somerealnerd

  Over the next few days, John’s system never spoke again. So he shifted his focus back to the sorry-ass duo. Fucker B and C now kept jumping at John’s every beck and call, shelling out cash for whatever errands he cooked up. They ate it up, loving it. Their efforts made them feel they were approaching the gangbang as John mentioned. Grind hard now, cash rolls in ter， same old bullshit bosses spin to milk you dry.

  And turned out, they’d pegged him right: John was a low-key top dog hiding in pin sight. Back when they’d spot Anthony and his crew, they’d duck and dodge. Now? Strolling with John, one gnce from him, and Anthony’s pack spun on their heels, gone, no chance of crossing paths even. Plus, every so often, John’d drop vague “updates” on his progress, ditching his usual stone-face for some filthy banter, tossing in a lewd grin or two. Made them feel that the gangbang was inching closer.

  He never spilled real details, just nudged them to spew their twisted fantasies. John’d nod along, fshing a “you dog” smirk, for pure validation. Letting them yap gave them a taste of power, like they had their say in the crew. His approval fueled their need to keep talking, and round and round it went, till they were dead sure they were John’s boys, and John would take them to their prize.

  Everything fell into pce after that, smooth as hell. Finally, John dropped the line, “Took some work, but I finally pried it out of Liam. His mom’s been back home since yesterday. So let's go have a big lunch to make sure we got enough energy to keep going for the rest of the day, get me?”

  Fucker B and C lit up, practically bouncing, piling into the trek to Liam’s far-flung suburban dump with John in tow. All the way, they kept cackling the same shit: “Fucking dumbass can only afford to live out in the boonies. His mom can scream all she wants, ain’t nobody hearing. Hahaha!” John stayed stone-cold quiet, and somehow, these clowns didn’t catch a whiff of doubt, too hyped, too dumb.

  They barged into Liam’s pce, grinning like jackals, then bzzzt, bzzzt, simple as that, two taser bsts dropped them cold. Fucker C was dropped first, and Fucker B saw it, but he didn't even realize he needed to fight back. He was still waiting for John to save his ass.

  Sacks yanked over their heads, and all they could feel was getting dragged, tied up, objects shoved into their bodies, limbs locked, mouths useless. Not a word squeaked out.

  When the sacks came off, they were trussed up tight, arms, legs, waists, backs, even necks, bolted to two metal racks. Padded too, real considerate-like, as if whoever set this up cared deeply about their comfort. They looked like horses in a lineup, one in front, one behind. The front guy’s ass jacked high by the rack, backdoor spread wide, propped open with a hollow butt plug, with a finger-thick hose jammed in. The back guy’s mouth was mashed right up to it, tched on, gagged with a hollow mouthpiece, throat lined up dead-on with the front guy’s asshole.

  “I Call it the Perpetual Motion Machine of Merry Go Round,” Liam said, beaming at John, all proud and chipper.

  “Perpetual motion?” John cocked his head, lost.

  Liam waved it off, grinning. “Think about it, John. Turn on the water, Fucker B up front gets an enema, then his shit bsts out, shots into Fucker C’s throat like a fucking volcano. Then Fucker C would definitely want to puke, right? Even if he loves the taste of it, the sudden pressure on his throat will make him puke anyway. He pukes, and it shoves right back into B’s ass, and there it is, another enema. So one fill-up, and it loops a bunch of times, like a perpetual motion machine. Course, it’s not perfect, gotta top up the water once in a while. There is no real perpetual motion machine, scientifically proven.”

  John ignored the “science” part. His brain split two ways. This was sick as fuck, and brilliant as hell. Liam is a fucking genius. No blood, no guts, just feces and vomits, and pure, messed-up ingenuity. What a civilized way to fuck people up.

  Liam read John's expression, all hyped, “I know, right? Fucking hirious! I'm working on something called “The Wheels on the Butts Go Round and Round”. I'll show you once it's done!”

  “What’s with the “Merry Go Round” part?” John asked, trying to ignore the “nursery rhyme” Liam tossed.

