Injured Reserve (F/M)

**Author’s Note:  I do write F/M stories as well, this is the first one I wrote in that genre.  Enjoy!

A football player's indiscretions come back to bite him during a game.

Vicky couldn't believe how lucky she was.  She, a lowly sports management major, had been asked out on a date by the star running back of her college team.  As was well reported in the gossip circles, Beau Benedict only dated the cream of the cheerleading crop.  Beau was essentially the king of that school, setting the record for most touchdowns in a career in his Junior season and representing most of his team's points.  His prospects for the NFL were doubtless, with ESPN talking heads bringing him up regularly as the solution to several professional team's offensive woes.  In addition to his athletic prowess, Beau was also quite a beauty.  With auburn brown hair hanging along the sides of his face, the contrast drew attention immediately to his emerald eyes.  The redness of his full lips showed the color of his lightly tanned skin, stretched over his sharp chin and muscular neck.  The strict regiment of workouts required for his position had given him a sculpted body any classical sculpture would envy.  In the sort of irony that genetics likes to play out, he was also gifted with above-average intelligence, successful in all his classes--even teachers' favorite--without the usual wink of a die-hard teacher willing to fudge the numbers to see State keep winning.

   How Vicky managed this honor was beyond her imagination.  Vicky was by no means unattractive, however.  As a part of her studies, she worked out consistently and had a hard, shapely, and yet feminine body.  She usually kept her blonde hair short and up most of the time, and her tan was developed by consistently working outdoors, rather than from a can or salon.  Her one major self-confidence woe was her breasts.  She always had small pert breasts and despised the fact that couldn't show off any cleavage with low cut clothing.  Watching the cheerleaders bouncing all around in their routines, she was green with envy watching those sweater-contained funbags--fake, she figured--rebounding in opposite motion.  But all that didn't matter, Beau wanted to date her.  Maybe it was her perfect face, or deep eyes, which her former boyfriends always stated as her best assets (at least when talking to her.)  Regardless of the reason, Vicky was carefully preparing herself for the date that night.

The date was magical.  No matter the conversation, from football to video games to Beau's career prospects, Vicky was taken in and hung on every word.  At the conclusion of the evening, Beau suggested he come to her apartment for a drink and to continue talking.  After her heart skipped a beat, she was able to squeak out a breathy 'Yes.'  Neither was actually thirsty nor interested in any sort of discussion.  Immediately, Beau took a dominant role, kissing her hard and undressing her right off the bat.  As each successive part of Vicky's body came into view, it was clear she was a very attractive woman.  A flat, curvaceous midsection tapered to a thinner point just above her hips.  Her long slender legs ran directly into the full cheeks of her buttocks, creating an arrow pointing to the sky.  He felt the silky smoothness of her skin as he hooked his thumbs under the band of her panties and slid them down slowly, kissing her midsection as he did.  Beau realized that she didn't need much to get the motor running after he took in his first look at her pussy.  The lips were swollen and slightly spreading, revealing a sopping-wet and trembling orifice just waiting for him.  Vicky made sure to shave herself before the date, as that seems like what all the cheerleaders do these days.  Despite the current state of arousal, Beau was generous with his foreplay.  His head sunk down to her pussy and his skilled tongue went to work.  Vicky immediately shook in pleasure as the efficient and strong movements of his tongue sent waves through her body.  It wasn't long before all the muscles in her body tensed at once and, moaning, she exploded in an uncontrollable orgasm.  With a confident smile on his face, the fully clothed Beau withdrew and looked down at her naked body.

   

   First, he pulled his polo over his head, providing Vicky with a first rate view of his bulging muscular upper body.  He undid his belt and dropped his jeans, kicking of his shoes in the process.  She noticed that his boxerbriefs jiggled in an attempt to contain the surprises within.  Wasting no time, he dropped them without ceremony, revealing main attraction.  Between his massive thighs sat his semi-hard cock which looked small in comparison to what resided below it, a huge dangling scrotum that contained the biggest balls than she had ever seen.  As it moved in and out her mouth, she estimated his penis at over six inches long--certainly large enough, but not in proportion to the obscene sperm factories which bounced off her chin.  Removing his shimmering cock from her mouth, she put her lips up to his low-hanging scrotum and sucked in, as one and then the other testicle popped into her mouth, nearly filling it.  After closing her red lips around the thin piece of scrotal skin containing the spermatic cords, she rolled the balls around, exploring every part with her tongue as she gently sucked.  

