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					Dr. Friendly's Family Therapy
by
Regnar S. Reklaw

        I love my work. I go in early and I stay late. I work evenings and weekends. I sleep in the
office as I hardly ever go to my house because work is my home. If ever there was a happy
confluence of inclination and opportunity, then my perversion and my profession are it. I am a
homosexual sadist and the director of the State Hospital for Criminally Insane Adult Males.
Under the psychiatric mores of the 1950's, I am criminally insane, as homosexuality is a form of
insanity and practicing homosexuality is a crime. Under the social mores of the 1950's, people
who are inconvenient --- the retarded, the crippled, the eccentric, the antisocial, troublemakers,
communists or criminals --- are committed to insane asylums where they are warehoused and
forgotten. Under the political mores of the 1950's, there are no watchdog or advocacy groups, no
one to oversee the doctors or protect the inmates, no restrictions on lobotomies, electro-shock
treatments, sterilization or any form of torture that can be disguised as discipline or medical
treatment.

        The State will give any doctor unchecked control over an asylum so long as he will work
for the pittance that they pay, stay within the budget and keep the inmates locked down tight
without any silly, bleeding-heart-liberal coddling of the bastards with humane treatment. As I
never go home, live at the hospital and have few expenses, I find the State's pay more than
adequate. As I delight in keeping the inmates ill clothed, ill fed, badly housed and badly treated, I
have no trouble staying within the State's budget. As it is my pleasure to torture the bastards and
hear them scream, I am never tempted to coddle the inmates. I am a jewel in the crown of the
State's mental health system. I am a paragon of administrative virtue, an example to lesser
doctors who think more pay, bigger budgets and better treatment might result in more cures. I am
the State's darling and the inmates dread.

        I have under my control over fifteen hundred men, judged criminally insane, in whom
society and the State has no interest other than that they be securely warehoused, continually
punished and never released. No man has every escaped from my hospital, no man has every
gone unpunished in my hospital and no man has ever been released from my hospital. Every man
is kept caged and restrained in my hospital, every man is punished for the smallest infraction of
the rules in my hospital and, after years of drugs, torture and abuse, every man dies in my
hospital. No man escapes my notice, every man suffers under my care and the more handsome,
well built and well hung they are, the more they suffer.

        I have a staff of sadistic doctors, cruel nurses and brutish orderlies. I have medical
equipment that makes the instruments of the Inquisition look like children's toys. I have
electro-shock machines, operating theaters, dental drills, hydro and physical therapy machines,
traction devices, casts and braces. I have a pharmacy filled with drugs that can induce psychotic
episodes, hallucinations, convulsions, cramps, nausea, anxiety, panic, depression, sexual arousal,
obsession, compulsion, sexual frustration and a thousand other agonies. I have methods of
treatment so exquisitely painful that the medical profession and the general public are happy to

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believe that they are efficacious in the treatment of rapists and pedophiles and serial killers.


I have a Governor who is tough on crime. I have a State Legislature that is only interested in
saving money. I have a judicial system that feels the criminally insane do not need public
defenders. I have a public that hates my patients and wants to see them suffer. I have news media
which find the rambling, confused and fantastic complaints of the criminally insane not to be
newsworthy. I have all the prejudices of the 1950's to protect me and I have over fifteen hundred
men who have no one to protect them. I can do anything I want with these men and I do.

         I divide my patients into two categories, those who have contact with the outside world
and those who don't. When they are first admitted, most patients receive cards and letters and
visitors. The visits usually end before the second year of treatment is complete. The flow of cards
and letters gradually diminish and usually stop before the third year is complete. I can always
find an administrative or psychiatric reason for suspending an inmates writing privileges and
after three years most of the men in my care are completely isolated from the outside world and
totally at my mercy.

        For the first three years while they have contact with the outside world or for those few
patients whose relatives continue to visit year after year, the things I do to them must be colored
by the cover of psychiatric or medical treatment. For those who are isolated, I can drop all
pretense of treatment and torture and abuse them as I please. For my own amusement and the
amusement of the staff, I select from among the isolated inmates the handsomest, most muscular
and most well hung men for special treatment.

         I have a special wing of my hospital set aside for the special men who need special
treatment. It is a long low building of Romanesque design, built like a fortress with heavy stone
walls and tiny barred windows to house the inmates in an appropriately depressing and prison
like atmosphere. Inside the building is a labyrinth of tiny cells, narrow corridors and winding
stairs all of which lead down to the sound proofed basement which is divided into treatment
rooms fitted with antiquated medical equipment and all the favorite tools of the torturers art. To
these rooms the isolated, handsome, muscular, well hung, special men are brought for hours of
delightfully painful medical experiments and deliciously agonizing torture.

        This day I am especially happy in my work. From among the isolated men, I have chosen
four men for special treatment --- handsome, well built and well hung --- they committed their
insane crimes against members of their own families. Physical and sexual abuse, murder, torture,
rape, cannibalism and forced prostitution, these men used their own families to satisfy their
insane lusts and degraded appetites. Each man destroyed his family and left its members
traumatized and broken, maimed in mind and body. Some family victims have overcome their
injuries and have gone on with their lives. Others still ache from their wounds and with every
movement or thought suffer from the abuse they received. Some few seethe with rage and dream
only of revenge. They can not heal. They can not get on with their lives. They are trapped in a
morass of hate and they can have no peace until they make the man who injured them suffer the

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torments of Hell. I have invited the vengeful family victims of the four men I have chosen to
come to the hospital for a series of treatment sessions which I like to think of as family therapy.

        I chose Gary O'Herne as the first man to undergo the special treatment of family therapy.
Despite their name, the O'Herne family were of Turkish decent. The father, Kamal O'Herne
emigrated from Turkey to escape persecution. As a Protestant Christian in a land populated by
Islamists and Orthodox Catholics, he seldom encountered a friendly face or helping hand. As a
member of the security forces, he found he had no chance for advancement because of his
religion. At the age of twenty he emigrated to America with his pregnant wife Sasha. Gary
O'Herne, his oldest son was born shortly after the family's arrival and was given an American
name as befit his status as an American citizen.

        For four years, while Kamal attended the Police Academy and served his tour of duty as a
rookie officer, Gary was an only child and had the complete attention of his mother and father.
When Kamal's career in the Police Department was established, Sasha and Kamal added two
more sons, Tommy and Billy, to the family in less than two years. With two infants in the house,
Gary was pushed aside and all attention was centered on his two baby brothers whom he viewed
as rivals.

       For the next nineteen years, Gary tormented his brothers and did them every injury that
was in his power while trying to win his parents attention with his own athletic and academic
excellence. Gary succeeded in both endeavors. He beat his brothers almost daily, he blacked their
eyes and broke their bones and sicced the older boys at school upon them. Through his efforts
they were constantly in trouble, failed academically and were frequently expelled, while Gary
achieved academic excellence, a full football scholarship to college and complete frustration.

        The more trouble Gary made for his brothers, the more attention his parents paid to them
and the more they ignored him. Gary's frustrations came to a head in his senior year in college
when his parents missed his awards banquet to stay home with his brothers. Gary put his trophies
and plaques in the back of his pick-up truck along with a baseball bat, a roll of duct tape and
some lengths of rope. He drove through the night and arrived at his parent's home at about three
o'clock in the morning.

         Gary took the baseball bat, the duct tape and the lengths rope into the house. He went to
Billy's room and taped his brother's mouth and hog tied him before the nineteen year old boy had
time to fully wake up. He went to Tommy's room and repeated the process on his eighteen year
old brother. He then went to his parents' room and beat the sleeping couple with the baseball bat
until they were both bloody and unconscious. He went back to Tommy's room and used the bat to
break his brother's arms and legs before he untied the teenager, stripped him naked and anally
raped him. When he was finished, he strangled his youngest brother with his bare hands.

