Jack the Hammer: Stallions Massacre Part 8

 I am excited to share a brand new series written by my good buddy Dissonant Murmur. The first 12 Chapters will feature 'The Morecock Stallions Wrestling Team' and a brand new villian 'Jack the Hammer'. More chapters to come as the slaughter spills beyond the campground. 

As with the other stories on this site, they are NSFW, explicit and contain extreme horror and gore. They are purely fiction and we do not condone acting out anything contained within, in real life! If this is not your bag, do not continue. 
The series currently does not contain images but if anyone would like to share artwork in the future, please reach out.  Feedback and comments welcome below.  

Crunch the Hunk

Owen grunted as he went through his reps. The barbell above him moved up and down steadily despite the heavy weights he had added. The coaches would yell at Owen for not having a spotter, but he was fine all on his own. You should get through life with your own strength. His family was not as well-off as most of the team’s. He worked at an auto repair shop after school while they were jerking off or getting high or taking golf lessons or whatever the fuck they did. He got into college on his wrestling scholarship, not because mommy and daddy paid for it. That was how things should be for everyone.

For a time he had thought maybe, just maybe, he would fit in despite his background, but that had been before the night he drunkenly stumbled into Xavier’s bedroom and found Xavier and Courtney, Owen’s girlfriend, together. Owen and Courtney had been invited to a party at Xavier’s place while his friend’s parents were away, and Xavier offered to introduce her to the others. Owen slid into a beer pong competition as his girl was swept off to one of the huge house’s other rooms. He was thoroughly sloshed by the time he wondered where Courtney was and went to ask Xavier. 

A few minutes later, Owen stood in the doorway of Xavier’s bedroom and watched Xavier’s broad backside move steadily back and forth. His teammate’s muscled ass rapidly flexed as Xavier pounded a girl with a rough doggy-style fuck. He was about to turn around when Owen heard her.

“Fuck, yes, right there, keep going, baby,” Courtney moaned. Her voice was muffled by the bedding in which she had her face buried.

“You like that, slut?” Xavier asked. “Answer me, bitch. Do you enjoy getting reamed out by a real stud?” He slowed down and rotated his hips in a circle while he reached a hand under her and palmed one of her big tits. 

“Yes! Oh, please, faster… Faster! Please! FASTER!” Courtney begged.

“That’s a good slut,” Xavier said before speeding up his fucking. Owen could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his teammate’s voice despite not being able to see Xavier’s face, but that was not all he could hear. Courtney wailed into the blanket in that unmistakable way she did while she came.

Owen almost decked his supposed friend right there, but he was not drunk enough to forget he needed his scholarship. A fight between him and a rich dude’s golden boy would only have one outcome in the long run regardless of who won that night. Instead he turned around to leave them and the party behind. Let the bitch her own way back, he fumed, though the sounds of Courtney orgasmic cries seemed to follow him all the way home. Not that he cared. If the cheating whore wanted to throw away what they had for a fling with someone who went through women as fast as they went through jerk-off tissue, then she had made her choice.

He could get by without anyone’s help. With a grunt, Owen set the weights down and stood up. The pleasant burn in his pecs and arms told him that his workout would lead to some good results today. He stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt and examined his pumped up torso. He liked what he saw. His build was starting to move beyond that of even your usual super heavyweight wrestler and now was looking more like a professional bodybuilder. 

Owen was determined never to become a Taylor or Xavier and start kissing his reflection every day, but as he examined his muscular torso with a critical eye, he had to admit that he looked better than ever. He was not quite as tall as Brian, but he was definitely the heaviest wrestler on the team. The great rounded plates that were his pectorals and the baseball sized bulges of his biceps and triceps were pure striated muscle. His wide shoulders looked like vast hills of pale flesh next to his tanned arms. Why the fuck did people spend all day inside just to jump in a tanning booth and pretend to have worked in the sun? Like with the rest of his body, Owen considered the difference between his deeply tanned arms and legs and the rest of his far whiter body to be a sign of honest work. He rubbed the cobblestone bricks of his abdominal muscles. No steroids, he thought, not knowing what Coach Bill had been mixing in his drinks, but Owen was proud his tightly muscled waist betrayed no sign of a roid gut. As far as the massive jock was concerned, he was one hundred percent pure organic beef.

His strong muscles and vascular flesh were proof of his hard work and dedication. He shaved his body, true, but that was because it was practical as a wrestler and helped him track the results of his labor. He was not showing off on his socials or trying to impress chicks. He did not flex in the lockers to impress his teammates. Owen had made these improvements for one person alone. His body was a temple to his dedication. His achievements were by and for himself.

