Wes is still naked, bolted face-up to the torture table, and his wrists are attached to a winch. “We are going to break you, Marine,” the man announces, cranking the winch until Wes feels the stretch. “I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’!” the Marine yells as he’s stretched more, his muscles tightening, his stomach sucking in hard. “Talk!” the man demands. Wes can feel his shoulders begin to separate, his diaphragm pulsating, trying to allow air into his lungs. He screams as his spine and shoulders reach their breaking point. Then he is whipped while stretched.
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