Our nut-busting relationship had started off as normal roommates and we were casually friendly. Then, one day, I got out of the shower, not realizing he was home, and had left the bathroom door open. I was toweling off with one leg up on the bathtub rim, so that my balls were in full profile view to him, as he happened to pass by, unknown to me. We normally kept Nerf weapons around the pad for fun, and seeing my nuts exposed for attack, he couldn’t resist picking up a Nerf dart-gun and blasted it directly into my soft sac.

I went down on my knees, holding my nuts with a grimace on my face, but much to his surprise, I slowly exposed them again as I swiveled to face him and told him to take another shot. He lept on the opportunity with enthusiasm, and made more dead on shots to my nuts, while I kept my hardening dick out of the way. We both had a great time. Then to his even greater surprise, I laid down my back, put a rolled up towel under my butt, clasped my hands under my head, and asked him if he wanted to kick them. He was hesitant, at first, as any guy would be, but with some encouragement from my part he made some experimental jabs to my balls with his socked foot. I told him, “kick ‘em, man!” and his light jabs developed into a steady rhythmic punting of my testicles. I was moaning, and grunting and saying “oh yeah, oh yeah”. Eventually I looked up and I said in a rough voice, “Do you like that?” and I saw in his eyes the gleam of illicit enjoyment. “Fuck yeah” he said. I was like “Then kick ‘em. Kick my nuts! Harder. Burst them!” He became totally enthusiastic in his ball busting kicks as he realized I really did want him to damage my balls.

From then on, our relationship developed both sexually and in terms of ball busting. I took every opportunity to let him kick me in the groin, or knee me, or squeeze my nuts between his impossibly strong fingers, anywhere, anytime, in any way. If I was lying on the couch, watching TV and he walked by, I would do nothing more than tap my crotch with a finger and spread my knees slightly. He then he’d leap over the couch and do a knee drop directly into my nuts, usually hitting at least one dead on with his knee-cap, and would require no further encouragement from me to grind it into my pelvis as I hugged him close to force my berry into the rock-hard knee.

Sometimes, I’d come home from campus, and he’d be on the phone . . . I would just close the door, undo my pants, pull it and my underwear down to my ankles and bend over so that he could kick my dangling nuts as hard as he could, but continuing his conversation over the phone as if I wasn’t writhing on the ground. The feeling of his toes flattening my gonads against my own crotch was intoxicating, and knowing how much he loved to see my walnuts be vulnerable to him was truly like a drug.

We became lovers too, and I would suck him off while he squeezed my nuts, and he’d fuck me with his enormous basketball player dick. He was particularly fond of fucking me on my back so that he could punch my nuts in time with his pelvic thrusts. I’d be there on the bed, on my back, my arms holding my legs behind the knees, his long prick sliding in and out of me, filling my gut with his manhood, and his fist, usually his right, pistoning into my package with the force of a freight train. And as he came close to cuming, he would always reach down with both hands, take one ball in each of them and squeeze SO hard that I had to choke down my screams, the pressure he exerted on them becoming insane as his jism was injected into me. It was always agony, and I was in heaven.

He became good at the subtle nut-torture, too, not just the knee ramming and kicks. It wasn’t long before we were sharing the same bed, and on many mornings he would wake me up by grasping one of my testicles between his thumb and middle finger, and then just slowly start tapping the round part of my ball with his index finger. Slowly, at first, to wake me up, and then harder and harder and faster until I would start writhing in joyous, excruciating pain.

In public places, he’d sometimes give me a quick slap to the nuts, and I’d have to pretend it had never happened, and I eventually lost count of the times he simply grabbed my nutsack and yanked on my balls while we were peeing in the same restaurant bathroom or swimming in the same public pool. It was all the more exciting because I had to totally control my reaction to the pain.

