Society For Prevention Of Cruelty To Boys free porn video

(This story actually began as a daydream/fantasy that I used to have, many years ago. I just thought about writing it out in story form. Hope you enjoy - katie.) The Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Boys (S.P.C.B.) By Katie Dale Ironically, it all began on my thirteenth birthday. On that day, May the 7th 2080, the "Kindness to Boys" act passed government, almost unanimously, and became law. Let me give a little explanation into the background of this law, and why it "needed" to be passed. Over the years, women continued gradually to gain higher positions of power, wealth and honor, and to give serious competition to men. Some of the men didn't mind. But many males were quite upset by this. That's how groups like the "Mankind Liberation Organization" were founded - organizations that practiced organized terror against women. To counteract that, laws had to be passed, limiting men's freedom, in order to protect society. At first it was only adult males who were restricted. Men between 18 and 30 were not allowed to hold certain jobs and positions, were not allowed to go to certain places, and were not allowed outside, unaccompanied by a female escort, after dark. When it seemed to the officials that some young boys were learning from the bad examples of the older men, action was taken against the young boys as well. It was the opinion of the officials that if they could concentrate their efforts mainly on the young boys, then when those boys grew up, years later, the problem could be solved completely. So people were encouraged to begin raising their boys to be passive, weak, subservient, and "feminine" - according to the old fashioned definition of feminine. That all began well before the law was passed. In our family, my mother was quite liberal towards me. I am the only boy; I have one sister. My mother's an only parent - she had both me and my sister through in-vitro-fertilization. Mom didn't limit my abilities any more than was deemed mandatory by the law. I was allowed to dress as I pleased. Even though many of my friends were forced to wear colors like pink and light blue, or to style their hair a different way each day, and to wear bright colored Speedos when going to the pool, Mom let me do as I pleased. Anyway, I was a good kid, smart, and not very strong - not one to make trouble. My sister and I got along very well. I liked to watch TV, and especially old movies, and read a lot of good, old books. (Somehow, now that practically ALL the authors are women, the quality of books seems to have gone down the tubes - in my opinion. But DON'T tell anyone I said that or I could get arrested or something!) I liked the way guys USED to dress, and tried to dress that way as much as possible. So I stayed away from the spandex and the Speedos. We have a pool in our backyard, and even though they don't sell the old kind of boys bathing suits - the ones that are like baggy shorts, with a lining sewn in, I go into the pool wearing a pair of black baggy shorts that my sister bought once. The only time I wear Speedos is at school where we have to. It's so embarrassing! All the girls in the class constantly stare at your private parts, comparing one boys' to the next one's, and there's nothing you can do about it - there's no way to hide them! Of course, my sister wears the modern girls' bathing suits - they're one piece, but not skintight - cut like regular, long shorts, and with linings sewn in, kind of the way boys' bathing suits used to be. The government thinks that by encouraging boys to dress and act this way, they'll succeed in "taming" them and do away with all their troubles. Anyway, the new law prohibits boys' movement even more. The law pertains to boys between the ages of 7 and 18. Boys now aren't allowed in most major stores, and they're not allowed outside, unaccompanied, EVER! When they do go out, they have to be LOCKED ON A LEASH and escorted by a female. And get this - a 16-year-old boy can't go outside alone - but he can go out, accompanied by his 8-year-old sister, if he's locked by his neck to a leash which she's holding! (If the boy's more than 2 years older than the girl then he's required to wear handcuffs behind his back and a five-inch chain between his ankles to make sure the girl has control over him.) Many of the big department stores that don't allow boys inside have a small "lock-up" at the entrance. There a mother can pay a small fee, and her son is locked inside a small cage, supervised by a security guard (female, of course), until his mother finishes shopping and comes back to get him! At the stores which don't have those lockups yet, outside the door you find a bunch of boys, locked by chains to lampposts and things. At first when I heard about this law passing I decided I'd just never leave my house. That way I wouldn't have to put up with the embarrassment. But one day I really needed a book from the library and I relented. My sister put me on a leash and took me there. She was pretty nice about it, though, didn't tease me or take advantage of me or anything, and she unlocked me as soon as we got home. Thankfully