Owen looked down at his muscular body and remembered what things were like when he had other things on which to focus. He had to move on from Courtney, he knew, but months later her cheating on him still made him feel inadequate. They had not talked since that night despite her reaching out several times, but he hated her. Worse, he hated himself for missing her. He had not fucked anyone since. Instead he had thrown himself into school, work, wrestling, lifting, and whatever else he could do to make himself better. The only thing he hated more than another person’s weakness was his own. 

He pulled down his shorts and could not help but wonder where else he could have improved. The mountainous thigh muscles were as pale as his torso, but his masculine endowments were more than large enough to stand out between his thickly muscled legs. His cock was not as long as Xavier’s, yet his dick was definitely thicker. Too thick maybe? His balls were some of the biggest on the team. Could they have been something that Courtney had disliked? She had never complained about his size, despite many girls not knowing how to handle the wide spike in his pants.

Owen mentally reviewed their fucking with a critical appraisal, as if he could figure out some way to outplay a girlfriend in the bedroom like he could an opponent on the mat. He was a good lover. While fucking his body operated like a finely honed engine. Courtney would scream, moan, and cum while he worked his cock in and out of her amazing cunt like a well-oiled piston. Her legs would be over his wide shoulders, and she would repeatedly say his name until the pleasure overwhelmed her. His huge orbs would smack her ass with every thrust. She was on the pill, so when the time came he would join her moans and fill her full of his thick seed. They would lay like that for a while, his cock softening inside her while they kissed, before she would get up to clean out his cum and take a shower. Usually he would join her, and she would admire his body with her delicate hands. Before long they would be fucking again.

His cock plumped at the memories and started stretching downward, but Owen was still thinking about Courtney. Was it because he was not rich? She had never complained about his barely getting by background before despite her being from an upper middle class family. They had not really talked about the future, but Owen had just assumed things would work out. Instead his dick had enjoyed no company other than his hand for several weeks now, which was not helping him concentrate on his goals. Hell, on this trip alone his dick kept distracting him every few minutes.

Snarling in frustration, Owen pulled up his shorts and went back to the weight machines. Maybe a bit more exercise would help him focus. The coaches had wanted the team to try out the resort’s newfangled stuff to see if they wanted some of the equipment back at the college, and Owen thought now was as good a time as any. The weight machine in the corner looked like one of those fancy, overly complicated wastes of metal that rich people bought because the thing looked expensive. Supposedly you could work out both your legs and arms at the same time with better results than anything else. Owen knew that was a bunch of horseshit only a pampered idiot could believe, but what the hell. If the coaches wanted his opinion, he would try out the ugly monstrosity and then tell his coaches it was an overpriced garbage pile.

He sat on the seat and had to admit the machine looked sturdy enough. The dull gray metal columns were anchored to the floor with heavy bolts, and a solid frame protected the internal mechanisms from anything slipping inside. In front of him a touch screen was attached to the top of the machine, and he could see the various settings for choosing how much weight to add, viewing some “inspiring” scenic videos, and adjusting the cooling fans built into the sides. Despite the excessive metalwork that looked like something from a low budget scifi movie, the intended exercise was obvious enough. The thing was only an over-designed cable machine. You pressed your hands and feet against the handles, which pulled up the weight attached behind the machine. Owen had used these kinds of machines for almost a decade, so putting this one through its paces would be easy.

The wrestler was disappointed after only a few sets. The weights at their highest setting were not heavy enough to be a real challenge, though he had to admit the motion was pretty smooth. His muscles moved through the repetitive actions without a hitch from the machine, but there was no way anyone would get a good workout by pressing both their arms and legs at such awkward angles. This piece of shit was what he expected before sitting down, a way to separate dumb rich people from their money with the promise of unicorns, rainbows, and a way to get muscles as big as Owen’s by exercising only ten minutes a day. Bull crap.

“What the fucking hell!” Owen almost jumped out of his skin when cuffs popped out of the handles and encircled his wrists and ankles. He tried to pull his hands free, but the bonds were shockingly strong. His arms and legs were locked into the machine.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Owen asked the empty room, and as if in reply the screen in front of him brightened with a message.

“CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE STRENGTH. DO YOU HAVE ENDURANCE?”

Owen’s handsome expression wavered between anger and confusion. Was this a test or a joke? Maybe he had triggered some kind of malfunctioning program. It made no sense. Then he heard a click from deep in the machine.

“Oof,” Owen grunted. The handles had pressed inwards. Now his arms and legs were uncomfortably bent towards his core. With an experimental push, he realized he could straighten his limbs back to something like a reasonable position, but he had to push against the handles. The weights behind him rose, but they were not very heavy for someone as strong as Owen.

Then Owen was looking at himself. The screen had shifted to a view from a camera in this room that was focused on him. He could see his captured body splayed out in the machine’s cuffs like a butterfly in a collection. The angry glower on his face, the swollen mounds of biceps and triceps, the wide expanse of his shirtless torso, the bulge in his shorts, and the mighty pillars of his thighs and legs were all there in a crystal clear image. While trying to process this change, Owen felt a shift in his limbs and heard a thunk from deep in the machine. Two plates of metal dropped from the top of the machine and stopped a couple of feet from Owen’s head.

