Race for the Cure

Many thanks to Linda62953 for first editing and improving this story.

Immense gratitude to BeautifulStorm, the hardest working editor on this site, who not only applied incredible expertise but also tremendous effort in following through to make sure the story turned out much better than I ever thought it could be.

"It's strange that this town has a museum for women," Vito said, “because otherwise it’s out of the Dark Ages. The men run it, and the women do what they say.”

"Laima seems pretty independent," Nellie said, referring to the pretty girl who seemed to be the only full-time employee of the inn where they were staying. Laima dressed in business suits, but they didn’t hide her curves.

"Maybe the women are only obedient after they're married," Vito said. "Laima's single."

"What else did she tell you? The two of you were talking quite a while.”

"She told me what there is to do in town," Vito said. “Not much.”

"Did she tell you about the women’s museum?

“No. She didn’t mention it.”

“That’s funny,” Nellie said. “Right after you left, she came over and started talking about it. I told her I've seen too many of them already – the first woman this and the first woman that.

“She wouldn’t take no for an answer. She even swore that I would find it fascinating. I finally gave in and told her I’d go with her this morning, but just for a little while.

“I’ll be back before it gets too hot. I want to take a nap in our air-conditioned room after lunch and wait until it cools down to do more exploring."

"Okay," Vito said. "I'll be here. I'm just going to look up a few things on my laptop."

Nellie knew he meant porn, but she didn’t say anything.

**********

When she burst into the room a few hours later, Nellie’s cheeks were flush, even though it wasn't hot yet.

"What happened?" Vito asked.

"I was all wrong. It was an amazing experience. You won't believe it."

"What was so special?"

"Right now, I'm famished. Let's get something to eat, but after that, I want to come back here and show you something."

She could barely sit still through lunch at the little café next door.

"Why are you squirming like that?" he finally asked.

"I'm sorry. My mind is still on the museum.”

"Tell me about it.”

“I can’t”

“Why not?”

Nellie looked around. There were two other diners, both local women, at the other end of the small room, and the waitress was standing by the kitchen. She leaned over to him and lowered her voice.

"The museum is only for women. You couldn’t go even if you wanted to. It’s not really for tourists either. Laima told me I’m one of the few women from outside the town who’s ever been there.

“She loaned me a DVD with some of the archival videos, but she could get into trouble if anyone found out. We'll watch it on your laptop in the room, and nobody will be the wiser.”

*******

When they returned to their room, they settled on the bed, sitting against the backboard. The laptop was in front of them. Nellie connected the player, pushed the DVD into it, took a deep breath and clicked on one of the icons that popped up on the screen. A starter arrow appeared, but she didn't click on it right away. Instead, she took another deep breath.

"Before I start this," she said, "let me tell you a few things about what you're going to see, because when Laima started explaining the exhibits, I freaked out.

"The women in the town call it the museum of faithfulness. As you might guess from the big cathedral, this has been devoutly religious community for hundreds of years, and it still is. Marriage is sacred. Most people stay married to one person their whole lives, and hardly anyone fools around.

"You're right about men calling all the shots. Women’s opinions don’t count for much. Except, it turns out, on one subject. Long before the inhabitants converted, the village’s ancient culture was strict about cheating. When it came to adultery, men were held to the same standard as women. Both sexes were harshly punished when they were caught.

“Laima said the town’s inhabitants still cling to these savage traditions from barbarian days. To this day, even the young people don't want to give them up, especially the women.

"I won't go into what they do to women who cheat. It’s so cruel and horrendous that I couldn’t watch much of the women’s punishment video. My stomach was in knots.

“The video I’m going to show you was made at 'The Race for the Cure,' which is what they call the punishment for unfaithful men. In the old days, when there was a lot more drinking than now, there were annual races, but now the races are rare. Laima has never seen one.

"Even though it’s not really a competition, the annual race isn’t held if only one man is guilty. The ancient law says he can’t be punished until at least one more man is caught cheating.

