TallBlond1
Forum Regular
Carnival
by Steve Geary
A land grab had been in progress for several months in Florida’s Orlando area. Someone had been buying large properties under various names, and when the scheme became apparent, most of the barren acres had already been purchased.
A similar thing had happened in the 1960’s. By way of numerous “ghost” buyers, Walt Disney himself, shortly before his death, bought one property after another. The result was Walt Disney World, and in the 1980’s, Universal Studios managed to pull off the same thing. Both parks offered family entertainment. A new entrepreneur had now entered the scene, and he knew his enterprise needed to offer cutting-edge entertainment.
One memorable day, an announcement was made. A new amusement park, solely for men, would be opening. It would be called Carnival, and it would offer adult male entertainment in stark contrast to the G-rated innocence dreamt up by the creators of Mickey Mouse. That Sunday, a full-page advertisement appeared in the paper. “Are YOU man enough?” it screamed.
David Anderson was a proud, well-built father in his late thirties when he looked up from his Sunday paper and peered over at his teenage sons Timmy and Calvin. The twin brothers sure looked like he did when he was their age. They were now young men. They were wrestling on the floor. Surely they, and he, were ‘man enough’.
The park’s opening weekend coincided with the boys’ birthdays. This could be a good father-and-sons outing, Mr. Anderson reasoned, and Orlando wasn’t that far away. “You up for it, boys?” he asked.
“You bet, Pop!” the young athletes replied. Timmy added, “Can I bring my friend Matt?”
“Of course, son!”
“Hey, if Timmy gets to bring Matt, I get to bring Randy!” Calvin shouted. Mr. Anderson smiled agreeably; Randy was a quiet young man, somewhat sad, introspective and thoughtful. He was as different from his sons as could be, but somehow Calvin’s friendship with Randy created a perfect interlocking of personalities. “That’s fine by me, boys. The more the merrier.”
The weather was with them that Saturday, but the Orlando traffic was worse than ever. “This area grew up far too fast,” Mr. Anderson grumbled as he navigated the family SUV. As they got closer to Carnival, however, the congestion grew a bit lighter, and there were no women in the cars surrounding them. Only fresh-faced, happy young men were sitting in the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Excited by the prospect of something new, Mr. Anderson parked the SUV in the lot and the five men walked up to Carnival’s front gates.
A large tent blocked the way. “First time here?” a young attendant was asking everyone who passed. “Of course we’re new,” Mr. Anderson retorted. “This is your opening day, isn’t it?”
“Sorry, sir,” the young man swallowed. “That’s one of my memorized lines. I’m supposed to ask everyone who passes me if it’s their first time.” He took a breath and pointed over to the large canopy. “All first-time visitors go through the orientation tent!”
They looked over at the huge, oversized wigwam. Almost all of its chairs were filled with men’s butts. “The next orientation starts in three minutes,” the attendant grinned cheerfully. “It’s your introduction to the park, a pep talk so you know what you’re in for. Everyone does it. After that, you’re on your own. Have fun!” He waved them off and immediately turned his attention to the next entourage approaching the gates.
The father took charge. “C’mon, boys, let’s get in that tent before all the chairs fill up!”
There was excitement in the air as they found their seats. The crowd was mostly young, all men, just as they knew it would be. It was a cross section of Earth’s male population, as diverse in ethnicity as the world itself. An R.O.T.C. troop sat to their right, and a half-drunk chapter of some college fraternity took up the row in front of them.
A brick shithouse of a man sporting a military haircut took the microphone at the podium. “Welcome to Carnival!” he cried. “Are we having a good time?” Five hundred male voices filled the tent with a resounding YES!
“My name’s Carl,” the speaker said. “You all look great. Give yourselves a hand!” Everyone applauded, cheered and whistled.
“It’s a beautiful morning,” Carl continued. “Today, you can all be part of history as America’s most innovative theme park opens its gates! So let’s talk about Carnival, shall we? We want to make sure this is the right park for you. First off, you have to be eighteen years of age to enter this park. Guys, Carnival is based on the male mentality. It’s a MAN’s world! Are you all man enough?"
With the exception of Calvin’s friend Randy, the entire tent cheered affirmatively. Many guys showed the speaker their biceps. Carl’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, “Yeah! Ya know, I’m sure we’re all macho studs here, and of course we love the ladies, but there are some things us guys like to do without those damned women bugging us! We’re different from them, we accept it, and we’re proud of it! And guess what -- women like their time alone, too, do they not?” There was chuckling as everyone agreed.
“You bet they do,” Carl laughed. “Ever notice at a restaurant, if one woman leaves to go to the restroom, they all do?” There was a murmuring of recognition and a nodding of heads throughout the tent. “Yeah, you know it’s true! And ain’t it something -- while they’re gone, we guys open up and become ourselves again! Well, that’s what Carnival is about, men -- letting our inhibitions go, not letting social mores stifle us anymore! So raise your hands -- how many of you played Cowboys and Indians when you were young?”
Virtually every arm went up in the air, accompanied by Indian war whoops. “Beautiful! It was fun, wasn’t it? Bet you all pretended to take lots of arrows and bullets! Now, when you were kids, how many of you played soldiers?” Again, almost every hand reached high into the sky. “Awwrightt! I’ll bet we even have some men who’ve served our military for real, am I right?” Several groups within the audience shouted “Oh, yeah!” as the audience respectfully acknowledged them.
“I knew it!” Carl guffawed. “Ya see, at Carnival, you can let all those childhood fantasies get played out, only get this! -- here, guys, we do it for real! Men, you can either go through your humdrum lives merely fantasizing about danger and excitement, or you can come to Carnival and live out every testosterone-filled dream ya ever had! If this scene isn’t for you -- IF YOU’RE NOT MAN ENOUGH -- you can leave now. But there’s lots of fun and danger inside these gates, and I can promise you it’ll be glorious. Just empty your minds of what’s proper, and enter our world, a park that takes you back to the basics. If you want entertainment like you’ve never seen before, c’mon in, and let’s have fun!”
The crowd stomped their feet. “Hell yeah, guys!” Carl’s pep talk was reaching a fever pitch. “You pretended to do it as kids. Your ancestors did it! Our country does it every time we go to war! Carnival is hot, it’s insane, it’s violent! Yes, it’s the patriotic thing to do! Fuck, it’s the American way!” A mad cheer went up through the crowd. Everyone ran past Carl to the ticket booths. “Oh, and remember, it’s also fifty bucks,” Carl laughed.
He had them so worked up, they practically trampled over him to get through the front gate. After his speech, Carl was so emotionally high himself, he inhaled a deep breath to relax a little, took a swig of beer and watched his audience exit out the back of the tent. Licking his lips, he smiled as his eyes returned to the canopy entrance. A new batch was starting to file in.
Mr. Anderson was proud that he’d decided to bring the boys to Carnival. After the cashier carefully checked the boys’ ID’s, Mr. Anderson pulled out his credit card and gladly paid the two hundred and fifty dollars. “Yep, you’re all old enough,” the cashier confirmed. “There’s a locker room in the back. You don’t have to take all your clothes off, but we encourage you to. It’s part of the all-male fun. Great way to get a full body tan, too, while you wait in line!”
Sure enough, as the Anderson entourage glanced into the park, they saw mostly naked figures, cocks swinging, strutting about, enjoying the sunny day. Mr. Anderson looked at the boys. “What do you say, guys? You man enough?”
“Hell, we ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of, Pop! We got your genes!” his sons replied. Matt shrugged his shoulders and likewise agreed, but Randy, quiet all this time, finally spoke up when they got to the locker room. “Guys, I'm worried,” he said. “I’ve been listening to everything being said, and I’ve gone along with it, but about this naked thing..."
“Yes, Randy?”
“Well, I mean,” Randy stammered, “I’m proud of what I’ve got, but that’s just the problem. I mean, what if I start getting a boner?”
Calvin laughed. “I’ve seen your dick, Randy. If you get a hard-on, the only thing that’s gonna happen here is that every man is gonna envy it!”
Randy paused, then gave a small smile and sucked off his shorts. Even soft, his cock was an eight-inch beauty. Soon all five men were naked. It felt good to be free of clothing. Sure enough, this park brought its visitors back to the basics. Only a few shy Asians elected to wear the park’s signature jockstraps.
Mr. Anderson felt a sense of pride as he saw his sons’ genitals and saw that their cocks were already the same width and length as his. His boys were becoming beautiful young men. All five hombres practically walked proud and naked as they crossed the pavement and approached a “Park Brochures” stand.
