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Poor Paul woke as if out of a dream. He thought it was a dream. A long terrible dream. All of his misfortune, torture, abuse, shame, had been nothing but a horrible nightmare! At least it was over. He felt his bedclothes twisted about his body, constricting him. He saw he walls of his room through the haze of a drugged sleep and they looked like bedquilts. He had to clear his head. Perhaps a drink of water would help. But first he had to crawl out of these twisted and knotted bed sheets. He struggled but to no avail. What was wrong? Something was very wrong here. He forced his eyes open, blinked and tried to raise his hand to rub the sleep from them but found he could not. The horror of his reality became clear to him.
He was not at home asleep in his room. The soft bedquilt like walls were indeed padded. He was in some kind of padded cell. A PADDED CELL! The twisted bed sheets were not that at all, but a straight jacket confining his arms in painful restriction. He was on the floor of a padded cell wrapped in a straight jacket!
Paul panicked. He threw his cute young teenage head from side to side, screaming for help. How had this happened to him. He looked down at his legs and feet, and realized that except for the straight jacket, he was totally bare assed naked! His dick and balls flopped around on fully display beneath the straps of the canvas restraint. He felt somehow even more vulnerable than when totally naked. He looked around his gray padded cell. On one wall there was a window of black glass. Obviously, they, whomever they were, could watch him, without allowing him to see out. Then he looked up at the ceiling and saw five moving cameras with blinking green lights. He could not believe this was happening to him. He shook his head to clear it. What did he remember? what could he remember?
'OH MY GOD," he shouted out loud as he recalled his last memories. He had fucked his own mother. He had shoved his dick into his own mother's cunt and mouth and asshole. Was it true? Had he done such a thing? What could make him do such a horrendous act? Matt! Matt Henshaw had forced him to do it. Matt Henshaw who controlled his young life and threatened him with prison for his father and brother if he did not comply, had forced him to fuck his own mother. Could there be a degradation worse than this/ Could there be anything more disgusting and despicable? Had he gone mad? Had he finally lost it, unable to stand any more humiliation and abuse. Is that why he was here? What kind of place was this?
He thought and thought, until his head felt as if it would burst, but no answers came. He hung his head, his hair damp with sweat, and slept again.
Across town, Matt Henshaw sat in the office of one of his father's plants, facing Bud, Paul's older brother across a polished mahogany desk. Matt was a lanky, easy going high school senior. He was the most powerful young man in the state. His father ran virtually everything. Bud, who was more the muscular blue collar type, glowered and looked as if he wanted to kill the young tycoon.
"So we had to place your brother in my father's asylum for his own good. My dad had the place built you know, when my own mother lost her mind, so it's the very best quality treatment. However with Paul's mental health so fragile, I have no one to replace him as my "special buddy." And since Paul was doing what he did to keep you and your dad out of prison, I thought you might like to pitch in and help."
"What the fuck are you talking about. You ruined my family. You fucked up our lives!"
Matt leaned in, his cute face smiling with confidence. "Think how it will be for your brand new bride, with her hubby serving timer. And your poor dad. Could his heart take prison? And what about your mom? She would lose the house."
Bud was not as intelligent as either his younger brother Paul, or Matt Henshaw. He was just a factory worker. A big handsome hunk of an ordinary guy with ordinary needs and desires. He didn't understand all of this. His animal instincts made him want to kill Matt Henshaw right there and then. But what good would that do? He had to protect his family. "We didn't do nothing wrong. You framed us!"
Matt chuckled at the cute hunk. "You didn't do anything wrong. God you are a dumb shit! But good looking. Does it matter if you really did anything wrong or not? The fact is I can ruin you and your entire family. Now Paul was helping prevent that. He did certain things for me to help. But with Paul sick and needing treatment, I have no one to help your cause, unless of course you want to fill the breach!
Bud's hands were in fists. The veins in his neck and forehead stood out. "Huh?" he said.
"First, I want you to bring your beautiful young bride over to my home tonight at seven o'clock. I want to fuck her."
Bud's eyes went wide. Spittle formed in the corners of his mouth. He was about to leap out of the chair and drag the son of a bitch across the desk, when Matt raised a hand. "Careful, Bud. One wrong move and you end up in prison! Think of all that prison dick going up your ass every night. You'll make a beautiful prison bitch!" Paul turned red, but sat back down in his chair. "That's better. Now when you bring your bride over to my place tonight, I want her dressed as follows. A very very short mini skirt. No panties. No bra. A white blouse so sheer that I can see the color of her nipples through the material. Four inch high heels. I might take her out on the town. And you can be our driver. How's that? Don' fuck up, Bud, you know what happened to your little brother. I expect results. Now why why start showing your commitment by crawling down on the floor and licking my shoes clean?"
Matt spun his chair around and Bud saw that the high school boy wore dirty white sneakers. "Come on, don't be shy. Get on down there and lick those shoes real good. Get all that dirt and whatever off of them. I might have stepped in some dog shit on the way in here. I don't know, so give them a good licking."
Bud looked like his head would explode. The veins looked ready to pop. His face was deep red. Tears clouded his eyes. He slowly eased himself out of his chair and fell to the carpet. He wasn't even sure he could do something like this. He was a man. A stud. A tough guy. He wasn't some high school kid.
"That a boy. Tongue out...sometimes we just need to make the best of a rotten situation. Oh by the way, I'm having my dad give you a nice raise. That is of course as long as you are a good boy. Tongue out!"
But extended his wide tongue. He brought his head down to the dirty white shoes and started to lick.