As she continued vigorously working over his cock with her hand and sucking on his balls, he suddenly tensed up.  Spurts of copious amounts of come spurted out of his throbbing cock, landing on her hair and the bed behind her.  As he came, she could feel his nuts pull up and tense with each intense shot of cum.  Beau then pushed her head aside, his nuts flopping out her mouth with a wet pop, and lifted her legs over his hulking shoulders, thrusting his throbbing, still-hard cock to the hilt into her as she gasped.  Following a full evening of fucking, Vicky panted after cumming multiple times (certainly more than with the other lovers she'd had), Beau rolling over to sleep.  When Vicky woke up, Beau was gone, but she still couldn't hide the grin on her face.  She skipped about campus all day long until an assignment altered things in ways she couldn't imagine.

Normally, women weren't allowed into the locker room, but her professor said he'd forgotten some equipment from his office there and asked Vicky to grab them before class.  Vicky stole into the locker room as unobtrusively as possible when she heard a familiar voice echoing down the corridors.  It was Beau.

"I told you it'd only take me one night to bed that sports management major, whatever her name is. . .Jesus she has a tight little pussy, and that sweet heart-shaped ass!  Oh my god."  Beau said to his teammate.

"So does that mean you two are gonna keep going out?"  his teammate responded in honest curiosity.

"Hell no, she has the tiniest little tits I've ever seen.  Besides, I have my reputation to think of, can't be caught dating some booster" Beau responded snidely.  "In any case, I'm still fucking Charlotte from the cheerleaders regularly anyways.  Now she's got tits."

"You are a cold son of a bitch, Beau," his teammate stated with a laugh, shaking his head.

Vicky steamed with rage as she comprehended the reality of the situation.  Sure it seemed too good to be true, but she didn't imagine Beau could be that low or self-absorbed.  She felt a conflicted emotion combining rage and shame, and angrily stormed out of the locker room and back to class.  Unfortunately, she really couldn't think of anything she could do to resolve the situation.  Talking to Beau would hurt more, and attacking the large athlete would be a near impossibility.  Vicky dropped her head into her hands, distracted from her class by the torturous thoughts dancing in her head.  She finally realized the best decision was to just move on and put it behind her--to be the better person, as it were.

Later that semester, Vicky had done her best to keep it out of her mind, but she couldn't be in the same room with Beau for any length of time.  Likewise, her dating life suffered severely, as she couldn't give the slightest trust to even the most sincere boy seeking her affections.  Football season was in full swing, and a few games into the season State played one of their biggest rival in a much anticipated home game.

The quarterback rolled left along with most of the offensive line and blocking scheme moving with him.  As the quarterback heaved the ball to Beau, the back rounded the corner only to run straight into the shoulder pad of the hard-hitting opposing safety--ACC defensive player of the year last season--streaking full speed from upfield to deliver the hit.  The blow sent his helmet shooting backwards, unfortunately his brain remained on its current course until contacting the inside of his skull.  As he fell backwards, eyes glassed over, the ball slipped from his hands, ensuing a scrum of both his own teammates and the entire opposing defense.  Inside the scrum, brutal hands and fingers poked and prodded and scratched at every player unfortunate to be on the bottom of the pile, as the ball squirted harmlessly out the other end, only to be immediately recovered by a lumbering defensive lineman.  As the officials pulled the players apart, Beau remained on the bottom, unmoving.  The medical staff rushed onto the field, including Vicky as part of her major, as time was called to deal with the injured player.

"What the hell are they doing running a stretch play deep in their own territory on third-and-long anyways?  That was a serious coaching mistake, and it may have cost them their star running back." the radio announcer stated in exasperation.

Beau, was secured onto a stretcher and carted away into the locker room as the game continued, with a notably subdued crowd.  Once in the locker room, the team doctors suggested setting up an MRI to check the damage after preliminary tests pointed to a concussion.  As the doctors and the other assistants went to go set up the machines and prepare for more tests, they left Beau secured in his stretcher on a table to rest.  In the hustle and bustle, no one noticed that Vicky had not joined them in the other rooms.  She stood over his unmoving body, glaring and shaking in anger.  After sitting still for a while, she approached him in looked him over in his football gear.  The tight football pants and athletic supporter he wore couldn't contain the size of his manhood.  Her baser emotions took hold of her as she slapped his crotch as hard as she could, feeling the soft flesh below compress as a subconscious groan escaped Beau's lips.  As a running back, Beau never wore a cup because it restricted his movement too much.  She slid her hands under the football pants and the elastic band of his jockstrap and pulled them down a foot or so, allowing his bound genitalia to spring free.  Brushing aside his flaccid dick, she ruthlessly took both of his hulking testicles into her hands, one hand groping each.  Each ball was the size of the eggs she purchased at the store and the loose sac allowed her to move them around freely.  As she roughly handled them, she felt the right nut turn around 90 degrees.

