Football Camp Incident - Original Version

Football Camp Incident

An original story by Sack Stomper

Dust flew as the short blue and white bus traveled down the heavily wooded lane one Saturday morning.  On board were eleven members of the local college football team, Pierre, the team’s physical trainer and the coach on their way to a team building weekend at Camp Charn.  Situated miles outside the city, Camp Charn was a university-owned twenty acre patch of walking trails, forests, a small lake and a central complex of a few minimalist brick buildings. 

“Coach,  how much further is this place?”  asked one of the players sitting toward the front, a husky lineman with fair skin, a mess of red hair and an almost comical amount of freckles.

“Not too much further, Cody,”  the coach said as he slowly navigated the bus down the unpaved road.

“Yeah, that sign said ‘Welcome to Camp Charn’ like ten minutes ago.  I don’t even have a cell signal out here,” another player -- the short yet powerfully build quarterback -- Blake shouted a 

few seconds later.

Blake dramatically held up his smart phone was flashing a ‘no network coverage’ animation. and pretended to scoff in annoyance.

The other players laughed.

“Ooh, you’re right. How are ya’ gonna get texts from you boyfriend back home?”  mocked Matt, a dark skinned running back sporting a bright yellow bandanna in his hair.  The bus erupted into 

jeers and laughter right as it finally rolled to a stop.

The bus had stopped in the middle of a large grassy field, that doubled as a parking lot. Surrounding the field were the camp’s only five buildings. Two  small dormitory buildings , able to  house about twenty people each, a small administrative office building, a cafeteria building and a relatively large gymnasium that could also double as a conference. center  It was spartan, to  say the least, but it was (even the most macho football player would have to admit) nestled among a gorgeous early spring landscape of forests and wildflower fields.  Camp Charn filled  quickly in the late spring and through summer with band camps and conferences so Coach Maxwell had booked an early spring weekend to beat the rush.

“Here we are gentleman,” said the coach as he flung open the door, “Let’s unpack in Dorm Building A and meet at the fire pit in, say, twenty minutes.” he motioned through the bus windows to a large stone fire pit about a football field away from the buildings.

The players were a rowdy bunch as they made their way off the bus carrying so many bags and equipment it looked as if they were going to be staying longer than their three night stay.

Freshman Jake Pennington was the last player off the bus. He had a slight limp and was using the seat backs as guides as he made his way down the bus aisle.

“Are you okay?” asked  Pierre, his French accent especially thick, as he made his way back onto the bus and stood on the landing.

Jake smiled “Yea, I’m fine. Just this damn foot.... oww!” Jake winced as he put too much pressure on his hurt right foot.

Jake Pennington had silvery-blonde hair and gray eyes which stood out prominently against his tanning booth bronzed skin.  At five foot eight he was the shortest person on the trip, with the 

exception of the non-athlete Pierre, but he had a very well-defined, but not overly- build muscular frame, his washboard abs clearly discernible under his muscle-fit Abercrombie sweater.

Despite the slight chill in the air, Jake was wearing a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts that showed off his powerful lower legs and let his egg-sized nuts and thick penis sway as he moved.

Jake caught Pierre gazing at the obviously free-swinging package under his shorts and grinned “Later, guy. Calm down.”

Jake motioned toward Pierre’s own crotch, an erection at least seven inches long snaking down the front of the skinny trainer’s  blue jeans.  Pierre was an average-build 25 year old graduate student, a bit softer around the middle than Adonis like Jake, but compared to the football players he was in charge of looking out for, he was quite out of shape. But what he may have lacked  in physical strength was more than made up for my his charm and his European accent which he played up regularly with the ladies and -- in Jake’s case -- the gentlemen on campus.

“Oh, sorry. What can I say, “ Pierre laughed, his face flush with embarrassment as he adjusted himself.

“There you two are, come on!” Blake shouted, reaching into the bus just far enough to give Pierre a playful pat on the ass. “This whole place is deserted! We have  run of it!!” Blake let out a  sophomoric laugh and ran back toward the dorm.

As Jake, assisted by Pierre, made his way to Dormitory he did notice an eerie sense of isolation on the camp grounds.  Since the football team was the first group to use the facility that season the entire complex was, quite literally, still in mothballs.  All of the buildings’ windows were still blacked out with insulating foam, their power washed facades looked almost new.  Some of the buildings’ bright red doors still had bold ‘wet paint’ signs on them.  Jake couldn't help but feel a certain sense of foreboding amongst such surreal quiet.

Dormitory A consisted of a two long rooms stacked end to end with bunk beds joined in the middle by a narrow shared bathroom.  All of the beds still had protective plastic sheets on them, the 

toilet water was purple from antifreeze and the whole place smelled and looked as if it had just been scrubbed down thoroughly in preparation for the busy season to come.  The rowdy football 

players hooted and howled, running up and down the rows of bunk beds like excited children, claiming beds and haphazardly dumping suitcases and bags full of clothes onto their chosen  bunks.

