Brians Amazingly Quick Transformation

BRIAN'S AMAZINGLY FAST TRANSFORMATION

Chapter Five by Donny Mumford

Jeez, my brother's tied my nuts even lower in my scrotum than Brett does. Mikey put that extra strand of string far down squeezing my nuts into the smallest possible package at the very bottom... plus, he's hung a quarter pound weight from the lowest string and as a result my nuts feel like they've turned to stone. They're hanging almost two inches below my dick; it looks freakish. My ankles are tied-up to the back of my thighs again; heels against my buttocks, my big feet uselessly jutting out from there. It's a quick tie with leather Velcro strips; one strip around the thigh and ankle of each leg. Only takes two seconds but it's very effective. Oh sure, I could reach back and peel it off myself, except I don't want to get caned again. Right now I'm on my hands and knees trying to keep up with Mikey as he briskly walks me from the locker room to the gym, pulling on my leash. I'm scrambling to stay near his left leg and praying he doesn't accidentally hit the remote button on that evil shock-collar device. When we make it inside the gym I see that Brett's waiting for us, looking arrogant and oh so cool. How can a fifteen year old boy be so awesome?! Twirling his forefinger lazily in the air, he orders, "Take him for a lap around the perimeter of the gym... get him warmed up for me." Mikey nods, and takes off jogging with the end of my leash in one hand and the remote control to my shock collar in the other.

With my legs tied this way it's difficult just walking on my hands and knees, never mind running! I'm giving it all I've got though; my knees pounding against the floor as I struggle to keep up with Mikey. A normal crawl on your hands and knees puts pressure on the bottom of your knees but there's also help from your feet; the way my legs are tied every step pile-drives the tender center of each knee into the floor and it's a total bitch! I'm soon lagging behind, then Brett calls out to Mikey, "Give the wuss a shock if he can't keep up!" Hearing Brett's threat I try doubling my effort and begin desperately pulling myself with my hands as my knees "thump, thump, thump" against the hardwood floor. Sweat droplets are flying off my head as I try to avoid that fucking electric shock! I'm making loud wheezing noises through my nose now, sucking oxygen though my mouth, my heart pounding in my chest, my hands slapping the dirty gym floor putting all I have into imitating a dog running beside it's master. We're in the home stretch, me dripping with sweat, panting and coughing, my knees aching, my eyes blurry, my ears ringing. "Come on, pick it up, goddammit! Get moving!" my little brother yells at me, and in my exhausted condition it sounds like he's yelling from somewhere far away. I'm ready to collapse and then lightning strikes me, and thunder booms; Mikey has activated the shock collar remote control. A bellow of surprise from me as the electric shock crackles around my neck and shoulders. I get spastic then, my arms and legs turning to rubber and I nosedive onto the floor, sliding along getting brush burns on my arms, thighs, and dick. My turned-to-stone nuts came alive when they smacked against the floor like a sack of marbles. I'm yodeling a long, loud, "Eeeeeolllliiiiooollaa!" Mikey held the remote control button down too long again and that fucking shock collar really packs a wallop when that happens! It was like an earthquake hit me! I lay on the floor as the electric buzzing fizzles out... I'm a pile of quivering limp flesh with redness in my vision and a roaring in my ears.

As my vision clears and the roaring subsides I hear Brett and Mikey howling with laughter! Shit, it was a weird yodel alright; I've never made a sound like that before in my life, but still... how can those two laugh so hard at my agony? Every-thing's come to a halt because two fifteen year old boys have the giggles and can't stop. Good, it gives me time to recover; especially my aching, rock-hard nuts which are alive and screaming pain to my brain again! Initially it was almost enjoyable laying here breathing deeply, but that was short lived as my balls remind me of their pain and my numerous other aches and pains kick in, including my buttocks which is still burning from that hard paddling my little brother gave me in the locker room a little while ago. As I slowly get up on my hands and knees that fucking quarter pound weight starts swinging back and forth pulling on my scrotum, stretching it ever so slightly and shooting additional pain into my nuts, zapping my nuts like bee bees from a bee bee gun. Staying in place, shaking, I wait for the pain in my balls to subside. It's certainly a difficult challenge being Brett's boy-toy and now that he's recruited my brother to assist him it's gonna get even harder; not only here at playtime, but the rest of the day too. I'll be under Mikey's control and supervision at home, and with Brett supplying the power behind Mikey, I have no choice but to do what either of them tells me to do. That includes disciplines, punishments, and other requirements in the form of homework assigned by Brett and monitored by Mikey, who will be the one administering the punishment. My brother will also be giving me inspections from time to time and reporting the results to my master, so this arrangement amounts to me being under Brett's control 24/7 'cause I know damn well Mikey is going to stay loyal to Brett. Oh yeah, after Brett scared the shit out of him behind the Goodwill building Mikey will want to avoid a repeat of that; sacrificing me in the process is a no-brainer.

The boys laughter is running down as is the pain in my balls; the red-hot stabbing pain has reduced to a dull throbbing again and for the first time this afternoon I'm noticing a tightening in my cock... something finally is feeling good. It's similar to the way I often feel when Brett's treated me harshly, but I never expected to notice this feeling caused by Mikey's treatment. Of course I never thought Mikey had it in him to be this authoritative either. Anyway, I'm trying not to allow the same submissive sexual feelings to creep into my head for Mikey that are there for Brett. It's okay that I have feelings for Brett because I know he's done some brainwashing on me but Mikey doesn't know shit about brainwashing, he doesn't even believe in it, so if I develop feelings for Mikey like I have for Brett, what might be the explanation be for that? I'm don't wanna go there! Anyway, it's probably just that I'm still associating harsh treatment with feelings of submissive respect for the person who's dominating me; in this case, my brother. Brett's training has been very effective in that regard; both where me and Mikey are concerned. I glance over at Brett and Mikey and sense deep submissiveness to both. It's gotta be a transference thing. Brett's so powerful that I'm transferring some of that power to my brother. Oh, screw it! I don't know what to think! I'll sort it out later.

Okay, it's been over a minute since I yodeled in pain and the boys are still doing some snickering about it. What's troubling me mostly is how my brother totally aligns himself with Brett instead of with me... that makes me feel like a piece of human offal. I mean, it's no surprise he wants to avoid Brett's wrath, but does he need to be so buddy/buddy about it? Brett's influenced Mikey from the first second he met him and ya gotta admire that, I guess. And damn, my dick's getting that squirmy feeling again recalling Mikey yelling at me, "Pick it up! Get moving, goddammit!" and then zapping my ass with that fucking shock collar. Holy shit! He really has picked-up on the dominance stuff; Brett must be a genius the way he gets others to follow and emulate him. Of course, Mikey was into some mild BDSM with some friend of his, so he had a head start. Wait a second; I just thought of something. Brett's probably brainwashed Mikey too; that's why Mikey has so totally aligned himself with my master, and against me. Oh well, whatever... hey, maybe I can impress the boys by showing a little initiative. With my leash dragging behind me, I doggie-walk the last twenty feet to the spot where we started the jog, and then get over on my back in the paws-up position waiting for my next command.

Laying here I realize I'm dying of thirst. I know better than to ask for water because Brett's made it clear he'll decide when I need water, just like he decides when I need to pee, or do anything really. Pushing my thirst into the back of my mind, I appraise my injuries: the brush-burns on my knees and forearms aren't serious, just irritatingly stingy, and my dick has recovered nicely too... so I'm okay. I'm covered in sweat though; the amount of energy required to run like I was doing on all fours is ridiculous. Finally the boys are finished with their laughter and come over to mock me. Chuckling, Brett says to me, "Your little brother's quick on the trigger with that shock collar device so I'd be on my toes if I were you." He turns slightly to bump fists with Mikey, then adds, with another chuckle, "I can't say I've ever heard a human being make that hollering sound you made as you were sliding across the floor." Again Brett bumps fists with Mikey, this time holding his fist behind him where Mikey taps it with his fist. Brett gets more businesslike then, saying, "My assistant tells me he's not happy with the way you're standing on your doggie hind legs; you use way too much arm movement. You need to do much better so I've instructed Mikey to work with you for twenty minutes practicing standing properly, then I'll evaluate your progress. And there better be some fucking progress!" To Mikey, he says, "I'm gonna check-out Junior's new boy-toy. He's a heavy weight, a real fatso. Ha ha ha! We've never trained a fat boy, this should be a riot! See you in about twenty."

