TASK #2 MUSCLE MADNESS

The gym laid empty except for the 10 men laid out on the floor and the several cameras missing not a single corner, all broadcasting live to the cells with women in. This ought to be just as interesting as last time, if not more.
The men were all dressed in black suit pants and white shirts that would soon be seethrough once the water soaked them. He couldn't wait to see which of them would squeel like girls at the prospect of having their chests and muscles judged by the women they had just watched themselves.
As some of them stirred, about to wake up, he turned the TVs of the females on, before turning on the speakers, ensuring that both the men and the women would hear him clearly.
"So it seems the roles have been switched," he said cheerfully. "Now who are willing to flaunt it to win not only the best cell available, not only a warm chicken dinner for yourself, but for a chance of being roomed with the most attractive woman chosen by you?" He managed not to laugh this time, he had gained control since he told the women of their rules. This was just repeating.
He wouldn't turn the sprinklers on, not yet, he wanted them to expect it before it was coming, slowly awaiting the cold shower soon to come. And with that he turned the speakers off again, watching the men's reactions to the news.

Cale groaned as he woke up, soon realising that he was no longer in his cell.
'Ugh, you've got to be kidding me..' he said to himself as he looked around and saw 9 other guys in the same room as him.
He predicted what was coming as soon as the others started to wake up and the speakers turned on.

His eyes slowly opening, realizing he had been drugged yet again, Hanzö merely blinked as he quickly got up, his back straightening as he realized what he had been forced to don for this session. He had already found the "wet shirt" game utterly ridiculous, and now he would be forced to do the same? He thought not.

Folding his arms over his chest, he merely stared forward, trying to ignore what was surrounding him, for he'd only act when things began escalating.

Sinbad woke with a start - his gut roiling as he sat up. Taking a look around, he deducted that he was 1) In a gym, 2) not alone, 3) and that he had definitely been drugged in the past few hours.

"Great." He groans, rubbing his hand over his face and winching when the clothes pulled against his skin uncomfortably. He looked down, finding himself in a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt.

Realizing suddenly that this is the male version of the ladies wet T-Shirt contest, he let out a long, annoyed sigh.

Sinbad stands, glaring around the gym and the still half drugged men surrounding him. At least we look good, Sinbad thought tiredly. He dusted off non-existent lint from his suit and then proceeds to roll up the sleeves of his shirt.

Cillian woke up. Hearing what was going to happen he smirked. Well korso spoke the truth about men and women being treated the same way. He counted the men in there. Nine...including him makes ten. Ten males and ten females here. So twenty prisoners. Would there be any children? Maybe they would be in a different prison. He would very much believe something like that.

Cillian stood up. Stretching his arms. Hearing the groans of the other males. He was not the only one who was not very excited about being showcased. Some girls had shown all they had. But he himself was far from a porn star. He doubted any female would vote for him. The white shirt would show his chest. The black trousers would cover up his manhood. Atleast some dignity left.

Hanzö kept his calm, collected stance of his corner of the gym, the expressionless frown still stamped on his face as he observed other men waking up and how the acted around with each other. Being kind of new in the prison, he did need to know what he was handling. His survival might very well depend on it, even if this would be a somewhat pointless sexual display.

Out of everyone in the room awoke so far, the only one who showed the first instances of breaking down to his orders was a somewhat caucasian/mediterranian young man, whose nationality was hard to define so far. Everyone around him seemed to be frustrated, which added points to his personal views of the "eagles living amongst snakes" theory.

Understanding that a better cell would probably mean a better chance of knowing the entire plant, the Hanzö clan's prodigal child decided to gratiously enroll in these activities. He could reveal instances of his body, but in the fine disciplined arts he had been taught. Passing his fingers carefully on his shirt, he unbottoned it with grace and calm, removing it slowly, as if pondering his and every move. Looking around to perceive what was to be possibly sprinkled, he calmly moved to the more isolated spot, in which he folded the shirt and laid it, so to keep it as safe as he could. If he was to do things with all the dignity he could, he'd take this task seriously.

Walking towards the centre of the gym, not really minding about others around him, he decided to do what his clan had taught him ever since being a young boy: meditating. Swiftly moving around the area, he let his legs, torso, neck and arms become one with the air around him, as he exercised his and every muscle. Meditation was far more than sitting around humming weird noises. About everything, it was about bonding with everything you did, assuring inner peace. This was the source of his modus operandi. As such, he continued his slow and incredibly balanced dance, almost as if ignoring the cameras, the guards and the females continuously observing him.

Jim slowly woke up, his head hurt, where was he? He looked around "The hell..?" he muttered as he realized that wasn't his cell but the gym and those men around him were probably other prisoners, since he saw his cellmate Sinbad.
Someone had probably drugged them and brought here for a reason and Jim knew it: that was obviously a male version of the girls' wet T-shirt contest. He snorted, whit so many masculine guy how was he suppose to actually do something here?! He wasn't the athletic guy always gym and running in the park, with school there wasn't enough the time.
He heard the voice from the speakers and snorted again. He just sat down where he was and watched the other woke up, waiting for the next 'step' of the contest.

