index


Message-ID: <51134asstr$1115687405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: nialos@yahoo.com
Mime-Version: 1.0
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 9 May 2005 23:24:26 +0000 (UTC)
User-Agent: G2/0.2
Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com
Injection-Info: o13g2000cwo.googlegroups.com; posting-host=24.176.133.96;
   posting-account=rbcflg0AAACYNrM68pD62TXuH5QfPzLK
Subject: {ASSM} Pain Factor Part 4 by Platypus (MMMF/mmmm, mast, cbt, medical pain)
Lines: 677
Date: Mon,  9 May 2005 21:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

I'm posting this story at the request of and with the permission of the
author, Platypus.  It is an entry in the Spartan Boys Story Festival
and is archived at my site at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/nialos/www/spartan_boys.html

* * *

Pain Factor Part 4 by Platypus (MMMF/mmmm, mast, cbt, medical pain)
by Platypus
plupy@surfbest.net

copyright 2005 by Platypus, all rights reserved

* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY.  It contains
explicit  depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If
you are not of  a legal age in your locality to view such
material or if such  material does not appeal to you, do not
read further, and do not save this story.
* * * * *

Freshly scrubbed and showered, dressed in their short-
sleeved light blue cotton shirts and each wearing a Navy
blue clip on tie, matching dark gray dress pants, and on
this strangely formal occasion shod in dark blue socks and
black leather dress shoes, it certainly could be said that
Andrew, Peter, John, and Steven were "all dressed up with no
place to go." It wasn't the boys' funerals but somehow it
cast the same pale. The word 'ordeal' buzzed through the
contestants' heads in the manner of wasps chasing
sugarplums. They were THERE   in the examination area kept
by Dr. Talmadge   cement painted white revealing bunkered
ceiling to floor, a bevy of bright 150-watt bulbs overhead
and illuminating the adjoining "little rooms" that didn't
even have doors. Craig L. Nelson the announcer was present
too, in all his glory, his assistance calculated to drum up
closed circuit rating points while stirring up his sadistic
audience to a renewed fever pitch. This examining of boys
was being milked for every bit of drama. Droning into a
hand-held mike, "The Pain Factor studio and soundstage is
directly above us," Nelson reminded the boys, "but before we
can begin, Dr. Talmadge will examine each of you to see if
you can continue in the contest." At that second Nelson
peered into a camera that seemed hidden within the big
room's nearest wall. Talmadge was there, standing in green
med scrubs while twirling a stethoscope between his thumbs
and forefingers, looking taciturn and "evil as usual"
(John's thoughts precisely)   and so was a second tall,
Dracula-like figure with a gaunt face and bloodshot eyes,
and also a third doctor, fem fatale   who as it turned out
was a podiatrist. "Let me introduce you boys to Dr. Morticia
Simmons, she's a podiatrist, to inspect and evaluate your
feet, and she'll also be assisting us with painful
treatments involving your feet once the games re-commence --
assuming you're deemed fit. Dr. Vito Salmon, he's a dentist.
He'll be checking out your teeth to see if anything can be
worked out for the entertainment of our audience   like a
cavity or two painfully treated at some point." The
expressions on each boy's face varied then, but a
look of resignation seemed general when Andrew said, "Okay.
Let's get on with it, shall we?" In most other
circumstances, his sarcasm would've started them on a
giggling fit.

