Coach Clayton - Part 1

Greetings! 

It's been more than a month since I posted anything here, so my apologies for neglecting this site. 

Today's story is yet another rewrite of one of Sack Stomper's incredible stories, this time about a coach/athlete relationship that has a very dark side. It's a three-part series, and I hope you enjoy it! 

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Coach Clayton — Part 1

Based on an original story by Sack Stomper

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Alexander Davidson and Coach Bradley Clayton had a uniquely intense relationship, and one that they kept completely hidden from the public. 

Alex was the captain and the star player on the State University rugby team and had handedly led them to the championship every year since he’d joined the squad as a Freshman. Even straight out of high school, Alex’s phenomenal athletic skills combined with his soft-spoken humility, natural charisma, and self-deprecating nature had earned him admiration from Coach Clayton, his teammates, and even his competitors. Alex was always a big lad, even as a Freshman, standing a good 6 feet, 3 inches tall and weighing a lean and very beefy 245 pounds, and he only grew ever bigger and more muscular during his four years at the university. He was also extraordinarily good looking and popular, his grades were stellar, and he was the president of the Alpha Mu fraternity, a boisterous Greek house with a long and sordid history of scandal that he had almost singlehandedly turned into one of the most prestigious and respected houses on campus. Alex was a driven young man, with a nearly flawless academic and athlete resume, but his put-together façade covered a dark and twisted secret. 

The college rugby star had a pathological need to be the absolute best in whatever he did, both on and off the field. Failure didn’t just elicit embarrassment and shame, but an actual physical longing for corporal punishment. This need had begun to manifest itself when he was just a kid, but grew more pronounced when he entered high school. If he blew a game, he would punish himself by heading to the boxing gym on the rough side of town, where he would masquerade as an adult (which was easy for him to do because of his height and his muscular size) and let himself be used as a human punching bag by the local boxers, pretending that he was a completely incompetent boxer as older and bigger opponents wailed mercilessly on him. If he did poorly on an exam, he’d carve the word ‘failure’ into his muscular thigh with a pen, hidden from view, but a painful and visceral reminder of his perceived shortcomings. 

By the time he became a student at State University, Alex was simply too big and muscular to convince any local boxers or toughs to enter the ring with him — they were all too intimidated by his beefy and chiseled size. He had therefore taken to punching himself in his hard, muscle-girded belly with a set of brass knuckles when he met with failure and disappointment. And if that wasn’t atonement enough to satisfy him, he’d slink into the dorm bathroom to punish his big balls. 

Alex was blessed with a truly enormous sexual endowment, a real showstopper, with a huge, floppy, uncut cock that hung down nearly 8 inches in its completely flaccid state, and a massive pair of testicles that fully earned the moniker ‘bull balls’. Alex particularly liked hurting his huge jock balls, and the deep, soul-rending ache was reserved for what he felt were his greatest failures, real or imagined. In the bathroom, he’d kneel in a locked bathroom stall, place his naked testicles on the rim of the metal toilet, and then let the heavy, solid metal toilet seat and lid fall heavily onto his defenseless sac. He’d bite his big fist to avoid crying out as he let the toilet seat and lid fall again and again, taking his punishment like a man. Alex wasn’t trying to permanently harm himself — in fact, he was very proud of his big boy balls, and he loved them very much. But he needed to equate failure with pain in order to disincentivize himself from experiencing it again, and nothing gave him as much pain as a series of heavy blows to the balls. 

And that’s where Coach Clayton came in. 

It all started innocently enough. One of Alex’s very first rugby games his Freshman year ended with an embarrassing defeat to their arch rival university. In fairness, Alex had performed quite well on the pitch and it was most of the rest of the State team that had performed poorly. But Alex took the blame upon himself, and set out to punish himself after the game. 

Alex had suffered a mild pulled groin muscle during the game, so was using the showers in the locker room to soothe his muscles under a spray of hot water. Torn up inside with feelings of inadequacy and failure, Alex cranked the knob all the way to maximum heat, purposefully letting the nearly-scalding water turn his gloriously muscular body a fiery shade of red, punishment for his perceived failure. He stayed alone with his thoughts under the water until the rest of the team had gone home, losing track of how long the water had been running. The tap was finally starting to run cold when he turned off the water, and he was startled when he turned around to see Coach Clayton watching him in bewilderment. 

