PZA Boy Stories

Purveyor of Silent Thoughts

Hard in Their Cages

Summary

Jason receives instructions from his mother about his role in a strictly segmented, authoritarian welfare state based on hard artificial intelligence and positive eugenics.

Publ. Jan 2017-...
Under construction, Apr 2017; 10,500 words (21 pages)

Characters

Unnamed mother (29yo), Jason (14yo) and Corey (13yo)

Category & Story codes

Slaveboy (Woman-Boy) story
Ft – slave nosex – humil chast
(Explanation)

Disclaimer

If you are under the legal age of majority in your area or have objections to this type of expression, please stop reading now.

If you don't like reading erotic stories about boys, why are you here in the first place?

This story is the complete and total product of the author's imagination and a work of fantasy, thus it is completely fictitious, i.e. it never happened and it doesn't mean to condone or endorse any of the acts that take place in it. The author certainly wouldn't want the things in this story happening to his character(s) to happen to anyone in real life.

It is just a story, ok?

Table of Contents

  1. Marked by Many, Hugged by Few
  2. Duct Taped Psyche
  3. Pillory Talk
  4. Pure Sway

 

Chapter 1
Marked by Many, Hugged by Few

"Push your balls through the ring… yes… and now your pecker goes inside this part… then we we slide the electronic lock." *click* "There you have it. You are an official Pinkie now," said mommy with a smile.

Here I was just 14 years old, lying on the kitchen table like a baby being diapered, wearing nothing but my cute cartoon character socks and a matching t-shirt while my mother was busy installing my birthday present: a tiny bubblegum pink tinted transparent ceramics chastity cage.

"Aww it's so cute Jason, sweetheart," mommy grinned.

"But it is tight…" I grimaced.

"Of course it is, cupcake. It needs to be tight to remind you of your new status in life. God forbid if we were to opt for a loose model I am sure you would come up with all sorts of sneaky ways to play with your cocklet while no one is looking."

"But…"

"No buts. We won't be making the 'Mommy it is not fair.' talk again. It is more than fair. Your nub is so small that nobody would want to play with it. No boys and certainly no girls; not now, not ever. Next Monday we will be heading for Doctor Twatstool's office and get you a close-trim circumcision. Without the excess skin I'm sure both your nasty boy smell and your unruly attitude will subside."

My little brother Corey approached the table as I pulled my knees together and cupped my cage trying to hide my shame.

"Mommy, why does Jason that weird thing on his willy?" asked Corey with a devilish grin. He probably had seen the damn thing a billion times before.

"Because unlike you your brother has no chance to grow up to be a proper man. That's why he is not allowed to play with his wee-wee anymore. No more stiffies for him."

"Will I get one of those mommy?" asked Corey as if expecting an answer for me rather than him.

She grabbed Corey by the forearm and gently pulled him closer. "Of course you will not honey. You are still 13 years old and yours already looks like straight 8 cucumber. No way your brother's cage would fit you," she said fondling his growing tool over his gray sports pants.

Corey giggled as mom massaged his budding monster.

"Starting from today there will new rules in the house. Your social status papers arrived this morning. Now listen carefully, Buttercup. I am legally obligated to read you what is written on those papers. I am sure you will be confused at first but rest assured all will be made crystal clear as you struggle your way around those new rules and regulations. I wanted Corey to be present while I read this stuff to you because your relation to him will become even more unequal from now on."

"Ahem," she cleared her throat. "Dear Jason Crotchsniff."

"Crotchsniff?" I exclaimed.

*SMACK*

Mom hit me across the cheeks, not enough to leave a mark but enough to inflict pain.

"Yes, Crotchsniff. Apparently that's your new surname. All Pinkies have generic humiliating surnames like that you know. And do not interrupt again because believe me you will remember the next one. From now on you have to raise your hand, without being persistent or intrusive of course, whenever you want to speak to any female or Blackband. If you are not granted this permission, you will remain silent. If at any point you are asked to stop speaking, you will do so. No exceptions. Understood?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now where was I. Due to extensive analysis of your physical and mental attributes and social engagement patterns The State hereby officially designates your role in the society as a Pinkie. This means you will excluded to benefit from all privileges Blackbands enjoy the rest of your life. These privileges include (but are not limited to):

"Right to free speech: You are not allowed to speak to any female or Blackband unless first asked a question or given the explicit permisson to do so. Should you notify them of some information they would consider important, you are to attract their attention with a gesture (i.e. raising your hand) and then only speak if you are given the permission. You will cease elocution – that is a fancy word for speech honey – the moment you are demanded to do so. You should however be aware that you can be held accountable for withholding any crucial information by law should it be proven that you have that information."

"This part should be clear by now. Right Mr. Crotchsniff?" mom giggled.

I nodded again somewhat looking down.

"Right to progeny: You have been deemed to be unfit to procreate thus are not allowed to have any sexual intercouse with any female under no circumstances. In the case that an offspring of which you are a biological father to is discovered, you will castrated for the offence. This punishment does not differentiate between whether you are actively responsible from the impregnation or not."

I raised my hand to ask the meaning of the word 'castrate'.

Mom cradled my new chastity cage as she caressed my hairless now exposed hairless balls with her index finger and said "That means no more marbles".

I gulped.

She continued, "Right to property and money: You are not allowed have any possessions. You will however be required to work in a fulltime occupation chosen by The State depending on your personal talents and inclinations. If you are unowned (not have a master) any object (clothing/item/vehicle etc.) you are permitted to interact with as a part of your occupation, will belong to The State. The money you earn will be stored in a bank account that is only accessible by a Blackband that you designate as your master. Your Blackband master will be able to purchase any good or service with your earnings and can choose to allow or restrain your access to goods or services so purchased. In the unlikely event you choose to be disowned again, your master will get to keep whatever amount remaining in your savings account along with all the goods purchased so far as alimony.

"If you are unowned, through the sheer generosity of The State you will be granted enough food for survival and a sleeping place that will protect you from the elements. Take notice however that these provisions are draconian at best. You are socially expected to provide directly for the lifestyle of your Blackband master and through taxation for all females in your community so that they can create a better future for our society. Remember realistically only through your master's grace and goodwill you get to benefit from a meager portion of your earnings and live out a decent lifestyle.".

