The Penis Pageant

After locking away our clothes and belongings, Jackson, Josh, and I were escorted to a gigantic hall where hundreds of other guys were already finding their marks -- everyone had been alotted a small marked space with a comfy chair, some refreshments, and some visual stimuli to enable the erections we would be needing to maintain throughout almost the entire day. Jackson, ever the pro, had apparently brought himself to full length by sheer **** of will, and he and his impressive member led the way while Josh and I trailed behind sheepishly, stealing furtive glances at our co-competitors, trying to ascertain whether we were the only ones who felt too nervous to reach anything more than semi-flaccid.

It was quite easy to tell who was new to the Fuck Fest and who was a seasoned veteran -- I was relieved to see that a number of other guys didn't have much to show in the way of hardness yet. In fact, most of the field was more or less caught up in trying to achieve an erection -- some were scrunching up their eyes picturing their favorite fantasies, some were browsing the supplied materials for something that tickled their libidos, and others were making use of the generously distributed male and female assistants satisfying all tastes who were roaming the hall, offering encouraging words and helping hands. Only a few -- some of which I thought I recognized from TV -- required no assistance whatsoever, including Jackson, who was immediately greeted by a group of buff, deeply relaxed guys that were all sporting raging erections like it was nothing. I thought they'd be arrogant and aloof, but they all turned out to be super-cool dudes with loads of helpful tips and tricks, and they quickly started motivating Josh and me, telling us about their own newcomer experiences and calling in favors from assistants they knew from past tournaments. After a few minutes, I was pleased to see that Josh and I had achieved quite presentable boners, and I couldn't help feeling a little smug when I noticed that quite a few of the other contestants were still trying to get their junk to point skywards.

The rest of my nervousness dissipated when a smooth, sultry voice came over the PA. I thought I recognized it, and indeed, when I turned towards the stage, there she was: Eliza Ralston, seven-time world champion and arguably one of the most recognizable faces (and pussies) alive today. You couldn't pass a newsstand anywhere without seeing her perfect cunt on the cover of at least one magazine; whenever a new pubic hairstyle or a new cum-splash pattern started trending, nine times out of ten it was because Eliza Ralston had been wearing it at a public event. She had retired from active competition two years ago, but was still very much active in the community, dedicated to spotting and coaching new talent. This year, Freemont was lucky to have her as one of the hosts of the Fuck Fest.

"Relax, guys," her silky voice reminded us. "You're not being judged by how fast you can get it up. Take your time. The jurors will start making the rounds and appraising those who are ready, but you won't be marked until you yourself feel comfortable presenting your manhoods. If all else fails -- and this is a promise -- I will come down there and personally help you get hard!"

Paradoxically, this prospect caused nearly every cock in the hall to jump to attention. With a knowing smirk, Eliza handed the floor to the chief judge, and the event was underway.

As always, the jury was randomly selected to represent a fair slice of the population. All genders, sexual orientations, ages, and races were accounted for. Our society had long since gotten over the old adage of "only straight girls and gay guys can properly appreciate a penis", and much like everyone had their favorite color, their favorite books and so on, you could ask anyone about their preferred pussy or cock aesthetics and get a well-reasoned response out of them. Pure exposure to all shapes and sizes of genitals had made everyone a gourmet, and the jury was selected to reflect the plurality of opinions present in our society. As such, it was not surprising to see the stereotypically heterosexual frat bro almost freak out over actually getting to see Jackson's penis in person, and neither was anyone put off by the octogenarian Asian lady who acted like she was everyone's favorite grandma while enthusiastically weighing nutsack after nutsack in her hands, offering her honest opinion at every step.

There was a comprehensive list of categories the jury was obliged to consider when grading a penis. Length was a part of this list, but not as important as you might think. "Size doesn't matter" had become literally true in our society, since all shapes and sizes were readily available to everyone, so you could always choose the cock that most appealed to you and not the one the media told you to prefer. Guys had finally stopped fussing about whether they were too small and had learned to appreciate the subtler nuances, such as girth, the proportions of the penis in relation to the rest of the physique, the ratio of shaft to head, the angle of curvature, and so on. All of these were present on the jurors' rating sheets, and while the purely numerical categories were simply measured and jotted down by assistants to be compared against preference polls conducted among the wider population, the jurors had a certain degree of freedom when it came to subjective categories such as veininess, grooming, and overall aesthetics.

