Halloween and the Jack-O-Lantern Contest

The largest pumpkin in the world weighed in at 1337.6 pounds, and it was grown in New Hampshire by a man I’ll just call Charlie H. Now while he had the biggest pumpkin, there were lots of runner’s up, and pumpkins weighing over 1000 pounds are not that uncommon anymore. Now big pumpkins like that can be carved into big Jack-O-Lanterns, and when that happens the grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize. Once a year, in a small town in the northeastern United States, where the biggest of the pumpkins are grown, there is a festival, and a contest. The contest is a contest with consequences, and it is something to see.

Like any appropriate Halloween contest, the contestants are numbered one to thirteen. Yeah, it’s always thirteen. Anyone who is a man can be a contestant, as long as he has a set of balls to bet and he’s over the age of eighteen. The winners each take home one hundred thousand dollars, and a new car. There are three winners, and three losers, and the losers all go home something less than a man. In between, in between the winners and the losers are the lucky seven, and they go home with nothing for their efforts, except the knowledge they took the risk and could have won. Or, they could have lost. It’s a decedent contests of sorts, befitting the holiday of Halloween, and yet it draws the crowds and the sponsors and it truly is amazing at who will take the risk.

In the center of the stage is the Jack-O-Lantern, and its big, really big, usually more than four feet across. This year it was four and a half feet, but it didn’t make much difference. Around the pumpkin are the contestants, and they are naked, stark naked, with their pricks and balls hanging loose and on display to the crowd that has gathered.

It is not a small crowd either. Last year there were more than five hundred witnesses, and this year it was bigger, as was the pumpkin. It all takes place in an old theater, with the tacky red velour seats and the creaky old wooden stage. They have to prepare the pumpkin beforehand, and its sitting on a round piece of plate steel. Welded to the steel is a metal spike, and it runs right up through the big pumpkin and comes out the top, where it is formed into an eye. Because the heavy pumpkin is sitting on the steel, the rod allows the pumpkin to me moved with a crane. It’s a good thing, because otherwise you couldn’t move the thing it weighs so much.

There are thirteen holes in the pumpkin, running around its circumference, although there are no holes in the front which would block the view of the audience. When the time comes and the contest begins the holes become very important. Right now the holes are illuminated from within, a ring of light that shines out and paints round spots onto the walls. The look of the Jack-O-Lantern is evil, with a look of hunger on its carved face, and this year the triangle cut eyes seem even more sinister than normal. Inside they have placed more than three dozen candles, and they flicker in the darkness of the theater, the light dancing to and fro.

The contestants are standing around the big pumpkin, side by side, waiting, their hips almost touching as they form the ring of men. Thirteen naked men. Some are older, some are younger. The younger ones will live longer, and so in a way their balls are more important, and in a way they have more to lose, their risk greater. At the same time the money will mean more if they have a longer life to spend it. They look eager, and eagerness is not always a good thing when your balls are on the line.

There is a ring of steel over the Jack-O-Lantern, mounted there, and the wrists of the men are attached to it, keeping their arms tied above them and making sure they don’t move too far. You can’t change your mind, once you have signed the papers and bet your balls, and consequently they are all standing around the big Jack-O-Lantern and secured into their places. With their arms up in the air you can see their patches of hair under their armpits, and it allows some assessment of the men who own it. The young ones have thinner, sparse hair, while the oldest of the lot has a thick bush that grows wild and is dark with sweat.

They are all gagged. The reason for the little ball gags they wear is to prevent their screaming or yelling out if they should try and change their minds. They can’t back out of this, and so it is better to watch their expressions, as their moment nears and the audience is staring with anticipation.

Who will it be? One of the young eighteen year olds? One of them has jet black hair and wide open eyes, the expression of concentration on his face as his back beads with sweat. Will it be him? Or perhaps the red head, the high school senior, with his small patch of pubic hair and his smooth chest and baby face. Perhaps he will be one of the winners tonight, going home rich and famous. Perhaps.....but then again, perhaps not. Who will it be? Will it be the blond college student, desperate for money, eager to push his hips and thrust his manhood as if there is no tomorrow? Only time will tell.