Mom explained, "That means you are giving up your room to Corey from now on. All your toys, electronics etc. belong to him now. You can still play with them if he allows it though. Also your bed now belongs to him. I will be turning his room into a storeroom for my excess stuff so you will still be sleeping in Corey's new room. Only now you will sleep on the new boy-sized dog bed I have bought for you. It is waiting to be unpacked and laid out by your old bed. See you got two presents for your birthday: your chastity cage and a brand new dog bed. Some happy boy you should be," she smiled. "Also the neighbours will be coming this afternoon to give you more gifts. I wonder what they have in store."

"Sweet," said Corey as he was listening almost as intently as me. His eyes gleamed with pride and amusement. "We will have so much fun bro, you and I. I will be very through with you after all these years of hiding your best stuff away from me," he chuckled.

I almost winced thinking how cruel he could be when he wanted to. Corey had that sadistic streak manifest when he did get what he wanted and you always had to go through some sort of ordeal to appease his anger. Due to the different food (I was fed total vegan and Corey got all the steaks) and state issued pills (they came monthly by post always stamped with labels showing for which one of us they were intended for) mom had been giving us all those years, he was clearly much stronger than me even if he was one year younger. Where he had immaculate pecs, I had firm A-cup bee stings and my pale body was so thin and frail otherwise with almost no fat and muscle. Mom allowed zero refined sugar, a substance The State heavily taxed and produced only in small quantities, for both of us in our diets.

Anyway I digress. What I was saying is that due to the obvious gap between us both in terms physical strength and willpower, he was always the one to decide how things should turn out. He was also so ardent to discipline me when, well when I misbehaved. Mom gave him explicit authority to do so. His favorite way of punishing me was wrestling me into a hold and making me smell his pungent socks (especially after he returned from a lengthy soccer exercise). Over time I grew a liking to this exchange and all the resistance I putting up turned into a farce. I always inhaled deeply even when he did not tell me to do so, a fact that still makes me blush red from shame. Sometimes the punishments came for no apparent reason. I got my nipples tweaked simply because he lost a soccer match, had to massage his feet while he texted girls just because he was not pleased with the way I tidied up his room.

Many of these punishments were more creative and humiliating rather than painful but I guess deep down he implicitly knew that he was actually being nice to me by being cruel. Corey was a considerate yet strict bully for me so that others who did not love me as much he did need not be. Needless to say I respected, admired, loved and feared my little brother.

"Hmmm What's next? Here comes the fun part. Right to sexual release: You will be closely monitored for your capability to ejaculate. You will receive a state issued, non-intrusive chastity device that you will be required to wear until your demise. Your Blackband master, should you have one, will be provided with the means to unlock and lock this device at will. Disinfected city water is enough clean the device through is its holes without a need to unlock first, but should you really require a supervised unlocked cleaning procedure, you can fill out a form at your local hospital to receive one. Notice however there usually exists a long waiting line for this kind of service and eligibility and availability conditions vary by district. – Here comes the interesting part," she commented. "Hampering with the device," mom stopped abruptly. "Guess what the punishment is," she asked playfully.

"Marbles?" I said.

"Ha ha ha yes snipped marbles honey. Hampering with the device is a criminal offence punishable by castration. Should you notice your device to be malfunctioning (including its size being too big due to shrinkage of your penis over time) in any way you are legally obliged to request a new one. Can you believe that Corey? Your baby fag brother's wee-wee will actually get smaller as the years pass by. It is already the size of my pinky."

"Don't worry Jason. Mine will be more than enough to handle for both of us," Corey laughed again gently squeezing the outline of his baby arm sized pussy wrecker. "You will have plenty of opportunities to play with it too," said mommy as she ruffled my hair and placed her hand on my shoulder pulling me in close in a gesture of endearment.

I hung my head down in shame, defeated. I was kneeling on the kitchen table, bare bottomed, cupping my chastity cage with both my hands as if it would do anything boost my already depleted self-esteem.

"Oh don't be so crestfallen dear," she said noticing silent tears that were falling from my face. "You may be thinking how unfair life is or why people who are closest to you are so mean," she started ruffling my hair again. "I know that is how it looks but we are doing this for your own good. We are doing this because we care. Consider the possibility where you were chosen to be a Blackband. Do you really think you have it takes to be one?" she raised an eyebrow.

I opened my mouth in protest but instantly remembered the first rule. I swallowed my words as my heart sunk.

"But what? All this conditioning, the pills, the way I dressed and fed you differently, all these subtle and obvious discriminations between you and Corey… do you think it is I who caused you to be a Pinkband? If you think this way, you are gravely mistaken my sweet baby; the decision was not one I made. If it was up to me I would prefer having all Blackband sons. But the criteria to be selected as one is ever so stringent. They make all sorts of genetic evaluations: your projected health, intelligence, physical beauty, social aptitude, and even sanity. Everything about you is analyzed by state of the art artificial intelligence and is compared to an uncompromising set of rules to decide whether you should pass on your genes when the time comes. Also as time goes by these requirements become even more unyielding as undesirable traits are almost completely eliminated from the gene pool."

She paused to look if I was following and continued when I blinked "So basically maybe and that is a maybe, you were eligible to be a Blackband 20 years ago. But now you are not. You just are not good enough Jason," she said shaking her head no.

"If you were raised the way I raised Corey, not only that would be a crime as far as the law is concerned but you would merely turn out to be a deficient copy of him. You would waste the rest of your life comparing yourself to a standard you had no hope of realizing in the first place. A life wasted in futile competition and demeaning defeat, that would be your reality. Fortunately life has made clear that such comparison is merely wishful thinking, an absurd fairy tale that no sane person would believe. Now you can happily put your mind at peace and live a life free of doubt, free of hesitation, free of sorrow. A Pinkband, that's what you always were and that's what people will love you for honey," she said never cutting eye contact through the whole utterance. Then she hugged me snuggly as any mother would hug her child.

