Busted – The Game Show

© Justin Cumberland 2007

Chapter Eleven

The lights blinded him as he walked through the door.

He blinked and saw Andy and Sam. They took his hands and walked him over to Larry, who was standing beside one of the saddles. A high pitched whistle screamed internally and he shook his head. The audience started laughing. Jason looked around, confused about what they were laughing at; and then realized that he’d got a boner thinking about the kid and he’d walked across the stage without even realizing it. It was somehow harder and bigger than it had ever been. It looked like it would burst; and as Jason looked down at it, he noticed a bead of golden liquid nestled on the head. He went red in the face; and then lifted one leg up and got onto the saddle as Andy directed him. The kid took the stool away as he lifted his foot.

Sam stood on the other side and the two boys strapped his thighs down with the belts while the host asked Jason about his hobbies and interests. While Jason was explaining about football, Andy, who was resting one hand on Jason’s thigh, reached over with the other hand and patted the head of Jason’s cock like it was a cat or a dog. It was a strange thing to do; but what made it funny, and what made the audience laugh was the way Jason’s cock reared up at Andy’s touch – like it was a cat or a dog enjoying a pat on the head. Andy turned to the audience and smiled, like he was a naughty boy. He pushed his lips together but couldn’t help breaking into a grin.

The poor kid, Jason thought to himself. He’d probably never seen a packet like Jason’s in the whole time he’d worked on the show; and it must have made the kid envious, wishing he still had his own gear. He was only fourteen, after all; and Jason couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. In fact, as far as Jason was concerned, the kid could touch him if he wanted to. He didn’t have to make a joke out of it.

They brought Todd out – the kid who had helped him with his robe. The audience sucked in breath when they saw him and Jason shook his head, suddenly seeing the kid properly for the first time. He was so skinny and young that he couldn’t possibly be old enough to be on the show. It was obvious. He looked a lot younger than Tom had – the guy who had had such an unhappy time with the bench vice and the angle grinder at the hands of Brad.

Todd might have been fourteen, maybe. It didn’t look it but it might have been possible. He didn’t have any pubes and his chest wasn’t properly developed. The tank-top they had given him was loose. It hung near his hips; and the letters of his name – TODD – weren’t stretched out liked Jason’s. His dick was reasonable; but it would probably get much larger by the time he was Jason’s age. He had blond hair, like Jason’s own, which probably explained his lack of pubes, but he had dark eyes, almost black.

Jason’s pubes were non-existent anyway but his eyes were green. And the kid, aside from the hair and pubes didn’t resemble Jason at all. Todd was a lot thinner and had a way of lifting his chin as he talked which gave him an air of confidence beyond his years. As Jason watched him getting strapped onto the saddle, he hoped he wouldn’t have to waste Todd’s gear. He was too young.

Larry started to interview the kid. He had a high-pitched voice. It hadn’t even broken yet. Jason listened to him but soon lost interest. He realized, almost straight away, that Todd was a smart-arse – cocky and arrogant, smiling, and treating the whole thing like it was a joke.

Jason looked around and caught sight of himself on a monitor. He was surprised by how good he looked. The shape of his thighs against the curve of the saddle and the way his butt stuck out looked pretty cool. His abs and his biceps were well formed, his chest, with the ‘Jason’ spread across it looked like it was going to burst, his straight blond hair swung around his head. No wonder people liked him.

He smiled at himself and then frowned. The silly thing – and the thing which spoiled the picture was this fucking boner which was just way too thick and way too long. It was jutting out of the saddle at a forty-five degree angle and it looked unnatural. Jason looked down at it. He wanted to try and cover with his hands but he knew it would look silly if he attempted to do that. He put his hands on the saddle behind his thighs and even leant back a bit. He knew this would make it look worse – make it jut out even more – but at the same time it would make it seem like he didn’t care about it which was the impression that he wanted to give.

As he leant back he felt his sack stretch and was surprised to realize how tight Andy had fastened the mechanism that held his balls beneath the saddle. He supposed this was necessary. If it wasn’t tight, a ball might escape into the top of a guy’s sack under a sudden pressure from the mallets. This wasn’t going to happen to him, of course; but Andy couldn’t possibly have known that.

The Buddy’s came out and sat behind the panel. Garth was wearing a suit. He looked like he was going for a job interview. And Jason felt pretty proud of him – knowing this was his best friend, who knew how to dress and could look so mature and responsible.

Larry asked each buddy a question in turn while his contestant waited on the saddle. Jason realized, after he had had the conversation with Garth, that his friend would make some mistakes. The producer was going to make sure of it. He would almost certainly get a question wrong; and Jason had said to himself, not to worry, if this happened, because Garth might be nervous and might even get two or three questions wrong. He could handle that. Brad had done it.

The questions started and the buddies of the first three guys answered their first question correctly before Larry turned to Garth.

‘Now, Garth, you’re playing for Jason. Jason’s first question is this. Is the United States in the Northern or the Southern hemisphere?’

Hemisphere? What was a fucking hemisphere? Jason wondered. Still it was a fifty-fifty shot. He would have said Southern, if he had to answer; and then, just as he thought this, Garth said it.

‘Southern.’

There was a sound which went with getting a question wrong and a sound which went with getting a question right. Bowm-bowm meant that Garth had got it wrong.

Jason smiled and nodded his head a bit. It didn’t matter. It was only one question. There was a spotlight under the saddle. A camera guy zeroed in on the space between his legs and something moved down there. He felt something brush his sack and then the host was asking the next guy a question. It happened so quickly. It wasn’t even anything to worry about except he couldn’t see it; but then he looked over at the monitor, caught a glimpse of himself again, and saw the mallets falling slowly back into place. He could see his sack, as whole as it had always been, bursting under the pressure of the lock that held it in place. He smiled. The whole thing felt so good – sitting here like this. He was on his way to a million.

Garth got the next question wrong as well, which wasn’t surprising, because it was about the American Civil War and who had won it – the North or the South. Jason had heard of the war. Mr. Whittaker had gone on and on about it in the Seventh Grade; and Jason supposed, because the answer to the last question had been North, that the answer to this one really would be South. It made sense – and anyway, once again, it was a fifty-fifty shot which proved that they were trying to make it easy on Garth.

Jason was happy to hear Garth say south; but he was startled, almost instantaneously, by the ‘boum-boum’ sound. He thought that they had made a mistake and he looked up at the host with a question on his face only to find, as he did so, that something had hit him in the balls.

It didn’t really hurt but it was a bit of a shock. He had felt something – for a moment; and, though it wasn’t really pleasant, it hadn’t done him any harm. The strange thing was the feeling which came afterwards because, almost immediately, he felt a rush of pleasure flowing up from the insides of his thighs; and then his dick jerked up and back a few times without him having any control over it whatsoever.

He looked over at his friend and mouthed the words, ‘Don’t worry,’ because he figured Garth was probably getting flustered and might even have simply made a stupid mistake under the pressure of the studio lights. The best thing he could do, at this stage, was to try and calm him down.

The third hit was a bit annoying; because it really did hurt; and on top of this the audience laughed at him, because, he supposed, he had got a surprise, and had been caught with a silly expression on his face.

The pain reminded him of the time that Garth had hit him in the groin with that baseball bat on his fifteenth birthday. It had been a bet, of course, that Garth couldn’t hit two balls in one shot with the bat which he had, after all, given to Jason. Jason had figured he couldn’t do it, because he wasn’t good at sports, and he was surprised, after he had made the bet, and was standing outside with his back to Garth, to find the baseball bat between his legs where it didn’t belong. He stared at it for a moment before he crumpled onto the grass; and only later understood, when Garth explained, that Jason had lost the bet and had had to suck Garth’s dick because Garth had, after all, hit two balls in one shot, and hit them well.

The pain was like that time, but it only, thankfully, lasted for a moment. His balls had been hit. They had been jostled into the space of an inch within a very short interval of time, but there wouldn’t, Jason knew, be any real damage done. He decided not to let it worry him and tried to concentrate, instead, on keeping his cock in check; because it kept rearing its head up under the flush of pleasure which was rising up from his loins. At any moment, if he wasn’t careful, he would blow a load. This was, as Garth had explained, a biological reaction to being hit. But it was also, Jason knew, the effect of the injections they had given him – most likely the ones that had gone into the eye of his dick and had hurt so much.

He hoped that the next round was a jerk-off and he supposed it probably would be because they had obviously keyed him up for it. He decided now, as he looked around him, that he would choose the kid, Todd. He felt bad about this; but it was a competition and the kid was the weakest, obviously. And anyway, Jason wasn’t sure that he did like him. As Larry moved on to the fourth question, the kid was the only one who had not suffered a hit, and he was looking pretty smug about it. Jason knew, of course, that it was only because Todd’s buddy, who was a twelve-year-old, was such a smart-arsed little snot. Jason wondered why they would let a kid sit on the buddy panel. He had actually said he was twelve when Larry asked him, and, Jason thought, this just made it obvious that Todd couldn’t really be eighteen; because, if he was, why would he have chosen a twelve-year-old to answer questions for him when his balls were on the line?

