Saturday, January 30, 2021

A Final Lap - Jayse Version

Here is a second offering from my dear friend JAD, modified and expanded for your pleasure... 


A Final Lap

Based on an original story by JAD


Laughing deeply and cruelly, Brutus flexed his powerful arms and pulled the big levers. The chain drives to the castle’s water wheel engaged, setting in motion the smaller torture wheels, to which the Marquis’ brawny peasant prisoners, Henri and Michel, were shackled. In addition to the iron manacles and tough leather fetters that secured the riders’ strong wrists and ankles to the sides of the wheel rim, the outside face of each wheel was also fitted with a curved foot-long dildo of the stoutest oak, which fitted up the passenger’s bunghole, further anchoring him in place. 

The two young men had been arrested more than a week ago, and had been suffering at the Master Torturer’s hands continuously since then. The handsome young lads were innocent of any crime — they had simply had the misfortune of coming to the Marquis’ attention. The Marquis had a predilection for handsome, well-muscled men with prodigious loins, and thus the wicked nobleman knew the moment that he spotted this pair of lowly serfs that he had to possess them. 

The Marquis’ gilded carriage had been passing through the countryside on a warm and bright spring day, skirting the edge of an idyllic little lake, when sounds of laughter and splashing caught his jaded attention. He lazily lifted up the shades to his carriage window and spied an incredibly erotic sight — two naked young peasant lads frolicking and wrestling in the shallow pond. But these were no ordinary peasants. No, these were the two most handsome, striking, muscular, and virile young men that the Marquis had ever seen! 

The pair were towering young lads, each much taller than six feet, and more powerfully and enormously muscular than any knight or blacksmith the effete nobleman had ever seen. Their bodies were simply exploding with muscles, even larger and more exquisitely defined than the marble statues of Greek and Roman gods that decorated the Marquis’ expansive gardens. Nary an ounce of fat obscured those thick, dense, and heavily striated muscles from view, nor a single mark or scar marred their shining, unblemished skin. These were the most magnificent male specimens that the Marquis had ever seen, a perfectly matched set, and he instantly longed for them. 

Even more incredibly, the two splashing men appeared to be barely full grown! Their faces were full of youthful innocence, and caught in that magical age between adolescence and adulthood. And such faces! Both lads were breathtakingly handsome, with exquisite yet intensely masculine features. They were each so handsome that the powerfully aroused Marquis could not pick a favorite between them, for they were so equally matched. In fact, the only real difference between them was that one had pale, golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and the other had wavy locks of chestnut brown and sparkling green eyes. 

The lust-filled Marquis was already preparing to stop his driver and order his soldiers to arrest the two men, when the two young, laughing, wrestling bulls splashed into shallower water and stood up. The jaded nobleman’s heart skipped a beat or two at what he saw, for dangling between the enormously muscular legs of both beautiful lads were the absolutely largest sets of staffs and stones that the depraved Marquis had ever seen! Their flaccid cocks, thick and heavy, extended to just past mid thigh, and their sacs of bollocks were so unspeakably enormous as to be obscene. Each mighty gonad was easily larger than the golden grapefruits he had imported from the south of Spain each year, and appeared to be just as juicy. 

It took several tries for a flushed and flustered Marquis to call out to his driver to stop, and then order the immediate arrest of both lads. Two score of his heavily armed soldiers fanned out along the shore of the small lake, surprising the cringing and terrified young boys, ordering them out of the lake. Officially, the lads were being charged with lewd and unnatural behavior, illegally swimming the Marquis’ lake, and other trumped up charges, but the soldiers all knew that in reality, the nobleman had simply taken a depraved fancy to the boys. The dripping and naked lads weren’t even allowed to retrieve their dry clothes from the shore of the lake, but where instead shackled in heavy iron handcuffs and forced to march naked behind the carriage for the entire ride back to the palace. 

And the entire time, the smirking and evil Marquis gazed hungrily upon their naked and jogging forms through the heavily screened rear window of the carriage, longing to get his hands on both stunningly beautiful young men. 

The Marquis had since learned that both young lads had been born in the same village and had been fast friends all their lives. Henri, the blue-eyed blonde, was all of three days older than the chestnut-haired and green-eyed Michel, and it seemed the two had spent almost every waking moment together. Some even rumored that they might be lovers, especially now that they’d come of age and neither of the two young men had yet chosen a bride. 

That had been nine days ago now, though the two young men had long since lost all track of time. The hapless, helpless lads had been tortured, brutalized, and repeatedly buggered every day — and every night — since their capture, with each day’s torture becoming more brutal and violent than the day before. Prisoners of the Marquis rarely lasted more than two or three days under this rigorous and inhumane ministrations, with a particularly powerful and memorable knight once lasting for a full seven days, so the fact that both young peasants were still alive and intact and going strong after a record-breaking nine days was truly extraordinary, and a testament to their incredibly formidable strength, fortitude, and resilience. 

Tonight’s trials, however, with both young muscle man strapped to the pair of large torture wheels, would be their most brutal torments yet. 

Earlier in the evening, the two sexy young lads had been mounted on the large oak dildos on the two wheels, their now well-plumbed asses more than capable of accepting the thick, foot-long invaders. Then their powerful limbs had been stretched out across the wide, curved face of the wheel, with arms stretched tight above, legs below, and powerful backs bent backwards. Heavy manacles were then latched around wrists and feet to secure both men in place. Massive braziers filled with red hot coals had been prepared earlier in the day, and their fiery contents dumped into the deep channels cut beneath each wheel, a hellish bed of glowing heat that would scorch and singe the two luckless lads every time they passed through the bottom of each rotation. 

