[Author's note: This totally fictional story is the fifth in a series that deals with an imaginary fight club, where high rollers pay for a membership in an organization that captures young men and turns them into modern slave fighters. The winners win big, and the losers lose their dignity, and their manhood. This story is adult erotic fiction, and the characters and the idea for it are all just fabrications of my mind. It is written in such a way as to form the basis for follow on stories about the mythical Fight Club. It should not be posted where minors are likely to see it, and may not be copied or used without the author's consent.]

I love the club, and I’ve been watching the matches for several years now and each one is unique and thrilling, although the special matches, the ones marked “Le Extraordinar” are just unbelievable. I’ve been a member now long enough to understand the system, and as far as I am concerned the club membership I hold is something to cherish. The action is always exciting, and if you are new to things then a quick walk through the Hall of Shame will bring it all together. That’s where the losers’ pictures are displayed, along with their severed scrotums, still stuffed with the orbs that once defined their manhood. Every time I am in town to watch a match I always walk the rows looking at the 16 x 20 photos of the young fighters standing for the photographer, seemingly ready to fight, their singlet’s gripping their perfect bodies and accentuating their muscles.

Of course, the pictures next to the jars are the ones that hold your attention, the look on their individual faces as they felt the knife, the last shot of their ass, their legs still spread and held apart, but taken just after their match and just after they had been castrated. Those photographs bring it instantly into clear focus, the picture of each man, taken from behind, and close enough to see that their entire scrotum is missing, stolen in front of the crowd where only minutes before it had hung. Those pictures, along with the ones of their faces, staring into the camera as they were being nutted are the ones you can’t forget.

The jars beneath the images of course hold their balls, and you cannot help but get hard when you are staring at a young fighter’s stolen manhood and looking at the images of him that were taken as it was being done. What it must have felt like! For the matches I was there to see I get hard remembering the roar of the crowd, the laughter, the grunting of the loser as he felt the winner’s cock pumping into him like a piston while his own banded nuts swung below his legs and slowly began to strangle. But it is the moment of their castrations, that precise second when the winner is welding the knife and slicing off the loser’s balls and the crowd is giddy watching it being done that keeps me coming back for more. Yes, it is then, when one fighter is stealing the essence of his opponent’s manhood and we are watching it happen that is the true thrill.

Every few years the Fight Club schedules one of the “Le Extraordinar” matches, an all out contest where the objective isn’t to pin your opponent. These matches are wilder, with fewer rules, and the fighters typically have more of that boy-next-door look. The fighters are more amateurish than the polished fighters that are the norm for the club, but they are usually selected for some attribute that makes them stand out in some specific crowd-pleasing manner. Sometimes it’s their strength, or the color of their hair, but more often than not it is the size of their cocks or the weight of their balls. I always enjoy these special fights, and I do not mind the extra bonus payment that is required to view them.

A month ago there was an exceptional “Le Extraordinar” contest, between an eighteen year old Swedish boy with sandy blond hair, and a British lad of nineteen with a freckled face and vivid, red hair. The British boy was well built, with firm muscles and a big grin, and his greenish eyes seem to shine as he stared at the crowd. In many ways he reminded me of a rugby player. He was a fully developed young man, with strong muscles, ripped abs, and he radiated confidence.

The Swedish lad was a tall lanky sort of teenager, with a swimmer’s build and a boyish look. His muscles were lean, and he was pretty much hairless, with small dime-sized nipples and a cute face that was more boy than man. He didn’t looked like he had ever shaved, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He was also tanned, and had long straight hair and his tall, youthful appearance made him look younger than he was. Although he had a smooth baby face, he was still definitely a man. That said, he was a far cry from a rugby player, and compared to the British fighter he look like a boy. When I first saw him I figured he didn’t have a chance. I didn’t mind though, and in fact I was looking forward to watching him be castrated.

The British lad was much stronger looking, but what made him stand out even more was the huge bulge in the jock that held his package. The Brit had quite a package, and even inside of his jock there was no way he could hide it from the crowd.

As with most of the “Le Extraordinar” matches, the fighters were not wearing singlet’s, but instead wore only a jockstrap during the match. The jockstraps were made of a chain metal fabric, with a steel band that went around the fighter’s waist, which came together in the back with a slide-lock that prevented its removal by the wearer. But other than that, the young fighters wore nothing else. For the British lad, his jock bulged outward, and his obvious big package and powerful leg muscles clearly put him in the favored category to win. Next to him, the fighter from Switzerland looked like a boy.

The program guide that was published for the match made them look more even though, and yet clearly the British fighter was the crowd favorite. He was more muscular and much more of a man. Like most of the crowd, I had favored the British fighter from the beginning, and from all appearances he was stronger and certainly older and more mature. But, the blond Swedish fighter was of the same height, and within a few pounds of the other’s weight, so appearances aside, the fighters were more even than they looked. Nevertheless, looking at the two, the Swedish fighter certainly seemed thinner and the bulge in his metallic jock was much less pronounced and that, combined with his overall lack of body hair contributed to the illusion that he was more of a boy than a man.

On paper, the British fighter’s stats were typical for a nineteen year old male, except for his scrotum. His stat pages alluded that his sex sac was really big, and that was not lost on anyone and I’m sure it helped to attract a good turn out from the membership. His stats:

NAME: Gregory Poster

AGE: 19

Height: 66”

WEIGHT: 155lbs

Cock: 4 inches flaccid; 6.5 inches erect

Scrotum: Very large, atypical, exceptional size with testicles 30% larger than norm; excess of Tanner Stage V. Analysis: Fully matured sexual male

Hair: Red. Adult growth above penis, thick patch growing upwards toward navel. Chest hair pronounced, and thickening. Upper lip has a mustache; armpit hair copius. Leg hair normal for adult male with thick, darker reddish hair around anus.

Sexual Orientation Statement: “I’m not gay.”

Penile Plethysmography sexual orientation determination: Hetrosexual

Cock: Uncircumcized.

Sexual Status: Three prior girlfriends; sexually active teenage male; determined by interview with lie detector. Virginity lost at 14.

