Busted – The Game Show

© Justin Cumberland 2007

Chapter Twenty

‘Are you alright, Todd?’

‘Sure I am,’ Todd said, wiping the tears away and putting Mr. Misky on the floor. ‘I’m fucking with the best looking guy.’ He smiled. ‘Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m fucking with a bloody football jock.’

‘Don’t be a prick, Todd.’

‘I’m not being a prick. I’m gonna make you a nullo, Jase. You’ll like it. It’ll be better that way. I mean, you are a bit of a mess, aren’t you?’ He nodded at Jason’s groin.

‘Don’t piss me off, Todd.’

‘Don’t piss you off? I don’t think you can be pissed off, can you, Jase? I don’t think you know how. I mean – you said thank you in Gift-Giving, you fucking pussy.’

‘What?’

‘You said “oh, thank you” like I’d done you a favor. And I knew then, the minute that I heard that. I knew. You fucking well want it.’

‘What? We didn’t even—’ Jason said, but stopped, because he remembered.

[Frame: Open. Recall.]

There was no set-up round for Blast-Off. They didn’t have ‘set-up’ rounds. They had been playing Gift-Giving. The exchange of boxes was Gift-Giving.

And Todd had fucked with him. Todd had fucked with him really badly, making him ashamed of himself, making him so ashamed that he had simply blocked out the memory and disposed of it, patching the event to another place, hidden, fusing things together and connecting them around a blank of time which had ceased to exist. Distorting things that didn’t make sense.

‘Did you forget it, Jase? You’re good at that, aren’t you?’

They had come out in suits. They were called ‘Birthday Suits’ but were actually suits. They were the sort of suits that you would wear to a birthday party sometime way in the past, if you had been a kid, and someone had invited you to their Birthday. It was the suit that Todd was wearing now.

Jason had suffered the four hits in the first round. His balls were swollen. He was in disgrace; and he had come out, in the suit, and got a round of applause. It had made him feel better. The hits had been a mistake. That Eric shit had been responsible; and it was going to stop there.

Behind the five boxes that had contained the devices were the fifty-three Gift-Giving boxes. They were birthday presents – and the game, was something of a joke. It was almost impossible to get done on Gift-Giving. It had happened to Pete, and, Jason now realized, a thing had happened to him also – in a way he never would have thought possible.

They took off the suits and revealed themselves in jockstraps. They were supposed to be naughty boys playing some birthday game, stripping themselves – and the suits were only there as an excuse – as a tease to the audience who could watch the guys strip down to jockstraps like they were kids unsupervised, playing spin-the-bottle at a birthday party.

‘I pulverized one, didn’t I, Jase. Do you remember? I pulverized one of your fucking nuts and you said “oh, thank you.”’

Jason went red with shame.

There were fifty-three boxes and only three of them contained something you could waste a guy with. The producer, hadn’t, Jason told himself, believed it was a possibility, and hadn’t done anything to ensure that Jason wouldn’t get one of those three boxes.

‘You fucking felt it, Jase. You knew it was gone; and you said “oh, thank you.”’

Jason slipped his hands between his thighs and pressed the place, locking his knees together. He could feel the patch where his balls had been. He could remember the pain. It had been a pleasure, unreal. It had felt beyond belief; and he had said, “oh, thank you.”

Todd had got the kitchen set. Apart from the toolbox and the bar set, it was the only thing worth getting. They had each chosen a present to give to one of the other contestants. All of the contestants had chosen Jason. He was used to that. He always got chosen. But he couldn’t choose himself, and he had chosen Todd.

Jason had got a watch. He had got a telephone. He had got an address book, from Joshua, Simon and Pete.

They had already received the device boxes and this was supposed to be a bit of fun – to fill in to the ad break. That was all it was. No one expected anything to happen. It never did.

Todd had come over with his present and Jason opened it. He pulled his head back in disbelief. It was the kitchen set. He had seen it before. He had seen guys cop it before; and he had looked up at the producer, thinking, you’ve got to do something.

