Date: Thu, 10 Apr 2003 20:53:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: fennerp123@yahoo.com
Subject: FUN NIGHT AT JACKS 4-6

Parts 4 to 6 of FUN NIGHT AT JACKS. All feedback appreciated.

FUN NIGHT AT JACK'S PART 4

The compere introduced the next delicious activities right on cue half an
hour later.  "Right, gentlemen, you've had half an hour to get your breath
back from these lads' activities, it's time for some more fun, fun fun!"
The crimson drape curtain was opened to reveal the stage much as before,
but with two concave ramps at either end; skateboard ramps which curved up
vertically and rose 6 feet above the level of the stage. A ladder led up to
a table and two chairs at each end, and at one end the table was laid for a
meal for two, at the other end, a stack of food and drinks lay
prepared. The guys moved towards the front. It was getting pretty hot with
excitement in there.

"So, without further ado, as they say, let's introduce our next pretty boy
for your delectation, amusement and overall satisfaction. Put your party
hands together for 20 year old skateboarder Zach."

The rear curtains opened and Zach strode in, cocky, sneering and full of
attitude throughout his chunky 5'4" frame. He had no idea what the others
had been through, as all the previous guys had been led off to a different
room after their show. Zach wore a desert combat T shirt with cut-off
sleeves and knee length shorts, tight round his pretty butt, exposing two
inches of Joboxer briefs and his navel at midriff. A good two inches
separated the bottom of his sexy T-shirt from the top of his
undies. Typical skater, but with a bit more delicious musclemeat than your
average guy. Hi-top sneaks, well below ankle length white socks. He was
beautifully proportioned with swimmers' legs, perfect upper torso with a
dragon motif tattoo on his upper left arm, a lion motif above his left
pec. Totally devoid of body hair except a big clump above his dick, he had
a beautiful eastern European type face with a clump of jelled up dark hair
shaved short at the back and sides, and baby-come-and-get-me hazel
eyes. Most of his humpy body wasn't visible -- yet. He clutched his pride
and joy, his purple and white skateboard, firmly under his left arm.  He
had worker's arms and fists; spent the days digging roads, gardens and
foundations no doubt. He clearly had no idea what fun he was going to give
the guys on this night of nights.

"So you're Zach and you're a skater?" started the compere, rather
obviously.

"Sure thing," said Zach, proudly, and cockily, admiring the impressive set
up on stage which he was going to perform on. The set had been built by one
of the audience's brothers, who had been under the impression it was for
the kids in the park. Little did he know!

"OK, Zach, thanks for coming," jested the compere, like Zach had a
choice. "We have a special outfit for you backstage which we'd like you to
wear as it will be easier for you to move in."

"Sure".

Jim the compere could barely stifle his giggles. The boy was totally
unwares. Just follow my assistant back stage and we'll see you in a jiffy.

"Great. Appreciate it," said Zach. The stupid jock was thanking him. Off he
went.

"In the meantime, I want you to meet Carol and Tina, two of my friends,"
the compere went on, addressing the audience. From side stage two
enormously fat women emerged, probably in their mid forties and weighing
the best part of 280 pounds each. He invited them up the ladder on the left
hand dining table where dinner for two was set -- they clearly needed a
lunch! On the right hand side of the stage, two gay assistants in white T
shirts and jeans stood at the food end. It was piled high with goodies and
clearly the two girls were at the wrong end. They had been primed though,
and had a pretty good idea what was going to happen.

"Right, time for you to all meet our waiter for this evening, bunnyboy
Zach!" shouted the compere. Huge roars of approval and derision as Zachie
boy came through the curtain in his new outfit. Boy was the smirk wiped off
his face. One of the older guys performing, at a mere 20 years old, Zach
looked a picture. He wore, from bottom up, black army boots and white
slaveboy socks, just showing half an inch above the boots, and then an
exceptionally short cut leotard wrestling singlet in black. The leotard was
cut very low at the front, swinging below his navel, and cut very high at
the waist, exposing over half his butt at the back. Two thin straps led up
over his shoulders, exposing his tatts, pecs and six pack for all to stare
at. He looked mortified. Around each wrist he wore an exaggerated bunnyboy
type cuff and, most humiliating of all, two, foot high rabbit ears attached
with a band to the top of his head, along with an elasticated oversize
black bowtie round his bull neck. Under his arm, instead of the macho
skateboard, he carried a three foot long inflatable orange carrot with
dangling green tops. What a sight! What a complete embarrassment!

"You big fairy!" shouted Carole. "Let's see you do a spin!" Zach was forced
to revolve, at which point the audience and the girls saw at the back of
his perfect round ass was neatly positioned a ball of white fur tail. They
hooted, pointed and shrieked with laughter at poor Zachie.

"Now, you behaved like a spoilt little child the first time you came to our
club, and now you're going to get treated like one," threatened the
compere.

"Do you understand?". Silence.

"Do you understand bunnyboy?"

"Yes." He had never been so humiliated in all his life. He almost wanted to
cry.

"Does little bunnikins want his pacifier again?" mocked the compere, as the
skateboard was brought on.

"Here you are, I spoil you." A big pacifier with a pink ribbon was placed
over his head and in his mouth. The ultimate dumb jockie.

"Now, how dare you keep these girls waiting for their tea. Can't you see
they're hungry?" He smacked Zach a couple of times on the butt. "Naughty
little Zachie."

"B..b..but..", he stammered behind the pacifier.