“Alright guys, settle down!” Coach Maxwell shouted running a hand through his thick yet graying hair, “Fire pit in ten minutes, be there!” 

The coach walked out of the door and a few of the players filed out immediately afterward.

Cody climbed to the top of bunk and shouted out, “Alright guys, we have to get serious!” in a tone playfully mocking the coach.

The players laughed.

“So Jake, you going to be joining our reindeer games anytime soon,” Matt asked, motioning toward Jake who was visibly in pain leaning against the wall.

“Ha, I hope so, this damn sprain. I might need to sit  out the first night run,”

“What a tragedy, and miss out on all the fun,” Matt laughed.

The ‘first night run’ was a tradition of these football camps where the players all met at the fire pit and went on a several mile run around the campgrounds, rounding the lake and finally returning to camp for more drills. Though in actuality many of the players would feign being too tired from the run and instead return to the dorm for the traditional football camp party night of  drinking games and pop music.

The group joked around for a bit longer before finally Cody, bringing everyone to order with  a clap of his bear-like hands called “Alright, kids. Over and out.”

All the players made a point to high five Jake as they made their way out of the door. And just like that, the mothballed dorm that had just sprung to life so dramatically was quiet.

Pierre stood in the doorway and watched as the players’ silhouettes became small dots along the horizon. A few moments later the fire fit erupted into flames, there was a barely audible cheer 

from the gathered players and then - as they had done every year before - all  of  the figures on the horizon slowly disappeared beyond the grassy field into the forest on their run. Pierre and 

Jake were alone.

“Are they gone,” Jake asked, managing to hobble over to Jake’s side at the door.

“Yeah, they just left.”

“Good, I really could use a nap, “ Jake smiled, stretched out his arms and yawned dramatically.

“Do you want me to wrap that for you?” the dark haired trainer asked kneeling to softly massage Jake’s foot.

“Mmm that feels good,” Jake signed, his head tilted back slightly.

Pierre slowly massaged Jake’s foot, slowly inching up to his shin, then his calves, finally his thighs.  Pierre’s hands stopped just inches from Jake’s bulging package and Pierre looked up at Jake  and winked.

The two looked at each other coyly for several moments before Pierre suddenly sprung to his feet, grabbed Jake around the waist and pulled the quarterback toward him.  The two locked lips and pressed so close together Jake could clearly feel Pierre’s rock hard, jeans-encased cock rubbing against his thigh.  Jake’s muscular hands roamed Pierre’s body, caressing him with a tenderness that wouldn't be expected from such a ruggedly built ostensibly straight jock.

The heavy making up went on for only a few minutes, but just long enough for Jake’s basketball shorts to be soaked in precum.

“Shit! I forgot my medical bag in the bus, I can’t wrap your foot. I gotta’ get it,”  Pierre grudgingly pushed Jake away.

Jake signed “Come on, Pierre. Just a quick...”

“No, we gotta’ wrap that. Seriously. It has to hurt, doesn’t it?”

Jake rolled his eyes while nodding yes.

“See, I don’t wanna’ see you hurt, Jake,” Pierre said kissing Jake tenderly on the cheek, “I’ll just be a minute. And when I’m done with your foot I am gonna suck your cock until your balls 

fucking implode.” Pierre growled.

“Feisty, I love it!”  Jake reached out and gave Pierre’s bulging crotch a playful squeeze before the trainer ducked out the door for the bus. 

The bust had been parked at least half a football field away from the complex of buildings, Jake thought, enough time for a lightning-quick shower to wash off the road grunge. After all, he didn’t want to disappoint Pierre.

Jake made his way to his bunk along the furthest end of the dorm, grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom.  The bathroom was long and narrow with only two doors, one leading to the first 

bank of bunks -- where the team was staying -- and the other leading to the  other which was still moth balled.  The shower area didn’t have dividers, which would play well for the towel-snapping and horseplay that was sure to come.  Jake stripped in front of the mirror, leaving a pile of clothes as a hint for Pierre to join him  in the shower. As he did so, he couldn’t help but to  admire the well-defined muscular young man in the reflection. He curled his bicep and kissed it playfully before stepping into the shower.

Jake turned on the water and was startled at how bone chillingly cold it was.

“Jesus!” he shrieked as he squirmed in place waiting for the temperature to slowly increase.

When it finally did, Jake relaxed and let the warm water cascade over his body, rippling down his washboard stomach, dripping off his large egg sized nuts, running down his toned legs and 

pooling at his feet.  The warmth was incredibly relaxing and for a moment his mind  was clear from what had been a constant nagging pain from his sprained foot. 

