Copyright (C) 2001 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save or make paper copies for your own use; do not post, repost, publish, or archive elsewhere without the author's express permission.
Flames crackled in the fireplace, warming Jeff's naked body as he sat down on a cylindrical leather pillow. He picked up a wooden spit, impaled Mark's severed balls on it, and held it to the fire. Jeff looked away from the flames, watched shadow and light dance over Errol's muscular chest and shoulders, saw Errol's jet-black hair pick up highlights from the firelight as Errol settled himself on the floor, took another spit, and stabbed it into Mark's lopped-off, still-rigid cock. A moment later, Errol was holding the spit -- and Mark's shaft -- close to the flames.
Jeff glanced at Mark's balls again, then looked down at his own long shaft, impressively thicker than Mark's -- or Errol's, for that matter. Jeff's prong stood erect, rising from a tight curls of blond hair, the tip almost touching his taut abdominal muscles. He looked up as Errol pulled his stick away from the flames and studied Mark's prong.
"Started cooking yet?" Jeff asked. He glanced at the balls spitted on his own stick, decided to hold them closer to the flames.
"Just beginning to," said Errol. "Mostly, I was checking the ring that the cock-chopper tightened around the base." He thrust the stick near the flames again. "It's still keeping his shaft good and hard."
"Yeah -- blood sausage --"
"-- and meat balls." Errol twisted his torso, glanced at Jeff. "You hard again?"
"Not again; still."
"Likewise."
Jeff stroked his rigid shaft, gently squeezed his balls, felt the heat of the fire touch his virile organs. "How many guys' meat will Mark's make for you? And quit looking at mine with that -- that --"
"-- hungry look?" Errol chuckled. "What do you expect, Jeff? You're big, blond, and hung good and thick. And the way you've been making out with the other studs' 'quipment . . ."
"Yeah, but look how much I'm risking." Jeff touched his shaft again.
"That's what Mark said, and look what happened to him." Errol sniffed, sniffed the air again. "His balls smell good already."
"Let's see, now; there were twelve of us to begin with." Jeff licked his lips slowly, picturing the scene in his memory . . .
-- -- -- -- --
. . . Twelve naked, strapping young crewmen from the spaceship, with Jeff in the lead, warily entering the games room. Jeff had felt the cool stone floor underfoot, heard echoes from the long arched roof overhead, smelled something cooking, with a touch of wood smoke and just a hint of burning meat. Jeff and his companions quieted for a moment, suddenly uneasy, though their shafts hardened as they studied the ominous array of devices waiting for prey. Then:
Jeff heard David say, "Okay, studs. We've taken a look at this place. Now let's go explore the rest of the town."
"Hey," called David. "Here's that cock-stiffness tester the guys were talking about. S'posed to give your meat a real workout. Wanta try it?"
"C'mon," said Jason. "We can try out all this stuff after we check out the town."
"Fuck the town," growled Mark, a well-hung red-head with a light dusting of freckles over his face and thick shoulders. "Let's check out this stuff now. After that, we can --"
Garth said, "'Fraid you'll be a-worryin' 'bout what's in here?"
"Well, yes," said Ajax. "Hey, let's stick together. First thing we know, we'll scatter, and then --"
Rick asked, "Where ya gonna find somethin' that'll take all twelve of us at once, Ajax?"
"Well, I know there's things that can take four or six of us while the rest watch. That'll be --"
"Over here, studs," Mark shouted. "This one's looks big enough. Let's check it out!"
Jeff followed the tide of naked, muscular bodies that flowed towards Mark, then eddied around a cylinder that stood about waist high, its open top about six feet across.
"What is it?" Peter asked. "How does it work?"
"It's a roulette wheel," Mark explained. "See the sign? We stick our prongs and nuts through the holes 'round the per- iph-ery of the thing. Hit a `start' button. Machine picks one stud and chops up his meat. Rest of us eat it."
"Raw?" asked Jeff, rubbing his own stiffening prong.
"Not 'less we wanta," said Garth, jerking his right thumb back over his shoulder. "There's a 'lectric fry-pan over there."
"Well?" asked Mark. "Try it now, or -- ?"
"I don't know," said Errol, but his spike was already hard. "There's enough slots for all twelve of us, so . . ." He moved a pace closer to the machine.
"I'd rather hit town first," said curly-haired Chester, but Jeff saw that Chester's prong was hardening fast. "But if the rest of you muscle-studs . . ."
"Take a vote?" asked Peter, taking a cautious step closer himself.
"Like this?" Jeff asked, trying to hide own his unease as he strode to the cylinder, found an opening, eased his now rigid prong in, then tucked his balls into the machine too.
"Might's well," said Terry. He slid own organs into an opening next to the one that held Jeff's sexual equipment.
