Brians Amazingly Quick Transformation

BRIAN'S AMAZINGLY FAST TRANSFORMATION

Chapter Two By Donny Mumford

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

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

On the edge of my bed, stroking my boner steadily, I stiffly extend my legs in front of me and gently squeeze my nuts. The more I think about Junior grilling me and breaking me down in that initial interview, the closer I get to spunking; he made me feel inferior to him, like I was the little boy. No way in hell am I inferior to either of those two. It was intimidating, so why is it a turn-on for me too? "Ahh, mmmm," yeah, this is feeling better and better! I love jerking off! Just like Brett, Junior oozes confidence and he's soooo bossy too; he has that cute face, and both brothers have a sexy aroma about them.

Another picture of Brett pops into my head; he's the one who had the bigger impact on me I think. I'm kinda liking recalling the rude manner Brett used with me, treating me harshly when it wasn't really necessary at all, and "Uh oh!!" ... my balls are getting hard and heavy, full of spunk and they're moving up to the base of my boned-up cock. No way this is happening so quickly! But yes, the knobby head of my cock is expanding and my pee slit's opening and closing, drip, drip, drip goes the pre cum, and... "Ahh, ohh ohh oh AHHHH!!!!" Cum shoots up the shaft of my cock and flies out the swollen knob splattering against the hardwood floor, just missing the little throw rug. Jesus! That came on me fast, and it was uber hot too. My fist is tightly stroking my flag-pole-hard dick, and "Oh god! Ohh, oh, oh, oooh!!!" two more fast flying squirts of cum and then I fist my boner more slowly, pulling up creamy cum drippings as my eyes rapidly blink and a buzzing in my ears makes me shake my head. My shoulders shudder with the aftershocks of the climax, and now there's an electric buzzing zig-zagging around my groin. Wow! After all the boners I've sprung today I really needed that awesome orgasm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Delmont White, raise your hand." We'd introduced ourselves to one another already, but Delmont, a nice looking African American guy about my age, raises his hand and then snaps back to attention. He recently got out of the Army. "Where's Brian O'Rielly?" I'm in the second line raising my hand, and then I try to snap back to attention like Delmont just did, but step on the foot of the guy next to me, and mumble, "Sorry," as Brett glares at me, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, Brian, lay back on the bench... rest." Well, I am exhausted, and for good reason: Working all day on the loading dock and then doing the exercises for well over an hour after that, I was about ready to drop anyway and then those poppers overwhelmed my weakened condition, but strangely I don't feel too bad. Junior strokes my cock as I lay uncomfortably on top of my tied hands. I'm unable to form sensible thoughts with all the popper shit in my head, but all of a sudden one reality becomes very clear to me, "Hey, I'm gonna have an orgasm right here and now if my boss continues jerking me off like this!" That realization should have been shocking to me, but it's not somehow. And, it's feels sooo good I'm allowing myself to enjoy the sensations. Then, my head is clearing a little bit more, and it's like, "Oh my God! What's going on here?"

My boner's so hard it's sticking straight up from my groin and I'm right on the verge of spunking, precum's running down Junior's fist. Junior wipes his hand in my bristly hair, then backs away from my naked, tied-up body, and says to Brett, "Just get a couple of pictures from his thighs to his head. We gotta get a couple pictures of that boner! Have you ever seen a harder boner?" Brett reaches over and strokes it a few times, muttering, "It's not that big, but it's still a beauty alright... hard as stone!" He backs away and picks up his cell phone and takes a couple more pictures of me as Junior's commenting, "His boner's like a drawing, don't ya think?" I feel proud they like my cock and it is a nice looking one, but I'm not too thrilled they think it's small. Bet it's bigger than their little peckers! They've stopped stroking it so my boner's leaning down, level and about an inch away from my belly now, pointing stiffly at my chin with a drool of precum connecting the head of my cock to my belly button. It's a wicked hard boner and feels as good as it's ever felt. I'm still desperately wanting to make sense of this, but my cock has taken control of my brain and it's in charge of my thinking process at the moment. Mostly I'm concentrating on how awesome it feels. Boner's are wonderful things!

