Disclaimer:  This disclaimer must be read first.  This disclaimer shall serve as the primary source of factual information regarding this document.  Not for minors, adults only.  For entertainment only, this is a work of fiction.  All persons, places and things appearing herein are made-up and any resemblance to anyone or any organization in the real world is entirely coincidental.  None of the people in this story actually exist, but in the event that any of them engage in sexual activity the actors involved are over the legal age of consent in the country from which they originate, in which the acts may take place, and the country in which this story is being consumed.  Any remarks occurring in the story that might indicate otherwise are misleading and false.

Author's note:  Not proofread or edited for content and/or grammatical or spelling errors/mistakes.  No warranty for homogeneous consistency is provided, all content is supplied AS IS, there may be logical and/or name/pronoun errors.  If any such exist please pretend they don't or e-mail me at Streuthanasia@gmail.com with your help/review/feedback/comments/applause/derision.

This story may contain explicit sex and gross and/or messy/unpleasant situations.  Thank you and enjoy.

With Whipped Topping
by Alex Streuth

Roger was in his second year at college when he met her.  He didn't want to be an accountant, but it was a safe major.

They talked online.  At first he did most of the talking and she listened, and then as their relationship deepened, she did most of the talking and he listened.

He told her what he wanted and she agreed to accommodate him, he would be safe, all of the pressure society put on him as a man to succeed would be lifted, he would be free to pursue his leisure activities without worry.

In exchange he would donate the majority of his time to serving and servicing her, providing anything and everything she required of him.

“This is not a romantic relationship boy.”  She had taken to calling him boy after they had become comfortable with each other.  “Get it out of your head right now that we're dating, we're not.  I'm going to take care of you and you're going to live with me, that's all.  You can pretend if you want to but I'm not going to fuck you so don't get that in your head either.”

He assured her that it was the farthest thing from his mind, that he never thought about sex, that it offended him that she might think that he might think about it...

She listened for a little bit and then told him to shush.  She didn't want him prattling on, she told him.  It wasn't going to be that kind of relationship either, she wasn't there to listen to him.  “I do the talking and you listen, you hear?”

He nodded.  Specifically he typed /nod and on the screen it said 'useme_m nods.'

He sent her a picture and she grunted, he was 'okay' looking, she told him.  He had spent over half an hour fretting over his hair and make-up in the bathroom.  He wasn't trying to look like a girl, but he wanted to be a pretty boy for her.  The fact that she said that he was only 'okay' made him feel bad.  He bit his lower lip and winced.

His lease was up at the end of the month, and school was out for the summer.  He agreed to come stay with her for the summer, and if things worked out, maybe drop out of school and live with her.  She agreed to let him visit, on the condition that he would not leave before the summer was up 'Waste my money for nothing...' she said, and that he would decide at the end of the summer whether to stay on full-time or not.

He tried to work out the details but she was vague.  “Will I have a day off a week, or something?”  He asked.  She told him that he would have off whenever he wasn't needed, but that if she wanted to use him for two days straight without sleep he would comply.  That made him nervous, but he needed her, he needed the attention and the approval of her, he wanted her to need him too...  and serving her was a way that he could be needed.

He hoped that she would like him when he came, the first thing he wanted to do was tremble before her and kneel, and lay his head upon her thigh.

She paid for his train ticket but she made him pack his own food since there was no way to pay for his meals on the train without having to go through a lot of hassle that would open her to unwanted exposure.  She paid for his train ticket with cash.

She told him that it would be wise for him to tell someone, his friends or his family, where he was going, what he would be doing, when to expect him back, but she told him that if she got a phone call from anyone, if she so much as heard from anyone from his previous life...  He would be on a train back, and that would be that.

He cringed when she said that, and he thought about it.  He wanted to tell his friend what he would be doing, the one who might understand what he was doing, but he decided to trust her.  If he could trust her then everything would be okay, and if he couldn't trust her then it wouldn't work out.

He thought about what he was doing while he was on the train.  He got cold feet and thought about getting off several times, then he thought about her, about what it would be like being with her.  He was sure that it wouldn't be quite as nice as he dreamed it would be, nothing in real life can be quite as rosy in actual practice as it is in fantasy...  But he hoped that everything would be as wonderful as it was in his imagination anyway...

He pictured her yelling at him, and he smiled, he needed her to touch him...  Even if those touches were slaps, even if she avoided his groin area at all times...

He sighed.  It wasn't entirely true what he had said about sex, he thought about it rather a lot, and he didn't want to tell her this, but he rather hoped that she would use him for oral sex—a lot.  He wanted to worship her, to make himself beholden to her, to show her how badly he viewed her as his superior...

She knew all this of course, and he knew that she knew.  She knew his type.  She knew that he was awkward around girls, mainly because they intimidated him, and he wanted to be with an intimidating woman.  He wanted to be afraid, to feel small, because he was ashamed of what he was, of being male, of what men in his society did to women.

He wanted to be punished for all of the violence the men in the world visited on women.  And he needed it from a woman who thought of men as a disgusting sheen of slime on the underside of her boot, to be stomped on and scraped off while looking down on it with revulsion.

He came, softly, with his eyes closed, imagining her doing just that.  She knew him so well...  The only thing he was worried about was her taking pity on him or growing soft as they became acquainted.  The only thing he worried about was her not truly believing what she said about female superiority.  The only thing that scared him was her wanting to treat him as an equal, of asking his opinion, of valuing his input, of wanting to give him oral sex.

He shook his head, waking himself up.  He was almost there, and he had psyched himself out.

Reality was going to be different than his imagination, and what he needed was a woman who could dominate him with her physicality, shake him out of his head space, keep him in the hear and now.

Accounting wasn't a very creative or glamorous career, but it was safe.


He arrived, stepping off the train, and he carried his bag with him.  It was small, it had just his important stuff with him.  It had his passport and driver's license, and his social security card and his birth certificate and a prepaid phone card just in case he needed it.  It had everything he needed in it to start a new life.

It also had everything someone else might need to destroy him, or steal his identity.  She hoped he could trust her, he had to.  If he didn't then his life was over, not because she might kill him but because what he needed, everything that he had told her he wanted, everything that she had promised him she could give, would evaporate.

He had to trust her.


She picked him up in her pick-up truck.  She had him sit in the passenger seat.  She gave him the once over and then helped him up into the cab.  He didn't need the help but he didn't dare refuse her when she offered her arm.  She was tall and rugged, she had muscle on her bicep, and she was sweating in the sun.

He looked down, embarrassed when his eyes trailed over her breasts.  She grunted and told him to keep looking at his feet as he sat in the truck.  She crossed in front of the hood and mounted up into the driver's seat.

They drove.  They went over bumps.  Every once in awhile he'd steal a glance up at their surroundings, until she saw him doing so and scolded him.  He apologized and she told him to be quiet.  He sat calmly with his hands in his lap, looking down at his feet.  He wanted to apologize again but he was quiet.

Eventually they stopped and she got out and came around and took his bag and helped him down.  She carried the bag in one hand and led him beside her with the other.  He thought she could fit his whole waist in one curve of her arm.  He thought if he slouched his head would come to her belt buckle.

He was trembling all over with excitement.

She took him inside and shoved his bag off onto the couch.  She instructed him to strip and then to get onto all fours.  He obeyed, anxious to please her.

She took her jeans off and then her panties and sat down on the couch.  She turned the TV on and put a game on, watching it.  She slapped her naked thigh and waited.

He crawled over to her and was happy to discover that she was naked and moist.  She guided his head into her folds and clutched his hair with her right hand.  She made sure he had gotten started and had at least some idea of how to service a woman before fumbling with the armrest and digging out a beer.

“Harder,” she said, still staring at the TV.  She snapped the top and chugged it, swallowing noisily.  She sat the can down in a holder in the armrest of the couch and then breathed out, a long breath, relaxing.

She had done it.  He was here, she was safe, everything was good.  She gave him an affectionate pat on his head and then went back to watching the game.  In truth she was thinking about how best to ask him the few questions she needed answers to, but first she thought it would be best to acquaint him with his primary duties around the house, starting with the most important one.

She felt his tongue licking her folds and tasting her salt.  She wondered if the taste bothered him, and if he had serviced many other women in his time.  She knew that eventually his arms and legs and jaw would become tired and the fantasy would wear out and he'd grow a little bored and then wonder whether he could stop.

As much as he might want to service her, as much as he was living the dream, she needed to discipline him so that he would never resent her, so that he would never stop thinking it the treat that it was.  And that meant neglecting him.

“Up,” she said, standing suddenly.  She gripped his hair as she said it, yanking him to his feet.  He let out a yelp and she smacked him, telling him “No noise,” firmly, and then thrusting his head back down to the floor.  He lay there, catching his breath, and she put a foot on his head, holding it there, putting her weight down on it slowly.

“Noise in my house is bad, no noise, man's mouth makes noise, no noise from boys.”  She emphasized her words by squishing his skull slowly with her foot.  He wanted her to stop, he wanted to say he was sorry, he was angry at her, and he was scared.

He waited and the pressure relented.  She walked into the next room and slapped her thigh with her hand.  He felt a little light-headed as he got back to his knees.  He looked up at her as he crawled, trying to see whether she was happy with him now.  Her face was impassive, and she scolded him for looking up at her.

He crawled into the room the rest of the way with his head down.  She rushed him, tying a diaper securely onto him and his hands behind him suddenly and with practiced rhythm.  He cringed as she got to her feet, hoping she wouldn't step on him again, and secretly wanting it.

She left him in the darkness, and closed the door.

He soiled himself several times before she returned.  He was very thirsty.

“Are you ready to behave?”  She asked.

He didn't know what he had done wrong, he had spoken, and he had not kept his head down, that was it...  It didn't seem like much but he was sorry he had done it.  He wasn't sure if he could talk or not so he nodded his head.  He had looked up at her as she had entered, she was dressed again, this time in a nightgown that she had obviously slept in.  His penis became erect when he saw her, and saw that he could see her panties through the slip in her gown.

 The curvature of her breasts was heavenly and her feet connected with his head.

“Keep your eyes to yourself,” she said.

She closed the door and locked it again.  He lay awake, chastising himself for being so stupid.  “I came all this way, did all this to be with her and I can't even behave myself.”  He said.  “I'm so stupid, I'm so stupid I'm so stupid I need to shut up.  Just stop talking, and keep your head down.”

He talked to himself for a little while and then soiled himself again.  After that it became easier because he hadn't had anything to drink in over eighteen hours.

When he awoke again there was light.  The door was opening.  He closed his eyes and huddled with his face down towards the carpet.  He kept his ears in a position to hear and waited for her to speak.

“That's better,” she said.  “You may speak.”

