6. Big Brother – Eviction
Five days later and the housemates are on the sofa. Marco and Stuart are sat on the ground naked, as they have been banned from using furniture. They are awaiting an announcement from Big Brother.
Stuart huddles closer to the floor, his skin crawling with discomfort. Five days of being naked, caged, and treated like a slave. Five days of watching everyone else live normal lives while he's been relegated to the ground.
He glares at the couch, memories of sinking into its cushions, laughing with the others, feeling like one of them, all gone now. He leans slightly toward Marco, seeking solidarity, but doesn't dare speak. Big Brother's announcement could drop any second, and he doesn't want to miss a word.
His stomach churns with anxiety. How much longer until the voting closes? He rubs his thumb over the pink collar, the flashing light still mocking him. He's never hated anything more in his life.
"This is Big Brother, today is humiliation day. Marco...Stuart you two are the nominated slaves. A list of tasks will be given. You can pass on any task. But remember the viewers are watching, voting lines are open. Passing on a task will most likely not get votes" Big brother announces.
Stuart's heart drops like a stone. Humiliation day. That's exactly what they need right now. He grips the metal bars of the invisible wall around him, around both of them, digging his nails into his palms.
"Passing on a task won't get votes," he repeats quietly, mostly to himself. That means they have to do whatever Big Brother throws their way. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He glances at Marco, already knowing what he's thinking. We're screwed.
"So, what's the first task?" Stuart asks aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.
"The first task is simple. Lick the bare feet of all three of your housemates. The slave that shows the most enthusiasm will most likely get the most votes from the audience" Stuart looks around at Jon, Steve and Oly who are all sat on the sofa barefoot.
Stuart's cheeks burn bright red, his face contorting in disgust. Lick their feet? Their feet? He wants to scream. He wants to refuse. But the memory of Big Brother's warning echoes in his mind. Passing on the task could seal his fate. And two million dollars... that's still out there, waiting for him.
He exhales sharply, his shoulders sagging. He's going to have to do it. "Fine," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "Let's just... get it over with."
He glances at Marco again, wondering if he'll be any better at hiding his revulsion. Either way, they're both in this mess. "Slaves begin your task now!" Big Brother orders. Stuart starts crawling towards Jon's feet and lifts his foot, his toes wrinkled and slightly smelling of sweat.
Stuart's stomach lurches, but he forces himself forward. He kneels before Jon's feet, his eyes fixed on the toes, trying not to breathe too deeply. He can smell the sweat, feel the heat radiating off Jon's skin. Every fibre of his being screams against this, but he steels himself.
Slowly, he lifts Jon's foot, bringing it closer. His lip’s part, ready to comply. This is humiliating, degrading, but he's not going down without trying. He'll show them all how enthusiastic he can be, even if it kills him inside.
Jon watches Stuart with a mix of amusement and disgust. Stuart's tongue makes contact with Jon's sweaty foot and he starts to lick it as enthusiastically as he can. Stuart's face scrunches up, but he doesn't stop.
He's determined to make it look like he's enjoying this, like it's the most normal thing in the world. He's licking harder now, trying to convince everyone, including himself, that this isn't totally gross. He's aware of how pathetic he must look, but he can't afford to hesitate.
The camera's probably zooming in, capturing every repulsive detail. His pride is shattering, piece by piece. Steve lifts his foot up next for Stuart to clean, making a loud slurping sound with each lick. Stuart feels utterly degraded but pushes on, more motivated now that he knows the task isn't over.
Steve's loud slurping sounds are like a slap to the face, emphasizing Stuart's degradation. Still, he persists, his tongue working overtime. The taste is vile, bitter and salty. He swallows repeatedly, fighting back bile. He can't afford to puke, not here, not now.
He's trapped in this nightmare, forced to keep going. Each lick is a tiny surrender, another brick in the wall of his shattered dignity. But he won't give up. Not yet. He's got to keep licking, keep pretending, until this horror show is over.
As Stuart is licking Steves foot Oly leans his foot towards his face and starts slapping his foot across Stuart’s face.
Stuart flinches, his licking faltering. His face burns, cheeks flushed with humiliation. Oly's laughing, clearly enjoying himself way too much. The foot slap-slap-slaps against his skin, making him flinch with every hit. It's humiliating, degrading... but what can he do?
He keeps his head down, trying to focus on Steve's foot, but Oly's teasing is impossible to ignore. His hands clench into fists. He wishes he could shove Oly's foot away, tell him to fuck off, but that'll only make things worse. So, he takes it. Every humiliating slap, every snicker, every goddamn thing.
