by D. A. Maddox
And now he had to repeat them all, then finish with extra…
Bending over, balancing on one leg as Miss Trainer forced quadricep stretches out of him while he held one end of the punishment horse for balance. She eased the stretch farther, farther—
Robbie gasped, patting the side of his hip with his free hand
From Mr. Musgrove, poking him, prodding him: “That’ll work on Rig 11A if he can pull that off with the other one.” He patted Robbie’s bare ass.
“You heard him,” Miss Trainer barked. “Switch, you fucking slut.”
Robbie switched, catching his breath, willing the tears to stop as she bent him at the other knee, watching the tears fall to the floor anyway as Mr. Musgrove playfully twiddled his hanging penis and the overhanging cameras hummed and flashed.
“Okay,” Miss Trainer said. “Stand. Up. Mr. Musgrove, what are we on?”
“Ah, um. Let’s see—basic column tie measurements, Lillie.”
“Right. Hands behind your back, convict. And for fuck’s sake, stop with the waterworks. We haven’t done shit to you, and you still have a third session at seven. This is for your own good, you know. Jesus.”
Obediently, staring through his streaming eyes at his Matron by the doorway, Robbie folded his arms behind his back as though he were readying himself for handcuffs. But Miss Trainer didn’t have handcuffs in mind. Instead, she took him by the wrists and urged them up and up, slowly and carefully bending them out of their natural position.
As per instructions, Robbie kept from making noise as long as he could.
****
5 PM.
“So far,” Officer Jenny went on, “only one woman of transitional age—a kid he knew in high school, I think—has been involved in Robbie’s program. To receive discipline from the three of you will be most effective in deterring him from future crimes. There’s something special about letting the victims take part. Used to be totally forbidden, under law.”
Maddy knew that. She paid attention in school. And she paid attention now. Whatever she did—all that she did—had to be completely by the rules.
That’s how you get through. Keep to the program. He’ll be free tomorrow morning, and so will you.
“The opening scene of the final act is critical,” Officer Jenny said. “His caretaker—that’s my boss, Nurse Reyes-Garcia—is going to tell Robbie that any one of you has the power of pardon. He’ll be brought in fully dressed to hear your decision. He’ll be in a tearaway facsimile of his normal clothes. He’ll think they’re real. He’ll be ready to go home. And he’ll be real hopeful when he makes his statement to you, the poor, gullible sap. He’ll be supplicative.”
Um, what? Maddy thought. No one said anything about this before.
And—oh, my God. That’s “N.R-G.” The one Robbie said was almost sweet.
Officer Jenny chuckled. “She doesn’t much like this bit, my dear old boss. It’s a trick, and a dirty one, but also an essential part of his reduction before being returned to freedom. The thing is, he’ll think you have the pardon of power, but you don’t. The raising of his hopes is another part of his discipline, which you’ve all agreed to carry out.”
And what if I just go, fuck it, and pardon him anyway?
“Jas, you’ll deny him pardon first.”
Jasmine’s lips stretched in a Cheshire cat grin. “Nice,” she said.
“Heather, you’re second—and you make him wait for it, all right? Ten seconds minimum.”
“No problem, Officer Jenny.”
“Final judgment is on you, Mads. You’ll do it. You’ll take his last hope away. You’ll watch his heart sink before you even get started.”
Maddy wanted to protest, to argue—
“The audience knows all about it. It’s a recurring theme on the show, a fan favorite, very dramatic. Happens to all of them. That means you need to really play it if you want to make it good.”
This is a lot like lying, Maddy wanted to object. I’m usually not a liar.
“If you don’t,” Officer Jenny finished meaningfully, “there will be consequences of your own. Right, Mads?”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I understand, Officer Jenny.”
Chapter Nineteen
Collections
8:35 PM.
