Halloween and the 2nd Jack-O-Lantern Contest

Last year the great Jack-O-Lantern was four and a half feet across, and its evil grin was something to be remembered. This year, the pumpkin is even bigger, and the carvers have been busy. Even carved, it weighs well over 1000 pounds. The grim grinning mouth was as fearsome as ever, and the triangular eyes had a slant to them that seemed to personify evil itself. The crowd was bigger too, and the old theater was packed, with all of the old seats taken. They were creak-creaking-creaking, as people rocked back and forth, waiting, waiting for the contest and for it all to begin. Around the perimeter of the theater more stood, wanting a view and willing to stand to see it. This year there was a new sound system, and someone had set up some dead trees on the stage for extra effect. One more than a dozen black cats were wandering, aimlessly, on stage, giving the entire scene a fearsome look. The grim grinning music was loud and piercing, and when combined with the scenery it cast an eerie spell that seemed to permeate the darkened room.

In many ways it was a lot more Halloweenish this year than last, with make shift sheets hooked to cables that kept them flying like ghosts overhead. Whipped by an unseen wind, they flew back and forth, held there by their unseen wires, an added dimension that rounded out the horror of the event. In one corner mechanical bats went round and round, their flapping wings beating the air and making them look oh-so-real. The crowd was enthusiastic, and the money was again changing hands, as it always did. This year, once again, the contestants had come for a hope and a chance and riches and stardom. There had been more men this year wanting to be contestants, and so there had been more to choose from. How exactly it had been done was lost on the crowd, but the contestants were there, and ready, and the crowd was anxious for it to begin.

Still, like every year, there were only thirteen contestants standing to compete, all hand chosen, and all men willing to bet their balls for a chance for richness and rewards. Perhaps it was the prize money that had brought them here. Perhaps. The prize money was certainly bigger, and the men willing to take the chance were more varied and had come from greater distances. Who would it be this year? The great Jack-O-Lantern grinned, its evil stare waiting, its open mouth gaping wide and grinning, waiting to unman the unlucky and to steal the sexual future from those that dared to take the risk.

The Halloween festival was in full swing, and like always the contest was the final event in a long week of ghoulish festivities. As such, the mood was intense, and the suspense permeated the old theater. Inside the great pumpkin, the candles flared and flickered, and the shadows danced out from the big mouth and evil, triangular eyes, dancing to and fro and painted on the walls. The candles burned with a flick-flick-flickering, almost it seemed in time to the haunting music, the fire hot and intense and bright as the flames inside danced on and on.

Along the walls were a number of gargoyles, each with its own torch suspended there, adding an eerie glow to the stage and adding to the intensity and to the suspense. Two theatrical fog machines off to the sides and out of sight hissed, wisping their thick fog-like smoke across the stage, which hung there, along the floor like something right out of some horror film. It gave the big pumpkin the impression it was sitting in a sea of fog, waiting, eagerly, for what was to come and what was to be.

Waist high around the circumference of the giant Jack-O-Lantern the thirteen holes were waiting too, ringing the great pumpkin, each hole bright and yellow as the light from within shined out in all directions. The walls of the great pumpkin were just over two inches thick, and the holes drilled there were round and smooth and deep. This year, somebody had spread a thick grease around each of them, and as the light caught it and shimmered there you could see it glistening. In a way, each hole was like a woman, waiting, wet and anxious even, open and ready and greased up from the inside. Also, like a woman, each hole was waiting for a cock to find, waiting to be fucked and to be fertilized. The thirteen holes were there, ready, greased and warm, anxious even for the stiff cocks and for the men who owned them. They were shimmering from the candle light inside, like beacons, hoping even, like a woman's pussy hopes, hot and warm and open, blinking on and off as the candles flickered and the flames danced inside.

For the men who were the chosen, they waited too, the excitement and the hope and the fear all apparent in their eyes, who stared with an intensity that only a man that has put his balls on the line can truly feel. Each of them stood, waiting for the unknown. The look on their faces was intense, and concentrating. The contestants were all there, and all men, and by the rules of the contest they were all at least eighteen. Now, the thirteen chosen stood and waited, having bet their balls and now waiting for what was to come. Thirteen. Always thirteen. Thirteen holes and thirteen cocks and thirteen scrotums stuffed with balls at risk. Who would it be? Who? That was of course THE QUESTION.

This year the winners would each take home one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and the usual new car, donated by a local dealership. Like every year previously, there would be three winners, and three losers. The winners would go home lucky and rich and famous even, having been willing to take a chance for power and glory. It was all in the spirit of Halloween, with everything in the balance. Trick or treat, win or lose. Of course, to lose was to lose it all. For the unlucky men who would lose this contest it meant that there would be no more balls and no more scrotums even. To lose tonight meant a life ahead without women, without a hard cock and with no more pussy. The losers went home unmanned, with limp dicks and nothing to show for it but the memory of a stupid contest and a laughing crowd.

You wouldn't think a man would be willing to take such a risk, but there had been no shortage of takers this year. The men had come, the way they always come, the money drawing them in like fools, willing to put their balls on the line for a chance and a hope and a moment of glory. The crowd stared at them, and at their swinging sacs between their legs, hanging there and now literally on the line and the outcome waiting for everyone to see.

In between, in between the winners and the losers once again would be the lucky seven, and they would go home with nothing for their efforts, except the knowledge they took the risk and might have won. It’s a decedent contests, for sure, but then again it's Halloween, and the crowds have come and the men have come and the risk is what makes it what it is. There is an evil lurking in the air, waiting, the crowd hushed and watching, as the ghouls of the night make their bets and the white sheets fly overhead to the cackling sounds and organ music that fills the room.

The contestants are already in place, ringing the great pumpkin, circling it, each man in front of one of the thirteen holes that waits for them, brightly lit and center stage. They are already naked, their manhood exposed and open, their pricks long or short or thick or thin. Between their legs they all have balls, and it is those balls that are on the line as the crowd waits with an eagerness that is hard to describe. The room is warm tonight, because of the crowd and the candles and the heat of the old building, and perhaps because of it the balls are hanging, lower than usual, hanging loose and oh-so-vulnerable beneath the men, swinging as they move.

The old theater is dusty, and there are spider webs on stage, and along the beams that support the great ceiling. These webs are real, and add to the occasion, covered with dust and casting strange shadows that add to the creepiness of everything that is here. The crowd is packed, and anxious, sitting in their tacky red seats and staring at the old stage and the giant pumpkin with its evil face, waiting, waiting for the great contest and the balls to start to swing.

This year the Jack-O-Lantern bears special mentioning, because it is so big, and so evil looking. It sits on the big plate of steel, drilled by the metal spike that runs inside, with its hook out the top that allows it to be moved with a crane. It’s a heavy thing, even when carved, and it sits and waits and the candles flicker inside. The thirteen holes punched through its skin are round and greased and waiting, like a woman waits, waiting for the cocks and the fucking that is to come. The men are staring at them, and some of them are hard already, eager even, anticipating perhaps the fuck and the win and the glory of it all. The hungry face of the Jack-O-Lantern is ready too, its evil wicked face waiting, the candles inside flickering in the darkness and dancing out the eyes and the mouth and the nose and the holes. The thirteen holes hold most of the men's attention, all lit up bright and ready and waiting; thirteen holes for their thirteen cocks.

