Sack Smack League - Ben_Awhile and Kilik

Hunter has finally ascended to the A-tier, but his newest challenge may be his toughest yet. His opponent, Ben_Awhile, is a skilled Kilik player whose abilities and tactics push Hunter to his limits. After facing countless powerful fighters, Hunter may have finally met his match.

Pics included in story

My name is Hunter, and I’m a seemingly ordinary college student. But to those who play the Sack Smack League, I’m the league’s newest rising star: Ultimate_Hunter05.

The Sack Smack League is a VR fighting simulation where players face off in brutal one-on-one duels where there are almost no rules including below the belt tactics. In fact, they are encouraged. 

After countless battles, setbacks, and hard-fought victories in the B-tier, I was finally ready.

The ascent to A-tier was a massacre. After the match with the Jungle Juggernaut, I was more experienced, more practiced. I tore through the B-rank players, leaving a trail of broken bodies in my wake. I stopped treating matches like bouts and started treating them like harvesting. Every fight ended with the same sequence: a devastating setup, a crushing impact to the groin, and the glorious, shuddering collapse of a broken opponent. I spent a week collecting victories and reproductive parts, in hopes of the opportunity to participate in another ranked match.

Finally, my coronation into the A-tier came via a ranked match against a technician named B4llbuster69. He was a specialist: a counter-striker who lived for the slip-and-rip. He thought he had me read, leaning back to avoid the direct charge, waiting for me to overextend so he could snap a kick into my nuts.

But instead of the aggressive assault to the groin that has become my M.O. that he had expected, I changed my tactics going for his HP bar instead. I was adept in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Krav Maga, underhand tactics aren't my only options. His HP plummeted from green to a flickering, desperate yellow to a sliver of red. The crowd gasped as B4llbuster69 fell, drenched in his own sweat, his chest heaving.

I didn't go for the kill immediately. Instead, I sank my weight into the dirt, hovering over him like a eagle. I reached down and closed my fist around the entirety of his sweaty genitals. His massive cock and heavy balls held firmly in my grip. The heat radiating from his groin was palpable, his cock pulsing from adrenaline and desperation. 

I looked down, the hazel eyes of my avatar Theseus locked onto his brown ones of his avatar. His eyes were wide, dilated, and swimming with a raw, primal fear. He lay there, chest heaving, the fight completely drained from him, waiting for the inevitable castration. He had seen the replay logs of my matches and assumed his manhood was going to be added to the collection of grotesque trophies on the wall of my private room.

I gripped his warm, sweaty manhood tighter in my calloused fist. His thick cock began to turn a shade of angry crimson as the veins on the shaft bulged to the width of a pencil. His plump testicles throbbed as they were pulled to the bottom of his nut sack by my iron grip. He screamed as I slowly began to lift him from the ground by his privates, the skin stretching taut against the gravity of his body.

I watched the panic flicker in his eyes, his hands wrapping around my hand as hips spasmed in a futile attempt to free his manhood. I could feel the frantic pulse from of his heart beating against the palm of my hand, transmitted through his pulsing cock. 

The tension in the air was a physical weight, a coiled spring of agony and anticipation. I could feel the connective tissue of his groin screaming, the skin of his scrotum stretched to a translucent, shimmering membrane that looked as fragile as a soap bubble. One more inch of upward leverage, one more sharp tug of my calloused fingers, and his entire reproductive system would have been liberated from his pelvic floor in a spray of iridescent fluid and ruptured veins. He let out a strangled, guttural sob, his body arching off the dirt in a final, desperate plea for mercy.

Then, I simply opened my hand.

B4llbuster69 plummeted back into the dirt with a wet thud, his body twitching in the aftershock of the near-catastrophe. I burst into a loud, booming laugh that echoed through the arena, the sound cutting through his panicked gasps.

I extended my hand, its calloused fingers steady before my fallen foe. B4llbuster69 stared at my open palm as though it were some kind of trick, another final indignity I intended to inflict upon him.

Slowly, the haze in his eyes began to clear. After a moment of hesitation, he reached up and grasped my wrist. With a firm pull, I hauled him back to his feet. The sudden movement left him staggering for a moment before he finally regained his balance.

In the Sack Smack League, the loser should expect the possibility of being castrated by the victor if the HP bar reaches zero. But lately, I had found a different kind of gratification in the reprieve. There was a certain satisfaction in being merciful, a way of reminding an opponent that the existence and integrity of their prized anatomy, rested entirely upon my whim. It transformed me from a mere harvester into a judge.