As Brett's walking away I'm wondering if I should take a chance and plead with my brother for some water, or even a little mercy. Ya know, see if he'll let me rest a few minutes 'cause I'm fucking exhausted already and I certainly do not need twenty more minutes of grueling training. As I'm deciding if I should take a chance and ask, Mikey says, "I don't want a sound coming out of you; not unless I ask you a question! Just listen closely to me and do what I tell ya." So that takes care of that. He's over at the closet getting the paddle; while walking back, he explains, "When I give the command 'UP' you're to get immediately up on your hind legs!" Then, he hollers, "Up!" I scramble around getting up on my knees, pin-wheeling my arms for balance. As my arms move in circles, helping me stay balanced, Mikey casually walks behind me to, "WHACK!" my bare ass with the paddle, "Keep your arms motionless. Try it again." Same result, "WHACK!" and then again, "WHACK!" but this time he hits my ankle bone and I see stars for a second as I'm squealing in pain falling over in a heap on the floor. Mikey smacks the side of my buttocks, "Get up! Up!" and I get up all right, but need to pinwheel my arms again to keep from falling over again and, "WHACK!" on the side of my thigh. It goes on mercilessly like this until my ass and the sides of both thighs are red and on fire with burning pain... ten or twelve minutes of being mercilessly paddled has tears running freely down my cheeks. By now Mikey's seems very excited with the whole thing, he continues his mantra with feeling, "Up! No arms, balance yourself," then "WHACK!" when I wave my arms a little. I'm whimpering, but afraid to beg because of my brothers 'no sound' rule. Rededicating myself to limiting my arm movement I focus all my attention there and put my burning ass in the back of my mind and, amazingly, I'm finally able to do it... I get up on my knees and stand straight without using my arms for balance. The trick is to be straight as a flag pole, and don't breathe. No paddled ass this time, just a quiet, "Good. Do it again. Up!" and it gets easier and easier to do each time. Mikey's like, "Good job," as he walks over to put the paddle away. "Take a rest. Paws up."

Relieved, I roll over on my back and get into the paws up position which has my upper arms against my chest, forearms in the air, limp wrist with my hands hanging submissively, and both of my tied-up legs in the air and spread, exposing myself totally. As I'm sniffling with a couple of final tears, I alertly watch my brother for his next command. Mikey looks like he's mulling something over in his head, then he says, "I still don't want any talking from you!" He's got his hands clasped behind him walking slowly around my body lecturing me, sounding a lot like Brett. He goes, "During playtimes I want you to forget we're brothers. You being my brother isn't going to influence me in my training of you anyway. Brett feels you should actually think of me as another Knight brother. Think of me as Brett and Junior's brother; that way it'll be easier for you to accept punishment from me, and I intend giving you at least as much discipline punishment as you told me you were planning on giving me. Maybe, under Brett tutelage, I'll be passing out more punishment than you intended for me and if that's so, I won't feel bad about it because you've explained to me that you're benefiting from it and I wouldn't want to deprive you of that. Heh heh." Stopping now at my feet, looking down on me smugly, his head cocked to the side slightly, he continues, "Me and my kinky friend, Sam, who I introduced you to once... you ignored us both, naturally. Him and me have been working our way up to some serious BDSM stuff like this for two years now and, frankly, I'm enjoying myself immensely, even more than I expected. How 'bout you, are you enjoying yourself?" I look back at him meekly, he's adopted all of Brett's confidence and arrogance; totally dominant when he used to be a meek, bullied kid. I can't help myself, I'm now feeling very inferior to him. He sounds like someone much older than he is too and for a second I wonder: Does that come with feelings of total dominance over another person? Is everyone capable of being that way if the circumstances are just right? Mikey interrupts my thoughts by shouting, "I asked you a question, maggot! Are you enjoying yourself?" I don't know what answer he wants me to give so I take a chance and obsequiously say, "Yes, master." He laughs in my face, mutters, "You're such a pussy!" He starts walking away, then turns back to say, "I'm thinking I might get Sam to be my assistant in training you at home so you'll finally get to know him and I don't think you'll be ignoring us this time." and then he's gone leaving me with one more worry... oh no, not another fifteen year old beating on my poor ass. This is about revenge and pay-back to Mikey.

Mikey's become just like Brett; the terrible twins... and now it's going to be the terrible triplets? Then I'm thinking, "Okay, I neglected my brother all these years, ignored him as he just said, and recently I used poor drunken judgment telling him about all the punishments I was going to lay on him, for his benefit. Now he's got the perfect rationalization in that he can tell himself he's putting me through hell "for my own good". And to make matters much worse, this morning I spanked his ass raw. He's got pretty good motivation for revenge... Jesus, what bad timing I have! Well, the tables are totally turned so, oh man, am I ever fucked! Then, surprising me, Mikey returns carrying a can of pain relief spray. This is a first for him... "Up!" he says, and when I hustle up on my knees, Mikey sprays all over my ass and the sides of my thighs replacing the pain with a warm feeling for my brother and that nice feeling quickly covers me like a blanket. I knew he'd look out for me! He gives me a little smirk/smile, points his index finger at me, and leaves without another word. I roll back over, paws up, feeling okay now. Tired and sore, but reassured it'll be okay. I'm gonna be able to handle this, and maybe it's not so bad that Mikey will be assisting Brett after all, or even having Mikey's kinky friend, Sam, involved. Could Sam be that cute kid Mikey had for a sleep-over when we lived in Dover? Hmmm? Then... what difference does it make if he's cute or not. Why do I get these random dumb thoughts? Anyway, I'm definitely going to cooperate, and, what the hell, I actually think I am benefiting from some of this so-called training, it's making me a better person. Then letting my mind drift, transferred admiration from Brett to my brother gets my dick stirring a little and I stroke myself thinking,"I'm kinda proud of Mikey"... my dick's feeling so fucking good now, I stroke it a few more times! A little positive thinking is a good thing.

Both boys return ten minutes later and by then my boner's embarrassingly hard; I've been casually playing with it and it's sticking straight up from my belly. I've even been purposely limiting my stroking for fear of spurting which might get me paddled. Now that I think about it though, Brett's use to me springing boners, and in the shower this morning Mikey got a chuckle out of my boner, so maybe it's not a problem. Just the same, to be on the safe side I imagine a scene in my mind that has me taking a freezing cold shower with an old fat woman who's hugging and kissing me... ugh! my boner magically begins to lose it's hardness! I close my thighs as they saunter over to me, again giggling about something; they're having a lot of fun this afternoon. From what I can figure out from their comments, they're laughing about the fat boy-toy Junior's training. Junior's latest victim's apparently not a high school senior like we thought, but rather a college student who's managed to secure a teacher's intern position that'll earn him college credits. Maybe one or both of the boys will be in this fat guy's class when school starts up in September... won't that be awkward! Gotta wonder how Junior ran into this poor slob in the first place? And then I remember I'm supposed to spread my legs in this paws-up position so I do and my semi-boner lifts away from my body with a pearl of clear liquid at the pee slit. Hope I'm not in trouble.

Done with the giggling, Mikey turns his attention to me by giving me the one-word command, "Up!" and I get up on my aching knees and balance without swinging my arms, my semi-boner bobbing between my thighs. Brett nods at it, and the boys chuckle. Brett watches me standing up straight on my knees with my arms at my sides and then he makes an approving facial expressing, like, "Good job!"

It's easy to see how proud of himself Brett is... he shows-off for Junior by commanding me to do it twice more, then he orders me, "Paws up!" and I easily roll onto my back feeling proud too. Not just because I've mastered this, but there are many other maneuvers I've learned. Things that used to be hard for me now come easily because of the hard training. Brett pats Mikey on the back, and says, "Nice job, rookie!" Then tells him, "Get a rag or something from the janitor's closet and wipe this college boy down, he's sweating like a race horse." Mikey goes, "Ewww," and then, "Okay, Brett," as they both chuckle. Brett squeezes the back of Mikey's neck affectionately, and adds, "After that undo his hind legs and have him stand for my inspection. I'm going back to the supply room and watch Junior put that fat fuck through his exercises... it's wicked funny!" Both boys laugh at that and fist-bump again; best buddies already? And, ya know what... Brett congratulated Mikey, but he didn't say a thing about how good I did. It's disappointing; I guess Mikey's taking Brett's attention away from me. I'm really missing that sexy feeling I get from Brett when he's abusing me and, believe me, I realize how crazy that sounds, but there it is. On second thought, maybe it's would be okay if I eventually develop these same feelings for Mikey; I mean, why not?

With me still on my back, Mikey returns with a bucket of water and a dirty rag. I don't know about the rag, but the bucket's the same one I used to clean the gym floor Friday after I peed on it. Shit, now I wish I rinsed it out better. Mikey dips the rag in the water and wipes my face; the rag smells like a urinal. In a half-hearted, haphazard way he smears the wet rag on me and now I'm thinking everything smells sorta like Mr. Kleen bathroom cleaner. I'm just laying here, keeping my mouth shut as Mikey, with an expression of distaste on his face, dabs at me here and there with that filthy rag. Then Brett return and begins instructing how this process should be done, starting with me. He tells me, "Lift your arms over your head so your brother can clean those pits," and to Mikey, "Remember to keep his genital area clean too or he just might develop an ugly rash that can be nasty to look at." Mikey snickers at that, and then both boys get those annoying giggles going again... giggles like only kids can giggle. Goofing around now, dabbing at my shaved armpits, then Mikey saturates the rag with smelly water and squeezes out the gray water on my belly button watching it runs in a stream over my crotch. He does it again with more water and the two of them grin like lunatics watching the water run down and under my balls, continuing down to follow my ass crack, tickling me and making my buttocks quiver. Their laughter quickly finishes off what's left of my boner; my dick is all the way back to flimsy now. Anything they can think of to mock me is what they do and my mood has deteriorated because of that. I feel as though this entire playtime has been nothing but a painful and exhausting waste of time from the very beginning; and without any real sexual stimulation. I'm not getting any attention from Brett and the good feeling I had just a little while ago about Mikey has vanished; my self image is low, I'm a worthless loser. There's only so much ridicule a person can take, and I guess I'm a little bit jealous too... jealous that Brett's attached himself to Mikey and jealous that Mikey attached himself to Brett. It used to be they were both attached to me, or that's what I thought anyway.