Medical Evaluation: Normal for age, disease free

Last Ejaculation: 60 days prior to match//controlled by chastity device

Method associated with last orgasm: Physically restrained; forced manual manipulation of penis to orgasm

Last sperm count: 81 million sperm per ejaculate; 74% motility and 88% normal morphology. (FERTILE)

Ejaculate Volume: 5.9 milliliters

Actual Fight Club matches: 0

The Swedish teenager’s stats were similar in some ways, and yet as I said he looked less mature and from what things looked to me the match did not seem even. But looks can be deceptive, and generally the Fight Club is known for the evenness of the chosen fighters and the intensity of the matches. So, while I suppose in theory that I knew that the match could be close, I subconsciously at least figured the Swedish teenager didn’t have a chance. His published stats:

NAME: Yuri Gentivich

AGE: 18

Height: 71”

WEIGHT: 150lbs

Cock: 3.5 inches flaccid; 9” inches erect

Scrotum: Medium size, sub-normal for age; tanner stage IV.5; late stage pubescent male

Hair: Dark blond, pubic hair defined in a small contained patch, smooth elsewhere. Armpit hair very slight, sub-normal for teenager exiting puberty, chest hair lacking in its entirety, no other apparent hair on upper body. Leg hair typical for age with medium growth of dark blond hair from mid-thigh, growing up between his legs and surrounding his anus.

Sexual Orientation Statement: “I’m straight.”

Penile Plethysmography sexual orientation determination: Bi-sexual male.

Cock: Uncircumcised.

Sexual Status: Virgin; experience limited to single oral homosexual encounter between same-age peers (15); determined by interview with lie detector

Medical Evaluation: Normal for age, disease free

Last Ejaculation: 60 days prior to match//controlled by chastity device

Method associated with last orgasm: Physically restrained; forced manual manipulation of penis to orgasm

Last sperm count: 84 million sperm per ejaculate; 65% motility and 80% normal morphology. (FERTILE)

Ejaculate Volume: 5.2 milliliters

Actual Fight Club Matches: 0

From the stat pages, it was obvious these fighters were worth seeing. The British lad had big balls, and the Swedish boy apparently had a nine inch cock, and that’s not something you see very often on anyone, much less a Fight Club fighter. Needless to say, the bulges the boys carried within their jocks held the interest of the crowd, and things were at a fever pitch when the fighters came on stage.

One of the things that makes the “Le Match Extraordinar” bouts extra exciting, is the way that the winner is determined. In a normal Fight Club match, the winner is determined by a “pin”, where the loser’s shoulders are held against the mat for at least 5 seconds. For the “Extraordinar” matches the winner is determined in a much more exciting manner.

Clipped to the jock waist-strap worn by each fighter, is a small device, called an FMT, or “FIGHT MATCH TERMINATOR”. These devices look like a T—they have a plastic handle on one end, and the shaft of the device is six inches of chrome steel that has been machined round and polished smooth. The chrome rod has a slight curve to it, and is highly polished to a mirror shine, and the rod is about an inch in diameter and is filled with three C-size batteries, end-to-end, hooked to a telsa coil that can generate a high voltage electrical current when activated.

From the information handbook, I can tell you that the FMT can generate a 50,000 volt, 18 watt wallop with a current measured at 133 milliamps. To active it, and end the match, the winner must fight until he is able to force his device into the rectum of his opponent. When fully inserted, the curved shape of the rod will seat the end of it directly against the loser’s prostate, and when that is done and the activation button on the end of the T-Handle is pressed, the electrical discharge occurs and the full energy of the device is instantly discharged into the subject’s rectum. The electrical discharge pulses in waves which are referred to as Electro-Muscular Disruption waves, and when that happens the EMD power surge will instantly disrupt the loser’s entire central nervous system. The net result is that the losing fighter will crumple to the ground in spasms of involuntary muscular convulsions, ending the fight instantly.

The trick to the device is that it must be fully inserted into the loser’s rectum before it can be activated. There are small pickup sensors along the shaft that must be wet to arm the device and they prevent an inadvertent activation. Since the trigger will not activate the device unless it is buried inside a rectum, the winning fighter must dominate his opponent to the point where he can get the FMT inserted. Needless to say, it makes for an intense match!

As to the specific match that I witnessed, it was one of the most exciting Fight Club matches I’ve ever attended. On match day, the place was packed, and the crowd was excited. After the usual opening movie, and the preliminary announcements were made, things were at a fever pitch. When the two fighters came out, dressed only in their protective jocks, everyone went wild! The skin on the two fighters glistened in the light, and their bodies appeared to have been oiled, which helped to accentuate every curve and every muscle.

The Brit looked strong, and his muscles bulged. The less mature looking Swede boy was jumping around and dancing on his feet, reading himself for the match as best he could. His tiny dime-sized nipples and totally smooth chest were quite a contrast to the British fighter he was facing.

When the start whistle sounded and the fight began, the Brit and Swede were on each other fast and it was clear they were both fighting as hard as any man can fight. Of course, they were fighting for their balls, and they weren’t playing around! As I think most of expected, Gregory Poster dominated the match from the very beginning, flipping the much younger looking blond haired Swedish fighter over on his back and lifting his legs high off the mat in the very first minute of the contest. But Yuri Gentivich had some speed, and he spun his swimmer’s frame around so quickly that his oiled body slipped out of Poster’s grip. He drove right back into the surprised British lad and knocked him over, but it was only for a second and then once again the red-headed Brit regained the upper hand.

And so it went, minute after minute. Twice the Brit pinned the Swedish boy, holding his shoulders to the mat well in excess of five seconds. But that didn’t conclude things, and every time he went for the FMT clipped to his waist somehow the younger fighter always seemed to squirm out of his hold. Still, as the fight went on and on never once was the British fighter in any trouble. To me, it just seemed to be a matter of time, and I, along with the rest of the crowd, started to pick up a chant to encourage the Brit to finish the match and put the younger boy in his place.

“NUT HIM... NUT HIM... NUT HIM... NUT HIM!” we yelled, cheering on the British fighter. Soon the entire arena was reverberating with the chant, and the crowd was wild with the excitement. The Brit was in total control throughout the fight, and he knew it, and every single time the eighteen year old Swedish boy would try and make a move, the strong powerful muscles of his opponent just stopped him cold. Soon, we were actually laughing at the way the red head was dominating the match, countering every move of the blond hair teenager and tossing him all over the mat like an outmatched toy. Clearly, the more mature Brit was in control, and he hardly seemed to break a sweat as he wiped the mat with the body of his opponent.

Even so, the fight lasted a lot longer than I expected it to. But finally, about the ten minute point the blond haired Swedish fighter was sweating profusely and the red-headed Brit once again had slammed him down onto his back. The young Swede was exhausted, and to me he looked like he was scared shitless at that point, almost as if he was resigned to lose. He was so damn afraid, and the look in his eyes was wide with fear as he clearly knew he was losing the match. From those of us in the stands watching, we were so damn excited and eager, and by that point we were all screaming:

“NUT HIM… NUT HIM… NUT HIM… NUT HIM!!!...”

