Chapter 7
After my dips, he led me to a weight bench again. After he'd finished tying my arms and legs to the weight bench, he announced. "I'm going to take the gag out long enough for you to say one thing and one thing only. I've got my other hand on your balls in case you try or say anything you shouldn't!"
He undid the tape and pulled the soaked jock strap out and all I could think of to gasp was "Give me a drink!"
He replaced the jock as promised and then said. "Well, first I'll have to check your chart to see what your dietary restrictions are. Let's see," he paused, checked his chart and I noticed him adjusting his crotch as he did. I still couldn't even believe I was looking there.
"You are on a strict, low calorie, high protein supplement, liquid testosterone diet" he said, "Oh, and it is to be administered orally." And with that, he pulled down his workout shorts, revealing a large, swollen male organ. That pervert had been looking at my dick all night, but this was the first look I'd gotten at his. "You can either drink my cum, or else go onto to the next exercise with nothing to drink." He said, then without waiting for my answer, he pulled the jockstrap out of my mouth and shoved his engorged penis right in. I struggled with all my might to get away. "Touch me with your teeth and I'll rip your dick off with my bare hands" he warned, and somehow I was afraid he meant it.
I couldn't think of a thing to do as he began to face fuck me. What the hell was going on? A few hours ago I was a happy, straight, engaged, regular fat guy. Now I found myself with a dick in my mouth for the first time in my life, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I was on the verge of crying out of sheer frustration and hatred as Christopher's balls pounded my chin, when a strange thing happened. I began to enjoy it.
Moments later my captor exploded in my mouth. I tried to spit out most of his cum. "That will have to do you until your morning feeding time." he laughed. "Its bedtime now big boy. And no, I know what you are thinking, but sorry, the guests don't get to sleep with the staff. Here are your choices, just so you get in the hang of how it works around here. I can leave you tied to that weight bench for the night, or for 100 sit-ups I'll put you in the weight cage and let you sleep on a mat, untied. Which will it be big boy?"
My body ached so badly I was sure I could sleep even on that weight bench, but I knew I needed time to think and a good night of sleep to plot my escape from this nightmare and to get back to my straight life before this faggot succeeded in converting me to the other side! "Sit-ups?" he asked and I nodded my head. Without putting his own clothes back on, he untied me from the bench and led me over to a mat nearby. "Lie down" he ordered. Still naked as a jaybird, I lay down on the mat and he kneeled down in front of me with his knees on my feet. "Let's build in a little reward." he teased "Each time you sit up, you get to see my dick!" I eventually did the 100 sit-ups, getting a big face full of Chris's dick every time I sat up.
"OK, you've earned a night in our presidential suite!" he crowed. Then he led me back to the front of the facility where he opened a small caged storage area with a two-inch thick blue mat on the floor. The cage was about 8 ft by 4 ft. wide and about 6 ft high. He unlocked the door, patted me on my bare ass and said "Sweet dreams" as he shoved me in. I immediately pulled the tape loose and the jock strap out and said "Wait, I've gotta take a piss, man." He nodded to a large jar in the corner of the cage and said "Go for it." then walked out, the door slamming and locking ominously behind him.
Chapter 8
My plans to plot an escape had vanished because I fell asleep almost immediately upon lying down. I'd been up for over 36 hours, gotten the workout of my life, had a sexual encounter with another man, and not eaten anything (except a little cum) for at least a day. When I awoke later I had no idea if it was day or night. I kept hoping it had all been a nightmare, but no, indeed I was waking up held captive in a cage, wearing only leather wrist cuffs and, yes, a morning hard-on. I had never felt more hungry, more stiff and sore in my life. As soon as I overcame my groggy start, I looked around at my prison and tried to clear my head to try and think of how to escape from this mess. I was afraid if I rattled the metal sides of the cage I'd summon Christopher. There didn't appear to be any way out. Just then I heard the keys in the lock. A moment later Christopher burst through the door yelling, "Rise and Shine! On your feet twinkie!"
"OK, we'll start with your morning weigh-in, a male protein treatment for breakfast, and then back to exercising. Today you'll have a chance to earn a pillow to sleep with tonight. Each day you'll have a chance to earn comfort rewards. But you'll really have to work to earn it. Do you need your smelly jockstrap duck-taped into your mouth, or can you keep that big yap of yours shut? We don't have time for me to argue with you about whether you like my methods or not. I have no intention of you not meeting your program goals and me not getting the rest of my money." He declared. "So what'll it be? No talking permitted if I leave the gag out." I nodded my agreement. As if sensing my next thought (how does he DO that?) he said "And no, you cannot wear your jock instead, but you can eventually earn work out clothes."
