Copyright (C) 1999 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.
Naked, Jerry ran through the Central American jungle, his rigid cock jiggling as he ran.
He was chasing the Ant Priest and Priestess, who skipped along just out of reach. And as he chased the two naked Indians, eager to plunge his shaft into them again, he heard the horde of giant ants chasing him, their mandibles clacking in hunger for his own well-muscled self. Yet, though the was running faster than ever before in his twenty-three years, the Priest and Priestess easily skipped farther out of reach, while the ants drew closer and closer . . .
Jerry ran on, his balls just skimming the mist rising from the jungle floor. He looked down; the mist was congealing around his legs, gradually condensing into muddy water, then -- as he struggled onward -- into thickening mud through which he could barely wade, his balls still skimming the surface, his quivering prong still hard, ready to impale whichever one he caught first.
It's right about here that I usually wake up from nightmares like this, Jerry decided. And -- abruptly -- he was awake, blinking his eyes in a sunlit clearing surrounded by towering trees. He tried to move his legs, looked down, and realized that someone had buried him balls-deep in solid ground. He tried to move his arms, but found that someone had tied his wrists to a stake behind his rump. As in the dream, he was naked and had a hard-on.
"So you woke up," said eighteen-year-old Dirk. "Better if you hadn't, I think."
Jerry raised his head and looked around. Someone had stripped and buried the other three members of the expedition ball-deep in the ground: Miguel, in his late teens like Dirk, a few feet to Jerry's right; Remigio, their muscular native guide, directly in front of and facing Jerry; and blond Dirk, between Miguel and Remigio. Their stripped, well-muscled physiques glowed in the noon-day sun; all sported lusty erections.
Jerry said, "This is the first time I ever woke up to find I'm still dreaming." He thought back to the recent past. "That fight -- the Indians -- then somebody --"
"Yeah," said Dirk. "You got bopped on the head. And no, you're not still dreaming. Maybe better if you hadn't woke up until . . ."
"Until what?" In the pause that followed Jerry's question, he felt a tickle on the head of his cock. He looked down, saw a fly sitting there. Jerry twitched his cock; the fly took off and darted away. He looked more closely at his sexual equipment and saw that a strand of grass secured his glans to a forked stick that sloped down to the ground.
A bee circled the four naked men, then settled onto Jerry's glans. Jerry held himself motionless as the bee tickled him with her tongue. A few seconds passed; suddenly the bee took flight and buzzed away.
"That was a -- a queer bee," Jerry said.
"Just after the honey on your prong," said Miguel.
"Honey?"
"For the ants," Remigio explained, and he, Miguel, and Dirk chuckled as Jerry felt his face shift into a puzzled frown.
"Okay -- how much do you remember?" asked Dirk.
"I remember stealing the jewels from the Ant Temple, and when the Ant Priestess showed up, we took turns raping her --" He felt his own shaft twitch, twitch again as he remembered how the four explorers had stripped themselves bare -- the Ant Priestess apparently went about naked all the time. Jerry remembered how, one by one, Dirk, Remigio, Miguel, and finally Jerry himself had clasped the squirming young woman to their sweat-slick bodies and impaled her on their prongs. The other three had fucked fast and shot their loads quickly, but when it was Jerry's turn to ram himself into her sperm-slick vagina, he had held himself to a slow, deliberate stroke until she reached her gasping, cock-gripping orgasm, and only then bringing himself to climax and pumping his own ball-cream deep into her. "-- and then the Ant Priest tried to stop us, so we raped him too. Only -- I thought a -- a priest would be older, but that stud looks like he's the same age as Dirk and Miguel. Good looking stud, too."
And that stud had been a damn good fuck, too, Jerry added to himself. Again, he'd been last in line; again, he had fucked slow and easy until Jerry and the naked Indian climaxed together. "Then we left those two and started back -- and -- and then a whole bunch of Indians jumped us . . ."
Jerry watched Dirk take a deep breath as he expanded his broad, muscle-sheathed chest. The blond tensed his arms for a long moment, then relaxed. "Cocksuckers tied us too fucking well," Dirk growled. "And while you were out of it, they stripped us, carried us here, and buried us ass-deep like this in the dirt. And then they poured a trail of honey from our cock- tips along these sticks and into the jungle."