Before the turning of the wheels was begun, the degenerate nobleman had manipulated the men’s mule-like members to full and spectacular hardness, once again marveling at the gargantuan size of both thick and sturdy phalluses. Here again, the two best friends were perfectly matched, sharing identical — and incredible — measurements in length and girth and rock solid tumescence. Each stallion staff was considerably longer than a full cubit in length — just over 18 inches, as the English measured length — making them half again as long as the longest cock the nobleman had previously seen! Their extraordinary girth more than matched their peerless length, and it took BOTH of the Marquis’ slender hands to fully encircle the mighty cock shafts at full tumescence. 

The Marquis had already experienced great joy and pleasure from torturing and tormenting these two huge, oak-like staffs, having forced countless gigantic and messy orgasms from both, but for today he wanted to try something different. 

After coaxing both bullish cocks into rocky hardness, the Marquis then slowly inserted finger-thick iron rods down the piss-seed channels of both, and secured the iron rods with tough leather straps at the bulbous, helmet-shaped heads and thick, beefy roots. The rods went all the way down to the very base of both men’s plumbing, and extended a couple of feet beyond the meaty, gaping cock-mouths. The rods were intentionally long so that they would drag through the beds of coals laid beneath the wheels, heating a little more with each revolution. This gradual heating of the iron rods would slowly roast each man’s beefy member, searing it from the inside and causing the two young men excruciating pain. 

The massive iron rods served a second, and perhaps even more devious purpose — they completely plugged the urethra of both young men. That way, no matter how much the two lads longed for release, no matter how hard they might try to orgasm, no matter how powerfully and violently their great, columnar cock throbbed and pulsed, not a single drop of seed could escape their capped off cocks. Instead, every aborted orgasm and failed load would gather and build inside of their colossally huge and fantastically virile balls, causing the huge orbs to swell and bloat even bigger, and adding to their erotic agony

Henri and Michel’s bullish balls hadn’t been ignored. The more-than-fist-sized orbs had been secured onto T-shaped testicle spreaders, which separated the enormous orbs wide and trapped them in separate small baskets made of a fine, metal mesh. Brutus, the Master Torturer, had then tightened the nets with various screws, causing them to constrict until they hugged the testes excruciatingly tight, making the thick and dense nutflesh bulge out through the diamond-shaped holes in the mesh. The Marquis himself hung deceptively small but extremely heavy cannonball weights from the spreaders. He normally only used 10 or 15 pound weights for such a task, but the great orbs of these two young men had proven to be so astoundingly tough and strong that he went for broke and used the very largest cannonballs in his dungeon for these two burly young studs. These spheres of solid iron were ‘only’ about 8 inches in diameter, but they weighed a staggering 275 pounds each! The Marquis knew that the lad’s freakishly — some would say unnaturally — tough bull nuts could carry even more weight than this, for he had suspended each lad from the other’s balls several times in the past. Their massive, beyond-herculean bodies weighed far more than even these heavy, heavy cannonballs, so the depraved nobleman was confident that their balls could carry the iron weights without any permanent damage, but certainly causing a great deal of agony. 

Once the wheels began turning, the heavy cannonball on its thick iron chain would roll and move and pull in regard to gravity. Obviously, on the downward spin if the wheel, the enormous 275-pound weight would pull viciously at the lad’s tightly bound and separated nuts, pulling them almost halfway down their heroically muscular thighs. But on the upswing, that same heavy weight would be battering the prisoners’ incredibly chiseled and hard-cobbled bellies, while simultaneously stretching the stud’s screaming balls past their navels. And even at the top of the wheel, the weights would swing and jerk the overstretched ostrich eggs to the left or right, never giving the throbbing and cum-engorged balls a moment of relief. 

Most importantly, however, and just like with the iron rods rammed deep down the entire length of their bullish cocks, the heavy cannonball on its weighted chain would also drag through the coals on every pass of the wheel, heating hotter and hotter with each go. In time, the massive cannonball could heat up to the same cherry red as the coals below, gradually heating up the heavy chain as well until that searing heat was eventually transferred to the lads’ own trapped bull balls. 

As a further torment, the Marquis had pierced the large, fat nipples of the young giants several days ago with a red-hot awl, and inserted large brass rings. The rings on each man were connected by a chain from which was hung another cannonball weight, this one much smaller at ‘only’ 20 pounds. This weight would, of course, significantly add to the prisoners’ suffering, yanking the tender teats in various ways as the wheels turned. Fortunately, as with the rest of the young lads’ powerful and extraordinarily beefy and muscular bodies, their thick paps were incredibly tough, and though they might get stretched up to several inches from the young men’s goliath, meaty pectoral muscles by the heavy weight, the Marquis was certain that the weight wouldn’t be nearly enough to rip those thick nubs off of their heaving bodies. 

Brutus could also regulate the motion of his devices so that Henri and Michel could hang over the coals for a while, allowing the rods and cannonballs weights to heat even more. And, as the powerful peasants rose up to the tops of the wheels, he could ply their pits and other tender flesh with heated pokers and pincers. The handsome young muscle men would not be given a moment of relief, and would experience extreme suffering throughout the long, long night, their mighty and baritone bellows of agony echoing inside the stone-walled dungeon and making sweet music for the depraved cruel nobleman. 


For now, the Marquis seemed to be more than entertained and pleased by his latest playthings, and considering just how stunningly handsome, massively muscular, and enormously hung both young peasant boys were, it was quite possible that the twisted nobleman might continue to be thus engaged and enthralled for many days yet to come. But, should the Marquis grow bored with his latest prisoners and weary of his sport, then there were other levers that Brutus could throw. 