“HOLD UP THE WEIGHTS FOR FIVE MINUTES AND OBTAIN RELEASE. DROP THEM AND LOSE YOUR HEAD.”

“That’s…” Owen’s complaint halted when the machine clicked and the full weight hit his limbs.

“STARTING NOW.”

A timer in the corner of the screen started counting down while Owen adjusted to the heavier weight. The jock let out a shuddering breath and assessed the situation. This had to be some kind of fucked up joke, right? Had Xavier or Liam set him up? He could not believe the coaches would have gone along with this. On the other hand, what he could see of the metal weights next to his head looked very real. The extra pressure on his arms and legs certainly felt real.

“Hey, I need some help here!” Owen yelled. The counter slowly ticked down. “Aiden! Anybody! I’m stuck in this fucking thing.”

However there was no answer, which made no sense. Aiden was down the hall. Xavier had just walked by a few minutes ago. The coaches would be checking on everyone. Somebody should be able to hear him. He twisted his head around to look at the doorway expecting to hear something, but despite Owen’s calls for help, the trapped wrestler saw no sign of any other person after a minute had passed. 

“INCREASING DIFFICULTY.”

Owen braced himself for more weights but instead felt something press up between his thighs. He focused on the screen just in time to watch a mechanical arm twist its way under his shorts and pull up. With a rip of fabric, Owen’s only piece of clothing was shredded and yanked away, which left the large wrestler very naked and feeling incredibly exposed. His image on the screen tensed for reasons that had little to do with the weight on his limbs. Then things got worse when a small but persistent pressure against his butt grew stronger. Owen thought that feeling had come from a piece of his ruined shorts. The jock hissed in surprise when a small probe wiggled up between his meaty buttocks and into his asshole. Metal screeched and the plates moved closer to the shocked wrestler, but Owen recovered quickly enough to shove his arms and legs back out. The plates moved away from his head again to his relief. 

The wrestler could not see the thin device slowly pushing its way into his ass, but he sure as hell could feel something steadily press deeper. Another surprised inhalation broke the silence when the probe reached its destination and started vibrating. The probe had found the hunk’s prostate and was steadily rubbing against the sensitive organ. Owen’s cock lurched and somehow managed to grow even bigger and harder. A hefty amount of precum burped from the jock’s cockhead and slowly worked its ways down the big man’s shaft.

“ALREADY CLOSE? I EXPECTED YOU TO HAVE MORE STAMINA THAN THIS. MAYBE THAT IS WHY COURTNEY LEFT YOU.”

Owen started at the text on the screen for several seconds in shock. Somebody was controlling this thing. The rage grew fast and hot. He could literally see his face turn red on the screen for reasons that had little to do with the stress his body was under. There was only one person who would say that to him.

“Xavier! You fucking shit-eating bastard! You are a fucking dead man. A dead man!”

He shoved his arms out to their full extent. He was going to get out of this thing and end Xavier’s pathetic excuse for a life. He had not noticed the timer had counted past the halfway mark. He had just three minutes remaining. His image in the screen showed an incredibly strong man. He could see his biceps and triceps pushed out in fully flexed glory. Thick slabs of pectoral muscles tightened and bunched under the strain but held strong. His deeply cut lats and abs strained outward and anchored his core. Thighs and legs remained as solid and defined as a stone sculpture. Even his cock looked as firmly unyielding as the rest of his awesome body. He could do this.

He felt incredibly hot. Sweat was beading across his body and face. At two minutes the fans kicked on. Owen almost sighed in relief as the moving air helped cool him down, but even this respite became its own torture. His skin had become quite sensitive, and now the large brown nipples on his flexed pecs hardened from the sensation. Another distraction, the wrestler realized, as he felt his attention drift away from holding up the weights. He was not going to give in that easily, despite the increasing pressure he felt building in his balls.

Owen stayed focused as the seconds counted down with agonizing slowness. He was tough enough. He knew he was. However he could not ignore the worrying signs of his declining stamina. There were slight tremors in his arms and legs. His chest swelled more with each deepening breath as he drew in air to fuel his straining muscles. He was sweating more and more despite the fans. His dick was leaking steadily now, and his large balls were bouncing up and down in their generous sack. Ignore everything else, Owen told himself. Focus.

The timer started counting down the last minute. An eternity seemed to pass between each number. His thick arm muscles twisted and strained beneath his tan skin. His paler pectoral mounds shuddered and twitched. Thighs bigger than most men’s heads vibrated with effort, and unfortunately the probe driving between Owen’s thick ass cheeks vibrated too. His body was drenched with sweat, which ran down his body and the machine in streams. His grip was becoming more slippery, but he was going to make it. The final seconds were slowly passing before his eyes. Five… four… three… two… one...