A sinister thought popped into her head, remembering her lessons on common male athletic injuries, as she likewise turned the left ball with ease.  She released the left testicle and sent both hands to his right nut, turning it repeatedly in the same direction.  Steadily, the turning became more difficult, but her resolved remained strong.  When she could not longer turn the nut effectively, she yanked it hard with both hands, eliciting a crunching sound like cartilage breaking.  At this time she realized her panties had become soaked from the excitement.  Immediately, she went on to his remaining testicle, repeating the process exactly.  After turning this ball even more, she leaned back and threw all her weight into yanking it back, yielding the same crunch and a little more slack.  Holding the warm egg-sized nuts in her hand, she was startled to hear the returning voices of the team doctors and carefully placed his bloated and discolored testicles back into the jockstrap, pulling up his pants, completing a process that only took less than a minute.  Just as the doctors rounded the corner, she ducked into the adjoining supply closet, leaving the door slightly ajar.  She stifled any noise as she reached into her panties and ferociously rubbed her clit.

"Alright, let's get him into the MRI, should take about an hour," said one doctor to the others.

As the doctors wheeled him out of the room down the hallway, she timed her uncontrollable moans with the slamming of the door.  She could no longer contain herself as she thought about his twisted and damaged testicles dying on the vine for an hour while they scanned his head.  A few hour later, she had calmed herself, cleaned up, and returned unnoticed to the throng of training staff.  Beau had returned to consciousness after the MRI had confirmed a serious concussion and began drowsily complaining about pains in his stomach and groin.  When the doctor lowered the boy's pants to examine the problem, everyone in the room gasped in horror, the doctor himself having to choke down some vomit.

"There seems to be. . .a double testicular torsion.  I've never seen a case like this. . .we have to get him to a hospital now."  The doctor stammered out.

Vicky slipped away into the supply closet once more and was shuddering and moaning in orgasmic pleasure in no time at all.  Unfortunately for Beau, this diagnosis had been made about two hours too late, as the doctors were forced to perform a double orchiectomy to prevent the infection of the necrotic tissue in his large testicles.  Beau became a stranger to the campus after Charlotte dumped him, only occasionally seen hobbling to his classes with his head down.  After this cathartic event, Vicky's faith in mankind and humanity was returned.  She strutted about campus with a spring in her step once more, and decided to accept the date offered by the new State wrestling champion, a sure boost to her self-esteem and her social standing.  Whenever she bounced up and down on Bill's rock hard cock, she would reach down and grasp his testicles, lovingly massaging them as she recalled Beau's massive nuts quivering in her hands, begging for life.  If she was ever feeling down, she would just imagine the football star's perfect muscular body, rippling and bulging with a loose, empty sack slung below his flaccid cock, and she'd immediately felt better.

"Turning once more to the world of college sports, State's star running back Beau Benedict has been placed on the injured reserve and will be out for the season.  The coaching staff attributes this to the concussion we all saw on-field last weekend during the game along with a severe groin injury, which they did not elaborate on further.  How this injury has affected Beau's draft desirability remains to be seen as NFL scouts..."

Weight Class (M/M)

By:Corbin Crow

Author’s Note: This is my second story I believe, from back in the day.  Another of my favorites that I’m posting, a little more graphic than some, hope you enjoy.  A coach driven mad by obsessions is willing to make his star wrestler pass his weigh-in by any means necessary.

   As Coach J (the kids avoided the cumbersome "Jaworski) stood peering through the one-way mirror in his office, he realized that there were a lot of perks to being a wrestling coach here at State.  Sure, he'd been a wrestler in highschool and college, and certainly loved the sport and the chance to impart athleticism to the younger generation and all that.  But let's be fair, the reason he got into wrestling in the first place was the same reason he stayed in it all these years.  To him, there was nothing better than an eye-full of hot young men.

