Copyright (C) 2003 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save or make paper copies for your own use; do not post, repost, publish, or archive elsewhere without the author's express permission.
A chapter from HUNGRY PLANET, a work in progress; the setting is a planet whose people have chosen some -- ah -- interesting ways to keep from over-populating their world. A visiting Space Patrol spaceship has landed, and its crew have scattered out on the planet to explore native customs. Here's one of them:
Angry voices echoed from the arched ceiling of the Gelding Hall. Bruce released his rigid prong from the stiffness gauge and turned to the naked young Space Marine at his side. "As thick as mine is, and you still beat me."
Dick grinned, slid his hands down the chiseled musculature of his torso to squeeze his own hard shaft. "Wanta go see what's kicking those guys into orbit?"
"Yeah, let's," said the older Space Marine, and the two men -- naked but for boots, belts, and uniform caps -- strode toward the voices.
They spotted five native youths, all naked and hard-cocked, standing in a circle. The shortest pointed to a pile of iron weights and yelled, "Look: what I said was that I can pick up that much iron plus as much as one of you guys weigh, so long as I get to pick which one."
"You didn't say squirt about who gets t' pick which of us, Rhys," a big blond youth shouted back.
"The way we're plowing this row, we'll need another contest to see how to run this one," said another youth. "Hey, Rhys, wanna let these studs decide?" he asked, pointing at Bruce and Dick.
"That's the only good idea you've had so far, Tran," said the short, sturdy youth. "How 'bout it, Hrolf?"
The big blond nodded. "I'll plow it that way if you will, Rhys."
Rhys turned to Bruce. "Okay with you studs?"
"Uh -- sure. I'm Bruce and this here is my pal, Dick. We're -- well, you can tell that we're Space Marines from our caps and stuff."
"Right." Rhys shook hands with the two Marines, then asked, "Well, who gets to pick whose weight I gotta pick up, him or me?"
"Let's run that count-down again," said the big Space Marine. "What's this all about, to begin with?
Hrolf said, "I said Rhys couldn't pick up that much with his organs," pointing to a pile of thick iron disks, "and he said he could so, plus as much more as one of us weighs; and he bet on it, too; but now --"
Rhys yelled, "-- but I get to say who --"
"One at a time, dammit; one at a time," said Bruce, calmly. "What stakes?"
"The usual," said Rhys. "What the squirt would we be doing here unless . . ."
Bruce scowled, and Rhys lowered his voice. "Sorry, but this musclehead here -- okay, okay. I'll bet my prong and my balls against his that I can pick up that much weight with a clamp 'round the base of my prong. If I do, Hrolf here has to pull out his organs and give 'em to me. If I don't, I gotta pull mine out and give 'em to him."
Bruce asked, "How come you're risking your balls like this, anyway?"
Hrolf shrugged his thick shoulders. "All I did was tell Rhys his prong only looks big 'cause the rest of him's so little, and when he got mad . . ."
Bruce rubbed his own broad chest. "Well, 'less you want to spend the rest of the day yelling at each other . . ."
Both Hrolf and Rhys started to speak, stopped, glared at each other, then turned and looked at Bruce again.
". . . then what I say goes -- okay?"
Bruce saw Hrolf grin, heard him say, "Last chance to back out, Rhys."
The sturdy youth showed his teeth. "No squirting way, musclehead."
"Fine," said Bruce. "Rhys, you pick one guy; Hrolf, you pick out another."
"But . . ." Rhys stopped, licked his lips.
Hrolf asked, "Two studs' weight? But that's not --"
"And then," Bruce said firmly, "we add up their weight and divide by two. Okay?"
"Well, yeah." Rhys grinned. "Yeah." He put his right hand on Bruce's left shoulder and turned to face Hrolf. "How 'bout I pick this stud? He looks like he outweighs you and any of your musclehead buddies."
Bruce saw the big blond start to smile, then frown thoughtfully. "Well, if you pick him, then I'll pick the little stud with him," the big blond said, patting Dick on the back.
"That's it?" asked Bruce. "Okay then; let's go."
Dick said, "Hey, this almost feels like we're gonna hang from Rhys's balls ourselves."
Bruce suppressed a shiver. "Yeah; I know what you mean." The naked Space Patrolman watched Rhys kneel between a pair of sturdy steel poles, thighs spread wide. Rhys picked up a steel clamp and tightened it around his shaft, between base and balls.