Levers that would cause double-pronged iron devices to pop up from the floor and hook the heavy ball weights on their final lap around the wheel. 

Should such a time come to pass, Brutus would then slow the turning of the torture wheels to a crawl. The wheels would still continue to turn, however, ever so slowly, gradually stretching out the handsome lads’ gargantuan gonads more and more, and putting a terrific strain on the mighty ball cords anchoring their huge bollocks. Brutus idly wondered if he could get those mammoth testicles to stretch past the lads’ knees — they had already proved to be so ferociously strong and tough that he thought they just might. But eventually, inevitably, tragically, the end would be unavoidable — those two gorgeous sets of crushed, stretched, and roasted bull balls would finally be ripped from their bellowing and thrashing owners. 

But, of course, such an end might be hours or even days into the future. For now the wheels of torture were just beginning their first turn, sending Henri and Michel on their first rotation toward the hot coals below. They yearned to offer one another a last gesture of love and comfort, one last expression of their lifelong bond with each other, for before long they would be too immersed in their own agony to do so. Their heads passed as their closest point and they stretched their thick, bullish necks toward one another, trying for a kiss, but their lips were just out of reach. However, just before they passed out of range, they stuck out their thick, strong tongues and gave each other one final lap. 

Saturday, January 23, 2021

Alok vs. The Assassin Vine

Happy Saturday everyone! 

This next story is borrowed and adapted from the Tuff Snuff website. The original author usually ends his stories with the death of the hunky hero, but I like trying to find creative and erotic ways to allow them to survive. So I've extensively expanded the original story, and developed my own ending for handsome and supremely hunky young Alok, which could even be a springboard to future stories. 

And before you ask, no, I currently have no intentions of writing a sequel to this story... though I'm ALWAYS open to other people's ideas and attempts at their own sequel! :)



Alok vs. The Assassin Vine

Based on a story titled “Urdin vs. The Assassin Vine” by Tuff Snuff


Alok silently watched his prey from above, hidden behind some large boulders, listening over the roar of a nearby waterfall. His targets, a pair of large, well-armed and armored, and well-built orc guards, stood watch over the entrance of the mountainside cave that served as their hideout. Alok raked their bodies with his sharp and clever blue eyes, mapping every vulnerability and weak spot he could find in the hairy, green-skinned orcs and their heavy, metal armor. The young human knew every strength and weakness of the beastial orc species, and knew just where to strike to kill one. This knowledge had been drilled into his head ever since he was old enough to hold a club, and the blond-haired lad had trained his whole life to defend his people from the marauding creatures. 

Alok’s world was a harsh place, where survival took great skill, strength, wit, and luck. Such had not always been the case. Oral histories told of a time when humans were the only intelligent creatures inhabiting their world, and that they had built great civilizations that spanned nearly the entire globe. But when the orcs mysteriously arrived, coming down from the heavens in their great metal birds, the peaceful humans were quickly overrun. Most were slaughtered in the first few years of the invasion, their civilizations utterly destroyed, and the bulk of the survivors became cattle for their orcish overlords, little more than beasts of burden and a source of fresh meat for the voracious orcish appetites. Only a fraction of the human population remained free on the planet, reduced to a Stone Age level of technology and living a hardscrabble existence in some of the most inhospitable areas of the world. 

Young Alok’s people were such a tribe, living in a remote northern steppe virtually devoid of water and vegetation. They had survived by staying hidden from the orcish conquerors for millennia, living a nomadic existence and eking out a bare living in the sparse wasteland. Only the strongest survived in such a harsh and unforgiving land, and after many hundreds of years, only the very strongest of humans had endured, making Alok and his fellow brothers and sisters true paragons of their species. 

But now, the feared and fearsome orcs had arrived in their territory, and worse, they had occupied the ancient caves located at the headwaters of the only reliable river in the entire region, the lifeblood of the nomadic humans of the steppe. The humans knew that they had no choice but to fight back against their invaders, despite the risk of making their presence known, and they had selected their strongest and bravest warrior to try to repel the orc scouting party. 

Even among the tall, strong, and powerful people of the steppe, Alok was a truly exceptional human specimen. Though he had barely reached adulthood, Alok was already the largest and most muscular man in the entire tribe, and he was growing bigger and stronger all the time. The young muscle bull was a giant among his people, standing a full 6 feet, 8 inches tall, making him nearly as tall as the average orc, with shoulders that were well over a yard wide and a body that was extraordinarily packed with dense and striated muscle. In fact, Alok girded his awesome, massive frame with some of the most colossal muscles ever to grace the human form, with a tremendously thick bull-like neck, a truly gargantuan chest, enormous rounded shoulders sporting titanic, 32-inch upper arms and thick, 25-inch, muscle-corded forearms. His legs were just as heroically huge, with monstrously muscular thighs and thick, bulging calves, capable of both lifting terrifically heavy objects and of propelling his running form at a fantastic pace. 

At the same time, Alok’s lean existence meant that he had hardly an ounce of fat anywhere on his monstrously muscular body. His goliath muscles were therefore shredded and defined almost beyond belief, with even his slightest movements resulting in a majestic dance of muscles. He also possessed a jaw-dropping chest to waist ratio, with a stunningly dramatic taper from his broad shoulders, massive chest, and flaring lats down to a tight and chiseled waist that was only a bare couple of inches larger than his almighty upper arms. 

Alok was as phenomenally strong as his was titanically huge, and he had used his heroic strength countless times to save his people from beasts and other threats in the past. But now he was about to face his greatest foes yet, the legendary bane of his people — the dreaded orcs! 

“Hold on a second,” the slightly smaller, bald orc spoke. “I need to take a piss.” Alok peered his blond head down from the rock face above the cave, and watched as one guard strolled away toward a boulder near the cave mouth. The orc concealed his lower half behind it with his back turned to his companion, and whistled a tune.