  “Easy, they look like horses now, right?” Liam said, showing John a remote. “And see this button here? I push it, and they spin in pce, swap spots, kinda like “go round”, right? Gotta let ‘em both taste the front and back, right? Keeps it fair.”

  “Well, that sounds… promising I guess? Anyway, do your thing, man. It's your show.” John's done with his curiosity of Liam's naming conventions.

  Liam nodded, turning to the duo. “Hey, fels, you heard it. This is your first game. We’re keeping it going till you’re both really ‘clean,’ then we move to the next round. Might take a while, though, I asked John to make sure you stuffed your faces before coming.”

  The duo apparently were trying to say something, but with mouths stuffed, only choked noises came out. John spped a hand over his forehead. That’s why he kept nagging about making sure they had a big lunch.

  Liam rolled on with his spiel. “Then, gentlemen, when I figure you’re about done, you’ll get let down, remotely, of course. Everything here’s rigged with wireless controls. I’ll watch from the monitors till I’m happy. But this is my house, right? Guests gotta be polite, so after, you’re cleaning up my basement.”

  John scoped the room. Clean? With what? No brooms, no mops, most importantly, nowhere to dump shit, well, literally shit.

  Liam didn’t care if they got it, and just continued. “Those colrs on your necks? Shockers, meant for rowdy dogs. Me, I think it’s really cruel. How could you zap men’s best friend like that? But you are not dogs, guys. You are humans. So if you sck on cleaning, buzz will be coming your way for sure.”

  He then plopped a pill bottle on the floor. “Round two, you’ll need these guys. You gotta ‘please’ each other. Why else we flushing you out all clean, right? I’m not asking much here, each of you finishes three times today, game’s over, you’re free to go. And I’m thoughtful too. Vigorex fucks you up too bad too quickly, so this is Hensley’s Haul’s new stuff, low side effects. Pop one, pop ten, whatever gets you there, I don’t care. Hit the mark, you’re good to go.”

  After hearing all these, Fucker B and C finally started thrashing hard, desperate to bolt from this hellhole, but the racks held them too tight. All they could do was eyes darting wild, throats choking out low, pitiful whines.

  Liam didn't even blink, he waved John to follow him out as he’s about to start the show. But he paused, as if he thought of something new. He then snapped back to the pair. “Oh, John didn’t lie to you. my mom did get back yesterday. She helped set this all up. Took us a day, barely finished before you arrived. She’s at the monitors now, looking forward to seeing your show.”

  Looking forward to it? Liam’d handed her the shock colr remote, and she was itching to use it properly. Course she’s looking forward to it. “She told me to help deliver a message—scream however you want guys. We are just poor fuckers living in the middle of nowhere. So no neighbors to bitch about your howls.”

  Fucker B and C stayed bnk-faced, bodies locked down, still eyes darting, fingers and toes twitching. But at the mom line, their eyes bulged, froze, staring dead ahead. They knew today was gonna be hell for them. But they did have that st shred of hope. At least they’d walk away after all this torment.

  John trailed Liam out, then muttered slow, “You’re not really letting them go after this, are you? You’re pulling my trick, dangle hope, then crush it harder, right?”

  Liam grinned. “There’s more to it actually. This is their first time. They need to do it willingly, as I won’t really have the strength to force them once they are let down that device. So I need to give them some motivation, right? Then everything will be kept on footage. I'll use it to make them do it over and over again, till they fall in love with each other. And then they will realize they are never getting out of here. ” He tossed John a smoke, still the Sobranie Bck Russian from Fucker B and C.

  “Besides, no way I’m cutting loose these two prime guinea pigs. I need ‘em for my new devices, experiments. And I’ll actually keep ‘em fit and healthy, well, physically, so they can endure it for longer.”

  John hesitated, about to say something but stopped. Liam clocked it, asking if John thought this was too much.

  “Nah, man. I think that all sounds great. I couldn’t have done better myself. Really proud of you.” John smirked, “I’m just thinking now you have two more mouths to feed, is it gonna be a problem? Need any help with cash?”

  Liam shook his head quickly, “Don’t worry about the money, okay? Feeding two guinea pigs costs peanuts, right? Plus, my skills? I’ll design some vanil adult toys. Gonna sell like crazy.”