   In highschool, he pondered all his options carefully: football had too many fat or overly-muscular dudes to sift through to find the perfection.  Baseball required too many clothes.  The tall gangly kids on the basketball team weren't of interest.  Hockey is just a bunch of brutes in pads.  So basically it all came down to swimming or wrestling.  Both contained perfectly-proportioned handsome young men, both required very minimal and revealing clothing, but he had to give the edge, in the end, to wrestling.  Not only fit young men in tight immodest clothing, but the chance to grapple with them.  Plus, coach never had much of a lung capacity.

   But this secret desire was not one he'd readily share with anyone, as when he was a kid that sort of thing could get a boy killed.  With a strict religious background and growing up in the South, he had little choice but to learn an incredible amount of self-restraint.  He had himself under such control he had a wife and family to cover his story.  After all, Coach J was no fairy sissy, just a masculine heterosexual male who happened to have an acute eye for the male form.

   But years of practice and self-control could never prepare him for Blake.  Blake was a junior transfer of 21 years who had made a name for himself over on another college wrestling team.  Rumor has it that he was forced to leave under some kind of hasty scandal.  Coach J was never much interested in that sort of intrigue, but was interested to have a 2-time state champ on his team.  Coach lead the boy into his office to discuss his weight class and placement on the team.

   As he shut the door, Coach had a great chance to eye up the boy.  Certainly fashionable, wearing some new designer jeans which keenly displayed his buttocks and a tight-fitting brightly colored polo.  He was lithe and tanned, perfect body for Coach's preference.  A stylish matte of golden blond hair rested over his forehead slightly, leading down to his sky blue eyes.  With his chiseled chin, small nose and pouting red lips, Blake could certainly turn to modeling if wrestling didn't pan out.  Small wisps of blond hair ran along his shapely arms, which displayed his taut musculature and veins.  His hands, although bearing large knuckles, certainly exuded strength and beauty.

   Blake didn't care too much where he wrestled or for whom as long as he continued his streak of state championships to another unprecedented year.  The interview was short and they quickly established that he would be their starter for the 174 class.  That Parker boy was their current starter in 174, but Blake was clearly a better and more experienced wrestler.  As Blake confidently strutted out of the room, Coach couldn't help but noticed the shapely ass clenching and releasing with each step.  This was going to be fun, he thought.

   It wasn't, however, until he saw Blake in his singlet next week at practice that he realized how lucky he really was.  The singlet clung to every curve and corner of body, perfectly flush with it everywhere except one place.  His groin bulged obscenely out of the pouch in the front of the shorts, his cock snaked to the right in an attempt to conceal and contain it.  Despite his best efforts, every inch of that massive prick was perfectly displayed, from the circumsized head all they way down the shaft, and there were a lot of inches.  Just below, nestled in the folds of the singlet were two distinct jumbo testicles, which judging by the motion of the package as he moved, hung in a loose, low-hanging scrotum.  I wasn't an accident that coach always kept the temperatures high in the wrestling room and locker room.

   During practice Coach had Bill Parker spar with Blake just to make sure he'd made the right choice.  After a swift and effective take-down, Blake ended up mashing his huge bulge right into Bill's red, sweaty face until the boy submitted.  This was definitely a special kid.

   "Alright, good practice boys, let's hit the showers," coach shouted, trying to contain his excitement.

   Coach ran to his office to make sure he arrived in time for the show.  His office, situated about 10 feet above the floor of the locker room, provided him a view of the whole place to make sure kids don't mess around.  Directly below the office was the showers, a tiled room with a half-wall surrounding its edges filled with metal poles in the middle, ending in showerheads in various directions. Down the third row of lockers, he saw Blake approaching his locker,  normally only baseball kids had lockers there, but since Blake was a late addition, that was the only available space.  As he peeled off his singlet, his muscles rippled and trembled, and likewise his packaged jiggled from all the motion.

   Coach's eyes (among other things) widened the moment Blake slid down the shorts: the manhood so keenly displayed in the singlet was even more impressive when only gravity acted upon it.  The huge cock, stretching down to his mid-thigh, bounced about as he stepped out of his shorts, the low-hanging nuts swaying along.  As the boy, clearly not shy, sauntered to the shower room, the coach couldn't take his eyes off the motion of the boy's genitals.  It was overpowering.

