Date: Mon, 05 Feb 2007 08:09:43 -0600
From: mt nuda <mtnuda@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Exam chapter 84

Disclaimer/Reminder:  The following story is a work of gay fiction although
based on non-fictional occurrences.  It contains sexual acts between males
in high school as well as with males beyond high school age.   There are
scenes of definite humiliation, some of them graphic.  If this subject
matter is offensive to you or if you are too young to be reading it, please
exit now.  You have been warned.  This story is the property of the author
under U.S. copyright laws, and may not be used elsewhere without written
consent.  Otherwise enjoy. Any emails or flames expressing outrage will be
ignored.  Emails expressing interest or wishing further information can be
sent to mtnuda@hotmail.com.

Note: All names and locations have been altered to protect the innocent.
The state in which the story originally happened - coincidentally -  has a
legal age of sixteen; the "fictionalized" location does not.  Also
descriptions of unprotected sex are fictional due to story restraints.  You
understand you are reading a work of fiction; behave accordingly.  Again, do
not read this if you're a minor or are offended by gay situations or
activities which can be classified as bdsm.

  Now, back to our show --




	Chapter Eighty-four

			"This Omega Point throws off reflections of itself
			which actually richochet into the past illuminating
			the visionary with fragmentary glimses of eternity..."
								T. McKenna



	Saturday August 10 continued

	"Okay you girls rinse off before you waste all the water -- "

	"Just when we're starting to have fun" from Brian who was making a point of
jacking his hardon for all to see.  And a few were seeing.  And from what
Brian could tell, it was getting contagious.  But from the signals Moose was
giving him the show was moving to the other area.

	The first ones through the doorway towards the locker area were Moose -- of
course -- and Doug who was being steered like he was Moose's half brother.
Ern was watching this all and in spite of being major boned by Moose's naked
horseplay almost laughed loud enough for him to hear.  Like anyone could
steer Moose around like so much dead weight.  Either clueless or displaying
a death wish.

	Doing his best to steer the Moose twins through the door was that guy who
had been playing hall monitor not five seconds before blocking any early
escapees.  But now he was grabbing elbows and shoulders, pushing them out of
the shower area, directing traffic like he had a deadline to meet.  The next
elbow was Klu's, hoping once he left his circle of fans would follow as
well.  As soon as the foursome cleared the door and saw the chaos in the
lockerroom, they slid to a slippery halt, a naked bottleneck jamming up the
doorway fast.  The rest of the guys, hearing all the commotion and seeing
their expected exit blocked, came all the way around the dividing wall
ruining the effect but by that point all bets were off.

	Kroos, Joel and Mark were engaged in a three-way shoving match, struggling
and swearing, with two guys in football gear making inept attempts to
intercede, pinning their arms behind them long enough for Joel to calm down.

	"What the fuck's goin on?" from Moose, who never got the luxury of reading
the script.  To him all of this almost looked serious.  But then he heard
one of the voices  from under a helmet,

	"Mind yer own business.  We... we found these two pervs spying on you guys
in the showers!" and of course everyone recognized Mort's voice.  A few of
the wet naked guys were too busy trying to find their micro-towels to bother
hiding their chuckles.  But Moose heard that voice like the clarion call of
tonight's mission.  If he was going to stand there naked and dripping wet,
his cousin already suited up was his target.  All the shit he heard about
his super-respectable, super-sucesssful cousin would be exposed once and for
all.  And Moose elected himself a committee of one to do the exposing.  If
he could just signal Ern -- yeah okay and Big Hank for that matter -- and
let this know what he was about to do was necessary, he would have one less
worry.  But this was family business; they would have to understand.

	"WHAT?!?!" from several directions echoing off the hard surfaces, guys
jostling and shoving trying to get a better look, ready to intercede until
Joel broke free,

	"What are you TALKIN about?" then Kroos of all people grabbed Joel's arm
"lemme go!"