       Gary then went to Billy's room and carried the young man down to his truck. For six
months, Gary fled from the police by traveling constantly from city to city. For six months he
financed his flight by pimping Billy at truck stops, construction sites and biker bars. Twenty

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cocks per day was his quota for Billy, ten in the mouth and ten in the ass and Billy always met
and exceeded his quota. The result of Gary's rampage was that Billy was fucked close to insanity,
Tommy was dead, his mother was dead and his father was in a coma for months and permanently
disabled. After his capture, Gary was declared insane and sent to my hospital for treatment.

        Kamal and Billy O'Herne were waiting for me in Treatment Room Number One in the
basement of the special wing of the hospital for a family therapy session with Gary. Before
pushing through the swinging doors into the room, I made sure that I was presentable. My goal is
to achieve a nonthreatening appearance. I keep my dark hair and mustache cut short and neatly
combed. I wear steel rimmed spectacles which I do not actually need. I dress casually in slacks
and a long sleeved white shirt which I wear without a tie and unbuttoned at the collar. I carry a
clipboard and take notes at every opportunity as any dedicated scientist should. I carefully
cultivate a meek and harmless and slightly detached appearance. It makes me much more
believable as a dedicated doctor to the occasional visitor who takes an interest in the hospital and
it makes me much more terrifying to the patients when they find out how truly cruel and sadistic I
am.

        I pushed through the doors into Treatment Room One and found Kamal and Billy
O'Herne waiting for me on the other side. I was pleased to note that they had not spent their time
idly, but had taken the initiative to prepare themselves for the session. Kamal O'Herne, Gary's
father, was a short compact man, heavily muscled and with a heavy dark mustache. He was
stripped down to his undershirt with his heavy, hairy pectoral muscles and striated lats exposed
by the scooped neck and armholes of the soft cotton undershirt which covered his stomach and
outlined the ridges of his hard abdomen. The muscles of his shoulders and arms were like
boulders and his forearms as hairy as an apes'.

       Kamal held in his right hand a two foot long piece of high tension wire, a thick bundle of
braided copper wire which is heavily coated with rubber and is a favored instrument of torture
with the Turkish security forces.

        Billy, was much taller but not as muscular or hairy as his father. He was clean shaven and
had not stripped but still wore his soft, knit shirt which clung to his muscular chest and was
stretched tightly around his bulging biceps. I was pleased to note on my ever present clipboard
that beneath his soft shirt, his nipples were clearly erect and that the front of his blue jeans bulged
with an erection of considerable proportions. He was clearly sexually aroused by the prospect of
torturing his brother and held in his right hand an electric prod which he had chosen for its highly
charged, pseudo-therapeutic properties.

       "Good morning, Messieurs O'Herne," I said cheerily as I entered the room.

       "Good morning, Doctor," Kamal said with a heavy Turkish accent and a heavy Turkish
formality in respect for a professional man in a position of authority.



                                                  4
       "Were's Gary?" Billy demanded in an easy American accent and an easy American
informality without respect for a professional man in a position of authority.

       "It's almost seven a.m.," I said as I looked at my watch, "Gary is on his way down here.
Before he arrives, I will go over how the session will work. I am here to observe. You will
conduct the session. Gary is to undergo physical therapy and you are to administer it. Talking,
though not forbidden, is discouraged. Keep this session physical. In later sessions, both you and
Gary will be better able to discuss your feelings. For today, concentrate on expressing yourself
physically. Let Gary feel your pain."

       "I have nothing to say to Gary, Doctor," Kamal said as he slapped the end of the high
tension wire against the palm of his hand, "the wire will tell Gary how I feel."

         "Get him in here, Doc," Billy said as he waved the prod, "I've got some pain for Gary to
feel."

         Gary was dragged into the room between two burly orderlies as Billy spoke. He was as
tall as Billy and as muscular and hairy as his father. He wore only a thin hospital gown and his
arms were securely held by the two orderlies.
"What the hell are they doing here?" Gary yelled as soon as he saw his father and his brother.

       "Shut up!" one burly orderly snapped as he punched Gary in the kidneys as the young
man tried to twist out of his grip.

        "No, talking!" the other orderly snarled as he punched him in the stomach.
The breath went out of Gary with a whoosh and he doubled over as he gasped in pain. Before he
could catch his breath, the two orderlies stripped the hospital gown from his muscular form and
manhandled his naked body onto a low table in the center of the room. They pulled his hands up
even with his head and clamped his wrists with steel straps to the corners of the table. They
moved down to his feet, pulled his legs apart and clamped his ankles to the lower corners of the
table with more steel straps. They stepped back and Gary snarled and twisted and thrashed upon
the table but he did not say another word.

        I watched the young man struggle. He was beautifully muscled as his big, semi hard dick
flopped back and forth and his heavy balls rolled around in their hairless sack between his thighs.
I keep my special patients in good physical condition by making them exercise in the physical
therapy rooms and the torture chambers of the basement. Being tortured is hard work and the
contractions and convulsions of agony are real muscle builders. After three years in my care,
Gary had muscles like iron which rippled beautifully beneath his hairy hide with every movement
of his body. He struggled for several minutes before he grew calm and lay panting on the table
with the sweat trickling down his body in sparkling, little streams. I noted on my clipboard that
his long, thick, circumcised penis was half hard and that his egg-sized testicles were engorged
with blood and hung heavily in their hairless sack. Torture seemed to sexually arouse all of the
living O'Herne boys.

                                                 5
        The two hulking orderlies lounged against the wall on either side of the door and with
muscular arms folded across their massive chests watched the scene with amused smiles upon
their coarse faces. Kamal with the heavy, high tension wire in his hand took up a position at
Gary's head. Billy with the electric prod in his hand took up a position on Gary's right side. I
stood at the end of the table with my clipboard in one hand and my pencil in the other. Gary
looked wildly from his father to his younger brother and then to me.

       "Keep them away from me," he screamed, "keep those fucking bastard's away from me!"

        "Now, now, Gary," I remonstrated with him gently, "you know that your problem is that
you always wanted your family's attention. Well, now your going to have your father's and your
brother's complete attention for the next three hours. You should be happy."

       "They'll kill me," he screamed and gave an ineffectual tug on his wrists restraints.

        "They won't kill you," I said more sternly, "I will be here to watch. But if you don't stop
talking I will have your tongue clamped."

       Gary closed his mouth with a snap and clamped his lips shut. He knew the agony of
having his tongue drawn from his mouth and clamped on both sides and the tip with heavy, cast
iron C-clamps. He had worn the clamps once, for a week, and had been unable to speak or even
draw his swollen tongue back into his mouth for a month. He would not speak again, though he
would surely scream.

       "Messieurs O'Herne," I said as I stepped back from the table, "you may proceed when
your are ready."

        Billy pressed the two prongs of the electric prod into the thick, muscle plates of his older
brother's side. Gary screamed --- a high pitched, electric scream --- and threw his powerful hips
up into the air. His semi-erect cock flew up and slapped its fat head against his belly. His heavy
balls leapt up and bounced off his cock before falling back down between his legs. His muscular
body quivered as the twin, high-voltage charges of the probe pierced his side like the tines of a
red hot fork and ran through his muscles and nerves to the grounding straps securing his wrists
and ankles.

       Gary screamed as every muscle in his body contacted into a hard mass and every nerve in
his body burnt with electric fire.

        Billy pulled the prod away and Gary stopped screaming and collapsed. He lay quietly
upon the table for a few moments and then he screamed again and convulsed. His big, hairy,
muscular body shook and trembled and quivered and thrashed and twisted and writhed. His head
rolled from side to side as his gaping mouth filled with foam which overflowed his lips and ran

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down from the corners of his mouth. His big cock flopped from side to side and slapped first one
muscular thigh and then the other as his heavy balls danced a lively jig between his legs. As he
grew quiet, he groaned and tried to raise his head from the table.

