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From: nialos@yahoo.com
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Subject: {ASSM} Pain Factor Part 1 by Platypus (MMMF/mmmm, torture, cbt, extreme)
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Date: Mon,  9 May 2005 21:10:02 -0400
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I'm posting this story at the request of and with the permission of the
author, Platypus.  It is an entry in the Spartan Boys Story Festival
and is archived on my site at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/nialos/www/spartan_boys.html

* * *

Pain Factor Part 1 by Platypus (MMMF/mmmm, torture, cbt, extreme)
by Platypus
plupy@surfbest.net

copyright 2005 by Platypus, all rights reserved

* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY.  It contains
explicit  depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If
you are not of  a legal age in your locality to view such
material or if such  material does not appeal to you, do not
read further, and do not save this story.
* * * * *

Fear Factor the American television show has proven very
popular. The concept originated in Japan as a series of
fitness and stamina ordeals undergone by adolescent Japanese
boys. Although this early variant had been considered too
extreme for mainstream American audiences, a clandestine
group of extremely wealthy, powerful, and influential
international sadists figured that for their selective
clientele, it was not extreme enough. So during the summer
of 2005, the closed circuit TV entertainment program Pain
Factor came into being. Certain greedy parents, made aware
of the urgent call for 13-year-old male contestants, and the
winner-take-all prize of $50 million U.S. dollars   rushed
to enter their sons. By 1st June, some 22,000 resumes and
casting photos were received and accepted at several
advertised post office boxes. By the middle of July, four
"lucky" boys were selected to compete against each other in
the first episode in the new series. It would turn out to be
a rite of passage they would never forget. This is their
story, and to some extent, the story of some contestants who
were to follow.

The casual observer perceives them to be handsome
schoolboys, wearing short-sleeved light blue cotton shirts,
Navy blue clip-on ties, and matching dark gray dress pants,
although barefoot. Still wearing black blindfolds, the boys
are excited, feeling the adventure, and to various degrees
inclined to chat with each other. They've been led to an
unknown subterranean space located beneath a suburban strip
mall not far from a large American city. None of the barely
teens had the slightest idea where they'd been brought to.

Andrew is speaking loudly, his lower-pitched half-whisper
bouncing in funny echoes off the thick, bunker-like concrete
walls surrounding them. His language is matter-of-fact,
articulate. "Some people think my parents are greedy, but
they're not, not really. Not like that woman and her sons
trying to get money out of Michael Jackson. Besides, I kind
of wanted to do this, nobody forced me into it." Andrew has
just completed 7th grade, and is 13-1/2  almost exactly. He
has light brown hair on his head shaped weeks ago into a
buzz cut and starting to grow back, but the tiny hairs on
his forearms and big toes are even lighter, barely wisps,
and he involuntarily shivers.

"Well I didn't come voluntarily. Not really. But my step-Mom
convinced me," Steven replies. He's barely past his
thirteenth birthday, a week or so, is dark-haired, close to
black in color, and the hair on his head is identical to the
sparse growth just starting under his arms and in his pubic
regions. He's a sturdy boy, weighing in at 86 pounds, and is
quick to smile. His eyebrows also draw immediate attention
being slightly bushy.

John and Peter are listening intently. John is a bit further
into puberty, and at thirteen years, nine months, the oldest
of the foursome. He's blonde, and at 5'6'' is the tallest.
With long fingers and toes and a slender frame, he can also
be called lanky. Peter is thirteen years, four months, has
bright and arresting blue eyes, and like the others just
completed 7th grade. "It'll be just like that show Fear
Factor   except one of us will win all that money," he
blurts.

"No, it won't. This isn't real TV, it's closed circuit, and
God knows who watches it. We might be afraid, in fact,
scared shitless, but the thing that you gotta remember is
that it's called Pain Factor   and so it's going to hurt,"
John chimed in.

"I don't l-like pain," Peter admitted. He recalled the time
when he'd broken his left leg skiing and his Dad hadn't
rescued him for nearly an hour because he'd been talking to
some strange woman that they'd just met. That was over a
year ago and it was all healed, but he could still feel in
his imagination the sharp, stabbing pains from the shards of
broken bone digging into the soft tissue just below his
knee.

Steven thought about a more recent incident, a few months
old, also healed. He'd been doing a Tom Cruise and dancing
in his bare feet and sliding across a shag carpet and a pair
of his sister's safety scissors had suddenly and somehow
penetrated the meat of his right sole. The cut was deep and
lengthwise, and took four stitches to close. The doctor had
given him a stinging shot of Novocain in the ball of his
foot near the wound but for some reason it had not taken
effect, and the stitching with a long needle repeatedly
puncturing his sole and weaving out again had hurt like
crazy. Why am I doing this he thought? I must be crazy.

