Brandon Twice
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Cruel and Unusual
🕑 Added 2021-07-07 04:23:36 +0000 UTC[6 words: "Sentence: Year's Incarcerated, or as himbo"]
The room where Lee was to be sentenced was cold and white, just like any hospital room. It was just a guard, armed with a taser, keeping us in that room. I sat next to him on the tissue-paper covered bed and held his hand, remarking that he wasn’t even wearing handcuffs.
“Ankle monitor,” he said with a sigh, his head falling onto my shoulder.
I leaned in and whispered, “Lee, you and I are each twice the size of this puny fucking guard. We could make a break for it if we wanted.” I think the guard heard us; his attention shot to us two gay ex-lovers, each as big as a buffalo, acting like someone was about to die.
“Will you be there when it’s over?” Lee remarked, his hands tracing the vein on my bicep. “Damn. You’ve gotten real big since we were together…” he muttered softly.
“Sure I will,” I said, hooking a big arm around his thick neck and kissing his shaggy blonde hair. “This is for what, three years? In three years I’ll be picking you up and taking you out for a steak.”
“Your boyfriend coming too?” Lee said in a sulky voice. “You’ll probably be married then.”
“Married with pit bulls and a guest room,” I added. I squeezed his beefy thigh and kissed his cheek again. An image of my boyfriend Mario, waiting in the parking lot, flashed in my head and I suddenly felt guilty for allowing Lee so much affection.
“Will I be different?” Lee asked. “I heard this makes you different.”
“C’mon, man,” I said, patting his cheek, feeling the stubble there like a cat’s tongue. “Every time you’re with me, you always snap back to the same old Lee. If you change, I’ll change you back.” He sighed. I could smell his after-shave.
The doctor came in with a syringe full of purple liquid on a rolling table. Two more guards accompanied him, wheeling in a vertical board with several manacles; restraints for after the procedure, I assumed.
Lee was a foot taller than the scrawny doctor. After he broke up, his focus shifted from bodybuilding to modeling, and since there wasn’t as much work for “mass monsters” like he was back then, he shed some of the bulk. Still, at 6’ tall, 250 pounds was still pretty bulky next to a bespectacled 100 pound doc in a lab coat. The little man made Lee look absolutely gigantic. He asked Lee to bend over the table. I stepped forward to grab his hand, like I’d promised.
“Step back,” said one of the guards, a single spark of electricity firing off the taser’s prongs. I rolled my eyes at the guy--only as tall as my shoulder--and stepped back.
Lee was bent at the middle, one hand on the bed, the other on his phone as the doctor unsheathed the syringe. A guard yanked the phone from Lee’s hand but not without a fight. I watched the purple liquid empty into Lee’s big glute. Seconds later, the tension in his body dissolved. His limbs wobbled like cooked noodles as his head lolled back and forth.
I’d done a little bit of research on this kind of sentencing when Lee had asked me to be there for the application. Non-violent criminals, like Lee, were being given the new “Himbo” drug rather than spending any time in prison. Wealthy men would become these criminals’ patrons, footing the bill rather than sticking it to the taxpayers. From what I heard, the process was nearly instantaneous--but as the clock ticked off seconds in the otherwise silent room, I wondered if that were true.
All of a sudden it happened. Lee grabbed the bed with both hands and moaned. I watched his muscles flexing, nearly all at once. He growled as his shirt split down the back, his already thick muscles expanding even beyond what the orange prison uniform could cover. He rose to his full height--now nearly three inches taller than he’d been before--and stared down at his body, shrugging off the tattered clothes.
Lee now towered over everyone in the room, even bigger than me. I watched as his pecs inflated with size more than the rest of him. He chuckled as his glutes did the same, forcing him away from the bed as they swelled up. He reached up with one thick hand and grabbed a handful of his new pec, his starry-eyes focused on nothing in particular. A dollop of drool dangled from his lip. His half-hard cock bobbed in the air.
Lee turned toward the doctor and thrust his oversized glutes at the little man, knocking him down. The big guy twisted a nipple and bit his lower lip as he started twerking his huge melon ass at the shocked victim. A guard stepped forward and Lee’s attention turned to him, licking his lips as he eyed up the tight uniform.