Jerry glanced at his three companions and saw that the tip of each man's rigid shaft was -- like his own -- tied to forked stick set in the jungle's floor. "For the ants . . ." Jerry felt his mouth go dry, felt the muscles of his own chest tighten, smelled the dank decay of the jungle. "Army ants?"
"That is so," said Remigio. "Big army ants. The Indians say the ants chase away outsiders who would take their land."
Miguel said, "The ants will follow the trail of honey to our outstretched shafts and start to work there."
"And then?" Jerry looked down the ripple of muscle that led to the base of his own genitalia. "Will they . . . ?"
Remigio shrugged his thick shoulders. "We are all -- how is it said? -- virile and well hung. Dirk has the longest shaft, you the biggest cojones -- eggs? No, balls. The ants will dine upon our fucking equipment, and afterwards --" He shrugged his shoulders again "-- but when one's balls have been eaten, who cares what happens next?"
Dirk, his blue eyes smoldering under a shock of blond hair, strained at his bonds. Jerry saw the blond's chest and arm muscles tighten, then relax. "Our cocks -- just appetizers for those fucking ants, and after that, they'll really dig in. Jerry, you're packing the most meat on your frame, so . . ."
"Yeah?" said Jerry. "So I get to watch the fuckers work on me the longest?" He studied his team again: Blond Dirk still tested his bonds; Remigio looked calm, his powerful muscles in repose; Miguel licked his lips, squirmed, then met Jerry's gaze with a wry smile. Jerry tried to move his legs, but the dirt had been packed too tightly for him even to wiggle his toes. "So how come we're all up hard like this?"
"Stuff they made us drink," said Dirk. "Had a problem, getting the stuff into you without --"
Remigio hissed, then said, "Quiet -- yes, I hear someone."
Seconds later, Jerry heard footsteps on the damp jungle floor. "Hey! -- over here -- help!" He saw movement among the trees, added, "Thank God you found us. We're --" Jerry recognized the new arrivals: the Ant Priestess, naked but for a jeweled necklace, and the Ant Priest, wearing a similar necklace, a small back-pack, and nothing else. "Oh, shit; it's you again."
Remigio and the two naked Indians chatted in the Indians' own language for a few moments, while Miguel put in a word now and then.
Dirk interrupted. "What gives?"
"They have come to make again the honey trail," Miguel growled.
"But they bring food and drink as well," said Remigio.
"Big deal," Jerry said. "You sound almost cheerful. Still . . ." He took stock of his inner self, felt a touch of hunger. ". . . how long has it been since we ate anything?"
Dirk growled, "Can't you guys think about anything but food? At a time like this . . ."
"It's better than thinking about being food," said Jerry. "Eating oughta take our minds off getting eaten, so -- what'd ya bring?" He watched the young priest squirm out of his pack, put it on the ground, and open it. Remigio chuckled, then translated Jerry's remarks. The Ant Priest laughed aloud, and even the Ant Priestess smiled.
Working together, Priest and Priestess hand-fed their captives with meat and some unfamiliar fruit, then offered each captive a drink from a clay jar. Jerry drank, swallowed, and tasted something at once sharp and bitter. He asked, "It that . . . ?"
Remigio translated. The Ant Priest answered with a nod and a gesture toward his own erect cock, then pulled out another jar and started pouring a thin trail of liquid from Jerry's glans, along the sloping stick, between Miguel and Dirk, and on into the jungle.
"More honey?" asked Jerry.
Miguel translated. The Ant Priest touched his forefinger to Jerry's glans, then to Jerry's mouth. Jerry put out his tongue, licked the finger; he found it at once salty and sweet. "After that," Jerry said as the Ant Priest refreshed the honey on Remigio's shaft, "the ants'll be so disappointed with how I taste that they'll all pack up and go home."
Remigio and the young Priest chatted back and forth, and then Priest and Priestess laughed while Remigio explained: "He says the ants like meat much better than honey, so they mix blood in with the honey. He says you -- he says that all of us will make for the ants a great feast, so he -- so they are very grateful."
"How come?" asked Dirk, as he watched the Ant Priest refresh the trail of honey that linked Dirk's glans to the trail that led from the edge of the jungle to Jerry's own glans. "I thought they were pissed because we raped them"
Remigio translated; the young priest made a gesture somehow dismissing Dirk's question, then replied.
