John Evangelou, as his laboured breathing finally returned to normal, became aware of his partner’s weight pressing down on him. Ricky Hernandez had gone dead-weight on top of his colleague and John realised that the spent cop had fallen asleep. This was confirmed when Hernandez started to softly snore. In spite of his immobilised position and the knowledge that they really needed to be working on freeing themselves, John found his partner’s weight comforting and smiled a little.
He became slowly aware of warm wetness spreading down his taint and realised with horror that Ricky was pissing himself in his sleep.
“Ricky! Wake up and get the fuck off me! You’re pissing on me!” Officer Hernandez awoke with a start and, recognising that he was wetting himself, all over his buddy, quickly rolled off to the side.
“Jesus! Sorry buddy” Ricky lay on his side, his piss still flowing and coating his ruined crotch. “I must’ve dozed off – I’m so sorry dude”. His face was crestfallen at this new indignity and, in spite of his soggy state; John’s heart went out to his pal. Both men were exhausted and still, on some level, in a state of shock that they had been so grievously taken and abused, their own bodies betraying them for the amusement of their captors.
John Evangelou shuffled uncomfortably over to his partner and, wordlessly, snuggled up against him in a display of friendship and comfort. Both men lay this way, silently, for a spell until their fatigue caused them to drift into sleep.
They were still in this position and dead-to-the-world when the heavy locks of the door to their cell were drawn back and their captors arrived to survey the scene.
The loud clang as the door swung open roused both men instantly and their eyes widened as they groggily took in the six men standing over them, both cops realising that they had failed in their mission to get free from their disgusting ordeal and that they were still so vulnerable to whatever might come next. Ricky flashed on the slaves he’d seen the night before in the cages, squirming in discomfort as they soiled themselves for the baying audience and with no hope of escape from the cages or their revolting diapers. He shuddered as he realised that unless a miracle occurred this would be the fate of the two of them. Both men struggled onto their haunches aware of the spectacle that they must present to the small crowd of men in front of them. Both John and Ricky were acutely conscious that every movement caused a small degree of pain as the drying contents of their underwear ripped at the hairs on both men’s butts.
The hired muscle parted and an elderly man in a grey trench and shades stepped forward to appraise the two burly police officers. He wore black leather gloves and was dressed expensively. This must be the Manager. John Evangelou was the first to speak,
“We are officers of the law and what you have done here is tantamount to kidnapping and torture! I strongly advise that you let us both go immediately or things will be much worse for you when we get free.” The old man smiled, clearly amused. He said nothing though and merely gestured, leading to two of his henchmen to approach the hapless officers.
The muscle carried with them clear plastic baggies which held squares of fabric and both John and Ricky immediately knew what was to occur and tried in vain to move away from their assailants, crabbing uncomfortably back towards the wall behind them and shouting for the torment to stop. In spite of their efforts both detectives were summarily grabbed and the damp rags firmly held over their faces. In seconds both of the muscled men drifted into enforced unconsciousness.
John Evangelou woke to the sound of groaning. It took him a second to come around from the effects of the ether and, as he did so, his eyes focused and he took in his new surroundings with mounting alarm. He was still in the cell; the hated scene of his recent debasement. Things had changed however and he could feel that he was pinioned atop a leather bench by his neck, wrists, and ankles. He was effectively forced onto his elbows and knees with his weight resting on the bench that ran from the top of his chest to just below his belly. A thick belt ran around both his waist and the bench and meant he could move neither laterally nor vertically. A groan to his left drew his attention and he awkwardly twisted his head in that direction and realised the extent of their latest torment.
Officer Hernandez was similarly locked onto a bench and was looking directly at John, his eyes pleading for help. John realised that both men were naked; he could see Ricky’s dick and balls hanging low at the end of his bench, and both men were gagged with the ever-reviled ball gags. The gags had a hole in them which caused them to whistle comically as the men attempted to make sounds through the rubber. As he tested the bonds in which he was held John realised that, at some point, both men had been stripped of their befouled uniforms and cleaned up. The cell still reeked of sweat, piss, and the acrid stench of shit but he gave a sigh of relief that they were no longer locked into their clothes and forced to shamble helplessly in their own filth. This small mercy was offset by how utterly vulnerable both men were; their butts and genitals openly displayed by their position on the benches.
Communication was impossible except for grunts, moans, and whistles but both men knew that their ordeal was far from over and they struggled against the straps with vigour, sweat coursing down their muscular bodies, until they exhausted themselves.
The familiar, and fear-invoking, clang of the big metal door being opened behind them signalled the return of the Manager and his henchmen. Neither of the hapless officers could see their assailants and in spite of the fact they knew that it made no difference both men shouted and wheezed through the gags for release.
