AI art by hongd542 - Part 2

Read Part 1 First?

 

 Jerry was pleasantly surprised by the bedclothes the Clinic gave him to wear.

They were top quality, stylish and made him feel sexy, which wasn't what he had expected

after the court sent him here to have his anti-social behaviour surgically corrected. 

Whatever that meant.

 

 

 The Doctor explained what he planned to do in great detail using medical language.

Ben didn't really understand what he said, but he didn't like the look of it.

 

 

 Downstairs, the glitzy comfort of the private Clinic transformed into a starkly utilitarian reality.

James was dressed in a protective one-piece suit, restrained, gagged and then drained by hand. 

That was troubling, but he wasn't prepared at all for followed.

See the devastating dénouement at Hong's DeviantArt site, it's too hot for here.

 

 

 The Doctors were troubled. 

The procedure had been an exciting challenge.

But was it ethical?

 

The boys in the gym would never be the same again.

 

~

 

 

Officer Sutherland had an unconventional approach to 'persons of interest'.

He insisted that they took off and handed over their clothes to be searched,

so that they would not be embarrassed by clumsy, groping hands. 

Of course, if no little plastic bags containing dubious substances were found, 

A common alternative hiding place was then already available to be searched. 

Sutherland often found that the mere suggestion of a deeper probe, in private,

would prompt an involuntary, urgent disclosure by the suspect. 

 

 

 

The disciplinary hearing had not gone well for Curtis
But at least he still had a job.

 

 

 Being assigned to 'Pride' duties felt like a crushing rebuke to Dexter.

But at least he didn't have to venture into that cauldron all alone.

Still, he wasn't sure he liked the sound of his colleague's offer

to familiarise him with gay culture so he'd feel more comfortable. 

In fact, he was sure he would feel just the reverse. 

 

 

 

 

Officer Bergman had a large portfolio of informants,

which embraced all sections of the community, 

He often went way beyond the call of duty,

but did sometimes lose focus when exchanging favours.

(Uncaptioned Original)

As they say, there's no smoke without fire.

 

~

 

more Hong542 next time 

Read Part 1

AI art by hongd542 - Part 1

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Mercenary Nick - Part 2

Start reading at Part 1

 

Day 4

8

After a night of humiliation at the hands of the Guards, I had to face my torturers the next day clad only in underpants. Even they were not my own clothes, for my guards had either destroyed, or taken for souvenirs, every item of clothing that I had on. As a sop to my modesty, they gave me a pair of underpants taken from another prisoner. He had no further need of them, they said and out of spite, they told me his name. It was one of my comrades who had disappeared some 3 months earlier, while on the same mission as myself. I was trained not to react to barbs like this or dwell on the truth of them, but the symbolism of losing the last of my possessions did hit me hard. 

I felt like I had been condemned to extinction.

Having been suspended by my wrists during those long, cruel hours of darkness, it was a perverse pleasure to be taken down and spread-eagled on an X-cross instead. I was still tied up and defenceless, but able to stand on my feet again. It was obvious that this restraint would enable the interrogator to attack all parts of my body, if I continued to deny him the information that he wanted. However, he surprised me by producing, not some ferocious flesh destroyer, but an incongruous, small batten of wood. It looked like it was fresh from a DIY shop, an unwelcome reminder of the normal world that was carrying on outside the walls of my prison, oblivious of my plight. 

The Interrogator complimented me on my physique, running his hands over my abs and acknowledging that I had been well-trained. Then he proceeded to apply his stick to my torso, landing vicious blows on it from all angles. That batten might have been small, but by heavens it stung! As time went by, the cumulative effect of hundreds of blows from it, switching between the flat sides and the sharper edges, generated a fiery furnace of pain all over my body. He beat me with it patiently, conserving his energy, so my agony might last as long as possible.

