Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2017 00:33:44 +0000 (UTC) From: Abra Cadabra Subject: Ten Rings Part 4 **************** Chapter 4/4 **************** Clay had tugged his dick into the hem of his thong again to make it a little less obvious. He really didn't need anyone calling the cops or straight up attacking him. One thing he realized only now was how much the tan added to his humiliation. With the tan line strongly indicating a thong shaped not quite like the one he was wearing, it left no way to make people think he only wore this for a lost bet or something. No, the lines made it seem obvious it had been his regular fashion for a long time. Of course very few people were going to even notice them, since the shackles and the collar were probably the much more unusual items on him. Oh, and the rainbow braid. There was so much to hate about the game, the teen wished for nothing more than things to go back to normal. He'd have to deal with some fallout from the pics he had put online but if he looked nothing like the guy in the pictures it might be easy to pretend he was someone else. The gas station – and hopefully player 1 – was only a block or so from his position. He slowed down to catch his breath. The excessive, unstoppable sweat he had been `gifted' didn't seem to dehydrate him, but he was getting thirsty again after running for a while. His bladder was filling up, too. Speaking over the demonic music, the voice startled the boy. Yes, please. Clay was ready to do anything if it meant ending the game quickly. Why would he choose that? If necessary he'd beat a forfeit out of his opponent. So if Clay did the most push-ups it wouldn't matter if he failed at the other two. The smart way was to pick two and go all out and only do a few of the third one. This way he'd... Unless player 1 did the third one and somehow outdid Clay in either of the ones the boy had focused on. The best way was... Was there a `best way'? Maybe he should- Clay saw the gas station. He raced the rest of the way there. If he could convinced the guy to forfeit together with him they'd both end the game and no one had to do exercises. There was nobody at the station. Well, that wasn't true. There were a few people but they refilled their car in perfectly normal ways, not wearing the `uniform' of this cruel game. Of course, if player 1 was in the area he wouldn't do the task in plain sight since that wasn't required this time. Behind the station was a corrugated iron fence, hiding from sight what appeared to be a pile of broken cars and car parts. Clay decided to start looking there. If he couldn't find player 1 in the vicinity he'd do two of the exercises, although he probably had only five minute left by now. Maybe he'd get lucky. Under the gaze of people filling their tanks, the teen marched to the fence, climbed on top of a box and looked over it. Jackpot. There was a guy, at the far end, doing squats. He was hard to see but clearly wore white clothes – dusty sneakers, a thong and a snapback. He had the mohawk and the tan. He was obviously drenched in sweat, shining in the early afternoon sun. With his back toward Clay, the man didn't show his piercings but they were certainly there. Just as the teen swung himself over the iron barrier, he was noticed by the opponent. Player 1 bailed. Why would he do that? Oh, of course. He didn't have an `attorney' to tell him that meeting up was a good idea and probably assumed Clay was here to get rid of competition. He wasn't really wrong but running away was still making things unnecessarily difficult. "Hey, wait!" Clay shouted but his hoarse voice didn't manage to reach the man, who vanished out of sight. It was likely that the loud hell-party-remix in both their heads kept him from registering anything not shouted at close distance. "Fuck." "What!?" Oh right, that had been an option. Use rings to hurt the other guy. It seemed stupid to sacrifice their victory points this way so Clay had never entertained the idea. The teen cried out as electroshocks shot through his spine. The collar had turned into a torture device, giving him pure pain at irregular intervals. Running was impossible like this. He'd be sent to the ground by a random spasm. Clay lost control of his bladder and turned his thong transparent with piss. Not that it mattered. The sweat had done a lot of that work already. He couldn't catch up. Unless... If he made player 1 join the `alliance of forfeiters' he didn't need rings. "Hello, game people? Do you hear-" A shock made him flex his torso involuntarily and he almost lost balance. "Do you hear me?" "I want to restrain player 1. Can you do that for a ring?" Great, he could catch up after all. Clay began to make his way across the improvised junkyard to the hole in the fence on the other side where his opponent had slipped through. Wait what? He only needed the guy in place until he got to him. There was no need to- Clay staggered as the restrains appeared. A rose gold chain connected his ankle shackles, which left his steps shortened. Now he couldn't even walk briskly. He need to add another restraints. "Just... Do something to keep him in place. I'll give up another ring." Hopefully he wouldn't respond at all until Clay reached him. The boy was at the hole and climbed through to emerge into a fenced-in concrete parking lot. Player 1 was squatting on the ground at the end, pretty far away. He must have raced at top speed. That guy was fit. Regardless, he was pinned down at that moment with his balls just above the asphalt. Clay was going to catch