Tran knelt beside the short youth and started hooking iron slabs to a chain attached to the clamp. "That's the first batch," he said after a moment's work. "Now . . ."
Bruce announced his own weight: 95 kilos; Dick announced his: 65. Dick added the figures out loud, divided by two, getting 80 kilos. Tran hooked more iron to Rhys's chain while Dick added up their weights aloud.
"All there," said Dick.
"You ready to lift?" asked Hrolf.
"Wait," growled Bruce. The two Space Marines checked the weights again and reached the same total. "Now it's okay to blast off."
The circle of spectators stepped back. Rhys grasped the poles, shifted his feet, and took up the slack in the chain. He carefully straightened his legs and flexed his arms, stretching the stem of his organs taut and lifting the iron plates clear of the floor.
Bruce felt his own prong twitch as he saw the weights swing from Rhys's organs. The big Space Marine turned to Hrolf. "That's it, stud: he made it."
Rhys lowered the plates to the floor. He unhooked the chain, looked up, grinned, and said, "Okay, Hrolf: ready to pull yours out?"
"I guess your meat's stronger'n it looks," said the big blond. "Now let's see if that clamp's big enough t' fit 'round mine --"
"Just a minute," said another youth, the most muscular of the five. "I'll bet you right now that you can't pick up another 30 kilos."
"You mean 30 kilos more than he just picked up?" asked Bruce.
Rhys said, "Half that much, Kerric, and you're on: what I picked up with 15 kilos added on. And I'll have yours roasted -- while it's still attached to you."
"Done," said Kerric. "I roast mine -- if you win."
"Okay," said Rhys. "As soon as Hrolf pulls his out, then I'll --"
"No, no: you lift that extra 15 kilos first; and if you lose, Hrolf keeps his," said the muscular youth.
Rhys jumped to his feet. "No squirting way, Kerric! I already won Hrolf's; this is a new bet."
"Hold it!" growled Bruce. "Hold . . . That's better. Rhys has a point: Kerric, you're putting up your organs and you're asking Rhys to put up his and Hrolf's, since Rhys already won --"
"Then count me in, too," said Tran. "I'll bet my meat along with Kerric's."
"Okay," said Bruce. "Rhys's and Hrolf's organs against Kerric's and Tran's. How 'bout a bit more weight, then: 20 kilos more, instead of just 15?"
"What the squirt, guys," said the last of Hrolf's companions, a freckled red-head, "go back up to 30 kilos, and I'll put my balls in the pot too."
"I dunno, Zandy," said Rhys. "That there's a lot of iron."
"And this here's a lot of meat," said Zandy, stroking his long, thick shaft. "More'n you got."
"You're on," snapped Rhys. The short, sturdy youth knelt and hooked the chain to the steel clamp around his virile organs again.
"Okay, okay," said Bruce. "Count-down 'fore the blast- off. O-kay?" He glared at the young men; they all nodded; Bruce relaxed. "Now, if Rhys picks up 30 kilos more, he's won the prongs and balls of all four of you studs: Kerric roasts his, but you other three studs . . ."
Hrolf, Tran, and Zandy glanced at each other. Hrolf said, "I already said I'll pull mine out by the roots, but . . ." All three turned back to Bruce.
The bigger Space Marine took a deep breath. "Okay, Rhys: Kerric's agreed to roast his if you win this round; so how 'bout letting Tran and Zandy decide what they do with theirs?"
"Sure; go ahead."
"Well," said Tran, "I might as well pull mine out."
"I'm not planning to lose mine, but if Rhys does make it -- yeah, I'll do that too," red-haired Zandy said.
Rhys nodded, then watched intently as Hrolf, Tran, Kerric, and Zandy added iron plates to the chain. Bruce and Dick counted and re-counted the total. Rhys set his feet, straightened his knees slowly -- very slowly -- and lifted the mass of iron from the floor. He stood erect and curled his hips to swing the weights forward and back. "Satisfied? This stuff's squirting heavy."
A shiver slid up Bruce's back at the sight of Rhys's organs under tension, but the big Space Marine's own shaft was rock hard and quivering as he said, "Okay. You win again."
Rhys sank to the floor with a sigh. "I knew I could take that first load, but 30 more fucking kilos . . ." He tried to unhook the plates, then leaned back with a sigh as Dick and Tran knelt to release chain from clamp.
Bruce saw Hrolf put his arms around Kerric's and Zandy's shoulders. "Hey, thanks for trying, studs."