Remigio translated again: "When an ant-swarm comes too close to their village, someone must be eaten, or the village will suffer. He and the Priestess soon would feed themselves to the ants; but instead, we four appeared. The rape -- he says they both enjoyed being fucked, especially by you, Jerry; much more fun than being eaten."
"Yeah, it would be," Jerry said. "Tell him -- tell them that -- that fucking them was -- was lots of fun for us, too."
This time, Miguel translated. Both Priest and Priestess smiled. They spoke; Miguel laughed too, then turned to Jerry and said, "They did notice that."
Dirk asked, "If he -- if they had to feed the ants, would they be in the ground like this?"
The Ant Priest spoke up without waiting for Remigio to translate the question. Remigio listened, then explained: "It is only captives -- outsiders -- who are bound and buried ball-deep like us. A willing -- no, a volunteer -- that's not right either_--"
"A draftee?" asked Jerry.
"Yes, that is the word. He -- she -- they would go out naked, and kneel, and offer themselves to the ants. That's why those two are without clothes; always they must be ready to feed the ants. And since they are already naked, they are ready for -- other things."
"Then -- we didn't have to rape them," Dirk said, "they'd of let us fuck them anyway. But then it wouldn't have mattered if we hadn't -- we'd still be instant ant-food. But this way . . ."
The Ant Priestess took over the honey jar; the young Ant Priest spoke for a moment. Miguel translated: "Since -- since we seemed to want to rape them, they resisted -- but just enough so that we would have more fun. Otherwise --" He paused, listened to the Ant Priest for a moment more. ". . . otherwise, they would have -- how is the word -- just invited us to help ourselves."
The Priestess, who had just finished renewing the trail that led from Remigio's thick cock to join the trail from Jerry's, spoke at length. After a moment, Remigio laughed. He listened a moment more, then said, "There was a man from outside who came here, speaking our words but with a strange -- accent? Is that how it is said? -- he was reluctant at first, so that those two and other men of our village held him down while they stripped him and made him drink the -- the hard-on liquid, and then she impaled herself on his spike. After that, he accepted -- no, volunteered to be -- to stay naked, and to drink the shaft- stiffening liquid, and to lie with her and with -- with him --" Remigio nodded toward the Ant Priest. "-- every day, with the man between the two of them, fucking and being fucked."
The Ant Priest spoke haltingly: "The man . . . he watched other . . . matings -- is that the word? -- and wrote in his . . . his book of white paper. He had yellow hair, as --" He pointed at Dirk and Jerry. "-- and he teached me more of his Anglish? No, English, which in school outside I had learned some. When next came ants, went he to them, writing in his book while the ants are eating his prong and then his cojones. After the ants finished eating him, we -- then we sent the book to his place of science in the city."
The two naked Indians glanced at the jungle to Jerry's right. He saw a flock of birds soar across the clearing, saw a dozen furry animals scurry past, ignoring the six naked people. The Ant Priest donned his pack. He and the Ant Priestess trotted into the surrounding jungle, moving at right angles to the flight of the animals.
Jerry heard a thrashing noise from his right, heard tortured squealing, then a few fading whimpers. In the silence that followed, Jerry slowly became aware of a steady, oncoming rustle. He felt suddenly cold; he looked down, saw that his muscle- sheathed chest gleamed with sweat. He looked up, glanced around the clearing, then concentrated his gaze on the wavering stream of brown that entered the clearing from his right.
As the stream approached, it resolved itself into a column of inch-long ants streaming along the trail of honey. At the first fork in the trail, the lead ants circled in obvious confusion until some headed toward Dirk and -- after some hesitation -- others, toward Miguel.
"Well, here come the fucking cock-suckers," said Dirk, sounding almost cheerful as a squad of six ants mounted the stick that led up to his glans. The ants deployed on the blond's thick shaft, exploring from tip to base and on down and around his balls. "I wish they'd stop tickling me and get it the fuck over with," Dirk growled. A seventh ant scrambled up the stick, climbed aboard, and promptly buried its mandibles in Dirk's glans. More bit into his shaft. "Damn -- now I wish they'd waited. Getting eaten like this hurts."
Jerry shivered. Some ants were moving toward his own waiting prong. He glanced at Miguel; ants were covering the muscular youth's sexual equipment. Jerry tried to smile at Dirk, said, "Those aren't cocksuckers; they're cock-eaters."