"Get on all fours," Mikey orders through his giggles, then the wet rag is smacked against my bare ass. Brett goes, "Give me the rag, Mikey. Do it like this," and he snaps in it the air with just the tip flicking across my ass stinging stinging something wicked. I jump each time he does it until they're weak with laughter. Then Brett pokes some of the rag up my asshole and quickly yanks it back out with the rag popping in the air. Brett laughingly goes, "Mikey, listen up... we'll be working our boy-toy doggie hard, training him to be obedient, and for laughs too of course, so he'll be sweaty as hell much of the time and ya don't want a rash to form in his ass; it'll look like a jock rash up his asshole and we're gonna be sticking our dicks up there pretty soon, so no rash, keep it clean, use some stronger detergents from the janitor's closet if necessary. Got it?" Brett's holding his breath, trying not to laugh out loud again, then he burst out with a laugh anyway which gets Brett giggling again too. So fucking annoying!! Finally Mikey manages to say, "Yeah, I got it. Strong detergent when necessary," then more chuckles. You know what... I'd like to slap him silly. How in the fuck did he get to be this buddy-buddy with Brett so quickly anyway, and after the way Brett treated him on Saturday too? Come on! Somehow my anger has revived me a bit, and that comment about them sticking their dicks up my ass has grabbed my attention. Oh, I expected they'd be doing that eventually, but the surprising thing to me is, it sounds exciting, like taking Brett's cock in my throat and rimming his ass. It doesn't seem revolting to be fucked by the boys, so for me to be thinking this way, I gotta say that Brett's brainwashing is some strong shit!

When Brett finally decides the 'bath' is completed, I totally smell like a urinal... and I'm still dying of thirst. Then, some good news finally; Brett tells my brother, "When you put the bucket away in the janitor's room, fill that doggie bowl that's in there with water and we'll give our boy a good drink." Hot damn! But out of a doggie's bowl? How the fuck am I gonna do that? From inside the janitor's closet, Mikey yells, "I can't find any doggie bowls," and Brett yells back, "Look behind the toilet!" Two minutes later Mikey comes out balancing a medium size, well-used doggie bowl filled with water. The bowl cornily reads, "FIDO" on the front. Mikey puts it down and in between chuckles, Brett says, "Go ahead, boy... get your drink." I hurry over on all four, but stop abruptly; there's dust, and a small dead bug, and something else unidentifiable floating on the top of the water, and some kind of greenish/gray dried matter on the inside of the bowl, just above the water line. I've never been this thirsty though, so what the fuck, go for it! I start lapping at the water only to discover my tongue isn't long enough to pull in more that a dribble with each lap. I keep trying which gets the boys' doing their obnoxious snickering again... the snickering is the worst part of this whole fucked-up afternoon! Finally I give up on the tongue lapping and submerge my face into the bowl sucking the water into my mouth, swallowing it awkwardly because my throat's in this unnatural position. Drinking dirty water our of a scruffy doggie bowl with my nose submerged with my mouth isn't my idea of a refreshing drink, but it's all I have. As I'm licking the bottom of the bowl for the last drops of water Mikey comes over, and says, "Up!" I get up on my knees and he takes the doggie bowl back to the janitor's closet leaving me balancing myself. Brett's at the desk watching me, smirking and drinking a cold bottle of water from the Coke machine. He breaks out in a grin when I start tottering and losing my balance... my arms automatically start pin-wheeling trying to keep me upright, but it's impossible and I fall over.

Brett pounds the desk with the palm of his hand laughing as Mikey runs over and begins smacking my ass with his bare hands, "Bad doggie," he says between giggles. Brett say, "Okay, enough of that, Untie his legs, Mikey, and have him do a few laps around the gym to loosen up, then I'll inspect him. And by the way, this doggie of ours stinks!" More sophomoric chuckling from both of them, which makes me feel really great! That stupid brother of mine washes me with a dirty rag in dirty water, so what the hell's he expect me to smell like? "Paws up!" commands Mikey. He's much bossier than even Brett. Brett has some style to his bullying-dominance where as Mikey's coming off like a cold-hearted prick! Yeah, with him it's a revenge thing, I guess. Mikey unties my legs and tells me to massage them back to life. I'm doing what I'm told, but after a couple of minutes he's complaining, "Come on, hurry up with that!". It feels great to have my legs untied, but Mikey doesn't realize how long it takes to get them feeling normal again, plus he's suppose to do the massaging and I might like that 'cause I sure like it when Brett does it. Ya gotta look for the positives in even the worst situations.

Before all the circulation is back in my legs, Mikey has me up and jogging around the gym. At least this time I'm on my feet like a human being but I look like a fool because I'm running on legs without full feeling in them. Stooped over, I'm taking short steps with my legs bent at the knees with me in a partial squat; it looks like I'm trying to take a shit while jogging. Mikey skips up next to me, holds the shock collar remote in my face, and says, "Pick it up, Brian, or guess what." Oh man, what a bastard he is, but it motivates me to put every ounce of energy into jogging. It's painful because muscles in my legs are cramping, but the threat of the shock collar makes me do what I don't think I can, and by the second lap everything has loosened up and I'm jogging normally. Mikey drops the remote button on the desk top, calls out, "Two more laps!" and then sits smugly at the desk finishing Brett's bottle of water. It occurs to me that Mikey, like Brett, has gotten me to do more than I thought I could do. First the doggie hind-leg standing and now jogging at normal jogging speed with numb legs. I'm back to thinking Mikey's alright, and that makes me recall my early feelings about Brett and how changeable they were from one minute to the next. As I'm finishing the laps, Mikey calls over from the desk. "Get at attention, no talking! Your master will do his physical inspection of you when he gets here."

A couple minutes later Brett returns, he asks Mikey, "Did he give ya any trouble?" Mikey says, "He's not totally responding to me like he does to you, there's something missing, but he's doing okay." Christ! I breathe a sigh of relief at that partial endorsement. "Okay, let's see what we got here," Brett says, then says to me, "Bend your knees so we're face to face, same level." This is new, usually I bend forward at the waist. I bend my knees outward, like a ballet dancer so as not to bump Brett with my knees. It's a little awkward but I can't see any other way to do it with Brett so close to me. Then Junior walks into the gym and Brett hears footsteps, turns to see who it is, then turns back to me and pinches my nose hard, saying, "Stay as you are, turd!" Turning back to his brother, he's like, "Yo, bro! Whassup? I'm just about to inspect Mr Brown University here." Junior's looking hot too, very neat... his slim, tight body is so perfect. I wish he were naked though! Oh my god, I can't believe I just thought that stupid thought! Arrogantly Junior's looking directly into my eyes as he walks towards me... it's hypnotic, like his grandfather did to me behind the Goodwill building. Without breaking eye contact, Junior pats Brett on the shoulder, then slowly reaches over and pinches my nose just like he saw Brett do. They all laugh at that, as I go, "Oooh!" then sway a little maintaining my balance in the weird ballet position. Junior pats my cheek too hard, saying, "I came over to visit our boy here; that's whassup. How ya doing, college boy?" I say, "I'm fine, master." Nodding in Mikey's direction, he asks, "You okay having your little brother help with your training and discipline?" What the hell can I say that won't get me in trouble, except, "Yeah, sure," and then, to brown-nose my brother, I add, "Mikey's doing a good job assisting my master." Junior looks at Brett with his eyebrows raised with an expression of surprise on his face. He repeats the name, "Mikey!" Then asks Brett, "You let your doggie boy-toy refer to your assistant trainer as 'Mikey'?" Brett smacks his own forehead, and goes, "Yipes, I never thought of that. Not respectful enough, huh?" Junior's like, "Duh! Ya think?" Brett ask Mikey, "Is it Michael?" Mikey nods, fascinated by Junior's mannerisms which are even more dominating than Brett's. More mature by a couple of years, yet Junior still has that boyish voice, a boyish voice that carries so much authority with it.

Ya know, I'd already forgotten how amazing Junior is in full dominance mode and my little dick chubs up some and moves away from my body slightly. Brett says to me, "From now on you are to refer to your brother as 'Michael' and I mean all the time, not just here." I mumble, "Yes, master," and he screams, "I can't fucking hear you!" so I shout "YES, MASTER!!" Turning to Mikey, Brett says, "Keep a log of all the times he calls you anything other than 'Michael' and bring it with you to each playtime; we might be getting the cane out again sooner than expected." Junior says to me, "Look over here," and I snap my eyes to his. He asks, "What's the name of your assistant trainer?" I answer, "Michael O'Rielly." Mikey smirks at me, as Brett adds, "You need to beg your assistant trainer to be sure and give you all the discipline at home that's necessary because, after all, it's for your own good, right?" I look over at Mikey, and say, "Please, Michael, discipline me to the fullest at home. I need it badly, it's for my own good." Now I even sound like a totally wimpy pussy, to myself! Junior says to Brett, "Wow, you've really trained him to play the game correctly. He gets it! Okay, but remember that now is not the time to let up on him; he can easily backslide if you go easy on him." Looking at Mikey, Junior says, "Especially you, Mikey, don't let up; get tougher if anything. Keep tight control over him, be as tough as Brett and that will solidify, in the college boy's mind, that you are totally in charge of him at home... he already knows Brett's in charge of him here." Then, high-fiving both Brett and Mikey, Junior's saying, "Awesome job guys, this is fun. Keep it up."