Zandy grinned. "Well, we never decided if we'd let you have any of Rhys's if he did lose that round. But now . . ."
"Yeah," said Tran, looking up at the big blond. "So when are you gonna quit making sucker bets with your balls?"
"Right now, stud; right fucking now," said Hrolf as he ambled to a waist-high pillar with glass sides from crotch-height to its top. He thrust his shaft and balls into a hole in the pillar, touched a button on the side. Flames swirled around the big blond's shaft and balls for a second, then died. Hrolf stepped back, the hilt of his shaft and his balls now hairless, and brushed away the ashes. One by one, his three pals did the same. By the time the last had burned away his pubic hair, Hrolf stood beside a sturdy chair anchored to the floor.
Bruce, Dick, and the rest of the native youths formed a circle as Hrolf seated himself, spread his thighs wide, and tightened two clamps around the base of his prong -- one fastened to a horizontal shaft that projected forward from the chair's seat, the other clamp fastened to the seat itself.
Hrolf gripped the handles of two vertical levers, one on each side of the chair, and pushed them forward. Bruce saw the horizontal shaft thrust itself slowly from the chair seat, pulling its clamp away from the one anchored to the seat.
"Lemme see now," Bruce said, "when you push those handles forward . . . that makes the shaft under your balls move --"
"-- putting tension --" Hrolf tensed his arm muscles. "-- on my prong -- like this!" The base of his shaft stretched as he thrust the handles forward. "Got a ten to one mechanical advantage, and --" He pulled the handles back; Bruce heard a click-click-click, but the horizontal shaft stayed where it was, and the stem of the big blond's shaft stayed taut. "-- a ratchet. Now --" Hrolf paused for a moment, took a deep breath. Bruce felt another surge in his own hard shaft as he saw the blond youth push again -- pectoral and triceps muscles straining. Hrolf pushed harder -- harder -- until the stem of his prong parted with a wet slurp and a splash of crimson.
Zandy grasped Hrolf's severed genitals, released the clamp that held them, and tossed them to Rhys, who weighed the bloody organs in one hand, looked down at Hrolf, and said, "This is a real nice chunk of meat, stud."
"Bigger'n yours, kid," growled Hrolf.
"Yeah?" Rhys tossed Hrolf's organs into the air, caught them again.
"Don't get all stirred up, Rhys," said Zandy. He held up a squeeze-bottle, squirted fluid on the ragged stump of Hrolf's organs -- still gripped by the chair's clamp. Finished, Zandy told Hrolf, "Stay put till your blood clots."
Rhys grinned. "Well, just look at what I won so far by getting all stirred up."
"Oh yeah?" said Tran. "But the reason you're making out so good is 'cause we're so well hung."
"So?" Rhys closed his fingers around Hrolf's severed organs. "You studs are hung heavy, sure; so look how much you're losing."
"Hey, lay off the kid before he starts telling us how dumb we were to bet our balls against his," said Kerric. "All you two gotta pull yours out by the roots; I gotta cook mine." The muscular youth stared down at his own genitals for a moment, then slowly raised his head. "Uh -- roasted, you said . . . Uh . . . where . . . ?"
"There it is," said Dick, pointing to a glass-walled box fastened to the middle of a bench. "Straddle the bench, stick your meat in the little oven, and turn it on. Okay?"
"Yeah -- yeah -- I'll be okay. It just kinda -- it hit me all of a sudden." Kerric took a couple of deep breaths and strode to the bench. In a few moments, Kerric's testicles and hard shaft were under glass, lit from below by a grid of red-hot wires.
Bruce asked, "How come you know about this thing?"
Dick grinned. "Gard, a local who works here, took Pete, Jerry, and me through this place a few days ago. Gard told us how guys stick their organs in to see who'll leave 'em in longest while the oven warms up, so Pete and Jerry wanted to try it."
"And?"
"Lucky for me it'll only cook two guys at a time, or I might have stuck my organs in too." Dick licked his lips.
"And then?"
"Pete and Jerry were already good and hard, so they stuck in their prongs and tucked in their balls while Gard turned on the heat. At first, they were just -- you know -- joking about it; but as the oven warmed up, they got real stubborn -- so stubborn that, instead of either one giving up and letting the other one win the contest, they went ahead and roasted themselves all the way. Afterwards, they invited Gard and me to help ourselves -- and we did." The young Space Marine licked his lips again. "Sort of weird, eating a guy's shaft when he's still attached to the far end of it, and the two of you are chatting between bites, mostly me telling him how he tastes while he's telling me what it's like, getting eaten alive, and . . ."