The father was handed five pamphlets, and as soon as he saw the attractions, his face fell. “Aw, look at this,” he said. “It’s got a roller coaster, a Merry-Go-Round, a magic show...damn, except for us being naked, this is just like every other theme park we’ve been to. We might as well have gone to King’s Island!”
Everyone fumbled through their brochures and felt the same disappointment. “Well, the ride in front of us is a Merry-Go-Round,” Matt offered. “Why don’t we check it out?”
It was amusing to watch a dozen naked young men going around in circles on such a childlike contraption. They were grinning and waving to the crowd. All seemed normal, but Timmy’s eye abruptly caught red puddles and splatter marks all over the calliope’s floor. “What are THOSE?” he inquired.
His twin brother saw it, too, and peered off to the side. Calvin pointed excitedly. “Look at those three men behind that stockade! They have rifles!” A shot suddenly rang out and one of the boys on the Merry-Go-Round fell off his horse. He landed on his back, a huge hole in his chest with blood spurting out of it like a fountain. Laughter filled the area.
“Holy shit!” Mr. Anderson cried. “It’s a shooting gallery!” His heart started racing, his adrenaline pumping with excitement. “Let’s grab us some guns, boys!”
Matt and Randy stood this one out, but the other three were quickly informed of the rules. Whoever remained alive on the carousel would get to split a pot of five hundred dollars. Get them all, and the shooters win.
The dead bodies were hauled off the ride, and it was hosed down before the entire naked R.O.T.C. troop eagerly clambered aboard. When it came time for David Anderson and his offspring to shoot, they had twenty potential victims ready to be sent to hell.
The calliope music started up and the Merry-Go-Round lurched, then picked up speed. A young blond-haired boy with a crewcut was grinning from ear to ear as he went around in circles. His smooth, angelic face indicated that he couldn’t have been more than eighteen. He wagged his dick at the riflemen, then flapped his fingers around his ears, sticking out his tongue. “Bet you can’t hit me!” he laughed. “BL-BL-BL-BL-BL!”
Timmy aimed carefully and pulled the trigger. The blond boy’s body lurched violently as his perfect face exploded. The body continued to go around in circles, but now the boy was a slumped corpse with a huge, spurting red crater replacing his gentle facial features. Blood cascaded down his sun-bronzed chest.
“Good shot, son!” Mr. Anderson said proudly. He was glad he’d taught his boys how to use rifles. Before it was over, he too had wasted ten riders, and his sons each took out five, so the $500 pot was divided accordingly.
Everyone congratulated them as they turned in their guns and re-joined Randy and Matt. Randy was impressed, but he trembled a little when he asked, “Why do you think so many men are willing to get killed?”
“Good question!” Mr. Anderson responded. “It’s a phenomenon of human nature, Randy. See, when an otherwise healthy body is violently killed off, they say the senses go into overdrive. There’s twice as intense a pleasure on the other side of the pain, and who knows? Maybe some men even produce orgasms. Most of us are willing to do almost anything for a bigger and better thrill, and an orgasm is especially intense if the body hasn’t been numbed by painkillers like morphine. Hangings, executions, and crucifixions -- why do you think Mel Gibson called his movie The Passion of the Christ?”
Mr. Anderson’s explanation made sense. The boys were as impressed as they were dumbfounded. They’d never heard it explained so well.
Now they were walking past a building with a marquee that said:
“Let’s do it, boys!”
Marvel looked to be every bit your typical magician, wearing a goatee and a tuxedo. “Velcome, velcome,” he said happily. “Today ve’re going to haf soo much fun!”
He put on a very entertaining show. He was a top notch performer, and highly trained. One of the highlights had to be when he asked for a volunteer from the audience. One of the Asians shyly came up onto the stage. With one quick motion, Marvel tore off the boy’s jock strap and threw him into a rectangular box. The boy’s head stuck out one end, and his feet protruded from two holes at the other.
“Now ve’re gonna saw ze boy in two,” Marvel grinned as he twirled his moustache. Marvel put the blade of his saw into the middle of the box and roughly started cutting through the container. “Hey, Japan boy! Letsa do a big show! Give 'em-a big scream!” Almost immediately, his co-star shrieked a high-pitched yell. Then he cried, he begged, he howled. The frantic protests caused Marvel to put more and more muscle into his work. “Ya, ya! You scream-a real good!” he laughed.
Two-thirds of the way through the cut, the tortured screaming stopped, and when the saw came out the box’s underside, Marvel turned both pieces of the box around so the audience could view the contents. His hands reached in and squishy noises could be heard as he started pulling out large, gooey red chunks.
Calvin and Timmy looked around. Not only were their penises throbbing straight up in the air, most of the other guys in the audience had the same problem, including Matt, Randy, and their Dad.
Marvel opened the top of the box and gave his crowd a full view of the mutilated body. He was showered with applause and he blew kisses to the crowd. Then he tossed both pieces of the body onto a small wagon. “Come by the park’s Longpigs Restaurant in an hour,” he chuckled to his guests. “Today we're eatin’ Japanese! Sum Yun Gai!” Everyone laughed.
Outside, Mr. Anderson looked at his boys. They all still had throbbing hard-ons, as did just about every other guy now in the park. Young Randy’s cock had grown to its full eleven inches. It glistened in the warm sun. “You guys hungry?” Mr. Anderson asked. “The brochure says there are actually two restaurants. Longpigs is a deli, but there’s another one called Carnivores. It’s more expensive; you wanna try it?”
“Oh, yes! Let’s!” they all cried.
Carnivores was a hugely exotic restaurant with over two hundred tables spread out over the floor. In the middle of the room was a barbeque pit, and hanging in chains from the ceiling were several young men in various stages of dismemberment. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Randy started walking in front of them as they made their way to a table, then abruptly turned around. “Guys, I don’t know how to tell you this,” he said, “so I may as well just blurt it out. This is my scene.”
Calvin laughed. “No problem with THAT, Randy! I think this is something we’ll ALL get into!”
“No, you don’t understand,” Randy continued. He paused. “Guys, I want to be eaten.”
His friends stopped dead in their tracks. “Randy, are you sure?”
He bit his lip, then nodded. “Yes. It’s always been a fantasy of mine. I think it’d be so hot to watch myself being carved up bit by bit. I’ve wanted it ever since I was a kid. You’ll let me do it, right?”
Mr. Anderson laughed, then hugged the boy. “It’s always the quiet ones that have the deepest secrets!” he exclaimed. “Randy, this is your outing, and you can make it anything you’d like. We can call the service staff over here and have them work with you, but I doubt you can back out once you start. You sure you want to do this?”
Randy said, “You bet I am! The only thing I ask is that Calvin makes the first cut.” Calvin beamed at the honor bestowed upon him. Mr. Anderson called over a couple of the muscle-bound attendants. “We’ve got one for ya!” He said to the two men. “You can tell by the size of his sausage, he’s definitely man enough! String him up.”
A platform was wheeled over and Randy’s naked form climbed up it. There, he was joined by attendants who attached both his wrists, then his ankles, to the chains hanging from the ceiling. When the platform was wheeled away, Randy was adjusted so that he was hanging face-down about six feet from the ground. Underneath him was placed a small serving table with plates, various knives, and a scalpel.
He managed to grin over at his friend Calvin. “Remember, you’ve got first dibs!” he said.
Calvin was excited; he knew precisely where he’d make the first cut. “I’ve got to warn you, Randy, I like my meat sliced real thin!” he laughed.
Randy smiled back. “No problem, Cal. It’s been a fun life. I’ve wanted you to do this to me for years. This is how I want to go!”
Everyone watched as Calvin gently squeezed Randy’s fat, eleven-inch schlong at the base, making the cockhead shine. Then he took a scalpel and gently grazed it over the beautifully shaped cock helmet. After teasing the head for a moment, he carefully pressed the knife over the piss slit lips and sheared them off.
Randy hissed and seethed with pleasure and pain as a trickle of blood dribbled from his penis. Calvin took the bits of cockhead and placed them on a plate. Then he sheared off another sixteenth of an inch of dick flesh. Randy growled, winced and shuddered. Bit by tiny bit, Calvin sliced off more and more fuckmeat, cutting deeper into the head. Eventually the scalpel had removed the entire head and had started taking the thinnest of slices from the sex snake itself.
