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.
Greg looked up. The sky was clear, but for a few scattered clouds, and the sun was warming his bare skin. Underfoot, the naked sailor could barely sense the vibration of the engines as the hijacked freighter plowed westward across the South Pacific. Greg took a deep breath. The breeze carried a hint of salt from a few thousand of miles of empty ocean, plus an aroma of the meat that Jonathan was cooking a couple of yards to starboard.
Glancing around the freighter's deck, Greg saw twenty or so pirates, naked like Greg and his own three remaining shipmates; he knew that most were Polynesians -- Maori, Tongans, Hawaiians -- along with a few from Indonesia and Borneo. The ones not on deck, he knew, were up on the ship's bridge, down in the engine room, or preparing dinner in the galley. He looked down at Denny, the blond sailor who was eagerly sucking Greg's shaft, rapidly drawing Greg closer and closer to climax and eruption. He turned to Jonathan and saw him step back from a crotch-high stand bolted to the deck and the glass-sided box it supported. The eighteen-year-old sailor had just finished cooking his heavy balls and still-rigid cock in steam piped from the engine room to that box.
Jonathan folded his arms across his broad chest and calmly watched as a tall pirate knelt, bit into Jonathan's glans, and started eating the teen-ager's freshly cooked prong. The pirates on deck also focused their attention Jonathan's bite-by-bite castration -- watching him being eaten alive, Greg told himself as he watched too.
Each day since the pirates had seized the ship, Greg had watched the prongs and balls of two of the ship's crew being cooked and eaten on deck -- after which, the freshly castrated sailors reported to the ship's galley to be cut up into steaks and chops, cooked, and then eaten for lunch and dinner. Now that Jonathan's cock was being eaten, only three of the captured freighter's crew -- naked, well-built, stiff-cocked studs -- remained intact: wide-shouldered, narrow-hipped Bill, standing at Greg's left, watching the pirate who was devouring Jonathan's shaft; Denny, the blond kneeling at Greg's feet, sucking hard on Greg's throbbing prong; and Greg himself.
Another pirate -- small, sturdy, but superbly hung -- called out, "Who's next?"
"Me," said Greg. "My turn." Suddenly he felt cold air eddy around his prong. He looked down and saw that Denny had pulled back and off, and was now watching Jonathan's castration.
"I'm Aurau -- that's short f' my Maori name. You close?" asked the pirate.
Greg nodded. "Real close."
"I'll wait'll f' your shipmate t' finish sucking y' off."
Gregg felt a hungry mouth engulf his shaft again. He took a deep breath, sucked in his lean stomach, curled his hips forward, pulled back, thrust again. He watched Denny suck for a moment, then studied the wiry pirate. "You the one who's going to . . . ?"
The pirate Aurau nodded, licked his lip, and grinned. "I'm th' lucky stud who gets t' eat your cock and balls, soon's y' cook 'em in that steam box your shipmates put together."
"Pity it's not the other way 'round -- the way you're hung."
"You're pretty well hung yourself."
"Well, that hard-on potion you made us all drink keeps it up and ready and looking -- you know -- sexy."
Aurau touched his own stiffening prong. "You like?"
~Gregg smiled. "I like. Steamed, of course." And suddenly, Greg's muscles tightened. One thrust -- another -- and he was pumping his load into Denny's hungry mouth. Another spurt -- another -- one more -- and he had pumped himself dry.
"Turns you on, watchin' me get hard?" asked Aurau.
"Well, yeah. That and Denny here, working on mine like he was eating me raw, instead of . . ." Greg patted the blond sailor on the shoulder as Denny sucked the last drop from Greg's shaft. "According to you guys, steamed prongs come out nice and tender; and according to our guys, steam cooking hurts a lot less than getting roasted over hot coals, the way you guys were cooking our cocks before Scotty and Pete built that steamer."
"So we don't use hot coals on your balls, and you make it easy for us t' cook ya when it's yer turn t' get eaten."
"Might be more than that. Even the guys who got roasted over the coals, they weren't hurting anywhere near what you'd expect. You sure there isn't something else in that hard-on potion?"
"Not 's far as I know. And we ate the stud what got us the stuff, so we can't ask him."
"Ate him? One of your own gang?"
"When we run low on fresh meat, we have a lottery. Loser gets t' fuck -- or be sucked off by -- whoever he chooses, and then he gets cooked and eaten, same way we been cookin' and eatin' you studs.
"Well, how about you taking a swig of that hard-on potion right now, and since you're hung so heavy . . ." Greg put his right arm around Jonathan's broad chest. "Hey, kid; help me talk Aurau here into steaming his balls, 'stead of mine."
Jonathan looked up from his half-eaten, still-rigid prong. "Steamin's not bad; but watchin' myself gettin' eaten, that's the real turn-on."
"Okay, then," said Greg, turning to the sturdy pirate, "If like the kid says, getting eaten's the fun part, how 'bout I eat your prong and balls raw? That way, 'stead of just watching, you can feel yourself getting chewed to bits at same time."
"Eating me raw?" Aurau licked his lips slowly. "And if I let you do that, then . . . ?"
". . . would I let you eat me raw?" Greg dropped his arm from Jonathan's shoulders, took a deep breath, looked down at his outthrust shaft, and imagined strong teeth crushing his balls to a pulp, . . . He took a deep breath, let it out in a long, long sigh. "Maybe you got the guts to do it, but -- potion or no potion -- I don't think I do."
"No point in doin' it, then -- and besides, like you said, I'm hung lots better'n you, so it wouldn't be an even swap."