         Kamal raised the length of high-tension cable and brought it down across his oldest son's
chest. Gary screamed --- a deep, muscle bruised scream --- and writhed about as he tried futilely
to roll upon his side. Kamal brought the cable down across Gary's boulder like shoulder and
crushed muscle and nerve against the shoulder bone. Gary screamed as the agonies of hell tore
through his shoulder and his chest as deep purple stripes appeared upon his skin. Kamal laid the
heavy cable across his son's shoulders and chest until the young man's screams grew weak and
his own arm grew tired. Kamal lowered the cable and Billy thrust the prod into Gary's armpit.

        For the next three hours, Billy and Kamal worked slowly and carefully upon Gary's
muscular body. According to set plan, they worked their way down one side of his body from his
wrist to his ankle and then up the other side from his ankle to his wrist. Billy thrust the prod into
his brother's armpit, chest and belly, his biceps, thigh and calf. Kamal beat his son with the cable
upon the arms and legs and chest and belly. They went down one side of Gary's body and then up
the other, while he screamed and thrashed and convulsed upon the table. The bruises on his body
turned deep purple and swelled into welts. The welts grew fat and split and merged together until
his arms and legs and body was one swollen purple mass.

        As his brother and his father alternated the application of the prod and the cable, Gary
alternated his screams between the high-pitched, electric wail and the deep, bruised muscle howl.
Ever muscle, nerve and fibre of his body was set afire by the electric agony coursing through his
body. Ever muscle, nerve and fibre of his body was crushed beneath the brutal agony of the
heavy cable. He screamed, he thrashed, he writhed and convulsed. He bit his lips and tongue until
they bled. He foamed at the mouth and sweated like a pig. The definition of the muscles of his
body disappeared into smooth domes of swollen, purple flesh. The hair upon his body slowly
rose until it stood upright and the sweat ran down between the individual hairs like rainwater
through grass. Gary screamed until the foam in his mouth turned pink and his voice grew hoarse.
He screamed until his could scream no more and lay upon the table a swollen, purple mass of
panting agony.

        As Kamal and Billy moved down either side of the table to stand at Gary's hips, I made a
few notes upon my clip board. Gary's dick was no longer half hard but was fully erect and
standing straight up from his groin. The big, pink head was shiny and drooling precum from its
pouting lips. A thick stream ran down the underbelly of his cock onto his balls which had
doubled in size and crawled up to snuggle against the base of his hard dick. Despite his agony,
Gary was clearly sexually aroused by his father's and brother's assault upon him.
Billy and Kamal were just as sexually aroused. The blue fabric on the front of Billy's jeans was
stretched tightly across the massive bulge of his erection and bore a large wet stain where the
fabric compressed the head of his cock. Kamal stood at the side of the table with the cable
gripped in one hand and the straining mound between his legs gripped in the other. The pink tip
of his tongue protruded from his open mouth, curled over his upper lip and thrust into his

                                                  7
moustache. As he panted and groaned, he looked from one of his sons to the other with eyes
filled with longing and lust.

        The O'Herne family clearly suffered from a high degree of sexual frustration. Each man
clearly wanted to fuck the other but father and sons had never dared touch each other. Unable to
sexually express their desire for each, they transferred their sexual feelings to aggression and
expressed their physical desire for each other through torture and abuse. Kamal always punished
the boys with a leather belt on their naked flesh and the boy's always fought with each other at
bed time when they were dressed only in their briefs of completely naked. The Kamal family
would need quite a lot of therapy to learn to express their physical desires for each other sexually.
Kamal and Billy would need many fuck sessions with a surrogate partner before they would be
ready to fuck each other. I would be that surrogate.

        I have fucked Gary many times. I would fuck Kamal and Billy too. They would submit to
me once I persuaded them that it was part of the therapy especially if I let them fuck Gary
afterwards. I would have the whole O'Herne family and the pleasure of knowing that I had fucked
them up physically and mentally.
Billy and Kamal saved the best part of Gary until the last. His body was so bruised and his nerves
so overtaxed that further shocks or blows to his body had little or no effect. He was beyond
feeling any more pain except between his legs. His cock and balls were untouched. Bloated with
arousal and aching to cum, they had felt neither prod nor cable. Billy shoved the prod into Gary's
heavy balls. His older brother screamed and thrust his hips into the air. His dick stood up so
straight and hard that it quivered as precum bubbled from its tip in a steady stream. Gary could
feel the awful electric charge coursing through his balls and loins. He screamed a high-pitched
electric wail for this new agony. Billy pulled the prod away and Gary collapsed and convulsed in
the aftershocks of electric torture. Kamal did not wait for the convulsions to stop, but laid the
cable across Gary's cock and balls while he was still writhing upon the table. Gary screamed
again, a deep prick and ball bruised scream, and came in jets of white, hot spunk. Great gouts of
snot thick cum flew high into the air, fell in an arc and landed in fat splashes upon his bruised
and swollen abdomen. Kamal laughed, Billy laughed and shoved the prod into the cum snotty
head of Gary's cock.

       Billy and Kamal used the prod and the cable on Gary's cock and balls until they were as
bruised and swollen as the rest of him. They shocked him and beat him and rubbed the bulges
between their legs as they made him suffer for arousing them. Billy with a grunt came in his
pants and as Kamal watched his son in the throes of orgasm, he punched himself in the groin but
could not stop the explosion inside his own pants.

        "Time, gentlemen," I said as I looked at my watch and saw that it was a little after ten
o'clock. "Enough for this session. I want you both to come to my office tomorrow and I will show
you some techniques which you can practice at home with each other for relieving the stress of
family therapy."

       Kamal and Billy stood panting and soaked with sweat as they covered their crotches with

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their hands to hide the wet stains growing on the front of their pants.

        "Don't be embarrassed, gentleman," I assured them, "that happens all the time with this
type of therapy. The techniques I will teach you will show you how to deal with it. For now the
orderlies will take you to a room where you can change into fresh clothes. Gary will be taken up
to the infirmary. It will be three or four weeks before he can take another session. Meanwhile you
will come back twice a week for private sessions in my office."

        Billy and Kamal set the prod and the cable down upon the table, nodded their heads in
assent and went off meekly to set an appointment for tomorrow and change their clothes before
going home. As soon as the doors closed behind them, I picked up the prod and adjusted its
settings. As Gary whimpered pitifully, I lifted his bruised and battered cock and balls and shoved
the prod up his ass. His bruised cock immediately sprang to full erection and he started squirming
on the table and moaning like a cat in heat. After five minutes he came with a cry of agony as he
shot a load of hot cum that was pink with his blood. I smiled in satisfaction and left him on the
table with the prod buried up his ass. He would continue to cum every five minutes or so until the
orderlies came back for him in an hour or two. I do love to drain a man's balls and make him cum
until he howls and pisses on himself. Gary would be shooting piss before the hour was up and he
would have the dry heaves before the orderlies came for him. I laughed all the way down the hall
to Treatment Room Six.

        Treatment Room Six was an old washroom. The walls were lined with large, square
ceramic tiles and punctuated with iron drain pipes and old water lines which served as handy
brackets for stringing up the inmates. I used the room for floggings and various forms of
suspension and cock and ball torture. The room was supplied with an array of whips and paddles
and crops, testicles crushers, cock and ball harnesses, manacles, ropes, clamps and weights. The
tiled walls had rung for years with the screams of men and their pleas for castration to end their
misery. I never cut their balls off. As long as they had their nuts, they could be made to suffer the
torments of Hell between their legs and come back time after time to suffer again.

        Chester Duncan was a long, lean, mean, hard muscled construction worker with shaggy
blond hair and a mustache that looked like a broad, black smear across his upper lip. Davy was
Chester's only son and his golden haired pride and joy until the boy reached puberty. As
manhood bloomed in Davy's armpits and between his legs, sexual jealously bloomed in Chester's
heart. As Davy grew to manhood, Chester grew to view the boy as his sexual rival. Love died
between the father and the son and jealously and hatred was born. Chester verbally and
physically abused the boy and Davy grew resentful and rebellious. The father and son fought
constantly and Chester's sexual jealousy turned to insanity the night Davy graduated from high
school.