"No buts. Now, the object of your exercise is to deliver, using your
oh-so-important skateboard, all the cakes, trifles and goodies, from that
side of the stage to the girls on the other."

The girls licked their lips. Zach stared up at them. He'd done this
skateboard routine thousands of times but never for these wierdos in this
stupid gear.

"You have to deliver all the food in ten minutes without spillage or
there'll be more penalties to pay. To help you on your way, we'll give you
a couple of things to carry. You must look nice and smart for the young
ladies. They will be expecting a good looking young man to ogle at." He
felt up Zach's packet, a beautiful bulge, one of those guys who had an
embarrassingly large pouch even when soft. It was delicious. Zach seemed
quite unaware of how sexy it was. His dick visibly twitched above his
enormous balls, barely contained, like his ass, behind the thin, shiny
black material.

"Let's smarten your hair up." Zach looked puzzled. It had looked perfect to
him, gelled in spikes and cut only two days ago.

"You need some gel in there. Pass me the gel guys". The assistants handed a
jar of brown stuff and Jim started to lard it in the lad's hair. It was
smooth peanut butter! Zach looked mortified and tried to back away.

"This will make you look all pretty!" said the compere, as he styled the
hair into the grossest shapes for Zach's humiliation. Enormous laughter and
cheers from the audience.

"Now for the eggs. You will have six raw eggs in the back of your outfit
and six in the front. They must remain whole until you finish the job,
otherwise you pay." More laughter as the compere inserted the eggs
delicately in the front and back of the lycra singlet, making it bulge
suggestively and grotesquely.

"In case you make any mess, here is a plastic bib to stop you getting
anything sticky on your chest." Howls of laughter as he put on the plastic
child's bib, covered in pink bunnies, and now looked completely
stupid. Even more stupid. And he was acutely aware of it.

"Oh, and one more thing. Nearly forgot, in case cocky bunnikins thought
this was going to be a walkover." The compere unlaced Zach's boots and
poured sticky molasses in each one, then re-tied them, so that it was very
hard for him to walk straight. Zach grimaced and pulled a pained
expression.

"Nice and comfy Zachie."

"Yes." The dumb fuck actually said he was comfy!

"On your marks, get set, GOOO!"

What ensued was a hysterical sight. Zach desperately skating backwards and
forwards across this wooden ramp construction, trying oh-so-hard to
please. Cakes, sandwiches, chips, cookies, wine, orange juice, custard
pies, anything which would make a complete and total mess. Every other
length Zach would smash against the side of the ramps and an egg or two
would break, sending gunk down his muscular thighs and damping the front of
his leotard in a sticky yellow mess -- like he had shot a pint of orange
cum. As the minutes ticked by, and Zach concentrated on the hopeless task
of delivering the food, the girls, as they had been instructed, grabbed and
picked, without bunnykins noticing, at the straps of his leotard to try to
get it them off his shoulders. They scoffed away at their cakes as he
delivered them, arcing high up onto the ramp, and there was a huge roar
when both straps finally became dislodged and flopped down to his
sides. Zach thought they were cheering his prowess. Hardly. They were
cheering his now naked chest.

Almost all the eggs in his knickers were smashed, and with piles of food to
deliver but only minutes left to go, most of Zach's delicious butt and his
pubic clump were fully exposed. More applause from the audience. Suddenly,
one of the arms of the leotard got caught on the edge of the skateboard as
Zach turned it.  In the wink of an eye, his singlet was whipped off, and he
charged naked (well, except for his multitude of, er, accessories) up the
right hand ramp, his cock flailing out and the muscles in his glutes
bucking and flexing. With the bouncing about and the jelly like substances
everywhere, it wasn't long before little Zachie's cock was up and hard, and
he hadn't even noticed. He was the only one. The crowd and the girls bawled
their approval and laughed themselves nearly sick.

It bounced about, backwards and forwards, up and down, extending out a full
uncut eight inches. What a performance.

"And stop!" screeched the compere, as he blew the whistle. There was food
and crap everywhere. Zachie's pacifier hung around his neck on the bib. The
compere wiped the worst off the shit off him. He still wore the funny ears,
the soaking, squelchy boots and the bowtie and cuffs."

"My, my, bunnikins has a lovely little pee pee, doesn't he?" cooed the
compere, as everyone laughed, addressing him like a five year old. "Why is
he standing up like that?"

"That's what bunnies do when they want to make little bunnies, isn't it?"

Zach blushed bright red. His hardon bobbed. Just for fun, the compere
pushed the end of his knob down and let it bounce back up. It slapped
bunnyboy in the abs twice and dribbled precum. All this was caught on the
videoscreen from our front row cameraman. More hysterical laughter from all
around as they gazed on mesmerised at the lewd and sexy goings on. Up and
down, the compere slapped and bounced the fat boycock for the audience's
selfish titillation, pleasure and lust.

"When bunnies get the need to make more bunnies, they make lots of
bunnyjuice, don't they?" mocked Jim, as he tickled the undersides of Zach's
balls.

"Er, yes sir, I suppose."

"Not, I suppose, it's yes. And I'm daddybunny, not `sir', in case you
didn't know."

"Yes sir. I mean daddybunny." The poor, horny fuck was so confused.

"In springtime, when bunnies want to make babies, they bounce around in the
fields, don't they, bunnykins."

"Yes daddybunny." The stupid punk went along with this silly game because
he had no choice.

"Well, let's see you then. Hop like a bunny for the boys and girls."