"Just wait'll they start working on your prong-meat."
"That'll be real soon now; they just found the trail that branches off to mine. How's yours feel now?"
Dirk said, "At least, not getting any worse. I got five -- no, six, seven of the cock-eaters already chomping on my prong, but after the first few, it's all the same."
"I am ahead, then," said Miguel. "Now, ten eat my prong, and others come to join the feast."
Jerry saw that ants now covered Miguel's still-rigid shaft; though Dirk had been the first bitten, more and more ants marched toward Miguel. And from the edge of the clearing, Jerry saw an ever-widening stream follow the honey-trail toward their waiting prey: four naked, hard-cocked young men.
Suddenly, Jerry felt something touch his own sexual equipment. He looked down, watched an ant stroll across his glans and onto his cock-shaft: an ant about an inch long, its carapace a glossy brown, with sideways-moving mandibles spread wide, then clamping together. Jerry leaned forward as far as his roped wrists would let him and blew at the ant. It reared up, looking its naked prey in the eye, and waved its antennae. A couple of seconds later, it resumed its exploration of Jerry's virile organs.
"The little critter acts like he owns the place," Jerry said.
Remigio laughed, then said. "Since we are half-buried and tied down -- tied up? -- whichever it is, indeed he now owns your lusty shaft -- ah! Soon, some will own mine as well."
Jerry glanced at the muscular native and saw a widening trickle of ants headed for Remigio's waiting shaft. When Jerry looked down at his own shaft again, he saw a second ant climb aboard and start exploring. "Yeah -- not much we can do now but invite the critters to help themselves."
Something rustled in the jungle beyond the clearing. Jerry turned his head in that direction and saw the Ant Priest emerge from the trees and trot straight for Jerry.
"I not want you in pain," said the naked Indian, "not after you take me all the way when we fucked." He knelt beside Jerry, carefully avoiding the ants trickling toward Jerry's outthrust shaft.
Jerry realized he'd let his jaw drop in amazement, then closed his mouth. "You're going to dig me out?"
"No." The naked Indian pulled a clay jar from his back- pack. "This will make less pain, when -- no, while the ants eat you."
"Uh -- how 'bout letting Miguel and Dirk have some first. They're already getting bitten pretty bad."
"No. They were too quick to take their shafts from -- it was only you who keeped -- who kept on fucking until I . . . what is the word?"
"Came, shot your load, climaxed -- I know what you mean. It's --" Jerry licked his lips. "It turned me on too, feeling you shoot when I did." Jerry took a deep breath, felt his powerful chest muscles tighten, then relax. "Well, if you won't take care of them, then I won't -- hey, if they hadn't gone first and warmed you up, I couldn't have sent you over the top when I fucked you."
The naked Indian weighed the jar in his right hand. "There is not that much. I have only for one."
Jerry shrugged his shoulders. "Well, divvy it up anyway. You must have had some fun, being pronged by those three studs before I climbed on and finished you off."
"Well -- hokay." The young Ant Priest flashed his teeth in a grin, carefully picked his way over rivulets of ants to Miguel and put the rim of the jar to that youth's mouth. "One swallow -- no more -- ah." He leaped over the main river of ants, gave blond Dirk a drink, then Remigio, and finally came back to Jerry, who gulped down the last mouthful of the pain-killer. "With four of you -- it will help, but not --" He slipped the empty jar into his back-pack and carefully retreated a few paces, then sat down to watch.
"-- enough?" Jerry felt a stab of pain. He looked down. The ant that had bitten into his shaft scurried to his glans, got ready to take another bite. Jerry remembered the Ant Priestess's naked body against his own, then the Ant Priest's, remembered feeling their gradually increasing enthusiasm as he slowly fucked them, remembered their shared climaxes. He felt another ant, then a third scurry onto his shaft, felt the first ant dig its mandibles into his glans. . . . Watching -- feeling -- remembering -- all these sensations merged -- and down in the roots of his shaft pressure built, peaked, and erupted. Half- deliberately, half-automatically, he tensed the muscles of his groin, and spurted a jet of hot sperm that caught the ant that was biting into his glans and flung it a yard across the clearing.
