Neighbors New Hogboy

The Neighbor's New Hogboy Part Fourteen By Randall Austin

This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to randallaustin2011@hotmail.com

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One week after Thomas's visit from his father in his cell at Hennepin County Social Services Central, Thomas's nurse, Joey Jacobs, came to collect Thomas for his bath.

Because both Nurse Jacobs and Thomas had been sexually titillating each other ever since Thomas's arrival at the facility, both were aware that discretion was a must. And as the days passed their playful affection with each other was tempting both of them to a dangerous degree. Joey knew that he could have his nursing license revoked for even suggestively sexing a patient and Thomas knew that he could be subjected to a severe paddling and a lengthening of his term of indenturement for sexing anyone other than his lease holder.

Joey, in a whispered voice, chided, "Tommy baby, it's time for your bath, and you're still in bed! You were supposed to be up and ready fifteen minutes ago! Do I need to summon Mr. Steadmeyer and have him deliver a corrective measure?"

Thomas smiled, then gave a wide mouthed yawn and stretched his arms. He then threw off his cot covers, got into a standing position before his nurse, and with a big smile was happy to show off the giant servitor boner tenting the groin flap of his pajamas.

Joey, although smiling at Thomas's raunchy attitude, was serious as he pointed to Thomas's groin, "You need to lose that bone before I can take you to the bath!"

Joey always timed Thomas's bath at a time when he knew the facilities large servitor bathroom would not be busy, because Joey liked Thomas's company as much as Thomas liked his.

As Joey filled the tub with water, he added a bubble-bath solution. Thomas smiled, "Wow! Why a bubble bath today?"

Thomas soon found out as Joey began washing him as he sat in the tub. The bubbles effectively hid what Joey was doing to Thomas underneath the water. Joey's hand quickly found Thomas's cock and balls, and in no time Thomas's slave rod was once again concrete hard.

Joey pumped the handsome Thomas's, Minnesota-owned, servitor cock, and it felt wonderful in his hand; just as his manipulating hand felt wonderful to Thomas. And in very little time Thomas was squirting salvos of slave sperm into the bath water.

As Joey resumed washing Thomas's back, Thomas looked into Joey's eyes and whispered, "Oh man, I wish we could kiss!"

Joey looked around the bathroom to make sure they were alone, and then put his lips to Thomas's. Their tongues quickly darted into each other's mouths. They followed that with a quick smooch.

Once Joey resumed washing Thomas's back, Thomas thanked him for his wonderful care, and told him that the times he spent with him were the most carefree and happy moments he had experienced since being indentured.

Mr. Patterson, as he did every evening since Minnesota State had reclaimed the lease on Thomas Dayton and removed him from his household, reexamined his budget and tried to come up with a financial strategy to minimize his losses after the $30,000 dollar fine he was hit with after being found guilty of failing to properly supervise a junior handler under his aegis; namely his son, Waylan.

While the state had repaid him his down payment on the Dayton lease, he was still losing out; for on top of the $30,000 fine, there was another $20,000 he had spent on the advance purchase of various meds and steroid treatments, plus extra exercise equipment, all intended for Thomas's bulking-out regimen.

Plus, since Waylan's Junior Servitor Handler's permit had been revoked, he would need to hire a part time overseer to assist with Craig's training. Even if he went the cheap route, and hired a Junior Handler, it still would be a sizeable chunk of money to pay even a part-time Junior Handler the remaining 15 months it would take to muscle up Craig.

Mr. Patterson was not happy, but felt he would be able to recover the loss if he was able to get Craig Winston bulked out in the way he had planned.

Just as Mr. Patterson was comforted in the thought that he would be able to contain the losses, he heard a scream coming from Craig in the basement, and he hurriedly made his way downstairs.

His son Waylan had Craig, wearing nothing but shorts, on the running machine going at full speed, and Waylan was standing alongside of him holding a training whip. A whip mark was visible across Craig's shoulders.

Mr. Patterson shouted, "Waylan, what are you doing? Turn that exercise machine off this instant!"

A frightened Waylan did as he was told, as his father went up to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, "Your handler's permit has been revoked, and I told you that you were to stay away from Craig. What were you thinking?"

Waylan, embarrassed, said nothing, as Mr. Patterson fetched an antiseptic lotion, led Craig to his cot and had him sit down. As he applied the soothing antiseptic to Craig's back, he spoke, "Craig, remember that Waylan no longer holds a junior overseer permit. If he ever tries to order you around in any way, you are to come to me and report it, immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Patterson, sir."