Robbie sat naked on the end of the X-Frame, staring between his knees. Mr. Musgrove stroked his cheek, gave him a friendly, companionable squeeze between the neck and shoulder blade, and patted his rear. He then followed Miss Trainer, who departed without a word, out of the Preparation and Grooming room. When the door shut, Robbie let the tears come again, and he didn’t care that thirty million people were tuned in to see. He’d never been so berated, so verbally assaulted, in his life—not even by Officer Kersey or his father. Even after everything else he’d been through, it was upsetting. Why did she hate him so much?
Nurse Reyes-Garcia came to him and pulled up a chair. She had a glass of water in one hand, a pill in the other. “A multi-vitamin,” she said. “And you need to stay hydrated. The night is only beginning, Robbie. Take them.”
He sniffled. He took the water and the pill and held them in his lap. He looked at her, silently pleading that he would be allowed to speak. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He was so stretched out right now that he felt like he could bend over straight backwards and grab the front of his ankles, but it wasn’t a good feeling. It was freakish, and it still hurt.
He doubted if he could make it through the night. He needed to ask if he would be released straight after. If he could only know that he would go home after this final ordeal, maybe he could escape to some dark, back corner of his mind while it happened, then wake up later in his own dorm bed instead of having to wait until Saturday.
I could probably do that. Let me ask the question, Matron.
She shook her head.
He supposed he should be in no rush. There were still his parents to deal with—they’d be his ride back to Eastern Covenant—as well as the aftermath, socially, of his public punishment and shaming. It would follow him forever. He ran his hands through his hair, resisting the temptation to yank it out in clumps.
“Take them, Robbie,” she said.
Robbie took the pill, then chased it with the water, finishing it in three long gulps.
His body relaxed. He sucked up the tears. Steadied his breathing.
What now? he thought.
****
8:40 PM.
“One pill makes you larger,” Gloria said, flashing her most devious smile to the camera tech. “One pill makes you small. And the one your Matron gives you—your cock won’t flag at all.”
Canned laughter.
“For those of you new to the show,” she continued, sharing the smile with the guest who sat across from her, “the good nurse, Mrs. Reyes-Garcia, isn’t lying. She never does. The miracle pill Robbie just swallowed has all the day’s necessary vitamins rolled into one. But that’s not all that it has, right, Doctor Dex?”
“No, indeed,” her guest replied. “It has one hell of a lot more than that.”
Doctor Dex was a reed, a specter who would appear younger than his fifty-eight years to the viewing audience. But up close and in the flesh, he seemed more like one of the animatronic dolls Officer Jenny used to train her Volunteer Humiliators. His skin was so perfect it might have been painted on, his eyes like small, dehydrated bird eggs nestled in cages of dried latex.
“Tell us all about it, won’t you?”
“That’s our signature Eternally Yours product,” the doctor answered, leaning back in his chair, the portrait of confidence. “FDA-approved, registered trademark, that supplement is a virtual guarantee of all-night vitality and virility.”
“Why would Robbie need such a thing?” Gloria prodded, her southern drawl sly and knowing. But she persisted. “He’s young, Doctor Dex. He seems very potent to me. Such a shame to sneak chemicals into his healthy, innocent system.”
“This isn’t V
iagra, Miss Wholesome,” he replied, on-script. “This isn’t Cialis. It does everything both of those chemicals do, but—”
“Do explain.”
“—but it’s also proof against premature ejaculation, a replenisher, and all-natural to boot. Robbie McNeal’s love factory will stay in the manufacturing business no many how many deliveries he makes tonight, with no side effects in the morning.”
It was only the two of them in the studio, not counting the camera techs. Buck had left hours ago. Gloria’s counterpart would not be needed for the final televised destruction of a man—really, Buck couldn’t play “gay for pay” if his life depended on it—and a brand new twenty-year-old California girl had just been sentenced to four days CJH and flown in for processing and approval. By sunrise, if Cassie cleared the interview and was accepted into the program, Buck would need to have his homework underway.