Gregory Poster had the younger Swedish fighter down flat out on his back, and he had levered himself in such a position that the full weight of his body was pressed against the blond boy’s shoulders, pinning him to the mat. This time he had his hairy legs spread wide apart, like levers, and in that position they prevented the younger Swedish fighter from flipping around or escaping. The full weight of the British boy was crushing into the blond fighter beneath him, and with his legs spread so far apart they were like anchors. No matter how hard the Swedish fighter tried, he could not escape the hold this time and clearly it was just a matter of getting the FMT into his ass. He was flat on his back, literally pinned, trying to arch his back in a useless gesture of attempted escape. His arms flailed and clawed at the back of the Brit on top of him, much like a woman that grabs the back of a man who is fucking her. He was clearly beaten!

If the match had been a normal one, under the Fight Club rules it would have been over and they would have dragged the eighteen year old to the restraining stocks to be castrated. He was flat on his back, pinned, and he stayed that way. Five seconds became ten, then twenty, and there was clearly nothing the younger fighter could do. Oh, he jerked his legs and flailed, trying to twist and turn beneath the British fighter, but there was no escape this time. We were all chanting now, screaming at the top of our lungs for our British favorite to go ahead and finish his match, and we were certainly anxious to watch him nut the younger boy he was dominating.

Gregory Poster finally reached down to his waist and grabbed his FMT, and I think when he did that the pubescent Swedish boy must have sensed it, because he pulled his legs together in a vain attempt to protect his hole. Undeterred, the British fighter grabbed one of the Swede’s legs with his arm, and lifted it upward, forcing some separation between his legs so he could insert his FMT device. As he lifted one of the Swede’s legs upward, exposing his hole, the end seemed nearer then and the crowd went to their feet.

Gregory Poster was clutching his FMT device in his fist, working it around so he could insert it into Yuri Gentivich’s ass, and things were certainly heading in that direction. His hole was exposed, and open, and while we all watched the British fighter brought the thing up to the boy’s hole, preparing to insert it and end the match. He was grinning, and we were all screaming, excited I think and anxious to see what would happen when he slid it inside and pressed its power button.

Because we were all concentrating on watching that, in hindsight I think we just assumed the pinned fighter under him was already beaten, helpless and no longer a threat. And while it was true he was flat on his back, literally pinned under the weight of the much stronger British boy, he wasn’t quite helpless and his arms were not restrained. And that as it turned out was Gregory Poster’s biggest mistake.

In a surprise move none of us watching saw coming, there was a flash of plastic and chrome, and then I saw that the young eighteen year old Swedish fighter had his own FMT in his hand, clinched tight in his fist and obviously plucked off his own belt as he lay flat on his back. Without any hesitation he brought it right up between the British fighter’s outstretched legs, bending his elbow and making a single lucky shove that pushed the polished metallic probe right between the straps of the Brit’s jock and right into his hole. I was staring right up the ass of the Brit when it happened, and I watched the lucky move that resulted in the Swedish fighter burying his FMT to the hilt. His entire arm was curved, and he held the FMT with a death grip and with all his strength he shoved the device deep inside of his opponent as far as it could go.

The British boy reacted instantly of course, totally shocked at feeling something being shoved up his chute! Like the rest of us, he never saw that coming! But when he felt it his eyes went wide with disbelief, totally surprised at what had happened and he was quick to react. If he had had another second or two he would have done the same thing to his opponent, but now, with an FMT in his hole he was scared shitless. Suddenly his opponent had caught him unaware, with his legs spread and exposed hole unprotected. It was only for a second, but the young looking Swede had certainly capitalized on the opportunity.

Greg Poster’s look of surprise turned to anger, and as his hole was penetrated he arched his back and instinctually tried to move his hips and hole out of the way as fast as he possibly could. At the same instant, he was reaching back, moving so fast his hand was a blur, desperately grabbing for the wrist of the young fighter under him. He did manage to grab it too, and tried to pull it free and get that thing out of his hole. He knew he was in trouble, and he sure didn’t want to let his opponent’s FMT be used on him!

At the same time he yelled out “What the fuck? OH! OH NO! NO YOU DON’T!” Everything was on the brink then of course, and for a second I thought he was going to save himself. But in what was probably the very last possible second that he could have done so, Yuri Gentivich pressed the button on the end of the T-handle he was forcing into the ass of his red headed opponent, and in that instant everything changed.

There was this immediate muffled sound, distinct and electric in nature, and right after that the nineteen year old British fighter’s entire body seemed to just explode into movement. His head jerked up and his mouth snapped open, and then he crumpled like a rag doll and immediately started into a full body seizure, with his eyes rolled back in his head and with every muscle in his body jerking and twitching. He just convulsed on the mat, every muscle in his body seeming to jerk in an uncoordinated movement as his ass was suddenly fucked by 50,000 volts. As I watched him jerk and bounce like a headless chicken, it was obvious that he had lost.

The blond haired Swedish boy was still underneath of him, still flat on his back on the mat, clutching his FMT that was buried to the hilt in the ass hole of his opponent. He lay there, unmoving at first, surprise I think about how things had so suddenly changed. His fist still gripped the FMT and he held onto it, holding it firmly implanted inside the British boy whose body was jerking in wild spasms that resembled an epileptic seizure. Of course, at that point the FMT had already done its job, and it was no longer necessary. He had won, even as he was being pinned!

He realized it, and his face was one of surprise and relief. Then he pushed the still twitching British teenager off of him like a sack of garbage, and sat up next to him, watching him thrash about the mat in uncoordinated muscular spasms. As he looked at his opponent, he suddenly grinned, a huge grin really, and as he did the crowd roared. It was over, and what a surprising turn of events!

While he was grinning, two officials jumped into the ring and grabbed the British lad by his wrists, and then they dragged him right across the blue mat and pulled him right up to the restraint beam that was now waiting just for him. As they were doing that the FMT buried in his hole popped out of his hole, and when that happened there was a burst of laughter. The officials didn’t care, and they just dragged him across the mat and as they were doing that his eyes opened, and then started darting around. He was seeing everything, and he was clearly aware of what was happening. But, in spite of that, his muscles were still scrambled from the jolt he had taken in his ass, and consequently even as he knew what was being done to him he was powerless to prevent it.