  Adult toys? Fair point—plenty of that shit evolved from rigs like this.

  What Liam didn't say to John though, was that Fucker B and C also got four kidneys, two livers and many other things. He would hate it if he needed to do it, because that's basically setting them free. But hey, if money really becomes a problem, there are ways.

  John figured his work here was done. He nodded slow and ambled toward the door, turning while waving Liam goodbye. But suddenly Liam pulled a gun, aimed square at his back.

  “And John. I can’t let you get what you want. You don’t touch my mom. You are a good man, and I can't thank you enough for everything, but not with my mom.”

  John didn’t even turn, and just busted out ughing, loud and rough. “Thought you’d never whip that thing out. You got it from Vivian’s crew, right? Check your ammo, man.”

  Liam clicked it open, empty, not a damn bullet. He shot John a baffled look.

  “You shared your whole pn with me, step by step, but never once mentioned a gun. So I figured it was for me, just in case. So I swiped the rounds.” John spun around slow, lit a smoke, tossed Liam one. “Feel the weight before you draw. This is the st lesson from your teacher.”

  Last lesson? He gonna kill me? What about Mom? No—if I go down, I’m stopping him first. Liam’s face hardened, gun swinging at John’s head as he charged, all grim resolve.

  John dodged the swing easy, snagged Liam mid-lunge. “Whoa, whoa, easy, man! I’m just messing with you! Last lesson as your teacher cause I’m saying we’re friends now!”

  “Friends?” Liam blinked, stuck.

  “Yeah, when you aimed that thing at me, we crossed the line. Real friends now. Sounds weird, right? But that’s what I really wanted from you. Your mom? I would never touch your mom, after what you've been through.” John eased back, took a drag, all loose again.

  “I won’t even go near your mom, promise. She's got good protection now already. But don't let her go near me though, she might really fall in love this time.” He grinned, scooped up the gun, spped the stolen bullets back in, and handed it over.

  Liam was still reeling, mouth half-open, but John cut him off. “Alright, next up’s Fucker A. Since we’re pals now, I’ll step up, more than just guidances this time. Call it a bond of our friendship.” He waved, turned to bounce for real this time.

  “Wait, John,” Liam called. “We gotta thank you properly. It's my mom’s idea. Stay for dinner tonight. She insists.”

  John froze. Are you fucking shitting me, Liam? Didn’t you hear me say I’m steering clear of your mom? Why the hell you shoving her at me? You know I can’t resist a damn MILF.

  In the end, John still sat down for dinner with Liam and his mom, but he dragged Britts along, the one who kept him on the tightest leash. Figured if the MILF temptation hit, she’d rein him in. Worked like a charm too. John kept it all polite and distant with Liam’s mom, all son’s good friend shit, while Britts buzzed around, helping her serve up the meal. The four of them pulled off a calm, easy and pleasant evening. Sure, Liam's mom definitely pushed the button on a remote a few times, but they didn't hear a damn thing. Guess the basement was really well sound-proofed.

  On the walk home, Britts nudged John. “You did good today, Johnny, calling me to pussy block your ass? Real boyfriend move. Guess you deserve a reward.”

  John eyed her bck pantyhose legs, grinning ear to ear. “Which hotel we hitting, babe? Itching to have a py with those beautiful feet of yours already.”

  “Hotel? Nah, let's just go to my pce. Mom’s there tonight. Usually she stays at her lover’s pce.” Britts huffed, still a bit pissed at John for the thing she didn't tell, then sighed. “Whatever, Johnny. You gave up one mom today, so I guess I'll reward you another. You’ve already banged her anyway. She even got to know your pantyhose and feet fetish from me.”

  John’s grin froze, wait, what? Shit started clicking—Britts mad at him, his kinks, her mom always at her lover’s, and “already done it.” He turned to look at her carefully—tan skin, light blonde hair, sharp features, loud-ass attitude—and it all clicked, hitting him like a brick.

  “Your mom… no way she’s—”

  “Yep, you fucking pig. My mom’s Vivian, the lesbian gangster you banged!”