Finding his opportunity, Alok sprang into action, his coiled muscles ready to pounce. The young man was clad only in a skimpy leather loincloth and hide boots, exposing the rest of his phenomenally muscular body to the elements. His skin had been tanned a deep golden brown by the sun, allowing him to blend well with the duns and browns of the rugged and sere landscape. He stealthily positioned himself above the remaining guard, gripped the rocky cliff face, and slowly lowered himself downward. Despite weighing just shy of a quarter TON of rock solid muscle, Alok had the controlled and precise movements of a predator, and he was able to hold his massive weight suspended over the cave entrance with ease. 

When he came close enough and the remaining orc was in position, Alok threw his massive thighs around the guard’s head, and lifted the hairy beast into the air. The tall and heavily armor-clad orc weighed even more than Alok himself, and the young hero’s corrugated abdomen flexed into extraordinary relief with the effort of keeping both of their struggling bodies suspended in the air. The muscular green brute gasped reflexively and clutched at Alok’s huge calves, but before he could warn his ally, Alok twisted his skull up and to the side. There was a sharp, muffled pop, and the guard became dead weight, motionless, silent, and heavy.

Though the waterfall could muffle nearly any noise, Alok took no chances. He held the orc’s limp body between his massive legs and, trembling slightly from exertion, slowly lowered both the guard and himself quietly to the ground. The pissing orc was none the wiser. As soon as his hide boots touched the ground, Alok bounded towards his remaining target, crouched like a feline stalking his prey. 

Alok was slightly shorter than the average orc, but he more than made up for it with sheer mass and truly fearsome strength. The blond-haired human was without armor and without weapons, unlike his orc enemies, yet the young muscle man was utterly fearless and deadly as he rapidly approached the remaining orc guard. 

“So what do you think about the new…” the orc began as he casually glanced over his shoulder. He yelped and jumped with fright when he spotted Alok a mere few feet away, already reaching toward him. The guard spun around and opened his mouth to cry the alarm, but Alok’s big hand covered it before he could make a sound. The young human pounced on the surprised orc in an instant, toppling both combatants to the ground. Though the orc thrashed and fought wildly, the green-skinned beast quickly found himself overpowered, the nearly naked human sitting on his armored chest and his arms pinned to the ground. 

Alok didn’t give the orc a chance to gather his senses or fight back. Keeping one hand covering the enemy’s mouth to keep him from calling for help, Alok wrapped his other big hand around the creature’s exposed windpipe and started to squeeze. The orc gagged, choking out the orc equivalent of “Fuck!” while his face contorted in agony and desperation. He violently resisted, kicking the air and clawing Alok’s naked flanks and thighs, fearful that he would be slowly and painfully strangled. Unknown to the guard, though, Alok had no plans to wait that long.

The mighty warrior grabbed a large nearby loose stone and sharply clobbered the orc on the side of his head. Orcs had very thick skulls, so a blow that would have instantly killed most beasts merely stunned the thrashing sentry, so Alok drew up his powerful, muscle-corded arm and delivered a second devastating blow, followed by a third, each time striking the struggling orc in the weakest spot of his head, his temple. When he felt the skull soften and crack on the fourth blow, Alok knew he was finished. Back ichor stained the ground and oozed from the side of the orc’s crushed skull. 

He glanced about, and when he saw that he was still alone, Alok rose and bounded once again back to the dead guard at the cave’s mouth. Though the first muscular guard he killed was heavy and lifeless, Alok quickly lifted his corpse onto his massive shoulders and carried it behind the boulder, dropping his body with that of his companion. The brute’s head fell to the side at an unnatural angle, making the cause of his demise immediately evident. Alok was quite proud of his handiwork, having finally killed his very first orcs. He was also amused that the larger thug’s hand had fallen on the smaller one’s crotch, where the guard’s large and flaccid green dick still dangled out of his armored pants.

With both guards dead and their bodies temporarily hidden, Alok entered the cave, crouching down and sticking close to the left wall. The cave tunnel was at least fifteen feet wide, but narrowed somewhat as it went on. Alok detected the occasional scent of orc musk and cooking meat, but his sense of smell was mostly drowned in the odor of mud and mold and decay. The warrior soon encountered a fork in the tunnel, with two smaller openings that branched apart. The left was dark, illuminated only by the dim light of the now-distant sun, while the right showed the dancing orange light of a torch or campfire and and the shadow of a mohawked orc’s head and shoulders.

Alok decided to explore the left fork. He wasn’t certain how many orcs there would be, and wondered if the dark tunnel would offer either a place to hide and await a patrol or allow him a better angle on guards further on. Though he suspected the orcs found no use for the tunnel, judging by the lack of tracks in the thick mud, he stepped from stone to stone to avoid leaving footprints just in case. As he delved deeper, he began to regret his decision. The tunnel became almost prohibitively dark, forcing Alok to slow his trek to allow his eyes to adjust. Considering that orcs required a quarter the light that a human needed to see, this arrangement did not please the burly young behemoth.

Alok’s fingers touched something cold and muddy on the wall. He peered at it, and found the edges of a large sheet, a sheet of burlap completely coated with fresh mud. Confused, he reached his hand behind it cautiously, but found only rock. It wasn’t hiding anything. He decided that it must be some kind of laundry or attempt at decoration, and crept onward.

Around the next bend, nestled in a man-sized crevice on the right wall, was something even more interesting than a muddy sheet — a human skeleton slumped in a seated position. Alok glanced about cautiously, suspicious of traps or ambushes. Seeing the tunnel abandoned, he hurried over to the body. It was almost completely decomposed, but still had some rot left on its muddy bones. Alok searched it, but found no weapons or other possessions. 

