Chapter 28: Augments
The basement air was thick and still, smelling of damp concrete, ancient spilled beer, and something sharper, metallic, like ozone. The single bare bulb overhead cast harsh, unforgiving shadows, turning Brick’s grin into a rictus and deepening the furrows on Mauler’s brow. The familiar, insistent thump of the hypnotic CD track echoed off the low ceiling, louder here, more oppressive, vibrating through the soles of Ethan’s bare feet against the cold floor.
Ethan shivered violently, the sweat cooling rapidly on his skin. He wasn’t cold. The heat radiating from the pendant around his neck was a constant thrum, a low-grade fever beneath his sternum. It was everything else. The rough grip of Brick’s hand on his bicep – his bicep, which felt unnervingly solid now – as he’d steered him towards one of the heavy metal chairs bolted to the floor. The crude, industrial straps Mauler was now tightening across his chest and thighs, leather biting into newly sensitive skin. And the utter, terrifying vulnerability of being naked while these two, clad in their rugby polos, loomed over him.
Next to him, Dale sat rigid in the other chair, his long hair plastered to his neck, shoulders hunched. Mauler worked on his restraints with methodical efficiency. Dale’s eyes, usually sharp and observant behind his glasses (now lying discarded with their clothes somewhere upstairs), were wide, unfocused, darting towards Ethan then away. The thick, dark hair that had erupted across his thighs and hips in the frat bedroom seemed even denser now in the stark light, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He looked like he was trying very hard not to be here, his breath coming in shallow, silent gasps. His own pendant pulsed faintly against his collarbone.
"Comfy, geniuses?" Brick chuckled, circling the chairs. He stopped in front of Ethan, his gaze dropping deliberately. "Look at that. Still raring to go, huh? Good. Means the baseline programming took." He nodded towards the thick erection standing rigidly against Ethan’s abdomen, utterly ignoring the flush creeping up Ethan’s neck. Dale’s was similarly, traitorously hard. A humiliating testament to the body's betrayal, disconnected from the mind's horror.
"W-what are you doing?" Ethan demanded, his voice cracking. He strained against the chest strap, a surge of unfamiliar anger flaring. His hair, still streaked with faintly glowing gold threads, seemed to brighten momentarily. "The bedroom... that was enough! Let us go!"
"Enough?" Brick scoffed, exchanging a look with Mauler. "That was just the appetizer, Finch. The warm-up lap. We got a championship to win, remember? Your little... demonstration upstairs showed serious potential. Raw, unfocused, but potent." He tapped Ethan’s temple. "We need to refine the firmware. Optimize the hardware."
Mauler grunted, finishing the strap across Dale’s ankles. "Kid’s got muscle where it counts now," he rumbled, his large hand brushing almost thoughtfully over Dale’s newly thickened calf. Dale flinched violently. "But he’s still thinking too much. Brain’s like static on the comms." He turned his heavy gaze on Dale. "Gotta quiet that noise down, Data."
Brick pulled a small, outdated-looking remote from his pocket, fiddling with dials. The CD track subtly shifted, the bass deepening, layering a new, more complex pattern of electronic pulses beneath the original beat. It felt like insects crawling inside Ethan’s skull.
"Alright, Einstein," Brick said, moving back to Ethan. "For you? We need more bite. More... assertion." His hand, calloused and strong, wrapped around Ethan’s erection without preamble. Ethan gasped, a strangled sound that was part shock, part involuntary response to the sudden, intense friction. "That fire you found? We’re gonna stoke it. Turn you into pure goddamn ignition."
He began to stroke, a rough, demanding rhythm perfectly synced with the heavy bassline thudding from the speakers. It wasn't gentle. It was purposeful, almost clinical. Each pull sent jolts through Ethan’s system, feeding the heat in his pendant, which flared brighter. Anger warred with the unwanted pleasure, twisting in his gut.
"Y-you can't..." Ethan choked out, trying to buck away, but the restraints held firm. The gold in his hair flared brighter, casting sharp shadows on Brick’s grinning face. "Stop... now!"
"See?" Brick said, his voice low, almost conversational, as his hand worked relentlessly. "There it is. That snarl. That’s what we need. Less geek, more Greek god with a temper. Channel it. Feel it."
Simultaneously, Mauler moved to Dale. His large hand engulfed Dale’s erection. Unlike Brick’s force, Mauler’s touch was slower, almost ponderous, but no less violating. Dale whimpered, a high, thin sound Ethan had never heard him make. He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling violently.
"Easy, Data," Mauler murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Dale’s frame. "Too many wires in that head. Too many thoughts buzzing. Gotta simplify." His thumb rubbed slowly over the tip, making Dale gasp and arch against the restraints. "Focus on the signal. Just the bass. Just the heat. Let the code... fade out."
The conflicting sensations were overwhelming. Ethan felt the rough stimulation amplifying the unnatural energy coursing through him. The anger surged – at the violation, at the helplessness, at the way his body responded despite his mind screaming no. He wanted to roar, to break the chair, to smash Brick’s grinning face. The pendant burned like a star against his skin, the heat radiating outward, feeding the ferocity coiling inside him. His hair blazed.
Dale, under Mauler’s persistent, almost soothing manipulation and the new layer of hypnotic pulse, seemed to be shutting down. His trembling subsided into a terrifying stillness. His eyes remained closed, his jaw slack. His breathing deepened, syncing unnervingly with the slow, methodical strokes. The intense focus Ethan knew so well – the focus that could untangle complex algorithms – was gone, replaced by a vacant surrender. The thick hair on his legs looked darker, more pronounced against his unnaturally still form. His pendant pulsed a steady, dim green.
"Good," Brick murmured, watching Ethan’s furious struggle, his hand never stopping. "Good. Let it burn, Einstein. Let it out. That’s your core now. Aggression. Dominance. Pure drive." He leaned closer, his breath hot on Ethan’s ear. "Imagine what Dale needs. What you need to take."
"Fuck you!" Ethan spat, the words ripped from him, raw and guttural. His vision swam with gold light.
Mauler just grunted again, watching Dale's vacant expression. "Signal's clearing. Static's gone. Cleaner baseline." His hand kept its slow, relentless pace. "Just the body. Just the response."
The CD track throbbed, filling the damp basement with its mechanical heartbeat. Ethan strained, consumed by a fire that felt both alien and terrifyingly right. Dale sat in chilling silence, his brilliant mind seemingly adrift on a sea of enforced sensation. The pendants pulsed – one a beacon of enraged gold, the other a dull, accepting emerald – as the rugby captains methodically rewired their recruits, stroke by violating stroke, beat by hypnotic beat. The basement held its breath, thick with the scent of sweat, ozone, and the cold tang of coercion. The only sounds were the relentless thump-thump-thump, Ethan’s ragged growls, Dale’s shallow breaths, and the slick, obscene friction of skin on skin. Down here, beneath the frat house, the transformation wasn't just physical anymore. It was a brutal reshaping of the self. The disc skipped once, a jarring glitch in the programming, then seamlessly resumed its insistent rhythm.