Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This story contains violence. Hence, user discretion advised. Kindly don’t read if you are a child below 18 or are easily disturbed.
She was the most cheerful and bubbly girl I had ever met. Right from the moment I saw her, I knew we would get along. I never had romantic feelings about her, we were the best friends. Soulmates of friendship-land, if there was one.
We used to share tips and notes in studying in college, we even used to share our dating life details. We would ask opinion on all matters, big or small.
Perhaps the change came when we started working in different cities. Working in big corporate firms can be very exhausting, and the break of connection was eminent. Soon enough, everyday calls became everyday texts, then they became monthly calls, then occasional calls. We used to share news with each other now, not views.
She was not doing well in her life. The equation she had with her family was flawed, her boss was a bitch and her social life was non-existent without me. I used to ask and encourage her to go out and meet new people, date lots of men, but she became a couch potato. Her days were spent on the job, nights in bed with sitcoms and ice-cream. Putting up weight she added body-consciousness to her evil list. She gained a lot of weight at the cost of a lot of confidence.
Then this guy messaged her on Facebook. Said he saw her in a gurudwara. She started conversing. He was a charmer, hit her right where her weaknesses were. Played her, made her believe he was crazy for her. Also made her believe he was super-rich. Soon they entered into a relationship, with early prospects of marriage created by him. Her parents were not happy, as he had no educational qualifications. He was just 12th passed out. However, she was so blind by the interest he had shown in him by then that she decided to close her eyes on the truth.
In the next one year, he brought in plan in action. He was a jobless person, needing money. The kind of people who run their lives on credit. He saw the girl as a good security for the bank to give him credit card and loans. In separate months, he created a debt of over 30 lac rupees for the 50k per month earning girl. Her entire salary was going in loan installment deductions and when she asked for money, he started abusing her and ignoring her.
Soon enough, the real face of the guy surfaced in front of the naive girl. She realized she had been played. She went into depression and lost her job. Her job salary was the only thing keeping bank guys from coming to look for her. She had to do something. She decided to tell her parents.
Her father had a heart attack and died while en-route hospital. Her mother committed suicide the next day. She jumped off a cliff and ended her life the next day.
Three days. Three deaths. 30 lac.
By the time I came to know of this, everything was over and I was left cursing myself to leave town in the first place.
I lost a friend to a con man. It felt disgusting. I didn’t want anyone else to feel this feeling.
What happened to her couldn’t go in vain. I had to make sure her death was remembered to start something revolutionary, like a phoenix. I was to make a team of people who would work with me to help women seek justice against violence of men. It was time to show those men what pain felt like.
But for that I needed a team. I had to make a few calls.
I called 30 people, right from my contact list. These were people I knew, I had a rapport with. I called them and told them I need their support and asked the to gather at one place.
That place was in much solitude. Outside the city, in barren lands, in one of the half-broken compartments of long-closed aluminium factory. My friends were surprised, I remember.
I had a meeting with them all. In the start, I told them the agenda: to harm people who con girls and ruin lives. This would include violence, and it was laid on the table. The ones interested were to stay, the ones not interested were to forget being called in the first place, and go their way.
25 stayed. I don’t know if it was due to my good name or the cause.
We planned out our first project- the guy who destroyed my friend’s life.
As per plan, we abducted him when he was on his way home from work. He was so chicken, started shouting like a baby. We shoved him in the van, putting a cover over his eyes and tieing his hands together. He did put up a fight, but I had previously asked team members not to get excited till we got to base.
We switched three cars and drove for 6 hours before reaching the pre-decided location 2- the dungeon. The hell-hole was so far away from the first cell-tower in sight. You wouldn’t believe this place could exist in your developed country! We didn’t know this place, but Google did! A barren wasteland, needing just some aluminium sheets to build a room structure. You know, for torture-privacy.
This was the part we had been waiting for, the chance I get to have a chance to get even with this son of a bitch.
He had insulted her love, he needed to be insulted back. He had played with her emotions, we were to play with his balls.
He was brought up and tied in a position which kept him suspended in air, making an X with his body. Hence, entire weight would be on his joints, stretching him to experience pain.
For our entertainment, we let a couple of mice in his underwear, with some cheese bits. Trust me, his reactions were hilarious! We had a fun time recording all that shit up.
After the mice, it was time to heat his balls. We kept smoking hot coal pieces some 20 inches away from his now-bare balls. It was not supposed to heat them instantly, but to gradually roast them. The pain levels rose to such high standards in some minutes, that he started begging for mercy. Well we need his compliance before the final act, so we took the coal away. That was the first time I saw what roasted balls look like. They look like a brown egg with chocolate truffle spilled over it in a very bad way. It also had a hint of redness in some spots, maybe second degree burns.
I asked him to blurt out whatever he did wrong to her. He said he wanted someone to act as security while he could take credit and loan from banks. Banks won’t give him as he was already under heavy debt. She appeared vulnerable.
After the confession, it was time to unleash the dragon.
A fuck-machine is a mechanical machine, operated with electricity, which produced front and back motion of a rod over which you can adjust any size of a dildo. Now when turned on, this machine would make man-like thrusts with the dildo and the speed could be adjusted from casual to damnnit by just a remote click.
Well, we were not sure what size would fit the man. Also, it would be rude to ask him before. Hence, we decided to bring all sizes. We started with a 5-inch one. The machine was placed right behind the tied guy’s ass he was bent forward by adjusting the above two ropes, while keeping a chair for him to place his knees. One harnessed and ready for action, we all gathered around and started recording.
We took 2 min sessions and went from 5 inches to 12 inches. Towards the end, we didn’t even care. We just brought out the maximum size and went on till dammnit mode. His ass looked like a volcano’s cone, post eruption.
The whole video was played back to him. He was in half senses but we had just the right thing for him: antiseptic liquid. Every time we lost his attention, someone would spill some antiseptic liquid over his torn-ass and he would shriek in pain, returning back to attentive state. We asked him to go on with his life, raise 30 lac and return them to us. He was also told that he would be under 24*7 monitoring of our team and if he was to do anything stupid like contact police or run away, we would be catching him again, publishing his video of ass-fuck on internet and paste snapshots from the video on hoarding boards outside his family’s house.
He was given 3 months to raise the amount, after which he would get a choice: either to commit suicide or to return for another similar round of ass-fuck to gain extention of one more month.
This was just the start. We video-taped the entire torture routine, made it a story and shared it on internet on a website we started. Our engineer buddies helped set it all up. We had to spend some money on security and making surely it was untraceable, but it worked out fine in the end. We then asked women to contact us if they have similar stores to be taken care of. We asked them to gather sufficient evidences and contact us.
However, we had our fears. None of us had criminal background and hence were newbies. We had technology and brains on our side, but lacked on hustling and experience. There were a lot of ‘What if’s..’ lying around in our team.
What if police found out about the website and were actually able to trace it?
What if cops fake themselves as troubled women and catch us while we meet them?
How we went about solving these problems and device new plans, is another day’s story!