Next in line came Corey to hug me as well. "Deep down we both know what you want Jason. You should only fake otherwise when we are playing naughty to make it more interesting. You may fool others but not me," he said firmly holding my arms with both hands and grinning. "I promise you as your first master that I will always be available for you 'little brother', not to give you what you want but what you need. I promise I will always be the one who understands you the most," his grin turned into a serious look, it felt much like a understanding nod from one accomplice to another who have known each other for years and no longer felt the need to verbalize things. Unexpectedly he sat on a chair near the kitchen table, reached for his ankles, yanked off his socks and then handed them over to me.

"Envy is a curious thing," mommy chimed in. "We envy what is comparable to us, cupcake. For you there is nothing to envy because you simply do not compare. Be content with what you have and live a happy life. Your brother and I will always be here for you," she said as if marking the end of this harrowing.

I willingly accepted and trusted these words as I wiped my tears with and sniffled into Corey’s socks.

Chapter 2
Duct Taped Psyche

"Now Corey, help Jason with his new dog bed will you? Chances are that he will try to haul the whole package with his puny arms and scratch the parquet. I still have preparations to make for our guests, side dishes and stuff. Also do not leave the house until 6 p.m."

"No way mom. I am on a tight schedule you know. I have girls to fuck, pussies to squirt into. One hot MILF and her daughter is waiting for me this afternoon. They live just end of the block–"

"Postpone it to the night," mom interrupted. "Two itching, over-stretched pussies can wait. I am sure you have already pumped enough cum into them to impregnate them for a millennia. The issue is, Sarah will be bringing his son, Kevin for his RR, and I already promised in your stead. I will lose face if your are not present."

"Oh great. Another awkward twat I have to split into half," Corey exclaimed.

I raised my hand in an attempt to ask what a 'RR' was but they ignored me in the heat of the argument. Then I immediately figured out that they talking about the ceremony of rectal rapture or rectal rupture as we Pinkies called it. Kevin was scheduled to get his ass raped by Corey in front of a group of ladies who would be watching the whole spectacle as a coming-of-age ritual.

"Don't be rude," said mom ticked off. "Sarah told me that the kid is an avid fan of yours. Apparently he has memorized every sports related trivia and statistic about you. Also Sarah told me Kevin's room was full of your posters," mom explained.

"My posters? Jeez, what a creep. I bet he has an altar of some sort, decorated with actions figures in my likeness. I can imagine him banging them together and making weird noises. Maybe at the center of his altar stands erect a realistic dildo, molded after my dong," Corey mocked.

I started giggling but stopped when mom gave me a glare. Maybe the ask-permission-before-you-speak-or-you-will-get-a-slapping rule encompassed involuntary sounds we made too. Who knows?

"Also about this whole number recitation thing, I am not impressed. I bet half of the Pinkies in my term have every form of trifle you can come up with, about any Blackie, etched into their domes. This is precisely because many take a course called mnemonics in which they are taught to rote memorize massive amounts of information, mom. It just so happens that the sample data they are required to memorize and are evaluated from in their exams is our sport statistics and body measurements," Corey filled mom in.

Corey was dead-on point: mnemonics was seen as a valuable skill to master for Pinkbands who wanted to study better or aspired to have technical jobs. Most Blackbands on the other hand, considered these techniques slavish.

*sigh* "Ok, what do you want?" mom gave up.

"The house will be empty from Saturday evening till Sunday noon. The fridge will be filled to the brim with synthetic beer, and snacks, healthy ones if you insist. Jason will stay but you will be absent. It's high time I get him acquainted with my Blackie pals," Corey bargained like a weasel.

"What about the after party garbage and cleaning," mom inquired.

"Jason can take care of it for you. Right Jason?"

"If it pleases you, sir," I replied meek and annoyed.

"Jason, as long as you maintain a respectful tone, you can call me by name in front of others. It feels awkward my own brother calling me 'sir'. Consider this a privilege I hand out to very few, select Pinkies. Understood?"

"Yes, Corey."

"Don't worry; you will have more sirs than you can handle in the near future," he sneered.

Mom listened to this whole exchange, contemplated a few more seconds, shifted her eyes and replied "Deal. Now go help with the bed. Then take a shower and wear some plain, easy to take off clothes. You know the drill. Our guests can arrive at any moment."

As we headed to my, I mean Corey's room, I reminisced over all the Pinkies Corey ruptured so far. There were at least six, I knew of with whom he has dealt with on a personal level, but most probably he must have ruptured countless others in group ceremonies. However, only one other was ruptured in our house, my best friend Kieran's cousin Elijah. I vividly remember the whole affair as a fiasco. Apparently Elijah, being the dumbass he is, did not understand the necessity to first practice with proper sized dildos to prepare for Corey's massive meat-stick. He thought well, some Kegel exercises, a fistful of painkillers, and a generous gloop of muscle relaxant lube would be enough. Big mistake it was.

Corey had just buried a little more than half-length when Elijah was screaming at the top of his lungs, biting into his barf and drool covered red ball gag, crying waterfalls and bleeding profusely. His mother repeatedly apologized to ours and insisted that the ceremony should recommence once Elijah's fissures healed but Corey declined saying that "it was as far as it went and there was no more need to push it". Elijah still to this day, demonstrates utmost respect and deference to Corey when they run across in the halls, since it was Corey who had spared him from further pain and humiliation.

When we entered the room, I raised my hand to ask him how could I be of some help setting up the dog bed. He slapped my hand down.

"I think you will agree that up until now, I never needed a law backing me up to shut you up. You may speak freely when we are together. If I require your temporary silence I will demand it explicitly. Should you fail to comply then we will follow correct procedure and you will not like it. This is how it works when there is intimacy between a Blackband and a Pinkband. Sure it amuses us for the first few times, seeing you raise your hands like kindergartners but then it quickly becomes tiresome to say 'Yes, you can speak' each and every single time. So informally the law is loosened more for our convenience rather than yours. You should first raise your hand to speak when approaching an unfamiliar Blackie however. He may take offence otherwise," he warned.

I raised my hand regardless as if I was trying to make a point. Realistically no one really cares for me now and if it is all about appearances to begin with then appearances should they get, I thought.

"Jason, are you being daft on purpose just to piss me off?" challenged Corey somewhat irate.

"I am just trying to understand what is expected of me, Corey. If I am expected show respect to each and every Blackband by acting in a certain way, I thought I should start practicing with you first, since you are the one I respect–" I tried to finish as Corey moved both his arms like greased lightning and clasped his fingers unto my nipples and started squeezing them hard, very hard.