With his friends, I became known as his nut-slave, and since most of them were straight athletes, he’d pass me around at the parties we held, so his friends could have their way with my nuts too. At first they wouldn’t believe a guy would willing be nutted, but David would just causally unzip my fly, pull a gonad or two out and just start squeezing them in front of the guys. I would moan in pleasurable pain, and for some reason this would always really intrigue them. At first they’d laugh at it, and good many drinking games involved taking pot shots at my groin, but when they saw how brutal his treatment of me was, and how much I yearned for it, they began to seriously hurt my balls. I remember one night I got punted in the nuts by athletic feet 46 times. I remember each kick clearly. Some with shoes, some in socks, some with bare-foot toes burying themselves in my scrotum. The ones that hurt most were the ones where the shoelaces snapped into my sac, lashing my delicate scrotal skin as well as making my jewels feel like mush. That night, despite being tied separate by twine, each swelled to the size of large lemons, and my reward for all of it was blowing each of them. God, their cum tasted good through the haze of unbelievable pain. Sweet, salty, frothy, and made filling and rich from their protein supplements.

Ultimately, though, my balls belonged to David. And eventually I made this official. I came home on the night of his birthday, and dropped a document into his lap.

“Happy Birthday,” I said.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Read it.”

He undid the ribbon and read it out loud, “I, Nick Dennis, the undersigned, do hereby give my two testicles, their spermatic cords, the scrotum in which they hang, and all the reproductive value contained within to the one whom they should belong to, David Shawn Willis, and forfeit any further jurisdiction over them. Henceforth, David Shawn Willis will have the right to hit, kick, damage, torture, remove, consume, puncture, abuse, mutilate or in anyway violate said organs whenever, wherever or however he may wish, up to and including their complete destruction.” This was followed by very precise pen sketches of my gonads and gentalia, and a description of their weight, size, and shape. The document was witnessed, notarized, and in full, proper legal form.

“Oh my god,” he said in surprise.

I pulled down my pants and underwear, and revealed my two nuts each tied up with bows. “Like I said, Happy Birthday,” as I smiled.

He pulled me close by my nuts, squeezing them firmly enough to make me moan. Tied up, as they were, there was no escaping his grip. “So,” I said between heavy breaths, “What do you plan to do with them?”

“Destroy ‘em,” he said, grinning.

“I love you, David,” came my reply as he bore down on my twin fruits, bringing me to my knees. That night we had the hottest sex of all, and one of the best kicks he ever gave me. I was bending over to pick up the lube on the floor, and didn’t realize David had come back into the room yet. His boots were still on at that point and his Timberland appeared suddenly between my legs and gave me a kick so hard that it knocked the wind right out of my lungs. I fell to my knees, clutching my nuts, unable to even speak. David walked up behind me, squatted down, snaked his hand between my legs, and stole my, well really his nuts now, from out of my grasp. As I groaned he split my nuts with his thumb and then grated my swelling jewels together like he wanted to pop them right there! As my abused nuts oozed out from between his fingers, he whispered into my ear about how he was going to rupture them slowly, painfully, letting us both savor their destruction, and I lived every day after in excited anticipation of such a moment.

In the weeks following that night, he’d often roll one egg or the other around in my pouch after sex, and muse about how he should burst it. “Do you think it would hurt more to step on this one first until it splits and then squish the other one with my teeth, or should I kick them both till they swell up and pound them both flat with my fist?” As well, his sense of mastery of their fate led him to novel forms of abuse, like having me sit across from him and busting them myself while he jacked off, or the night he brought home a hat-pin he found at his sisters, and skewered my nuts with it. He creamed in his pants without ever touching his dick when he realized that impaling the ball long-ways, rather than from the side, took longer, was more painful for me, and therefore that much more erotic for him. At one point I was babbling incoherently as he slid the long pin in and out of my ball, over and over, and jabbed in various directions, and I couldn’t walk for three days after!