The barbarian attempted to discern the cause of the man’s death, but found no clues. There were no broken bones, no scars or scrapes to indicate he was stabbed. Alok surmised from the lack of wounds that the man must have been disarmed and then choked to death. Though the body made it clear that he was not the first to attempt to navigate this passage, he felt confident that he would be the last. He would succeed where this nameless warrior had failed. The size of the skeleton indicated that the dead man had not been nearly as large as Alok, and the hugely muscular warrior also imagined that he had not been as clever. Alok had no weapons to be robbed of, after all, and was too strong to be overpowered by a orc with such a simple hold. He silently made a pact with himself; should he encounter a orc brawler, Alok would prove himself by strangling him instead.

As if summoned by his thoughts, something cold and rough slid around Alok’s tremendously thick neck. He gasped and jumped to his feet, snatching at the garrote. It was almost two inches thick and covered in a papery bark, and already a second coil had joined the first wrapping around his throat. The big man thrashed and twisted about, attempting to throw off or trip up his attacker, but found the tunnel empty. As he stared in confusion, clawing at the vine which applied a third coil despite his struggles, he saw thin shapes dancing in the darkness —  roots and vines from the ceiling above, which moved of their own accord. Whatever killed that man, Alok realized, was no orc.

The vine tugged on Alok, pulling him like a collared slave away from the wall. He resisted, but his defiance only served to tighten the hold on his neck. He grabbed the vine’s body with both hands, as if playing tug-of-war, and yanked it, but it was embedded too firmly in the ceiling. It continued pulling him, and the huge bull of a man begin to slide inexorably toward the center of the tunnel. 

Suddenly, a glint of metal caught Alok’s eye, the tip of what he took as a knife pommel submerged almost completely in the wet earth. Desperate, Alok threw himself at it, but the vine provided no slack. He clambered to the weapon on his hands and knees, and stretched his thickly muscled arm so far as to cause himself pain, but only the tips of his fingers could contact the cold metal. He felt fear welling up inside him. Alok flailed one hand at the blade, sitting on his knees and tugging on the vine with his other hand. The harder he reached, the more frantic he became upon failing. Though his attacker could no longer pull on his neck, the vine continued to slide through itself like a snake, slowly squeezing the human’s tremendously thick and muscular airway. Alok strained just to wheeze, and most attempts to inhale were stifled as gags and snorts.

He couldn’t endure it any longer. Alok’s strong fingers tore at the vine, digging between the bark and his skin to ease the choking pressure. As if it had been waiting for just such a moment, the vine immediately resumed its pull, jerking Alok violently backwards, lifting the nearly 500 pound muscle man like he weighed almost nothing. The barbarian’s heroically wide and densely muscled back hit the dirt with a subdued and earthy splash. The roots, far stronger than their two-inch diameter would indicate, began to drag Alok’s bulk along the soggy ground. He kicked and wrestled with it, trying in vain to stand, but he could do nothing but watch as the partially buried blade became more and more distant.

To Alok’s horror, the plant started to lift him into the air, putting his own impressive mass to work against him. The young hero used his cat-like reflexes to hurriedly clamp his hands around the root and heave himself to his feet with a grunt. For a moment, the pressure subsided, and Alok took the chance to fight back. He punched at the vine, wrung it in his meaty and muscular hands, and even threw himself against its pull in a fruitless attempt to rip it from the ceiling. He only managed to dislodge a few rocks and a cloud of dirt, which fell to the muddy floor with muffled thuds.

The bark of a another root scraped against Alok’s naked, mud-glazed back, exploring the deep valley between his bulging and powerful shoulders. He swore and tried to duck away, but yet another vine caressed his elbow. Alok began to panic, fighting for every rapid, shallow breath; he still battled against the first vines, and yet he could see over a dozen in the near darkness reaching toward him, each one alien and murderous. He avoided them as long as he could, but the fingers of the monstrous plant soon found him in its snare. They stroked him lightly, seemingly unsure of him. Alok suddenly froze, not daring to move, hoping silently that the vine would release his throat.

In an instant, the central vine rose sharply, viciously wrenching its prey into the air. Alok’s heart skipped a beat when his airway closed, then pounded like a war drum when his boots rose off the ground, leaving his thick and sturdy bull neck to support all nearly 500 pounds of his meaty, massive, and magnificent form. The weight of his own heroic bulk was simply too much; aside from the aching agony of his crushed and stretched windpipe, the pressure in his skull threatened to knock him unconscious, while his vision and thoughts blurred and swam with dizziness.

All concepts of tactics and coordination drowned in the primal panic of Alok’s hanging. He swung his powerful arms through the air, grasping for a rock or ledge to which he could cling, but he found as many handholds as his kicking feet found footholds. His youthful and breathtakingly handsome face became pained, flushed, and red, and his frantically searching eyes turned bloodshot. When his mud-caked palms slapped and clutched the bark-covered tendril above him, Alok, merely moments away from unconsciousness, poured all of his strength into his enormously thick and bulging arms. The barbarian hoisted himself up, relieving the pressure from his neck. He immediately began coughing and gagging loudly and gutturally, each breath hindered by the coils of the vine. The thought of being discovered never crossed his mind; he was simply happy at that moment to breathe.

The abrasive touch of other tendrils made Alok gasp. He tried swatting them away, but found that he couldn’t fight them off and hold himself up at the same time. He grimaced and winced as they slid along his exposed skin. The first began prodding his back, but slid to the side. Another looped silently through his blond-haired armpit and across his mammoth tanned chest before exploring the deep valley between his gigantic, barrel-like pecs. It descended over the sweat-slick cobblestone’s of his prominent and chiseled abdominal muscles, undulating left and right like a snake. A second vine traced a similar path between his mud-caked shoulder blades and down the small of his muscular back.