"AARRGGHH! Please stop Corey! Please! Pretty please! AARRGGHH!"

He began to twist them harder.

"Please! Corey! I beg you! AARRGGHH! Sir! I'll do anything! Anything! Sir! Corey! You are killing me! I beg you! Please! AARRGGHH!"

Yet, harder he twisted.

"Stop, you over-entitled, sadistic piece of shit!"

Corey smirked and uttered "Fair enough." He released his grasp, and dropped his arms. "I recently discovered a Pinkie's nipples double as reset buttons. By twisting and turning hard enough, you can revert a Pinkie back to factory settings. I hope I will not have to recalibrate you in the future," he reprimanded. Then there was a pause. He simply stood motionless for a silent moment to let his condescending yet magnanimous gaze sink into my soul.

Finally, convinced that I got his message, Corey calmly raised his hands up again which caused me shudder, recoil, and hug myself as a reflex. He waited patiently, hands in the air, then gradually turned his wrists to reveal his open palms as if to reassure "I will not inflict further pain on you; just let me touch you.".

I renounced my defensive stance as he put his hands unto my shoulders. He closed in and whispered "No more bullshit. None from you and none from me. Promise?" His breath was caressing my neck.

"Promise," I whispered nodding.

He withdrew yet again look into my eyes and asked "Now, how are you holding up?".

"I am on the verge of tears. I feel like vomiting but can not since I am on an empty stomach. My legs feel weak. I feel like my life has already ended. I feel like a worthless pile of genetic garbage, like some sacrificial wether lamb that will be cut open for the amusement of others, like some unwanted sack of offal that has been left under the sun to rot, like some shorn stray dog…".

"Shhh," he whispered as he touched his forehead to mine. He then moved his hand to firmly hold the nape of my neck as if holding a cat and gently guided my face to his armpit.

"I changed socks this morning. Their aroma may not have been potent enough. Nonetheless, I have yet to take shower after my morning calisthenics, so this should do the trick. Just breathe deep," he suggested as he pressed my face tightly into his armpit.

I inhaled three deliberate, full breathes to spoil my lungs with his virile, soothing aroma as he massaged the nape of my neck with his capable fingers. I thought, If I really am a sacrificial wether lamb who is on his way to the butcher's knife, I hope they at least show the decency of drugging me with this stuff first.

"Just ask me anytime if you need more. I am always willing to provide a whiff for my little brother."

"I guess best things in life are free."

Corey gave me a concerned smile "Now, Jason, I want you to know mom was not even half way through with reading those papers. She only stopped because you burst into tears. There were many others things that you would not like hearing written there. But I do not want you to worry about them yet. I am well versed in civil law, one of my favorite subjects, thus I will help you with any law that concerns you."

"When will I start giving you those blowjobs, because you certainly do need one now."

He smiled and reached for the paper knife with which he intended to cut the duct tapes of the package.

Chapter 3
Pillory Talk

"While I play handyman for mom, go lie on my bed one last time. Commit its coziness to your memory. It will later come in handy in making comparisons. Afterall, on future nights, I will be banging wailing, moaning hot chicks on this double bed while you are cramped up in your pit, trying to get some shut-eye."

I lied on the bed and spread my arms and legs open wide. They felt almost weightless yet I was unable to lift them at the same time. My body was clashing with all the hell I was going through.

Corey started cutting the duct tape holding the package together. The dog bed was not one single piece of equipment. There was wooden furniture that had to be screwed together before you put the mattress on.

"Won't you ever let me join you here?"

"Why? Are you a good cunt licker? After I am finished, you can lap my excess cum out of their wet pussies. Sluts love that stuff. We can also take pictures to immortalize those events, share them on social media and make your fag buddies jealous."

"Eeeww. I hate pussy and all my pals do too. Not only they look freakishly weird but also I won't risk my balls being too close to one."

"Your tongue and fingers are still allowed by law if you ever change your mind. Some women keep Pinkies around, mostly their own offspring, to use as domestic servants and pets. Pussy licking both as a means to ready them for us, and cleaning after we are finished, is on the job description," Corey explained.

"No, but thank you. Still not convinced. Pussies are repulsive."

"Funny thing is, Jason, I find it very hard to come up with something I find disgusting. Maybe certain types of behaviour but I can not put a finger on anything solid. I have heard we, Blackies, due to the certain chemicals we have been brought up with, experience disgust and fear only to the extent that we know they exist in other people."

This piqued my interest as I straightened up, hands on the bedspread. "You mean, you are not afraid of or revolted by anything. Is that true?" I asked amazed.

"I can understand that something is a threat and must be dealt with in some manner, but otherwise I feel very little aversion. I also know when and how much you, a Pinkie or a girl, is frightened or grossed out."

So this is how they think differently from us, I thought fascinated.

"You see, great friend of mine from soccer, Aaron owns a middle-aged, over-weight Pinkie faggot living in the outer city who happens to love nibbling trampled cookies from between Aaron's stinky toes. This very act, both being extremely demeaning and arousing for the faggot, fills his heart with intense self-hate and despair."

He was finished with screwing the lower portion of the bed frame together by now.

"Aaron, however, simply considers this transaction to be hilarious and thinks nothing bad of his foot bitch. Because from his perspective, he is just providing some personalized, quality service for a price. Occasionally he comes up with novel ways to further humiliate and torment him out of respect for his customer's wishes."

I felt absorbed yet terrified listening to Corey's words. Would I be like that when I grew older?

"Moral of the story is that as long you keep us entertained and well-paid, we are willing to fulfill your fantasies," he sneered.

There were many other things I wanted to ask Corey, but I could not somehow prioritize them. I chose to go with the order they came to my mind.

"Corey, when did you first–"

"When we were 6 and 7. You stole away some stupid toy train of me and started running. I caught up to you and as we wrestled on the ground I noticed your priority was not guarding the toy but rubing your bumhole to my crotch. Then I pried the toy train from your clutches without much effort, and my hand accidentally touched your willy. That naughty rascal was sticking out like a sore thumb. It was when I understood that we were going to turn out different." he confessed chuckling.

Corey and I always played this game of finishing each other's sentences midway. We corrected each other when we guessed wrong. The accuracy we reached over years made it appear like some form of eerie telepathy to others.

"Will you from time to–"

"No."

"No, what? You did not even let me finish!"

"No, I will not from time to time unlock your cage and let you play with your pecker!"

There was momentary silence. "Why?" I asked unraveled and frustrated.

"Because you are already years behind in your chastity training from your peers and this has weakened your resolve. Thirteen is the maximum age a Pinkie can wander around uncaged by law and many of your friends got theirs as early as eight. So, no!"

"It was mom's decision to wait for that long before sealing the deal and she did precisely so that, she could use the threat of the dreaded cage to make me do housework and groceries without me complaining much."

"I see your point but maybe she wanted you to have as much free time as possible before the inevitable. Maybe it was both."

I sighed a long one and said "So, no cummies for me.".

"I said nothing about cumming. If you tune into your instinctive mindfuck state and your willy milk squirts out of the cage all by itself while I am pounding you or while you are dildo training, I will not going to punish you for it. You will however…"

"Lap it all up. I know: 'The seed of an amaranth shalt not befoul thy fertile womb and quench drought whence it spew forth.' Priapus 17:42".

"You are not as clueless as you appear. I did not know you were into religious texts."

"I am taking 'Introduction to the Sacred Scripture of Priapus' as an elective this semester. The course has easy exams and a decent credit multiplier," I explained.

"There you have it; I am finished. Hop inside and let's give it a try, " he said wiping his glistening brow to his T-shirt and finally adjusting the large cushion.

From Corey's bed I crawled on all fours like a baby and rolled inside my new lair. The bed was not as short as I presumed it to be but I was going to be sleeping in fetal position for sure. "So this the kennel for the puppy," I remarked.

"We can go collar shopping if you are into puppy play," he snickered.

"Arf! Arf!"

For a moment I wished me being a fulltime pet was within the realm of possibility. I would have unconditionally accepted to be Corey's pet dog. It would have been an safe and satisfying existence.

Then, he did the unexpected yet again and crawled inside the dog bed facing me.

"I am trying see if it accommodates two people. If I invite over another Pinkie, would you be a kind host and share?" he asked.

"What about your comfy double bed up there?" I asked annoyed.

"It is reserved for me and ladies who choose to sleep over. There should be a good reason if your kind sleeps with us. Maybe you should reconsider your position on cunt licking; mom would appreciate it too," he taunted.

"Corey, I am going to ask you something serious. I never had the courage to do so because I feared looking weak. Now such fear being meaningless I am asking away; please answer truthfully," I confessed as he nodded attentively.

"Do you actually enjoy watching me suffer?"

"Short answer or long answer?"

"Short."

"Yes."

"Well, long then."

"You should always opt for long things in life," he said playfully. "If your description of suffering is me mercilessly flaunting my legal privileges and physical superiority over to your face then the answer is a simple yes."

He got a strong hold of my wrists and restricted my ability to turn left or right.

"You see, people do not get to enjoy things in a vacuum. There should be always be a context and some other reference points. So now that I have what I have and you do not, I feel pretty lucky and happy. Also do not get all high and mighty on me. You would behaved exactly the same way, maybe even worse, should fate has favored you, instead of me, as a Blackie," he explained dutifully, respecting my question.

"I appreciate your honesty." I accepted and sank deeper into the cushion. Eventually there was a limit to how much empathy could let us choose for others and the needs of self always came first.

"I have not finished yet," he asserted and jerked me through my wrists.

"However, if by suffering you mean me watching you sink into bouts of depression and madness then the answer is no Jason, no, never! It is that one thing I can not stand seeing!"

My eyes got teary again.

"Between you and me, you are the smarter one. You always were. Others may not be aware of this and may not give you the recognition you deserve, but I know it as an irrefutable fact. Your mind however, its brilliance aside, has a tendency to go to very dark places. This was partly the reason why I bullied you all those years by meting out boring chores and humiliating punishments. I was trying to take your mind away from your inner demons and divert your frustration against me."

"Partly?" I asked.

"That and my natural alpha chemistry," he said and I smiled warmly together with my benevolent bully.

"I can take anything you throw at me, Jason. I am way stronger. You, on the other hand, when left to you own devices, are pretty good at plucking out your own feathers."

"Without you, my mind would unreel into to the endless night," I replied.

"Without you, I would be a monster which devours all in sight," he replied back.

"So we are like two puzzle pieces completing each other."

"Only that I am the one with the knob." he said laughing.

Then there was a knock on the half-open door.

"I yelled for both of you but apparently you did not care. Corey! You still have not showered and got changed. Well whatever; do so now. I will be attending to our guests in the living room," told mom.

We rose up from the dog bed to take a closer look at the porcelain skinned, willowy ginger kid with freckles.

"By the way, this is Kevin," she added.

Chapter 4
Pure Sway

"The rug in the drawing room is too rough; go and lay a plush blanket on it." I told Jason. Sluggishly he stood up to comply. "We do not want our guest to have bruised hands and knees for the thumping I will be giving him."

After my last rapture at Aunt Abbie's, I had hoped the next kid they tossed my way for me to drill into would have had some meat on him. Yet, I was disappointed once again. Kevin's frame was so tender that I could unintentionally break his stick like arms if I applied just a little too much force while yanking him around. There he was standing in his light blue T-shirt with a cartoonish depiction of an tawny owl printed on; he wore some slim-fit white capri shorts; on his tiny feet were matching cute, light blue and white striped half-socks. He was waiting for me to say something.

Just then Sarah, Kevin's hot, sluty mom, appeared behind mom. "So this is the stallion's room." she remarked with an enticing smile. "Kevin, honey don't you know master Corey's room is a no-pants-zone for baby fags like you?" she teased, ruffling Kevin's wavy hair behind him and winking me in concert.

