The Reformatory (Patreon)

This is probably the story that had been laying around unfinished the longest. It's another rewrite of a jd07201990 story, very similar to the one I rewrote Unrivaled from. JD told me that they both came from the same premise, and are intentionally very similar since he really liked the concept. My first attempt to rewrite this was essentially the end part of the story, when he is just about to be released. I wanted to find some way of getting this weird punishment to fit into current judicial system somehow. Having this be part of a settlement sidesteps the cruel and unusual punishment part, and then throw in some bribery to slowly fuck him up felt like a possible way to go. Initially I had some ideas on setting up a kind of trap at the end, where he wasn't allowed to work out, despite having the body conditioned for it, and he would fail and have an even worse outcome, but that was too convoluted.

The biggest problem was that I felt the story didn't really capture the conditions of the place. What would it be like to be the only one mistreated in such a specific way? I had already written Unrivaled when I revisited this story, so I've already done a straight procedure story. Having it written as a diary, as in The Cupbearer, allows for subjective first hand account, time jumps and showing mental changes through the shift in vocabulary and style. Mental changes was something I wasn't sure about from the start, but it felt right, and there was already a school element to use to demonstrate decline. You vocabulary would change to those around you. The lack of mental stimulation, and the exhaustion, would take its toll, and of course the medication could have side effects.

I considered creating a somewhat less demanding and more realistic schedule. It's not really that helpful with 6 hours of gym time plus manual labor to build muscles, but no where does it say he follows this schedule the entire time.

The "after" illustration is actually a composite between a morph and the original photo. The first image I found was the morph, and I tend to prefer the original photo in most cases, so I started looking for it. What I found interesting with the morph was, beside messing up the background, as usual, that three different areas had been changed. The face, the chest and arms, and the legs. The muscle changes were fuzzy and often pointless, not really making them look bigger, and the legs were OK I suppose, but the facial changes were impressive. With just a few tweaks he'd gone from handsome to mischievous (and handsome). So in the end I took the legs and face from the morph and pasted into the original.

Original story

 “Says here, you’ve nearly done your time, scheduled to leave tomorrow. That right kid?” my trainer said, riffling through my paperwork, filling out my time sheet. I knew by the half smirk crawling across his face that there was something up.

“Yes sir… Today’s my last training day…” I said, trying to keep a straight face. I’d learned a while ago not to show any attitude to him, or anyone who runs this place. It only tacks time, or other ridiculous punishments to your sentence.

“Well, we’re just going to have to postpone your release. You haven’t met the weight requirement Judge Andrews sentenced you with. 6 months and 110lbs, sound about right? The scale doesn’t lie kid, you’ve got 10 more pounds to go. I’m thinking, 6 weeks should do it.” he said, not bothering to hide his wicked grin. He enjoyed his job far too much.

“Ye… Yes sir.” I said, clenching one of my fists. I could feel my blood boiling, one of the side effects to the supplements they pumped into our food. It was hard not to lose control, feeling an unnatural rage building up as I watched him sign the extension forms.

6 months ago, I’d gotten into a fight with Mark, one of the Football players at school. The team was having a laugh, calling all the swimmers fags and prissy boys. I was the captain of our Swim team, so after asking him to knock it off, he threw the first punch, and I lost it. In out scramble, I managed to knock him down, went to kick him in the crotch for good measure, but he’d squirmed out of the way, and my foot collided with his knee, shattering it. The hospital said he’d never be able to play again, which meant he lost his Scholarship.

His family sued the school, and my family. They tried to milk millions from the town, and wanted our house as settlement. My lawyer was the best we could afford, and managed to win my case, but the school’s lawyer was better. In the end the school settled, but I was sentenced to 6 months, and 110lbs at the Boys Reformatory, in reparation for ruining Mark’s future. No one would tell me what the hell that meant before I was carted off across the state, dumped at a facility that looked like a prison, and left to fend for myself.

As you can see, I found out exactly what it meant the hard way. After the initial orientation, where they gave me my uniforms, a tour of the facility, and a booklet or rules, I was thrown into the routine the next day:

-30 minutes early breakfast, which consisted of 2000 carefully counted calories worth of food, all balanced for perfect nutrition and energy boosting.

-3-hour workout, which was mostly cardio based.

-7 hours hard labor for most of the afternoon.

-30 minutes for lunch, which was 3500 calories, this time protein packed.

-2 hours of classes to keep up with what my regular school was teaching.

-3-hour workout, this time far more grueling, heavy lifting, strength training.

-30-hour for dinner, which again was geared towards optimal athletic progress. For me, it was 2500 calories.

-30 minutes of free time, in which most of us decided to take a shower. Although the water was always cold, it still felt amazing on our throbbing bodies after each hard day’s grind.

-7-hours for sleep. It wasn’t hard to get exactly that, as each of us was required to take a medley of nightly supplements, which included a sedative.

Day in and day out, repetition. Most of the guys here had been for a while, so they were already massive. But me, I’d learned quickly that I’d look just like them by the end of my stint. It’d only take a week for me to find insane changes in my body. My muscles were constantly aching, soaking in the fuel from the insane meals, and what I assumed were low dose steroids in everything we ate. I found myself being more aggressive, losing my temper more often, having to go to the Councilor to learn to keep my cool.

After 3 months, I was already too big to swim, my body was bulked up, bloated, heavy, my shoulders and biceps making my arms hang out to side. My thighs rubbed, and you could hear me coming by the heavy, stomping footfalls. Lumbering, that’s what I was reduced to. A big lumbering brute.

I stunk constantly. My trainer chalked it up to the hormones and supplements rushing through me, aided by the grueling workout routines and hard labor. I was going through clothing sizes almost every week. My chest was so big I’d ripped through t-shirts, my arms were getting too big for sleeves. Embarrassingly, I’d had to request larger boxer briefs, as my cock and balls had outgrown those as well. I’d tried to hide it, but the too small undies would squeeze my nuts, causing me to lash out.

And now, I’d found out I’d be here for another 6 weeks. Apparently, I hadn’t gained the required 110lbs missing it by only 10, which was insane in the first place! What was the point of all this! I mean, look at my shirt! It’s already too small, and this is the largest size they have on hand, without having order out. My underwear is already starting to bind up around my balls… and I can feel my toes squashed up against the size 17 sneakers they’d given me this morning. How big do I need to be?!

6 weeks later, and an added 10 pounds, I was lumbering out the doors, a free man. I reeked, not having time to shower after the last workout, my clothes were tearing with each step I took, but I was free. One last meeting with my lawyer had revealed that, because I ruined Mark’s chances of playing football ever again, the Judge and the School’s lawyer had settled for me to, “be too large to swim on the team ever again” and at 223lbs of thickly packed solid muscle, I’d fulfilled the settlement.