The contestants are all being prepared, and as that is taking place there is some betting going on. It’s not discouraged, and the contest is about money as much as it is about anything else. The women are working the oil into the cocks of the ones on stage, working it in as they slide their hands over the poles. The boy’s cocks need to be well lubricated, so that they won’t have abrasions as they do their fucking. It doesn’t take too long. The women are all good looking, and are dressed in leather, befitting the holiday.

They look like witches, and of course that too is intentional and their pointed hats complete the image. Their tits are exposed, open, and as the men see them they can’t help but notice. All thirteen rods grow stiff, eager even, and soon they are jutting up in front of them, stiff and hard and oiled and ready. The younger contestants seem to have the harder poles, jutting up in forty-five degree angles from their bodies, each as stiff as a piece of steel. The older men, the ones with bellies, seem to have the thicker cocks, with the big purple heads that seem used and worn. Still, they are stiff enough, and their balls hang down in fat sacs that are loose and ready.

Once the contestants all have their erections, there is only one more thing to do. The witches go behind the men, and reach up between their legs. They feel the balls they find there, and hold them, touching them as they caress the dangling essence of their manhood. Whose scrotum will be lost? It is THE QUESTION, and the reason for the crowd that has gathered. The women then take small iron rings that have been made just for this contest, and they slide the hinged ring around the top of the scrotums of the men who circle the pumpkin.

One by one the iron rings are closed, and as they click in place the men’s balls are trapped below the steel. The rings of metal compress the tops of the men’s scrotums, pushing their balls down and stretching the skin. The rings of steel are sharp, with an edge, and as the young men feel the bite you can see their faces change expression. In the younger ones you can actually see the twin orbs of their manhood, the outline of their testicles visible almost as if they themselves are trying to push their way through the skin of the sacs that they call home. The last thing the witches do is to tie a string of leather above the metal ring, between the top of the scrotums and the bodies of the men that own them. They tie the leather tight, and as they do each man grunts when it is his turn. They don’t like it, that feeling as their trapped balls are tied, and yet if they are the unlucky ones and their balls are lost, it will serve to contain the blood and they will be glad for it. For the ones that win, it is a simple matter to later clip off the knot.

And so, finally, it is time for the contest to begin. First of all the rules are read out once again. The first three men to fuck the big pumpkin will be the winners, and they will all go home rich man. The last man to fuck the pumpkin is a loser, and he will leave his nuts behind and there will be nothing he can do to stop it. Between the two, between the winners and the designated loser the laws of chance will come into play, and some will win and a few will lose in that game and nobody will know until they know.

It’s an intense time, between sex and sexless, between manhood and nothing, between knowing and not knowing. It’s that time, those moments between when the first and the last cum, when all the sperm is flying, that defines the contest and makes it what it is. The only other rule is about cheating, and a reminder that to pull out of the contest, to withdraw your cock from your hole before you have pumped out your seed, is an automatic forfeiture of your balls. Everyone understands the rules, and so the game begins.

The witches take the men and guide their eager rods to the holes. Each man has one, and as the witches guide their cocks into them, one by one, the men gasp and their expression changes. Of course, they were not prepared for the warmth of the Jack-O-Lantern, the candles heating up the inside like a warm oven. From the seats, where the audience is sitting, you can see the cocks as they are slid inside, the poles of the young men eager as they slide into the great pumpkin. And then it begins.

The men get right to the point, trying to be the first to shoot, to be a winner, to be one of the first men to spray his seed and pump out his wad as he fucks the Jack-O-Lantern. To be first is to win, and to win is everything. And so they push with their hips, driving their cocks in and out, in and out; their asses bobbing up and down as they do their fucking. The candles’ flames are hot, and as the men push deep inside they feel the sharpness of the flame on the ends of their cocks, and that’s when they jerk their cocks outward, withdrawing them to the edge. Then, because the need is real and the win demands it, they push back inside, and play the game of heat and fire as they fuck the goulish face with a vengeance.