At this command, amazingly, Zach obeyed, totally worn down by the perverted
proceedings. Everyone hooted as he did bunnyhops around the stage, holding
his hands bunnylike in front of his chest.

"Come on, come on, remember your'e a wickle wabbit," said Jim, and as
Zach's cock bounced up and down against his tummy, he goofed his teeth in a
comic Bugs Bunny gesture. What a total idiot he looked. What revenge. The
audience lapped it up. The best yet.

A drool of precum strung out from Zach's big, fat cock in between hops, and
he started to slow down.

"Keep going, horny bunnies don't tire that easily," encouraged Jim, as poor
Zachie continued this stupid game.

"Slap, slap, slap, went Zach's cock, up and down." He thought if he didn't
stop in a minute, the friction with his cock would make him cum. This, of
course, was exactly what the compere, and everyone else, hoped would
happen.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

"Is little bunnikins ready to make little bunnies yet?"

"Oof, ooof, og!" burbled Zach, his bib and ears bouncing. The big, fat,
overstuffed girls wanted to see close up if the moment was coming. They got
down off the stairs and stood side stage as Zach boinged round one more
time. Suddenly, the friction was too much, and Zach gasped as jet after jet
of warm, milky juice shot out of his dick. With the movement of his tool,
the spooge shot everywhere, with the two fat girls unexpectedly getting
completely showered. He shot an enormous amount, at least 10 separate,
juicy squirts.

The girls at least pretended to be shocked and dismayed.

"Look what a horrible mess you've made of these nice girls' dresses". What
have they done to you for you to spit bunnyjuice at them like that?

The audience cried with laughter at this humiliation.

"Sorry daddybunny. I'll clean it up, I promise."

More laughter.

"Too darn right you will, get over here, you filthy bunny. Look at that
guck pour out of your little pee pee. It's disgusting. You deserve a good
spanking. Give it to him girls." And that's what he got, a sound hard
smacking from the two girls.

"Well, that's Zachiebunny for you folks," announced the compere, as the
outer curtain drew on the spanking scene behind him. "Our thanks to that
disgusting bunny as we clear up his horrible juice in time for the next
performer. Don't go away!"

End of Part 4. To be continued.

FUN NIGHT AT JACK'S PART 5

"Right guys, now that we've mopped up after that little bunny brat sprayed
his load everywhere, it is now about time to welcome our last two little
toughies on stage to meet and greet you, our wonderful audience. As it is
nearly Christmas, we thought we would celebrate by having a little
Christmas party right up here on stage for you and the boys to enjoy. They
all have lovely costumes made for them, and I want you to make sure you
savour every moment of these fresh little bastards in their party
clothes. They're all real shy about making an appearance, even though all
but one have already been humbled out here on stage, but they've all been
told they must behave like the 5 year olds they acted like, and they must
obey our instructions. Firstly, they have all been told that they need too
maintain a full hardon the whole time they are on stage or they will be
severely spanked and we will all watch while they jack the hardon back."

"Of course, we are going to save our ringleader until last - nasty, mean,
cruel Shane. But first of all we are going to have a little fashion parade
of these new outfits, and you will be picking the prettiest little girl
later. So please welcome on stage, in her new party dress, contestant No.1,
Miss Chris."

The audience shrieked and applauded as 18 year old bricklayer Chris emerged
on to the brightly lit stage to a trumpet fanfare. Smooth and athletic, he
was dressed as a 70s girl tennis star, in a one piece dress that left has
arms fully exposed and, in plain white, came down only to just level with
his crotch. He wore a white lace headband in his hair, and under the frock
the frilliest knickers seen on court since the 70s. He felt completely
foolish and humiliated as he minced up to the podium. All the guys had been
told that they had to mince and prance about or they would face further
discipline in the long run. What a hoot it was to see these macho little
jocks forced to behave like complete sissies for the benefit of a bunch of
queens. The audience devoured it.

"Now, up on the podium at the front and greet your audience." As
instructed, little blond Chris obeyed.

"Good evening again gentlemen. Thank you for having me back." The guys
hooted and hollered, "No problem, hey, attagirl" and so on. He lifted up
his skirt for the curtsey, and it came up to his navel, exposing the
panties for all to take in. They had clearly been deliberately ordered to
be much too small for him, as in the back, as he pirouetted, they had
ridden right up his asscrack exposing his speedo line and each muscly globe
was almost completely exposed. What a delicious juxtaposition between
perfect masculinity and complete sissification.

"And your name is...?", enquired the compere, as if he didn't know.

"Chris."

"What, Chris Evert?"

"No, Chris Barson."

The audience giggled. Young Chris clearly didn't remember tennis from
before he was born. Indeed, he didn't remember anything much about anything
anytime after he was born. Apart from how to lay bricks and chicks.

"Now, it's time to put your hands on your head as I have a good feel
around. Mmm, nice and firm," complimented the compere as he felt Chris's
bulging athletic biceps and caressed his swimmer's legs.

Chris looked nervous and worried, biting his lip as the compere's lustful
fingers groped into his knickers.

"What's this, what's this," said the compere with mock concern, I can feel
a pee pee but there's something wrong, isn't there, Chris? What is it?"

"My pee pee is soft mister," answered Chris, keeping to the script of
answering like a five year old, er, girl, I suppose. Chris didn't think
anything would happen. How wrong.

"Well, we are going to have to put that right, aren't we, Chrissie?"
teased Jim as he yanked the knickers down.

"Pull on it and get it hard again this instant, keeping one hand on your
head."