“Oh I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I was bad I'm so sorry,” he blathered.  She nodded, although he couldn't see it.

“That's enough.”  She said.  She neither acknowledged his apology or accepted it verbally.  She told him to keep his eyes closed and he obeyed while she changed his diaper.

He was embarrassed when she touched his wee-wee.  It made him feel bad that she should have to have contact with it, he wanted to tell her how sorry he was that she had to be this close to it.  He mentally imagined her having girlfriend after girlfriend and them all coming in and sating her and being wild in bed and giggling whenever they noticed him and talking about how stupid it was for men to have these little things...

She finished and sprinkled a little talcum to help prevent diaper rash.  She untied his arms and rubbed some lotion onto the wrists before rebinding them, a little looser.

“I'm going to roll you onto your back, keep your eyes closed.”  He did so as she turned him over and positioned a bucket next to his head.  She soaped up a dish towel and squeezed it out into the bucket, which had water in it.  Then she gently washed his face and hair with the towel.  Afterwards she told him to open his mouth and she squeezed the wash towel into his mouth.

He drank, even though the water tasted like dirty soap.  He drank several mouthfuls before she departed.

When he made another movement into his diaper it felt squishier.  He didn't know how long he lay there in the dark but when she came again he knew to keep his eyes closed.

She fed him this time, from a bottle.  She held his head in one of her strong hands and held the bottle with the other.  His hands were still tied so he was at her mercy.  He didn't know what was in the bottle but he suspected it was alcoholic, maybe beer.  He grimaced and spit it out when he got the first swallows.

“I don't drink alcohol,” he said.  It was a religious thing.

She grew very angry.  She was being so nice to him, this was his reward for almost two days of good behavior and he was spitting it back into her face.  She wanted to bash his skull in, but that would ruin him, plus...  She didn't really want to hurt him.  But she was furious.

She threw the bottle across the room.  She stomped on the ground, he could feel it near his head, and he could feel how angry she was.  She took the beer bottle from which she had loaded the baby bottle and smashed it into the wall.  He could hear the glass break.  She tensed up, feeling the energy course through her, feeling how angry she was, and she took several deep breaths.

Finally she upturned the bucket, spilling the soapy water on the ground.  All of this angry energy had come through her and needed a way out.  She had already expended some of it but she needed to do something to him and she didn't want to hit him, not yet, not right now.  She felt it would be weak for her to act rashly.

“Since you rejected the nice gift I was giving you here is something not so pleasant to keep you company and remind you of your failing.”  She sat down on the bucket, sliding her pants down as she did so, so that her naked bum protruded over the edge.

It took her a little bit, since she wasn't in the bathroom, and this wasn't the toilet, but eventually she forced her anger out into a dark brown stain on the ground.

It splashed a little as it landed, and then started to mix with the puddle.  The second dropping she left was drier.

“I want to go home,” he wailed, starting to cry.  “I don't like it here let me go...”  He started to wiggle in his bonds and try to escape.  She took another length of rope and bound his ankles to each other and then hogtied him.  She took a short length of rope and made him bite down on it, while he struggled and kicked as best he could.

“You fucking ungrateful little piece of shit,” she said, “I bet you never took responsibility for anything in your life, you spoiled little selfish prick.”  She tied it tightly behind his head, effectively gagging him, and the look on his face before she left was one of raw anger and hatred.

She closed the door, locking it.  She'd have to go in and check on him soon unless she risked walking into an ambush...  She didn't think he could escape that tie but he didn't have much else to do with his time besides try to loosen it.

She quickly rummaged through his bag, which had sat, forgotten, since his initial arrival.  She called up a friend of hers at the DMV, a woman who sympathized with her and who owed her.  She called her over.  She had saved the life of this woman and her daughter when they had almost gotten run over in the street.  She had done it by stepping on the gas and ramming into the side of a car driven by a drunk driver, a man, who had not obeyed the four-way stop or seen them crossing.

“So that's it,” she said, explaining it.  She was much too mentally fatigued to try making anything up, and she figured at worst she could just let the boy go and he wouldn't have much to say to anyone, at least, not without embarrassing himself terribly.

Her friend thought about it for awhile.  She didn't really want to get involved, and had been horrified when her friend had told her about what she'd done initially, but she figured “Who am I to judge?  We each have our own peculiarities...”  and besides, she owed the woman everything.

“Alright, well, I'll try to think of something, this might take a day or two.  Give me everything you've got, and I'll get back to you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, her friend was going to go along with it.  At first she thought she might report her to the police, but she said “Heavens no!  We're in this together, any problem of yours is a problem of mine.  I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I thought there was something I could help you with that I didn't.  I would be haunted every night when I tuck my little girl in.”

There was a scratching at the door, the one he was locked behind.  She breathed, once to herself to calm her nerves, and then again to steel herself.  She tensed, braced, and then opened the door hard and suddenly, catching him on his feet with the door, causing him to take several staggered steps back.

The little shit had somehow frayed the rope where she had tied his arms and legs together.  He was standing.  The rope around his legs was loose, still connected but giving him play.  His arms were still bound, although she couldn't be sure, maybe he was pretending.

She watched as he tried stepping over the rope, but the loose tie around his feet prevented him from doing so.  He hopped on one foot a few times before giving up and putting his hands back behind him.

She circled, not wanting to give him access to the door but not wanting to stand in the light either.  The room was dark but his eyes should have already adjusted.

He came at her, trying to headbutt her.  She stepped out of the way at the last moment and then kicked at his leg with her left foot, trying to trip him.  He recovered, clumsily, and adjusted, breathing a little harder.  He hadn't eaten since that food on the train, and the only water he'd had had left him almost more dehydrated than before he had drank it.

He was tired, fatigued, but he had adrenaline pumping through him.

She wasn't stupid, she knew all of these things, she had labored to deprive him of food and water, of light and company, to leave him alone in the dark until he had been broken.  It didn't matter if he wanted to serve her, she wouldn't have him until after she had reduced him to a shell, until after she had destroyed his ego completely.

And this would not do.  It had never been this hard before, but then most of the boys she had played with had been from poorer neighborhoods, and they had just been for the weekend.  She paid them, usually, not because they asked her for it but because she liked seeing them struggle with their pride before accepting it.

All of which had prepared her for this.  She had always secretly longed for them to resist, to fight back, to resent the way in which she treated them.  This one had a lot of ego to lose, a lot of pride before the fall.  He might be ashamed of his feelings about himself and his gender but he was damned if he was going to let her subject him to such abuse.

“Stop now and submit to me and I will be lenient on you when I punish you,” she said.  She kept her voice firm and in control.

She waited and he charged again, feinting so that he could attempt to rush past her through the door.  She saw it coming and tripped him, successfully this time, by aiming for the rope between his legs rather than his leg itself.

He dropped face first, all of his forward momentum hitting him smack in the head as he dropped like a clumsily hurled leaden airplane.

She did not hesitate in sitting on him, squishing him with her weight.  She forced his legs down and quelled his struggling.  She stared him straight in the eye and told him to open his mouth.  She made no other move to interact with him, just held him there and told him to open his mouth.

He breathed, still, for several moments, before deciding to capitulate.  Everything seemed so much easier if he just did what she said.  He was actually quite sorry for resisting, its just that the...  the shit was too much.  He shuttered to think about it.

“I'm sorry,” he said, in a small voice.

“Did I tell you to speak boy?!”  She asked him, roughly.  She wanted to hit him, but she thought it might distract from the lesson at hand.  “I said, open your mouth.”

He did so, weakly.

“Hold it open.”  She sat on top of him, holding his body still, keeping his legs and his head secure.  He held his mouth open, his eyes closed, and she breathed, steadily, relaxing, letting him feel her weight on top of him.

She didn't speak for several moments, and he held his mouth open for that long.  But when he moved to swallow the spit that had accumulated in the back of his throat, closing his mouth for a moment to do so, she yelled at him.

“Hold it open!”  She said.

He cringed and obeyed.  A minute later he needed to swallow again.  He wondered if she was still watching his face, if he could do it quickly.  He held it for as long as he thought he could before swallowing, closing his mouth for a second to do so.

“Stop closing your mouth, boy, hold it open.”  He felt tired, his jaw felt tired, and it was getting hard to breathe.  Her weight was crushing him, slowly.

“Please,” he said, and she scowled.

She stood up off of him and told him he could close his mouth.  She left everything else in the room exactly as it was and closed the door, locking it behind her.  She sat down on the couch, sweaty, and tired, and turned the television on.

She turned it to a show about sports and turned it up really loud.  She got up and went into the kitchen, warming herself up a Bertolli dinner in the microwave and uncanning a can of dog food for the boy.

She took the bowl of food back to the door and braced herself.  She looked at the doorframe, she had broken it when she had gone through it before.  It hadn't locked properly when she had locked it earlier.  It wasn't really locked now.  She set the dog food on the floor and stood with her back to the wall, to the side of the door.  She kicked at it, knocking it open.

The loud television drowned out any sound.  She waited a moment, and then looked in.  He was curled up on the floor in the fetal position, naked.  He had taken his diaper off and laid it in one corner.  All of the mess she had left him earlier had been moved into the bucket with the towel and moved into the corner as well.  He was curled up in the far corner, crying softly to himself.

She felt sorry for him, for a moment.  She hardened up and picked the bowl of food up off the floor.  She marched across the room and set it down in front of him.

“Eat,” she said, and then left, leaving the door open.  She returned to find him eating slowly from the bowl, begrudgingly.  He was hungry, but it was degrading, and, as she approached, he told her, had little bits of bone in it.

“Its good for your teeth, eat,” she said, and sat a folding chair down next to him, sitting in it and blowing on her Bertolli.  She ate her dinner while he ate his, and she let him appreciate the hierarchy.

“That was a bad thing you did earlier,” she began, after she had finished her meal.  It was designed for two people but she was a big woman with a big muscular frame.

“I know,” he sniffed, still trying to work his way through the food.  It tasted like beats and some sort of meat paste, ground up and congealed.  It was horrible, but he was doing his best.  The bones were really hard to get through, they were tiny and he was afraid of choking on them.

“You attacked me,” she said.  He broke down, blubbering in response to what she had said.  This was unexpected.  She thought she was going to have to try harder to break him.  Still, she pursued.

“Despite what you did I am willing to overlook it, I will not forgive you and it will go on your permanent record, but I am willing to overlook it if you will agree to a suitable rehabilitation.”

He sniffed, listening.  He almost said “Go on,” but realized how presumptuous it would sound.  He wasn't stupid.  He said, “Anything,” in his best, desperate-to-make-it-up-to-you voice.