As Mr. Patterson continued to rub the lotion into Craig's back, he looked determinedly at Waylan, "Waylan, take off all of your clothes and get over the punishment horse!"

"Dad?"

"You heard me, son!"

"Dad, the horse is for slaves! Dad you can't put me over that thing!"

As Mr. Patterson finished applying the antiseptic, he felt up his servitor's arms, back, and chest, and complimented him, "Craig, you're really developing very well. Have you noticed?"

"Yes, Mr. Patterson, I have. And I like it so far, though as I have told you, I don't know if I'd like it if I got much bigger."

Mr. Patterson gave a friendly chuckle, "What usually happens to the guys I bulk out is that they are worried about the process, but once they see themselves bulking out, they really get into it."

Craig responded, "Yes, Mr. Patterson, I can easily see how a guy could get into that. I'm not unhappy with the way I look."

Mr. Patterson stood up, told Craig to get some rest, and reminded him of an appointment, "Remember, tomorrow afternoon you have visitors from Minnesota State Social Services Authority coming to see you."

"What do they want to see me for, Mr. Patterson?"

"I actually don't know. But that's what they do. They regularly check up on servitors in the system. They come and check up on me and my servitors, and all the servitors in the state, on a regular basis. It's a good thing."

Mr. Patterson patted Craig on the top of his shoulder, then turned towards Waylan, "Son, you still don't have your clothes off!"

"Dad, I'm too old for a spanking!"

"I know, that's why you're not getting a spanking. You're getting an ass-strapping!"

"Dad, it ain't right! You can't put me on the slave punishment horse!"

"No problem! If you don't want to get strapped on the horse, then I'm going to have Craig hold you down on the bed for your ass strapping!"

"Dad!"

"Come on son, off with all of your clothes. Socks too!"

"Dad!"

"I really want this to sink in son! I want you to feel this!"

Mr. Patterson looked at the surprised Craig, "Do you mind helping me out, here, Craig?"

"No, not all, Mr. Patterson, sir."

Waylan, quickly headed for the stairs, but Mr. Patterson, with swift reaction, caught him and dragged him to the center of the room.

Waylan was crying as his father forcibly removed all of his clothing. When Mr. Patterson removed Waylan's last piece of clothing, his under shorts, he was surprised at what he saw. His son's genitals were fully shaved, and he had a Prince Albert piercing.

The sight of the piercing further infuriated his father, "Waylan, I've told you that if you ever wanted a piercing, you needed to clear it with me! Do you recall that?"

Waylan, trying to cover his boy tackle with his hands, was all sniffles, "Yes, Dad."

Mr. Patterson, holding his naked son by his shoulder, grabbed a prison strap that was hanging on the wall, alongside various other paddles and hobbles used to control hog boys, then led Waylan to Craig's cot, "Now lay face down on the bed son. This strapping is going to be paying you back for quite a few of your missteps, young man!"

He then instructed Craig, "Gather his hands behind his back, and hold him down by pressing his hands into his back."

"Yes sir, Mr. Patterson, sir!"

Waylan gave a struggle, and pleaded, "Dad, please don't do this to me. I'm never going to have anything to do with Craig again, and I won't get any more piercings without asking you."

Mr. Patterson stretched the strap, "Son, that's not half the stuff for which you need to be expressing regret!"

Mr. Patterson gave the first blow of the strap, and Waylan howled a big one.

"Do you know how trouble you have gotten me into?"

Mr. Patterson gave three more hard blows. Waylan howled and kicked, but Craig, because of the added strength Mr. Patterson's training regimen had given him, had no problem holding the 16-year old down for his strapping.

"Do you know how much money you have cost me? By the time Craig's training is over it could cost me as much as $80,000!"

The thought of that loss is what caused Mr. Patterson to lay on 8 more fierce blows, one after another, turning Waylan into a bawling, screaming, struggling, tear-streaked, mess.

Craig, a gentle man, regretted that he was enjoying Waylan's punishment so much.

Waylan hollered out through his snot covered face, "Dad, I wasn't punishing Craig. He was looking all down and sad when I came down here, and I was just trying to make him happy, to energize him!"

"That's good to know son, because that's what I'm doing to you; energizing you into wanting to behave!"