Sinbad rolled his shoulders, letting out a wide yawn. "What the hell are we supposed to do, anyway?" He mutters to himself, probing at his aching shoulder. "Give 'em a strip tease or something?"

He looked around, noting that only three so far were awake, including Jim. One was a bare chested Asian man walking around aimlessly, another was an aged standing in one spot.

Sinbad let out a low sigh, moving to the walls of the gym and leaning against it, ready to observe - to size up the other prisoners.

He'd have to do something. That room - that chicken sounded like it'd go down good. With the added bonus of sharing a cell with a woman.

Hopefully it's with that cute blonde.

Kuzco woke up with a groan. Wondering when he had rolled onto the floor. Then realising he wasn't in his cell anymore. Or wearing the orange jumpsuit anymore.
He looked around seeing the other men there.
2..4..6..8..9 and me. That makes 10. He was rather relieved to see what kind of people he was here with.
Hearing from the speakers what he had to do, and for what prize didn't bother him much. Well he probably wouldn't win, but decided maybe he would put in some effort.
He looked around rather nervously at the other people.

Cale looked down at himself to see he was wearing new clothes, not something I'd usually wear, but I guess it's not that bad, he thought as he stood up. He looked around at the other men, he could see his cell mate was really getting into it, but he wasn't really in the mood right now.
'This is so stupid,' he muttered under his breath as he walked towards the edge of the room, leaning his shoulder against the wall, hands in his pockets. He glanced around at the other men, trying to figure out how many of them would be a problem for him in here.

[OOC: Just a note to everyone so that there won't be any confusion: There is no weights to lift or anything, you guys don't have any props. Also, you are only wearing the pants and the shirt, no jacket ^^]

Dimitri groaned as he woke up, raising his hand to his head. He had gained a killing headache, not to speak of the lightheadedness and the dizzyness as he tried to open his eyes. Squinting he tried to take in his blurry environment. His vision wasn't clear, but he could instantly tell he wasn't in his cell. He was laying on a cold, hard floor instead of his comfortable bed, and this place looked way too big. Where am I...?
As he sat up he started noticing moving shapes around the place. People, he realized soon enough. Men it came to him, and they were all wearing the same..? White shirts...? He looked down on himself to realize he was wearing the same, and as his head slowly cleared it became obvious where they were. He had seen this room on his TV only days earlier. But why..?
He sat up for a bit, resting his head in his hands. He might have never figured it out if it wasn't for the male voice explaining everything to them, but at that moment his head shot up taking another glance around the room. There were cameras everywhere.
Suddenly he felt uncomfortable and selfconscious, without knowing what to do. He had never been proud of his body. Sure it wasn't that bad, but he looked nowhere near as good as the other men in this room. If he showed off it would only end in people laughing at him. Perhaps he was just paranoid, but he owned none of the muscles the other guys were showing off, and instantly he understood Kuzco's fear and adapted it himself. These people didn't look like they should be messed with...
He shuffled over to a wall, and leaned against it, sitting still on the floor and observing the others, hoping that they wouldn't notice him. Hoping that none would look his way.

Flynn awoke with heavy eyelids. Basking in his surrounding a low sinking feeling in his stomach really woke him up.
Oh god no not this. Frowning he looked around at the men around him, most were cute, some were plain, and some were undesirably bland.
When the speakers came on he was willing to do anything for that dinner. He hadn't gotten along well with Odette, but the food was worth it.
Eyes searching for someone Flynn's eyes locked on a man over in the far side of the room. Sinbad looked quite confused and grudged. Flynn smirked, remembering how Anastasia almost won by trying to seduce Eva. He's cute enough. I'll give the girls a little show and they'll be screaming. Flynn made his way to the man, eyes narrowed and smolder ready.

Half of the men were also half his age. Not to mention the ladies. He would like to have that warm meal. And a nice room. But all the young women would vote for those boys. Unless they liked more experienced men. That made him smirk. He looked down at his body. Well for his age.. He was pretty fit. Walking to the wall he leaned against it. He should not expect anything. Maybe they prefered real men over porn stars.

Sinbad frowns, eyeing the man up and down as he walks towards him. "Problem?" He asks, pushing away from the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

As the man neared, Sinbad took in the way his eyes narrowed in a sultry way. Sinbad snorted, catching onto his plan, and smirked at him, cocking his head slightly.

His eyes closed as he moved around the area, the yakuza prodigy calmly breathed in, letting the welcoming air enter his lungs. It was not as fresh as he wished, considering he was locked in a gym with several other men, so the body heat of all the present parties seemed to get in the way of a perfect meditation. He'd have to get used to it.

Taking a few steps back, he began to adopt a more agressive stance in his movements, as if the warming up was finished. Above everything, he would enjoy letting out some of the tension accumulated over the last few months. Moving at a growing pace, he began drawing perfect movements as he rose from the ground, almost as if he was practicing fighting movements, which did help in keeping his body fit.