Jeff watched black-haired Errol offer his virility next; and then the others, till all twelve stood shoulder to shoulder in a circle around the machine, hips pressed tightly against cold steel, their virile organs inside the open-topped cylinder.
"Who wants to start this here contraption?" asked David. "Terry?"
"Mark, you found the fucker," said Terry, "so you get to start it."
The red-head glanced around the circle of hard-pronged manhood. "Everybody ready? Here goes." He reached for the red button nearest his position, hesitated, then jabbed it with his right forefinger.
Jeff looked down. He saw -- and felt -- steel jaws grip the base of his shaft, between balls and crotch. He looked up, saw that his hard-pronged shipmates were studying their trapped organs too. "It's making sure none of us gets away. So -- now what?"
Jeff heard the machine click, then whir; he felt a vibration against his thighs as a big, horizontal wheel inside the machine, visible through its open top, began to spin clockwise. A ring that surrounded the first wheel began spinning counter-clockwise. Jeff felt and heard another click, saw a marble-sized metal ball pop up from the wheels' axis. The ball rolled outward, bounced back and forth between the counter-rotating wheels for what was probably just a few seconds but which seemed like hours to Jeff, then flipped outwards, away from Jeff, and into the pocket where Peter stood.
A bell chimed. Jeff felt the machine release his own organs while bright lights focused on Peter's doomed genitals.
"Aw -- fuck it," Peter growled, as flames leapt up, burned away the hair on his organs, then as quickly died. His shaft was still hard; Jeff saw it stiffen even more as a set of knives rose toward Peter's outthrust shaft. "Here comes you guys' first snack."
Jeff licked his lips slowly, slid his right hand across his thick chest muscles, at once relieved yet -- somehow -- eager. Hungry? Yes, but there's more to it than just that, and . . . Aloud, he said, "Yeah. Split eleven ways, so . . ."
"How 'bout another round, then?" asked Terry. "That'll give us two sets, split ten ways."
"Sounds good, said Ajax. "And as heavy as we're all hung . . ." He stood beside Peter, right hand on the doomed youth's left shoulder. Everyone waited quietly.
Jeff felt his own prong twitch as he watched the knives chop Peter's shaft into a pile of thin discs. A moment later, the knives cut into Peter's balls.
"Yow!" Peter gasped. "That wasn't as bad as -- what's it doing now?"
Ajax, looking over Peter's shoulder, said, "It looks like it's clamping something 'round what's left of your spike so you won't bleed all over the floor on your way to the meat-packing part of the building."
"That isn't all it's doing," said Peter, as he watched the knives retract, leaving his sliced organs in a dish. "See? It's letting me go." He picked up the dish, moved back a pace as Ajax eased his own organs back into the machine; and then, one by one, the rest of the gang offered their virile organs to the machine again.
"You wanta start it this time, Jeff?" asked Mark.
"Me? But --"
"Go on," said Terry, who stood to Jeff's right. "You're putting up the most meat."
"Well -- okay." Jeff touched the closest red button, pushed down slowly until he heard a click, then released the button and watched the wheels accelerate. This time, the metal ball bounced toward him. Jeff held his breath, felt his balls shift in their sack. The ball hit the side of Jeff's pocket, bounced out, rolled into Terry's.
"Like I said," Terry growled, "two shafts, four balls, split ten ways. He put his left hand on Jeff's right shoulder.
Jeff felt Terry's grip tighten as the machine flash-burned away the hair on Terry's balls, then raised a set of sharp- toothed gears into position. "This --" Jeff swallowed hard. "This'll be more than just an appetizer, with your cockburger plus Peter's sliced salami."
Terry looked at Jeff. "I don't know whether to hit you or just laugh." He managed a wry grin, watched the gears take his glans, then called out, "Hey, Peter; wait up. I'll keep you company on the way."
"Sure," Peter said. "I just tossed my -- my salami into the frying pan -- we'll cook yours with mine."
Jeff watched as the gears cut into Terry's glans, then ground his shaft down to the hilt. Jeff felt Terry's hand tighten when the gears cut into his balls, slowly relaxing when the machine finished gelding him.
Afterwards, the gang gathered to watch Peter's and Terry's organs fry, talking quietly, the conversation growing more lively as the meat browned. Jeff decided his share tasted -- interesting. The real thrill, he told himself as he chewed, is knowing who I'm eating, especially if they're standing right here, watching . . .
Terry and Peter each took a small taste, and then trotted off to deliver their well-muscled bodies to be cut up into steaks and chops.
-- -- -- -- --
"After that," said Jeff, "there were just ten of us."
"So we each got ten percent of Terry's organs, and ten percent of Peter's. And then Rick -- or was it David who found that set-up for the tension contest?" Errol asked.
"You're thinking of that prong-stiffness-measuring machine that some of the guys were playing with. Ajax found the tug-of- war set-up -- the tension contest." Jeff remembered studying the steel cable, stretched out on the floor, half its length on either side of a pair of sturdy, chest-high steel posts which stood about a foot apart . . .