Coach Brad Clayton was a towering giant of a man, 6 feet, 8 inches of huge, beefy, well-honed, and deeply chiseled muscle built from many years of heavy workouts and rough play on the rugby pitch. The Coach’s build would have looked massive on a man of any height, but on a man of Clayton’s colossal stature, he looked simply gargantuan, dwarfing all of the college students who had ever passed his way. The big man didn’t pay much attention to the scale where he was concerned, training by feel and by how he looked in the mirror, but he suspected that he was hovering just a dozen or so pounds shy of the 400 pound mark. 

Though now in his early 40s, Coach Clayton was still in the absolute prime of his life. The big man looked a good decade or more younger than his real age, his deceptively youthful face and hardbodied physique, lacking even a single ounce of fat, allowing him to easily pass for a man in his early 30s. Clayton had very square and angular features, giving him the sort of rugged and rough-hewn good looks that would no doubt last late into his life. He wore his hair short on top and cropped close to the scalp on the sides, with only a handful of gray flecks scattered among his thick and lush dark brown hair. Though he shaved his face diligently every morning, by the afternoon it looked like he had three or four days worth of stubble, which only served to further accentuate his almost ridiculously strong jawline and proud chin, and his overwhelmingly masculine presence. 

Coach Brad Clayton exuded a raw magnetism that was powerfully and utterly male, and every year, a fresh batch of beautiful young coeds would throw themselves at him, shamelessly flirting with the dashingly handsome muscle titan, but the Coach stoically rejected any and all sexual advances, stopping the young women dead in their tracks. He maintained a strict and very public no dating policy when it came to students, and to colleagues as well for that matter, and his dating history — if indeed there really was one — was a complete mystery to everyone on campus. 

But the real reason why Brad Clayton was able to so effortlessly rebuff the advances of some of the most beautiful women on campus was because he had a secret of his own — he was thoroughly and completely gay. The popular and well-respected Coach was a consummate professional, however, and despite the fact that he was surrounded by hot young male athletes all day long, he had never once given in to the temptation of flirting with one of them, let alone getting involved in anything sexual. And he’d certainly never try anything with an avowed straight alpha stud like Alex. 

But as he stood there admiring the backside of his new rising star rugby player as he soaked under the scalding hot water of the locker room showers, Coach Clayton experienced a longing and desire almost unmatched by anything he’d experienced before. 

Even as a mere Freshman, Alex Davidson possessed a physique that would have been the envy of any man a decade his senior. Alex had a bullish neck, corded with thick muscle, that flared out into mounded trapezius muscles, the kind that Coach Clayton longed to massage with his huge, powerful hands. The young man’s shoulders were extremely wide, and capped with bulging deltoids that were deeply cut and chiseled like the wedges of a big sliced melon. His flaring lats were likewise thick and beefy, but tapered dramatically to a startlingly tight waist and narrow hips, giving him one of the most pronounced ‘V’ tapers that the coach had ever seen. Alex’s thick back muscles were like a relief map of some sort of rocky terrain, leveling out to the smooth planes of his sweeping lower back. Protruding proudly below that was the kind of ass that could make angels weep, thick and beefy and high and tight, with the sort of gravity-defying mass that looked equally mouthwatering naked or encased in a tight pair of jeans. The lad had extremely thick and knotted thigh muscles, and huge calves that looked like a pair of overinflated rugby balls had been strapped to the back of his legs. They were the kind of legs that could force an entire scrum to give ground, and then propel the lad’s big, muscular body down the pitch with a speed and grace that was remarkable, particularly in a man that big. His delicious leg muscles were so deeply etched and defined that even his slightest movement caused a symphony of bulging and flexing among all of the very visible muscle groups. Even Alex’s feet were beautiful, big and meaty and muscular, yet perfectly formed, just like the rest of the young man’s glorious physique. 

Coach Clayton had by now already seen the naked front of the devastatingly handsome young student several times as well, and he knew that Alex’s front was more than a match for his back. Coach had been particularly surprised and aroused by the terrific wealth of man meat hanging so huge and heavy from his chiseled, muscular crotch, with an impressively long and thick limp cock hanging ponderously over the biggest set of pendulous bull nuts the older man had ever seen. It was an extremely impressive set of genitals, certainly the largest to ever come through his locker room, and Coach Clayton secretly longed to touch and explore them. 

