Date: Sat, 01 Feb 2003 03:47:26 +0000
From: Bryan Thompson <bryanthompson776@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Getting in Shape"

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.