I'm numb with this already, and worse, he's talking about caning me again... and what's mom gonna think when I start called my brother, Michael? Brett asks, "Anything else I'm missing here, Junior?" He makes a face, like, "This is kinda obvious," and says, "I guess you've already made arrangements to get his hair cut again, right? Ya can't have a doggie with longer hair than your assistant." Brett looks chagrin, and admits, "I missed that too, damn! Anything else?" Junior's checking me out, shaking his head slowly, saying, "Nah, that's all. You're doing great with him, Brett. It's obvious he's totally submissive to you, and he'll soon be that way with your assistant here too. By the way; everybody else except boy-toy here are still free to call your assistant Mikey." Junior then tells us he needs to get back to his own doggie boy-toy who's doing sit-ups, "I'm trying to get that boy to lose some weight. He's a riot trying to do the exercises! Ha ha ha!" Then, just before leaving the gym, he calls back to Brett, "Hey, I just thought of something. Have Mikey take the college senior here over to Happy Tails Grooming to get his haircut; forget about Uncle Leo... we can handle it right here on the premises, where we're in control of things. You remember when we took the long-haired mailman to Molly's, right? She did a helluva job... sheared him good, shaved him too. She's kinky like that; she got a big kick out of the mailman wearing a dog collar so be sure this one is wearing one too. Minimal clothing, you know the routine. Give her a call and see if she can fit him in today. See ya, later, guys..." Brett says, "See ya, Junior." then to me, "I'll finish your inspection then call Molly and we'll get you groomed properly at the dog groomer." Obviously I'm speechless, 'cause... what do ya says to that? Mikey's got his hand over his mouth laughing quietly now, and Brett's grinning too, but saying nothing so I realize he wants a reply, I mumble a meek, "Whatever you say, master." It's just one more indignity in a long list of them. I know better than to argue about it... Brett decides and I obey. That's how it works.

Another concern is building... I'm still in this awkward position, bending at the knees maintaining my head at Brett's height and it's getting to be damn hard on my knees. He flicks a finger through my burr haircut, "This was okay last Friday, but like Junior said, now I've got an assistant with a short buzz cut so there's no way you can have longer hair than him." Without thinking, I roll my eyes at that because Leo cut my burr really short last Thursday, and Brett liked it just fine at the time. As soon as I did the eye-roll Brett pinches my nostrils between his thumb and forefinger like he'd done earlier, except this time he does it extremely hard, and then jerks my head sideways, then up and down; tears rolling down my face again. This kid has the strongest hands! One more hard jerk, and he shouts, "Don't you ever fucking roll your eyes at something I say to you!" I shout, "Yes, Master!" which blocks up my ears because Brett's still holding my nostrils closed. He lets go of my nose and mucus mingles with tears and runs along my upper lip, but I don't dare move. The mucus-wetness outlines my top lip drooling down both sides of my mouth to my chin. Brett says, "Mikey, get me a tissue." There's a square box of tissues on the desk; Mikey skips over to pull a couple out and then takes three quick steps back to our fun little group and hands them to Brett. Mikey's adopted this look of perpetual grinning, which I'd like to slap off his face. In my knees-bent position it's getting more and more painful and difficult to stay stationary. Brett wipes his nose-pinching fingers on the tissues, then steadies the back of my head with his left hand while holding the bunched tissues to my nose with his right, and says, "Blow!" I sniffle into the tissue like a six year old. Brett folds it over and holds it to my nose again. "Blow hard, little boy!" and I do a long sniffle into the tissue. "Brett's like, "Good, boy! Now, open up," and when I open my mouth he puts the crumpled tissue against my right cheek, on the inside of my molars."We'll store these tissues here in case we need them again," then to Mikey, "Get me a packet of handi-wipe from the top desk drawer." My legs are getting wobbly... the tissue taste like, well, like a used tissue.

Brett's holding the two fingers he touched my nose with away from his body like they're radioactive. As usual he's staring at me with the most arrogant look you can imagine. Mikey's got the handi-wipe packet ripped open; he hands the wipe to Brett who uses it to further clean his fingers, and then he commands, "Open!" I do of course, and for the record, I knew he was going to do this. Opening my mouth wide, Brett puts the wet handi-wipe in my other cheek and now I look a little bit like a chipmunk. "Close," I mumble "Yes, Master!" Mikey burst out with the laugh he's been holding in, then mutters, "Loser!" Brett's now ready to begin the inspection. He checks to see my armpits are shaved properly, same for my legs and groin. He always finds something to criticize and today it's about the razor nicks; I have too many of them. Sure, but I'm new at using a razor. I'll need to do better though, he informs me, or I'll be disciplined. Then he says, "Stand up straight!" I yell, "Yes, Master!" It's a relief standing straight, my legs ache from being in that odd crouched, ballet, position. Brett does the usual ass massaging, them tells Mikey to get a ruler and some KY jelly from the desk's bottom drawer. What, he's going to measure my asshole? Surprising me, he doesn't finger fuck me or stick the ruler up my ass; instead he tells Mikey, "Measure his penis." So, as I stand stiffly at attention, feeling incredibly awkward, I'm also wondering what the lube is for. Mikey picks up my dick with two fingers like he's picking up a dog turd, and lays it on the ruler. Then, peering down at it closely, he says, "Three and three-quarter inches," which has Brett mumbling, "Oooh, that's a big boy's penis." There must be something wrong with that fucking ruler! My dick is longer than that. Mikey's chuckling at Brett's comment, but his heart's not in it. He says, "Um, Brett... ah, mine's about the same size, I'm afraid." Brett says, "Nonsense, his is smaller." Then to me, "Hold out your hand, palm up," I do, and he squirts lubricant in my hand, and tells me, "Get yourself hard and we'll measure your boner, such as it is." I start stroking my cock, my face red and hot with embarrassment 'cause Mikey's looking on with an expression of disbelief and humor. My initial stupid thought is, "Brett could have finger fucked me and I'd have sprung a boner in a minute, why make me jerk off?" Then I realize that would have been even more humiliating than this.

Stroking my penis with my thumb and two fingers has the foreskin flying on and off the head of my cock. This goes on for maybe three minutes and Brett's now tapping his foot impatiently. It's obvious to me a boner isn't happening, not with Mikey watching and Brett acting impatient, so I confess, "I'm sorry, master, but with Michael watching and all, I can't get it to bone-up." Brett gets up closer to me, and says, "Stick your hand down the front of my pants and massage my big meat." The heat on my face reaches surface-of-the-sun temperatures as Brett yells, "Do it!" I shakily push my hand down the front of his shorts; he's slim and there's some give in the waistband material so it's not difficult getting my hand down there. My fingers ruffle through his thick pubic patch and then I feel his soft cock, bypassing that I cup his large nuts for a second, visualizing how everything looks down there. Brett says, "Let go of my balls and grasp my big cock, like I told you." I get my fist around it; I'm now taking short, quick, little breaths. "While you stroke your tiny one, pretend my big one is down your throat." I can't look at Mikey, but I do fix a picture in my head of me sucking Brett off and him forcing his huge boner down my throat... my dick begins boning-up; it's soon long and hard, so I look Brett in the eyes, proud of myself. He commands, "Take your hand away from my dick now, ya homo!" Then to Mikey, "Measure that pricklet," and, as I sneak a quick sniff of my hand I had down Brett's pants, Mikey's using the same two fingers he used earlier; he pulls my hard boner off my stomach and down onto the ruler... his fingers on my dick make my shoulders shudder. Oh boy, this is more like it. At least I'm getting revved-up a little bit thanks to my brainwashed condition... it's my reward, is the way Brett sees it.

With his thumb holding my boner on the ruler, Mikey gets right over it again looking closely, then he announces, "A cunt hair less than four inches," and I lose control of myself, "What? It's gotta be longer than that!" Immediately stars appear in my vision, and it takes a fraction of a second to realize Brett just landed a beauty of a smack across my face. More tears roll out of my eyes as another, "SMACK!" follows the first, and I'm yelling, "Sorry, Master! Sorry!" but Brett's already over at the desk. He returns with, of all things, a fly-swatter. Before I can even wonder what he'll do with it, he slashes it across the head of my boner. One whack down, then across, and a painful world of blackness descends upon me. I'm making a high keening noise until the black veil slowly lifts and I return to earth. Brett's unconcerned, he calmly says to Mikey, "Measure it now that it's totally limp and I'll bet it's even shorter than your first measurement, as outlandish as that sounds." Following the same procedure as before he measures my soft dick; my teeth are still clattering together from the aftershock of that painful hit. Mikey says, "Exactly three inches," and Brett lectures Mikey, "You see, three different measurements; three different results! The human penis can retreat into the body like a turtle into it's shell. So, no matter what size penis you think you have, it's probably not the correct size. Depends on many things, so your penis might seem to be the same size as boy-toy here on the outside, but I'm positive you've more penis inside your body then he does, which could be surgically enticed to come out, by the way. Brian here is closer to having a pussy than a cock. So you used the correct word back then when you said, "a cunt hair under four inches." What a load of bull that is, but I swallow the humiliation of having a three inch dick just like I swallow all the other indignities. It went from four inches to three almost instantly when that fly-swatter connected. While Mikey puts away the ruler and lubricant, Brett's over at the desk talking on the phone... I assume it's to this Molly person, the dog groomer. He's enjoying himself, as usual. Hanging up, he says to me, "Okay, ya tool, Molly says to bring you on down, she'll fit you in between a couple of her regulars. We'll get you groomed and then we'll bypass the exercises and work with the stocks instead." Oh no! From bad to worst! "Fuck! My neck's gonna be in that awful colonial punishment device again," but at least that thought took my mind off the humiliating dog grooming.

