smoldered and took it. What else could he do? Well, now that was going to change. The time had come. All the frustrations and resentments came out and Joe decided it was time to give Brett what he had coming. He knew Brett worked out late in the 8th Street gym and was there alone many nights after others had gone. With his newly aquired stun gun and, for good measure if needed, some mace, he got ready. Sure enough, after midnight, Brett's car was the only one in the lot. He entered the deserted gym and heard the shower water running. Brett must be in there. He hurried to the shower area and peeked around the corner to see the object of his hatred. Brett was there, and looked just like he used to look, only about 20 pounds heavier, and all solid muscle. While Brett's eyes were closed under the shower nozzle,Joe approached and zapped him long and hard with the stun gun. It had its effect. Brett went out like a light. Joe turned off the shower water and dragged the muscle hunk from the shower area into the locker room. God he looked great. Still the smooth rippling muscleman he remembered. He quickly tied the stud's wrists and ankles to the bench supports anchored in the floor so he was spreadeagled. He took some straps of leather and tied one to each knee and tied the knees apart so Brett would be unable to move his thighs to protect his groin when the fun started. And then with some smelling salts and a little water to the fact he awoke a groggy Brett. "What the hell?" Brett began. "Your days as a he-man are numbered, muscleboy. I am gonna take your balls." "Shit. Fuck you", Brett shouted. "Wrong answer," Joe said as he kicked the hunk in his testicles. Brett screamed in agony. Brett took some duct tape tape and taped Brett's penis up to his abs so it would be out of the way. Then he placed a block of wood under the bound stud's nut sack so the sack rested atop it. "God no, please don't" whined Brett. "Say bye bye to your babymakers, hot stud." Joe took a rubber mallet and began beating the young muscle hun'k's balls with it. Softly at first to get his attention,and then harder and harder. The muscleboy thrashed violently against his restraints to no avail. He knew he was being ruined. The pain was incredible, and began radiating upward into his abs. 5, 10, 15 blows to each doomed testicle. The smaller one finally burst and became a spongy mass of goo in its ballbag, and Joe held the remaining intact ball in his hand. Joe looked into the blue eyes of the bound young blond muscleboy. Their eyes fixed on each other. Brett's tear filled eyes pleaded "No, no." Joe said "Well stud, you spent all those years building up your muscles and trying to look perfect, and now you do. You look perfect. And now I am gonna ruin you for good. All your muscles and work wasted. Big muscle stud naked and helpless and defenseless. Say bye bye to your seeders." With that the mallet came crashing down on the last testicle, rupturing the skin and forcing the orb out onto the floor, still attached to the body by its cords. Another blow to the ball splattered it for good. On the way out Joe called 911. After all, he wanted justice and nothing more.
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