He hoped she would make him eat her out again.  Well, maybe after she let him clean his mouth and brush his teeth...  and maybe take a shower, or a nice hot bath...

“Finish your food and we'll talk more,” she said.  His thoughts turned again to the dark lump in front of him.  He wondered if he would be able to eat anymore.  Despite his empty stomach he felt that he could stop eating now.

He looked up but she had gone.  She had left the chair.

He thought about running again, but where would he go?  If he could find her keys maybe he could drive to the train station.  But how would he buy a ticket?  He could sneak on, the worst they could do was make him get off at the next stop, right?

But he was in a foreign state, he didn't know anyone here.  He could call someone he knew...  He didn't dare risk trying to use her phone.  He could run to a neighbor's...  They were far away, he knew, this whole area out here was so rural...

He was from an urban area, and he thought it was kind of backwards living where she did, out on a ranch in the middle of flat land.

So he'd need to steal the truck and drive to a neighbor's.  But still, if he did that, what then.  Supposing he did steal her keys, and maybe a credit card, and, he reasoned, the stuff in his bag, what then?

He worked the ropes the rest of the way off his wrists and got up.  He was naked.  He snuck to the doorway and stuck his head out, she was on the phone, he could hear her.  He couldn't make out what she was saying, the TV was still on really loud, but she was definitely in the next room.

He crept a few steps out...  Then froze.  Standing there in front of him was the biggest Rottweiler he had ever seen in his life.  It turned to him.  It barked, baring its teeth.  He crouched back into the room just as she came up in front of him and put a baby blocker in the doorway to 'his room.'

She was still on the phone, a cordless, and she ignored him and ignored the fact that he was probably trying to escape.  He was back in the room now, and the baby blocker was preventing the dog was getting in at him, but it was right up next to it, its head went overtop of it, and it barked and barked at him until he crept back into the darkness of the room and huddled in the corner.

He thought that it would back up and jump over the thing, that it would be upon him any moment.

“Good boy,” she said, stroking her dog's head and back as she listened on the phone.

She turned and peered in at him, watching him huddling naked in the corner.  “On all fours,” she said, addressing him.  He didn't appreciate what she was saying at first, wondering if she was talking on the phone, then he saw her shake her hand at him.  She grew impatient with him and put her hand on the latch of the baby blocker, threatening to lift it up out of the dog's way.

He quickly got onto all fours.

“Head down,” she said, and he did so.  “Lick,” she said.  He didn't know what she meant so he just licked the cold concrete.  She nodded, pet her dog on the head some more, listened on the phone, and said “Good boy.”

She didn't know if she was talking to the dog or to him.

“Okay,” she said, and it was all that he could make out as she settled down onto the couch.  The dog continued to growl at him as he looked up, and then he made eye contact with it.

“Bark bark bark bark bark!”  It said, he looked down again.  After a few moments it stopped barking.

It watched him, until he stopped moving, and then it whined and curled up in front of the doorway and settled to rest.

“See you then,” she said, hanging up.  Her friend had done it.  It was all ready, it had taken the work of a lawyer friend of her's...  A girlfriend to be precise, who had a favor she called in with a male judge whom she was able to blackmail because she had a sexual harassment brief all drawn up that she didn't file so long as he was cooperative.

A half an hour later her friend was there with the lawyer, she had brought her daughter along as well.  “Sorry, couldn't get a babysitter,” she said.  She had told her daughter about her friend and told her that she mustn't tell anyone or that she, her mother, would have to go to prison, but that they were helping their friend because she had saved their lives.

The girl, no older than fourteen, had agreed, tacitly, not to speak about what she might see, although the secretive nature of the conversation had her very curious.

The four of them stepped over the baby blocker, first the owner of the house, and then the lawyer, who was dressed neatly and primly professionally, she had just got back from the office after drawing the papers up that her girlfriend had requested.  The request had been odd, but she had been promised a night of really great sex in exchange and she was never one to pass up an opportunity to satisfy her darkest fetishes.  She had gotten an oral contract from her girlfriend that she would agree to a night of 'no-limits' play, and she was a lawyer so she intended to hold her to it.

Third over the barrier was the mother, who turned and helped her teenage daughter through.

“Is that him?”  The lawyer asked.  The owner nodded.

The mother whispered to her girlfriend, who in turn consulted the papers and then turned to the child.  “We'd like you to do it.”  She said, addressing the fourteen year old.

“Okay,” she said, “do what?”  She looked up at her mommy.

“Go over to that doggy over there and get him to sign these papers,” she said.  “Ask him nicely and if he says no tell us.  If he says yes make sure he signs all four.  Afterwards you can do what you asked me about on the way over.”

The little girl's eyes lit up at the mention of the thing.  She was dressed in a summer frock, yellow and lilac, that covered her budding breasts and she smoothed down over her legs.  It showed her knees and her stocking tops.

The boy in the corner wished very badly that he wasn't there, that he was anywhere else.

The girl approached and said, “Hello doggy.”  She thought it was silly to call a boy a doggy but her mum said that it was a game and she thought that it was kind of fun, in a mean sort of way.  But she knew all about being mean, the girls at school were mean to her, and Davey Jessey had been mean to her when he had taken her out to the movies.  He had told her they were going to see the one she wanted but they went to the one he wanted instead and his friends were there and instead of sitting alone his friends sat with them and she spent most of the movie on her knees in front of them with them laughing at her even though she cried and told them she'd tell her mommy.

This one didn't look nearly so tough.  “Mommy wants me to ask you to sign these papers.”  She said.  She held out a pen and the four documents.

The boy looked up, the owner looked back at him with cold, hard eyes.  The lawyer with passionate disinterest, and the mother with a bit of pride and hesitancy.  He realized she was looking at her daughter.

“What do they say?”  He asked.

“No talking,” the owner said.

“I'm advising you as a lawyer that you should read over anything before signing it, and that you have the right to have a lawyer read over it for you if you can afford one,” the lawyer said.

“Don't read them, just sign them,” the girl said.  He glanced down at one.
“No reading,” the owner said.

“I'd do what she says,” the mother said, “if I were you I'd do what she says.”

He thought about grabbing the girl and holding her hostage, demanding his freedom.  But he didn't have a weapon and he wasn't very strong.  He was weak too.  He wondered if there was anything in that dog food.  Probably not, maybe, but it was causing his stomach to roil and that was enough.

He grabbed the pen, holding it unsteadily.  He glanced again at the papers.

“Don't read it silly, just sign it like a good doggy.”  The little girl looked so sweet, and yet so cruel.  She smiled, and he saw in her a hatred without a name.  It hadn't evinced yet, but it was there, it was looking at him and had accepted that he was less than a man.

It spoke of a hurt that would not be healed, that bruised and blistered without relief.  She needed him to obey her, even if it was something that had only entered her head just now, or maybe, it had only spoken up as she approached him.

“Sign it doggy,” she said, “and then I'll give you a kiss, wouldn't you like that?”  He cringed, still holding the pen feebly.

The first page said something about changing name, legal request, something something.  She smacked  him.  “Mommy said no reading,” she said, and the fact that she had slapped him, more than the force of the slap itself, was what shocked him.

He realized that there was no escape for him.

“Please,” he said, appealing suddenly to the child in front of him, vainly, he knew, but out of desperation.

“No talking,” the owner said.

“Please don't upset my baby girl,” the mother said, “I don't like it when men hurt my baby.”

“If you sign the document it will be legally binding and act as a contract for the duration stipulated between the two parties listed.  It will go into effect once it has been vouchsafed by the local governing authority and verified by two witnesses.”

“I'll witness,” the mother said.

“Mmhmm,” the owner grunted.

The girl in front of him, the fourteen year-old, the one with the sickeningly sweet smile, laughed.  The light had filtered in as the women at the door adjusted slightly.

“Is that it?”  She asked, going slightly mad.  It was the same thing that the boys in the theater had attacked her with.  Her eye twitched, involuntarily.  “Is that the thing, is that it?”  She was speaking to no one in particular, but the voice which she was using was scaring him.

He quickly signed the first paper, changing his name, he knew.  He scanned the second, but the closeness of the girl seemed more a menace than a comfort now, as she radiated a strange aura that hadn't been there before.

He quickly signed it, knowing that it was something along the lines of legal slavery.

The third said something about medical, it hurt to sign it, but he did, quickly, and hurried to the last.

He didn't even read the fourth, just signed in the same spot and gave the documents back to the girl.

“Please, please, I did what you wanted, now go, please, please go.”  He begged her.  He was scared of her.  She was almost six years younger than him, scarcely in high school, and he was deathly afraid.

He was also scared of the women at the door, but the girl in front of him wasn't bound by the same teachings as they.  At least his owner wouldn't hurt him, she wouldn't harm him, he knew.  And the lawyer, well, maybe she would, but she wasn't scary, not really.

The mother, maybe if he tried to hurt her child, she would defend her, but the girl.  He could see that something was not right with her.  He could see that someone had done something to her, and that she needed to let it out, she needed to be in therapy maybe, but it was too personal.

And she scared him.

She walked the documents back over to her mother who pet her on the head and told her she had done “Very well,” in response to the question of whether she had done well.

The lawyer reviewed them, matching the signatures to the one on the documents he had supplied her with unwittingly.  He blanched when he saw her with them, although it wasn't unexpected.

“Sign here, and witness here,” the lawyer said, gathering the required signatures from the two women.

He heard her shoes walking back over to him, he was looking down at the concrete and she approached.  He was trembling slightly.

“Hello again doggy,” she said.  He looked up.  She had turned around so that her backside was to him.  “You were very good signing those papers, Mommy said you were good, so I'm going to reward you with a kiss.”

He managed a smile, in spite of the circumstances.  It wasn't hard to figure out what came next, and it fit, perversely enough.  He almost welcomed it, because he knew that, hurt as she was, and hateful as she was, even if it was a young hate that hadn't yet coalesced, it was also the first gentle contact he had had since he had gotten here.

He almost thanked her as she bent over and puckered up her rosebud.  He did give her a proper kiss for her efforts though, watching as she gripped her ankles and rubbed and clenched against his lips.

“Ewwwww,” she said, as she climbed off him and ran back over to her mother.  “Mommy he put his tongue in there.”

“Did he now?”  Her mother asked, bemused.  “Well, I have just the thing.”  She took a handi-wipe out of her purse and gave it to her daughter, who looked back rudely at the boy and wiped her bottom.

“Good idea,” the owner said, “that mouth's pretty filthy.”

They left in reverse order of the way they had come in, the lawyer having a slightly harder time as she was still reading over the papers and not watching the gate.

“Stay,” his owner said, and he did.


The next day he found out what he had signed, it was already processed so it didn't hurt for him to see copies.

