*** The Ritual ***
Ethan drove inside the enclosed space and stopped, grateful to be out of sight for a moment.
He walked around the bench and spotted the black box. It contained a welcome gift, but it wasn't the grand solution he had hoped for.
A silky, pink thong.
"Is this thing smaller than the last one?"
The attorney hummed. "That's just... a different cut. If you're covered, it's at least not illegal to be out looking like you do."
"And there are the nipple clamps to go with it. Great. But... what is this other thing?"
"I though nipple clamps are a bit too easy and we need to do more to trick the curse. This device will be covered by the thong, so it's not as obvious."
"What is it? It's heavy."
"It goes on your balls."
"I can't opened it."
"Try harder. And be quick."
Ethan pried the weird, double ring/cup shaped device open with difficulty and snapped it onto his balls.
Two things became clear. One, it fit onto his orbs like a glove. Two, it exerted pressure like an anvil.
"Fuck no. I need to... get this fucking off me... now, fuck... please..."
There was no answer. Ethan shook like under an icy shower as the pain traveled into his legs and abs. His fingers could barely work the nipple clamps.
The clamps were more brutal. Was it his imagination, the previous torment, or the truth? They hurt like they wanted his nipples destroyed.
He needed several tries to step into the thong and it took some fiddling to get his dick covered.
Back on the bike, he followed directions again.
The silk thong rubbed on his hard dickhead like nothing ever had. It was the first good sensation Ethan had felt all day. It was better than a blowjob. Every time he hit the pedal was another stroke.
With the inhuman pain, he was happy to have something else to focus on.
A sensation on his tongue let him know the ring there was growing. He informed the attorney and realized his lisp was now even more pronounced.
"Pull-ups from now on," the man said. "But it hardly matters. You're almost there. A small park. My utensils are behind the public toilets."
Ethan knew the park even though he hadn't been there in ages.
In front of the open wrought-iron gate, he stopped and tested the entrance. Naturally, it was a `gateway' and needed to be broken.
The boy leaned his bike against the fence. People walked by. He was paralyzed with horror.
Maybe if he worked out, it looked like his attire had a purpose. He had to get it done, even if people entered and exited the park right next to him.
Ethan dropped down. The chains rattled as he did a first push-up on the asphalt. Now that he was off the bike, his thong no longer rubbed his dickhead and the ball and nipple pain forced their way back to the forefront of his attention.
He didn't want to scream, so he pressed his ringed tongue out and bit down. His whole body shook as he did push-ups as fast as possible. When he had done ten, he turned over and rolled into a strip of grass along the fence.
Before his jackknife crunches began, he saw he had attracted a few onlookers, who stayed at a distance but were shamelessly watching.
The all-ages crowd only grew as the sweating muscle teen flapped his body with every crunch to get ten done.
He got up and did jumping jacks. His hard dick flopped up and down and rubbed along the silk. It was like jerking off.
Having spent the day with an erection, Ethan had built up a lot of pressure. He was getting close to orgasm. This way he managed to get twenty jumps in, beyond the necessary.
It did however make his ball crusher bounce. The pain shot up every time he landed with the chains chiming along like mocking laughter.
High knees were next, both because he was already standing up and because it kept the silk rubbing going, albeit at a reduced strength.
The pull-ups were tricky but a sign with the park's name jutted out from the entrance post. He jumped up, held on and started pulling.
His crowd had grown into about two dozen people, getting closer to have a good look. There was a distinct lack of people his own age, so no one had yet pulled out there phone cams. He still had some anonymity.
Ethan groaned loudly with every pull. Without the suspicious `steroids' he would have never been able to keep going. All the pain was catching up regardless.
The boy dropped down and was almost pulled to the ground by the weight of his three stolen prices.
There was only one thing left to do. Squats.
But he couldn't spread his ass cheeks with people watching. He had to go for the one legged one.
Ethan shook uncontrollably and waved his arms to stay balanced as he sank on his right leg.
The tremors traveled to his dick where it rubbed the silk again.
One squat. He swallowed hard.
Two squats. An orgasm rose in his burning thighs and spread toward his crotch.
Three squats. "Fuck yeah," he whispered, his eyes watering. Ethan almost fell, and caught himself with both hands.
Up again – three and a half. Down – four squats. The ball crusher's pain was overwhelmed by the stream of erotic energy racing through his junk.
Change to left leg – one squat. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He blinked it away. He shed a tear. His dick was already impossible hard and yet hardened even further.
Two squats. "Fuck yeah, oh fuck yeah," he pressed out. The muscle ache made his entire left side spasm, from calve to chest. He wobbled and caught himself.
Three squats. Ethan cummed.
It was by far the strongest orgasm of his life. His whole body was involved. The various, unbearable pains mixed themselves into the sensation and gave him a brain melting cumshot right into the thong.
He squatted through the best moment of his life. With utmost concentration, he finished the fourth left squat, deaf and blind to anything but the amazing workings of his divine body.
Then he was done and cum ran past his now hurting, oversensitive dick.
With stiff and shaking legs, Ethan swaggered into the park.
"Wh-what... n-now?" he said, his voice cracking.
"Are you at the toilets?"
"Oh... r-right...yeah."
He made his way there, his mind both foggier than ever and perfectly post-cum cleared. Once he had the chance to hop out of sight of the path, he looked down on himself.
White cum streams ran down both sweaty legs and got stuck there. He scooped up all he could and hoped the remainder would be washed away by sweat alone.
He'd hop into the toilets when he was done killing the curse.
"So... I got the box. What do I do with those two bottles?"
"Red is holy water. Just drop a chain anywhere and drench it. Blue is unholy water. Same deal but they can't be too close together. Go across the path."
"Sure thing."
Ethan was almost giddy as he unscrewed the red bottle.
He got rid of one chain – which felt like flying – and spilled the liquid.
The chain's weight was instantly back on his shoulders, despite the object staying on the ground.
"Whoa! It's like a ghost chain."
"Good. It's successfully bound to you. Keep going."
Ethan opened the second bottle on his way to the other side of the narrow park and soon exchanged his second chain for a phantom version, too.
"And now?"
"Stand between them. The etheric re-focusing... I mean, heaven and hell will fight it out. Stay in the middle for a minute or so and don't move away. I'll complete the last step and give word when I'm done."
"Okay."
"Absolutely don't leave your spot or the curse will win."
"Got it.
An exhausted, broken, but hopeful teenage muscle god stood in the middle of the park and waited with his eyes on the ground, while people walked around him.
It was over.
Or it would be, in a minute. Nothing could get him from his spot.
Then he saw a familiar face coming toward him.
Next up: it has to get a tiny bit worse before it gets better. But then Ethan will be free. Kind of. Maybe.