The atmosphere in the room shifted from clinical to predatory. The two hours of service had left Will’s muscles trembling with fatigue, but the psychological weight was heavier. He knew the "warm-up" was over. Elena and Mara moved toward the vanity with a synchronized, terrifying purpose.

​Will’s eyes widened as he saw the new hardware. These weren't standard medical supplies; they were veterinary-grade 20ml syringes, massive canisters of clear, amber-tinted Vitamin C. But it was the needles that made his breath hitch in his chest. 12-gauge. They looked like hollowed-out nails, thick enough to leave a mark that would last a lifetime.

​"The water was just to take up space," Elena said, her voice dropping an octave into something dark and commanding. "This is the 'cure,' Will. Vitamin C is acidic. It doesn't just sit there; it burns."

​Mara picked up the second syringe, tapping the side of the 12-gauge needle with a manicured fingernail. Ping. Ping. "And because we’re such 'mean bit(hes,' as requested... We’re going to see how fast your muscles can stretch."

​Will’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He felt a sickening, wonderful surge of terror. He was terrified of the impending agony, yet his body was betraying him with a jagged spark of excitement. He wanted to be conquered by the pain.

​"Back on the bed. Now," Elena barked.

​Will moved like a man walking to the gallows. He bent over the edge, his face buried in the same tear-stained pillow.

​

​Mara didn't just sit on him this time; she pinned his upper body with her full weight, her forearms locking his shoulders down so hard the air wheezed out of him. Elena climbed over his legs, her knees digging into the backs of his thighs with bruising force.

​"Don't move, Will," Mara whispered, a sadistic edge to her voice. "If you struggle, these thick needles will tear you open. You stay perfectly still while we ruin you."

​The scent of alcohol was overwhelmed by the sharp, citrusy tang of the Vitamin C. Will felt the two women hover over him. He was sobbing already, the anticipation of the 12-gauge steel more than he could bear.

​"Ready, Mara?" Elena asked, her thumb hovering over the plunger.

"Ready. On three."

​He didn't even get to "two."

​They plunged the needles in simultaneously. It wasn't a sting—it was a dual impalement. The 12-gauge needles forced their way through the muscle fibers with a sickening, audible pressure. Will’s back arched violently, a primal scream tearing from his throat, but the women held him like statues of granite.

​"Ssssh," Elena hissed, but she wasn't comforting him. She was smiling. She pushed the plunger down with brutal speed.

​The 20ml of acidic fluid hit his tissue like liquid fire. It felt as if they were pumping molten lead into his buttocks. The speed of the injection created a searing, internal pressure that felt like his muscles were being shredded.

​"PLEASE! STOP! PLEASE!" Will wailed, his voice cracking into a high-pitched, infantile sob. He was crying like a baby, his face soaked in tears and saliva against the pillow.

​"Hold him!" Elena shouted over his screams, her face flushed with a dark, sadistic pleasure. "Push it all in, Mara! Faster!"

​They emptied the 20ml syringes in under thirty seconds. The sheer volume was staggering—the skin on his buttocks was stretched tight, white with tension and vibrating with the force of the fluid. Every nerve ending in his lower body was screaming in a unified chorus of agony.

​"There," Mara panted, ripping the needle out with a flourish. Elena followed suit.

​Will collapsed into the mattress, his body a trembling wreck. He couldn't even form words; he just let out long, shuddering moans, his legs twitching uncontrollably.

​"Look at him," Elena said, looking down at the twin puncture marks. She reached down and gave his hip a firm, stinging slap. Will let out a fresh yelp of pain. "That should stay with you for a while. Every step you take for the next month is going to be a reminder of us."

​Will lay there, broken and burning, the heavy, acidic fire in his muscles throbbing in time with his racing heart. He had never felt more humiliated, more hurt—or more alive.