Fun Night at Jacks

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.