-- -- -- -- --
. . . "Come on, guys, this'll be a real blast," Ajax had said. "It's a real neat tension contest: two teams hook themselves up to this cable -- like this." Ajax picked up the steel clamp fastened to one end of the cable and tightened that clamp around the base of his shaft, between his balls and his crotch. "Then we pull."
"Yeah? Oughta be fun," said Mark. He ambled to the cable's other end of the cable and attached himself to it there. "Who else wants to try this thing? There's clamps for three more studs on my side, and three on Ajax's."
Jeff strode to Mark's side of the cable and picked up the clamp closest to the posts. He saw that a branch cable, about three feet long, linked clamp to main cable. Jeff tightened cold steel around the base of his stiffening prong. "Do we straddle the main cable, or do we . . . ?"
"You stand on one side -- that's what the branch cables are for," said curly-haired Chester, as he took the clamp on Ajax's side, next to the steel posts, facing Jeff. "That way, when your prong gets pulled out, you can just step to one side, away from the cable.
Moments later, eight stiff-pronged youths had attached themselves to the cable: Ajax, David, Jason, and Chester as one team -- Jeff, Errol, Garth, and red-haired Mark as the other -- with Rick and Steve watching for the sidelines.
"Now what?" asked Jeff. "Do we just -- pull?"
"Let's start by taking up the slack," Ajax said. "That's it -- back -- back --"
"Wait a sec," Jeff said. "Chester's got his branch cable twisted -- there -- it's okay now. Everybody back -- a little tighter -- there."
"There's a center-mark on the cable," said Ajax. "Is it between the posts?"
Rick strode to the posts. "Almost. Ajax's studs, one step forward; Mark's -- one back -- that's it. Now tighten the cable -- little more -- you got it. Everybody ready? Get set -- pull!"
Jeff leaned back. Cable and clamp tugged at the roots of his shaft. He leaned back more, pulled harder, forced himself a pace backwards -- another. The main cable cut into Jeff's right hip. He shifted to his left, so his branch cable made a wider angle with the main, and then leaned back still more. Step -- step -- then an easier step, as Chester's feet slipped. The cable dragged the curly-haired youth to the posts, where he braced himself with both hands against those posts.
Ajax's team strained, strained harder; somehow, they dragged Jeff and Errol and Garth and Mark a pace closer to the posts -- another pace --
"Pull harder, you fucking cock-suckers, pull!" Mark gasped.
And Mark's team did -- one pace -- another -- and Chester's hands were on the posts again -- another pace -- and the curly- haired youth's hips were against the posts, his genitalia tight- stretched between them. Jeff felt the tension on the stem of his own organs reach a peak, then ease off raggedly as he saw his team pull Chester's shaft and balls out by the roots.
Chester yelped aloud; Steve guided the now-gelded youth to one side; Steve touched the bleeding wound with something that glowed red. Jeff heard a hiss; a moment later, he smelled burnt meat.
The cable fell slack. Jeff and the three youths behind him paused a moment, then resumed their march backward.
"Okay, studs," Ajax growled, "we're not done for, not yet. Pull, damnit, pull!"
The cable tightened -- Three against four now," Jeff told himself, but it's still going to be a prong-stretching struggle to drag Jason up to the . . . "What do you call those posts, anyway?" Jeff asked, as Jason braced himself. "Gelding posts? And how come Chester's prong's still hard?"
"Good a name as any," panted Jason. "Castration columns, maybe?" Slowly, reluctantly, Jason lost the struggle as the tension on his virile organs pulled his hips tightly against the posts. The hilt of his prong stretched -- stretched -- "As for the blood -- I'll tell you as soon as -- there! I just -- went." He caught his breath, stepped back and to one side, and stared down at the stump of his organs. "The clamp -- when you -- when it -- pulled off my prong -- and my balls -- it clamped a ring around the hilt so -- my prong can't bleed."
"But you still can," said Rick, he put his arm around Jason's chest and Steve applied what Jeff suddenly realized must be a red-hot cauterizing iron to Jason's crotch.
While Rick led Jason to join Chester, the four youths on Jeff's side caught their breaths for a moment, then took up slack again, backing slowly till they pulled the cable tight.
Jeff glanced behind him; Errol and Garth nodded; Mark raised his right thumb in a go-ahead gesture. Jeff turned to David and Ajax. "You guys -- ready?
David nodded; Ajax said, "Go ahead," A moment later, David was bracing himself with his hands against the posts; and a moment after that, his hips were pressing against those posts.
Jeff felt the tension on his own organs peak again as he saw and heard David's shaft and balls pull out with a wet slurp. Rick and Steve tended to David, who recovered quickly, then -- a bit shakily -- went to join his newly castrated teammates.
