Alterations

There were many perks that came with Hank's job. As chief tailor in an up-scale men's shop, it was his very pleasant job to measure a nearly endless number of males for suits and pants. This afforded him the opportunity to make close contact with a lot of young macho hunks. He especially liked to measure for the pants which allowed him to discreetly feel up tightly into their crotches*all to insure a correct fit, of course! Sometimes, with an especially well-endowed stud who obviously wore boxers, he would tactfully ask whether they "hung to the right or left" meaning on which side they stuffed their genitals down their pants leg. This was always accompanied by a sly wink and smile to which they would respond with a slightly embarrassed decision. If he detected no resistance, he would occasionally risk an additional "feel" of a pair of bunched testicles or the end of a extra long dick. Every once in a while a willing customer would slyly spread his legs a bit wider and Hank could observe a slight enlargement of a coiled cock. He had to be careful, of course, but it was exciting none the less.

And, of course, there were his fantasies: Sending his hand up between the legs and grasping the balls and ripping the zipper open to man handle the surprised man's testicles before he knew what had happened. To send a paralyzing blow dead center to the nuts and then twist and squeeze the helpless genitals until they were beyond repair. The guys which inspired his most violent fantasies were the arrogant, macho straight studs with their equipment thrust defiantly forward as they posed before the three mirrors with their new, tight pants. God! How he wanted to ruin the bastards!

Then one day, events happened which led him to plan an actual fulfillment of his fantasies. It came in the person of one Peter Dunn who had been a good customer for several years ever since high school. Peter had been pretty much the campus Don Juan for most of his four years at State College. A real homophobic son of a bitch who was forever putting down gays with demeaning jokes when he wasn't boasting of his sexual conquests with the latest campus beauty. The occasion was the Spring Formal and Pete was in for a fitting of a new tuxedo. To Hank's usual question, he lewdly suggested that Hank allow plenty of extra room to accommodate his ample endowment*adding that it was his duty to further his image and "keep the girls happy!" He didn't even notice as Hank gently manipulated his large balls in their sac

As his fingers made delicate contact with the hanging abundance of Pete's genitals through the soft cloth, he suddenly made a decision that this was the time to act on his long repressed desires. During the typical small talk, he ascertained what Pete's evening plans would be. They were going to split the dance early and go out to a deserted park on the edge of the city and "make out like a bandit," as Pete put it. He groped himself as he said it and smiled. Hank smiled, too, but for a very different reason.

The night of the dance, Hank waited outside the gym and watched the couple through the window. There was Pete and his typically gorgeous partner strutting their stuff before the lesser mortals attending. Hank felt revulsion at the spectacle. Just wait! Sure enough, at a bit after eleven they took off in Pete's new Honda and drove to the edge of town*with Hank in discreet pursuit.

As he drove silently near a clearing, he could hear Pete making his pitch. By the time he approached the pair and had slipped on a black hood over his head, Pete was already half-undressing his date, a massive hard-on already trying to poke through his form-fitted tux pants. Hank suddenly interrupted the sex scene: "O.k., up with your hands," he commanded thrusting a pistol in Pete's frightened face. He threw his a piece of rope. "Tie up your girl friend to that tree and make sure you do it right." While Pete was occupied, Hank kept up a running description of Pete's masculine attributes, to the embarrassment of his date. After she was securely bound, Hank turned his attention to Pete. "O.k., Stud! Stand there and spread 'em, and put your hands behind you." He had to admit it: Pete was an Adonis, his form-fitting tux pants accentuating every luscious curve and bulge from his bubble-butt to his basket traveling half way down his left pant leg: the corona of his dick was evident as were the obvious swelling betraying the existence of his two sperm-filled testicles pouched in their warm sac. The cocky bastard probably hadn't put on any underwear to better display his equipment. His coat was already off, showing off his protruding nipples through his white formal shirt. Before he know what was happening, Hank shot his foot forward and kicked the son of a bitch in the balls, causing a scream of agony and incomprehension. Before he could even begin to defend himself, Hank shot a second and a third devastating blow between his legs, nailing the hapless nuts nearly lethal blows. Each devastating blow brought another high-pitched scream of agony and pleading for him to stop. After the third kick, Pete was on his knees trying to protect his precious balls. It only presented an even more tempting target as his thighs angled in toward his swelling crotch. Hank stepped back and delivered one final nut-breaking kick, catching his testicles from beneath and sending them flying in their sac!

"Now, up on your feet, and get those arms behind you or I'll blow your balls off!"

"Yes, sir! Please don't hurt me any more. You're ruining my BALLS!" But Hank didn't respond, except to move up close and grab the waist band of his pants and tear the crotch asunder, allowing Pete's genitals to plop forth unrestrained as the zipper tore apart, exposing the dark curly hair of his lower belly and groin. Hank took his switch blade and finished stripping the terrified youth. His expensive formal shirt, the legs of the black pants. He had been right: the bastard wore no underwear. As his girl friend watched in fascinated horror, he pushed Pete backward. The stud fell on his ass and lay there, spread-eagled on the grass before him. He sent kick after vicious kick directly into the helpless testicles which were now terribly swollen and on the verge of destruction. It wouldn't take much to put them beyond repair. Hank completed the job. He pushed his legs further apart, and grabbed a nearby tree branch and attacked the genitals with terminal force. Blow after terrible blow rained on the poor balls until they rested ruptured in their sac. Hank grabbed a handful of the pulverized balls and felt them squish in his fingers. As Pete screamed, he forced a small stick down Pete's piss-hole, scratching the bleeding glans and sending it almost completely down the shaft. When it rested at the base, Hank twisted the cock, breaking the stick inside into several small pieces which tore the inner tissue of his once handsome prick. Pete was nearly out of it with horror and agony as Hank hauled him to his feet and forced him to stand, legs spread, bent over and touching the ground with his hands. His tortured, but still large genitals swung from between his legs. Hank took his pistol and placed the barrel from behind just touching the hanging bag of balls. "Well, Pete ol' buddy, say good bye to your sex life and your manhood. At the count of three, your balls are history. One ... two ... THREE ! At a tremendous explosion, Pete looked down to see his entire basket simply disappear into blood and shredded tissue. His beautiful balls disintegrated; his flopping dork exploded, leaving him un-manned. After one final wail of agony and loss, he fell to the ground. Hank slipped the girl friend his knife to free herself, and bolted to the car and sped off. His satisfaction was complete: Not only did he had the exquisite pleasure of de-nutting the bastard, but in front of his girl What a night! You can bet there would be others...There was this nice gym instructor, and an art professor, and ...