The contestants are standing around the big pumpkin, in position, side by side, waiting, their hips almost touching as they form the ring of men that have bet their balls. Thirteen naked men. It is hard to gage their expressions. Most are staring down, at their hole and where they will fuck, and at the pumpkin that is waiting for them. All of the men have their hands shackled to the big metal frame that sits over the Jack-O-Lantern, their arms held straight up and locked into position. There is no changing of their minds at this point, not once the papers are signed and their balls have been bet. They wait now, standing, with their arms upraised, almost as if they are praying to the great orange personification of evil that the Jack-O-Lantern seems to represent.

Like every year, some of the men are older, and some are younger. The bet is the same, and weather they keep their balls or lose them will all depend on their ability, as well as a little luck that falls as it may. Why any man will bet his balls is hard to fathom, but they do, and these men have risk it all. The youngest ones have so much more to lose, their lives still ahead and their futures bright. The older ones are easier to understand, because they've had their opportunities and done their fucking. Perhaps they even feel the need for the money more perhaps, their debts greater and the need more intense. Still, young or old, the risk is real, for all of them, and when a man bets his balls he has bet it all.

It is almost time. The men aren't gagged this year, but that doesn’t mean they are talking. There is too much intensity to just carry on and chat, and the music is too loud and the ghoulish shrieks that fill the air make any attempt to talk a useless gesture at any point. Their thoughts have to be discerned through their expressions. They stare, and wait, their eyes darting back and forth, looking at each other and stealing the glance at the cocks they will compete against. Each contestant eyes the others, staring, looking and analyzing, wondering perhaps who will stay a man and who will not.

This year there is a program guide that has been printed up for the night, and each of the contestants has a page in it that features him and tells a little about his life. There is a brief biography and a picture too, and so the audience looks at the men and studies their stories. Some of them are hardly men. The first three, off to the left side of the great face, are only eighteen, betting it all for the hope and the dream. They are still in high school, seniors, and they seem in some ways to be more boys than men, and yet they are old enough and they have made the bet and so they are here. Their parents don't even know, not yet they don't, but they will find out eventually and win or lose they will not be pleased.

Regardless of the reasons, the boys have made the bet now, and taken the risk that no man should take. Everyone seems to be staring at them, and at their young balls that are hanging, so young and full of promise, and oh-so-tender, all full of cream and ready to fuck. They hang there with an eagerness that only a youth has; their entire manhood on the line. They have yet to marry, yet to meet their future wife or to make their sons or to live their lives. At eighteen they have put it all on the line, on a whim, all of it, and as they try and move and shake their shackles their young balls swing. A few in the crowd watching them shake their heads at their stupidity.

Of course, being young, they have a good chance to win, and that is not lost on anyone, themselves included. Already all three of the teens are stiff, their young cocks proud and hard and jutting, waiting for the moment, when they can begin their fucking and can win it all. The second and third of the trio look especially young, and have almost no armpit hair, although they all have a bush of sorts above their eager cocks. Of the two youngest looking their cocks are thin and still growing, their small patches of pubic hair emphasizing their adolescence. Still, as young as their balls are they are old enough, and now they swing with the others and await their fate.

Next to the three is a fat man, with a bald head, and his cock is short and fat and hanging, its wrinkled foreskin looking dark and old. The fat man's balls hang like plums, his fat sac full and waiting. His sac of nuts is really huge, and inside his scrotum his testicles literally look like hen eggs. They are round and fat and oh-so-visible. Next to the young teens his man-cock is relaxed, and hanging, as if sex was the last thing on his mind. His balls are twice as big as any other set of balls, and more than three times the size of any of the teens. He's got a hell of a sac, and it catches everyone's eye. Still, his short cock is limp and relaxed, and if there is an eagerness to his thoughts his prick doesn’t reveal it.

The fifth and sixth men are from the local college, and they are brothers. One is nineteen and the other is twenty-one. The program says that the twenty-one year old is engaged, and it's apparent that his fiancé is pushing him to take the chance. Who can say why he agreed? If he loses, then he loses it all, and his balls and the girl would be gone in an instant. But if he wins, then the money is his, and with the money the girl will come and everything will fall into place. So he has made the bet, and waits now, eager perhaps, scared too no doubt but with a pussy to win he seems eager to get on with it. Still he waits, his balls on the line, and the brown hair under his arms is wet with his sweat. His girl sits in the front, near the stage, and cheers him on, hoping for his win and the money it will bring. The crowd nearby seems to giggle at her chants.

His younger brother is harder to understand. For him, the contest is nothing but a stupid bet, a chance to prove he's willing to take a chance and to make sure he's not outdone by his older brother. Not wanting to look like a coward he did it on a whim, with a dare and a slap on the back. Still, he filled out the papers and signed his entry, even if he never expected to be selected. It's almost funny now. He was so surprised when he beat out the others and was selected to be one of the contestants. He didn't think he had a chance when he scribbled his signature and laughed as he did it. Well, fate or fame or luck has made its call, and now he's here and now it's done.

He's a young nineteen, and has some pimples on his face, and in many ways he's still sprouting into manhood. He's nothing special, but perhaps it was the idea of having two brothers, side by side and working in a way to unman the other that got him selected. There is certainly money changing hands, and the two have generated quite a bit of excitement, so perhaps that's part of it. Still, now that they are hear, and hanging, side by side, they are literally betting it all, including the future of their family name.

The expression on the younger one is hard to understand. Initially, after the announcements were made, he seemed OK and was even laughing at it all. He certainly went ahead and got undressed and let them put him into position. Now, with the music playing and the crowd in place, he looks around nervously, and then as everyone watches he seems to change his mind. He panics, and pulls on his chains that hold his wrists, and his eyes go wide as he looks around frantically. Suddenly, he's trying to get the attention of one of the organizers. He starts to yell, and he verbalizes his second thoughts. At first, it appears that no one hears him. He yells louder, trying to get someone's attention, but the sound of the music drowns him out. One of the organizers finally comes by, but only to give him a warning.

The kid is arguing and trying to get out after that. He shakes his head and jerks on his shackles and tries to squirm from his restraints. It doesn't matter of course. The papers are signed and his hands are secured. He tries anyway. The staff member moves on, ignoring him, checking the other men and the clasps on their wrists. The nineteen year old yells after him, trying to get his attention again. The man looks up, and laughs. At this point it doesn’t matter....what will be done will happen, and at this point it's too late and everyone but the kid knows it.

The next couple of men are in their thirties, single and middle age and wanting to better their life. They have bet it all here, to take a chance and to win the money, and their thick cocks and hanging balls are testaments to what a full grown man should be. They are all strong, with muscles that ripple, and there is no doubt that they have had their share of women and know what they are betting. The program guide says they are both single and looking to marry. One has short hair and his smooth body makes him stand out. He was born in France according to the program, and his uncircumcised cock is up and willing. The other man has longer hair, and a thick down that covers his legs and grows up his ass. His chest is hairy too, and as he moves his muscles ripple.