Ajax strolled calmly to the posts, pressed his well-muscled torso against them.
Jeff asked, "Want to go quick, or . . ."
"Take your time; pull 'em out slow so I can enjoy it."
"Enjoy it?" snorted Errol from behind Jeff, as Jeff, Errol, Garth, and Mark took up slack, then leaned back, and gradually -- very gradually -- increased the tension until they pulled Ajax's organs off.
"There," said Steve, as he finished cauterizing Ajax's wound.
"Yeah," said Ajax. "That was almost as bad as feeling my prong pull out." He bent down, collected his team's organs. "How are you studs planning to cook these?"
Jeff glanced at Mark, who shrugged his shoulders, at Garth, who was busy releasing his organs from the clamp, and at Errol, who licked his lips and grinned. Turning back to Ajax, Jeff said, "We -- we hadn't decided. Any suggestions? Something quick? I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry," said Mark.
"I'm still a growing boy," Jeff said, trying to look and sound serious and solemn.
"Good thing you're not putting it on there." Mark pinched Jeff's lean, hard midriff.
"Just here -- and here." Jeff patted his powerful chest muscles with his right hand, squeezed his shaft with his left.
"Well, how about this pressure cooker?" Ajax pointed to a metal pot on a near-by hot plate. "It's quick, and our meat'll come out nice and tender."
"That's right," said Errol. "You've had some -- experience."
"Just one -- but he was a cooking-school teacher -- he showed me how to do his, after -- you know."
"And -- who gets whose?" asked Mark. "I wanta know who I'm eating."
Well, these are mine," Ajax held up one set of organs, "and since we were on the ends of the cable . . ." He tossed them to Mark. "And these are Chester's -- Jeff, you and he were closest to the middle, so . . ."
Jeff caught the organs Ajax that tossed: a comfortable handful, still warm, the shaft still hard. He glanced at curly- haired Chester. "Uh -- thanks, Chester. This is -- these are a real prize."
"Well, you put up pretty good stakes yourself," said Chester running his knuckles down Jeff's well-muscled torso and -- as Jeff curled his hips invitingly forward -- giving Jeff's shaft a good, hard squeeze. "And if our team had won -- well, the chance of winning your prong was worth risking mine."
Jeff put his right arm around Chester's shoulders and held him close.
"Hey," Mark called, "The pressure cooker's all ready to go." Jeff tossed Chester's severed organs to Mark, saw him hold the shaft by the glans, dip the balls into a flame that danced at the end of a small gas jet, and drop the now-hairless organs into the pot. Errol and Garth handed their winnings to Mark; in a moment, four sets of organs were in the pressure cooker, its top on and locked, and the hot plate turned on.
Chester touched Jeff's stiff, sturdy cock again. "You'll be a real mouthful, up and hard like that." He touched Jeff's rock- hard cock once more, slipped easily out from under Jeff's arm, and said, "Ajax, you know where we go to get cut up into roasts and chops and so on?"
"Don't you wanta find out how you taste?" Mark waved at the hissing pressure cooker.
Ajax shook his head. "We better go now or you'll have to carry us. Come on, studs."
-- -- -- -- --
"That pressure cooker did make those guy's meat come out good and tender," said Jeff. He licked his lips, stared thoughtfully into the fireplace for a moment, then turned to look at Errol. "And having a guy's organs all to yourself does make a nice meal." Especially, he added to himself, when a well- hung guy like Chester supplies the meat.
Errol said, "We were still even then -- a tenth of Peter's organs, a tenth of Terry's, and then you ate Chester's organs and I ate Jason's. But after that . . "
". . . there were just six of us left. I was still chewing on the last of Chester's prong when Mark found that indoor volley-ball court."
Jeff remembered Garth asking, "How many studs does it take to play this volley-ball game?"
-- -- -- -- --
. . . Mark had turned away from a printed sign on the wall. "It says here that it you need six players, but you oughta have a ref and a score-keep too, so . . ."
"Let's keep looking," said Jeff, leading the other naked men deeper into the games room.
A moment later, Errol said, "Here's a card-game, but . . ." He frowned, shrugged his thick shoulders, and glanced at Mark.
"After that tension contest, I think it'd be kinda tame," said the red head. "Anything sexy about it?"
"Just the face cards." Errol held up a few. "Here's one with a drawing of a young guy getting ready to lift weights with his organs, and here's a big muscle-stud feeding his prong into a meat-grinder he's cranking, and another body-builder type is watching what's left of his balls and his prong ooze out of the sides of a hydraulic press, and this one shows another young guy just easing his prong into some flames -- you get the idea."
"Might be hard to keep your mind on the game with things like that on the cards," said Jeff. "I suppose we could go back to that tension contest, but . . ."
"You need eight for that," Steve said, "and there's just six of us left."