Mr. Patterson laid on another 8 fast and furious blows, again one after another. When he had finished with the 8, neither he nor Craig could make out what the bawling, pleading, Waylan was trying to say.

Mr. Patterson wanted to stop, but he also really wanted to never again have to do this to his son, so he decided to give him 10 more really fierce swats in rapid-fire fashion, and then call it quits.

The first five swats not only brought out the loudest squeals from Waylan, but it also caused him to twist away from Craig's hold and turn himself to his side. Mr. Patterson had to pause his beating as Craig got Waylan back into place, and both Mr. Patterson and Craig got to see that Waylan's teen prick had gone rock hard from the beating.

Mr. Patterson did the last five swats with the most force he could muster. Once they were delivered, he gave some instructions to Craig in a rather loud voice, so he could be heard over Waylan's wailing, "Craig, please hold him down in that position until his crying subsides. Then, afterwards, would you please rub the servitor antiseptic balm into his rump area?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Patterson, sir. I would be happy to do that for you, sir!"

Realizing that the beating was over, Waylan quieted down even before his father had left the basement. His father stopped to give his son some instructions, "Waylan, you are to stay in position on the bed until Craig finishes treating you with the antiseptic balm. Then, when he is finished, gather up your clothes, but don't put them back on, and come and see me in my office!"

"Naked, Dad?"

"That's right son, naked! You're punishment isn't over. One of the things I have learned about servitor husbandry is that the techniques used by the professionals in the social service industry really do work. And humiliation is one key way of getting important lessons into the thick skulls of young men! You are to remain naked in the house for the next two days, and give this house a thorough cleaning, from top to bottom. Every wall washed down, every nook and cranny spotless! Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad."

Waylan said nothing, but sniffled quietly the whole time as Craig rubbed the lotion into his very reddened butt. Craig smiled to himself as he lotioned the red buns of the little asshole that had so delighted in tormenting him ever since he arrived at their home.

When the lotioning was over and Craig told Waylan that he was finished, Waylan gathered his clothing and went up the stairs. Craig smiled at the fact that the ass-lotioning he had just given Waylan probably contributed to the fact that Waylan's teen boner was still rock hard, and that when he went into his father's office, as he had just been instructed, the first thing Mr. Patterson would most likely notice would be his son's unbridled erection, topped off by the big, shiny, and forbidden, Prince Albert ring!

Thomas, reclining on his cot, was absorbed in the book he was reading. When he heard the door to his cell being opened, he jumped in surprise, closed the book and quickly laid it aside out of view.

Joey noticed Thomas's furtive gesture, and on entering his cell, smiled, "Okay, show me what you were reading!"

Thomas, embarrassed, shook his head `no'.

Joey teased, "Come on, Tommy, show me what you were reading, or do I have to write you up for possession of contraband?"

Thomas pulled the book out, "It's one of the dumb books I got from the library here."

Joey wondered, "How dumb can the book be given the way you were so obviously enthralled?"

Thomas pulled the book out from under the bed covers, and opened it with a smile, "It's by this author who is obviously employed by the State of Minnesota's social services system, a Randall Austin. He writes these ridiculous propaganda novels that basically try to say that being enslaved is better than eating chocolate cream pie! I don't know who would fall for this treacle!"

Joey gave a smile of interest, as Thomas opened the book, "Just listen to this crap. This is from Austin's book, "Notes from the Journal of Craig Soffel", subtitled, "Helping My Brother".

Thomas quickly found the passage he wanted to share, and gave an introduction, "Here is a bit where some slave owner lectures one of his new slaves about how much he loves him."

Thomas, with a smile, began to read; "Marty, you have become such a well behaved little servitor... I want you to know that even though Paul and I still have to use a lot of physical discipline on you, almost daily, you need to know that we do it out of love. Pure love. The spankings we have to give you are not punishments, but loving correctives! We do not discipline you in order to cause you pain for your misbehavior; we use strict discipline on you only because it truly helps you to become a better servant, the servant we know that you want to be! We, just like you, simply want you to be the best that you can be... Both Paul and I so much hate having to hear you, our own little server-guy, crying out during a spanking. But we find comfort in knowing that each one of your screams means that you are learning an important lesson! So Marty, we just want you to understand that no matter how naughty you are, and no matter how much and how severely we have to discipline you, we do it out of our deep love for you, and we want you to know that you will always be our very special little bellhop buckaroo."