Instead of a taser, the guard pulled out something purple and twisted it before shoving it into his mouth. It took me a moment to realize what it was: a veiny, 14-inch dildo, which Lee sucked on, cooing and rubbing his chiseled abdomen. The other guard did the same to Lee’s ass, but this dildo had a strap the guard wrapped around Lee’s impossible narrow waist, locking it into place.
As Lee buzzed from both holes, his big cock burping up dollops of his cum, the guards strapped Lee into the restraints without resistance. They wheeled him from the room, leaving me alone with the doctor, who I helped to his feet. His first step on his own slipped in a puddle of cum, and I had to grab his shoulders to keep him from falling down again.
Before I left, I grabbed Lee’s discarded phone. I knew his passcode--he’d used the same one for the past ten years--and saw the photo he was looking at right before they “Himboed” him. It was of us, our last competition as a couple. I took a look at those smiles, looking even whiter next to our spray-tanned bodies, and ached for those beautiful, simpler days, before Lee cheated on me, before I met Mario, back when everything was just the gym and steroids and being in love.
*
I offered to wash the dishes, a concession for having been silent throughout dinner. Mario folded his arms and sighed, watching me as I sauntered to the sink.
“I don’t think it was a mistake to let you go to see Lee that day,” Mario said. It had been three months. He adjusted his glasses and stared at the table as he spoke. “I think the mistake was in not asking you more about it.”
“More… about it…” I stammered as I scrubbed the lasagna pan. Dinner was amazing--my favorite cheat meal recipe of his… did I not comment enough how much I’d enjoyed it? “Mario, there’s nothing to say. My ex-boyfriend got sentenced to some weird new punishment. What else is there to say about it?”
“A cruel and unusual punishment,” Mario added. I didn’t know how to respond, so he continued: “And being there for his final moments shook something loose in you. I could see it when you got back in the car that day, and you haven’t been okay since.”
“He’s not dead,” I said curtly, using a knife to chisel away some hardened cheese from the pan. “He’s just… probably getting laid a lot. I heard that’s all those guys do. And to be honest? For Lee, that’s not a big change. He’s probably having the time of his life--and in the body of his dreams! Not much of a punishment at all.”
Mario was out of his seat at that moment. He marched up, standing toe to toe to me, and looked up into my eyes. I loved that he was small, that I had all of these muscles and yet he was never intimidated. So much life in that small, sexy body… I winced as he poked me in my abs, then giggled as he pulled my head down to his level. I thought he was going for a kiss, but he turned at the last minute.
“Look, Brooks, I’m not threatened by you caring about your ex,” Mario said sternly. “But you pretending like you don’t… it’s made you cold and shut down. Just talk to me! I’m a goddamned psychologist but I’m also your boyfriend, you know; two great reasons to let me help you deal with what you’re going through.”
I sighed as I rose to my full height again. Mario threw his hands around my midsection and put his head against my stomach. He liked to rub his cheek against my obliques and listen to my belly gurgle. I rubbed a hand through his curly blonde hair. It took me a few seconds to gather up the courage to speak: “It’s just… I mean… is he still in there? Does he know what’s going on? Is he helpless to stop it?”
Mario walked to the freezer and pulled out a bottle of rye whiskey. He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet.
“Mario, c’mon, man… my macros…”
“Have a goddamned half-glass of whiskey with your boyfriend and just talk, okay?” Mario ordered. My dick jumped at his stern tone and I took a seat without another word.
“So I have a colleague who’s doing research on the himbos,” Mario began, but a knock at the door interrupted him. I got up and answered it; Janey, the old woman from down the hall, had some of our mail. She shoved a pile of envelopes in my hand and shuffled away, annoyed.
The first three were junk mail, but the fourth was a brown envelope with a gold seal on the back, addressed to me, from someone named “Reginald Wainwright”--a name I’d never heard before. I looked at it, then up at Mario, trying to figure out which had me more intrigued. My boyfriend won, of course.