*

"Although you'll all get dressed again before we go back on
stage, I want each of you to strip. The stripping must occur
in the precise way you removed each article when you were on
stage last time, or else an extra quite painful punishment
will be added to your regimen   to be inflicted on the
particular offending body part or parts determined to be
out of sequence. So strip one at a time.  First you Andrew!
You have 30 seconds. Place your clothes in a neat pile on
that white couch over there, underpants on top." Finished,
Nelson deftly motioned for the cameras mounted inside the
walls to focus on Andrew's undressing routine to be shown in
minute detail. When Andrew began undressing, he remembered
the clip- on tie. He began unbuttoning his shirt. The shirt
came off and then his belt, his pants button above his fly,
he unzipped his fly, then suddenly he remembered his shoes
and socks! But they'd already BEEN barefoot when they'd all
stripped on stage nearly a fortnight before, so what to do?
What to do? This wasn't fair! Andrew dropped his pants while
simultaneously attempting to untie his shoes   he succeeded
in getting the left untied, then the right shoe, slipped the
pants off his legs, baring them before removing his right
sock first, then his left, which turned out to be the wrong
order for socks, but he didn't know that yet, he lastly
removed his briefs and managed to become nude and to place
his clothes neatly on the white couch and to stand at
attention hands by his sides just as an unexpected buzzer
went off. Nelson walked over to Andrew shaking his head.
"Too bad, you screwed up! You were supposed to remove the
left sock first. Do you know what that means, young Mr.
Moriarty?"

Andrew was angry. Trembling with righteous indignation, the
nude boy spoke up. Maybe he shouldn't have. "That wasn't
fair! You never told us in what order to strip off shoes and
socks! We were already barefoot on stage the last time!"

"Enough! Does that mean you'd rather be disqualified as you
would've been if we hadn't just changed the rule?"

"No." Andrew's expression was sullen, eyes downcast.

"Isn't it the same for all four of you?" Nelson asked
quietly.

"No, it isn't. You had me go first. Now the other guys will
know how to undress because they got to see me screw up!"

"Andrew, Andrew. True. Logically spoken for a 13-year-old
brat. Matters not at all. So will you accept your extra
ordeal in exchange for staying in the game?"

"You just wanted to punish me. What choice do I freaking
have?"

"None, if you want to remain in our contest. So, do we have
your acceptance of this extra little penance?"

"I don't even know what it is yet, although I'm guessing it
has something to do with my freaking feet."

"Excellent deduction. Do we have your acceptance, whatever
it is?"

"Yes."

"Louder please."

"Yes."

"Dr. Simmons. Since you will be administering it to Andrew,
tell him what new little trial he will be enduring."

Dr. Simmons could have been any of the boys' grandmothers.
Silver-haired, large-breasted, but dressed chastely in her
white surgical blouse and apron, the only odd thing about
her was that she was slightly pigeon-toed. Her eyes were
bright blue robin's eyes set wide apart and accented by a
broad bulbous nose. Her darting tongue however, came close
to making Andrew scream.  "As penalty for your
transgression, you will suffer a small branding with a red-
hot iron on the sole of each bare foot."

"No!" Andrew cried.

"According to our Pain Factor guidelines of course, as only
minor incidental scarring will result. Win or lose, the
brandings will be your little souvenir   a gift to you from
sadists everywhere! As a special dispensation, you will get
to choose the artistic design you'd like on each foot."

"Oh. Whoopee-do. I probably won't even be able to walk
afterwards."

"Don't worry too much. Each treatment will be over quickly.
Contact with the instrument of pain will last only five to
eight seconds per foot. No big deal unless a design doesn't
come out perfectly and we have to do it over."

"What? How many times do you get to do it over?"

"I'll be the judge of that. Some of the results will depend
on you   and your courage. Should be fun!"

"Yeah. I can picture myself laughing so hard I'll be
crying."

"You will be allowed to cry   scream   carry on. Whatever."

"Oh c'mon. It won't be so bad, lad." Nelson was being
condescending it seemed. This last comment got John
involved.

"True. As long as it isn't being done to your fucking feet."
John had had just about enough, and was about to stick up
for his fellow contestant and say more.

"Would you rather have it done to yours?" Nelson warned.

"No," John said, suddenly silent.  Steven certainly wasn't
about to open his own yap. He didn't even like to think much
about extreme foot pain. Peter was just being a little
soldier, thinking about winning all that money, all that
moolah, and nothing else. Besides, this little circumstance
might give HIM an edge.