Alok could do nothing but cling to the main root, guessing and fearing what might happen next. A pair of smaller vines, only a half-inch in thickness, snaked down his arms. They slid gently along the grooves between Alok’s ox-like muscles, like the slender fingers of a woman admiring his extraordinarily massive and muscular body. They soon encountered his flexed and trembling biceps, pumped and swollen with their straining efforts to even larger than their normal 32-inch size. The vines began to coil like tiny constrictor snakes, and though the tendrils were thin and appeared weak, they wound themselves tightly, crushing his mountainous upper arms in a mass of woody vines. Alok gritted his teeth, but endured the pain — his life depended on it.

Alok’s hopes began to sink as the plant sent in more and more tendrils. Some began exploring his massive thighs, others strangled his bulging calves. They were everywhere, beginning to encase his entire body in an open net of woody vines. They moved along his skin and groped him like a slaveowner inspecting his newest purchase, as the vines behaved like they owned him. To resist would be to hang, and the more Alok’s arms ached and burned, the more he realized he was out of options. 

He stared upwards into the inky darkness as another tendril slid down over his heaving chest and his chiseled gut and and snaked beneath his loincloth. He bit his lip as its cold, scratchy skin scraped around the thick base of his huge, uncut cock. He cried out in despair as it tightened, all but crushing the root of his proud penis. 

Another vine slid behind him followed his spine down to his round, muscular, meaty ass and slithered silently beneath his leather loincloth. He could feel it snaking between his deeply striated, muscular cheeks, and he wanted desperately to stop it, for he feared he knew where it was headed. He clenched his massive glutes, but the vine was persistent. As it worked its way into the deep cleft between his huge cheeks, past his last defense and to his hole, the brave and rugged young warrior broke down into quiet tears.

The handsome blond bull roared in pain as the plant violated him. The two-inch thick bark-covered tendril penetrated his ass, sliding and scraping deeper into Alok’s body. He could feel every invading inch as it explored him, twisting and turning inside his narrow passages, plugging his hole completely. Despite the threat of death and the agony of a pain he had never felt before, Alok’s dick tingled and swelled. The crushing hold of the plant around the very root of his cock made this experience extremely painful, but after half a dozen heart beats, Alok’s loincloth began to tent forward with a truly enormous erection. 

The human males of the dry steppe were hung uncommonly large for their species, but Alok’s mighty genitals were massive even by the lofty standards his own tribe, and his skimpy leather loincloth couldn’t hope to contain the muscular behemoth’s full-grown boner. With a muffled ripping and tearing sound, Alok’s powerful cock sundered the loincloth, allowing the massive organ to spring free and slap against his uppermost abs with a dull and meaty thump. The young man’s huge balls tumbled forth as well, freed from their leather prison, and hung freely in the moist open air, swaying slowly and ponderously between his colossally muscular thighs as the young man continued to struggle. Alok’s titanic testicles were every bit a match for the rest of his enormous and powerful body, two dense oblong spheres the size of small melons, a pair of fantastically tough and virile seed pods built for long endurance. 

The thick vine crushing the base of Alok’s mammoth, majestic cock forced it to grow larger and harder than it had ever been before, forcing more and more blood to bloat its spongy tissues until it was harder than stone. The young man’s penis shaft was vein-gnarled even when flaccid, but now that it was terminally hard, these veins bulged and pulsed like thick purple snakes, looking like they would burst out of his skin at any moment. His thick hood of foreskin was now painfully retracted, exposing the huge, fist-sized glans that topped the young warrior’s magnificent penis, the helmet-shaped head rapidly turning purple with congested blood. 

Additional slender tendrils meanwhile had snaked down from above and encircled the base of Alok’s mighty testicles. More and more coils wrapped themselves around his huge gonads, stretching them farther and farther away from his body, making the huge orbs bulge and darken as their blood supply was steadily choked off, much like at his thick and bull-like neck. The strain on Alok’s nuts became so intense that large veins began to erupt all over their great curved shapes, and the young man was certain that they would snap and rip right off his body at any moment. Indeed, any lesser man’s bollocks would have indeed been ripped from his body in short order, nut cords and cables torn from their moorings, but the handsome young warrior’s massive testes were as tough as they were huge, and they continued to endure. At least for now. 

A pair of thin vines, much like those crushing Alok’s biceps, descended and coiled around his densely muscle-corded forearms. They began to constrict and retract, tugging on his thick wrists. He held on with all his might, his arms viciously squeezed and his body brutally violated, but even this mighty young bull had his limits. The slender vines eventually tore his hands away from the central garrote vines, and Alok found himself once again suspended almost completely by his neck. He thrashed and squirmed like a beast possessed, but the multitude of vines maintained their hold. He sputtered and choked, reaching for something to save him. His blue eyes bulged and his vision blurred. His face turned from deep red to almost purple, and his struggles weakened and became disorganized. After a full minute strangling on his own massive physique, the tribe’s mighty hero began to slip into a hypoxic sleep.

Alok jolted awake suddenly, spurred by his feral instincts. ‘I’m not dying,’ he commanded himself. ‘Not now. Not here. Not today.’ He fought and kicked with renewed vigor, gaining a second wind, ignoring the pain of the crushing vines and the one deeply invading his muscular ass. Every muscle and fiber of his being worked toward one goal — gaining life-giving air. He flexed his gigantic biceps with all his might, and after a few seconds of vein-bulging strain and a gurgled roar, Alok began to snap the slender vines wrapped around his meaty peaks. First one coil, then a second, then more. Alok became a monster of rage and muscle, powered only by his will to live. He ripped his upper arms free, and yanked and jerked violently at the roots holding his wrists. 