	"Jo-Joe!" Kroos was too busy trying to muscle him in the general direction
of the inner stage door to worry about his shorts down around his thighs,
his hard shiny cock jumping and waving around like a wild animal free of its
cage "you are not supposed to be here!"

	"Why not?" Joel broke away before Mort took over the rough stuff "y'didn't
want me seeing you'n this jock here trading blow jobs is that it?"

	"That's disgusting!" from under one of the helmets "spying on the team's
bad enough but doing that!"

	"Leave now... Joe" Kroos used one free hand to start yanking up his shorts
until Joel broke free of Mort and then Joel was his responsibility again.

	"He made me do it!" Mark stood there trying to look innocent.  His hard
innocence showing in his tan shorts.  According to the camera pointing at
him he was scheduled to be the center of interest, his hard pumped muscles
shiny with sweat from the recent work-out, showing enough tube in his shorts
to explain his inclusion in the night's activities.  But except for one or
two guys angling for a better view of his front, most were trying to make
sense of the three-way, four-way? fight going on.

	"He made you get a blow-job?  So what?" from Klu, not bothering to cover
up.  By that point it would have been a bit stupid, he thought.  Besides, he
was too distracted trying to place the other two helmeted dudes.  He was
angling closer to the one he had a hunch on.

	"So what?" Mort mocked back "so WHAT?"

	"Yeah, even if I believe that shit which I don't! ain't like nothin
nobody's seen before..." Brian was looking right into the camera.  His cock
was trying to deflate but this was all too exciting.  Exciting and bizarre.
Even he could tell this was not in the game plan for tonight.

	"You don't understand" Mort again, twisting Kroos' arm behind him almost to
the point Kroos's wince looked genuine "you can see how... how... aroused it
was gettin them" and used his other hand to pull the front of Kroos' pants
down further, his bone hard springing free as his balls swung back and
forth.  Several guys, both on stage and in the audience, reacted loudly.

	"What'dya think we better do with these two?" from the other guy.  As soon
as they heard his voice their fears were confirmed.  It really was Bernan!

	"Coach, it's coach" several of the guys were saying out loud.  Brian's
hands flew to his crotch, pushing his way to the back of the room.

	"Yeah your coach's gonna beat the shit outa the whole lotta ya when he
hears about this!" Joe Bernan started jostling Joel between him and the
cameras.  Joel interpreted it as permission to stay.

	"Coach? coach?" from Joel now, getting ready to spill the beans "so can I
make sure -- I mean if I gotta stay..."

	"Coach wants you to leave Joe!" Kroos tried to wrestle Joel away from
Bernan, dumbfounded he of all people was blocking Joel's departure.  He knew
Joel did not belong here and needed to get his underage ass out of there
now.

	"Yeah, HE's gonna be real pissed" Matt spun around to find the big braggart
Brian hiding in the back "especially when HE sees you runnin around like
that with your stiffie for all to see.  You want me to tell him what -- "

	"No Ma -- I mean Mike" Doug looked from that weasel Matt to Moose then back
at Bernan "what the fuck's he here for?  What is all this shit?"

	"So you  -- alla ya -- better keep yer traps shut" Moose winked at Doug,
turning to Bernan "or I WILL tell the coach about this, you got it?"

	"What about these two?" Mort's job was to bring this whole mess back to the
script.  As long as he could keep this on track he might avoid a total train
wreck yet.  And the less improv allowed, the less chance he would be drawn
into any actual shit.  Unlike previous Saturday nights.

	"What were they -- " from Doug, spending most of his time turning Moose
into his human shield.  But Moose kept jumping around, trying to get a
better look at all of this.

	"Yeah what exactly were they doing?" from an older guy with a big hairy
belly.  Several guys turned at the sound, like he materialized from nowhere.

	"I TOLD ya!" Mort again "these two peeping toms were perving on you guys in
the showers!  They were...hell there's worse!"

