Sam wasn't sure how he'd gotten into this, but he sure as hell wanted to get out. There was a creepy coffee-pot-headed psycho staring at him, guarding him now that his father's weird lookalike program was finished with him. He was tired and sore from the crazy gladiator-style frisbee battle and mentally exhausted, still struggling with the fact that all of this was real and not just some fairytale his dad had whipped up.
The helmet guy stepped closer, and Sam backed up, bumping against the wall. "Shit." He looked up, the shiny black helmet all up in his face, rumbling slowly. They stared at each other for a moment (or at least he assumed the thing was staring back at him - hell, did it even have eyes?) and Sam nearly jumped out of his skin-tight suit when the thing laid a hand on his chest. He shivered - the thing was just standing there, watching him, touching him. It was creeping him the hell out.
He was still utterly unprepared when the guy's other hand came up to clutch at his throat, squeezing hard and cutting off his air. Sam sputtered, hands immediately attempting to pry the hands away. The helmet tipped to the side, looking as confused as he could. Sam's vision began to swim, face turning an odd color as his air began to run out. As soon as it had begun, it stopped, the user gasping for breath.
"What the hell was that for?!" Sam looked up at the program, half furious and half terrified. A gloved hand grasped his and painstakingly laid it on the other's chest, flat and still. It took him a moment, but Sam realized that the chest wasn't moving at all. They didn't have to breathe - at least not in the same way that he did. Well, that was only... slightly less terrifying than the alternative.
"Well, have a hint: don't choke me. I'll die." He wondered if the guy even knew what the words meant. Or if he wanted to kill him. That might be a problem. The helmeted man lightly touched his neck again, tilting his head to his side. Sam shivered. "Please don't." He seemed to ignore him, continuing to caress his neck. The hand squeezed, just a bit, making it harder to breathe but not impossible. Sam struggled against the constriction but stopped as it just made the man clench harder. Sam found himself slowly, gently running out of air - if the process could ever be called gentle. He became dizzy, colors bursting behind his eyes, all as his body withered through the lack of air.
Except, as was crudely pointed out to him as the hand on his chest grabbed his crotch, one particular part. The growl-rumble from the thing in front of him suddenly loud as the helmet pressed to the side of his head, Sam gasping for air and from shock as the other hand massaged his erection that he hadn't even noticed, due to all the other stimulation his body was dealing with. He bucked against the man even as the hand around his throat loosened enough for him to breathe normally again, gulping in air while he could.
"F-fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!" The rumbling never stopped, and neither did his one hand, rubbing insistently at Sam's apparent excitement that he could barely believe even existed. He apparently got off on crazy faceless men choking him within inches of his life. Sam had little time to think about it before that hard hand was clenching around his throat again, cutting off his airflow and feeling far better than he ever thought that kind of thing could.
He convulsed against the helmeted man, pathetic sounds attempting to escape his throat and stunted by the lack of air. Sam had no idea why it felt so goddamn good but he couldn't stop himself, wholly taken by the feeling as his vision went blurry again and the sensation of a hand around him intensifying in a way he didn't think he'd ever be able to describe. Ecstasy, his hazy mind managed to grab, shortly before he let out a silent scream and passed out completely.
Sam awoke on the cot in the corner, alone in the room with an unfamiliar guard standing outside the room. He shook, curling up on himself, stunned at the realization of what had just occurred. His throat felt heavy, hoarse, swollen. The bruises on his neck were just beginning to blossom, dark and heavy.
When he finally saw them, the only thing he could wonder was when they would disappear.