“So the himbos, when they’re under the effects of the drug, are aware of everything that’s happening,” Mario explained as he sipped from his glass. I took a gulp of mine and winced at the taste. “And the drug that makes the whole conversion happens stays active the whole time. It reacts to certain brain chemistry--specifically that resulting from humiliation. If the himbos feel enough internal shame about what they’re being made to do, it… supercharges the drug. Makes it stronger, and last longer.”
“Wait…” I said, “So it makes them bigger and dumber?”
“Exactly,” Mario explained. “And these rich assholes who are becoming their patrons all fit the same profile: physically weak, egotistical, sexually frustrated, and intimidated by men of physical prowess. No joke, I researched every known patron of a Himbo since they started implementing the drug, and they’re all the same--especially Lee’s patron. They become patrons because they LOVE humiliating himbos.”
I choked on my sip of rye. “Wait--you know who Lee’s patron is?”
Mario shrugged. “Look, I’ve been against this himbo drug from the start, you know that. Whatever I can do to disrupt this insane new form of punishment… But also, my boyfriend’s been drifting further and further away for the past three months, and won’t talk even though I know what’s bothering him. I figured some answers might help.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if this does help, Mar… I mean, knowing that Lee’s being put through the wringer on purpose, and that it’s turning his brain to mush... “ I shuddered. “God, he did some insider trading! I mean, does he really deserve this?”
“People love to punish big, pretty white guys,” Mario said with a shrug. He reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “But my colleague says there’s a sodium compound that counteracts the effects of the drug. It’s too powerful to be neutralized, but it slows things down and brings the himbos around a bit. The patrons know--they’re supposed to administer this compound to the himbos periodically to reduce the long-term effects of the whole thing, but a lot of them hold out on it.”
I took a moment to process all of this, finally pushing the rye away. I felt like I needed a clear head. “You’re… you’re too good to me,” I said, smiling at Mario. “And I love you. I really do. I just don’t know what to do with any of this.” I got up from the table and walked toward the sink, ready to finish the dishes, dreading the inevitable struggle with sleep getting closer and closer.
“If any of MY ex-boyfriends become a himbo, you’d better be just as understanding,” Mario said with a grin as he clinked the ice cube around his glass. “I was thinking about looking into becoming Lee’s patron. I mean, all we’d have to do is buy out the guy who’s keeping him right now.”
I laughed, dropping a dish into the soapy water. “What, you want him HERE? What do we do, put some cum in a dog bowl and keep him on a leash outside? Take turns fucking him? You changing your mind about three-ways? Or are you just trying to replace me with a bigger dumber version?”
“With enough of that compound, we could keep his persona intact until the sentence was up,” Mario said. “One little act of rebellion against a barbaric system.”
“Sure, maybe, but how much does it cost to buy out a patron?”
Mario shrugged. “I mean, we have that money we set aside for a house… and I have some money my parents gave me for… our wedding…”
I turned slowly to face Mario. “No. Fuck that. We’re not… purchasing my ex-boyfriend with our savings.”
Mario joined me at the sink, drying the dishes as I handed them over. “Then we’ll just have to play the lottery then. Maybe a cool million would convince Reginald to give Lee to us.”
My head snapped at Mario. “Who’s… Reginald?”
“Lee’s patron,” Mario explained. “Reginald Wainwright.”
I spun around, almost entirely forgetting about the envelope.
*
After fifteen minutes at Wainwright manor, I would have believed that the old geezer had a batcave and a secret identity. The place was sprawling, incredibly lavish, and--aside from his staff, and his purchased Himbo--populated only by the elderly, single Wainwright himself.
As a waiter filled my champagne glass, I recognized another of the dozen or so guests mingling about on the blue-tiled deck. Chase, the first guy I found in bed with Lee--the one I forgave him for.
Chase had a beer-belly now, but hadn’t updated his wardrobe since his fitter days; his chubby man-boobs pulled his shirt up enough to reveal the bottom of his paunch every time he lifted his arms. He chugged his champagne in one gulp and trudged up to me. “Brooks! You big bastard. Still roided as hell I see. How you doing? You come here to see Lee too?”
“I was… invited…” I said, my posture going rigid as Chase pawed at my back.