"You've got a decent slip, B4llbuster," I said, my voice echoing with the resonant warmth and depth of the Theseus avatar. I patted his shoulder, the impact heavy enough to make him wince. "Good game."

B4llbuster69 let out a laugh before a sigh of relief, the tension finally draining from his shoulders. He wiped a smear of dirt from his chin, his brown eyes flickering with a newfound, genuine admiration. "You’re a bastard, Hunter," he chuckled, the sound still shaky but warm. "But good game."

He stepped back, shaking out his limbs as the adrenaline faded. A wide, competitive grin split his face. "But don't get too comfortable. Next time we meet, I’ll have your cock on the wall of my trophy room."

I grinned. The image of my own anatomy as a centerpiece was absurd, yet the challenge sent a spark of electricity through my chest. "I'd love to see you try, B4llbuster."

"Congratulations Hunter! You've officially been promoted to A-tier!"

I was startled by voice that sounded like the chime of crystal glasses. I turned to find Astrid hovering, her translucent form shimmering with an iridescent, lustrous fuchsia. She was the League’s go-to helper, guiding players through the game, explaining the rules, and offering advice whenever they needed it.

Completely nude, her skin was a luminous fuchsia that seemed to pulse with an inner neon light. She was a vision of peak physical conditioning, her breasts firm and high, her stomach a flat, toned expanse of shimmering light that rippled slightly. Her thighs and gluts were muscular but curved to perfection.

Astrid drifted closer.

"The A-tier is not merely a change in label, Hunter," she smiled, her voice echoing like a distant melody. "You have proven that you possess both the skill and strength to survive this ascent. You deserve this promotion, and with it, the privilege of facing the true titans of the League."

Her expression shifted, a flicker of caution crossing her luminous features. "But be warned. The gap between B and A is vast. From this moment forward, your opponents are more powerful than any you encountered in the lower brackets."

Though I felt the phantom ache in my groin of my previous battles, serving as a reminder of the stakes, I didn't flinch. "Bring it on!" I replied, a confident smirk upon my face. "I think I can handle a few titans."

Astrid’s iridescent form shimmered as she smiled, and with a graceful flick of her wrist, a holographic dossier materialized in front of me.

“Meet your first real test in the A-tier, Hunter,” she said with a smile. “His name is Ben_Awhile, and he uses the Kilik build. Kilik was a legendary warrior monk, renowned for his combat prowess and incredible fortitude. It’s an easy build to pick up, but nearly impossible to master.”

I gazed upon the avatar.

Kilik had the lean, disciplined build of someone shaped by years of martial arts training. His shoulders were broad without being bulky, tapering into a defined torso and a narrow waist. His arms and legs were toned and powerful, built for speed and explosive movement rather than sheer size. His long, brown hair framed a youthful but serious face, while his posture carried the unmistakable confidence and discipline of a seasoned warrior.

Looking at the dossier was like staring at a slightly leaner version of my own avatar, Theseus. He was similar in height and weight, with the same corded muscle and the same capacity for explosive agility. Yet I knew there were important differences between us, differences I couldn’t quite put a finger on, but somehow knew, deep down, were there.

I leaned back, a sharp, confident grin cutting across my face, and looked toward the shimmering guide. The uncertainty didn't breed anxiety but rather a fierce, competitive curiosity.

“Let’s see what this Ben_Awhile is made of, Astrid,” I said, my voice humming with anticipation. “Set the stage. I want to find out if he’s really as good as this dossier claims or if he’s just another pretty boy.”

Astrid’s smile widened. She slowly waved her arm in a shimmering arc through the air before. The neon gold of the dossier expanded, swallowing the lobby in a flash of blinding light.

Before I knew it, I was in my Theseus avatar, naked but unashamed. All fights in Sack Smack League are fought naked, exposing one’s weakness and enticing low blows as a strategy to gain the upper hand.

Theseus was gifted with honey-hazel eyes and thick chestnut hair. His body was a map of taut muscle, every line earned through years of combat and survival. Broad shoulders tapered into a narrow waist, his hips sharp above thighs that could crush a man’s skull between them. The veins in his biceps and forearms stood out like cords. There was a dusting of dark hair trailing from his navel, leading lower to his nine inch cock. The impressive slab of meat hung heavy between his legs, half-hard even at rest, thick and veined.

But as impressive as Theseus's physique was, what captivated me was the arena: The Lakeside Coliseum.

The Coliseum was both beautiful and imposing, a monument to warriors and the battles that had been fought within its ancient walls.