“Your name has been legally changed,” she said.  “I won't show you that one, suffice to say that its a name that you won't ever know, so don't bother trying to reclaim your identity, you don't have one.”  He winced as she spoke.

“My work, as you may have guessed from our conversations online, has always been from the home.  I take care of children...  At least, that's what it says on paper.  Its a bit of a scam that I've got going, but its harmless.  That woman you saw earlier helps children who need better families find them, their real parents are abusive, their homes are unsafe...  So this is a place for them to be safe, at least until they're placed with long-term foster parents.”

He listened, wondering what this had to do with the documents he had signed.

“They don't actually stay here, but I collect the short-term benefits they are supposed to be given to pay for their upkeep.”  He nodded.  “So I don't work, and I have all day to look after you.”

He still didn't understand.  She waited a moment before saying it.

“I adopted you,” she said.

“Oh,” he said.  She slapped him, gently, she didn't want to interrupt herself.

“No talking,” she said softly, then went back to her monologue.  “You and I know you're twenty but the birth certificate you gave us was easy to alter.  It took a bit of work but we know the system, and making one small change in the middle of a larger court-ordered one...”

“The name change,” he said, understanding...

She slapped him again, softly again, but quicker.  He was quiet.

“So on paper you're two.”

“No, I don't believe that.”  She clocked him.  This was the first time she had really hit him, and it hurt.  He rubbed his jaw.  Then he looked at her.  He wanted to say he was sorry.

“Never say that, if I hear that word from you again it will really hurt.”

“What word?”  He asked, in his smallest voice.  He flinched when she raised her hand, and it was enough, she didn't slap him.

“Are you two?”  She asked him.

He frowned, “No,” he said, “I'm--” but she decked him again.  He lay on his back this time, clutching his face.  After a few moments he started to cry.

She had everything she needed in place, he had already started to accept what she was telling him, and he had broken at some point, she was sure.

What's more, she had a fierce need to use him, so she decided it was time for that 'random moment of kindness' that brainwashing technicians are so keen on.

“Oh, I'm sorry baby, are you okay?”  She said, in her best patronizing tone.  As she spoke she hefted herself into a squat so that her thighs were hovering over his shoulders.  He looked up at her where her thighs met, and nodded.

“Does baby baby want to kiss and make it all better?”  She asked.  She had made damned sure to clean him up and especially to wash out his mouth after her friends had departed yesterday.  She had fed him a chicken broth as a reward for signing and then let him recuperate.

He nodded again, suddenly intoxicated by her nearness.  She leaned in, reaching down and loosening a flap in her pants.  Tugging, it fell away to reveal her crotch beneath.  She wasn't wearing any panties.

Face met flesh as she sat down into him, nursing his hurt jaw with her special medicine.

“There there, its okay, mommy's here baby.”

He felt so good being there, so safe, comforted.  It was as though all the abuse of the previous few days hadn't happened at all.  It took her gripping his hair to remind him.

He tensed, suddenly afraid, but no rough fucking, no slamming, no punching occurred.  She began to grind into him, riding is face.

“This is called queening,” she said, “and it has existed for thousands of years.”  She wasn't sure exactly if  it was thousands or hundreds but thousands sounded better.

He nodded, as best he could.  “Kings who had power in public were made to lie down while their queens sat on top of them.”  She continued to grind into his face, relishing the feel, the power.

She was a strong woman, and heavy, and it wasn't long before he was suffocating.  His struggles made it all the more delicious.  She was approaching orgasm and wasn't stopping.  But she didn't want to cum, not just yet, not just now, it was about power, and control, and she didn't want to lose it.

She sat up, slowly, and as he did she felt how sticky his face was beneath her folds.  She reattached the flap on her pants and sat up into a squat, then stood on her tall legs.  She looked down at him and smiled, “There, wasn't that nice?”  She asked.

“Thank you,” he said, gulping air, “for that very nice kiss.”

She decided not to punish him for that outburst.

“When you are obedient it puts me in a nice mood,” she said.  “When you disobey it makes me angry...”  She paused, putting her booted foot over his face, letting it hang there, “And I don't like being angry.”

She stamped down full force, breaking his nose.

“Ow, fucking hell, oh my god that hurt, you bitch that, you broke my fucking nose, oh my god, oh my god, ow, that's, ahhh,” he twitched under her boot and bled, yelling out the side of his mouth beneath her assault.

She raised her foot again and said, quietly, “Shhhh.”

He saw it, he saw it, he stopped talking.  He closed his eyes and flinched, hoping it wouldn't come down.

“Baby makes too much noise it makes Mommy angry.”  He breathed, still hurting, his nose was in pain, it was throbbing, and it was bleeding, and he knew it was broken.

He tensed, half freaking out, but it was only the cuff of her jeans, they lightly touched the side of his face.

“Have you been a bad boy?”  She asked.

He didn't know what the answer was, but he hoped he knew it.  “Y-yes,” he said, through clenched teeth.  He ran his tongue over them, making sure they were all there.  Then, as quietly as he could, and quickly, he begged, “Please you got to take me to the hospital, my nose's broken, you got to, please you got to.”

“Have.”  She corrected him.

“What?”  He said, and she kicked the side of his face, not hard, but enough to remind him that he wasn't supposed to talk.  He was very quiet, and very scared.

“Its have, have to, you have to take me to the hospital, not got to.”  She narrowed her eyes.  “But yes, I suppose medical treatment is necessary.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, and she promptly stomped on his face again, aiming better now that his nose was crushed, knocking out most of his teeth.  He passed out.


When he awoke he felt funny and lightheaded.  At first he wondered if he was dead, and giggled slightly.

“He's awake.”  He heard a hissing.  The hissing was louder than the voice, the voice sounded like it was at the other end of reality.

I wonder what my epithaph would read?  He wondered, “Here lies a man who was killed by a woman, what a wimp!”  Then he felt bad, and realized that he deserved it, he deserved to be hit by her, after all the things that men did to women...

He was crying, and laughing.  The nitrous caused that combination.

“Are you finished yet?”  One of them asked.  The dentist looked up, then back down at her patient, then back down again.

“Look,” she said, “I mainly just clean teeth, the dentist usually takes them out, I'm just the hygienist.”  Sh said.

“You're either done or you're not,” the first woman was saying, it was his owner he decided.  He decided he loved her.  He smiled, giggling again, he wanted to laugh.

“-enal -nist,” he said, slurring his words.  He laughed at what he had said.  Everything felt so pleasant.

“Yeah I'm done, okay, I'm done, you're sure my college loans will be paid off?”  She asked.

“Don't worry,” her owner was saying, “your debt is gone, I've taken care of it personally, its gone, no worries, everything's square.”

“Okay, so just, regular check-ups right?  Nothing big like this, just regular check-ups...  and cleanings.”  She added, seeing the way the woman was looking at her.

“Right, every six months and your loan payments will be taken care of, pre-paid, every six months.”

The pretty young girl nodded, pulling the mask off of her face.  He wanted her.  He imagined, perversely, sticking his thing into her mouth, it was so pretty.  Her teeth were so white and clean.  But she'd probably bite it off...  He made a face, her teeth would get in the way, her teeth...

He was coming out of it, the nitrous was still going strong but the mask had slipped off and he was breathing in the room's air some.  He ran his tongue over his teeth making sure they were still there.

She had said something, someone had said something, and, they were all there, okay, good, they were nice and smooth with just some gums and...  He looked at the cup the woman was holding.  There were his teeth.

She handed them to his owner, who pocketed them and looked down at him.

“Well?”  She asked.  “What are you looking at?”

He was almost fully lucid now.  His teeth, what the fuck had the bitch done to his teeth.  He smiled wanly at her.  He lowered his eyes, to look down the table at his feet.

“Smile,” the hygienist, said, and then added, “sorry.”  He sighed, looking up at her camera.  He smiled, showing his wide gaping toothless mouth.  A flash went off and she shook the camera.  She handed the Polaroid to the owner.

“Let's get you out of here,” his owner said, wrapping her strong arms around him.  His body still felt funny, and he didn't want to walk unsupported.

Thankfully she held him and helped him walk as he made his way out of the dentist's office.  It was dark outside when they got there.  They walked to her truck, which was the only car in the parking lot.

He thought briefly about running but instead lumbered up as he was urged until his owner had him lying down across the passenger seat slightly into the middle of the cab.  She closed the door and went around.

She climbed up and had him curl up until there was room for her wide body to fit on the seats as well.  Then she lay a blanket over him so that he was hidden from view and started the truck.

It was hot, but she turned the A/C on and after a little while he snuggled up against her butt and went to sleep.


When he awoke there was a knock at the door.  The doorbell had woken him up.  It was the middle of the night.  Crickets were chirping.  A person came through the door and then someone was saying “Oh its so good to see you,” and then a door slammed and a little later another person came through the door only this one was a man because his voice was deeper and then he sat up and looked around.

 He was in his room, it was quiet, and dark.  His water bowl had a little water left in it.  It had been full when he had gone to sleep but the Rottweiler must have had his fill earlier.  Lurching, he helped himself to his knees, using his arms to pull himself up.  He had broken his foot the day before, falling down the stairs:

 The nurse who had examined him, who, coincidentally, had huge legal fees which were going to get taken care of, “Don't worry about it, I know your lawyer, friend of mine, I'll tell her you did me a favor, she'll do you a favor, forget about it.”  The nurse had agreed that the leg was in danger of gangreen and needed to be amputated.

She had drawn a line just above the foot, cringing slightly and saying “Sorry,” as she did it.  The she had re-drawn it just below the knee when his owner had pointed.  She sprayed his knee and the area below it with cold spray, leaning in as she did it, saying “Its just that my credit is perfect,” she injected a numbing agent into the area, “and if I default on my lawyer's bills I'll never qualify for a mortgage, and Stanley and I are trying so hard to have kids right now and well, I mean, you want us to have kids don't you?”

He nodded, grimacing, a tear in his eye.  “I'm sorry,” he said.  And when he said it she thought about the time in high school when her boyfriend had driven her out to the point and then forced himself on her and then laughed about it the next day at school and told everyone what a slut she was and how every day for the next two weeks she had dates lined up with other boys who expected her to go all the way and how three of them had done the same thing that her boyfriend had...

She had finished amputating when the image was done playing out in her mind.  He had passed out.  The local anesthetic hadn't quite taken effect before she had begun.

“I'm sorry,” she said, apologizing to his owner.  “This was the same thing that I was sued over the first time.”  She made a little polite smile, “My bad,” she said.


He licked from the bowl, listening intently to the activity in the main room.  The house was laid out in a large sprawling one-floor ranch style.  That meant that there were no stairs.