It was all about balls, of course. Todd had a lot of stuff in there – a rolling pin, kitchen scissors, knives, a cheese grater, potato masher and other assorted utensils. It was everything you’d find in a kitchen draw. But he could only use it in certain ways. He couldn’t nullify Jason with the stuff. He could only do his nuts – and he hadn’t even done that. He had broken Jason. He had worked at it.

‘I didn’t even think it’d happen,’ Todd said. ‘I mean, I did. I wanted it to. I wanted to bust em. But I wanted Blast-Off more. And I thought, if I busted even one of them, you’d just pull out. So I tried to be careful; but I couldn’t help myself. Oh God, Jase, it was so good! It felt so fucking good when it went!’

Jason got angry. He felt his head get hot and he clenched his fists as he tried to push the memory away; but he knew, all the same, that it was there, and that Todd was pushing him. He felt like hitting Todd. The kid had actually burst one of testicles, for Christ’s sake!

Jason had felt sick. He had looked at the kitchen stuff, unable to move; and he had thought, this is it. This is really gonna happen. I’m really gonna lose my nuts. He had been worried about it, but at the same time, somehow pleased. He had felt sick and excited and relieved. There was nothing he could do about it. He was trapped. He didn’t have any choice about whether it would happen or whether it wouldn’t happen. It simply would. He wouldn’t have to do anything about it. There was nothing he could do. And this beautiful kid was just gonna bust him.

It was like a dream come true. It was humiliating. It was made him sick with rage. But he couldn’t help liking it. He hated it. He liked it and hated alternately.

And he had tried not to smile. He had managed it. He didn’t want to see anyone wanting him to get it. And he wasn’t sure, of course. He wasn’t sure he wanted it. He didn’t want it. He wouldn’t be happy about it afterwards. If it could somehow happen and not happen, it would be okay; and he had made that happen. He had made it happen by forgetting about it afterwards, cheating himself of the memory, which made the fact that it had happened pointless.

But at the time, he hadn’t thought it was possible for it to happen and not happen. He wanted his balls; and he hadn’t known they were gonna get blown in Blast-Off anyway. But still, even though he wanted them, he had wanted the experience of having them busted. He wanted to know what it was like. What it felt like. And he tried to shut his fear down. There was nothing he could do, anyway. He had to accept the present. Those were the rules. He had to put his own legs apart and take whatever was going to happen.

Andy and Sam came over with the sensors. They strapped one to each thigh – a narrow band of white elastic with a green flashing light.

‘With your jocks on,’ Todd said, stopping Jason as Andy and Sam came towards him. ‘Leave your jocks on, eh?’

Jason had felt his fingers in the waistband. He was about to pull them down and release his cock which was sticking wildly out at one side, half-trapped. He was disappointed. He wanted to pull the jocks down and release his cock. It was visible anyway and the jocks were annoying; but somehow, when Todd started hitting him, they made it better. The fact of the soft cotton deadened the blows. They took away the sting on the skin and made the sensation internal. They made it sweet.

‘I’ve got a present to give you,’ Todd said, ignoring Andy and Sam as they strapped his thighs and walked away. ‘I am going to make you something – or nothing. You are, after all, the birthday boy, aren’t you, Jason?’ The green lights were flashing. ‘Spread your legs a bit please. I have to feed it to you. I want to show you how to eat what I’m going to feed you.’ Todd slapped Jason’s legs gently with a hand, buffeting the stiff hand between Jason’s inner thighs and cajoling his legs apart.

Jason shuffled his feet apart and locked his legs rigidly. His legs were trying to shake and he had to control them. He felt like he was going to shit himself. And the fact that the jockstrap was open at the back didn’t make things any better.

He was excited. And sick with the fear. Oh shit! he had thought to himself. There’s no way I’m gonna let this happen. There’s no way. But there was he couldn’t. It was too late. There wasn’t any choice. You don’t have any choice, he said to himself, realizing; and you want it, don’t you? Didn’t you? It’ll be good. Take it like a man.

Yes, he would take it like a man. He would make out like he was sticking to the rules. It would be good. It was okay for it to happen this way. It wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose. It wasn’t like he was doing it to himself. He had no control. He breathed deeply and tried not to smile. He tried not to vomit.