	"Like what?" Moose looked at Joel, this your idea?  Joel tried to shrug
no,but his arms were pinned behind him, his barrel chest thrust forward, his
shorts as stuffed full of hard dick as Kroos or that Mark guy.

	"Well your assistant coach here" Mort gave Kroos' arm another jerk.  This
time it seemed genuine because Kroos almost broke free "he woulda been
jackin off while spyin on you but -- "

	There were several shouts of phony outrage from around the room, even the
cameramen getting in on it.

	"But mister innocent Mark here was too busy wrappin his mouth around it --
"

	"That's a lie!" from Mark "it's a lie!" but Moose could here how rehearsed
it sounded.

	"You get it now?" from Joe "these two were trading blowjobs in my -- I mean
OUR lockerroom!"

	"So what does that...?" from mister hairy belly, already stepping into a
pair of briefs.  Doug almost shouted when he recognized them as his,
expecting the guy to yank them off when he realized they were too small to
be his own.  But he kept them on, in spite of the fact they were threatening
to rip up the back.

	"Punish'm! Punish'm!" drowned out his comment, the yell from several of the
adult plants at once, until the whole group took up the chant, punish them!
punish them!

	"Strip em!" from the third guy in gear.  Two of the young guys closest to
him tried to see under his helmet.  Who the hell is this?  Nobody had seen
him before, at least not in the back dining area.  But he was a strong
muther, and with fuckin arms like that no one was gonna challenge this dude!

	"Strip them!" several of the guys took up the new order, and when Moose
joined the chant everyone took up the chant.

	"Make those do the whole goddamn strip show.  And take'm in that fucked up
shower!" from Klu, who got a laugh from Brian and even a few in the audience
"that's punishment enough!"

	"Yeah then we play drop the soap!" from the brown haired guy, the only one
thin enough to get the hand towel around his waist.

	"Drop the soap!  Drop the soap!" went the new chant, Brian and Matt
hi-fiving until Doug pulled their hands down.

	"Y'sure that's a good idea?" from mister hairy belly, a t-shirt pulled over
his head.  Again Doug looked in horror seeing his clothes being stretched
over this stranger.  He tried to get over there to stop him, but there were
too many animated bodies between him and his locker, now mister hairy
belly's locker.

	"Why ain't it a good idea?" from Mort, using both hands to tug this back to
the script "we were supposed to -- I mean they want them punished!  You
heard the guys!"

	"You mean the boys" mister h.b. stood there, Doug's t-shirt barely covering
the beach ball sticking out from his front "I can count several here under
age right now--"

	"I'm old enough!" from Billy Hammes, expecting several other voices to join
his.  He looked around when he realized he was the only one to open his big
mouth "I... er... I mean..."

	"Everyone here ain't eighteen better get their butts outa here right now"
he looked at Mort, pinning him in his gaze.  Mort saw the script flying into
a thousand pieces.  Then Bernan came to his aid,

	"All you... gentlemen..." he looked right at Moose "know you still need to
get your shots today" he held up his hand as several guys started protesting
in shock "that's why you all gotta sign your medical release forms --
they're in the lockers behind you -- enough to go around -- if you can't
find one" he went over to the locker closest to the stage door "I have
extras here."

	"What? What'd he say?  What is this?" from most of the group, not the least
mister hairy belly looking very pissed.  One by one the guys started opening
various lockers, seeing the sheets of paper on the upper shelf.  The first
one to read it was that guy with the bandaged arm who started the soap fight
in the shower room.

	"What the hell you mean to -- this ain't--"

	"Gentlemen gentlemen..." Mort looked at Bernan who took it from there,

	"Awright you guys listen up!" Brian and Matt snapped to attention at the
familiar sound, an automatic reflex from countless sessions with him "you
heard the man, anyone not old enough to get yer shots I want you outa here"
looking right at Joel "got it?  As for the rest of you sorry-ass dudes, sign
your forms and read the last section -- no not out loud dumbfuck!" directed
at Doug? "and move yer asses.  DO IT!  If ya can't --"

	"If you can't" from mister soapy next to Klu "you're on kitchen duty,
okay?" watching the shocked look from Mort and Bernan "that means you!"
looking at Klu "you!" at Joel "and especially YOU!" at Billy Herms.