She’d make it, Gloria knew. The powers-that-be would make it so. She was good looking, the young waif Cassie was, arrested for hacking internet channels forbidden to transitionals and trying to arrange a viewing party for her friends at school. Consequences, Live! didn’t have anyone else on tap for next week, and their substantial audience of heterosexual men hadn’t had a show to their tastes in a month. Buck would be only too eager to take the helm, and Cassie Stratham—much to her dismay—would become a star overnight.
Nothing like Robbie, though. Gloria would be grateful for the easing of her schedule, but for now, presiding over the climax of their first celebrity downfall, she was enjoying the biggest hit her show was likely to have for years. And she liked being in charge. She was a natural dominant.
“Doctor Dex,” she said, knowing his actual name but keeping to the script, “for the benefit of our male viewers, what do they need to know to get themselves a bottle of Eternally Yours?”
“It’s prescription-only,” he answered, his lips moving rather less than normal as he made the words. “Consult your doctor. Make sure you’re heart-healthy for sex.” He sat back, his chest rising and falling like an old leather bellows. “Any chance Robbie might get to use my product properly?” he unexpectedly asked. “Your audience seems to hope he will.”
“Depends on what you mean,” Gloria answered evenly, pretending to be unfazed by the ad-libbed question. “In the traditional sense, I doubt it. Don’t get me wrong—he’ll squirt all over the place—but I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. None of the endgame players would have the first clue what they’re doing. They’re humiliators. Punishers.” Pregnant pause. “Victims.”
She expected an acknowledgment—or, better, a retraction. Robbie had broken the law. He did not deserve to be rewarded. Normal sex was not what the federal court system peddled.
“Too bad,” said Doctor Dex. “Your audience will be disappointed.”
****
Officer Jenny came in as Maddy was fishing in her purse for the box with her contact solution and lenses. She sat on her bed, the “Devastator” dress for Scene Two of the final act still laid out across its width. She was already in her Volunteer Humiliator clothes, same as Jasmine and Heather. She had just finished praying, but her mind remained in turmoil.
She drew out the contacts and the eyedropper. “Time already?” she asked.
“Yep,” said Officer Jenny, her disposition nonchalant and chipper. “You three need to be in place before Robbie is. The camera might already be rolling on him.”
Maddy lifted the eyedropper.
“How about you keep the glasses for the opener?” Officer Jenny said. “They’ll help you establish authority in a kind of schoolteacher way. Then switch to contacts for Scene Two?”
Really? Maddy thought. Never been in authority over anyone my whole life, including myself. And to think, all I ever needed was my glasses.
She didn’t argue. She repacked her contact lens gear and slipped her wire-rimmed glasses back on. She stood, hands on her hips, tilted her head, and made a mock-mean face. “How’s this?” she asked. “Am I in charge now?”
Officer Jenny made an O with her thumb and ring finger. “Oh, yeah, Mads,” she said. “Yes, you are. Love it. Keep that tone of voice, too, all right?”
****
8:45 PM.
Nurse-Reyes Garcia returned Robbie to his cell. They did not speak. Her hand was on his arm, and it remained there as she fished out her keycard with her other hand and triggered the lock. There hadn’t been any catcalls or whistles from behind the other doors as he passed them, and he welcomed the silence. Maybe his status as a “fresh fish” had expired. Maybe the novelty and thrill of his forced exposure had played out.
Maybe they knew what was coming and felt sorry for him.
Wish I did, he thought as the door hissed and swung inward. Physically, he now actually felt better than he had since Intake. The soreness was gone—suddenly and inexplicably gone. After a few minutes of recovery time, his treatment at the hands of Miss Trainer and Mr. Musgrove, and probably the multi-vitamin, had left him feeling fit and limber enough for a 10k run. But he was scared. He still had to “pay the piper”.
Nurse Reyes-Garcia nudged him inside the cell. Robbie was surprised when she came in after him, leaving the door open.