Perhaps my favorite night after that, though, but before their final crushing, was the night he almost popped them by his own excitement. He’d been out drinking with some basketball buddies, and came home, horny as hell. I was lying on the couch, in the dark, lounging around in my sweatpants, watching Nightline, and he came in. He strode in the front door, slammed it shut, switched on the light, and then said intensely “Pull ‘em down and take ‘em out”.

I did so without hesitation, and was soon standing with my tackle on display. Meanwhile, he’d shrugged off his shoes, and had unzipped his fly, letting his enormous woody lurch free, and was stroking it with one hand.

“Put them on the coffee table!” He ordered, and I did so as he wobbled unsteadily onto the table. He clearly wanted them under his feet, but was having trouble, in his inebriated state, doing so, and either kept missing them or let them pop out from under his socked foot. “Fuck! I can’t feel them!” he moaned.

“Hold still,” I said and I guided one of his feet to cover my grade A size balls. I knew he might crush them flat, but if my throbbing erection was any indication, that would be “just fine” with me.

I now had 200 plus pounds of muscular basket-ball player weight on my trapped testicles. I felt as if I was gonna die, and yet . . . my dick-head was purple from being so hard and even as I held my breath and hoped that all he’d do was roll them around under his foot like he was doing, I also knew he might crush them right then and there but not even remember it the next day!

“I want to feel your dick too!” He bellowed, his fist pumping up and down the length of his knob.

With great effort I pried his foot off my balls and flattened my cock between them, directly on the wood. Then I, not him, picked up his foot and slammed it down on the whole package, and I think it was only because my balls were slightly lower than my rock hard dick that they didn’t pop right then and there. Instead my cock was crushed and bruised. He loved it. Eventually he came, and lumbered off to bed, while I was quietly sick in the bowl of popcorn I’d made.

And so, that brings us to tonight. We’d had an excellent dinner at Chez Bouilles, sitting side by side in a corner booth. The waiter never noticed that David’s right hand was always under the table, in my pants and fondling the two testicles he’d soon to be popping. For desert we order the fruit bowl, and I hand fed him the whole grapes, plums, and cherries which he lodged in his cheek, swirled around and then popped between his molars as if there were my plums, letting me see them split open and gush out through his open mouth. I was hard the entire time.

When we got home, we undressed and took a hot shower together, me soaping up his body and worshiping his cock and balls, then letting him fuck me using the soap as lube, he all the while holding onto my sac for balance, and squeezing its contents for pleasure. After we got out, I kneeled in front of him and sucked on his moist nuts, acutely aware that he was going to be keeping his manhood, while I was not, and I worshiped them; I licked at them like I was a dog, I swallowed them, I rubbed my nose against their soft scrotal flesh, and I suckled at his big floppy acorns like they were the jewels of a deity.

Eventually I toweled him off, and then half dressed him, slipping on his socks and tucking his package, ever-so-gently, even reverently, into a pair of briefs, and then helped him into a pair of plaid shorts. Not because he couldn’t dress himself, but because I enjoyed knowing I was debasing myself even more. He was what was important to me. Him and his manhood. My manhood was but a momentary thrill for him, to be crushed into spermy goo. And knew I wanted to be naked and vulnerable for him, while he would remain clothed, and in control. All I put on was a pair of white gym socks. Cold feet make for tight scrotums, and I wanted them to be as loose and inviting as possible

“Get on the floor like a dog,” he said. I did so, and I could see my own nut sack reach half-way to the floor, dangling like a testicle piñata. “Spread your legs more, I want them lower.” Soon they were grazing the carpet.

“Excellent,” he said, sounding exactly like Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. He started out with the first set of kicks; flat kicks from the top of his foot where the arch rammed against my spread hole and his toes slapping my hangers with moderate force. I arched my back and moaned at the ceiling while he bruised my chute and my balls at the same time.