The officials pulled him right straight up onto the big wooden beam and placed his neck and wrists into the half-moon shaped cutouts that were there for that purpose. As soon as they did that, they brought the top beam down so it slammed right up against the bottom one, forming full cutouts for his head and wrists, and locking him into position then and completely restraining that portion of his body. As they pushed the top beam down it made a clicking sound as the side locks automatically engaged, and when it did he was helpless, forced to stare outward, into the crowd as we stared back at him. Just to make sure, the officials pushed in two metal pins through some holes that were designed to accommodate them, and the two beams at that point were essentially one. He wasn’t going anywhere, and there was now nothing he could do to prevent his upcoming castration.

His legs were still twitching, although from the way he was moving them it was quite apparent he was regaining a semblance of control. Of course, at that point it really didn’t matter.

The two officials then just looped a couple of pieces of rope over his ankles, and then pulled the ropes tight, looping the separate pieces around two pegs at the base of the restraint stand. As they tugged on the ropes, they pulled the Brit’s feet wide apart, and as they did the nineteen year old fighter’s eyes opened in a panic. He was being prepared to be mounted like a whore and then castrated, and he knew it!

A minute or so later his muscles stopped twitching, and as his brain fully reengaged he started to fight them then, and tried to pull his legs together, but the ropes were already tied at that point, and his legs were spread and tied outward, exposing his hole and the boy’s package, still trapped in the metal jock and hanging beneath his legs.

His knees were resting on top of another wooden beam, sitting inside two cutouts that were there for that purpose. It was an easy matter then for the officials to bring the other half of the crossbar down then on top of his legs, trapping them, and once they were locked together the two half’s secured his legs, holding them wide apart and trussing out the teenager so he could be gelded.

He was totally helpless then, and his knees were straight, with his buttocks jutting upward, high into the air, and with his legs spread so wide his hole was open. He was held that way by the beams and the cutouts that held his legs, trussed out and totally vulnerable, ready to be mounted like a whore, and with nothing left to protect his balls except for the metal jock he was wearing. Inside, snug and secure, the realty was that now his balls were just waiting for the winner to take them.

He knew it too! The red-headed young fighter was struggling harder now, shaking the stand and trying to pull his legs together with every muscle he had. The look in his eyes was one of absolute fear, coupled with disbelief at what was being done to him. He was in shock over his loss, and he sure didn’t want to lose his balls!

He got his voice back about then, and started to babble, begging them, begging the crowd even to let him keep his balls. Of course, while most of us had wanted him to win, now that he was the loser, I think we were all anxious to watch him get nutted.

“OH…OH NO! STOP! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS! LET ME GO! I HAD HIM PINNED! I DID! OH GOD! NO! LET ME GO!! OH…OH SHIT… THIS ISN’T FAIR! I BEAT HIM! YOU SAW IT! OH GOD...PLEASE DON’T LET HIM TAKE MY BALLS!” he begged.

As he was begging and pulling against the restraints, one of the officials took out a key, and inserted it in the lock that was located on the metallic belt that formed the jockstrap he was wearing. With a click it opened, and the back of the waistband separated, and the two leg straps were released at the same time. The result was the entire metallic jock came free then, and after that the British boy was totally naked, the essence of his manhood on display for everyone to see.

His face flushed red, and his big bullocks swung down between his legs, and as they did those of us watching gasp. God! What a set of balls! The kid had elephant balls, and everyone was stunned at the size of them. His cock wasn’t anything special, but once it was free it responded on its own, without any stimulation. As we all stared at the boy’s balls his pole rose upward, filling with blood and it quickly grew into a full boner. It was almost as if he was eager to be nutted! But it wasn’t his six and a half inch cock that grabbed the attention of the crowd. No, it was his balls! Simply put, the boy had the biggest scrotum I’ve ever seen on any man, anywhere. It was simply huge, like a bull’s bag, hanging downward beneath his legs like a basket full of plums, literally swinging as he struggled.

I could hardly believe how big the boy’s scrotum was, and it did not even look like a human nutsac it was so huge. The boy’s testicles were clearly hanging at the bottom, the two round orbs each bigger than any hen’s egg, and together they filled his scrotum. The weight of them pulled downward on his bag, so it was hanging almost six inches below him, his big nuts swinging back and forth as he jerked his hips and struggled within the wooden blocks that held him fast. I don’t think anyone could believe the enormous bag that swung back and forth under that boy’s cock. What a scrotum! It was unbelievable!

The winner saw it too of course, and his eyes grew big as he took in the size of his opponent’s manhood. Of course, as big as that bag of bullocks was, it would be no match for a knife, and that was something all of us knew. The winner was up on his feet then, grinning, his arms raised above his head as he jutted around the mat, holding his two arms into the air in a victory dance. He was literally jumping up and down with his excitement. I think he was surprised to have won, and he sure was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

He was oh-so-eager, and he pointed to his own jock then and an official unlocked it, and as it fell to the floor the eighteen year old’s cock jutted up and outward almost instantly. True to the printer program guide, the blond boy had a long cock, one of the longest poles I’ve ever seen on any male, and as it rose up and jutted at a 45 degree angle from his body, the crowd gasp once again. The Swedish boy’s cock lacked the thickness that is more typical of a fully matured male, but what it lacked in girth it made up for in length. It was every bit of nine inches, and as it jutted upward, rock hard, it was clear that the boy who owned it was anxious and oh-so-ready to use his tool to fuck the Brit who had lost.

Under his long cock his bag of balls almost looked insignificant compared to the British lad waiting to be castrated. The small stones just added to the youthful look he presented, and yet even though they were not impressive they nevertheless were what defined him as a man.

The crowd was roaring, and everyone was excited, everyone except for the one who was waiting to be fucked and castrated. Nevertheless, excited or not, the British teenager was definitely waiting for it now, his eyes wide and staring and with his hole held open by his trussed-out legs.

At that point one of the officials came onto the mat carrying a large silver grease gun, and he just walked up behind the tied-out fighter and slid the end of it right up the British boy’s ass. Then, with about a dozen pumps of the handle, he filled the red headed youth’s hole with KY jelly, pumping it into him until his hole could take no more.

“OH… OHHHH GOD! OH… OHHHH” the Brit gasped, as he felt the lube going into him and getting him ready for his fucking.

As the official removed the end of the grease gun, you could see the clear KY literally dribbling out of the boy’s hole, running down between the crack in his ass and over his big set of hanging balls. His hole was totally stuffed with the lube, and he was definitely ready now!