He saw a dog hair in his water but ignored it, trying instead to drink from the sides, watching as the motion of his drinking caused the hair to float towards him.

He heard steps coming towards him but he didn't look up.  If he looked up he might be hit for looking, so he just listened.  Someone reached down and attached a leash to his collar.  He didn't recognize the sound of the footsteps.  He looked to the side, without turning his head, as he was lead out into the living room.

The stockings were definitely something he didn't recognize, nor the shoes.  He saw the man sitting comfortably on the sofa, and then he looked down, not wanting to be caught looking.

He was brought up in front of the man's shoes and the leash was tugged until his mouth moved up into the man's lap.  “Here,” his owner said, leaning over.  “Use this.”

The man nodded, leaning forward and pulling his mouth open.  He let him open it, and then accepted the toss of mouthwash.  He gargled it, obediently, and then swallowed.  The man unzipped his pants and let his huge snake out.

“I'm not gay,” the man said, not to him but to the women nearby.  “I just, I want to feel what its like, and, well, my wife and I both agree that its demeaning to make her do it, so...  I don't know.”

His owner nodded, saying “It makes much more sense this way.  You wouldn't want to demean your wife, whom you love,” she paused, as though daring him to challenge her statement.  He didn't say anything, and in fact only barely caught the inference.  He was focused on the hot wet mouth in front of him.

“Can you, um...”  He said, not sure how to ask.  “I was told we could put a wig and some lipstick on?”  The owner of the house smiled.  She reached down to a bag and took some lipstick out.

“Here you go, this is what I keep in my handbag.  And as you can see, I don't use it.”  She smiled, her naturally beautiful lips completely untouched by cosmetic.  Her face as a whole was rugged and homely, not beautiful in the modeling sense, but honest.  Her pride prevented her from using any cosmetic.  Besides that she considered it too 'girlie.'

“I think he likes it,” the wife said.  Her husband nodded, finishing putting the lipstick on.

“I'm afraid I don't have a wig for him,” the owner said.

“Here honey, I brought one for you,” his wife handed him one that turned him on...  when he wore it.

He swallowed, catching the symbolism.  Oh well, he didn't think about it too much, he was too hard.

He watched as she put the wig on the boy's head and then settled down into the mouth.  He tugged on the reigns until the boy's head was just next to his cock and then snapped the leash to his belt.

Now as he let go the boy's head was stuck inches from his groin.  The mouth was open and wet, and he knew better than to resist, but it wasn't exactly willing.

“Come here you cunt,” he said, gripping the back of the boy's head and forcing his cock into it, he ratcheted the slack until his cock was mated to the boy's mouth.

“Suck it, you tease,” he said, and his wife laughed, and the owner smiled.

The two women watched as the men degraded themselves, the boy in the act of forced fellatio, and the older man in the act of public exposure.  He wasn't uncomfortable, it felt safe here, he was paying, but it was a little embarrassing to be doing it with a boy.

It was only as he was cumming, as his cock was twitching, as his face tightened up and he was fully in the throes of it, that his wife said, “He's sixteen.”  The owner snapped a picture and gave it to the wife, making sure that the angle showed that it was male-male sex but not who the boy was, not explicitly.  There was a nice shot of the man's O face though.

It was actually his wife who was paying for it.  He followed sheepishly out to the car.  “Now there's no need for this to ever get out Howard,” she was saying, “I just want a few rules around the house.”

The owner closed the door behind the happy couple.

“You did very well,” she said to her boy.  She sat down, nursing a cup of coffee.  She counted the money she had been paid.  She looked down at her boy, whose mouth was closed and who was looking very small.

“Swallow it,” she said, realizing why he was sitting there.  He was hoping she wouldn't notice, would overlook the fact that it was still in his mouth.

He hated the taste, and hated even more that he had to swallow it.

He looked up at her, suddenly, after he'd swallowed, and met her eyes.  “Why?”  He asked her.

“Why?”  She replied, as though surprised that he didn't know.  “Why?”  She didn't get angry, just smiled sweetly.  “Because men do it to women all the time.”

He tried to connect with her, “So you...”  He began.

“Oh heavens no,” she said, “I'm always on top.  You're just a little bitch and I like seeing you take it.”

He cried a little, not a lot, and nodded, leaning in to nuzzle her leg.  She stood up and grabbed his leash, leading him back to his room.

“Stay,” she said.

She went back out and finished her coffee, doing the crossword before going to sleep.


When she awoke she let the dog out and then checked on him.  He was awake, and a little cold, curled up in the corner.  She checked his water and it was low so she picked the bowl up and rinsed it then filled it from the tap.

“We've got an appointment with the Vet today,” she told him.  “Get up and get dressed.”

She laid his things out for the day, gender neutral short pants and a collared T.  She watched as he crawled on hands and knees to the bathroom.  She admired the way his amputated leg looked and wondered how she could arrange to have the other one done.

She started the shower, locking the door once he was inside the bathroom.  She lathered up and washed her body.  She looked out as he used the bidet to wash his face.  Afterwards she wiped his behind and then gave him mouthwash.

Dressed, they went out to the truck.  She helped him in.

They arrived at the vet and went in the back.  Once they were inside she led him down a corridor past cages of animal, some puppies, some older, some cats.

She forced him into an operating room and strapped him to the table.  It was too small for him.

“No,” he said, and she hit him.

“There's that word again,” she said.

He was smart, she'd give him that.  She looked at him for a few moments, saw the fear, saw the anxiety.

“I'm going to take care of you,” she said, “there's no need to be afraid.”

The doctor came in, a woman, and she looked at him sheepishly.  His owner handed her a large wad of bills and then nodded.

There was a knock at the door and the doctor jumped.  The owner said, “Its okay, they're here to watch,” and opened the door.

In walked the lawyer and the mother and her daughter.

He was freaking out, struggling with the straps.

“I'm going to give him a sedative,” the doctor said.  The owner nodded.

“Are they going to cut it all the way off Mommy?”  The daughter asked.

Her mother looked embarrassed when she realized he had heard her daughter, and bent down so they could whisper in private.

His owner walked over and held his head, telling him to look up.  “Look at me, watch me,” she said.  She stared down into his eyes.  “Its okay,” she said, “its okay, this is going to happen, this is right to happen.”

He nodded, afraid.

“Will you still love me?”  He asked, in a small voice.

“I won't think any less of you than I do now,” she replied, neutrally.

The lawyer smiled at that response.

“I'm numbing the area now,” the doctor said.  His owner reached down and fumbled with her shoe.  A moment later she presented her dirty sock to the boy.

He opened his toothless mouth and she stuck it in, holding it, forcing it in until he couldn't spit it back out.  She let it soak in his saliva, and then gently took her hand off.

“Is this going to be a partial or a full penectomy?”  The doctor asked.  His owner looked off to the side, towards the door.  He tried to raise his head to look but she held it steady.

“Look at me,” she said, softly.  He obeyed.

“Full,” a young voice said.  He realized it was the daughter.

“Testing,” the doctor said, and poked him in the base of his shaft.  “Do you feel that, or is it only pressure?”  She asked.

“Blink once if its only pressure, more than once if its pain,” his owner said.  He blinked a lot.

“Its only pressure, its okay doc,” she said.  The doc nodded.  It had been only pressure, but he hadn't wanted it to happen, he wanted to stall.

She poked his scrotum, “This too?”  She asked.

“Oh yes,” the little girl said.

The doc looked at her, then she looked at the mom.  “$1500 more and she can do the cutting,” she said.

The lawyer paid.  The doctor guided the girl's hands, showing her where to make the first cut, how the soft tissue would yield.

She applied a tourniquet and gave the area a shot to stop the bleeding.  Unfortunately the tourniquet caused the penis to start to become erect.

“Now girl do it now before it gets too big!”

The girl didn't know what was happening but the thing was starting to pulse as though waking up.  She had read about dragons in literary class and she imagined she was one of the knights of old slaying the dragon, chopping off its head.

“Very good,” the doctor said, catching the semi-erect detritus in the metal basin and holding it to the side.  “Now here,” she said, and the girl cut.  One by one the testicles came loose, and then the sack was gently cut free of the body.

The whole affair was rather bloody but the doctor sponged the area and sprayed it with an antiseptic.

“You're doing very good,” the doctor said, holding the girls hands steady.  “You just need to do one more cut so it won't grow back.”  She smiled, and it was kind of a smirk.

The girl nodded, holding the medical scissors fearfully.  She looked at the flaps of loose skin that she had already cut away, and at how the bloody smooth skin underneath was rippling with soft musculature.  She saw the spot the doctor meant, it was a gently dangling short cord that was all the remained of the start of the Vans Deferens at the base of the glans.

She snipped it and then the doctor deftly sutured the area.  It was all over a few minutes later.  There would be a small opening through which he could still pee, but his penis and balls had given way to, once healed, a smooth mound with a gentle slope and soft pout.

The doctor applied a dressing and then asked the girl if she would like to keep the waste as a souvenir.

“Yes please,” she said, and watched as the doctor sutured the detached genitalia into a facsimile of its previous shape and positioning.

The doctor approached his owner and told her how the thing could be preserved.  She nodded.  “Hold your hands out,” she said.  He was crying but he did so, he was still looking up at her.

“You're going to be handed something, and then something else, I want you to rub them together,” she said.  He nodded, slowly, with a good deal of anguish on his face.

“This is from one of the animals,” the doctor said.  She brought up a barrel of dried dog dung and put it into one of the boy's hands.  Then she handed him the skin to be bated.

“Rub them together, make sure to get it nice and supple,” his owner said.  He nodded, tears coming from his eyes.  He felt the things in his hands as he rubbed them together, but tried not to think about it.

“Keep doing it,” she said, and he continued to do it.

“If you'll excuse me,” the doctor said, heading for the door, “I have other patients, do that for a good twenty minutes or so then put it in that bucket over there, let it soak.  I'll take care of the rest, you can come back and get it in a few days.”

The girl nodded and let her past.  Her mother smiled down at her, “You were very good honey,” she said.

The lawyer rubbed up against her lover, moving in to give her a passionate kiss.  The activity in the room had her feeling very amorous.

“Honey,” her mother said, after untwisting her mouth from her lover's.  “Honey why don't you stay and play with him,” she looked at the owner, who nodded.

“But I want to stay with you mommy,” she said, “I don't want to play with a boy.”  She humphed.

“Well mommy needs some me time and its better for you to get to know boys your age, its good for socializing.”  She let the lawyer lean in for another embrace.

“Well I don't want to but okay,” the girl walked over to the boy on the table and inspected the bare spot where his penis had been.

He was still rubbing his detached genitalia with the dung to release the tannins into it.  When he was done it would go into the bucket where it would soak and eventually become tanned hide.