After a few moments, Alok’s large fists came free, and immediately took hold of the central tendril. He tried to pull himself up, trembling from the effort, but his bruised biceps had nothing left. His once rock-solid muscles had been squeezed and crushed to near uselessness, and the mighty effort of breaking free had exhausted his reserves of strength. Still choking, Alok switched tactics. He twisted and warped the vine, but it was pulled too taught to bend. He tried punching it, but each strike only pulled it tighter around his throat. The burning need for air became a tangible pain, and Alok’s second wind began to crumble into a feral panic. 

Alok clawed and groped at his attacker, madly searching for a weakness. Within moments he was flailing and swinging his arms, silently gasping like a fish out of water. He could barely think or feel. The rough tendril raping his asshole no longer mattered. The vine choking the thick base of his titanic, rampant penis no longer mattered. The slender ropes wrapped tightly around his swollen and now blueish-purple testicles no longer mattered. His mission no longer mattered. The only thing Alok could think about was air. His bloodshot eyes rolled to the back of his head, which was now a deep purple, and his achingly handsome face relaxed into an almost peaceful, emotionless mask. All he could muster was a weak sneer, overshadowed by a purple tongue that hung limply from his mouth and a line of foamy drool that dribbled down his chin and onto his broad, meaty pecs as if he were an overworked farm animal.

Alok’s fingers scraped and picked at the coils embedded in his muscular neck, tearing chunks of bark away, but the root remained tight. Finally, his muddy fingers slowly stopped clawing, then slid down his chest to dangle limply at his sides. The brute’s gargantuan muscles twitched and seized, causing his massive form to sway ponderously from the vines overhead. In just a few more moments, his lungs would no longer struggle to breathe, and his heart would no longer pound out his mighty warrior’s rhythm. The fight was at an end.

Some deep-seated survival instinct, coupled with the vine’s rough abrasion against his swollen prostate and the ungentle treatment of the young warrior’s massive cock and balls, suddenly kicked in, and Alok’s entire magnificent form was rocked by a final, violent orgasm. It was his dying body’s desperate attempt to fertilize something, anything, before life left his mighty body. 

With the vines and tendrils wrapped so tightly around the neck of his horribly overstretched scrotum and the base of his mighty phallus, Alok’s final, massive load of cum looked like it would remain locked inside his huge purple bollocks forever. But the strangling vines didn’t account for the heroically powerful virility possessed by the handsome young warrior, and the desperation of his release. The massive thunderhead of his cum load squeezed its way past the multiple coils of tendrils wrapped so tightly around his ball cords, pumped quickly through his internal plumbing, then built up as an enormous beachhead of spunk right behind the vines constricting the root of his almost hideously bloated and distended cock. The pressure steadily building behind that colossal cum load was fantastic, and the thick, rough vines wrapped so tightly around the base of Alok’s cock shaft began to groan and strain against the growing pressure. Loud and sharp cracking sounds echoed in the tunnel as the strangling vine began to fail under the monstrous pressure, and with one final loud snap, the coils around the base of Alok’s cock shattered, releasing his bound cock and the enormous load of cum trapped within the young warrior’s loins. 

The first, utterly gigantic geyser of cum was a single, pulsating blast of sperm that lasted for more than 15 solid seconds, literally spraying the far wall of the rocky tunnel with the young man’s fantastically thick and chunky sperm like it was being shot out of some sort of high powered garden hose. Alok’s powerfully throbbing cock caused the great deluge of virility to slash and spray in every direction, including spurting enormous ropes of the clotted and viscous stuff all over the young man’s own mammoth chest and corrugated belly. Only after the first 15 seconds ticked by did Alok’s orgasm begin to separate into separate but still massive salvos of nut sludge, and it was clear that this was going to be an epic cum load for the ages. 

Alok’s enormous body shuddered and spasmodically quivered throughout his final orgasm, the handsome young lad essentially unconscious as his dying body thundered out probably the single greatest cum load of his tragically short life. Even as his heart rate slowed and his mind dimmed, his heavy, manly loins kept pumping out pulse after pulse after enormous pulse of his lush and potent seed, coating the walls and floor of the dark, dank tunnel with countless thick slugs of his precious cum. 

Some of Alok’s thick and viscous cum splashed up onto his bullish neck, coating the vines which were even then finishing the task of strangling the heroic hunk to death. As the lad’s warrior jizz soaked through the tough bark of those vines, however, something amazing happened. As the young stud cream flowed into the vine’s interior, the murderous plant immediately realized that it had discovered a fantastically potent and rich food source. It instantly sent dozens of vines and tendrils shooting out in front of the spurting stud, trying to catch as much of the violent and copious spray of nutrient-rich spunk that it could. 

The deadly plant, known as an Assassin Vine by the orcs who had brought the carnivorous species with them from their home world, typically killed its prey and the sucked the nutrients from its corpse. In fact, it had never been known to spare a victim before. So it was unprecedented when when the creature snaked some thick vines down through its captive’s armpits to suspend its unusually heavy and bulky weight as it relaxed its grip on the captive’s thick and muscular neck. 

The reprieve came just in time. Even though young Alok was completely unconscious at this point, his oxygen-starved body took a huge, shuddering breath, and the almost deadly purple color of the lad’s handsome face quickly began to fade to a healthy shade. Thick vines still remained wrapped around Alok’s bullish neck, but they were no longer choking him, allowing the exhausted stud to finally breathe freely, his handsome, blond-haired head lolling forward and drooling onto his massive, semen-drenched chest. Small, rhythmic shudders continued to wrack the lad’s insanely muscular body as his colossal cock pounded out the remainder of his epic load. 