As the pictures are snapped by Brett, Junior's retrieving something from the desk. He hands Brett a plastic bottle of hand lotion, and says, "Finish him off and we'll get the cum shots." Brett pours thick white hand lotion onto the palm of his hand and then begins stoking my boner with the slippery substance which increases the sensations at the head of my cock significantly. His fast, slippery, tight stroking got me there quickly; after only a minute or so I'm humping up off the bench ready to blow my load, going, "Ohh ahh, oh oh, ahhh," and then a hard stream of cum shoots out of my swollen knob arcing up and over to spray my chin. I groan out loudly "Ahhhh!" as another fast flying spurt of spunk hits my lips followed by a fine cum spray on my chest and belly.

Two more slippery strokes on my cock and it's back to it's stone status sticking straight up from my belly again. Droplets of cum slide out from the pee slit and slowing drool down the shaft to pool around my pubes... creamy white spunk mixed in with the creamy hand lotion. With spunk on my face, neck, chest, and belly, I stare at those last drops of drooling cum, loving the after-effect of climax; stupidly becoming fascinated by my situation. As I'm staring at my cock like a slack jaw fool, Junior unties my hands and steps away from me and I sit-up to instinctively get my fist around my dick and stroke it a few times. Brett's taking pictures, click, click, click. Oh God, I'm still a little dizzy, but that was an awesome climax. The popper daze is finally clearing though, and it's like, "Oh my, what the fuck is going on here?" I let go of my cock and form the words, "This ain't right! Why are you doing this?" Two more pictures taken by Brett's cell phone, then he asks, "Can I tell him, Junior?" Junior goes, "Sure," and I think, "Get your legs untied while you have the chance!" I start desperately untying my legs, Brett says, "Here, let me help ya, Brian," and he knocks my hands away and easily unties the leather strips. I watch Junior walking away with Brett's cell phone, and yell after him, "Hey! Where ya going with that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As Brett's getting a dog collar from the closet, I'm standing tall, thinking, "No way am I getting paddled for something this stupid, I'll just wear the fucking thing without a word." Brett returns carrying a leather collar and rubs it against my dick. "How's that feel, country club boy?" I say, "It feels like leather, Sir." He chuckles, then says, "On your knees!" I'm too tall for him, so I get down on my knees and he hooks a two-inch wide leather collar around my neck; there are metal studs covering half the thing and the entire collar is sweat stained, from frequent hard usage I guess. An attached metal-mesh leash hangs down my back. Brett's saying, "Look at the way this buckles on you?" I mumble, "Yes, Sir." He goes, "Be sure you can do the buckling yourself because after work on play days you're to have a dog collar on when you come from the locker room. It'll be your responsibility to get it right and you'll be disciplined for mistakes. And, when you're wearing a dog collar guess how you're to move from the locker room to the gym?" I'm looking from one to the other, obviously he wants me to say, "On my hands and knees," so that's what I say, and Junior goes, "Good! You're finally getting into the spirit of things.

You move like a dog unless we say otherwise." I've never felt so defeated, so totally dominated and helpless. Brett's relentless. It's an empty feeling, but at the same time, I swear to God my cock feels like it's vibrating. I'm getting a strangely erotic charge from being mistreated like this. I mumble, "Yes, Sir," and get down on my hands and knees; now my nose is right above Brett's crotch, he steps into me, saying, "Stay!" On my hands and knees the top of my head is now pressing into Brett's belly, that's how short he is. Brett pushes down on my head and I feel his semi-firm cock on my forehead. He holds my head there and my cock firms up as I begin to pant. Ten seconds later, after a chuckle, Junior orders, "Okay, over here now, boy. That's it, come on and get between my legs. Quickly, boy!" As I'm doing that, my heavy cock flopping under me, I'm wondering, "Oh my God, now what?".

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the weird sexy feeling I mentioned is causing erotic sensations in my groin, as if another climax is coming on me, and coming on me fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Walking into work at six-thirty I have very little idea of what to make of all this and also very little idea of what to expect after work today. I do have this strange feeling of anticipation though, and maybe I'm feeling a little bit of excitement too.

to be continued...

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com

PS. After chapter one I asked for feedback (like we all do) and then stupidly showed the wrong email address. This is the correct one.

thinat20@yahoo.com (not @comcast.net)

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