"There's weight-lifting stuff 'round here somewheres," said Mark. "You don't need that many studs for that. That's where you pick up more and more weight with your balls and your cock, until . . "
"Too much like running that tension contest all over again," Steve objected. "And Jeff here's got an unfair advantage."
"Me?"
"Yes, you," said Steve. "As thick your prong is -- but then, look what a prize you'd be if --"
"Check this out, guys," Errol called.
Jeff followed the others and found them watching a slim, blond native youth who had thrust his plump balls and stiff cock through a gasketed hole and into a glass-walled, open-topped box. The box stood on top of a squared-off column with a couple of dials and meters on the side. Jeff realized that something was heating the box from below, for its fluid contents bubbled gently around the youth's organs.
Errol explained, "Tyr here says this is the only one of these machines that's working today, and it only takes one stud at a time."
"Hi, guys," said Tyr. "There's a couple more on order, but they haven't come through yet. This one's full of cooking oil, and I'm deep-frying my balls and my spike." He gestured at his submerged genitalia. "It takes a while, but they say the results are worth it."
Jeff asked, "Then you're . . . ?"
". . . going to eat them all by myself?" Tyr shook his head. "Don't I wish -- no, I only get half. Matt -- one of your shipmates -- went off to look for chili sauce."
"Won't that hide the taste?" asked Jeff.
The blond youth grinned. "Probably, but if it does, I'll try to talk him into letting me cook his organs so I can show him how he should have done mine."
Jeff and his friends watched Tyr's organs simmer for a couple of minutes more, then drifted away. A few minutes later, Jeff heard Mark call out, "Hey, studs, take a look at this."
"This is neat," said Mark, as Jeff and the rest gathered. "It's a dart game, with our prongs as targets."
"Two-man matches," asked Steve, "or can we team up?"
"Either way," said Mark, looking up from what Jeff realized was a printed set of rules. "A pair of two-man teams --"
"I'm in," said Rick.
"And me," Steve added, putting his right arm around Rick's shoulders. "We'll be one team."
"Count me in too," said Jeff. "Who else?"
"Me," said Garth. "I'm on your team, Jeff. Okay?"
"Hey!" Mark yelped. "I'm the stud what found this thing."
Errol laughed, then said, "How 'bout you and me taking on the winners of the first round?"
"Well, yeah," said red-haired Mark, passing the rules to Errol. "Usual stakes?"
Jeff glanced at Garth, Steve, and Rick; all nodded solemnly. "We're all in, then. How do we want to cook our winnings?"
Garth patted a waist-high, glass-topped machine next to him. "This looks real neat too -- sign says it's kind of a radar-and- steam oven -- it'll cook your prong and balls while they're still 'tached to you -- and then you get eaten on the hoof, so t' speak."
Jeff licked his lips slowly, feeling his own shaft hardening again. Eaten alive -- what a way to go, he thought to himself. Aloud, he said, "Sounds good to me, too. Everybody?" The other five young men nodded again, now with grins on their faces.
"Let's go, then." Mark led Jeff and Garth to a pair of painted circles on the floor, waved Rick and Steve to another pair. "Two rounds. This round, stud on the right -- that's you, Garth -- gets three darts -- here. Stud on the left -- you, Jeff, you're Steve's target, this round."
As Jeff watched, Mark strode over to Steve and Rick.
"Okay," said Mark. "You two studs are facing Jeff and Garth -- that's it. Steve -- you're on your team's right -- three darts. Rick, you're Garth's target, this round."
"Now listen up, everybody," said Errol, gesturing with the set of rules, "when Mark says `go,' the two with darts -- Steve and Garth -- throw them at your targets, Jeff and Rick. You get three points if your dart hits -- and sticks -- in your target's prong. Gotta throw hard -- these are light-weight darts. You lose two points if you stick him in the balls. If the dart sticks anywhere else on his body, you lose one point, and if the dart doesn't stick at all, it doesn't count either way. Okay? Mark and me, we count up the score; the targets pull out -- or pick up -- the darts, and they use the first-round dart-throwers as their the targets for the second round. Oh, I almost forgot; if the target flinches, the dart-thrower gets three points and an extra throw."
"Any questions?" asked Mark.
"Hey, since my prong is the biggest target, shouldn't hitting it count for less?" asked Jeff, trying not to smile.
"No way," said Steve. "Look how big a target his balls are. It oughta cost me less if I hit them."
Suppressing a chuckle, Jeff asked, "Is it okay for the targets to try and get the throwers to laugh?"
Garth chuckled, then said, "Don't get me t' laughin'; I'm on your team."
"Now, everybody stiffen up," said Mark. "When you're the target, if your prong doesn't stand straight up like Jeff's, hold it up with a finger at the tip -- that's it, Rick. Okay -- throwers ready? Targets ready? Get set -- go."