Calvin pointed the cock up toward Randy’s face so Randy could appreciate the new form his penis had taken. Randy was given a plain view of his thick cock’s insides. There, in the middle, was the urethra. Surrounding it was the cock’s thick, spongy penis meat, awash with blood. Squeezing the cock at the base caused more blood to ooze from the severed python. Then the cock was slowly, painstakingly whittled down to seven inches, five, then three. Eventually there was nothing left but a gaping wound just underneath Randy’s curly prick hair.
“Hey, pal, you look just like a woman now!” Calvin laughed. “Except for this big scrotum, that is.” Taking a larger knife, Calvin then pulled on the balls. Close to the body, the knife deftly chewed through the ball sack, easily shearing it from the boy’s crotch. Cum, blood, and urine flowed freely. Plopping the hefty nuts into the middle of his plate, cock shavings piled high around them, Calvin then looked to everyone else in the room. “Go for it, guys! He’s all yours!” He eyed his carnal delicacy and grinned as he made his way over to the barbeque pit.
The salivating men had little of the patience that Calvin had exercised. Like animals, they grabbed the largest of knives and roughly cut off big chunks of Randy’s buttocks and chest. After Randy’s legs were sawed off, the boy was hanging only by his arms, his hairy armpits soaked with perspiration. What remained of him was crusted with blood. Eventually one of the men carved off his head, and the torso was doused with Worcestershire sauce and mustard. Soon it was turning slowly over the pit, juices sizzling down into the fire, everything bubbling and turning a nice golden brown.
“I’ve got to use the bathroom,” Matt announced. One thing nice about an all-male amusement park was not having to worry about accidentally entering the women’s restroom, but when he entered the small room, he wondered if he was in the right place. It was just a dimly-lit room with two naked men sitting on the floor against the wall.
“I’m sorry, I thought this was the bathroom,” Matt apologized.
“It is the bathroom,” one of the men replied. “I’m the urinal, and Clark here is the toilet.”
Matt was taken off guard. “But -- where’s the toilet paper?” he asked.
“No need for any,” the man replied, wagging his tongue at Matt. “Better get used to it, kid. Every restroom in the park is like this one.”
Matt’s need to relieve himself was just too great. He went up to the guy doing the talking and pushed his cock in all the way. The man moaned as the first trickle of warm liquid gushed down his throat. The man pulled his head back so he could taste the urine. When Matt had finished releasing the warm liquid, the man smacked his lips. “Excellent,” he remarked. “Nice and salty, real tasty!”
“Damn,” Matt said. “And I’ve really got to do a Number 2.”
“Be my guest,” Clark replied, grinning as he opened his mouth. Matt paused, then shrugged his shoulders. Turning around, he eased his anus down into the man’s lower face. Soon the face was smothered by Matt’s muscled ass cheeks. Closing his eyes, Matt did his duty.
It took but a moment before Matt felt Clark’s tongue washing his ass. His asshole was totally clean when he raised his body. Clark gave him a shit-eating grin. “Thanks, guys,” Matt said as he walked toward the door.
“Don’t mention it,” the first man laughed. “Let all your friends know about us. Tell 'em Martin sent ya!”
With their friend Randy being digested inside them rather than tagging along beside the foursome, the Anderson clan continued their day. There were numerous attractions to try. Mr. Anderson pointed out that in addition to the rides, there were places to relax, too -- a band called the Queer Cocks was performing, and there was a sauna and a whirlpool called The Body Wash.
“I want to see another ride!” Timmy exclaimed.
“Well, there are plenty of those,” Mr. Anderson responded. “Let’s check out the roller coaster!”
One of the advantages of long, weaving lines in amusement parks is that you get to see the same guys over and over again. This can be highly exciting if it’s an attractive bunch, and since most of the men were well built, and almost all of them were virtually naked, all kinds of fantasizing was going on as men continually passed each other. There were several times that the line stopped completely, and when it did, all three boys, along with the dad, felt their hard-ons getting groped.
“Go ahead and enjoy it, boys,” Mr. Anderson laughed. He didn’t mind getting fondled himself. “They say anything goes here. If someone wants to suck your cock, let him! He may be dead before the day’s over, so it’s not like he’s going to tell!”
That was all the boys needed to hear. Each of them picked out a favorite face. Each of them smiled when they saw the face re-approaching. Sure enough, the line would often stop in close proximity to the faces grinning back at them, and several hot men serviced their large dicks.
“Don't let them make you cum,” Mr. Anderson managed to groan as his eight-inch cock was swallowed whole. “You want to save that for a ride!” Both Timmy and Calvin smiled as young, handsome strangers helped themselves to their manly organs. They deepthroated a few cocks themselves. Several faces were humped but the boys were mindful of their father’s wise advice. The result was agonizing ecstasy.
The line for the roller coaster started off as one but eventually broke off into two formations. The first line was for men wanting to do the ride, and the second was for guys wishing to merely watch. The Anderson group decided to be spectators this first time around, so they got in the second line.
It was certainly an unusual roller coaster. The riders grinned excitedly, really whooping it up, as the coaster started creaking its way up a large hill, then tore down at seventy miles an hour. Round and round the coasters would fly, but at the end there was a nasty surprise -- a large, serrated blade had been bolted at neck level directly in the coaster’s path. As the ride ended, the blade swiftly cut through men’s necks, slicing them in two, causing blood to spray and heads to spin up into the air and out of control before falling with a thud to the ground below. Sometimes the heads would collide with each other.
“Awesome! Totally awesome!” the spectators cried, laughing hysterically. Some made bets as to how high the heads might fly.
Everybody getting on that ride was obviously an extreme thrill seeker, and the courage of the riders was applauded every time a new batch of heads rained down from above. For an extra ten dollars, a camera would take three quick pictures to be sent to relatives -- one of the passengers intact, one of the blade halfway through the necks, and one with the bodies decapitated, the heads somewhere in the air, often ricocheting off the structure itself as the ride came to a quick halt. The headless bodies would then get kicked off the coasters, where they’d fall into a pit and get ground into hamburger.
“This one might be a bit too intense, boys,” Mr. Anderson remarked jokingly.
“What’s the matter, Pop? Not man enough?” Timmy laughed.
Mr. Anderson laughed. “I’ll do one of these rides, no problem, boys! I can take anything they’ve got. Let’s just see what else is here.” He looked again at his park brochure. “Here’s one called the Mangler. And on the way to it, there’s some sort of slide. Let’s go take a look.” The roller coaster show was so good, the boys almost hated to follow their father off the observation platform, but they silently promised themselves that they’d return.
After arriving at the slide structure, they examined how the ride worked. It was about 150 feet tall and the slope of it was quite nasty. Toward the bottom, the ride curved sharply upwards, making any rider temporarily airborne. When the rider crashed to the ground he would land somewhere in the middle of a field of thin and sharp iron spikes, all about two feet long and four inches apart.
“Wow, now there’s a helluva wild ride,” Matt said. “What do you say, Mr. Anderson? Think you’re man enough for this one?”
It was one thing to listen to one of his sons make an affectionate joke at Mr. Anderson’s expense, and quite another to have one of their friends question his masculinity. “You’re on!” the macho father replied.
He looked brave as he turned and faced his sons. “Boys, one thing I’ve always taught you is that part of being a man is knowing how to face your fears.” He walked determinedly up the ladder and got in line. One man after another slid down the ride and was catapulted into the air, only to be shishkabobbed on any of a number of spikes. The sharp points invariably went through their faces, chests, and heads, killing them instantly. When it was Mr. Anderson’s turn, he went down on his stomach, face first, causing him to fly like Superman before dropping to the ground below, successfully pulling off the definitive belly buster.
He grunted hard as fifteen knives speared him. Some of the spikes went straight through his body, but not all of them. His boys laughed as they walked up to their Dad. “Hey, Pop, you always were stuck on yourself,” Calvin chuckled. Together, both sons climbed on top of their father’s back and jumped up and down, assuring that the body became even with the damp, bloody ground. “There, he’s dead,” Timmy smiled with satisfaction. “That’ll teach him for grounding us last summer!”
The Mangler was next on their list of attractions. They went into the building and saw a machine in the corner. The three young men made their way up to it. “Ya know, Matt, I think it’s your turn to have some fun,” the brothers said.
Matt agreed. After all, it was probably his coaxing Mr. Anderson which moments before had caused their father’s death. He smiled as he approached the machine. It was a huge contraption of knives and sharp gears, guaranteed to pulverize and shred anything mortal.