The older women in the crowd seem to favor them, and of course for the men that is part of the draw. Perhaps that explains it even. The single men have come, willing to bet their balls in a perverse logic that will in turn help them find their women. For the winners, the win brings money and with money come the women, so perhaps it is with that hope and that dream that they take the chance. Still, for whatever reason, they have made the bet. These two men have flat stomachs and ripped abs, and they look like men that take care of their bodies. Their man-sized cocks are ready now too, eager even, pointed up and hard and already wanting to make their thrusts and to win their prize. The man with the body hair has a thick cock, especially compared to the Frenchman. The end is round and purple, and circumcised, the big bulbous head glistening with his desire.

The ninth contestant is a single older gentleman, the oldest of the group, and he is well into his fifties. What stands out about him is his cock. It's huge. By far, it’s the thickest cock of any of the contestants. It's not the longest, but it's close, and it’s certainly the thickest by any measure, like a small tree branch, and it's something to remember. The man's cock is just massive and his sac isn't anything to be ashamed of either, although its nothing compared to the bald man facing him. The program says he's married, and he's been here before but missed the prize. That gets everyone attention, and one has to wonder why he's here again, taking another chance to lose his balls.

Perhaps being married holds the key, as his wife is in the crowd to watch. Has she put her husband's balls on the line again to try and make them rich? This year he needs a shave. The older man's pubic hair is mixed with grey, and the stubble of his beard is black and white. Still, his massive cock is randy and looks as hard as any cock can look, and it is so thick and so eager many in the audience think he will win just because of it. His bag of balls is impressive hanging underneath his massive cock. They are fat and round and ready, apparently loaded with cream and ready to win. His wife seems to be grinning, proud perhaps, grinning and staring as she hopes for the best.

The next man in the line is a soldier, a private on leave and taking the chance. He is twenty-two. He has that well-tuned body and thick shoulders of a strong military man, and his thighs are powerful and muscled. He sports a military crest on his upper arm for a tattoo and his eyes are eager and confident. He winks at a young teenage girl in the crowd, and he seems to make his cock bob up and down as he does. The girl giggles, and her face blushes red. It's obvious the girls in the crowd like him, with his hard cock and big smile. He bob's it up and down again, up and down, pulling in his stomach muscles to make his cock bounce and jut for the girls that watch.

The last three men in the circle of thirteen are also teenagers, facing the other teens across the great Jack-O-Lantern. Unlike the first three teens however, these men have already graduated from high school the previous June. They aren't friends and they don't know each other. And they don't look anything alike either, not by a long shot. They are a little wilder looking, and seem to fit the occasion more than the others. The first one three days shy of being nineteen, while the other two are already nineteen and have been for a while. The first two have started college and are doing this for the money.

At first that seems noble, willing to bet their balls for a better future. Of course, now they have taken the chance and made the bet, their dreams on the line and their sex at risk. Still, even though they are out of high school they are all still young, and people shake their heads. Of course, like all teenage males, they are full of cream and their balls are used to squirting fast, and so they have a good chance to win. Perhaps that is why they have come and more than a few are wishing them well.

The first of the three needs a shave, well, sort of he does. It's not really so much of a beard as it is just sprouting peach fuzz. His cheeks are red and flushed, the way they are on a pubescent male who is just beginning to shave, and that in turn makes him look even younger. His hair is strawberry blond and unkempt. He's jelled his hair and spiked it up, giving him that rebellious look. He's grinning like a kid, and giggling as he laughs. He says something that is lost to the crowd, but as he talks his voice cracks and pops like some pubescent kid. Like the boys on the other side of the great pumpkin, he looks very young and innocent, but his teenage prick is hard and eager and ready even so. Some of the seats are full of his college friends, coming to wish him well and to watch what will be. Like the others, the lad's put it all on the line, everything at risk now, and with his hands secure it's only his thin prick that will decide his future.

The boy next to him, also a freshman in college, is young and innocent looking too. But he has bright red hair, and a cute freckled face. His hair is neatly combed, and his face has been shaved smooth. He's a little nervous, his eyes looking around, but he's ready enough and he stares intently at the hole he's soon to fuck. As he looks at it his mind is in full swing. Perhaps his virgin cock dreams of fucking, and perhaps more than the hope for money it is that that has brought him here. If he wins the money the girls will come, that much is true, and their legs will be spread and their pussies will be his for the taking.

He suddenly grins, as if that’s his thought, the teenager eager, and ready. He's grinning wide and if he was afraid before there is no sign of it now. He looks up, and his eyes find some college girls, their faces all smiles as their tits bounce and they wave. His mind is racing and he seems excited, and he nods his head to acknowledge those that are calling out to him. Here, on stage, the red head is a girl magnet. He's hot, and sex is on his mind. At least, it seems it is. Something's made him hard that much is for sure.

As he stares at the girls perhaps he's dreaming of pussy, already, of what it will be like once he has won and the money is his. With the girls rooting him on he seems excited and anxious to win. The boy seems ready, that much is for certain too, and his cock is up and eager and the end is wet already with his desire as his pole juts from his red pile of hair. The girls love it. His dick bobs up and down, dancing to his heartbeat and almost in time to the music. He stares at the girls then, and smiles, and as he does the end of his dick starts dripping, literally, the tip of his pole soon wet and glistening. The girls notice it, and the boy blushes, his smile bright and ready and oh-so-innocent looking.

But it’s the last of the three and the end of the line that has everyone's attention. Even naked, he's dressed for the holiday. He's got dyed red hair, flame red, with jet black eyebrows that have been tattooed in place. His hair is jelled and spiked, and it's as wild as anything in the theater. On his forehead, up against his spiked hair, he has glued two small horns, like devils horns, that he picked up at some Halloween shop. They add to his fearsome look and of course they get everyone's attention. He sports a devil tattoo on his shoulder that seems to fit the moment.

His tongue flicks in and out, and as people notice it their faces freak. His tongue's been dyed black, and its been surgically cut and sliced and now is forked, like a snakes tongue, divided, apparently modified and looking as evil as sin. He's grinning just the same, running his wicked split tongue over his jet black lips. His dime sized nipples are pierced too and his right eyebrow sports three tiny daggers that catch the light when he laughs. He's out for the party and looking the part, and of all the contestants he seems the most confident and the most relaxed.

His cock is something to see. It's not that thick, but its jutting straight up, way up and held vertically, the big end of it pieced by a ring of metal. His "Prince Albert" ring is punched right through the hole in his cock, and sticks out the bottom beneath the head. It’s a big, thick ring, and it looks scary as hell. The damn thing shines in the light, the end of his long prick bouncing with an eagerness that is apparent to everyone. But it is not the long length of his big prick that brings the most stares. It is the color. He has had it tattooed, with bright red ink, and it looks almost blood-red as it juts and pulsates. Lines of black ink cover it from the head of his prick to its base, forming scales that give his cock a reptilian look. It's an evil cock, a devils cock, and the boy grins as he looks and sees the stares.