Joey, amused, sat on the bed, rubbed Thomas on the head, and teased some more, "What's wrong with that? Austin sounds like a genius to me! And that's exactly what you are to me, my very own little `bellhop buckaroo'!"

Joey's cell rang. As Joey took the call, Thomas mused on the comforting warmth he found in Joey's teasing.

Joey closed his cell, "I have to get to the medic bay; three new indentees have arrived who need a round of `feel good' juice delivered hypodermically up their freshly enslaved behinds!"

There was a rather quiet knock on Mr. Patterson's office door. Mr. Patterson closed the windows to his online financial accounts and called out, "Come in Waylan!"

Waylan entered, naked as he had been instructed, with his hands hiding his big teen erection. Mr. Patterson asked, "Is the sting gone from your behind?"

"Pretty much so, Dad."

"Okay, son, hands at your side."

Craig's rubbing of the antiseptic lotion into Waylan's post-punishment behind, helped to ensure that Waylan's ass strapping-induced monster erection would not go quickly away, and it brought double embarrassment to Waylan, because crowning his dick head was the big Prince Albert piercing glinting in the sunlight.

Waylan couldn't escape the fact that he had gone and had a piercing done without his father's permission, and the Prince Albert piercing is the most sexually blatant piercing of all.

Mr. Patterson indicate the Prince Albert Ring, "You proud of that thing, son?"

Waylan could not make eye contact, and stared at the ground, "No Dad."

"Does that thing make you feel like a man?"

"No Dad."

"Do you like getting ringed like a slave?"

"No Dad."

Mr. Patterson opened his desk drawer, "Come here, son."

Waylan was frightened and did not move.

"Get over here, boy!"

"Daddy, what are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to `bell' you son; attach a slave bell to that ring you're obviously so proud of that's bobbing on top of your erection!"

Waylan began to tremble, the tremble rapidly turned into convulsive tears, and he cried out, "Daddy, please don't enslave me!"

Mr. Patterson was taken aback, and immediately sought to comfort his son, "Waylan, whatever are you thinking?"

"Please Daddy, don't do to me what Mr. Dayton did to Tommy! Please Daddy, no!"

Mr. Patterson was aghast, and quickly stood up, and put a hand to his son's shoulder to reassure him, "Waylan, my dear Waylan. You are everything to me! How could you ever for a moment think that I would ever do any such thing to you?"

Mr. Patterson tightly hugged his somewhat ungainly son, "What do you take me for? Do you think I would ever do anything to you like Mr. Dayton, across the street over there, did to his own son?"

"Son, I would never ever put you into servitude, and the thought of my son in a term of lifelong servitude is unthinkable. Waylan, I consider what Mr. Dayton did to his own son to be an absolutely despicable act. Mr. Dayton, as far as I'm concerned, is an obscene opportunist, and I'm shocked to think you could believe I'm anything like him!"

"I'm sorry, Daddy!"

"That's okay, son. I only purchased Tommy because I felt sorry for him and his misguided father!"

"I know, Daddy."

"Mr. Dayton is a loser in my eyes. A real loser of a human being."

"I know Daddy."

Mr. Patterson pulled out a slave bell from his drawer, "Now let's get on with your `belling'."

As Mr. Patterson attached the three-inch bell to Waylan's penis head ring, he outlined Waylan's duties, "You are to remain naked in the house today and for the next two days, and give this house a thorough cleaning, from top to bottom. Every wall washed down, every nook and cranny spotless! Do you understand?"

"But Dad, tomorrow I'm supposed to get together with my friends to rehearse our parts for the school play."

"You can have your friends over at the end of the day, but you still can't put any clothes on!"

Waylan frowned and let out a moan, as Mr. Patterson continued, "I want to hear your bell tinkling at all over times over the course of the entire weekend. If I don't hear that bell ringing away, and it's not your break time, I'm coming after you with the slave strap in hand!"

Seeing how dejected his son looked, Mr. Patterson sought to ease his mood, and rubbed Waylan on the head, "You look good with that big servitor bell! Now get to work, and remember that by taking this well-deserved punishment in a spirit of humility, it will do you good, and should help turn you into a responsible young man."

Mr. Patterson, seeing that Waylan was still looking gloomy, gave him a hug, "You're my little `Marshmallow'!"

"Dad, don't call me that. It feels weird when you call me that!"