“Laima said one man qualified for the next race ten years ago, but every other man knows he will race that man the moment he’s found cheating. That serves as a deterrent.”

She clicked on the arrow. The video was shaky and low grade, with no sound. It was obviously shot by an amateur.

“This is a video conversion of a home movie someone made at the last race, twenty-five years ago,” Nellie said. “The three cheaters are the ones standing in the middle, and the woman who’s talking is a judge. She’s repeating the sentence she gave in court.

Vito saw a crowd surrounding the men and the judge. He recognized the town square, but the many sidewalk cafes were nowhere to be seen. All the tables and chairs had been removed and the square was empty.

“You can tell by the clothes they’re wearing that it’s around this time of year,” Nellie said. “They only run the race when it’s blistering hot. Tourists and visitor are kept away. Only townspeople can attend.

"The three racers are being told to strip. Two of them are complying, but the third one refuses, so one of those giant farmers is holding him while the man’s wife takes his clothes off.”

All three men soon stood naked. The big farmer was still holding the uncooperative one. The wives began circling around them while holding something in front of them that was soaking wet because as they walked, water dripped onto the pavement. The women circled the men five times.

“This ceremony is part of the race,” Nellie explained. “They are displaying the racing gear they made for their husbands. You can't see them too well, but the outfits are made of ropes. A little material is attached later.”

The wives’ faces were smiling, but they were twisted smiles of anger. Terror was on the faces of the men. After they stopped circling, each woman went to her husband and began dressing him in the wet ropes.

Close-ups showed the outfits had been decorated by the women, and each looked different. The third man was struggling with the farmer who held him, but he was dressed almost as quickly as the other two.

The rope shirts fit loosely over the shoulders and around the upper body. At the bottom was a rope that circled the waist like a belt. It was pulled tight and tied at the side.

"See those long things dangling from the rope around the waist?” asked Nellie. “They’re strong pieces of twine.”

Each rope belt had a piece of twine hanging down from the center of the back. After tightening the husband’s belt, each wife and pulled the wet twine down between her husband’s butt cheeks with her right hand until it was straight and stretched.

Then she grabbed her husband’s testicles in her left hand, pulled them back between his legs and up behind him, stretching his ball sack. The husband leaned forward to try to relieve the pain, but the wife continued to pull higher until the man’s sack was stretched thin.

The wife wrapped the stretched wet twine tightly around the thinnest part of the ball sack, close to where it attached to the man’s body. As she wrapped it, water was squeezed out of the twine, and more drops fell to the ground when she made a knot to keep it from unwinding. The water on the ground evaporated quickly in the heat.

When she finished, her husband’s balls were firmly locked behind him by the twine connected to the back of his rope shirt. They were in full display even when his thighs were pressed together.

The women walked out of camera range but returned in a minute and squatted down behind their husbands again. The camera was blocked from showing what they were doing, except that more water was dripping down.

“You can’t see it, Vito,” Nellie said, “but each wife is wrapping something else between his balls and his body and knotting it. It’s also twine, but so thin it’s like thread. It’s much tighter than the other twine. Look at the third man.”

Vito saw that the third man had stopped struggling. The farmer let him loose and walked out of the picture.

“The third man knows that once the thin twine is on, he’s got to race or he doesn’t stand a chance,” Nellie said.

The cocks of the men hung down between their legs. They were all slack, but one of the men had a large, long one that stood out even though it was soft.

"So far it’s just like it was in the Middle Ages, but now you'll see a modern touch,” Nellie said.

Each wife dipped a long, thin wand into a bucket of grease and slowly pushed it into her husband’s ass. The wands were made of a squishy rubber that was so flexible it made them bend and fold. It was hard for the wives to push them in.

The women cranked them around and finally worked them all the way in, except for a small loop attached to the end. Strips of cloth were threaded through the loops, wrapped around the men, pulled tight and tied to the rope shirts in the front.

“That keeps the wands from sliding out during the race,” Nellie explained. “They have to be soft and flexible so there aren’t internal injuries when the men are running. The devices in the women’s hands are remote controls that that turn the wands into vibrators.”

