Pete's Last Year at Adventure Camp: Part 3 - the Nightmare Unfolds written by James

 

Pete's last year at adventure camp

 

Part 3 - the nightmare unfolds

by James

 Ballbusting Boys: Pete's last year at adventure camp - part 2 (written by James @MosHadron) (Part 2)

Ballbusting Boys: Pete's last year at adventure camp - part 1 (written by James @MosHadron) (Part 1)

 

Dear Ballbusting Community,

James is back and giving us another story! His work is beloved, and I enjoyed his latest project and I hope that all of you will too!

Jimmy

Pete was almost unconscious from the twin’s speed-bag practice, barely registering that he was being moved as a dozen hands roughly carried him across the room towards the bunk bed that the other boys had been working on while Jack and Nick had been working on Pete’s increasingly swollen nuts.

 

Naked, covered in sweat and copious amounts of his own cum, the 18 year-old’s muscles glint under the fluorescent lights.  His thick cock has deflated from its full eight-inch glory, making his nuts look monstrously large - normally the size of small avocados and now swollen from the vicious beatings he’s received since his tormentors found him naked and asleep earlier that day.  But of all the people in the room, only the three older guys were really looking at Pete.

 

Dan, the blue eyed sadist who’s promised to destroy Pete’s fat nuggets is still wearing the same clothes, his white vest with oversized armholes that reveal his ribs and an inch or so of blue where they come down as far as the waistband of his shorts which are made of such cheap material that they’re nearly see-through, although there’d be no mistaking the outline of his 6” semi even if they weren’t.

Lounging casually against one of the other beds, the shorter blonde Fuck Boy has a similar sized bulge in his jeans, clearly rock solid from the way it stretches the denim as it juts straight down his left leg.

 

The third of the twenty year-olds has an air of control about him, something beyond even his 6’5” frame and broad shoulders that says he’s in charge.  The cut of his t-shirt betrays a well defined torso, strong and athletic, with a slim waist giving him that idealised v shape.  He stands with his hands clasped behind his back, legs firmly planted shoulder width apart, his attention as much on Pete’s destination as Pete himself.

 

The bunk-bed Pete is being manhandled towards, like all the others in the room, is pretty much as you’d expect, two singles stacked one on top of the other in a sturdy wooden frame that’s designed to survive the antics of boisterous teens away from home and their parents, day-in, day-out.  The frame of each bottom bunk is boxed off with wooden panels.

 

This particular set of bunks however had been stripped of both mattresses and the slats that had supported them were now neatly piled on a nearby bed and one mattress had been put on the floor inside the base - making it look something like an open coffin, especially as Pete was pushed down onto it.

 

As soon as Pete was on the mattress the 6’5” watcher instructed the boys to start putting the slats back in place, his voice matching his commanding demeanour.  Several boys around the room reply at once “Yes, Farr” “Sure thing”  “OK, Farr”.

 

Within a couple of minutes Pete was covered neck to navel and knee to ankle, the slats touching his chest whenever he breathed in.  Two more slats are screwed down, covering the space between his belly button and the root of his dick then a small hand grabbed his cock and lifted it upwards, tentatively at first and then more roughly until Pete’s bum was being lifted off the floor.  Several pairs of hands working quickly in unison got the next slat down, push it as hard as possible against the previous one, and get it fastened in place, which left Pete’s dick sticking up through the gap between the two rough pieces of wood, in its flaccid state it had provided little resistance to the boys efforts so that gap was barely a centimetre wide.

 

Even before that was complete, someone was trying to get purchase on his balls, but as they tried to pull them upwards his oversize eggs slipped through their fingers.  Gripping harder, the hands pulled again, but again Pete’s balls slipped through, being flattened and squashed as they did.

 

Pete let out a groan in response to this new torment to his near-shattered nuts.  This,  combined with the slow but inevitable hardening of his cock as the bars of his prison acted like a cock ring, seemed to please or perhaps offend whoever’s hands his balls were in - they stop pulling on his nuts and switch to squeezing them instead.  It only takes a moment for them to work out that pressing their thumbs into the centre of the fleshy orbs hurts Pete the most.

