Crushed nuts in a cup

mm, ballbusting, castration, fight, gay, handjob, cum, sweat, muscle

Brayden dropped his ass on a chair. Lines of sweat were running over his hairless, muscular torso, until they disapeared at the edge of red fighting shorts. Young man was breathing heavily.

"Fucker's going for my balls! Ugh... I will kill him!"

Coach Turner drew the curtain shut. Conditions in this tournament were unusual. The ring was completely round, and at the side of it there where booths for fighters. The booths were closed, separated from the outside by a black curtain, giving the fighters and coaches a lot of privacy between rounds. Muffled sound came from outside - the announcer was entertaining the audience during rather long break between rounds.

"He'll exhaust himself. You'll get one good punch in and he'll hit the ground before even knowing what happened."

Coach Turner wasn't worried yet. He used to be a fighter too, back in his day, just never as successful or handsome as Brayden. Brayden had a naturally hairless body and boyish face. Even with facial hair, mustache and goatee that framed his sensual mouth, he looked like a teenager. His pecs were perfect, thick half circles, decorated with small, pink nipples, now covered in beads of sweat. Fighter's biceps were nice and shapely, accentuated with large veins that run from armpits across them. Coach envied Brayden a little bit. He was better looking, he fought better - he was all coach Turner couldn't be in his younger days. The kid could take on everybody! That's how they called him - "Billy the Kid".

This tournament didn't have regular rules. Noone was allowed to use their real name here. It was an underground MMA event, where the winner was awarded quite a hefty sum of money. The fighters were supposed to fight round after round, until one was out. In return, the audience expected blood and carnage, and lasting injury - maybe not in every fight, but often enough. Coach Turner didn't think much about rich dumbasses who watched these fights.

"I wanna kill him!" Brayden repeated.

Brayden's opponent fought under the name "Nigerian Crusher". He was large, made of bulging muscle, yet hellishly agile and evasive. This guy was good. Brayden could barely touch him. Almost as if mocking, Nigerian Crusher slipped out of touch, out of grasp, then returned a kick or a punch, always to Brayden's crotch. Not enought to make Brayden fall. Couple of these hits would be devastating if not for protective cup inside Brayden's jockstrap. They danced like this for the whole round, and, inexplicably, the spectators seemed to love it.

"Nigerian Crusher... where do they get these nicknames?" coach Turner mumbled. "They should have called him Nigerian Eel. Nigerian Piece of Soap."

Multiple hits to his fighter's crotch had to be investigated all the same, and he kneeled between Brayden's legs.

"Hold on, I gotta check your nuts."

Brayden grunted, he didn't seem to be worried. Coach pulled down his shorts and jockstrap, and stared for a second.

"Your cup is shattered. I've never seen such a crazy thing."

"It kinda felt so! Fucker kept going for my balls!"

The protective cup didn't get removed with the jockstrap. Instead, it stayed wedged between Brayden's legs, embedded there by Nigerian Crusher's punches and kicks. The shocking part was that the cup was cracked, split into several uneven pieces. Somehow Brayden's opponent had managed to break thick, white plastic of protective cup. Subsequent hits kept destroying the cup and was bruising Brayden's balls. Coach Turner looked at Brayden.

"Do you feel ok... down there?"

"I'm fine!" Brayden grunted. "I can take a punch to the nuts!"

"All right then," coach said. "I'm gonna give you a new cup. You'll need some lotion too."

It didn't look like crotch punches had impact on Brayden's fighting spirit. He wandered if it was just his adrenaline talking. Previously coach Turner evaluated Brayden's chances of winning to ninety percent. Now, seeing what Nigerian guy was able to do, coach Turner lowered the chances to eighty.

Between the cracks, coach Turner could see reddended flesh of Brayden's ballsack. Jagged edges had cut into the skin. Head of Brayden's dick was poking through one of the cracks. One after another, coach removed the pieces. Brayden's balls were dark red and swollen much larger than their natural size - a natural reaction for what they had gone through.

Coach Turner's heart beat quicker. There was something about seeing his trainee's vulnerable genitals in front of him. He knew, he had to be responsibile and retire Brayden from the fight. Throw the towel, give the fight to Nigerian Crusher - who cares about the loss! But hey, this wasn't a regular tournament!

