Date: Sat, 2 Oct 2010 20:35:13 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: BRIAN'S AMAZINGLY FAST TRANSFORMATION    by Donny Mumford

		 BRIAN'S AMAZINGLY FAST    TRANSFORMATION

	       Chapter  Five                by Donny Mumford


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Done with the giggling, Mikey turns his attention to me by giving me the
one-word command, "Up!" and I get up on my aching knees and balance  without
swinging my arms, my semi-boner bobbing between my thighs. Brett nods at it, and
the boys chuckle. Brett watches me standing up straight on my knees with my arms
at my sides and then he makes an approving facial expressing, like, "Good job!"
 It's easy to see how proud of himself  Brett is... he shows-off for Junior by
commanding me to do it twice more, then he  orders me, "Paws up!"  and I easily
roll onto my back feeling proud too. Not just because I've mastered this,  but
there are many other maneuvers I've learned. Things that used to be hard for me
now come easily because of the  hard training.  Brett  pats Mikey on  the back,
and says, "Nice  job, rookie!" Then tells him, "Get a rag or something from the
janitor's closet and wipe  this college boy down, he's sweating like a race
horse." Mikey goes, "Ewww," and then, "Okay, Brett," as they both chuckle. Brett
squeezes the back of Mikey's neck affectionately, and adds,  "After that undo
his hind legs and have him stand for my inspection.  I'm going back to the
supply room and watch Junior put that fat fuck through his exercises... it's
wicked funny!" Both boys laugh at that and fist-bump again; best buddies
already? And, ya know what... Brett congratulated Mikey, but he didn't say a
thing about how good I did. It's disappointing; I  guess Mikey's  taking Brett's
attention away from me. I'm really missing that sexy feeling I get from Brett
when he's  abusing me and, believe me, I realize how crazy that sounds, but
there it  is. On second thought, maybe it's would be okay if I eventually
develop these same feelings for Mikey; I mean, why  not?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As I contemplate my humiliating situation, Molly's adjusting the bungee cords,
then she gets both hands on my hips and turns me over onto my back. The slip
collar tightens around my neck for a second, but she adjusts that, then spreads
my legs wide so that each ankle is  held in place somehow by the bungee cord
arrangement.  Next she  spreads and tucks my arm under bungee cords and I'm
spread eagle on the table feeling totally on display. As she lifts my cock,  she
says,  "I'll be shaving you on your back like this for the most part, and finish
the job with you on all fours.  In order to insure you  don't make sudden
movements causing me to nick you with the razor, you'll be secured like this."
 Everything she says is in a matter of fact manner, knowing neither the dogs nor
me will complain or contradict her. She's totally in charge of us. "You'll find
it's a pleasant experience.  I have it done to myself by a friend every ten
days, so I speak from personal experience."  Molly laying naked and
spread-eagled is not a visual I want in my head! With a couple of fingers she's
feeling around my dick, then down my scrotum to lightly squeeze my balls, then
her fingers are under my balls, and finally she pulls my  scrotum up, and says,
"I see Brett's  stretching your scrotum for ya. If  you want I can pierce  this
and  insert a nice ring or stud. You think about it, okay. That'll cost
eighty-five dollars, but is well worth it." I make a noncommittal grunt because
I don't want to hurt her feelings; she's nice, but the last thing I want is a
stud  in my stretched scrotum. I'm going to be enough of a freak having a foot
long scrotum as it is. That's how long it'll be by the time Brett's through with
me. After rubbing all around my belly and chest, she starts unhooking the bungee
cords, saying, "You don't have much noticeable body hair,  just the fine ones
everybody has, but I like you so I'll be giving you pretty much a full body
shave. Once you see how it feels to be shaved you'll want to do it all your
life." I say, "Not my head though, right?" Molly lifts me down, and says,
"That's up to Brett, honey... not me. If ya ask him nicely, maybe he'll let you
keep  the shadow of hair you got on your head  now." I feel my scalp and can
just detect a fine  sandpaper  feel... boy, it's  short alright.  As I get
dressed she turns her attention to the sheep dog. I say, "Bye.  Molly," as I'm
leaving, and she goes, "Bye, honey. See ya, next Monday."

To be   continued...

Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo.com