 

 

9

After a while he stopped, looked at my bruised body and sighed, as if in regret. Then he went to his bench and returned with a second batten. He used them simultaneously to beat both sides of my body. The effect of the wood smacking my abs had dulled by them, but when he switched to my ribs, the pain was excruciating. I'm ashamed to say that I gasped, quite loudly. My torturer smiled, then hit me again. I managed better control of my responses the second time, but it was difficult. My struggle to remain silent was obvious. That made him smile again, for it was a sign, a small one, that I was losing, and he was winning. We both knew that, and I trembled inside. 

Before he left to take his lunch, he signed off with the battens by rasping their rough cut edges across my body like a saw. My bruised skin was repeatedly pricked and punctured by splinters, with many of them breaking off and sticking in me. He was playing a childish game, but left me with widespread soreness that returned every time I stretched to relieve the stress of the prolonged restraint.

After he had gone, to my surprise, the Guards took me down and gave me a small but nourishing meal. I ate it appreciatively, imagining that someone, at least, wanted to keep me alive. But for what? As soon as I had finished, they tied me up again.

 

10

When the torturer returned, the games continued. It was clear he was beginning to enjoy the task of wearing me down, waiting for me to crack. He was relying on time and repeated attacks to persuade me, rather than extreme wounding. This time he took up a wooden paddle with which to torment me. 

I'd experienced the paddle before. It looks slightly comical, but its flat surface produces a wider spread of pain. The holes in it ensure that air making way for its delivery do not impair the impact. It is most effective on large muscle groups and so is widely used for buttock spanking. Naturally, my Trainers hadn't spared me that experience and humiliation, although they claimed to think it beneath them. I wasn't convinced about that after experiencing their efforts, but my torturer seemed to share their view, he made no move to turn me round to feel its sting on my behind. Instead, he applied it to my pecs and thighs, two areas which had largely escaped his attention in the morning.  

Vast new areas of fiery pain erupted to torment me.

 

11

 It was a long, long day and it left me raw, bruised and physically exhausted. My borrowed underpants were sopping wet from profuse perspiration, but thankfully, the relatively low level of brutality had spared me the humiliation of losing all control of my organs. I was glad it was over, but, tomorrow would be another day of torment and before that, I faced another night at the mercy of the Guards.

 

 Day 5

 

 

12

 

My Guards must have lost interest in me that night, for I slept right through. There had been visitors, I could tell, for when I awoke, my underwear was round my ankles and there were deposits on my skin. But I hadn't been treated badly enough to wake me up. Perhaps some other unfortunate soul had claimed the attention of the brutalisers. 

 

As usual, the Guards took me straight from my cell to the interrogation room after I had eaten. This time, however, instead of tying me to the cross or a post, they simply shackled my ankles, tethered my wrists to a dangling chain and left me standing in the middle of the room. I stood like that for about an hour, puzzling over this turn of events. Had something happened? Was my torture ended?

 

These foolish thoughts were immediately extinguished when my tormentor returned to resume his painstaking exploration of my inner reserves. To my horror, he was brandishing a bull-whip which made the reason for the changed restraints perfectly clear - he was going to work all over my body and wanted no obstacles to impair his lashes. The ploy of keeping me waiting had softened me up nicely, for I immediately began to tremble with fear. He gleefully used the stock of the whip to lift my chin and make his usual request, was I going to talk?

 

13

 

It took all my courage to refuse once again. 

Seconds later, the whip fell across my body and all the previous bruises re-erupted.

It was just the start of a slow-paced barrage of lashes that spared no part of my body. 

14

 

Before long, I was on my knees blubbering. 

But I had the strength to refuse to give in and tell them what I knew.

 

15

 

My reward was a barrage of kicking and whiplashes which sent me sprawling. 

I lost consciousness.

 

16

 

I can recall very little of what happened after that. I woke up in a primitive, wooden shack with 3 other prisoners. They nursed me back to some semblance of health, until my captors decided I was fit to work in the quarry, which was just outside our hut. This is the place I now call home.

As soon as I was able, I searched for my missing comrade, the man whose underpants I still wore, but I did not find him, only more strangers, most of whom did not speak my language. As I became better acquainted with my new companions, I was able to join in their secret, nightly intimacies, which were unexpectedly tender and comforting. Necessarily so, because of the patrolling guards who might otherwise hear us. 

In reality, though, my only real bond with them is our experience of the Orange Room, of which none of us ever speak. Whether I broke and talked or kept my silence until they gave up trying, I cannot say. It doesn't matter, because I know for sure that my mission ended in failure. It gives me no comfort to have escaped death when my other comrades may well have perished, for I have still paid a terrible price for my failure.

 

17

It's hard work, breaking the stones and carrying them to the collection point where the lorries come to pick them up. I soon discovered that slackers quickly feel the whip, and that invoked such terrible memories for me that I take care not to provoke the overseers if I can help it.

I think about escaping sometimes, but the fire in my belly has gone out. The fear of more, remorseless punishment has finally quenched my spirit. My comrades seem to feel the same, although none of us talk of our past lives or what we endured to get to here. I am one of the lucky ones, supposedly. 

So I wield my sledgehammer and count the hours 'til the next meal, which is usually quite nourishing and designed to keep us alive and working. The alternative would be starvation rations until we die. 

I'm not sure which is the worse fate of the two. 

 ~

Imagery for this story is from 'Mercenary Nick' at Real Chained Heroes.

The star is 'Robert' flaunting his fabulous physique. 

Go to Part 1

 

Homoeros - Recent Work (2025) - 1

1

 

Regulars will know that I have a somewhat unhealthy obsession with shorts, so it didn't take much effort to fall for this hunky hiker, who seems to be wearing a pair made of leather, somewhat in the style of lederhosen. His wanderings have been interrupted by an unpleasant-looking character with a gun. 

He seems to think this is his territory. Freedom to roam? Bah! Humbug! 

 

This story is called 'Hill-Billy Elegy', which sort of prepares you for unprovoked nastiness. The young rambler is called Leo. It's a hot day, but it probably wasn't a good idea to make such a show of his amazing physique.

2

Hillbilly number 1 is joined by another who looks an even more ugly character with an unhealthy lifestyle that probably hasn't done his brain much good. Leo is forced to kneel at gunpoint, presenting a delicious, submissive rear view to us. It might have caused him even more trouble if those emaciated rednecks were to catch sight of it. Luckily, they only want to grope him and make him strip naked. They take him to their camp, leaving his clothes and rucksack behind.

3

 

Surprisingly, and disappointingly for us, their leader turns out to be an unkempt woman. I suppose the fact that there is a leader, and it's not just a bunch of violent thugs, might give Leo cause to hope. Especially as she is quite taken with him, a considerable improvement on her usual entourage. Unfortunately, she also sees Leo's good looks and impressive physique as a challenge.

 

4

Leo is forced to fight her and suffers some humiliating treatment.

Great buns Leo!

 

 

5

It's a painful experience for Leo. 

His dick is symbolically ground into the dirt, much to the delight of the gang, looking on.

 

 

6

But Leo refuses to be a pushover, his muscles show their worth.

His dick also shows commendable resilience in the circumstances.

 

 

7

Unsurprisingly, this doesn't go down very well. It's a contest he cannot win.

The woman responds to his lively dick by rubbing it with her fanny.

Leo defiantly rejects her.

 

 

8

His fate is sealed anyway, they tie him to a whipping post.

You can see the gory results at Deviant Art (link below).

The woman gets sexual revenge too, in the only way she can,

(there's a clue in the image below)

 

 

9

When the lash of the whip and sexual humiliation is finally ended,

Leo is taken away to a shed. He soon realises that this is not the end of his torment.

You can probably guess from this picture where it is all heading.

A traditional Homoeros fate awaits him.

 

 

10

 

A Sheriff finds him traumatised but still alive.

Someone reported Leo missing, and his abandoned possessions were found on the trail. 

Great story.

I have omitted most of the imagery relating to Leo's torment, which is very explicit.

You can see much of it at 'Homoeros - Hill-Billy Elegy' at Deviant Art,

(plus more if you subscribe).

 

 ~

 

Some more interesting Homoeros titbits........

 

 

11

A young slave, kept naked in chains by his master, looks up,

 wondering what is going to happen to him next.

 

12

 

The young men of Homoeros, like Leo the Hiker in the story above, often have a slightly unreal, fragile attractiveness. Some of that is due to the blond hair and blue eyes. This young man by comparison looks startlingly real and startlingly cute as well. It would be a cold master indeed who could not feel some sort of emotion towards him.  

As is often the case, the artist has only given him a number - 941.

The fate of prisoner 941 is reserved for subscribers.

 

 

13

This image shows yet another young man who has been crucified in the middle of a vast yard. This is a regular situation in the world of Homoeros, but his free pages don't always reveal his inner thoughts about what is happening here. 

 

A man in military attire stands before the helpless victim and seems to be remonstrating with him. His arms wide pose, mirroring the victim's plight, seems full of psychological significance. Earlier pictures suggest the victim had a role as a groom and a cosy relationship was developing with this superior officer.  So this could be a distraught lover sharing his sorrow - or prolonging the anger of their break-up. It could be a friend lamenting his foolishness. A Commanding Officer justifying his hard decision. A regimental bully mocking his misfortune. Whatever the case, the inclusion of this second character makes the image so much more interesting than the isolated victim dying alone.

 

 

14

Here, Homoeros imitates the famous homoerotic images of "Fred with Tires", substituting a typical character of his own as the model. The mechanic in his overalls is a much-loved male sex object. It's traditionally been a strictly masculine job, and the mystery of what might lie hidden beneath the shapeless, workman's overalls is tantalising. As a second layer, the glimpses revealed if partly open are emphasised, somewhat like the cowboy's chaps. 

 

Homoeros has chosen a zip fastening for his Fred's overalls. It's much more convenient than buttons for revealing glimpses, but it can have a mind of its own once released. If your hands are occupied with carrying heavy tyres, it's a dilemma whether to put them down to stop it or hope for the best. We can see almost down to his mechanic's cock, and more revelations below the hip seem imminent. His face is a picture of indecision, but have to content ourselves with the amorphous bulge in his crumpled overalls.

 

 

15

 

These images acknowledge the muscularity needed to heft these heavy tyres.

Shiny perspiration and the dropped top tell us just how hot he is (as if!). 

 

Homoeros skates round the inconvenient reality

 of where all the material in the top half ends up, when it's dropped.

 

16

The same zip still seems to be causing problems in this, outside of work, situation.

We don't know if the lowered garment was already in this position when authority intervened. 

Men do all sorts of things in quiet back alleys, and 'Fred' looks as if he's been caught out. 

 

His hands are placed submissively behind his back, but they don't seem to have been cuffed yet. Modesty might have been a more appropriate response to the challenge.

Unless, he's been ordered to stand this way, that is.....

 

The cop's muscularity and relaxed pose is nicely captured,

but his jeans suggest he's not a cop at all.

17

Whatever 'Fred' was up to in the alleyway, he probably didn't anticipate this outcome.

It doesn't look like a regular Police Station, however, and Fred still doesn't look restrained. 

That suggests he's been intimidated or blackmailed into trying the horse out.

His current state might be described as 'dismayed'.

 

This horse doesn't have a particularly sharp 'wedge', but I'm not sure that it makes much difference after the first five minutes astride it. Having the legs raised at the back makes for a more precarious balance and shifts the discomfort forward, but probably doesn't add much to it. 

(in legs down mode, weights are sometimes attached to amplify the effect).

 

For more wedges at mitchmen, click on the 'Riding The Wedge' label below this post.

 

~

 

More Homoeros highlights in Part 2

Art by Roman AI

"We have severe punishments for streakers, you know."

 

Front Facing Arrests are a standard AI-trope, but here's one with a difference. 

Roman authoritarianism, fab muscle hunk with spirit, in bondage, on the brink of nudity and nastiness.

What's not to like? 

 

"I'm naming you 'Anilingus'.
Serve me well and I will treat you well".

 AI struggles with humans in physical contact, so it's surprising that this simple expression of subjugation is not seen more often. The contrast between the muscular captive slave and his new owner, clearly refined and wealthy, is beautifully expressed. The hand he's using to emphasise his control is clever, shame it's drawn wrong. I know it's phallic, but surely there must be places in Rome that don't have a dome in the background.

 

 

"Lucky bastard! Things like that never happen to me"

And so say all of us! Official title is 'Locker Room Bully'. 

Using his own belt on him. Don't ask why. Great jeans too.

 

Now that's what I call humiliation

 

AI has brought the great gift of weather to fetish art creators.
The belt seems to think it's a crowbar, no wonder he's submitted to it!

 

 

 

"No good running off, Barton.
You'll still get your spanking in front of the others, next time"

Imagine! Barton's a hairy hunk, the others must be disappointed he's escaped temporarily.

Thank goodness someone put 'University' up on the wall to counteract the dubious age scenario.

 

"No, I'm Not Your New Valet, Signor.
The Godfathers Sent Me"

I love the wacky bath!

I imagine it having wheels and the hit man trundling it to the nearest balcony to be emptied.

The bather is in a fix since he's naked and worse might befall him if he jumps up.

Especially if he's been playing with himself under the water.

 

Gorgeous hairy pecs, clean too. Surely they're worth a temporary reprieve!

 

 

"Keep kissing, Luigi. Then it's the belt for you next.
No-one, but no-one, laughs at my clothes!"

 I'd keep stumm about the Teddy too, if I were you, Luigi. 

Otherwise, you might find yourself kissing below the belt.

It is decidedly odd garb for a locker room.

Oh, thank you, God. He does want help with his Project!

'This can't be happening' Department.

Right now, 'his' gaze suggests he's formulating a different, strictly ex-curriculum project.

In fact, it maybe that his 'problem' is not about his project at all, but something completely different!

I can't remember anyone like this at the educational establishments I attended.

I certainly never prayed to God about it, but each to his own.

The varied style of these images is refreshing.

 

 

 

"Cheer Up Spunkimus!
It's Not The End of The World!"

I suppose you're meant to imagine a poignant parting or doomed lovers. 

Great apocalyptic imagery and nice warm colours appropriately enough. 

Have you noticed how everyone always seems to be going in the opposite direction?

"OK, OK, Smartimus, So I Was Wrong.
But We Still Have Each Other."

Looks like a cruise ship just docked, carrying the undead.

Fortunately, they will all be gone in an hour (max).

These two should charge admission, that should get them back on their feet.

 

 

 AI art has its detractors. It's too prolific, lacking in individual identity, can't fit humans' together, physically or psychologically, and hasn't a clue how eyes look or work (the most important part of human identity by a mile). It's incapable of seeing a complete image as a human sees it, but has to be told that half a train does not exist in the real world. At one point, it didn't even differentiate human backs from their fronts. Worst of all, it's totally sexless, it's programmed to be so thanks to our pathetic, lowest common denominator, corporate driven society (the only plus point for Mr Musk, although I'm increasingly convinced he has his own brand of censorship lurking in his muddy depths). AI can only produce something vaguely sexy if instructed, and cascading cum is not sexy, sorry! However, it is capable of turning out some beautiful imagery at chocolate box, schmaltz level and occasionally, very occasionally it comes up with something totally original and wacky that makes a jolly good picture, sexy or otherwise.

Roman AI is one of those surfing the internet wave, and he has produced some interesting images (many of which look a lot like other producer's images). But never mind, this listing isn't an award for being better or totally original, but just having been in the right place with the right stuff to catch my eye. To be fair, he does introduce a degree of individuality by varying his style, but it's what he asks his AI engine to illustrate that qualifies him for a mention here.

More at RomanAI