up. Tiny steps were all he could take but they would suffice. "What the fuck!? No! No no no. Fuck that. You take this back right the hell now. Do you hear me? You're kidding, right?" There was no answer, but Clay had the impression that the music was turned up in volume. "All right. Fuck that guy." He wasn't close enough to spot details but apparently player 1 was still trying to get away, now dragging himself behind a car and out of sight. "I got enough rings left. I'll use one to make his tattoos permanent. Do I get that?" Clay was in the position to see around the car, but player 1 was gone. Where had the bastard hidden now? There was movement between other cars, so he hobbled over there. Yes, tan skin and white fabric were flashing from the space between vehicles. The chains made it impossible to move quietly, but he could rely on the music to drown out any sound anyway. "Fuck. I'll do the same to him." He was down to three rings. He wouldn't get the guy to forfeit together, he'd just beat him into forfeiting alone and taking the punishment of losing. Now the opponent was right to run away but he had brought it upon himself. "Same. To. Him." Clay caught up but the guy noticed him and without looking back, bailed to the best of his abilities. It was a slow race from hiding spot to hiding spot, always getting closer to the parking lot exit where the opponent would probably try to run off to somewhere else. The thin chain between Clay's ankles broke and snapped upward under his thong. It slid through the guiche ring and reforged itself into a whole. It didn't get any longer, though, so Clay was pulled down on the ground, walking with his knees fully bent. It hurt quickly and the shocks made his balance a lot more precarious so he was moving at a snail's pace. "Same to him, for fuck's sake." "What do you mean-" His tongue was pulled out. A chain appeared on it and split as it grew to run to his nipple rings where it attached. The chain was short enough to keep his tongue stretched out while still pulling his nipples up. Only one thing gave him consolation – player 1 was getting the exact same treatment. All chains vanished. On the boy and the man alike, giving back their full range of motion. Everything else stayed on. Clay stood up on legs that almost refused to support his weight. He'd finally get to look into his opponent's face – he'd finally get to spit into that fucking face. The man turned around and... "Clay?" It took a second for Clay to register why the face was familiar. He wasn't exactly used to seeing it the way it was now. "Dad?" The son stared at his father in silence. An electroshock tore him out of his lack of thoughts. "We..." he started, "we can end this if we forfeit in the same round and-" Clays' tongue was pulled out of his mouth again but no chain appeared. Instead the pull dragged him along toward his father. The man's mouth was similarly opened and the moment their tongues connected, the ring piercings on them linked together so they were forced to french. The same force now pushed their tongues back into their mouths, making their lips meet. Their sweaty skin slapped together. As much as they tried to brace against each other, it was impossible for their dicks not to touch occasionally. Clay was deeply ashamed at the involuntary shivers of erotic energy he felt whenever his dickhead was stimulated by stroking along his father's tool. In total terror the pair stood uselessly around, breath hot on each other's face. Their shifting and struggling only made it look more like a make-out session to onlookers. And there were onlookers now. The mall on the other side of the lot was releasing an insane amount of people trying to remember where they had parked their cars and every single one was forced to drive by the pair of kissing men at the exit. Their age difference was obvious as was their extreme perverse nature with all the sweat making the thongs basically see through. The father grabbed Clay's lower back and pulled him close, their wet skin smacking together. It prevented people from seeing their hard dicks, but did nothing to help otherwise, now also adding stimulation to the boy's nipple and belly button rings, plus basically masturbating along each other's rippling abs. , the voice said over the music which had only gotten louder. Their tongues detached and Clay shoved himself away as if his father was on fire. He was pushed to the ground by the familiar invisible force. "Dad, I think we need to-" His father was suddenly above him, looking down, and then got turned around so they were head to toe. The man was lowered and at the same time Clay felt his tongue get pulled out again and his thong pulled aside. Before he could turn his head away, his dad's dick was shoved into the boy's mouth all the way in to the balls. Simultaneously, the man's mouth received the full length of his son's dick. Now Clay was pressed against his father above him, who laid on top with his full weight. They were sixty-nining. As soon as the force stopped, Clay pushed away but his tongue ring was now connected to his father's guiche piercing by a short little chain, wrapped around the dick. It was impossible to pull more than halfway out. Their gagging and chocking even drowned out the music a little. It had to be impossible to ignore for anyone watching them. An electroshock from his collar made him spasm upward and caused his father's dick to hit his throat in just the right way to trigger his gag reflex beyond anything he had experienced so far. Retching wildly, the boy cried into the flesh gag.