The unnerving feel of the black pants, however, seemed to impede his movements, making him feel he could push himself further if it were not for them. Taking a glance at them, wondering if he should remove them, he raised his head towards the camera, as if it was a way for him to stare the females witnessing the event straight in the eye. That being done, and in a rare display of emotion, he let out a quick smirk.

While he was concerned with what he was doing, he was indeed paying attention to what transpired around him. At least four of the men around him displayed a shy and introverted personality one could actually play around with, even though harming others was not a priority. As far as he cared, the inmates were the closest thing he had to a family inside this organization, even if he had not spoken to them. He'd have to keep his eye out for E83191, for he seemed the most unstable so far. The older man seemed to interest him too, seeing how confident he looked in spite of the situation.

Flynn looked the man over. Well built, nice goatee, deep voice, but nasty attitude. Good enough.
Flynn decided to be blunt about it. "I want to win this thing most likely as much as you do. The only way to win is to get the ladies excited. So how about we have somewhat of a Hunger Games alliance? Work together and in the end we fight to the death." Flynn grinned.

Taking a closer step Flynn rested a hand on the mans chest, sliding his fingers over the buttons of his shirt slowly. Because of his old profession Flynn knew how to please a man in almost every way. "What do you say? No strings attached?" Flynn motion to slide his hands downwards.

Sinbad licked his teeth in agitation and his hand snapped out, gripping the guys wrist and yanking it away from his chest, his hand tightening as he smirks down at the man.

"You don't even want to know my name first?" He hissed. In all honesty, it was a good plan; one that had began to formulate when he saw just how good the Kid looked in tight pants. It'd get the girls nice and hot and maybe they like dominance.

So he grinned, bearing his teeth slightly as he grabs the guy by the back of the neck and pushes him face first against the wall, pressing up against him.

"Is this what you wanted?" He breathed, his breath ghosting along the guys neck.

Flynn let out a small yelp of surprise. Being forcibly shoved against a wall face first was nothing new for him. All his old clients would prefer it. In fact his clients preferred anything Flynn could handle, and things he couldn't.

"Whatever you want." Flynn forced himself to sound as nonchalant yet seductive as possible. If Sinbad wanted to play rough he'd play rough like back. "The names Flynn by the way."

Sinbad huffs out a short laugh, relaxing his hold on Flynn's wrist. "Whatever I want, huh, Flynn?" Sinbad murmurs, nudging his nose along the length of Flynn's neck and up to his ear. "I want to win. So you better not be all talk." Sinbad hums, rolling his hips against Fylnn's ass.

Flynn let a low moan escape him. Seeing how Sinbad was insistent on domineering Flynn decided to see how far he could be allowed to go as the sub. Pushing back against Sinbad's friction Flynn fumbled to remove his shirt that now felt hot against his skin.

"Fine with me."

(OOC: It is that I cannot vote but I am liking the flynnxSinbad action >////<" *cough*)

Cillian looked at the fit asian. Who seemed in his 'element'? He would surely bring up allot. Asians were very popular these days. Not to mention the muscles on the male. If only he was at his business. And not here. His view fell on the two males. They were right. Women liked male action. IF they were good looking enough. Half of the gay males were more drag queens. But obviously it was cheap entertainment. Just like the redhead and blonde in the other contest. It was not something that others had not seen. And it was also getting a little bit old.

Meh..He was not expecting to win. If he were a female.. He would vote for the Asian? He seemed to have potential. But than again he was a business man. It was hard to step off the business mind.

(Who doesn't love a little yaoi with their evening tea? xD)

As Flynn stripped himself of his shirt he noticed the eyes of the man on the other wall watching him. He smirked before turning back towards the wall.

Sinbad is quite a funny guy. Funny cause he thinks i'm simply going to let him win. Let him have his fun for now. I'm not complaining.

((Hanzo's attempts at denying that the action gets his attention will soon prove futile. xD))

Hanzö halted his movements mere inches from Norewood, a calm expression on his face, even though he was frowning due to the action between the two other males. It was not that it bothered him. He merely felt unnerved by the lack of respect for their bodies they insisted on displaying. If one was to defile his body, it should be in a pure, gracious and honoured manner.

"O97599-sempai." he said to Norewood in the most respectful tone he had shown since stepping in the prison, his slit eyes fixated on him now. Norewood seemed disciplined and skilled, which was why he'd make such a proposal. "You seem like a disciplined person. If one is to win here, he should do it by displaying true grace. Would a friendly sparring match be of your liking? Surely the viewers are to be at least focused on it, as long as we do not damage the other's features."

(OOC: Happy to please the public )

"Hnnng -" Sinbad groaned, his hands dropping down to Flynn's hips as he rubs against him insistanly. He could feel himself starting to get hard - he hadn't had sex with anyone in months, and rubbing one off in the prisons communal shower just was not the same.

"God you're hot," Sinbad whispers against Flynn's shoulder.

Flynn let out a louder moan from before, making sure it was loud enough for the girls to hear.
Flynn turned around, facing Sinbad with a look of mischief and lust. "So are you." he commented looking down at Sinbad's erection. "Before you start let me help you with that." Flynn slid slowly to his knees before reaching for the lace of Sinbad's black pants.