But years of strict self denial had honed Coach Clayton’s will power to a fine edge, and he could resist even these extraordinary temptations laid out before him. 

No, what really caught the Coach’s attention that evening was how long the young man had stood there beneath the scalding shower, and how lobster red his perfect, unblemished skin had become under all of the hot water. He couldn’t understand why someone would subject themselves to such a painful experience, and the sight had him worried and concerned. 

When Alex turned around, he was visibly startled to find Coach Clayton there staring at him, and he instinctively placed his hands over as much of his big cock and pendulous nuts as he could. But the look on Clayton’s ruggedly handsome face was questioning, not seductive. Alex had never questioned his coach’s sexuality before, and he didn’t do so now; he had just been so lost in his own thoughts that he had been momentarily surprised to see anyone else in the locker room. 

Coach had noticed earlier that Alex had developed a slight limp late in the game, and so he told the young man to finish his shower, towel off, and come to his office for a sports massage. He had frequently personally treated the sports injuries of his students, and it was always above board and strictly utilitarian. Alex had seen the big Coach give such massages to other players before, helping them overcome other sprains and minor injuries, so he didn’t question the man’s words for a moment, trusting the big, older man completely. He turned off the water, dried off, and wrapped a towel around his narrow, corrugated waist as he walked to the Coach’s office, still limping slightly along the way. 

It was during that fateful massage that it happened. 

Coach Clayton had Alex strip off the towel and hop up onto the massage table. The naked lad readily complied, sitting upright with his big, muscular legs stretched out the length of the table. The Coach started moving into position at the same time that Alex chose to adjust the way he was sitting, and the end result was that the back of Clayton’s big hand inadvertently struck Alex’s exposed bollocks quite hard. The svelte young athlete let out a short, sharp yelp of pain and surprise. It was clearly an accident, and yet the Coach’s ruggedly handsome face turned beet red and he started to apologize. But to Clayton’s immense surprise, the young man just opened his legs wider. A blushing Clayton began his intended massage of the lad’s pulled groin muscle, but Alex grabbed the man’s big, meaty hand and guided it to his massive nuts. 

“Do it again, Coach. I deserve it.” 

Alex’s soft, rich voice was barely above a whisper, but it seemed to echo loudly in the empty locker room. Clayton’s eyes grew huge as his hand came into contact with the young man’s enormous balls, still very warm and bright red from the long hot shower. He looked up into Alex’s big blue eyes, and he didn’t entirely understand what he saw there. Need. A deep, aching need. And a wordless plea. 

Big Brad Clayton had read many ball busting stories over the years, and followed a few CBT content producers online, but he’d never done anything in real life to live out his own deep-seated fantasies. Hell, he wouldn’t even know where to start! Yet here was this young, straight, ridiculously handsome jock with his big legs spread wide on a massage table and literally begging for it, presenting the older man with the biggest and most beautiful set of bollocks he had ever seen. Clayton started to stammer out a response and pull back his hand, but Alex stopped him. 

“Coach, I messed up today,” Alex said, his deep voice strong and certain. “You know it, and I know it. I need to be punished.” 

Alex thought back to the boxers back in high school who gladly used him as a punching bag, and he couldn’t help but imagine his giant and enormously muscular ox of a coach filling that role. There was nothing remotely sexual about the request from the young man’s point of view; he just knew that he craved punishment, and that this colossally muscular beast of a man could no doubt mete out punishment unlike anyone Alex had met before. Part of him was scared, though. Not scared that his trusted Coach would seriously hurt him; that thought never even crossed his mind. No, Alex was scared that Coach Clayton would kick him off the team for his bold request, or worse, report him to the administration and get him kicked out of the university entirely. So the young man waited, his earnest look boring into Coach Clayton’s very soul. 

Alex gasped in surprise as Clayton suddenly formed a fist and slammed it into the young man’s exposed bollocks, smashing the huge orbs against the firm table. The handsome stud just opened his legs even wider, his eyes pleading, as a hesitant yet excited Clayton punched his nuts again, a little harder this time. And again. Alex’s eyes rolled back as his mind called up a memory of every missed shot, every incomplete pass, every failed tackle, ticking off his list of failures in time to each punch to his screaming nuts. ‘I deserve this,’ Alex thought to himself, wincing and moaning and biting his lower lip as the barrage of punches came harder and faster. 