   Turning on the water at the leftmost showerhead facing the office, the boy was immediately covered in a glistening coating of water.  The coach, normally the model of self control realized a hand had drifted down to massage the throbbing erection straining his shorts.  For some time now, the coach had measured (in inches) the shower posts from various key points to get a good comparison for size.  The boy clearly possessed a flaccid cock of at least seven inches, possible even eight--so large his totally loose sac weighted down by massive balls stopped short of the flared corona of his dick.  Coach's hand grew more impulsive, reaching into the shorts to retrieve the coaches own seven inch prick (the kid was bigger soft) for easier access.

   At one point, Blake treated everyone to an amazing view as he bent over to clean his feet, his ample genitals obscenely displayed under his tight bubble butt.  Around then, the coach realized that he had painted his window with copious amounts of hot cum, and regained himself to clean up.  When he looked again, Blake was returning to his locker, peeks of his manhood displaying between his muscular legs and clenching butt cheeks as he walked.

   For the next few weeks of the semester, things continued as usual, coach displaying restraint for most of the time, and painting the window to Blake's unwittingly erotic displays other times.  State championships were only a week away and Blake was working out harder than ever.  On one particular evening, Coach was cleaning up the locker room after most of the guys had left, unaware that Blake was still there showering.  As he rounded the corner, he was treated to the display of Blake, eyes closed under the shower, soaping up his genitals, looking bigger than ever.  Transfixed for a moment with his jaw seemingly unhinged, he shook his head and looked back up, only to come face to face with Blake's gorgeous blue eyes staring daggers at him.

   "What the fuck are you looking at you fucking fag!"  Blake shouted with his usual eloquence.

   "I...I was just cleaning up the lockers, I didn't know anyone else was here." Coach stammered in response.

   "Shit, you are a fucking fairy, this same shit happened at my last college.  Fuck!"  he replied, looking sexier than ever, Coach thought.

   "Well, I...I mean...ah,"  the older man tried to speak without being distracted by his dangling block and tackle.

   "Look, Coach, I need to win State again to set the record.  If I transfer again, I'll lose my NCAA eligibility.  After the championships, I'll just leave the team and we'll go our separate ways.  Stop fucking around and leering at me like a perv would be a good place to start.  Just mind your own business and there'll be no more trouble.  I'd hate to think what the University would do if they found out their wrestling coach was a homo ogling showering boys, let alone your family."

   "But I...you can't..."

   "Shut the fuck up and stay the fuck away from me for 2 weeks." he said storming off to his locker, massive genitals bouncing all the way.

   Coach dragged himself up to his office and lay his head in his hands on the desk.  "This stud will be the end of me.  What if he talks? What would my wife do? And I'd lose my job!  Why did this stupid prick have to come here?  How can a simple basket of manmeat destroy the years of stifling and condition I've put myself through?  What can I do?!"  The coach sat in his office pondering for hours after he should have gone home for the night.  The coach didn't know it, but all his complicated efforts to control his own urges had built up a massive and dangerous powder-keg inside of him.  The floppy eight inch cock and bull balls hanging on that perfect boy was more than enough fire to ignite it.

   As he slipped further into delusion, he realized the source of the problem certainly wasn't inside himself.  It must be that boy!  "Well I can't kill him," his wild thoughts continued.  "It's not even the boy's fault!  This has happened to him before, poor fellow . . . removing the source of the problem will cure us both!"  he muttered, staring directly into nothing.  Just then phone rang, shaking him from his trance.

   "Ok, honey, no worries, I'll be right home."  He said as he hung up the phone and grabbed his brief case, making for the door.

   A few days later, Coach was sitting quietly in his office when he noticed Blake going over to shower.  The coach figured he didn't know about the mirror and one little session wouldn't hurt.  Blake put on as good a show as ever in cleaning himself, and Coach was fast at work stroking his hard cock.  Just before his orgasm, coach closed his eyes and leaned forward on the window.  Suddenly a loud bang resonated through the room and the coach, startled, grunted in frustration as he came in spurts all over the wall in a mostly aborted and certainly unsatisfying orgasm.  When he looked out the window again, he saw a bar of soap sliding away in the shower room and naked Blake walking down the locker room corridors with an angry stride.

