divagations d'un punching-bag

"Bro, I already said there's no escape"

Just as he says that, the smaller guy's arms lose their grip and his chest SLAMS into his.

"nnggg," a slight squirt of pre leaks into his tight singlet bulge, "fuck man, did something just crack?" he'd usually let go, but he feels so damn powerful right now, he just keeps on squeezing.

"you already knew I outweigh you, and you know noone has ever got free from my bearhug until I WANT them to." he takes a deep breath in and clutches tighter around the bending ribcage.

"you struggled and fought so well that you got me all hot and bothered. And feeling that little crack just then felt WAY too good... So good that it made me think: how much longer until I bust a nut."

It's not until he tore through his hoodie that you'd realised you'd picked the wrong person to start a fight with. Once punch was all it took to break your jaw and knock you out cold.

Unfortunately, he's not done with you yet, he decided to use you as a a warning to all others who may think about crossing him. And even more unfortunately for you, you regained consciousness moments before he folded your body over his mountainous neck and shoulders, brutally snapping your spine.

But it didn’t matter.

The thugs who ambushed him didn’t fight fair. They outnumbered him. They attacked his weakest point: his full-sized equipment that looked all the more impressive on his shorter body. No amount of work or strength makes a man’s 🥜 any more protected or any less sensitive. So as they kept striking that lycra-clad bulge, the agony drilled ever deeper into his soul. The same material that gave his boys support now kept them easy targets for the gang’s kicks, punches and bats.

In his soul-crushing pain, his mind raced. He though of his beautiful wife & their many nights of love. They were just starting to try to have kids. He remembered the first time she held his jewels as she admired his masculine body - their alternating moans of delight as they explored one another’s bodies. He had always wanted to be a dad.

As a hard kick landed in between his muscular legs a harsh “Pop” and snapped his mind into the cruel horrible present as his right nut began to lose integrity. Oh God this couldn’t be happening! Another strike.

SPLURT!

A profound emptiness accompanied his loss. He would never have kids. Never make love again as a real man.

CRUNCH!

There goes lefty too.

They let him collapse.

He curls into the fetal position, gently clutching his ruined jewels. All of his muscles useless as his manhood.

He would pull this picture out in later years and see that lovely masculine bulge. That held his manhood. That once held his hopes for fatherhood. That was gone forever.

“There’s my little punching fagbag! Wow. All of the bruises I leave on you almost make you look tough. See, it isn’t all bad. Now that you’re back, go lock the doors and bring in the handcuffs. Don’t forget the mouth gag either. Did you just tell me no? I don’t care if you’re still in pain from last week. Since you wanna talk back, I won’t be so kind to use the boxing gloves this week. Bring me the brass knuckles. Now fag.”