His pubic hair is missing, shaved smooth, and in its place he sports another tattoo. It's red too, like his cock, with black swirls of ink; its just a tattoo of drawn in curls of hair. Above his cock, sitting in his nest of tattooed hair, there is another colored tattoo. This one is a smaller devil figure, drawn in black ink so that his legs are spread open and he appears to be riding the man's own cock. The tattoo gives the impression that his own prick grows right out of the image, almost as if his cock and the tattooed devil's cock are one and the same.

The boy grins again, and flicks his blacked forked tongue at the other contestants, and then laughs at their expressions when they can't stare him down. Of all the contestants he's the most confident, grinning like the Jack-O-Lantern grins, his forked tongue darting in and out of his wicked mouth. His lips are inked too, tattooed black, like his tongue, and he's applied some light makeup on is face, with darker rings around his eyes that gives him even a more frightful look. In some ways he looks like death incarnate. For the crowd watching, the lad and the devil are one and the same.

His sac of balls is big, filled with the orbs that define his manhood. He's shaved the hair from his sac too, and the tattoo scales continue over his sac which gives his scrotum an evil, monster look. The way it is painted the sac beneath his legs doesn’t even look human.

The crowd stares at him, amazed at what they are seeing. The way he looks with his black forked tongue darting out of his black lips, hissing through his teeth as his red reptilian cock juts high, he's scary as shit. His cock is pulsating, its bright red skin holding everyone's attention, and there is a clear bead of precum already forming around the big ring of metal. It’s a very long dick, and by being dyed so red, and covered with scales, it holds everyone's attention. His cock is close to a foot in length, and without question it’s the longest cock of any contestant. The young man's totally confident and obviously wanting to be feared, and he fits right in with the occasion.

The money changes hands, and the crowd's eagerness intensifies. Thirteen. Waiting, and as different as night and day. Most appear to be eager and ready, although the one lad is still struggling and trying to get someone to let him change his mind. At this point it doesn’t matter, and so the money flies and the bets are made. Who will it be? One of the young eighteen year olds? A lot of people are betting on the second boy in the group. He's cute as hell and a crowd favorite. He has jet black hair and a wisp of a mustache just sprouting on his lip. It more of a shadow than a fuzz of hair, but he's trying and if he win's then it may well grow into what he wants. Will it be him?

Most of the men are looking at their holes, and staring, their cocks so hard and eager with their anticipation. Who will stay a man? Perhaps it will be the freckled-face red head, the high school kid with his little patch of pubic hair and his smooth chest and his baby face. Perhaps he will be one of the lucky winners, going home with money and fame and soon fucking the girls whose legs will be spread. Perhaps the devil-man will win it? The man with the dyed red cock and the black lips is grinning wide, flicking his blacked forked tongue and making his statement. Of all of them he looks perhaps the most ready, the most excited, and his long red devil prick juts up stiff and hard and oh-so-eager. Without question he has the longest prick, and with the thick metal ring skewered through the end it’s a fearsome cock to see.

The crowd is growing giddy, as they stare at the contestants and make their bets. Will the bald fat man keep his fat bag of nuts, or will the great pumpkin steal them while everyone watches? Nothing is certain except the uncertainty. Nobody can tell anything until it begins, and even then, there is no certainty until it is done.

The witches have made their appearance now, and as they come out on stage the crowd applauds. They are hot looking women, as they always are, and this year their costumes make them especially scary. Dressed in black, they go right to work, their pointed hats and long black nails adding to their appearance. Their naked tits are held up high and wide by their leather strap halters.

They are on the men before they sense it, coming up behind them, each with a bottle of scented oil that they begin to work into them. Soon the men are glistening, the women working in the oil with their fingers, covering them from their necks all the way to their toes. The women massage the men everywhere, working the oil into their skin, taking their times as they massage their armpits and circle their nipples. The men are all staring, and some make a few comments, but with their arms held up high there is nothing they can do to avoid the groping of the women that work on them, even if they wanted to, which most do not. Everyone is watching, their eyes staring as the women's wicked fingers work their magic.

Soon the women are stroking the men's cocks too, oiling them up until they too are all equally stiff and eager and glistening. They work the oil into their cracks, and all along the men's dicks, sliding their soft hands up and down the male's shafts. The witches grip the men's cocks, holding their shafts as they work them up and down and up and down, spreading the oil and warming it with their hands. The feeling is intense of course, and the men's cock's respond to the attention all one and the same. Soon enough they are all eager and jutting like boys facing their first woman. Every cock is hard now. Some are thicker than others, and some are longer too, but regardless of their girth or their length they are all as hard as a rod of steel.

The oil serves several purposes of course. It makes them glisten, and that makes it all more erotic and that in turn excites the crowd. More importantly, once lubricated, their cocks will slide more easily within the greased holes of the great pumpkin, and that in turn will enhance the sexuality of the entire contest. The women relish in their task, working the men up and almost into a frenzy. The witches work in the oil, taking their time, oiling up the men's balls too and hefting them as they squeeze and massage their prizes like the special treats that they are.

Finally, with all the men hard and ready, there is only one more thing to do. The witches go behind the men, and reach up between their legs and fondle the balls that have been bet. The men's expression then is hard to describe, as they feel the women holding them, holding their stuffed scrotums and kneading the testicles gently within them. Then, while everyone watches, the witches 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 women noose the essence of the men into their individual iron rings, and as they click in place the men’s balls are trapped below the steel. The rings of metal are tight, very tight, and they compress the tops of the men’s scrotums, like a metal noose, pushing their balls down and stretching the skin of their scrotums until they are almost a single point. This year the steel rings are much smaller and tighter than in previous years, but they still have a flat edge along the bottom, an edge made for grabbing the skin. If the ring is pulled hard enough then it will start to cut. As the women pin each ring in place and then tug down on the rings to check the fit, the men wince one by one as it is done. They can feel the sharpness of the ring as it bites into then, and as they do their faces reflect the feeling and the fear that comes with it.

For some of the cocky teenagers in the group it is only then they realize what is at stake. For the boy who had panicked and wanted to quit, he struggles to keep it from being done to him. His witch is determined though, and soon, like the others, his balls are ringed and he is ready. It doesn't matter at this point what any of them think of course, for their nuts are in the ring now and the bet is well past done. For the boys whose sacs are especially tight, you can see the two balls inside, the skin stretched out and tight and the balls pronounced as they bulge and wiggle within the sacs that still contain them. This year the witches don't make the usual tie, so the balls are more free to hang, loose and ready and waiting, trapped below the ring and waiting there until they are freed one way or the other.

As the women finish with the last man the music dies down somewhat, and then the speakers crackle to life and an announcer reads the rules to the crowd. They are simple rules, and everyone knows them, but as they are read the intensity of what is to come begins to peak and the crowd seems to grow giddy.

The speaker glares: "Welcome to the final event of the Halloween Festival. The contest is done when it is done, and no man may quit until it is finished. There are thirteen men, thirteen who will attempt now to fertilize the great pumpkin. There will be three winners and three losers, and unless someone cheats there will be seven lucky men that will be neither. The first three men to fertilize the great pumpkin will win the prizes and go home with the money and a bright new automobile.