"What if Brayden loses his nuts?" a thought raced through coach's head. "No, no, that won't happen."

Coach Turner licked his lips. His dick stiffened. Brayden wanted to fight, and he couldn't rob him of his victory. The victory chances were still eighty percent! Well, maybe seventy percent. That was a solid chance to win.

Coach Turner splashed some water from a bottle on the ballsack to wash away whatever tiny amount of blood had seeped from the cuts. Brayden winced. Coach squeezed some white cream on his palms, rubbed them together and started spreading it on Brayden's battered balls.

"Augh... Hrrgh..."

Of course, his touch were causing some pain. Brayden's injured ballsack was swollen to the size of grapefruit. Red color really stood out between pale and hairless thighs. The sack was stretched, with almost black veins zigzagging all around the skin. Brayden would need several weeks to let the swelling decrease. Coach Turner was carefully spreading the lotion on Brayden's battered balls. White cream was getting stuck inside the cuts, left by the jagged edges of the shattered cup.

"Balls of steel, right?" coach said reassuringly.

They really were not made of steel. Brayden's ballsack was swollen and now shiny like a red bowling ball. Coach knew that it was, in fact, merely a mirage. After the beating during the first round, Brayden's balls were as fragile and almost jelly-like as a boiled egg. As coach was fondling his talanted trainee's testicles, he thought that he could easily destroy them, if he only pressed his palms together. If he pushed his thumb down in the middle of one of these brittle orbs, he would leave a finger-deep crater in the surface of the testicle. Coach lowered Brayden's chance of victory evaluation to sixty percent. Good thing there was a spare cup available.

"That's done, now - protection for your balls."

This new cup, which coach Turner pulled out of the bag, was different. It was completely transparent, and was rounder, more bowl-like than other cups - just perfect for Brayden's bloated nutsack. Made from perfectly clear, glass-like plastic, the cup was advertised to be unbreakable. In it, Brayden could take fifty direct punches without even feeling anything.

"This will hold better than the previous one. New next-gen technology. Basically a piece of art!"

A new problem appeared. As coach's calloused hands were massaging the lotion into Brayden's nuts, young man's dick had become stiff and hard. It stood up like a tower, which coach Turner viewed it as a natural and healthy bodily response. Another sign, that Brayden was ready to fight, but now the dick didn't fit inside the cup. It just sprung back up, when coach tried to bend it down.

"Sorry, coach, I don't know what to do..." Brayden was embarassed.

"You just relax! I'll help you."

Coach squeezed more lotion on his hands and, wrapped both hands around Brayden's engorged cock. He knew quite well the mechanics of a man's body. There was a way to make Brayden's dick soft again.

"Just relax, kid..."

Coach Turner's grip was tight and warm. He quickly rubbed up and down, and Brayden grunted and rolled back his eyes.

"Come, on..."

It felt like Brayden's dick became even harder for a second, then it spurted white cum. A squirt after a squirt, it shot upwards, mostly towards coach's face. He kept jerking.

"Come on, let it all out!"

Some of the cum was dripping to the base of the dick and droplets landed all over Brayden's abs and thighs. They both now were breathing heavily. Coach himself had a raging hardon. Nevertheless, handjob had done it's purpose, Brayden's dick was soft again, and the cup could be placed.

"It's fine, it's fine..." coach said, cleaning off Brayden's cum with a tissue.

Coach put the transparent shield over Brayden's swollen balls and flaccid dick. Some squeezing was required, during which Brayden moaned from pain again. Barely, but his precious genitals fit inside. Red, swollen balls, with flaccid dick pressed between them, filled the entire space inside the cup. Transparent plastic enlarged Brayden's battered, veiny dick and balls like through the glass of a bizarre fishbowl.

"Look, kid, if you really don't want to go on the ring again, don't. I won't blame you."

"Why is that?" Brayden was puzzled.

"No, I didn't mean... Whatever. You go and kick this guy's ass. Nigerian Crusher? More like Nigerian Meatball!"

