7. Mr Beast – Humiliation Games
Landon is in the studio of Mr Beast latest Netflix show. The humiliation games. The winner will receive 10 million dollars, but will be humiliated along the way. The losers will just be humiliated. He is nervous but determined to win. 10 million dollars will change his, and his family’s life, forever.
Mr Beast comes on stage, there are 100 men in their early twenties, all on separate round podiums, they are barefoot, wearing grey sweat pants and a white vest. Landon is nervous about the first task as Mr Beast brings the mic to his lips.
"Gentlemen welcome to Mr Beasts humiliation games, one of you, lucky people will walk away with 10 million dollars, although you will suffer to get there. Now let the games begin" he roars and the audience begins to cheer.
Landon scratches his arm nervously he looks around at the other 99 men, all twinks, they could all be models. Mr Beast certainly knows his audience, he thinks. He shifts uncomfortably, fidgeting with his vest.
"So, gentlemen the first challenge, simple, I want to set a tone. Everyone must strip naked and drop their clothes off the podium. If you do not wish to be naked and have your dick broadcast around the world, you can quit. But you will be eliminated"
Lights shine down on all the 100 podiums as the contestants look around at one another. Landon freezes, his heart pounding against his chest. He glances around, feeling like he is going to pass out. Everyone's staring at each other. No one's moving. They’re all waiting for someone else to go first.
Landon looks around, he notices a couple of twinks pulling their vests off, dropping them off the podium and removing their sweat pants. They are stood their naked, Landon admires their naked bodies, they are both so hot. He takes a deep breath.
He swallows hard, his eyes drawn to the two twinks who've already stripped down. They're...damn. They're perfect. All smooth skin, lean muscles, and... God, stop staring. His face burns, but he can't look away. Ten million dollars, he reminds myself. I
He breathes deeply again, trying to steel his nerves. Just do it. They already did it. It's not a big deal, right? With one final deep breath, Landon grabs the hem of his grey sweatpants and pulls them down quickly.
His cheeks redden as he slides the sweatpants down his legs, standing tall again in just his Calvin Klien briefs now. Alright, alright, you got this. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his briefs, hesitating for only a moment before pushing them down his thighs, letting them fall to the floor.
He kicks them off the edge of the podium along with his sweatpants, feeling utterly vulnerable yet...exhilarated. This is insane. But he forces himself to stand tall, shoulders back, meeting the gazes of the other twinks around him. No hiding now.
Landon pulls his vest off and stands there naked, he looks around to see how many people have been eliminated. His fingers tremble slightly as he pulls the vest over his head, discarding it. This is really happening. I'm...I'm naked.
He scans the crowd, searching for the guys who haven't stripped yet. Some are still standing there, frozen, their faces pale. They're not going to make it. He can count five, maybe six guys who haven't dropped their clothes. They're shaking their heads, whispering to themselves. They're out.
The eliminations start as Mr Beast announces the end of this round. Out of the original 100 contestants, 15 have decided to quit the game, leaving 85 hopefuls, including Landon. Fifteen guys just... fifteen. Left with nothing. And I'm still here, standing naked in front of everyone.
I'm... I'm actually still in the game. Holy crap, I'm really doing this. The adrenaline rush is intense. Landon is shaking, but it's not from fear. It's excitement. Maybe. Okay, maybe mostly fear. But also... pride? He didn't back down.
With Mr Beast's announcement over, he moves on to introducing the next challenge. "Alright folks, next up... you'll each be hooked up to a machine that generates electric shocks, in very intimate places” he announces.
Electric shocks? What the...? This is getting out of hand fast. But He doesn’t dare speak up. Doesn’t wanna raise any suspicions or show weakness. He clenches his fists, bracing himself. It's fine. It's fine. It's just some shocks, right?
He glances around nervously, wondering if anyone else is freaking out. Are these machines even safe? What if someone...what if someone gets hurt? Don't be that guy, Landon. Don't be the one who cries about it.
The podiums lower and masked men walk up to the 85 contestants. They connect the devices to Landon’s nipples and balls. The same happens to the other contestants. Landon squirms under the rough touch of the men.
"Electric shocks will occur every 15 seconds for five minutes. If you say I quit you are eliminated. If you drop to your knees, you are eliminated, let the games begin" Mr beast says as he presses a button. The massive view screen toggles between zoomed in shots of everyone’s dick.
Pain shoots through him as the devices start, making him gasp. His eyes widen as he realizes how exposed he truly is. On live TV, too... Oh god. I'm gonna be on that big screen... Focus, Landon. You've got this.
The first jolt hits, and he grits his teeth. It's intense, but he stays upright. The crowd loves it, cheering wildly. He glances to either side, seeing some guy’s flinch, their faces contorted in discomfort. Don't drop. Don't drop. Don't even think about it.