Yuri Gentivich was ready too, and his cock was jutting up like a steel rod. The teenager who owned it was so excited he could hardly contain himself, and you could sense his excitement as he stared at the greased up asshole of the British youth he had beaten. I don’t know if it was his desire to dominate the loser, or rather the fact he had always dreamed of fucking a guy’s hole and was finally going to have the chance. But, whatever it was, he was eager, and he kept jumping up and down and grinning as he eagerly awaited the word that he could begin. He was so eager his eyes were shining, and the head of his cock seemed to enlarge even more as it bounced up and down to his heartbeat.

Two officials came onto the mat and wheeled a large five foot by five foot magnifying mirror right up behind the Brit, and placed it in such a way that everyone sitting in the arena was able to see the boy’s bottom sticking upward and waiting to be mounted like a whore. The mirror also gave the crowd a good look at his big nuts that were waiting for their castration.

At the same time they were doing that, another official walked in front of the trussed out teenager, and right in front of his face he loaded the banding pliers with a very tiny rubber ring that would begin his castration. Gregory knew immediately what it was and he went crazy, jerking every muscle in his body and struggling with an intensity that is hard to describe. No man fights harder than one about to be castrated, and as he fought and struggled he begged openly with a crack in his voice that I’ll not soon forget.

“OH NO! DON’T! DON’T BAND ME—PLEASE!”

We all laughed. Once it was loaded, the official opened the jaws of the device, so that the rubber castration band was spread apart, and when the young Brit saw that his eyes went wide and his voice cracked again like a pubescent teenager. It was clearly way too much for the boy who was waiting to feel it on his nuts, and he totally panicked and started begging like a ten year old about to be punished.

Of course, as he struggled he was jerking his entire body so hard that the apparatus that was restraining him shook with him. He was also trying desperately to pull his legs together, to protect his fat scrotum from what was coming, but the reality was there wasn't anything he could do at this point. His hips went up and down in a blur, to the extent that they could, and as they did his nuts started swinging. It was almost as if the boy was trying to keep his bag moving, perhaps to keep it from being banded.

But if that was his purpose, it was a wasted effort. The official with the banding pliers just walked behind him then, and reached down and grabbed the boy’s swinging balls, and then he pulled down on them, hard, pulling the two plumb-sized stones down and making sure they were in the bottom of his sac. The Brit screamed, knowing he was about to be banded then and nothing he could do about it.

"Oh...NO! Please.....don't....don't band me! PLEASE DON'T BAND MY BALLS!"

The Brit kept jerking, literally humping the beam he was locked into, his hips and ass slamming into the cross beam in desperation, still trying to swing his balls in a desperate attempt to keep them away from the man who was after them.

It of course made no difference. That said, the man with the pliers did have some difficulty, but it wasn’t because of the struggles the British youth was making. No, the problem was due to the fact that the Brit’s balls were so big they initially did not want to fit through the expanded loop of rubber. But, with some effort and squeezing, after a few minutes they managed to work the boy’s big nuts through the loop, one at a time, but even so it was not easy. But, finally, they managed to carefully slide the loop completely over the big scrotum, and then, once they had done so, they worked the loop of rubber upward, high up so that it was near his body. One of them said then: “GET READY BOY, HERE COMES THE FIRST BAND”

Then, without any other warning, they released the pliers and the tiny rubber donut snapped off the hooks and snapped closed, constricting the top of the big sack and instantly cutting off the nourishing blood supply that had been feeding those big nuts for the boy’s entire lifetime. His castration had begun!

“ARGHHHHHH” the now banded nineteen year old yelled, bucking his hips again in a wild attempt to shake it off. He sure didn’t like the band on his nuts! No, he didn’t like that at all!

“FUCKKKKK! OH…OH FUCK. OH FUCK ME! THAT THING REALLY HURTS! OH SHIT IT HURTS! MAN, PLEASE… PLEASE TAKE IF OFF!”

Of course, instead of removing the donut that had cinched closed the boy’s big scrotum, the official instead reloaded the pliers with a second band and then once again he had to work hard to slip it up and over the big set of bullocks between the boy’s wide spread legs. Of course, the British fighter felt it being done to him all over again, and he was then so desperate he screamed.

But his screams didn’t change anything, and soon enough the second band came off the pliers with a SNAPPPPPPPPP sound, closing off the youth’s scrotum with a second donut of rubber, and cinching the skin so tight that it was almost as if the boy’s balls were hanging only by a single strand of flesh between the two bands of rubber.

As soon as the two bands had been applied, the boy jerked and fought, swinging his cinched-off nuts anew as he struggled. They turned a dark red immediately, and as he fought the restraints and felt the bands doing their work his eyes were wide, the feeling consuming him. His face was red with shame, and we all laughed then, as he felt his big balls starting to die and everyone watching it happening.

One of the officials then turned to the Swedish fighter, and said “He’s all yours now. You won your match, and your defeated foe is waiting for his victor. His nuts are banded, and you own him, so go ahead, and fuck him like a woman! His hole is well-lubed, his cock is up and eager, and from the way he’s holding his legs wide for you he’s eager for it.”

Hearing that, the Brit banged his head backwards into the block, frustrated; trying so hard to struggle and to prevent what was now unpreventable. The Swedish youth’s cock was jutting upward, the end of his thin prick round and purple, and his small boy-sized bag of balls was tight and drawn up under his pole. He was grinning, and was so eager at that point that his cock was dripping.

As the eighteen year old Swedish fighter moved up behind the man he had beaten and prepared to mount him, the Brit went crazy, and struggled with every muscle he had to escape. As he did, he started slamming his hips even harder into the beam and it gave the impression he was trying to fuck the air. He fought like a madman, in a panic, and as we all watched him he just humped the air, thrusting his rock-hard cock as if he was trying to fuck a woman even if there was no woman to fuck. From the expression on his face it was obvious he was in pain, and the rubber donuts that were strangling his balls must have hurt like hell. He clearly didn’t want to be fucked, and now that it was about to happen he was in a total panic, yet there was nothing he could do but wait for the cock that was moving towards his hole. In spite of desiring otherwise, it was just as the official had said, the restraints held his legs wide apart and his hole open almost as if he was eager for it to be done to him.