Chris embarrassedly lowered one chunky, worker's hand and pumped away on
his shaft. The audience wolf-whistled and yelled encouragement: "Beat yer
meat, beat yer meat...", until the cock was up hard, shining and bright.

"Right now keep it that way. Otherwise we go through the whole process
again." The compere wedgied up the knickers into the asscrack again, making
Chris wince. He smacked him hard on the butt three times, causing Chris to
groan in shock and pain.

"That's for being a disobendient little girl. Don't let it happen again. To
remind you, here's a pacifier for your dirty mouth." He stuffed the
pacificer in his pouting mouth and Chris looked completely crestfallen, his
piercing green eyes pointing towards the floor. "Now, off you go over there
and sit in the corner while your friends come out to play." With that,
Chris skipped somewhat unenthusiastically to one of six waiting stools
upstage.

"Well that's got that naughty little boy out of the way. Now, let's see if
any of his friends can be a bit better behaved. Please welcome on stage 17
year old Luke." Luke was the little tough jock who had been so cocky before
in his West Ham footie kit. The audience wondered whether the arrogant brat
would have been taken down a peg or two by his outfit. They weren't
disappointed.

"Here, ready for his first ballet class, is Lukie in his brand new tutu."
Huge applause greeted Luke, who flushed bright red in both cheeks, his
straw hair gelled up and delorated with a lilac orchid, as he minced up
onto the podium.

"Look at that prissy movement! Joked the compere. I think he thinks he's
quite the prima ballerina, don't you Lukie." As he stood on the podium, his
pink tulle tutu splayed out horizontally from his waist. His pink tights
emphasised his masculine legs beautifully, and his feet now stood in flesh
coloured ballet silks. The late, great Sir Freddie Mercury couldn't have
held a candle to that look.

It wasn't necessary to check whether Luke was hard. The outline of his big
firm cock and pert balls was clearly visible, even down to the outline of
the glans. You could even make out he was uncut. Jim felt him up anyway.

"You're damp in your knickers. I can see a wet patch the size of a
golfball. Are you leaking, Lukie?"

"No sir."

"Oh, I think you are. You're getting moist aren't you?"

He wouldn't admit it. "I think, to be on the safe side," the compere went
on loudly and embarrassingly into the microphone, we'll put some diapers on
you.

"Jeez," thought Luke, "how embarrassing. If only I'd jacked off before. I
wouldn't be in this mess. He was made to lie down on a table. Jim roughly
pulled down his tights, exposing a jock strap beneath.

"Oh, so we're wearing big boys underwear are we?"

"Well, I..."

"Little girls wear knickers or diapers, not big boy's supporters. They're
for keeping big pee pees safe in. Not your little one." Laughter and jibes
from the audience about the size of Luke's equipment. Although, of course,
in reality there was nothing little about it. "Let's put your pacifier in
while we put your diaper on. "

With that, Jim got an audience member to yank down Lukie's tights and
jock. His hard cock snapped back in place as the jock was pulled over it
and off. The assistant held Luke's legs right over his head as Jim powdered
his baby bottom, which looked like two freshly dusted rolls, completely
shaved and hairless with his sexy asshole puckering pink in and out. Jim
couldn't resist pushing his finger in and out of the moist hole as he fixed
on the adult diaper, itself matching beautifully with the tutu, in light
pink with gold glitter stars.

"They've fucking thought of everything," mused Luke. The diaper in place
under the tutu and the tights stretched back in place over it, Luke skipped
gaily over to join his friend at the back.

Much hollering and catcalling from the audience, who were keen to see the
next guy soundly humiliated. OK,OK, you saw him at the start of the show,
and he's back now in his new party dress, here's Ricky the marine!

Applause for the hunky, muscled favourite. The marine with the chunky metal
bracelet and neckchain. He had a little goatee, a startled expression and
cropped hair with an indent cut around the circumference of his head. He
was gorgeous, masculinity personified. But not any more, as he pranced out
in his party frock. It had been specially made to fit his muscly frame, and
was diaphanous pale green, almost see-through, with shiny dark green
appliquéd cicrles, and it came only halfway down his buttocks. As he
stood on the podium, his masculinity nearly won through and he looked
almost as if he was enjoying being a big girl. But he wasn't. He felt
profoundly humiliated. He curtseyed to calls from the crowd for more, as he
lifted up his dress and showed off his underwear. The guys howled
hysterically, not just because he was wearing the gold posing pouch
g-string the club members had selected a few weeks before for the tightest,
prettiest ass to be shown off in, but because they could see the tip of his
hard pecker peeping over the front of the gold pouch. There was no way it
could keep that monster in. Precum had already smeared the front of Ricky's
dress, and Jim enjoyed giving the marine a real good feel up. Caressing his
thighs as Ricky gyrated in response. He made Ricky turn round, bend over,
lift up the back of his dress to expose and wiggle his butt to the
audience. Someone squirted some baby oil at it and scored a direct hit.

"Wiggle your ass for the queens, you dumb shit, we're all watching,"
screamed the guy who, probably in more than one sense, had just squirted.

Jim rubbed the oil in and thoroughly demeaned the young marine.

"Enough for now. You and your sissy ass, go and join your girlfriends, you
big filthy piece of shit," blurted Jim, probably quite unnecessarily and
perhaps annoyed that Ricky remained quite so cocky in his prissy gear.

