Jacking With Jack: The Cure for Male Masturbation 2

By Gerste

[email protected]

Copyright 2016 by Gerste, all rights reserved

* * * * *
This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
* * * * *

 
 
 
Jack Dolhurstel felt something being inserted into his anus. He saw blurry lights above his head, as he lay there on what seemed to be a doctor's examination table. He was being probed, it seemed. He could vaguely make out the images of what appeared to be humanoid shapes, or "people," gathered around him. They were fingering him, prodding, poking, pulling on his penis and testicles, all as if they owned his body. The images became clearer, and went into focus. In horror, Jack could see the appearance of extraterrestrials! He was in a space craft, abducted by aliens!!! A scream he recognized as his own filled his ears, and the room, but the aliens acted as if they had heard none of it. Then he heard a voice say, "Wake his ass up...." His scream continued as the scene dissolved into reality...
 
 Jack's body jerked, as he awoke from his nightmare, only to find his reality not remarkably dissimilar to his dream a moment before. He was laying there, on his back on the couch, while girls and women were examining his body, with particular attention directed toward his genitals and anus. A big girl was poking her finger, which was unusually big for her age, into his anus, while three girls had hold of his genitals: one, his penis, and the other two, each of his testicles. One women was rubbing his chest, and a second would pinch his nipples intermittently.
 
 Then it all came back to him: the video of him masturbating, which everyone in the room had been watching; his brothers and cousins chiding him for doing that in his room; someone's demand that they strip him, as he fainted at the breadth of it all. Apparently, they succeeded in stripping him while he was unconscious. Jack didn't even know what to say, he was so overwhelmed by it all. The finger he felt by the "extraterrestrials" was in realitty a girl poking his anus in real life. The voice he heard, saying, "Someone wake his ass up," was probably one of the people in the room, Jack thought, and not just part of the dream. As if to confirm his suspicions, the same voice said, this time with a female's face attached, "Oh, he's awake now. It's about goddmaned time. He'd been out for about an hour and a half. Everyone in the room has had a feel of his dick four or five times now, and I want my sixth turn.
 
 There was something awful in the woman's voice that made Jack's stomach churn like butter. His bronze tan, carob thighs, and unequally palid, untanned midriff, began to quiver, more from fear than excitement; as those words about him being examined for upwards of an hour, without his knowledge or consent, sank in. He felt so violated, and wanted to rant and verbally assault his abusers, but the only words that came out of his mouth were, "I just had a dream that I was being probed by aliens!" To which a maternal, reassuring voice rejoined, "Oh, don't worry dear. It was a nightmare. All is well." Jack knew the voice to be that of his mother, who that moment came up to him, while he was "busy" being continually molested in shifts, and placed her hand on his caramel shoulder (basted by the right mixture of sun and lotion), and added, "It's a good thing you're away from that alien probing."
 
 "Yeah, good thing!" said the girl who was anally probing him with her fingers. It was a second girl, who had replaced the girl Jack woke up to. Apparently her turn was up. The girls who had been playing with Jack's penis and scrotum were likewised replaced. Jack then looked up at his mother and found the words to finally express his discontent:
 
 "Good thing? Good thing? Are you fucking kidding me? You perverts are doing the same damn thing the aliens were doing! How can that be a good thing? It's worst, because this is REALLY happening, and that was just a dream!..." Mrs. Dolhurstel cut Jack off (no pun intended) before he could get out another word.
 
 "Now Jackie Franklin Dolhurstel, you stop that foul language this instance, young man! No one is doing anything wrong to you. Don't you play that victim card with us! We have every goddamn right to touch your dick, balls and asshole. It was you who had no right to abuse yourself with that obscene behavior you were displaying on film right in front of everyone in this room."
 
 "Yes, and everyone in your school," chimed another woman there present, who was staring as a was girl playing with Jack's testes, "and many thousands online, as we've sent that video to all your classmates and many others, both strangers and friends."
 
 Jack could not believe what he was hearing. Not only were they abusing him while recording it, but they were blaming him for being, and "playing," the victim!
 
 Jack's mother echoed the lady's sentiments: "That's right, young man! You should be ashamed of yourself!"
 
 Jack: "But I didn't record all this. You guys did! And I didn't do all this stuff in front of you, but you guys snuck a spycam into my room and caught me in the act! It is you who should be ashamed, not me!"
 
 That last sally cut them to the quick, as Mrs. Dolhurstel's blood began to boil: "How dare you put this back on us! None of this would have happened in the first place if had you not had the audacity to jack off, Jack, in front of our offended camera...."
 
 "Which I didn't even know was there...!" Jack retorted, interrupting. Just then, Mrs. Dolhurstel's hand went from caressing his cheek, to slapping it. Jack's ears rang and his head recoiled on the pillow. Tears began to pour as he dissolved into a feeling of hopelessness, mixed with an anxiousness for all of this to end, which, as he was soon to learn, would be a very long time.
 