Todd shuffled around in the box, moving all the items about like he was searching in a kitchen draw. ‘Well…’ he said, scratching his head ‘Mmm…’ He picked up a knife and considered it, turning it over in the light. ‘No.’ He put it back.

Jason swallowed. He legs had buckled in a bit and the sight of the knife and he had stared, feeling the tears prick at his eyes. The tension was too much. His legs started to shake and he had to lock them harder. He could feel the breeze of the air-conditioner swishing around his naked butt and he had to concentrate on keeping his hole clenched. If he didn’t, if he let go, he was afraid he would shit himself. And he had seen that happen! It wasn’t a pretty sight.

The audience went into hysterics.

This was his balls! he said to himself. And he had to stand there like he didn’t care and just let it happen. He wasn’t even restrained. Some kid was gonna waste his nuts and he was gonna to just stand there. He thought about kicking Todd, just kicking out with a foot and running, bolting off the fucking stage and smashing anyone who tried to stop him, struggling and freeing himself, and running; but he knew it wasn’t possible. It wouldn’t, he knew, do him any good to fight. He would be brought back. He would be restrained. He had watched the show enough times to know what happened to the guys that baulked. It never looked good.

It was gonna happen. It was just gonna happen. He was gonna be a eunuch. Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! You do want it, he said to himself, feeling a sudden rush of excitement. The feeling flowed up his spine and tingled with the sound of the utensils shuffling in the box. They were like metal shards tinkling in his back, in his thighs, in his stomach and groin.

It will be okay. Calm down. There’s nothing you can do anyway. It’ll just happen. No one will be able to tell that you want it. Act like you don’t want it. Just let it happen like you don’t care. Like it’s not the worst thing in the world and you’re strong enough to take it.

And then he had another sudden reversal. He didn’t want it all over again.

He felt like crying with sickness at the position he had put himself in; but he told himself, simply, that it was too late. There was nothing he could do. And there wasn’t. He had abrogated choice.

Todd ruffled through the items and finally made his own choice. He pulled out just two things – a pair of kitchen tongs and a soup-ladle. ‘I think these’ll do,’ he said. ‘We are making soup, after all, aren’t we?’

Jason frowned. Soup? What was he going to do with them? Make soup?

He realized, of course, all at once – and he wouldn’t have had to wait long to find out. Todd was wasting his time. He had a limited amount of it. Five minutes. And he was wasting it. He was playing around like he had all the time in the world, and teasing Jason, when all the time the tock was ticking, and ticking away his time.

Todd frowned. He was sitting on a leg with one knee raised up in front of Jason. He reached up and grabbed Jason’s sack like it wasn’t part of a human being, and frowned. He held Jason’s sack like it was the tassel of a curtain or a ball on a string. It was like Jason had suddenly disappeared and Todd was alone in a room, fingering some inanimate object. He fingered the top of the sack and worked the balls down, cupping his fingers around the top of Jason’s scrotum and accidentally pulling on the jocks so that Jason’s cock sprang out again and hit Todd in the forehead. Todd moved his head back a bit and ignored it. It wasn’t there as far as he was concerned. He turned his head on one side, considering Jason’s balls enclosed in a thumb and forefinger ring.

Jason didn’t look down. He could see it on the monitor; and he looked stoic. His face was a blank. And he didn’t want to spoil it by staring down with an expression of disbelief while a little kid busted him. He had to be strong. He had to act like a man. It was the only way to save face. He had to pretend that it wouldn’t hurt him, that he couldn’t be hurt.

‘How about – meatball soup?’ Todd said, saying the words with a precision and a lightness and turning his head up to Jason as he said them. He smiled. ‘Meatball – soup?’

Jason felt his face twitch but he ignored it. He pretended he hadn’t heard Todd and looked straight ahead, able to see what was happening on the monitor, but looking like he wasn’t looking, not staring directly at it, but staring straight ahead.

He felt his chest heave with a series of sudden deep breaths and tried to control it. He didn’t want it to be visible. He didn’t want the audience to see his weakness.

Todd reached back with his other hand and picked up the tongs. He closed them around the top of Jason’s sack quickly, imprisoning the soft skin in the V of the tongs, in the place where Todd had circled it with his fingers, pinching the skin with the tongs through the cotton jocks as he collapsed them on the sack, squeezing the heads of the tongs together and clasping them unmercifully. He forced the soft skin into a vice-like grip and imprisoned Jason’s swollen balls beneath it.