The contest will continue until twelve of the thirteen have deposited their seed, and there is only one man left. At that point, the contest ends and the one remaining man will forfeit his testicles for his lack of ability. Between the two, between the winners and the designated loser the laws of chance will come into play, and seven will stay men and two will not. The risk is real and except for the last man the losers won't know until they know. There will be no cheating. Any man that cheats and pulls out of his hole before he is done will be castrated, and in that case more than three will lose their balls. Let it begin!"

The music starts again, and the crowd leans forward, screaming now, ready and anxious and oh-so-excited. As it begins, everyone's wondering who will win and who will lose. Everything is on the line now. It's time, time to know, the time that will pass between manhood and nothing, between watching men with balls and hearing them scream. The contest begins, and as it does the crowd makes a thundering roar. Everything is on the line then, and in that moment before the sperm is flying, the contest is defined and the fucking begins.

The thirteen witches take the men and guide their eager rods to the holes at the same time. Each man has one, and as their cocks slide inside the crowd roars with delight. The light changes as the men's pricks fill the holes. The air in the great pumpkin is hot, from the candles, and as the men feel it one by one they gasp. It catches all of them by surprise, except for the oldest one who has done this before. It will be a hot fuck for all of them, a devils fuck, a fuck into hell that has no bounds. As the boy's cocks feel the heat they began to move, thrusting fast and furiously to get it done.

It begins with their thrusting, in and out, their cocks like pistons as they move inside. The candles flick-flick-flickering seems to intensify, the movements of the thirteen cocks fanning the flames. The expressions on the men are intense, staring, some of them with open mouths as they grind their hips and make their motion. In and out their cocks are moving, in and out, and as they stand and pump, their thighs slam forward in rhythmic motions. Young or old, fat or thin, the instinctual motion of all the males is one and the same. In and out they move, fucking their holes, pushing forward and pulling out like human males have been doing since they first appeared on earth. They hump and fuck, up and down, their hips thrusting, pushing their cocks and making them slide, deep inside, driving forward and deep as they swing their balls.

The circle of men get right to the point, trying to be the first to shoot, to be a winner, to pump out their wad and to take their prize. To be first is everything now, everything, and so they push and pull and push and pull, sliding their cocks in and out of the big grinning Jack-O-Lantern. Their naked bottoms rise up and down, thrusting their hips and moving their cocks. They fuck like madmen, a desperate fuck, with everything on the line and their balls to lose.

The candles’ flames are hot, and as the men push deep inside they feel the sharpness of the flame with each thrust that they make. In and out, they play the game. Pushing in to gain the feeling, pulling out to cool their cocks. In and out, they dance their cocks and fuck the heat, sometimes withdrawing to the very edge to cool their cocks before they lean forward again and make another thrust. In and out they jerk their cocks, fucking the fuck as they try and win. This year, like last, they play the game of heat and fire as they fuck the ghoulish face with a vengeance.

The boy with the devil's tattoo and red dyed cock throws his head back and gasps. His forked tongue flicks out, way out, and his eyes are wide. His expression is different than the others, and his face winces as he makes his thrusts. He shrieks, and his body jerks, and he yells out in pain. His long cock with its speared tip is probing so deep it flicks and dances in and out of the flames below. He pulls back, to shield his dick, and then moves forward like the others but has to halt his thrust. He can't believe what he is feeling, and it is not what he expected it to be. He jerks his prick back again, to the very edge of his hole and howls, and then tries yet again to continue his fuck. His red punk hair is wet with sweat, and his armpits glisten as his desperation increases. The big thick metal ring that pierces the head of his cock is picking up the heat, and it is quickly intensifying to a level he cannot believe.

The boy's in shock then, and his forked tongue dances wildly, flying out of his mouth as he gasps and groans. The others are all fucking, fast and intently, but for him the hot metal of his piercing is burning now, the pain drilling into him and consuming his soul. He bucks his hips and tries again, and this time his cock sizzles as it dips to and fro within the flames. He yelps and pulls back once again, the metallic ring through his cock though still carrying the heat and beginning to glow. Even with the head of his prick at the edge of the hole, the metal ring still picks up the heat and soon enough the very tip of his dick is sizzling as the heat starts to sear his meat.

His eyes are wide, and he jerks his hips forward and back once again, desperate, trying to move his cock somewhere, anywhere, to find someplace to lesson the heat. He doesn't dare pull it all the way out, but even though he knows he can't the pain pushes him in that direction. He's desperate, in a panic then, his cock feeling the fire and the heat searing the tip of his prick almost like a blow tourch. He starts to scream then, a piercing scream that adds to the ghoulishness of the spectacle. He doesn’t give up, but thrusts deep, then slams sideways as the burning feeling takes over. He's screaming then as he fucks the Jack-O-Lantern, a shriek that is high and piercing and that fills the room. The metal keeps flicking through the flames and grows ever hotter, burning his dick from the inside out. He gasps, screams again, and bucks his hips one more time, and then, finally, the pain overwhelms him and in a reflex he just jerks it out.

The crowd gasps and there are boos for the cheater. His cock is quivering, bouncing up and down as he hops on his feet and shakes against his bonds as the pain overwhelms him. He throws his head back and shrieks, jerking against the shackles, and as everyone looks after that he is screaming like a banshee. The end of his cock is still bubbling, literally, the Prince Albert piercing still glowing a ghoulish red that is making the end of his cock boil. He screams and screams and screams, as the blister forms in front of everyone, the head of his cock still cooking as if it was a sausage. He screams like a madman then, and jerks his hips in the air and dances as if that alone could bring him some relief.

His big boner is disappearing fast. One of the black cats screech and dart across in front of him, and after that he dances up and down and his black lips sing. Slowly the metal in his dick cools, but the damage is done and the pain continues. One of the witches cackles, and then she picks up a red cable and clips it to the sharp metal ring that encircles his balls. He looks down, at the red cable, and as he takes it all in he starts to beg. The cable runs inside the great grinning mouth, and it, and his balls, are attached to the post. The cable is short, short enough, and by its length it dooms his balls.

He's lost, lost it all, of course, and while it doesn’t seem fair the rules are clear. As soon as he pulled out his cock for him the contest was done, and now all he can do is to feel his cooked sausage and wait for the rest of it to happen.

Of the dozen contestants that continue to fuck, they pump and jerk and thrust like madmen. They are all sweating, their naked backs glistening and their arm pits wet and dark. Each is desperate to build the feeling and to blow his seed, to spread his sperm and to win the prize. They say nothing, but just grunt and thrust, pushing in and out, each looking at the others as they make their thrusts, wondering who will win and who will lose. With only twelve contestants inside the pumpkin now, the odds have dropped. One in four will win. And one in four will lose.

The third contestant, one of the eighteen year olds, suddenly throws his head back and yells out "Oh...ohh, I'm CUMMING!!!!" and then his body spasms. His thin prick is moving fast, in and out of the hole, and as he arches his back he begins to shoot his watery load. The candles inside pop and spit, his droplets of cream spraying out and onto them. His eyes are wide, and the look on his face is one of accomplishment. As he shoots, the music changes pitch, and suddenly the ghouls begin to materialize.

Behind him, behind them all, a skeleton man just appears out of the fog and rattles as he walks across the stage. He's nothing but bones, no flesh at all, and because of the darkness the wires that hold him together aren't visible to the crowd. It’s a strange strange strange demonic thing, rattling there, as it walks, upright, and moves through the fog. In front of it, as it moves, the black cats scurry and one of the big Tom's arches its back and hisses as the walking bones go by.