Leash in hand, Mikey follows Brett into the locker room, me hurrying on all fours to keep up. Brett tells Mikey, "Put the leather collar on him, the one with the studs... Molly will get a kick out of that." Brett's rustling through a locker, looking for something, while my brother changes my collars. From the locker Brett comes up with a small pair of yellow shorty-shorts and a pair of girl's chartreuse colored shoes that look more like slippers then shoes; just a flat sole and that front part for my toes. "Get your girlie pink panties on, we can't walk you through BJs naked. Try on these slippers too, they look like they might fit your big feet." Then he flips the yellow shorts at me, obviously girl's shorts, and says, "Take the tissue and the handi-wipe out of your mouth, unhook the weight from your nuts and squeeze into those shorts. That's all you'll need in the way of clothing." It's a relief unhooking the weight from my nuts, but my scrotum is definitely stretched. It looks really funny, as in really odd. Putting on the too small panties and then somehow getting into the shorts, my privates are barely covered, I'm ready to go. The slippers are tight and make a slapping sound against the floor with every step, drawing attention to myself, but I'm not complaining. Bare chested, with girl's shorty-shorts painted on me, pale green slapping slippers on my feet and a leather dog collar around my neck, I'm all set!

We walk out of the locker room, across the gym, and then out into civilization. At least I'm upright and not doing this on all fours. Everyone in the hallway immediately gawks at me and of course I blush... who wouldn't? Walking past the receptionist, Stella yells out, "Hiya, Brett! Whassup?" and then she sees me and a high pitched screeching laughter follows which attracts more attention, and that creates a loud buzzing of whispered conversation behind hands about the queer freak with the dog collar. I don't blame them 'cause what a site I am! Stella didn't recognize me at first, and then, "Brian, is that you. I can't believe Brett and Junior allow you to dress like that! I'm disappointed in all of you!" She helped me get the job and I was grateful at the time, but maybe I'd have been better off if she hadn't helped me. Oh well, I'm actually getting some benefits from the training, and my brainwashed mind is loving the sexual parts, but still, the price I'm paying for those two things... wow! I look away from Stella, what can I do or say that would be a satisfactory explanation for why I'm prancing around in this ridiculous outfit?

Happy Tails Grooming is way the fuck over the other end of this enormous building, naturally. Brett and Mikey chat and chuckle along the way as I follow silently behind looking straight ahead, ignoring the murmuring from the masses as best I can, but come on... this is easily the highest level of humiliation I've ever experienced. Then a shout from my left takes the humiliation to another level, "Brian O'Rielly? I can't believe my eyes! Brian, is that you? What happened, dude, bad batch of weed?" I don't want to look, but it's a reflex thing and I turn my head to the left, effectively confirming that it is indeed me... yes, it's Brian O'Rielly almost naked in girl's shorts that are so small they don't even cover the girl's pink panties he has on underneath. There's a dog collar around his neck, and lady's slippers complete today's outfit; lovely! I'm also the only individual in BJs who isn't wearing a shirt or top of some kind. Yes, it's him... say hi, Brian! Oh God! I'll never be able to show my face in Dover again. The guy who shouted to me is Neil Bankers, my former next door neighbor at our once ritzy Dover home. He's shorter than me so I always beat him at one-on-one basketball and afterward I wasn't a good-sport about it either, taunting and mocking him and so forth. So, oh yeah, he'll definitely be happy to spread the news in my old neighborhood about the new me. He's with his buddy, Dwayne Snitchel, who calls over, "Woof, woof, grrrr!" and people, that none of us know, laugh out loud and point me out to those who haven't spotted me yet. That's followed by other mocking catcalls, but my eyes are burning from the heat off my face and there's a hollow echoing in my ears, so I don't register much of what is yelled in my direction. When we finally walk into the dog grooming shop everyone laughs even louder... me wearing a dog collar going into a dog grooming shop... ha, fucking, ha! Ya know, I can't ever remember seeing Mikey enjoying himself this much... ever!

Inside Happy Tails Grooming there are a number of people talking among themselves waiting for their groomed dogs to be brought out to them. All talking stops when we walk in, silently everyone openly stares at me. My entire body is blushing and there's no place to hide. It's deafeningly silent now and I get the most intense urge to adjust my package, but don't dare. In the silence time crawls to a standstill and all I can hear is my heart beating and a noisy- nose-breather who turns out to be the old guy standing to my right. This old fuck finally touches my shoulder, and asks, "What are you?" Good question. I ignore him as a huge lady comes out from behind a door to my right, she's leading a beagle and a collie on leashes. Both dogs obviously have been recently washed and groomed. A booming voice from the big lady, "Here ya go, Robert. Snooky is beautiful again." She hands the dog's leash to the rude old man who'd asked me what I was, then the big woman booms out, "Here ya go girls, Icetea is ready to go home," and hands the leash of the beagle to two butch looking ladies who smile and give Molly a thumbs-up. "Please pay at the register outside." Then, to the remaining woman, "Pearl is ready too, I'll get her for you." Turning to us, she booms out, "Let me guess... which one of you needs a wash and a cut," and she laughs in a boisterous, but friendly way, as Brett's saying, "I'm Brett Knight, remember me; Junior's brother?" She hooks a leash onto my collar, and now in a whisper all could hear, "How could I forget you or your brother, honey! You boys brought that long haired man to be groomed. Your doggie play is right up my alley. This one will take about twenty minutes if you want to come back... or you can wait." Brett says, "We'll be back," and they leave. Molly grins and orders, "Down and I'll walk you into the washing station." I'm so used to getting down when told to, I do it and the woman waiting for Pearl gasps, as the big woman, who's apparently Molly, is saying, "I'm kidding with you, honey! I hooked up the leash from habit. Get up." I get up pretending I was kidding too, and follow her inside. Well, what the fuck... she does have me on a leash.

Inside the grooming space there's that unmistakable smell of dogs, and that unpleasant strong smell of the perfume in dog shampoos. Molly says, "Strip, and I'll lift ya into that big tub at the end so you can soak." There's a medium size mutt in the tub next to the big one, he's looking at me with his ears pointing up. Naturally I hesitate... I mean, "Get undressed, are you shitting me?" I'm smiling, like I get the joke, but she's sincere this time, and says, "No, honey... this time I'm not kidding. Unless bathed properly, I won't groom a dog, no matter from the human species or canine species! And, no offense, but you smell like a toilet." That goddammed dirty rag Mikey used on me earlier! Still, I'm hesitating 'cause this is so far from real life experiences that it boggles my mind. She's nice about it when she says, "Make-up your mind, honey... I've got a lot of grooming to do before eight o'clock tonight. I'm good with this kinky stuff, I'm down with and my girlfriend and I dabble in it ourselves. You'll either go along with Brett's wishes, or you won't... I don't force anything on anybody. You need to want me to do it, before I'll do it. Okay?" What can I do? Brett and Mikey have already gone, maybe Brett didn't know about this naked bath... what the fuck, I'm not going to give him an excuse to cane me again. Resigned once more to my fate, I pull off the slippers and peel down the girlie shorts, saying, "Yeah, let's do it." Molly takes over and pulls down my pink panties, saying, "Don't worry, I've seen penises before, on dog and man alike and, frankly, penises aren't one of my interests." Her eyes briefly get big when she checks me out. This unbelievably embarrassing situation has shrunken my dick to the size it was when Brett swatted it with the fly-swatter. She bites her lip, then real quietly murmurs, "Okay, we got ourselves a real girlie/boy here." As the color of my blush darkens and spreads to my chest, she puts a large hand at the back of my neck, then stoops down to gets her forearm under my knees and picks me up like I weight five pounds. 'Humiliating' simply doesn't cover it.