Kevin raised both his puny fists up in astonishment and hollered "Oh, my gosh! Where are my manners? Forgive me sir!". He then diligently unbuttoned his capris, let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them. "Underwear too, dear." Sarah chuckled as she leaned to pick up. Kevin turned his back to me and submissively stripped down his light blue boy's bikini briefs in the most lascivious way possible. He was wiggling his upturned butt with superfluous effort, watching my reaction simultaneously. His now exposed ass cheeks were curiously red and there were barely perceptible finger marks on them. Inside his crack, a black dildo of considerable girth, one ended with a sphere the size of squash ball, was lodged. The sphere was buried almost halfway deep into his sphincter, pulling his ass cheeks apart and making him walk and stand funny.

Sarah apparently noticed me noticing the red marks. "Oh don't mind it Corey, my dear. Kevin gets spankings for any grade he gets that is not an A+, and lower the grade is, harsher the spanking becomes. Yesterday he shamelessly brought an A for an easy English essay and I gave him 20 memorable swats for that. Don't feel sorry about him though, because he gets a wee-wee rub with a premium deflation cream for every A+ he brings home. His rewards generously balance out his punishments." she revealed Kevin's regimen. "We are fair at home aren't we honey?" she asked Kevin to buck up.

"Yes mommy. I love wee-wee rubs. I get more shivies than cummies though since my water is still too weak." Kevin replied shyly as he handed over his bikini briefs.

"And it will remain weak darling. I made sure my baby fag's cocklet drool never turns white. Here is a surprise: although absolutely not required by The State, last month mommy put you on expensive pills that will make you permanently sterile. Nanobots will kill off all your sperm producing cells, but otherwise will not interfere with your erections or seminal fluid. You will never risk accidentally impregnating a girl, and may even fuck one in the highly unlikely event that your future master allows it. Most likely for comedic relief." she divulged looking at his abashed son.

Kevin was probably accustemed to savoring the intense feeling helplessness his mother was putting him through. He must have felt betrayed and relieved at the same time, upon learning he has lost a remnant of his manhood but ironically not needing it in the first place.

"He may even extend your time spent outside the cage since your cum will no longer pose a danger to the society. Needless to say when you get your ass properly raped, your cocklet will still cry tears of clear liquid from its cage. Now what do we say upon receiving gifts?"

"Thank you mommy for taking care of my needs. Even those I have not yet thought of." Kevin acquiesced.

"That's what mothers are for darling." Sarah confided.

The wee-wee rub they were talking about was a common way of rewarding a Pinkie. There were countless variations which involved restraints, blindfolds, exotic massage techniques, weird rules for duration, ruined orgasms, itching creams, erection pills and the like. From the way Sarah and Kevin put it, I deduced if Kevin was unable to cum within a certain time limit while getting his cocklet jerked with a muscle relaxant, he was immediately getting an ice pack to quell his stiffie and then was being locked in once again.

"What a wonderful idea." mom remarked. "We should put Jason on a similar schedule as soon as possible. His grades certainly can use a lift. What do you say my lion?"

"Sensible, yet setting the bar at an A+ would cause Jason to lose all hope and give up altogether. Let's start with a B and move up from there." I recommended.

"A B? There was only one time when Kevin got a B and that caused him to skip home for three days. We found him hiding in our neighbour's dog's kennel. Of course he later got all his deserved punishment along with the punishment of skipping home. Not all at once tough. That would kill him." Sarah explained, lauding the way he trained his son.

"Corey, will you do the honors?" mom chimed in to clear up the air. She apparently did not like Sarah covertly criticizing us for being too lenient on Jason.

I grabbed Kevin by the neck with my left hand and gently lowered his head down. With my right hand I held the ball end of the dildo which caused him to, with both of his hands, grab unto my arm. "No fag paws on me, Kevin!" I scolded and he retracted his hands immediately. "Just trust the hand that holds you." I suggested and began pulling the dildo out ever so slowly. This made him tiptoe and let more of his weight fall unto my grasp.

His hands were curled into tiny paws, his eyes were blissfully closed, his wide open mouth singed heart warming whimpers and his legs were trembling as the thick, pliable truncheon was sliding out. I took the liberty of pushing the glistening, black shaft several times back in and maybe twisted it a few more before finally letting realistic tip of the dildo leave his pucker with an audible plop. Kevin released all tension, fell back on his feet and gave out a sigh of accomplishment. His hole was agape, yawning at us having been just been overstretched with a tool of considerable girth.

Copious amount of lubricant was oozing through his ravaged hole, trickling down on his hairless legs and finally dripping unto the floor. "Oh my, my." I said. "A naughty pup we have here." I smeared most of the excess lubricant on the wavering dildo unto Kevin's T-shirt and brought its tip to Kevin's mouth. "Here hold unto this for second." I said pushing the tip into his mouth. Apparently not quite understanding my intent, he failed to open his mouth for the first two times and I accidentally rammed it into his lips smearing icky goo unto his cheeks. This made both mom and Sarah chortle.

Finally he gave me a wide open mouth with stretched out lips and I buried the dildo at half length into his compliant mouth. "Bite." I said and he did just that. The other half of the dildo was wobbling erratically as Kevin moved his head around which caused mom and Sarah to laugh uncontrollably. I snagged the bikini briefs from the floor and used them to wipe off the leaking goo trail on his legs. Having finished that I tucked the briefs through Kevin's butt cheeks and into his hole as a makeshift tampon to prevent further leakage.

I retrieved the dildo back by wagging its end which made Kevin look like a dog not wanting to give away his bone. With him releasing his jaw, the dildo flopped out with ease and I handed it over to Sarah. I wiped the excess muck unto Kevin's T-shirt and made slightest of nods. Mom and Sarah took this as their cue to leave for the preparation. They closed the door from behind.

"Present yourself, kid." I demanded nonchalantly.

"Kevin Cumbreath, thirteen years and 4 months, at your service sir." he stood attention his bikini briefs dangling from his buttocks like a tail. His light blue tinted chastity cage, probably for him being an honor student, was pathetically tiny.

I barely remembered seeing the kid around. Best I could do was a distant picture of him sitting at a large table, all by himself, in the middle of the cafeteria; his artless face was all but a faint wisp in my memory. He was either shy or shunned for some reason.

If he did really lusted after me, as mother claimed he did, he never approached to confess. For one thing, it was his mother arranging the rapture, not him coming to me personally to appeal for one. Also he did not bring along any of his classmates as rapture aides, letting this duty involuntarily fall unto the shoulders of my brother, Jason. This kid was lonely.