For the boy, squirting out his load, the contest is over and he's grinning as he cums. He's facing sideways to the audience, so they can see the thinness of his prick as it sprouts from his tiny patch of pubic hair. He looks like a kid as he pumps his wad, but he's outmanned them all and he has won. One of the witches pats him on his naked ass, feeling him as his muscles tighten and he squirts his goo, and then she reaches down and selects one of the three green cables and clips it deftly to his balls. The green cable snakes its way inside the great pumpkin, through its open grinning mouth. The rest of its length is coiled inside, waiting to puke itself out when the time has come.

About thirty seconds later, on the other side of the great pumpkin, the young looking teen with the freckled face and reddish hair is squirting too. He opens his eyes and stares, and then his cock starts its pumping. His load too causes the candles to pop and sizzle, and one of them goes out when it takes his wad. It doesn't matter, there are dozens inside. The kid grunts as he ejaculates, pumping out his wad, slamming his hips into the gourd and feeling his cock as it pulsates and his wad shoots into it.

Many of the girls that were rooting for him are shouting out now, their arms upraised as they watch him win. No doubt he will be fucking one of them before nightfall, pumping out another wad into his first vagina. For now, as his balls empty, one of the witches slaps his ass, and then clips the second of the three green cables onto the ring that encircles his nuts. He feels it being done, but doesn’t care, and instead he relishes the feeling as his cock slowly stops pulsating and he finishes squirting his youthful load.

Above the group a drum sails through the air, beat-beat-beating, boom-boom-boom. It's flying on another unseen cable, flying in a circle above the stage, making its sound and adding to the mystery and eeriness of it all.

The others are fucking with a vengeance. In and out they continue to thrust, each now more desperate to blow his load. It's all on the line now, all of it, and with only one left to win they are each striving with an intensity that is hard to describe.

The oldest of the group, the married man with the thickest cock, is sweating like a pig as he makes his thrusts. He's grunting, grunting it with a desperation that draws the stares. He increases both the pace and the depth of his thrusts, in and out, taking his big fat cock to the very edge of the hole before he slams its full length into the gourd. In and out, faster and faster, the skin of his oil soaked cock sliding up and down. His cock has a lot of experience, and that's an advantage. His dick is so fat that the hole grips him, tight, and that adds to the feeling and helps him along.

His wife, recognizing his look, is screaming now, urging him on, and the man's eyes go wide. Then, suddenly, he pulls out just a bit too far, perhaps in an attempt to make his final thrust. Whatever the reason, it’s a mistake, and his fat cock pops from the hole. As he thrust forward it bends upward, his big erection sliding upwards as he misses the hole. At that very second, with his cock pointed up and laying against the outside of the pumpkin, his body shudders and he begins to ejaculate. He looks down, a look of pure horror on his face, and pulls back quickly and tries desperately to jab his squirting dick back in the hole.

He misses, his fat cock slamming into the outside wall instead, his white cream bubbling out of it as he does. He's cumming, outside of the great beast, wasting his load and the win as he empties his balls and sprays the outside of the pumpkin with his massive load. His wife screeches like a banshee, adding to the den and the noise, and everyone's eyes turn as his mistake becomes apparent. He can't believe what he's done, can't believe it at all, and he looks horrified as he jabs and jabs and jabs, thrusting with his hips to find the hole that cannot be found. One of the witches slaps his ass, and then reaches under him while he's pumping and connects one of the red cables to his fat cheating balls. He screams, "NOOOOOOOOOOO" as he sees it done, his thick cock still jerking and spewing even as the cable is clipped in place.

Two cats encircle his feet, rubbing their fur against his legs. They are lapping up his cream that has dribbled to the floor, and the look on his face is priceless. The rattling skeleton is back on stage, walking behind them again, moving across and through the fog like a living apparition, this time in the opposite direction. The man is begging, trying to anyway, but the music's loud and piercing, the sounds of ghouls and goblins adding to the spectacle and drowning out his wasted words.

The rest of the men are fucking in a panic now, fucking the flames in a ghoulish game. From the seats, where the audience is sitting, you can see the cocks as they make their thrusts, in and out and fanning the flames. It's a devils fuck, that's what it is, and the men are fucking like madman, their balls swinging forward and tap-tap-tapping on the side of the pumpkin as they do.

The men are each fucking in their own way, in and out, trying to cum and trying to win. There are only nine left now, with one to win and three more to lose, and as the odds turn the fucking intensifies. The nine men's asses are moving up and down as the ring of men fucks and fucks. The crowd is screaming now, loving every minute, and they are shouting out loud and clear for their favorites. The younger ones seem the closest, and their thrusting is faster and their cocks are blurred, like pistons, slamming in and out of their holes so fast they almost look like machines.

Thin or thick it doesn’t matter, although the men with the longest cocks feel the heat more, the flick-flick-flickering of the candles clawing for their cocks with each thrust that they make. In and out they all slide their cocks, the bite of the flames in stark contrast to the coolness of the pumpkin’s edge. As always, it’s a game of strategy as much as it is a simple fuck, trying to decide when to thrust and when to pull back, always trying to build the feeling that will make them squirt. The flames keep it interesting, and the excitement builds to a crescendo.

The fat man, with the bald head, surprises everyone. He is very close, and he starts to grunt. He opens his mouth, and stares, arching his back as if to shoot. However, just before he squirts the third boy from the end yells "ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," his eyes wide open too, as his thin little cock just explodes, spewing out its goo as he begins to ejaculate. A second later the bald man's cumming too then, the two men squirting together and grunting it out. Still, the boy's the third winner, by less than a second, but he's one of the crowd's favorites and there is a thunderous roar. He's cute as hell, and the thick peach fuzz on his blushed face makes him look like a boy, his body still sprouting its way through adolescence. Still, he's outmanned the rest of them and won his prize, and as he squirts his youthful load he yelps with glee. His voice cracks, a pubescent crack, that carries over the noise and brings a few laughs.

The fat man's cumming at the same time now, but the kid beat him at the start and so it's not soon enough, although with his eyes closed he's still hoping the hope and doesn’t know it yet. The witches slap both of their asses simultaneously, a slap-slap for the young boy and the fat bald man, which adds to the confusion. But then, just as the fat man opens his eyes the boy gets the last green cable, clipped to his little sac, and the fat man stares, with disbelief.

Suddenly, one of the witches clips an unmarked cable to the ring that traps his huge set of nuts. When he sees that done he freaks, realizing he's missed the win by less than a second. Of course, the unmarked cables are just like the green ones, made from the same steel, and like them are also attached to the 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.

He's staring down, at his big scrotum, his two hen egged sized balls trapped there now, their fate unknown. He hasn't won, and there is no money. But he hasn't lost, at least not yet, but his fate's unknown and now until its all done he can only hope.

The three who have won have taken all of the green cables, the long ones, and so for the rest of them they will take their chances now. Fate and luck will play hand in hand and what will be won't be known until it is done. Of course, even if there are no more cheaters three more men will lose their balls. The last man to cum will be one of them of course, but for the other two, fate and luck and chance will be the only deciding factors.