"So -- back to Plan A?"
"Right: back t' Plan A." Aurau put his left arm around Greg's waist and steered him to the waiting steamer. There, Greg grabbed the handle, raised the top, and settled the base of his virile shaft in the notch in the rim, then lowered the top so that the matching notch in the upper rim gripped the hilt of his shaft, with his shaft and balls inside the steamer.
Greg shrugged his shoulders as he felt the warming touch of the steam billowing up around his doomed organs. He turned to the sturdy pirate, grinned, and said, "Well, your meat's safe now."
"Not really." Aurau stroked his rigid shaft, then squeezed his plump balls.
"Oh?" Greg watched and felt his organs slowly begin cook in the steam, felt the damp heat sink into his flesh. He raised his head and looked at the sturdy pirate. "How so?"
"After all this fresh meat -- look, as slow as this ship of yours is, it's be almost a week till we get t' where we can sell it. So, after we've eaten you and Jonathan here, and then eaten the blond --"
"Denny."
"-- and the stud with the wide shoulders --"
"Bill."
"-- we'll run out of meat again. And then --"
"-- you'll have nobody to eat but each other.
Aurau rubbed his chest. "I mean, we could just go hungry, or eat canned stuff, but --"
"Yeah, you've gotten used to having plenty -- Hell, I've gotten used to eating my shipmates by now, but not with them watching me chew on their prongs and bite into their balls -- and especially not chatting with them while I do it."
"Going hungry's not the problem, and facing th' lottery's not either," the sturdy pirate said.
"I can guess." Greg scowled through the glass top of the steamer at his prong and balls. Though just as hot, the pain seemed to fading, as if . . . "You're afraid you'll volunteer, just to find out if watching yourself get eaten is as much fun as Jonathan here says it is."
# # #
Some minutes later, Greg licked his lips, took a deep breath, decided his organs smelled as done as young Jonathan's had. Greg raised the top, releasing a swirl of steam, and eased his balls up and over the notch as he stepped back from the steamer. Greg gestured invitingly at his own outthrust shaft. "Help yourself, stud; I now I can find out for myself what getting eaten is really like," Greg said as he watched the sturdy pirate kneel, bite off Greg's shaft-tip, then sit back on his heels to chew a mouthful of glans.
A hand gripped Greg's left shoulder. He looked, saw that Jonathan -- his castration complete -- now stood beside Greg. They grinned at each other, then both looked down at Aurau.
A few seconds later, the sturdy pirate finished chewing, swallowed, then asked, "Getting eaten -- watching -- is it . . . ?"
". . . worth losing your balls over?" asked Greg as he saw Aurau lean forward and bite in again. "I dunno. If I say, `yes,' I'll feel guilty if you go ahead and then wish you hadn't. But if I say `no' . . ."
Jonathan said, ". . . you'll miss out on a real weird feeling. Watchin' your cock bein' bitten off in chunks, that's only part of it. The real turn-on is that you're feedin' somebody with your meat. Like -- like shootin' your load, only lots more so. Hell, I shot mine when my cock was two-thirds eaten."
"Yeah?" asked Greg, as he watched another chunk of his shaft being chewed off. "I'm gonna do that well -- maybe even better."
"And I shot again -- at least I think I did --"
"You did, kid, you sure did," said the tall pirate who had eaten Jonathan's virile organs.
"-- when this dude was eatin' my balls." Jonathan grinned, then pulled his eyebrows down in a worried frown. "How'd I taste, anyway?"
Aurau shrugged his shoulders. "One pair of balls tastes pretty much like another, but yours were big, and they were tender."
"Yeah?" the eighteen-year-old sailor's face lit up in a grin. "Hey, wow!" he turned to the sturdy pirate who was devouring Greg's shaft. "Y'know, what you oughta do, as big as you're hung, is to cook 'em in the steamer, and then cut 'em off and eat 'em yourself."
"I've got a better idea than that," said Greg, as he felt the organs down in the roots of his half-eaten shaft getting themselves ready for another surging ejaculation. "You steam your works, yeah; but then, 'stead of lopping off the whole works at the hilt, just cut a few inches off the end, eat that, and then cut off another chunk. It's not quite like watching me eat your prong, but you'll get to eat yourself that way." He felt his chest muscles tense, felt his stomach pull in. "And -- here -- I -- come!" he gasped as he pumped out a long squirt of sperm. "Whee!"
"Also `wow,' " Aurau reported. "You shot that load hard, Greg."
"And as far as running out of food," said Jonathan, "you could wait a couple of days before you eat Denny and Bill."
"Or better yet," said blond Denny as he joined the little group around the sturdy pirate that was eating Greg's shaft and around Greg himself, "you might catch a boat full of fishermen, eat them first, and save me and Bill for when you've polished the fishermen off."
"Saving the best for last?" Greg asked.
"Well, maybe." Denny stroked his own rigid shaft. " 'Pends on how well hung these fishermen might be."
"Highly hypothetical fishermen," said Bill of the broad shoulders and narrow hips, now standing just to Greg's right. "Way I see it, these pirates are sure to eat us before we reach port, no matter how many fisherman they catch. Meanwhile . . ." He turned to face Denny, dropped to his knees, closed his mouth on the blond sailor's prong, and began sucking.
Greg glanced at Bill and Denny for a moment, then watched himself being eaten, watched his shaft being devoured right down to the hilt, watched his balls being taken, left, then right. And as Greg saw Aurau bite into the base of Greg's shaft, he shot his final load.