Meanwhile, Clayton’s heart was racing and beating thunderously in his massive chest. The scene was of a VERY sexual nature to the older man, even if it wasn’t to the young jock, though the coach tried to hide how very turned on he was. The big man was also suddenly very aware of his enormous stature and phenomenal strength, and he had to will himself not to go too hard on Alex’s nuts for fear of causing them serious or even permanent harm. But the handsome jock’s sex glands were so huge, so meaty, so unbelievably massive that he longed to unleash his full ferocious power on them. It was like living out a scene from one of his favorite Shotgun Video fantasies. Over and over and over again, he pounded his hard-knuckled fist into Alex’s firm yet yielding bull balls, and all the while the willing young lad made no effort to stop him, merely opening his muscular legs even wider to more fully present his manhood to his coach. 

After several long minutes of continuous and relentless abuse, a crying Alex motioned weakly for Coach Clayton to stop. The young lad had been biting his fist so hard that he broke the skin and drew blood, and once the beating was over, he simply rolled over onto his side on the massage table, curled up in a fetal position as he cradled his bruised and battered balls, and thanked Coach for delivering his deserved punishment. 

The burly man backed away with his hands up, eyes wide and with the realization of what he’d just done washing over him like a cold wave. He was disturbed to find that his own thick cock had grown into a raging 10-inch boner in his shorts with the front drenched in precum, and he simply turned and wordlessly walked away. He didn’t even change clothes, but just drove home in his damp, musky shorts and tight workout t-shirt, replaying the scene in his mind over and over again, berating himself for losing his vaunted self control. At the same time, he couldn’t help but haul his huge, beefy hog out of his shorts and stroke off a huge and messy cum load all over the floorboards of his car. Coach Clayton knew with a dread certainty that when he returned to work the next day, there would be an email waiting for him from the University president, firing him on the spot for such extreme and unprofessional behavior. 

But no such email ever came. 

Young Alex behaved like nothing had happened, but there was a peace and tranquility about him that put the Coach at ease, and so Clayton allowed himself to fall back into his old routine. And the following week after their next rugby game, Alex reported unasked to Clayton’s office asking once more for punishment. This time, the University team had handedly won, with the handsome young powerhouse personally scoring several of the goals himself. But Alex pointed out that he had fumbled the ball during one play, which resulted in the other team gaining control of the ball and eventually making a goal of their own. Clayton heaved a big sigh, gave Alex a stern look, and agreed that that failure indeed merited punishment. 

Alex hopped back up on the massage table and subjected himself to a fresh flurry of punches from his coach, enduring his punishment with an iron-willed stoicism that Coach Clayton couldn’t help but admire and be impressed by. The Coach felt slightly less guilty this time as he felt Alex’s jumbo-sized eggs flatten repeatedly beneath his pistoning fist. This time, he allowed himself to appreciate the truly mammoth size of the young man’s bollocks, staring at the amazingly huge gonads and searing every detail about them into his brain. Each slightly oblong orb was nearly as big as a ripe grapefruit, and was surprisingly solid and firm, almost unnaturally so. It felt like his fists were striking hard clay when he punched them, and the enormous gonads didn’t deform nearly as much as he would have expected them to, absorbing the force of his powerful blows and then quickly rebounding to their normal shape and size. Huge and strong! These were the kind of bullish and burly testicles Brad Clayton had always longed to get his hands on! 

Coach Clayton also allowed himself to enjoy pounding on the young man’s huge nuts, barely containing an eager and hungry smile as he laid waste to the handsome jock’s oversized manhood. His own fat schlong made an obscene bulge in his gym shorts, but he no longer cared if Alex saw it or noticed; he was living out his greatest dark fantasy, pounding on the biggest set of balls he was likely to ever see in his life. 

Alex held out for as long as he could, once again biting his fist and stifling his moans and groans of agony. Finally, though, he could take no more, and he screamed out for the beating to stop, covering himself with both of his hands. Alex was crying as he plaintively asked Coach Clayton if he had taken enough punishment, and it was all the big man could do to say “Yes,” even though he wanted more than anything to keep going at Alex’s red and slightly swollen sac. 

And so it began. 

