#torturerack

The Stretch-O-Matic 2000 (patent pending) - #1

(( Art is commissioned from the incredibly talented ArtReplicant. Original story by me. ))

Eric didn’t release the hold; however, he loosened his grip just long enough to put his new plan into action. With a pivot, he guided Rei forward with a sharp shove to the shoulder and snapped him into motion. Rei barely had time to catch his footing before Eric sent him whipping across the ring, the force deliberate, calculated. Rei hit the corner hard, back and shoulders slamming into the turnbuckles with a breath-stealing impact that jolted his frame. The ropes quivered as Rei cried out in pain before lurching forward, thanks to inertia. Rei felt himself falling to his knees from the pain, but Eric was already there. He stepped into Rei’s path, arms wrapping with precision, one securing across the upper body while the other scooped underneath. Rei’s resistance came a fraction too late. Rei’s world swirled in dizzying motion as he blinked to orient himself. The area around him was still slightly burry, but the pain told him all he needed to know. 

Eric powered through the lift, legs driving, spine straightening as he hoisted Rei up and across his shoulders, catching him clean and high. Rei’s body folded over Eric’s frame, perpendicular and elevated, his spine bowing as Eric adjusted his grip and planted his feet. One of Rei’s legs hung forward, the other dragged back, his weight fully committed to Eric’s shoulders now. Eric straightened deliberately, rolling his shoulders once to settle the load, making sure Rei was balanced exactly where he wanted him. The message was unmistakable. Payback had already happened. Eric had one goal and only one goal: to make Rei submit after becoming Eric’s plaything.

Rei could still feel that overwhelming heat coursing through his body. What was it about Eric that made him so aroused by being dominated by him? Was it Eric? Or was it the way Eric took control? Rei wasn’t sure, but he wanted to make Eric earn his submission. He certainly wouldn’t let a simple hold like this torture tack beat him, no matter how much it hurt. Eric adjusted his grip. The shift was devastating. Rei’s lower back compressed instantly, vertebrae stacked wrong under the load. His ribs flared as his torso was forced open, chest stretched wide, while his hips were pulled in the opposite direction. The muscles along his abdomen and obliques seized, trying to brace, but the angle robbed them of coordination. One hand clamped around Rei’s thigh, pulling it down. The other hooked on Rei’s chin, drawing it down. The opposing forces torqued Rei’s body in three directions at once, turning the rack from a carry into a true punishment hold. Rei cried out, his head falling back as the stretch deepened. The strain tore through his core first. His abs locked hard, then shuddered, unable to stabilize against the uneven pull. His obliques burned as they were stretched long and tight, fibers screaming as they fought to keep his torso from folding further. His lower back throbbed, the pressure stacking higher with every second Eric held him there.

Eric took a slow step forward. The movement alone sent another shock through Rei’s body. Rei’s legs tensed reflexively, quads and hamstrings firing to relieve pressure that wouldn’t ease. His shoulders burned as his upper body was dragged back, chest forced open while his hips were pulled down, his spine trapped in a merciless arc. Eric flexed. Not explosively. Deliberately. The rack tightened. Rei’s breath came out ragged as the compression intensified. His ribcage felt trapped between Eric’s shoulder and his own tensed core. Every inhale stretched him further; every exhale made the pressure bite deeper into his midsection and lower back. Eric could feel the resistance fading. “Don’t tell me this is going to force you to give up?” Eric taunted Rei, and Rei knew he couldn’t let a simple pro wrestling hold beat him. No, he wanted to see what Eric was capable of. He wanted to see how much he could take. Eric’s strength and power captivated him. The more he was in Eric’s control, the more he was falling for him. But he couldn’t make it easy. Eric deserved strength. He deserved to have someone who could handle everything he could dish out. Rei focused. He had to remain strong. Rei growled as his muscles fired, as he still fought, but now they did it unevenly, out of sync. Tremors ran through his legs. His core spasmed, struggling to protect a spine that was being bent past comfort and control.

The Stretch-O-Matic 2000 (patent pending) - #2

(( Art is commissioned by @niceguyfighter from the incredibly talented ArtReplicant. Original story by me in collaboration with @niceguyfighter . ))

THUD!

Another vicious fist sank deep into Steve's battered core. His breath hitched, his ribs rattling as the impact rippled through his entire frame. His once-pristine six-pack, now drenched in sweat, glistening under the bright arena lights were starting to show their wear. The flexed ridges of his abs trembled, his muscles locked in a desperate battle to withstand the punishment. The power of Damion's punches were taking their toll. Steve felt each punch bury itself deeper into his abs. His once taut hard abs were becoming soft unable to resist the impact. What was worse was that Steve knew Damion could tell. Steve was in trouble and Damion knew it.

