The Muscle Punishment ﹠ Humiliation Society

We were placed under the six remaining hanging collars and our necks shackled in, completing the set.  Anyone who tried to struggle got a cloth shoved in their face that made them go limp in a few seconds. I figured I did not want to get a whiff of whatever that was and played along. My collar was secured by his dude built like a rugby player, short and thick. He had a remote in his hand.  We stood looking at each other and then he toyed with the remote some.  The chain from the ceiling started lifting up, on a gearwrench until I was half on my toes. He then stopped it.  I was left standing in a stress position, gravity causing my upper torso to flare out a bit.

There seemed to be a posse of assistants or foremen in there with us, all old and brutal looking to me. They were dressed in jeans or leather pants, upper torso bare.  The youngest was probably in his late 30’s and they went up from there.  Thick guys, and mostly hairy with various stages of muscularity. 

One of them approached me and stood there. Maybe 40, dark short cropped hair, hard face, hairy torso. I couldn’t help but think he reminded me of a wrestling coach I had in high school, not so much in the face but his attitude. My nude bound teen bodybuilder physique hanging helpless in front of him. 

He looked me up and down before staring at my chest and said, “Top heavy, eh?” Then he took the meat of my pectorals and cupped them, one in each hand, like I was a piece of fruit in a marketplace or something. I could feel my cock rising. 

He cocked his head and looked over my bound arms, went down to my abs. If he noticed by growing boner he didn’t show it but continued down to my legs. They got another comment from him - “Swan Lake.”  I didn’t know what the fuck that meant.

But his beefy hand went up to the top of my head and gave me a pat. He played with my jaw some. I took it. Then when I was distracted his other hand took my cock and began to rub it.  That made me twist some - the first time I had reacted to his touch.

“Settle down, Tits” he said in a mock soothing voice, like when you’re trying to train a horse or a dog. Stroked me again and I thrashed a bit. “Oh, are you going to be a tough guy? Is that what you want to play? Because I am a lot tougher than you, gym boy.”

I knew he wasn’t kidding. But I had to fight some, right? No way I was going to just bend to - WHATEVER this shit was.

He smiled and while one hand was still on my cock another went up to my left pec and a finger started circling towards my nipple. “Or maybe that’s what you’d like, eh? Is that what all those muscles are for?”  His finger getting closer and closer to my big pink. “Are you THAT kind of strong young athlete?”

I could hear other dudes screaming out, a few of them panting, but it was like I was in some sort of virtual reality space. The only thing really real was this dude on me, and more importantly the only thing I felt was what my body was feeling under his touch.

My captor, whom I now called Coach, motioned with the clicker in his hand off to the side and before long some big men in leather unchained my collar from the ceiling.  I wasn’t the first, mind you.  I think Mikey had already left. The majority of guys were still cussing, thrashing around and acting like this was the worst thing that could ever happen to them. I have to admit in hindsight I wonder why that didn’t cross my mind also at the time. I mean being kidnapped, bound and groped naked would be a line in the sand for most dudes. But as we would confess afterwards, this part was the highlight for some of them.

But it was obvious I was “tamed” and I was led out from the understage area. Down a hallway where there were a few men, some full clothed or half, on phones or with clipboards. I was marched down, nude, in a collar and arms hammerlocked behind me, my teen junk waving ahead as all the men watched. And I got this Charlton Heston Planet of the Apes vibe all of a sudden that made my dick get a bit more hard. It was like a was a sub-species now, something that was there not as an equal and not to be taken seriously but a stud form for their amusement.

I was taken to a small room that was designed to look like a doctor’s office. There were two men in attendance in white coats. The collar and wrist restraints were taken off and I had been free for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually half of that.  But for the next 30 minutes I was subjected to another type of bondage, placed in a series of straps and rods that these men measured each inch of my nude physique and charting every width and size and distance of every attribute. Not just how long was my cock or how big were my nipples but the distance between ab muscle ridges, length of pit hairs, thigh expanse in resting pose, lat expansion when flexing. Everything being recorded onto a laptop.

I was a good piece of meat for them. Partly because I knew if I tried anything the response would be painful, as these guys didn’t play around. But also I started to get interested into why they were doing all this. Why so much detail. Why so hands-on. 

And of course they would not talk to me. They would nod and whisper to themselves, but when they looked at me it was like “OK beef, move in this position” as they would strap me into another set of measurers. 

But one of them did break. The blond guy with the green eyes and thick build. He sensed I was interested in why this was all happening, why all this hands-on examination. He could even tell I was going a bit crazy and think maybe they were going to try to clone me or something. I remember when our eyes locked with that thought in both our minds. Then he leaned in and quietly said, “No stud, you’re not some science experiment. We just get off manhandling your muscles.” Then he squeezed my left nipple tip and walked away.

By then five of us had been processed and were taken to the Wrestling Room.

Published: 2026-07-04, viewed 66 times.