Now, earlier this evening he was our lickle baby, but now, please welcome
back Andy in his drum majorette outfit. Out strode Andy prancing along in
pixie boots, a blue glitter top hat, and what amounted to no more than a
turquoise leotard with a very short miniskirt as an integral part of the
garment. He danced around to the entry fanfare, swirling out the skirt and
generally putting on quite a show. The crotch of the leotard disappeared
well up inside his asscrack and he had no trouble whatsoever keeping his
dick hard. He jumped onto the stage, curtseyed and responded embarrassed to
further calls to "show us yer cock!".

"Well, why don't you Andy?" sneered the compere, as he felt up Andy's
muscles all over, brushing his hands through his spiky blond gelled hair
and fingering his neckchains. Andy sneered like a real tough guy. He had
one of those snub noses, square jaws, luscious mouths and slightly set back
eyes that are the definition of oozing sex.

"OK, I fucking will," he bragged, and pulled the sissy leotard aside to
wave about his hard pole. He wagged and pulled it, coaxing lovejuice to
boil out of the top. Sneering, he showed it off, when suddenly,

"Oh shit, I'm...I'm..."

At that moment the dumb fuck's cock exploded all over him, shooting up big
ropey gobbets of cum right up his chest and hitting him under the chin.

"Shit, I didn't mean..."

"Never mind what you meant, look at you, you filthy piece of scum. Your
nice pretty new girly outfit and it's got your baby juice all over
it. You're disgusting. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

"Well, I..."

The club members lapped it up, hollering and applauding as Andy stood there
humiliated and blushing. Foot long ropes of cum streaked the front of his
outfit, a huge damp area turned dark blue, like someone turned a faucet on
him.

"I only hope this isn't going to stop you creaming when we have our little
party games later."

"B..b...but...I..."

"Oh, go and sit down, And as a punishment you can wear that filthy stained
thing all evening to remind you not to be quite so cocky in future." Drips
of cum plopped onto the stage floor as Andy, his ass wobbling and shaking
enticingly, pranced over to the seats to join the other sissy boys.

And now it's time for our penultimate contestant, you met him just a few
minutes ago, the lovely, festive, 20 year old Zach. In keeping with early
December, the guys had wanted to keep as much of this young athletic muscle
stud on show as possible. They had dressed the snotty little dreamboat in a
prissy fur santa hat. The kind of thing Marilyn Monroe might have worn when
giving Mr President his Christmas kiss. The hood, however, tapered into a
five foot long drape of scarlet felt with a white pom pom on the end. He
wore only black army boots and white socks, red and white exaggerated cuffs
like the bunnyboy only, well, red and white. He flexed his muscles as he
pranced about in the light, the tape now playing Spector's "Santa Claus Is
Comin' To Town". Indeed he was. Zach had been well oiled down and the only
other thing he wore was a very tight scarlet loincloth decorated with gold
and silver Christmas bells. The garment was really two tiny pieces of red
fabric barely held together with a leather belt, under which he wore an
almost non-existent red thong. It was a delight to watch as he gyrated up
onto the podium.

"Enough, enough," the compere directed the cheering, chanting, whooping
audience. Let's check all is in place. Zach did his curtsey, exposing the
thong front and back, His ass muscles rippled in the light. He was ordered
to wiggle his ass at the crowd, who went wild. More oil, and this time,
whipped cream, was squirted at the boy, who was soon beautifully sweaty,
oily and creamy. It was quite clear his big boy penis was up and hard. It
even made a 45 degree pup tent in the loincloth, to the delight of the
crowd.

"OK, OK, as the only obvious boy here tonight, go and join the girls at the
back." Well, the outfit might not actually have been a frock, but it was
pretty faggy. Whistles and derision of "bunch of faggots" from the
audience. The guys were now delighting in their revenge and in the irony of
shouting back at these little shits exactly what they had been taunted with
when the club was attacked.

The guys started to shout and clap in unison, now that the five guys they
had already seen were present and correct. They wanted to see 20 year old
Shane, the ringleader of the gang. The high point of the night. Shane was a
good looking Australian who was completely devoid of body hair. A sexy
muscled, but absolutely not bodybuilder, look. Rugby player's
thighs. Distinctly taller than the other guys at six foot. A model. A
stripper. He was the one originally connected with the two guys who had
been sacked from the club and instigated the revenge. He wore his gold
blond hair centrally parted, lush down to his ears and the centre of the
back of his head, shorn short elsewhere. What would he be made to wear?.

"Gentlemen, meet Shane."  In minced the big, six foot muscly stripper
dressed -- literally -- as a fairy.

"Something for the top of the tree," joked Jim. Shane could have curled up
and died of embarrassment. He wore a stupid gauzy fairy dress which came
down no further than the top of his thighs, tied with a pink ribbon at the
waist and held over his big shoulders by just two diamante straps. He
waved, as he had been told to, a silver glittery wand with a star on top
and showered purple magic dust onto the stage, mincing back and forth.  He
felt a complete faggot. That was the idea of course. Barefoot, he waltzed
up onto the podium, and Jim started to inspect the produce. The guys in the
audience whooped and pointed, laughing till they cried. They laughed even
more during the curtsey and display, as the compere started to feel him up
and fondle him as if he was assessing a Christmas turkey. Which, of course,
he was.  Someone pointed out they didn't think Shane was hard, and on
feeling around in his white panties, Jim agreed. He whipped them around
Shane's knees quick as a flash and ordered Shane to get a hard on. Shane
started to cry.

