Date: Fri, 6 Nov 2015 17:43:12 -0500
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: Consolation Prize

                        CONSOLATION PRIZE
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     Time for me to get into position. I had about twenty seconds before
the curtain would go up.  Stagehands had already pushed the mule into
position and tethered him in place. All I had to do was go out in my goofy
hick outfit and get on that mule and be pretend-riding him when the box
opened up. If it did.
     When I set out to be a male model, of all the cut-rate compromises I'd
expected to make, I never thought it'd be this one. Modeling powertools,
maybe, or a bit part on a show that needed a male stud in a scene in a
non-speaking part, sure, but this! I was one of those behind-the-scenes
models they use on a game show, to set the stage and gesture at the
products and such. In this case, I was part of a booby-prize!
     The game was that one you saw maybe briefly in its single season's run
on television, "Find the Box." In case you missed it (lucky you!), it was a
mix between "Let's Make a Deal" and "Family Feud." Two families of four
competed against each other and the winning team got a chance to "find the
box" which was sort of a game of "Concentration," you had to mix two boxes
of the same prize to win the prize. The ones who won the best prizes (per
value) got to keep their prizes, the losing team was stuck choosing between
two boxes, one was a pretty good prize (in this case, a washer-and-dryer
combination), and the other was a gag prize. In this case, a mule, with me
sitting on it to add some character. They'd "buy back" the mule for cash
after the show was over, mind you, nobody had to drag the mule home with
them.
     If the Carver Family won, they might want the mule instead, which
could be sticky! That mule was rented from an agency! The Carvers were a
family of a father and three adult sons who hailed from the Ozarks. The
casting agency retained to collect contestants for us had been told to try
for colorful characters, which the Carvers definitely were. Big, hunky,
dumb farmboys, their answers to the questions were offbeat and frequently
hilarious. Like calling "possum" the kind of meat you'd use to make gumbo!
     Well, I'll spare you the rest of the details, save that the Carvers
did lose the game (for obvious reasons) and they did end up with the mule
as their "prize." Their reaction was typical Carver. "How the heck are we
going to get that mule all the way back to Missouri?"
     "We'll give you a cash prize in lieu of the mule." the M.C. assured
them, and I sat aboard that mule with a big grin and waving while they
lowered the curtain once again. I just had time to get ready for my next
appearance, in a jumpsuit, pretending to have just custom built the Jaguar
which was one of the prizes in the next show. The shows were shot five at a
time of course, once a week, and shown on a daily basis. It chewed up a big
part of a day, and what with post-production work (some scenes had to be
shot over again) it was almost nine o'clock at night when I got out of
there.  The things you do while waiting to be discovered as a male model! I
was going to call my agent first thing tomorrow and if he didn't have some
other work for me by now, I was going to shop for a new agent!
     A sign of my situation, I had to walk out and wait by the side of the
road for the bus. One would be by in almost a half hour, my worse luck, I'd
just missed the one I usually took. I sat on the bench and settled in
prepared to spend my time batting away mosquitoes and thinking about what I
was going to do when I got "discovered" at last. Exotic locales, plenty of
money, expensive parties where I'd meet the best and finest, and among
them, the man who'd fall in love with me and take me off to live in his
mansion and I'd never have to work again except when I felt like it.
     I didn't even notice when the vehicle pulled up, a battered
Winnebago-like vehicle. Sitting in the passenger window was one of the
Carver sons. "There you are! We was wondering where you'd got to!"
     "I beg your pardon?"
     "Come on, get in!" the elder Carver called from the driver's seat. "We
got to get going!"
     As if it were a sign, the door on the side of the Winnebago (it wasn't
one, but I'll call it that, it was one of those mobile-homes-on-wheels,
anyhow, and an old, beat-up one) flew open and the two other Carver sons
jumped out and I found myself being bundled into the Winnebago, too fast to
figure out what to do about it, if I'd been able to do anything at all,
that is. Put one arm in the grip of a huge muscled young stud and you
decide what your options are, got it? Oops, too late, you're already inside
and trapped. That was how it went for me, too fast and too rough.
     They'd gutted the inside of the thing, only an old mattress was lying
on the floor behind the pair of seats in front. I ended up down on that
mattress quick as could be.
     "What the hell is this?" I demanded. "Are you kidnaping me?"
     "Kidnaping, hell!" the middle son (I had the eldest and middle Carvers
with me, the youngest son and father were in the front seats) retorted. "We
done won you today!"