"You an academic or something? Cumbreaths usually do brainy stuff."

"I am one of the best and brightest among my peers, sir. I have an IQ of 171. You will find me to be a worthy match for someone of your athletic ability. Also I want you to you know that I am delighted to be in your presence. I am proud to announce that I am one of the very few Pinkbands who knows your exact dribbling statistics. I am without doubt the best match for a brawny dude like you, sir." exclaimed Kevin.

Maybe it was his high pitched voice, maybe his wiseacre, fawning attitude, but he somehow was getting on my nerves. For us, friction with a Pinkie was a wrestle with the fiend within. It was a taboo topic, one not voluntarily talked about. Deep inside we all knew we were keeping a fiend on a leash. That fiend whispered to us at our weakest moments, demanding we instill obedience, doubt, dependence and despair in our lessers.

Then there were rare, aberrant Blackies who completely lost the struggle and gave into their fiend's ravenous appetite. "Unseen Fiends" they were called hush-hush, these Blackies were bona fide sadists and killers often wearing the warmest smiles. They walked the earth for no other reason to cause the most mayhem and suffering possible before kicking the bucket themselves.

Vulnerable and isolated kids, like Kevin, were especially ripe for the picking, and were either driven to suicide through clandestine, incessant torture or left behind as husks barely recognizable as human beings. Unseen Fiends, once they concluded the victim could not get any help, did not bother with hiding any physical evidence.

We, Blackies, were counseled to ostracize such monsters from our ranks when there was a silent consensus, but a few and far between went unchecked. It was dishonorable to openly brand someone an Unseen Fiend; you had to prove it and that meant legal consequences for both parties involved. Thus most refrained from doing so without good cause. Sometimes best we could do was to keep our loved ones away from their clutches.

"You look like you are itching to say something. Spit it out." I demanded.

"Sir, is it true true that you owned Jason, your own brother?"

"Yeah, so what of it? It is only temporary."

"Seems the gossip is pretty true then: he is incapable of finding a master of his own." Kevin mumbled looking to the side avoiding eye contact.

"Jason is still learning the ropes. We may have over-sheltered him a bit but he will catch up."

"I doubt it sir. He lacks integrity and eagerness to please, the very essentials to be a reliable submissive. Many say he will end up in one of them Amelioration Centers due to his inability to follow instructions. Here basking in your glorious presence, I see it ever more clearly sir. Jason is obviously unworthy of you."

He catched me off guard. "Come again." I responded calmly, giving him one final chance to back off, yet he did not seem to get the hint.

"Did you not know sir? Jason is a thief, a habitual liar, and is mentally unstable. Last month he was caught sniffing distilled ethanol in the chemistry lab, crying, crammed into a dark cupboard. I hear people saying that he stole the key since the door to the lab was locked. He has sticky fingers.".

There was struggle within and I was losing.

"Also he makes up excuses not to show his cage to us, saying that his cocklet is exceptionally small and that he is worried about being made fun of or some other untruth. Everybody knows that his wee-wee was not locked up until today. What a crass display of lack of discipline I would say. By owning such an unprincipled, disgraceful Pinkband, you are tarnishing your own stellar reputation, sir. You deserve-"

That did it; I snapped. I should not have, but I did. In a jiffy, I grabbed him by his cheeks with both hands and began twisting back and forth, up and down, squeezing his lips into a pucker.

"I assume you are all too accustomed to things always going your way, Kevin. So let's shake things up a little bit; shall we?" I began to unwind. "Let me tell you how things will go from here: during your rapture, there will be blood. I will intentionally apply pressure to the exact, right, wrong place to tear up a good two inch fissure."

After my released clench, he tottered back a few steps, let himself fall to the floor and recoiled into a curl, shaking from fear and pain, his tiny palms up in the air facing me, begging me that I stop. I followed his motion, squatted unto his chest careful not to give my full weight to his chest, grappled his flailing, feeble arms and pinned them to the ground, and leaned in to flood his fluttering heart with dread.

"Then I will feign ignorance of the hernia and force fuck you a few more poundings using your blood as a lubricant. Considering my flawless record as a reliable precision fucker, no one will put the blame on me, but will accuse your already quivering self for lack of preparedness. If you somehow chicken out or tattle my plan, I will ask the very Blackie who would rupture you in my stead to bleed you the same, for you slandering me."

I took a nearby stripped away piece of duct tape that came from the cardboard case of Jason's new dog bed and prudently taped it unto Kevin's mouth to prevent him from screaming and alerting the ladies.

"With that much blood lost, you will probably be hospitalized for a good month during which you will not be able to attend to any of your beloved lessons. Of course, by doing overtime you will catch up, but curiously yet, your scores will still disintegrate into single digits. You know why? Because I happen to know a database admin working for the school IT support, who is ogling me with puppy eyes, desperate for what little attention he could muster from me. He will change your course assignments with blanks and introduce random errors just because I will ask him to do so."

My right hand was at his throat with a restraining grip. I was not quite choking him, but rather controlling the airflow by only loosening the grip when he stayed motionless, free of struggle.

"At some point, all you have meticulously built up so far will crumble into a forgettable nothing, and you too will understand that any further effort on your part is simply futile. I will erase you from existence piece by piece, Kevin. Believe me, you will either go mad or finish the deed yourself. Looking at you, I know by heart, it will be the latter eventually."

I ripped away the piece of duct tape I have just taped with a quick swipe. He was lucky to have no facial hair.

"Please Master Corey! Please do not end me! I grovel at your feet! I will do anything; I will say anything; I will be anything to appease you! Please! Give me one last chance! Don't erase me; let me exist! I beg you-" pleaded Kevin shaking his head left and right frantically and crying buckets.

"Anything you say? WelI, I am in a good mood since it is my brother's coming of age birthday. So instead of ruining your future, I may instead give you a punishment." I offered and taped up his mouth once again.

He started nodding yes with panic.

"Tell you what since, all that came out of your mouth was shit today, I have no qualms against putting some back in. How about you become my personal shit eater and piss drinker until the end of the semester? I have always wanted one, Kevin; you know it is a matter of prestige among us 'brawny dudes'." I menaced.