"Okay then. Andrew's extra punishments, and any other extra
punishments for the rest of you if they are needed, will be
dispensed with first today   as an introduction -- as we
begin the actual festivities on stage. Is that understood
Andrew?" Nelson seemed to possess a characteristic smirk
glued to his long-faded pretty boy features.

"Yes." But he didn't say it loud enough the first time.

"I didn't hear you, boy."

"Yes!"

"Alright then."

During all this time Dr. Salmon had been quietly grinning
grinning and flossing. Two of Salmon's incisors protruded
slightly, like a salt-water crocodile's. Andrew and Peter --
still clothed but standing closer to the dour sixty-ish man
-- noticed that Salmon the dentist with the bloodshot eyes
suffered from a pronounced case of halitosis.

Moments later, the other boys stripped to their birthday
suits   first John, then Peter, and finally Steven.
Fortunately for them, no further undressing-related missteps
occurred, as John stared blankly for a moment at everyone's
clothes piled neatly with briefs on top. What the fuck am I
doing here? I must be crazy! He mused. These were probably
the boy's eighteen thousandth second thoughts.
                            *

The examinations went relatively uneventfully, except there
was a certain system followed. Each boy entered the small
brightly lit room closest to the large room and was
thoroughly inspected. Dr. Talmadge (whole body) and Dr.
Simmons (feet) performed their main inspection duties on
each boy. The dentist took them after that. The order was
Andrew, John, Peter, and Steven.

                   Andrew's Experience

First I was measured with a metal tape measure, I came in at
4 feet 11 inches, head to toes. I weighed 91 pounds. They
told me to lie on my stomach on the white-crinkly-papered
doctor's table. Nothing happened for a minute. Talmadge and
that footy doctor were just talking. I could hear Nelson
saying stuff outside the room, but then it began. First they
started touching me with their hands, Talmadge up near my
shoulders pressing and pinching, not enough to hurt, and
then he used this metal thing, called a calipers, as a
pincher, while the foot doctor was doing the same thing to
my left foot after asking me to bend my knee, pressing and
pinching, almost like a foot massage. Talmadge was pressing
the blades of that calipers in different places along my
ribs, "Let's see how much meat he has here   ticklish   he
began tickling me there along the ribs   I started laughing
a little   meanwhile the she-male foot doctor started
bending my toes back and forward   I heard two of them crack
 probably just the toe joints   I didn't like that much
and told her to Please stop that! She just ignored me and
kept bending. She would move them forward and then bend them
back hard. I think it was my left foot, and this crazy woman
bending my second and third toes back on them, singly, and
then together, singly, and then together again   What's she
doing! Yeowhh! That sure hurts! "I'm just testing to see how
much range of motion you have in your toes   we need to know
this now in preparation -- it's being done to prevent
possible injury   I think she said -- but that wasn't
reassuring considering that she continued bending my fourth
and baby toes on that same foot   giving them even worse
treatment by bending them backwards   wow it hurt a lot
while she was doing it   then she started in on my right
foot, told me to bend the leg at the knee again, and it was
the same thing all over again, then she went back to the
left and started twisting each toe   that wasn't very
pleasant   meanwhile Talmadge was sticking some kind of
probe up my butt and feeling around inside there and also
in-between my legs   he then squeezed my balls real hard
out of the blue -- wow, did that hurt   I think I screamed
but he said that he was just testing   she scraped a little
bit of callous   or rough skin   off the ball of my left
foot   it didn't hurt really   I unfortunately kind of
guessed why she was doing that   she was probably trying to
get a decent surface for one of my upcoming brandings   but
then that was mercifully over. Or so I thought   "Turn over
onto your back, Andrew." So the pinching and the probing
began all over again. The calipers, like larger tweezers,
started pinching me in different places on my chest and
belly, along my ribs in twenty sensitive places, my tits,
umm nipples, he gave each one a good squeeze with those
calipers and pulled the skin out away from my chest for some
reason, "I want to see how elastic his pectoral tissue is,"
Talmadge said to her and she had my left foot hostage and
was quietly torturing me by bending all five toes on that
foot back at the same time, way back, then she did the other
one, same thing, boy did that hurt while she was doing it,
then she started pinching and pricking me with a needle
between my toes on the left foot, and then my right foot,
she's scraping and pinching there looking for toe jam I
thought, would I be disqualified if I had any toe jam, but I
didn't think I had any, hadn't noticed any and my feet
didn't itch and weren't flaky between the toes, then she
stuck that sharp needle under each of my toenails, it hurt a
little but she didn't stick it way in under the nail to the
"quick" as she was saying, because I'd been a "good boy" she
started joking around, 'cept it wasn't funny, then the
fucking worst part   Talmadge really started in on my cock
and balls   while she was using another caliper to pinch
along the sides of my feet, especially the insteps --
Talmadge used a sharp needle to scratch the head of my cock
in different places, but without breaking the skin, then he
inserted a fat toothpick about as big around as those
freaking drill bits they'd used on us before, and I knew
that this part wasn't going to be too fun, the bastard
shoved it all the way in down my peehole, the sharp wooden
point, I think I let out a little screech, and then he tried
a Q-Tip with some stuff on it, and it didn't hurt too much,
mostly felt weird, as he worked that down my piss slit too,
but that was it, and suddenly I was in the next room with
that bad-breathed dentist. He made me sit naked on his
dentist's chair, says that he was going to x-ray my teeth to
check for cavities, I told him that I usually get the no-
drill "air abrasion" with my dentist at home   but he said
while breathing his stinky breath on me that I wasn't going
to be so lucky this time   if I had any cavities they'd be
drilled without ANYTHING to block the pain. But nobody does
that any more to kids, do they? I mean drill for cavities?
Who does that? Anyway he brought the x-ray machine over, and
of course it didn't hurt either, I'd had my teeth x-rayed
before   but he found 2 freaking cavities   and one was
freaking deep! I think he said. Literally, I was fucked, but
then at least the exam was over. Literally.