     "Won me?"
     "We won us the contents of that there box." the oldest son replied.
     "Yes." I nodded. "The mule. You were offered cash for the mule."
     "Yep. But they didn't offer us nothing for you. So we got you." the
middle son finished.
     I'd better give you their names, I knew them already from observing
the game; I was always good with names. The father was named William, the
sons were (oldest to youngest) Justin, Jefferson and Martin. Their ages
were almost the only difference among them, Martin was a younger version of
Jefferson and Justin who were younger copies of their father. All were over
six foot in height, broadly muscled with the slightest bulge of fat at
their stomach, their hair the same shade of dark brown, the faces as broad
and stern as their bodies. All wore the same weathered workshirts of red
plaid coupled with faded blue jeans, not faded by machinery, just washed
and worn over and over and over again until they were authentically rugged.
     I looked from Justin to Jefferson in dismay. "You got me? Now, just a
minute here, I wasn't part of the prize!"
     "You was in the box." Will, the father, declared. "So you were part of
the prize all right.  Shame we didn't catch you afore you took off them
duds you was wearing on that mule, it would be better back for working in
back in the Ozarks than what you got on now." It was still hot from the
summer though autumn had already begun, I was wearing a tanktop and shorts,
effective for travel on a bus on a warm night and quick to change into and
out of. It showed a good bit of my body, but a male model gets used to that
and some beefcake advertising never hurt, you never knew when a talent
scout was nearby.
     "I'm not going to the Ozarks!" I yelped! "You people didn't win me!
You can't win people as a prize!"
     "Why not?" Justin replied. "We won you, didn't we?"
     Hard to argue with logic like that, besides, I had other
problems. These two men were on their knees on either side of me at my legs
and they were busy acting together to pull my tanktop off over my head.
     "Hey, hey, what are you doing?" I yelped as it was removed over my
head despite my efforts to contain it where it was.
     "Got to look over our newest property." Jefferson told me. "Make sure
ain't nothing wrong with it."
     "There's nothing wrong with me." I fought with them over my shorts
now, I was unlucky in that these shorts were held up only by elastic and a
cord tie at the navel. This cord loved to untie itself at the slightest
tug, or maybe they designed it that way (avoid knots) but it wasn't helping
keep those shorts on my body at all. And worse luck, I wasn't wearing any
underwear under that tonight (that beefcake thing again, a
loose-and-swinging piece of meat inside your shorts to bulge out
unexpectedly now and then to help make you look sexy.
     They pulled my sneakers and socks off as they pulled off the shorts,
both were loose on me as well, damn it, and I ended up buck naked on that
dirty mattress in that filthy van before those two big hulks. Damn it! I
covered myself ineffectually with my hands and said, "Now listen here, you
guys misunderstood what you were winning in that game. I was on that mule
just as a sort of prop, not part of the prize at all. If you'd watched the
show better, you would have noticed me in several of the scenes, I was the
one showing off that speedboat, remember, I was riding in it?"
     "You want to take him first, or me?" Justin asked Jefferson.
     "I'm easy, big brother." Jefferson replied. "Which end do you want?
I'll take t'other."
     "The other end of what?" I asked, but I was ignored.
     Justin had been unbuttoning his fly, and he took out a prick that was
frightening large. He then hawked a big wad of phlegm into his hand and
rubbed it over the huge dong, which stiffened in his palm. "I'll break him
in for you." he responded.
     Jefferson was unbuttoning his own fly and took out a prod equal to the
size of his older brother. "I'll let him lubricate me for when you're done
with him." he said and he waddled on his knees up toward my face.
     Now, I didn't need a diagram drawn for me here to know what these two
were planning for me. Naked on a mattress and two hard dongs means I get
stuffed from both ends, right?
     So I skipped any preliminary protests and went with my next best
option. "Mr. Carver? Mr.  Carver, are you going to let your sons do this to
me?"
     "Better you than the cows or the pigs." was his laconic, uncaring
response. "Only reason I agreed to pick you up was the boys said they could
use a playmate on the farm."
     I clung to that thread of hope as I was being pushed back onto the
mattress and my legs were being lifted up and Jefferson was pushing his
body around so he could sit with his knees on either side of my
head. Positioning me to violate me. "But they're here in Hollywood,
Mr. Carver. Lots of pretty girls here in Hollywood, and they could have
their fun with one of them for just a few dollars. You got some two hundred
dollars for that mule, at a guess, why don't you give it to them and let
them have their fun with...."
