Date: Fri, 20 Aug 2010 07:53:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: Re: (2)BRIAN'S AMAZINGLY QUICK TRANSFORMATION     By Donny Mumford

                      BRIAN'S AMAZINGLY FAST TRANSFORMATION

                          Chapter Two            By Donny  Mumford


After Junior and Brett finished with me I drove home and was wandering around
inside our small apartment by three o'clock, very tired but mostly  pleased with
myself. Looking back on it, my behavior  during the interview was wimpy and I
probably came off as a pussy, but like they say,  desperate times call for
desperate measures. Bottom line: I got the  job! Right now I've settled in the
small bedroom my brother and I share; I'm smoking a cigarette. After each drag I
exhale the smoke into the window exhaust fan wondering how hot this bedroom will
get during the dog days of summer?  I've never  experienced a summer without
air-conditioning. Being poor is a  bitch! To be honest, I'm actually a little
bit of a snob. I mean, we lived in a ten room house most of my life. My bedroom
was my bedroom, I didn't need to share it, and I had my own bathroom too. And,
instead of working for two teenagers like this year, in past summers I'd be
hanging out at the country club or vacationing on Martha's Vineyard... earlier
in the year I'd be flying off from college for spring break in Florida or one of
the islands. Now I'm a common laborer. It's okay to feel a little sorry for
myself, right? Funny how I never thought much about "poor" when  we were kinda
rich; of course Junior picked-up on that fact and sarcastically drove it  home
to me quite effectively. I gotta admit, those two brothers are  really unique
and I begrudgingly respect them both to some degree.  It's odd though, now that
I'm away from them they don't seem as imposing as I thought they were when I was
with them. They're bullies is  what they  are. Oh, fuck it!   If a better job
comes along I'll tell these two to go  screw themselves. As a new employee
though, I intend do a good job for them although I'm not planning on taking any
more shit from them. Hell, there are probably laws about how you treat your
employees, and now I'm an employee.

In the bathroom taking a piss I think about the infuriating bossiness both boys
showed towards me, but still, even with the uncalled for bossiness I kinda like
them both. I'm also noticing something disturbing: unfair as it was to treat me
like they did, just thinking about their dominant  manner gets my cock squirmy
and warm. Hmmm, what's up with that? Well, how long has it been since I last got
laid?  My damn stuck-up ex-girlfriend, Lady Di, dumped me months ago. I did
promised myself a  whack-off earlier, so after I finish my pee I begin using my
dick for something else.  Dropping my cigarette butt in the toilet I stroke my
cock walking back into the bedroom.  Sitting on the edge  of my bed and lazily
pulling on   my dick I lay back and enjoy the way the  foreskin looks  sliding
on and off the knob of my five and a half inch cock. So cool! What a day this
has  been! I  certainly sprung more than my  share of boners during the
interview, one boner after another. Most of them occurred when Brett either
fondled me or ordered me around. I mean, he's just a untra-confident, bossy kid,
but when I visualize him now my dick grows into a full-blown boner. Hard to
believe how much those two teens totally dominated me, but they did, and that
thought is turning me on a little bit; how strange is that? Strange, yes, but my
dick feels pretty good and I'm really boning-up  tight. That cute little prick
Brett is one tough cookie alright! I can hear his boyish voice telling me what
to do, and I did what he said too! It's a laughably situation of course... you
know, that a twenty-two year old college senior like me, who's had a lot more
life experiences than both those boys put together, and who's older and bigger,
that I would totally knuckle-under to that pint-size fifteen year old is
ridiculous; I did knuckled-under though, and that's one for the books!   It's
uber odd alright, but wait a second... oh yeah, baby, here comes some precum
drooling out from my pee slit, drooling down the shaft.  Whoa, this is feeling
hot! My fist picks-up speed, me grunting with the effort, and then  a tingling
in my nuts and that slight ache near my balls at the inside of my thighs that
feels so awesome and signals a climax is building quickly.

On the edge of my bed, stroking my boner steadily, I stiffly extend my legs in
front of me and gently squeeze my nuts. The more I think about Junior grilling
me and breaking me down in  that initial interview, the  closer I get to
spunking; he made me feel inferior to him,  like I was the  little boy. No way
in hell am I inferior to either of those two. It was intimidating, so why is it
a turn-on for me too? "Ahh, mmmm," yeah, this is feeling better and better!  I
love jerking off! Just like Brett, Junior oozes confidence and  he's soooo bossy
too; he has that cute face, and both brothers have a sexy aroma about them.
 Another picture of Brett pops into my head; he's the one who had the  bigger
impact on me I think. I'm kinda liking recalling the rude  manner Brett used
with me, treating me harshly when it wasn't really necessary at all, and  "Uh
oh!!" ... my balls are getting hard and heavy, full of spunk and  they're moving
up to the base  of my boned-up cock. No way this is  happening so quickly! But
yes, the knobby head of my cock is expanding and my pee slit's opening and
closing,  drip, drip, drip goes the pre cum, and...  "Ahh, ohh ohh oh AHHHH!!!!"
Cum shoots up the shaft of my cock and flies out the swollen knob splattering
against the hardwood floor, just missing the little throw rug. Jesus! That  came
on me fast, and   it  was uber hot too. My fist is tightly stroking my
flag-pole-hard dick, and "Oh  god! Ohh, oh, oh, oooh!!!" two more fast flying
squirts of cum and then I fist my boner more slowly, pulling up creamy cum
drippings as my eyes rapidly blink and a buzzing in my ears makes me shake my
head. My shoulders  shudder with the aftershocks of the climax, and now there's
an electric buzzing zig-zagging around my  groin. Wow! After all the boners I've
sprung today I really needed  that awesome orgasm.

Laying back  on my bed still  stroking my cock, I have a strange  thought  about
my ex-girlfriend and how our  sex wasn't  all that hot for me. No, it   wasn't
at  all, and come to think about it, fucking her was more a chore  than anything
else. Jerking-off just now was hotter than fucking her.  Why didn't I recognize
that fact back then though? And how come I thought about the Knight brothers
while jerking off just now?  Slowly pulling on my dick I  give some thought to
the sexual implications of today's  activities,  and especially my time  spent
with Brett. It might be important that I make some sense of this because I'm
going to be working for those boys and, let's face it, I got a bit aroused being
grilled by them. Okay, I know I'm  not gay, so why did I spring those boners?
Geez, do those boys have some  kind of magical hold on me? No, that's stupid!
There's definitely some magnetism going on at the very least though, or  could
it simply be coincidence. You know, I do have a sorta subconscious  attraction
to dominant figures, and those two certainly qualify as dominant, so  maybe it's
nothing more than that. Yeah, that's probably it. Oh fuck it, I'm not  going to
complicate my life  trying  to analyze everything that happens in it... some
things just happen, and may never happen again. I got the job so,  case closed!
Forget about it.

Getting  off the bed I wipe up the cum splatters and then, while getting
undressed, try to think of something positive. Concentrate on the money I'll be
making, after all that's the whole reason for putting up with all the shit. It's
$104.00 per day and that's $520.00 a week. Sounds like a lot, but it's not
really. I used to get more money than that for my monthly spending money at
college. I used to get $600.00 a month and that was after every possible expense
was already covered by mom and dad, except gas for my BMW convertible. Damn, I
miss that car. Well, that was before dad's severance pay ran out, of course. Now
I gotta unload trucks to help pay for this dump of an  apartment!  Stepping into
the shower, still playing with  my dick, I change the subject again, thinking,
"It's hard to believe, but I'm  definitely gonna need to jerk off again. I'm
still feeling aroused and horny. Those goddamm  Knight brothers really got to
me! I stay under the  water spray for twenty minutes trying to wash away the
lustful feeling, and finally  have some success with that. Drying myself I'm
back to thinking about the money  and have this happy realization: I'm not a
full-time  employee  so  there won't be any withholding taxes from my pay. Okay,
that's thinking about positive things again... drop the negativity!  Things are
looking up, think good thoughts.

Naked, I sit on the bed and text Mikey the good news  about the job. He'd just
gotten out of classes for the day and excitedly texted me back with his
congratulations. We went back and forth for  almost an  hour. Mikey ragged on me
when I told him about my haircut, but by the time we finished texting he wanting
to get a haircut like mine for the simple reason he wants to be like me. That
kid's always had a sort of hero worship where I'm concerned; it's damn
flattering actually. Hell, I'll take him with me to Leo's when he gets out of
school in two weeks.  He can get a burr haircut like mine. It was fun texting
with him, he's such a great kid. After that I text two friends from   college
and  they  both text back with different  opinions about my  new job. One guy
exclaimed, "I  can't believe you're going to waste  your summer working!" which
was an  interesting take on it; I see where he's coming from. The other kid is
working this summer too; working for his father. He  was more  sympathetic than
anything  else. Neither of them is poor so  they missed the point of my text to
them, which  is: I'm totally relieved to have this  job. If they knew how I had
to grovel to get it, that would be embarrassing!

Mom got home after her day at work and almost fainted when she saw my haircut.
I'm already used to it though. Maybe I'm rationalizing, but it's actually a
relief not  needing to bother with a hairdryer and grooming and all that. I
kinda like the short hair. Of course, since Brett's ordered me to get a burr
haircut every two  weeks it's convenient that I do like it 'cause I sure as shit
don't have any say about it, which sucks! When I explained to mom that the
haircut is a requirement for my new job, she goes, "You got the  job!" and
became very excited about that which helped me justify what I had to go through
to get it. She's  proud  I'd gotten such a good paying summer  job and after a
bit we discussed how best to use the money. I'm gonna check  to see what kind of
financial aid I qualify for next year at  college, and believe  me  I hate doing
that; hate begging for a hand-out, but that's my situation now. Anyway, whatever
aid is available I'll still need a college loan, so more groveling for that. The
loan will  take care of most of my college expenses, except maybe my daily
spending  money. Eventually we decide I  should take $50.00 for my current
personal spending money right now, save $200.00 in the bank for spending money
at college, and the rest of the money from each paycheck mom can use for
household expenses, or to pay against her credit  cards. My days of receiving a
$600.00 monthly allowance are history. I'll be working twelve weeks, so that's a
total of $2400.00 representing my total spending money for my entire senior year
at college. Oh brother, being poor really does suck! Mom cried a little as we
discussed the money, but these were happy tears. The  tension seems to have
lessened   around her eyes, and generally the atmosphere in the apartment felt
more relaxed now that I have this job, like, "We're gonna be okay after all."

I don't start work until Monday so I'm  free for the weekend, but there's really
nothing much going on for me here in  Framingham. What the hell, I'll do
something useful. After  thinking about it I  decide to brighten up  the
apartment by painting the living  room and  kitchen. The painting took all of
Saturday and was not much fun, but I got a kick out of thinking how being a
house painter is the sort of thing Brett and Junior can look forward to after
high school because they sure don't seem like college material to me.  Then,
remembering I need to buy gym shorts for exercising at work, I head for the mall
Sunday afternoon. After buying the shorts I hang out for a couple hours window
shopping for things I used to be able to buy, but the window shopping soon got
too depressing. Sunday night mom and I splurge and go out to dinner at the
Ninety-Nine restaurant... whoop-de-fucking-do! Hell, I can remember a time we
wouldn't think of going to the Ninety-Nine; it used to be beneath us.  Well,
money talks and bullshit walks and we don't have much money so we're left with
the rest.  Anyway, we had a few  cocktails before dinner and Mom   told me adult
type  things that took place during dad's illness. I felt  like a grown-up
having this discussion with  her, which is cool. I could tell  she expects to be
leaning on me for support which is something I  feel pretty good about. She
raised me and now  I'm an adult and  can help her cope with raising Mikey as a
single parent. It was a good dinner and a good time with mom, she actually
laughed a  couple of times so things are looking up and that's mostly because of
my job.

Monday morning I left for work at six o'clock and I'm sitting in the gym at
six-thirty drinking a take-out coffee. Guys trickled in over the next twenty
minutes; we introduce ourselves and made small  talk. By  five  minutes of seven
all  ten of us dock workers were present and accounted for.  We were neat,
totally squared-away, and after changing into gym shorts and t-shirts in the
locker room, we're all  dressed alike too. The guys range in age from  eighteen
to twenty nine. A  couple of African  American guys, three Hispanic guys who
spoke  to each other in Spanish, and five white guys.  They're a serious bunch
like you might expect with Junior and Brett  in charge; serious, but cordial.
While the guys are friendly enough, I don't get the feeling I'll be making  any
close friends from this group.  It's only a summer job though, so as far as
interacting with the group goes, just getting along  with  everyone is the main
thing. At two minutes to seven the guys begin lining-up, standing at attention;
so I do too. Brett walks in  exactly at seven and is just as officious with the
whole group as he was with me last Friday. The Knight brothers apparently aren't
big  on  banter or  joking around;  it's all  very professional and everyone
appears   totally on-board with the program. Brett, this fifteen year old
baby-faced kid, stands in front of grown men and commands respect; it's obvious
he gets it from  these guys  so why  wouldn't I  give it to him too? Brett says,
"Before we start this morning, I want  to introduce our two new part-timers.
 Delmont  White, raise your hand." We'd introduced ourselves to one another
already, but Delmont, a nice looking African American guy about my age, raises
his hand and then snaps back to  attention. He  recently got out of the Army.
"Where's Brian O'Rielly?" I'm in the second line raising my hand,  and then I
try to snap back to attention like Delmont just did, but step on the foot of the
guy next to me, and mumble, "Sorry," as Brett glares at me, shaking his head
slowly from side to side.