"Ooh, the big baby," came the cry from the audience. But Shane had to fight
back the tears as he was forced to jack away. As he got hard, he was
revolved by the compere who lifted up what little clothing there was to
make sure everyone got a good look at the big muscly legs and glutes. What
fun. Eventually, a round of applause as everyone agreed that 8 inches and a
big pair of juicy balls was good enough. Shane winced as he nearly shot his
was right there and then.

Jim smacked and spanked him soundly on the butt, "There's a naughty,
naughty Shanie. Go over there and join your friends for a moment while we
have a quick break before the games begin.

And with that the guys in the crowd were invited to get a beer while the
mindless dumbfuck jocks awaited their delicious fate. This was turning out
to be a night for the history books.

End of Part 5.



PART 6

After a twenty minute brief break to mop, clean and prepare the seting, the
curtains opened to reveal the stage, ready for the fun and games to
begin. The five jocks sat on their stools to the right, awaiting their fate
with various looks of nervousness. The water tank to the left of the stage
had been refilled with warm soapy water, the tank to the right now
contained green gunky liquid with brown bits floating in it. At the back
was a placard on a post with the comedy words "DANGER -- SWAMP!" badly
written in red. At the front, two shallower, three foot deep tanks had been
wheeled in containing what looked like shaving foam.

"Without further ado," laughed the compere, "let's get the games underway
and put these pretty young things through their paces!

He addressed the boys. "Now, the first of you is going to possibly get very
wet, so I need to know if any of you are afraid of water. Put your hands up
like a good lad if you are. Only Zach in his yuletide thong and loincloth,
looking nervously at the other studs, stuck his hand up.

"Aaah, poor little Zachie," the guys out front laughed and mocked.

"Zach's our man then! Follow me then Zach."

"Me? B...b...but...", stammered the dumb jerk, foolishly thinking that his
admission would exclude, rather than include, him in the water activity,
obediently got up and strode across to the compere. The little bells on the
skimpy loincloth tinkled amusingly as his butt sashayed over to the podium.

"I think, for the purposes of this one, we'll unclip your loincloth so all
the guys can see you in virtually all your glory!" The guys loved
it. Zach's jockstrap was exposed and the compere adjusted the boy's dick so
it stood straight up and hard.

"We can all see you are ready for some fun, Zach," the compere
teased. "Turn round and wiggle your butt for us. Go on, show off your
pretty little ass." The boy bit his lip and obeyed. The audience thought it
was hilarious. The compere, Jim Groves, who in reality was a former
teacher, was thoroughly enjoying himself. He pointed out a series of steps
up to a small platform above the water tank to the left, leading to a kind
of ducking stool. Above the stool was a target. Jim explained that Zach had
to sit on the stool and get ready to get dunked. An assistant wheeled on a
box full of plastic bags and balloons, filled with various types of gunk,
paint, food and flour, which the audience would take it in turns to sling
at the target. Each full-on hit would send the muscly hunk tumbling into
the drink. The compere explained to the audience that they had ten minutes
to get Zach into the tank as many times as they could, and that the amount
of dunkings would count towards the next part of the humiliation.

"The only other thing, " said Jim, "is that you have to keep this up your
ass throughout. Shouldn't be difficult because the asscrack strap of your
thong will keep it snugly in place!" He whipped out a three inch greased-up
conical butt plug.

Zach looked horrified, "But I never..."

"Bend over shitface," and with that he pulled the thong aside and let the
guys have a good look as the plug went up the virgin straight boy's pink
pussy.

"Aaagh!" yelled Zach, as the plug popped in and the thong snapped back to
keep it there. "Jeeezz, you bastards."

"Now, now, language Zachie, please," teased Jim.

The audience absolutely loved it, and, almost literally shitting himself,
Zach waddled over, almost bowlegged, his sexy swimmer thighs flexing, and
looking incredibly horny in his shiny black army boots and rolled down
white socks, which exposed a small tattoo above his left ankle with the
cute words "Horny devil" above a tiny laughing imp motif. But this little
imp wasn't laughing now. The joke was well and truly on buttboy here. He
climbed up obediently onto the seat, giving a gorgeous aerial view of his
ass, and flexed his pecs as his sexy legs dangled down. The digital clock
was lowered.  The guys queued up to sling the bags and get the boy off the
stool.

"On your marks, get set, go!". Hilariously, and humiliatingly, the sound
system started playing "Splish splash, I'm-a-takin' a bath", the old Bobby
Darin hit, several times, as the first bag was lobbed at the horny
twenty-year old.

"POW!" a bag of flour exploded next to the target and sprayed all over
Zach's short, spiky dark hair. The stool wobbled but didn't move."

"SPLAT!" a bag of eggs and blue powder paint got nearer the mark, right
over Zach's head, but no cigar, the queens in the crowd not exactly being
expert baseball players. Blue gunky cack dribbled down the back of Zach's
neck and across his pecs, dripping slowly in rivulets down his abs into his
cock area, the dampness emphasising his big erection all the more. He felt
totally humiliated. Another guy fired a bag of red jelly straight at his
dick and it exploded all down his legs, pink slime trickling into his army
boots. He twitched his legs to try and dislodge it. A custard pie missed
the target by a mile and splatted yellow custard all the way up the inside
of Zach's thighs, some drops speckling his tattooed chest. Some of the
disgusting egg mix ran down over Zach's imp tattoo, and he twisted his
boots as he felt the mixture ooze into his boots.

"Flip they were doing the bop... Splish-splash I forgot about the
bath... movin' and a groovin'... I was a splishin' and a
splashin'... Movin' with the groovin', whoo wee," went the hilariously
appropriate accompanying music.