     "Those filthy whores!" Mr. Carver exploded. "Disease ridden daughters
of the devil is what they are!" Amazing how he could turn almost biblical
on me while his sons made ready to sodomize me at each end. "No, my sons
are going to stay away from women until they get one they want to marry!
Until then, they have to make do with what they can."
     "Like the guy we done won at that game." Martin chipped in as he
watched his older brothers taking me.
     I moaned as I felt Justin's cock pushing at my ass. "So why can't they
just fuck each other then. Why me?"
     "Cause we own you." Martin declared finally. And Justin's hips gave a
sharp shove and that huge pud of his drove into me, and I howled.
     Loud as the roar of that Winnebago motor was, I didn't expect anyone
to hear me. And my open mouth was an invitation for Jefferson to pull my
head upwards so he could shove his own prong right into my mouth and
throat. My second yell was muffled before I could get to it.
     "Come on, get to sucking it." Jefferson ordered me as Justin began to
hunch back and forth and I moaned. "Get it all lubed up, `cause that sore
ass of yours is going to need all it can get to take my dong once Justin
gets done with you."
     From the rough fucking I was getting from Justin, I didn't doubt it. I
complied miserably, closing my lips on it and Jefferson took that as an
invitation to start thrusting at me himself.
     I felt like a used piece of meat and that was how they were using
me. A male model has to put up with a lot of shit in his life. Twice now
I'd let my ambition put me into bed with men I wouldn't have looked at
twice in a bar even if I was planning to pick up someone in there. But
there, both times, it was like the kickback I was paying to get a job,
advance my career, meet the people who could get me jobs. It was at least
my choice, and I wasn't getting that here.
     Plunging into me at mouth and ass, two hard cocks wielded by two hard
brothers were ramming in and out of me with as little regard for me as if I
were a half of ham they'd cut slits into and were fucking. I felt my
prostate being mauled, but it didn't give me the least thrill, even as
Justin began to pant and groan hard and his cock stiffened into a column of
solid steel.
     Martin had come back to join us, while his father continued to drive
us through the darkened streets north of Hollywood. I wondered where they
were taking me, I knew this was the wrong direction to travel to get back
to the Ozarks, they needed to head east, take the interstate through
Arizona and New Mexico, Texas and Oklahoma, and from there they could hitch
northeast toward Missouri.
     Martin knelt down at my waist and as Justin fucked at me faster, his
climax building up fast, he grabbed my cock and began to work at
it. Jefferson pulled away, getting ready to take his big brother's place,
and I gasped, my cock hardened, and in that first faint rise in my pleasure
from this, Justin ejaculated into me.
     God, the man was roaring like a bull as he unloaded a bull-sized load
into my ass. I felt it like a wash of hot cream flooding into my bowels,
while this huge man thrust at me hard, so hard he was slamming my buttocks
with his hips at every stroke, as he drove his cock all the way into me and
sprayed his spunk at every trust.
     "Yeah, feel that?" Martin asked me. "Hell of a big load my big brother
has. You'll be getting it every night now you're living with us."
     "You can't do this to me, you can't!" I groaned.
     Justin finished, panting heavily and Jefferson almost threw him aside
in his eagerness. Justin fell to one side hard and Jefferson knelt down and
began to aim his slimy prong at my already plugged ass. Between the spit
and the jizz, he wasn't going to have any trouble penetrating me.
     Martin had me up to full erection now, and he said, "Time for Jeff to
get your ass now. Then it'll be my turn." His hand released me and he began
to fumble at his fly. Great, now I got to suck him until his brother
finished. Maybe by then, while he was fucking me, Justin would be ready for
another turn. Three of them, would their father climb on when they were all
done?
     I moaned in despair and Martin climbed on me, but not the way I
expected. While Jefferson's prick slid toward its destined date with my
come-dripping asshole, he was getting into a position I'd only had with the
nicer men I'd dated.
     As his cock slapped at my face, Martin took my cock in his mouth and
began to suck on me.  I got that as Jefferson pushed his prick into me, and
I felt myself again filled with hard farmboy dongs.  Only now, my own dick
was a part of the action.
     As I was fucked again, as my prostate again got pummeled by the hard
athletic thrusts of this big stud, as I was sucked on by another hunky
stud, I felt true desire rising in me. And I began to suck this youngest
Carver voluntarily.