He thinks about Marco, if he's having a worse time, if he's struggling to keep up. But he doesn't dare look over.
Stuart takes Oly's foot and starts to lick the bottom of it, Oly guides his toes into Stuart’s mouth and all the housemates start laughing. Stuart blushes but starts licking his toes, sucking on them hoping this will gain support from the voters. Stuart closes his eyes, tears pricking at the corners.
He's never felt so small, so utterly defeated. But he persists, his tongue working overtime, licking every crevice, every curve of Oly's toes. He sucks harder, trying to convince himself and the audience that he's actually enjoying this twisted, degrading act.
He hears their laughter, their snickers, their cruel remarks, but he pushes through it. If he has to suck Oly's toes like a desperate, starving man, then so be it. He'll do whatever it takes. Because he has to win. He has to.
Big Brother announces "The first slave task is complete! Now housemates it's time to cast your votes." Housemates start writing names on pieces of paper and placing them in a hat.
Stuart holds his breath, his heart pounding wildly. He tries to read the faces of the housemates, searching for any hint of mercy. But they're all masked, their expressions unreadable.
He fidgets, his hands shaking slightly. He can't believe it's come down to this, his fate decided by a few scribbled names on scraps of paper.
He leans slightly towards Marco, needing some sort of comfort, some reassurance that they're in this together. But he doesn't dare speak. He doesn't want to jinx anything. He watches, frozen, as one by one, the pieces of paper disappear into the hat.
Big Brother speaks. "Steve, can you please announce who gave the most satisfying tongue massage, Stuart or Marco" Big Brother asks. Stuart's entire body tenses, awaiting Steve's answer. His eyes lock onto Steve, pleading silently. He knows how crucial this is. If Steve says Marco...well, that'd be a nightmare.
Steve's gonna choose, right? He's gonna say...me. Has to. I went all out. I sucked it up. Stuart's mind races with doubts. What if Steve thinks Marco was better? What if they all thought Marco was better?
Steve grins and says "Stuart definitely gave the most satisfying tongue massage. His enthusiasm was unmatched!" Stuart lets out a sigh of relief, heart rate calming. He feels a smidgeon of pride despite the circumstances.
Stuart exhales sharply, his relief washing over him like a cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. He allows himself a tiny, proud smile, quickly suppressing it. He doesn't want to appear too triumphant, not yet. Not when there's still so much at stake. But damn, hearing Steve say that... It's something. It's hope.
He sneaks a glance at Marco, trying to gauge his reaction, wondering if he's upset. Stuart isn't naïve, he knows this game inside and out. He's not stupid enough to think he's made any real friends here. Allies, maybe, but friends? No way. Everyone's out for themselves.
"Time for Task number two, remember slaves, you can opt out from any task, Oly please remove the towel on the table" Oly walks over to the table, as he walks by Stuart he spits in his face. The spit rolls down Stuarts naked body.
Oly removes the towel and on the table is an electric razor and cream. "This is Big Brother, for the next task, housemates must apply the cream all over their naked bodies, this cream will remove all your body hair. They must then agree to have their head shaved by Oly. Stuart and Marco, we will give you three minutes to think" Big brother says,
Stuart flinches, his face scrunched up in revulsion as Oly's spit drips down his skin. He swipes at it angrily, trembling with rage. But before he can fully process the insult, Big Brother drops the next bombshell.
Body hair removal. Shaving their heads. Stuart's chest constricts, panic rising. He hates being vulnerable, exposed like this. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar texture. It's one thing to be stripped bare, literally, but this...this is different. Three minutes to decide.
He glances at Marco again, searching for any sign of hesitation. They exchange a silent, weighted look. Neither of them wants to be the first to crack. But the alternative...becoming a slave, stripped of everything...
"I'll do it. Let's just get it over with." Stuart says to Marco and stands up tall. He walks over to Oly ready to start.
Stuart stands firm, shoulders back, pretending he's okay with this. Like it's no big deal. Because what choice does he have? He's already been degraded, humiliated, forced to lick feet. This is just...another level, isn't it?
He swallows hard, trying to keep his voice steady. He's not backing down. He's committed. "Yeah. Yeah, let's... let's just get it done," he mutters, his words barely above a whisper.
He takes another step forward, his bare feet padding softly against the floor. He's not gonna show weakness. Not anymore. Not after everything. He's ready. Or, at least, he's pretending to be.