         Chester came home half drunk in the early hours of the morning and found his eighteen
year old son fucking a senior cheerleader on the sofa. Chester went berserk and beat Davy until
he was unconscious and then he raped the girl orally, anally and vaginally. He took his son and
the girl to an isolated hunting cabin in the deep woods and held them there. For over a year he

                                                  9
raped the girl and pimped her to hunters to support himself while he modified his son sexually to
be useless as a man.

        Chester beat the boy daily, concentrating on his nipples, his balls and his dick. He shoved
copper tubing up his son's prick starting with a one eighth inch tube and slowly stretching his
cock until at the end of a year he was shoving a two inch copper pipe into the boy without
difficulty. He burned Davy's dick with cigarettes and crushed the shaft with pliers until it grew so
thick with scar tissue that it remained permanently hard and stiff. He cut slits in the shaft and
pushed under the skin balls of stainless steel shavings skin which were a constant source of
painful irritation until they became over grown with adhesions and encapsulated in scar tissue to
form ugly lumps of deformed and exquisitely tender flesh along the scarred and deformed shaft.

        Chester pushed slivers of wood and sewing needles into Davy's cockhead and left them
there until they too became encapsulated with scar tissue and the boy's cockhead became a
massive deformed lump of painfully hard flesh. He tied ever more heavy weights to Davy's balls
until his ballsack was stretched almost to his ankles. He beat the boy's balls and crushed them
with pliers and pushed needles and wooden slivers into them until they grew into hard lumps of
scarred meat the size of softballs. He burnt and clamped and crushed the boy's nipples until they
too grew into enormous lumps of hard scar tissue. He raped his son's ass and then he shoved
sticks, pipes, baseball bats, whisky bottles, his fists and his feet into the boy.

        Davy spent a year in hell and when two rangers found him in the cabin he had a two inch
pipe up his dick and a football in his ass. Chester was committed to my care, the girl killed
herself and Davy spent three years in a hospita. He emerged with a flabby asshole which could be
punch fucked without him whimpering, baseball sized nuts that hung down to his knees, a
permanently hard dick with a throat that could swallow three fingers with ease, nipples harder
than rocks and a rage that burned like fire and was stoked with fresh fuel every time he shit or
pissed or came.

        Davy Chester --- long, lean, mean and hard muscled like his daddy --- kept his short
blond hair close cropped and his black mustache neatly trimmed. He wore high boots, heavy
canvas pants and a coarse shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was dressed for work and hard at it
when I came into the room. With the help of two hulking orderlies, Davy stripped his father of
his shirt and boots and left his old man only in his blue jeans which he tore open at the front to
expose his daddy's large limp prick and hefty balls. Davy tied Chester's wrists behind his back,
dropped to one knee, tied his old man's ankles together and then his calves and his thighs.

        Davy backed Chester up to the tiled wall and positioned him beneath an old water pipe
which came out of the wall and turned up toward the ceiling. Davy looped three strands of rope
over the pipe so that they dangled down behind Chester's muscular, naked back. The two hulking
orderlies, lifted Chester up off the floor and Davy tied the ends of the ropes around his father's
arms above his bulging biceps. The orderlies dropped Chester and he screamed as his weight
dropped upon arms and wrenched them up behind him. Chester's shoulders were forced to bear
his entire weight as his arms were slowly twisted out of their sockets behind him.

                                                10
        The hulking orderlies bent Chester's legs up until the heels pressed against his firm round
ass and the soles of his bare feet touched the tiled wall behind him. Davy tied the ropes binding
his fathers thighs and calves together so that his old man could not straighten his legs, lifted a
heavy cast iron weight shaped like a bell and fastened it with a short chain to the rope binding
Chester's thighs together. The added weight increased the pressure on Chester's muscular
shoulders and twisted his arms up behind him until his elbows were pulled above his head.
Chester screamed again. I looked at my watch and made a note upon my clipboard. It was eleven
o'clock, by one o'clock both of Chester's strong arms would be twisted out of his muscular
shoulders. The only thing worse than the agony of having his arms twisted out of their sockets
would be the agony of having them twisted back into place.

       Chester whimpered and looked pleadingly from me to the orderlies to Davy.

       "Do you have something to say to Davy, Chester?" I asked

       Chester licked his lips and nodded.

        "Go ahead and say it, but make it short," I warned him. "I don't want a lot of talk. Davy is
here to express himself physically. He doesn't want to hear a lot of gibble-gabble from you."

        "Thank you, Doctor Friendly," Chester remembered to be respectful. A year of
electro-shock treatments, ice water enemas and injections of irritants into his cock and balls had
taught him to be polite, at least to me.

       "Davy," the construction worker pleaded with his full grown son, "please, don't hurt me,
Davy. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sick. Daddy loves you Davy. Please, don't hurt your daddy."

       Davy became agitated as his father spoke. He paced up and down in front of the bound
and suspended construction worker. He rubbed his big hands over his short cropped blond hair.
He twitched his mustache nervously and shook his head.

       "You ruined me, daddy," he blurted out as soon as his old man finished speaking. "No
one wants me. I'm a freak. I have all the desires of a normal man and no one wants to touch me.
I'm going to make you suffer, daddy. I'm going to ruin you like you ruined me."

        "You whining pup," Chester showed his true feelings with a snarl, "I'm the only man in
this family. I should have cut off your cock and balls instead of just playing with them. You don't
have any use for them. You'll never be a man like your daddy is."

         Davy stopped in front of his father. He was breathing heavily and his hands were balled
into fists. I could see the muscles of his strong, young body contracting in preparation for a
spring upon his father.

                                                 11
        I did not want Davy to fly into a rage and mindlessly beat his old man. I wanted him to
slowly and thoughtfully torture his daddy, to deliberately hurt his father, to be aware of the
suffering he was inflicting. I did not want Davy to be able to comfort himself later with the
thought that he had only hurt his father because he was in an rage.

       "Enough of this talk," I barked loud enough to distract both the father and the son and
make them both jump. "Davy, you are here to express yourself physically. Get your tools and get
to work. This session ends at one o'clock. Chester can't hang around here all day."

        Davy laughed nervously at my little joke and his hands relaxed. I had pointed the session
back in the right direction to give maximum pain to Chester and Davy and maximum pleasure to
me. Chester would suffer over many hours instead of in a single burst of fury. Davy would never
have the comfort of thinking that he would not have hurt his father if he had not been in a blind
rage. I would have the pleasure of watching a son torture his father and knowing that I would be
able to use them against each other for years to come.

        Davy chose a bull whip made of heavy, braided leather and two pair of self-limiting,
self-locking testicle crushers to torture his old man. He tucked the bullwhip into his belt and
slipped one pair of testicle crushers into the pocket of his heavy canvas pants. With the other pair
of crushers in his left hand, he approached his father.

        Chester hung from a pipe in the tiled wall by his arms which were tied and wrenched
painfully up behind him by the pull of his body weight and the heavy mass of iron that hung from
his bound legs. His ankles were bound and his calves and thighs were tied together so that his
legs were drawn up underneath him with the heels of his bare feet pressing against his ass and his
toes pressing against the tiled wall behind him. He could ease some of the strain upon his arms
by pressing against the wall and lifting himself slightly, but it took an effort which he could not
long sustain. The wrenching of his arms up behind him threw his shoulders forward and bent his
neck so that he could not lift his head. He was forced to look down his muscular chest and ridged
belly to the open front of his blue jeans where his large limp, cock and heavy balls hung out in
the open, unprotected and exposed to his son's wrath.

        The two hulking orderlies stepped away and Chester whimpered as Davy approached him
with the testicle crushers in hand. The muscular construction worker futilely tried to shrink away
from his deeply angry son by pushing his feet against the wall and lifting himself up. Chester
recognized the pliers and knew the awful pain they could inflict. He had felt them crush his
testicles before. He knew that they were self-limiting, that they could not be closed until the
curved jaws met, so that his testicles could not be destroyed but only agonizingly crushed over
and over again. He knew also that they were self-locking so that they could be clamped in place
and used to crush and weigh down the tender organ for hours of continuous agony. The pain
would not do much for Chester's psyche. No amount of suffering would ever make him sorry for
what he did to Davy or lessen the joy in his heart from knowing that the boy would never have a

                                                12
normal sex life. Davy would benefit from Chester's suffering as revenge would make him feel
better and I would benefit from the amusement and from the opportunity to get into Davy's pants
and play with his deformed cock and balls. As far as I was concerned, what Chester had done to
him only made the boy more attractive.

        Davy moved over to his father's left side. With his right hand, he pushed his old man's big
limp dick over to one side and gathered up his daddy's nuts. He closed his fingers over the neck
of his daddy's ball bag and squeezed the big nuts down to the bottom of the sack. He pulled the
nuts out away from Chester's body, brought the testicle crushers up in his left hand and closed the
curved jaws over the fat nut closest to him. Chester whimpered and shook his head. Davy looked
solemnly into his father's eyes and squeezed the handle of the crushers.
The jaws of the crusher clamped down on Chester's nut. The skin of the ball sack beneath the
jaws went pale and dimpled beneath the pressure. The nut flattened beneath the jaws and bulged
out on either side. Chester went pale, his body grew rigid. He thrust against the wall with his bare
feet and tried to lift his hips up. He opened his mouth and grunted rapidly.

        Davy squeezed the handles harder. The nut flattened beneath the jaws of the crusher,
Chester started shaking and howling as the weight hanging from the ropes binding his thighs
began to swing wildly. Davy squeezed the handles of the crusher until the jaws would close no
more and the nut was squashed flat. Chester screamed and thrashed and scraped his elbows
against the tiled wall as he twisted his arms higher in their sockets. Davy held the crushers closed
for several minutes, then he released them and stepped back.
Removing the crusher from his nut was no relief for Chester. The nut immediately sprang back
into shape and started to swell as blood rushed into the compressed tissues. The muscular
construction worker was hit with a whole new wave of pain and screamed and shook with agony.
Big drops of sweat sprang out on his body like dew, collected together and ran down his face and
chest and belly in streams. He shook and shuddered and thrashed about like a fish fresh caught
and hung on a line. He screamed and panted and screamed again. As he grew quiet, Davy stepped
back in and applied the crusher to his daddy's other ball.

       Davy had a natural talent for torture. He used the testicle crushers like an expert. He
crushed first one nut and then the other. He crushed them lengthwise and across their fat bodies.
He crushed them horizontally and vertically. He crushed them singly and together. He used one
crusher and then both. He pulled and yanked and twisted his father's nuts and for variety he beat
them with the crushers and clamped one nut while he worked upon the other.

        Chester screamed and thrashed and twisted. He wrenched his arms and rubbed his feet
raw against the wall. He tore the muscles in his shoulders and his chest, he made the weight
swing so wildly from his legs that he wrenched his back and tore the muscles in his loins and
hips. He broke his toes and tore the nails off against the rough tiles and grout lines of the wall.
He bit his lips until they bled and he screamed until the blood in his mouth turned to pink foam,
bubbled over his lips and ran down his chin. Every time he thought the agony was ended, Davy
found a new way to use the crushers on his nuts and the agony continued until Chester could
scream and thrash and suffer no more. He screams turned to grunts, his writhing turned to

                                                 13
twitching and his agony turned to a constant incomprehensible pain.

        Davy put the crushers away and pulled the bullwhip from the belt of his heavy canvas
pants. If his father could feel no more pain in his balls, then he could feel the pain of the whip as
it kissed his chest and belly and back. Davy stepped back and cracked the whip so that its heavy,
braided lash cut his father's muscular side, curled around his body and kissed his broad back with
its knotted tongue. Chester howled and before the muscular, construction worker's scream had
finished echoing off the tiles the lash struck him again. Davy cut his father's sides and back to
ribbons before he stepped further back and used the tongue of the lash on his daddy's meaty pecs
and washboard abs. Chester howled and screamed and thrashed again and with each lash of the
whip his arms were pulled further up behind him and his feet slipped further down the wall.

       Davy beat his daddy until they were both covered with sweat, exhausted and unable to
continue. Davy dropped the whip to his side and clutched the monstrous bulge in the front of his
pants with his free hand. He squeezed the lump hard and his handsome young face twisted with
pain. Tears sprang from his eyes and ran down his smooth cheeks as he ran forward and threw
his arms around his father's bloody chest.

       "Daddy, daddy," Davy wept as he pressed his face against his father's whip torn chest.

          "Davy, Davy," Chester gasped through his pain to comfort his son, "I understand, Davy.
It's all right."

       "It will never be all right, Daddy," Davy sobbed, "you ruined me."

       Davy clutched his father to him and dropped to his knees. Chester screamed as the boy's
added weight wrenched his bound arms vertically up behind him and tore them from their
sockets with an audible pop. Chester screamed and fainted as his son released him and collapsed
upon the floor to cry like a child.

       I rushed to Davy, put my arm around his broad shoulders and helped him to his feet.

       "It is all right," I said as I brushed the tears from his cheeks with one hand.

       "I'm ruined," he sobbed, "my daddy fixed me so that no one will ever want me."

        "Nonsense, Davy," I dropped my hand from his face to the bulge in the front of his pants
and cupped it gently, "he's only made you more interesting. You go to my office and have a nap
on the sofa. When I'm finished down here, I will come and show you just how desirable you are. I
want you, Davy and I'm not the only one."

       "Really," Davy said with a sniffle and a look of disbelief.



                                                 14
       "Really," I reassured him. "Now go and rest. I'll be with you in a little while."

        As Davy left, I looked at my watch. The time was just a little after one o'clock. I could not
help but admire Davy's talent and his timing. He used the crushers like an expert, he reduced his
father to a puling mess of whip cut flesh and he finished right on time. I made a note to offer him
a job. After I screwed him over --- mouth, cock and ass --- I would put him on the staff. If he did
not take the job for love or money, he would take the job to get at his old man any time he liked.
That would be a fringe benefit for both of us.

        I left the orderlies to take care of Chester. I was needed in Examination Room Four. Fritz
Spink and his nephew, Harry had a score to settle with Harry's father, Arnold. Arnold Spink was
a big, hard muscled, hairy chested martial arts instructor. For years he used his younger brother,
Fritz and, when he was old enough, his son, Harry, as sparring partners in practice matches where
he pulled no punches and always liked to finish with a few groin kicks. When he was not busy
beating his brother and his son and kicking them in the balls until they could not walk or teaching
martial arts classes to young men who paid him to abuse their bodies, Arnold was on the prowl
for other young men --- hitchhikers, drifters, day laborers, college students --- whom he would
drug and take to a dungeon in his basement. He beat and tortured them for days until he tired of
them and then he cut off their cocks and balls and ate them as his victims watched and slowly
bled to death.

        Like most serial killers, as Arnold's confidence grew, he killed more often and more
carelessly. His last victims were three eighteen year old Eagle Scouts whom he found camping in
the woods. He beat them unconscious, took them to his basement and raped and tortured all
three, but as he was eating the cocks and balls of the first two, the third one escaped from the
basement and got away. Arnold was arrested and committed to my care. Fritz took his nephew
Harry to live with him and though the damage to their bodies healed, the wounds to their minds
remained as tender and fresh as open sores.

        I took no chances with Arnold Spink. His martial arts skills made him dangerous. I kept
him always in restraints so that he never had full range of motion in his arms and legs and I
always had four brutish orderlies escort him instead of the usual two. I kept him lean, muscular
and fit by making him exercise to exhaustion in physical therapy and when he behaved himself, I
allowed him to practice his martial arts skills on the inmates who needed discipline. When he
misbehaved, I put him in a body cast which covered him from head to toe except for his cock and
balls and asshole and kept him immobilized for weeks at a time. I gave him injections which
caused him unremitting sexual arousal and at the same time prevented him from achieving
orgasm. His nuts would swell to the size of tennis balls and his prick would grow so long and
hard and stiff that I had to run a catheter up it so he could piss. He begged and pleaded and cried
for days and when his balls and dick were so congested with blood and grown so tender that the
slightest touch made him scream in agony, I sent in teams of inmates to suck and jerk him off
until he went off his head from the pain and his need to cum. The treatment was effective. After
five sessions in the cast, he learned to behave himself and for the last year he had been a very
good boy and taken his treatment and his torture without resistance.

                                                 15
        Treatment Room Four was a converted coal cellar. The floor was compacted dirt, the
walls were rough field stone and the atmosphere was dank. The room was furnished with a
narrow wooden bench and two large electrical machines set upon concrete pads to bear their
weight and serviced by heavy cables encased in large conduits. The machine at the head of the
bench was a standard electro-shock device which I had modified for more perverse uses by fitting
its many cables with probes, clamps, needles and pincers of cunning design and wicked purpose.
The machine at the foot of the bench was an invention of my own and designed for evil ass play.
An assembly of valves, pumps and tanks was connected by hoses to a long metal tube with a
large, rubber dildo on the end.

        The dildo, which was a balloon that inflated to a monstrous length and girth, had a tube
running down its length through which liquids could be pumped or extracted. Using the rod as a
handle, the dildo was shoved up an inmate's ass for a little plain and ordinary ass rape or inflated
to painfully stretch the asshole or to completely fill the ass and form a plug. Water or other
liquids were pumped into the inmate until his guts groaned and he screamed in agony and then
they could be pumped out again. Just to make sure that no inmate was accidently killed by being
shocked when his guts were full to exploding, I interconnected the machines so that the dildo had
to be removed before the electro-shock machine would work.

         Since early morning, Fritz and Harry had been receiving instructions on how to use the
machines, and they were eager to try out their newly acquired skills on Arnold. Fritz Spink was
not a long, lean, hairy, hard muscled, fighting machine like his brother Arnold. Fritz was a short,
stocky, hair flecked, heavily muscled thug. His hair was blonder than his brothers and his black
mustache was better trimmed. His square jawed face was permanently shadowed by the stubble
of a dark beard and he was never without a cigarette in his mouth. He stripped to the waist and
bared his hair flecked, hairy chest and rolling abs to work more comfortably in the muggy
atmosphere of the cellar room. Harry was long, lean and muscular, like his father, though he had
no furry mat upon his chest as Arnold had. Harry did not strip off his shirt but merely pulled the
front open to bare his smooth chest and rippling stomach. He did not want to bare his arms or roll
up his sleeves. He was ashamed of the scars he bore from the many times he attempted suicide by
slitting his wrists and arms.

        Arnold was not ashamed of any part of his body. He was a beautifully constructed man
and his body was unscarred, if one discounted that his puckered, pink asshole had been fucked
into a puffy, pink doughnut hole. Arnold hated being fucked and so I had him gang banged
frequently. He had been fucked so hard and so often that he his asshole never closed and he could
identify many of the orderlies and inmates by the feel of their dicks in his ass.

       Arnold was laying naked on the bench. His powerful arms were pulled under the bench
form either side and tied at the wrists. His ankles were tied together and hooked to a rope
hanging down from the ceiling so that his legs pointed straight up and his ass was pulled up off
the bench. He lay with his broad back and muscular shoulders on the bench and the back of his

                                                16
head resting on a thick rubber pad, not for his comfort but to prevent him from beating the back
of his head against the bench when Fritz and Harry started working on him. Harry stood at
Arnold's left shoulder. Blond, bare chested and muscular, he stood with a cigarette in his mouth
and a lead from the electro-shock machine draped over his shoulder. In one hand he held the end
of the lead with its sharp toothed clamp, in his other hand he held his older brother's cock and
balls, compacted and twisted in a vicious grip.

       "Where do you want it, Arnie," he taunted his brother, "on your cock or on your balls."

        Arnie turned his mustached face away from his brother but did not speak.
"It doesn't matter," Fritz said with a shrug, "I've got enough clamps for both."
Harry stood at his father's left side with the dildo tipped rod clutched in both hands. He bent
forward slightly at the waist and pressed the big, blunt, black rubber tip of the dildo against his
father's puffy, pink asshole and shoved it inside. Arnold grunted as the big, black rubber dong
slipped inside him. Harry started fucking the hard rubber dildo in and out of his father's ass as
Fritz applied the sharp toothed clamp to his brother's fat nut. Arnold gasped and groaned as the
teeth bit through his ball sack and sank into his nut.
Fritz added a second clamp to Arnold's other nut, then he picked up a lead that ended in a curved
metal probe the diameter of a pencil with a large metal ball like the knot on a dog's dick on the
end where the wire attached. He shoved the probe down his brother's big, limp dick until the ball
pressed against the lips of the cockhead. He gripped Arnold's dick firmly with one hand and
ground the probe into the lips of his brother's dick until the ball slipped inside the cock head.

        "There, Arnie," Fritz said with an air of triumph as he pushed the probe down inside his
brother's cockhead until the ball pressed into the throat where the head meets the shaft, "you
won't be able to push that out."

        "You won't be able to push this out either, Daddy," Harry snarled as he pushed a button
on the rod he was holding with both hands and the dildo in his father's ass inflated into an
enormous butt plug.

        Arnold's shaggy black mustache twitched as he grimaced and whimpered. He rolled his
head from side to side upon the rubber cushion on which it rested and looked first to Harry and
Fritz and then to me for mercy and found none. Fritz took two leads which ended in long, dull
needles and shoved one through each of Arnold's nipples. Arnold's hairy chest expanded and he
screamed as first one needle and then the other was forced through the heavy scar tissue which
covered his nipples after years of my abuse and into the tender flesh beneath the rough aureoles.
Harry opened a valve on the rod and filled his father's guts with ice water.

        Arnold's ridged abdomen quickly expanded into a smooth dome. He panted and groaned
and started to shiver. As his internal temperature dropped, goose bumps appeared on his skin, his
guts cramped and he started shaking uncontrollably. Arnold screamed as each wave of cramps hit
him and grunted in between as the water stretched his guts, pressed them into his diaphragm and
made him pant for breath. Harry closed the valve and Fritz ran his rough hands over his brother's

                                                17
distended belly while Arnold groaned and shivered and panted and screamed.

         Harry opened a second valve on the rod. My machine clicked and whirred and pumped
the icy water from Harry's guts so rapidly that his furry belly collapsed and rolled with cramps as
his overstretched muscles and guts snapped back into place. The machine clicked and whirred
again and pumped in a belly busting load of hot water to bring Arnold's internal temperature back
up and then pumped the water back out again to send him into another agonized paroxysm of gut
wrenching cramps. As Arnold screamed and convulsed, the goose pimples disappeared from his
naked body and were quickly replaced with beads of sweat. The machine clicked and whirred for
the last time. The dildo plugging Arnold's asshole deflated and Harry pulled the black rubber
instrument of torture from his father's ass.

        As soon as the tip of the dildo kissed Arnold's puffy ass lips goodbye, Fritz hit a button
on the electro-shock machine which started it on a high-voltage cycle of torture. As rotary
switches inside the machine clicked from one contact to another, voltage surged through the
wires into Arnold's cock and balls and nipples in ever changing circuits of agony. Voltage shot
from one sharp toothed clamp to the other through his fat balls and Arnold thrust his hips higher
into the air and screamed. Voltage shot through the needles from one nipple to the other and his
massive furry pecks contracted into hard knots beneath his hairy hide. Voltage shot through the
probe from his dick through his loins to his balls and his dick leapt up to full erection and
quivered as he thrashed and screamed. Current flowed from his nipples to his balls and from his
dick to his nipples and the needles, clamps and probes were electrified all at once.

       Arnold grew ridged and convulsed, he shook and thrashed and twisted. He screamed and
bellowed. He jerked his ankles against the ropes that held his legs aloft and rubbed the skin raw.
He twisted his wrists, bound together beneath the bench, until the bled. He beat the back of his
head against the rubber mat and screamed until his lips were flecked with foam.

        Fritz smoked his cigarette and watched his brother's torture with glittering eyes as sweat
rolled down his naked, beefy chest and heaving belly and soaked into the waistband of his blue
jeans. Harry gripped the rod with the rubber dildo on the end and shook with a sexual excitement
that was proven by the growing bulge in the front of his pants. I noted on my clipboard Harry's
sexual arousal and Fritz's trembling hand as he pulled his cigarette from his mouth. They were
hot and hard and ripe for the picking. All they needed was someone to show them what they
wanted whether they liked it or not. I made a note and showed it to the four brutish orderlies who
smiled and nodded. Fritz and Harry would not go home virgins, they would learn the joys of
homosexual sex as soon as Arnold was reduced to a pain mad pile of puling, prime fuckmeat.
The electro-shock machine clicked through its cycle and shut down. Arnold collapsed upon the
bench. He twitched and groaned and sweated like a pig. Harry shoved the dildo back into his
father's ass and inflated it. Arnold screamed as he felt the ice water flowing into his guts. For two
more hours Harry and Fritz tortured Arnold with the dildo and electrodes. When Arnold's guts
grew less sensitive to the effects of the ice water, Harry added drugs to the liquid to intensify his
father's suffering. Arnold cramped until the ridges of his belly formed hard knots and his guts
twisted inside him like snakes in a bag.

                                                 18
        Irritants made his bowels burn and turned his asshole into a furnace of pain. Stimulants
gave him an achingly hard erection and made his balls swell and itch and tickle until Arnold was
driven to an unrelieved sexual frenzy. Harry teased and tickled and tormented his father's dick
until precum poured from around the edges of the probe buried in its mouth. He gave his father
drugs to prevent him from cumming and masturbated his daddy's dick until his old man was
screaming and his dick was raw. He fucked his daddy's rectum to bloody mush with the rubber
dildo and stretched his asshole until the puffy lips split.

        Fritz had as little mercy as Harry. As his brother's nerves became insensitive to the
continued shocks, Fritz stepped up the voltage and added more leads. He thrust needle leads
through his brothers hard belly muscles and his nuts. He added sharp toothed leads to Arnold's
meaty chest muscles, bulging biceps and his tongue. He shoved a second and then a third probe
into Arnold's dick. Arnold screamed and thrashed and twisted and convulsed, while his brother
and his son panted and sweated and clutched their bulging crotches. They unzipped their pants,
drew out their dicks and played with themselves openly. I smiled and made note that soon I
would have two new fuck toys to add to my collection.

       "Time, gentleman," I called as the electro-shock machine clicked off after its latest cycle,
"enough for today. There will be many more sessions in the months to come. Family therapy can
take years."

        Harry leaned the rod against its machine and stood away from the table. His dick still
hung out of his pants and a long silver thread of precum dangled from its snout. He looked down
at his wagging dick, blushed, stuffed it into his pants and zipped up. Fritz, with his dick wagging
unashamedly from his open fly, stood close to Arnold's shoulder, pulled the cigarette from his
lips and stubbed it out on his brother's needle pierced nipple. Arnold howled in pain, as Fritz
smiled wickedly and Harry, thinking he was unobserved, lifted his sticky fingers to his mouth
and sucked them clean. Fritz reached out with a trembling hand and pulled the needle lead from
his brother’s burnt nipple.

       "That won't be necessary, Harry," I assured him with a smile, "the orderlies will take care
of Arnold after they take you and Harry back to your room and give you a little personal therapy."

       The four brutish orderlies with wolfish grins and bulging crotches surrounded Fritz and
Harry and escorted them from the room. I went over to the bench and pushed the needle lead
back into Arnold's nipple.

      "Next time," I told him as I tousled his sweat damp blond hair, "Fritz and Harry will both
be smoking cigars and they won't stop with your tit."

       Arnold whimpered and tried to kiss my hand as I stroked his cheek.



                                                19
        "The orderlies are going to fuck Fritz and Harry," I noticed a smile twitch at the corners
of Arnold's moustache as I spoke and I quickly extinguished the joy in his heart, "when they're
through with your brother and your son, they're going to round up two dozen inmates with really
big pricks and gang bang you until the morning."

        Arnold moaned and sobbed wretchedly. With a smile I walked out the door, just pausing
long enough by the electro shock machine to switch it on. As I walked down the hall Arnold's
scream echoed off the damp stone walls of Treatment Room Four. I looked at my watch. It was
almost five o'clock. I noted the time on my clip board and walked briskly down to Treatment
Room Three. Davy of the deformed dick was waiting for me in my office and I had one more
family therapy session before I could get my hands on him.

        Dr. Jesse James was not a train robber of the Old West but a surgeon of the New East. He
was tall, dark and handsome, muscular and sun bronzed with light brown hair cut short and a
neatly trimmed brow mustache. He had eight strapping sons who were hairy chested, virile and
muscular. Only his two oldest sons survived. The other six were dead by his skilled surgeon's
hands. One by one on their eighteenth birthdays, he took them to his laboratory and without the
benefit of anesthetic, dissected them while they were still alive. His two oldest sons lived only
because it amused him to keep them caged in the laboratory where he could watch them fuck
each other while he cut their screaming younger brothers apart.

         For six years, Ronnie and Donnie James survived by performing sexual acts upon each
other and, for their father's amusement, eating those parts of their brothers which their father did
not choose to preserve in jars of formaldehyde. When he ran out of sons to dissect, Dr. James
tried to drug and kidnap a high school football player. He was caught by four of the young man's
team mates and beaten to a pulp before being taken to the police. When his house was searched,
Ronnie and Donnie were found chained in the laboratory along with several hundred jars of
human body parts preserved in formaldehyde. Jesse James was committed to my care. Ronnie
and Donnie came to me voluntarily to inflict upon their father some of the pain they and their
dead brothers had suffered at his surgically trained hands.

        The James family were waiting for me in Treatment Room Three which was a neatly
plastered nicely finished room where, ironically, I dissected without the benefit of anesthetics the
cocks and balls of particularly difficult and sexually uninteresting inmates. The old and the ugly
suffer castration and penectomies, while the young and the handsome keep their cocks and balls
so that they can suffer year after year as long as they amuse or attract me.

          Dr. Jesse James was young and handsome and sexually interesting. He had a beautifully
muscled, hairless body, a handsome face and generously proportioned cock and balls. His virgin
ass had been wonderfully tight when I took his cherry and now that he was broken in by several
years of daily fucking by the staff and inmates, he was a real smooth fuck like punching one's
dick into firm, warm butter. Jesse did not much like being fucked and he liked sucking cock even
less. It took several months of heavy torture to teach him to be an eager cock sucker, but he
learned to suck dicks like a pro and to eat cum like it was the nectar of the gods.

                                                 20
        I had no desire to dissect Jesse's heavy cock and balls with or without anesthetic, they
were much too much fun to play with. However, watching him being tortured by his two
strapping, hairy chested sons should be amusing and I was looking forward to getting both of the
boys in bed with me within the week. Doing the two brothers at the same time would be as much
fun as watching them do each other. I was going to make them pay through the asshole for the
pleasure of torturing their old man.

