Jumanji-online (the serial) Episode 8

Rod had no reason not to roll when the dice materialized in his hand. The game had already taken his cock and his balls. What was the worst it could do now-kill him? Would that be so bad? The other player rarely spoke to him, whether out of guilt for what they’d done to him, or for some other reason. Did they blame him for their being naked. He had been naked when he joined the game, but, of course, he’d been playing naked at his computer when he had been somehow dragged into the game with the other players. On the first roll of the game, when the disk had said: “Rod had the right idea. Join him.” everyone had been stripped of their clothes. All had been naked since. But, on the game’s instructions, they’d done worse to him.

Rod had always been a lonely boy. His only friends were those that he’d made on the Internet, while playing games or chatting. He had none at school. His appearance wasn’t to blame, because, although not handsome, Rod wasn’t ugly. He never smiled, though. Because his teeth were slightly crooked-although not enough that anyone but Rod noticed-he was terribly self conscious, usually holding his hand in front of his mouth when he spoke. His feelings of inferiority drove others away.

He had never thought that he was gay, but, being with this group, he found himself attracted to the boys, rather than to the one female in the group, or at least he found himself attracted to the male bodies. Jennifer, in Robert’s body, turned him on, or had, when Rod had his cock and his balls. Mostly, what he wanted was for someone to touch him-to hold him. He was envious of Jennifer and Barry and of Bret and Kevin, envious of their affection for each other. At least, back at his computer he wouldn’t be confronted by such displays of affection. He could pretend that he was loved, so, wanting to end the game, to return to the safety of his computer, he rolled the dice. When he rolled a five, his game piece moved to the eighth square. The disk said: “Rod’s looking for love in all the wrong places.”

Rod, sentenced as an adult to the medium security prison at Carson City, Nevada, was frightened. He was sixteen and it was his first time away from home. Looking for acceptance, he had joined some unruly boys, one of which, in a confrontation at a gas station, had hit another boy in the head with a baseball bat causing brain damage. Although Rod hadn’t struck a blow, he and the other three boys had been sentenced under mandatory minimum sentencing laws to sixty months.

Whereas the maximum security prison-many of the structures dating from the 1800’s-was bleak, the medium security prison resembled a college campus. Rather than a large main building, many one story structures were scattered across the grass covered enclosure. The prisoners slept in small dormitories in the various buildings rather than in cells. Other than being restrained by the high wire fences enclosing the prison, the men weren’t locked up during the day.

Rod received more attention than he wanted from some of the older prisoners. Many of them wanted his young body-wanted to make him their punk. One day while working in a storeroom, he was attacked by two prisoners, who raped him. By that time, he’d been in prison long enough to learn that snitchers didn’t live long. He couldn’t go to the guards. Rod had two choices, either to become someone’s punk, or to be raped by anyone stronger than he was. When Alan Chamberlain approached him, he was grateful.

Alan was a strong, handsome, twenty-six year old. He had the respect, if not the fear of the other prisoners. Under his protection, Rod was no longer molested by the other prisoners, and Rod came to enjoy having sex with Alan.

It was easy to have sex in prison. There were storerooms and other places where it could take place, and the guards knew that they put themselves at risk, if they interfered with any homosexual liaisons.

Alan either fucked Rod, or had Rod suck his cock. He never touched Rod’s cock, or allowed Rod to touch his own cock when he fucked him. Once, when Rod ejaculated from the stimulation his prostate received from Alan’s cock, Alan became angry.

“God damnit. What did you do that for?” he asked Rod.

“I couldn’t help it Alan. It turns me on when you fuck me in the ass. Each time it’s getting harder to hold it back.”

“Well, I don’t like it. It makes me feel like a queer when you cum, and I’m not queer.”

“I’ll try not to cum, Alan. I promise...I’ll try.”

He had come to love Alan, and, without Alan’s protection, he would, once again, be at the mercy of the other prisoners. He feared being abandoned by Alan. The next time Alan fucked him, however, he ejaculated. Alan was furious.

“Mother fucker. I told you not to do that. It ruins it for me. Fuck you. I’ll find myself another punk,” said Alan. “Shit...now I got some of your cum on me.”

“No, Alan. Please don’t leave me. I love you. I’ll do anything, Alan, but I can’t help it. When you fuck me, it makes me cum. I can suck you off. That won’t make me cum.”

“That’s not enough. I can get a blow job anytime I want,” replied Alan.

“What can I do, Alan? I’ll do anything.”

“Well, you could cut off your balls. If you didn’t have balls, you wouldn’t cum.”

“Cut...cut off my balls?” asked Rod. “But, how could I do that. My balls...but...but...I would no longer be a man.”