As the Swedish boy came up behind the Brit to mount him, he got a really good look at the immense scrotum that was hanging down between the British boy’s legs, and as he did his eyes went really wide as he stared in disbelief. His own little stones looked like a boy’s bag compared to the immense scrotum he was staring at, although his balls had a future of course and those in front of him did not. Still, what a contrast! The eighteen year old looked out to the crowd and grinned, and then he looked down at the huge set of balls again, and unable to resist, he grabbed them in his fist. He hefted them, and feeling the heavy weight of the big sac, that’s when he said: “FUCK MAN... WHOOA! THESE ARE SOME HUGE NUTS HERE!”

Everyone laughed, and the Swedish boy grinned. Sensing the crowd’s approval, the Swedish teenager didn’t hesitate then, and he let go of the teenager’s banded bullocks and took his own rock hard nine-inch cock into his fist and guided the head of it up against the Brit’s hole. There was a ring of red hair there, a last line of protection, but it was no match for the Swede’s rod and at that point the eighteen year old just pushed forward with his hips, sliding his thin nine-inch cock into the British teen’s glistening well-lubed hole.

Luckily for the Brit, Yuri Gentivich didn’t ram his penis into him, but instead he took his time inserting it. Even so, the Brit fought to prevent it with every muscle he had, but nevertheless his hole swallowed the winner’s eager cock and gripped it like a girl’s pussy. As the Brit grunted, the young Swedish fighter slowly eased his long cock into the nineteen year old British boy’s hole, oh-so-slowly, inch by inch until he had finally buried it all the way to his teenage balls. While he did it gently, nevertheless as the Brit felt the first cock of his life penetrating his bowels, the look on the British teen was something to savor. He obviously didn’t like getting fucked!

The nineteen year old was totally humiliated, and being mounted by the younger boy was almost too much for him to handle. I had to laugh as he stared at us and felt that nine inch cock sliding inside of him, and when his hole and taken the entire length of it and the victor’s cock was buried to the hilt, Gregory grunted and closed his eyes in shame. At the same time his face went bright red just from the thought of what was being done to him. His nuts of course hurt so damn bad, and now, with his balls banded and his asshole being filled with the cock of his victor, he must have felt like a worthless whore.

The Swedish teenager started fucking the Brit then, moving his hips and forcing his long cock in and out of his ass. I’ll never forget it. The young looking Swedish boy was sliding his cock in and out of the red headed youth’s ass, driving his long hard pole into him like a piston. The room was hot, and the blond sweated as he fucked, driving his cock into his opponent with gusto, eager to be doing it and clearly enjoying the feeling. He was like a teenager in heat, fucking with a passion, almost with the eagerness of a young teenage boy mounting his very first pussy. He drove his long cock deep with every stroke, and as it bottomed out deep in the British boy’s ass, the male receiving it grunted loudly with each impact from the nine inch penis that was impaling him.

“URG… URG… URG… UGH… UGH… OH… OH… UGH…”

And on it went, with the young Swedish youth picking up his speed, until he was soon slamming his cock in and out of his defeated foe’s hole so fast it was a blur.

The red headed Brit was rock hard, his penis jutting upward and the big end of it flared and purple. It was almost as if it was eager to be fucked, anxious perhaps to feel his opponent’s rod ramming into him, even if the boy himself was not.

As he picked up the pace of his fucking, the Swedish teenager took hold of the hips of the British boy, using the sides of him like two handles to increase the speed and power of his thrusting. After that he was fucking with an eagerness that knows no bounds, and as he increased the speed even more he tossed his head back and stared at the ceiling. And still on he went, fucking the British hole with a vengeance. As he was fucking, his lips parted and he started to verbalize the intense feelings that were filling his soul as he fucked another person for the first time in his life.

“OH…OH YEAH. THAT FEELS SO FUCKING TIGHT. SO HOT! OH YEAH. OH YEAHHHHH. FEEL MY COCK IN YOUR ASS! YEAH! I’M FUCKING YOU!”

Suddenly, the British boy’s eyes snapped open as the nine inch cock inside of him slammed repeatedly into the depths of his anus. With his balls aching and the winner’s cock repeatedly banging into his prostate, it was all too much, and then all of a sudden he began to ejaculate, the cock in his ass slamming into his prostate so hard now that it was literally driving the sperm right out of his massive balls. He grunted as he came, shooting out a huge load as we all watched, gasping as he ejaculated and shot his sperm. It all went wasted of course, his big load of virile seed that was meant for a pussy instead spurted onto the mat beneath his legs, the last of his living DNA shot for nothing as a blond teenage boy pounded his ass.

Of course, the loser’s ass muscles rippled as he ejaculated, and the boy’s hole that was stuffed full of the winner’s cock started to squeeze the intruder in rhythmic contractions as he jetted out his cream, increasing the victor’s pleasure almost as if to thank him. The truth was that while the teen being fucked felt his banded nuts dying and the winner’s cock raping his hole, his own forced ejaculation gave the winner feelings of pleasure that were magnified a thousand times. Ironically, it was the loser’s ultimate submission, his body’s decision to shoot its wad that gave the winner his ultimate pleasure, and as the loser’s ass muscles rippled with their orgasm and massaged the winner’s dick the feelings of pleasure for the victor all became way too much. As it happened, the young blond Swedish fighter tossed back his hair with a flick of his head, and yelled out:

“OHHHH… OH GOD!!!! I’M CUMMING! OH YEAH… TAKE MY WAD FUCKER----FEEL MY SEED AS I FILL YOUR HOLE!”

And then he too ejaculated, pumping his entire wad deep into the bowels of the man he had beaten.

He shot and shot and shot, and then still cumming he fell forward, into the man he was penetrating, the two bodies coming together as one. As he did so, his seed continued to shoot into the man beneath him, almost as if he was trying to fertilize the other's bowels. In fact, he came so copiously that his cream was literally pouring out around his cock and running down over his opponents banded balls before it puddled beneath him. God he had a huge load of sperm! In the end there was a hell of a lot of white sperm splattered on the floor from the two young men, and it was a sight I’ll never forget.

After a minute or so Yuri slowly pulled out his spent nine-inch love rod, and he was sure grinning after completing the first fuck of his life. One of the Fight Club officials handed him the knife then, and while it's hooked blade wasn’t all that big and it didn’t look all that dangerous, nevertheless without any doubt it was big enough to take a set of balls. The other side of it, the one with the serrated edges, could clearly cut through just about anything, even a big set of balls no matter how massive.