	"But! but but!" from as many adults as the guys singled out.

	"But why?" Billy Herms slipped close enough to whisper the question "who
are you?"

	"Yeah who are you, you ain't one of the... ringleaders" Moose also close by
whispered to him.

	"Call me Jesse... but this is who we are" mister soapy whispered back "now
I mean it.  You really need to get to the kitchen... now!  The time is
near..."

	"What time?" Moose looked at Billy, this makin any sense to you?

	"Joe!" Billy almost yelled Joel at him, getting his attention "you're with
me" grabbing Klu elbow next "you too."

	"But!" Klu resisted until Moose pressed his shoulder muscle tight.  Klu
felt it before and knew Moose was not playing now.  He relented and allowed
Billy to direct him to the stage door.  They both grabbed Joel away from two
of the guys in football gear and almost had him through the door when they
heard,

	"We want Joel!" from Brian and Matt like they had been rehearing this for
days "we want Joel!"

	"You mean Joe?  Joe here?" Billy tried to keep the threesome moving but
Joel hesitated at the threshold.

	"Joel, Joe, whatever" Brian glared at them, then at Bernan "right Coach?"

	"Wait!" Bernan was heading for them fast "stop don't say--"

	"He stays or..." Matt squared his shoulders "we're 'burnin' these forms...
Coach" making sure Bernan got the meaning "no...'joe'-king, got it?" he
winked at Brian "play ball?"

	"Joe..." Bernan looked at Joel "we can't make you stay..."

	"We can" Matt looked over Bernan's shoulder at him "us... Miners are in
this together, remember?"

	"Billy... y'better go" Joel whispered to him and Klu "not sure what's
happening now but I think you two better..."

	"You gonna be okay?"

	"No..." Joel shook his head "but I asked for this.  Now leave!" and pushed
the two through the door and stepped back on stage, knowing his fate was
sealed.  Several times they tried to get him out of the action, and each
time something conspired to bring him back into the mix.  Even Joel could
figure out there were forces at work now, and his part was here, with Kroos.
  Before anyone said anything he reached into the nearby locker, grabbed a
form and signed it with a nasty scrawl.  He swore he saw Mort wince.



	"Okay everyone who's stayin is stayin "from Mort, his voice cracking a bit
"y'heard the men... strip!  All the way down t'yer jocks!" releasing Kroos
from his grip, waiting for him to react.  But Kroos gave a sideways look to
Joel first and Mark second, then pulled the tan polo shirt over his head.
As he did he knew the last hurtle had been passed and there was no return
now.  He tossed it to the floor behind him, feeling the lights as well as
the stare burning his bare flesh.  Several grunts came from around the room,
from those who had never seen Kroos stripped to the waist.  As well as from
the  few who had.  Joel used the distraction of Kroos kicking out of his
shoes to re-read the last paragraph of the release form he just signed,
trying not to show the total shock seeing what it said.  But it was too late
to protest so he pulled off his tan shirt and pants, standing there is his
t-shirt and white shorts, seeing a few guys around the room stepping into
their underwear as well, knowing what it meant.  Only a few guys stayed
naked, gripping their small wet towels.  But when he noticed one or two of
them stepping into their "cross-trainers" he looked away fast, never in a
million years guessing who would agree to such things.