“That’s the idea,” said Alan. Why should I want a man? Look around. There’s nothing but men. I can get a man anytime I want. I’m not fucking you again until you cut off your balls.”

After word got around that Rod was no longer under Alan’s protection he was raped by three prisoners. The next day he stole a knife from the craft shop. Closing the door after entering a storeroom, he sat down on the floor. He pulled down his pants and stared at his crotch. Although frightened by the prospect of cutting off his balls, he was also aroused by it. His cock was hard-throbbing. He laid the knife down on the floor beside him and began stroking his penis. At least he’d have one last orgasm before he chopped off his nuts. Possibly, because he knew what was to follow, it was the most intense climax that he ever remembered having. Ropes of cum gushed onto his stomach.

After he wiped off the cum, he picked up the knife. He started to cut off the whole sack, but he would have had to cut through too much skin. He didn’t know whether he’d be able to do it, so he split his sack up the middle. The intense pain almost caused him to lose his resolve, but he couldn’t bear the thought of living at the prison without Alan-without his love or his protection. His balls dropped free of the sack. Bluish-white, they hung by their cords. They were sensitive to his touch, but he grabbed them, pulled them, stretching the cords, and cut them free. He stared at them, lying in his hand, then staggered out of the room, blood pouring from his crotch. The guards took him to the infirmary where the doctor patched him up. After he left the infirmary, Alan came up to him.

“You did it, huh? You actually cut off your balls. Let me see.”

Rod’s sack still looked full.

“I can see where you cut yourself, but it doesn’t look like you cut off your balls.”

“The doctor said that it was a hematoma. It’ll go down,” answered Rod.

“You should have cut off your sack, too. An empty sack hanging down looks ugly.”

“I couldn’t do it. It was hard enough cutting off my balls,” said Rod.

“Well, we’ll see after the swelling goes down.”

Although Rod saw Alan often, he didn’t have sex with him until he had almost completely healed. By that time, his empty sack hung loosely from his cock, and much of the testosterone had drained from his body. He no longer had erections when he awoke in the mornings. When Alan fucked him, his penis became erect, but he didn’t ejaculate.

“That was much better,” said Alan, “but I don’t like that skin hanging down. It distracts me. Cut it off.”

“But, Alan. It’ll hurt. I’ve just healed from cutting off my balls. I didn’t cum. That’s what you wanted. You didn’t want me to cum.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s better, but you should have cut off your sack in the first place. If you want me, you’re going to have to cut it off.”

After it became obvious that Alan wasn’t going to relent, and other prisoners started making moves on him, Rod cut off his sack. He and Alan began having sex again after he healed. Rod would occasionally get an erection when Alan fucked him, but often he wouldn’t. He prostate had shrunk so that it wasn’t so easily stimulated by Alan’s cock.

One day Alan said, “Sex is a lot better now that you don’t have balls, but it would be a lot better if you didn’t have your dick. If you were nice and smooth like a girl, it’d really turn me on. Hell, without your balls, what are you going to do with your dick, anyway?”

“But, Alan, I don’t cum anymore, and most of the time my cock doesn’t even get hard.”

“Yeah, but the idea of fucking you without your cock, really turns me on. If you want me, you’re going to have to cut it off. Cutting off your balls was the hard part. Compared to that, cutting off your dick will be easy.”

Rod knew that he had no choice. He cut off his cock. He was sent to a hospital in Reno, where the doctors removed the rest of his cock and relocated his urethra lower in his crotch so that his pee would be directed downward into the toilet when he peed.

It took him months too heal, but afterwards, Alan seemed to really enjoy fucking him. For a change, Alan began touching him, caressing his smooth crotch. Rod was glad that he’d cut off his cock and his balls. Having Alan, made it worthwhile.

As the months passed, however, he began seeing less of Alan. Then Alan began avoiding him altogether. He was raped again. The word was out that he was no longer under Alan’s protection. Later, Rod heard that Alan’s latest punk had cut off his own balls.

Rod was back in the dining room. The game board was on the table. He looked down at his crotch. It was still bare.

Jennifer and Barry were in the study when Rod rolled the dice. She had pushed him away when he had touched her.

“What’s the matter, Jenn? Why did you push me away?

“All you men want is to stick your cocks in girls-to rape them,” she answered.

Then she looked at Barry. He wore the body of a fourteen year-old girl. He had no cock. She looked down at herself. A large cock hung from between her legs. She wasn’t Sarah. She was Jennifer. The girl, looking at her, was Barry.

“Oh, Barry. I’m sorry. For a moment...I thought I was someone else. I didn’t know who I was.”

“Were you in someone else’s mind,” asked Barry.

“Yes...it was terrible.”

“I understand, Jenn. Don’t forget. It had just happened to me.”

They kissed. It was Jason’s turn to roll.