 

After about a minute the assault stopped. Pete felt the grip on his balls loosen but any relief was short lived as fresh hands took hold of them.  Just as quickly as it had stopped, it started again.  “Oh God! No!” Pete blurted, realising that one pair of hands had been replaced with two, each ball held firmly in two hands with two thumbs trying to split it into pieces.  One of his tormentors was pushing as hard as he could with both hands while the other seemed to be alternately pulsing his thumbs.  The different approaches combined to more than double the pain in Pete’s junk.

 

Work on securing Pete is apparently forgotten as the boys watch and shout encouragements to the two crushing his nuts.  There is no let up for 5 minutes until someone says “Come on, let me have a go.  I always win at thumb wars!”.

 

A brief squabble ensued over who would have the best chance at popping Pete’s plums, giving Pete himself a moment to catch his breath before the pain started again.  This time, four pairs of hands were brought to bear, two pairs - four thumbs - digging into each oversized fruit.  A victim of his own impressive endowment, Pete’s balls were easily big enough for four thumbs to get purchase on at once.

 

He started screaming a moment later when it became clear that the boys really had picked those with the strongest grip.  Despite his howling Pete’s cock is fully hard and turning an unhealthy shade of purple, and as the four thumbs pressing into each nut continue their work it leaks a huge pulse of precum that could be mistaken for an orgasm by anyone that hadn’t seen Pete cum before, then another pulse and another.

 

Farr spoke again now, “Ten minutes, then rotate, keep going for …” he paused and looked questioningly at Dan.

 

Dan checked his watch before replying “Two hours should do it.  That’ll leave us time to finish securing him before we go for dinner”

 

The two hours pass, eventually.

 

Pete’s balls are on fire, for the few minutes no one is touching them it still feels as if someone is standing on them with all their weight.  Cramps, red hot, radiate from his groin and his abs hurt from clenching in response.

 

He can barely breath around the used underwear now stuffed in his mouth after his screams were getting loud enough someone might hear from outside; tears and snot streak his face and the mattress underneath him which is damp with sweat and there’s a cold, wet patch under his arsecrack and around his hips - although he hadn’t cum during the last two hours his cock had continued to pump out a prodigious amount of pre-cum.

 

Farr and the Fuck Boy had wandered off at some point, but Dan had stayed and watched the entire time.  He hadn’t seemed to notice when - having risen to it’s full ten inches and pointing, thanks to a distinct curve up and to the right, towards his right shoulder - his cock had escaped his shorts, the fabric sliding down the impressive weapon until the whole shaft was exposed, the right leg of his shorts hooked up and around it and stayed there ever since.  Dan is neither stroking himself nor making any attempt to cover back up.

 

Even now he’s just standing there, watching.  The boys don’t need to be told what to do, they return to the task of building Pete’s prison around him.

 

Several pairs of hands fasten themselves around the top of Pete’s nut-sack, pushing his balls away from his body and making sure his nuts won’t slip through (the only way to fit an avocado through a one inch gap is if it’s smashed and crushed and, well, you get the idea).  Using all their strength the boys pull upwards, causing fresh agony as the strings attaching his precious sperm factories to his body are stretched to double their normal length.  The boys hold them there, six inches proud of his body; way more than is needed to get the next wooden slat in place.

 

Once again the new piece of wood is pushed hard up against the previous one until they’re less than half an inch apart.  The sudden pressure on his stretched cords makes Pete’s nut-sack contract as his body tries to pull his nuts in close, to safety, and for a moment it succeeds, taking the boys by surprise and pulling his balls a couple of inches closer.  The boys instinctively redouble their efforts, regaining the two inches and adding another one for good measure.

 

A moment later the last screw is in place and they let go of his balls.  They shoot down like a rock from a catapult and, SPLAT, flatten themselves against the wood before regaining their normal shape.  Pete’s eye’s bulge out of his head and he almost chokes on the boxers in his mouth as the boys calmly carry on fixing the last couple of slats in place so that Pete is covered from the neck all the way to his ankles.

