Tag Archives: Peter B. and Art Intelli

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Double Trouble – Part 04

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Four: The Long Night

The bunkhouse was built like a frontier barracks — thick timber beams, stone floor, heavy iron fixtures bolted to the walls and ceilings. There were no windows, only small vents near the roof and a single industrial fan turning lazily in the corner. The room was dim, lit by a single bulb hanging above the twin beds that filled half the space.

But Peter wasn’t given a bed.

He was mounted to the post.

A heavy wooden pillar rose from floor to ceiling at the room’s center, with rings set at shoulder, waist, and ankle height. The twins had stripped him bare again, save for his collar, and bound him standing with thick leather cuffs to each ring. His arms were pulled back and up, shoulders flexed, chest forward. His legs were spread wide and locked at the ankles. His brand still throbbed on his right hip, raw and blistered.

The collar chafed when he tried to shift. The restraints creaked.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

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Double Trouble – Part 03

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Three: Bound and Branded

Peter sat frozen in the barber chair, the buzz of the clippers still ringing in his ears, his scalp raw and exposed. The twin with the deeper voice stood behind him, thick hands gripping his shoulders, while the other crouched in front of the steel collar resting on the table.

“Let’s get the rivet ready,” the shotgun twin said.

The collar was a brutal piece of craftsmanship—two-inch-wide forged iron, hinged on one side, lined inside with dull spikes meant for pressure, not blood. The shotgun twin slid it around Peter’s neck. The weight alone made Peter feel like he was being yoked like livestock.

Then came the hammer.

The deeper twin held a hot rivet with tongs, taken from a forge glowing orange behind a steel grate in the wall. He slotted it into the collar’s open eyelet. The shotgun twin stepped forward with a heavy iron hammer and a steel backing block, sliding it between Peter’s throat and the collar’s inside rim.

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Story

Double Trouble – Part 02

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Two: Induction

The compound wasn’t on any map. Surrounded by rusted fencing and tall mesquite trees, it sat like a secret in the heart of nowhere—half ranch, half fortress. The main building looked like a converted barn, only the reinforced doors and surveillance cameras hinted at its true purpose.

Peter stumbled up the steps between the twins, their huge hands still gripping his arms. The door creaked open, and the blast of cool, conditioned air hit his sweat-slicked skin like a slap. Inside was a stark, dimly lit room lined with metal lockers and pegboard walls hung with restraints, batons, coils of rope, and iron collars thick as wrists. A worn leather barber chair sat at the center beneath a spotlight, its chrome arms fitted with heavy straps.

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Story

Double Trouble – Part 01

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter One: Trespass

The Texas sun was a cruel, unblinking eye in the sky, scorching the blacktop and everything around it. Peter wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and habitually ran his fingers through his long blond hair like a comb.  He cursed under his breath. His rental car—a cheap sedan that had looked dependable enough back in Austin—now sat silent and steaming on the side of the road, its hood up like a white flag of surrender. The nearest sign of civilization had been a lonely gas station fifty miles back. He hadn’t seen another car in hours.

With no cell service, no breeze, and no luck, Peter shouldered his backpack and headed east across the dusty plains, hoping to find a ranch, a house, a human being—anything. The ground was cracked and dry, dotted with stubborn tufts of grass and the occasional mesquite tree. He passed a wire fence that looked like it hadn’t been repaired since the Reagan administration. He didn’t notice the sun-bleached sign nailed to one of the posts:

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Story

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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Story

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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Story

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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Story

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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