"Okay, I won't call you that. But since young male servitors are often referred to as boners', and given the way your little soldier is standing at such attention, boner boy' is a pretty appropriate term for you. So, Waylan, for the rest of the weekend, you're going to be the family `boner boy'."

Joey entered Thomas's cell, "Boy, have I got news for you! I just gave some comfort shots to three guys you probably know very well; Hunter Watson, Tagg Ashton, and Brady Logan. They've been arrested and sentenced to a 5-year term of `maximal drayage servitude' for what they did to you!"

Thomas was wide eyed, "What? How did that happen?"

"What they did to you was all recorded on your Cousin Kevin's cell phone when he was arrested."

Thomas was frozen in amazement.

After a long silence, Joey asked, "Why didn't you tell me what you had been through, and of the things that were done to you?"

Thomas shook his head, "I don't know. I thought maybe it was just the way all slaves are treated, I was embarrassed by it, and I was afraid you would think of me as just another complaining slave."

Joey hugged Thomas, "This should never have happened. This is my first nursing job, but the longer I'm here, the more I'm beginning to think that social servitude is not a good thing. Even with all of Minnesota's laws protecting servitors, the system just seems to invite such abuses."

Joey hugged Thomas for a long time. Thomas looked at Joey, "How are they doing?"

"Right now they are with their personal trainers getting `acclimated'."

"What's that?"

Joey paused a bit before answering, wondering if acclimation' sessions were not, in fact, something that bordered on being servitor abuse', such as the kind Thomas had suffered, "It's a session where the freshly indentured boys meet one on one with their trainers. Each new servitor is assigned a personal trainer who works with and hopefully bonds with the servitor during their first months of training."

"What the trainers try to do during their first session with the freshly indentured is to pull all of the self pride out of the guys, and basically let them know that their bodies and their very beings belong totally to them while they are in training. It's pretty intense."

"They have them naked, strung up with their hands above their heads, their legs splayed wide out by means of a spreader bar, and their trainers are going over and checking out every inch of their bodies with their hands and their training crops."

"It's all an attempt to break down any and all of the defenses the newly indentured usually employ."

Thomas, silent, was trying to process the dramatic news, but was surprised when Joey asked, "Would you like to see?"

Thomas, pleased by the invitation, was ashamed that he wanted to `see' his former friends strung up naked and getting acclimated, and all that he could do was nod his head in the affirmative without saying a word.

Mr. Patterson paused a couple of times while reading the latest copy of "Servitor Investments", a journal devoted to analyzing current market conditions for social servants worldwide, to listen to the bell he heard jingling in the distance. For Mr. Patterson the bell's merry tune meant that his son Waylan was keeping busy doing his chores.

The bell was appropriately attached to the ring that went through his son's cock-head piercing, which Waylan had done without first getting his father's permission, something Waylan had been instructed to do before getting any body modifications. The poetic justice of Waylan being belled by the forbidden body piercing brought a smile to Mr. Patterson's face.

Mr. Patterson, returning to reading "Servitor Investments" was pleased to see that the current market conditions supported his decision to cash in on one of his `brawn select' servitors, Thomas Dayton, sooner rather than later, as world markets were still down in the field of extreme high-end personal servitors.

Mr. Patterson was interrupted from his reading when he realized that Waylan's bell was ringing at a rather strangely active pass. He tried to resume his reading, but the rapid-fire dings of the bell were disturbing his contribution, and he was curious.

Mr. Patterson made his way to the source of the furiously ringing bell, an unused bedroom on the second floor of the house. He opened the door, and there was his son standing in front of mirror, furiously jacking himself off. Mr. Patterson called out, "Waylan, stop that!"

Waylan shouted out, "Dad!" and crouched down covering his genitals. Mr. Patterson said nothing, but simply stared at his son.

Mr. Patterson's staring unnerved his son and he gave his dad a pained, questioning look.

Waylan was more unnerved when Mr. Patterson went up to him, ordered him to stand up and put his hands at his side.

In a surprise move, Mr. Patterson grabbed his son by his belled erection, and started pulling him along.

Waylan, shocked and shamed, cried, "What are you going to do to me, Dad?"

Mr. Patterson said nothing, but led him downstairs into a storage area beyond the servitor's quarters.

Craig, who had been reading one of his training manuals, didn't know what was going on, but could tell that Waylan was in more trouble.