Steve's first dart stabbed Jeff in the left ball, with a sting that spread up into his guts; still, it hurt less than he expected. "Higher," growled Jeff, trying not to squirm. "Aim higher." He took a deep breath, then held himself rigid. The second dart bounced off the side of his prong without sticking; the third lanced into his glans. "Does he get any extra credit for hitting me there?" asked Jeff, then relaxed with a chuckle and watched his teammate, Garth, put two darts into Rick's shaft and one into his abdominal muscles.
The next round, Jeff's first dart went high; the second got Steve half-way down his shaft, and the third went in just below Steve's glans. Jeff turned to check his teammate; Garth had one dart near the base of his shaft, and one in each ball.
"Y'know," Rick said, "if we'd gone a few more rounds, we might of beaten you guys. I was just getting the range, and you saw how Steve's last shot was his best one. Still -- this might be fun, getting cooked and eaten together."
"Eaten alive, yeah." Steve put his left arm around Rick's shoulders. "And now, since Garth's gonna eat you . . ." The two young men ambled to the glass-topped cooker.
"I got an idea," said Garth. "Jeff, if you let me eat both these studs' 'quipment, then you can eat mine. I'm hung better'n Steve, so you'll make out better eating me than him."
Jeff swallowed hard. "I -- uh -- how come?"
"Countin' these two, plus Ajax, I'll get three guys' meat, which puts me one ahead of you, even after you've eaten mine. And -- and Rick and Steve and me -- we've been together ever since we joined the Service, so . . ."
". . . you want to cook your balls when they cook theirs?" asked Jeff.
"That way, the three of us can go to the meat-packers together."
"Okay by me, as long as Steve doesn't mind."
Garth strode quickly to the glass-topped cooker and slid in his rigid prong, then tucked in his balls. Jeff saw that Rick and Steve had already put in their organs while Garth was explaining his offer. Jeff, Errol, and Mark moved in close to watch. Garth glanced around at the circle of naked young men, took a deep breath, and pushed a button on the side of the cooker.
Jeff heard a click, saw steel clamps tighten around three sets of doomed genitalia. Another click, and flames flared up, burned away the hair on three sets of balls, and as quickly died. Another click, and Jeff heard Steve catch his breath, saw a wry grin on Steve's face.
Rick said, "The thing's really cooking me -- cooking us, now. I can feel it heating me up, feel electric currents going through my prong and my balls -- hey, wow!"
"Yeah," Garth said. "If I'd known how fuckin' good this feels -- any you studs wanta join us -- Mark, Errol -- how 'bout you, Jeff? Like Steve said, as thick as you're hung . . ."
"I'll pass for now, but . . ."
-- -- -- -- --
". . . I was tempted," said Jeff. "Just tempted, though, not . . . you know."
"I know. Watching Garth eat his buddies' prongs -- a bite of one, a bite of the other, right down to the hilt, and then their balls -- yeah." Errol took Mark's spitted prong from the flames, looked it over closely.
"Getting there?" asked Jeff.
"Not much longer. How 'bout his balls?"
Jeff withdrew his stick from the fire, sniffed. The aroma of roasting flesh touched his nose. "Same here." He sniffed again. "Not the same as Garth's, though. Eating his shaft -- with him still attached, and watching himself being eaten. That was -- somehow it was scary -- and exciting too. And at the end, just before I started on his balls . . ."
Garth had been lying on his back, stretched out on the floor, with Jeff lying on top.
Jeff remembered the feel of Garth's warm thighs against Jeff's bare chest, remembered chewing quietly for a moment, remembered Garth watching himself being devoured. . . .
-- -- -- -- --
. . . Jeff had swallowed, then lowered his head again. Here goes, Jeff told himself, as he clamped his teeth on Garth's shaft. Jeff felt Garth squirm under Jeff's torso, heard Garth suck in a deep breath.
"I -- now I can feel you -- eating -- eating me," Garth panted. He squirmed again, thrust upwards with what was left of his shaft, went rigid for a moment, every muscle quivering, then relaxed with a long sigh.
Jeff chewed off the last chunk of shaft, lifted his head, and said around a mouthful of Garth, "That got to you?"
"Yeah. Could you . . ."
". . . tell?" Jeff grinned at his prey. "I felt you go all tense, and then I tasted your cream, all mixed in with the prong- meat." He chewed, swallowed. "Now those balls of yours . . ."
"Jeff, you are a real hungry stud," Garth said. "Watching you take me -- and then feeling you biting into me, down at the base -- and now -- seeing my balls go -- I don't know which is turning me on more -- getting eaten, now, or biting into Steve's and Rick's meat a few moments ago."
Steve knelt beside Garth's head and said, "Just watching you eating Rick's and then mine got me going, but . . ."
"But what?" Jeff finished eating Garth's right ball before biting into his left one.
"The real turn-on oughta be when two guys cook themselves like this, and then eat each other at the same time, sixty-nine style."