“Yeah, no shit--we all were!” Chase pointed at a twinkish man with a faux-hawk chatting with two older gentleman across the deck. “That guy over there told me he sucked Lee’s dick back when Lee was a college football stud!”
I gritted my teeth, my hand gripping the phone in my pocket. Mario told me he’d be just outside the grounds, motor running. All I had to do was text if I needed to get out of there.
I surveyed the guests; most of them were men in their 60s and 70s, but a couple dozen seemed to be gay men around my age. I assumed the geezers were Wainwright’s buddies while the rest of us were Lee’s rogue’s gallery. How much money had Wainwright put forth in one big attempt to humiliate Lee? There was a full jazz band playing nonstop and a staff of twelve working constantly. A hundred grand, maybe?
“How did he find us all?” I asked no one in particular. “I mean… how did he know who we all were?”
“I bet Wainwright just made him give up all the names. Every himbo’s gotta do what his patron asks! They can’t fucking help themselves. I guess Wainwright makes Lee sleep at the foot of his bed like a damned dog,” Chase explained before belching. “Old fuck makes Lee ride his dick, then lick him clean. Makes him cook in the nude, too. I wonder if Lee has any burns on his big dick?”
I bristled at the commentary, wanting to be anywhere Chase wasn’t. But in this company, there was no escape from scumbags; either old perverts who got off on Lee’s state, or bitter old flames desperate to see him at his worst.
The band went silent just before Wainwright and Lee stepped out on the deck. Lee was naked except for a huge leather collar, his big dick tightly locked. I blinked as I tried to remember his size the last time I’d seen him. He was nearly 6’7” tall now, his body swollen with power. He looked big as a grizzly bear, every inch of him tan, rippling muscles. The deck actually shook as Lee stomped across it.
“Gentlemen!” Wainwright, a pudgy old fucker with a thick white moustache, gestured to his giant, muscular pet. “May I present the most disappointing thing I own, the most desperate and whorish beast on earth--but you all knew that, didn’t you?
The crowd cheered and Lee, with a dazed look in his eyes and a dopey grin, clapped his hands idiotically and bucked his hips. The metallic contraption keeping his manhood contained clanked as it swung from his groin. Lee fell forward and did a one-handed pushup (as much as he could, before his giant pec meat hit the floor), then pressed back up and wiggled his gigantic rear end in the air. He looked as wide as a minivan.
A withered old man who may have been the oldest guy there marched up to Lee, slapped him across the face, and jammed an open bottle of champagne between Lee’s gargantuan glutes. The big dope let out a loud, “MOOOOOO!” before doing a handstand. He shivered, making his big pecs jiggle, as his ass filled with the icy bubbly.
“Y’know, he moos when he’s horny sometimes,” Chase explained, putting an arm around my shoulder that I quickly slapped away. “Twisted kinky fuck. He ever do that with you?”
Of course he had--and up until that moment, I thought it was a private secret that only I knew.
Chase tore away from me, hustling across the deck toward the massive man undulating for the crowd. Lee stood up, pulling the champagne bottle from his ass with a loud POP before hurtling it into the sky. It probably landed a couple miles away. He danced, flexing his massive arms the way he used to back in his gogo boy days.
The twink from Lee’s college days straddled the big lug’s face, shoving his dick into the willing mouth. As Lee sucked, Chase struggled to climb up Lee’s massive back. Two other men helped Chase into position. The dumpy fuck fiddled with his belt before pulling down his pants entirely to go to town on Lee’s enormous cakes. There was no way Chase’s little dick got past all that muscle to even come near Lee’s hole, but the buffalo-sized man bucked and mooed as if he were being fucked within an inch of his life.
“He’s performing,” I said aloud as I watched him. “He’s not liking this. He’s doing it for the crowd.”
“The crowd’s reaction is what he lives for,” responded a gruff voice to my side. I turned to see Wainwright, lighting a cigar. He puffed a huge cloud into my face. “He’s no longer about his own pleasure anymore. He’s only about the pleasure of others--the more humiliating, the better.”