As the women turned dials on the controls, the men jumped. The wives took the devices away and returned with cloth sheaths and placed each husband’s cock in one.

"I felt the material at the museum,” said Nellie. “It’s incredibly soft, silky and sensuous. You can’t see it, but the sheaths are attached to a thin spring, which is attached to the rope shirt. As the runner’s shoes pound the pavement, his body vibrates and sets the springs off. The springs pull the silky sheaths back and forth over the men’s pricks. It’s like they are being masturbated as they run.

“Each wife made her sheath to match her husband, so that as they get hard, the sheaths become more snug – and more stimulating. The men have to keep drinking because of the heat, and the water filling them up helps arouse them. The faster the men run, the harder they get. Even though they’ll try not to, eventually, each man will come.”

Naked, except for running shoes, the men were given wide brim hats to protect them from the sun. All of them were already drenched in sweat. They stood next to a large table full of open water bottles.

After each runner finished a bottle of water, his smiling wife took him by the hand and led him to a piece of material pulled tightly across the path by two young, barely dressed women. When all three were next to each other, one of the wives shot a gun into the air. The men began running.

The crowd split apart, and everyone found a shady place to stand and watch. The runners ran around the periphery of the square, staying inside a path painted on the pavement.

“If they step out of the path, the judge will make them repeat that lap,” Nellie said. "They're trying to pace themselves, because they know they need to finish. At the same time, they can't run too slowly, because if they do, it doesn't matter whether they finish or not.”

“What do you mean?” Vito asked. For some time, he had been squirming as he watched the spectacle and shivering as he listened to the icy tone in Nellie’s voice.

"I mean that the runners are being cured of cheating. All the ropes and twine were stretched as far as possible while they were being soaked overnight. As the sun heats them, they dry and begin contracting to their normal length.

“You can already see the men's balls sticking out further behind them. That's because the twine attaching the balls to the rope shirt is drying, getting shorter and pulling the balls back more, and higher.

"As they’re running the fifty laps, the exposed balls will puff up and get red from the sun beating down on them.”

The man with the large cock was now running erratically.

Nellie’s voice bubbled with excitement.

“Look! He’s trying hard not to come, but he can’t help it.”

The man stumbled as he began twitching and ejaculating into his sheath. His wife and another woman ran up to him holding a heavy winter vest. They put his arms into it as he was shaking, pulled it over his shoulders and fastened it in front. Then they ran off as the man tried to shake off his orgasm and begin running again.

"Once a runner comes, his wife is allowed to put the handicap on,” explained Nellie. “His weighs twenty-five pounds. The handicaps go by body weight. It’s going to slow him down.”

They watched as the other two men ejaculated into their sheaths and were fitted with vests.

"It's a race against time,” Nellie said. “Because as painful as his balls being pulled out and burned by the sun is, each man is most worried about that nearly invisible twine around his ball sack.

"As that thread dries and shrinks, it cuts off all circulation to the testicles. The combination of no blood flow and burns from exposure to the midday sun causes tremendous trauma. If they take too long to finish the race, the men will effectively be gelded.”

Vito gasped.

"That's right,” said Nellie in a voice that sounded almost triumphant. “Their balls will be so messed up that within a week they'll wither into flaps. Sometimes they later fall off. So the men are literally running for their manhood.

"See what's happening to the man with the big cock? Once the men have their handicaps on, the wives are allowed to turn on the wands. He screwed around with three women, and his wife was devastated when she found out, like I was the first time I found out about you.

“She’s really angry, and she's using her remote to vibrate his wand. He'll soon be coming again. You'll see all the women doing this to their men, but most of them only a couple of times. It slows the men down and makes them even more frantic. But the wife of the big man does it almost nonstop. He's already veered off course a few times, and each time means one extra lap.

"You can see all the balls sticking out are already sunburned. The race is halfway over for two of the men, but the big man is seven laps behind and not moving well.

