by D. A. Maddox
But that had been her choice, posing in front of the art students. This had been an order, and she was under contract. Soon enough, she’d be wearing these things, or something similar, on camera.
Still, it was a relief to be out of their room. They had their school stuff, so although they’d fall behind on homework and projects, they could do group-study for their shared government class. There was also a wide selection of board games and a deck of Uno cards—but there was no television, no computer. They had their phones, but only the texting feature worked on them.
Then Counselor Lavallee had led them here, and left them—with a woman who insisted they call her “Officer Jenny” and … a mannequin.
“I’m going to teach you some basics in the embarrassments and discomfiture of young men,” she said pleasantly. “Well, my young Volunteer Humiliators, our time with Robbie’s going to be short, and we don’t want you wasting it fumbling around wondering what to do with him. So, a little training, a little practice, and then each of you will be assigned her particular role. Beyond that, you’ll have all the leeway you want to be creative and have some fun of your own imagining. Very little of this is going to be scripted, per se. We just want to be sure Robbie receives the full effect of his sentence, that he really learns his lesson. And that’s up to you three. You’re the climax. Okay?”
They nodded as one, with Jasmine chipping in, “Ready!”
Officer Jenny smiled at her. She was young, not a day older than twenty-four at a glance—could have been just a big sister to any of them—but she spoke with a confidence and ease beyond her years. “We’re going to use frank and open language. No cutting corners, no restrictions. Say what you mean, every time, all the time. Right?”
Three different versions of “Yes, Officer Jenny,” came from the couch.
She rested her hand on the mannequin’s shoulder. “So, right to it, then,” she said. “Who among you has seen a naked man before?”
The mannequin had a white sheet over it that covered everything but its feet—which were surprisingly realistic in both color and texture. They even had tiny hairs running along the arch and the middle toe knuckles.
Maddy glanced at her friends. Neither made any affirmative word or gesture, and Heather visibly blushed. Reluctantly, Maddy raised a hand—then quickly said, “Never in person. I saw some pictures when I was fifteen.”
“Photographs or illustrations?”
“Photographs,” Maddy said, blushing a little herself. “There was an old magazine a friend of mine had…”
“Heather?” Officer Jenny said, her expression unmoved.
“No, ma’am,” Heather said.
They were required to be completely honest. Any suspicion that they were dealing falsely with Officer Jenny could have legal repercussions. Maddy believed her.
“Jasmine?”
“No, Officer Jenny,” she answered readily. “Mom … described it once, though.”
“It? What did she describe to you?”
“You know—what a man’s … thingy looks like.”
“Are you referring to a man’s penis, Jasmine? His cock? Is that what you mean?”
Jasmine giggled, but Maddy’s trepidation only increased. “Yes, Officer Jenny. She described a … penis. Mom called it a ‘helmeted intruder’.”
That got them all giggling.
“Seriously,” Officer Jenny said, still with good humor, “you all have two days to get over these things. They’re only words. You are young women at a transitional age and more than likely will find yourselves married in five or six years. The good news is, we want Robbie to be the first naked man you see in person. It’s better TV. And that’s why we set up good ol’ Fred for you to practice on instead of a male inmate.”
With that, she withdrew the sheet and tossed it aside. Turned out, “Fred” the mannequin wasn’t a mannequin after all.
He was startlingly lifelike. From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, he was as realistic as a classic Greek sculpture, molded by something so akin to real human flesh it was difficult to tell the difference. And he moved. His hands clenched and unclenched as though nervous. His cheeks took on a decidedly pinkish hue. He breathed, his lips slightly parted. But he never blinked.
It’s animatronic, Maddy thought. How cool is this?
She looked lower. His cock hung limp, roughly three inches further down than his testicles.
Jasmine broke out into a full belly laugh—and Heather fairly squealed in shock, “Oh, my gosh, it’s right freakin’ there!” She pointed—then looked away. “Oh, my gosh, my gosh.”