Mr. Patterson pulled Waylan into the storage room, let go of Waylan's cock, and looked through a drawer. He found a tube of ointment labeled "Servitor Derecto", squeezed some onto Waylan's erected shaft, and started to rub it in.

Waylan, shocked, called out, "Dad, what are you doing to me?"

"I'm applying some servitor de-erector cream to your dangler. It's the same thing as the "Little Bo PeePee" cream that mothers apply to their babies penises when they're changing their diapers to make their erections go away, only this is a lot more powerful."

"Dad, it stings!"

Once Mr. Patterson had his son's shaft well creamed, he wiped his hands dry and watched Waylan's erection deflate, "It'll only sting for a minute or so."

Both Waylan and his father watched the deflating penis. Mr. Patterson was impressed, "Wow, look at that. That stuff really works. You look like a five-year old! I guess I can no longer call you the family boner boy'; now you're the little peepee boy'."

With Waylan's penis too shriveled up to grab onto, Mr. Patterson reached for the next best thing dangling from an errant teen boy's body, his scrotal sack, "Come along with me, boy!"

Mr. Patterson led Waylan outdoors to the `shed' by his balls. When Waylan realized to where he was being taken he cried out, "Dad, what are you doing!"

As Mr. Patterson opened the shed's steel door, he answered, "I think you know what I'm going to do, Waylan. I'm hooking you up to the power generator!"

Because Waylan was so stunned by what his father was doing, Mr. Patterson was quickly able to get Waylan strapped face down on one of the ironing-board sized power generators. He then locked Waylan's hands and feet into the pedals and hand pumps.

The platform to which Waylan was secured was tilted at a 45-degree angle, and it gave his father easy access to his bare, bubble butted, rump. When Mr. Patterson began taping the electrodes, which deliver an electrical shock if the pedaling stops or slows, to Waylan's buttocks, Waylan became frantic, "Daddy, you said I was supposed to clean the house!"

"Since you seemed more interested in polishing your knob rather than the furniture, I think this is the best option for you for the rest of the weekend!"

Mr. Patterson turned the machine on, and warned, "You better start pedaling, or the machine is not going to like it!"

Waylan, still overcome with humiliation, didn't react. When the machine finally gave him a jolt, he quickly woke up, howled, and began furiously pedaling with both his hands and feet.

His father patted him on the shoulder, "Son, slow down or you'll tire out too quickly before the machine gives you your 5 minute break!"

Once Mr. Patterson was satisfied that his son was pedaling at the proper moderate pace, he smiled at Waylan's jiggling butt globes and dangling two-inch, de-erector creamed, penis, with its attached bell jingling away as he pedaled. As he exited the shed and locked its steel door he heard Waylan begin to bawl in a rather high pitch, sounding younger than his sixteen years; sounding in fact like any prepubescent kid with a two-inch penis.

As Thomas stood in the observation room of Servitor Training Station #7, alongside his nurse, Joey Jacobs, he felt as though he was viewing something forbidden.

He was watching, through one-way glass, the acclimation session of Hunter Watson, Tagg Ashton, and Brady Logan.

Neither Thomas nor Joey said a thing once they had entered the observation room. Joey, watching Thomas staring in wide-eyed and open-mouthed amazement at the scene before him, tried to imagine what Thomas was feeling as he witnessed the initial servitor training session of his three former best friends.

When Thomas shook his head as if to try and wake himself up from some crazy dream, Joey spoke, "Tommy, if you had been state trained rather than privately trained, you would have gone through the same thing as your three `friends' here are now experiencing."

Thomas's three `friends' were naked, as were their trainers. The freshly enslaved trio had their hands secured to a bar above their heads, and their legs secured in a spread-wide position by means of a spreader bar attached at their ankles. And they had been given haircuts designed to humiliate them.

Each of the boys was being `attended' to by a personal trainer wielding training crops and slightly engorged cocks. Thomas mumbled in amazement, "Their guards are naked!"

Joey answered, "They're not guards; they are their personal trainers. Every new indentee is assigned a personal trainer, and it is very common for trainers to get naked along with their charges."

Joey sensed that Thomas could hardly fathom why the trainers would be naked, "Remember, it is the duty of these trainers to get these formerly free hotshots into a totally new headspace. It is not a bad headspace, as so many people imagine, but just so totally different."

Tagg's trainer was standing in back of him, and he appeared to talking in a consoling way, as his left hand played with Tagg's left nipple, as his right hand wielded a crop with which he would occasionally give Tagg's legs and inner thighs a swat.