 

"GUYS, WAIT!" one of the boys calls, getting everyone’s attention.  He’s muscular for his age with dark hair in curtains.

 

“What, Ben?” Farr asks, having just walked back into the room a minute beforehand.

 

"Look, his balls are going to be bouncing around if we do it like that." To prove his point Ben grabs the base of Pete's swollen and stretched nut-sack and wags it side to side, banging its contents against the wooden prison, first one side then the other, and back again.

 

Slap-Slap-Slap-Slap

 

Pete convulses in response, his body trying to escape its newfound prison and failing miserably.

 

"Huh? What’s that? I didn’t hear you?"  Ben asks with a shiteating grin on his face “Harder?” and he starts to put some energy into his demonstration, whacking Pete’s balls one side then the other, like hitting two tennis balls in a sock against a table. Again and again and again.

 

SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP

 

Pete can’t stop himself from screaming into his gag nor stop his body thrashing about.  Ben makes eye contact with him and raises an eyebrow.  “Really?” he asks, “Harder?  OK.”

 

SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP

 

After a few more seconds and without pausing his assault he continues "Why are we putting them through here, when we could do it here instead …" he stops whacking them from side to side as he points to a gap midway down Pete’s thigh.

 

As Ben continues talking he discretely pics up one of the spare wooden slats  "That should take up the slack and hold them in place so they can’t move around …” then he slams it against Pete’s eggs with each word “when” Whack “we're” Whack “trying” Whack “to” Whack “hit” Whack “them” Whack".  Where he was only loosely holding Pete’s huge gonads they flopped about, taking some of the sting out of the hit.

 

Pete gets his first proper look at Ben as he pauses and switches position, he looks young, Pete wouldn’t have said he was a teenager if anyone asked him, but nonetheless he has clearly defined muscles in his shoulders and arms as though he’s already a regular at the gym.  He grins now that he has Pete’s balls where he wants them, stretched out and pressed down against the wooden slats.    “It should be much better this way”.

 

WHACK - WHACK - WHACK

 

Ben delivers three more paddle blows which reverberate around the room.

 

“You might be right” Farr agrees, he steps up to the bed frame and kneels down to get a closer look.  “Hold his balls where you think they should go.”  Ben does as instructed and there’s a momentary pause as Farr makes eye contact with him, in response Ben goes totally still, understanding Farr’s intentions,

 

Farr puts his whole body into the swing, bringing a piece of wood down like a lumberjack with an axe, missing Ben’s hands by the tiniest margin, THWACK.  Pete’s balls take the full force, crushed between the makeshift paddle in Farr’s hand and the unmoving bed frame.

 

Before the pain has even reached Pete’s brain Farr is winding up for a second hit.  When it lands, THWACK, Pete’s scream is painfully loud even through the gag.

 

Still not finished, Farr delivers a third blow, just as powerful as the first two, THWACK. “Yes, Much better”, he concludes, not sounding even slightly out of breath.  He stands up and gives a nod, letting the boys know they should get to work.

 

Once they’ve released Pete’s balls they add another slat making it five inches between his cock and where his balls will be.  Just like before they fasten his junk in place as tightly as they can before summoning Farr to inspect their work.

 

He kneels down next to the bed again but rather than looking at his balls he locks eyes with Pete and asks “Have we stretched your balls enough, little pervert?”

 

Pete makes what he hopes are affirmative noises and nods his head as vigorously as he can.  His cords are being stretched and crushed at the same time, there’s no way he can take any more.

 

Now Farr looks at Pete’s balls, he slides his thumb and forefinger around the base of his nut-sack.  He closes his fingers and then pulls. Pete’s nuts rise another inch into the air.

 

Farr turns back to Pete and says softly “Oh dear.  I really don’t like being lied to.”  He picks up the slat-cum-paddle and hefts it into the air.