That was it for the pleasantries.  We did fifteen  minutes of fast  calisthenics
leaving me sweating and breathless,  but I was definitely awake and  looking
forward to work. It appears the other guys, including the new guy, can all do
these exercises much easier than I can; they weren't even breathing  hard. I
thought I was a  pretty good athlete at prep school, but keeping up with Brett
isn't easy. The work has to be easier than the  calisthenics. My uniform  of tan
cargo shorts, white short-sleeve golf shirt and red vest were in plastic bags at
my locker, brand new; same for my  sneakers. I again looked like everyone else
when I dressed and stepped out onto the  dock. As the day progressed the work
load remained fairly steady, but not too bad. It's hot on the dock but the
lifting is bearable and we  have dollies to help  with the heavier cartons.
Plus, we get a break in the morning and another one in the afternoon. There's
also occasional busy-work that  keeps the day moving along. No  bitching,
arguments, disputes, or complaints from anyone, well I had a couple of
complaints, but I kept them to myself.  Junior was totally on top of everything
and when we weren't  loading or unloading delivery trucks or customers vehicles
we stocked shelves with the stuff we'd unloaded earlier.

Lunch in the workers  cafeteria at noon was fine. I bought lunch from the
vending machines  while the other  guys brought their lunch from home. After
tasting the vending machine   food,  I decided to join the others  and
brown-bag my lunch  too. The  day went by fine except Brett signaled me out
twice: once for talking too much, if you can believe that! That was right after
lunch and I had to do a lap around the parking lot which was embarrassing
because of the customers coming and going. They had to be wondering why a kid
dressed in the BJ uniform was running around the parking lot in this heat.
Thankfully none of my co-workers made fun of me. Then, later in the afternoon,
Brett made me do twenty push-ups for chewing gum on the job. I didn't know we
weren't allowed to chew gum. There were a few snickers from a few of the
full-timers because I had to do the push-ups in plain site of customers who
gawked over as I shouted out the number for each push-up... Brett and the other
guys standing around me.  Then he ordered me to stand at attention in front of
all these people and ordered me to open my mouth wide so he could take the gum
out and stick it on my nose, where it stayed until the end of the  day. Okay,
that was more than a little embarrassing. Except for those two red-faced moments
I was golden. Junior and Brett have us so well   supervised things went like
clockwork most of the time. No malingering, everyone was eager to  get the job
done.

Overall my first day at work went by kind of quickly and that pretty much was
the norm for the whole first week except on Wednesday when Brett assigned me
three laps around the parking lot, in the rain, for getting back from lunch
thirty seconds late. Thirty fucking seconds! Anyway, Friday has   rolled around
and I can hardly wait to look at my paycheck. After all, that's what this is all
about. It's sucked the last few months not having money in my pocket. I'd have
to say, everything considered, I'm fitting-in pretty well at BJ's, especially
considering that this is the first job I've ever had. Then, Friday afternoon
Brett tells me he needs to see me in the gym  after the last bell; that's the
bell signaling the end of our work day. It worries me a little because he didn't
include the other new guy to attend this after work meeting. Trying to
figure-out what I may have done  wrong leaves me blank. Except for those three
performance blips I mentioned earlier, as far as I know, I've handled everything
okay. After  changing into my  every-day clothes I  report to the gym. No one's
there so I sit on the lifting bench yearning for my after-work  cigarette, then
I  think, "Oops! Get at attention!", which I did about ten seconds before  Brett
walks in. That was close; I gotta remember the attention thing. I was kinda
impressed with Brett the first day I met him, and even though he rides me more
than the other guys my admiration for him has actually grown with each new day.
As a matter of fact, during this first week you might say I've developed this
sort of man-crush thingie for him. Not gay! It's a respect thing, although he
does look good too... as in cool, you know. Brett  looks fresh and sorta new.
He's real clean-cut and reeks confidence, which I admire. Wish I was more  like
that, but I'm not. He's small of stature and about a foot shorter than me, at
five-foot-four, but really well put together. Taut, slim body; very strong for
his size. Maybe he could smile once in awhile... that'd be nice. It's funny that
he has this youthful sounding voice, but yet it carries a tone of  authority
along with it's  youthfulness. He looks younger than fifteen too. Brett's an
improbable combination of  contradictions, but  there he is, bigger than life.

The first thing he says to me is, "Get your gym shorts on, and make it snappy!"
Just like that, no explanation. It'd be nice to  know why I need to  put my gym
shorts on since my work day's over, but I say,  "Yes, Sir,"  and hustle into
the locker room, thinking, "He did it to me again!"  His unnecessarily abruptly
dominant manner has my dick stirring, but what the hell, mostly I get a kick out
of playing submissive  for him. Anyway, I'm sorta relieved he wants  me in gym
shorts 'cause if he was going to fire me I probably  wouldn't need to put gym
shorts on. When I reemerge from the locker room Brett's  writing something at
the desk so I stand at attention and wait. After what seems like an hour, I
sneak a look at the wall clock and  see I've been standing here twenty minutes.
This must be  some kind of new test.  A few minutes later Brett comes  over
and, without explaining why he made me stand here so long, he says, "Take off
the t-shirt." I pull the tee over my  head, toss it towards the side chair at
his desk, and get back in the attention position, wondering, "What the fuck is
it now?" Brett walks behind  me and rubs my buttocks, then grabs my ass with
both hands, murmuring, "Stay still." He grips and re-grips my butt cheeks with
those small, strong hands of his. He'd done this  same thing during my
interview. A finger traces  my ass crack starting from behind my scrotum,  up
across my anus to the top of my buttocks. Then the finger travels back down to
stop at my  anus where extra pressure is  applied with just the tip of his
finger, then additional pressure and it feels like some of my underwear material
is getting pushed up my butt hole. My dick has a mind of it's own and begins
squirming around in my shorts as my breathing turns into little gasps. This kid
just gets my  blood boiling.  My head's about to explode with the question,"What
the fuck are you  doing now?" but, like I said, I've been  through this  sort of
thing with Brett during my interview so I know to just ride  it out. The
pressure on my asshole continues and  there's  simply no doubt about it,
material has been pushed up my asshole, and now his finger  tip is inside me
too. Brett asks, "Have you been doing exercises for your  weak  glutes? It
doesn't feel like you have!" More pressure and by now the underwear and gym
shorts  material has been worked up my asshole about an inch, and it's very
uncomfortable making me go up on my toes slightly. To his question, I say, "No,
Sir. I haven't done those exercises because you  never showed me how to do
them." He sarcastically comes back with, "And you wouldn't think to  remind me,
would you??"  Harder pressure on my hole has me meekly complaining, "Ah, ohh,
that's very unpleasant, Sir. Please!" He  asks, "Haven't you ever had a
prostate exam?" I grunt, "I don't think so," now I'm fully up  on my toes
reaching back to hold onto Brett for balance. He says, "Maybe you need to have
one," and he takes his finger out of me then, but the underwear material stays
up my ass.

Brett's casually sucking on his lips and looking   unconcerned as he comes
around in front of me. I've got my feet flat on the floor again, but my  asshole
feels like it's stuffed full, and it's the oddest feeling. And then,  just  like
that, another memory of Frank Barns flashes past my brain. It's the memory of
the first time he pushed his willie up my bum when we were both eleven or twelve
years old. From the second the head of his cock  got past my sphincter it felt
totally "filled-up" back there, sorta like it feels  now. Brett's rubbing the
palms of his hands up my bare sides now, the back of his hand rubbing against
the inside of my  arms, as he asks, "How'd ya  think you did this first week on
the job?"  I'm disconcerted by my stuffed asshole to start with, and now this
additional  touching makes me stutter, "Huh, oh, ah ah, I thank, I mean, I think
I did okay. Do da, did I?" He  goes, "You've already accumulated three demerits
in the first week, ten demerits and you're gone. Plus, your calisthenics are
poor and I almost sent you  home today because of that. Since I didn't, Junior's
ordered me to  give  you personal coaching to  help you do the exercises
properly." I mumble, "Oh, I thought I..." but let my whine run out before
finishing it. Brett's now  rubbing  around my belly button, giving me shivers.
He  says, "Put your hands in the air," and  when I do he glances at my pitts,
pull on a few armpit hairs, then yanks a few out, and I yelp, "Owww!" Rubbing
his fingers together dislodging the underarm hairs, he looks me in the eyes, and
says, "It's a pain in the ass that I need to stay after work on a Friday night
to teach you how to exercise, but I  follow Junior's orders  the same way you
follow mine. Anyway, we'd be staying even if I didn't  need to give you further
training. Put your hands down." As usual, I'm confused about why he does the
things he does or says the things he says; often they makes no sense, but even
so... there's always this mysterious buzzing in my balls when he's addressing
me.

Brett's rubbing the palms of his hands over my abdominal muscles now, then up
to pinch my nipples which he then rolls between his thumb and forefinger until
they're taut. I'm thinking, "I should protest I guess, but   what's  the big
deal, and anyway it feels good." With my nipples rigidly sticking out from my
chest, Brett's hands move back down  my body. I study the expression of
concentration on his  cute face. His eyes are a beautiful shade of blue with
darker-blue  highlights making them shine. His dark brown hair and blue eyes are
a striking contrast! He glances up at me, and sternly orders, "Avert your eyes
when I'm examining you!" I guess I was staring at him again; he's  nice to  look
at. My eyes dart  downward at his command and I now see, as well as  feel, his
hands low on my  belly, and that gets my dick moving even more.  Brett's finger
tips go under the waistband of my underwear. He runs his fingernails through the
top of my pubic hairs, I gasp and Brett  says, "Steady, I'm testing the muscle
development of your internal obliques, and frankly, they're not   impressive."
His fingers are all through my pubes now, touching  the top of my cock, which
begins to enlarge, leaning to the left. I hate to  admit it, but his  hands feel
really good on my belly. No one's ever touched me like this. Certainly not Frank
Barns or any of my  girlfriends. As Brett rubs against the shaft of my dick I
suck in a lot of air, and he complains, "Don't  tell me you're    getting
another erection?!" Breathlessly, I say, "I'm trying not to, Sir." He pulls his
hands out of my shorts then, and once again surprises the shit out of me by
flipping the side of his  index  finger up under my nose roughly pulling my
nostrils upward. One of my dark blond pubic hairs leaves   his  finger and
sticks to my nostril for just a second before floating away. He says, "Lean your
head down," and when I do he runs his fingers through my burr-cut hair,
mumbling, "Don't be so afraid of being touched! Haven't you ever had a physical
examination?" I mumble, "Oh, yeah, a couple of times." He runs his fingers back
and forth through my short hair, and says, "Before next Friday be sure to have
this cut again. I want it kept short and crisp." That outrageously inappropriate
command gets my dick poking out the front of my gym shorts. Brett sees it  and
makes eye contact while placing the palm of his hand right on my firm cock,
leaving it there. I suck in more air through my teeth as my cock gets harder and
harder. He arrogantly continues staring me in the eyes, like, "What are ya gonna
do about it?"  He's done this before and I have no idea how to react to it. I
bite my bottom lip and look down; he's so cocky  and  confident! No  one's ever
had this affect on me before... well, maybe Frank Barns, a little bit.

Brett finally removes his hand and backs away taking a huge breathy intake of
air, as if he'd been holding his breath, and then he's all business once more.
"The largest  muscle in your body is the gluteus maximus in your butt  area.
That's what we'll work on first and then I'll help you with the   calisthenics.
There's three reasons I'm putting  this extra time in with you: one, because you
need it and, two, because Junior told me to. The most interesting reason though,
is the third one; I'm doing it because you hold a special interest for Junior
and me. The thing is, that  special interest won't work  properly unless you can
do the regular job  properly too. Understand?" Of course I don't  understand! I
don't have a fucking clue what he's  talking about, and I'm getting sick of it.
I say, "No, I  don't understand.....  um, Sir." Brett's  over at  the desk
getting a chart of some  kind and I take the opportunity to reach back and pull
the bunched-up material out of my  asshole. Over his shoulder, he says, "Well,
actually, you don't  need to understand, just do what you're  told and  you'll
find out soon enough." The chart he carries back describes,  with pictures,
various exercises for the buttocks. Things like: step ups, hip extensions,
one-leg dead lift, and seven others. We spend five minutes on each exercise, me
performing the exercise after each explanation, and let me tell you, my ass
muscle, whatever the fuck he called it, is sore  as hell  by the time we're
done. I do what I'm told though, sweat rolling down my face, my  hairless bare
chest  shiny with  perspiration too. Brett's relentless.