Jason winced. It hurt.

He didn’t want it. Right then. Right there. At that moment. Jason decided he didn’t want it. If it was possible to stop it, he would have said stop. Right then. Right there. But that wasn’t possible.

Todd stood up. He kept the tongs closed with one hand and reached down sideways to pick up the soup ladle.

Jason felt his thighs start to quiver. His knees were shuddering and his legs wanted to fold inwards. He wanted to let that happen and sink to the floor on his knees. He wanted to fall down and reach forward and hold onto Todd and say, ‘No, please! Don’t!’ He imagined his voice as high and strained and he locked his knees hard at the sound of it, determined not to let it happen, determined not to make a fool of himself.

It would be okay, he said. It was gonna hurt. It was just gonna hurt. And it was just gonna happen. There’s nothing you can do. Make it the best you can. It’s not the end of the world. You’re gonna go on after this and you’re going to win. He would have a sack by the looks of it. He would get prosthetic balls. The kid wouldn’t have the time to cut him now. There was only three minutes left. It didn’t look like he was going to cut him anyway. He wouldn’t, would he? You’ll go on, Jason. It’s planned out. You’ll win. You’ll get to waste the kid and get him back. It’s only your balls getting hurt. They’re just getting hurt.

He would be a man. He didn’t care how young he was. He wouldn’t cry. He would act like Brad. He wouldn’t break. He was determined.

But not as determined as Todd, it turned out. He wanted to break Jason. He wanted not only to bust his balls but to see him break. He wanted to see him crack. He had already seen Jason made a fool of in the saddle round and he wanted to see it again.

Jason knew what the kid was about and he couldn’t let that happen. He wasn’t going to break. He might have been young, but he was, after all, a man, wasn’t he?

Todd was a kid; and he would get what was coming to him.

Todd held the soup ladle in one hand, swinging it around playfully. He held the ends of the tongs firmly clasped in his other. He gripped the soup ladle suddenly and swung up to Jason’s balls, stopping and the last moment as though suddenly remembering something. He didn’t even touch Jason’s sack. He reached up on his tiptoes straining down with the hand on the tongs and stretching Jason’s sack as he whispered in his ear. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ he said. His breath was hot. ‘I forgot to tell you. But this’ll probably be a bit uncomfortable. I’m going to burst your testicles.’ He flicked his tongue and touched it in Jason’s ear. Jason felt his cock jerk up and felt a shiver race down his spine. His head felt woozy at the feel of Todd’s breath and tongue and he felt like he would sink. He wanted to put his arms around the kid. He wanted to reach out and hug him and lean on him so the kid supported his weight, and stay there, stay there while the kid did it. Just stay there and hold him while he let him.

Todd pulled back and made a show of swinging the soup ladle around again. He held it loosely by the end and brought it up, merely tapping Jason’s sack.

It hurt a little bit and Jason felt like smiling. It was too much. The tension was too much. He wanted it to happen. The kid was making him want it.

‘Oops,’ Todd said. He swung back again, and looked like he wasn’t going to, feigning, he turned around and turned back before hitting Jason hard. It wasn’t as hard as Jason expected but he felt his knees falter under the unexpectedness of it. He locked them back and looked straight ahead. And then he felt the pain. It came a moment or so after the hit and right before Todd hit him again. And then the pleasure started to flow. The blockers turned the pain into a pleasure compounded by a pain and topped by a pleasure that became a pain as Todd hit him time and time again, harder each time, a fraction harder each time with the measured stokes of a meter, hitting Jason’s balls dead on, right in the center with the back of the soup ladle, time. Time. Time. Time. Time. And time again, seemingly endlessly.

Tendrils of elongated fingers stretched up inside Jason, stretching up into his abs and jerking with each new hit, jerking downward and tugging with a sudden warmth, stretching up into his back and jerking and tugging as Todd hit again and again, harder and harder, till Jason felt that he was being tugged and pulled and jerked and dragged into the ground, buckling at the knees and straightening as the as tendrils fought their way upward and into his neck where they tugged and jerked at his head, and made him warm and dizzy and sick with a pleasure unreal. And his eyes smarted with pain; while tears unbidden, sprang forth and spat silently, without him being able to do anything about it but watch as they sprang and jolted from his head; keeping a blank face, he did his best not to smile.