Without any noticeable strain, she holds me away from her body and then a boy comes in the backdoor... she stands there holding me, smiling at the boy. He's about twelve, a shocked expression on his cute face as it registers that a six foot-two-inches-tall man with a tiny dick is naked in Molly's arms. There's no apparent fucking end to my humiliation... 'humiliation?" there has to be a stronger word than humiliation to describe this stuation. My whole body turns red. Molly says, "Oh, hi, Roy. Just a sec, honey..." as she's taking three steps to the big tub and then sits me in the doggie bath of luke warm water. Roy stares at me like he's just seen a space ship land from outer space, but I can't look back at him. The water I'm sitting in smells strongly of dogs and that peculiar cloying smelling dog shampoo I mentioned earlier. Now I'm surrounded by it as I sit on the bottom of a large dog's bathtub with my knees up and out of the water, water reaching up to my nipples. There are soap suds and other unidentifiable matter floating in the water making it too cloudy for me to see to the bottom. Many different kinds of dog hairs float on top of the water sticking to the suds and to me. The skanky water, the dog hairs, plus the small matter of a twelve year old boy gawking at me sitting naked in a doggie bath, combined to have me on the verge of puking, but I pull myself together. Gravel or something like gravel on the bottom of the tub is prickling at my buttocks, and it's totally gross! Roy, still staring dumbfounded at me, says, in a monotone voice, "I'm collecting for the newspaper, Molly." Ignoring Roy, she says to me, "Would ya stand-up for a second, honey? I gotta grab that bungee cord down there somewhere." I slowly stand up and Roy gets a second look at my shriveled dick. He looks up at me and I look away, then glance back to see him pointing at my penis, then pulling his hand back to cover his mouth, laughing quietly. I'm surprised my fucking head doesn't burst into flames I'm so embarrassed. Molly's clueless, she pulls a bungee cord up from the bottom, saying, "I'm busy now, Roy; can ya ask Mildred at the register for the money, I'd appreciate it, honey." Roy says, "Um, sure... why you washing a man in the big dog tub?" Molly laughs, and says, "He just wanted to try it, honey... you run along now." I glance over at him and when he sees me looking he points to my crotch, and then back at me holding his fingers an inch inch apart and I again avert my eyes gasping. Roy giggles... I hate giggling! He leaves the shop walking out the door Molly and I came through a couple minutes ago. I can hear him saying to someone, Molly's grooming a tall naked man with a one inch weenie." Tears of rage form in my eyes... how much humiliation can one guy take?

Molly's humming a soothing sound, unconcerned about the interruption, she quietly says, "Let's get you secure in here so you can enjoy your soak." Pulling a thick bungee cord from the other side, under my knees, and then pulling on the cord raising my knees further out of the water, she attaches the cord to this side. Elevating my knees like that would have dunked me backwards under water except Molly anticipated that and got her big hand behind my neck just in time. She then strings another bungee cord lower, just in front of my ankles, pulling my ankles back and I'm pretty much secured in place. My face is still hot and red from my encounter with Roy, but logic tells me I'll never see him again in my life so I'm willing myself to put it out of mind. Molly's oblivious to my distress; she sweetly asks, "Can you hold onto the sides for a few minutes yourself, honey? I'll be right with ya soon as I finish Lance. You just enjoy soaking in there for a while, okay?" She's being very nice about everything, but "COME ON!!" I'm naked in a fucking dog bath, fer christsakes, and this place is as busy as Grand Central Station!

Lance is apparently the poodle in the smaller cage. Molly carries him to the grooming table and hooks a slip collar around the pouch's neck, then a bungee cord is stretched just under his belly in front of his hind legs. The dogs been washed and dried already, his white hair very clean looking and fluffy. Molly wastes no effort, everything is done efficiently, but not in a hurried manner. She likes what she's doing, I guess. Music plays in the background although Molly herself is mostly silent except for calming sounds she makes as she handles the dog. She cups the poodle's snout to manipulates the head as she uses clippers to groom the dog in a typical poodle cut. First the bare clippers get the belly and back and parts of the leg etc. Then, a clippers over comb method is used to evenly cut the longer hair areas. It's a silly looking cut if ya ask me, but it's what the dog's master wants. Brett left instructions for my grooming too, "Not shaved Molly, but down to the scalp." She'd said, "You got it, honey!" So that's that; and, ya know what... after a while you can accept just about anything. It's like I used to say about Mikey..."Boys like Mikey, who get bullied all the time, begin to accept it and even think they somehow deserve the bullying. Nothing specific, just that they deserve to be dominated and humiliated." That's pretty much where I am now, I guess. Brett just overwhelms my senses, one outrageous humiliation after another. It's never over and now there's Mikey to contend with too, a tag-team match... and as a result, here I am getting groomed at Happy Tails Groomers.

Molly takes about ten minutes with Lance. While she's grooming him, me and the pointy eared dog in the bath next to mine, watch her every move. As I said, Molly's a large woman. She's my height, but she's almost three times as wide as I am, with man-hands and thick wrists. Done with Lance, she pets him and is tender with him, cuddling with him like Brett does with me at the end of my training sessions. Lance, contented and happy, yips a couple of times and is then put back into a cage where he immediately lies down and goes to sleep. She pets the pointy eared dog sitting in the bath next to mine and murmurs comforting sounds to him before finishing with, "I gotta do this big boy first, hope ya don't mind, Benjamin," he focuses on Molly's every word, looking alert. Then, before she can begin washing me a bell sounds and she goes out front to see what's up. She's a loud talker out there and I can hear her talking to the owner of her next grooming appointment. A minute later Molly's back leading another medium size dog, of unknown breed, into the cage next to Lance's. Lance immediately wakes up and the two dogs go about smelling each others asshole through the bars.

Molly plucks the sponge from the tub she washed a dog in earlier, squeezes doggie shampoo onto it, and drops it into my bathtub, saying to me, "Pinch your nose closed, dear, I'm dunking you under." With unhurried, smooth movements, she places her meaty hand partially behind my neck leaving her thumb over the front of my shoulder, I get my nose pinched-closed as she knocks my other hand away from the side of the tank and firmly pulls my torso down dunking my head, shoulders, and chest and stomach into the yucky water. I'm submerged from the top of my head to just above my dick with my thighs, knees, and most of my calves out of the water draped over the bungee cord. I'm holding my breath for all I'm worth with eyes tightly closed. Molly's using the dog-bathing sponge in her left hand to scrub my face and head, then behind my neck and shoulders. Long strokes under my arms and down my sides. She manipulates my body with the one hand shoulder grip and at one point my head comes up near the surface for a second and then is forced down again as the sponge forcefully scrubs my chest. I desperately need to breath and try sitting up using the bungee cords for leverage, but my stomach muscles are no match for Molly's hold on my shoulder. The dog hair and germ infected soapy/shampooie water feels almost greasy and I force myself not to think about it. Molly methodically wipes the sponge over my torso, then reaches under to get my back. A few more swipes over my head and she pulls me up. I come out of the water gasping for oxygen, sputtering and spitting out water that slipped past my lips, "How many dogs get washed in this water before she changes it, anyway?" But, oh man, it's so wonderful to be able to breathe again. My whole body, covered in dog hairs, is tense as my heart pounds and my chest heaves, but at least there's oxygen available to breathe.

Molly continues to be unconcerned about any of my many distresses; apparently dogs get panicky too and she's used to it. Being sure of her skills she remains calm, quietly making soothing noises and then soothingly says, "You're fine, honey... no worries. Oh, did Molly keep ya under too long? If I did I'm sorry. Arms out in front, please... and don't worry so much, I've got ya, you're safe." She squeezes the back of my neck and continues with, "This is fun for me, doing you boys, I mean... and especially one as cute as you. Never fear though, I'm not into guys." She adjust her palm behind my head supporting me and that, plus the way she talks, has a very calming influence on me and there's something trustworthy about her too, so I loosen my death grip on the sides of the tub and hold my arms out in front of me as she requested. Molly uses the sponge to wash up and down both arms, then extra scrubbing on the palms of my hands which are dirty from walking on all fours. Leaning over me she reaches the bottle of doggie shampoo and squeezes another good amount on the sponge, all the time easily holding my head out of the water with her other hand. She says, "Relax, okay? What's your name, cutie?" Falling under her control I all of a sudden feel like a little boy, I squeak out, "Brian O'Rielly," sounding like a little kid. She goes, "Well, relax, Brian. I've got control of everything, can't ya tell?" I mumble, "Yes, ma'am, ah... do you expect anyone else to come through? It's kinda embarrassing." She goes, "Probably not, but what's to be embarrassed about. Roy's seen naked males before, I'm pretty sure." I'm thinking, "Getting washed and groomed in a dog grooming salon? I don't fucking think Roy's seen that a lot!"

And she says, "What's to be embarrassed about?" Is she out of her fucking mind?! Anyway, she doesn't appear to have a mean bone in her body, plus she has a calmness about her and she's nice, so I lay back against her hand and let my arms float among the dog hairs and, whatever else is floating there, and more or less just surrender myself totally to her care. "Good boy," she purrs, "Let Molly take care of you. Okay, honey?" Now I'm in one of those trances, feeling like I'm in a dream, like I'm floating on air. I'm also getting kinda used to the strong odor of the dogs and their shampoo by now too so I let myself drift off into Mollyworld, mumbling, "Sure, it's okay, thanks Molly. This is nice." And, this mood she's put me in is nice... she has such a calm manner about her, it's no wonder dogs instinctively trust her. It's peaceful knowing she'll be kind to me too; so different from the way I feel when I'm under Brett's or my brother's control. Using the sponge, freshly covered in doggie shampoo, she washes my groin area with me opening my legs wide giving her full access to my little pecker and long scrotum, she murmurs, "Good boy, let's get your hiney now, okay?" I go, "Okay, Molly," as she's reaching under me running that sponge back and forth in my crack, them she's rubbing the sponge all over both my bubble butts, then the back of my legs and up to my knees. A few more swipes over my asshole, Molly smiles, and in baby-talk, says, "Let's make sure Molly cleans your bumper real good." I smile back at her as I drift off into space.