Finally  finished all ten exercises with me breathing deeply, Brett sums-up.
"Well, O'Rielly, I'm  feeling better about you after this workout. You gave me
your undivided  attention, you  were fully committed, and you did  your  best.
Good  job!" This is rare praise from Brett, and I   beamed, "Thank  you, Sir!"
He  then instructs me do each of the  exercises five times a day at home, and
he'll be checking my butt for muscle development. Then we begin with the
calisthenics instruction. After being corrected by Brett as to how to properly
do each exercise, I do them, five to six minutes for each: jumping jacks, leg
thrusts, chin-ups, and all  the rest of them, on and on it went. Eventually I
feel faint with exhaustion and ask to take a break for some water. Brett goes,
"Don't fuck up now, O'Rielly,  you've been doing okay up till now." He allows me
to drink from the lavatory sink in the locker room as he fetches a little brown
bottle from his desk. When I'm back standing at attention,  Brett holds the
bottle  under my nose, and says, "Here, take a big whiff of this, it'll help you
be more alert". I'm exhausted, as I said, plus by now I'm used to doing whatever
Brett says, so I inhale the vapors from the  bottle without questioning it.
After inhaling I notice a warm  sensation traveling around  my body. "A  deep
inhale, Brian!" He called me 'Brian' for once; that's so nice. To   impress him,
I take the deepest inhale I can manage,  and the warmth is followed by a smooth
relaxation of my muscles. It feels so mellow, but somehow it's also an exciting
sensation too. And then a dizziness follows, "One more deep inhale, Brian," and
again I  do as I'm told. Oh man, the head rush! It's followed by  a feeling of
euphoria,  and my dick feels awesome.

Brett explains, "It's poppers. Feeling  good, Brian?" I've never heard of
"poppers" but he's being so nice to me I nod my head that I'm feeling  good,
while thinking, "I liked Brett right from the start.  He's da bomb!"  He checks
my silly grin then reaches between my legs and gets a fistful of  my cock and
balls pulling on them to get me to follow him, "Come over here and  sit down." I
go, "Oh!" as he  adds, "The  alkyl nitrites vapors relax the muscles, smooth
everything out for ya." Leading me by my cock we head for the other side of the
gym, near the lifting  bench. Of course  I'm puzzled as to why he's  got my
penis in his hand, but I'm not into questioning Brett so I don't ask, instead I
stumble along awkwardly after him. I'm feeling so relaxed, but dizzy too so his
bizarre hold on my dick gets rationalized away.  Anyway, I don't mind him
grabbing my cock 'cause he's being nice about it and it feels good having that
little hand around my meat.

At the lifting bench he orders me to sit down and of course I do. Then it seems
he's massaging my cock, but what the hell, he's always massaging something on me
anyway so it's okay for him to do that, and it's feeling better and better every
second that passes. Out of nowhere, Junior appears, and tells  Brett, "Give him
another hit off the poppers." I nod at Junior and  he  returns my nod with  a
grin;  I believe it's the first one I've seen  from  him. Brett holds behind my
head with one hand  and puts the brown  bottle  right against one of my
nostrils,  "Inhale again, Brian. You're doing  good." I inhale and feel dizzier,
but  wonderful at the same time. Brett says,  "Okay, stand up now and we'll get
these   uncomfortable gym shorts  off  ya." I'm like, "Huh?" but stand up with
the help  of  Junior, and then I actually assist Brett taking off my shorts and
boxers, thinking, "Why  am I getting undressed?"  I've been almost naked in
front of these two before, so what the  hell. When I step out of my shorts Brett
takes my penis in his fist again and strokes it five or six times. He's got
those awesome small strong hands. The foreskin of my five and a half inch pink
penis is sliding on and off the sensitive head of my cock, it's feeling so good
I shiver and shudder. Erectile blood comes rushing in, firming my cock up
quickly. "How's that feel, Brian?" I'm not sure if he's asking about the vapors
again or about my cock being stroked, but both things feel sooo good, I mumble,
"Good, I feel good. Thanks, Brett." Right away I'm thinking, "Oops! I  called
him Brett, instead of Sir!" He didn't  seem to care. "Here, you take hold of
your  dick for a second, Brian," I again go,  "Huh?" as  I  get a fist around my
cock, which is pretty  much  boned-up by now. "Get a couple  of pictures,
Brett," says  Junior. I look stupidly at Brett, he says,  "Smile," and for some
reason that makes me laugh. Using his cell  phone, Brett takes a  couple  of
pictures of me laughing while standing there naked with my boner in my  fist.

Junior's behind me now.  "Arms back, Brian," I go, "Why's that?", but put my
arms back and Junior ties my wrists together. Then, pushing on my shoulders, he
says, "Rest here on the bench again." I sit, the bench is cold on my bare ass
making me go, "Oh!" and after a bit my  head's clearing so as I watch him tie my
ankles together, I'm like, "Whoa, what the fuck's going on." Junior says, "More
poppers, Brett," but this time I turn my head away, saying, "No, don't!"  and
ask, "Why'd you tie me up?" Junior gets an arm around my head and holds it still
while  Brett puts the poppers right under my nose. I try breathing  through my
mouth  but Junior covers it  with his  hand, his body and mine  tight together.
Holding my breath  doesn't work for long and I finally need to breathe. The
poppers are held right under my nose for  a minute or two and  that  wonderful,
smooth, relaxed, but exciting feeling is soon all over me again. Crazily, I
realize I like  Junior holding me  like this; he smells nice... actually he
smells sexy. My cock has never, ever, been  this hard. The side of  Junior's
face is against the side of mine, he's saying, "We don't  want to hurt you,
Brian... not if we can help it anyway. You're gonna be our boy-toy and possibly
we'll even promote you to slave boy." I can feel his lips moving against my
cheek, but not much of what he's saying is making sense. Readjusting his arm to
get it tighter around my neck, he says, "When I called you in to interview you I
had every  intention of pissing all over you for what you did to us boys at the
country club last summer. First you smugly mocked us lawn cutting boys, and
then later got us fired, but I changed my mind about that when Brett and  I saw
you up  close. We both had the same thought: what better payback than making you
our new boy-toy? Ya see, we like dominating hot  looking, older, bigger  boys.
Plus, you used to be rich so that adds a  little to our fun too." Brett holds
the bottle under  my nose again and I inhale without thinking. My scrambled mind
is trying to  comprehend what  Junior's saying, without much  success. What
sticks out in my mind is him  saying they don't want to hurt me. But what's a
boy toy?  And I don't like the sound of slave boy!

"Okay, Brian, lay back on the  bench... rest." Well, I am  exhausted, and for
good reason: Working all day on the loading dock and then doing the exercises
for well over an hour after that, I was about ready to drop anyway and then
those poppers overwhelmed my weakened condition, but strangely I  don't feel too
bad. Junior strokes my cock as I lay uncomfortably on top of my tied  hands. I'm
unable to form sensible thoughts with all the popper shit in my  head, but all
of a sudden one reality becomes   very clear to me, "Hey, I'm gonna have an
orgasm right  here and  now if my boss continues jerking me off like this!" That
realization should have been shocking to  me, but it's not somehow. And, it's
feels sooo good I'm allowing myself to enjoy the sensations. Then, my  head is
clearing a little bit more, and it's like, "Oh my God! What's going on here?"
 My boner's so hard it's sticking straight  up from my groin and I'm right on
the verge of spunking, precum's running down Junior's fist.  Junior wipes his
hand in my bristly hair, then backs away from my naked, tied-up body, and says
to Brett, "Just get a couple of pictures  from his thighs to his head. We gotta
get a couple pictures of that boner! Have you ever seen a harder boner?" Brett
reaches over and strokes it a few times, muttering, "It's not that big, but it's
still a beauty alright...  hard as stone!" He backs away and picks up his cell
phone and takes a couple more  pictures of me as  Junior's  commenting, "His
boner's like a drawing, don't ya think?" I feel proud they like my cock and it
is a nice looking one, but I'm not too thrilled they think it's small. Bet it's
bigger than their little peckers! They've stopped stroking it so my  boner's
leaning down, level and about an inch away from my belly now, pointing stiffly
at my chin with a drool of precum connecting the head of my cock to my belly
button.  It's a wicked hard  boner and feels as good as it's ever felt. I'm
still  desperately wanting to make sense of this, but my cock has taken control
of my brain and it's in charge of my thinking process at the moment. Mostly I'm
concentrating on how awesome it feels. Boner's are wonderful things!

As the pictures are snapped by Brett, Junior's retrieving something from the
desk. He hands Brett a plastic bottle of hand lotion, and says, "Finish him off
and we'll get the cum shots." Brett pours thick white hand lotion onto the palm
of his hand and then begins stoking my boner with the slippery substance which
increases the sensations at the head of  my cock significantly.  His fast,
slippery, tight stroking got me there quickly; after only a minute or so I'm
humping up off the bench ready to blow my load, going, "Ohh  ahh, oh oh, ahhh,"
and then a hard stream of cum shoots out of  my swollen knob arcing up and over
to spray my chin.  I groan out loudly "Ahhhh!" as another  fast   flying spurt
of  spunk  hits my  lips followed  by a fine cum spray on my chest and belly.
 Two more slippery strokes on my cock and it's back to it's stone status
sticking straight up from my belly again. Droplets of cum slide out from the pee
slit and  slowing drool down  the shaft to pool  around my pubes... creamy white
spunk mixed in with the creamy hand lotion. With spunk on  my face, neck, chest,
and belly, I stare  at those last drops of drooling cum, loving the after-effect
of climax; stupidly becoming fascinated by my situation. As I'm staring at my
cock like a slack jaw fool, Junior unties my hands and steps away from me and I
sit-up to instinctively get my fist around my dick and stroke it a few times.
Brett's taking pictures, click, click, click. Oh God, I'm still a little dizzy,
but that was an awesome climax. The   popper daze is finally clearing though,
and it's like, "Oh my, what the fuck is going on here?" I let go of my cock and
form the words, "This ain't  right! Why are   you  doing this?"  Two more
pictures taken by  Brett's cell  phone, then he asks, "Can I tell  him,
Junior?" Junior goes, "Sure," and I think, "Get your legs untied while you have
the chance!"  I start  desperately untying my legs, Brett  says, "Here, let me
help ya, Brian," and he knocks my hands away and easily unties the leather
strips. I watch Junior walking away with  Brett's cell  phone, and yell after
him, "Hey! Where ya going   with that?"

Brett straddles the lifting bench, smiling at me. He  says, "Forget about that.
Here, sit like me!  We can look at each other while we're talking." This is the
'nice Brett' although he changes from nice to pricky without missing a
beat. I do what he says and straddle the  bench without  thinking, then get
pissed-off at myself for always doing what I'm told. Brett puts a hand on my
shoulder, looks me in the eyes and talks to me as though he hates having to tell
me this, "To  be perfectly honest with you, Brian,  you're totally fucked!" For
a second I feel like he's going to help me get un-fucked somehow, but with a
friendly squeeze of my shoulder and a cute, dimple-filled grin, it becomes
obvious the fifteen year  old has no intention of helping me. He adds, "You're
totally fucked, but it doesn't need to be a totally bad thing. First off, let me
be upfront with you: While we're not gay, Junior and me have a rather bizarre
hobby  involving gay behavior, which I'll explain in a minute. With that being
said, I need to add that I'm pretty good  at analyzing when a guy is leaning
towards gay behavior himself, and you're more than leaning... take my word for
it. Anyway, this is what's up: Junior and me like to have  fun experimenting
with dominant  gay  sex, a touch of BDSM too... well, more than a touch of it
actually. Here's our problem though: we don't feel right doing it with each
other. We've solved that problem by recruiting guys like you to do it on." My
mouth's hanging open  and  there's a deep frown on my face... another slack jaw
fool look. I'm thinking, "BDSM? I've no idea what it is, but it don't sound too
good!"  Brett's quiet for a few seconds letting everything sink in.