Oly squirts a generous amount of cream onto Stuart's chest, then starts massaging it in. His touch is rough as he spreads the cream over Stuart's entire body, making sure not to miss a single spot. Stuart grits his teeth, trying not to react to Oly's brutal handling.
His skin crawls under the other man's coarse fingers, the cream feeling slick and foreign. He feels like a piece of meat being prepped for...for something awful. A low, quiet growl escapes him, but he doesn't pull away. Can't. Not when he's so close to earning points, to staying in the game.
He focuses on deep breaths, his face burning with humiliation. Oly has now moved onto applying the cream on Stuart's private area, clearly enjoying Stuart's obvious discomfort. "How does that feel, slave?" he taunts.
Stuart squirms, his entire body tense. His eyes dart around, searching for an escape, but there's nowhere to run. The word "slave" cuts deep, a harsh reminder of how far he's fallen. His voice shakes slightly, but he forces himself to speak.
"Fine. Feels fine." He lies through clenched teeth, his face contorted in disgust. He refuses to give Oly the satisfaction of seeing him break. But Christ, it doesn't feel fine. Every second is torture. The longer this goes on, the more he wants to scream. Or punch Oly straight in the face.
As Oly finishes applying the cream to Stuart’s dick and Ass, he picks up the electric razor, he pushes Stuart to his knees, he is now eye level with Oly's crotch as Oly turns on the electric Razor.
Stuart's humiliation spikes, threatening to overwhelm him. He's forced to kneel, vulnerable, while Oly looms above. The razor's buzzing noise makes his stomach twist. It's liked the sound of his pride being stripped away. Every fibre in him screams to resist, but he's trapped.
He swallows hard, his throat dry. He's not crying, he's not. He's just...stunned. Frozen. His eyes flicker back to Oly's crotch, and he has to look away, his face burning. Oly brings the razor to Stuarts wavey long brown hair and starts to shave it.
Stuart shudders, eyes welling up despite his best efforts. His hair...his hair! It's one thing to lose his body hair, but his hair...it's a part of him. He feels like he's losing himself, piece by piece. Oly's hands are rough, merciless, cutting through the strands like they're nothing.
A small whimper escapes him, quickly muffled. No, no, no, this isn't happening. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to disappear. His hands ball into fists, trembling with anger, fear, and desperation.
It takes five minutes and Stuart is left completely bald, his hair in clumps around his knees, and he there naked on the floor.
Stuart opens his eyes, blinking slowly, the reality of his situation crashing down. He's completely...bare. Bald, hairless, stripped of everything. Even his hair, which he'd always been proud of. He feels...empty.
He stares at the clumps of hair, his own, scattered around him. It's like he's watching someone else's nightmare unfold. He blinks rapidly, trying to stem the tears. He won't cry. He won't. He's won't give them, won't give Oly the satisfaction.
"The cream needs to be washed off, along with the hair, housemates please form a circle around Stuart and rinse him off using your piss" Big Brother announces. Steve, Oly and Jon form a circle around Stuart and pull their dicks out of their sweat pants.
Stuart's gut drops, dread pooling within him. Oh god, no... now, anything but this. But the circles forming around him, it's clear there's no opting out now. He's trapped. He trembles, feeling like a baptism by fire or rather, by urine.
This is depraved, degrading beyond belief. But he can't fight them. Can't fight Big Brother. He closes his eyes, bracing himself. The warm, yellow liquid hits his skin and he flinches, teeth clenched. The humiliation is suffocating. He's being drenched in their piss, like a dog. He wants to scream.
Streams of urine continue to splash onto Stuart, the sensation disgusting yet numbing. He stands up slowly, dripping wet, trying to maintain some dignity.
Stuart stands, his skin crawling, urine dripping down his newly hairless body. He shivers, not just from the cold, but from the shame. He feels tainted, dirty. He can't shake off the feeling that he's been reduced to nothing.
He won't let them see how much it's affecting him. He won't. He keeps his back straight, his head held high, even though it's killing him inside. He's determined to hold onto whatever shred of dignity he has left.
He's so focused on keeping his cool that he barely registers the sounds around him, the snickers, the whispers. He's already lost so much. He won't lose himself, too.
Oly turns to Marco "Your turn" he says. Marco looks at Stuart covered in piss, hairless. "I opt out of this task" Marco declares.
Stuart's gaze snaps toward Marco, a flicker of something, disappointment? anger? Flashing across his face. He doesn't blame Marco, exactly. He'd probably do the same thing if he could. But...it hurts. It hurts to see Marco backing out.