Todd hit him a final time. Really hard. And then he stopped. He paused. And hit him once more. Unexpectedly. Out of time with the rhythm he had been keeping and Jason’s body jolted. He tried to breathe. That was too much. He forced his knees which were juddering backwards and gritted his teeth and tried to breathe through a partly opened mouth. It took a moment but he found the breath and sucked it inwards. He was getting confused. He didn’t know what had happened. The kid had stopped. He had hit him hard and had hit again, just as hard; and he had stopped. Was the time up? He blinked once and saw the clock. One one five. One one four. One one three. Maybe his balls had busted. He darted a glance at the monitor and looked for the sensors on his thighs. He wanted to look down right at them; but he fought it. He couldn’t see the sensors clearly on the monitor. He couldn’t tell if the lights were flashing green. It was all over, he supposed. He hadn’t even felt it. His balls had busted. And he hadn’t even realized. He blinked and cleared the tears from his eyes. He focused on the monitor and got a sudden surprise. The sensors were green. They were flashing green. And he could make out the shape of his balls in his sack and it certainly didn’t look like mush. It was firm and round, prized in the tongs held by a hand that entered the picture from one side. They weren’t mush. It hadn’t happened. The sensors were flashing green.

He felt himself breathing quickly; and tried to relax. He had to keep forcing his thighs apart and he watched the monitor to see if the movement in his legs was visible. The kid’s arse came into the shot. He stood right in front of Jason, blocking his view on the monitor. What was he doing? He had stretched to one side for a moment and had stepped back into the frame. Jason glanced down through the slits of his eyes and saw the kid reaching up to speak to him. He looked back at the monitor and saw the kid’s arse as he raised himself onto the tips of his toes. He saw Todd’s firm little butt tighten in the jockstrap as the kid stretched upward.

Todd rested his head against Jason’s and whispered in his ear.

‘Do you want to choose?’ he said.

Jason blinked. He gritted his teeth. ‘What?’ he said, speaking through clenched teeth like he was a ventriloquist, making out like he hadn’t spoken at all, not wanting to be seen.

‘Left or – right?’ Todd said, sliding the soup ladle up Jason’s back, and letting it slide down again, sliding it and cupping it into the crack of Jason’s arse. ‘I might just do one.’

Jason was gonna hit him. He was gonna thrust forward and knock the kid down. He was gonna jump on top of him and start fisting the little shit’s face. One! Did the shit think he was being kind? Who was he to bust one of Jason’s fucking balls? He didn’t even know the little shit.

Jason took a couple of deep breaths and controlled himself. He would waste a bit of time. The clock was ticking down. The kid would run out of time. He had a minute maybe. Jason could save himself. He watched the clock tick over to fifty-nine; and then, illogically, seeing the time, and realizing there was only fifty-nine seconds left, Jason did something he didn’t believe he had done afterwards. He worried about there not being enough time. He worried the kid wouldn’t enough time to bust him. And he wanted one busted didn’t he? One would be okay. That would be okay, Jase.

‘Left,’ he said, though gritted teeth. The left one was weaker. He didn’t know why it felt that way but it did. There was nothing wrong with it. But he had hurt himself so many times that he knew the left one was weaker. The doctor had said it was okay after the rock-climbing accident; but it had never really been the same since then. He didn’t know why, but the right, ever since, had seemed fuller and harder in comparison. It had seemed healthier.

‘I’ll make it the right,’ Todd said. He kissed Jason’s ear gently. Jason heard the sound of the kiss and shivered at the sound of it and at the sound of what Todd had said. He felt his head go woozy while at the same time he felt his arms jerk upwards. He reached up to squeeze the life out of the little shit’s body, but controlled himself. Right at that moment he would have bent Todd over and fucked him. He would have picked up a knife and thrust it into the little shit’s chest as he fucked him and came into his arsehole. He would have felt the blood drain out of the kid, felt it flow over his fist; felt the life force ebb, draining away as Todd kicked feebly, silenced, kicking with spasming silent legs, underneath Jason’s thighs.