It’s like a devils fuck, their cocks moving in and out of the candle flames, the thirteen asses moving up and down as the ring of men fucks and fucks. The crowd loves it of course, and they began to shout for their favorites. The younger ones, the eighteen and nineteen year olds seem to have the upper hand, and their thrusting is more vigorous and faster than the older ones. The boys move their cocks like pistons, slamming their hips against the big Jack-O-Lantern hard and fast and oh-so-eager.

The ones with the longest cocks feel the flames the most, and they tend to pull them out and right to the edge of their holes. In and out they slide their cocks, the bite of the flames in stark contrast to the coolness of the pumpkin’s edge. Sometimes they let them linger there, trying to cool off the ends of their cocks before they make another thrust. It’s a game of strategy as much as it is a simple fuck, trying to decide how hot to let it get in order to keep the feeling building as they thrust.

The red-haired high school senior seems to figure it out and is the first to shoot. He arches his back and opens his eyes, and then suddenly he just ejaculates. His sperm shoots out, straight out across the inside, and you can see it from the audience as the boy empties his balls. He’s squirting, and there is a sizzle as one of the candles takes a hit with his sperm.

As he cums one of the witches reaches down and picks up one of the thin cables. Because he is first, she takes the green cable, one of three that is painted that way. It was coiled at the base of the Jack-O-Lantern, and it runs out from the grinning mouth of the great face. The other end of the wire is attached to the steel rod inside, the one running up through the pumpkin. The green cable is fifty feet long, and it’s coiled inside and so the length is not apparent.

As the red-headed lad finishes shooting his wad, the witch just reaches up and clips his wire through the ring that encircles his nuts, so that while he is cumming she has literally clipped him to the pumpkin, by his balls. After that, as he relishes the post-orgasmic rush, he waits, his dick slowly receding. Satisfied and with his seed deposited, he pulls it out of the hole and enjoys the coolness of the room while he waits for the others and for the end to come.

One of the dark haired eighteen year olds shoots next, a violent shudder as he mumbles within his gag. You can see his eyes, wide and staring, as he grunts out his load and shoots in front of everyone. As he does so, as he blows his wad into the pumpkin, another of the witches is reaching out, under his legs as well, and while he grunts she clips his balls to another of the thin little cables. His cable is also colored green, and the relief in his expression is real and obvious.

In a surprise, the third man to shoot is older, in his thirties, and his scrabble of a beard makes him look rough. Still, his cock spasms next, and his load pumps out with a fury. He grunts and grunts and as he does so he is grinning, knowing he is one of the three and it has all been worthwhile. As he shoots one of the witches is clipping in his balls, attaching the last of the fifty foot green cables to his scrotum while everyone applauds.

The college man and another of the teenagers start shooting next, at the same time, blowing their wads together as they fuck the pumpkin. In and out they thrust, their ropes of cum crossing within the flickering light, their wads thick and powerful as if they were fertilizing the great pumpkin. Their expression is priceless...relief they are not the last, but real disappointment too, for they haven’t won and at best all they can hope for is to escape from the nightmare the contest will now become. The fear is real and its still there, their fate now unknown, and so as they shoot their wads they can only wonder if it will be their last.

Soon they too have had their own wires attached to their scrotums, the little cables running inside the grinning mouth that may be their undoing. Of course, the long green wires have all been used, and so the witches choose from the others, the ones with no color associated with then. They are made out of the same steel as the green cables, and like them are also attached to the steel rod inside of the pumpkin. The only difference between the uncolored cables and the green ones is that no one knows how long they are.

One of the fat men cums next. He grunts, and then his big balls just seem to explode, dumping out his cream in great gobs that splatter within the pumpkin onto the candles. A few go out, but the flare from the others is still intense and powerful. He grunts, and seems to shudder as he ejaculates, his entire body convulsing as he pumps out his great wad. The witch has the cable attached to his balls long before he finishes, and so by the time he has shot his wad and withdrawn his hot cock he is a part of the pumpkin like the others.

