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Joe sat alone on his sofa and finished his beer. Another Friday, another work week gone, and still no respect. That's the story of his life, it seems. Ever since high school, and even junior high, it was always the good looking kids who got the praise and the attention and the popularity. Not that the kids weren't good looking. They were. And as he went through high school he noticed that those kids developed size and musculature that made Joe both envious and aroused at the same time. The smooth, buff teenage bodies maturing into manhood was a sight to behold.
And after high school, in the world of work, the same thing happened. The late-teen and twenty-something guys with chiseled good looks and athletic bodies got the attention, the good jobs, the praise. It was all just too much. And for years Joe had been fantasizing about evening the score and taking these muscleboys down to size. For the last year or so, Joe had done more than just fantasize. His idea of justice was getting a muscle hunk into bondage, torturing him, ravishing his testicles, and then castrating him. To Joe, having control over a guy's balls was the ultimate authority and domination trip, and the best way to dispense his idea of justice. To his mind, these guys deserved to lose their balls. Nobody with bodies like that had a right to lord it over ordinary folk. And the best was to put a stop to it was to take their balls. God, he loved to take their balls. He loved the feeling of power and the muscle hunks would cry and sob and beg to be released with their manhood intact, flexing their muscles and straining against their bonds in vain attempts to free themselves. Eventually, as Joe got more proficient with ball torture, some of them would even beg to be castrated to end their pain. Take Rod. Rod was an 18 year old kid getting ready to graduate from high school. He was a wrestler, tanned, smooth,and stunning in his rippling muscular definition. At 5'8" and 165 pounds, he was not a really big kid, but was very strong, well proportioned, and very handsome. The blond, blue eyed type with impressive 6 pack abs, bulding shoulders and biceps, well developed slabs of pec muscle, and thigh thighs, all of it naturally smooth. For a year Joe had been driving home from work and saw Rod lifting weights in the driveway of his parents' secluded house. They worked late, so Rod was alone. The kid obviously loved to show off and flex, or so it seemed to Joe. It seemed like he was saying "Hey look at me you mere ordinary people. Look at this hunk of stud over here!" Joe had enough of this attitude from a punk kid like that. He had experienced that all his life. So one afternoon as the kid was in his driveway working out with his precious weights, dressed only in gym shorts, Rod veered off the road and ran him over. Rod was not seriously hurt but was momentarily stunned--enough for Joe to have the opportunity to jump from the car and cuff the kid's wrists behind his back and his ankles together to his wrists. He ripped the gym shorts from the boy and went to work. Despite desperate pleading and wails from the youngster, Joe began kicking and punching the teenage stud in his exposed and vulnerable testicles. Over and over again he did it. The kid was trying to roll away and trying to put his thighs together to protect himself, but nothing worked. Blow after blow rained down on the helpless orbs until their feel and touch changed from recognizable egg shaped ovals into flattened and battered pieces of spongy mush. The boy had passed out and Joe looked admiringly at his handiwork. He also looked admiringly at the kid's handsome facial features and well-muscled body. What a waste of good muscleboy looks--with no balls in the kid's future. Well, the kid had it coming. Now let him try to show off to his friends. God this was a great feeling. Joe was so satisfied with himself that he spurted cum onto the kid's face and left him in the driveway.
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