Brady's trainer was standing to the side of him, and his left hand was fondling Brady's buttocks, as he tapped Brady's chest and stomach with his training crop. He was smiling and seemed to be trying to coax a smile from Brady as he talked to him.

Hunter's trainer, beginning to erect to full hilt, stood facing Hunter, and with his left hand he fondled Hunter's almost fully erect cock, as he would occasionally give Hunter swats of training crop to spots along the side of his body. He too was talking to Hunter, with his face very close to Hunter's, as he milked Hunter's dick.

For Thomas it was a confusing ballet, for before him were things of beauty, his three naked friends and three very fit trainers; and things of horror, the subjugation and humiliation of human males. Thomas was happy that his friends' abuse of him had been discovered, but he also pitied, to a degree, his three former friends.

Thomas, his cock slowly erecting, asked Joey what the trainers were whispering into the trio's ears while they felt them up all over as they applied the crop to every part of their bodies.

"They are reassuring them, telling them things like how lucky Minnesota is to have them as indentees, how proud they are of them, and how beautiful they will be once they are fully trained, compliant, and super well-behaved servitors."

Thomas, now as hard as Hunter and his trainer, was surprised and embarrassed when Joey squeezed his boner through his jumpsuit, and whispered, "I'd better take you back to your cell."

Less than hour after Joey had returned Thomas to his cell, an official from Hennepin County Social Services Authority entered his cell, along with a guard and four Japanese gentlemen in suits, and asked Thomas to remove his jumpsuit, "Thomas, these gentlemen are from Japan's Osaka Human Servitor Exchange. They were impressed by your medical record and photos and would like to do one final exam before they finalize the sale and prepare you for shipping."

So shocked and numbed was Thomas at what he had just been told, that the usual humiliation that accompanies an overseer's order to strip was not present. Thomas felt only cold, helpless, and hopeless.

It was a quick exam. The Japanese gentlemen simply had Thomas do a turn around, and then signaled that Thomas met with their approval and that they wanted to finalize the sale.

The Hennepin County official and the three Japanese gentlemen exited the cell, and the guard told Thomas that there was no need for him to get dressed. The guard took a band with Thomas's identification and status info and snapped it around his wrist, and took a four-inch wide black band of durable cloth studded with D rings and cinched it about his chest. The guard explained, "The Japanese love these things, they call it a `service bra'. It's how they control their slaves!"

Thomas finally asked why the Japanese were interested in him. The official answered, "Each year a group from Japan's Osaka Human Servitor Exchange come here to the Midwest and buy up hundreds of white boys of Nordic descent. This year will be their biggest year yet; they're after 300 boys in their first prime', that is boys who are 25 years old and younger. Among themselves the Japanese jokingly refer to their annual trip out here to the Midwest as their whitey boy roundup'."

"What are they going to do with us?"

"Same thing as we do in this country. They use servitors for every possible kind of service; business, domestic, personal, agricultural, entertainment, drayage, and so on. And they also use them for exotic things that only the Japanese seem to appreciate, things such as human zoos, and some really weird gladiatorial type sporting events."

The guard took the service-bra clad and frightened servitor down two flights of stairs to a room that housed a very large cage. Inside of the cage were 30 white boys, all about Thomas's age, and all similarly naked except for their `service bras'.

To Thomas, the service bra was a humiliating garment, for it seemed to highlight his and the other boys' nudity.

All of the boys were anxious, and some were crying. One boy was telling a group of others, "They're going to ship us to Japan in crates, like we're merchandise!"

Another older boy, who was sullen, commented, "That's not the worst of it. They're going to stump us first before we're crated!"

There were comments of disbelief. "That can't be. That's just a rumor!" "No, it's true. I've seen pictures of what they do to their slaves!" "That's bullshit. They can't do stuff like that to us!"

A guard entered the cage room, pushing what looked like a long grocery cart, opened the cage door, and called out, "Brace Cunningham." There was no response from any of the boys, "Brace Cunningham, whoever you are, please come forward, I need to get you prepped for surgery."

Brace Cunningham did not answer, but crumpled to the floor on his knees, sobbing out loud. The guard was gentle as he helped Brace to his feet, "Come along. They're going to put you `under'. You won't feel a thing. And when you wake up, you'll be in Japan!"

To be continued...

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