Soon, the boys are all cumming, their wads firing out their loads one after the other. The candles sizzle and pop as the men shoot their cream and squirt inside the big pumpkin. One of the blond teenagers to the right side yells into his gag as he pushed deep, and then as a bit of flame burns his cock he jerks away with a reflex, and suddenly he’s totally outside, his nineteen year old prick falling out of the hole before he has shot his wad. The crowd roars “NOOOOOO!!!!” as it happens.

The youth starts cumming then, just as he withdrew, and his cream just shoots up across the top of the Jack-O-Lantern as he blows his wad outside his hole. He continues to move his hips trying desperately to find the hole and get his cock back inside, but with his hands tied over his head it’s a hopeless gesture. Instead he just pushes his pole around the outside, smashing the tip of his cock onto the pumpkin like a hammer. His cream squirts, wasted, and he smears it with his mat of pubic hair. It acts like a mop, and absorbs the cream, and as everyone watches the boy bangs his prick even harder into the side of the pumpkin. He’s freaking, trying to find the hole but instead all he manages to do as he moves his hips is spread his mess across his belly. It doesn’t matter, and the rules are clear. The boy failed to fuck the pumpkin, and so the witch hooks him to a short red cable and in doing so she dooms the cheater’s balls.

One after the other the men squirt out their loads, and one-by-one they are attached to their own little cables, their balls now a part of the great pumpkin that waits with its grinning face. It is down to only two now, the last two, and they are both aware that it is almost over. Everyone is watching the two, everyone, including the pair themselves. One of them is just eighteen, and he fucks the big pumpkin with a vengeance.

His mistake was that he fucked his girlfriend the night before, and now that is coming back to haunt him. It isn’t that he doesn’t have the cream, because like every teenager, he does. His problem is that his dick is sore, sore from the girl he fucked and fucked and fucked again He did her four times the night before, and at the time he was proud of himself and the wonderful feeling she had given him. Now he is facing the crowd and his balls are on the line. Everyone can tell he is having some trouble. He fucks from the backside of the Jack-O-Lantern and his face is grimaced with the pain as he pushes his sore rod in and out of his hole. Because of the angle, everyone can see his eager prick, as it slides in and out of his hole, the eager tip of his dick purple and round and dripping as it bobs in and out of the flames. His expression is one of determination, desperate not to be the last one to shoot. He forces himself to fuck hard, and fast, in spite of the fire, and yet the edge of the pumpkin is irritating him, rubbing the skin of his prick raw and so his sore cock hurts as he does his thrusting.

The other one, next to him, is a man in his early forties, staring at the youth as he pumps his hips like a piston. In and out he pushes his thick cock, his big balls slapping the side of the pumpkin. Because it’s hollow they beat on the side like a drum, slap—slap--slap they go as the middle aged man pumps his rod into his hole. The boy is staring at him, the sweat covering his hair, his eyes wide as he fucks, trying to cum with his irritated cock. It’s obviously going to be close, the man and the youth, each fucking as if his balls depend on the outcome. In a very real way they do of course, and everyone knows it.

The older man has another advantage. The fat man’s cock is thick and short, and even in his deepest thrust he misses most of the flames. The boy on the other hand has a thin, long cock, and when he thrust the tip goes in and out of the fire. It burns it, and the big purple head is slowly turning red, like a sunburn. The teenager’s sore cock actually sizzles as the bead of liquid on the tip pops through the flame.

In the end the man beats the boy, and his thick wad just drools out, pumped out without pressure. Still, it’s his wad, and it is copious, and as he ejaculates the relief on his face is obvious. The teenager looks shocked as he realizes the man is cumming, and even though he hasn’t cum himself the witch is still reaching up, between his legs. In her hand she holds a red cable, one of the short ones, and the length of the wire is just ten feet of steel. The shortness of its length will doom the boy’s balls, and as the youth feels it being connected he increases his thrusting. He pumps his hips and fucks and jerks his raw cock, and his face shows his desperation as he feels the clip being closed and the short cable hooked to his nuts.

At that precise moment, all the men are tied to the pumpkin by the cables that run from within its soul. Out the great grinning mouth they go, and then from there to between their legs, to the iron ring around their individual sets of balls. The moment seems frozen in time....and no one moves, save the one youth who continues to fuck, the tip of his dick flicking through the flames as he is desperate perhaps to finish it one last time.