She moves to the front of the tub to finish washing me so I again hold onto the sides keeping my head above the dirty water. She washes my calves and then my feet. "You have nice big feet and long toes!" she quietly says, as she's wiggling my big toe. I smile at that too; it's wonderful being under the control of someone who's nice, who's kind. Molly drops the sponge into the tub and takes large nail clippers off a side table. Holding my foot out of the water by cupping the heel in her palm, she cuts my toenails down to the quick. The nail clipper looks like a regular one only stronger with a spring to help cut through tough dog's nails. They cut through my toenails like cutting through nothing at all. Finished with the nail clipping of the first foot, she massages it, digging her thumbs into the arch until it almost hurts, but not quite. When the water presses against the top of my toes it feels funny. I've never had my toenails cut down this far before; the sensations of the water against new toe areas is strange. She finishes with my other foot and is now holding one of my wrist in her large hand cutting my fingernails the same way she did my toenails. After she cuts them, my fingernails are so short only the pink part remains, looking like they have pale pink nail polish on them. Finished both hands, she unhooks the front bungee cord and casually picks me out of the water, her arms under my knees and her other meaty hand behind my neck; I like the way Molly's carrying me. It's like I weight nothing at all and I feel like putting my arms around her neck the way I did with my nanny when I was a toddler... but I don't.

Looking back at the tub and the dirty water, I see my finger nails floating on top of the water mingling with the dog hairs. Dog's toenails are probably dense enough to sink slowly to the bottom of the tub and could be the prickly things I sat on when first put into the doggie bathtub. "Pinch your nose again, honey. We've going for a dip in the rinsing tank." It's a large deep plastic container that looks like a small above-ground pool. I pinch my nose with both hands, squeezing my eyes shut tight, like a three year old might do before being dunked in the pool by his mommy, "Wheeeee!" She dips me in, totally submerging me with water up to her muscular shoulders. Then up out of the water, then right back down into the water again. Pulling me out entirely now, me dripping with water, still some dog hairs clinging to me, but cleaner ones this time. Thinking this wasn't all that bad, I wipe the water out of my eyes and open them to see two girls and a guy come in the same back door Roy used. All of them are about twenty years old, maybe a year or two older. The girl points at me, and says, "Oh my God! What the hell, Aunt Molly? Ya taking in the homeless now?" They all laugh nervously as Molly's setting me on the drying table. I'm on all fours because that's the way she set me down. My dick shrinks even more, to a bare nub, and my face is glowing red, the heat on my shoulders is uncomfortable... all from my blush. The three unexpected guests slowly walk around the tank to get a better look, as Molly says, "Oh, hi, Cheryl. Cover your eyes, honey, or you'll embarrass Brian." She's hooking me up the same way she did with the poodle; a slip collar around my neck, pulled tight. I'm comatose by now and anything anyone says sounds like a repeating echo. I look straight down at the table top without moving a muscle, hoping perhaps if I don't move no one will notice me. Molly's movements continue to be unhurried and efficient, and as she stretches a bungee cord under my belly down near my groin and another one over the back of my knees, she says, "He not a homeless person, just one of you college kids goofing around with some friends... a dare of some kind. A kinky dare and you know me and kinky, don'cha, Cheryl. We go together like bread and butter." I can't move forward or backward, completely immobilized and my brain is frozen, while my body's on fire. Each second feels like an hour!

Molly takes what looks like a Q-tip, but larger, and swabs inside each of my nostrils, I try to move my head but the collar just tightens on my neck, my head barely moves. She goes, "It's okay, relax, Brian," then to Cheryl, "What can I do for ya, honey?" Cheryl's beside her aunt now; to entertain her two friends she's straining her neck taking an exaggerated look under me at my almost non-existent dick. Without answering Molly, Cheryl directs a question at me instead, "Did you have an accident with your penis, or something? And your bag of nuts, what do ya call that? It's long." One of the boys says, "Scrotum, Cherly... it's the god-damnest scrotum I ever saw." The boy and the other girl come over to peer at it. The other boy says, "I knew a kid in high school who had an infantile penis like this, but not this small." Then to me, he asks, "Whadda you do, lay across the toilet when ya gotta pee?" Molly's like, "Shhh, enough of that naughty talk! You'll hurt his feelings." In my head I'm counting to one thousand as fast as I can blocking out whatever these horrible college students are saying. Around one hundred I lose count and hear the first boy say, "Aunt Molly, come on, we wouldn't embarrassing for the world, but that scrotum is destined for the carnival. You know, pay an extra dollar to see the world record holder for longest scrotum behind the curtain." Cheryl's persistent with her question, and she reaches over to poke my one inch dick, asking me again, "What happened?" I couldn't talk, I'm only capable of making whiny sounds as Molly says, "Okay, Cheryl your friends are embarrassing him now. Stop it! Look how red he is right down to his bumper. What can I do for you?"

As she's chastising Cheryl for embarrassing me, she inserts a thumb into my mouth and pinching either side of my jaw bone with her other hand forcing my mouth to open, then plugs it open with a rubber stopper and checks inside with a penlight. The three college students snicker and talk quietly behind their hands, then laugh in bursts. Molly clicks on a large electric tooth brush and brushes my gums and teeth with it, as Cheryl's going, "Ewwwww. Do you use that on the dogs?" Molly says, "Enough, Cheryl! Why are you here?" Cheryl giggles, then asks, "Can we borrow your Jeep for a few hours? We'll have it back by the time you close." Cheryl's right... the toothbrush is undoubtedly the same toothbrush she uses on the fucking dogs; why would she have one for humans? This, the college kids and the doggie toothbrush, is really too much and puke rushes up from my stomach. I gag stopping the puke at the back of my throat as Molly recognizes the situation and forces my head back and up at an awkward angle, stopping the vomit from getting into my mouth. "Now you've upset him, Cheryl. Don't be such a bitch, okay." She said it in a sweet way though, not angry, as she continues the dental hygiene part of my grooming. As the big dog toothbrush twirls on my teeth at the back of my mouth, near my throat, I gag repeatedly but she has my head totally immobilized and, as usual, ignores my discomfort. "Okay Cheryl, you know where the keys are," then to the boy, "Artie, would you hold his head in this position for me a second, I need to get a tool to scrap some tartar off his back molars. Artie laughs, but says, "Yeah, sure," and grabs my head twisting it further up, neither of us speaks as Molly scrapes my back teeth with something that feels like a chisel, then sprays water from a bottle into my mouth and a doggie mouthwash refreshes my breath.

Molly looks inside my mouth with the penlight again, as Artie says to no one in particular, "This is without question the oddest goddamn thing I've ever seen," and everyone, including Molly, has a good chuckle over that. Just when I'm positive my ass is going to catch on fire with humiliation Molly tells Artie he can let go of my head, he gives one painful final push up and then releases me. I've a pounding headache now and the vomit's right at the back of my throat. Molly says, "Hey, he's just a curious kid who wonders how a dog feels getting groomed. Go on all of you now, let me finish up with this big boy." Then it all caught up with me and I did throw up in my mouth... not a good thing. Little by little I swallow the puke at the back of my throat as Molly pets my head making some of those soothing sounds she'd made while grooming the poodle, as the three uninvited guests leave, giggling and laughing out loud, Molly says, "Sorry about that, Brain, but you don't need to be embarrassed. You can't help it if you have a one inch dick." As if that's accurate or is all there is to it! Good grief, she's awfully nice but out of touch. Come to think of it, I guess she'd need to be out of touch to dog groom a college student.

Molly, with me still secured to the drying table, goes through a series of massages and rubs that, along with her soothing voice, manages to calm me down. They're nobody here but me and Molly now and that's such a relief! Molly murmurs, "That's a good boy,"as she goes back to work, this time swabbing my right ear with one of those big q-tips, then the other ear. Throwing the swabs away, she gets a larger one, dips it in some cream and walks behind me to swab out my asshole. My body jerks, and she quietly says, "Almost done," as the swab twirls inside my hole, then further up until it's twirling on my prostate making my dick twitch. Out comes the swab and into the trash it goes. It's all so mind-blowingly bizarre, but it feels good and we're along so I fall back into a serene trance... so grateful I'll never see any of those college kids again. It's peaceful and I'm grateful for that. Ripping open a sterile pad, Molly pours something from a brown bottle on it, then reaches under me and pull back the foreskin of my little cock to wipe the head with the pad. I hop a half inch off the table and she gently pats my ass, making those calming sounds again. Turning her finger over, she wipes inside my foreskin all the way around, the liquid feels cold. "That's a good boy," she coos, as she tosses the sterile pad in the trash. Patting my head, she quietly says, "I'll get you dry and then you're ready to be groomed." Flicking a switch on what looks like the world's biggest hairdryer causes it to nosily blows a huge amount of warm air over me. It's like being in a wind tunnel. As my body dries, the doggie hairs stuck to me dry as well and are, one by one, blown off my skin and up against the back wall to drift down joining other dog hairs on the floor from earlier washings.

As I'm being dried, Molly washes Benjamin, who has patiently waited in that medium size tub next to the one I was in. Benjamin observed every move Molly made while washing me and when she picked me up and brought me to the rinsing station the dog moved to the other side of his tub and watched every move Molly made there too. Benjamin now gives all his attention to Molly as she's bathing him. The dog's infatuated with Molly apparently, and so am I. She washes him just like she did me except the dog is only about one sixth my size and he doesn't tense-up like I did, so it went much faster. Then Benjamin is dipped in the rinsing tub and hooked up next to me in a similar manner to the way I'm hooked up. As soon as the dog is set down he shakes his body spraying me with rinse water, but the wind tunnel soon dries that too. I'm quickly as dry as I've ever been in my life, but the warm air continues blowing on me as Molly's busy doing something else. She's carrying a large sheep dog from the end cage to the washing tub, basically doing everything the same way she'd handled me; the dog and I weigh about the same. Molly sits him in the same larger tub I'd recently been bathed in, then hooks him up with two bungee cords so he can't jump out; he's just as immobile as I'd been. Only the top of his back, his tail, and his head are out of the water as he stands docilely, with an expression of almost embarrassment on his face.

