THE LAST CHANCE
Van got out at the right stop, but was confused about where to go. The address was that of a stadium where a game was currently in progress.
The attorney called him. In the middle of the walkway next to a fairly busy street, the muscle teen picked up.
"Listen Van, I have a lot to tell you. NO ONE HAS EVER SUCCEEDED AT THE LAST TASK. But that's only because no one ever tried. So far everyone who had to go through this was able to fulfill a few tasks and had leeway to skip the last one. Because it's by far the most difficult. Up until now you've only ruined your life within the confines of your circle of friends or at most within the town. Even if you survive you will clearly never be able to have a job or continue going to school. Since many men must have your address by now you can live as a whore and perhaps make an income that way."
Everything was pain. Every joint, every movement, every sensitive spot on his body. And through all that was an insatiable need to cum.
"Van, I understand if you prefer to give up. We can arrange a-"
The boy vehemently disagreed by grunting at the phone.
"Alright. When I have told you what to do you can leave the phone behind, there will be no way for me to help you after this. I have prepared the way for you as much as possible. You have to get into the stadium. The passcode for the backdoor C is one two three nine. Did you understand?"
Van confirmed.
"Next you make your way up to level three, that's all the way up. Be careful, the stairs are steep. Follow corridor B3-F. It will lead you to the top of the stadium. Once you're up there, you need to make sure the cameras can see you. This game is an international life transmission. You need as big an audience as you can get because I'm not sure how big it needs to be for the task to be considered a success."
Next followed instructions on what to do up there. Van listened and his heart was beating as fast as it could. He would be irrecoverably ruined, but he wanted to live. He had not gone through all of this to give up and die in bondage gear with his ass full of cum.
The teen waddled around the stadium until he came across the right backdoor. The keypad was far enough down for him to use by pressing his nose on the keys. He got in and made his long, long way up several flights of stairs, straining his knees and spine to unbearable limits.
He heard the cheering of the crowd.
Once at the right level he happened upon a hook in the wall he could use to hook his underwear into. Then he pulled and struggled until the belt snapped, freeing his leaking boner in all its comically sized glory. Technically, he didn't need any gear anymore but he wasn't able to get rid of any besides the blinders, which slipped off after he kept rubbing his face against the hook.
He still had the spider gag, the connected and weighted nipple clamps, the rope that kept him down, the spreader bar and the handcuffs. There was also the ball weight but his balls had become pretty numb by then.
The sound of the crowd got louder as he waddled down the corridor. His goal was an alcove that was open to the stadium, sort of a small balcony where a technician could stand and step onto the roof to survey it.
He walked out all the way to the edge where he could look over the entire stadium. There were metal bars the size of baseball bats poking out of the construction, which were the end pieces of the pillars that held the roof.
Van had to admit the spot was perfectly chosen. Everyone could see him unless they sat directly underneath that part of the roof. All the major camera stations had a good view angle, too.
His task was simple in principle. He had to get himself to orgasm through anal stimulation. With as big an audience as possible.
The boy spit on one of the bat sized end pieces but couldn't distributed the spit, unable to use his lips at all. He'd have to hope that the lube and cum still in his guts were enough.
As soon as he tried to take the thing in he knew it wasn't enough. He had to sit on it anyway. Van had sworn to ignore all pain and see it through, but getting his ass split further than ever before and almost dry was a very different type of pain that what he was prepared for. The size of the metal bar couldn't be overstated.
He scooted around the tip, breathing through the burn and very slowly made his way down. As it turned out, past the dry sphincter was plenty of lube and cum still in him. Van cried with joy as he slid along the pole, impaling himself as far as never before. He was truly sitting on the thing.
As his mind found a moment to focus through the haze of the burn, he saw himself on the big screen across the stadium. They cameras were on him. He was the oddity that would make this game one to talk about years from now. He had an audience. A full stadium and who knew how many international viewers.
Now he only had to orgasm.
Van rode the pole, doing squats with his legs spread, breathing through devastating joint pains and leg cramps, his huge dick swinging in the rhythm of his squats. He heard a camera team behind him, filming from the alcove. No one was crazy enough to step onto the roof to engage him.
Even though the sun hadn't fully gone down yet, lights were turned on and pointed at him. He became a spectacle for millions. And with the crew behind him, he knew that his identity would be as widely known as it could possible get. The mark on his back was unmissable.
The up and down swings of his body at last kicked his prostate over the edge. His tool shivered and pointed upward as the sensation spread through his abdomen. He sprayed his cum in spurts up his chest, his eyes rolling back into his head.
He held still with the pole up his ass until he stopped shacking. There was a sensation – somehow the exact opposite of a tickling. It felt like scratching an itch all over his body.
Van knew he had succeeded.
Security personnel dragged his limp body off the roof and cut the rope that kept him bent. Once it was clear that he wasn't insane or dangerous they wrote down his identity, took his spit for a drug test and kicked him out with a massive fine, that he would work his life to pay off at minimum wage. Not that he could expect to find a job.
They were unwilling to interact with him a second longer than necessary, obviously disgusted to be in his presence.
He took the bus home. Not caring about anything. He was alive and he felt amazing. Like he could take on a whole army. Or a baseball bat sized pole up his ass.
Wasn't that beautiful? Anyway, before we say goodbye to our protagonist, let's see how he's doing after the dust has settled. See you in the next chapter.
Is that going to be the last one? Oh no, no way. I have a little surprise coming.
Write me some feedback if you liked it.