Suddenly the boys heard a man's insistent voice. "It's
time," he hissed, opening the door to their waiting room.
"You can lose the blindfolds."

*

It was like a circus on the stage. There was a live studio
audience with perhaps 300 seats surrounding the stage, set
up like an amphitheatre. The seats were filled with adults,
most of them dressed casually, but some wore blouses and
dress shirts and a few wore expensive suits. They cheered
when the four barefoot contestants came onstage, walking
hesitantly into the brightly lit area laden with cameras and
TV monitors. Although closed circuit and unavailable to the
general public, the event was being broadcast like a
prizefight around the world. The set was divided into
different motifs, like a theme park that suggested various
settings for inflicting pain, but to the audience present,
the themes and props were familiar   a dungeon with various
implements and contraptions, manacles dangling from high
above, raised metal platforms that could be heated, and in
the doctor's office a metal examination table with leather
straps for securing a boy's wrists or ankles. Also on stage
were the game show's hosts and helpers, a couple of huge
muscled burly brutish guys looking like refugees from a WWF
spin-off, only meaner and uglier.

"Wonder what those guys are doing here?" Peter said,
sounding naive.

Steven whispered, "Probably to make sure that none of us
takes a powder."

"What?" Andrew asked, unable to make out what Steven had
said amid the cheering and clapping of the crowd.

"Never mind." Steven replied.

A moment later the game show began. Hi, "I'm Craig L.
Nelson, and welcome to this premiere episode of Pain Factor
 where these four young men are competing for the largest
prize ever offered on a TV game show - 50 million dollars."
Cheers, catcalls, and a burst of sustained applause
followed. The barefoot boys were standing on the stage's
varnished wooden planked surface and trying to take in the
enormity of their surroundings.  To Andrew, who watched a
variety of programming, the guy seemed vaguely familiar,
like some actor he'd seen recently on one of a jillion cop
shows. But it wasn't him   only looked like him. This
Nelson, who seemed to project his voice in all directions,
spoke again. "Tonight, we're being broadcast all around the
world to over a million of you   those sharing our special
interest!" More cheers ensued. The joke, if it was a joke,
was lost on the boys. All four just smiled and tried not to
look embarrassed. "So let's introduce our lucky
contestants." More cheers and a few catcalls followed from
those assembled. "Shh! Quiet down everyone!" Each of the
boys were given a hand-held mike and told to speak up when
asked. Nelson motioned to Andrew while the other adults
onstage, the wrestler-types and a female producer, mid-
twenties and looking like a fashion model herself, gazed
right at the boy. "Tell us a little bit about yourself,
Andrew." Nelson was insistent because he had to be. These
were pleasantries, necessary prelude, but still
pleasantries.

"Well, my name is Andrew Moriarty, I'm 13, I go to Cedar
Glen Middle School in Pennsylvania. I like racing model cars
and building models, I like pizza and I like riding my bike,
it's for hills and mountainous terrain, I like going to the
beach, there's a lake near where we live and--"

Some polite cheers and claps for Andrew as if on cue.

"That's great, Andrew. How about you Steven?"

"Well, Mr. Nelson, I'm also 13--"

"You're all 13!"

The audience tittered, and a few laughs are heard.

"Yes, that's true. My name is Steven Pimento, I like science
and reading, I go to Daisy Fields Junior High in Mansfield,
Massachusetts--"

"We've learned that you've had a rather painful experience a
few months ago. Your foot got sliced open ACCIDENTALLY. Care
to tell us a little bit about that?"

Those assembled are obviously interested as numerous murmurs
are heard, like a rustling of human vultures in their seats.

"There really isn't that much to tell, Mr. Nelson. My little
sister left a pair of her safety scissors lying around on
the shag rug. I was fooling around, playing, running around
the house and sliding, barefooted, and one blade cut right
across the sole of my foot--"

"Which foot?"

"My left one. It hurt, it really hurt, and there was some
blood, not as much as you'd think, but it cut deep right
under the skin. I needed four stitches, and the Novocain
didn't work. The stitching hurt like crazy too."

"But it's all healed now?"

"Yes, but I have a little scar right across my sole where
the stitches were and--"

"Do you think that your recent experience will make it
easier for you to endure pain?"

"I don't think so, Mr. Nelson. Maybe pain games if they
don't hurt too much   if they're more about my stamina, like
in running. I went out for 7th grade track--"

The other boys were also a little worried about Steven's
recent ordeal, as if the experience had given him some kind
of an edge, an advantage, an extra tolerance for pain that
none of them possessed. All three of them thought it, but as
it turned out, it never mattered.

"That's wonderful, Steven. Let's give it up for Steven
Pimento!" Cheers, louder applause is heard. The assemblage
is obviously favorably impressed.