	The paragraph stipulated certain conditions for indicating what the guys on
stage were will to do, what they were willing to participate in, once things
with Kroos got serious.  When he stripped down to his underwear, he
indicated he was agreeing to any physical contact with other guys on stage
as necessary.  He would agree to touching other guys, and being touched by
them in return.  Up to a certain point.  He wanted to strip down to just his
running shoes, but once Kroos saw he was willing to do anything... as in
ANYTHING! on stage, up to and including giving and taking it up the ass! he
knew they would toss him outa there so fast it would look like trick
photography!  So he stood there in his underwear, his hardon showing through
the damp stained cotton, watching Kroos unzip his pants, hesitating when it
came time to show cock again.  Even though his used jock was covering him
somewhat, Joel now regretted making him -- or himself for that matter --
inhale that Viagra.

	He looked over at the other guy, the musclehead already down to his own
jockstrap like this was a race.  He wondered what might have happened had he
sucked him off backstage, had he gotten the big stud to blow a load before,
if this might have been avoided.  Joel looked away, not knowing how much of
the blame was his, when one  of the guys from the Y yelled,

	"Man look at those two.  They're both still like totally boned!"

	"Make'm stand there like that" that chubby balding guy with the basketball
stomach yelled out going to his locker "I gotta get me a picture of this"
and off came Doug's t-shirt revealing his hairy back as he tossed it onto
the piles of clothes there, then brought out a disposable camera, hopefully
a prop.  He made a point of taking a few  "practice" pictures of the guys in
the football gear "man this other dude's got some major muscles!" he clicked
away at Mark who stood there, assuming this was part of the script.  That
page or two he did not get a chance to review before that kid's mouth zoomed
in on his dick.  But the way the guy was pointing it at his chest and face
and not his full jock made him a bit nervous "even with all those steroids
he's hung!  I got me an idea!"

	"I thought we were supposed to be punishing them" from Mort, not sure why
this guy was ruining the script.

	"These two are so proud of all those muscles, they think they're such big
shits, they're so strong and cocky, well let's see how strong they are!
Let's see how much shit they really can take before they break!" the guy
continued, now trying to hold a towel in front of himself, or rather Doug's
briefs.

	"Whatdya mean by 'break'?" Mort looked at Bernan then Kroos.  How did this
guy get a hold of the script?  He obviously knew some of the code words, but
this was not part of the plan until much later.

	"You know!" he looked at Mort, stern and serious "they got such big fuckin
muscles, they think they're such muscle studs, let's break em!  Let's see
what it'll take to make'm say uncle!  I know you got weights around here.
Make up pump some serious iron til they beg fer mercy,  til their fuckin
arms fall off!"

	"Pump what?" from Arn, starting to sweat under his uniform.  He wanted to
get out of all this outfit and get to the "hardcore" stuff before he passed
out from those damn spotlights.  All this other shit was just that.
Bullshit!

	"Go get the weights in the -- in my office" Mort looked at Kroos then at
Bernan under his helmet "in the mean time, let's see how much y'can take,
starting with some jumping jacks from you two!" and damn the train was back
on track, unscheduled derailment notwithstanding.

	Kroos and Mark looked at each other as the rest of the guys made some room
for them.  A few guys, like Doug and one of the adulst, as well as that
Hammes guy from South used the distraction to slip into the shadows
off-stage.  The fact that their clothes were still in those lockers -- or
being worn by others -- was the least of their concerns right now.

	"We'll start y'out easy" from one of the helmets.  Most of the guys
recognized the coach's voice "gimme twenty!"

	Mark adjusted his jock so his chub was folded under the waistband, but
Kroos started the jumping jacks without that concern.  As a result Mark
lagged two or three behind him but who the hell was counting, he thought.
So the two of them were jumping up and down, their big arms throwing off
sprays of sweat, their chests heaving with the exertion, until first Kroos
and then Mark slowed, now shiny and all-but naked under the floodlights.
And there was mister hairy belly with his camera again.