Sensing a visitor, the Mangler’s engine started up with a whirring noise. The blades propelled themselves in circles, almost instantly becoming a blur. Slowly, Matt inched his body forward. He bravely put a finger up to the machine as the contraption sliced off his fingertip. These blades were sharp! Matt briefly yelled as he felt pain and saw blood trickle from his finger, but the brothers knew the pain was exciting him. Matt grinned and waved the bloody hand to everybody.
Matt’s boner was pointed directly at the device. His strong body stood resolutely in front of the Mangler, his pubic hair blowing in the wind. The cock looked proud and fearless as it throbbed in front of him. As impressive as his dick was, it was no match for the machine. Matt gathered his courage. Suddenly Timmy came up and gave Matt’s muscular back a fatal shove.
That was all the machine needed. It yanked on Matt’s penis, tearing open the cockhead and mercilessly chewing its way along the hard fuck tube toward the hairy base. Matt screamed, his handsome face filled with pain and fear, but then his eyes took on a euphoric glaze, as if he were stoned.
Matt’s body was sucked toward the machine as the apparatus chewed apart his sex sausage. He cried in agony as a spray of blood and red chunks of spongy fuckmeat shot out of the Mangler. Crimson pubic hairs and chunks of penile tissue sprayed upward like a perverse Greek fountain. His mouth fell open; every muscle he had in his arms, legs, buttocks and neck jerked violently. His right arm flew up in the air, exposing his sexy armpit. The machine snagged him, twisted him in a semi-circle, and the arm was suddenly, involuntarily wrapped around his torso.
With the penis devoured, the gears chomped down on, chewed, and ground apart his pelvis. His legs went limp, but he couldn’t crumble to the floor because the machine had sucked him into its teeth. His flawless skin was being shredded. The knives tore open his perfect abdomen, then raked away at the sexy chest, slicing and dicing it. Some of the blades went straight through his body and immediately went to work carving up his back side. He bit his tongue off, his head jerking uncontrollably, no longer able to focus on the grisly consequences. Flesh was parted from muscles, tendons and bones. Both arms were broken off simultaneously, and then the gears yanked out all the internal organs, grinding them into roadkill.
A device clamped Matt’s skull in place and squeezed the jaw, pursing the lips and causing them to form a comical looking “8”. Everyone laughed. Just before the skull collapsed, the machine vertically folded in half everything from the neck down, causing the young man’s left shoulder to swing around his back and collide with the right. The neck bone disintegrated, and then the entire carcass was crunched together and pulled through the apparatus. The brothers heard nasty, wet snapping sounds as bone, hair, knees, and brains were chiseled to a fine, pink mush.
The echoes of Matt’s screams still hung in the air as powerful water hoses automatically sprayed everything down the drain, cleansing the machine of the bloody debris. Matt had been liquefied, his DNA now coursing through the park’s sewer system. Within moments, the machine glistened, sparkling like new.
“FUCK YEAH!!! That was soooooo fucking HOT!” both brothers shouted with glee.
“Do you want to do that one, too?” Calvin asked. “Or maybe you just want to rest a bit?”
“It’s been an incredible day,” Timmy replied. “What do you say we go to that whirlpool called the Body Wash? We could relax a while, maybe do a ride afterward. Or we could head home and come back next week.”
“Sounds great to me,” Calvin replied. It didn’t take them long to get to the side of the park where the Body Wash stood. Once inside the building, a smiling attendant led them to a whirlpool. Two seats faced each other.
Slowly the boys edged their naked bodies down into the warm water and let the jets of steamy, perfumed liquid massage their muscles. For several minutes both boys faced each other, relaxed and grinned. It was soothing, and their skin was becoming very soft and supple. The jacuzzi’s warm water was coaxing their hefty penises into a high state of sexual arousal.
“It’s been a hot birthday, bro,” Calvin grinned a mellow smile. He promised himself that he’d suck his brother’s dick as soon as they got out of this jacuzzi. “Ya know, I’ve been thinking. I’m getting such a high from this place! Maybe this is where we’ll spend our weekends from now on.”
“I agree,” Timmy replied. “Think about it -- we’ve got Dad’s house now, and all the money. Maybe Carnival offers year-round passes! We could just hang out here from now on and maybe never work again. Hey, bro, is your dick as hard as mine?”
Underneath the pleasant waters he started wagging his fat schlong. Calvin started fondling his dick, too, and licked his lips seductively at his brother.
The attendant pushed a button, and head clamps suddenly swung around, locking themselves onto each boy’s skull. “Hey, what gives?” Timmy cried. Immediately, the water started getting hotter. Bubbles appeared around them. Calvin felt his skin turning red. “Holy shit, bro! We’re gettin’ cooked!” Their bodies thrashed, but they couldn’t get out of the boiling tub with their heads locked in place.
Both boys tried to maintain control. They frantically stared at each other and started up a puffing mode to ward off the intense pain. The water temperature quickly climbed well past the boiling point and they both started screaming to high heaven. The commotion caused a lot of grinning men to run into the room to enjoy the show.
The attendant smiled. “Guaranteed to kill off every germ,” he said to his audience as he pushed another button. The water drained out of the whirlpool, leaving in its wake two barely breathing boys, their bodies lobster red and covered with huge blisters. “Holy shit, that was intense,” Calvin breathed. “God, my whole body hurts! We're gonna need a fucking doctor, bro!”
“Now for the final rinse,” announced the attendant. “Watch this, everybody.” He pushed another button, and thick jets of clear liquid shot into the tub with the force of a fire hose. As soon as the mixture touched them, it ate into their blisters, which instantly went up in smoke. The boys’ screams reached a feverish pitch. The fluid bubbled around them so furiously, one might’ve thought they'd been attacked by piranhas.
The smell of burning skin permeated the room as geysers of aggressive acid wash surrounded them. Bits of flesh and blood ran off their bodies and dissolved into the angry liquid. The boys’ bushes caught fire as quickly as dried pine needles. Both boys’ groins and asses sizzled away until no skin was left. Within moments, the acid level had reached their necks. Red, slimy guts poured out of their abdomens and chests while their muscular arms were skeletonized. Bit by bit, both bodies melted, emptying themselves of internal organs as the bones softened and literally fell apart. Soon nothing was left of the boys but their clamped, decapitated skulls, incredulous expressions etched on their faces. With a flick of a button, both heads were released into the red drink, and with an angry noise the acid devoured the skull and brains. The cute heads bubbled into oblivion.
Women suddenly stormed their way through the front gates. They’d been waiting for their husbands, brothers, and boyfriends far too long. Any angry mob can be dangerous, and a contingent of abandoned females is no exception.
“Where are our men?” they shrieked. “We need them! They provide us with our money and orgasms!” When they witnessed a bespectacled, tattooed employee drawing two of the park’s customers in a charming crucifixion scene, some of the uninvited guests fainted. All the females stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the first signs of naked, bloody male corpses littering the park. Seconds later, they saw men fucking and sucking each other off in the shadows. The collective scream caused every piece of glass in the Carnival gift shops to shatter.
Luckily, the park’s founder had anticipated this reaction. Within seconds, many of his steroid-taking brick shit houses were taking the screaming bitches and dragging them by their skinny arms toward the exits. After all, Carnival was a man’s world. There was no room here for pear-shaped bodies and menstrual cycles.
“Is this what you men are like without women to ground you?!!” a female psychiatrist screamed. “What kind of insane amusement park is this? Are male testosterone levels so out of hand that murder is your ultimate sexual thrill? Is this what having a penis is all about?!”
Thrown into a heap outside the Carnival walls, the women ran up to the gates and shook them. “You men are all bastards! You deserve what you’re doing to yourselves!! What sick mind would ever build such a godforsaken place?!”
He’d been blessed with a natural artistic talent. He sat down at his computer, ready to design the finishing touches for his next Carnival attraction, a Nazi torture cell. First there’d been his artwork, then the web site, the movies, the TV series, and now his park. Life was good, he decided.
Just before the monitor fired up, he saw his face dimly reflected in the screen. He liked what he saw. Only the shrill sounds of exasperated females many floors beneath the man coaxed him back to his window for further amusement.
As his eyes took in the screaming women shaking his Carnival gates, Greasetank chuckled.
DEDICATION
This story is dedicated to Greasetank (1949-2008),
an artist who inspired all who knew him.
by Steve Geary
A land grab had been in progress for several months in Florida’s Orlando area. Someone had been buying large properties under various names, and when the scheme became apparent, most of the barren acres had already been purchased.