He would have. He could have. But he had a conscience. And he kept his body upright.

Todd brought the ladle in hard. He hit the right testicle fair on, smashing it into the arm of the tongs. And he hit it again. He hit it time and time again, a little bit harder each time – still playing, still not putting his full weight into it but increasing it every time, starting all over again and measuring the strokes carefully. He hit seven or eight, ten times and Jason became entranced. He became frustrated and entranced. Oh, if it would just happen! The last shreds of resolve bled away and he yearned for it. He would have let it happen anyway. At that moment, Jason would have let the kid do it. Even if he had been at home and they had been playing some fucked up game, he would have let the kid do it. He yearned for it to happen. He yearned for the release of the burst; and he could only feel anxious as the clock ticked down, worrying that it might not burst, worrying that the kid might not hit him hard enough and fighting the desire to shift his body sideways so that the kid would catch both of his nuts on the final blow, so that he could feel both of them burst in the final helpless crack.

He could kill the kid later.

From twenty the audience started to count down; and Todd fell in step with them, hitting Jason on the second number each time: nineteen, eigh-TEEN seventeen six-TEEN fifteen four-TEEN thirteen twelVE eleven and TEN nine EIGHT seven SIX five FOUR three TWO one, and of course, with all his might, zerO.

It popped. Jason felt it pop. He didn’t have to look at the sensors to know that it had popped. His nut had burst. And he felt the sudden release of liquid squirt on the inside wall of his sack. He felt the warmth and let his head fall back, luxuriating in the feel. His dick started to jerk spasmodically and he came in a sudden rush, involuntarily, without even realizing it was going to happen. It jetted out far across the stage as Todd bent his body to avoid it; and Jason brought his head up than, chastened, determined not to be made to look foolish again, while savoring the feel of the orgasm in his loins.

He stared straight ahead and locked his knees back. His legs were shuddering, of course. He was impossible to stop that. His right leg particularly had started up a rhythmic spasm which he could not control though he locked his knee back time and time again. It was as though he was trying to shake something off of his right foot when all the time he had it planted firmly into the floor. He looked down through slitted eyes and saw the kid. Todd was massaging his sack. He had let the tongs and the ladle go. They had clattered to the floor; and Todd had knelt down, wrapping his fingers around Jason’s sack and squeezing, trying to see what he had done. He was feeling the place and bubbling the remains of Jason’s busted ball between the tips of his fingers. He stood up and stepped closer before reaching forward again. It was like he couldn’t get enough of it. He couldn’t leave the place alone and he was breaking the rules. He took Jason’s sack again and worked at it, feeling with the tips of his fingers on both hands, rolling the good ball under his right and squeezing the mangled remains under the fingers of his left. Jason watched, only partly conscious, head-warm and concentrating on his legs, concentrating on standing and looking impassive. He didn’t want anyone to see how much he was enjoying himself. The series of blows had worked his senses into a pleasure which made pain unrecognizable.

He watched Todd through slitted eyes, fascinated by the kid’s fascination. He saw the kid’s knees collapsing inwards and touching each other; and saw the kid place his weight on one leg while he rubbed together the insides of his thighs together, moving the other. And then, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, Todd reached down with his left hand and plucked at the waistband of his jocks. He let his erect cock pop forward while he tugged down on the jocks as though he was going to piss. The third end of his cock popped out and he ignored the fact that he had done it, like he had just reached down to scratch himself. He gloggled Jason’s mangled remains with the tips of his fingers on the one hand while he held the waistband down with the other. And his cock burst in a sudden jet, the liquid spurting up in a fount and landing to drape itself over the top of Jason’s cock, sliding down it and globbling down into Jason’s jocks, wetting them and soaking them.

Jason swallowed. He closed his eyes and felt the tickle of the cream as it slid down his stem to the base of his cock, sliding around and down the sides of his damaged sack where Todd continued to massage, working the semen into the skin through the fabric of the jocks, using both hands again, having put his penis away.