Frowning at him I begin slowly shaking my head back and forth, like, "This isn't
really    happening!"  Brett doesn't care for my head shaking; he makes an
exasperated noise in his throat, looks angry and reverts to his prick mode
by clamping his fingers on my jaw, and sternly saying, "Don't shake your fucking
head like that!" Then his other hand comes around and slaps my face hard. I'm so
shocked I just stare at him as he takes a big breath, apparently calming
himself, after which, in a softer voice, he  says, "Listen to what I have to
say, okay, and everything  will be fine.  By fine, I mean you'll be able to keep
your job  and Junior won't distribute those pictures I  took of you." His
clenched fingers still squeezing my jaw, I ask, "Distribute to   who?" Brett
says, "To whoever he feels like. Like the references on your job  application,
for example; or to Brown University  or to  St. John prep where your brother is
still in  attendance... like that." The reality of my situation is setting in
and I'm not liking it one bit. These two have all kinds of personal information
about me from my job application. I ask, "What's BDSM?" Brett goes, "Oh, it's
nothing to worry about, not the way Junior and I do it. We're not into hardcore
stuff... yet. It stands for bondage and discipline. The S & M parts come in with
dominance and submissive, you know, sadistic and masochistic activities.  Oh,
it's nothing to worry about really. You'll be submissive and me and Junior will
be in charge of the rest. Look, all you need to  do is be our boy-toy and do
what we say. Brett and me will play with your body and your head, and we'll all
have fun; your responsibility as our boy-toy is to totally submit to our will,
that's all.  If you're a good boy, the pictures will never be seen by  anyone
else.  How 'bout that?!" Un-fucking-believable!!! I'm royally  pissed-off now,
even to the degree that I'm putting aside how  important this job is to me. All
I can think of: "Enough of this smug bullying from a fucking fifteen year old!"

While Brett's explaining BDSM Junior comes back.   Both brothers put on smiley,
friendly expressions awaiting my response to Brett's, "How 'bout that?". I nod
curtly at Junior, then look at Brett, and say, "Yeah, that sounds swell... or,
here's another idea: how 'bout instead of me going along with your sick proposal
I start kicking the shit out of both of  you and keep kicking the shit out of
you until you give me that fucking cell phone? How about we do that?" They have
a good laugh at my response and their laughter seems real enough. Junior  says,
"Oh man, that's a terrible idea, Brian. The pictures are already loaded in my
computer.  Hey, do  yourself a favor and forget about kicking the shit out of
anybody." It's the light-hearted way they rejected the idea of getting beat-up
that throws me off. All that confidence: there's gotta be some reason for that.
Brett's still chuckling, then says, "Jeez, I hope you're not gonna go down the
road our last boy-toy took. We had to do it  the hard way with him, which just
delayed him having any fun. Junior and I have a blast in either case." Junior
adds, "And anyway, you couldn't even beat Brett in a fight one on one, he'd
jujitsu your ass like you can't believe, never mind both  Brett and me pounding
on you together. Plus, like I  said, we don't want to seriously hurt you if we
can avoid it." I look  over at Brett who's still grinning as he nods his head
agreeing with Junior. Junior's a few inches taller than Brett, with pretty
bright green eyes instead of blue like his brother. Same nice brown  hair, cut
short and combed down on top with the bangs flipped up in front. Other than the
eyes, the brothers look a lot alike and have similar slim bodies, Junior's just
a little bit older and bigger version of Brett, that's all. They appear to be
sharing the same brain  too.

It's very disconcerting the way their attitudes  are so fucking changeable, nice
one  minute and  then they're pricks the next; I don't know what to think.
Junior squeezes Brett's shoulder affectionately, then replaces him on the bench
straddling  it and facing me. He scoots up close and cups behind my neck with
both hands, tender like. Looking  into my  eyes, with sincerity, he quietly
says, "Life isn't always fair, Brian. You of all  people, recently losing your
father and all, should know that. This isn't going to be fair to you either, but
nonetheless the reality of the situation is that we got ya and there's  nothing
you  can do about it. Also, Brett's been  doing  feelers on you to evaluate your
potential for going along with our program, and  as he's already told you,
you're the perfect  candidate for our gay BDSM activities and experimentation.
He's good at evaluating stuff, and your reactions during the interview, as well
as your reaction just a little while ago, all indicates you're perfect for us.
You accepted all that inappropriate touching he's been doing on  your body,  for
example... and that alone points to you being gay. Maybe your conscious mind
isn't aware of that fact yet, but it will be before we're done with you." Then,
just like Brett's  always  doing, Junior  gently rubs through my burr haircut
and it occurs to me that they do this as if I'm their pet dog or cat. Junior
says, "How about you admit to yourself that this time Brett and I gotcha, and
that the best thing for you is to just resign yourself to going along with our
program.  It's better that way, the boy-toy experience will go much better for
you if you're fully  cooperative 'cause discipline is a big part of it and,
believe me, you probably want to avoid as much of that as you can. During the
workday  Brett and I need to be stern with you 'cause you're an employee, but
after work when we're at play we'd like to lighten-up a little. Lighten-up
occasionally, that is. Am I right, it's better to lighten things up once in a
while?" I  stupidly nod my head because I can't think of a good answer to that
meandering statement/question.

As soon as I nod, Junior stands up and claps his hands, "Good! Your doing the
smart thing, Brian!  Brett and I  both had a good feeling  about  you  right
from the start." My minds going a mile a minute  as I try to figure out exactly
the kind of  behavior gay BDSM experimentation might be. And then there's that
word he used; discipline. I don't like the sound of that one bit. They're both
in upbeat moods now, but I'm  not keeping up. I say, "Please,  wait a second!
Can ya spell it out for me, can you explain what you're talking about like  I'm
a six year old?" They both laugh, and then shout at the same time, "No!"
followed by more chuckling. Brett adds,  "You don't need to know what's going to
happen next. All you need to do is be docile for us and do what your told, and
do it as soon as you're told to  do it. If we can help it, as I've already said,
we won't hurt you in  any kind of a serious way; after all, we're not
psychopaths." Junior says, "Here's an idea: Get this thought running around in
your head, Brian. Say it over and over, like a mantra. Think... 'I'm a boy-toy
for Junior and Brett', 'I'm a boy-toy for Junior and Brett'. I want you to say
that  for me a  couple of times   outloud?" I shake my  head  'no' and the
poppers are  under my nose again with Brett  mumbling, "Damn... apparently it's
gonna  need to be the hard way." As I'm pushing Brett's hand away, Junior
circles around behind me and pulls some kind of hood over my head. Brett's hand,
the one holding the brown  bottle,  is under the hood  along with my head so the
popper vapors are stronger than ever. I rustle around, resisting the little bit
I can; Junior's got my arms pinned behind me and then he pulls me off the bench
and I'm disoriented. Junior quickly gets me  in  some kind of wrestling hold
rendering  me helpless; the brothers are fast and strong and know what they're
doing. Junior was right, in a fight against the two of them, I wouldn't have a
chance.

A minute is all it took for them to put me in  la la land along with the alkyl
nitrites. The boys are now busy tying me  up again, tighter and in a much more
elaborate fashion this time. My wrists are secured up against my biceps, then a
strip of leather is  pushed   through at the bend in my elbows and the elbows
are tied tightly  together partially across my back, almost pulling my arms out
of their sockets. My ankles are secured to the upper part of my under-thighs
with my heels touching my buttocks. The aching in my knees is significant. When
I'm totally hog tied they set me on my knees, my feet in  the air, my forehead
on a wrestling mat, and my elbows stretched along my back. Brett smacks my naked
buttocks, and says, "Stay like this until you're told it's okay to move," and
then another "WHACK!!" on my ass follows. Junior chuckles, and says to Brett,
"You're too funny,  Brett! Let's give our boy a chance to think things over for
a while. Come on, I'll treat ya to a soda; hell, I'll get us all sodas."  Their
voices fade away as they leave the gym. No use me yelling, there's no one in
this part of the huge building today. Some days there are people over from the
garden section, but not  today.

In this odd position, with the hood's still covering my head and shoulders, I'm
trying to think what to do.  From the  smell inside the hood I assume they've
poured  some  of the alkyl nitrites on it. The struggle, such as it was, has me
out of breath so I'm breathing deeply which isn't a good idea since the vapors
are keeping me in a  fog, a  pleasant fog,  but not a healthy one. Falling onto
my side, which kills my arm, but I gotta get this hood off. I drag my head
against the mat and little by little the hood slips off, first my shoulders and
then my head.   It's a pillowcase. Laying there breathing air, sans the poppers,
I'm thinking, "Is this a bad dream? Can this really be happening to me? And then
my face blushes dark red as I imagine the look on Mikey or mom's face if either
of them were to see any of those pictures Brett took. He's right, I am totally
fucked!! " As the poppers clear from my head again, the uncomfortableness of my
position becomes a roaring concern. It's a combination feeling of total
helplessness and another sense of something unpleasant, like claustrophobia. I
can't move a muscle in my arms and legs; the blood supply's been cut off and all
four limbs ache as they drift toward numbness. A half hour goes by before the
boys return, laughing at  something as they walk over to put cans of soda on the
desk. Then Brett  says, "Well  would you look at that. Bad boy, Brian! You were
ordered to stay in your tripod position!" He and Junior get me back up on my
knees with my forehead on the wrestling mat again. My bare ass sticking up in
the air feels very  vulnerable. Then I hear "SMACK!" a fraction of a second
before  feeling the stinging on my butt  cheek. Then  another hand  connects
with my bare ass, "SMACK!! SMACK!!" and I yell, "Stop that! Please..." "SMACK!
SMACK! SMACK!" and now I'm  screaming, "Owww! Owww!" They both spank my  bare
ass with  their open hands for a minute or so and the stinging is becoming a
serious concern to me... it really hurts!

As I'm about to resort to begging, they stop the spanking and Junior lays on the
mat so that his face is next to mine, and says, "This is what we had to do with
Victor before that boy saw the light. You don't want those pictures  on the
Internet, and you want to keep  your job,  right? So why  not do this the  easy
way, like we  suggested?" I feel stupidly stubborn; this is totally not right,
so I defiantly shake my head 'no', my forehead rubbing against the mat.  Junior
says, "Get the paddle, Brett!" Brett's like, "Oh  boy!" While Brett's fetching
the paddle Junior's in his nice mode again as he conversationally explains that
the paddling hurts like hell, but it does no real harm when  confined to the
buttocks  area. "Occasionally we'll mis-swing and get the back of your thighs,
or in this case, your foot, and you'll be  yodeling  in pain then, let me tell
ya; that's worse than a hundred wasp stings. Ah, here's  Brett now." Brett hands
Junior a regular ping pong paddle. Fuck them, I'm determined to out-last them
and somehow turn the tables on these two perverts, but when Junior winds-up and
brings the paddle across my ass the stinging is unbelievable and streaks of
lightning flash in front of my eyes. The extent of the pain  takes me by
surprise, and I yell, "OWWW!" Junior's gritting his teeth  swinging that evil
paddle, WHACK! "Owww!"  WHACK!  "Owww!" WHACK! "Owww! No more, please! Please!"
WHACK! WHACK!! "Oww! Please, okay I'll do  what you want! I'll be good!"  WHACK!
"Owwww! Noooo!" I didn't hold out very long at all, but the pain and stinging
shocked me. With tears running down my cheeks I'm looking over at Brett for
mercy and see him playing with himself, apparently aroused by my spanking. His
lap  is poking way out so maybe that little kid does have a bigger dick than me.
Junior  says, "So, now you're ready to cooperate,  huh?" I'm babbling, "Yeah,
yeah, okay. I will, sure, that's right. That really,  really stings though."
Junior shrugs,  and goes, "I told ya it would. So, you're saying you're going to
be a  good boy, a good boy-toy for us now. Is that right?" "Yes, just  no more
paddle." Junior's like, "Well, I can't  promise no more paddling. You'll be
spanked when you're a bad boy, but be good, and you won't need to worry about
it. Okay?" I meekly mumble, "Yes, Sir." My spirit's pretty much broken.

It's obvious to me that I can't win this; I couldn't win from the  start.
They're too well prepared and coordinated. Junior  says, "Your change of
attitude is what we're looking for Brian, but you did cause us to go through the
trouble of tying you up so you'll be disciplined for that right now. Brett will
give you five more paddles, you're to call out the number  after each one." I
go, "NO! No, please!" And get a WHACK! on my ass from the paddle"Owww oww
oww!"   blackness in front of my eyes for a second. That fucking thing is
dangerous! Junior says, in his mean mode, "Do not contradict me or Brett,  ever!
Now, I'll tell you again... after each paddle you're to yell the   number out,
loud and clear; one to five. Only five smacks if you do it  correctly." Brett's
licking his  lips, his eyes shining even more then normal as he takes the paddle
from Junior. My forehead and knees on the mat form a tripod, as Brett called it,
and that's keeping my body steady and my ass right there for the paddle to land
on.  I'm holding my breath in fearful anticipation of what's to come, and then,
"Whack!!  Ohhh Oww... one!" By the fifth whack on the same ass cheek I'm
blubbering, barely able to shout out the number, tears from my eyes and mucus
from my nose running onto my forehead. It was the repeated whacks on the same
spot previously whacked by Junior that resulted in the high level of pain.
Finished  the discipline paddling, Junior gets tissues and gently  wipes my
face, saying to Brett, "Get a wet clothe, he's got tears and mucus all over the
place." I want to fall over and lay on my side, but I don't dare. Junior lays on
the mat with his head close to mine, and quietly says, "Okay, don't embarrass
yourself further, it's gonna be alright. You're like Victor, stubborn, but
you're ready to cooperate now so the worst part is over... for today anyway."
Then again, like you'd pet your dog, he rubs the back of my neck and pats my
head. Brett brings a wet  washcloth, lays on the mat near me, on the other side,
and  carefully washes my face as Junior  gets up on his  knees to untie my
arms. I've calmed down by the time my arms are free of  their bonds. They're
free,  but totally without feeling and consequently, useless. I  can't make them
do  anything. Junior says, "We'll,  massage  feeling back into your arms  for
you. Right now though I'm going to spray something  on  your ass that'll
eliminate most of the stinging. I won't always do this for you, but it's your
first day." Brett says, "You're too soft, Junior!" The intial spray is cold and
I yelp out, but then the spray quickly reduces the stinging to almost nothing.
What a relief to be pain free.