“Good to see you’re all cleaned up – that’s much better isn’t it?” The Manager stepped into view. “Do you know that last night’s entertainment was one of the best shows we’ve ever put on – the crowd went wild for you two! I’m almost tempted to put you back into your uniforms for another show.”
Both officers physically shuddered in remembered revulsion as their captor held up a pair of standard-issue uniform pants that had obviously belonged to either John or Ricky. They were disgustingly stained by the effluent that the men had emptied into them during their night of torture and the Manager held them gingerly by a belt loop in his gloved hand.
“But… I promised you the cages and so the cages it shall be. You gentlemen must be hungry – you’ve been here hours and I’ve been a terrible host. Let’s get you something to eat and drink shall we?”
The Manager gestured and two goons approached the helpless captives with what looked like I.V. stands from a hospital. Attached to the top of the wheeled stands were large plastic bags that bulged with their contents. Each bag fed into a tube that the hired muscle then unceremoniously attached to the hole in Ricky and John’s gags. With a simple click somewhere above their heads it was only moments before Ricky felt a bland paste start to slowly fill his mouth. He tried to shake his head to protest but he soon found that he needed to swallow in order to be able to breathe properly. He gulped the glop down, fearful of what it might contain, as the steady flow started to fill his mouth yet again. He glanced sideways and saw that Officer Evangelou was also swallowing rhythmically to cope with the relentless stream of mush.
Because he happened to be looking at his fellow officer Ricky was able to see John’s eyes widen in shock and his whole body spasm against the confines of his bondage. John let out a gurgled scream from behind the feeding gag and, looking down the length of his colleague, Ricky saw the reason for John’s distress. One of the goons had moved into position and was doing something down at John’s exposed dick and balls.
Ricky then felt his own manhood start to be interfered with – causing him to cry out in alarm. He bucked against the straps but could not break away from the ministrations of his captor and felt some form of soft wire being looped around his nutsack and the head of his dick. Both cops were screaming into their gags – broken only by the need to swallow frequently – as their most vulnerable parts were thoroughly fondled against their will.
Their screams took on new levels of agony as their exposed buttholes suddenly became the focus of whatever was occurring in their unprotected nether regions. Ricky and John both felt the initial probe of a finger in their butts and both clenched automatically against this invasion. The goons were relentless however and soon both men were shrieking as their virgin rosebuds were penetrated. Ricky could feel that more of that soft wire had been pushed into his arse – he felt it tickle against his taint as it entered him. The goon then withdrew his finger but Ricky could definitely feel that the wire was somehow still in place inside him.
The Manager had stood to one side watching with amusement as the two muscular men underwent this subjugation. He now stepped back into their line of sight and produced a black rubber object for their attention. It was a short tube with a wide flange at each end.
“The club opens soon so I think it’s time we got you ready for your public. Have you ever seen one of these before? I’m guessing not. This little marvel is a sphincter expander and, while it is possible to hold it closed with a bit of effort, the natural state of this toy – as you can see – is open. Can you guess where it goes?”
The hapless police officers groaned, screamed, and glugged as they grasped this new torment and sweat coursed down their muscular limbs as they fought to break free even as the Manager gave the nod and the henchmen moved again into position at their butts. With only desultory care the soft rubber objects were forced into the officer’s defenceless holes; the pain of the penetration subsiding as the flanges finally made their way in and then flattened out to make any effort at expulsion impossible without manually pulling the invaders out by hand.
Both men quickly realised that the tubes could be closed by clenching their arseholes but that if they relaxed then their anuses would open. Both men knew what this meant for them and fresh tears of anguish rolled down their sweaty faces even as the goons performed their final task of dressing the two officers in snug yet voluminous disposable diapers. These were no ordinary diapers however for they had a thick plastic section built into them at the taint that meant that neither Evangelou nor Hernandez could bring their legs together and would be forced to waddle uncomfortably when allowed to stand again.
Finally, the feeding bags were emptied and Ricky was the first to be unlocked from the bench. He was placed immediately in a thick leather collar the like of which he had seen on the slave in the cage the night before. His wrists were then locked into cuffs attached to the collar and pinioned high up his back where he could do nothing to alleviate or hide his predicament. As the burly cop was pulled upright the effect of the diaper was immediate – Ricky was forced into an obvious squat by the unyielding width of the garment and stood, sweating and shaking, in front of the Manager. It was apparent that he was focusing on keeping the hateful expander in his butthole closed and the effort of this was etched across his stubbled face.
John underwent the same process and soon both men were being led awkwardly along the corridors of the club towards their fate – their gait crablike and their struggles accompanied by grunts of exertion.