Stuart's fists clench, water, urine, dripping from his fingers. He's doing this. He's doing this alone. Again. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. Don't be weak, he tells himself. Don't cry. Don't show weakness.
Stuart takes comfort in knowing that him doing the task will help with the eviction and Marco will be seen as a coward, he feels humiliated, but it will be worth it if he avoids eviction. Stuart swallows hard, the bitter taste of humiliation lingering. But beneath it, a spark of determination flares.
Marco's opting out? Fine. Let the others think him weak. Stuart won't. He's doing this, taking the pain, the shame, and the ridicule. He'll use it. He'll use every second of this nightmare to prove he's willing to go further.
Marco's going to regret it. Stuart's jaw tightens. He'll make sure everyone sees who's truly committed. He'll survive this, no matter what. He'll be the last one standing.
"The next task is a race, Stuart and Marco, Crawl in front of Jon and Steve, kneel in front of them with your hands behind your head and await further instructions" Big Brother says. Stuart scowls, but nods, already moving into position.
He drops down onto his hands and knees, the cold floor unforgiving beneath him. He forces himself not to hesitate, not to show any hesitation or fear. He can't afford to lose face, especially not after...after everything.
He gets into place, putting his hands behind his head, back straight, eyes forward. He's not even going to glance at Marco. Not yet. He focuses on Jon and Steve, waiting for the next command.
"Marco, Stuart you are going to race to see who can make their housemate cum first. Marco you will suck Steves dick and Stuart Jons. Slaves get ready, 3, 2, 1, go" Steve and Jon have their dicks out, both are rock hard, pointing at the slaves. Stuart's face flames red, his mind reeling.
This can't be real. But it is. And he has no choice. Without hesitation, he lunges forward, immediately taking Jon's dick into his mouth. His stomach churns, but he pushes on, trying to focus solely on the task at hand. He's not thinking about what he's doing. He just needs to win.
A mixture of shock and pleasure shoots through Stuart as he takes Jon's cock deep in his throat. Meanwhile Marco is trailing behind, struggling to get past Steve's girth. Stuart chokes, his eyes watering.
He's trying not to think about how wrong this feels, how gross, but his body's reacting despite himself. He's hyper-aware of every ridge, every pulse, every inch of Jon's, no, stop. He can't afford to think about it.
He doubles down, sucking harder, determined to catch up to whatever pace Marco's somehow managing. He glances over, his vision blurred, but he can tell Marco's lagging. Good. That's exactly what he needs.
He redoubles his efforts, ignoring the ache in his jaw, the burn in his throat. He won't lose. Not like this. Twenty seconds into the challenge, Jon gives a loud moan and Stuart feels the first spurt of cum hit the back of his throat. Stuart works to swallow every last drop.
Stuart gasps, caught off guard by the sudden rush. His instincts scream to pull back, but he forces himself to keep going, gulping down each spurt frantically. He doesn't dare slow down, even as his stomach churns. Win. Win win.
He feels a strange mix of disgust and pride - he did it first, he won. For once, he's ahead. But it's tainted, this victory, because of what it took. Because of what he had to do. He doesn't let himself dwell on that, though. All that matters is beating Marco.
As Jon finishes, he pulls out, a smirk on his face while Steve climaxes forcefully in Marco's mouth who is too focused on pleasing to notice the bitter taste that's starting to fill his mouth.
Stuart pants, relief mixed with disgust. He's won, but damn... He watches Marco, his eyes narrowing slightly. Poor guy. He's so focused on...on trying, and meanwhile, Steve's...Stuart swallows hard, remembering the taste. Yeah, poor Marco. He's gonna realize soon enough.
Stuart stands up, still shaking slightly. He's not going to think about what just happened. He's not going to think about how he feels about it. He won. That's all that matters. He crosses his arms, trying to appear nonchalant, like this is no big deal. Like he hasn't just been...like that.
Marco chokes and sputters, swallowing the last drops before stepping back, his face a mix of defeat and displeasure. Big Brother announces the results. "Stuart wins this task!”
Stuart's chest swells with pride, a fierce satisfaction burning away some of the lingering shame. He doesn't look directly at Marco, but he can't help the tiny, triumphant smile tugging at his lips. He won. He won.
He raises his chin, his voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough to carry: "That's right. I won." He's almost daring someone to say something. Try it. Marco clenches his jaw, looking away, unable to meet Stuart's gaze. The other housemates snicker at the spectacle they just witnessed.
