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The Contract Chapter 11 By The Mangler
After he finished typing his essay, Loser straightened up the room, being extra vigilant that everything was in perfect condition. He made both beds with military precision. It was not lost on him that he would not be using either one.
When done, he lay down on the floor in the corner. At first, his brain whirled with the events of the day and what he was looking forward to for the next year. Finally, his emotional and physical tiredness overrode those thoughts, and he drifted off to sleep.
"Wake the fuck up, slave boy," Loser heard as he roused to consciousness. He also felt a moderate kick to his side. He came awake and abruptly sat up, unsure where he was or what was happening.
He felt a slap across the face and heard Sam say, "Bout fucking time. You think you get to sleep all damned day?"
Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he said, "What...Who.." before he felt another slap.
"Get it together, Loser."
At this point, yesterday came flooding back in all its glory and misery. There was very little glory and lots of misery. He looked up to see Sam standing over him. He wore a T-shirt advertising a rock band, gym shorts, and trainers.
"Long day ahead of you. First off to the gym for some exercise," Sam said as he dropped a handful of clothes onto Loser.
"What time is it," he asked. Seeing the look on Sam's face as he looked over his shoulder, he added, "Master S."
"Time for you to get dressed. Oh, and the clock says 5:30 am. So, plenty of time for some exercise, breakfast, and a couple of chores before your arbitration hearing."
Loser's memories of the events leading up to the arbitration came rushing back, and he realized that he needed to be his best for that meeting. He slowly pulled himself to his feet and stripped out of the few clothes he wore. His ass could still feel the swats from the night before.
"I can't wear this..." Loser started when he saw what he had been given to wear.
Sam stepped over, put his hand on Loser's muscular bare chest, and pushed him backward until he slammed into the door. Had anyone been in the hallway they would have heard a loud thud which echoed down the hall.
Sam looked up at Loser, moved his hand up to the throat, and gently Squeezed. He said in a very low, even, but menacing voice.
"You can do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. You gave up all rights to any choices when you signed The Contract. So, I don't EVER want to hear the words, can't or won't, coming out of your mouth again. Understand?"
As he said the last, Sam lifted his knee up so that it pushed Loser's balls up against his pelvic bone. There was minimal force involved but the threat was there.
Taking a gasping breath, Loser replied, "Yes, Sir, yes, I understand." He then added, "Master Sam."
"You signed up for this so you need to get your stupid head on straight. We were lenient yesterday, but that ends NOW."
They stood like that for about 15 seconds before Sam released his hold and stepped back. Loser felt his body turn red with embarrassment. He could easily take Sam in a physical contest, but he had just allowed him to get the better of him. He knew that his arbitration had to go his way because if they were lenient yesterday, he didn't want to see what the future held.
Loser stepped away from the door and over to the bed. He picked up a hot-pink jock strap and slipped it on. It was too small, so he had to adjust his junk to fit. His balls were compressed tightly. Next, he picked up a pair of white running shorts and slipped them up his legs. They had a slit on each side and barely covered the bottom of his ass. They were mildly translucent, so the jockstrap could be seen through the material, but they appeared dark. He didn't know that as he sweated at the gym, they would slowly become see-through as the sweat soaked into them.
He grabbed the lime green shirt and pulled it over his head. He struggled to get into it, as it was also too small, and by the time he had it on, all his muscles were on display, especially his abs, which were not covered because the shirt was a crop top, which just barely covered his nipples.
He started to sit on the bed to pull on his shoes when Sam barked, "Stay off the furniture. That is for men only."
He dropped to the floor and pulled on a pair of old, very worn, and used-looking Keds. He was not given socks.
He stood up, and Sam looked him over and laughed.
"You look perfect. That is, you look fucking pathetic. You look like a muscle whore trying to score a john."
Loser looked down at the floor and blushed. It was safe to say that his day was not starting well.
The trip across campus to the gym wasn't horrible due to the time of day. Per Master Sam's instructions, Loser had to walk three paces behind him with his hands held behind his back holding Sam's gym bag.
The worst part was walking down fraternity row, where several fraternities were situated. Many of the inhabitants were either just going to bed or were still up after drinking and playing video games, and seeing Loser brought much laughter, catcalls, and other obscene comments. Loser simply kept his head down and tried to ignore everyone, but it wasn't easy, especially when he passed the top jock house on campus. He saw several people he knew, and they were extra brutal in their comments. His face was a nice shade of red.
Toward the end of their walk, Sam stopped and turned toward him.
