Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/turntable-rehabilitation-services/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Included dominant/submissive, BDSM and coercive sex between men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like but I will write you into the nasty bits of a future story if you flame me. Donate to Nifty TODAY at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
"Suck it up, boy, literally. Use your tongue and lips, Pee-Pee Boy, but you want to make damn sure it's clean. There are worse things that anal orgasms..." It takes me perhaps 15 minutes, lapping and slurping up a mixture of my sweat, my cum, and my constantly-dripping tears. Train Wreck is finally satisfied and yells, "Runner!" I am barely aware and can look at nothing but the floor that I'd so recently been licking. "Code 73764. And he reeks. Get him hosed before lunch, please."
***** Turntable Rehabilitation Services 8: Taking a Break
By Bear Pup
M+;
[Author's Note: Pee-Pee Boy is going to take a short holiday. I'm tired of listening to him whine, but we can't just leave him in limbo, now can we...?]
Train Wreck is right, my stench even offends my own nose. Runner takes me to a new door. Inside is a tiled expanse, easily larger than any gym or YMCA I've ever seen. There are showerheads and hoses along the walls. In the centre is a huge metal grate. Runner takes me over to the grate and attaches my wrist restraints to something hanging just above.
He kicks my feet apart and moves behind where I can't see him. I sigh in relief when he pulls out the ass-pacifier. Suddenly, something icy cold grabs my balls and I squeal. He moved away and whatever it is, a cold, heavy metal ring of sorts, freezing against my sensitive nuts leaving me breathless. I groan out long and at just the wrong time. Without warning of any kind, my nuts are WRENCHED downwards. I don't have the breath to scream and hear a click as Runner clips something between the ball-buster and the grate.
I can't stand straight, but the wrist restraints prevent me from crouching. I twist and contort looking for a comfortable position. There is none. I am about to weep with the effort when my arms and nuts become the least of my worries.
I shriek as a blast of icy water hits me, playing up and down my body. I twirl with the force of it, wrenching my nuts harder than ever. When the spray hits my distended sac, my screams are actually louder than the cold rush of water.
Just as suddenly, it stops.
I am sobbing, hanging from my aching shoulders, I am given no real respite. Runner is now holding what looks for all the world like a weed-sprayer or power-washer. It is, horribly, more of the latter. A thick, soapy foam erupts from the tip, driving into every crevice of my body. Runner spends a lot of time on my ass crash and hole, and I can feel the water penetrating into my canal. His work on my pits is equally-thorough, but he spends a long and brutal time on my nuts.
A freezing rinse comes next and I am exhausted, barely conscious. A loud beeping rings from Runner's tablet and he sets the spray-hose aside. I hang and pant. Runner enters some info, some sort of acknowledgement. He looks at me like he's a boy who thought he'd finished cleaning his room only to have Mom point out the mess in the closet.
Runner moves to the other side and takes out another sprayer. He comes behind me and my face is suddenly covered with a black, form-fitting, hard-plastic mask. I can feel him buckle it place. I find that I can breathe through my nose as air is forced in.
I feel the new spray, gentle and foamy, starting at my scalp and covering every part of me other than my mask-covered face. It feels slimy, itchy. Slowly, it builds from mild warmth to squirming wand finally to crawling, burning, scraped-raw sensations. I am unable to scream as the mask holds my mouth shut tight, but long to do so.
The icy cold and powerful hose is almost -- almost -- welcome as it seems to rip the slime away, taking what feels like a layer of skin with it. Finally, a shockingly-soothing mist comes into play before the mask comes off.
I feel the agonising chain that ties my nuts to the grate disengage just as my wrist restraints drop form the bar. I lay in a crumpled heap, nearly unable to think. I feel Runner attach a lead to my now-coupled wrists and find the energy to stumble upright at his insistence. I stagger behind him, not knowing or caring where I will end up next.
Before I really know what's happening, I am standing, braced around the waist, in a dimly lit area facing a concrete wall a couple of feet away.
I jump with that sinister voice at my ear. "Well, Pee-Pee Boy, welcome to your vacation home. We've decided to interrupt your planned rehabilitation programme as we check some of the... unique readings we've gotten, especially after Train Wreck's report. Don't worry, though, you won't be bored."
I look down and see that I am held upright by a loop that comes out like a bubble-blower from the wall, encircling my waist. Remarkably comfortable pads hold me in place with no chafing or rubbing at all. My arms are attached to leads that run upwards, leaving my hands roughly at head level. I can feel my ankles are spread perhaps a foot further than shoulder-width, making standing perfectly comfortable if a bit stretched. I look down to see is I can see them and shout in alarm.
Every single hair is missing. My chest, pits, belly -- utterly smooth, devoid of everything. "That's right, Pee-Pee Boy, we've gotten rid of all that hair. Men have hair, Pee-Pee Boy, so what would the use be to have any on something like you? Don't worry, though, it will itch like crazy as it comes back. Oh. I know you can see it, but you might feel some chill around your clit? You are in a cock cage as you really won't need to come for the foreseeable future. An oh MY won't it feel special when the hair starts growing there."
A light flashes above me and I see a sign has come to life on the wall above. 'Please Tease the Animal'. I open my mouth to scream and a mask similar to the one in the shower is suddenly there. A tube sticks into my mouth, cutting off any further noise and earplugs cut everything off but the sound of that fucking queer's voice.
"That tube will give you the food and water you require. Tip. Breathe through your nose. Oh, and whenever someone wants to give you instructions, they'll speak into the microphone like I'm doing now. I would suggest that you listen closely, Pee-Pee Boy, and do your best to cooperate. It won't make your life better, but perhaps a teensy bit less horrible?
"One last note. To get you started since there aren't a lot folks using this hallway so early in the day, I've worked up a special present just for you. This little vibrating butt plug is a lot smaller than the ones you've been using, but the addition of itching powder should more than make up for the lack of girth. Goodbye, Pee-Pee Boy, and have a nice... well, however long you're here."
I feel the plug enter me. I can't scream. I can't curse. Tears just make the mask slide around. And then my universe becomes a tingle at my asslips... then a tickling, then a prickle, then a screaming, desperate itch that I would sell my soul to stop.
I am taking a break from this series for a while. It has always been way outside my comfort zone, even with the wondrous ideas that several of you sent me. Please feel free to keep feeding me ideas on Pee-Pee Boy's rehabilitation for when I circle back to the story line.
Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Karl & Greg: 17 chapters .../incest/karl-and-greg/ Canvas Hell: 15 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 7 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 7 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Mud Lark Holler: 6 chapters .../rural/mud-lark-holler/
On hiatus starting 01 Mar 2017: Turntable Rehab: 8 chapters .../authoritarian/turntable-rehabilitation-services/