Okay, John, it's your turn."

John, the lanky, slightly older boy, did look a little more
mature, even if he did have a baby face. He was also the
most taciturn and reticent to talk.

"John Lanroche?"

"I don't like school much, I have a girlfriend, her name is
Ashley, she's 14, and we go out to movies and mess around--"

"Are you two having sex?"

John's face reddens. He's obviously embarrassed. "We French
and do massages, if that's what you mean," he says
defiantly.

"How are you with pain?"

"I'm no wussy. Me and a few guys used to play this game,
where we'd punch each other in the arm until one guy would
quit--"

"Peter Koch. Let's hear from you."

"I'm in this for the money," he bragged, blue eyes flashing.
A loud round of applause punctuated the enclosed space. This
boy had pluck, precisely the attitude admired worldwide in
these types of contestants, even by confirmed sadists.
"It'll be just like Fear Factor which happens to be one of
my favorite shows on regular TV. Peter talked about playing
baseball, and his skiing accident, and about every nick and
bruise he'd ever gotten, but fortunately not for long.

"Okay, Peter. Let's give it up for PETER!" A nice round of
applause ensued. Some in the audience were already rooting
for this very attractive boy.

Soon Mr. Nelson was explaining the rules, and getting
through this phase even more quickly. "The games will be as
painful as inhumanly possible and ingeniously devised on
occasion, although sometimes a simpler approach to
inflicting pain on contestants is preferred. Like the
Spartan games for boys from millennia ago, there will be
endurance and stamina involved, and all games will be
participated in while the boy is naked--"

"Naked?" Two of the boys, Steven and John, hadn't been
previously made aware of this requirement, or else it hadn't
sunk in, but now they both were very much aware. When Andrew
and Peter had read it somewhere, they thought, maybe wishful
thinking, that the words "full nudity" had been a misprint
of some sort. Oh well. Steven secretly harbored
exhibitionist tendencies, now he'd get a chance to try them
out for real. He started getting a slight hard-on thinking
about the possibilities, as long as it didn't go too far. It
would be kind of exciting being nude on stage.

Mr. Nelson went back to explaining the rules. "During the
games, we will always have Dr. Talmadge, a licensed
physician and expert in adolescent medicine on stage, as an
advisor. No bones will be broken, no joints actually
dislocated, or any permanent injury inflicted except some
minor scarring may occur and is allowed everywhere and
anywhere on their bodies but the boy's face. The boys will
have their orifices explored, or even altered to some
extent, during certain extreme tests, but again, none of
these injuries will be permanently disabling, nor effect
their long-term external appearance or functionality. The
parents or legal guardians of each boy have signed a release
to this effect. These are very similar in character to
puberty ordeals, and are actually beneficial in fostering a
boy's passage into manhood. It is a 'winner-take-all'
contest. There are no consolation prizes except the not
insignificant consolation of not quitting and EMBARASSING
AND DISAPPOINTING YOUR FAMILIES by leaving the stage
prematurely. You must obey every order from any authority
figure or be immediately disqualified and replaced. You may
scream or curse or cry as much as you want, especially when
you are involved in a pain game, but you must obey within a
certain amount of time: Exactly one minute from when the
order is given!"

Mr. Nelson looked at the boys sternly, especially for a game
show host.

"If any of you boys would like to quit now, however, before
the games start, and thereby forfeit your chance at the
grand prize, a replacement boy is waiting   offstage   to
take your place. Do any of you wish to leave now?"

All four boys   Andrew, Steven, John, and Peter - were
having all kinds of butterflies, second thoughts, in fact,
were scared shitless by what they had heard. This is Pain
Factor, not Fear Factor, at least two of them screamed in
their heads. Silently. Although four pairs of bare feet
squirmed and shifted, no boy made a move to leave the stage.

"All right then. Strip!"

Peter and Andrew each plucked off his clip-on tie and
started unbuttoning their shirts.

"You must strip in this order for the cameras or risk being
disqualified. Ties, shirts, belts, pants buttons, flies,
remove pants, and then briefs. You will then make your penis
hard so that you and it are standing at attention."

A few laughs and catcalls from the crowd were heard, as well
as a bawdy whistle or two.

The stripping then commenced in earnest.

Steven soon had his shirt off, and then his pants and
briefs, and began earnestly jerking off. He wanted to cum
right there on the stage but he doubted that it'd be
allowed. Still, he stroked.

Peter and Andrew had soon stripped down and were stroking
too, their clothes in disarray on the floor of the stage.
John was slowest, but he did it. He stroked too, and thought
only a little bit about Ashley naked. He didn't want to cum
right there in front of a crowd. That would be so
embarrassing.     

Coming next:
Part 2: Pain Games

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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