"I dunno," said Mark, kneeling at the other side of Garth from Steve. "I like to concentrate more on what I'm doing, rather'n splitting my attention 'tween what I'm doin' to a stud's cock and what he's doing to mine. Still -- nah. One thing at a time for me."
"Well, I suppose so." Jeff pushed himself up to a kneeling position astride Garth's legs. He chewed for a moment more, swallowed the last of the Garth's warm, tender testicles, than said, "It'd be kind of hard to do it both ways; you gotta pick one and take your chances." He got to his feet, reached down, helped the freshly castrated Garth to stand up.
"Yeah?" said Mark. He stood up, stretched his taut-muscled body, tousled his red hair with both hands, and asked, "Well, speaking of chances -- Jeff, Errol: what do you studs want to do next? Call it quits now, with Jeff still ahead of us, two studs' meat to one? Or if he's still hungry, then maybe --"
"I'm not that hungry," said Jeff, rubbing the hard ripple of his abdominal muscles, "but if you guys . . ."
Errol smoothed his own glossy black hair. "As thick as this heavy-hung stud's cock is, and as big as his nuts are, if we divvy him up between us, we'd just about catch up."
"Hey!" Jeff yelped, then relaxed and grinned as the other young men started to laugh. "Yeah, yeah, you got me then."
"And what's more, you're hard as a rock," said Mark, grabbing Jeff's prong. "Red-fucking-hot, too. You been thinking of biting into another stud's meat?"
"Not -- not exactly. I -- I was thinking -- imagining what it'd be like, watching you two guys working on mine." He took a deep breath, thrust at the hand that gripped his shaft. "What do you have in mind, anyway?"
"You wanta just volunteer?" Mark put his left arm around Jeff's shoulders, keeping his grip on Jeff's shaft with his right. "As hot as you are right now, you'll prob'ly shoot your load a couple of times while we're eating your prong, and then, when we start on your balls, --"
"Give it up, Mark," said Garth. "He's gettin' that stubborn look."
Jeff said,"I'm not gonna give away my balls; but if somebody really wants to bet his against mine, then -- what about that card game Errol found?"
"I'd rather do something quick, so if I lose I can go with these studs --" Mark gestured at Rick, Steve, and Garth. "-- and the meat-cutting studs can vivisect all four of us together."
"Something quick and simple?" asked Jeff. He glanced around the games room, then looked at the sturdy red head again. "How about just -- just matching?"
"Matching?" asked Errol.
Jeff put out his right hand. "Like this." He clenched his fist, brought it up, then down as he said, "One -- two -- and on three, you throw one finger or two." He demonstrated. "Like that -- or that."
"Odd man out?" Errol asked.
"Sure," said Mark. "Ready?"
"Wait a minute," said Jeff. "The odd man; does he get eaten, or does he eat both of the other two guys?"
Jeff saw Mark's and Errol's mouths fall open. They stared at Jeff, who tried not to grin; but he felt his lips twitch. Mark started laughing; Errol looked puzzled, then laughed too.
"Hey, Jeff," said Errol, "you said you're not that hungry."
"Okay, okay; odd man gets eaten," said Jeff. "Ready?"
"Wait," said Mark. "I got a better idea. I'm hungry enough to eat both you studs' equipment, so how 'bout this: if I'm the odd man, I get to eat both of you. But if Jeff's the odd man -- or if Errol is -- then you two split mine. That way, you two are putting up twice the stakes that I am, but you got odds of two against one in your favor. And even though Jeff's hung thicker than me, I'm hung better than Errol -- so, how 'bout it?"
Jeff and Errol glanced at each other. Jeff shrugged his broad shoulders, Errol licked his lips, then nodded slowly. They turned back to Mark.
"Okay? Let's go." Mark motioned Jeff and Errol into a tight little triangle of naked bodies and outthrust prongs. Mark put out his right fist; Jeff and Errol did the same. Mark called cadence: "One -- two -- three."
The first round was a tie, all twos; the second, another tie, all ones. Mark lost the third round, stepped back a pace, and slowly ran his hands down his muscular torso to his now- doomed shaft and balls. "That's -- that's it, then. Now -- something quick?"
"Here's just what you want, Mark," said Garth, pointing at a crotch-high post a few paces away. "Stick in your prong. Tuck in your balls. Swing the handle over, and it lops 'em off and clamps a couple rings 'round the hilt."
"Sounds good." Mark ambled over to the cock-chopper and slid himself into place. "Now --"
"Wait," said Jeff. "I got an idea too." He trotted to the post-mounted chopper, knelt, sat back on his heels, and licked Mark's glans. "Let me take you off first. When you shoot, wait'll you get off the last shot, and then -- chop. Okay?"
"Let's take turns," said Errol. "You start off, I'll take over, and -- since it was your idea -- you finish him off. Okay?"