Two more ants scurried up the sloping stick to taste Jerry's ejaculate. His second spurt swamped them; his third washed them to the ground, where other ants promptly dismembered and ate them. Jerry looked at the other three young men of his expedition and grinned. "I haven't been able to do that -- shooting a load, hands off, since I was fifteen."
Dirk looked up from the half-dozen ants working on his own long shaft. "I never could do that, even when I was that young and horny. "And pretty soon, I never will." He looked down again at the ants eagerly feeding on his long shaft.
Jerry glanced at Miguel's organs, now covered with a wriggling mass of hungry ants. The young native squirmed, squirmed again, then relaxed with a low moan.
"No hands -- like this?" asked Remigio. Jerry watched the muscular guide's thick shaft as it jerked out a single drop, relaxed, then pumped out a long jet of white sperm.
"Yeah." Jerry concentrated on the muscles in the base of his organs, carefully relaxed those muscles, then squeezed out a few more drops."Like this."
Remigio took a deep breath, tensed the muscles of his arms and torso, and squirted out two more jets and a dribble that ran down the tip of his glans. The two ants that were exploring his prong scurried to that dribble, touched it with their antennae, and began to drink.
Dirk growled, "Do it again and you can drown the fuckers."
"No can do; I'm pumped dry." Remigio licked his lips carefully. "It -- it looks that they like the taste."
"Yeah? Wait'll they go after your meat. That's when -- Yeow!" Jerry felt a double stab in his shaft, looked down, saw the two ants that had been exploring his genitalia were now eating into his shaft with sidewise bites of their mandibles. Another ant mounted the stick, stopped on his glans, and bit in; the pain was even worse this time. Trying to relax, to ignore the insects that were eating his shaft, Jerry looked up, tried to smile at Remigio, and said, "We were pretty well matched, working on each other, weren't we?"
"Taking each other in sixty nine, seeing how long we could go before shooting the first round, seeing how quickly on the second -- feeling you getting ready to shoot . . ."
"And feeling you respond, and feeling me respond to your response --" Jerry let his mind slip back to the first time he and Remigio had taken each other off -- the native had seen Jerry's hard-on one morning as Jerry was getting up, and offered to take him off right there. Jerry had climaxed quickly, taken Remigio's shaft into his own mouth, and drained the well-muscled, well-hung native just as quickly. After that, they had taken care of each other every night and every morning, usually sucking while being sucked, but sometimes . . . "Hey, Dirk; did you and Miguel --"
"We sure the fuck did; we fucked each other silly almost every night, but now and then -- you know."
"Yeah." Jerry licked his lips, remembering the feel of Remigio's shaft filling Jerry's mouth, remembering the bitter- salt taste of Remigio's thick juices. He glanced at the muscular guide, saw the guide's smile fade to a worried frown. "Uh -- been bitten yet?"
Remigio looked up, said, "No, but soon I will be." He looked down again, watching the two ants on his shaft. They seemed to be conferring with their antennae, before one, then the other sank their mandibles into his broad glans.
"The glans -- the tip -- that's the tenderest part," said Jerry, as he felt another ant bite into his own glans and two more, into his shaft. "It won't be that bad when they eat the rest of your prong." More ants climbed aboard and went to work.
Miguel said, "At first, the end is more hurting, but soon, when they have eaten more, it does not matter."
Jerry saw two-way traffic to and from Miguel's organs now, the outgoing ants holding small, bloody chunks of the youth's shaft -- fresh meat for the rest of the swarm. He shuddered, glanced at Dirk.
The blond looked up from the ants that were devouring his virile shaft. "Hey, Jerry; would you really have refused the pain-killer if the ant-stud here wouldn't let us have some too?"
"I -- I think I would -- I hope I got the balls to, but . . ."
"Don't know either -- if I would, I mean. But getting eaten alive like this still hurts." The blond youth turned to the naked Ant Priest, who was watching from a few feet away, and asked, "Hey, does this stuff really work? And -- when you guys -- you know -- feed yourselves to the ants -- do you drink that stuff first?"
The naked Indian stepped closer. "Yes. If one feeds the ants, one drinks all of the jar. But divided into four men who feed the ants . . ." He shrugged his shoulders.
Dirk asked, "And the guys -- your guys -- they just let the ants -- feed? No ropes, no . . ."
"No. Not any." The Ant Priest turned to Remigio and spoke rapidly.