"Look at his balls. See how the sun has swollen them? Do you see any little spots? Laima told me that's the first sign that the lack of circulation is starting to shut down the balls. There’s a close-up. You can see little spots on all three men now. If the balls get as black as charcoal, they are beyond rescuing.

"The men have no idea how close they are to that, but they do know that if the pain in their balls starts being replaced by numbness, it will soon be too late.

"Look at that big guy. His wife just won't leave him alone. She's obviously decided on what she wants, and he probably knows it, too, but he's still trying to save his virility. There's a big black spot on his balls already.

"They've only got a few laps to go. See that first guy speed up? He probably felt a bit of numbness, and he knows he's got to go all out. He's stumbling, but he's moving as fast as he can. See the crowd cheering him. Do they want him to succeed or fail?

"Now the second guy is feeling numb, and he's taking off, too. The big man is feeling it, too. His balls are almost solid black now, but his wife is still vibrating him. See how he's crying?

"There, the first man made it across the finish line and is collapsing onto the hospital gurney. Watch how fast the orderlies move. They have trained for the race. They have a race of their own, and they take pride in rescuing the manhood of the runners, no matter how much damage has been done.

"The first ambulance is already on its way to the hospital a few minutes away. Doctors and nurses are waiting to work on the man.

“Laima said they succeed in total restoration more than seventy percent of the time. Most of the others are at least partially functional after the race. She also told me that the race has a one hundred per cent cure rate. As far as anyone knows, none of the runners has ever cheated again.

"Look at that poor man with the big penis falling on the gurney. He probably knows he's got no chance.

"Laima told me the men who become eunuchs usually adapt. They become experts at pleasing their wives with their mouths. Sometimes the wives take the man’s role in bed and fuck their hubands with dildos they wear. Laima said some men learn to get off on that despite the humiliation.

"That's the end of the video. What do you think, Vito?"

Vito didn't say anything, and he didn’t look at Nellie. All the blood had drained from his face. He sat like a statue on the bed next to her.

"Did you relate to those cheaters running in the race for the cure?"

Vito didn’t reply.

"After I saw the video and artifacts from races hundreds of years ago, I found out why Laima was so insistent on bringing me to the museum. She told me that twenty years ago the women of the town were given the vote, and they recently passed a new law. The men all voted against it, but the women have the majority.

"The women were getting tired of waiting for another race. The local cheater knows there is almost no chance he’ll ever be punished.

"The new law says that if a wife from out of the area can establish beyond any doubt that her husband has cheated, they would allow a runner who didn't live here to race for the cure against a local man. Tomorrow, they're holding their first race between a local cheater and a cheater from the outside. It starts at twelve-thirty, and I’m going.”

Vito stood up.

"You can leave, Vito, but you won't get far. There are a couple of big farmers watching our room, and when you walk out, they will take you to another room in the inn and lock you in for the night. You saw on the video how they helped that one unwilling man participate in the race.

"After Laima told me about the new law, she told me how surprised she was when you came on to her and suggested sneaking off with her when I wasn't more than fifteen feet away and looking at you from the other side of the room. She said you also approached her yesterday while I was napping.

“She asked me if you had ever cheated on me. I told her many times. She asked if I had irrefutable proof. When I told her I did, you should have seen her face light up. It was as if I was about to make her dream of a lifetime come true.

“She asked if I was interested in entering you in the Race for the Cure. When I gave her my answer, she shouted something in her language and jumped for joy. She danced around the museum repeating the word for a whole minute before she calmed down and translated it for me: ‘Yes!’

"I guess it was your trying to get into her pants while we were on vacation that made my decision easy. I went with her to the inn's office, got on the Internet and showed her some photos and videos hidden in my Facebook account.

“Don’t ask me why I saved them. I never told you that I hired a detective a few times. It was a waste of money, because I never did anything with the evidence. I didn’t take it to a lawyer or post it. After a while I realized I never would.

"Laima made some calls, and now the whole town is excited about tomorrow, especially the women. The cheater still doesn't know he's racing. His wife wants to surprise him in the morning.