My turn again... the wind tunnel is turned off and a smaller version of it is turned on for Benjamin. Molly unhooks me, picks me up with one arm under my buttocks and the other across my chest and again without apparent effort, carries me to the same grooming table she'd groomed the poodle on. Same routine of a slip collar around my neck tightly, then one bungee cord stretched under my belly near my dick, and one across the back of my knees. I'm totally immobilized once again. Snapping on the same clippers she used on the poodle, Molly takes hold of my jaw and easily manipulates by head this way and that as she runs the doggie clippers over my head. First across the front above my forehead and the half inch long hairs from there fall past my eyes followed quickly by another bunch of short hairs sheared to the scalp by the clippers. She bends my head way over to the side and shears the very short hairs from there down to the scalp. Bending my head to the side and to the left she runs the clippers up one side of the back of my head, then again, and again as I feel the short clippings falling on the back of my neck and shoulder. She goes over all areas on this side of my head one more time, pressing the clipper tightly against my scalp. Running her fingers over half my shorn head she goes back over a number of spots with the clippers, just to be sure. The same procedure for the other side of my head and I'm as docile for her as the sheep dog or poodle had been. Satisfied, the clippers snap off and she brushes the clipped hairs off me using a big soft brush that smell strongly of... what else, dogs.

"Okay, honey, you've just got a shadow of hair left on your head. I could lather it and take the shadow off with a straight razor but Brett wants it like this for now." She's unhooking me as she's talking, then picks me up the same way as before; I'm as docile for her as I've ever been in my life. She says, "It will upset the dogs if you're standing around while I wash and groom them so I'll put you in a cage until Brett comes for you, it won't be long," and she opens the door to the cage she just took the big sheep dog from and I pad inside, my dick peeking out from it's hiding place as I get more comfortable with being under Molly's control. My long scrotum hangs down as I look out through the bars of my cage watching Molly wash the sheep dog. She's calmly and quietly murmuring many of the same things to him that she'd murmured to me. Lance is two cages down, he picked his head up momentarily when I went inside my cage, but then he went back to sleep. I actually feel like a dog, wish I was one and Molly was my owner.

Much longer than 'just a few minutes' passes as I watch Molly finish the sheep dog's bath by dipping him in the rinsing tank. After hooking him up in front of the drier, the front bell sounds. "That'll probably be your mast..., er, I mean, Brett. He's come for you Brian, let me check. When Molly's in the reception area she's much different than back here with us dogs. Here she's quiet and calm, out front she's loud. I easily hear her say, "Of course he's ready, honey. He was ready twenty minutes ago... I've got him in a cage. That'll be twenty-five dollars, pay the cashier." I'm thinking, "Twenty five dollars! I gotta pay for this?" I'm out of my trance now and feeling claustrophobic in this cage. In the lobby, Molly's saying, "He's got a lot of razor nicks on him. I could shave him and groom him professionally for ya weekly, without razor nicks, but that'll cost forty-five dollars." I can barely hear Brett ask, "Every week?" and Molly's like, "Yeah, I had a regular customer pass away so I got this time spot open, but it needs to be every week or it's not worth it to me." Brett asks Mikey, "What do you think? We'll deduct the money from his paycheck of course. Molly could bath him, groom him and shave him every Monday." Mikey's like, "Awesome idea! And while he's at the groomers, do ya think we can watch Junior train that fat kid? That was fun today." Brett like, "Sure, Mikey," then to Molly, "Book him in for Mondays at four-thirty." She's saying, "He's a doll or I wouldn't accept him as a regular, but with him it's doable." So, my fate's sealed for this treatment every week, more then this treatment, she'll be shaving my legs and balls, and whatever. The word 'mortified!' doesn't adequately describe my state of mind right now. But, what's new?

Molly comes in and lifts me out of the cage and then without thinking she starts carrying me outside, and I scream, "My clothes!" As she's putting me down, she laughs and says, "Oh, I forgot. Most of my clients don't wear clothes. Hope you enjoyed your spa treatment. And guess what... you're gonna be a regular! I'll see ya next week." She's expecting I'll be thrilled about that. Oh, what the hell, she's a nice person so I'm not taking it out on her, it's not her fault. I say, "Yeah, that's really something," and she looks at me funny, like I'm not appropriately enthused, so I add, "You did a wonderful job. Thank you!" She looks pleased now and my eyes get a little teary because she's gentle and nice to me and nobody else has been either of those things lately. I turn my head away and start over for my clothes, but Molly takes hold of my arm, and says, "Could you let me check something before you get dressed, honey?" I go, "Ah..." and I look at the door leading to Brett, and ask, "Ya think it'll be okay with with Brett?" She waves at the door, and says, "It'll only take a minute or two, he can wait. Let me get you up there on the table a sec, okay?" Before I can answer, she casually picks me up with a hand under each arm pit, saying, "I wanna see what kind of a razor situation we have here so that I'm ready for you next Monday." She holds me over the table in a way that makes me bend my knees and I just naturally get on all fours. She smacks my ass saying, "Can you get over a little, honey?" I crawl over thinking, "She don't know her own strength. Jesus! That smack on my ass was harder and stings more than a paddle hitting me!" She mumbles "I'll make it quick, sweetie," as she's putting the slip collar over my head again and adjusts the bungee cords, immobilizing me. Force of habit, probably.

It's amazing how incapacitated a few taut bungee cords can make you. Molly's behind me spreading my buttocks and feeling between my legs, "Just want to see how extensive the shaving areas are." Her big hands wrap around the front of my thighs, up next to my dick, "Feeling for stubble," she says, and I go, "But I don't shave there". Her hand travels down my thigh then back up. She says, "I can feel you haven't been shaving here, but there are fine, almost invisible hairs here that need to be shaved if one's to do the job properly; I'll get them for you, I'm a professional." Then she's spreads her fingers wide and feels along my back and shoulders and then down my sides until fingers on either side of me are traveling down my dick, then back up lifting it as a finger feels along the underside of it. She then goes back to spreading my butt cheeks, saying, "I'll shave around your heiny hole too for the same reason; fine hairs." A shudder goes through me then as the realization of how little control of my life I have... she telling me what she's going to do, not asking if I want it done. Molly's a very nice person, but it's apparent she's aware of the master/slave relationship that Brett and Junior have me in and that's the reason she's so comfortable taking control of me; that reason, plus she's used to always being in control of her dogs. But, come on, this is abject humiliation of the worse kind, and with Molly I don't even get the sexual jolt I get from the boys when they're abusing me. But, as always, I come back to this: "What the fuck can I do about it?" The answer to that question, at this time is, "Nothing!" except make the best of it and cooperate so it goes as easily as it's possible to go under the circumstances.

As I contemplate my humiliating situation, Molly's adjusting the bungee cords, then she gets both hands on my hips and turns me over onto my back. The slip collar tightens around my neck for a second, but she adjusts that, then spreads my legs wide so that each ankle is held in place somehow by the bungee cord arrangement. Next she spreads and tucks my arm under bungee cords and I'm spread eagle on the table feeling totally on display. As she lifts my cock, she says, "I'll be shaving you on your back like this for the most part, and finish the job with you on all fours. In order to insure you don't make sudden movements causing me to nick you with the razor, you'll be secured like this."

Everything she says is in a matter of fact manner, knowing neither the dogs nor me will complain or contradict her. She's totally in charge of us. "You'll find it's a pleasant experience. I have it done to myself by a friend every ten days, so I speak from personal experience." Molly laying naked and spread-eagled is not a visual I want in my head! With a couple of fingers she's feeling around my dick, then down my scrotum to lightly squeeze my balls, then her fingers are under my balls, and finally she pulls my scrotum up, and says, "I see Brett's stretching your scrotum for ya. If you want I can pierce this and insert a nice ring or stud. You think about it, okay. That'll cost eighty-five dollars, but is well worth it." I make a noncommittal grunt because I don't want to hurt her feelings; she's nice, but the last thing I want is a stud in my stretched scrotum. I'm going to be enough of a freak having a foot long scrotum as it is. That's how long it'll be by the time Brett's through with me. After rubbing all around my belly and chest, she starts unhooking the bungee cords, saying, "You don't have much noticeable body hair, just the fine ones everybody has, but I like you so I'll be giving you pretty much a full body shave. Once you see how it feels to be shaved you'll want to do it all your life." I say, "Not my head though, right?" Molly lifts me down, and says, "That's up to Brett, honey... not me. If ya ask him nicely, maybe he'll let you keep the shadow of hair you got on your head now." I feel my scalp and can just detect a fine sandpaper feel... boy, it's short alright. As I get dressed she turns her attention to the sheep dog. I say, "Bye. Molly," as I'm leaving, and she goes, "Bye, honey. See ya, next Monday."

To be continued...

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com