Zero.

The timer vanished, however the pressure on his arms and legs remained.

“You fucking bastard! Let me go! I won your stupid game,” Owen screamed at his unseen captor.

“CONGRATULATIONS, BUT WILL YOU SURVIVE LONG ENOUGH TO ENJOY YOUR RELEASE?” the letters on the screen faced away before Owen’s enraged expression.

“What the hell!” Owen said when the probe in his ass started going crazy. The buzzing stimulation became even faster and harder with irregular patterns that kept Owen from adjusting to the new sensations. Despite his terror, the jock’s dick managed to get even harder.

“YOU ARE SUCH A MORON, OWEN. WHAT KIND OF RELEASE DID YOU THINK I MEANT?” the letters flashed on the screen mockingly.

“Stop! Please, stop…” Owen begged but felt no difference in the unrelenting pressure. The sound of grinding metal and Owen’s gasping breath filled the room while the metal plates moved closer together. The big wrestler tried to push them back out, but he only slowed their progress. The wrestler’s thick arm and leg muscles constantly shivered in exhaustion. He was nearing his limit.

“I WOULD ENJOY WHAT LITTLE TIME I HAD LEFT IF I WERE YOU.”

The plates were close to his head now. Owen almost felt like they were squeezing him already. His muscles bulged like never before. Thick chords of muscle were easily visible across his chest, legs, and arms. His biceps and triceps pushed out so much they looked barely contained by his skin. The veins across his body strained, pumping life giving blood to his weary muscles. Owen twisted his body in the hope that his struggles would somehow free him. He kept moving his hips back and forth to find some way of wiggling out of the deadly trap, which made his thick erection and huge balls wildly flop about. The movement rubbed his prostate against the vibrator. Owen looked like he was trying to fuck the air. 

Owen’s skin was flushed and sweaty. The veins across his body popped out in stark relief as his pumped muscles struggled against the machine’s crushing pressure. Even the veins that ran across his erect dick seemed to have doubled in size thanks to the vibrator’s constant stimulation. Owen’s huge muscles had never before looked so big and defined. If not for his obscene cock, his amazing musculature would have easily won bodybuilding championships around the world. Only two people were able to appreciate the show, and soon there would be just one. Owen’s leg muscles cramped, and the machine made a metallic growl as the metal plates lowered.

“GOODBYE, OWEN,” the words flashed on the screen before vanishing leaving only the image of Owen’s struggling body.

“HELP ME! HELP MEEEEEE!!!” Owen screamed as his massively muscular body convulsed. His big balls pulled up tight to the base of his large dick, which went rigid as a steel beam. The wrestler’s cockhead pulsed and flared wildly. A solid stream of hot, thick seed rocketed out onto the machine bench and floor. Owen tried to hold on both mentally and physically, but his muscles were sore, and the vibrator kept buzzing in his ass, and his grip was so sweaty, and his cock was shooting the biggest load ever in his life, and…

With an incoherent roar, Owen watched and felt a second, even larger blast of cum arc high into the air from his throbbing cockhead. A white hot bolt of pleasure jabbed up from his overstimulated prostate and through his manhood. An orgasmic shudder rolled through his tired body. Owen’s muscles seized tight and his primal roar grew louder when a third string of cum coated the bench and floor before him, which was immediately followed by a sudden crunch. Owen’s limbs had collapsed, and the plates quickly crushed the handsome features of his head into less than half their former size. 

There was no Owen left. No person felt the relief of muscles unburdened or the joy of sexual release, but enough of a nervous system stayed active for the studly remains of the former jock stud to twitch and spasm and fling out more thick seed. Even as blood and brains dribbled down the sweaty, shuddering torso, the big wrestler’s cock launched out several more loads of hot jock juice. Owen would have found the rest of this incredible orgasm extremely overwhelming if he had been alive, but instead the well-trained hunky slab of meat went through its oft practiced motions without any thought at all. Finally, the throbbing cock gave up the last of its cum before slowly collapsing over the potent balls below. His large manhood joined the rest of Owen’s muscular form in ever slowing spasms as the body discovered it was dead.

Jack walked into the room and smiled at the scene. Truly there could be no greater piece of art in any museum in the world than the sight before him. Owen’s massive muscles rested in bloody repose. The dead jock’s manhood remained thick, and a dribble of seed and piss slowly dripped from the cock onto the bench. The air reeked of sweat, cum, blood, and gore. Yes, the killer would remember this moment for the rest of his life, but he still had a few more memories to make this weekend. Jack stroked his big cock through his pants. Prideful young Aiden was waiting for Jack and Jack’s eager dick.