Jason let his head fall back a bit. Todd’s fingers were warm and his nut felt loose and soft. He could feel the shape of the good ball underneath Todd’s hand, and he could feel the squishiness of the other as Todd worked fingers over the lumps that were left. Jason remembered the crack of the moment it had burst. He savored the feel. The feel of the burst and the release. He bit his bottom lip and tried not to show it; but Todd reached around behind Jason and put his hand on Jason’s arse. He looked up and smiled wildly, leaving off with Jason’s sack. He pulled himself up and thrust his body against Jason’s, tippling the head of his cock in a number of wobbly circles below Jason’s navel, and touching it against Jason’s dick, hitting it against it once, two, three times, until it came to rest beside it as Todd pulled himself up with one hand, using Jason’s shoulder.

Todd kissed him on the cheek; and Jason used Todd’s body to conceal himself as he reached down and did what he had wanted to do ever since it had busted. He reached down and thrust his hand between the two bodies, closing on his broken testicle with thumb and fingers, feeling it squaggle underneath the pads of his digits, feeling his good ball, and feeling, at the same time, on the back of his hand, the roll of Todd’s undamaged balls beneath the soft cotton fabric. Jason exhaled. He sighed involuntarily and said, ‘Oh, thank you!’ in a sudden release of breath, without being able to stop himself, without thinking about what he was saying, only hearing the relief and the gratitude in his voice as he said it.

It was the closest thing to sex he had ever had.

He felt his thighs jittering inwards and he moved his hands and held them on the kid’s back, trying to support himself. He wanted to slide his arms down and cup his hands into the crack of the kid’s arse. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t stand properly; and there were, anyway, people watching. He pressed the side of his face against Todd’s and felt the brush of the kid’s hair as Todd pulled away. Jason let his hands slide out and held them at the sides of the kid’s chest, using it to support himself. He tried to get a grip. He would have to stand up. He would have to look stoic for the audience. He straightened but left his hands there – and somehow, he managed to look okay. They didn’t even laugh. They hadn’t seen or heard what he had said to Todd; and the shame, when it came, was internal.

It was guilt, frustration, rage and anger.

And he felt like he would burst with it. But it didn’t come then. It came minutes later, after he had given Todd his present. And there were moments of bliss until then, a pleasure which he managed to hide.

‘Have you got something for me?’ Todd said, looking up at him, and unhooking Jason’s hands from the sides of his chest.

Jason nodded. He stumbled down and picked up the box. He looked slightly injured, he supposed, when he watched the tapes, but if felt worse than it looked. He had done well to hide the looseness, the feeling of weakness, but he was used to walking injured. He had been doing it for years.

‘Oh wow!’ Todd said, opening the box. He collapsed onto the ground and folded his legs, pulling the book out of the box. He had actually got something that he wanted. Something that meant a lot to Todd. It was a ‘How to Draw Manga’ book – and Todd had always loved cartoons. He loved the dream of a reality constructed. In a bright blaze of colors made real.

And Jason had known it himself. It wasn’t that long ago since he had been Todd’s age. It didn’t seem that long ago at all. And he had once been obsessed in a way with the whole thing himself; and he had seen the colorful characters in his house at one time, alone, imagining them, talking to them, seeing them grown real and solid and present in his room, in his kitchen, in his bathroom, in the garden, for weeks at a time, smiling and speaking to him when he was younger, fighting and playing, when he was younger, being with him, when he was younger.

But the time had passed. And Jason wasn’t younger any longer. He had grown. He had grown too quickly. And he couldn’t think like that anymore, Garth said. He was too old for cartoons. He was too old for fantasy. He was too old now to act like a child. You’re supposed to be a man, Garth said. I need you to be a man. And when Garth came over, he turned the TV off.

Before then, before Garth, and when he had first known him, Jason had wanted to be an artist himself. He had wanted to draw. And he had been able to draw. He had been good at drawing, making colorful fantasies which sank inwards on the page. But had left off with it, having to, of course, out of necessity. And he turned to football. That was the sort of thing he had to do, Garth said. He couldn’t be a pussy. And so he was an artist turned footballer. And he had put away his art. He burnt it.

It had been his best subject at school. It had been his best subject at one time. It was the only thing he had ever been good at, really. And it was the only thing that had made school make sense.