Then, without any warning, the contest is done and it all ends with a bang. In almost slow motion, the big trap door on the stage opens, and the huge pumpkin disappears, falling slowly like some grinning creature, turning in flight as it disappears beneath the stage and drops to the basement floor below. It’s a long fall, almost twenty feet, as the cavernous basement welcomes its treasure. From its great mouth it vomits the cables, and they string out in a blur, attached to the men above and the steel rod inside.

Then, it just happens. The four short cables, one attached to the boy who still thrust the air, one to the fat men with his belly, one to the nineteen year old that cheated, and the other one to the blond college kid, suddenly snap taut and then, for a priceless second, their balls bear the weight of the great pumpkin. Still, the rings of iron that encircle their nuts are sharp, and the thousand pound pumpkin is moving now, its great mass headed for the floor and its own destruction. It doesn’t hesitate for long, and the great weight of the big Jack-O-Lantern takes its prizes, stealing the balls from the four like a kid snaps up a handful of Halloween treats.

The balls just come off, ripped off more than they are cut. The scrotums just disappear, the testicles inside just pulled right out, the twin cords within each sac snapping like rubber bands. The bulging scrotums are gone in a flash and only the little tie of leather is left to even indicate where their nuts had been. It happens fast, and almost before they could sense it happening, their balls were gone and their cables have disappeared through the stage floor still hooked to the pumpkin that is pulling them. There is a crash then, as the great pumpkin hits the floor far below, smashing into a pile of mush. As it disintegrates it frees the other cables.

For the four losers, the four men who have no balls, their expressions can never be forgotten. For the college man, with his blond patch of pubic hair and his still stiff rod, it is too much. He spins, gasped and screams into his gag, his now castrated body convulsing as he hangs by his wrists. He his grunting like a madman, the realization of what he has lost consuming him. His ball-less cock juts up stiff and eager as if he is still seeking a hole to fuck. The witches laugh, a piercing laugh, and one of them feels his ass as she enjoys his misery.

The fat man, in his forties, looks totally shocked. He can’t believe this has happened, and through nothing but chance he beat the last boy and still lost his balls. Now he is looking down, and where his balls were only moments before. They are gone, and his prick still bobs and his semen still is running out in a drool. He grunts, and his face is white as he realizes what has happened, his balls gone and he now just a nut-less eunuch.

The blond nineteen year old who had made the mistake of pulling out his cock, is wild, jerking his body and kicking his feat in his desperation. He can’t believe his balls are really missing. As he looks down he sees that the red tip of his burned dick sports a blister and it bobs up and down above his missing balls. He is shaking his restraints and struggling, his eyes wide with disbelief as he contemplates his unmanning.

The younger boy, the eighteen year old who was fucking his girl only the night before, stairs into space, his expression also one of unbelief. His ball-less and still raw cock is ejaculating now, finally, squirting out his final load into the air in an act of defiance. Everyone is staring as the boy pumps out his goo and he grunts with the feeling, his last load of semen dumping out as everyone laughs. His young seed is watery and shoots out in ropes, squirting out into the chasm in the stage where the pumpkin rested only moments before.

The crowd is laughing at the four eunuchs. They have all collapsed downward, almost to their knees now as they hang from their wrists tied overhead. Three of them have pulled their legs together, trying to minimize the pain that has taken over their groins. The one youth still shoots, his legs spread and his hairless belly and smooth chest accentuating what he has lost. The boy’s patch of pubic hair is sparse, and his spurting cock is thin and long and lonely. Still, it juts upward, like it does on most teenage males, and underneath the emptiness and the contrast is stark and obvious. With a final spurt he finishes, and the crowd applauds as he does. It’s over. He is ball-less. Neutered. A eunuch.

Everyone else but the four castrated men is grinning, the three winners grinning the biggest grins of all. They have earned their treats and they have their balls. Oh what joy Halloween can bring.

Authors note: © Copyright October, 2002. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author.