“He doesn’t want to be humiliated,” I countered. Deep down, I knew I should keep my cool--I had a plan, I tried to remind myself--but I wanted to rip his moustache off his smug face. “He’s only doing that because you want him to.”
Wainwright smiled. “Brooks, I have to say, I was surprised you accepted my invitation, but overjoyed at the same time.”
I glanced over at Lee, who was now spattered in the come of half a dozen men, smearing it over his chest as he did bodyweight squats to the delight of the crowd, twisting his nipples and mooing.
“I’m not getting off on this the way everyone else is,” I explained. “I know, Lee was a real dirtbag, but… I don’t take joy in his downfall the way all of you do.”
Wainwright bounced his eyebrows. “My friend, let me be abundantly clear: I don’t give a fuck about Lee--his downfall, or anything else about him. When this is over I’ll purchase a new himbo and move on. I won’t even remember his name. What I love is cocky, impudent men like him having to feel what it’s like to be powerless for once. All those arrogant muscles can’t save them from the shame everyone else has to carry around.”
“You trying to tell me you know what it’s like to be powerless?” I said, my fists balling up. I had to get control--but I couldn’t. “Wealthy privileged fuck like you? What happened to you? Did you fall in love for some hooker who just saw you as a paycheck? What made you a fucking monster like this?”
Wainwright exhaled a massive cloud right into my face. “You are everything I hoped you’d be,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head. The way he looked my body up and down made my pulse spike even more. “I’m going to have a staffmember collect you in a bit. Do me a favor and go with him. I have a private offer for you.”
“You can take your offer and--” I froze. I felt the weight of the small canister in my pocket--the sodium compound that would return Lee’s senses--and forced myself to disengage. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I think I had a little to much champagne.”
Wainwright was unphased by my anger. His chins jiggled as he chuckled at me. “Just come when you’re called, understood?” He walked across the deck, snapping his fingers at Lee, who was now lying on his back, arms out, as a guy straddling his abs pec-fucked him.
“My beloved pet needs a rest,” Wainwright explained. “And he needs a shower too. He loves to smell of other men’s spunk, but I won’t allow him on the couch while he does. We shall return!”
The crowd moaned and booed, but I knew none of them would be leaving until Lee was back, submitting to their wishes.
Just as Wainwright said, a butler approached me minutes later, asking me to follow. He took me inside the house, down a long hallway, into an elevator. We stopped on the third floor of Wainwright’s mansion and I was brought to a bedroom.
I saw Lee lying there blindfolded with his hands and feet handcuffed to each corner of the bed. He was drooling with a dildo the size of a thermos buzzing violently in his ass. I expected the butler to come in with me, but instead he shut the door behind me. I was alone with Lee.
This was as much about punishing me as it was Lee, I knew. I don’t know if Wainwright expected me to face fuck my ex in his helpless state or to just feel so much trauma at the sight of him--trauma I’m sure Lee would feel as well if he knew I were there. I didn’t care. This was incredible luck; time alone with Lee I thought I’d have to wait hours for.
The dildo was jammed pretty tightly in his ass. It took all my strength to yank it out, like pulling a cork out of a wine bottle. The big guy’s body went slack once it was out, his smile slowly fading. “Fuck… I feel so damned… EMPTY… god, I wish I were stuffed full again!” he said in a deeper voice than I remembered. He was a full head-and-a-half taller than me now, hundreds of pounds heavier. I felt so small next to him there. I wasted no time pulling out the syringe containing the sodium compound and jamming it into his pec meat.
I had no idea how long it would take to bring him around, so I just climbed up on the bed, wiped the drool from his mouth, and snuggled up against his pecs, listening to his big heart pounding away behind pillow-sized chest muscles.
A buzzing sound from the corner of the room made me jump. “Aw, look how sweet you two look.” It was Wainwright. “I don’t know what you were hoping to accomplish. Lee’s lost in there. His himbo personality has only gotten stronger since he became my property. Whatever is left of Lee is buried so deeply, whatever you gave him won’t save him.”
“Fuck, I’m horny…” Lee whimpered, thrusting his locked dick in the air and grinding his big ass against the bed. “Please, stick something in one of my holes… MOOOOOOOOOO!”