“Ooooh,” Officer Jenny said, coming to her. “That might be a good line for Robbie, especially with the pointing.” Gently, she took Heather by both sides of her head and turned her to look at him again. “It’s all right,” she said. “Our boy Fred doesn’t mind. Robbie might, at first—but that’s kind of the point.”
Heather’s wide, hazel eyes fixed on the first likeness of a penis she had ever seen, and Officer Jenny let her go.
“Do you know him?” Maddy asked. “I mean, have you…”
“Worked with him?” Officer Jenny asked. “Oh, yeah. Met him yesterday afternoon. But to Robbie, I’m ‘Officer Thompson’. It’s a vital distinction—very important to establish authority and all that good stuff, right?”
If you say so, Maddy thought. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“Anyway,” Officer Jenny continued, drawing the word out, “there’s no predicting what Robbie will do when he first sees you, but good ol’ Fred here doesn’t pop wood without assistance.”
The three young women exchanged hesitant glances.
“I’m sorry,” Maddy said. “Pop wood?”
“Get a boner,” Officer Jenny explained. “An erection. It’s when the cock is stimulated. It grows stiff. Oh, boy. Yeah, we’ve got work to do. You’ve never heard of this?”
“Heard of it, sure,” Maddy said, fairly certain she was speaking for all three of them. “It’s just all the … new terminology.”
“Oh, good,” said Officer Jenny, relieved. “That I can work with. Who’s going first?”
****
Nurse Reyes-Garcia took the final strip of masking tape from him slowly, drawing it out, wringing still more tears from his eyes. I’ve got to be dehydrated by now, he thought. God damn it, Matron, haven’t you had enough from me yet?
He was, by this point, beyond worrying about the thought-swearing.
In front of him, under the wall clock, the digital count of his internet viewers topped five hundred thousand. And it wasn’t even noon. And that didn’t count TV.
At least I can’t see them, he consoled himself. They can see me, but it’s not like they’re here in the room. The only people who’ve seen me like this in person have all been prison staff, and it’s nothing new for them.
His mouth was open in a wide, agonized O, but he made no sound. All that could be heard was the peeling of the tape from his ass, the tearing out of his body hair by the roots. His back and his rump were aflame. He imagined himself beet red from the base of his neck to his feet—and still, the peeling of that final strip…
“God!” he finally shouted, unable to contain himself any longer, “Just do it! Please!”
And rather than scold him or discipline him further, Nurse Reyes-Garcia gave the tape a mighty yank and jerked it free from him. “That took longer than expected,” she noted calmly. “Usually my boys complain much sooner—so I think I shall only credit you with one punishment for the outburst and defer it until tomorrow.”
Robbie buried his face in his crossed arms, gasping. He’d heard what she’d just said but didn’t dwell on it. All that mattered was the immediate relief he felt, the release from the pain.
“Stay still, Robbie. I have some oils that will cool the burn and prevent rashes. Oh, my. You are all red, like Heat Miser from the Christmas Special.”
Robbie knew the one she was talking about. As a kid, he’d loved the
old Claymation Christmas movies. He’d watched them every year until he was nine years old or so. The mental image she’d brought to mind drew an involuntary laugh from him as he wiped his eyes and struggled to compose himself.
The oil, too, burned at first—but then it cooled him, as promised, and the relief it brought was lasting. Nurse Reyes-Garcia kneaded it into his flesh with slow, firm squeezes, beginning at the shoulders, working steadily downward. Exhaustion seeped into his bones as she worked her magic, weariness born of energy spent both mentally and physically. All the anguish of his situation, the pain and the shame—not to mention the public orgasm she’d wrought from his loins—fell over him like a thick blanket.
By the time she was done treating his hairless flesh, Robbie was half asleep.
She shook him. “On your back again, Sleeping Beauty. Time for your front.”
****
“Is it me, or does it look like him?” Maddy asked, stepping forward.