Then there was a pause, and then his leg on my butt forced it to the floor. He reached down, pulled my nuts out from under me, and then ground them into the soft carpet. I was squealing in pain and pleasure, grabbing fistfuls of the carpet. “I’ve got your bubbles in my power, my love,” he said. “Howl for me or I’ll burst them.” I did my best to turn my evocations into dog-like howls. “Good boy,” he muttered. Then he pulled my rigid dick out from under me too, and started to mash that into the carpet as well.

After a while of that I felt his weight lift from my sack and, being as strong as he was, he lifted me entirely off the floor, and heaved me over onto my back on the sofa. He retrieved a pair of handcuffs, and soon my hands were behind me. Then, with me willingly opening up my legs to him, he began repeatedly doing death drops with his knee right into my waiting testicles. Sometimes smashing one or both nuts with his kneecap, and sometimes just nailing my raging hardon. Then, suddenly, he switched to just lying on me, and ramming his knee into my helpless groin, all the while kissing my face and mouth and pressing his own erection against my torso.

I could feel my nuts bending around his knee as it pistoned into them. I also felt his hot tongue stabbing into my mouth. He slowed down eventually, and reached with one hand to grope my nuts, now red and shiny and about the size of extra large lemons, and he whispered into my ear, “Do you like that? I’m squashing your manhood. I’m going to crush it beyond repair.”

“Yes” I moaned softly. “Make them mush.” I begged.

“Ok” he replied with a smile.

He then pushed by knees up to my head and began pounding the mound of my scrotum with his fist. Each hit made a loud smacking sound, and I let out and “oof” of pain has he crammed his knuckles into my goolies. Each nut stood out in it’s sac like an obscene fruit, and I new they didn’t have much longer to live. However, David wanted to destroy my balls individually, and stopped short of pounding them into jelly.

I was given a short respite while he popped them between his fingers and squeezed them brutally, deciding which one to nullify first. This was when my hardon, which was already purple from excessive excitement, started to leak copious amounts of pre-cum. I knew I was going to loose a nut. For real. And I knew it was going to hurt so much, and yet feel so right.

Finally he singled out my right ball, and said, “This one will be first.” He squeezed the trapped testicle until I cried out in agony, then he let it flop loose. “I’m going to lie down on our bed, and you’re going to drop it into my mouth.” David got up and left me to untangle myself and slowly, torturously, get off the couch and waddle into the bedroom, trying to let my ultra-sensitive gonads swing freely so as to not touch anything with them. Everything was made more difficult by the fact that my hands were handcuffed behind me.

David lay there, on his back, one hand groping his own balls, the other sliding up and down his dick. His socked feet rested on headboard, and his head lay over the side of the bed, and I saw him there smiling at me and enjoying my torturous journey to him.

“Now,” he said, “Come stand over me and drop that nut into my mouth. You’re gonna stand completely still while I crush it between my teeth. Here open your mouth.” I dutifully opened my mouth, and he reached up and shoved his balled underwear into it. Then he reached over to the side of the bed and put a gelatinous pink thing in his mouth. I learned later it was a teeth-guard made especially for him by an ask-me-no-questions Tijuana orthodontist. Its sole purpose was to fit over all his teeth and allow him to bite my balls without breaking through the scrotum.

With it in place, I new what I had to do. I positioned my dangling orbs over his open mouth, and slowly, painfully dropped them towards it. He reached around behind me with his free hand (the other being used to jack off), and he guided my butt to help the process. I dropped my package into his awaiting jaws, and he sucked in my right nut. It was so swollen by this point, that it filled most of his mouth, and I was in agony as he maneuver it around in his mouth to position it between his front teeth. Yes, his front teeth. It was too late for me to do anything about it as I realized he was going to bite my ball in half. I had seen him bite things in half before. Hard things, carrots and apples being his favorite. It took no effort for his strong front teeth to bite cleanly through even the largest vegetable. My poor nut was doomed. I started to shudder uncontrollably, my knees became weak and without his hand on my ass, I would have fallen. But I never lost my hard-on, and my dribble of precum became a torrent of sticky white fluid.