*

John's Experience

I don't want to give you every gory detail but I didn't like
that examination much. I was hoping to just be pronounced
'fit' like Andrew had been just before me. She worked on my
feet, that foot doctor, and said stupid things like "This
one has such nice long and slender toes. He has little
whorls or ridges   like a tiny bit of callous   as a natural
formation under his second and third toes on either foot. I
think it's genetic! He has long feet   what did you say he
was   five foot five   I think he's going to be a six-footer
once he makes it all the way through puberty. She bent my
toes forward and backwards, pinched everywhere on my feet,
stuck that freaking needle she had in-between my toes and
even under my toenails   not missing a one. Most of this
stuff hurt, but not enough to really faze me, I'm pretty
tough, but although she annoyed me quite a bit I was more
concerned with what that bastard Talmadge was up to. He
checked my backside over and said, "You don't even have
scars or bruises or any marks at all left from the last
time." But then he turned me over and the trouble started. I
didn't worry too much about my pecs and sides and tummy and
those particular areas   although some of the probing was
unexpectedly annoying   like when he started piercing my
nipples with some kind of needle   I felt a prick but no
more   don't know what he was doing there   but he really
got my attention again when he squeezed my balls hard   each
of them   and then started twisting each ball in its sack
again and again, twirling them as if they were marbles, it
didn't hurt too much but felt lousy, and finally he got to
my cock   and started scratching it up all over the head
it felt like he was using sandpaper or something   but just
a "taste" of that   "to test his sensitivity on the glans"
I'm pretty sure he said,  but then he really went to town,
you know where, down my peehole again, and I was scared that
it wouldn't be healed completely, he used a fat toothpick,
and then a Q-Tip with some stuff gooed all over it, and then
that damn dental pick, I was starting to go crazy again, "No
no   it's only an examination," I reminded the bastard
before he did too much damage when it didn't really count,
"I know that," he said, "Besides, you should be glad to know
that you're fine   remarkably healed   if anything, you
might just be a little more sensitive in there   which is
actually good for our purposes, so I pronounce you fit."
Later with the dentist   oh his breath was skanky   I did
have the two cavities that he wanted to drill but neither
one was deep. Oh, almost forgot. I weighed 101 pounds and my
cock was 4.6 inches long.