And Jason was envious of Todd when he saw the book. It was just what he had wanted. He had wanted a book like that for himself.

It was A3 and glossy and would have cost hundreds of dollars. It was as thick as a telephone directory and had page after page of blazing illustrations, a colorful maze of a life that Jason had known, upon a time. It was a life that he had lived in his mind. And he had wanted that book. He had wanted a book like that; and when he saw it, Jason had remembered. He had remembered wanting a book like that. He had remembered coveting it. He had remember looking at it in a shop and sitting in the aisle, cross-legged, as Todd was doing now, sitting oblivious to all that was around him, turning page after page, entranced. He had fallen aslumber under a spell of imagining and got in trouble for it, sitting too long, sitting too late; and it was with a sense of resignation that he had put the book back onto the shelf, exhaling and biting his lips and looking at the lady, when he had wanted it; and wanted it without knowing anyone who would possibly buy it for him.

And so he was envious, but not. He took a breath, being pleased also, somehow, surely, because he saw Todd as himself. He had got that book and was watching himself with it, pleased for Todd, pleased to see himself there as Todd leafed through the book, sitting cross-legged on the ground and turning the pages excitedly, forgetting all about the fact that he was on a game show, forgetting all about the fact that he had just burst one of Jason’s testicles, forgetting it as though it didn’t matter, as though it wasn’t of any importance at all, as though it wasn’t a thing of moment it his life, which it wasn’t. He was a little kid who had just got a present. And Jason had to be happy for him, didn’t he? And proud of himself as the giver of a gift well received.

Todd stood up and hugged him, suddenly remembering Jason standing there, a little bit crooked. ‘Oh, thanks,’ he said. ‘Really – thanks.’ He drew back and put out his hand out. ‘Friends?’ he said.

Jason took Todd’s hand. He shook it. ‘Sure,’ he said, happily, but his voice had cracked, and at that moment, when he heard it, the rage had collapsed all around him. A rage not so much as at Todd as it was at himself, as it was at Garth and at his parents and at a world that was everything that had conspired to put him in this place today and leave him there, where he was, broken.

He let go of Todd’s hand and turned away. He gritted his teeth and twisted his face into a contortion which couldn’t be sustained.

‘Yes, I’ll fucking go on,’ he had said, when Larry had asked him. A phrase disconnected, unconnected and unrelated to everything that had happened before it. Spoken and left separate, isolated and without sense, attached only to a feeling which had to be disjuncted.

And he blanked. And became himself. The Jason he knew.

‘That’s some friend you’ve got out there!’ the surgeon had said. And Jason had thought he meant Garth. ‘That’s quite a hit you took out there!’ and Jason had thought he meant the mallets. ‘Everything’s trying to cram out of here!’ and Jason had thought that his testicles where whole while swollen as the surgeon sewed a device that Todd had chosen amongst the mashed and mangled remains.

‘Are you seeing it, Jase? Are you seeing the pain?’ Todd said. ‘Are you seeing the frames?’

Jason got up and moved forward in a rush. He toppled the chair behind him with the backs of his knees. Todd tried to stand and back; but Jason gripped him. He grabbed Todd’s throat and tugged the kid forward. He swung him out again like a jointed doll. ‘Fuck your fucking mouth up,’ Jason said, contorting his face, speaking unintelligibly. He brought his fist back and hesitated. But smashed. Jabbed forward into a face that had averted, catching Todd on one side between cheekbone and jaw, connected on a final gritted word, ‘you little fucking shit!’

Todd’s head snapped sideway. His body folded backwards over the chair. He toppled over and arched, landed heavily; and skidded across the lunch-room on a hip, legs suspended, skiddadling chairs out of the way and toppling them over, making a passage like the scar of a crash in a forest.

Jason stared at nothing. He clenched his fists and breathed.

[Frame: Open. Distort field.]

‘Did he hit you?’ Jason said, moving forward, coming into the room.

Todd hauled and tried to push himself up. He took a breath. ‘Yeah, Jase, he fucking well hit me,’ Todd said. He collapsed on the floor and cradled his head. He turned it to one side and heaved with a sudden wretched sob.