Suddenly, a full minute into the game, a balloon full of red ink smashed
against the centre of the target. Zach wobbled, the seat gave way, and, to
a huge cheer and much laughter, the hunk screamed as his perch gave way and
he flew butt first into the soapy water. He knew he had to scramble quickly
back out and back up onto the stool because for some reason the amount of
soakings counted. Looking lithe and keen, he sprinted round for the next
go, his thong having ridden down as he shucked out of the tank. He was too
busy to notice that the top of his barely sufficient trunks now rested
suggestively in the middle of his butt. No sooner had he sat back down on
that stool than "WHAPPP!", a cream filled bag hit the target, and the
audience just saw a pile of cream slop onto the jock's head and face as he
stupidly looked up to see where it had landed before, one second later, he
was back down in the drink. While he scrambled to get out, he lost his
thong altogether as he sloshed in the water. The queens screamed as he got
out and suddenly realised he was completely nude apart from his boots and
Santa cuffs. His cock bobbed about as he made his way up the stairs. More
laughter as, suddenly, with nothing to keep it forced in, his climbing
movements shot the butt plug out and it tumbled onto the floor. Embarrassed
and dismayed he went back onto the perch and, to everyone's delight and
amusement, had to continue the game in the raw. Everyone ate it up, even
the other five guys on stage awaiting their punishment couldn't keep their
eyes off it. His glistening butt bounced and flexed as he ran round and
round like a demented duckling, bouncing in and out of the water.

"STOP!". The whistle went at ten minutes, just as Zachie had been dunked
for the seventh time. Huge applause and wolf whistling.

"Good show sexyboy!".

The compere's assistants towelled the boy down.

 "From bunnyboy to waterboy!" joked Jim. Now, the bad news is that you lost
the butt plug. For that you get ten sound smacks across your pretty
ass. One of the guys from the audience volunteered to administer those, as
Zach bent over obediently on the podium. "Ow! Ouch! Ooof" Ow!".

"Now, Zachie, you were dunked seven times. I see your cock is still hard
and solid," said Jim, fondling and twirling the foreskin as Zach winced and
tried not to notice. Hoots and whistles from the front. "You look ready for
the next part, which is our first milking of the night. Seven dunks means
you will now have seven minutes to get your load off for us."

"Wh...?" stammered Zach, stupefied.

"Yes, and if you don't make it there will be more punishment. First, the
rules,"

The compere explained that a member of the crowd would be invited to come
up onto the podium where Zach sat nude and hard, hands tied behind his
back, and would beat the boy off. Zach looked horrified as Jim instructed
him to give a running commentary during the jackoff, for the amusement of
the crowd and so we could all see how he liked to play with his dick.

Zach gulped as a mincing queen was selected from the crowd to do the
honours. The boy's hands were roped behind his back.

"Don't forget the commentary, Zach, tell all the gentlemen how you like
your cock played with, and you must roar and holler when you cum," said
Jim, as he held the microphone in front of the boys mouth. "Seven minutes,
time starts... now.!"

The volunteer slicked up the cock with lube and went deliberately slowly.

"That's no good, you need to go much faster, otherwise I'll never do it in
seven minutes," started the little stud, as the audience laughed.

"That's no way to speak to the nice man, Zachie," teased the compere, "You
must ask him nicely. Rude, spoilt boys never get their own way."

"No they don't," said the volunteer, still gently fondling Zach's eager
dick, "Now tell daddy nicely how you like it...".

"Well mister, you see, you have to diddle round the tip of my cock and rub
up and down just behind the hot purple bit. Get it all slick and
sh... Ooooo...yeeeh. I need that to make sure my cum comes up to my pee
slit. That's how my girlfriend does it."

"Does she, now. How intriguing."

"Oooh, yes, and then you have to pull my foreskin right back over the
cockhead... oooooh...yes mister, thanks mister, like that..."

Zach responded to the feathery, lascivious fingering and continued with the
humiliating commentary, as the audience jeered and mocked him for telling
everyone how he liked to get his rocks off. Like he had a choice!

"No, no, please you need to go faster, and squeeze my bollocks tight. Oo
Oooo Oo. Pump it, pump it... please pump it faster mister." So it went on,
the willing assistant teasing the brat by slowing up every thirty seconds
just as he was about to shoot, writhing and bucking sexily on the stool,
his boots kicking away sexily and spontaneously in front of him as his
powerful leg muscles tensed up in the erotic thrall. The audience ate it
up.

"Just keep going like that mister, pleeeease, and I'm going to cum, I
promise," on and on the embarrassing shit poured from the little shit's
mouth.

"I can feel spoo coming up now and... I'm going to shoot babyjuice all over
my-fucking-self..." went the boy's lewd commentary.

As the volunteer gamely stroked the boy's glans, Zach suddenly started to
roar comically like a bull as he reached the point of no return.

"Waaargh! Woooorgh!", went Zach, as his piss-slit flared and the audience
braced itself for his second gusher of the night. Welts of thick cum spat
out of his peehole and shot skywards. Whack, splat, splat, four feet high
and crashing around him audibly onto the podium. Splash, splat. Some landed
on his pecs, some shot straight up his cheeks. It was a gorgeous sight.

"Stand up, Zach. My God, look at this mess." The compere examined the boy
closely and admiringly and made him show his cumsoaked torso off to the
applauding crowd. "You shot a huge load, darling, didn't you?" teased Jim.

Zach looked quite proud, suddenly, at his performance.