It stood beside a vast, serene lake, its ancient stone walls rising proudly against the surrounding mountains, the jagged peaks surrounding the valley. Weathered columns and crumbling arches encircled the arena, yet the arena was filled with roaring spectators.

Inside the arena, the expansive stone floor bore the scars of countless battles. Broken masonry and weathered sections of the coliseum hinted at its age, while the towering ruins surrounding me left me staring in open amazement.

From the opposite end of the coliseum, the heavy iron gates groaned open. 

Ben_Awhile, in the Kilik avatar, emerged from the shadows of the tunnel like a predator stepping into the sunlight. Like Theseus, he was completely naked, his skin a vibrant olive that seemed to glow against the grey grit of the arena floor. He was grinning with a confidence that matched mine.

As he drew closer, I realized the dossier did not do Kilik justice. Up close, the avatar was stunning. Every muscle sculpted to perfection; his serratus muscles looked like fingers of stone gripping his ribs. His chest was wide and his waist narrow, his quads were thick, pillars of power that rippled with every step. He was a living weapon wrapped in a layer of flawless, polished skin.

He came to a halt ten feet from me, before looking at me up and down, his gaze lingering for a moment on my own Theseus musculature with a flicker of professional appraisal.

"Congratulations on the ascent and welcome to the big leagues, kid," Ben_Awhile called out, his voice a smooth, confident tenor. “Making it to the A-tier is a feat, but staying here takes true grit."

"Thanks," I replied, my voice resonating with the deep, masculine rumble of the Theseus build. Though he seemed cordial, I knew better.

His grin widened, though the warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by a cold, calculating intensity. "Don't mistake my manners for mercy, Ultimate_Hunter05. The B-rank is a playground; the A-tier is a slaughterhouse. I don't play nice, and I certainly don't go easy on newcomers."

"Then it's a good thing I've always enjoyed a bit of carnage," I replied, my voice dropping an octave into a menacing growl. "Why don't you show me exactly what I’ve got myself into?"

The air between us suddenly shimmered, and Astrid materialized in the center of the arena. She wasn't smiling now; her expression was one of focused intensity. 

“Players, the count down begins. Whoever castrates the other or bring’s their opponent’s HP bar to zero wins.”

With a sharp, resounding snap of her fingers, a series of monolithic black numbers ignited in the air above us.

10... 9... 8...

The air felt heavy as the numbers pulsed like a dying star with every tick of the countdown. I lowered my center of gravity, my toes digging into the ancient stone, feeling the raw power of the Theseus build coil in my glutes like a loaded spring.

7... 6... 5...

Opposite me, Ben_Awhile shifted into a mirrored stance, his olive skin glistening under the sunlight. He was calculating my opening move, his eyes tracking the subtle movements of my body.

4... 3... 2...1...

The silence of the countdown shattered as we both exploded forward in a synchronized blur of motion. We converged at the center of the arena, the air whistling around our naked forms.

But just as we were about to engage in physical combat, we both lurched backward in perfectly mirrored motion. We recoiled with an almost eerie precision, our heels digging into the stone as we abruptly halted our momentum.

Neither of us wanted to commit first. We were both waiting for the other to overextend, hoping a single mistake would provide an easy opening for a counterstrike.

My heart hammered against my ribs. This was nearly a mirror match. Our avatars had similar physiques, our strategies remarkably alike, and even our real-world skill sets appear to be evenly matched. Even the way he breathed and balanced his center of gravity mirrored my own tactical discipline.

It was clear he wasn't relying solely on the Kilik build's programmed power and speed. He was bringing genuine martial-arts experience into the simulation, making him far more deadly than the average player.

The stalemate evaporated in a heartbeat. As I readied my next move, he snapped his right hand outward. In a flash of refracted light that seemed to tear through the simulation's code, a weapon materialized in his grip. My eyes widened. 

What the hell is this?!

It was a bo staff of deadly beauty. The shaft was crafted from a matte-black obsidian-like material, etched with glowing crimson runes. The wood, or whatever synthetic material it was, looked dense enough to crack a mountain, with silver caps at either end with a lethal, polished edge. He spun the staff in a blurring propeller of black and red, the wind whistling through the air as he transitioned from a fighter to a master of reach.

"What the…?” I stammered, my hazel eyes widened as I froze mid-step.

"A bit slow on the uptake, aren't you, Hunter?" Ben_Awhile taunted, the bo staff humming as it carved a perfect circle around his olive-skinned frame, the weapon an extension of his own predatory grace. “Where’s your weapon? This is the A-tier league, kid.”

My mouth was open wide but no words came forth. Before I could formulate a response, Astrid appeared beside me.