The Swedish fighter held it, and looked down at the knife, and then he turned it slowly in his hand, contemplating which side of the blade to use. The side with the hook was razor sharp inside of the curve, and all he would have to do was place the hook between the two bands cinching off the loser’s scrotum and give a single swift jerk. In an instant it would nut the man, slicing off his balls with a single pull of the knife, and it could do it so fast that the man being castrated would hardly realize it as it was being done. There would be a single, quick stab of pain, followed by an emptiness that would last a lifetime.

But the other side of the knife was straight, and serrated, and if that side was used the steel blade would slice through the scrotum in a different manner, working its way downward through the flesh between the bands like a saw goes through a piece of wood. It would be a little slower to do it that way, but it was a sure thing, and no matter how tough the balls were, they would be no match for a knife when used that way. The end result would be the same of course, and the choice of castration methods was totally up to the winner.

As it turned out, Yuri Gentivich opted to use the serrated side. He reached out with his left hand then and grabbed that big scrotum, strangling it like a chicken, pulling outward as his fist wrapped around that big sac of nuts and held it fast. I think the entire arena went quiet at that point. Then, slowly and methodically as if it was something he did everyday, the eighteen year old set the knife against the neck of the nineteen year old’s scrotum, the sharp edge of the knife resting directly between the two rubber donuts that were strangling the teenager’s testicles.

Time seemed to stand still then. Of course, the British lad that was now waiting for the knife to unman him could feel it there, resting against his scrotum, and the muscles in his legs pulled and he strained against his restrains with a desperation unique to a man about to be nutted. But nothing happened. Yuri Gentivch was in no hurry, and so the knife just seemed to sit there, unmoving, resting against that huge sac of balls, right up against the top of the big scrotum and right between the two bands that were slowly strangling the essence of the man that was now in the fist of the winner.

The Brit of course felt it, knew the winner had his balls and was holding them in his fist, and there was nothing he could do about it. The knife was poised and ready, and the crowd was anxious to see it begin. For the nineteen year old with a wisp of a mustache growing on his front lip, it was a terrible feeling, and hopelessly he stared out into the crowd of us watching him as he waited to be castrated. He waited, and stared at us, his legs tied wide apart and his hole dripping with the sperm of his victor. His hard cock jutted, bouncing to his heartbeat as it twitched up and down. His eyes were so wide open, the look somewhere between apprehension, defeat, disbelief, and panic. The moment lingered, between manhood and nothing, between having balls and not. For the Brit there would be no children to father, no future pussy to mount, and no more wads of DNA spurting out of his rock-hard cock.

Then, as we all watched, the blond Swedish boy with the long dick slowly grinned, and then he started to move his right hand, moving the knife back and forth, sliding the serrated edge of the knife over the strip of flesh that connected the big scrotum to the teenager that had carried it for nineteen years. As he did that, Gregory Poster felt the burn, and as he did he slammed his head back against the big wooden beam that held it fast and screamed. The scream was primal, something less than a man perhaps, and certainly more animalistic than human. Then, he jerked his head upwards, facing all of us, and that’s when he yelled out “OH FUCK ME! I’M BEING CASTRATED!”

Everyone it seemed laughed then, and his statement sure did seem funny because it was so obvious.

Then he seemed to jerk with every muscle in his body, and the entire restraint stocks shook as he did so. He sure didn’t like being nutted! He was just grunting after that, and he continued to struggle and grunt in a total panic as the eighteen year old blond boy worked the knife through his balls.

As he was being castrated the red headed boy’s voice cracked like a pubescent teenager, and while the reason for that probably had little to do with his nuts being stolen, nevertheless it brought a few more laughs from those of us watching. Of course, castration was the ultimate demonstration of power of one boy over another, and while the young looking Swede was less of a man than the British boy he was nutting, that changed in a single instant. As he sliced off his opponents balls, he became far more of a man than the man he nutted would ever be again. It was truly the ultimate domination of one male over another.

It was something to see! The nineteen year old being castrated jerked against the restraints as he felt the knife taking his massive set of balls, and his powerful muscles strained and rippled as the cuts went deeper and the knife sliced into him. He slammed his head back against the wooden beam again and again in frustration, and yet as we watched he stared back at us and his mouth grimaced from the pain every time he grunted. He stared right at us the entire time he was living through his own castration and I’ll never forget the look on his face as long as I live.

His cock shot another wad, from where I have no idea, but as he was being nutted he definitely ejaculated and the sperm jetted out of his pole, the spurts seemingly timed with the movement of the blade that was slicing off his nuts. His cream jetted out in lines of white sperm between his legs, and he just seemed to shoot and shoot and shoot, almost as if his body was desperately trying to fertilize something, while he still had balls to do it with.

Finally, the knife did what it was made to do, and the eighteen year old Swedish teenager finally sliced through the tissue and the defeated teenager’s balls came free. The crowd roared when that happened, and spontaneously there was a thunderous applause. Everyone was excited and grinning then, except for the boy who had just been castrated. For him, it was done, and his life as a man was ended. Almost to emphasize that point, as his balls came free the boy’s rock hard cock stopped shooting sperm, and then it just wilted, almost to emphasize what had been taken from him. In that same moment he just totally collapsed and stopped struggling, with the realization perhaps that now there was nothing left to fight for. Within a minute of losing his balls his cock was hanging like a wet noodle, and after that he was just a limp defeated eunuch. He had been totally unmanned and we had all watched it happen!

I stared at his just-fucked ass, the sperm of the victor still dribbling out of his hole, and for some reason I felt a stirring in my groin and I wanted him. There was a good sized puddle of sperm beneath him, the last of his cream shot out for nothing. He lay there, ashamed and defeated, glistening with sweat and now just a nutless sexless being. He was done as a man, and his bag of stones was now in the hands of his rival, being paraded around the mat like a trophy.

I’ll never forget that as long as I live. The Swedish teenager hefted his prize, and carried it around the ring high over his head while the crowd roared and applauded. The two boys were oh-so-different then. One was a man, the winner, and the other was the loser, now unmanned, nutted, and soon to be nothing but a Fight Club whore. Wow!

Things happened fast after that. The winner headed off for his three days of fucking, and the loser was taken to the adjacent Post Bout Domination Room and made ready to be mounted by any of the Fight Club members that desired it. There is no charge to use the defeated fighter for your pleasure, and in the past I’ve found it well worthwhile to take advantage of the opportunity. I for one wouldn’t have missed this chance for anything, and as it turned out I was first in line to mount the new eunuch’s hole.

