Hell, yes.

A bell sounds! The crowd starts screaming and yelling and cheering. Just as Marcus starts to spring toward the first bag of money sitting in a row at the far end of the room, the giant golden dong hanging from the wall lurches to the left and a long stream of thick precum slimes down, pooling on the floor. Marcus runs right into the stream. It gets on his chest and and face but it's not too much. He wipes it away from his eyes with his right hand as he runs toward the bag of money in the far left corner.

"Damn it," he mutters.

The announcer voice rings out through the room, "Hey Marcus, the idea is to avoid the big spurting dick and its shower of slime!"

Marcus ignores the voice and keeps on running, approaching the first bag. He grabs it and starts hauling ass to get back.

"Tut. Tut. Tut. Maaarrrr-cccuuussss..." The announcer calls out in a sing-song voice. "Looks like you've got spooge on that sack! IT'S FORFEIT!"

Abruptly, the bag disappears from Marcus's hands. "What the fuck? Why?" Then he realizes: he's got cum on his right hand from wiping his eyes.

He turns back and races for bag number two, taking it with his clean left hand, and sprinting around to return to the front of the room. The cock is no longer dripping precum, though. It's starting to really shoot. With each spray, it flexes and moves. It's kind of wild and unpredictable.

Marcus manages to get the sack back to the starting point. As long as he doesn't fuck up anything else, that means he's at least got $10,000.

He runs for bag number three, but before he can get to it the cock spits out a massive load, shooting thick ropes of cum through the air and across the room. With a loud splat, a volley of cum demolishes the sack. It disappears before Marcus ever even gets close.

He changes course for bag four. Just as he reaches it, the announcer voice rings out, "HEADS UP!!!!" Marcus glances back and sees a huge jet of milky white cum heading straight for him. He grabs the bag with his left hand, shields it with his body, and lets the warm cum splash across his back and ass-cheeks.

"SAFE!!!" The announcer yells, as if he were a great, disembodied umpire.

Marcus manages to get the sack safely back to the starting area. $20,000. Guaranteed. As long as he doesn't fuck it up.

Marcus has a choice to make. He can end the game now, avoid further risks, and take his money and go. $20,000 is enough to pay down some debts and move up his timeline to get out of Texas a little bit sooner sooner.

OR, he can try for bag five and hope for $30,000, possibly risking everything and certainly risking getting even more soaked. With $30,000 he could pay off debts and leave Texas immediately and have some serious seed money for starting over somewhere better.