The mother and the lawyer left, and the owner waited patiently until the amount of time needed had passed.  During that time the girl had poked about around his groin, he didn't feel it.  The owner told her not to poke too hard since it needed to heal, but that she could learn about boys a lot by inspecting down there.

Later, after the penis was put into the bucket, they left.

The girl rode in the passenger seat on top of the boy, who was curled up and twitching a bit as the numbness began to slowly wear off.

Back at the house the girl wanted to play with the boy but he was too sore to play properly.

“Let's let him rest,” his owner said, “we can watch TV.”

They settled in and watched a show.  An hour later the dog came in and the owner set some food out for it.  The girl watched in surprise as the boy limped into the room and crawled on all fours over to the food tray and ate after the dog was done.

“That's cool,” she said.  The boy started crawling back to his room.

“Doggy, hey doggy, come here,” she said.  He half-looked up at her and then remembered his place and crawled over to her.

“I saw my mommy and her girlfriend kissing earlier, and I want to try that with you.”

“His mouth's not clean,” the owner interjected.  She was worried for the girl's safety.

“Don't worry auntie,” she said, she liked calling the big older woman auntie even though she wasn't her real aunt.  “I won't use my mouth.”  She smiled.

His owner smiled.  “I have a chair you can use,” she said.  She wheeled it out.

The chair was low, so that the boy could slide into it, so that his mouth was at just the right height to queen.  The girl saw how it was supposed to work right away and commanded him into it, then sat on top of it, but adjusted herself.  The whole was designed for her auntie's vagina, she knew, which she thought was kind of a funny thing to do with the boy.

But she scooched up in it until her ass was over the boy's mouth, and she pulled her dress up a little bit, and her panties down, and then she puckered up.

“Kiss me like you did last time,” she said, “with your tongue.”

The boy nervously licked up into her asshole, kissing its puckered form and licking and suckling.  “If he does well tell him 'Good boy' to reward him.”  The owner said.  She sat nearby and supervised.

“Good boy,” the young girl said.  He felt really humiliated, and incredibly turned-on.  He experienced a phantom erection.

“This feels really good,” the girl said, “just like when I go to the bathroom.  Is this what a boy's face is for, to go to the bathroom?”  She asked him, rubbing her asshole on his tongue and lips.

“N-no,” he said, around his analingus.  He was insulted by the idea.

He heard the sound of a chair scraping as his owner got up.  He heard her boots coming over to him, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he said, around the girl's wet embrace.

The footsteps stopped.  “If you want to apologize, apologize to her.”

“I'm sorry for saying such a bad thing to you,” he said.  “Yes a boy's face is for going to the bathroom.”

She made a face, “Really, that's such a weird thing to say, I was just messing with you, but okay.  If you say so...  I do really have to go.”

He grimaced, “No, that's not what I meant, I was just trying to say I was sorry, I didn't mean for you to...”

But the footsteps approached again, “So much talking!”  His owner was saying, livid, she hated hearing him talk for more than a few seconds, it made her so furious.  “I do such a nice job taking care of you and how do you repay me, by making so much noise!”

“No auntie, no, its okay, don't hurt him, I'll take care of him, I'll make him be quiet.”  The girl's placating words seemed to calm his owner down a little.  She looked down at the girl.

“I try so hard to make him behave, I just can't stand it when he doesn't obey, its disrespectful.”  She said, sitting down frustratedly.

“Its okay auntie, I'll make him behave, and, well, actually, I just really need him to stay right there for just a little longer...”  She grunted.

His owner watched, her anger turning to bemusement as the little girl pushes a small log out of her ass and it hung there for a moment.

“Oh no you don't,” the girl said, watching him squirmed.  “You will NOT move, if you move and I make a mess its like I don't know how to use the toilet, is that what you want?  Are you calling me a baby, are you saying I'm not potty trained?”

“N-no,” he said, half-tasting the shit as it dangled from her ass.  He caught himself, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry for saying such a bad word, I'm s-s-,” he chewed quickly and swallowed, breathing.

His owner sat back down, chuckling to herself.  “He almost choked on his own apology,” she said.  “Heh, men are such stupid creatures.”

“You can say that again,” the girl said, squealing with delight to herself.  “This one thinks its a toilet, hahahah.”

They were laughing at him, his owner and the girl, and he deserved it, he needed it.  And he opened his mouth, knowing how stupid he looked, wanting to make it up to them for being such a pitiful creature.

“I'm sorry,” he said, biting off the next load that came out of the beautiful girl above him's ass.  “I'm so,” he swallowed, half-gagging, “sorry.”

“I don't know about you auntie but I don't like to go to the bathroom too quickly, just in case there's anything in there that needs to come out.”

“Wise, child,” his owner said, smiling.  “Would you like something to read?”

“No, its okay, but let's see what's on TV okay?”

“Okay!”  His owner agreed, turning the set on.

“Oh look its that movie that I wanted to see in theaters last year.  It might be too grown-up for you though, does your mother let you watch stuff with naked people in it?”

“No, she says I'm too young to learn about sex, which is like, totally unfair, I mean, I'm fourteen, I should be able to do what I want.”  She squeezed, shunting another portion of her colon into his mouth.

He chewed it and then swallowed it, saying meekly, “Thank you, I'm sorry for being male, thank you so much.”  She farted, quietly, as he spoke.

“Well then let's put something else on, how about this one? Its got, who's that, Lindsay Lohen?  Hillary Duff?”

“Duh, its Mary Olsen, I feel she's such a better actress than her sister Ashley-Kate but Ashley-Kate is way sexier.”

Her aunt looked at her for a moment, oddly, and then back at the screen.  “Is that what you think, or what your...?”

“That's what my mom thinks.”

“Ah okay.”

“I like boys,” the girl said, biting her right nail a little bit, inspecting it.  She farted again, this time longer, and then squeezed a bit and got a little more into his mouth.

“You do, do you?”  His owner asked, interested.  “Do you like my boy?”

“Oh, you know, real boys,” she laughed.  “This one's fun and all but he's not my type.  He's a bit of a wimp honestly, I don't know what you see in him.”

“Oh he's not my boyfriend honey, he's just a toy, I use him just like you are now, well, maybe not just like you are now, but now that I've seen how he's taking to it I might.”  She smiled.

The boy spoke up, “Oh please Mistress, I need to feel you on top of me, to feel you using me like this little girl is...”

“I'm not little!”  The teenager spoke up, “You brat, how dare you call me little, you call me Mistress too, or I swear to god I will come back here when I'm on my period and I will make you eat it all.”

“Yes little Mistress, I'm sorry,” he said, meaning it.

“I am NOT little!”  She shouted, kicking him in the side.  She finished biting her nail and sat up for a moment, spitting it into his mouth.  He thanked her and then apologized to her and then chewed the nail and ate it.

“Yes Mistress I'm sorry Mistress.”

His owner approached.  “You know,” she said, “that's the first time I've heard you treat any of the women you've come in contact with with respect.”

He tried looking up at her, around his user's bottom.  She peed down into his mouth and the acrid fluid burned a bit and made him flex his mouth before swallowing it.

“I'm very proud of you,” she continued, and she squatted so she could be closer to him.  “But don't call me Mistress, you should call her Mistress, call me Sir.”

“Yes Sir,” he said.  He smiled.

“But you are never to call any man Sir, or to treat any man with respect, do you understand?”  Her voice took on a tone of authority, beyond its usual inflection.

“Yes Sir,” he said.

“Good,” she said, and stood up.  “When you're done let me know, I want to use hi-...  I want to use it.”

The little girl smiled and told her she'd just be a few minutes longer.  She adjusted herself a bit, telling the toilet beneath her to clean her up.  She moved a little bit to wipe herself on the boy's face and then stood.  She pulled her panties up and smoothed the front of her skirt.  While she had been sitting her vagina had been discreetly hidden beneath the hem of it.

“Auntie, I'm done.”

“Okay, very good, you can change the channel if you want.”

“Nah its cool.”

“Oh, and you might want to get the candle from the bathroom and bring it out here, I've got to take a major crap.”

The little girl cringled her nose, “Oh auntie you're so crass.”

“Heh, just go get it girl.”  She pulled her jeans down exposing her underwear and then pulled that down as well.  She shuffled a bit to sit on top of her boy and then put her ass down onto the seat.

Her ass touched his mouth and then she grunted, pulling her top off so that just her undershirt was still on.  Its sweat stains showed.  She bundled her top up some and then used it to shield her privacy, holding it in front of her vagina as she used the bathroom.

“You'd better eat it all, slut,” she said.  “If you don't I'm going to beat you.  In fact I think I'll beat you even if you do a good job, but if you mess up I'll make it really hurt.”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” he said, and then didn't talk anymore as his mouth had filled quickly with shit.  She didn't mess around.

The doorbell rang.  “Shit,” she said, pinching off the current amount she was unloading.  She quickly rubbed her ass on his face and then stood up, pulling her underwear up and then her pants.  The girl returned from the kitchen and put the candle on the kitchen island.

“Go see who's at the door,” the owner instructed, pulling her shirt on over her head again.

The little girl gasped.  “Auntie, its the police.”

“Oh shit,”  The queening chair started to shake, and the boy started spitting out what was in his mouth.  He made a sound before his owner grabbed him by the throat and threw him sideways into the island.  “You shut the fuck up!”  She yelled.  “Oh shit oh shit.”  She grabbed his limp, slightly stirring body and dragged him off to the closet, where she shoved him in and then went to the door.

The police were knocking loudly by this time.

“Hello officers,” she said, trying to remain calm.  She was shaking a little.

“Hello Ma'am, good evening.  Is this your daughter?”

“No she's my friend's daughter, I'm watching her.”

“Cute kid, anyway, may we come in Ma'am?”

The girl curtsied politely.

“I'm sorry officers but this is kind of a bad time.”

“Alright Ma'am we understand but this will just take a minute.”

“Really this isn't a good time officer I'm sorry but I'm kind of...”  she looked back towards the closet.

The men stepped inside the house, two of them, one short the other tall.  They were both armed and dressed in full uniform.  They showed her their badges.

“Ma'am this will only take a moment.  We just need to check the premises to see if you have another person here with you, a male.”

“Darling,” she said, addressing the girl, “will you go check on your friend and make sure she's alright?”  She put extra emphasis on the word she.

“Okay officers but I'm taking care of another young girl right now who needs to be checked on, can I get you anything to drink?”

The girl went to the queening chair and dragged it out of the room.  She went to the closet and started dragging the limp body down the hallway to the bedroom.

