VERY SIMPLE EXERCISE
Unlike Van, Eli lived in a slightly cooler city where people rarely went around with as much as a shirt missing. The population also wasn't used to seeing scantily clad muscle boys in bondage gear.
"Eli, listen," the attorney's voice came over the earpiece. "You have to run for thirty minutes. If you stop at any point you fail. Now run and keep it up until you hear from me again."
The boy didn't know the area but he could guess that he was somewhere in the commercial district, approaching the busiest hour of the day. Even if he hadn't heard the order, it would have been a bad idea to stay in one place for long enough that someone might get the idea to call the police.
He jogged. The biggest problem at first was that he had to keep his knees bent even more than before or else a single misstep would have ripped his balls off. Because his ankles were still tied at shoulder width, Eli had trouble getting up to speed and he feared he was going to be too slow for the task to work.
There was a sweet spot when it came to tempo, where his balls were not overly strained but his feet could still travel the full distance the rope allowed. Unfortunately that sweet spot was at the position that put the most stress on his knees. And his muscles were tired from the morning workout to begin with.
Soon the next problem occurred to him. His hands were flapping beside him, making it hard to get into a jogging rhythm, which left the boy exhausted much quicker than usual and gave him stitches after only a minute. With his torso swinging strongly to the sides, Eli was forced to let his weighted nipple clamps and ball stretcher fly wildly.
And because he could barely see where he was going, or if he was even still on the sidewalk, he had to half jump every now and then when he thought he was about to go off track, just to be able to see ahead.
There were people all around. Eli could see their shoes and how they stepped aside. He also heard their laughter and gasps. The only lucky thing about his excruciating posture was that his erection was fairly obscured until someone looked at him from the front at a fair distance. Of course anyone who looked after him as he passed by would also see his dick slap from thigh to thigh with every step since the ball stretcher pulled his entire package down.
There was the tickling again. But he was running! He was as fast as he could go. So many spot on his body were in red hot pain and his muscles were struggling not to give up right then and there. How could he be getting more marks?
"Eli, are you feeling a mark appear?" the attorney's voice came from the ear piece. "I'll assume you do by now. I think I figured something else out. Since you're carrying Van's curse, the tasks and marks are all confused about what applies."
The boy whined.
"But don't stop running. You haven't failed yet. You're just getting another mark that doesn't count towards the total. You only have to succeed one more time, no matter what else happens. So it's all fine."
Nothing was fine, but Eli was a tiny bit relieved that he hadn't failed yet. His joints, his muscles, his piercings and his bondage items were killing him but he was already so far, he couldn't give up.
"So, where is it? Make a sound when I got the right spot. Face? Arms? Leg? Stomach?"
The man listed body parts and Eli waited until the right spot came up before grunting approvingly. He was out of breath and because his mouth was kept open it had dried out.
"Ah, it's the mid back one? Pretty big, too? I can tell you what that is. Van has the same. It lists your identity data. Full name, address, phone number, every email account you have and all your social media presences. Maybe more, like school address. Depends on the exact mark. Anyway, just keep running. You have about twenty five minutes left."
Twenty five? Eli felt like he had been jogging along for hours. He made sure not to step on the road since he would neither be able to see cars nor get out of the way. So he had to follow the sidewalk that led him around the block, past the same business and restaurants. He was now beginning his second lap and people of course recognized him from before.
Eli's audience was now familiar enough with him to have lost their initial paralysis. Since he had just come from a piercing studio the boy could safely assume that he was in the part of town that mostly workers, truckers and other such rough, daring people frequented.
At first of course came the pictures and videos, now also including close ups of his back. The shining muscle ten waddled along as fast as his knees and balls allowed him, but the men around had no trouble keeping up at walking speed and getting the best shots.
He didn't know how long he was running but he thought he was on his fourth lap, meaning he was about twenty minutes in. The men around him finally had enough from their passive observation. With whistles and hollering a few guys slapped his ass when he ran by, initiating a long line of men spanking him as he passed.
Eli was about to collapse. It had gotten hard to breathe. His legs were giving in every few steps and it was extra painful to force himself up without a second to stop and rest. The sweat on his oiled up skin was flowing like rivers.
Somebody tripped him. Eli stumbled for a few steps but caught himself. He was about to sigh in relive that he hadn't fallen on his face when the tickling set in. He had stopped.
"Eli, the time will be up in one minute. Come back to the tattoo shop when you're done. We have to get started on the next task. I hope you succeeded because there are only five left."
The boy turned around. He was at the exact opposite side of the block. His arms and legs were killing him. At least his nipples and balls had gone mercifully numb.
Only a few round about the block and our boy is already famous. Good for him. Should Eli get a rest? Meh, I think not. What would you say?