"The A-tier is not just about endurance and brutality, Hunter," she spoke, her voice like wind chimes in the breeze. “It also incorporates mastery of tools. Upon ascending to this rank, every warrior is granted a single non-projectile weapon of their choice, to complement your combat style. All you have to do is envision it, and the League will provide."

I stood there for a heartbeat, my mind racing through a mental catalog of weaponry. I had dabbled in various disciplines during my training, but I had never truly mastered a specific tool. I needed something that complemented the explosive, linear power of the Theseus build, something that rewarded precision and decisive action.

A blade… An extension of my will

In a flash of white light, the air solidified in my right hand. A katana materialized, perfectly balanced and humming with dormant energy. The blade was forged from shimmering, translucent cobalt steel, its edge appearing sharp enough to cleave through a bronze shield. The hilt was wrapped in midnight-black ray skin, completing the weapon’s imposing design.

It was a tempest of untold power, distilled into a single blade.

But Ben_Awhile’s grin widened. A heavy pit formed in the bottom of my stomach. I felt like I had made a mistake. 

With a sudden, explosive burst of speed, he lunged forward, the obsidian staff blurring into a series of lightning-fast probing strikes. The silver caps whistled through the air, snapping toward my ribs, my shoulders, and my thighs with surgical precision.

I was forced into a desperate, reactive dance. Every time I tried to step in, a punishing strike of the staff intercepted my path, forcing me to deflect or pivot. 

Fuck, I’m an idiot. 

The cobalt blade of my katana was useless in the face of such distance; I could swing with all the strength of the Theseus, but I not reach my target. The same spatial dominance the Jungle Juggernaut had used to break me was now being wielded by Kilik, not through raw bulk, but through the oppressive power and reach of the bo staff.

I can't win at ten feet. I have to get close. But how?

I silently cursed at my lack of foresight. This one mistake might cost me the match.

I lunged forward with a roar, swinging the cobalt katana in a wide, desperate arc designed to cleave through the staff and carve a path to his manhood. I became a whirlwind of pure rage as I launched forward, gambling everything on the hope that raw power and speed could compensate for his reach.

Ben_Awhile didn't flinch and instead, moved inches outside my line of attack. As I overextended, he capitalized on my overextension. He pivoted on his heel and snapped the silver cap of the weapon from right to left a vicious motion.

RRRIIIIIPPPPP!!!

The impact was a sickening, wet tear! The blunt, polished edge of the staff didn't crush my testicles, but instead, caught the delicate skin of my scrotum. I felt the sudden, violent separation of tissue as the staff tore a horizontal canyon across my nut sack. A searing wave of pure agony radiated up my abdomen. I fell forward onto my knees, clutching my testicles as I fought the urge to vomit.

“The physics of a bo staff are marvelous, aren’t they?” Ben_Awhile chuckled, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. He stood over me, the obsidian staff resting casually across his shoulders. “The velocity of the swing generates an incredible amount of localized but precise force. I’m a surgeon with the staff and I just opened up your ball sack.”

“Let’s me see those tadpole factories.”

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My breath was trapped in my throat as I looked down, my trembling fingers instinctively clutching my groin. In my palm, my two best friends lay exposed, liberated from its fleshy shelter. They were pinkish-cream, oversized plums glistening in the sunlight. They looked terrifyingly fragile and wet, steaming yet shivering in the cool air of the coliseum. I could feel them pulsing, a frantic throb that matched the hammering of my heart, as they hung precariously by the thick, white spermatic cords.

The sight of them, so naked and vulnerable, triggered a dizzying surge of vertigo. For a moment, the pain vanished, replaced by shock and horror as I stared at the pulsing orbs in my hand.

Then, the adrenaline spiked! I let out a vengeful roar, a white-hot surge of pure hate as I stood up from the ground, determined to rip Ben_Awhile into pieces.

Ben_Awhile simply smirked, as he shifted his grip on the obsidian staff. He watched me rise, his eyes drifting down to the surreal sight of my testicles swaying precariously in the open air, tethered only by the strained white cords. To him, I wasn't a threat but livestock readied to be butchered.

Driven by adrenaline and desperation, I launched myself forward at Ben, my pair of fleshy pendulums, bouncing and slapping against my thighs with every explosive stride. When I got within striking distance, I swung the katana in a vicious, diagonal slash, the blade humming as it cut through the air!

But Kilik moved with the grace of a gazelle. At the very last millisecond, he pivoted on a dime, his calf muscles tensing as he stepped laterally. He caught my katana with his staff and redirected the strike, neutralizing my attack.