All in all, I didn't do too shabbily in this opening round. I knew I wasn't the longest -- I came in at about 6.7 inches when properly excited -- but I had confidence in my curvature angle, and had spent the entire previous evening grooming myself to perfection and arguing with Natalie about fractions of millimeters in pubic hair length. I had also always been proud of my balls -- they hung gracefully, not too dangly and not too compact, and had been on the receiving end of many a stranger's compliments.

"Gosh darn, if this ain't one of the nicest nutsacks I ever seen!" My balls were being squeezed and probed by the warm, calloused hands of a stocky, sunburnt farmer's wife in her mid-forties. "I'm sad to say that my Jordan's balls are beginning to hear the call of gravity. My, he had a mighty fine pair when he was in his prime, I used to have to pry them out of strangers hands every few minutes when we were out on the town, but nowadays they're a little sad. Now my son, Declan, he has his father's nuts and I'm ever so proud of him. But I just wish his prick were a little bit more like yours son; I don't think his darling wife would be riding my husband's cock quite as regularly if she got what he needed from my boy." She got up after giving my rod another generous tug and an appraising look and jotted down some favorable numbers on her chart. "You and your dick, ya got great things ahead of you, y'hear?"

In the end, it was my balls that helped me scrape a narrow victory over Josh, who was packing a whopping 7.5 inches, but who was also a head taller than me, which cost him proportion points. Of course, Jackson absolutely dwarfed us in every category -- even though his dick was about the same size as mine, he had been blessed with just the right curvature, impressive veins, and a short, toned body that made his cock pop in a way mine could only dream of. This year, he was off to a particularly strong start, as he ended up on the top of the standings, which earned him a visit from Eliza, who was always on the prowl for fresh talent and briefly forgot herself, engulfing his member with her throat before Jackson gently reminded her that he would need his boner for the upcoming Cock Pushups.

In the preliminary standings, Jackson was leading the field with a narrow advantage, while Josh and I were both somewhere near the bottom of the top third, which was encouraging.

We retired for a short break before the next event -- Cock Pushups, which would probably going to be an embarassment for me, but which I would just have to face head-on. In the backstage area, we met up with the girls, who had had a similar experience to ours -- Madison and Jackson embraced gleefully as she revealed that she had also come up on top of the Cooch Contest, while Nat and Becca were also quite happy with the results of their first rounds. As we waited for the next round to start -- it would be Vaginal Weightlifting for the girls next -- we swapped stories and encouraged each other to keep up the momentum.

During our break, I noticed the most peculiar thing about the whole Fuck Fest -- even though the recess area was brimming with butt-naked people, the male half of which invariably sported at least a semi-erection, there was almost no fucking going on. Everyone was much too focused on keeping their sex drives as high as possible, and busting a nut this early in the tournament might be tantamount to conceding. To counterbalance this seeming lack of carnal entertainment, the event organizers had made sure there were other attractions to keep the contestants happy. Parallel to the main competition, there was a whole schedule of side shows and mini-contests for visitors, staff on break, and contestants who were dropping out or skipping rounds.

One of these was the Celebrity Cock-Tail Bar: Everyone who loved cum could enter their name into a raffle, and every hour a lucky winner would receive a personalized cocktail from someone famous -- mainly previous Fuck Fest winners, but the prestigious event had also managed to recruit quite a few well-known actors as well as popular musicians. Rebecca couldn't believe her luck when her name was the very first to be called out during the opening ceremonies; she disappeared in a flash and reappeared ten minutes later, holding a ludicrous glass filled with a bright red cocktail and topped off with a thick swab of semen. "Holy shit, I just got served my own personal Cock-Tail by LUCAS FUCKING TYRELL!! He even shot some onto my face, look!" she shouted and pointed out a perfectly targeted trail of cum that was slowly making its way from between her eyebrows down the left side of her nose to nest in the corner of her mouth. Lucas Tyrell was, of course, the star of the hit show "Lays of our Lives", whose dick was so iconic that everyone who owned a TV would be able to pick it out from a crowd.

As the girls shared Becca's prize and lost themselves in admiration of Lucas Tyrell's unique flavor, Jackson gave Josh and me some last-minute tips on pelvic stretching in preparation for our upcoming Cock Pushups.