They both help untie my useless legs and then me lay on my  back to begin soft,
easy massaging of my arms with Brett working on one arm and Junior the other. I
lay there waiting to feel something in my limbs. Brett's saying, "You made it
necessary for us to paddle you, Brian, not that it's all that unusually with new
boy-toys  because at first they can't make themselves believe that Junior and I
are holding all the cards and are therefore totally in charge of them.  We have
all the power so you might as well get  used to it." He's speaking in a nice way
again but I can't depend on that continuing. I've surrendered myself to the boys
so I might as well try doing things that will keep them in their nice modes.
They're  working on my hands now and I'm beginning to feel something;
pins-and-needles.  Brett  rambles on, "Sadly,   we'll probably only  have you as
our "boy" till the end of the summer,  then you'll go back to college and we'll
go back to high school, and next summer we'll need  to break-in a new "boy". We
don't mind though, it's actually fun, huh,  Junior?" Junior says, "Oh yeah, the
break-in period is interesting, but it's not one hundred percent certain Brian
will discontinue being our boy-toy at the end of summer. We'll see how it goes.
Sure, we'll be in high school, but we might want to keep him through next year.
That's not something to decide now though. Oh, and let  me tell ya Brett, this
year we're definitely recruiting a kid from the senior class to be a boy-toy
too, and that's whether or not we decide to keep Brian through the school year.
Now, as far as our boy-toy Brian here goes, I want you to be lead trainer for
him.  You're old enough to give it a try although I'll be here to guide you when
needed."

As they talk, the pins-and-needles feeling turns into a tingling sensation,
which is much more pleasant. It begins in my biceps and slowly  spreads down my
arms to my hands. Soon I can move my arms, fingers, everything. Not paying too
much attention to what they're saying, until I breathe a sigh of relief and
excitedly exclaim, "My arms are  coming back to life!." Brett goes, "No shit!
We'll get your legs back to life too,"  then he incongruously adds, "You have
really nice skin, ya know that? It's beautiful, pale and  mostly  hairless." I
mumble, "Ah, um,  thanks," and Junior says, "Oh, that  reminds me. You're a
boy-toy now and boy-toys do  not have hair on  their bodies.  Monday, when you
come to work, have a hairless, smooth groin area, shave under your arms, and
there's some hair  on your legs  that you'll need to  eliminate also." I start
to complain, but Junior gets a stern expression on his face so I stop myself in
mid-sentence,  then, feeling  totally defeated, mumble,  "Okay, okay." Brett
sternly asks, "What was that you said? I don't think I heard you correctly."
Getting scared of more paddling, I say, "Sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to be short.
I'll be sure to shave the hair from my body, Sir." Brett squeezes my nose like
I'm a five year old, and says, "That's better," and then gives the side of my
face a stinging slap making my dick move from one side of my thigh to the other,
"You'll learn!" he says, as I'm back in my, "I don't like Brett" frame of
mind once more. I vacillate between strong emotions: from infatuation to dislike
where  Brett's concerned, but whatever the emotion he always  causes a buzzing
in my nuts.

When my legs are massaged back to life the boys  help me stand and with their
arms around  my waist for support we walk around the gym, my dick flopping with
each step. The fact that they're fully clothed and I'm naked doesn't even bother
me now; not after all I've been through.  Acting nice to me now, Brett gets me
one of the sodas they  brought back from the vending machines, and I sort of
like him again. He's so cooly confident, so sure of himself. I'm fascinated by
his eyes too, they're hypnotic and beautiful at the same time. He's pretty much
a fascinating boy, actually. He has this incredibly youthful face and he's
smallish, but his authoritative mannerisms override size and appearance
concerns. And that squeaky boyish voice still manages to have a commanding
presents somehow. At this moment Brett's heading into the lavatory, probably to
take a piss. It's a sad fact that if I wanted to do something routine like that,
I'd need to ask permission of Brett before I could do it, and that just sucks.
God-dammit, I need to figure a way out of this. But for now I'll take this
opportunity to ask a favor of Junior; he's not the hard-ass Brett is. I clear my
throat, "Ah hem," then humbly ask,  "May I please take a little break to have a
cigarette?" Junior glances over at me, and in an offhand, matter of fact manner,
says, "No!" then asks, "Are you  almost done that soda?"  Resigned that I need
permission from the boys to do anything, my shoulders sag and my eyes feel wet.
It's the way he said that one word, 'NO!' that's so final, there's no need for
him to explain himself, it's just, 'NO!' and that one word drives home that I'm
actually as powerless as they claim I am. Junior's humming a tune as he walks
over to sit in the desk chair, he doesn't have a care in the world. He glances
over, and says, "You're finished your soda, stand at attention!" I snap to
attention still holding my empty soda can. My dick flips from one side to the
other, feeling heavy. My submissiveness is becoming second nature. Brett
returns, and says, "Get rid of that soda can!" He's so fucking bossy! I look
down and say, "Yes, Sir." Then look over at Junior who has  the old arrogant
smirk on his face again, the one I saw last Friday during my interview. Junior's
got his legs spread wide. He says, "We can finally get started now that you're
done the soda," as if I was holding up the works. I put the can in the recycle
bin, and snap right back to attention, awaiting instructions. Junior says,
"Brett, how 'bout getting the doggie collar for Brian so he can start getting
used to wearing one."

As Brett's getting a dog collar from the closet, I'm standing tall, thinking,
"No way am I getting paddled for  something this stupid, I'll just wear the
fucking thing without a word." Brett returns carrying a leather collar and rubs
it against my dick. "How's that feel, country club boy?" I say, "It feels like
leather, Sir." He chuckles, then says, "On your knees!" I'm too tall for him, so
I get down on my knees and he hooks a two-inch wide leather collar around my
neck; there are metal studs  covering half the thing and the entire collar is
sweat  stained, from frequent hard usage I guess. An attached metal-mesh leash
hangs down my back. Brett's saying, "Look at the way this buckles on you?" I
mumble, "Yes, Sir." He goes, "Be sure you can do the buckling yourself because
after work on play days you're to have a dog collar on when you come from the
locker room. It'll be your responsibility to get it right and you'll be
disciplined for mistakes. And, when you're wearing a dog collar guess how
you're to move from the locker room to the gym?" I'm looking from one to the
other, obviously he wants me to say, "On my hands and knees," so that's what I
say, and Junior  goes, "Good! You're finally getting into the spirit of things.
 You move like a dog unless we say otherwise." I've never felt so defeated, so
totally dominated and helpless. Brett's relentless. It's an empty feeling, but
at the same time, I swear to God my cock feels like it's vibrating. I'm getting
a strangely erotic  charge from being mistreated like this. I mumble, "Yes,
Sir," and get down on my hands and knees; now my nose is right above Brett's
crotch, he steps into me, saying, "Stay!" On my hands and knees the top of my
head is now pressing into Brett's belly, that's how short he is. Brett pushes
down on my head and I feel his semi-firm cock on my forehead. He holds my head
there and my cock firms up as I  begin to pant.  Ten seconds later, after a
chuckle, Junior orders, "Okay, over here now, boy. That's it, come on  and get
between my legs. Quickly, boy!" As I'm  doing that, my heavy cock flopping under
me, I'm wondering, "Oh my God, now what?".

On all fours, between Junior's legs as he sits in the chair, my face is level
with his crotch; he's a few inches taller than Brett.  I smell a musky aroma
emanating through his cargo shorts. He says, "Up on your knees and listen
carefully to my instructions." I lift up, and he says, "Using your front paws
you're to unbutton my shorts and then use your teeth to pull down my zipper.
After that, use your front paws again to spread apart my fly so you can see my
underwear. Do that much now!" He's looking and acting very authoritarian again.
Hesitating briefly, I look into his eyes biting my lip, but can't see a way out
of doing what he says, so I unbutton his shorts at the waist and lean my face
against his crotch to get the zipper's pull tab between my front teeth and  pull
it down. The zipper opens a couple of inches before the little piece of metal
slips out from between my teeth. I re-grasp it and pull his zipper the rest of
the way down as Junior's  saying, "Practice doing things with your teeth at
home; think what a dog would need to use his teeth for and practice that. If you
make mistakes in the future, like the clasp slipping from your teeth just now,
you'll be disciplined. Discipline is a major part of our playtime. Okay, do you
understand?" As I'm spreading open the sides of his fly with my paws... er, I
mean my hands, I mumble, "Yes, Sir." Then, sitting back on my ankles and looking
into Junior's eyes I see the full-blown arrogance that's there; it was present
at the end of my original interview too. He's very pleased with himself. "Sit
up!" he snaps. Startled I immediately go back up on my knees. "Pay attention,
you're only concern here is to please  your masters, concentrate on that! You
understand?" I say,  "Yes, Sir!" He orders, "Reach inside the slit of my boxer
shorts with a paw and very carefully pull out, first my cock, and then my balls.
Do it!"  Gulping, my hand's shaking as  I reach  over and slip my  index and
middle  fingers inside his underpants and feel a large hunk of  flesh. My eyes
go to Junior's with a questioning expression on my face,  he  smirks, then says,
"Yes, that big thing is my penis. It's not like your little fellow, and wait'll
you see Brett's!" My eyes go to Brett who's sitting on the desk, his legs
dangling over the side, his hand squeezing his crotch. He jerks his head up, and
shouts, "Pay attention to  what you're doing, college boy! Don't be looking at
me."  With visions of that fucking paddle dancing in my head, I mumble, "Yes,
Sir... sorry."

It's obvious to me I'll need more than two  fingers getting this big cock out so
I spread the opening with one hand and reach inside with my other to get a fist
around his fat,  soft penis. When I pull it out my eyes open wide open because
the  head is even bigger around than the fat shaft. There's a noticeable bend to
it with a big vein running the length, which I'd  guess is  in excess of seven
inches. How can this slim  boy have  a  cock this big? It would  seem
impossible, except there it is. "Now bring out my balls."  Holding his huge cock
up, my other hand goes back in and cups a large  scrotum with two big orbs
rolling  around inside it. I carefully pull his surprisingly hairy scrotum out
and lay everything on his lap. Not wanting to look at his cock and balls I look
down, and for the first time notice his calves. Perfectly shaped legs, with
great definition although not so much they're musclebound. They're hairless
legs, either naturally  or shaved, I can't tell which.  The silence makes me
look back up and there's Junior smugly staring at me, his arms resting on the
arms  of the chair, absolutely relaxed with his  legs spread and his big package
on display. He says,  "You're still not paying attention, you haven't got the
message yet, have you? You're to constantly be attentive to commands!" It's
almost automatic now, I immediately apologize,  "Sorry."  Taking  an exasperated
exhale, Junior glances over at Brett slowly shaking his head, then looking back
to me, he says, "Kiss what you see in my lap; all three parts,  my cock  first,
then each ball, then put my cock in your mouth, and I don't want to feel teeth
unless I ask to feel teeth. Do it now, big man on campus!" Well, what did I
think this was leading up to, they said it was gay experimentations or some such
shit like that... gay something. Still, I can't help but hesitate, and Brett
yells over at me, "Look into my eyes, you pussy, and tell me you've never had a
cock in your mouth before." I look at him quickly, then looked away because I've
had Frank Barn's cock in my  mouth about a  hundred times. "Look at me!" I snap
my eyes onto his, and he goes, "Well?" Nodding my head up and down, I mumble,
"Okay, yeah, but I was twelve years old and didn't know any better." Brett
giggles at that, Junior says, "Bull shit! Do what I told you to do, and do it
right now!" I'm kidding  myself pretending I might not do what they says? I
don't have a single thing going for me here. Holding my breath, I lean over and
do a tiny kiss on  his dick, about half way down the shaft, and  Junior shouts,
"Kiss the head with  some  feeling, goddammit, or Brett will get the paddle
again."  That's all I   need  to hear. Not even closing my eyes for fear I'll
miss  that big knob of a cock-head, I lean into the musky smell of his crotch
and do a really good kiss on the bulbous head; the tip of my tongue entering his
pee slip a tiny bit. My cock twitches, then I do two wet kises, one on each
nut." Junior says, "That's better.  Now, gently take it into your mouth and suck
on the head  like  it's your favorite lollypop."

