Jumanji-online (the serial) Episode 12

Robert rolled an eleven. His game piece joined Kevin’s on the twenty-third square. The game was close to the end. Any roll, three or above, by either of these two players would end the game. In the disk, the words said: “Lucky eleven. There is no consequence for rolling an eleven. It’s Barry’s roll. Will he be so lucky?”

Barry wasn’t. He rolled a four, double two’s. Words in the disk said: “Four isn’t usually craps, but double two’s? Let’s see what happens.”

The year was 1958. Barry was a senior at Handley High School in Fort Worth, Texas. He was eighteen years-old. He, Willie, and Glen, deciding that they didn’t want to live an ordinary life, had made plans to run away to Mexico. They were going to be modern day Pancho Villa’s. They would live in the mountains and ride their horses down to rob banks. To them, Mexico was the Mexico they’d seen in the movies.

The boys had planned their adventure. Barry had a 30-30 Winchester lever action rifle that had been a Christmas present, and Willie had bought a pistol; Glen had said that he had a gun at home. On day, however, when Barry had arrived at school, Willie gave him some bad news.

“Glen’s not at school. Judy, his girlfriend, told his father about our plans. His farther is going to tell our parents.”

“Shit...what are we going to do? If our parents find out, we’ll never get to go,” said Barry.

“Let’s take off. Let’s go today. We can take my car.” answered Willie. He had a 1952 Ford.

“But, I don’t have any money.”

“I’ll forge a check on your dad’s bank account. Can you get one of his checks?” asked Willie.

Willie had always been sneaky kid. One could never trust him in a poker game. He would often cheat and usually get away with it. Willie was the smaller of the two boys. At seventeen, he was also younger than Barry. Barry had blond hair and blue eyes; Willie had brown hair and brown eyes. Willie’s distinguishing feature was his huge cock. He had the largest cock at the school.

Once, when the boys had visited a prostitute in downtown Fort Worth, she had said to Willie, “God, what a big cock for such a small kid!”

It was at least nine inches long when hard. Hell, it was that long when flaccid.

The boys went to Barry’s house to pick up some clothes and his gun. Finding one of his dad’s checks, he gave it to Willie, who forged Barry’s dad’s signature to the check. They cashed it at Mitchell’s Department Store, where they both worked after school. The check was for $25.

After looking at the Texas state road map, Barry and Willie decided to cross the border at Del Rio. Villa Acuna, Mexico, was across the border. They arrived late that afternoon, but, being unable to get a permit for their car to go further into Mexico-the title was in Willie’s father’s name-the boys got drunk in one of the bars in Villa Acuna. One of their drinking companions, a man in his forties, bought Barry’s cowboy hat for $10 and let them sleep in his motel room in Del Rio.

The boys had no more success getting a permit for their car the next day, but, looking at the map, they saw a town, accessible by a dirt road, that wasn’t beyond the checkpoint.

“Why don’t we drive to that town. Maybe we’ll find some horses, or a place we can stay,” said Barry.

The boys weren’t sure which road to take, but they took a wide dirt road which led out of town. It was the wrong road. It kept splitting off into three or four different roads, each time becoming smaller. Eventually the one they were on was no wider than two tire tracks. The boys were lost, and the car was running out of gas when they came to a creek bed.

“We can hide the car here and head out on foot,” suggested Barry.

While Barry held down the fence, Willie drove the car down into the almost dry creek bed. After Barry got back into the car, he continued to drive until the car got stuck.

“At least no one will find the car here,” Barry said.

Collecting their things from the car, the boys started walking, but they were barely out of sight of the car when they heard bells and the sound of some kind of vehicle. Returning to the creek, Willie and Barry saw two Mexicans. One was on the ground filling a large milk can with water from the creek. The other was sitting on a wagon pulled by mules. The bells they had heard were on the mules’ harnesses. The car was in sight, scarcely fifty feet from the Mexicans. It had been discovered only minutes after they had abandoned it.

With a Spanish phrase book, Barry attempted to talk to the Mexicans, but had little success. He couldn’t have explained why he did it, possibly it was out of frustration, or it was to show off, but Barry shot out the rear window of the car. The sound of the shot spooked the mules. They began running.

“Alto...alto,” Barry shouted at the driver of the wagon.

At first the Mexican seemed to make an attempt to stop the mules, but when he saw a chance to escape the crazy gringos, he urged them on. When he didn’t stop, Barry decided to shoot one of the mules. He missed, but, at the sound of the shots, the driver decided that the mules weren’t going fast enough. He jumped off the wagon and easily outran the mules. Barry thought at the time that he’d never seen anyone run so fast.

Barry caught the mules, but, instead of taking the wagon, he gave it back to the other Mexican. He wanted horses. He didn’t think, at the time, that the wagon would be better than walking. After the Mexican had left, Barry and Willie started walking. They had no idea where they were, or where they were going. Occasionally, in the distance, they would see the Mexican on the wagon. Eventually, the boys saw him go to a sheepherder’s camp that was next to a grove of trees.

Barry said, “Let’s wait until dark. Then we’ll walk through the woods so that we can sneak up on the camp.”

He still wanted horses. Possibly, there would be some at the camp.