   A week had gone by and the championship tournament was well under way.  Coach had continued to lose touch with reality and plotted his next moves very carefully.  The boy needed to voluntarily ask for this, or else it wouldn't work.  Two days before the final round of the tournament, he re-weighed the remaining athletes, as is the rule in the NCAA.  All the wrestlers were weighed totally nude to avoid any unnecessary weight.  He intentionally left Blake last, and after his jiggling genitals stopped their motion his weight came in: shockingly, he was a few pounds too heavy.

   "If I fail the official weigh-in tomorrow, I'll be disqualified from the match!"  an exasperated Blake said to his coach.

   "Don't worry Blake, we can fix this.  Here take these pills, they are diuretics, get rid of all the water in your body and hopefully lower everything down just enough to pass the weigh-in." the coach gave him two sets, one for tonight and one for tomorrow.

   "Thanks Coach J, maybe I was wrong about you, you are actually a good coach."  Blake replied with an awkward tone.

   Coach J however new the truth, he gave him too many diuretics and laced the second set with a little bit of the sleeping medicine his wife uses.  Not enough to put him to sleep however.  Blake assumed everything was going to plan when he peed the next morning, revealing only a small amount of burning orange urine that drizzled from his long hose.  He took the second set and made his way to the school.  Blake had no idea that coach was tampering with the scale and intentionally doing this to him.  Since all the other wrestlers passed their weigh-ins, it was just coach and Blake in an empty locker room preparing to check once more before they head to the official weigh-in.  After stepping out of his boxers, a woozy Blake stepped up onto the scale, barely keeping his balance.

   "I dunno coach, I dun feel so good." he slurred out.

   "Don't worry, you are just dehydrated, there will be plenty of time to recharge your fluids before tomorrow's match." coach said as he read the scale, which was actually a little underweight.  "You are still overweight by a about a pound and a half."

   "No, I juss wanna compete."  Blake said as he caught himself on the wall.  "I'll do anythin.."

   "Well there is one more option. . .I'm sure we could find at least a pound and a half of inessential flesh somewhere to make the weight"  Coach slyly replied.

   "Wha?  Like where?"

   "You don't need a cock or balls to wrestle tomorrow, besides, they just get in the way.  A set that big is sure to weigh that much."

   Blake stared for a second, unable to think clearly or truly process what was going on.  "I dunno, sounss drasstic."

   "Well you want to win, don't you?  The NCAA record is just one win away!"  Blake nodded in reply as he slumped over.  "Well then this is your only real option left!"

   Blake again nodded distantly.  He led Blake over to one of the massage tables and sat him down with his legs spread wide, allowing his ample genitals to dangle over the edge of the table, swinging back and forth.  Coach recommended to Blake that he work his cock into a hardon to allow for the most weight loss possible.  The boy tacitly agreed by taking both of his hands slowly to his massive cock and began stroking it to erection.  Within a minute or so the groggy boy had a fully engorged dick pumping up and down with the beat of his heart.  Coach hastily grabbed his tailors tape and measured the mammoth members at over ten and half inches!  Clearly this boy was blessed.

   Walking over to his desk, he picked up his son's model knife.  It resembled a hacksaw except replacing the blade with a thin razor sharp piece of wire, which, after plugged in, heated to over 600 degrees.  Coach brushed the boys hands away from the throbbing cock and started stroking it himself.  He moved down to the low-hanging scrotum, rolling each ball in his hand.  As he pinched the epididymis, he realized the stud had followed his instructions and refrained from any kind of ejaculation until after the season.  Sure, it helped the kids fight harder with all the extra testosterone, but it also increased the chances his kids would pop boners in the showers.  By the feel of it, Blake had a month worth of cum stored up at least.

   He released the balls to swing back down by the table and returned to stroking the massive organ in long, steady strokes from base to head.  Blake's head was swimming with drowsiness and now the weeks of not jacking off or fucking a girl flushed his body with pleasure.  When coach saw that huge cock twitch a bit, the head flaring and the urethra opening a bit as the balls raised up leaving a flap of skin at the bottom of his scrotum, he knew it was time.  Blake had closed his eyes by this point and leaned back, forcing his massive crotch further out into the man's hands.

   Acting quickly, the coach stopped stroking and wrapped his hand around the entire package.  In a slow, deliberate motion, he lowered the red-hot wire with his other hand, never slowing down, even as it cut into his massive rock-hard cock.  The blade made quick work and the horsedick that resided there for the better part of 21 years now dangled by a small piece of skin attached to the scrotum.  The smell of burnt flesh and burning hair filled the room as the blade made its way into the loose scrotum.  As easily as it started, the entire package came away in the coach's hand, cauterized on both sides by the cutting wire.