And then it began. His incisors started to cleave my gonad in twain. At first it was just a steady painful pressure, and it seemed like the ball might pop safely back into his mouth, but he had a muscular tongue, and was pressing against the testicle from the inside. Slowly my ball began to bulge at the ends and was narrowing between his teeth. At this point, I think I was shrieking into my gag, but there was nothing I could do.

All at once there was a sort of squishy “chomping” noise, like someone biting into a leeche nut, and my testicle split between his teeth. My whole body shuddered violently and my cock released a huge volley of cum which arced onto his chest. But this was not the end of my torture. While I was in the throws of agony and ecstasy, he immediately sucked in the cleaved goober and swished one half over between one set of molars, and the other between the other set. Then he actually began chewing on my testicle like it was food. My manhood became nothing more than some sort of reproductive gum to him, and he casually chewed it into paste while stroking himself off to what, he later told me, was the best orgasm he’d ever had.

Eventually I blacked out. And what he later said was an half-hour later, I awoke in a hazy, pain filled daze to find myself fully upright, tied to the coat rack, stationed in front of the kitchen table, with my left nut and what remained of my right nut laying flush on its surface. I moaned through the wadded briefs in my mouth. Out of no-where David’s huge fist came crashing down on my damaged fruit. I jolted with each slam, but couldn’t escape. And my dick? Yup, it started to get hard again.

I felt a warm mouth hover near my ear. “I’ve made you half a man, Nick. If I stopped now, you could still be one. But I don’t think I’m going to let you. You’re gonna be my eunuch slave from now on, and only I am going to get to have pleasure.” He continued to pound my package for a while. But the swelling of the destroyed nut was making it difficult to work with my good one, so soon he was tying a piece of twine around my leftie, and this revealed it to be quite large now, indeed. And rather soft, like it had already begun to rupture. To demonstrate this, he squeezed the over-ripe fruit and instead of the flesh springing back, it sort of made a dimple.

Apparently he wanted to torture the nut further before busting it – I had already assumed he was going to stand on it somehow – because he appeared with some long, sharp hatpins. Holding the softened testicle between the fingers of one hand, he deftly slid them into it, lengthwise, from top to bottom, and then he flicked the ends. Had my mouth been open, I would have been vomiting all over myself and the table, but as it was, all I could do was swallow the stuff and hope I didn’t choke to death. He also then moved the needles around inside my nut, making mush out of its insides.

When he finally pulled the needles, there were literally globs of spermatic goo attached to them, sort of a gloppy light beige. He held them up to his own lips and licked off the small globs, enjoying the insides of my manhood. It was sickening, horrifying, and totally awesome. My cock was dribbling bloody pink precum down it’s own rigid length.

And then down to the final business. Instead of standing on my doomed testicle, he placed his kneecap on it, and raised himself onto the table until his full weight was resting on the ball. In less than a few seconds it went with a loud “squick” sound, and I started to seizure uncontrollably from the pain. The fact that it had burst didn’t phase David, and he continued to squash its pulpy remains with his knee. My head was lolling from side to side, and my cock was spurting completely clear cum, now, all over the table.

“Hmmm,” said David. “Lets drain you of all your cum. Don’t want you holding on to any of it.”

He went over to the cooking utensils and got a metal pancake flipper. “I think your ball bag still has a few lumps in it.” And with that, he proceeded to flatten my ruptured nuts for at least a half hour. He jacked off a full two times to it, smashing my nut bag full force, bringing my once proud balls to a nearly liquid state. When my dick finally stopped spurting, I was ready to pass out and the last thing I remember was hearing David call my boss to tell him that “Hi, this is Nick’s roommate. Listen, we were playing with his equipment and I’m afraid he’s had an injury. I don’t think he’ll be coming to work for a week or two.” Then he came over to me and whispered, “I love you, Nick” into my ear. I slipped into blissful unconsciousness. My dreams had been fulfilled.