After a moment, the muscular guide translated: "Sometimes, a brave one from another tribe or from outside the jungle who has been captured to feed the ants -- he wants to show he is very brave, and asks to be eaten with hands not roped, not stopping the ants with his hands --"
Dirk looked up from his ant-covered prong. "Like -- like the researcher who wrote a report while the ants were eating him?"
"Yes. If no outsider, then . . ." The Ant Priest patted his own chest.
Jerry glanced down. More than a dozen ants were biting into his shaft, and three more were exploring his balls. ". . . then you have to get eaten instead." Yeah, Jerry told himself. That stud's prey rather than priest.
The naked Indian nodded. "With no ropes."
"No ropes -- well, yeah, but -- no ropes? Then you could . . ."
"Now, ants just bite in, eat. If use hands . . ."
"To fight them? And if I -- if they get stirred up, then they'll be even worse?"
"Hokay? Cut ropes?" The Ant Priest pulled a knife from his back-pack.
"How 'bout the rest of you studs?" Jerry saw Remigio nod, then Miguel, and Dirk a few seconds later. "Yeah. Cut ropes. All of us." The Indian stepped behind Jerry, bent down. Jerry felt the ropes loosen, then fall away. He rubbed his wrists as his hands tingled with returning circulation while the Ant Priest's knife sawed through Remigio's, Dirk's, and Miguel's bonds.
Jerry put his hands on his hips; so did Dirk and Miguel. Remigio folded his arms across his muscular chest; the naked Indian that Jerry now thought of as the Ant Prey strode carefully to his back-pack, put away the knife, and sat down again to watch the ants feed on their victims. Jerry looked down, gritting his teeth as more ants swarmed over his cock. Some, he saw, cut off chunks of flesh and carried them away; others ate him alive as he watched.
Miguel began howling. Jerry looked; the ants were working on Miguel's testicles now, and his shaft -- what Jerry could see of it -- had been flayed and was now scarlet from glans to base.
Dirk started to speak; Miguel politely stopped howling. Dirk started again, in a growl: "Little fuckers -- more than just cock-eaters, too; now they're eating my nuts, and that really hurts."
Jerry turned to Miguel, who took a deep breath, sucked in his lean abdominal muscles, tightened his chest muscles for a few seconds, then relaxed with a long sigh. "Did you -- make it?"
"It's -- it's hard to tell. I think I did, but with all those things biting -- eating me -- Dios!" He slowly rubbed his chest, then dropped his hands to his hips again. "It's not the pain, so much; it's watching them -- watching them -- what is the word?"
"Geld you? Castrate?" asked Dirk, through gritted teeth.
"Sˇ -- yes -- castrating me -- eating my cojones -- my balls --"
"Mine too," Dirk growled. He ran both hands through his blond hair, combing it up and away from his face. "And my prong too --" He bent forward, expanded his chest, pulled in his lean stomach, concentrated his attention on his partly eaten genitalia. Jerry heard Dirk gasp aloud, saw the blond's shaft erupt in a splash of blood. Dirk straightened up, managed to grin. "Kind of a dry shot, but at least I blew my prong wide open. Maybe drowned a few of them." He took a deep breath. "How you doing, Jerry?"
"Feels like I'm on fire. They're working on my ball-bag now. Feels like -- like I don't know what. Just -- just getting eaten, like the rest of you studs."
"Won't -- be -- a stud -- much longer," Miguel panted. "My balls . . ."
Dirk asked, "Carrying them off or eating them in place?"
"Just -- just eating. You?"
"Cutting up one -- dragging off the other one." Dirk glanced at Jerry's partly eaten sexual equipment. "Problem with having balls as big as yours, Jerry . . ."
"Yeah." He glanced at Remigio. The powerfully built guide had the fewest ants working on his organs, but that number was steadily increasing.
Remigio looked up, met Jerry's gaze. "Would you rather go faster, like Dirk and Miguel, or slower, like --" The guide unfolded his arms, gestured at his still-rigid shaft.
Jerry managed a wry grin. "Faster is -- is more intense, slower drags it out longer." He turned to the naked Ant Priest. "You still here?"
"Want to know how it feels, feeding the ants. When my time comes . . ."