A similar thing had happened in the 1960’s. By way of numerous “ghost” buyers, Walt Disney himself, shortly before his death, bought one property after another. The result was Walt Disney World, and in the 1980’s, Universal Studios managed to pull off the same thing. Both parks offered family entertainment. A new entrepreneur had now entered the scene, and he knew his enterprise needed to offer cutting-edge entertainment.
One memorable day, an announcement was made. A new amusement park, solely for men, would be opening. It would be called Carnival, and it would offer adult male entertainment in stark contrast to the G-rated innocence dreamt up by the creators of Mickey Mouse. That Sunday, a full-page advertisement appeared in the paper. “Are YOU man enough?” it screamed.
---------------------------------------
David Anderson was a proud, well-built father in his late thirties when he looked up from his Sunday paper and peered over at his teenage sons Timmy and Calvin. The twin brothers sure looked like he did when he was their age. They were now young men. They were wrestling on the floor. Surely they, and he, were ‘man enough’.
The park’s opening weekend coincided with the boys’ birthdays. This could be a good father-and-sons outing, Mr. Anderson reasoned, and Orlando wasn’t that far away. “You up for it, boys?” he asked.
“You bet, Pop!” the young athletes replied. Timmy added, “Can I bring my friend Matt?”
“Of course, son!”
“Hey, if Timmy gets to bring Matt, I get to bring Randy!” Calvin shouted. Mr. Anderson smiled agreeably; Randy was a quiet young man, somewhat sad, introspective and thoughtful. He was as different from his sons as could be, but somehow Calvin’s friendship with Randy created a perfect interlocking of personalities. “That’s fine by me, boys. The more the merrier.”
The weather was with them that Saturday, but the Orlando traffic was worse than ever. “This area grew up far too fast,” Mr. Anderson grumbled as he navigated the family SUV. As they got closer to Carnival, however, the congestion grew a bit lighter, and there were no women in the cars surrounding them. Only fresh-faced, happy young men were sitting in the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Excited by the prospect of something new, Mr. Anderson parked the SUV in the lot and the five men walked up to Carnival’s front gates.
A large tent blocked the way. “First time here?” a young attendant was asking everyone who passed. “Of course we’re new,” Mr. Anderson retorted. “This is your opening day, isn’t it?”
“Sorry, sir,” the young man swallowed. “That’s one of my memorized lines. I’m supposed to ask everyone who passes me if it’s their first time.” He took a breath and pointed over to the large canopy. “All first-time visitors go through the orientation tent!”
They looked over at the huge, oversized wigwam. Almost all of its chairs were filled with men’s butts. “The next orientation starts in three minutes,” the attendant grinned cheerfully. “It’s your introduction to the park, a pep talk so you know what you’re in for. Everyone does it. After that, you’re on your own. Have fun!” He waved them off and immediately turned his attention to the next entourage approaching the gates.
The father took charge. “C’mon, boys, let’s get in that tent before all the chairs fill up!”
There was excitement in the air as they found their seats. The crowd was mostly young, all men, just as they knew it would be. It was a cross section of Earth’s male population, as diverse in ethnicity as the world itself. An R.O.T.C. troop sat to their right, and a half-drunk chapter of some college fraternity took up the row in front of them.
A brick shithouse of a man sporting a military haircut took the microphone at the podium. “Welcome to Carnival!” he cried. “Are we having a good time?” Five hundred male voices filled the tent with a resounding YES!
“My name’s Carl,” the speaker said. “You all look great. Give yourselves a hand!” Everyone applauded, cheered and whistled.
“It’s a beautiful morning,” Carl continued. “Today, you can all be part of history as America’s most innovative theme park opens its gates! So let’s talk about Carnival, shall we? We want to make sure this is the right park for you. First off, you have to be eighteen years of age to enter this park. Guys, Carnival is based on the male mentality. It’s a MAN’s world! Are you all man enough?"
With the exception of Calvin’s friend Randy, the entire tent cheered affirmatively. Many guys showed the speaker their biceps. Carl’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, “Yeah! Ya know, I’m sure we’re all macho studs here, and of course we love the ladies, but there are some things us guys like to do without those damned women bugging us! We’re different from them, we accept it, and we’re proud of it! And guess what -- women like their time alone, too, do they not?” There was chuckling as everyone agreed.
“You bet they do,” Carl laughed. “Ever notice at a restaurant, if one woman leaves to go to the restroom, they all do?” There was a murmuring of recognition and a nodding of heads throughout the tent. “Yeah, you know it’s true! And ain’t it something -- while they’re gone, we guys open up and become ourselves again! Well, that’s what Carnival is about, men -- letting our inhibitions go, not letting social mores stifle us anymore! So raise your hands -- how many of you played Cowboys and Indians when you were young?”
Virtually every arm went up in the air, accompanied by Indian war whoops. “Beautiful! It was fun, wasn’t it? Bet you all pretended to take lots of arrows and bullets! Now, when you were kids, how many of you played soldiers?” Again, almost every hand reached high into the sky. “Awwrightt! I’ll bet we even have some men who’ve served our military for real, am I right?” Several groups within the audience shouted “Oh, yeah!” as the audience respectfully acknowledged them.
“I knew it!” Carl guffawed. “Ya see, at Carnival, you can let all those childhood fantasies get played out, only get this! -- here, guys, we do it for real! Men, you can either go through your humdrum lives merely fantasizing about danger and excitement, or you can come to Carnival and live out every testosterone-filled dream ya ever had! If this scene isn’t for you -- IF YOU’RE NOT MAN ENOUGH -- you can leave now. But there’s lots of fun and danger inside these gates, and I can promise you it’ll be glorious. Just empty your minds of what’s proper, and enter our world, a park that takes you back to the basics. If you want entertainment like you’ve never seen before, c’mon in, and let’s have fun!”
The crowd stomped their feet. “Hell yeah, guys!” Carl’s pep talk was reaching a fever pitch. “You pretended to do it as kids. Your ancestors did it! Our country does it every time we go to war! Carnival is hot, it’s insane, it’s violent! Yes, it’s the patriotic thing to do! Fuck, it’s the American way!” A mad cheer went up through the crowd. Everyone ran past Carl to the ticket booths. “Oh, and remember, it’s also fifty bucks,” Carl laughed.
He had them so worked up, they practically trampled over him to get through the front gate. After his speech, Carl was so emotionally high himself, he inhaled a deep breath to relax a little, took a swig of beer and watched his audience exit out the back of the tent. Licking his lips, he smiled as his eyes returned to the canopy entrance. A new batch was starting to file in.
Mr. Anderson was proud that he’d decided to bring the boys to Carnival. After the cashier carefully checked the boys’ ID’s, Mr. Anderson pulled out his credit card and gladly paid the two hundred and fifty dollars. “Yep, you’re all old enough,” the cashier confirmed. “There’s a locker room in the back. You don’t have to take all your clothes off, but we encourage you to. It’s part of the all-male fun. Great way to get a full body tan, too, while you wait in line!”
Sure enough, as the Anderson entourage glanced into the park, they saw mostly naked figures, cocks swinging, strutting about, enjoying the sunny day. Mr. Anderson looked at the boys. “What do you say, guys? You man enough?”
“Hell, we ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of, Pop! We got your genes!” his sons replied. Matt shrugged his shoulders and likewise agreed, but Randy, quiet all this time, finally spoke up when they got to the locker room. “Guys, I'm worried,” he said. “I’ve been listening to everything being said, and I’ve gone along with it, but about this naked thing..."
“Yes, Randy?”
“Well, I mean,” Randy stammered, “I’m proud of what I’ve got, but that’s just the problem. I mean, what if I start getting a boner?”
Calvin laughed. “I’ve seen your dick, Randy. If you get a hard-on, the only thing that’s gonna happen here is that every man is gonna envy it!”
Randy paused, then gave a small smile and sucked off his shorts. Even soft, his cock was an eight-inch beauty. Soon all five men were naked. It felt good to be free of clothing. Sure enough, this park brought its visitors back to the basics. Only a few shy Asians elected to wear the park’s signature jockstraps.
Mr. Anderson felt a sense of pride as he saw his sons’ genitals and saw that their cocks were already the same width and length as his. His boys were becoming beautiful young men. All five hombres practically walked proud and naked as they crossed the pavement and approached a “Park Brochures” stand.
The father was handed five pamphlets, and as soon as he saw the attractions, his face fell. “Aw, look at this,” he said. “It’s got a roller coaster, a Merry-Go-Round, a magic show...damn, except for us being naked, this is just like every other theme park we’ve been to. We might as well have gone to King’s Island!”