Taking a big breath, then gently picking up his big cock with my thumb and
forefinger I lift it towards  my mouth, leaning forward, and there it is, now
only an inch away from my mouth... another boy's cock. It has a big, dark-pink
bulbous knob and this close the pee slit appears amazingly big; some of my
saliva shines in the reflection of the overhead lights. There's a slight urine
smell coming off the head as if perhaps a few drops of his last pee went into
his underpants where his cock rubbed against the  wetness. My eyes go up to the
top of their sockets and meet Junior's eyes; a totally satisfied expression on
his   face. When he glances down and meets my gaze, an amused look  enters his
big brown eyes as he flips his hand at me, casually ordering, "Go ahead, put my
cock in your mouth, college man!" There's not going to be any "Calvary to the
rescue" for me, my shoulders slump as I slip into a  totally submissive  mode
and lay his penis  on my tongue. "Close your mouth keeping your lips over  your
teeth!" I close my mouth on his cock, wondering, "How the fuck did I get myself
into this mess?!" and close my eyes. The texture of his cock is like nothing
I've  experienced before. I can't remember much about my early cock sucking days
so, as far as I can recall, I've never had anything in my mouth with the texture
of Junior's cock. It's slightly salty too, and  the musky smell of his crotch is
stronger this little bit closer to it. Junior slaps the back of my head,
snarling, "Open your fucking eyes  and look at my cock and balls when you're
sucking me off. Worship them! I don't want to have to tell you that again. It'll
be five paddles on your bare ass next time." I snap my eyes open and look at the
shaft of his cock. It's firm but not hard, his pubic hairs, those I'm able to
see are the  normal kinky kind, although they're much thicker than I would have
imagined, and slightly matted from sweating on the job. Mostly, I'm surprised
there's  this much hair around his penis because the rest of him, is hairless.
"Suck, boy!" and I start licking and sucking the big head of that long cock,
thinking, "This isn't nearly as awful as I expected, but still this whole matter
is so not fair!"

Brett gets off the desk then, and in kind of an irritated and frustrated manner,
says, "Stroke his cock as you suck it, ya dumb shit!" and he smacks  the back of
my head, adding, "This is the same lack of energy you put into doing
calisthenics; you're lethargic in everything you  do! We expect a lot of energy
when we're getting blown by our boy-toy, get excited about it!" Another smack on
the back of my head, a little harder this time, gets me bobbing my head on and
off that fat cock, covering more of the long  shaft with saliva as I  get  more
of it into my mouth. Even so, only half of it fits and a flash of a distant
memory about sucking Frank's dick pops into my  head: his dick was about as long
as my mouth is deep, so  all of it fit inside. I remember clearly now, my nose
would be pressed into his sparse new growth of pubic hairs with him cupping
behind my head with both hands holding my face against his  crotch. Frank's
belly smelled quite different than Junior's, Frank's was more of an unwashed
smell. Yeah, and his dick was a dicklet compared to this serious piece  of meat
right here. Trying to be active with my cock sucking, like Brett wants, I'm
stroking the shaft and slobbering on the half that fits in my  mouth licking,
sucking, doing whatever I can think of. My chin's covered in my own spit and, as
I'm making slurping sounds, his cock begins firming-up slowly. For no reason,
Brett slaps the side of  my face, asking, "Did you hear what I said? We expect
enthusiasm when you're sucking us off.  Put more effort into it!" Another
stinging, loud slap on the same spot and my face feels hot, tears of humiliation
and anger form in my eyes. Junior laughs, then casually  says, "You better
listen to Brett and do what he says, dickhead, he's not as easy going as me.
He'll  slap you silly if you don't put more effort into your blow job." What the
fuck more can I do??? but I say nothing, of course.  Brett conversationally says
to Junior, "Ya know, I actually wish I had as much patients as you, Junior," and
Junior replies,  "Yeah, well... you  have that hair-trigger  temper to deal
with, and you expect everything to be done properly too, not that that's a bad
thing. Anyway, our personal cocksucker here is doing a little better now." I'm
thinking, "A little better?? What the fuck's  he want? I'm working up a sweat
sucking his cock, what else can I do?"

Hunching my shoulders and bobbing, rocking forward and back, I lick and suck his
cock,  stroking it all the while. After maybe eight to ten minutes his cock has
a big growth-spurt and  really  gets fatter and  noticeably  longer. Junior
grunts, then begins humping his hips, saying, "He's got me going now, Brett."
Another hard slap against the side of my face, with Brett  saying, "Don't slack
off, you're not at your country club now, college boy... show me  more effort!"
My  fucking jaw's killing me, this is hard work and sweat's rolling down my face
and down my sides from my pitts. Brett, standing next to me, asks Junior, "Ya
ready yet?" and Junior  goes, "Hell yeah," so Brett gets my head in  between his
two hands and  adjust it forward until Junior's boner is at the back of my
throat. He says to me, "Keep your head in this position so you can better accept
Junior's  cock in your throat." Now it's me who's grunting until that big piece
of meat gags me, and Brett really gets me with a full smack across my face
causing three tears to roll down my cheek. "Pay attention to me!" Brett snarls,
"I'm gonna assist you. Relax your throat muscles and stop that gaging." Then,
with  one  hand behind my head, keeping me from pulling back, he  begins
massaging my throat. Junior applies pressure  with his cock now pressing at my
gag reflex area and I'm gagging again.  Brett says, "If you throw-up, you'll get
ten paddles!  And, stop that gagging, relax!" More massaging on my throat until,
a miracle, the big knob at  the end of that cock slips into my  throat, and I'm
thinking,"I'm going to die now!". As it goes down my throat my nostrils flare
trying for air but none is available to me; the huge cock bulges-out my throat.
Brett  laughs, "Holy fuck! Look at his throat, Junior! Oh my God, you can see
the outline of a cock head! Junior's grunting, pushing his cock further down my
throat, then he slides it back up allowing oxygen to flow in through my nose; I
inhale deeply before he  pushes his hard meat back down again and all my
distresses begins anew. "Push his head towards me some more, Brett, I  think I
can get all the way in this time," and the next thing I know my nose is buried
deep into Junior's pubic hairs.  There's  no oder  without air, but when I can
breath the musky oder is strong and somehow sexy and  my dick  firms up. The
boys do a little congratulatory cheer when my nose and lips disappears in among
the pubic hairs. Brett's hands feel up and down my taut neck where Junior's cock
has stretched it to the max. "You did it, Junior. Now go ahead, bro... fuck his
face-pussy. Do him hard, Junior."

The things human's are able to survive. At the start I didn't think I'd live,
but Junior coats my throat with precum and begins sliding his   huge organ down
my throat  more easily. His thrusts and pull-backs allows me just  enough air to
keep from passing out. I'm in kind of a stupor, my hands on either side of
Junior's waist. My own cock feels strange, but in a good way.  Junior's hairy
bush, extending out through his boxer's fly opening, repeatedly slams into my
face, flattening my nose against his groin just above the root of his boner.
Time after time he drives his boner down my throat until he finally screeches,
"I'm close!" then he makes a long hissing noise between his teeth, and screams,
"I'm fucking  cumming..." I  didn't taste the first blast from his cock 'cause
he shot  that long stream  of  cum down my  throat, but he pulls his cock up
from my  throat for the second blast and cum coats the inside of my mouth all
hot and sticky, creamy, and salty.  Another  blast and some of that blast also
rolls down my throat too; thick, creamy boy-spunk. Some in my throat, but most
of it coats my tongue confusing my taste buds. Junior's scrunching his face,
both his hands behind my head holding me in place, grunting, "Fuck, ahhh fuck!"
as he humps his crotch against my face, his spunk shooting into my mouth.
Brett's mumbling, "Oh yeah! Oh yeah!" He grabs my left ear and pulls it hard,
getting his face next  to mine, ordering me, "Save the cum,  don't you  dare
swallow until you're told to." Junior is a little out of control,  the orgasm
must have been a hot one for him; he  lets go of my head, pulls his cock totally
from my mouth and strokes it fast and hard. There's a string of cum and saliva
stretching from my tongue to the end of his cock; it last only a second before
breaking off from the head to drift  down as a  wet thread extending from my
chin down onto my neck. Junior's stroking produces two final short spurts of
cum, both shots hit my face and  drool down. Breathing hard, seventeen year old
Junior stands  up and leans  forward so he can rub his cum around my face with
his boner, then uses his boner like a spoon to scrape cum off my face and feed
it to me, "Open up!" When I do he scrapes cum droolings off his cock onto my
bottom teeth so it can then drool onto my quivering tongue. "Oooh, that feels
good on my  big cock, you got nice teeth there, big shot." It's hard not to
swallow some of this additional spunk, but I only move my throat when Brett's
not looking. He's back to groping himself, his boner's outline can easily be
seen against the lap of his shorts.

As Junior's rubbing his cock over my face, I'm like a statue because I've saved
an ounce or so of his cum, balanced mostly on my tongue, and I'm afraid of
swallowing it accidentally and giving Brett a reason to paddle my ass. Junior's
breathing hard, but finally says to me, "Show," and he sticks his tongue out
indicating what he wants me to do. When I  stick my tongue  out cum rolls  off
the sides onto my bare  chest, Brett says,  "Not as much as I expected, Junior."
Junior explains, "The big blast was  shot down his throat," then, in an off-hand
manner, he says, "Okay Mr. GPA star, you can swallow it now." I swallow, gagging
a little, but it's not too bad. Junior says, "Now clean the cum off your nipples
and swallow that too."  Wiping the cum drippings off my chest with my finger I
lick my finger clean and  go back for more. I'm in another daze as Brett's once
again rubbing my head, then gets his face close to mine, and in his nice mode,
says, "I've been slapping you to get your  attention. Once you know your place
maybe I won't need to slap you as much, but I wouldn't bet on it if I were you.
Best you get used to having your face slapped. You did an okay job sucking cock,
but you need to get more excited when you're doing it." and instead of another
rub of my head, he swats it hard, saying, "You gotta learn to be more attentive,
Brian." He fakes a slap then and I  hunched-up flinching, making  Brett and
Junior laugh. Squeezing the back of my neck then, kinda affectionately, he
mumbles, "You'll do fine," and I'm back to thinking Brett's okay again. I'm
attracted to him, sorta bonded with him somehow.

I guess the most surprising thing about this unfortunate situation is that after
all this mistreatment and especially Junior making me suck his cock, after all
that I feel  pretty good. Perhaps it's just my subconscious mind rationalizing
away the horror of my situation that's allowing me to feel good, I really
couldn't tell ya. It's a mystery to me. Junior says,  "Back on all fours.
Brett'll take you for a  walk and work on some things." I'm on my  knees already
so I just need to drop my hands to the floor. "Fetch your leash, college boy.
Pick it up in your teeth like a dog and hand it to me." The leash is hanging
from my collar, most of it in a pile on the floor. Resigned to my fate I drop my
head and, squishing my  nose to the  floor get the loop-handle end of the leash
in  my mouth, and then get a huge surprise. Looking underneath myself I see a
hard boner level with my belly, a drip of precum at the pee slit. What the fuck?
With everything  else going on I didn't realize I'd sprung a boner? Ya gotta be
shitting me; that's a first! I do recall my dick was feeling good, but an
unknown boner?? Wonder what the reason  for the boner is? Could it be that
sucking  cock gives me a boner, or was  it Brett slapping my face that did  it.
Well fuck, if it's either of those two reasons that'll be very disturbing! I try
to keep my body blocking the boner, but I'm naked for chrissakes! Naked and on
all fours with a leash hanging from my mouth. Junior points at my boner,
saying, "You look surprised when you looked at your little boner there. Didn't
ya know about it? You sprung that boner early into getting your mouth-pussy
fucked.  Ya didn't even know it. Did ya?" Then to Brett, "Brett, look at this.
On your back boy, paws up!" I groan silently and roll over on my back with my
hands in the air. Both legs, bent at the knees, up in the air as well. My boner
is pointing at my chin. Brett slaps the back of my thigh hard, "Spread your
legs," he orders and I spread them wide, displaying my boner for the brothers to
gawk at. My dick gets  harder as the  humiliation grows. Brett's like, "I knew
it. Didn't I tell ya, Junior. He's gonna be one of the easier ones to train
'cause he gets  turned-on by harsh treatment." Junior laughs,  then jokingly
says, "Jesus, you're right!" Then to me, Brett says, "Jerk yourself  off,
country club boy. Let's see what kinda spunk volume you got in those little
balls of yours. I milked ya a while ago, but you should have manufactured some
more jizz by now. Grab your cock and start jerking off!" Oh my God, the
humiliation never fucking stops.