Coach Turner pulled up Brayden's jockstrap and shorts. It was about time, because the signal was sounded for the start of the second round.

"It's up to you now, kid!" he clapped on Brayden's shoulder.

Coach was too horny to think straight. All he could think was Brayden's swollen balls. He had trained Brayden for years. He was all coach Turner couldn't be in his younger years. You could bet, some Nigerian Crusher's punches will reach Brayden's crotch. The cup will hold. The new, stylish transparent plastic cup will endure against any opponent's hits. Opponent will lose focus and one punch will knock him down. Brayden will win. What was the calculation? Fifty - fifty?

"Nah," coach Turner thought. "Brayden will win. Hundred percent."

Coach Turner's dick was hard anyway. He strategically crossed his hands in front of himself, covering the hardon. They walked towards the arena. Nobody was looking at him, the lights and all the eyes were on the fighters.

Brayden, or Billy the Kid as he was known here, and Nigerian Crusher met in the center of the ring. Both, for a second, measured each other, and Brayden went on attack. Coach Turner watched with the utmost attention, while his dick remained filled with tingling sensation. Brayden was acting too fast and too brash. Maybe the first round had angered him too much. He kicked high at Nigerian Crusher's head. Coach Turner knew that it was was telegraphed too well even before Brayden's opponent had acted.

Nigerian's body moved in a spring-like fashion. He evaded and then repositioned himself, almost teleporting to a new position and kneed upwards into Brayden's unguarded groin. A loud thud echoed across the place, and it felt like a deafening silence set in. Instead of following the kick up with anything, Nigerian stopped and stared at his opponent. His face was completed with a mocking smile. Brayden meanwhile seemed to be frozen in place. His eyes rolled back, and his body quivered once. Next second Brayden dropped on the ground like a sack of potatoes. The audience exploded in thunderous cheers. Nigerian Crusher raised his arms. His joyous laughs disapeared in the noise. The second round had lasted for fifteen seconds.

"Nigerian Crusher has done it again! " announcer's voice boomed. "Billy the Kid joins the long list of annihilated losers! We won't be seeing him again, that's for sure!"

Stagehands jumped in the arena and dragged Brayden to the booth. Coach Turner, astonished and still covering his hardon, followed. The announcer kept talking, to which he didn't listen.

The stagehands left immediately after they dropped Brayden's body on the bench. Brayden's body convulsed infrequently, and he was foaming at the mouth. Coach Turner hastily drew the curtain to hide them both from strangers' eyes. The sounds of the arena became little bit muffled.

Coach Turner couldn't believe how quickly it all had ended. Nigerian Crusher's knee shot squarely between Brayden's muscular thighs, right into those nice, round, swollen testicles. Coach Turner just couldn't wait to see the outcome. What had happened to the red, swollen and already fragile balls, trapped inside the transparent cup, which he had chosen for his trainee?

With trembling fingers he pulled Brayden's shorts and jockstrap down. The cup stayed in place, stuck over Brayden's crotch. Its thick, transparent surface had bent inwards, creating a round dent in a shape of Nigerian Crusher's knee. Everything inside had been smashed to pulp. Clear glass-like surface was giving a clear view to the carnage. The impact had exploded Brayden's bloated nuts into bits, creating something like of a chunky soup out of nut flesh. Coach pushed fingers under the cup and lifted it up. Pieces of testicle tissue were smeared all over the transparent surface of the cup. He let the cup fall back over the gooey remains of Brayden's once healthy ballsack.

"I'm sorry, kid..." coach mumbled.

Coach Turner pulled his dick out. It was already rock hard and aiming forward. He was couple seconds away from cumming all over his fallen trainee. He hastily pressed his palms on Brayden's sweaty body. In his horny haze coach caressed fighter's pecs with one hand and abs with the other. He didn't want the moment to come so fast, but he couldn't do anything about it. His dick shot a load.

"Fuck!" coach let out a muffled groan.

He rolled his eyes as his dick quivered and shot ropes of white jizz over Brayden's meaty pecs. Kid's rosy nipples drowned in warm, thick cum. Brayden's body had already stopped convulsing. Coach Turner stood frozen, thinking over and over about what had just happened.