Damion’s grip around his waist was like a vice, his monstrous arm compressing Steve’s midsection like a living steel trap. The crowd roared it approval of the brutal nature of the fight. The thirst for savage beatings overshadowed the affinity for Steve. The shift in the crowd's preference was becoming more and more apparent. The shadowy figure spoke into his phone with a smile, "You were right about human nature."

“OOOHH! DAMION’S JUST HAVING HIS WAY WITH STEVE!”

Damion smirked, his face dangerously close to Steve’s heaving torso, feeling every convulsion, every twitch of resistance. “Starting to crack, pretty boy?” Damion taunted, his breath hot against Steve’s damp skin. He gave another brutal squeeze, relishing the way Steve’s abs flexed, and then shuddered under the unrelenting pressure, "Payback's a bitch isn't it?"

Steve growled, refusing to let out another cry, but his lips parted in a silent grimace. He could feel it—each strike was getting deeper, his core no longer the impenetrable wall it had been at the start of the match.

Damion suddenly hoisted Steve higher, shifting his grip effortlessly as he raised Steve high into a Gorilla Press. The crowd gasped and cheered for Damion as he displayed his power, his strength.

"OH NO—LOOK AT THIS! DAMION ISN’T DONE YET!"

Before Steve could react, Damion twisted his massive frame and threw Steve up over his shoulders, locking him into a brutal torture rack! The audience erupted as Damion flexed, bending Steve’s body into an agonizing arc. Steve’s sculpted abs stretched to their absolute limit, the ridges of his core pulled taut across Damion’s hulking shoulders. His lower back burned with white-hot pain, the strain radiating into his arms and legs. He clenched his jaw tight, every muscle in his body tensed in an effort to endure. The camera zoomed in on his face—his expression twisted in agony, sweat dripping down his temples. He tried to mask the pain, but his body betrayed him. No matter how hard Steve tried to mask his pain, his face showed the full agony he felt as his body was bent unnaturally.

“STEVE’S IN TROUBLE! LOOK AT THAT STRETCH—HIS ABS, HIS BACK—HOW MUCH MORE CAN HE TAKE?!”

Damion chuckled darkly, adjusting his grip to pull even harder on Steve’s chin and leg. “You wanted a fight, golden boy?” he growled with disdain, his biceps bulging as he cranked the hold. “Then FIGHT through this.”

Steve flailed his arms, his muscles flexing desperately as he tried to find a way to strike back. His fingers clawed at the air, searching for anything—but Damion only pulled harder. Steve's abs felt like they were being ripped apart. The pain was unbearable—yet a strange sensation crept through him. A rush of heat surged to his core, a primal thrill at being completely dominated by raw power. His body tensed, his breathing ragged. No. Not here. Not now. He fought to regain control of himself, but the way Damion held him, stretched him, controlled him—it ignited something deep inside.

Damion felt the twitch in Steve’s body and chuckled. “Oh? Don't tell me you are enjoying yourself, golden boy?” He gave another violent tug, forcing a strangled groan from Steve’s lips.

“OH MY GOD! LOOK AT STEVE! HE’S TRYING SO HARD NOT TO SCREAM!”

Steve clenched his fists, his body drenched in sweat, his abs burning, screaming, begging for relief.

(( Art is commissioned from the incredibly talented ArtReplicant. Original story by me. )) Dustin's face was covered in sweat as he pushed as hard as he could on Wyatt's face as well as squeezed as hard as he could on Wyatt's scrotum. He was getting annoyed at how durable Wyatt was. The hockey enforcer could take a lot of pain. Even after alternating elbow to his abs and elbow to his pecs, Dustin could not break Wyatt. Wyatt, was breathing heavily which meant Dustin thought he had him on the cusp of breaking him. Dustin took a chance and gave Wyatt one more solid elbow into his gut as he tossed him off his knee. Wyatt curled up to protect his abs as he rolled a little on the mat. Dustin grinned because he knew Wyatt was finally hurting. Now he just had to get him to hurt unbearably. Taking Wyatt by the head, Dustin lifted Wyatt and over his shoulders into a torture rack. Dustin liked doing his racks a little to the side to allow his muscular shoulders to dig into the soft flesh of his opponents.  "AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!! FFFUUUCCCKKKKK!!!!!!" Wyatt called out as his body radiated pain. Dustin could feel the sweaty muscle of Wyatt's core sliding along his own sweaty back. Dustin adjusted a little and the result put more pressure and jolted Wyatt's back some more. Wyatt's arms flailed looking for something anything that could help him get out of this hold. The pain was increasing thanks to gravity and Dustin's hand pulling down on him. Wyatt had closed his eyes and tried to focus on something other than the pain, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore what his body was being put through. Through his side, Wyatt could feel the solid tone muscle of Dustin's back and shoulders press into his flesh. His own shoulders and chest caved in a little as Dustin had to adjust once more for the sweatiness of both competitors. Wyatt knew he was in trouble. With Dustin's hand over his mouth, Wyatt could only really breathe through his nose and the pain made that really hard to do. As Dustin pulled down in his face once more, Wyatt could hear the taunts of Dustin and did his best not to cry out in pain again to give satisfaction to Dustin. "Come on, my Canadian Bacon, let me hear that sweet sound of pain come from your mouth. The sooner you accept that I own you, the quicker we can move on to more pleasant things, like me taking that ass of yours and filling it with my alpha greatness. I'll even be nice and let you worship this body of a true alpha so you know what you can work towards first. How's that sound? Just submit and let the fun begin!"