Shortly after their third session a week later, a concerned Coach finally called Alexander Davidson into a private meeting in his office to discuss what was going on. In very matter of fact terms, Alex explained his deep-seated need to be dominated and punished for any and all failures. Clayton was shocked, but in a way he understood, appreciating Alex’s honesty and the trust the young man put in him to reveal his deepest, darkest secret. Boundaries were established, such as no leaving marks, no inflicting permanent damage, and nothing sexual. No pictures or videos, nothing posted on social media, and no discussion of their secret sessions together with anyone else. Clayton also always had to be mindful of Alex’s safe word; after all, Alex was the one with the elaborate scoring system in his head that dictated how much or how little punishment he required. 

By the middle of his Freshman year, Alex was regularly and gladly submitting to being punished by Coach Clayton for failures both on and off the field. The young man was soon seeking out the gigantic muscle man for punishment almost every week, sometimes more than once a week. And the punishments to Alex’s humongous balls became more varied and brutal at time went by. 

For example, after Alex’s messy breakup with his first-ever college girlfriend, Clayton forced Alex to walk laps in the locker room wearing a ball stretcher with a heavy kettlebell hanging from it. Alex’s young nuts were surpassingly strong and tough, but even they had a hard time suspending the heavy weight, which pulled mercilessly at the massive orbs, forcing them to the very bottom of their sac where they bulged bright and shiny, the thin skin glistening around their bloated contents. Coach Clayton lost track of how many laps Alex completed before he finally collapsed to his knees in agony, his enormous bollocks pulled almost halfway to his knees. 

On another occasion, after Alex bombed a chemistry midterm, Clayton used a plexiglass ball crusher he’d purchased just for Alex to squash the jock’s massive nuts as flat as the crusher would go. His humongous testicles were compressed to less than half an inch in width, a bare fraction of their normal colossal girth, causing the young man’s glorious muscles to flex and spasm in unrelieved agony. Coach Clayton couldn’t help but silently lament that he had gotten a crusher with a built in safety, for he realized that he wanted to crush Alex’s nuts even flatter. He kept turning the screws however, knowing that the machine couldn’t get any flatter, but fantasizing about crushing the handsome young stud’s burly balls flatter than pancakes. 

Alex, for his part, found that he enjoyed having an older male figure he could confide in and look up to. The young jock grew to idolize his coach, appreciating his stern and stoic wisdom, and greatly admiring the bigger man’s titanic physique and chiseled, masculine beauty. Alex wanted to be more like his rugby coach, strong and tall and proud and intensely male, and he redoubled his training efforts in order to pack on even more muscle. The young athlete also loved the fact that he got the benefit of having his submissive side satiated without fear Coach Clayton would try to take it any further. He knew that his tight jock hole was safe, for he trusted his coach completely… but his huge, vulnerable nuts were another story. 

Meanwhile, Clayton became more and more conflicted when it came to young Alex Davidson. The hugely muscular coach felt a growing bond between himself and the younger man, filling a much-needed father figure / big brother / mentor role with the extraordinarily gifted athlete, and developing a true fondness for the honest, direct, intense, and driven young man. At the same time, Coach Clayton found that he was being turned on by increasingly violent, depraved stories, videos, and chat rooms about ball busting and testicular torture. He began fantasizing about Alex all of the time, and just seeing Alex and the gigantic bulge in his pants made Clayton’s big cock twitch. Big Brad Clayton knew that busting stories and movies were all hyperbole and special effects on some level, but considering he was no longer restraining himself by the end of Alex’s first year, he was honestly surprised he hadn’t accidentally sent the randy young man to the hospital by now. Not that the Coach had wanted to, of course, but a young man’s ball bag could only take so much abuse before it burst, he thought — even a nutsac as phenomenally huge and tough as Alex’s! But the young man invariably came away from their sessions intact, his big bollocks bruised, battered, and perhaps a little swollen, but otherwise unharmed. And Coach Clayton would walk away with a raging ten inches tenting his shorts, full of pent up sexual frustration, and with dreams of inflicting even more abuse onto Alex’s seemingly indestructible nuts. 

The situation got even more difficult and sexually charged for Coach Clayton at the beginning of Alex’s Sophomore year. The young man had left campus and returned home for summer break, leaving Brad full of angst and desire for three long months, yearning to once more have the young man’s huge, heavy, pliable nuts in his hands. For his part, Alex also found that he greatly missed his big, handsome Coach on many levels, some of which were confusing to the young heterosexual man. He also couldn’t achieve anything remotely approaching the level of punishment he felt he deserved without Coach Clayton’s huge-fisted assistance. So by the time the young man returned to campus the following fall, both big men were aching to reunite for some brutal ball-punishing action. 