He led me out of the cage and to the scale. Much to my surprise I'd already lost three pounds--probably due to dehydration though. He'd have to let me drink something soon, or else I wouldn't even be able to work out. He said, "You'll start out tied to the weight bench again." He tied me down and declared, "Protein treatment" and before I knew it, I had his thick cock down my throat again. This time, for some reason, I didn't even bother to spit out his cum. This didn't go unnoticed by my tormentor. "See, man-juice isn't so bad once you get used to it, is it? You'll start to look forward to it soon, as you are on a strict cum-only diet. No solid food for you lard ass!" I was glad to have anything down my parched throat.
And so the days unfolded in Chris's fitness program. Somehow I became kind of numbed to the embarrassment and the rigorous work-out schedule. His whole gymnasium was rigged in such a reverse resistance way that I on nearly every exercise station I was forced to choose between intense torture to my bound balls or cock, or clamped nipples. You haven't really done a push up until you've done one of Chris's. They are a lot like regular push-ups except that your ball sac is bound with leather straps and pulled through the back of your legs, then the straps are hooked to an overhead rigging. Thus, when you end the push up in what would normally be the relaxed, on the ground position, your nuts feel as though they are going to be ripped right off of your body, the only way to alleviate the mind-numbing pain is to do another push-up--surprisingly effective.
Chris face-fucked me 2-3 times a day. The second day he also began giving me protein supplement drinks as well. But as he declared, "Just these commercial products are not enough, my cum is part of the secret of my program." I was convinced he was criminally insane and spent my few free moments plotting which I'd do first when and if I got away from him, call the police, the padded wagon, or just get a gun myself and shoot him for kidnapping, torture, and lewd behavior.
By the end of the second week I had earned a pillow, blanket, a couple of showers and orange juice. He also teased me by allowing me to earn a pair of lace-up work out shorts like he wore. How I longed to have something to cover up and protect my dick, balls and ass. I never got used to always having to be naked in front of him. But when he brought me the shorts I'd worked and strained so hard for three days, they were size 31 waist, I couldn't even get them pulled up! He thought it was hilarious, I was furious. Nonetheless, I had also lost twenty pounds and even I could see the difference in my arm muscles and leaner waist. I hadn't seen in a mirror in two weeks though. In fact I hadn't seen anything except my cage, the exercise equipment, and Chris's half-naked body that he seemed to find regular excuses to parade in front of me and shove in my face. I continued to struggle with my feelings toward him. We never conversed. I'd spoken to him without permission once in the first week and earned another day wearing a gag. But in a strange way, his bizarre combination of roles: captor, coach, and encourager, brought me such conflicting emotions. He was hard not to like. He was funny, energetic, and so damn good- looking. Every day he'd go back and forth between sadistically torturing & humiliating me and tenderly massaging and encouraging me.
"Man, you are starting to look so hot!" he started to say in the second week, I can see such a change in you already! Look at those bi's and tri's!" he'd exclaim, then he'd caress the developing muscles on my back, arms, and chest. "Looking good man!"
During the third week during our morning ritual of weigh-in, instructions, and forced blowjob, Chris cryptically proclaimed that today I would be working for the best prize yet. "This is something different, special, and something you'll never forget." I couldn't imagine what he meant. I was wondering if I'd get to call my girlfriend, or have a real meal finally. I was dying to ask him what it was, but by now I'd gotten used to the rule against speaking. I worked extra hard all day, I was both intrigued and a little frightened by what the prize would be. Most days Chris would disappear for parts of the day. He'd leave me with strict instructions and sometimes an exercise video to complete. Early on, I'd searched for ways to escape, but I'd long since given that up. I felt trapped in some kind of a time warp by now. What was my girlfriend thinking? My old life felt like it was in some other universe. I could hardly remember what it felt like to be free and on the outside. Was this what prison was like? Did I hate it still? I wasn't sure anymore. I was accomplishing my goal, as Chris had promised. I found myself strangely drawn to him by the third week and was no longer pondering what I'd do to him after I got out. That evening, when Chris returned, he was carrying a duffel bag. Without comment he put me through an unusually rigorous workout. I thought we were never going to finish. Finally he told me I'd earned a shower in addition to my special treat. He sent me into the shower stall. "When you come out, I'll tell you what your surprise is," he promised.