All three had volunteered. Heather had lost the three-way coin flip by being the only one to show “tails”, and then had Maddy had bested Jasmine one-on-one. She had a fleeting thought that she should have let the two of them duke it out without her—but, like it or not, she’d be the main player in this drama. Counselor Lavallee had been perfectly clear on that. And she didn’t want to be the one who chickened out.
“It’s a standard core we use for all male subjects with a customizable exterior,” said Officer Jenny. “We can adjust its skin tone, hair style, eye color, even its percentage of body fat versus muscle.”
“So, you’ve … seen Robbie.”
“Oh, yeah. Cute guy, for a deviant.”
Maddy knelt in front of its groin. The thing—this “Fred”—picked up its breathing. Its blush deepened and spread. Its fingers splayed and tensed, as though in anticipation.
Its penis twitched.
“Jesus-God!” Maddy shrieked, recoiling onto her butt—much to the amusement and fresh laughter of the others, including Officer Jenny. Then, recovering, repositioning herself in front of the thing, “Sorry for the blasphemy.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Officer Jenny said, still chuckling.
“Is he … anatomically correct?” she ventured. “For Robbie, I mean.”
“Oh—the cock prosthetics come in five sizes: small, average, large, chode, and ridiculous. That’s a large. It’s close enough for government work. Robbie’s actually between average and large, so try not to be disappointed on Friday.”
Should I even know that? her conscience pricked at her. That’s very personal information.
To which her darker half replied, Don’t forget what he tried to do, Maddy. It’s justice. That’s all.
And what the hell is a size “chode”?
She kept the question to herself. She had a feeling she didn’t want the answer. And there was a far more pressing issue weighing on her mind.
“All right,” she said, recalling the directive to speak as plainly as possible, “How do I make this stupid thing stand up? How do I make it ‘pop wood’?”
“Well, you could just reach out and go to work, Mads,” Officer Jenny said, as though being exceptionally patient with a child, “but I was hoping to introduce you to something subtler. A little technique to really get under his skin. Besides, you don’t want to go to your big guns right away, do you? He’s eighteen years old and clueless. He’ll paint your face in the first three minutes if you go right for the jerkoff.”
“Um … what?”
“Ejaculate. Come. Orgasm—oh, look, more on that later, okay? The point is, you don’t need to touch it right away.”
Good, Maddy thought. I’m in no hurry to touch this thing, now that it comes to it.
“Give it a breath of wind, Mads. Blow on it.”
Maddy arched her eyebrows, uncertain she had heard correctly.
“Go ahead. Seriously. Blow on it. Fred’s set for ‘Very Responsive,’ and I can tell you that Robbie’s wired that way, too. Believe me.”
So she did. Not knowing any better, Maddy drew in a mighty breath and heaved it back out, like she was trying to extinguish a birthday cake.
The thing’s mouth opened and its eyes widened in programmed surprise—but its penis withdrew an inch, as though trying to achieve a defensive posture or hide from her.
More laughter. Maddy’s next breath was an embarrassed, frustrated sigh. “Look, are you just having fun at my expense, or what?”
“Not like that, silly,” Officer Jenny said, her voice thick with amusement and sympathy. Then she knelt next to Maddy. “Soft. Gentle, like a warm summer breeze.”
Maddy locked her eyes on the prosthetic cock. Fred’s hands trembled, made tentative motions as though to cover itself but never quite did. Freakish, Maddy thought. I’m tormenting a freakin’ robot.
“Oh,” Jasmine said, as though pitying the thing. “He’s so shy. Poor Freddy.”
Maddy took in breath. This time, she let it out slowly, first blowing a whistling breath over the top of its pubic bush, then down over its length.
The thing’s hair bristled. Its scrotum tightened. And then—then the thing elongated. It stretched out, the tip emerging fully, first dangling, then rising up to reveal the underside of the shaft and the cleft of its “helmet”.
“Oh, boy,” Maddy said, leaning back away from it. And she thought, Now what?
“So,” Heather said, “that was a—blowjob?”
Officer Jenny rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “No, not by a long shot. Lots of ground to cover before we even get to the discipline part.” She unclipped the rubber paddle from her belt, stood up, stepped behind Fred, and swatted his ass hard.