Everyone fumbled through their brochures and felt the same disappointment. “Well, the ride in front of us is a Merry-Go-Round,” Matt offered. “Why don’t we check it out?”
It was amusing to watch a dozen naked young men going around in circles on such a childlike contraption. They were grinning and waving to the crowd. All seemed normal, but Timmy’s eye abruptly caught red puddles and splatter marks all over the calliope’s floor. “What are THOSE?” he inquired.
His twin brother saw it, too, and peered off to the side. Calvin pointed excitedly. “Look at those three men behind that stockade! They have rifles!” A shot suddenly rang out and one of the boys on the Merry-Go-Round fell off his horse. He landed on his back, a huge hole in his chest with blood spurting out of it like a fountain. Laughter filled the area.
“Holy shit!” Mr. Anderson cried. “It’s a shooting gallery!” His heart started racing, his adrenaline pumping with excitement. “Let’s grab us some guns, boys!”
Matt and Randy stood this one out, but the other three were quickly informed of the rules. Whoever remained alive on the carousel would get to split a pot of five hundred dollars. Get them all, and the shooters win.
The dead bodies were hauled off the ride, and it was hosed down before the entire naked R.O.T.C. troop eagerly clambered aboard. When it came time for David Anderson and his offspring to shoot, they had twenty potential victims ready to be sent to hell.
The calliope music started up and the Merry-Go-Round lurched, then picked up speed. A young blond-haired boy with a crewcut was grinning from ear to ear as he went around in circles. His smooth, angelic face indicated that he couldn’t have been more than eighteen. He wagged his dick at the riflemen, then flapped his fingers around his ears, sticking out his tongue. “Bet you can’t hit me!” he laughed. “BL-BL-BL-BL-BL!”
Timmy aimed carefully and pulled the trigger. The blond boy’s body lurched violently as his perfect face exploded. The body continued to go around in circles, but now the boy was a slumped corpse with a huge, spurting red crater replacing his gentle facial features. Blood cascaded down his sun-bronzed chest.
“Good shot, son!” Mr. Anderson said proudly. He was glad he’d taught his boys how to use rifles. Before it was over, he too had wasted ten riders, and his sons each took out five, so the $500 pot was divided accordingly.
Everyone congratulated them as they turned in their guns and re-joined Randy and Matt. Randy was impressed, but he trembled a little when he asked, “Why do you think so many men are willing to get killed?”
“Good question!” Mr. Anderson responded. “It’s a phenomenon of human nature, Randy. See, when an otherwise healthy body is violently killed off, they say the senses go into overdrive. There’s twice as intense a pleasure on the other side of the pain, and who knows? Maybe some men even produce orgasms. Most of us are willing to do almost anything for a bigger and better thrill, and an orgasm is especially intense if the body hasn’t been numbed by painkillers like morphine. Hangings, executions, and crucifixions -- why do you think Mel Gibson called his movie The Passion of the Christ?”
Mr. Anderson’s explanation made sense. The boys were as impressed as they were dumbfounded. They’d never heard it explained so well.
Now they were walking past a building with a marquee that said:
MAG
Now appearing --
MARVEL THE MAGNIFICENT
IC SHOW Now appearing --
MARVEL THE MAGNIFICENT
“Let’s do it, boys!”
Marvel looked to be every bit your typical magician, wearing a goatee and a tuxedo. “Velcome, velcome,” he said happily. “Today ve’re going to haf soo much fun!”
He put on a very entertaining show. He was a top notch performer, and highly trained. One of the highlights had to be when he asked for a volunteer from the audience. One of the Asians shyly came up onto the stage. With one quick motion, Marvel tore off the boy’s jock strap and threw him into a rectangular box. The boy’s head stuck out one end, and his feet protruded from two holes at the other.
“Now ve’re gonna saw ze boy in two,” Marvel grinned as he twirled his moustache. Marvel put the blade of his saw into the middle of the box and roughly started cutting through the container. “Hey, Japan boy! Letsa do a big show! Give 'em-a big scream!” Almost immediately, his co-star shrieked a high-pitched yell. Then he cried, he begged, he howled. The frantic protests caused Marvel to put more and more muscle into his work. “Ya, ya! You scream-a real good!” he laughed.
Two-thirds of the way through the cut, the tortured screaming stopped, and when the saw came out the box’s underside, Marvel turned both pieces of the box around so the audience could view the contents. His hands reached in and squishy noises could be heard as he started pulling out large, gooey red chunks.
Calvin and Timmy looked around. Not only were their penises throbbing straight up in the air, most of the other guys in the audience had the same problem, including Matt, Randy, and their Dad.
Marvel opened the top of the box and gave his crowd a full view of the mutilated body. He was showered with applause and he blew kisses to the crowd. Then he tossed both pieces of the body onto a small wagon. “Come by the park’s Longpigs Restaurant in an hour,” he chuckled to his guests. “Today we're eatin’ Japanese! Sum Yun Gai!” Everyone laughed.
Outside, Mr. Anderson looked at his boys. They all still had throbbing hard-ons, as did just about every other guy now in the park. Young Randy’s cock had grown to its full eleven inches. It glistened in the warm sun. “You guys hungry?” Mr. Anderson asked. “The brochure says there are actually two restaurants. Longpigs is a deli, but there’s another one called Carnivores. It’s more expensive; you wanna try it?”
“Oh, yes! Let’s!” they all cried.
Carnivores was a hugely exotic restaurant with over two hundred tables spread out over the floor. In the middle of the room was a barbeque pit, and hanging in chains from the ceiling were several young men in various stages of dismemberment. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Randy started walking in front of them as they made their way to a table, then abruptly turned around. “Guys, I don’t know how to tell you this,” he said, “so I may as well just blurt it out. This is my scene.”
Calvin laughed. “No problem with THAT, Randy! I think this is something we’ll ALL get into!”
“No, you don’t understand,” Randy continued. He paused. “Guys, I want to be eaten.”
His friends stopped dead in their tracks. “Randy, are you sure?”
He bit his lip, then nodded. “Yes. It’s always been a fantasy of mine. I think it’d be so hot to watch myself being carved up bit by bit. I’ve wanted it ever since I was a kid. You’ll let me do it, right?”
Mr. Anderson laughed, then hugged the boy. “It’s always the quiet ones that have the deepest secrets!” he exclaimed. “Randy, this is your outing, and you can make it anything you’d like. We can call the service staff over here and have them work with you, but I doubt you can back out once you start. You sure you want to do this?”
Randy said, “You bet I am! The only thing I ask is that Calvin makes the first cut.” Calvin beamed at the honor bestowed upon him. Mr. Anderson called over a couple of the muscle-bound attendants. “We’ve got one for ya!” He said to the two men. “You can tell by the size of his sausage, he’s definitely man enough! String him up.”
A platform was wheeled over and Randy’s naked form climbed up it. There, he was joined by attendants who attached both his wrists, then his ankles, to the chains hanging from the ceiling. When the platform was wheeled away, Randy was adjusted so that he was hanging face-down about six feet from the ground. Underneath him was placed a small serving table with plates, various knives, and a scalpel.
He managed to grin over at his friend Calvin. “Remember, you’ve got first dibs!” he said.
Calvin was excited; he knew precisely where he’d make the first cut. “I’ve got to warn you, Randy, I like my meat sliced real thin!” he laughed.
Randy smiled back. “No problem, Cal. It’s been a fun life. I’ve wanted you to do this to me for years. This is how I want to go!”
Everyone watched as Calvin gently squeezed Randy’s fat, eleven-inch schlong at the base, making the cockhead shine. Then he took a scalpel and gently grazed it over the beautifully shaped cock helmet. After teasing the head for a moment, he carefully pressed the knife over the piss slit lips and sheared them off.
Randy hissed and seethed with pleasure and pain as a trickle of blood dribbled from his penis. Calvin took the bits of cockhead and placed them on a plate. Then he sheared off another sixteenth of an inch of dick flesh. Randy growled, winced and shuddered. Bit by tiny bit, Calvin sliced off more and more fuckmeat, cutting deeper into the head. Eventually the scalpel had removed the entire head and had started taking the thinnest of slices from the sex snake itself.
Calvin pointed the cock up toward Randy’s face so Randy could appreciate the new form his penis had taken. Randy was given a plain view of his thick cock’s insides. There, in the middle, was the urethra. Surrounding it was the cock’s thick, spongy penis meat, awash with blood. Squeezing the cock at the base caused more blood to ooze from the severed python. Then the cock was slowly, painstakingly whittled down to seven inches, five, then three. Eventually there was nothing left but a gaping wound just underneath Randy’s curly prick hair.