30 seconds in and Landon's willpower is being tested. The shocks are unrelenting and the pain grows worse with each passing second. Some of the guys around him are already on their knees, quitting. Thirty seconds down, four minutes and thirty seconds left...
He is sweating, teeth clenched so hard they ache. The shocks are coming faster than he expected, and it feels like his whole body is being electrified. Shit, shit, this hurts!
He watches, desperate, as the others start to waver. Some drop instantly, others linger, their resolve crumbling. Their knees buckle, and they're out. Eliminated. Just like that. 2 minutes in, Landon feels he's at his limit. He starts to feel dizzy and the room begins to spin.
But he digs deep, remembering the promise of ten million dollars at the end of this insanity. One minute left...
His knees tremble, his vision blurs. He grips the edge of the podium, white-knuckling it, refusing to let go. The pain is excruciating, like his entire body's on fire, but... but he can't. He won't quit. Ten million. Ten. Million. It's worth it. It has to be worth it.
He bites his lip hard, tasting blood, but he doesn’t make a sound. Not even a whimper. I'm not weak. I'm not weak. He repeats it like a mantra in his head.
His balls feel like they are on fire and to his absolute humiliation he looks down and notices he is rock hard, so are all of the other contestants that are still standing, how could this be, is the machine doing this to them.
Oh god... what the hell? He stares down at himself, his face burning with shame. Why... why is this happening? Every nerve in my body is screaming, but... but I'm... I'm hard. No, no, no.
“5,4,3,2,1” Mr Beast finally ends the challenge with the crowd cheering wildly. Landon can feel his legs about to give out as the shocks stop. Oh, thank God.
He nearly collapses, his legs trembling beneath him. The sudden absence of pain leaves him reeling. He is shaking like a leaf, his breathing ragged. I made it. I actually made it.
He blinks, trying to clear his foggy brain. What just...happened? The crowd's cheering is deafening, but it's a distant hum. He is too busy trying not to pass out. This isn't how I expected to feel, standing here, naked, with...with...
"There are 67 contestants remaining" Mr Beast announces. "I think it’s time to dial up the humiliation don't you think" the crowd starts cheering yes, yes, yes, over and over.
His stomach drops. Dial up the humiliation? What's next? More pain? More... more embarrassment? He feels like he already reached rock bottom, but Is pretty sure Mr Beast has a lot more tricks up his sleeve.
He looks around, searching for some kind of reassurance, but everyone else seems just as terrified and confused as he is. The crowd's excitement is palpable, and it's sickening. They're loving this. Loving seeing us suffer, seeing us reduced to...to whatever this is.
The masked me remove the pads from their nipples and balls. They walk the 67 remaining contestants out of the studio and to the outside, there are more people watching outside, Landon feels even more exposed under the sun, his bare feet feel warm on the concrete ground, he is nervous wondering what the next task will be.
The cold air hits his skin, making him shiver. Outside. Oh god, outside. In front of all these people. More people. So many more. This is insane.
He shifts uncomfortably, his bare feet sinking into the warm concrete. Every step feels like an eternity. I'm so exposed, so vulnerable. Focus, Landon. The sun beats down on him, highlighting every inch of his nakedness.
The uncertainty is killing him. What's Mr Beast's next move? What could possibly be worse than this? "You know how much I like my pain, especially to those balls of yours" The masked men walk up to Landon and wrap a chain around his rock-hard cock. Connected to the chain is a heavy ball.
It looks like it weighs about 10 KG. "Ok, the next task is a race. the first twenty to pass the finish line will move on to the next round. But contestants can only crawl." Mr Beast points to a race track about two hundred metres long. It is covered in mud.
All the contestants are lined up at the starting line side by side. The masked men drop the balls causing gasps from every contest. "3,2,1 go" Mr Beast says while firing a gun in the air. The weight tugs uncomfortably, threatening to pull him forward. His face flames brighter than the sun. Mud. He's making us crawl through mud. “One. Two. Three”. Mr Beast says while firing a gun in the air.
The gunshot startles me, and I stumble, the ball's weight threatening to rip me off balance. The other contestants are already scrambling forward, their faces twisted with panic. Oh god, oh god, oh god. He drops to his hands and knees, the ball dragging behind him.
Don't look up. Don't look at anyone. 50 meters in, Landon is covered in mud from head to toe, he feels the weight of the ball slowing him down tremendously but he pushes forward, feeling some hope as he hears others falling back behind him.
Mud's seeping into my eyes, my mouth. Disgusting. But he doesn’t dare stop. Keep going, keep going. The ball's crushing him, pulling him down. It's like trying to run with an anchor attached to my...to... Don't think about it.