Stuart's smirk widens, a dark satisfaction creeping in. "Hey, Marco," Stuart calls out, his voice laced with a casual taunt. "What's the matter? Can't hack it? Thought you were tough, huh?" He doesn't care if it's cruel. He doesn't care if he's being an ass. He's winning, and that's all that counts.
"This is Big Brother, the voting lines have closed, will house mates please sit on the sofa, slaves. Stand on the eviction hatches. The evicted house mate will fall through the hatch, and become a slave for life" Big Brother orders.
Stuart's heart skips a beat, his competitive edge sharpening. This was it. This was what he'd been working towards.
He straightens his shoulders, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He won't show any weakness. Not now. Not ever. He watches the other housemates, his mind racing with possibilities. Who's gonna fall?
And, more importantly, who's not? He glances at Marco, his expression blank. Not him. Not if Stuart can help it. He takes a deep breath, his eyes locking on the eviction hatch, his palms starting to sweat. Don't mess this up now.
The room goes dark as Stuart and Marco stand in their place. A bright light shines down on their naked bodies. Stuart knows his dick is being broadcast across the world, but he won all three tasks, he is feeling good about himself. Stuart stands tall, shoulders back, trying to own the moment.
He's not gonna let embarrassment take over. The cameras are rolling, millions are watching, but he's confident. He won. Three times. Let everyone see. Let them see the guy who came out on top. His face hardens, jaw set, daring anyone to doubt him.
He's aware of Marco beside him, but he's not thinking about that right now. Right now, it's just him, the spotlight, and his chance to prove himself once and for all. "Marco, Stuart, you two were nominated for eviction, I would like to congratulate Stuart on winning all three tasks as a slave."
Big Brother pauses "However, the viewers were not voting on who they want to be evicted, they were voting on who would make the best slave" Big Brother pauses again to allow Stuart and Marco to take in what they just heard.
Stuart's confidence falters. His grip on his composure loosens. No, no, no, that's not possible. That's not how it works. The words "best slave" echo in his brain, making him dizzy. Everything he's done, every challenge he's won...and it's not even about winning? He's been playing the wrong game.
He feels like he's been punched in the gut. He thought he was safe. He thought he was going to make it out of here. Make it out as a winner. He swallows hard, his throat dry. This isn't happening. Marco starts to laugh as he realises what has happened.
Stuart's eyes widen, his face draining of colour. He turns to Marco, his throat constricting. Laughing? Marco's laughing? Stuart grits his teeth, anger and shock warring within him.
"You think this is funny?" he spits, his voice low and dangerous. "You think it's funny that they're gonna make a joke out of me?" He's shaking, his fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. This isn't how it was supposed to go. He won.
Big Brother starts to speak again to announce who will spend the rest of their lives as a slave.
Stuart holds his breath, his heart pounding wildly. This can't be happening. He's paralyzed, waiting for Big Brother's words. Suddenly, he's lightheaded, his earlier triumph crumbling beneath him. He glances around, searching for... something. Escape? Mercy? It's too late, though.
"Just say it," he mutters under his breath, his mouth dry.
"Marco...Stuart... The Votes have been counted and verified, I can now reveal that the first person to be evicted from the Big Brother house and spend their life as a slave is" Big Brother pauses, infuriating Stuart.
Stuart’s anxiety spikes, every fibre of his being screaming for Big Brother to hurry up. He’s trembling, his knees weak, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios. He tries to speak, to beg, but his voice is trapped. All he can manage is an incoherent whimper.
He squeezes his eyes shut, his fingernails digging into his upper arms as if holding himself together. He doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want it to be true. Big Brother begins to speak, the housemates look around at one another. Then Big Brother announces. "Stuart!”
Stuart freezes, his entire body numb. The name echoes in his ears, a cruel trick. No. No, no, no. He shakes his head, refusing to believe it. Not him. Not after everything. He stumbles backward, his eyes darting wildly between Marco and the eviction hatch.
He's going to fall. He's going to fall. He's going to be. A slave. His stomach drops. He can't breathe. Marco blows Stuart a kiss as the hatch below his feet opens, sending him down to his life of servitude.
Stuart's vision blurs, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He reaches out blindly, as if grasping for something, anything, to stop his descent. But there's nothing. He falls, his gut twisting. He's consumed by icy dread, the rush of air whipping around him. He's falling, and he can't stop it.
He catches Marco's mocking gesture, and his humiliation burns brighter than the lights shining down on him. A choked sound escapes him, something between a sob and a scream. He disappears into darkness, the last thing he sees being Marco's smug face.