     "Knew he'd get into it after I fucked him hard." Justin observed,
proudly but rather inaccurately. "We'll work him in the fields all day then
fuck him all night. Be right handy to have about the spread."
     "Yeah, he's going to work out just fine." Jefferson agreed.
     I didn't care right then, I was sucking cock, willingly, for the first
time this night. I gave Martin's prick all the attention it deserved and
then some, I am a damned fine cocksucker when I set out to be. Jefferson
hadn't gotten anything but a pair of lips from me, Martin was getting every
talent I'd ever picked up in my twenty-five years of life. Martin was a bit
shy of twenty at a guess, but he'd had two horny brothers to deal with all
his life, no doubt, he was just as skilled at milking my man-meat.
     And Jefferson was ramming me in the midst of all that. I hate to admit
that his dick in my butt was a part of my pleasure, but it was, I ended up
in the throes of climax well ahead of Martin. I moaned, my orgasm assaulted
my brain, and then I was spurting upwards into his mouth like
gangbusters. Martin was surprised, a little, but he held on and began
gulping me down.
     And my ass convulsed on Jefferson's pud and he gasped, groaned and
exploded into me. I felt his sperm, as heavy a load as his brother's, and
it boiled into me as I squirted my last jets of jizz into Martin's mouth to
be swallowed eagerly and lustily.
     Martin siphoned off the last of my squibs and rose from my prong,
taking his away from me at the same time, and as Jefferson finished, he
said, "Okay, my turn now. Let me fuck him before he gets completely worn
out on us."
     Jefferson gave way and Martin climbed between my legs and drove his
prick into me in a manner that was almost loving. I looked up into his eyes
and I saw that he intended to make me love being fucked by him as much as
I'd loved being sucked.
     With an orgasm behind me, I couldn't reach a second one that easy, but
I did enjoy what Martin did. He fucked me and it was like being loved. Oh,
it was still a dirty van with a dirtier mattress and two leering brothers
jibing at the two of us with crude remarks and promises of what they
planned to do the next time they chose to screw me.
     I didn't care, I held onto Martin as the young stud gave me twice the
loving of his two brothers, for he did it with care and with tenderness and
when he began to pant harder, I reached up and gave him the best kiss my
exhausted lips could manage to give him, and he held me and I held him and
he spurted his jism into me, the same oversized load of his brothers, but
my butt took it all and love it as it was filled to overflowing and beyond,
dripping with hot white spunk of three brothers onto that dirty mattress.
     "You boys finished back there?" the elder Carver asked.
     "All done here, Paw." Martin agreed.
     "We done broke this stallion and broke him in proper."
     "Good." William nodded. "I'll get us to the campsite and we'll start
back to the Ozarks first thing in the morning."
     Justin sat in the seat Martin had been using and Jefferson headed for
the bathroom of the Winnebago, which I guess still functioned. I was left
alone with Martin on the mattress.
     "You do realize you didn't win me at that game." I said to him again.
     "We won what was in the box." Martin declared. "Sold the mule, but we
kept what was left."  He looked at me. "Or are you going to slip away on us
soon as you can?" He saw the answer in my eyes from the glow of a passing
truck.
     "It's powerful lonesome back on the farm." He told me. "We get to town
once a month, but otherwise, it's just the four of us and my Maw. Only get
one television channel. If that man hadn't come through town looking for
people to be on that there game show, we wouldn't have come out here at
all. Didn't win enough but to pay for our trip, barely. But you come with
us, we'll take care of you. You'll take care of us, too, of course."
     I considered it pretty hard. I could fight my way free of these men,
especially at a public campsite with plenty of spectators. That next
morning, or any of several more mornings before we ended up back in the
Ozarks. Fight my way back to a life of barely scraping by, living from job
to job, doing things in between I wasn't proud of and never would be.
     Back to that life, or a new life with three hunky studs, serving their
hard dongs every night.
     "Why you talking to him like that?" Justin demanded, cutting off my
reverie. "We won him fair and square. He was our prize in that game. No
question about it." He looked at me. "Ain't that right?"
     I sighed. "Just call me your consolation prize." I said.
     I could try out this new life. If it didn't work out, I'd see where
life took me and work from there. Maybe with Martin, even. I smiled at him
and he smiled back at me.
     And the Carvers' Winnebago roared on through the night.

                             THE END
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                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM