Busted – The Game Show

© Justin Cumberland 2007

Chapter Three

They started smoking cones together and Jason worried about the powder it was laced with.

‘This has got crap in it,’ Jason said.

‘Yeah. It’s powder.’

‘Powder?’

‘Detergent. I was getting the seeds out in the laundry and I dropped it. It landed in the fucking bucket.’

‘Oh great,’ Jason said. ‘I’m sure that’s gonna be good for us. Can’t you get it out.’

‘I didn’t try. It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t be able to get it out anyway.’

Jason shrugged his shoulders and smoked the cone. He liked the way it made him feel. He liked the way it made him feel about Busted; because, after they had started smoking cones together Jason started to enjoy watching the show. He started looking forward to it.

Previously, watching a guy get done had been funny; but Jason, when it came right down to it, he had felt guilty about finding it funny. Now, even though it worried him still, it worried him less so, because he didn’t want to feel guilty about it anymore. It was turning him on. It had got funnier; and it was turning him on.

It happened on Wednesday. This young guy came out. He was a nice looking guy but he wasn’t a ‘beauty,’ Garth said; and Garth wasn’t prepared to bet on him because, he said, anything could happen with this guy. He could easily get done.

He made it through the saddle round. No one got done in that. But when the ad break was over the contestants came out dressed in jock straps and boots. The guy had a nice bulge; and though he wasn’t well built, he had a clean, smooth body. Jason started to get hard. The thought of the guy’s gear getting smashed was doing something to him. The anticipation of it made him hard and he found himself hoping, waiting, imagining how it would be to see this guy get done, imagining how it would feel to do him. For the first time, he not only wanted to see someone get busted, he wanted to do it himself.

There was a big guy, built like Jason, only bigger. And after the straws had been drawn, he was awarded first kick. The young guy drew the short straw. Jason had hoped he would; and when he did, Jason suddenly laughed, smiling to himself and waiting, watching to see what would happen.

They strapped the young guy to the beams and drew his legs far apart. If he survived twelve kicks – three from each contestant – he would go on to the next round. There was a sensor strapped to each thigh that could tell if a nut ruptured. Even if one did, he would still have to go on to the end of the round. There was no withdrawing in the middle of a round. He could choose, of course, even if he lost both balls in the kick-off, to go on; but he would be putting his dick (and his sack) on the line.

Jason couldn’t help himself smiling. The thought of planting a steel-capped boot into the guy’s groin gave him a strange sense of pleasure. He pulled the cone Garth had packed him and watched the big guy, imagining what it would feel like to be him as he guy stepped up to the plate. The guy’s legs were massive. And as Jason watched, he took a step back, lunged forward, and thrust his leg up, catching the young guy’s crotch with the toe of his boot. It looked bad. There was a close up of the young guy’s face. A few seconds of agonizing pain. He winced and then, as the pain disappeared, he looked confused.

The crowd laughed. There was no way this guy was gonna make it. The big guy was simply toying with him. He hadn’t put everything into his first kick. He would save it all, Jason supposed, for his third. It would make sense.

Andy and Sam stood on either side and held the poor guy’s hands as the contestants went through their first and then onto their second kicks. Finally it came to the big guy’s third turn. The young guy looked worried.

‘He’s gonna get busted,’ Jason said.

‘Yes,’ Garth replied. ‘He certainly is.’

The big guy was smiling, staring into the young guy’s face. He nodded his head and took a step forward while the young guy closed his eyes. He didn’t have a chance. Even before the big guy’s boot came away from his groin both sensors on the young guy’s thighs were flashing red. Both his nuts had ruptured. And when the big guy’s boot did come away, Jason could see the shape of the young guy’s bulge. It had changed. It hung a bit lower and into a point, like the sack was full of liquid. It was full of mush.

It was all over for him; but he had to stay there and bear three more kicks from the other guys. They weren’t kind. They pulverized him. And the last kick made a definite squelching sound which made the audience laugh.

Andy and Sam patted the poor guy on the back as they released his thighs. He was finding it difficult to stand and he looked a little upset. Larry, the host, came over to speak with him, asking him if he wanted to pull out. The guy’s voice was high and strained which embarrassed him, of course. He decided not to go on.

‘You idiot!’ Garth said. ‘How stupid can you be? Your balls are busted – fine. Nothing’s gonna change that. But you’ve still got a sack for fuck’s sake. You can get prosthetic balls. No one’s gonna know. And you’ve still got a chance at a million. You idiot!’

Jason nodded his head. The guy should have gone on. Jason would have liked to see him lose the rest.

Later that night, Jason pulled himself over the thought of the young guy. Now that he thought about it, he really wanted to do something like that – waste some guy’s kit – smash a fist into it, or a boot – let loose with a hammer – maybe even fire a shotgun from behind, which an idea he had had as he pulled himself more and more. He had never seen it done. No one had ever thought of it, as far as he knew. If he went on the show, he’d get the chance to do it. He’d probably get to do a few guys – in different ways – and be safe at the same time. He might even beat the record, which was nine. One guy had actually busted nine other guys before going on to win a million dollars. Imagine how that would feel, Jason said to himself, wasting nine other guys – no, ten, to get the record. You’d get paid a million dollars to waste the assets of ten other guys – while being safe all the time. Now that would feel good!

The following week, on Tuesday night, this hunk of a guy turned up on the show. His name was Brad. He looked so much like Jason that it was difficult to believe that Brad wasn’t his twin brother. The guy’s muscles, his golden skin and blond hair – the shape of his chest and his hard butt, his rounded thighs, wide shoulders and red lips, his white teeth – they were all so much like Jason’s own that he did a double take and turned to Garth, who was staring at him.

‘You know this guy?’

Jason shook his head.

‘He’s like your fuckin double, or something.’

Jason had to agree. The only thing about the guy that was different were his eyes (which were blue) and the shape of his face, which, if anything, was less attractive than Jason’s own. He was older by a few years; and, of course, there was his kit. He had big stuff – but it wasn’t like Jason’s. Jason had almost ten inches when erect and huge balls. And Jason’s stuff looked sweet. This guy was impressive, but it wasn’t the same.

‘He’s gonna win,’ Garth said.

‘You reckon?’

‘I know.’

‘You can’t know.’

‘I know.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘You reckon I don’t?’ Garth said.

‘I know you don’t.’

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Jason. He’s gonna win – and if he doesn’t, you can waste my gear yourself.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Sure I’m serious.’

‘You’d really let me do that?’

‘Oh, I know you want to.’

Jason smiled. ‘You’d let me waste your gear?’

‘If he lost, I’d let you. Man’s honor, Jay.’ He put his hand on his chest.

Jason pushed his lips together but couldn’t repress his smile. ‘What? You’d let me waste all of it?’

‘Sure.’

‘In any way I wanted?’

‘In any way you wanted.’

‘You seem pretty sure of yourself.’

‘I know he’s gonna win. Like I said. It’s a hundred percent certainty. He’s fucking gorgeous.’

‘Yeah, but if he doesn’t, you’ll be a fucking eunuch.’

‘There isn’t any but,’ Garth said. ‘They’ll let him win. Just like they’d let you win if you weren’t such a pussy.’

‘I’m not a pussy.’

‘You want to bet on it, then?’

‘What? That I can waste your gear if he loses?’

‘Sure. But if he wins – you’ll be a hundred percent convinced that your gear’s not gonna get wasted when you go on the show.’

Jason stopped for a moment. The idea of wasting Garth’s gear excited him. The guy was his best friend, sure; but he’d always been so much smarter than Jason. He’d always got the better of Jason. He had tricked Jason time and time again. The guy had tricked Jason into sucking his dick, for fuck’s sake; and to finally get his own back – to fuck Garth’s gear up as a payback for that alone – well, it was tempting.

But if the guy won? Could Jason really go on the show? It would be fun. He could see that now. To go on and know that you were safe while you got to waste other guy’s gear would be fun. He could play up to it. Pretend that he was going to get wasted like everyone else – and know, all the while, that it just wasn’t going to happen.

Or was it? He frowned.

He had seen cute guys get done in the past. He was sure he had. But maybe, like Garth said, there was cute – and there was gorgeous. No one wanted to see that get done.

In fact, now that he thought about it, he could see what Garth meant. He didn’t want see this guy, Brad, get wasted. He thought it would probably happen. But the guy was too much like Jason for Jason to want to see him lose. It would be like watching himself lose. But then – if he did – if Brad did lose, he’d get to crash Garth’s gear. And he knew exactly how he’d do it.

He would make it painful, and slow.

‘Are you thinking?’ Garth asked him.

‘Yes, I’m fucking thinking. It’s a serious thing. I really don’t think the guy’s gonna win.’ In fact, as Jason thought about it he became quite certain that this guy couldn’t win. There’d been two winners in the past three weeks. If this guy won, that’d make three in a month. That’d be three million dollars paid out. Where would the show get the money from? They couldn’t just keep pulling millions of dollars out of thin air, could they?

‘You’ve got nothing to lose then, have you? If the guy loses, I lose. You get to waste my gear. But then, if he wins, you’ll be a hundred percent convinced that it’s safe, you’ll go on the show, you’ll win a million dollars. I’ll get ten percent and we’ll both be happy.’

‘Ten percent?’

‘Sure, ten percent.’

‘What’s that?’

‘A hundred thousand.’

‘How much do I get?’

‘Nine hundred thousand.’

‘Nine hundred thousand?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Fuck.’ It sounded like more than a million. He wasn’t sure it wasn’t.

Suddenly, he felt very confused and hot in the head. This was a good deal. It had to be. For once, he had Garth in a corner. Brad wouldn’t win. Garth would get done. And if he didn’t – well, he’d have nine hundred thousand dollars. ‘Okay, Garth. Okay, fuck you! Put out your hand. You’ve fucked me around too many times and you’re not winning this one. The guy’s gonna lose, and your gear’s getting wasted. Give me your fucking hand.’

Garth frowned and put out his hand. He looked worried.

Yes. Jason thought. I’ve got you this time. If Brad loses, you’re gonna lose. And if he wins – well, if the guy fucking wins then it would be safe. It would have to be. Garth was pretty smart. He knew how things worked.

‘Come on, fuck you! Give me your hand. Say it.’

‘Man’s honor, Jay?’

‘Man’s honor.’

Garth sat down. ‘Fuck. That was easier than I thought,’ he said.