Tran said, "Well, now that Kerric's roasting his organs, Zandy and me gotta start pulling ours out." He turned to Hrolf, said, "You sure yanked yours out quick."
"Yeah," said the blond youth, scowling down at his crotch. "Too quick. Felt 'em startin' t' go -- pushed harder -- and all of a sudden, everything just -- went." He sighed. "Always been like that: doin' things first and figgerin' out what I shoulda done afterwards."
"Yeah; we noticed," said Zandy. "You think it'll be more fun to pull ours out slower?"
Hrolf shrugged his broad shoulders. "Well, it may not be fun, but when you geld yourself -- like they say, ya only get t' do it once, so ya might as well take your time at it."
"Okay, then: I'll pull mine out real slow," said Zandy. "How 'bout you, Tran?"
"Same here, stud." Tran turned to Rhys, asked, "How ya gonna want us to fix our organs after we've pulled 'em out?"
Rhys weighed Hrolf's genitalia in his hand for a moment, then said, "Toss 'em in with Hrolf's. Steaming 'em like that's s'posed to make 'em real tender, so . . ."
Dick pointed to a shiny metal cylinder atop a crotch-high column nearby. "Gard showed us how this works."
Rhys lifted the cylinder's lid, dropped the big blond's organs in; Dick turned a valve on the side. Steam hissed, and a puff escaped from the lid. The sturdy young man said, "Tran, Zandy; there's plenty of room in there for your organs when they're ready."
"Well, let's get started," said Tran. He led Bruce to a nearby, crotch-high pillar. "Here's what I want to use on mine, pulling them out slow and easy," he explained, as he locked the device's steel jaws around the stem of his genitals between his balls and crotch.
"I don't . . ." Bruce felt a warm hand on his right shoulder, then another on his left; he glanced around, saw he was between Zandy and Dick, both as fascinated by Tran's impending castration as Tran himself.
"Try it," invited Tran. He pointed to a crank that jutted from the crotch-high post. "There."
Bruce grasped the handle with his left hand and cranked slowly, watching the steel jaws. One pair bit into Tran's shaft from the sides; a second pair, closer to Tran's crotch, squeezed his shaft from above and below. As the naked Space Marine turned the handle, the outer pair of steel jaws slowly pulled away from the inner, stretching the stem of Tran's prong.
Tran said, "The harder they pull, the tighter they squeeze. That way -- no, keep going . . . yeah, it's taking me nice and slow."
"Pulling you out by the roots." Bruce shivered, but his own shaft was iron-hard and quivering. "You want me to . . ."
"Yeah -- keep on -- go easy -- that's it. How's it feel -- still kind of springy?"
"Springy?" Bruce let the crank recoil a few degrees against his hand, then moved it forward again. "Do you mean like -- does it feel the way rubber feels when you stretch it?"
"That means nothing's tearing -- yet," said Tran, fists on narrow hips, looking down at his doomed organs. He put his right hand on the crank, turned it a couple of revolutions, then relinquished the handle to Bruce. "Keep turning -- real slow -- it won't be long now."
"It feels like -- yeah," said Bruce. He felt the crank turn more easily as the stem of Tran's organs stretched another centimeter. "You're not so -- so elastic now. Does that mean that . . . ?"
"I -- think -- so." said Tran.
Bruce cranked another half turn. "Now?"
"Yeah -- it's starting -- starting to let go, inside, down in the roots."
"You try it again," said Bruce, releasing the handle.
Tran grasped the handle, gingerly turned it a quarter turn more. "That's -- it -- starting to come out -- yeah." He took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh. "Give it a couple more turns."
"Well -- okay." Bruce took the handle again; he felt his own shaft twitch, felt pressure build in the roots of his organs. The crank turned more and more easily as the jaws bit tighter, separated slowly. The stem of Tran's organs narrowed, stretched even more. "Okay -- take it the rest of the way yourself."
Tran took the handle once more, then slowly -- very slowly -- turned it. His shaft started to tear, then parted with a quiet thump. "Whew! That's -- that's almost as rough as looks, but -- like Hrolf says, it's sure interesting -- feeling yourself starting to give and -- and then go. I almost came, right at the end."