"Yeah, that's right; eventually, you'll just be ant-food too. Well, with more of that pain-killer -- I mean, it still hurts like Hell on a hotplate, but if weren't for what you gave me, I'd of probably passed out when they started on my ball bag. Now --" Jerry turned to Remigio. "Remember how we got to joking about how it'd feel, eating -- eating each other's cocks, instead of just sucking?"
"And I said I would get more to eat, because your balls are so big."
"I kinda wish we had -- it couldn't possibly be as bad as this."
"Doing it raw, we could feel ourselves being eaten," said Remigio. "But raw meat is so tough -- so you suggested we might cook our organs first -- even that would be easier than . . ." He gestured at his own shaft.
That had been a blood-thirsty conversation, Jerry told himself, talking about how it would feel, kidding each other about whether we had the balls to try it. And then when we stretched out on the ground and took each other's prongs in our mouths -- afraid he'd bite me, wondering how Remigio would taste -- that had been an exciting session: we shot our loads quickly, talked some more, then settled down to suck each other off again. Now . . . "Yeah, being cooked alive couldn't possibly be as bad as this, 'specially since we would of gotten something to eat out of it." He turned to Dirk. "You guys ever talk about stuff like that when you were fucking each other?"
Dirk shook his head. "Never got that kinky, but -- yeah, we did kick around a few ideas. Biggest problem -- Miguel had heard this joke somewhere -- and every time I was getting close, he'd say, `Kiss you? We shouldn't even be doing this.' And then I'd get to laughing so hard I'd have to start all over. Never got him going by telling a joke while he was fucking me, but he's ticklish as all get out, so -- now and then --"
"Ah," said Jerry, managing a smile. "So that's what you guys were giggling about. Me and Remigio -- we were going to pop in some night and see what you two were up to, but --"
"-- never got around to it?" said Dirk. "Might of been fun, performing for an audience."
"Maybe a four-way?" asked Remigio.
"In a daisy chain," said Jerry, "eating and being --"
"-- eaten?" Dirk rubbed his chest, now gleaming with sweat. "If we could eat without having to get eaten."
"Then -- or now?" asked Miguel.
"Both," said Jerry. "Cooked first? We could have done ourselves up right." He glanced at Miguel; by now, the ants had eaten the young native's sturdy shaft and heavy balls, leaving nothing but a bloody stain on the ground.
Miguel looked up. "All gone -- all gone. And now the ants . . ." He gestured; Jerry saw a squirming brown mass at Miguel's crotch.
Jerry swallowed hard, the pain of his own slow castration momentarily forgotten. "They're going -- in?"
"Sˇ -- yes -- eating -- eating into my guts now." Miguel squirmed, relaxed again. "Not as bad as feeding to them my balls, but -- but not good, either."
Dirk growled, "Be like that myself, real soon now -- just a fucking cunt where my prong used to be."
"Dios!" Miguel gasped. "If the ants do not kill me, I will kill myself."
"I don't think you have to worry about that," Jerry said, "but -- I mean, you and Dirk . . ."
"It is not like taking care of an amigo -- a friend -- and he takes care of you. But if I have no organs to fuck with --" He howled, caught his breath, howled again.
Jerry looked down at his own ravaged genitalia just in time to see his own shaft collapse into a welter of blood and torn membranes. Voracious ants swarmed over the remains. Some ants had been caught in the bloody splash when his cock ruptured; other ants were eating the bloodied ones; most were hungrily devouring what was left of Jerry's shaft or drinking his spilled blood. Still more were cutting into his scrotum. He raised his head, realized that Miguel stopped howling and now was squirming hard, almost as if . . .
"They're eating into the base of his shaft," Dirk panted. "Mine too -- and it's a -- a fucking -- turn-on like -- like nothing I ever -- there! Even with nothing left outside -- I -- somehow -- came again."
Jerry saw Miguel go rigid, then relax with a sigh. Miguel noticed Jerry's gaze, managed a weak smile, and said, "It is as Dirk says. Even without --" He gestured at his crotch. "But now the ants go deeper --"
"Gutting us both, now," said Dirk. He rubbed his taut pectoral muscles, looked down at the ants. "Start gutting you two pretty soon. Won't be as bad as getting your balls eaten, though."