“The reason I invited you here, my friend, is because I’m willing to transfer my patronage of that overgrown imbecile. A man named Mario Zeimetz approached me recently, inquiring about how much it would cost to take over patronage of big Lee there. I did a little research--you happen to know this Mario, don’t you?”
My mouth hung open. Lee shuddered beneath me.
“At first I turned Mr. Zeimetz’s offer down, but it got me thinking… and I would be willing to offer a trade. If you would willingly submit as my new himbo, Brooks, I would gladly sign over Lee to Mr. Zeimetz. What do you think? Your beloved would be free. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you came here?”
“Why are you doing this?” I said, shaking my head, although I knew the answer. He was bored with Lee. He wanted a new toy. Converting me would punish us both. “I haven’t committed a crime,” I added. “You can’t make me a himbo.”
“I have friends,” buzzed the speaker. “I have all the access in the world.” The bedroom door popped open and the butler who had brought me there entered with a syringe and a folder. “Sign that document and receive your injection and I’ll have Lee packed up and shipped to Mr. Zeimetz immediately. What do you say? You could end Lee’s suffering in one easy move. I’m not sure what you were planning to do otherwise--did you want to escape? Stealing my property--that would most certainly have resulted in you ending up on the receiving end of that injection anyway.”
Lee twitched. His breathing was ragged. Something was happening.
The butler approached. He produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the shackles binding Lee to the bed. He slid off Lee’s blindfold. The big man blinked, confused and bleary-eyed.
“My assistant there has been instructed to unlock Lee’s massive dick as soon as you’ve signed that paperwork,” Wainwright continued. “Oh, just imagine the relief that would give him! He’s been locked and teased and fucked like a big sissy bottom for so long. Do you think he’s forgotten he’s a man at all? How can you be a man when your dick isn’t yours?”
My jaw was clenched as I signed the paper. Lee was moaning softly. I tossed the pen furiously when I was finished, then stood and bent over the bed. “Just fucking do it,” I commanded.
Lee groaned. He rubbed an eye and seemed to snap to attention. “Brooks? Baby?” he asked, tears forming in his eyes.
The injection was already in my ass. I climbed up on the bed, throwing myself into Lee’s gargantuan arms, and let him hold me, crushing me against his enormous pecs. I thought he would crush the breath out of me. I heard the tinkling of a lock as the restrictor on Lee’s dick fell away, setting a big floppy cock free.
We were kissing then, grinding our hips against each other. There was a buzzing in the back of my head. My muscles all felt pumped, rock hard… just like my dick. Lee didn’t seem quite as big anymore. Was he shrinking? Did the sodium compound fully counteract the himbo drug?
No. I was growing. And a haze fell over my senses. I felt a bubbling in my gut, like a laugh I was desperate to let out. Every cell in my body started vibrate. Fuck, I was so horny. I wanted to fuck Lee so badly--split his big ass in half! But I felt deft fingers affixing something cold around my dick. Before I knew it, I was locked. A collar was strapped around my neck before I could do anything to stop it.
I should stand up, I knew--grab that scrawny butler and snap him in half! But I couldn’t. I was so horny. So horny and so needy. Fuck, I would do anything. Anything! I just needed to move… and flex… and I wanted to take load after load after load… Soon I was riding Lee’s enormous dick. Fuck, it was so big! But the pain felt like pleasure.
Everything felt like pleasure.
It took all of Wainwright’s staff to pull Lee and I apart. We were like rutting Clydesdales, locked together. But as soon as Lee was gone, my heartbreak was drowned out by the buzzing in my head. I eyed up each member of Wainwright’s staff. I couldn’t wait to ride every one of their dicks.
I could smell their sweat. I was thirsty to suck on their balls. God, I couldn’t wait to perform every humiliating little trick Wainwright demanded of me.
Deep down, in a voice that got fainter and fainter, I tried to remind myself who I was. I hoped Lee had gotten to Mario, that they were both safe. I wondered if anyone would come back to rescue me.
Then again… as I found myself on all fours, ready to pleasure a dozen men at once… Did I even care?
Comments
Gwahar
Sweet