“I can’t wait until Pierre gets back! I’m gonna pound...” Jake’s thought was interrupted by a noise in the distance.

“Pierre?”  Jake called out.

Jake could hear the outside door to the dormitory close; “Pierre’s back!” the young jock smiled.

The water continued to cascade over Jake with such force that he didn’t open his eyes as he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

“I was wondering what took you so long, Pierre. Did you bring...”

Jake wiped the water from his face and turned to face to Pierre and screamed in sheer horror at who he saw instead.  A man, standing a little over six foot tall wearing black pants , a black sweatshirt and black boots was standing just a few feet from him.  The man was average build, though the outfit was a bit baggy so it was hard to be certain if he was muscular or not. The outfit wasn’t particularly off-putting except for the black ski mask that totally obscured the stranger’s face.

The man in black stood looking at Jake for a few awkward seconds before Jake, clutching his chest from the earlier fright laughed and reached to turn off the water.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing! You nearly scared me to death. Who are you, Matt?”

Jake reached toward the stranger’s face mask to reveal him, but as he did so the man reached out with incredible alacrity and grabbed Jake’s hand.

“Dude what the hell...”

WHAM! The stranger drove his free fist into Jake's right eye, catching the naked stud  totally unprepared

“Hello,”  the stranger rasped, his voice totally unknown to Jake and filled with a mix of annoyance and anger.

Jake staggered backward, clutching his eye, too startled by what had just happened to fight back immediately. It was just the opening the Stranger needed....

WHAM! the Stranger punched Jake again in the same eye sending Jake into a world of hurt and falling backward to the ground. The quarterback landed on his tailbone with a loud thud and 

tried to scoot away from the Stranger who was lumbering toward him.  However the pain in his sprained right foot made even this difficult and the Stranger seemed to notice.

“Oh,” said the Stranger as he stomped his boot several times into Jake’s right foot.  Jake howled and was filled with so much pain he thought he was going to be sick.

“Who the fuck...”

WHAM! the Stranger delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of Jake’s head that sent him sailing into the wall.  Jake slumped there, totally dazed and clutching the side of his face. He could 

feel blood running from his nose and eye. The Stranger stood looking down over Jake, whose perfect body was still dripping from the shower, and for a moment neither of them moved. Jake 

knew this was no sophomoric prank and that he had to get out of there...

“Aaah!’  Jake grunted springing to his feet in a bid to run, but falling right to the ground again in pain from his foot.

Jake slumped against the wall, defenseless, his legs spread lazily.

“Please, take anything you want, please don’t hurt me,”  piss ran from Jake’s leg as he trembled in genuine fright.

“Not interested,” came the sinister voice as the Stranger lifted his large, booted left foot over Jakes nuts which were laying in a heap between his legs.

Jake looked down and knew instantly what was about to happen...

“No, don’t!”

CRUNCH!  CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

The boot slammed down with tremendous force three times in rapid succession, crushing Jake’s balls into the tile floor. Jake’s eyes rolled in his head and his mouth was open, yet no actual  sound was coming out. Jake had never experienced any pain so intense in his entire life and his brain had quite literally shut down for a moment.  The Stranger lifted his boot and steadied it  over Jake’s now red balls again and stomped down.  Jake was able to  reach out and brad the Stranger’s leg at the shin, using all his strength to hold the Stranger’s foot just an inch above his battered sack.

For what seemed to Jake to be a long time, the Stranger grunted in effort as he attempted to finish stomping down. Jake’s arms were strong, but the Stranger’s legs were stronger, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop him from stomping long.  Jake let out a primal grunt and lifted his arms into the air in an attempt to lift the Stranger’s leg and unbalance him.  It didn’t work. Instead, Jake lost his grip on the man’s leg and the Stranger stomped twice more on Jake’s nuts.

CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

Jake howled in agony, and flopped on his stomach in a desperate attempt to save his nuts. He tried crawling away but the Stranger gave out a grunt-like laugh and effortlessly lifted the blonde 

quarterback by his hair.  When Jake was a few feet from the ground, the Stranger flipped him like he was a rag doll, holding Jake in a bear hug with Jake’s back against his chest.  The Stranger 

carried Jake kicking and pleading in front of the same bank of mirrors Jake had been posing in front of just a few moments ago.

“Pretty little quarterback,” the Stranger hissed in Jake’s ear.

The Stanger had Jake firmly held from behind, forcing the quarterback to ‘admire’ himself in the mirror.  His muscles were glistening with sweat and the strain of trying to get lose, and his large red nuts swung wildly between his legs.  Jake couldn’t believe the strength this guy must of had to be holding him so effortlessly with one arm across this chest...

Jake’s struggles intensified when he felt the Stranger’s clammy hand reach between his legs and clutch both of his nuts. The squeezing started immediately and didn’t stop...