After dark, the boys attempted to sneak up on the camp, but they made so much noise that the whole camp was waiting for them. Fifteen Mexicans were gathered around a large table. Fortunately for the boys, none of them had guns. Again Barry asked for horses, but the Mexicans, as well as he could understand, didn’t have any. Since both Barry and Willie were unable to eat the food that the Mexicans offered-to the boys, it was inedible-they asked for a place to sleep. They were taken to a makeshift tent. It had a rectangular wooden frame over which white, sheet like, cloth was placed. Inside was a mattress. A flap of the cloth on one end provided access to the box-like structure. The boys were provided with a lantern, which Willie insisted on keeping lit.

“But, they’ll be able to see us, if you have the lantern in the tent with us. We won’t be able to see them,” said Barry.

But Barry couldn’t convince Willie. Willie wanted the lantern on, in the tent. They finally agreed to take turns staying awake, so that the Mexicans couldn’t sneak up on them. Willie was to stand the first watch.

Barry awoke. Willie was sound asleep. As Barry, who was angry that Willie had gone to sleep, started to wake him, the flap to the tent was pulled back. Four Mexican soldiers thrust their rifles into the tent, cocking their rifles’ bolts as they did. Barry started to reach for his 30-30, but decided that it would be a foolish, if not fatal move.

There were two men in police uniforms, four soldiers, and two men in civilian clothes. They had come in a small truck. The rear of the truck was enclosed by horizontal metal bars. The only Mexican that could speak English was one of the cops-the fat one. He got to Willie first. As he hit Willie with his flashlight, the fat cop cussed:

“You God dammed son of a bitch,” followed by a flashlight blow to the balls. “You mother fucker,” followed by a blow to the head. He continued to hit Willie for several minutes.

He only hit Barry once, a blow aimed at his balls, but which hit his leg instead. As the soldiers took the boys back to the table at the center of the camp, one of them picked up a rope. Fastening a noose, he made hanging motions.

Neither boy could understand the conversation between the cops and soldiers as they stood around the table. In Spanish, the fat cop, Gonzales, said, “What are we going to do with these gringos?”

The soldier with the rope said, “We’ve got a rope. We could hang them.”

At that time, Gonzales noticed a box of small rubber rings, or bands, which were on the table.

“Are those for banding lambs, for castrating them?” he asked.

One of the sheepherders acknowledged that they were.

“How do you put them on?” Gonzales asked.

They showed him a pliers-like device and demonstrated its use.

“Let’s band the gringos,” Gonzales suggested.

Barry and Willie, who hadn’t understood any of the conversation, were standing nearby with their hands tied behind their backs. When the soldiers pulled down the boy’s pants, Barry and Willie panicked.

“What are you doing?” asked Barry.

Gonzales wasn’t paying him any attention. He was staring at Willie’s cock.

“Madre Mia,” he said to the others, “Have you ever seen such a cock?”

“Hey, blonde,” he said to Barry. “Do you like your friend’s cock?”

“It’s O.K.,” answered Barry. He didn’t know how to answer the question.

“How would you like to get fucked by it, Blonde? asked Gonzales.

“I wouldn’t,” said Barry. “I’m not queer.”

“All right, Gringo, fuck your friend,” he told Willie.

Willie had never been a brave kid. When he was threatened with the amputation of his penis, he agreed to fuck Barry. After he was untied, he began stroking his penis. Barry watched in amazement as Willie’s cock became huge. It was the first time that he’d ever seen him with an erection. It would have required two of Barry’s cocks to make one of Willie’s . Two of the soldiers held Barry on the ground, on his knees, with his ass stuck up in the air.

When he saw Willie’s huge cock approach him from the rear, he thought, “My God, it’ll split me apart.”

It didn’t though. There was little pain as it entered his ass. The thrusting of Willie’s cock caused Barry’s penis to get hard. The immense organ exerted pressure on Barry’s prostate as Willie pumped it into his ass. When Willie filled him with cum, Barry spilled his seed onto the ground.

The Mexicans had enjoyed the show. “Hey, look,” they said. “Blonde liked it.”

Cum was still dripping from Willie’s cock when they pulled him from Barry’s ass. The soldiers retied his hands.

“Bring them over here,” said Gonzales, indicating the table.

The soldiers brought the boys over to the table.

“Band them,” he said to one of the sheepherders.

Barry screamed as the band tightened around the base of his scrotum. Willie was screaming before they ever touched him. He, too, was banded.

“Take it off. It hurts,” both boys screamed.

The Mexicans sat around the table drinking beer for the next two hours, while the boys, crying, squirmed on the ground; then they put them in the back of the truck for the trip back to Villa Acuna. Since they had to stop to pull out Willie’s car, the trip back to town took three hours. By the time the boys were thrown into a cell with their hands tied and the bands in place, their scrotums were turning black . When Barry’s and Willie’s fathers bailed them out three days later, their scrotums were black and shriveled. A doctor in Del Rio finished the job.

Barry, back in the game, looked down at his crotch. “My God, Jennifer, my balls are gone.”

Jennifer looked at Barry’s crotch, then down at hers. Her balls, too, were missing.