Fred clenched his teeth but held position.
“Never forget,” Officer Jenny said, “this is supposed to be discipline. He’ll earn some punishments before you ever get to him, and my boss will be certain to slot some of them for Friday. But more on that later. For now, the basics.”
Maddy got to her feet and placed herself between Jasmine and Heather, both of whom had come in for a closer look.
Officer Jenny took Maddy’s place in front of Fred’s raging hard-on. She reached out and lightly brushed a knuckle under the cleft of its cockhead, now damp with facsimile pre-cum. “This is called the frenulum,” she said, “right under the glans. Nice little snatch of nerve endings, here.”
Chapter Ten
Vitruvian
By one-thirty in the afternoon, Robbie was again clean, well-fed, and twice purged. Nurse Reyes-Garcia hadn’t touched the hair on his head, but his arms, legs, pits, and his chest—even the thin line of hair bisecting his belly on the way to his pubis—were “well defoliated”, which was to say shaved to the skin. She’d managed him at the toilet after lunch as well, giving him a break from the cameras while the mild but fast-acting laxative made quite sure he wouldn’t have any accidents later.
“Do not fear, Robbie,” she’d said to him. “We do not do scat on Consequences, Live! But you are going to be immobilized again for your first major humiliation, and we do not want you to foul yourself in public. Neither do you, I expect. Or do you? You may answer.”
First major humiliation? he thought. I’ve been stripped on camera, whipped with a rubber paddle, masturbated by a woman twice my age, fingered in the ass…
“No, Matron,” he said. “Not especially.”
“For this punishment, I think it a good idea to remind you that you must not say a word at any time once we begin. There will be people present, apart from staff—these fall into the ‘volunteer’ category I mentioned earlier—and you are in no way to interfere with their enjoyment of your discomfiture. No protests, no complaining with articulated words. Crying is allowed, along with any other non-articulated expressions of distress or embarrassment, provided you are not too loud about it. Am I fully understood? You may answer.”
“Yes, Matron.”
“Many of these visitors will be people you have some acquaintance with, directly o
r indirectly. Whether you know it or not, you have quite a circle, Robbie McNeal. It was not difficult to find an audience you would find familiar. Do try to avoid being surprised when you see them. Among them you will doubtless note several you might mistakenly think sympathetic to your situation—but these are all subscribers to the program, Robbie, all of the age of full citizenship and privilege. They may like you and even care for your wellbeing. In the coming days, they will want to continue their ordinary relationship with you.”
She paused. Robbie found he had nothing to say.
“But,” she finished, “they have chosen to be here today, knowing full well what is to happen to you. They are most excited.”
Robbie looked down on himself, at what he was wearing. To have a camera pointed at him was one thing, and he didn’t like knowing that thousands upon thousands of people were watching. But in the back of his mind he had held out hope that those adults who were friends and associates of the family might avoid this particular program—out of respect for his dad, if nothing else.
You don’t know who’ll be there yet, he told himself. Might not be such a big deal.
“Chin up. This will end today’s sessions.”
He had the hat on, as usual. Apart from that, he wore a white shirt that hung loosely at the neckline, buttoned only at the shoulders and down the arms, and stopped above his midriff. The “shorts” for whatever torture lay ahead consisted of two cotton flaps that covered his ass crack and his penis, held up by a drawstring hand-knotted on his left hip. It was open at the sides and the underside, as close to wearing nothing at all down there as seemed possible while still covering the essentials. If he moved or shifted in any way, he risked inadvertent exposure. Air from the floor vent tickled his privates.
The door to the prep room opened, revealing Officer Kersey on the other side of it. She spared Robbie only a quick glance and said, “Ready, boss? They’re all set up in the display room.”
Nurse Reyes-Garcia nodded, and Robbie knew by the faint clicking noise that the wall cameras were coming back on. Again, they swiveled, auto-focused, and zeroed in on him. Robbie offered a resigned thumbs-up to one of them.