"Sure," Jeff said. He licked his lips, leaned forward, opened his mouth wide.
"Hey, you are good," Mark sighed, as Jeff closed his lips around Mark's glans and sucked in half the length of his shaft. "That's it -- harder -- wow! -- that feels -- wow -- slow down -- that's it. I'm getting there too fast."
Jeff pulled back, shifted himself to one side, and said, "Your turn, Errol."
And Errol smoothly took Mark to the brink once, slacked off, took him to the brink again, then released Mark's quivering prong and said, "Finish him off, Jeff."
And Jeff did -- sucking hard, sliding his tongue along the hard shaft, sucking harder, bobbing his head faster as he felt the virile red head tense up. He felt the broad glans swell in his mouth, heard Mark say, "Take me; take me, stud; take me all the wayyyyy!"
Mark put his hands on Jeff's shoulders, gripped hard, then filled Jeff's mouth with spurt after spurt of warm, slippery ball-juice. Jeff felt and heard Mark relax, felt Mark tighten up again as the red head pumped out another jet of sperm -- another -- one more . . .
. . . and Mark's hand was on the handle of the cock-chopper, swinging it over and down, lopping off his virile organs. Mark staggered back a pace, another; Jeff scrambled to his feet, gripping the still-hard prong in his right hand.
"Whee," sighed Mark. "That was one wild way to shoot a load." He turned to the other three castrated youths -- Garth, Steve, and Rick -- and said, "Come on, studs; let's give those meat-cutters some real meat to work on."
Jeff watched them go, then examined the severed organs in his hand. Just as Garth had said that it would, the cock-chopper had clamped a ring around the hilt of Mark's severed prong so tightly that the blood was trapped inside, keeping the shaft hard. A second ring gripped the ball-sack where it had been lopped from Mark's crotch.
"Got 'em?" asked Errol.
"Got 'em. Here." Jeff passed Mark's prong to Errol.
"Looks like a nice mouthful. Now we gotta find a place to cook these. I think I saw a fireplace somewhere . . ."
-- -- -- -- --
"Yeah, these are just about done," said Jeff. He pulled Mark's roasted balls away from the flames, sniffed cautiously -- they smelled fresh and meaty, with just a touch of wood-smoke -- then blew on them.
"Well, this'll bring us both up a bit, but -- let's see -- we both ate ten percent of the first two guys. Then in that prong-pulling contest, you won Chester's meat, and I won Jason's. But then you won Garth's in the dart game --"
"Actually," Jeff said, "I won Steve's, but I let Garth eat those and I ate Garth's.
"Either way, you're ahead of me by one full set of organs -- but, like some of our recently gelded buddies were saying, you were risking a nice, big chunk of meat."
"Yeah. If Mark had won ours -- let me see -- he got Ajax on the tension-game, and then both of us -- that would have been three, which would have tied Garth, who ate David's organs, and then Rick's and Steve's."
"Mmmmm." Errol started to nibble on Mark's severed prong.
Jeff bit into the red head's balls; the two naked young men ate slowly for a few bites. Then Jeff said, "If you let me eat your equipment, then I'd be up to three and a half sets of organs, which beats Garth's three."
"On the other hand," Errol said, between bites of Mark's shaft, "If I ate yours, I'd just be at two and a half -- are you saying that I oughta volunteer to let you eat my balls just so you can beat Garth's record?"
"No, but -- hey, what's it like, eating a guy's prong right after you've been sucking him off?"
"A bit strange -- but maybe not as strange as sucking a stud off while you're eating him. Here -- wanta swap?" Errol held out Mark's half-eaten, freshly roasted cock to Jeff.
"Sure -- thanks." Jeff took the warm shaft, passed Mark's remaining testicle to Errol. "Sucking Mark off -- eating Garth and getting a shot of his ball-juice, and now --"
"You're still hard."
"So are you."
The two ate quietly for a few minutes. Jeff swallowed the last of Mark's roasted shaft, waited until Errol finished his share of the red-head's organs, then said, "Want some dessert?"
"Sucked out of your prong? Sure." Errol rolled over to face Jeff, reached for Jeff's shaft, stroked it gently.
Jeff licked his lips and felt a little shiver run up his back. "Uh -- just sucking, or --"
Errol chuckled, then said, "-- or going all the way? Might be fun, even, getting eaten raw, feeling every bite -- but that could be rough, real fucking rough."
"And -- and raw prong's supposed to be pretty tough." With his right forefinger, Jeff worked a bit of Mark's prong from between two front teeth, then swallowed. "Getting sucked off, when you're -- when I'm not sure just how far you're going -- that's turning me on already. Let's --"
"Yeah." Errol eased himself closer to Jeff. "Let's -- let's just see what happens."
Copyright (C) 2001 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save or make paper copies for your own use; do not post, repost, publish, or archive elsewhere without the author's express permission.