 Jack's dejection became even more profound as he spotted the monitor screen of the computer across the room, which was playing the video of him masturbating. A woman realized what he was looking at and said, "Look at how clear that is." Jack could see that the computer replay was as clear as reality. "That's how clear it will be on everyone's computer screen because of special media software we distributed."
 
 As Jack cried, Dale Huzxel, his 12 year old cousin (whom we had met earlier) piped up, "Jesus! What a crybaby! You're such a fucking cry baby, just because everyone saw your dick and asshole, and we all felt it. What a fucking gaylo!"
 
 "Yeah," parroted Jack's 11 year old brother "Mikey," whom we also met, "If you didn't like it, you shouldn't have jacked off, jackoff! That's your new handle: Jack Jackoff!"
 
 The three brothers chuckled at their repartee. Jack's little nine year old brother Vince and Vince's twin sister were looking at each other, laughing at their older naked brother.
 
 And then suddenly, they heard it: "What are you boys laughing at?" It was the voice of Mrs. Dolhurstel, their mother. Despite the fact that Jack's little sister, Dorothy Dolhurstel, had been laughing at him right alongside them, she seemed exempt from their mother's address. She stepped away from her male siblings and cousin, as if they had been holding lightning rods. The better part of valor told her she had better be timid. But her feelings were exaggerated, for in truth, she had nothing to fear. Whereas the boys, on the other hand...whereas the boys...
 
 "You boys think you're not in trouble as well?" she continued.
 
 As she listened to her mother berate the boys, Dorothy's expression changed, as if she remembered something concerning which she had been coached. She wasn't destined to share her brothers' fate after all. So she echoed her mother's sentiments: "Yeah, boys, do you think you guys don't have anything to hide!" She chuckled under her breath.
 
 Mrs. Dolhurstel looked at her "compliant" daughter with a knowing expression, then back at the boys, and, picking up on her cue, said, "In fact, you DON'T have anything to hide, now DO you?"
 
 The boys looked at each other with confused expressions on their faces, as they failed to realize that she was referring to what was under their clothes.
 
 Nine year old Vince braved a few words: "If we don't have anything to hide, why are you mad?"
 
 "Silence, you!" Mrs. Dolhurstel's voice was like that of a sharp crack of a whip, and had as much of an effect on the shellshocked boys. They stared back at her with a confused expression, mixed with terror at the prospect of sharing their hapless brother's fate.
 
 As if to answer their confusion, Mrs. Dolhurstel said, "Your brother Jack here is guilty of self-abuse." The boys' quizzical expressions masked their further confusion at having to take in the irony that Jack's so-called "self-abuse" was momentous, while the reality of his CURRENT abuse was of NO moment. Luckily, she did not discern this "obstinate" thought on their part.
 
 She continued: "He abused this," so saying, she yanked Jack's penis out of some girl's hand and pulled Jack up from the couch about four inches. As his midsection arched up in conformity, his upper back and calves still touched the couch. The boys looked shocked that she had not yanked Jack's penis off. After a moment of dramatic pause, she let go of Jack's sore, throbbing member, and he straightened back up on the couch. Whereupon the girl who had been playing with his penis resumed her manipulations.
 
 Mrs. Dolhurstel continued again: "But have YOU boys been jacking off as well?"
 
 The four boys frantically shook their heads, as if they were shewing a swarm of gnats landing on their sweaty brows.
 
 In his distress, Jack managed a bitter rejoinder: "Well, why didn't you put cameras in their room to find out?" There was anger in his voice, which bellowed up from a couldron jealousy at the injustice of it all. Mrs. Dolhurstel looked at her abused son and said, with a wry grin, "We did!" then turning back to her other sons, added, "But the sneaky little shits must have been doing it outside their rooms and the boys bathroom." (They had two bathrooms: one for the boys, and the other, a private one for the girls."
 
 A girl in the room said, "Yeah, but you boys wouldn't jack off for the camera. We all did get to see you boys naked, though. I and my friends at school just loved watching the DVD replays of you boys showering."
 
 "What the fuck," said Mikey, again, for the hundredth time that night. The boys looked even more dumb founded at the thought that they had already been exposed to so many curious eyes.
 
 "She's kidding, right?" said Dale, who until then had been silent for most of the discussion, lest he be seen as equally culpable of, well, whatever reprehendable acts the boys were being reprehended for.
 
 "No, I'm afraid she's not," said a voice that sounded like Dale's mother. Cousin Dale looked to see his mother, Adrienne Huzxel, standing behind him. She added, "And Dale, don't think for one minute that you yourself have not been watched."
 
 "Yeah," said a strange girl, "Nice dick, Dale!"
 
 Dale looked over to his mother, mouth agape. He saw her standing there with the girl who had spoken up. She had her hand on the girl's head, tousling her hair, which had a tramp-like, disheveled appearnce. The girl had to be about 14 or 15, and, winking, said further, "And we're going to see a lot more." Dale blushed a crimson red at the thought that this strange girl, who was "strange" in more ways than just her apparent obscurity, had "known" him visually.
 