He cowered in revulsion. It was clear from the look in his eyes that he was trying gauge whether me completely destroying his life was a better option than turning him into a full time scatologist.

"From now on, you will pretty much eat nothing but my shit and drink nothing but my piss. Now, don't give me that troubled look. Are you worried of a calorie deficit because of the amount I dump at school toilets may not be enough for your nutritional needs?"

Instead of pulling it away forcefully, I slowly peeled away the duct tape this time around. Kevin was wincing and turning shades of red.

"Don't fret; I have a heart. I won't let you go starving. At home, all my delicious, nutritious, smelly stools will go into tupperware which then I will be bringing over to you at school for your feasting pleasure. I can not make any guarantees about the consistency though. When they are hard enough you can substitute them for meatballs and make sandwiches, but sometimes I have diarrhea, and all you will have will be runny paste. Still goes great with bread as dip sauce though." I illustrated with hand gestures to evoke a clear mental image.

He was visibly retching but could not vomit probably due being on an empty stomach in preparation of his rapture.

"To quench your thirst, I will be providing you with ample amounts of my golden nectar. See that thermos over there." I said pointing to our camping gear. "That will keep it warm. We never serve cold, stale piss at this house."

Humiliating him was not even remotely satisfying anymore. There was no one left for me to torment further on. That obnoxious, calculating boy named Kevin was long gone, having left behind a lamentable pile of inferior nothing, incapable of coherent speech, incessantly sobbing, hyperventilating, and letting his drool fall to the floor with a vacant stare. At that very moment in time, I knew that if I pushed any further, I could have repurposed what little remained to be anything I wanted, until the last of his days. Something way below a pet or a slave, an inanimate object: a footstool or an ashtray perhaps?

But then I reined myself in. I dropped to my knees, pulled his arms, grabbed him by the armpits, lifted up his lithe frame, and immobilized him in a warm, tight embrace. "Stay like that." I whispered into his ear. "I am a monster and this is your safest distance from me." He hugged me with all the might he could muster, his legs locked around my waist, his shaking fingers were scratching my back. We stood still there for a while, connected, then I felt the warmth on my belly. Kevin's piss was dribbling from his cage like a leaky faucet.

He was so tensed up that his locked jaw and paralysed tongue did not even allow him intelligible speech. In the midst of his sentence he too must have realized that the weird sounds he was vocalizing did not correspond to any words in the dictionary, thus he gave up altogether and chose to stare at me vacuously instead. His terror-stricken, teary eyes read "Ok. That's the part where you kill me. Just let's get it over with. I am ready."

"What you have just witnessed was the true extent of the sway of a single, provoked Blackie holds over your life, Kevin. Up until this moment, you only have heard passed-down, distasteful stories about it, watched it on horror holograms for a thrill, but you never ever truly knew it. You only thought you did." I consoled putting my hand unto his abused cheeks, caressing the redness of my former squeeze.

"If you reduce me into a bunch of sport statistics, treat me like the ridiculous caricature of an heartless boor, and then try to dupe me into doing your bidding by iterating some textbook platitudes, I will do exactly the same to you: I will dehumanize you. Practiced much easier from my side of the table, just saying…" I continued.

He blinked still sobbing but hyperventilating less.

"But…" I paused as Kevin reared his gaze in anticipation. "…I forgive you. It is obvious you are not someone of many friends, certainly not of many Blackies. I want you to live a long, happy life in which you turn away from this mistake." "Also I will not punish you for ruining one of my favorite T-shirts." I said stretching the end of my T-shirt to show him the mess he made. "I never punish someone for something they did involuntarily. On the contrary, I am happy to see that your body is reacting positively to my authority. Fear and shame are healthy emotions for a Pinkie."

"This faggot is most fortunate to receive your mercy." Kevin responded relieved.

"However," I clarified, "I am not forgiving you for dumping on my brother.".

He tensed up once again.

"You see, Kevin, my seed has fertilized countless wombs; I lost track of how many. Even in just about one year, I know that I have more than fulfilled my duty to The State as a human stud. My offspring will roam the earth for generations to come. Knowing that I have fulfilled my designated purpose in life, I am willing to give up everything I have, every single fucking thing, if it will somehow give Jason a better life. Even this." I said showing my black wristband. "I would kill and not have any regrets if that could save my brother's life. He is my dearest." I confessed.

Kevin acknowledged embarrassed and jealous with a long blink.

"So there will be punishment for you bad-mouthing Jason, I am afraid. Are you all set?"

"This faggot is ecstatic for being your new shit muncher and piss guzzler, sir." Kevin mumbled faint-hearted and quashed.

"No, no, no. We will not go with that punishment." I soothed him with a faint smile. "You said you were one of the best and brightest, right?"

"This faggot has the third best iq and second best grades among Pinkbands of this term-" Kevin replied, relieved to hear that he would not be chomping shit sandwiches in the middle of the cafeteria.

"That will do. Jason has problems with his history course. I suppose you can help?"

"It will be my pleasure to turn Jason into a doctorate of history, sir."

"Also if I ever see you wandering around all by yourself again, I will come and personally harass you in front of everyone else. From now on you will hang out with Jason and his pals."

"But sir, they won't allow-"

"They will; I will talk to Kieran too. Meanwhile do your research on how to come off as more friendly to your peers. They must be thinking that you are an annoying, selfish know-it-all. I would be surprised if they do not."

"Affirmative, sir."

"One final thing: I know of a potential master suitable for you, one who happens to share your particular outlook on life. Chris, from the rugby team, is very success oriented and prefers keeping things professional and distant. You will meet him."

"Sir, last week Master Robert from class 3-E said that he finds me fascinating and that he wants some alone time with me."

"Master Robert…is not a very nice person." I sighed.

"You mean he is an…"

"You will avoid him in the future. If he insists on talking to you, tell him that I censored you from interacting with Blackies I have not approved of and that he can come and talk to me if he has a problem with it."

"As you wish, sir." Kevin settled. "Sir…"

"Hmm…"

"Is this master you spoke of…Master Chris…is he going to love me?"

"And now you want something you were never willing to give to others in the first place." I answered laughing. "I don't know if he will, but I know you are not someone who runs away from a challenge."

TO BE CONTINUED

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