He hears grunts, groans, and thuds behind him. Some guys aren't doing so well. That's right. Focus on them, not on this hellish situation. I'm not last. I'm not last! That's all that matters right now. I'm actually doing okay. Okay, okay, I can do this. Crawl, Landon, crawl!
150 meters, Landon spots the finish line. The sight of it motivates him to dig deep, pushing himself faster, ignoring the pain from the ball, the mud, everything. He is determined to cross the finish line. So close. So close! Adrenaline surges through him. I'm almost there. I can do this. I have to do this.
He digs his hands deeper into the mud, ignores the ache in his arms and shoulders. His knees scrape against the ground, but he doesn’t care, the ball bounces painfully against his leg, pulling and squeezing his ball, doesn't matter. He is not gonna let it stop him.
With every fibre of his being, he pushes forward, his heart pounding in his chest. Just a little farther. Come on, come on! You got this! I'm not gonna be eliminated. Not now.
As he is crawling to the finish line he notices the screen, 19 have passed the finish line, he is neck to neck with another contestant for the final place in the next round, he is desperate to win, he looks over at the contestant beside him and pushes him over.
He can't believe what he has done but he doesn't care, he keeps crawling and passes the finish line, leaving him in twentieth and on to the next round, he feels a small amount of shame looking back at the contestant on his back, covered in mud and tears rolling down his face.
He crossed the line, chest heaving, victorious but the rush of pride is short-lived. His gaze falls on the contestant he sabotaged. He's curled up, sobbing, defeated. A lump forms in his throat. What did I just do?
That wasn't part of the deal. That wasn't what I signed up for. But... ten million dollars. That's what matters. Right? The crowd cheers, and he forces himself to stand tall, trying to mask his guilt. I'd do anything to win now. Anything. But... man, seeing him like that...
The masked men immediately approach Landon as soon as he crosses the finish line. They pry the ball off his cock and walk him into a tent where warm water and soap are awaiting the remaining contestants.
He lets out a ragged sigh of relief as the ball is finally removed, his body slumping forward. The warm water and soap sound like heaven like a reward for surviving hell.
But as he steps into the tent, He can’t shake the feeling of unease. Maybe because he can still hear the sobs of the guy he pushed. Or maybe because he isn’t sure what comes next. Will they remind us why we’re here? Will they gloat? Or just let us clean up, pretending like the last hour didn’t happen?
Shame creeps up his neck, burning hotter than the sun. He scrubs his face, trying to wash away more than just the mud. What kind of person am I becoming?
Mr Beast walks in. "As punishment for losing twenty of the losers that just got eliminated will wash the mud from you" Landon feels relieved it isn’t bad news and good for a change. He looks down at the bucket with warm soapy water and a yellow sponge.
This going to feel good. But then the masked men bring forward the man who he pushed over. He has been ordered to clean Landon. He feels so guilty as the man picks up the sponge. Oh...oh God. He freezes, his eyes locking onto the guy, his victim. Really. He's supposed to...to clean me?
His relief vanishes, replaced by a sickening feeling. This is the punishment. Not for him, but for me. A reminder of what I've done. He shifts uncomfortably, wanting to apologize, to explain, but what could He even say? Sorry, I was desperate? Sorry, I wanted to win too much? Pathetic.
The man starts cleaning Landon's body, gently scrubbing the mud off. His touch is rough but not cruel. Landon stares at his face and sees hate in his eyes but he also sees resignation. His eyes. His eyes are like...like they're boring holes into my soul.
He flinches, suddenly hyper-aware of every brush of the sponge. It's gentle, but it feels like sandpaper against his skin. I'm not worthy of gentleness. Not after what I did. He's not supposed to hate me. We're supposed to be...we're supposed to be in this together. But I ruined it.
He closes his eyes, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. The sponge scrapes against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I'm disgusting. The man runs the sponge up Landon’s inner leg, tickling him slightly, he looks down at the man.
"I'm sorry, what is your name" he asks the man who is naked at his feet, covered in mud. He doesn't answer, just keeps scrubbing, his jaw clenched. He swallows hard, feeling like an even bigger jerk. He's not gonna respond, not after what I did.
"Hey, listen...I... I really am sorry, okay? I don't know what came over me. I wasn't thinking straight."
I'm rambling, trying to fill the awkward silence. I grab his wrist lightly, stopping him mid-scrub. "Please, tell me your name." I plead softly. I need to say something, anything, to make this less miserable.
"My name is Jack." He finally says, hesitating. "And don't you go thinking this makes us pals or anything." His voice is hard, like stone. "No, I... I wouldn't think that. I wouldn't..."