*

Peter's Experience

I like to get weighed and measured. I weighed 88 and was
four foot six. My penis was 3.9 inches. "Are you sure it's
not four inches?" I asked. A lot of guys want a longer dong,
not just me. At least mine will get longer 'cuz I'm only 13.
I'm a pain athlete! I'm a pain athlete! I kept saying to
myself, just in case this hurt too, this series of medical
procedures and inspections. Dad told me that on the phone.
Or was it Mom? About being a pain athlete. While Talmadge
was doing most of me, the woman, Dr. Simmons, was doing my
feet. I kind of like having my feet touched. She kept
bending my toes back and she put a needle under my toenails
and after they started working over my front side I remember
most the instruments going up my pee-hole. I don't think I
can ever get used to that even if I am a pain athlete! I
have two cavities that they're going to have to drill.
They're both nice and deep. That should get me some points
when I make it through that little game of theirs. I can
take that. Cripes! Dad even yanked out one of my baby teeth
once when it was loose. He used a string tied to the
doorknob of my bedroom door. When I win it will mean so much
to everyone in our family. Notice that I said 'when" I win
not if. Oh, and I passed. My body is okay to continue. Bring
it on! I'm a pain athlete.

*

Steven's Experience

They measured me. I'm 4 foot eight and I weigh 84 pounds.
That lady Dr. Simmons, the foot doctor, said that I have
almost perfectly shaped feet for a boy. I'm glad that I'm
not getting that extra torture Andrew is   a hot branding
iron put directly on his soles   now, that's intense. I feel
pretty good and they pronounced me fit like the others. I'm
starting to feel a little guilty about that sex stuff that
us guys did. If Mom and Daddy knew, gee, I'd get some
spanking! You won't be able to sit down for a week, Daddy
would say. Only this whole contest is worse than any
spanking. A lot worse. I didn't think they could do things
like this to boys and get away with it.  I wish I was home
enjoying the summer. I miss the guys. Kyle and Rusty and
Brandon. Who could have better pals? If I win this
competition, I don't even know what I'd do with all that
money. They're counting on me though. Everybody back home.
Not just my family. This wasn't fun, this examination, but
they sure didn't miss anything. I don't really mind being
naked in public, or even on a doctor's table, but I don't
like Doctor Talmadge sticking his big fingers up my butt-
hole like he did. Spreading my cheeks, and sticking some
sort of dildo or thingy up into my nether regions. That's
what Rusty calls them. My nether regions. That's so funny!
The pee-hole treatment was a little bit scary too, as usual,
but what Talmadge just did didn't hurt too much. She spent a
lot of time on my feet. I don't like having my toes pulled
and twisted and bent it seems in every direction. "Your toes
are nice and flexible," she said. "They're beautiful too," I
said. "Yes they are," she agreed. Talmadge pinched me in the
sides and underarms, and he grabbed a few of my pubes with
tweezers to tell how long they are and also how strong. How
strong? Why how strong? "I'm checking to see how much weight
they can support. Ever been hung by your short hairs?" That
sure sounded painful. But if that's what they wanted to do
and I could take it   what the heck! Still, I'm sure this is
all going to hurt a heck of a lot more before it's all over.
Anyway, pretty soon it was over, they found two cavities
they really found four   I eat a lot of sweets and don't
floss like I should   but they're only going to drill two on
each boy. I told the dentist about 'air araisin' and he
smiled. But then I asked him who takes care of YOUR teeth
and he seemed to ignore me. You have bad breath I should
have said straight out! But I didn't.