She could hear the sound of cups and the faucet.  She looked down at the boy who was only semi-conscious.  Auntie had really smacked him around good.  She struggled to get him up into the bed and had to stand up on it and really pull.  It wasn't easy, in fact it was really hard, and she had to sweat and strain before she got him up into the king-sized bed.

Then she took out her clutch and started cleaning up his face, using concealer and then some foundation.  She applied some rouge and then lipstick and then finally some eyeshadow.  Then she went to her Auntie's underwear drawer and slid some panties up his stump legs.  (She had gotten the nurse to do the other one with a little pressure.)  The fresh wound was still bleeding a little bit so she got a maxi-pad and stuck it inside the underwear.

Then she arranged his arms so that they were peaceful, as though he was sleeping, and put some of her Auntie's boots under the bed where his feet should be.  Lastly she slid a wig down onto his head.  From a distance he looked like a little angel.

“Darling, we're coming in now, the men want to check the bedroom, are you decent?”

“Yes, its okay, come on in.”

The men came into the bedroom, one sipping some tea and the other poking around.  He checked the walk-in closet and then under the bed.  “What's this?”  He asked, poking around on the floor next to the sleeping boy, “Is this blood?!”

“Yes, its blood,” the girl said, with embarrassment in her voice, “my friend just got her period.”  She reached under the covers and pulled out the maxi pad.  She said, “Is your report going to say that I had to show you my friend's menstruation to prove to you that we're not whatever it is you think we are?”

She pulled it off perfectly.  The men were noticably put-off by the presence of the 'mentruation' and were appropriately embarressed and curtly finished up their inspection and returned to the car.

“Damnedest thing,” the first one said, “that report must have been a nutter, there's no one here.  Why would anyone think that this woman was keeping a man locked up inside her house?  She runs a freaking babysitting operation for chrissake.”

“Heh, did you see the knockers on her?”

“Oh yeah they were pretty big weren't they, do you think they're real?”  They started up the engine.

“I don't know, something about some suspicious documentation but I don't know, I'll just put down that the whole idea was a nutter, leave it to the detectives.”

“They said it was just a typo or something and that we should check on it, we did, far as I'm concerned this doens't need to go in the official report.”

“Zero, nada, got it, okay, nothing found, woman checked out clean, done.”

They took off, as they left the neighborhood they passed the mother of the young girl's car.  She and her girlfriend were coming to pick her up.

They parked and rang the doorbell.  They heard hushed tones on the other side and then the door opened.

“Oh, its you, thank god.”

“What is it, and what have you got behind your back?”

The owner showed them her gun and then put it away.  “I thought you were the police coming back to check on our story again.”

She told them everything.

“They must have believed you,” the lawyer was saying.

“Look at him, a darling little angel.”

“You know I bet when he wakes up he won't remember any of this, I hit him pretty hard.”

“Well if that's the case its best to not interrupt his continuity, you did say he was a good boy up until the police arrived, didn't you?”

“Yeah, he was, I was going to punish him if he remembered being a bad boy though.”

“Well let's say we punish him anyway, but he can still be a good boy while we do it.”  It was the lawyer, she was enjoying herself.

They brought the queening chair and set him up under it, the lawyer sat down and pulled her pants down.  “We're all women here,” she said, not embarrassed to be using the bathroom in front of them.

They watched as she went into her pocketbook and brought out some smelling salts, “For when your mom and I get a little rough,” she said, and her mom blushed.  She climbed into position and then woke the boy up.

“Huhn, what,” he said, yawning.  He got a quick faceful of black lumpy female excrement.

“Surprise,” the lawyer said, “now eat it all like a good boy because you're contractually obligated.”

The mom tittered.  The little girl watched avidly.  His owner watched with proprietary interest.

He chewed what she had given him and swallowed, feeling sick.  He wasn't angry or hurt, he was adjusting quickly to his role.

“Wow, that was easy,” the lawyer said.  She grunted and her ass spat out another layer of her cake.  “Eat it all up shitface,” she said, losing the sing-song syrupy tone of her earlier instruction.

When she was done the mother went.  She was a little embarrassed but the other three, her daughter especially cheered her on.  “Come on mom, it'll be fun, and besides all the rest of us have already gone, its your turn.”

“Okay, okay, its just, its harder for me because I don't hate men the way you guys do, I just like women.”

“Mom, remember Dad?”

“Yeah, okay, but he couldn't help it, he...”

“Don't apologize for him.”  She waited.  “Mom, when I was little, he would come into my room drunk, and he would...  touch me places...”

“That bastard!”  Her mom yelled.  She had suspected it, but had never been able to face the actuality of it.

She sat down on the little turd beneath her and used him good.  He was full but he ate what she gave him, reluctant at first but then accepting of her hatred and her anger.  He ate it all, swallowing it miserable bite after miserable bite until he had taken all of their abuse.

After the group had moved to the living room his owner let him out and cleaned him up.  They were alone in the bathroom, the other three were watching the movie.

“That was a very good thing you did out there,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said, still choking a little.  He was still sore between his legs.

“I took away your manhood, and crippled you, and still you accept my abuse as the tender love you expect it to be.”

He nodded, sore.

“I'm glad you're getting along so well with that girl out there.”  He nodded again.  She washed his face, rinsing the make-up off.  She washed his mouth and his bum and then gently rinsed his wound.

“You did something today, I don't know if you remember, but you tried to escape, and you were going to use your mouth to help expedite it.  I can't risk you ever telling anyone about what I've done.”

He swallowed, nervously, and then nodded again.

“So I'm going to take your vocal cords and your arms away from you.”  He cried, softly then.

The next day it was done.


“Okay, its your birthday today isn't it?”

“Yes auntie.”

“Well, I've got you a present.  Do you remember that boy you've played with when you've come over?”

“Yes auntie, the silly one who is a toilet and a doggy but not a boy.”

“That's right.  That's your present.”

“Oh thank you auntie.”  She smiled up at the older woman.

The box was brought in and she untied the ribbon.

The thing that came out had no arms and no legs, it moved about on stumps.  Its wounds were healed so all that remained was a little mound with a small pout.

“It can't talk anymore,” the older woman said.  “You remember when the police came, all the trouble he caused, that was very smart of you doing that to save me, and I've wanted to give him to you as a gift ever since.

The little girl was speechless, this was a great gift.

“But Auntie, what if I want to have a boyfriend?”  She asked.

“This is just a pet, girlie, a toy, its not a boyfriend, you can't even...  Do anything with it, really.”  The dog could still hear, and it felt humiliated, but it liked the abuse.

It had known all along that it belonged to all women, but especially these four, and especially these two.  But this one, this young girl, she had been the one who had forced him to sign, she was the one that scared him, she was the one who had cut his penis off, and she was the one who had used him first as a toilet.

It was to her that he truly belonged.  He would be the best pet he could for her, and take the best care of her he could.  He felt protective of her.

“His name is Woofer, you can call him, try it.”

“Here Woofer,” the girl called, and he crawled, lovingly to her, his tongue panting out of his large toothless mouth.

“Woof, woof,” his pre-recorded noises barked.  Anytime he moved quickly it activated by gyro.

“That's so you'll always know where he is,” her auntie said.

The little girl, his new owner, took possession of him by signing the adoption papers, they needed her mom's signature too since she was only fifteen, and the lawyer made sure they were legit.

“Its legally classified as an animal and its yours.  It doesn't have an official gender, has no civil rights, has all its shots, is in perfect health, is loyal to you, can't speak, can't move quickly about, is completely dependent upon you to feed it, and loves to show its affection.”

“I love it auntie its perfect.”  Woofer nuzzled up against her leg.  “Oh you're so cute Woofer.  Come here and give me a kiss.”  She scatched its head as it moved around behind her and stuck its head up her dress.   She nimbly slipped her panties down and puckered her asshole for it.

She went back to talking with her Auntie as Woofer playfully kissed and licked her.

“Oh thank you auntie it came out wonderful.”  She took the tanned genitals gingerly and inspected them.  There they were, carefully dried and preserved.  All of the meat and fat was gone but the general shape was still there.

She curled the penis around the scrotum until the whole thing was circular, and then turned and said “Fetch, Woofer, fetch!” And threw it across the room.

“Woof, woof,” his canned recording barked.

He 'ran' after it with his tongue hanging out, and then, seeing what it was, stopped for just a second, a tear for his loss building in his eye.  He leaned down and mouthed it, picking it up and running it back to his owner.

“Woof, woof.”

He dropped it into her hand.  “Good boy, but next time don't drop it right away, play with it first, don't let it go until you've made me tug a bit with you for it, like a real dog does with its owner.”

She threw it again, and he, begrudgingly, ran after it.  “Woof, woof.”

He picked it up, hating himself for doing it, and ran it back.  “Woof, woof.”

“Can I turn that off Auntie, if I want him to be quiet?”

“You certainly can my dear, there's a switch on his collar.”

She tugged on the dessicated penis.  “Let go Woofer,” and he did.  “No Woofer, you have to hold onto it, don't let go even when I say, doggies can't understand their owners, just make sure I tug for a bit before you let go.”  She wagged her finger at him.  She leaned over and switched his noise off.

She threw it again.  He ran across the room, avoiding the feet of the lawyer walking by, and then threaded threw the feet of the mother.

He picked it up and ran back again, playing the humiliating game of tug again.

“Let me have it Woofer,” she said, tugging on it.  “Let go you stupid beast.”  She continued to tug.  “I said, let, it, go!”  And she tugged each time.

Eventually he let it go and she took it from him, patting him on the head.
“Good boy.”

“Cake time,” her mother called, and she ignored it.  “Honey, its time for cake.”

“In a little bit mom, I'm playing with Woofer.”

“Honey leave Woofer here for a bit, your friends are here.”

At the mention of her friends she ran over to her mom, “Is Billy here mom?”  She asked, she had a crush on him.  He was strong, and handsome, and played football, and was quiet, and nice...

“He'll be arriving shortly honey, he's driving his own car.”

“Oh yay,” she said, clutching her chest.  She headed out of the room.

The mother looked over at Woofer, who looked back, pleadingly.  She glanced back into the kitchen and rummaged around a bit.

“You're lucky we still have some left over from when George was around.”  She said, leading him into the laundry room.  She spooned the dried mess into the bowl.  “George was her last dog.”  She finished and then set a bowl of water out for him as well.  “Silly me, talking to a dog,” she said, smiling politely.

She got up and left him alone.

He heard the sounds of the party but he had been forgotten about.  His owner was a teenage girl and he was just a replacement dog for her.  She was off swooning over her boy-crush and having fun and here he was eating dog food in the laundry room.

He tasted the dried mush and found it to be unpalatable.  He left it alone and drank from the water bowl.

A little while later he heard someone walking around in the room outside and he wanted to bark at them for attention but he could not.