It took about fifteen minutes before they let us begin, and as it turned out it was a lot better than I imagined it. They had tied the naked teenage eunuch over the end of a bed, so that his rear end up was up, and his legs were tied way apart to the end of the bed frame. His arms were tied outward to the other end, and they had stuffed his mouth with a gag. I was thinking that after his previous fucking, and with all the lube and sperm in his hole, that I was probably going to get a very sloppy second and there would not be all that much pleasure in it. But I was wrong, and as I slid my fat six inches into the wet entrance to his bowels, he was a lot tighter than I had expected. In fact, he was tighter than any pussy I’ve ever had.

I fucked him, and he grunted as he took my cock and his hole swallowed my sperm. I shot a big wad into him when I came, and I savored doing so. I have always taken advantage of fucking the new eunuchs after their fights, but like anything in life some holes are better than others. As it turned out, the British lad had a very tight ass, and I was impressed with the way it gripped me and the wetness of his hole. He was the loser, and at the Fight Club losing has consequences, so I did not feel bad fucking him. He was hot, and while it might not have been willingly, he took it well even so, and by the time I was done he was learning a new appreciation for his future role in life.

He sure grunted when I fucked him! After I was done with him and pulled my satisfied cock from his hole, I reached between his legs and felt the little knob of flesh and the tiny rubber donut that was all that was left of where his balls had swung. I had to grin with that thought as I left, for there was a long line of members waiting their turn with him, and without his balls to me he looked anxious to accommodate them.

Before I headed back to my hotel room and caught my flight home the next day, I took the time to go by the Winner’s Windows and watch the winner as he enjoyed his three days of fucking. I was just in time to see him fucking his first girl, and she was a cute college age brunette with large, firm tits. There were two other cute girls in the same room. One of them, a red headed girl with cute, petit tits, was fondling his balls as he fucked, and the other was a blond who was fingering herself as she waited her turn and watched the boy doing his fucking. The boy was on top of the brunette, in the conventional missionary position, and from the view we had through the one-way mirrors he was really enjoying himself. She clearly was enjoying his nine inches too, and he fucked his first pussy hard and with an eagerness that was sincere. Nobody fucks like a teenage male, and he worked his long cock like a jackhammer.

It seemed almost surreal in a way to watch him, with the three women in there each vying for his long cock and it’s load of cream, eager to get it and almost begging for his attention. As I watched his hips driving his cock in and out of the girl beneath him, I was struck by the similarity with how he had fucked the British teenage male he had just unmanned. I had to wonder which he enjoyed more? He grunted and fucked her for about eight or nine minutes. Then, to my surprise, he pulled out, his long cock rock hard and dripping, and then he turned his attention to the girl that had been holding his balls. She fell backwards and he entered her, and then he resumed his stroking in the new pussy with vigor. I stayed and watched long enough to see him close his eyes and jet his cream into her, squirting out his load and filling the red head’s pussy with his seed. Oh she looked happy then!

I had to smile. The three girls would keep him busy, and over the next days they would keep him spent and satisfied as well. He had a lot of stamina, as teenage boys do, but even so he was glistening with sweat after his second fuck in less than an hour, and it was pretty clear that soon his cock would need a rest. From his expression, he was definitely enjoying himself. Over the next few days, while the castrated British loser was being fucked next door by the club membership, the Swedish teenager would be mounting a lot of pussy in the days to come. There are certainly some big advantages to being the winner! Of course, in some ways, that’s what the Fight Club is all about.

Member Statements

“I’ve always enjoyed watching two men fight, no matter if it’s a pro boxing match, an Olympic wrestling bout, or even the so called professional wrestlers. But none of those fights compare to a Fight Club match. None. I like to watch men fight hard, and nobody fights harder than men who are risking their balls.” --Ted R; member #Y327499

“I think I come for the moment in every match, where the winner is holding the knife in one hand the balls of his opponent in the other. When they start the castration, I feel an excitement that cannot be described.” --Mark J; member #I431987

Famous Quotes from Some Selected Fighters:

“OH FUCKKKKKK! They’re kicking me in the balls! OH. OH SHIT! THOSE THINGS REALLY HURT!” – spoken by Timoty L, age 22, following the application of the second band that cinched off the top of his scrotum. [loser: Match #53]

“I can’t wait to castrate you!” – spoken by Lance P, age 19, prior to the third round of his fight with Kevin T. Kevin beat Lance and subsequently castrated him in round IV. [loser; Match #69]

“Shut the fuck up dude…and take my cock like a man! When I’m finished I’m going to cut your nuts off, so enjoy it while you have them.” - spoken by Lawrence E, age 20, as he rammed his penis in and out of the 23 year old fighter he had beaten. He castrated his opponent twelve minutes later and laughed as he was doing it. [winner; Match 134]

“OH FUCK…he’s castrating me!” - spoken by Thomas N, age 17, as he was being castrated by Michael J, a 16 year old fighter. [loser; Match 17]

“One…..Two….. Threeeeeeee!” – spoken by Ronald G, age 19, as he castrated his eighteen year old opponent. As he said the word “threeeeeee” he jerked his right hand hard, and pulled the curved hook-edge of the knife instantly through the neck of his opponent’s scrotum, severing his balls in an instant. [winner; Match 224]

“Arghhhhhhhh. OH. OH….I’ve been nutted!.” - spoken by Wilford R, age 29, just as his balls were cut free from his body. As he spoke his cock ejaculated his last load of semen. [loser; Match 147]

“OH…OHHHH GOD! OH….OHHHH” –spoken by Gregory Poster, age 19, as his rectum was filled with lubricant and prior to his subsequent rape and castration. [loser; match 275]

“OHHHH… OH GOD!!!! I’M CUMMING! OH YEAH….TAKE MY WAD FUCKER----FEEL MY SEED AS I FILL YOUR HOLE!” – spoken by Yuri G, age 18, as he was ejaculating into his 19 year old opponent. Seven minutes later he severed Gregory P’s previously banded scrotum. [winner; match 275]

“FUCK MAN…WHOOA! THESE ARE SOME HUGE NUTS HERE!” – spoken by Yuri G, as he viewed his opponents large scrotum just after winning his match. Seventeen minutes later he castrated Gregory P’s giant bag of testicles, which subsequently became the largest and heaviest scrotum ever taken in the history of the Fight Club. That record holds today and the giant scrotum can be viewed in the Hall of Shame and appears under fight #275. [winner; match 275]

[Authors note: © Copyright April, 2009. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. -Nathan// [email protected]]