	"Shit that ain't punishment" from the other helmet, that big guy again
"like I gotta show y'dudes how we do it where I come from" and he went into
one of the lockers and pulled out two of the heaviest pair of football shoes
he could find.  He went over to Mark, who was standing catching his breath
"hold still or you'll be singing falsetto" and he reached into Mark's jock
and pulled out his balls.  Mark protested and tried to yank away.

	"Cut the shit Arn!" Mark was backing away, almost banging into one of the
lockers.  He hoped using Arn's real name might make him stop.  It didn't.

	"Look Mark, nothin would make me happier'n these dudes holdin ya down" Arn
grabbed him by the arm "and gettin in a coupla punches before we call'm off"
he bluffed,.  looking at Kroos as well.  Mark put up a struggle, flexing his
impressive musculature for the cameras, but the struggled was more show than
anything.

	Arn grabbed Mark's balls hanging outside the pouch and gave them a tug,
showing them very red and very vulnerable.  He looped a length of the laces
around Mark's uncircumcized cock and balls both, making a tight cockring of
it, but leaving his cock pinned inside the shorts.  The other lace was
wrapped maybe six times around the base of his sac.  With the two laces
knotted together, he let the full weight of the shoe drop hard.  Mark gave a
grunt when the shoe yanked his goods a good two inches.

	"Shit man that's fuckin wicked" Brian came around to see Mark's predicament
"why didn't I think of that" he muttered to the guys around him.  Arn
overheard him,

	"Cause you don't know what yer dick's good for besides wettin the bed!" he
shot at him, quieting him fast.  He went over to Kroos and tied him up as
well.  This time he just wrapped both laces around Kroos' low hangers,
having more scrotum to work with.  When he was finished Kroos' balls were
hanging several inches lower than before.

	"Okay now..." he looked at the other two helmets, then out to the audience
"now we wanna see those jumping jacks again -- "

	"But that's -- " from Bernan, wary of Arn's unscripted sadistic stunt.

	"Okay you two" from Mort, trying to intervene "just gimme ten for
starters."

	Kroos looked over at Mark and whispered "you might want to reconsider all
this."

	"You forget" this time Mark started before Kroos "I'm as big a bastard as
you" and winced as he started, each jump bringing the shoe up and slamming
into his exposed stretched balls, and then jerking down like a yo-yo,
pulling the knots even tighter.  Kroos wanted to stop it then and there, but
someone -- he could not see who -- slapped him on his butt and then he was
jumping as well.  Because his balls were tied different than Mark's, the
full weight of the shoe jerked and yanked his scrotum, making it twist and
stretch like hell.  But with every jump, it seemed Kroos' bone only got
harder and harder.  A few of the guys started to comment when the inner door
opened and Bernan re-appeared carrying, or rather dragging, two barbells.

	He had stripped off most of his uniform, losing the helmet somewhere
backstage.  His jersey and most of the pads were replaced with just the
shoulder pads, now pressing out a gray t-shirt he found backstage.  Judging
by Arn's reaction, Bernan discovered its owner.  When he saw what was
happening to Kroos and Mark, he yelled,

	"That's my starting quarterback! What the fuck y'doin to him?"

	"We're getting them both warmed up y'might say" from Arn challenging him.

	"Shit" he went over to Mark and started to untie the wet knotted laces,
whispering something until that guy with the disposable camera was back in
their face.

	"Leave'm!" from another of the aduts from the Y before, the lean
brown-haired one in his underwear, who had been making a point of pressing
up behind Brian and his tidy whities.  Brian was trying to hide his nervous
expression as best he could.  He knew that wearing just his briefs meant he
was willing to let some dude feel him up, a quick five hundred bucks, he
reminded himself.  And staying naked from the waist up signaled the dude he
would not be returning the favor.  But the way this dude kept pressing his
crotch into Brian's butt gave him the impression this dude was not gonna be
playin by the rules now.

	"You heard the man" Arn came over and almost pushed Bernan away "gotta give
the customer what they want" stealing a look at Mister Johnson/Jones by the
mixing board, "right?"