*

It was almost time to go out on stage again. Andrew, John,
Peter and Steven were dressed again, including shod, looking
like schoolboys for a moment instead of nude boys. They were
waiting in that same anteroom, stage right. Talk about the
jitters. This time each boy was alone with his thoughts, not
making small talk. In at least one case, perhaps their
competitive juices were kicking in, or was that a lurking
raw fear? That female producer, Donna, came over to get
them. "All set boys?" she said. "Time to go on stage."

*

Craig L. Nelson, game show host, was at his best that
afternoon. It was early afternoon when the second major
taping session began, but nobody seemed to know what time it
was. "Our contestants, Andrew Moriarty, John Lanroche, Peter
Koch, and Steven Pimento remain our contestants. These four
brave boys -- our featured 13-year-olds -- are back hale and
hearty   all recovered -- for yet another round   of Pain
Factor! It seems a shame that nobody's been eliminated yet.
What do you say kids? Ready for some more fun? What say
you?"

Donna got her voice then, to start the banter. "What's the
matter? Cat got your tongues?

Andrew was sort of standing in a daze, like a deer-boy
caught in the bright stage lights.  "Andrew, you seem
especially quiet. Aren't you looking forward to
participating in Pain Factor?"

"Yeah. It's just that I didn't get enough sleep last night.
I'm a little tired."

"Well, I'm sure we'll be waking you up before long." Nelson
said. Andrew was sure he was referring obliquely to the
branding, but he didn't want to bring it up. Maybe they'd
forget all about it. God, he sure hoped so. That's all he
was thinking about. He was already scared shitless.

Dr. Talmadge was on-stage too. He seemed in especially good
spirits, gesturing to the packed audience. He knew all four
of these boys now. "John, ready for a little more pain? We
have some nice activities planned. Going to tough it out
today?"

"I guess," John, replied, measuring his words, "I'll give it
my best." He was shifting from foot to foot; he had to pee,
though not too badly. Still, there was no harm in asking.
"Can I have a bathroom break?"

"I don't see why not," Nelson droned, "Take it now. You have
precisely three minutes!"

This was an unexpected good fortune. John didn't need to be
asked twice about going to the john. He ran off that stage.

"Anyone else need to go to the bathroom?"

None of the others did. Nelson looked around for another
conversation pigeon. "Peter, how are you?"

"I'm a pain athlete," Peter said proudly.

"Good for you, that's the spirit!" He received a rousing
burst of applause from the surrounding audience. He was
certainly the crowd favorite, Peter realized then, and no
doubt he was making his family at home proud of him as well.
This was cool in a way, he mused, real cool. He'd certainly
said what everyone wanted to hear. Peter blushed, but it was
part beam too. The boy was actually beaming.

"What about you Steven?" Are you excited to get the
competition going again?"

Steven took a page from Peter's playbook. "That's why I'm
here. Ain't I? Let  the-games-begin-anew!"

An even more boisterous cheer ensued. Peter felt a bit irked
as the clapping for Steven's witticism lasted about twice as
long so he flashed Steven a look   the kind that 7th grade
girls had been in the habit of flashing him when he'd been
teasing them.

John made it back from the toilet facilities in the nick of
time.

"I counted twenty more seconds and you would have been
replaced," Nelson admitted.

John was a tiny bit flushed from dashing at top speed
through the underground facilities. "I made it," he managed,
temporarily breathless. Nelson went on after that   in
rhapsody over some of the new ingenious events that had been
devised for the boys. "Few people realize just how much
effort so many of you put into this competition to make Pain
Factor   the show   a reality.

"I'm also amazed at the resiliency of our contestants,"
Donna added.

"Let's see how resilient they are tonight," Talmadge was
heard to murmur. It was not a faux pas, however, because the
good doctor had kept his mike switched on. The crowd
murmured then, with definite approval   and also
anticipation.