The green jumpsuit, the tank top, and the flimsy jail boxers were nowhere to be seen. Instead, lying pressed and neat, hanging half off the end of his cot, was a white, long-sleeved Oxford dress shirt, black slacks, a normal set of underwear, and a black leather belt. On his nightstand lay a pair of black silk socks and matching dress shoes.
His court clothes. All that was missing of his things were his tie, his wallet, and his spare change.
He looked back at his Matron, confused.
“I do not like this part,” she said. “I do not agree with it, and especially not for you. Put your clothes on.”
Robbie held up his underwear. It was clean, fresh out of the dryer. He ran his hands down the smooth slacks. They were real. They were his. He sat next to them, but he didn’t put them on. He didn’t get it. Were they sending him home early? It was too much to hope for.
But—yes. That was it. And his Matron didn’t like it.
“Very well,” she said. “You may speak, for the moment.”
“Why, Matron?” he asked. “Did I get a pardon, or something?”
Did my parents rescue me, after all?
“No,” she said. “This is how you will appear to Misses Jasmine, Heather, and Maddy. I have been directed to tell you that your final fate is in their hands. You are to be informed that each has already chosen her selected implements of your final humiliations, as well as the tools for the punishments you earned yesterday. You have been made ready for these things in every way we know how to prepare you—minus the counseling, which you have continually refused. But you will have an opportunity to say whatever you like to them before they begin. For this moment, you are to present yourself appearing as you were when you came into our care. Dress, please.”
Maddy will let me off, then, he thought, sliding the underwear up his hips. She’s been dreading this. Almost as much as me, maybe.
He pulled on his shirt after that, same as his morning routine. He was more self-conscious about his chest than his legs. Even though being naked in front of his Matron hardly even registered at this point, it was his normal order in getting dressed.
God, she’s really pissed about this. She wants me to finish. Is she disappointed in me?
She continued, “It is my duty to tell you that, here at the end, it will be up to the intended victims of your criminal behavior whether or not to execute their share of justice upon you. They have been advised of their options. They will listen to you and not speak until it is time for them to pronounce what is to be done with you.”
“I’m glad I get to say it,” Robbie interjected truthfully. “Maddy kind of hinted I should apologize to all three of them. Felt like an idiot, needing her to remind—”
“This should not be happening,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said, cutting h
im off in turn. “But you will do it. You will speak and await their judgment. I am to advise you to do your very best—and to hope.” She seemed sincerely pained. Was she about to cry?
Robbie buttoned his pants, reached for the belt. He thought, You want the same thing I want. You want total absolution for me, a clean conscience, a return to something like normal after this. And you don’t think I’ll get it by being let off the hook. By being just forgiven. You need me to see this through.
I have to see this through.
“Where’s my tie?” he asked.
“I did not bring it,” his Matron answered. “Your profile record states you hate wearing ties. It is not necessary to make you wear it.”
“Is there anything you don’t know about me?”
“I was given superficial information at the time of your arrest, gleaned from your social media interactions and everything in the public record,” she said. “I have gotten to know you better since your arrival. But no one ever knows all there is to know about another person, Robbie.”
The words rang true. There was so much Robbie didn’t understand about even himself, new questions every day. She should be a guidance counselor, or something, he thought. Should be helping kids before they fuck up. She’d be good at that.
“I don’t want to disappoint you, Matron,” he said, drawing on his socks. “I think I know what to say.”
“Only the truth, Robbie,” she replied, her words warm with compassion. “Whatever else you may be, you remain an honest young cock hooligan. Nothing is more important than that.”
****
Outside, it had gone dark. Only the greenish glow of the prison and the street lamps illuminated the teeming clusters of “free viewers” that muttered in front of the darkened outdoor theater screen. It had only just blinked off—and now a sequence of red numbers burned slowly into view across its black expanse, counting down: 10:00, 09:59, 09:58…
Then, just under the countdown, a promise in bold, white print, all capital letters: