It was a lazy Sunday late morning, the sun casting a warm glow over the city as Kratos and Chaz, both muscled and imposing, lounged at Kratos’ house, plotting their day. Their chiseled physiques, honed through relentless gym sessions, added to their intimidating presence, their broad shoulders and defined arms straining against their clothes. The usual activity of chilling by the river felt stale, and they craved something to spice it up. Kratos, sprawled on a couch, grinned wickedly. “Let’s drag Max to the river. Make him our entertainment.” Chaz nodded, his eyes glinting with malice, his muscular frame tense with anticipation. Kratos dialed Max’s number, putting the call on speaker so Chaz could join in. When Max’s timid voice answered, Kratos didn’t waste time. “Get your ass to the river in 30 minutes, nerd. Don’t show, and we’ll come to your house. Remember the tunnel? This time, you might not make it out alive.” Chaz chimed in, “Don’t test us, loser.” Max’s shaky agreement was barely audible before Kratos hung up.
By the riverside, Kratos and Chaz arrived, their muscled builds commanding attention. Kratos wore a red NY New Era cap, a black Supreme hoodie that clung to his powerful torso, and baggy blue jeans, his Air Jordan 1 High Chicagos dominating the scene. The sneakers, with their premium white leather base, Varsity Red overlays on the toe, heel, and outsole, and black Swoosh and laces, exuded a ruthless aura. The red outsole, with its circular traction pattern and blocky heel grip, was scuffed with city dirt, each mark a testament to Kratos’ unyielding dominance. The leather creased with every step, the red accents gleaming like fresh blood, making his feet a cruel, fetishized weapon of intimidation, perfectly complementing his muscular stature.
Chaz, equally formidable with his ripped physique, sported a grey NY New Era cap, a white Supreme hoodie that highlighted his broad chest, and baggy black pants. His Air Jordan 1 High Black Toes, from the 2016 retro release, were a menacing blend of white leather, black overlays on the toe, collar, and Swoosh, and Varsity Red accents on the heel and outsole. The red outsole’s pivot-point traction pattern, dusted with urban grit, radiated a predatory vibe, the black and red colorway slicing through the air like a blade. The sneakers’ premium leather and bold design amplified Chaz’s cruel authority, each step a declaration of power backed by his muscular frame.
Max arrived five minutes late, his dark brown hair disheveled, clad in a black t-shirt, black jeans, and scuffed black Converse. His nervous eyes darted between the towering, muscled figures of Kratos and Chaz. Kratos stepped forward, his Jordans thudding ominously, his biceps flexing under his hoodie. “You feel guilty for being late, Max? Wanna say sorry?”
Max stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Chaz cut him off, sneering, his toned arms crossing over his chest, “That’s not how you do it, dog.” Before Max could react, Kratos’ Jordan 1 Chicago slammed into his chest, the force of his muscular leg sending Max sprawling onto the concrete. Kratos pinned Max’s face to the ground with his red sole, the gritty texture scraping Max’s cheek. “Wanna try that apology again?”
Passersby glanced over, some pausing to watch, but none intervened, their indifference a silent endorsement of the cruelty. Max, gasping, pleaded, “Please, give me another chance!” Kratos lifted his foot, his powerful calves visible as his jeans shifted, allowing Max to scramble to his knees. Max bowed low, pressing his forehead to Kratos’ Jordans, muttering, “I’m sorry, Kratos.” He shuffled to Chaz, repeating the gesture at his Black Toes. “I’m sorry, Chaz.”
Kratos smirked, slamming his foot onto Max’s head, his muscular weight amplifying the pressure, while Chaz pressed his Black Toe onto Max’s back, their combined 380 pounds crushing him. “Don’t be late again, bitch,” Kratos growled, his toned arms flexing as he adjusted his cap. They finally stepped off, and Chaz pulled a dog collar and leash from his pocket, dangling them in front of Max. “Put it on, dog.”
Max hesitated, still on his knees, fear flickering in his eyes. Chaz’s Black Toe crashed into Max’s face, the power of his muscled leg sending blood spurting from Max’s nose and mouth. “You don’t reject our gifts,” Chaz spat, his biceps bulging as he loomed over Max. Trembling, Max fastened the collar around his neck and hooked the leash, his dignity crumbling.
Kratos yanked the leash, his strong grip unyielding. “Crawl like the dog you are.” A swift kick to Max’s back, powered by Kratos’ muscular legs, forced him onto all fours. Chaz’s Black Toe connected with Max’s rear, urging him to move faster. “Hurry up, mutt!” Chaz laughed, his chiseled frame towering over Max. Max, weak and slow, struggled to crawl. Kratos leaned down, his broad shoulders casting a shadow, sneering, “You’re a dog, Max. Let’s hear you bark for us.”
Max’s face flushed with shame, but he knew better than to resist. “Woof… woof,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Chaz kicked Max’s side, his muscular thigh driving the force. “Louder, dog! Make us believe it!”
“Woof! Woof!” Max forced out, his voice cracking as tears welled up.
Kratos laughed, tugging the leash harder, his defined arms flexing. “That’s more like it, puppy.” Chaz jumped onto Max’s back, his 185 pounds of muscle collapsing Max to the ground. “Get up, loser!” Chaz demanded, still standing on him. Max’s arms trembled, his frail muscles straining to lift Chaz’s weight. As Max inched forward, Chaz jumped again, Max’s chest and stomach slamming into the concrete.
Kratos stomped Max’s face with his Chicago’s red sole, his powerful leg amplifying the impact. “You’re disappointing Chaz, dog.” Switching places, Kratos climbed onto Max’s back, his 195 pounds of muscle overwhelming Max. “Up, now!” Max’s limbs shook violently, barely able to support Kratos’ bulk. When Max faltered, Kratos jumped, driving Max’s body harder into the ground. Their laughter echoed, a cruel soundtrack to Max’s suffering.
“Look at this pathetic puppy,” Kratos taunted, his muscled frame looming as he tugged the leash. “You were born to be our bitch, weren’t you, Max?”
Chaz grinned, kicking Max’s side with his toned leg. “Bark again, dog. Show everyone what you are.”
“Woof! Woof!” Max cried, his voice breaking, tears mixing with blood.
Chaz pulled out his phone, snapping a selfie as Kratos stood on Max’s back, leash taut, Max on all fours. He posted it to Instagram with the caption, “Walking by the river with our dog 🐶.” DMs flooded in, filled with laughing emojis and comments like “Max is your pet now 😂” and “Keep him barking!”
Kratos dragged Max along the river, the leash pulling tight in his strong grip. “You’re nothing but our toy, Max,” he sneered, his muscles flexing under his hoodie. “Ain’t nobody gonna save you.” Chaz spat on Max’s face, adding, “Bark for the crowd, dog.” Max, humiliated, forced out another weak “Woof,” drawing more laughter from onlookers.
At the concrete edge of the river, Kratos ordered, “Stay, dog.” Max, trembling, didn’t know what was coming. Kratos’ Jordan slammed into Max’s face, the force of his muscular leg sending Max tumbling into the shallow river. The crowd laughed, some shouting, “Drown the nerd!” Max, panicked, thought he’d drown, but realized he could stand in the knee-deep water. As he tried to climb out, Chaz’s Black Toe smashed into his face, his powerful kick knocking Max back. “Stay down, bitch!” Chaz yelled.
On Max’s second attempt, Kratos kicked harder, his red sole leaving a welt, his muscled strength evident. “You stay in the river, dog.” Kratos stepped closer, glaring, his broad chest heaving. “Open your mouth, face up. If you close it, we’ll burn your house down.” Max, broken and obedient, complied, tilting his head back in the water.
Kratos unzipped his pants, revealing his 9-inch member, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Chaz, catching on instantly, unzipped his pants, exposing his 8-inch member, and both laughed with malicious glee, their muscled frames towering over Max. “Time for your real punishment, dog,” Kratos sneered, positioning himself above Max. The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, some gasping, others chuckling, as Kratos’ stream hit Max’s open mouth first. The taste was vile, a searing mix of sharp ammonia, bitter salt, and a faint, musky undertone, like stale beer left out in the sun. It burned Max’s throat, the warm, acrid liquid forcing him to gag, his body recoiling instinctively but held in place by fear of Kratos’ threat.
Chaz’s stream followed, overlapping with Kratos’, creating a relentless torrent. Chaz’s contribution added a slightly sweeter, almost metallic note to the already unbearable mix, like copper coins steeped in the same bitter ammonia, mingling with Kratos’ harsher, more pungent taste. The combined streams overwhelmed Max’s senses, the warmth and volume making it nearly impossible to breathe without swallowing some of the foul liquid. Max’s eyes stung, tears mixing with the water and blood on his face, as he kept his mouth open, terrified of the consequences of disobedience. The crowd’s laughter swelled, some shouting, “Drink it, dog!” as phones recorded the degrading spectacle.
“Keep that mouth wide, toilet,” Chaz taunted, adjusting his aim to ensure the stream hit Max’s tongue, his muscular arm steady. “You’re our personal urinal now.”
Kratos laughed, his stream unrelenting, his toned physique casting a shadow. “How’s it taste, Max? Bet you love being our piss bucket.” He leaned down, spitting on Max’s face for added humiliation, his biceps flexing. The dual streams seemed to last an eternity, Max’s jaw aching, his throat burning with the acrid, salty-metallic assault. Finally, both streams tapered off, leaving Max coughing and retching, the bitter aftertaste lingering like a stain on his soul.
Kratos roared with laughter, his muscles rippling under his hoodie. “Drink up, dog! That’s your treat for the day!” Chaz added, his chiseled frame leaning forward, “Our little barking toilet. Hope you enjoyed your bath, Max!” They high-fived, stepping back as Max gagged, the crowd’s laughter ringing in his ears, some shouting crude encouragements like “Swallow it, nerd!” and “You’re their bitch now!”
Without another word, Kratos and Chaz walked away, their Jordans thudding into the distance, their muscled silhouettes fading until Max could no longer see them. Confused and humiliated, Max stayed in the river, unsure if the ordeal was over. He washed the blood, spit, and filth from his face in the cold water, his pride shattered, and dragged himself home, a hollow shell of himself.
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