*

The boys   Andrew, John, Peter, and Steven   had just been
given the familiar yet dreaded order to strip. "C'mon boys,
birthday suits! We need you naked! You know the routine!" In
less than a minute, four naked 13-year-old boys were
standing at attention trying to make their cocks stand at
attention. Each had his "frigging" hand on his penis to
produce a proud erection. Music was playing, inciting the
crowd as those gathered watched to see which boy would
harden first. It was like a mini-competition, and not a full
scale one either, as ejaculating was not allowed. This time
three boys succeeded in producing hard-ons, one didn't. John
and Peter both were even oozing pre-cum. But this time the
loser wasn't Steven. It was Andrew, poor Andrew.

*

Nelson picked up on Andrew's discomfiture immediately.  "Do
you think that you deserve to receive another little
branding for your poor performance just now?"

"Another one? Where?" He should never have asked.

"Oh, I don't know. How about on the glans of your penis?"

Andrew gasped, and so did his fellow competitors. John was
going to say something, but once again, thought better of
it. He had a compassionate streak, and in this situation,
that might not be good. Steven remembered the game they'd
played with his cock in the last round, stretching it with
the hook away from his body. He shuddered. Peter tried not
to look happy, because this could definitely give HIM an
edge   maybe even cause Andrew to quit, but his happiness
was hard to conceal. The pain athlete's cock suddenly became
even harder, and he almost started dancing on his toes. A
few very careful members of the audience did notice, and
there was a titter from several distinct quarters. But
nobody let on.

"Well?"

"I guess   it's   up   up to you guys!"

"Good answer. I'll tell you what. We'll defer our decision
and make it conditional on how you perform in the feet
brandings. If you receive a "Thumbs up!" from our audience
following those brief ordeals, then we'll forget about it.
But it will be solely at the whim of our audience. Is that
understood Andrew?

Andrew of course, didn't know what to say. He just knew what
he had to say.

"Yes!" Andrew promptly began to cry and began shaking his
head from side to side in utter fear, "Fuck! Fuck!"

"Try not to curse on stage and please put on a happy face,"
Donna said. She was pretty, an excellent producer, the boys
thought. Although also a sadist, somehow she never seemed
quite so bad. Perhaps it was her disarming manner. "Anyway,
it's time for you to pick out your two designs for your
soles."

It was quite a selection. There were animals of many kinds,
nature scenes; although extremely miniature in their scope,
each brand was about the size of a quarter   and some of the
intricacies, like an excellent tattoo, were simply amazing.
Some of them were very cool   a lot better than kid tattoos
like you'd find in coloring books. Each branding template
was engraved with tiny artistic letters looking like
calligraphy: PF.

"That's Pain Factor of course," Nelson said. "C'mon. No
stalling. Look at each of them carefully, then choose."

Andrew had temporarily ceased sobbing. He was trying to
compose himself as he made an important decision. Even if he
lost this stupid competition, he would always have THESE.

"I choose this flying golden eagle, and this animal," he
said after a lengthy pause.

"Oh, the aardvark," Donna said loud enough for all assembled
to hear, "Wise choice   both choices!"

"I never would have chosen an aardvark to be branded on the
sole of MY foot," John blurted to Steven. He regretted them
as soon as the unkind words left his mouth.

Peter just smiled, thinking the same thing. Stupid aardvark.
That's a wuss's choice. But the eagle was all right.

Steven went over and spontaneously hugged Andrew. "I think
that you need a hug right now," he whispered.

Meanwhile, the crowd was erupting wildly. There were a few
moments before order was restored. But everyone appreciated
Andrew's choices and also the human gesture shown by Steven.
The audience was comprised of sadists, but they were still
people.

It was up to Craig L. Nelson to restore order and to advance
the proceedings.

"All right. You have one more design to select. Just in case
we need it, the one for your little cockhead."

Andrew started sniffling again, but worked hard to suppress
what would have been a gushing wail if he'd given in to it.

"Show him the penile designs."

This time Andrew chose the head of a rattlesnake, fangs
exposed. 

End of Part 4

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+