         Ronnie and Donnie James were shorter and more compact versions of their father and
looked enough alike to be twins. Both young men had light brown hair which they kept cut short
and parted on the left side. They both had the same handsome face, dark mustache and cleft chin.
They both wore high, black boots, heavy canvas pants and undershirts with low scooped necks
and armholes which displayed the hairy mounds of their hard pecs and the bulging muscles of
their shoulders and arms. They were standing behind a heavy wooden table with a drainboard top
that slanted down to one end. They were waiting impatiently with heavy rubber rods and a bucket
of billiard balls for the two burly orderlies to strip their daddy down to his high, black boots and
tie him belly down over the drainboard.

        Dr. Jesse James knew better than to resist the orderlies. He had learned the hard way that
their punishments were swift, severe and sexual. He meekly allowed them to strip him down to
his boots and went with them quietly to the table. The orderlies placed Jesse facing the low end
of the drainboard on the table. They kicked his legs apart and tied ropes around the ankles of his
boots and the legs of the table. They bent Jesse forward until his muscular chest and rippling
belly were pressed against the slanted board and his head rested at the high end of the table. They
pulled his arms forward and tied his wrists to the front legs of the table. As soon as the orderlies
stepped away from the bound inmate, Ronnie and Donnie moved in like hyenas moving in on a
fallen gazelle.

        Ronnie stood beside the head of the table and looked down at his father with hate in his
eyes. In one hand he held a long, hard rubber rod with a flexible wire core and in his other hand
he held his father's left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. With his handsome,
mustachioed face set in a mask of spite, he pinched and twisted the nipple until Jesse yelped with
pain.

        Donnie stood at the end of the table, facing away from his brother. He bent over and
encircled his father's narrow waist with his brawny left arm, reached down between his daddy's
muscular leg's and seized his old man's cock and balls and squeezed them with his hand. Donnie
took a hard, plastic ball from the bucket of billiard balls by his right foot and pressed the hard
sphere against his father's puffy ass lips and pushed. Daily fucking and frequent gang rapes had
loosened Jesse up so that Donnie had no trouble pushing the billiard ball into his old man's
gaping rectum. As Jesse's puffy ass lips closed over the hard plastic ball, Donnie picked up his
hard rubber rod, shoved the end into his daddy's ass and pushed the ball deep into his father's guts
while he squeezed his old man's cock and balls with his other hand. The first ball was followed

                                                21
by a second and a third and Donnie drove each one into his father's ass with the rubber rod as he
squeezed and twisted his old man's cock and balls as viciously as Ronnie was squeezing and
twisting his old man's nipples.

       "Now, Daddy," Donnie said as he released his father's cock and balls and stood up, "Shit
those balls out. Ronnie and I want to see them come out of your ass like big round turds."

       "Yeah, Daddy," Ronnie sneered, "shit out those balls so we can stuff them back in again."

        Jesse grunted and sweated and groaned. His ass was packed to the limit and he could not
hold the balls inside himself. His asshole thrust outward and slowly opened as the first ball
pressed against it. The swollen lips stretched into a open circle and the white plastic dome of the
ball could be seen in the opening. Jesse grunted, contracted his stomach muscles and pushed and
strained to force the hard ball from his ass. His asshole thrust out further, his puffy ass lips
stretched to a thin circle, the dome of the ball grew into a hemisphere. As Jesse contracted his
stomach to push the ball from his ass, Donnie put the end of his rubber rod against the plastic
dome and forced it back into his father's ass. Jesse cried out in pain as his contracted ass muscles
were forcibly stretched open to admit the ball.

        "Push, Daddy," Donnie commanded as he held the ball inside his father with the end of
the rod.

       "Push, Daddy," Ronnie commanded as he raised his rubber rod above his head and
brought it down across his father's broad, muscular shoulders with a smack that echoed off the
walls.

        Donnie pulled his rod from his daddy's ass and slammed it across the firm round mounds
of Jesse's straining ass cheeks. Jesse howled and bucked and discharged the ball from his asshole
like a shot from a cannon. Ronnie and Donnie laughed and hit him again. Muscle pounding,
nerve crushing, bone bruising blows rained down of Jesse's back and ass as his sons beat him
with the hard rubber rods. Thick red welts and deep purple bruises bloomed upon his bronze
skin, as he howled and thrashed and discharged the second and third ball.

        Donnie bent over his old man, circled his father's narrow waist with his muscular arm,
reached between his daddy's legs and grabbed his cock and balls again. With his other hand he
grabbed a ball from the bucket, forced it into his father's ass and pushed it up his rectum with the
end of the rubber rod. Two more balls were shoved in and rammed home with the rod and then
the beating started again.

        Over and over, Jesse was beaten with the rods on his shoulders and ass, his arms and legs
until he discharged the balls and then his ass was repacked and the beating started again. Over
and over, Jesse screamed and bucked and thrashed and writhed and shit out ball after ball. His
shoulders and ass and arms and legs became a mass of welts and bruises which slowly grew and
merged together until his body was one purple swollen mass. His asshole became looser and

                                                 22
looser until he could no longer hold the balls inside and they came pouring out like diarrhea as
soon as the rod was pulled away.

        Donnie abandoned the billiard balls and worked on his father's balls instead. He twisted,
pulled and squeezed them. He punched them with his fist. He beat them with the rod. He tied
them up with rope and hung the bucket of billiard balls from them. Ronnie threw his rod away
and used his hands to twist his father's nipples and tear his chest. He punched him in the ribs,
gouged his eyes and thrust a finger into each nostril and tore his nose. Jesse howled and screamed
and whimpered and panted with pain. His sons sweated and grunted and laughed and spat upon
him.

         "Enough, gentlemen," I cried out as the time approached half past seven, "you don't want
to kill him. With a little restraint you will be able to work upon him for years."

       "Its not enough," Ronnie shouted as he pushed his thumbs into his father's eyes, "the
bastard hasn't suffered enough!"

       "Scream, you fucking monster," Donnie screamed as he put his booted foot into the
bucket hanging from his father's balls and pushed down.

        Jesse screamed and I sent the two brutish orderlies to pull the boys of their wretchedly
abused father. The scuffle with the orderlies was swift and certain. Ronnie and Donnie were far
too exhausted from the hours of beating and torturing their father to put up much of a fight. The
orderlies dragged them away from the table and pinned the boys against the plaster wall with
their big bodies until the two brothers came to their senses and grew quiet.

        "The orderlies will take you to a room where you can rest," I told the panting boys as I
noted on my clipboard that as they grew quiet, they instinctively reached for each others crotches
with one hand while they rubbed the other over their own sweaty chests and heaving bellies "In a
few days, we'll have a group session and you can show me what your father made you do to each
other."

        As the orderlies escorted the two brothers from the room, I turned my attention to Dr.
James. His eyes were almost swollen shut from Ronnie's vicious gouging, but aside from a few
burst blood vessels in the whites they were not permanently damaged. His nose was broken and
blood ran out of both nostrils and down into his mustache. His nipples were half torn from his
chest and his hairy pecs were covered with deep scratches. His shoulders and arms and ass and
legs were badly bruised and swollen. His asshole was a raw gaping hole with bleeding lips and
his cock and balls were beaten black and blue. I rubbed my hand over his bruised ass and he
moaned delightfully. I made a note on my clipboard to order a daily massage for him. He would
really enjoy having his tender muscles squeezed and pounded every day. Daily ball stretching and
frequent masturbation by rough handed orderlies would complete his misery until his next
session of family therapy.


                                                23
        Before I left the room, I picked up from the floor the balls Jesse had shit out during his
torture and dropped them into the bucket that was swinging from his nuts. Jesse shuddered and
groaned as each ball landed in the bucket and I smiled happily thinking of the torment he had
suffered, was suffering and would be suffering. Pain pleases me. The more a man suffers, the
more I am aroused. My own dick was as hard as a rock and leaking gleet. My balls were hard and
hot and aching with cum. I had little Davy of the deformed dick waiting for me in my office and
fifteen hundred men with whom I could do anything I pleased. I love my work.




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