   At that same moment, Blake moaned aloud and shudders went through his entire body, rippling all of his muscles in a pulsing rhythm, although, not a single drop of ejaculate came out of the burned scar remaining on his shapely body.  Likewise, the feeling of the warm, still-quivering package of massive genitals free in his hand sent the coach over the edge, as his own neglected organ fired blast after blast of steaming cum into his shorts despite not being touched.  As both bodies stopped their simultaneous tremblings, Coach realized that is wasn't quite over yet.

   He tore the still fully engorged 10 inch member from the scrotum, throwing the egg sac onto the cold tile floor of the locker room.  He then stomped on the scrotum over and over, launching one testicle free, dragging behind its severed cords, and crushing the other one flat inside the loose skin of the sac.  Once he was sure there was nothing remotely resembling a orb left in the now quarter inch thick scrotum, he walked over to the other naked testicle and placed his size 12 1/2 sneaker on it.  Leaning in steadily harder, he was rewarded with a sickening crush that yielded a spurt of white, yellow, and red matter from under his shoe as it met the floor.

   

   Despite his untouched orgasm in his pants, Coach realized that he was again fully erect and his cock was twitching for attention.  He walked into the nearby bathroom stall and whipped out his own large penis.  Even at seven inches long, it was no match in any category for Blake's inhumanely size prick, which he realized while comparing them side-by-side, imagining that stud's still-warm and turgid cock throbbing from his groin.  He quickly approached another orgasm and dropped Blake's cock into the toilet before him, watching the rippling water distort its shape and size.  He aimed his flared cockhead into the toilet as it unleashed a second torrent of thick white cum, splashing into the water and swirling delicately around the severed manhood in the toilet.

   Coach caught his breath and pressed his ball-mush-covered foot onto the flushing handle, following that epic penis that likely pleasured many people along with its owner slide around the bowl like any other ten inch turd.  Slowly, it swung about and was sucked down the drain, the massive plum-sized head finally disappearing forever with the semen-tainted water.

   Meanwhile, a drowsy and disoriented Blake, roused by the sound of a toilet flushing, looked at the clock, and through his cloudy mind, was able to realize that he was going to be late for the official weigh-in. He stumbled out of the locker room and down the hallway, in too much of a hurry to worry about his nudity.  A few female students chatting at the other end of the crossing hall way, saw the stumbling Blake go by in a flash, shaking from their heads the idea that he was naked.  He burst through the double doors into the gym, nearly falling over in the process and screamed that he was there in time.  Everyone in the room looked suddenly at the stark nude and absolutely gorgeous Junior and their eyes uncontrollably drifted to the blackened scar that was the remainder of his glorious manhood.  Most people shouted in shock, some men covering their genitals with an instinctive reaction, and the clipboard toting NCAA official passed out on the spot, hitting the floor with a thud.

   Bill Parker uncontrollably chuckled to himself, the sight of such a perfect specimen of manhood lacking the key ingredients (which he knew from the showers to be large and intimidating) spouting from his groin was too much to take.  Despite taking pleasure in the destruction of that huge basket of man-meat--the face-to-groin introduction still fresh in his memory--and his wrestling rival, he quickly stifled himself and put on a look of forced horror.

   "I was just helping the boy!  I was only trying to rid us both of that hideous problem!"  Coach J said with a disconnected look on his face as he was forcibly removed in handcuffs from the athletic complex by the local police.

   "Turning to some more bizarre news, the brutal attack on the campus of State University early Thursday afternoon has resulted in the arrest and dismissal of the head wrestling coach, Mike Jaworski.  Mr. Jaworski was determined to be unfit for trial by reason of insanity and has been remanded to the custody of the Oakwood Hospital for the Mentally Deficient.  Mrs. Jaworski, the accused's wife, said in a statement to the press that she wants to just put this behind her and move on, caring for her two young children.  The extent of the injuries of victim, who requested anonymity, is not being released to the press.  The family lawyer, Jonathon Weinstein, said in a prepared statement they asked for condolences and said they planned on moving out of state to focus on caring for their son.  And now looking at the wide world of college sports, Bill Parker Jr. has just taken home his first State Wrestling Championship with a . . . "