Muscle and Meat

His balls feel hot in my hand. They are firm, like hard boiled eggs. I roll them around their sac. His scrotum is moist from sweat.

He is a fine specimen of a man. Six feet tall and dense with muscle, his pecs are like thick slabs of lean chocolate-colored plates of armor. God, he must weigh at least twice as much as I do. I prod at his stomach with a finger, and it tenses up into a well-defined six pack. I’ve blindfolded him, tying a thick strip of cloth around his eyes. He must be in his twenties, or even younger. His hair is closely cropped into a buzz cut. Maybe he is a military man.

He was running in the streets when I spotted him, running shirtless. His shorts hugged against his thighs as his feet pounded the sidewalk, and his muscled torso was dripping with sweat. I followed him in my car, and stunned him when we were in a secluded place. His big arms and legs were immobilized by a few plastic zip-ties, and I stuffed one of his sweaty socks into his mouth as a gag. I then dragged him into my car and drove off to my house. I savor the irony that I caught him as he was running. He was conditioning his body to become better, stronger and faster. But now, no amount of exercise or training is going to do him good any more, not after what I’m about to do to him.

He is awake now, and tied down to a table in my garage. He is screaming something into his gag, but I don’t care for what he says. The man is struggling against the zip-ties. His large, bulbous biceps flex as he struggle. They’re so big and round, like a young watermelon. I find it funny how such a skinny zip-tie can serve to restrain such thick arms.

I admire him as he struggles. The veins in his neck and forearms bulge from his efforts. I squeeze his biceps between my thumb and index finger, and run my finger down his sweat-soaked chest and abs. This guy has a body like a full-grown bull’s, covered in tough meat.

I reach my hand down again and cup his balls. They were large balls, but still fit nicely within my hand. I feel the rubbery texture the cords connecting them to his body between my fingers, then prod at his testicle with the fingernail of my thumb. This man had firm and meaty balls. His flaccid cock lay against his washboard stomach like a short section of dense black rubber hose.

I squeeze his balls and feel them deform in my hand. They are a lot softer than the man’s biceps. Nothing but two orbs of warm and tender meat, really. This man looked every bit like the paragon of masculinity, obviously as virile and as strong as any human male can hope be. He has obviously trained a lot, spent a lot of time training in the gym, to get a body like that. And yet, all that manly strength is neutralized by only a few lengths of zip-ties, and all the source of that masculinity lay in these few ounces of vulnerable meat. I squeeze harder. The man is screaming into his gag. His balls are getting mushier, but I know I can’t crush them with my hand alone.

I stuff his scrotum into my mouth. His balls fill my cheeks to the brim. I roll them around with my tongue, and feel his ball cords between my teeth. I position each meaty testicle on each side of my mouth, between my molars, and bite down hard. His balls make a loud crunching sound inside my head. The man is struggling even harder now, pulling at his restraints, stretching his scrotum away from my mouth, but there is no escape for his balls.

They’re now split into large chunks inside their sac. I swirl them around in my mouth, then bite again. I chew them thoroughly, reducing his manhood into mincemeat. Only when I feel they have an even liquid consistency do I pop his ruined testicles out of my mouth. His scrotum is now dark and swollen, and completely flat. Nothing remotely resembling testicles remain inside them. Just moments ago, this hulking guy was twice the man I was, bigger, stronger, and better-endowed. Now he is nothing.

I pick up his sac. It is full of mush and slick with my saliva, and I play around with it in my hand. There’s nothing but chewed-up meat left inside. His balls are definitely gone forever, I think, and smirk to myself.