"Yeah? Well, that's what they're doing to me right now," Jerry said, looking down again as he felt his testicles slide out of the tattered remnants of his scrotum and fall to the ground. Ants surrounded his organs, mandibles spread wide, exploring their prizes with their antenna. Then, as if on a signal, they all bit into his balls.
To Jerry, it seemed as if two red-hot swords stabbed up into his guts. He realized he had screamed. He clamped his mouth shut, then screamed again as the pain got worse. His right testicle went numb when an ant cut through the cord. Eight -- no, just seven ants started to drag that gonad away. Jerry reached down and picked it up by the cord. Some ants let go; three still hung on. Jerry popped his testicle -- ants, cord, and all -- into his mouth, chewed, tasting his own flesh mixed with crunchy, acidic ants, and swallowed.
"How -- how is it?" asked Miguel.
"Here -- try one." Jerry waited until an ant severed his left testicle, then picked it -- again by the cord -- and passed it on to Miguel, who looked it over dubiously, then threw back his head and dropped it into his mouth.
"Well?" asked Dirk.
Miguel chewed a moment, swallowed, and said, "Not bad. The ants -- they flavor the ball-meat."
"Taste like they look?" Dirk asked. "Like an oyster, I mean?"
Jerry saw Miguel shake his head, then shook his own. "Not -- not really. Fresher?" He shook his head again.
Remigio yelped, choked back a scream. "They -- they take mine now." Jerry saw the muscular guide's balls drop to the ground, each with a half-dozen or so ants gnawing into it. Remigio yelped again, said, "They cut the strings." He reached down with both hands, picked up his balls. "Here, Dirk, try one of these."
As Remigio -- and Jerry -- watched, the muscular blond gingerly took the offering, studied it carefully, then tossed it into his mouth, his scowl fading into a smile as he chewed, then swallowed. He glanced -- almost hungrily, Jerry decided -- at Remigio. The powerfully built native picked up his remaining testicle, frowned at it for a moment, then wordlessly offered it to Dirk.
"Don't you want it?" asked Dirk.
Remigio shook his head. "Do you?"
"Sure -- and thanks." Dirk grinned, took the bloody organ, and ate it slowly.
Jerry glanced at the watching Ant Priest. "How 'bout it, stud? You got the guts to do this with your balls when you feed yourself to these little fuckers?"
"I -- I do not know," said the naked Indian, stroking his rigid prong. "The ants will -- will --" He switched into his own language.
"Will eat everything I eat anyway," Remigio translated.
"So -- you eat your -- balls, I will eat mine." He shivered, then carefully licked his lips and grinned.
Jerry looked down at himself. The ants had devoured his prong right down to the base; now they were eating into the roots of his once-virile organs, going deeper into his guts as he watched. A widening stream of ants flowed in; another stream, laden with bloody chunks of meat, poured out. He looked up; Remigio's crotch was also buried in a swarm of the ravenous insects.
"What we should of done," Jerry said, "was cook our balls first and eat them. After that, we could suck each other off, and then eat our prongs raw."
"And then feed what's left to these fuckers?" asked Dirk. He scowled down at the ants. "Right now, they're gutting us. Pretty soon . . ."
"Yeah, but --" Jerry turned to the Ant Priest. "Hey -- uh -- guy; I just realized; with the four of us, and all of us pretty well built -- can the ants really eat five or six hundred pounds of live meat before we start to spoil?"
The Ant Priest looked puzzled. Remigio translated, they talked for a moment, then Remigio said: "No, but his village will. The ants will just eat our organ-meat and gut us only part way; they will leave the best parts for the village."
Jerry swallowed hard. "The best parts?"
The Ant Priest said, "Best meat is here." He slid a hand across his own muscular chest, patted his lean abdominal muscles, touched his thighs. "Village people come and dig you out of the ground, and --"
He spoke in his own language for a moment. Remigio shivered as he listened, took a deep breath, and said, "We'll still be alive when we get back to the village, so we can watch them getting ready to cook us --"
"Cook us -- alive?" asked Jerry.
Remigio shrugged his thick shoulders. "Might be interesting."
"Might be at that," said Dirk. "Finding out what it feels like, watching each other get roasted over hot coals . . ."
Jerry felt the carnivorous horde boring deeper into his own body, slowly devouring his entrails. "Now if could only wake up from this nightmare . . ."
"If you do," growled the naked blond, "wake me up too, will ya?"