The brothers snap the tabs on a couple of canned sodas from their earlier trip
to the vending machines, and then sit on the desk drinking them while watching
me jerk-off. Sure, it's embarrassing and humiliating for me, but I want to get
out of here so I'm gonna do whatever I need to in order to do that. After ten
minutes  though, I admit defeat, "I'm sorry, but I'm just not going  to be able
to climax again. Brett milked my nuts dry." Brett gets off the desk and sits in
the side chair, grumbling, "Bullshit! Let's test a theory I have. Roll over onto
all fours and doggie-walk to me." When I'm in front  of Brett, he says, "You're
my  project so I  might as well get you  broken-in on something you're probably
not familiar with, but  you  will be pretty quickly. It's footsie  play." I'm
looking confused, don't know what he means except maybe it's like the boy on the
bus rubbing his ankle against mine. Brett goes, "First thing, untie my sneakers
using your teeth." I glance over at Junior thinking, "Can he be serious?" To my
questioning look, Junior snaps, "Pay attention to your trainer! Don't be looking
over here for help." I guess he is serious so I lean my head down and get
Brett's shoelace between my teeth and pull on it, it slips out of the knot
easily enough but I can already smell some unpleasant foot oder. His feet have
been in these sneakers about ten hours today. Hmmm. I get the other lace in my
teeth, but pulling it won't get it lose so I need to do little bites where the
two laces intersect and I manage to get the two separated that way. Same
procedure for the other foot while Brett's making uneven breathing  sounds, like
he can't  catch his breath. Can this be getting him aroused? Is that possible?
When the laces of both sneakers are loose, Brett breathlessly says, "Use your
paws to pull the sneakers off, then drag the socks off with your  teeth." This
is sick! What choice do I have though? I can refuse, then get paddled, and then
they'll make me to do it anyway. So fuck; just do it. I pull off the first
sneaker and look at Brett, who says, "Take a big whiff!" Frowning, I take a
little sniff... oh my God! Horrible foot oder! It gags me and Brett chuckles.
Even Junior stops groping himself a gasping air to laugh in a mocking way at my
discomfort. Junior says, "You need oder eaters, bro. I can smell your foot from
here." They have a good laugh with Brett openly playing with himself again.

His sneaker looks so small in my hand, I glance inside and notice the size; size
7.  Geez, I wear a size 12 and, wait a minute... don't big feet usually indicate
big cocks. Maybe this is why I haven't seen Brett's cock yet, maybe it's tiny
like his feet. Nah, I saw his lap pushed way out when he was boned up earlier;
he's got a big one. Brett interrupts by musings, getting  stern,  "Take a deep
inhale, god dammit!  You might as well get used to it 'cause I'm not getting
oder eaters any time soon." Thinking, "Paddle"  I do an exaggerated inhale with
my nose right in the sneaker. Ghastly, but I'm hoping that this demonstrates my
cooperativeness, my  submissiveness. Another long sniff and while the oder is
gross it's already not as bad as the first whiff; that took me by surprise.
Who'd think this cute little kid would have feet that smell this gross?!
Carefully laying the first sneaker down I do the second one and take a big sniff
of that one too. I'm grossed-out by the foul smell, but I'm getting sort of used
to it. Brett says, "Drop down to your forearms, that way your head will be in
close proximity to my feet which are the only two things in the world you should
be concerned with until I tell you differently." With my knees and forearms
supporting me I merely need to lean my head down a little to squish my nose
against his hairless leg and grip the top of his sweat sock with my front teeth.
His leg smells nice, a reminder of the natural aroma coming off both boy's
bodies. They both have a pleasant scent generally speaking, although Junior's
crotch area is odoriferous in that musty sexy way, and  now the foot oder
problem with Brett.  Unfortunately there  isn't anything  sexy about Brett's
foot oder. Not to me anyway. I  wrestle with the sock getting it over his heel,
my nose scraping along the side of  his damp foot pulling it the rest of the way
off. It's an over-ripe foul oder penetrating my nostrils, burning the horrid
smell into my brain and even when I have his stinky, soggy, sweat-sock hanging
from my mouth, and my head away from direct contact with his foot, that ripe
foot oder still overrides all other smells. For me it's as if the whole world
smells like Brett's feet.  I spit out the sock and go for the other one. His
bare, over-ripe foot oder from the first foot is wafting over to me as I
struggle to get the second sock off. The bare foot oder and taste of foot number
one, combining with the oder of the second foot I'm working on now, overwhelms
my senses. I can't handle it... with the second sock in my mouth, I gag twice,
then throw-up in my mouth. Just a mouthful of vomit that I quickly swallow.
Neither of the boys appears to have noticed. After that unpleasant experience my
mind goes into a trance  state and my brain turns-off for survival.

Brett shows no mercy, he orders, "Drape my socks over the back of your neck,
then lick my long toes. Do it now, Mr. Brown University. I want lots of saliva
and tongue too. Get your tongue way out for this job; stretch it way out
there." This is the last straw, it totally breaks me  down as the last drop of
dignity is taken from me by this fifteen year old boy. I submissively hang his
damp sweat socks over my neck and do exaggerated laps across his toes, my tongue
aching from extending it so far. His foot is small but he has long toes, long
toes on small feet looks almost as odd as Junior's big cock on his slim smallish
body. There's black matter under Brett's big toenails and some kind of fuzz
between his toes, but thank god there's no hair on his feet. He's so clean and
put together on the outside, but hiding inside his sneakers are the feet of a
slob. I lick one set of toes until, after about a minute, he lifts his foot, and
commands, "Clean the bottom of my foot too." The taste and smell of his feet
becomes my whole world, and Brett my god. I no longer hesitate to do his
bidding; immediately I'm doing full licks from his heel to the back of his
smelly toes. It's one lap after another as if I were starved for the taste of
his  foot. I hear admiration in  Junior's voice when he  says, "Well played,
Brett. Damn, that foot thing completely broke him. You're goood, bro!" Brett's
gasping for air, his lap is poking way out as he grasps and re-grasps his
swollen cock through the material of his shorts. That big cock doesn't go with
these little feet, no way!

Junior's right too, this foot stuff has totally broken my spirits. The sad thing
is I keep thinking my spirits are already totally broken, and then Brett breaks
me down even further. As I said, he has no mercy; he knows what he wants and
does what he needs to do to get it. I do both his feet and then he orders me to
lay on my back, paws up, so we can match the soles of our feet and see the
difference in size as we rub our feet together.  His feet look like they belong
to a small child's when they're pressed, sole to sole, against mine. His toes
scrunch against my toes, some getting in between mine. Brett's face is frozen in
concentration as he puffs  his  cheeks out and breathes  in bursts. Junior
watches us with a bemused look on his face. When Brett's had enough toe against
toe play he takes my feet in his lap and plays with just my long toes for
awhile; I feel his hard cock in his lap as it presses against my heel. Laying on
my back with Brett playing with my feet I try to tell myself I have an ounce of
self respect left, but can't make  myself believe it. Brett  finally puts my
foot down, then, grunting like he's having trouble breathing, he stands up and
orders me to get back on all  fours.

As I'm quickly doing that he's pulling his dick out; it's  hard as steel and
even bigger than his brother's boner. He  says, "You claim I milked you dry
earlier, but I'm gonna prove you wrong. Take my cock in your mouth, and I want
to see some energetic  cock sucking from you." The taste and smell of his feet
permeates my senses so I'm looking forward to the smell and taste of his cock,
it's gotta be an improvement; it's gotta taste and smell better than his feet. I
can't see his nuts but I can smell them. Brett's been out on the dock with us
laborers and he's worked up a sweat so his musky oder is very strong, not unlike
Junior's, but stronger and somehow kind of exciting to me. I surprise myself by
inhaling the aroma; trying to get the foot smell out of my head, I guess. Brett
hears my air intake, and says, "I saw your nostrils flare; enjoying the aroma
from my cock and balls are you?" I mumble, "Oh, I don't know. I,  er..." His
little hand whips around and smacks my face, then he asks, "What did my brother
tell you about lying?" That smack really stung making me  hesitate  answering
him for just a  second and I get  another stinging smack, almost on the hand
print of the previous smack, tears well-up in my eyes, "Well, what'd he tell
ya?" This time I answer immediately, "He forbids lying, Sir!"  Getting a grip on
my chin, he jerks my face up and brings his face down close to mine, to say,
"Then don't  lie, Brian!"  and he kisses my cheek where he smacked me, and adds,
"You deserved the  face slaps, but answer my questions quickly and truthfully
and you'll avoid some of them. Now, I'll ask you again: Do you enjoy the aroma
coming off my cock and balls?" I lower my eyes, and meekly reply, "Yes, Sir, I
do." "Well, stick your nose inside my fly and get a good whiff then. I told ya
you'd have fun too." I lean over and put my nose in through the fly of his
underpants, next to the root of that huge penis, and inhale. It's a sexy musky
smell like Junior's, but has a bigger impact on me. I stroke my half boned dick
while taking another deep inhale, going, "Ooooh, mmmm..." the oder from his feet
fades to be replaced by this musky, swampy oder. See, Brett's not all bad; he's
letting me replace his feet smell. As I pull my head back I'm also thinking how
Brett's tough, but his harsh method is quickly training me on how to avoid his
slaps and paddles in future  playtimes.

Junior  finishes his soda, burps, and says, "You're amazing Brett. You totally
predicted the direction  Brian would go.  I really like the way you're training
him to know his place too. I mean, how's he going to know the way he needs to
behave unless he's trained properly, right?  You broke him down, then showed him
a touch of kindness. Perfectly handled. I knew you'd be good as lead trainer." I
could see the pride in Brett's face. Brett says to Junior, "Thanks, bro! I don't
mind putting in the extra effort, I like it actually." Then to me, "Get to
sucking and make me proud."  I'm thinking, "I better please him, because it
won't go too  swell for me if I don't!"  Using everything I learned from sucking
Junior's cock, I get to work on Brett's boned-up monster. Bobbing my head on the
shaft, licking and sucking and stroking, then getting my head in the proper
position to take his big cock into my throat. As I'm sweating from the effort a
thought goes through my head, and it's this: "This  is okay, it's not so bad.
Oh hell, admit  it! I kinda like it!" Massaging my own throat and soon enough I
gag as the large knob of Brett's cock slides in  awkwardly, then it's forced all
the way in until my nose is buried into Brett's fly, the smell is  overwhelming
until his cock closes off the air passage temporarily. Truth is, I'm feeling
very submissive to Brett, completely dominated by him, and it's a weird sexy
feeling. Sucking the cock of two teenage boys at their command makes me feel
very submissive to both boys, of course, but to Brett even more so than Junior.
 And the weird sexy feeling I mentioned is causing erotic sensations in my
groin, as if another climax is coming on me, and coming on me fast.

The fifth time Brett drives his cock down my throat I spewed cum, my own cum
fires up splashing under my chin, my hand a blur stroking my boner. If I didn't
have a mouth and throat full of cock I would have squealed like a girl seeing a
mouse run up her leg. It was the hottest orgasm I've ever had and just a couple
minutes ago I'd told the boys my balls were drained. I'm splashing cum on myself
with a ringing in my ears  and black dots in my vision, my  long toes curl and
my shoulders shudder as shivers fly around my  groin... awesome climax!  My
second of the afternoon and even better than  the first. Brett's holding my
head,  fucking my mouth and throat as I tightly pull on my cock  getting the
last drips of  cum to roll over my fingers. I'd heard  Junior do a funny cheer
when I climaxed, but Brett's got his lips tightly  together making sounds as  if
he's hurting, although I know it's not pain he's feeling; he's getting ready to
blast my throat with cum. He surprises me though by pulling out entirely and
drenching my face with cum instead of my mouth and throat, his cum drools down
to join some of mine on my chin and neck. "Bend your head down!" he commands,
and when I do a big glob of cum  hits my burr-cut hair and drools onto my scalp
and then runs down my forehead.  After he's drained his nuts dry, he orders me
to, "Suck my cock clean, ya Ivy League big shot,".

With my arms hugging around Brett's ass I eagerly lick his cock, my nose tickled
by his bush, then I get his hard cock  back down my throat. Pulling off of it to
get some air, I suck the cum off the head making the, "Mmmmm," sound in my
throat as I realize I really do like sucking cock. I take his big meat down my
throat again, then again. Brett's like, "Look at this Junior, we really turned
him into  a cock sucker, he's our  full-fledged boy-toy cum slut now."  "Eat it
all, prep school graduate!" Junior says, "He was so ready for  this, we've
helped him out actually. We did him a big favor and now that you broke him down
so quickly I'm not sure it's gonna be as much fun as I expected." Brett blows
out a lot of air, and then gives my face a number of quick little smacks,
saying, "Suck my cum ya big pussy!" Then to Junior, he says, "Nah, it'll still
be fun, I'll see to that. I'll increase his discipline so he won't be enjoying
himself so much. You'll see." Junior says, "Hope you're right. By the way, I'm
not criticizing necessarily, but you probably shouldn't let him touch himself
like he's been doing. Make him cum spontaneously, or not at all. That's what I
did with my boys, remember? Oh man, they get to where they need to cum so bad!
Good for a few chuckles." Brett's still enjoying me cleaning his cock, he says,
"Yeah, I do remember that, but he sucked my cock so good I overlooked him
pulling his pud. Not next time though!"