God, hearing his voice makes it worse. It's like he's looking right through me, seeing every dark, selfish thought in my head.
He drops his hand, letting him continue. I don't deserve kindness, or understanding, or even civility. Just, this. His anger. His disappointment. "I'm still sorry, Jack." I whisper it, barely audible. But I know he hears.
Jack resumes cleaning Landon, the sponge moving up to his chest now. He makes sure to take extra time around Landon's nipples before moving on. A small act of revenge. Shit. He's doing this on purpose. He bites his lip, trying not to react. His cheeks burn and his my whole-body tenses.
He's punishing me, and I deserve it. Every slow, deliberate movement is a reminder that I betrayed him. That I chose winning over humanity. I'm trapped, forced to endure this silent retaliation.
His breath quickens, and he squeezes his fists tight, willing himself not to flinch. Not to show any weakness. Because that's exactly what he'd want to see me squirm. "All done here." Mr Beast says as Jack finishes up washing Landon.
"You have 10 minutes to recover before the next task." The masked men escort Landon and Jack out of the tent. Ten minutes. That's all we get. He glances at Jack. But he's avoiding eye contact. Can't say I blame him.
"Thanks... I guess," I murmur, not sure what else to say. It feels wrong, thanking him after what I did.
He watches Jack walk away, shoulders squared, head high. He's stronger than I am. Stronger because he hasn't compromised himself...yet. Landon, what have you become?
His thoughts swirl, tangled with anxiety and dread. The next task...what could it be? Will I be able to handle it? Or will I crack under pressure again?
He rubs his temples, trying to clear his head. Ten minutes isn't enough. The remaining 20 contestants are brought out on stage back in the studio, the crowd is watching. Mr Beast comes out.
"Gentlemen, the last task of the night is a decision, a very important decision. If you agree to enter the next round and there are at least two contestants than the money will double from 10 million to 20 million.
However, every contestant who enters the next round must know this. If you get eliminated, you won’t be going home humiliated, but you will be enslaved, legally for the rest of your life’s. So, it will be either win 20 million or become a slave for life" Mr Beast proposes. The room falls silent.
Twenty million dollars or slavery for life. his heart skips a beat. The words echo in his mind, taunting him. He glances around, searching for uncertainty, fear, anything that'll tell him he is not alone in this dilemma.
Jack stands nearby, expression unreadable. If I opt out, I go home empty-handed. But free. If I stay, if, I stay, I risk losing everything. Myself included. He swallows hard, the weight of the decision crushing him.
A few contestants are immediately shouting "I'm out!" as they walk off stage, others are deep in thought. Landon thinks back to his family, would they disown him if he was a slave?
He clenches his fists, memories flooding his mind. Mom, Dad, my sister, she's still in college. They're counting on me, always have been. Would they...would they really disown me? Could they?
He imagines their faces, their disappointment, their fear. They'd visit, right? They'd...they'd care. Right? But what would my life even be like? A slave? I... I don't know if I can do that. Not for twenty million dollars. Not even for fifty million.
The voices of the opting-out contestants fade into the background. He is rooted to the spot, paralyzed. 10 contestants remain, including Landon. Mr Beast looks at them and then to the audience.
"What a great turnout! I never expected this many to stay!" He exclaims. Landon's throat is dry. Great... turnout. Yeah.
He is sweating. He can feel it trickling down his spine, cold and clammy. Ten of us. Only one can win. The others, the others will be… He shakes his head, trying to shake off the thought. Focus, Landon. Focus. Twenty million. Freedom. Choice, hope.
But what choice is it, really? Stay, risk everything, and possibly lose forever. Or leave, admit defeat, and go back to...what? He steals a glance at Jack again. He's still standing, eyes narrowed. He's not leaving. Is he crazy? Brave? A fool? Or just desperate?
Jack smiles and walks away, leaving Landon with the other nine contestants. "Ok, get some sleep, you will need to be rested for tomorrow’s final" Mr Beasts says, the contestants are brought to a room with ten beds, there is a phone on the wall, beside it a menu for them to order whatever food they like.
This might be my last night as a free man, it will be for nine men. This might be my last enjoyable meal, he thinks as he stares at the phone and menu. Mr Beast's words hit him like a punch to the gut. Tomorrow's the final. That's it. My last night of freedom.
His eyes linger on the phone, the menu. I should call someone. Shouldn't I? Let them know, something. Warn them. But what would I say? Hey, Mom, just wanted to let you know I might become a slave tomorrow. Love you.
He shakes his head, laughing bitterly. Instead, he grabs the menu, scanning it without really seeing anything. Food's not gonna taste the same, knowing what's at stake. Fuck it, I think I’ll order a steak. He picks up the phone, taking a deep breath, before placing his order.