 

THWACK

THWACK

THWACK

THWACK

THWACK

 

Pete’s balls contract, flattening themselves against their restraints

 

THWACK

THWACK

THWACK

 

Pete’s cock spews a huge gush of watery liquid as he orgasms again, but stretched and crushed as they are, his balls add barely any sperm to the mix.  He can feel them trying and each pulse feels like his nuts are doubling in size.

 

THWACK

 

Again and again his cock pumps out huge gouts of watery spunk

 

THWACK

 

With ten hits doled out, Farr puts the paddle down and conversationally tells the boys to add another slat, as though nothing just happened.

 

“Hold on” Dan interrupts, his huge dick still on show, but now glistening wet, “let's just wait a minute before we release his balls, I don’t want to let that backed up load out by accident, because that is going to make him so much more sensitive until its released.”

 

Farr nods his agreement and the boys mill around for the next couple of minutes until he says “That should be long enough” and the boys get back to work.

 

With the third slat in place Pete’s sack needs to stretch until the top of his balls are seven and a half inches away from the base of his cock.  After 20 minutes of trying and failing, almost getting his balls there but then having them slip back just as they’re trying to secure them, the kids look ready to admit defeat.

 

Dan clears his throat and they automatically step back to make space for him.  Dan straddles the bed facing Pete, positioning himself so that Pete’s cock and balls are between his splayed legs.   He reaches down and takes Pete’s huge balls in his hands, making a web of his fingers across the top of the swollen nuggets.

 

He starts pulling, slowly at first, all the while making eye contact with Pete.  “These balls are mine, remember?”

 

Pete whimpers in response but can’t take his eyes off Dan.

 

“Well, they are mine, and when I say they are going to fit, I mean they are going to fit.  Now, are you going to ask me to stretch them for you, or do you need an hour of paddling to warm you up to the idea?”

 

Pete nods.

 

“Good boy.” Dan leans forwards and takes the underwear out of Pete’s mouth. “Now, ask me nicely to stretch your balls so they fit in here.”

 

Pete is still gulping down air, finally able to breathe properly again.

 

After a few seconds Dan says “Too slow, ten hits.”

 

Pete blurts “Oh my god, OK.  Do it, stretch them”

 

“Close, but not close enough.  Another ten.” Dan responds “Say please, ask me to stretch your balls”

 

Crying again Pete takes a deep breath, not daring to risk another ten hits says “Please.  Please stretch my balls.  They’re yours.  Stretch them as far as you want”

 

Dan pulled with all his might, until every vein on his arms stood out, his muscles bulged, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead.  Pete let out a long cry of “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccckk” as slowly and surely Dan was stretching Pete’s balls even further until eventually there was enough room for one of the boys to get a slat in place and screwed down.

 

When Dan lets go of Pete’s balls they flatten themselves against the wooden bars, looking deformed as his body tries to pull them through the tiny gap.  Dan grins and finally starts stroking his own hard on “That’s better.  Are you ready to take your punishment?”

 

Pete doesn’t answer, but he must have moved his head slightly to the side.  “No? Well I suppose we could wait until the morning.  Would you prefer that?”

 

“Yes” Pete stutters “Yes, please”

 

“If you insist” Dan replies, “of course we’ll have to increase the number of hits.  50 should do it, I think”

 

Pete groans and, without thinking, shakes his head.

 

“No?  Well, if you insist. 100”

 

This time Pete has the common sense to nod his agreement, not daring to ask to take the 20 now instead in case his punishment gets any worse.

 

With that seemingly drawing proceedings to a close, Farr announces “Alright you lot, time to clean up and head to dinner.  Don’t forget we’ll need to feed him, so bring something back.”

 

As the kids start to disperse Dan gives Pete’s balls a couple of playful punches before raising his voice enough to make sure all the boys hear him clearly  “And tonight, I expect each of you to get in at least 50 hits.”

 

It turns out kids don't need much sleep, especially not if they've got new toys to play with.

 

At some point before dawn they left Pete alone and he finally got to sleep.