“Hey, pal, you look just like a woman now!” Calvin laughed. “Except for this big scrotum, that is.” Taking a larger knife, Calvin then pulled on the balls. Close to the body, the knife deftly chewed through the ball sack, easily shearing it from the boy’s crotch. Cum, blood, and urine flowed freely. Plopping the hefty nuts into the middle of his plate, cock shavings piled high around them, Calvin then looked to everyone else in the room. “Go for it, guys! He’s all yours!” He eyed his carnal delicacy and grinned as he made his way over to the barbeque pit.
The salivating men had little of the patience that Calvin had exercised. Like animals, they grabbed the largest of knives and roughly cut off big chunks of Randy’s buttocks and chest. After Randy’s legs were sawed off, the boy was hanging only by his arms, his hairy armpits soaked with perspiration. What remained of him was crusted with blood. Eventually one of the men carved off his head, and the torso was doused with Worcestershire sauce and mustard. Soon it was turning slowly over the pit, juices sizzling down into the fire, everything bubbling and turning a nice golden brown.
“I’ve got to use the bathroom,” Matt announced. One thing nice about an all-male amusement park was not having to worry about accidentally entering the women’s restroom, but when he entered the small room, he wondered if he was in the right place. It was just a dimly-lit room with two naked men sitting on the floor against the wall.
“I’m sorry, I thought this was the bathroom,” Matt apologized.
“It is the bathroom,” one of the men replied. “I’m the urinal, and Clark here is the toilet.”
Matt was taken off guard. “But -- where’s the toilet paper?” he asked.
“No need for any,” the man replied, wagging his tongue at Matt. “Better get used to it, kid. Every restroom in the park is like this one.”
Matt’s need to relieve himself was just too great. He went up to the guy doing the talking and pushed his cock in all the way. The man moaned as the first trickle of warm liquid gushed down his throat. The man pulled his head back so he could taste the urine. When Matt had finished releasing the warm liquid, the man smacked his lips. “Excellent,” he remarked. “Nice and salty, real tasty!”
“Damn,” Matt said. “And I’ve really got to do a Number 2.”
“Be my guest,” Clark replied, grinning as he opened his mouth. Matt paused, then shrugged his shoulders. Turning around, he eased his anus down into the man’s lower face. Soon the face was smothered by Matt’s muscled ass cheeks. Closing his eyes, Matt did his duty.
It took but a moment before Matt felt Clark’s tongue washing his ass. His asshole was totally clean when he raised his body. Clark gave him a shit-eating grin. “Thanks, guys,” Matt said as he walked toward the door.
“Don’t mention it,” the first man laughed. “Let all your friends know about us. Tell 'em Martin sent ya!”
With their friend Randy being digested inside them rather than tagging along beside the foursome, the Anderson clan continued their day. There were numerous attractions to try. Mr. Anderson pointed out that in addition to the rides, there were places to relax, too -- a band called the Queer Cocks was performing, and there was a sauna and a whirlpool called The Body Wash.
“I want to see another ride!” Timmy exclaimed.
“Well, there are plenty of those,” Mr. Anderson responded. “Let’s check out the roller coaster!”
One of the advantages of long, weaving lines in amusement parks is that you get to see the same guys over and over again. This can be highly exciting if it’s an attractive bunch, and since most of the men were well built, and almost all of them were virtually naked, all kinds of fantasizing was going on as men continually passed each other. There were several times that the line stopped completely, and when it did, all three boys, along with the dad, felt their hard-ons getting groped.
“Go ahead and enjoy it, boys,” Mr. Anderson laughed. He didn’t mind getting fondled himself. “They say anything goes here. If someone wants to suck your cock, let him! He may be dead before the day’s over, so it’s not like he’s going to tell!”
That was all the boys needed to hear. Each of them picked out a favorite face. Each of them smiled when they saw the face re-approaching. Sure enough, the line would often stop in close proximity to the faces grinning back at them, and several hot men serviced their large dicks.
“Don't let them make you cum,” Mr. Anderson managed to groan as his eight-inch cock was swallowed whole. “You want to save that for a ride!” Both Timmy and Calvin smiled as young, handsome strangers helped themselves to their manly organs. They deepthroated a few cocks themselves. Several faces were humped but the boys were mindful of their father’s wise advice. The result was agonizing ecstasy.
The line for the roller coaster started off as one but eventually broke off into two formations. The first line was for men wanting to do the ride, and the second was for guys wishing to merely watch. The Anderson group decided to be spectators this first time around, so they got in the second line.
It was certainly an unusual roller coaster. The riders grinned excitedly, really whooping it up, as the coaster started creaking its way up a large hill, then tore down at seventy miles an hour. Round and round the coasters would fly, but at the end there was a nasty surprise -- a large, serrated blade had been bolted at neck level directly in the coaster’s path. As the ride ended, the blade swiftly cut through men’s necks, slicing them in two, causing blood to spray and heads to spin up into the air and out of control before falling with a thud to the ground below. Sometimes the heads would collide with each other.
“Awesome! Totally awesome!” the spectators cried, laughing hysterically. Some made bets as to how high the heads might fly.
Everybody getting on that ride was obviously an extreme thrill seeker, and the courage of the riders was applauded every time a new batch of heads rained down from above. For an extra ten dollars, a camera would take three quick pictures to be sent to relatives -- one of the passengers intact, one of the blade halfway through the necks, and one with the bodies decapitated, the heads somewhere in the air, often ricocheting off the structure itself as the ride came to a quick halt. The headless bodies would then get kicked off the coasters, where they’d fall into a pit and get ground into hamburger.
“This one might be a bit too intense, boys,” Mr. Anderson remarked jokingly.
“What’s the matter, Pop? Not man enough?” Timmy laughed.
Mr. Anderson laughed. “I’ll do one of these rides, no problem, boys! I can take anything they’ve got. Let’s just see what else is here.” He looked again at his park brochure. “Here’s one called the Mangler. And on the way to it, there’s some sort of slide. Let’s go take a look.” The roller coaster show was so good, the boys almost hated to follow their father off the observation platform, but they silently promised themselves that they’d return.
After arriving at the slide structure, they examined how the ride worked. It was about 150 feet tall and the slope of it was quite nasty. Toward the bottom, the ride curved sharply upwards, making any rider temporarily airborne. When the rider crashed to the ground he would land somewhere in the middle of a field of thin and sharp iron spikes, all about two feet long and four inches apart.
“Wow, now there’s a helluva wild ride,” Matt said. “What do you say, Mr. Anderson? Think you’re man enough for this one?”
It was one thing to listen to one of his sons make an affectionate joke at Mr. Anderson’s expense, and quite another to have one of their friends question his masculinity. “You’re on!” the macho father replied.
He looked brave as he turned and faced his sons. “Boys, one thing I’ve always taught you is that part of being a man is knowing how to face your fears.” He walked determinedly up the ladder and got in line. One man after another slid down the ride and was catapulted into the air, only to be shishkabobbed on any of a number of spikes. The sharp points invariably went through their faces, chests, and heads, killing them instantly. When it was Mr. Anderson’s turn, he went down on his stomach, face first, causing him to fly like Superman before dropping to the ground below, successfully pulling off the definitive belly buster.
He grunted hard as fifteen knives speared him. Some of the spikes went straight through his body, but not all of them. His boys laughed as they walked up to their Dad. “Hey, Pop, you always were stuck on yourself,” Calvin chuckled. Together, both sons climbed on top of their father’s back and jumped up and down, assuring that the body became even with the damp, bloody ground. “There, he’s dead,” Timmy smiled with satisfaction. “That’ll teach him for grounding us last summer!”
The Mangler was next on their list of attractions. They went into the building and saw a machine in the corner. The three young men made their way up to it. “Ya know, Matt, I think it’s your turn to have some fun,” the brothers said.
Matt agreed. After all, it was probably his coaxing Mr. Anderson which moments before had caused their father’s death. He smiled as he approached the machine. It was a huge contraption of knives and sharp gears, guaranteed to pulverize and shred anything mortal.
Sensing a visitor, the Mangler’s engine started up with a whirring noise. The blades propelled themselves in circles, almost instantly becoming a blur. Slowly, Matt inched his body forward. He bravely put a finger up to the machine as the contraption sliced off his fingertip. These blades were sharp! Matt briefly yelled as he felt pain and saw blood trickle from his finger, but the brothers knew the pain was exciting him. Matt grinned and waved the bloody hand to everybody.