Not until the final dregs of nut sludge dripped and oozed from Alok’s dilated piss slit many minutes later did the creature finally relent and partially loosen its strangle hold on the young man’s huge, dark purple nuts. The lad’s titanic testicles had grown positively cold from being choked off from their customary blood supply for so long, and had come dangerously close to perishing as well, but as fresh blood now washed through them, their dark color quickly faded, and warmth and life returned to the starved tissues. 

In the end, the young man’s own herculean virility was what saved his life. When the carnivorous creature discovered that the huge muscle beast was capable of supplying such a nutrient rich broth of proteins and electrolytes, the plant realized that instead of killing its prey, it could keep it hostage and periodically milk it of its life-giving essence. Even now, the creature was sending dozens of hungry tentacles caressing over the young man’s colossal muscles, gently scraping the many thick slugs of man seed off of his flawless golden skin. The deluge of spunk was providing a feast unlike anything that the creature had ever experienced before, and it was soon glutted and satiated on its repast, growing torpid with satisfaction. 


An orc soldier, covered by a cold, muddy burlap sheet to hide him from the vine’s heat sensing tendrils, was the first to discover the intruder a few hours later. He found the massively muscular  behemoth dangling by his shoulders and neck, hide-clad feet just a few mere inches from the muddy ground, with broad boulder shoulders, a colossal chest, and enormously muscular arms befitting a man who overpowered and killed two of their best guards. The whole section of tunnel reeked of male sex, and an incredulous orc soon realized that the creamy white glazing covering an entire section of dirt and stone wall and making a gelatinous mess all over the muddy floor had indeed been produced by the mighty human male dangling before him. 

The orc also then noticed the sheer size of the titanically muscular male’s dangling genitals, and his bushy eyebrows shot up even higher. Alok’s mighty bull cock, even in its current limp and flaccid state, was larger than most orc penises at full mast, and his massive, low-hanging bollocks, still loosely choked by half a dozen slender vines, were bigger than anything the shocked and surprised orc had seen before! No WONDER there was so much cooling splooge coating every surface within a dozen feet of the dangling muscle stud! 

Most incredible of all was the realization that the bound muscle bull was still ALIVE! Though he at first appeared limp and lifeless, the slow and steady rise and fall of the blond man’s massive, magnificent chest confirmed that life still flowed within the mighty male. The young human was unconscious, and clearly had been through a terrific struggle with the Assassin Vine, but for some unknown reason the creature hadn’t killed him! 

The sentry’s report quickly drew more than a dozen other soldiers, who formed a small crowd around the bound and dangling muscle man. They muttered surprise and grudging admiration for the young human’s gargantuan size and staggeringly enormous musculature. They laughed and gawked at his ridiculously oversized manhood, partially strangled by the vines, and the thick vine still penetrating his muscled ass. They had never seen a human male of such prodigious size before, nor had they ever before seen their carnivorous sentry capture its prey alive. They joked that the creature must ‘like’ the handsome, muscular, and enormously hung young human to spare his life. 

It wasn’t until the platoon’s botanist and Assassin Vine specialist was called to the scene that they learned the truth — that the creature had discovered a rich and plentiful nutrition source, and had chosen to capture and ‘milk’ its prey instead of killing it outright. 

The specialist was able to use a special chemical compound to cause the many vines to retract into the ceiling and release its muscular prey. The unconscious human male was then tightly bound and carried unceremoniously into the heart of their underground compound, where the soldiers petitioned the platoon sergeant about what to do with the captive man. 

A minority of the orcs, headed by the science team, wanted to bring the captive male back to one of the main cities, to study him and add him to the breeding stock. They argued that such an enormous and gifted male would be able to pass on his many genetic gifts to his offspring, creating a bigger, stronger, beefier — and more delicious — slave population. 

A majority of the orcs, however, angered by the killing of two of their comrades by a hated human, wanted revenge on the blond muscle stud. They argued that the young male should be brutally tortured and punished, violently unmanned and slowly killed, with his flesh consumed by the rest of the platoon. They demanded justice for the loss of two of their own… and they were eager to try the young male’s beefy and succulent meat. 

The platoon sergeant heard both arguments, and came up with a clever compromise. The soldiers would be allowed to torture and punish the young, muscle-bound human for an entire week, but they would not be allowed to permanently injure or kill him. At the end of that week, the science team would be allowed to transport the new slave back to the nearest city for study, and for incorporation into the breeding program. The sergeant gave a particular and stern admonition regarding permanently damaging the prisoner’s massive genitals, which would make him useless for the breeding program, and promised harsh punishments for any orcs who disobeyed. 

The majority of the soldiers were at first disappointed with this decision, and considered taking the law into their own hands in regard to the prisoner. They particularly wanted to torture and destroy his astoundingly massive cock and balls, as they were both fascinated and jealous of the young human’s extraordinary sexual endowment. But as they were soon to learn, Alok was so astoundingly sturdy and tough that there would be very few limits on what punishments they could inflict on the powerful young captive, even his mighty cock and balls. 

When Alok awoke, he would have a very painful and brutal week ahead of him, followed by brutal enslavement within the human breeding pens. Worse, the handsome blond lad would soon come to realize that his failure to eradicate the orc incursion would lead to the discovery of a hidden tribe of humans in the dry northern steppe. It would only be a matter of time before the orc armies hunted down and enslaved all of Alok’s people, forcing them into enslavement and worse. Humanity’s final hopes appeared to be fading…