There are seven men left doing their fucking, trying now only not to lose and not to be last. In and out they thrust, and everyone is watching, waiting, yelling out for their favorites and rooting them on. The two teens on the left side that are fucking side by side squirt next, cumming together and at the same time. The boy with the black fuzz on his lip shouts out, while the other one just stares, his mouth open. The boys' cocks jerk and bounce while they pump and ejaculate out their teenage loads of cream.

Both of the eighteen year olds squirt out their high school loads, the candles popping and sputtering as they do so. Through the evil triangular eyes you can see their semen flying, the boys shaking and grunting as they pump their goo. Finally, spent, and satisfied, they feel the witches as the women clip in their young balls. In that instant, they are connected to the pumpkin they have fertilized, and what will happen next only fate will decide.

Two minutes go by while the five remaining men thrust and pump. The private shoots next, the relief visible on his face as the soldier's cock quivers and his semen finally flies. He's sweating, his armpit hair soaked and dark, his perfect twenty-two year old body squirting out his seed like there will be no tomorrow coming. It's a hell of a load, by any measure, and compared to the rest of the men he's quite the man. His balls just pump and pump, and several of the candles go out, his semen spraying like a fire hose as he grunts it all out.

The crowd and the music have blended into a roar, and its all down now to the last four. The walking bones go by again, and the flying sheets seem to build up speed. Just four men left to go. One of them will be castrated for sure, and the others will be taking their chances so who's to know? They stare at each other. The two brothers hold everyone's attention. The oldest of the pair is watching the other, who is staring off into space fucking the fuck. Both of them are trying so hard to squirt next and next. The twenty-one year old has his marriage on the line, and perhaps he thinks he deserves an advantage. If so, his teenage brother seems oblivious to it, still shocked he's even a part of this. The younger of the two stares into space, grunting and sweating, pushing and pushing with a desperation that knows no bounds.

The other two men, both in their thirties, are also fucking like madmen. The Frenchman, with his longer, thin cock, has the advantage of being uncircumcised, so his foreskin sheathes his cock with each pull of his hips. Next to him, the man with his chest full of hair and his big hairy legs pounds his hips in and out, trying to get it done before it's too late.

All four of them are fucking the flames, in and out, their cocks eagerly sliding in and out of their holes. In and out, like human pistons, their cocks work their holes and fuck the great gourd. The Frenchman shoots then, yelling out in glee, and as he empties his balls the man next to him starts to do the same. The two single middle age men are squirting then, dumping out their loads to the delight of the older women watching in the crowd. As they are doing that, the witches waste no time, and even while they are pumping two unmarked cables get clipped to their balls.

Suddenly, it's down to the last two, the two brothers, and in a quirk of fate they have become rivals. The one getting married is still staring at his younger brother, the one he talked into doing this not so long ago. Now it has come back to haunt him, as they both thrust deep, literally competing now to try and unman the other. Each of them is sweating like pigs as they thrust and thrust. The older one says something to his brother, trying to get his attention, and his girlfriend is yelling to him too, at the same time. They are begging the teen to ease up, begging him to let the older brother win. Perhaps it would be a brotherly thing to do? Perhaps.

The kid glances at his older brother, just for a second, and as he does he grits his teeth and seems even more determined. The boy increases the speed of his thrusts, if anything, and as he does his older brother looks angry. He's used to having his way, but it's obvious that there is too much on the line this time. They both continue, their hips slamming up and down in a race against time and against each other, their asses rising and falling in unison as they do their fucking side by side. Now of course, each in a very real way, is literally trying to castrate the other.

It’s a race, a very real race with tremendous consequences. One of them will be castrated for sure. One of them will definitely lose his nuts. They both know it, know its come down to that, and so they fuck the great Jack-O-Lantern furiously, desperately, trying harder to cum than like they have never fucked before. Their eyes both seem to glass over, straining. The younger one, the nineteen year old, opens his mouth and he stares off into space.

His brother looks at him and yells out to him one more time: "NO!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!! WAIT!!!!!!!!" But the kid has no intention of waiting for anyone. Instead, to the disbelief of his brother and his fiancé, the young teenager's squirting then, his wad shooting out of his teenage dick and dooming the balls of his own brother in the process. The younger brother squirts and squirts, his load of semen shooting out of his dick in the best orgasm of his life. The older brother gasps, realizing he's lost, and then he turns and looks at his fiancé who starts to scream. Even as he does, one of the witches is clipping a red cable to his balls. The witch cackles, and slaps him on the ass. The other brother, his face one of total relief, gets one of the unmarked cables, and at that point the contest is done.

At that precise moment, even while the older brother is still fucking, staring at his girl as he fucks the pumpkin, all the men are tied to the great Jack-O-Lantern that stares with its evil grin. They are tied by their balls with the cables that run from within its soul. Like every year, out the great grinning mouth they go, and then from there to between the legs of each man, to the iron ring around their individual sets of balls. The moment seems frozen in time.

The one brother continues thrusting, the only man still doing so, pushing his hips while the others watch and stare. It’s a wasted gesture now, a wasted effort, and no matter what he does his balls are doomed, connected to the great gourd by the last of the red cables. Still, he fucks, staring at his girl, perhaps fucking her in his mind one last time. The tip of his dick is sliding into the flick-flick-flickering flames, in and out, in and out, his promised girl watching it all as he fucks and fucks and fucks for the very last time.

Then, even as he fucks, without any warning or any other sound, the contest is done and it all ends with a bang. Underneath the great pumpkin the big trap door on the stage opens, and the huge pumpkin slowly just disappears, pulling itself off of the one thrusting cock that's still impaled in its hole. The fog along the floor hides the door, and yet as the big Jack-O-Lantern turns and disappears through the gapping hole, it pulls in the air with a rush and the fog follows it, rushing across the stage from all directions, rushing toward the hole in the floor that has swallowed the Jack-O-Lantern.

The ghosts overhead that have been flying all night are released from their cables at the same instant, and fall, fluttering, downward and into the hole with everything else. At the same time there is a tremendous noise of fluttering wings, and thousands of bats come flying out, out of the hole in the stage and going upward, circling the great stage as the crowd gasps. Unseen now, the big Jack-O-Lantern falls, ever-so-slowly, the grim-grinning creature turning over as it does, turning over and over as it disappears from site and begins to drop to the distant basement below. It’s a long fall, and as it goes the cables spew out of its grinning mouth like snakes, stringing out in a blur, vomiting out like some perverse and evil force. Each of the cables of course is attached to a man on the stage, to his balls, and as they play out the laws of chance come into play.

The three shortest cables, the red ones, go taut first, and in that instant the men that own them are jerked hard and their groins are all pulled forward, toward the hole that is sucking in the fog. With their wrists still chained above them, they can't go anywhere, although for a priceless second they jerk forward, like puppets, making a final thrust toward the open hole in the floor as if some evil force had gripped their balls like a handle and was pulling them toward hell itself.