"You know why you're here, dont you, Cuntface?" The young intern said to Paul. Paul, still naked except for the straight jacket, looked up at the mean looking guard. "You are here because you lost it! You went nuts. You attacked Matt Henshaw. You're lucky to still be alive. Nobody attacks Matt Henshaw. This is his daddy's place. His daddy built this place. It's a looney bin! Ha. Special guards and attendants. Special needs for special patients. The Henshaws put people here who get in their way. You got in Matt's way! He's paying us extra to look after you. To make sure your stay here is special. You'll get the very best therapy and treatment. Don't you look cute there on the floor in that straight jacket. All helpless. A helpless teenage kid with his dick and balls hanging out and his bare ass hanging out. You see the cameras? They're for special subscribers. You see, there are some very wealthy people who have an interest in the care and handling of certain mental patients. They pay us a fee, and they can watch on their computers. That's right. About five hundred guys around the world can see you right now, or at any time they choose."
Paul's head snapped to look at the cameras on the ceiling. He tried to tuck his legs under himself to hide his dick and balls.
The attendant laughed. "Oh, no need to be shy. They're going to watch everything you do. Piss, shit, play! Might as well give them a good view. You have no privacy here. Some of our clients like to watch the therapy we give young girls. We have some patients here as young as ten and eleven! WE believe in hands on therapy. You'll see. This dish over here is your piss and shit dish. You piss and shit into it. Don't miss the dish, or you will have to lick up what spills. We are a bit short on supplies right now, so for the time being, we will have to use the same dish for your food. Don't worry, we'll empty it out first. Although we won't always have time to clean it."
Paul could not believe what he was hearing. This young burly attendant was some kind of sadistic monster. "I want to see someone. I want to see my doctor!" The attendant laughed again. 'Oh we're in short supply of those as well. But don't worry, I and the other attendants are going to take good care of you. For now, it's time for lunch. I hope you don't need to shit or piss because I already filled your dish with lunch. Go on, crawl over and chow down. You must be hungry. Paul tried to struggle to his feet. The attendant reached out and slapped him so hard in the face that he fell to the floor.
"You gotten listen, Cuntface! I said crawl over. Shit, you remind me of this thirteen year old cunt I got in another room. I tell her to lick my balls, and she tries to suck my dick instead. I have to slap her upside the head. When I say lick my balls, I mean my balls, Bitch! Some people never learn. Now let's get off on the right foot, shall we? I'm here to help you. I am here to help you regain your senses. Mr. Henshaw Jr. tells us you are a sex addict! He says you have severe sexual problems. We're going to work on that. But first, lunch! Matt Henshaw cares so much about you, he even created your diet and menu. Now CRAWL OVER TO YOUR DISH, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!
Paul was scared out of his mind. He didn't even know what questions to ask. Didn't know what to say. He struggled on his knees toward the dish.
"NO NO, ASSWIPE, WHEN I SAY CRAWL, I MEAN ON ALL FOURS, ASS UP HIGH IN THE AIR." Paul looked up at his captor. How could he crawl on all fours when his hands were wrapped in the straight jacket?
"I...I...don't know what you want? I...I.." Paul was hysterical.
"Jesus. Just like a dumb cunt. I say lick my asshole, she licks my balls! I hope you do better, but I gotta say you are not starting out so good. Of course you can't use your hands. Put your shoulder and face down on the floor and crawl that way!"
Paul lowered his face to the floor and use it and his shoulders to slowly crawl toward the bowl.
"Yeah, get that asscunt up nice and high." When was the last time you called a high school boy's ass an ASSCUNT? The attendant lifted one foot and gently tapped Paul's scrotum with it. "Spread your legs when you crawl, make your balls swing!" Paul sobbed but did the best he could.
" That a boy. You may not be so dumb after all. Not as dumb as that cunt next door. The other day, I got my dick up her ass, see. And I tells her real nice to shove four fingers up her cunt while I ass fuck her. And the thirteen year old Hole tells me she can't 'cause it hurts too much.' Some of the clients wanted to see her double fucked, but we were short of attendants on that shift, so I figure, okay, I'll just have her shove her fist up her cunt while I ass fuck her, and everybody will be happy. But she has to go and cause trouble. A good lesson for you. Don't cause trouble. Just do what you are told, and everything will be fine! Now eat your lunch."
Paul looked down into the large metal dish. There was some kind of porridge or oatmeal or something. It was swimming in a thick white and yellow sauce. Paul gagged just looking at it.
"There's all kinds of vitamins and nutrients in there to keep you healthy. I may look like crap, but it's good stuff. And it's warm. So eat it all before it gets cold. Oh the yellow and white creamy sauce filling the bowl? That's horse sperm! We get it off several ranches the Henshaws own. Don't worry, you'll get used to the taste after a while. At least that's what I hear. Now when we give you food, you eat it all and lick the dish clean. You hear? You don't get any more food until you finish that, even if it sits there for a week. And you also get punished if you don't eat it all. Did I tell you about punishments here? Well, you don't want to know. We try to treat our patients with tender loving care, but sometimes, when they misbehave, we have to restrain them and punish them. We often use electro-shock therapy for that. Oh, believe me, it's much worse than it sounds. Now hurry up and eat, I feel like a blow job, and I think I'll try you out."
Paul leaned over the dish and lost his balance. His fell forward and his face plunged into the mess of horse cum and gruel. The attendant roared with laughter. "Gotta learn how to do that! Use your tongue like a dog and lick up the food. It works best that way. It's really healthy stuff, believe me. We want to keep you in good shape. Mr. Henshaw's orders."
Across town, Bud was licking Matt Henshaw's dirty shoes. Then he heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down. "Oh No!" he whispered.
"Oh Yes!" Matt Henshaw laughed, freeing his huge pink prick from his jeans.
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