I'm  only half listening to the boy's chatter,  because I'm noticing that as the
effects of my climax fade, the thrill of sucking cock fades too, and I begin to
wonder, "What the fuck was I thinking?? Am I seriously saying I like doing
this??"  I definitely need a lot of rational thinking... if I ever get out of
this fucking gym, that is. Come to think of it, it's  gonna be hard  explaining
my behavior to myself when I do get out of here, but for right now  I'm
committed to following orders. Brett says, "Clean all that cum off your face and
next, slut!" So I use my finger again to scrape Brett's and my own cum off my
neck and face, sucking my finger clean of cum time after time, By the time I
finished my dick was firm enough to lift away from my body a bit. I look at my
master and he commands, "Get the leash in your mouth again, pussy boy." To
Junior he says, "I'll take him in the lavatory and clean him up, then send him
on his way. Okay?" Junior mutters, "Good, see ya at the car in ten minutes."
Surprising myself, I'm savoring the last tastes of Brett's and my spunk as I
pick the leash off the floor with my teeth and stretch my neck toward Brett so
he can take the leash and tug on it, saying, "Come on, loser" and away we go,
thank God it's almost over for today.

It's hard keeping up with Brett 'cause he's walking quickly and I'm on all fours
killing my knees on the hardwood floor  of the gym. Inside the locker he takes
off my collar, gives  my ass a hard slap, and says, "In there, asshole!" I go
into the shower on all fours as he's turning on the water. It's freezing cold at
first and I have shivers all over my body, but the hot water kicks in after a
bit and I get soaking wet. Brett  squeezes bath gel on me and uses a brush with
a long handle to wash my body. The brush is like you'd use to wash a car, only
this one is stiffer than you'd use on your own car. "On your back now," I roll
over on the floor of the  shower and see the drain right next to my head. Brett
squirts more bath gel and uses the  brush to scrub the  front of my body. He's
giggling doing my crotch. Lastly my head and face are washed, me keeping my eyes
tightly closed. It scratches some, but I survive it okay. Turning around in
various positions under the shower spray I get all the soap off my body, then
I'm up on all fours awaiting Brett's next command.

"You can stand-up now, playtime's over for today." He watches me dry myself,
then asks, "How'd you like your first day of training? I know you liked sucking
cock, that's obvious." I mumble, "I'm exhausted, Sir, and don't really know what
to think. Maybe I did get to like sucking your dick, and Junior's, although I
don't know if I'm coming or going right now.  Truth is, I've always had a thing
for authority figures, which you and your brother have become for me I guess, so
maybe it's just that." Brett says, "Don't call me Sir unless we're doing a
playtime." Then he orders me, as if we're still  in playtime. "Come here and
lean down," and when I do he  hugs me around the neck, then kisses me on the
cheek, saying, "When I smack your face, it's because I'm trying to make you
better than you are. Also, I'm doing  it  partially because you like being
treated roughly, so the face slap is actually me doing you an favor. Learn to
appreciate them, learn to enjoy them... you might as well because, as I told ya
earlier, I've decided there's gonna be many face slaps in your future. Plus it
gets your attention and you'll learn how you should behave more quickly. You
might not even know it yourself, but you still haven't admitted to yourself that
I'm totally in control of you. Mostly, the face slaps, like this one," and he
really swings around and slaps my face causing tears to well-up in my eyes for
the tenth time today, "Slaps like that will eventually help you see who you
really are. I've always wanted my own older submissive boy to practice dominant
gay sex with and, while I wish you were a bit older and a  little more
challenging,  you're probably just about the speed I need  for my first try at
it. My brother thinks I'm capable of training you and I have no intentions of
letting him down, so you'd better stay on your toes around me." To my surprise,
the fifteen year old pulls my head down again and does a wet kiss on my lips,
then asks, "Do ya like me doing  that?" I   mumble, "I don't know, Brett." It's
the first time I've ever been kissed by a boy. Frank Barns never came close to
kissing  me. Brett says, "I kiss you the same way I'd kiss a girl because you're
closer to being a girl than a boy. Think about that and deal with the reality of
it." He stunned me with that statement, talk about a slap in the face! But I
don't know, he seems so much smarter than me. Can that be? I mean, I'm a college
senior for chrissakes, and he'll be in tenth grade when school starts up again.

Brett points his finger at me, and say, "Get down right now and give me twenty
push-ups," as I drop down to do the push-ups he leaves  the locker room. He's
not here to check on it, but I do all twenty anyway, just in case, then get
dressed with serious confusion in my brain. Brett's put doubts in my head... am
I really homosexual, have I always secretly wanted to be dominated, and have I
always wanted to suck cock and be kissed by a boy like I'm a girl? How the fuck
can that be? I mean, how could that be true without me knowing  it. And,  here's
another question  for me to  figure out:  why aren't I totally bull-shit
pissed-off at Brett, who's  much rougher on me than even Junior. Why don't I
feel hatred in my heart for him? Ah, fuck it! Maybe Brett's right about me, but
right now  I'm too tired  to think straight and, anyway, fuck him! After this
nightmare's over I go back to college and I'll never set eyes on these crazy
boys again. I'll graduate college and get an executive position that pays big
bucks and they'll both be working at menial labor jobs for a few hundred bucks a
week their whole lives. So it'll be... fuck you Brett and Junior!  And then I
remembered Junior saying something about maybe maintaining control over me when
they go back to school. How they plan on doing that? I can't imagine, but a
shiver of fear runs past my brain ayway. Can they actually do that? No, that's
absurd!!

Feeling better about myself for finally thinking rationally, I put the dog
collar in my locker and walk out of the locker room into an empty gym.  Hard to
believe just a little  while ago I was  wearing a dog collar and sucking cock in
here. Did I really do that? Yeah, I did. Standing in the parking lot smoking,
trying to remember where I parked the car, the Knight brothers drive up next to
me. I hold the cigarette behind me; they can  certainly see the smoke though so
my heartbeat picks-up  'cause these crazy kids are unpredictable.  Junior's
driving of course, Brett's not old enough to drive. Junior rolls down his
window, "Dickhead, get over here." Dropping the cigarette, I hustle over to the
car, and he says, "You were okay today for a first time, but  you're gonna need
to do better. So here's what we want you to do, over the weekend think of ways
you can improve, both in your attitude and your enthusiasm. Also I wanna tell
you that we'll  have playtime three days a week; usually Mondays,  Wednesdays,
and Fridays, unless something comes up. When something does come up to cancel
our play date, we'll tell you. Monday  is a regular workday of course,  nothing
has changed there except you'd better do better calisthenics Monday or Brett
will send you home, so practice those too.  After work Monday we'll get busy
with your training. Don't fucking forget to shave your body hair. Do you
understand what's expected of you?" I'm sort of numb by now, and say, "I guess
so." and then for some reason I felt the need to brown-nose the boys a little,
and add, "I liked some things today, I think you're both cool." Brett leans
across Junior, and shouts, "Cut the bull shit! You're a natural submissive,
that's what ya liked about it.  The discipline increases as we go forward and I
know you'll be really enjoying yourself, if not immediately, then by the end of
next week's playtime. Trust me on that." They both flash me the finger and
smugly drive off leaving me even more confused then before. After finding my
mom's car, I drive home trying to think of a better word than "surreal" to
describe this  whole week... the interview  last Friday  right through to this
Friday afternoon's unbelievable developments, all of it is fucking surreal!

Mom was out with some friends for dinner and Mikey won't be home until tomorrow
so the apartment's empty. I'm too fucked-up to eat so I have one last cigarette,
then go right to bed and sleep through the  night. In the  morning, looking at
my  paycheck, I think, "At least I feel good about this, this is the reason I'm
putting up with Brett and Junior's shit. Well, this paycheck and insuring the
boys don't show anyone those fucking pictures! Then I promise myself I'll figure
out how I feel about what happened with the Knight brothers over this weekend,
although I don't want to think about any of that right now. I want to
concentrate on enjoying the weekend and forgetting about the disgusting and
humiliating things those two make me do. Ugh! During the session they'd somehow
brainwashed me into thinking some parts of it are okay, when it's all totally
wrong. I don't know how they do it, but as of this second there'll be no more
thinking about them. Let me think about pleasant, normal stuff.  Mikey will be
home just for this weekend, but then beginning with next weekend he'll stay home
for the summer.

Later I'm driving around the prep school  campus Saturday morning and it's like
a  breath of fresh air, especially after yesterday. The campus brings back
memories of my days here at St. Johns. It's almost impossible to think of those
long ago days here at prep school, when my life was awesome, and at then think
what happened to me yesterday afternoon...  there are no two situations that
could be more opposite.

Mikey meets me in front of the head masters house as planned and I spend the
weekend going along with whatever my little brother wants to do, but I still
find myself thinking about Brett and Junior too. First of all it's hard to
believe Brett and Mikey are the same age. Holy shit, they're opposites! But, I'm
not going there. I love Mikey and I should be hating on Brett, I just don't want
to think about him right now. Like I said, Mikey and me had a good time together
both Saturday and Sunday although Brett, especially Brett, was on my mind a lot
too. Goddammit! There I go again. I can't get  him out of my head. More
brainwashing I  guess. At various times I'd think  how weird it is that I can
live such a   normal existence at home and then experience such bizarre behavior
with Brett and Junior. Other times I'm wondering if it's possible I'm looking
forward to parts of what may happen Monday after work, because it seems that way
sometimes. No, that's ridiculous, but I will say that my weekend seems dull
compared to playtime with Brett. Oh, I don't mean dull exactly, Mikey's great,
and I'm certainly not saying the playtime is a good thing... like I said, my
real life and the playtime life are total opposites, that's all I meant.

After dinner on Sunday I drive  Mikey back to St. Johns Prep and then  later
that night find myself  in the bathroom standing naked in the  tub with
scissors, shaving cream, and dad's old razor. I'm nervous, worried that I'll
screw-up somehow and Brett will be pissed at me. Taking a deep breath, I begin
cutting my pubic hairs with the scissors, then turn on the shower and let the
hair wash down the drain as I  lather my legs and shave them. My groin was next
for lather, and then a careful shave during which I begin boning up thinking how
a fifteen year old boy has ordered me to do this. Gee, saving my pubes does make
my dick look bigger though, feels good too. This isn't so bad. For some reason
shaving under my arms gave me a bad feeling. You know, 'cause girls shave under
their arms and that thing Brett said about me being closer to a girl than a boy,
which is a crock of shit, by the way. Yeah, but girls shave their legs too and
me shaving mine didn't bother me. Oh, I don't know what I think anymore, Brett's
got me all mixed-up. I do admit though, my saved legs and shaved pubic area look
good on me. It  looks sexy... I really like the look and the feel of
hairlessness.  Okay, I've been doing the butt exercises Brett ordered me to do,
and practiced doing the regular exercises like Junior ordered me to do, and I've
shaved my body, so there's no need for me to be nervous about tomorrow, but I am
just the same. Oh, I also  need to remind myself to get another haircut after
work on Thursday for Friday's playtime inspection.  Christ, there's a lot to
remember, maybe I should start writing stuff down, except what if the wrong
person happens to read it? Hmmm?

Okay, like I said, I've done what I've been told to do by the boys so I should
be good to go. Then, driving to work Monday morning I realize I never spent any
serious time trying to analyze what's really going on between Brett, Junior, and
me. I should be hating on those  two, but I'm not feeling hate. I'm confused, is
what I am! I'm adopting an attitude of letting whatever Brett says about me roll
off me like water off a duck's back. I gotta  remember he's basically just a
fifteen year old bully.  Still, if I'm  honest with myself, I have this stupid
admiration and sort of a crush on him, and I  can't figure that out at all.
 Walking into work at six-thirty I have very little idea of what to make of all
this and also very little idea of what to expect after work today. I do have
this strange feeling of anticipation though, and maybe I'm feeling a little bit
of excitement too.

to be continued...

Donny Mumford     thinat20@yahoo.com

PS. After chapter one I asked for feedback (like we all do) and then stupidly
showed the wrong email address. This is the correct one.
                             thinat20@yahoo.com     (not @comcast.net)

Plus: I screwed-up further by giving the incorrect free wed site address... it
should be boys4boys.org      (not .com)
I'm really not usually this incompetent (really, I'm not! lol)