The kid’s name was Eric. He had got every question right and had even laughed at the last question, about the President, when Garth had got it wrong. Eric had nudged Garth in the arm and had turned to him, laughing, unable to control himself. It was pretty rude to laugh like this, Jason thought, seeing as Garth had just made a mistake and had given Larry a wrong answer. The kid had said something to Garth, laughing at the same time; and although Jason couldn’t hear him it looked like he had said, ‘Are you just gonna let him have it?’

The fourth question, Jason supposed, was where things would turn in his favor. And, as it turned out, the question was about football. Larry stopped in front of Garth and looked at him before he asked him the question. ‘Let’s see if you can get this one, Garth,’ he said. And Garth did, of course, get it right. It was simple; and, as it turned out, it was the only question which Jason knew the answer to out of all the questions they asked. It proved to him, once and for all, that the people who ran the show had made it easy – making certain he wouldn’t get done because of a difficult question, which had always been his concern.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t losing his balls. His sack wasn’t going south. There was no way that would happen. He looked over at Todd. Maybe the kid wasn’t so bad, he thought. He had still not suffered a hit because Eric had got his fourth question right – even with that stupid smile on his face; but it didn’t seem to matter now, now that Jason knew he was safe. He started to think about who else he might choose, if the next round was a jerk-off; and he was thinking about how he might choose Pete, when he froze, suddenly, and felt his eyelids flickering.

He had forgotten about the final question, and hadn’t even seen Larry ask Garth, or heard Garth answer, but he understood later, when he watched the tape, how it had happened. Garth had been flustered. The kid, Eric, had not left him alone but had gone on needling Garth with his arm and whispering in Garth’s ear which Jason supposed had not been fair to Garth. And although the question was a math question, which Jason later worked out the answer to, he supposed Garth (who was good at math) had been put off by the kid, who had hold of his elbow and was saying what looked like, ‘Go on. Please. Just do it,’ repeatedly.

This all came later, because at the time, when Jason’s eyelids were flickering, he simply didn’t know what had happened. His body had gone rigid, his eyelids were flickering, while he felt, between his legs, something hot and tight.

When Jason watched the tape later and saw the close-up, he could only marvel at how his balls had survived. They were so big and were held so tightly. When the mallets hit them they had been side by side and they must have been forced into each other. Thankfully they had slid and rolled into a sideways position at the last possible moment under the sudden pressure of the mallets. If they had simply stayed as they were – side by side as the mallets closed in to half an inch – then they would have certainly been squashed together, crushed, and finished, which he had seen happen before.

On the tape, when he watched it, the close-up was in slow-motion. They played it more than once and from different angles, showing his face and his reaction, before, during and afterwards.

Even in slow-motion it was quick. The mallets were blurred with action until they stopped suddenly, bloating his sack like the throat of a croaking frog and squeezing it out at the sides.

He felt his abs suck inwards and heard the breath rush out of his mouth. Something gripped him below and all his muscles went suddenly tense. There was a pain which he had never felt; which made him feel like everything inside him was about to collapse while his legs folded inward. His eyes opened wide and then, as soon as it had begun, it ended, and a rush of pleasure began flowing up his legs, into his torso, into his chest and down his arms to his wrists. The pain-blocker had kicked in.

He stretched his hands and tensed his thigh muscles, knowing as he did so that something was about to happen. He saw his dick give a sudden jerk and watched in awe as a cord of jism sprouted across the studio. He stared at it. He had never seen so much; and it had never felt so good. He smiled, open mouthed, closing his eyes at the same time.

He only half heard it; but there was an explosion of sound from the audience; and when he came to Andy and Sam were unstrapping his thighs and helping him up. He stumbled a bit and had to lean on Andy, and then, as he stood there, he noticed that his legs were shaking, and that his knees, loosely, had fallen in towards each other till they touched. His bum was sticking out a bit and he had to force himself to straighten up and move his knees apart. He put his hands down and felt his balls, worried about the twitching muscles in his thighs because it occurred to him now that that had been a fourth hit and that a fourth hit would have compressed his sack into the width of about half an inch. Guys had ruptured under the suddenness of that pressure. And Jason was surprised, as he felt his balls, that they were not ruptured, given how big they were. He felt them carefully, concerned only because they felt soft and unnaturally warm.

They seemed, however, to be whole. He took his hand away and grinned. There was nothing to worry about except for the idiot kid Eric who had been making a commotion all this time, which Jason had seen, but been unable to take account of.