	"But this is -- "

	"If yer such a pussy maybe you wanna join them" from Arn, right in Bernan's
face.  He looked at Mort then at the mixing board committee,

	"Hey it ain't my funeral" he took a step back, but the expression on his
face caused a few guys to back away.

	"Give those two muscleheads the weights" from Brian's thin companion again
"let's see if they're as strong as they look!"

	So Mort and the coach each lifted a bar and placed them in front of Kroos
and Mark.  When Mark started tugging at his shoe, Arn shook his head.

	"C'mon lemme at least loosen this?" Mark was miserable, hoping someone,
Mort maybe, might take pity on him "I'm dyin here!"

	"Nah, looks like yer enjoying this too much" Arn grabbed Mark's shorts,
making a point of outlining his cock still pointed at twelve o'clock.

	"But -- "

	"You're a big boy" Arn tugged Mark's cock forward until it was pointing
straight out, the taut head almost pushing through the cloth "there, now
isn't that better?"  He lifted the weights and shoved the barbell into
Mark's six-pack, forcing him to grab it.  With both hands struggling to keep
the greasy bar from slipping, Mark could not reach down and re-adjust his
cock, the sensitive head mashed against the material.  The way it was angled
now, any movement would make the head rub into the coarse pouch.  Mark could
only stand there readjusting his grip until the bar was better balanced.  As
long as he made no sudden jerks or jumps he hoped his nads might survive
this after all.  When he looked over at Kroos, he saw Mort had handed him
the other barbell, but Kroos was not as lucky.  His red hardon was pulled
free of his shorts, pointing out and a bit down due to the tug on his balls
from that damn shoe.  He was about to say something when Mort said,

	"Okay you two.  For your punishment we're gonna see some nice leg squats.
Get those barbells up to your chest and then let's see twenty! Now!"

	Mark tried to protest, but was drowned out by the whoops and cheers from
everyone around him.  When he saw Kroos lift the weight and start a slow
careful descent towards the floor he did the same.  Luckily -- or not as the
case might be -- he was only loaded with about fifty pounds on his bar,
seeing a lot more on Kroos'.  So the first five or so squats were almost
easy on his arm and leg muscles.  His cockhead however was rubbing itself
raw against the inside of that scratchy pouch.  Then he started to slow,
trying to conserve his energy for whatever shit was next.  He was about
three short of completing the twenty when he felt his cock give a lunge and
bang! it had torn a hole through the seam.  He even heard a scattering of
comments from several directions when it did.  Only when he finished and
straightened up did he see why.  His cock, either from the blood pumping
like mad, or from the shoelaces strangling the base, now looked like
something from a bathroom wall cartoon!  The head was as bright reddish
purple as he'd ever seen, and the way it was pushing through the rip made it
look like it was pumped to explode.  Even Kroos was staring at it.

	"Look" Kroos started to say "the guy is suffering, you must untie -- "

	At that moment Kroos looked towards the mixing board, seeing Mister Johnson
give a signal to Mort who announced rather loudly,

	"I'm ready to start punishing ALL OF YOU" and there was a knock on the
stage door.  Right on cue.

	"Who the hell is that?" Mort went over to the door, opened it, and left.
In a matter of seconds he was back.

	"Ah... we have a problem" he came over to Arn and Bernan, trying to look as
serious as possible.

	"What problem?" Bernan asked, also looking serious.

	Several of the guys in the audience, especially those two commando guys in
the first row, started to squirm, and then tried to get to their feet, as
well as the two guys from the restaurant next to them, fearing the worst.
Even Baby Huey in the back was out of his chair, an easy task because there
was no hand in his lap holding him down.  Mister Johnson/Jones turned to
them and was trying to shush them, waving them back to their chairs.

	"We got company" Mort announced over the growing noise, looking at Kroos
and Mark as the dam burst, the sound of flying chairs drowning out his
"remember?"