Alex sought out his handsome Coach within an hour of returning to the university, eager and almost desperate for the thorough and brutal ball beating he felt that he deserved. He had been saving up a tally of failures and transgressions, large and small, real and imagined, for the entire summer, and he wanted — needed — big Coach Clayton to punish him. And for his part, Brad Clayton was overwhelmed with lust and desire over the young man’s return and was equally as eager to see him, if for somewhat different reasons. 

Their punishment session involved the old tried and true, with Coach Clayton punching and pummeling Alex’s balls with his huge, naked fists. Alex was so excited to be receiving his punishment again that he threw a massive boner before the first strike even landed. Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time the young man had grown rock hard under his Coach’s abuse. It hadn’t been uncommon for the handsome lad to spring a colossal hard on under the bigger man’s ungentle attentions, and it wasn’t even all that strange of a phenomenon — many a red-blooded young man could throw a boner under even less plausible circumstances, and manhandling his goods was an almost sure-fire way to get almost any ever-randy college jock hard. Nevertheless, Coach Clayton was always more than a little impressed when Alex would throw wood, and not just because it showed the tremendous strength of the lad’s virility and sexual stamina to be able to grow and maintain an erection through what had to be one of the worst types of pain a man could experience. What impressed Brad Clayton even more and made him nearly drool with lust each time was the sheer SIZE of Alex’s rock hard horse cock. The lad’s huge limp member plumped and swelled into the largest boner Clayton had ever seen, stretching the measuring tape to well over 14 inches in length, and possessing a stout, veiny girth that put even the coach’s own mighty hole-buster to shame. 

What made this session different than the ones that had come before, however, was the fact that Alex shocked and surprised them both by shooting a spontaneous, hands-free orgasm in the middle of his punishment session. Coach Clayton could only watch in slack-jawed surprise as Alex’s huge log of a cock spat out more than a dozen truly huge ropes of sticky, pearlescent cum all over his chest, neck, and belly, pumping out an unseemly and improbable amount of thick jock spunk, until the young man’s magnificent upper body was virtually shellacked with the stuff. It was an ejaculation that would have made any ten porn stars green with envy, and that filled with room with the heady, manly scent of Alex’s hyper abundant sex. 

After a brief pause, the Coach’s eyes narrowed and hardened, and a new look of fear and need crept into Alex’s blue, blue eyes. The muscular giant then began to hammer his fists into Alex’s recently depleted nuts with even greater force and speed, really pounding them into the table top. The young man bellowed and screeched in fresh agony, for the pain exploding in his balls was greater than any he had experienced before, his mighty nuts growing even more sensitive than ever immediately following a purging of their rich liquid boullion. 

This encounter established a new pattern between the younger and older man, and a new and even more intense stage in their relationship together. Wanting to experience ever great levels of pain, Alex was oftentimes rock hard even before he stripped out of his clothes, and would either stroke himself off to orgasm or, more frequently, would spontaneously ejaculate during his punishment. Sometimes even more than once! And Coach Clayton would always make sure to unleash even more ferocious ball beating during Alex’s ejaculation, utterly ruining the orgasm and tremendously increasing the young man’s soul-wrenching pain, even as the young man drenched his own fantastically muscular upper body with ridiculous amounts of his own jock seed. 

Alex also never left campus for more than a week at a time after that, spending his summer break and even most of his holidays on campus, all so that he could remain near to his mentor, father figure, and punisher, Coach Brad Clayton. 

Incredibly, but perhaps not surprisingly, Alex still considered his encounters with Coach Clayton to not be of a sexual nature. He was still a hot-blooded, heterosexual college jock, after all, dating a never-ending string of young women on campus, and he never thought of his big, sexy Coach in an amorous or lustful way. Despite the copious amounts of jizz the two men unleashed over the next three years — Alex onto his own intensely muscular body and Brad into his gym shorts — their punishment sessions, at least from Alex’s perspective, weren’t overtly sexual. If Coach Clayton had been able to adequately hurt and punish Alex by punching him in the arm, for example, with the same effect as threatening his manhood, that probably would have been enough for Alex.

But it sure as hell wasn’t enough for Coach Clayton. 