Jake looked at his reflection in horror as his prized ball bag was kneaded and squashed in the Stranger’s large hand.  It felt like they were in a vice, and he could feel -- and see in the reflection -- each testicle being mashed into the other. Tighter and tighter...

“Oh God!” Jake screamed, his eyes locked on the image of his genitals being destroyed.

“They’re gonna pop...” the Stranger whispered softly in Jake’s ear.

Pop? Jake’s mind was in panic but he was too overwhelmed by pain and terror to do much more than the feeble attempts to get away he was already doing.  The Strangers vicelike grip continued, Jake’s sack was turning beet red and was bulging obscenely, no longer able to discern the right nut from the left. They were being mashed into each other and Jake knew any moment  they were, like the Stranger had said, going to pop...

Jake was starting to pass out when he felt the pressure suddenly release from his balls and the arm that had been keeping him in place let up.  The Stranger stepped back and let Jake fall to the ground with a thud.

“I gotta’ get out of here,” was all Jake could think about as he crawled toward the bathroom door. The aching from his crotch was tremendous and combined with his still hurt foot what he  perceived to be a decent-pace crawl was in actuality a slow slog across the floor.  The Stranger stood over Jake laughing at the stud’s pathetic attempt to escape, then kicked Jake hard on his  side, rolling him onto his back and again exposing his football player balls.

Jake quickly went to cup his privates with his hands, but the Stranger had swooped to kneel down between his legs and, without warning, slammed both of his fists into Jakes’ tight solar plexus. Jake gasped in pain and his hands instinctively raced to his chest, again exposing his goodies.  The Stranger took the opening to roughly grab the Jake’s nuts with one hand while doing  something with them with the other. Jake was too distracted by pain to notice at first what was happening. The Stranger had wrapped Jakes sack with twine several times, pulling the egg sized  nuts inside several inches from his body, trapping them at the very limits of  the sack.  This also totally exposed the testicles to whatever force was applied to them.  If the Stranger hit them in  that position, they wouldn’t be able to deform or flatten; all the force would go straight to the tender membranes and tissues holding the ball’s shape together...

“No...!” 

The Stranger sprang to his feet and before Jake could cover his genitals with his hands the Stranger had stomped twice on the trapped balls.

Jake attempted to roll over in pain but the Stranger’s boot was still on top of his balls.

Jake pleaded with the Stranger, who just laughed as he slowly lifted his other boot from the ground.  Even in his pain-soaked mind, Jake knew what was about to happen.  All of the Stranger’s 

weight was going to end up on the foot that was standing on the trapped balls, so by extension all of the Stranger’s weight was going to end up on Jake’s balls.

Jake screamed and howled like an animal, grabbing at the Stranger’s shin in an effort to lift his foot off of the doomed balls.  The Stranger painstakingly lifted his other foot until it was knee 

high, and the Stranger was standing entirely on Jake’s balls.  Jake could feel  the pressure mounting as the eggs flattened under the tremendous weight.   By now Jake was beyond even 

screaming, his arms limp in shock and pain... but the Stranger didn’t let up.

The Stranger stood on one foot for at least a minute, but the sturdy jock spuds held firm. He then began to slowly bounce on his foot, mashing the orbs into the tile floor. He bounced harder and 

harder as if he was on a trampoline but his foot never completely leaving the balls. Jake moaned and his eyes lost focus.  He could feel his nuts getting flatter and flatter and flatter.  He didn’t 

know how much more they could take...

“Here they go, stud.  Gonna’ burst!”  the Stranger was taking sick pleasure in feeling the two firm eggs lose their shape under his boot.

“Here they go... they’re gonna' blow."

Indeed Jake could feel his ball membranes giving way.  They weren’t plumping back up after each bounce and the pain was unbelievable.

“Oooooh!” Jake wailed in a pitch and volume he had never produced as he felt his right nut explode like a huge crushed grape.

Now all the Stanger’s weight was on his left battered nut.  Lefty was the biggest of his nuts, but even if couldn’t hold up...

SQUISH!

Jake’s last ball finally caved in with a loud, wet squashing sound.  Both of Jake’s huge jock nuts had totally blown apart in the sack, the Stranger’s heavy boot now standing on a flattened sack.   Jake’s eyes shot open, his body convulsed and he passed out on the cold tile floor.  The Stranger stepped off the squashed scrotum that was totally flattened and swelling purple-blue just long  enough to raise his boot and stomp violently a dozen times. The first five blows totally liquefied the contents of Jake’s sack. Stomps six and seven split the sack almost exactly at the seam and the remaining crushing blows ripped open the sack splattering the stud’s perfect abs, the floor and the Stranger’s boot with mutilated ball goop.

“One down,” said the Stranger, looking down at the passed out stud.

Jake truly was a paradigm of male perfection; strong arms, firm pecs, perfectly toned legs... and a splattered mess between his legs.