 Mrs. Dolhurstel drew their attention back to the matter at hand. "Boys," she snapped, as did their heads, as if to attention, as they looked back at her in unison. "We're going to find out if you boys have been masturbating."
 
 "How," asked Mikey, bravely, with a hint of quivering in his voice.
 
 "By examination, of course. Stupid!" she threw back.
 
 The boys, still uncomprehending, stood there like statues.
 
 "Don't just stand there like statues," she said, "Get to it!"
 
 "G..get to what," said Vince.
 
 "Get naked, right this instant!"
 
 Looking over at Jack, they realized they had no choice. He was a case in point example of their earnest.
 
 "Including me?" said Dale, stupidly.
 
 "Especially you!" his mother said from behind, reaching her hand down his pants, through the cleft between his but-cheeks, emerging, via the perineam, at the place of his genitals, which she held in full hand.
 
 This had an immediate paralyzing effect on the otherwise strongwilled child, and his deameanor sank, like a drooping rag doll in submission.
 
 The boys balked a moment, unsure of themselves, when they heard an even sterner voice, that of Mr. Dolhurstel, blare, "You heard the woman, get to it at once." He snapped a belt as he said this, accentuating the sheer violence of his "point." At once, the boys ripped off their clothes. Mikey had a buttoned shirt, the buttons of which went flying in all direction as he hastily complied. Only Dale hesitated, as his mother's thumb was in his ass, in a non-manner of speaking, and her "free" fingers cupped his sheathed testes. Mr. Dolhurstel looked straight at Dale, his nephew, and said, "Well, boy, why aren't you naked?" Dale shot back, "How can I be, since my mom's hand is down my pants?"
 
 Mrs. Huzxel immediately withdrew her right hand from his pants and swatted him on the ear, saying, "Don't talk back to your uncle like that. Now get naked, NOW! Unless you want to taste of his belt, you little shit!"
 
 So Dale likewise complied. Finally, all three boys stood there, naked, with nicely circumcised penises of variable size.
 
 Immediately, their hands went to cover their boyhood, amid a room full of prying and curious eyes, which were trained on them right at that moment. "Hey, there will be none of that," decried a woman from across the room, referring to their feeble attempt to hide their waning dignity.
 
 Mrs. Dolhurstel said, "Indeed there won't. Hands to your sides, boys. You have nothing to hide, and nothing we haven't seen on you already!"
 
 The boys did as they were told, realizing that she was right. It was then that Mrs. Dolhurstel informed them, "You are never to hide or touch your dicks or balls ever again, without permission."
 
 Vince: "From who?"
 
 Mrs. Dolhurstel: "Whom."
 
 Vince: "What?"
 
 Mrs. Vince: "From whom. Use proper grammar, boy. As as to WHOM, from anyone, but a fellow boy. They belong to everyone other than yourselves and other boys. So naturally, they can handle them whenever they damn well please, whereas you boys need to get permission those dicks and ballsacks you once called 'yours.' And that goes for you, too, Jack." Saying this, she glared over at the now frightened boy, forever changed.
 
 "How do we know if they have been masturbating, since they didn't do that on camera?' asked a girl, who looked to be about 17.
 
 "Simple," answered Mrs. Dolhurstel, "We get them erect, and examine to see if there are any 'dents' or evidence of constriction on their boners. Lauren, the viagara is in the kitchen, in the top drawer by the stove. Would you be a doll and get it for us?" A girl who looked to be about 10 or 11 said, "Sure thing," and gleefully ran into the kitchen.
 
 Dale had already had an erection, owing to his mother "foreplay" while he still had his pants on. Mikey and Vince achieved erections in a matter of seconds, since some girls were already playing with "their" (i.e., the boys') penises. The girl, Lauren, emerged with the viagara, a pitcher of water, and four styrofoam cups, on a platter.
 
 They then gave the cups of water to the boys to drink as they took the pills. The boys haltingly obeyed, knowing they had little choice.
 
 Mrs. Dolhurstel: "Very good, then, girls and women, examine their dicks for signs of compression. As a boy holds his dick while jacking, he squeezes it at some point on it. Naturally, since he doesn't do this everywhere on his dick, you see that it is sometimes thinner somewhere in the middle than the rest of his dick. That's what you are looking for, everyone."
 
 Just then, a girl walked up to Mrs. Dolhurstel and said, while holding up her index finger, "My finger stinks. I have been sticking it inside Jack's asshole." At that, Mrs. Dolhurstel looked over at her naked little couch potato and said, with a glint in her eye, "Jack, you need a bath."
 
 Her eyes were like slits—almost serpentine. Her gaze sent chills down Jack's goosebump infested spine.
 
 
 
TO BE CONTINUED.
 
 
 
 

 
 


 

   
(End of File)