Big Brad desperately lusted after the handsome and muscular young rugby player, but in this terribly lopsided relationship, very few of his own needs were being met. The older man gradually became bitter about how he was being used, his feelings for the lad becoming anguished and twisted. So in addition to physically punishing Alex for his perceived failures, Coach Clayton also began to verbally humiliate and degrade the young man, belittling him for his mistakes and cruelly and sternly demeaning him during their more and more frequent sessions. And due to his own unique pathology, this verbal degradation fed right into Alex’s need for punishment, and the handsome young college stud began to crave the verbal abuse as much as the physical. Thus did this negative feedback loop build upon itself, gradually making the relationship between the two men more and more unhealthy. 

To the outside world, though, Coach Clayton and his protege, Alex Davidson, were the model of a perfect coach/athlete relationship. Alex continued to pack on more and more quality muscle under the Coach’s intense and sometimes downright brutal training, and the young man’s abilities on the rugby pitch became even more impressive and spectacular. The young stud managed to pack on over 50 pounds of lean, shredded, top-quality muscle during his four years under Coach Clayton’s tutelage, crafting and honing his already incredible physique into a form of staggering masculine beauty and perfection. The devastatingly handsome lad was now a heady combination of Adonis and Hercules made flesh, and his meticulous diet and exacting exercise regime guaranteed that not an ounce of fat obscured his magnificently formed muscles. Now, even the slightest cough caused his chiseled eight-pack of abdominal muscles to flex into even more stunning relief, his diamond-hard serratus and oblique muscles also popping into greater definition. The kid had become a beast, a true muscle god, and yet he kept striving for even more gains, wanting to become as big as his idol, Coach Brad Clayton. 

Many on campus remarked at how similar in appearance the student and his mentor had become, with their similar coloring, heart-stoppingly handsome faces, and enormously muscular builds. Only the 5-inch and 100-pound height and weight difference between the two men, and Brad Clayton’s more mature and yet still youthful features, told them apart. 

Alex’s huge nuts also toughened up spectacularly during his four years of college, growing even more firm and solid and resilient after all of the heavy workouts they received at Coach Clayton’s hands. By his senior year, Alex could endure longer and far more brutal punishments than he could have ever suffered as a Freshman, and his big bollocks had become so tough and inured to pain that he no longer needed to bite his fist to avoid crying out. The big, muscular lad would just inhale deeply and growl after a particularly violent series of punches or strikes, the veins in his thick, bullish neck standing out as he literally demanded that Clayton dish out even heavier punishment. And the colossally muscular Coach was always more than happy to oblige. He ran Alex through every kind of punishment he could think of — punching, kicking, stomping, stretching, crushing, and more — each time trying to take the punishment and abuse just a little bit farther, and always delighted and amazed that Alex wanted the same thing, too. 

The handsome lad’s twin gonads had significantly enlarged over the four years as well. Whereas before Alex’s giant nuts had nearly been the size of a pair of ripe grapefruit, now they were actually considerably bigger than grapefruits, and just as gorgeous as ever. The young man’s huge testicles had developed an even thicker shell of tough fibrous tissue surrounding the more delicate inner meat of each bollock, making them even more extraordinarily strong, dense, and hardy than they’d been before. The thicker walls undoubtedly included a fair amount of scar tissue — how could they not, after four years of near constant abuse? — but that hardly seemed to dampen the young man’s sex life in the slightest. 

The handsome and hunky rugby star had developed quite the reputation on campus as a ladies’ man. Alexander Davidson was the very definition of the Big Man On Campus — ridiculously handsome, phenomenally built, and one of the greatest athletes the university had ever seen. He was also soft spoken, intelligent, humble, and a gentleman, and fellow students and faculty wanted to be in his presence. Word had also gotten out that the handsome hunk was hung like a Clydesdale, and knew how to use all of the gifts he had been so generously given. Beautiful women were throwing themselves at him constantly, and while he actually bedded far fewer women than he was given credit for, he still slept with more women than any guy had a right to. And he left them all very, very satisfied. 

In summary, Alex Davidson had turned into a devastatingly handsome bull of muscle, with a huge horse cock that could ravish any willing woman on campus, and a set of humongous balls that were so tough as to be well nigh indestructible. Coach Clayton had watched his star player grow up into a true alpha male of the highest caliber, and no one even suspected the true nature of the relationship that he shared with the achingly handsome hunk. A relationship that Brad Clayton desperately wanted to continue, even though it left him deeply unfulfilled and was tearing his heart apart. 

All of that led to tonight.