In less than an instant their balls stretch out, and then out some more. The man with the forked tongue and the devil's dick stares downward, and he actually sees the cable grow taut as it begins to unman him. The other cheater is staring too, his fat cock still stiff and eager, his scrotum pulled and distended like some tiny bag of Halloween treats. The last one, the college kid with the girl to marry who was still fucking the Jack-O-Lantern when it just disappeared, stares too, in disbelief, as his twenty year old scrotum and the others become one and the same.

That moment last less than an instant. The great pumpkin is falling, and its weight is so great that their three scrotums don't even slow it down. There is a pop-pop-pop sound as their three man-bags come off with a snap, their nut sacs literally opening and spraying their contents across the stage as they are all popped off simultaneously. The three men are swinging from their wrists as their balls come free, and are jerked so hard that to the audience it looks like some evil wind has touched their souls. The Tom cats pounce and run, grabbing for the testicles that have spilled like treats on the floor. The one brother, whose entire sac of nuts is missing now, finally starts to squirt then, the last load of his life wasted, pumping out of his ball-less dick and shooting into the air like a semen fountain while everyone watches him do it.

The great pumpkin falls another few feet, and the two last short cables, unmarked in color, go taut as it does. The pumpkin weighs over 1000 pounds and its really moving fast now, so it doesn't slow down at all, but just continues, toward the floor and towards its own destruction. For a priceless second though, when those last two cables snapped taut, two more sacs of balls bear the full weight of the great pumpkin.

One of the doomed scrotums is connected to the second contestant, one of the young looking high school lads. He's the eighteen year old boy with the black wisp of a mustache, the crowd's favorite, and the expression on his face is one of total surprise. As his scrotum takes the full load of the pumpkin and his hips are jerked forward, toward the hole, his body is shaken like a puppet on a string. He looks down just in time to see his young nuts as they are stretched out and pulled completely from his body, all happening so fast it's just a painful blur. The boy's body snaps back, swinging from his wrists, and in that instant he's turned into a screaming eunuch.

The other man whose luck runs out is the man with the biggest set to lose. He's the fat man, with his bald head and huge set of nuts, and as they take the load and jerk his hips he screams in disbelief. For less than a second the two are one, the young man and the old man one and the same. Their two bags of balls come off together, literally pulled right off of them, jerked out by their roots, the contents of their scrotums spewing out as the cables literally rip them off.

Their scrotums just disappear, the testicles inside just pulled right out, the twin cords within each sac snap-snap-snapping like rubber bands. There is nothing left under their cocks after that, and it all happens so fast they hardly have time to realizes its happening until after its been done. Once again the great pumpkin has taken its Halloween treats, popping them off the unlucky men like candy for the cats to eat.

As it all happens the bats are filling the air, flying upwards in a continuous swarm. The walking skeleton just collapses into a pile of bones, the cables that held it together now disappearing into the ceiling. Then, in an instant it seems, it's all over and it has been done. The bats disappear out the windows that have been left open high in the back of the theater, and from somewhere an image of a rising sun appears as it's projected against the far wall. The haunted soundtrack slowly dies out and the ghoulish sounds fade away. At the same time, the house lights come up so that everything is visible. There is a crash as its all happening, as the great pumpkin hits the floor far below, smashing into unimportant pieces.

As the piped in sounds die away the screams from the losers fill the room instead. The new eunuchs scream and twist and jerk against their bonds, as the shock and the pain of their castrations suddenly fill their brains. The crowd stares as the show comes to an end, looking at the five losers, the five men who now have no balls. They are all screaming, shrieking now, and their sound of desperation is more hideous than all of the music that has played through the night. For the five, the expressions on their faces are just ones of total disbelief. All of them are looking down, at where their balls had been, and as they look they can't believe there is nothing there anymore. It all happened so fast. One minute they were men with hope and balls and the next they were neutered nothings. The emptiness in their groins is consuming them now, the feeling of it all so terrible they can only gasp and screech.

The fat man who had the monster scrotum is screaming, his short fat cock still erect, his last boner bobbing up and down as he stares in disbelief. The brother who was hoping to win it all and marry his girl has nothing now, and as he looks out for her he realizes she has already gone. He's got nothing left, no balls at all, and his wilting cock seems to be dying on the vine. He's been unmanned, a eunuch now, and there is no woman anywhere that will want him. The nutted high school kid is erect, his thin prick still high and jutting, exposing the emptiness that now defines his sex. There is some bleeding there, and a long chord that was once attached to one of his testicles dangles, the only remnant left from what once made him a man. His bald pits and tiny patch of pubic hair look funny now, his hairless state one of permanency as his thin cock juts for a final time.

But it is the devil kid, the nineteen year old with the dyed cock and tattooed pubes that seems the strangest of the group. His cock has totally wilted, except for what's left of the bulbous head, which is blistered raw and red and swollen to three times its normal size. His cock will never be the same, and the Prince Albert piercing that doomed him has been swallowed up by the swollen blistered end and is not even visible anymore. The very end of his prick is black and split, like a burned sausage that has cooked on a grill, and the very tip seems flat now, almost like it was burned right off. What's left of his dick hangs like a noodle hangs. The fearsome monster boy is crying, like a baby, staring at his dead worm and empty groin. By the time the doctors get done with him he'll be a ball-less short-cocked devil, and with his black lips and his split tongue he'll be nothing but a eunuch freak.

The losers hang there, whimpering now, and the crowd goes to the edge of the stage to get a better look. The witches laugh, a piercing laugh, as they unlock the winners and release them one by one. For the losers, they play with them a while, toying with their nipples and feeing their cocks as they go limp one by one. The old man with the thick prick looks totally shocked and his wife has come to the edge of the stage and she is angry with him. He's gone and lost his balls this time, and for her that is the final straw. The man listens to his wife as she berates him, and then he's looking down, in shame as he realizes his stupidity. There is nothing there of course, not where his balls were only moments before.

Like every year, the crowd is laughing at the five eunuchs. They laugh and laugh and call them names. For the nutless men they just hang there now, and their faces flush crimson as they feel the humiliation of their stupidity. They are the center of attention, the laughing stocks of the festival. The contents of their missing scrotums have all been eaten up by the cats, who now circle the stage and sniff the air, searching for more Halloween treats to eat. At the edge of the stage one of the big Toms still has a severed testicle in its mouth, a huge hen-egg sized ball that he bites with relish. The men have collapsed for the most part, hanging by their wrists, and all hope gone. They pull their legs together, giving into the pain that has taken over their groins. Their cocks hang like dead noodles. It’s over. They are all ball-less neutered nothings; tricked and treated into naked eunuchs for Halloween.

For the ones who missed the money but lucked out and kept their balls they are smiling, overwhelmed with relief that it's all over. Like every Halloween, there are treats and tricks and things in between. All of the contestants that kept their balls are smiling, looking forward to a great Holiday. The three rich winners are grinning from ear to ear, and are being congratulated by everyone else. For the three teenagers with the money and the new cars the girls are already all lined up. The boys can see them waving, and are grinning back at them, like all teenage boys grin before they get laid, their cocks already growing hard again and the girls lined up waiting and ready. Like last Halloween, the three winners have won their treats and kept their balls, and for them and the girls they will fuck tonight, it's going to be the best Halloween of all.

Authors note: © Copyright October, 2003. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author.