Our weapons collided with a sharp clang, and the force of the deflection sent a jolt of vibration surging up my arm.

I tried desperately to put some distance between us, knowing that I was easy prey and in striking distance. But before I could react he countered!

He swung the staff in a brutal, horizontal arc, the end aimed precisely at the exposed, pulsing orbs that were now trailing in the wake of my charge.

The silver cap whistled through the air, a streak of polished light aimed with surgical precision at the glistening, vulnerable orbs swaying between my legs. I felt the wind of the strike brush against the sensitive membranes of my testicles, a chilling draft that made the exposed nerves scream. By a miracle of reflex and years of honing my skills, I made a desperate twisting pivot just as the staff came crashing toward me.

I made it just in time and the staff missed!

The weapon sliced through the empty air where my gonads had been a millisecond prior, the force of the swing creating a vacuum that nearly sucked the organs right out of their strained tethers.

I didn't wait for a second attempt. Gasping for air, I scrambled backward, my feet skidding on the weathered stone of the coliseum. I put a wide, safe berth between myself and the reach of that obsidian nightmare, my chest heaving as my lungs screamed for air.

To my immense relief, the staff hadn't connected. There was no sickening pop of ruptured tissue, no splattering of nut pulp on the stones of the arena floor. My balls were still there, trembling and raw, shivering in the cold air but intact. That was the only thing that mattered.

The crowd roared in laughter, jeering at my vulnerable state as I struggled to remain upright.

"Crush his nuts!"

"Smash his huevos to pieces!"

It was clear who the spectators sided with.

But as the immediate terror of the miss subsided, a new sensation began to bloom. It started as a low, humming vibration deep within the core of the gonads, a dull resonance that quickly sharpened into a persistent, pulsing ache. I could feel my exposed testicles pulse simultaneously with every beat of my heart. It felt as if they were expanding, gorging themselves on a surge of blood. As they continued to swell, they swayed with a sickening, heavy momentum, the weight of them pulling on the strained white cords of the spermatic duct.

I gritted my teeth and focused on Ben, trying to shove the pain and panic of this new sensation into a dark corner of my mind.

Ben_Awhile stood there, the obsidian staff resting casually across his shoulders, his olive skin glowing with a smug, effortless radiance. He tilted his head, his eyes dancing with a cruel sort of curiosity as he watched my anatomy dance between my thighs.

"What's the matter, Hunter?" he drawled, his voice dripping with a mock sympathy. “Don’t you enjoy spending time with two best friends? You know… just hanging out?”

The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers at the taunt.

The mockery of my raw, pulsing spheres swaying in the breeze transformed the white-hot fire of hatred within me into a raging inferno. My vision tunneled, the edges of the coliseum blurring into a smear of gray stone and screaming spectators. 

With a snarl I launched myself forward at the smug son of a bitch with breakneck speed, my knuckles whitening as I tightly gripped the cobalt katana.

I ignored the sickening sound of my exposed testicles being slapped against my inner thighs with every explosive stride, the impact sending fresh jolts of electric agony into my abdomen. I threw my entire weight into a final, overhead cleave, the blue steel humming with the force of a thousand falling hammers.

Ben_Awhile’s eyes narrowed as his malicious smile widened. Once again, he deflected my blade, the sharp clash of weapons echoing throughout the arena. Without missing a beat, he snapped the obsidian staff from right to left, the silver-capped end whistling through the air in a brutal arc toward my throbbing, hideous testicles.

I could hear the obsidian staff whistling toward me, the air shrieking in its wake. As the rush of wind grazed the surface of my exposed membranes, the sudden chill sent a jolt through me. I twisted my hips violently at the last possible instant, narrowly avoiding the strike. The staff sliced through the void where my anatomy had been a microsecond prior, the force of the miss creating a localized vacuum that nearly ripped my throbbing organs off from my body. 

I rebounded backwards and out of his reach, my feet skidding across the weathered stone, my chest heaving as I gasped for oxygen.

But the momentary reprieve of the miss was a lie.

As I stood there, gasping for air, the pain in my groin intensified, evolving from a dull ache into a nearly unbearable throbbing agony. I risked a glance downward, and the sight that met my eyes made the blood drain from my face. 

My testicles were no longer cream-colored spheres but angry crimson with splotches of violet. They were lemon-sized and felt as if they were being injected with searing-hot, molten lead and on the verge of bursting. I could feel my spermatic cords slowly tearing as they desperately fight against gravity to hold onto my gonads.

Then, something shifted….

TO BE CONTINUED….