"OK, off you go to get towelled down, and then join your friends."

"Now, time for our next game, which is our wrestling spot."  18 year old
blond hunk Chris and our 19 year old musclemarine Ricky, looking as sexy as
ever in his gold neckchain and bracelet, were ordered forward. They had
been given wrestling boots to wear, Chris's gold and Ricky's pink. They
were ordered to strip out of their party dresses, and called forward onto a
ten foot diameter raised foam rink. Ricky wore only his gold jockstrap
which could barely contain his cock, Chris only the embarrassing frilly
knickers. The rink had been oiled down, and Jim and two assistants enjoyed
themselves immensely by squirting oil over the two teenbabes and rubbing it
in, all over their sexy asses, pecs, legs and arms, reaching inside their
pouches as they stood wincing in a child's paddling pool on the podium.

"OK, now the rules." The compere explained that they would wrestle and that
the object of the exercise was to get each other off the mat. The first to
throw his opponent off three times would win.



The mat was of course dangerously slippy as the whistle went and the game
started. Both boys had done some wrestling at school and writhed around,
grabbing each other enthusiastically, hurling all kinds of abuse at each
other as the match went on. "Oh you motherfucker," "Ouch, you bastard,"
"You kinky fuck", and so on as they grabbed each other's cocks and balls
and tried to force each other out of the ring. For added fun, the audience
were given cream pies, cakes and other slop to hurl at the boys and make
them look even funnier. A big cream cake landed square in Ricky's crewcut
as a puff pastry splatted against blond Chris's bubblebut. Suddenly Ricky
lurched at the less powerful boy, grabbed him in the stomach in a powerful,
excruciating abclaw and sent him skidding off the mat and straight in to
the tank of shaving foam at the front.

Chris yelled. "Yeuuch!". He wiped the cream out of his eyes and joined
Ricky back on the rink in one huge creamy, oily mess. The audienced cheered
and razzed their favourite, clearly the spunky marine, Ricky, as Chris was
pelted with a cream donut from the crowd, Ricky caught him round the neck
and punched him in the back, causing him to fly off into the gunge swamp at
the right had edge of the stage.

"Oooh, grooosss", screamed Chris as he emerged covered in green slime and
bits of oily weed. Back on the mat, it wasn't looking good for Chris as the
custard pies still flew towards them. They made a grab for each other's
knickers as the crowd egged them on. And er, threw eggs on them, as a
matter of fact. As Ricky ripped through his mate's faggy pants, a couple of
rotten eggs and a tomato splatted into young Chris's balls. "Ooof!" A half
nelson, a crab, and "Woooh!", the audience roared as Chris fought back,
snapped off the marine's jockstrap, and hoisted him by his neck and crotch
over his head in a backbreaker. Ricky howled in agony, surprised at the
little dude's power. Chris jerked him across his head and sent the marine
hurling into the shaving foam tank. It was Ricky's turn to look embarrassed
as he crawled out naked and covered in sticky cream.

"Right, I'm gonna getcha." He lynched poor Chris and spun him over face
down in the oil and gunk, grabbing his chin and yanking his head
up. Chris's back was in agony as he gagged and burbled for release. He
could barely speak as his chin was pulled up into the top of his mouth, his
hands forced over Ricky's knees in a camel clutch. Chris would have been
happy to end it there, but in any case within another thirty seconds he was
flung brutally off the rink one more time and just saved himself falling
into the filthy `swamp' one more time.

The whistle went as the two breathless dudes panted, kneeling on the mat."

More applause. "A fantastic show, lads, I'm sure you'll agree." The boys,
especially Ricky, looked very pleased with themselves.

"Now, as a special reward, you two hot babes get to cum for us," explained
the compere to the dumb jocks, "but for our maximum amusement value and
entertainment value you do it by rubbing off on each other and with your
hands behind your backs."

The crowd gathered expectantly as the hands were tied, and the compere
slicked up the dicks to a full hardon before blowing the whistle.

"You have five minutes to reward as with the sight of a sticky, cummy,
mess, or else" laughed the compere. "Go!"

Everyone was rewarded with the superb sight of these two horny young dudes
desperately rubbing their dicks against each other's chests, legs and asses
in an effort to get each other off. They did everything they could in their
eager attempts to get off and get outta there! Ricky grunted as he slid his
cock keenly up and down Chris's bubblebutt crack, before losing his balance
and letting Chris fuck him between the titties. Ricky twisted round and
started to rub the tip of his dick against Chris's hard little left nipple,
one of the few points of friction left on the two lads.

Suddenly Chris caught his cock on Ricky's stubbly marine crew cut and the
rub was just enough to get him off. Out it spurted. Great torrents of
boycream poured out of Chris's baby maker, three feet in the air. Ricky
wasn't quick enough to get out of the way as it splashed back all over the
marine's face, slicking up his nose and ears. Then the horny marine
spontaneously erupted himself, a little dribble of cum oozing out of his
overexcited, oversexed dick, just seconds before he let a real humdinger of
a gusher go all over his chest without even touching it. Great jets of
white shot across the soldier boys abs, chin and lips.

The crowd loved the show, and the two humiliated hunks were ordered to
stand up and take a bow, soaked in cum as they stood there staring at the
floor, their bodies dripping cum and gunk all over the deck.

"Alright, alright, it was a lot of fun!" said the compere as the boys went
backstage for a final shower down. "We'll see you in a few minutes for the
final part of our show. Don't go away."

End of Part 6.