Matt’s boner was pointed directly at the device. His strong body stood resolutely in front of the Mangler, his pubic hair blowing in the wind. The cock looked proud and fearless as it throbbed in front of him. As impressive as his dick was, it was no match for the machine. Matt gathered his courage. Suddenly Timmy came up and gave Matt’s muscular back a fatal shove.
That was all the machine needed. It yanked on Matt’s penis, tearing open the cockhead and mercilessly chewing its way along the hard fuck tube toward the hairy base. Matt screamed, his handsome face filled with pain and fear, but then his eyes took on a euphoric glaze, as if he were stoned.
Matt’s body was sucked toward the machine as the apparatus chewed apart his sex sausage. He cried in agony as a spray of blood and red chunks of spongy fuckmeat shot out of the Mangler. Crimson pubic hairs and chunks of penile tissue sprayed upward like a perverse Greek fountain. His mouth fell open; every muscle he had in his arms, legs, buttocks and neck jerked violently. His right arm flew up in the air, exposing his sexy armpit. The machine snagged him, twisted him in a semi-circle, and the arm was suddenly, involuntarily wrapped around his torso.
With the penis devoured, the gears chomped down on, chewed, and ground apart his pelvis. His legs went limp, but he couldn’t crumble to the floor because the machine had sucked him into its teeth. His flawless skin was being shredded. The knives tore open his perfect abdomen, then raked away at the sexy chest, slicing and dicing it. Some of the blades went straight through his body and immediately went to work carving up his back side. He bit his tongue off, his head jerking uncontrollably, no longer able to focus on the grisly consequences. Flesh was parted from muscles, tendons and bones. Both arms were broken off simultaneously, and then the gears yanked out all the internal organs, grinding them into roadkill.
A device clamped Matt’s skull in place and squeezed the jaw, pursing the lips and causing them to form a comical looking “8”. Everyone laughed. Just before the skull collapsed, the machine vertically folded in half everything from the neck down, causing the young man’s left shoulder to swing around his back and collide with the right. The neck bone disintegrated, and then the entire carcass was crunched together and pulled through the apparatus. The brothers heard nasty, wet snapping sounds as bone, hair, knees, and brains were chiseled to a fine, pink mush.
The echoes of Matt’s screams still hung in the air as powerful water hoses automatically sprayed everything down the drain, cleansing the machine of the bloody debris. Matt had been liquefied, his DNA now coursing through the park’s sewer system. Within moments, the machine glistened, sparkling like new.
“FUCK YEAH!!! That was soooooo fucking HOT!” both brothers shouted with glee.
“Do you want to do that one, too?” Calvin asked. “Or maybe you just want to rest a bit?”
“It’s been an incredible day,” Timmy replied. “What do you say we go to that whirlpool called the Body Wash? We could relax a while, maybe do a ride afterward. Or we could head home and come back next week.”
“Sounds great to me,” Calvin replied. It didn’t take them long to get to the side of the park where the Body Wash stood. Once inside the building, a smiling attendant led them to a whirlpool. Two seats faced each other.
Slowly the boys edged their naked bodies down into the warm water and let the jets of steamy, perfumed liquid massage their muscles. For several minutes both boys faced each other, relaxed and grinned. It was soothing, and their skin was becoming very soft and supple. The jacuzzi’s warm water was coaxing their hefty penises into a high state of sexual arousal.
“It’s been a hot birthday, bro,” Calvin grinned a mellow smile. He promised himself that he’d suck his brother’s dick as soon as they got out of this jacuzzi. “Ya know, I’ve been thinking. I’m getting such a high from this place! Maybe this is where we’ll spend our weekends from now on.”
“I agree,” Timmy replied. “Think about it -- we’ve got Dad’s house now, and all the money. Maybe Carnival offers year-round passes! We could just hang out here from now on and maybe never work again. Hey, bro, is your dick as hard as mine?”
Underneath the pleasant waters he started wagging his fat schlong. Calvin started fondling his dick, too, and licked his lips seductively at his brother.
The attendant pushed a button, and head clamps suddenly swung around, locking themselves onto each boy’s skull. “Hey, what gives?” Timmy cried. Immediately, the water started getting hotter. Bubbles appeared around them. Calvin felt his skin turning red. “Holy shit, bro! We’re gettin’ cooked!” Their bodies thrashed, but they couldn’t get out of the boiling tub with their heads locked in place.
Both boys tried to maintain control. They frantically stared at each other and started up a puffing mode to ward off the intense pain. The water temperature quickly climbed well past the boiling point and they both started screaming to high heaven. The commotion caused a lot of grinning men to run into the room to enjoy the show.
The attendant smiled. “Guaranteed to kill off every germ,” he said to his audience as he pushed another button. The water drained out of the whirlpool, leaving in its wake two barely breathing boys, their bodies lobster red and covered with huge blisters. “Holy shit, that was intense,” Calvin breathed. “God, my whole body hurts! We're gonna need a fucking doctor, bro!”
“Now for the final rinse,” announced the attendant. “Watch this, everybody.” He pushed another button, and thick jets of clear liquid shot into the tub with the force of a fire hose. As soon as the mixture touched them, it ate into their blisters, which instantly went up in smoke. The boys’ screams reached a feverish pitch. The fluid bubbled around them so furiously, one might’ve thought they'd been attacked by piranhas.
The smell of burning skin permeated the room as geysers of aggressive acid wash surrounded them. Bits of flesh and blood ran off their bodies and dissolved into the angry liquid. The boys’ bushes caught fire as quickly as dried pine needles. Both boys’ groins and asses sizzled away until no skin was left. Within moments, the acid level had reached their necks. Red, slimy guts poured out of their abdomens and chests while their muscular arms were skeletonized. Bit by bit, both bodies melted, emptying themselves of internal organs as the bones softened and literally fell apart. Soon nothing was left of the boys but their clamped, decapitated skulls, incredulous expressions etched on their faces. With a flick of a button, both heads were released into the red drink, and with an angry noise the acid devoured the skull and brains. The cute heads bubbled into oblivion.
Women suddenly stormed their way through the front gates. They’d been waiting for their husbands, brothers, and boyfriends far too long. Any angry mob can be dangerous, and a contingent of abandoned females is no exception.
“Where are our men?” they shrieked. “We need them! They provide us with our money and orgasms!” When they witnessed a bespectacled, tattooed employee drawing two of the park’s customers in a charming crucifixion scene, some of the uninvited guests fainted. All the females stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the first signs of naked, bloody male corpses littering the park. Seconds later, they saw men fucking and sucking each other off in the shadows. The collective scream caused every piece of glass in the Carnival gift shops to shatter.
Luckily, the park’s founder had anticipated this reaction. Within seconds, many of his steroid-taking brick shit houses were taking the screaming bitches and dragging them by their skinny arms toward the exits. After all, Carnival was a man’s world. There was no room here for pear-shaped bodies and menstrual cycles.
“Is this what you men are like without women to ground you?!!” a female psychiatrist screamed. “What kind of insane amusement park is this? Are male testosterone levels so out of hand that murder is your ultimate sexual thrill? Is this what having a penis is all about?!”
Thrown into a heap outside the Carnival walls, the women ran up to the gates and shook them. “You men are all bastards! You deserve what you’re doing to yourselves!! What sick mind would ever build such a godforsaken place?!”
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From high up in his penthouse, Carnival’s founder glanced out his window and surveyed the grisly scene below with binoculars. He was as mysterious a figure as Howard Hughes. He generally slept during the day. Nobody knew what he looked like, but at night some employees said they could hear the floorboards creak as he quietly made his way about his quarters. His workers knew he was real, if only because the dog food they laid by his door every night always disappeared by morning.He’d been blessed with a natural artistic talent. He sat down at his computer, ready to design the finishing touches for his next Carnival attraction, a Nazi torture cell. First there’d been his artwork, then the web site, the movies, the TV series, and now his park. Life was good, he decided.
Just before the monitor fired up, he saw his face dimly reflected in the screen. He liked what he saw. Only the shrill sounds of exasperated females many floors beneath the man coaxed him back to his window for further amusement.
As his eyes took in the screaming women shaking his Carnival gates, Greasetank chuckled.
______________DEDICATION
This story is dedicated to Greasetank (1949-2008),
an artist who inspired all who knew him.