"Yeah," growled Hrolf; Bruce turned and saw the big blond had released himself from the organ-extracting chair and joined the group around Tran. "I shoulda used this one on mine, but --"
Rhys retrieved Tran's genitals, weighed them in his hand for a moment, and then dropped them into the steamer. Zandy squirted clotting fluid on the stump of Tran's sexual equipment, handed the bottle to Tran, and -- after a couple of minutes -- released Tran from the clamp. Tran stepped back and patted the freckled red-head on the back as Zandy eased his own balls and stiff prong into the genital tension machine.
Bruce turned to Dick. "Your turn."
"Huh? Oh, you mean . . ."
Bruce nodded and stepped back a pace. Dick bit his lips, then took Bruce's place. Zandy clamped himself into place. Tran checked the mechanism, nodded, and moved to one side. Zandy touched Dick on the shoulder, pointed to the crank. Dick carefully gripped the handle, licked his lips, and slowly -- very slowly -- began cranking.
"How's that?" Dick asked.
"It's got a good grip on me now," said the red-haired youth. "Keep going."
"Well -- okay." The Dick cranked three turns -- four. "Ya starting to stretch?"
"Yeah -- a little."
Dick released the handle. "You try it, then."
Zandy gripped the crank handle, began turning it. "Yeah, you got time to feel it pull on your prong. So far, it's still -- uh --"
"Elastic?" asked the young Space Marine.
"Yeah -- that's the word. But . . ." Zandy released the handle, motioned for Dick to take over again.
As Bruce watched, Dick turned the crank twice more. "Any change?"
"I -- I think so. It's like -- what did you call it, Tran?"
"Something starting to give?"
"Yeah." Zandy nodded.
"I can feel it too," said the young Space Marine. "Here."
Zandy carefully turned the crank. "Yeah. Something's gonna give -- is starting to give already. Hey Rhys; you want to try it?"
"Sure." Rhys gripped the handle, turned it slowly, a few degrees at a time. "It's doing something."
"Yeah. It's taking me real slow now," said the red- head.
Rhys grinned suddenly; his whole face seemed to light up. "Well, you said you wanted to go real slow. Like this?"
"Yeah. Things coming loose inside -- yeah -- I'm starting to go -- yeah."
"Want to take over again?" Rhys asked, turning to Dick.
"Okay." The young Space Marine gripped the handle, slowly cranked it a half turn. Bruce saw the clamps gradually separate, saw the stem of Zandy's shaft stretch -- stretch -- and stretch.
"Almost there," Zandy said, his voice strained.
"Wanta do the last bit?" Dick asked.
"Ah . . ." Red-haired Zandy looked up from his doomed organs at Rhys. "You're the one who won all our meat, kid; you oughta be the one to finish me off."
"Might as well." The sturdy youth put his right hand on the crank handle, turned it slowly.
"That's it," Zandy growled. "Going -- going -- going --" With a soft, wet slurp, his shaft tore loose. "-- gone."
Tran squirted clotting fluid on Zandy's wound. Rhys picked up Zandy's severed organs, opened the steamer, and dropped them in. Dick patted Zandy on the back, then moved to stand beside Bruce.
"Well?" Bruce asked, putting his right arm around Dick's shoulders.
"I -- I dunno. A guy could get to like doing this, but . . ."
"Yeah, I know."
"I almost --"
"-- came? Me too." Bruce tightened his grip on Dick's shoulders.
Rhys, standing at Bruce's left side, said, "And so did I. It's -- it's a -- a real turn-on: first risking my own organs, then watching these muscleheads pull theirs off . . ."
The freshly castrated red-head said, "Well, it's even more of a turn-on, feeling it happen. I -- I think I shot my load, right at the end; but . . . it's kinda hard to tell."
"Yeah," said Bruce, putting his left arm around Rhys's shoulders. "But -- now what?"
Kerric joined the group. "Hi. I think I'm done." He gestured at his well-browned, still-rigid shaft.
"How d' ya figger that?" asked Hrolf.
"Well, I look done, and I feel done -- like I've been roasted all the way through and I'm as hot as I'm gonna get -- but mostly because I heard the timer go ding when it turned off the heat." He grinned. "Fuck, I even smell done." Kerric turned to Rhys. "Hey, kid; ready to see if I taste done?"
"Sure. You want me to eat you standing up, or lying down, or what?"
Kerric knelt, leaned back, and stretched himself out, face up, on the floor. "Help yourself, kid."