"Okay, you will be interacting with many people today, many of whom probably know you as Ethan. I expect you to correct them and explain your new name and status to them, as appropriate."
Loser looked as if Sam had lost his mind. He wanted nothing more than to turn and run, but his pride wouldn't let him. He had signed up for this and he could get through it. He only had to survive until the arbitration meeting. Sam smirked as he turned and entered the gym.
"Hey, Sam. Uhh, what do we have here?" the front desk attendant asked as Sam and Loser walked through the door.
"That, my friend, is Loser," Sam replied. "It has come to assist me in working out."
"A Loser huh? Well, you know that he has to have a membership here?"
"Of course, I know that, and it does. And it isn't `a Loser', just Loser. And also it isn't he, it's it. Give him your license, Loser."
"Yes, Master Sam," Loser mumbled.
"Master Sam?" the attendant said with amusement in his voice as he took the license.
"Holy fuck, his, um, I mean, Its name really is Loser," he exclaimed as he looked down at the license.
"Loser Object, to be precise," Sam sneered.
Turning to his computer, the attendant typed in some information and said, "Sorry, I don't see a membership here for a Mr. Object, loser or otherwise."
"Oh, yeah. Look him up under Ethan Marshall Winthrop III."
"Seriously, dude. Are you fucking with me?"
"No, I'm serious. Look him up."
The attendant returned to his computer, inputted the name, and, after a couple of seconds, said, "fuck." He looked at the picture on the computer and compared it to the site standing before him.
"I followed him, I mean its exploits in high school. Why the hell would it change his name? And be like that?" he sneered as he pointed the license at Loser.
He just stood there looking down at the floor with a red face.
Sam turned to him in a menacing voice and said, "Your superior asked you a question. Answer him."
Loser looked up at the attendant, and his face grew even redder. He could tell by Sam's expression that his answer had better be acceptable.
"I, um, realized that the image I was projecting was a lie. This, this," he stumbled as he ran his hand in front of his body, "more accurately represents who I am – a Loser." The last few words were said very faintly, with Loser lowering his head.
"What were those last words?" the attendant demanded.
"A loser," Loser replied louder.
As the attendant began to laugh, Sam took a step closer to the loser and said, "One demerit there because you forgot something."
Loser looked up and then repeated, "A loser, Sir." This just caused the attendant to laugh harder as he started to hand the license back.
"Shouldn't you update your system to reflect the name change?" Sam asked innocently.
"Uhh, probably, but I'll get yelled at for `falsifying' information, as no one would believe this."
Sam smirked, "Well, just make a copy of the license and leave it on the counter so they can see it is true."
"That would work," the attendant said. "Goddamned, fucking, freak." He typed in the new information, then made a copy of the license, which he left sitting on the countertop so his supervisor, or anyone, could see it.
Seeing this, Loser felt a massive surge of humiliation wash over him. The copy was being left out where anyone could see it. And many of the people Ethan knew were members of this gym. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse – they did.
The door opened. The attendant had just finished returning Loser's license, and two muscular guys entered. They laughed as they saw Loser and started to pass by when one of them stopped, turned back, and said, "Ethan?"
Loser looked up and realized it was Freemont, one of his high school buddies.
He saw Sam staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Knowing what he had to do didn't make it any easier. All he wanted was to run and hide.
"Sir, it is no longer Ethan. It is now Loser," he replied looking anywhere except at Freemont.
"Is this a joke?" Freemont asked.
"Nope, not a joke. Well, he is a joke, but it isn't a joke," the attendant replied.
Freemont turned to look at the guy with confusion in his eyes. The attendant just handed the license to Freemont, who looked down at it.
He turned to look at Loser and said, "What if the fuck is going on, Ethan?"
"Sir, I'm sorry, but it is Loser, not Ethan. And what is going on is, I'm ... uhh.. well,"
"He's trying to be his true self and correct the false image he has been projecting his entire life," Sam said. "Isn't that right, Loser?"
Loser hoped the floor would open and swallow him, but when that didn't happen, he said, "Yes, Master Sam, that is correct."
"I don't believe this," Freemont said as he tossed the license in Loser's direction.
"Well, then, why don't you join me in my workout this morning, and Loser can demonstrate his rightful place in life?" Sam asked.
Freemont looked between Sam and Loser and could see that Loser didn't want that to happen.
After looking several times, he said, "Sure, why not? It will be something interesting to talk about later today with the other guys."
Loser looked at Sam with pure hatred as he followed the three men into the gym. He wasn't sure he could survive this.
[With appreciation to Sir Calvin and slave william for their proofreading and story suggestions!]