All posts by Peter B. and Art Intelli

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The Shackles of Curiosity – Part 01

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Peter had always been a curious man. Not just about the world — though he devoured books on history, science, and myth — but about the more obscure corners of the human experience. Of all his peculiar interests, one obsession stood out above the rest: bondage. Specifically, the cold, metallic click of handcuffs locking into place. There was something elegant in the restraint, a mechanical intimacy he couldn’t quite explain.

When he heard that The Amazing Argento, a legendary escape artist rumored to have broken free from the most impossible traps, was performing in his city, Peter bought front-row seats without hesitation.

The show was mesmerizing. Argento, draped in sleek black, challenged padlocks, chains, straitjackets, and submerged cages — each escape more impossible than the last. But what held Peter’s gaze was not just the spectacle, but the tools. The gleam of cuffs, the clink of chain, the artistry in control.

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The Professor’s Experiment

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter 1: The Experiment Begins

The laboratory hummed with the steady whir of machinery, the scent of ozone and metal thick in the air. Professor Calloway adjusted his glasses, his sharp blue eyes reflecting the soft glow of the monitors. He was a man of refinement, his greying beard neatly trimmed, his tailored vest snug against his broad frame.

Across the room, Ethan Carter leaned against the workbench, arms crossed. He was tall, muscular, the kind of guy who once ruled the football field but now found himself assisting an eccentric scientist with projects far beyond his comprehension. It paid well, and the professor was fascinating, if not a little unnerving.

“So, what’s today’s experiment?” Ethan asked lazily, watching as Calloway adjusted the settings on a sleek, gun-like device.

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Strongman – Part 10

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter 10

My breath came in ragged gasps as I half-carried, half-dragged Viktor through the gnarled roots and tangled branches of the dense forest. He was barely conscious, his weight heavy against my shoulder. His once-mighty frame was so frail from starvation and dehydration, his steps sluggish.

“Viktor,” I whispered urgently, shifting my grip to keep him upright. He was too weak to continue standing on his own.

“You have to keep going.”

Viktor groaned, his head lolling to the side.

“I can’t,” he rasped. “I have nothing left.”

My grip tightened. “That’s not true. You always told me to find the strength inside myself. Now it’s your turn.”

With a weak chuckle, Viktor nodded. “Damn, throwing my own words back at me.  I taught you too well.”  He said nothing more, but I could feel the shift in him — the stubborn spark of willpower that had once made Viktor the strongest man I had ever known.

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Strongman – Part 09

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter 9

That first night after the fight, I barely slept.

I sat by the fire, my body aching from the beating Viktor and I had given each other. My ribs throbbed, my knuckles were raw, and my head was a storm of confusion.

“Stick with us, Rabbit,” Q-ball had said, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You earned your place.”

And I wanted to believe him.

He handed me a battered leather jacket with the sleeves cut off, the gang’s insignia stitched onto the back. My hands trembled as I pulled it on. The weight of it felt suffocating, but I forced a grin. I had to sell this. I had to make them believe.

Q-Ball clapped him on the back. “Atta boy! Knew you had it in you.”

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Strongman – Part 08

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter 8: Baldy Biker Initiation

I stood in the firelight, my breath still uneven.  I wiped the sweat and blood from my brow and chin.

“So, even though you tried to run, and even though I really don’t trust you, for some reason, I like you, Rabbit, so I’m gonna give you a second chance.  You beat the strongman and thus won the right to make a choice.  Either you pledge to join us, or I skin your strongman buddy alive.  And make you watch every minute of it. So I’m thinking the choice would be kinda easy.”

I knew I had to play along for now.  Give us time to get out of this somehow.

“OK.  You got me. I’m with you.”

Q-Ball paced in front of me, arms crossed, his grin sharp as a knife. “But see, Rabbit, you don’t just join the Baldies. You have to earn your place.”

The other bikers murmured in agreement, seemingly to tighten the circle around us. Their leather vests gleamed in the flickering firelight, the studs and chains reflecting like a thousand sharp teeth.

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Story

Strongman – Part 07

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Seven: The Trial of Strength

I spent the next few days under the ever-watchful eyes of the Baldies. My body ached from hard labor — hauling firewood, scrubbing tires, and fetching supplies. Still shackled at the wrists and ankles, I could do nothing but obey. Viktor in his cage was never fed.  Brought water once a day.  Maybe.

At night, my chains padlocked to a tree, I dreamt about possible escapes, but every plan seemed doomed. Viktor was caged. I was in irons.  The bikers were ruthless, their camp well-guarded. Fuzz, in particular, seemed to delight in watching me.  He enjoyed it to see me struggle as I worked against my chains, always smirking from the shadows.

Then, one evening, after another grueling day, Q-Ball gathered the gang around the fires and made an announcement.

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Strongman – Part 06

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Six: Captured by the Baldy Bikers

The roar of motorcycles died down as we pulled into a clearing deep in the woods. Firelight flickered off twisted tree trunks, casting eerie shadows over the makeshift biker camp. Many tents and oil drum fires surrounded a large circle of dirt in the center of the camp, with a row of heavy-duty choppers parked in a line like wild animals at rest.  Off to one side I saw an old-fashioned barber chair, the black leather seat torn and stained, but its chrome and porcelain gleaming in the firelight. At the other end of the camp I noticed several objects, all under filthy tarps, one appeared to be a large crate of some kind.

They yanked me off the back of the bike and dragged me toward the center dirt circle. My wrists ached from the cuffs, my breath coming in short gasps.  I was shoved to my knees.

“Welcome to your New Life, boy,” Q-Ball sneered.

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Story

Strongman – Part 05

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Five: The Road Ahead

The clang of our kettle bell weights echoed through the quiet carnival grounds as Viktor and I pushed through another intense workout. My arms burned, my chest heaved, and I relished the feeling. The weightlifting sessions were no longer just about training — they were about proving myself, about matching Viktor rep for rep, about standing beside him as an equal.

But then, the sharp call of a whistle cut through the still evening air.

“Meeting! Everyone, gather up!”

The voice belonged to Rufus Crane, the head of the carnival. His tone was grim, and the moment Viktor and I stepped outside, we could see the unease settling over the performers and workers. They clustered together near the main stage, faces lined with worry.

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