Rhys said, "If this won't get you to stop calling me `kid' -- oh, never mind." He grinned, licked his lips, and lay down with his chest atop Kerric's thighs. He steadied his prey's shaft with his right hand, licked his lips again. "Ready?"
"Y-yeah."
Rhys lowered his head, opened his mouth, and clamped his teeth onto Kerric's shaft. Bruce saw Rhys's jaw muscles bulge as he bit off Kerric's glans. Then Rhys raised his head and met Kerric's gaze.
"Well?" asked Kerric.
"Ummm." Rhys chewed a mouthful of Kerric for a couple of minutes, swallowed, and grinned. "Not bad. How you doing?"
"I -- I can't feel you eating me, but watching is real -- strange."
"Think you'll shoot while I'm eating you?"
"Maybe when you get down the hilt of my shaft, where I can feel you eating me. But just watching . . ." Kerric curled his hips upwards in an inviting thrust; Rhys lowered his head and bit into Kerric's shaft again.
Rhys took his time, pausing between mouthfuls to chat; but eventually he devoured Kerric's shaft almost to its base, then ate Kerric's balls. "Nice," Rhys reported, "nice and plump. Now . . ." He lowered his head, began to chew on the remaining stub of his prey's shaft.
"How's it going, stud?" asked Hrolf.
Bruce saw Kerric squirm, expand his chest, thrust upwards with his hips as Rhys devoured the last of Kerric's shaft. Then Kerric took a deep breath, tensed his muscles, then slowly relaxed. "I -- I think I made it, right there at the end," sighed the muscular youth. "It sure felt like I did, but with you chewing instead of just sucking . . ."
Rhys finished eating and sat up astride Kerric's thighs. "Yeah, you did; I tasted it when I finished you off." He swallowed, ran his tongue between lips and teeth, swallowed again. "Almost like dessert."
"I suppose so," said Kerric. "Getting eaten -- that wasn't so bad, but getting cooked --" He stroked Rhys's rigid shaft with his right hand. "You'd make a nice meal yourself, kid."
Rhys scrambled to his feet, reached down, and helped Kerric up. "How's the next course coming along?"
Dick said, "Going by what the timer shows, Hrolf's organs are just about ready to eat. Tran's and Zandy's organs will take a few minutes longer. So . . ."
Hrolf strode to the cooker and opened it, releasing a swirl of steam. With a pair of tongs he fished in the cooker, picked up a set of organs, dropped them back in, picked out another set, and re-covered the cooker.
"Recognize yours?" asked Tran.
"These look the most done," said the big blond.
Zandy chuckled, then said, "I recognize them okay."
"You've seen 'em close up often enough," Tran said.
"Well, it's my turn now," Rhys said as he took the tongs -- and the big blond's still-steaming organs -- from Hrolf. He studied them for a moment, then brought them to his mouth, bit off Hrolf's glans, and began to chew.
"Well?" asked the big blond after a moment.
"You're okay," said Rhys. "Tenderer than Kerric, but not as thick as Zandy." He bit off another chunk of Hrolf's shaft, chewed quietly for a moment, then said, "But as heavy-hung as you and Kerric are -- or were, I'm gonna be full, just eating yours and his. Bruce, Dick: you two wanta eat Tran's and Zandy's organs?"
Bruce, startled, glanced at Dick and saw Rhys's offer had startled the young Space Marine too. "Uh --" For a moment, Bruce tried to decide what to say. "Uh -- Dick?"
"It's -- that's real generous of you, Rhys, but -- I -- it'd feel like we were -- you don't mean it that way, but since Bruce -- since we sort of helped you castrate all these studs . . ."
"Yeah, but --" Bruce hesitated, then inspiration struck. "How about we share Zandy's and Tran's organs with them and with Hrolf and -- and Kerric? That way, everybody'll get a taste."
"Right," said Dick, sounding relieved. "And -- and more than just a taste, the way these studs are -- were hung. How 'bout it, Rhys?"
"Yes, but --"
"Otherwise," said Bruce, "you'll have to eat all four of these guys' organs all by yourself. You won them, sure, but . . ."
"But you two --" Rhys said.
Dick interrupted firmly: "Those four are the ones who did the most, making those bets and then supplying all this meat. So . . ."
"Oh, all right then," Rhys said with a grin. "Now, before this Hrolf-meat gets cold . . ." He took another bite of the big blond's shaft, while Tran and Zandy strolled to the steamer to see how their own organs were coming along.