Then he heard the door creak open and the lawyer squeezed in, shutting the door carefully behind her.

She smiled down at him.  “Hi dumb Mutt.”  She said.  She shooed him away from her as she squatted down over his food bowl and slid her pants down.  “I just couldn't go without leaving my present for you.”  She grunted a little and his bowl overfilled.  She waited a bit and then produced a bit more.

“Come here you dumb dog,” she said, turning around, “clean me.”  He half-heartedly licked at her ass, before she grew harsh with him and he tongued her openly until she was clean.  She wiped herself on his face just to make sure, then pulled up her panties and headed out.

She stopped in the doorway.  She turned.

“Oh, and so you know, as far as the outside world is concerned you don't exist anymore.”  She almost left, but couldn't help herself.  “And I shouldn't be telling you this but the woman who made you, uh huh, your original owner, she's got a new boy.”  She smiled evilly and then turned to leave, then stopped.

She came back into the room and closed the door.  “Aren't you hungry?”  She asked, “Aren't you going to eat your food?”

He was crying, openly, not caring that she saw.  He was in anguish.  Here he was, used, disfigured, and not loved.  The woman who had cared for him had given him away to a brat who only thought of him when she wasn't busy with her friends, and he had been replaced.

“Eat up,” she said.  He didn't want to, but it made sense.  He was useless, he was worthless, just a big pile of shit.  “I hate men so much,” she said as he ate from the bowl.  “That's it, eat my shit, eat every last ounce of it.  I hate you, oh god I hate you.”

She was touching herself, “You're nothing, you're a worthless fleabag of a cunt useless good-for-nothing bitch...”  She was stroking herself and he was eating.  He was kind of hungry but actually he liked the attention, he wanted her to stay.

Even though it was abuse he needed someone to feel something about him.  So he ate, he ate her shit up, he ate it from the food bowl as though it was chocolate mousse.  It gagged him, and he vomited a little, but she goaded him on and he ate that too.  Eventually it was all gone and she was coming in ecstasy as she looked at the bowl, so clean, and he showed her his mouth, empty.

She came and then left.

He wasn't tired but he settled down to sleep anyway.  When he woke up it was the mother, and she was doing laundry.  She ignored him and left after starting the loads.

A few days went by and the little girl didn't come.  Then on the fourth day the lawyer came back.  She saw that his food bowl was empty and she filled it, by squatting over it.  His stomach didn't know if it could hold it down but he wanted her to watch him, he wanted her to stay with him.  He took a few bites and then nudged the water bowl with his nose.

“Eat all of it and I'll fill your water bowl,” she said.  She came when he finished, made him lick it clean, and then squatted over his water bowl and dumped out another load she had been holding in, laughing at him all the while.

“Stupid shit, hahah, I hate you, see you.”  She left.  His mouth was so dry.


When the little girl came he was delirious.  He was so thirsty and he thought he might be sick.  She saw his bowls and filled the one with water right away.  He drank and drank and she filled it again.

“Oh I'm sorry Woofer,” she said, “but Billy and I had such a wonderful weekend he took me out and we ate at such a nice restaurant.  Then we drove around in his car and he...  he kissed me.”  She smiled.

Woofer moved his head next to her, nuzzling her, trying to get under her dress.  She clutched it to her and moved away.  “No Woofer, not right now, I'm still thinking about Billy.”  He pouted as best he could.

“Well, alright, but just a little kiss, and just for play, okay?  It doesn't mean anything, you're just a dog, I don't love you.”

He felt bad by what she said but he wanted to connect with her in any way he could, he was eager to kiss and lick her ass.  The moment went by too soon.

After she left the lawyer returned that night.  “I've asked to borrow you, and her mom agreed.  She's not doing a very good job taking care of you anyway.  Who has filled your food bowl the last three times, eh?”  She smiled.

“Oh that was only two, eh?  Well I meant three after this one.”  She squatted down and, as per their ritual, filled his dish with her waste.  He didn't even need to be told, and in fact was glad for her company.  He wanted to tell her he loved her, but he looked up at her with puppy dog eyes and she got the gist.

“Don't get any ideas,” she said, “I don't even like you, but you eat my shit so that's good.  As long as you keep it up you'll get more, that's it, that's the whole deal.”

He nodded, and went to it.  After he was done she came again, looking at the empty bowl and his open mouth.  He was glad he caused her such pleasure.

“She won't even notice you're gone,” the lawyer said, tugging on his leash, loading him into the back of her minivan.  She covered him with a tarp and drove him to her apartment.  She stopped at a hardware store along the way and got an animal carrier.

She loaded him into it, he obliged.  Then she carried him into the elevator and took him up the eleven flights to her apartment.  She let him out in the kitchen and told him to stay on the tile.

She set out a tin of tuna for her cat and then led him into the bathroom.

“Stay in here,” she said.  “If you leave the bathroom I will remove what remains of your stumps.”  He believed her.  She took the collar off since it was the only thing that might give him away.  It made the noise.  She stuck it in the closet.  As an added precaution she went back to the hardware store and bought some chain.  She chained him to the u-pipe on the toilet.

She went to sleep.  She woke in the night and went to the bathroom and found him there.  He had been unable to sleep.  “Still awake?  Good, open up and you'll get it directly from the source.”  She waited until his mouth made a seal around her ass and then let it go.  He chewed as best he could and then swallowed.  He wanted to stop after about two minutes but it took her twenty before she was done.

She yawned and wiped herself normally and flushed and then went back to sleep.  She was awoken by another flush.  She went to the bathroom and found him puking up into it.

“Why you rotten little, I give you perfectly good food to eat and this is how you repay me?”  She took a piece of wood that her girlfriend regularly used as a dildo during some of their rougher sessions, it was smooth and hard.  She hit him upside the head with it.

He continued to puke and she hit him again.  Eventually he got the message and started swallowing as best he could, bile and vomit and shit.  He kept it down.

“Good boy,” she said.  She had already resolved to kill him, she just needed to wait until he had suffere more.  The girl wouldn't miss him too much.  If she did another pet could be gotten.

The next day was the day.  It was just too unfeasibly otherwise.  The police were still searching, that was why they had to move him from the first woman's house in the first place.  And the girl would have told someone sooner or later, so it was decided that the lawyer would have to get rid of him.

“Its your fault that it wasn't taken care of,” his original owner had said.  “You said this was all legal if he signed the things.”

“There's no country in the world where this is legal,” she had said, “the Middle East, maybe, if he was a woman and we were men, but not this way, not anywhere.”

The original owner had grunted and agreed that it had to be done.  She had given him away to the young girl as a gift so that the girl could say goodbye.  The girl had seemingly lost interest so now it was time to get rid of him before the authorities uncovered him.

“Its such a shame though,” the mother had said, “he hasn't done anything wrong, he's taken all our shit...”

“Literally,” the lawyer had interjected, and the three of them had laughed.


He woke up, stretched, felt the roiling in his stomach, contained his puke, swallowed, swallowed.  He held his breath, trying not to think.

An hour later his host woke up and went into the bathroom.  She urinated sleepily and then remembered what her guest was.  She smacked him and then gave him the remains of her dribble.

She scratched her head and then showered.  He stunk pretty bad so she hosed him off in the tub.  She didn't want to but it felt right to clean him before killing him.  She had to unchain him to get him into the bath.

She dried him off and got dressed.  She went into the kitchen and cleaned her kitchen knife, she'd need it to cut through some of the pieces after she'd killed him.  She dug around under the sink for the garbage bags and then heard a knock at the door.  She froze.

She put everything away and went to look through the peep hole.  It was the police.

“Oh shit,” shit she whispered. She didn't have anywhere to hide him.  She turned to find something to cover him with but she heard a key in the lock.

“I guess she's not home,” her landlord was saying.

“Fuck,” she said, looking around for somewhere to hide.  She remembered she hadn't re-chained him!  She did her best to look nonchalant as the door opened.

“Yawn,” she said, trying to appear sleepy.  “Oh?”  She said, as the two police officers entered, “How may  I help you gentlemen?”

“Sorry Ma'am,” one of them said, “Didn't know you were here, we just need to look around, reports of a fugitive hiding out on this floor.”

“Okay but I can assure you that...”

“I know Ma'am, just doing our job.”  His partner was looking around, he glanced in the kitchen, in the bathroom, he went into the bedroom and looked in the closet.

“All clear,” he said.  The two of them thanked her for her time and then went out.  The landlord smiled politely and then closed the door.  She heard knocking on the next door.

She went into the bathroom, surprised.  They had to have seen him, had he escaped?  Had he gone out a window?  They were eleven stories up.  She didn't see him in the bathroom.

She went to the kitchen and looked out the window, no, he hadn't fallen.  She heard a noise in the bathroom.  She went in and looked, there he was.  He was climbing out from the cupboard under the sink, a place where a normal sized human being wouldn't be able to hide, where it hadn't been neccessar to look.

She was amazed.  There was no reason for him to hide, it was obvious that the police were here, he could have been rescued.

“And yet you chose not to be rescued,” she said, curiously.  “You knew those were police didn't you?”  She asked, and he nodded, looking up at her plaintively.  “And you hid from them?  Even though you knew that if they found you I'd go to prison...”

At the word prison he shook his head as though it frightened him and he crawled over to her and nuzzled her leg.  She looked down at him, amazed.  She re-chained him to the u-pipe and sat down on the toilet, stunned.  He continued to nuzzle her leg.

“You, you love me?”  She asked, still stunned.

He nodded.  “And you want...  you want to live with me, you want to be mine?”  She asked, still surprised.  She heard shouting in the hallway and then a door slamming.  She heard running, and then a loud noise from the stairs.

He nodded, still nuzzling her leg.  “Okay toilet, you can stay,” she said, with venom suddenly in her voice.  “You almost had me going there for a second but you're just a man and all men are evil.  You need to be punished.”  He nodded.  “You need to eat my shit!”  She said it with gusto.

He nodded again.  He had expected nothing less.  He found that, of all the women he had known, this one completed him the most.  She smiled down at him and fetched his bowl, setting it down on the floor.  She squatted over it, not really in the need of going to the bathroom but wanting to do it for him.

She tried with all her might and then eventually produced a small amount of food for him to eat.  “You wait right here,” she said, unnecessarily.  She got up and headed to the kitchen, “And eat!”  She said, giving him the command he wanted to hear.

She swept into the kitchen and started plucking boxes and cans and containers down.  The phone rang and she answered it.  She started mixing something in a bowl.
“Yeah, yeah its done.  Yeah, its all taken care of,” she said.

She finished blending a banana into two quarts of yogurt and some ice cream.  Next she added fiber, lots and lots of fiber.



July 9, Alex Streuth