(( Commission from the incredibly talented ArtReplicant ))

"You should have tapped,"Damion coldly stated as he released William from the devastating camel clutch and dragon sleeper combination. William collapsed to the dirt and coughed as he tried to get air back into his lungs. Damion stood straddling over him looking down at he cowboy on the ground.

William slowly rose to his knees, "This fight..... ain't over....... yet, partner." He gasped as he got to his knees. The crowd was on pins and needles waiting to see what would happen next. There were a few murmurs of impressed fans as William got to his knees, but no cheers or rallying cries filled the barn. Instead it was a hushed tense crowd thirsty for more.

"It's been over," came Damion's terse reply.

"nnnngggghhhhh....uuugggghhhhh...." William grunted as he was swiftly thrown into an over the shoulder back breaker. The upper-middle of his back was pierced by Damion's left shoulder blade and Damion let gravity pull on William's lower back. Damion gripped and held William with his left hand on his throat. He was pressing down on the throat with a good amount of force. William luckily had the wherewithal to latch his left arm around Damion's neck to give him some support and to help prevent his full upper body from being tipped forward. Williams abs were again stretched and on full display for the patrons above looking down as were William's pecs. Both were tense and flexing as he tried to figure a way out of the hold. Cameras flashed again quickly and frantically as people caught the moment. 

Damion, seizing the moment, flexed his right bicep as he looked towards it completely ignoring William. Damion's mountainous bicep and all his hard cut muscles shown brightly as he moved into better lighting. The veins in his body were quite pronounced. It appeared Damion had little to no body fat. Instead he was all muscle, lean, ripped, and cut. The two fighters were right now a dichotomy of each other. Damion had broken no sweat and was showing off for the crowd, while his foe glistened in sweat and struggle to free himself from humiliation. "Submit." coldly states Damion once more to William, "Submit or I will break you."

"Fuck you!"

(( Commission from the incredibly talented ArtReplicant )) "You're finished." Damion bluntly and matter of factly told William as he finished his flexing for the fans. Before William could respond, Damion lifted William just over his head and rotated him 180 degrees. As Damion brought William down, he hooked his left arm around William's right thigh and pulled down. He then let Damion fall behind his back a little as he took his right arm and hooked it under William's right armpit. From there it was simple adjustments to finish putting William in a back breaker the likes no one had seen before.  "What the.....AAAAAHHHHHHHHH FUUAAAAAAAHHHHHHCCCCKKKK!" William screamed as his back was bent and twisted while Damion secured in his hold. His back burned like it was about to break. He could feel his abs stretch to the point where some felt like they were tearing apart. Damion finished by moving his right hand over William's right pec and finding William's throat He also turned his head just a tad to show off a sly grin to any camera that was fixated on William. "AHHHHEEEECCCCHHHHHHH!" William grabbed Damion right wrist with his own right hand in an attempt to pry the choke off his throat. Damion had too much leverage and was able to force William's head down to his hip by the throat. William was dizzy from the lack of air and also the blood flow that pooled in his head before the choke had started. His vision was blurring fast. The pain surged through his body as his muscled twitched and flexed desperate to stop being twisted or stretched beyond their range of motion. Williams protestations quickly died to moans and then just as quickly died altogether. Damion's grin grew into a smile of satisfaction as he felt the cowboy weakening under his grasp and then go limp.  The crowd watched with morbid wonder as the carnage unfolded before them. Camera recorded the whole event. Mouths were gaping open at what they witnessed. Pictures had been taken and vids had been recorded. Social Media blew wide open as each pic and vid went viral. The crowd waited for Damion to just dump William to the ground. Damion had other plans.