she's only a year younger than me, and stronger than me, so I didn't need the handcuffs or ankle-shackles. And thankfully the local library still allows boys to enter. Along with the passing of the new law came the founding of the "SPCB", the "Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Boys". Just typing the name of it sends shivers up my spine. Nobody really knew everything that they did. We knew that if a boy was really bad, the police sent him there to be taken care of. We knew that they had special obedience camps for boys that some mothers sent their sons to, to be "trained". And we knew that they rented out, and sometimes sold, parentless boys who were trained to be subservient and obedient, to be servants in people's houses. Also, they patrolled the streets making sure neighborhoods were safe, and collected and impounded any stray boys who were out unaccompanied, against the law. If your son was caught outside and impounded, it cost you a pretty high fine to get him out. It happened the day my sister, Ashley, took me back to the library to return my book. I needed to use the washroom, so she followed the required procedure. Outside the boys' restroom she removed my leash and waited outside until I finished. Then she returned the leash to my neck. Only problem was that as she relocked it, the lock broke, and nothing could hold the chain closed. These chains were purposely made in such a way that without a good, strong lock, there was no way to keep them closed. That way nobody could give off the appearance of being locked when in fact he wasn't. She didn't have a spare lock with her, and I panicked. "Don't worry, Joey, nothing's going to happen. Just hold the chain closed with your hand and let's get out of the library quickly before anybody notices." We did just that, almost running to the exit. Once we got outside, we scanned the vicinity. It was a long way home, and we'd have to take the subway, and I didn't want to do that without a proper leash. I was too worried about being caught. Ashley noticed a hardware store across the street. "I bet they sell locks, let's go there," she said, and we crossed the street. On the door to the store was the infamous "no boys allowed" symbol. A few boys were chained to a lamppost outside. But there was no proper "lockup". In a way I was glad - I had never been put in a lockup before and didn't want to try one. But on the other hand, I was nervous about being left out here alone. "Hey, don't worry Joey. Here, you can wait here in this alley. The SPCB isn't around, and they aren't likely to come check in this deserted alley anyway. I'll only be a minute. If someone DOES come, just explain the situation to him - I'm sure they'll understand and just wait for me to come back out of the store, maybe give me a fine or something. But they won't impound you." I waited there, shaking, watching my wristwatch. Five minutes passed. Why hadn't she returned yet? how long should it take? Every time I heard a little sound I got scared. I couldn't even hold the chain around my neck and make it look like I was locked because Ashley took the chain with her into the store to make sure the lock she bought would fit it. And then it happened. Only seven minutes had passed since Ashley entered the store. Three women wearing the green uniforms came into the alley. The moment they saw me, they all pointed their tranquilizer guns at me and said "Don't move." I was SO nervous, I began to cry. "Hands up or we'll shoot," one of them said. Shaking like I don't know what I put my hands up in the air and said, "Wait, I can explain." "Shut up," one of them said. "There's nothing to explain." Soon I was on my stomach with my wrists and ankles shackled together, "hogtie" style. A gag was put in my mouth, and I was loaded into the back of their little wagon. When we arrived, I was carried out of the wagon. My ankles were unlocked and I was allowed to walk into the building by myself, accompanied by the four burly women. The letters "SPCB" hung, in big, above the entrance. Inside the building, I was led to some kind of reception room. The door was locked, and I was in there with three big women. My ankle was chained to a chair, and I was told to sit down. Then they scanned my whole body with a small machine. They were looking for an ITD, an "implanted tracking device". They weren't mandatory yet, although they were highly encouraged. The device allowed the police to instantly locate you, anywhere in the country. And in the event that you caused trouble, the police had a way to activate the activate the device, remotely, causing it to excrete a certain chemical into your body which left you complete paralyzed - instantly. The paralization was only temporary, of course. It only lasted long enough for you to be located and restrained. Only boys were "allowed" to have the device implanted - it was deemed unconstitutional for it to be placed in girls. Many of my friends at school told me about how their parents took them to have an ITD implanted, and how it hurt when it was put in and stuff. Their parents used it as an extra method to scare them into behaving properly. My mother didn't think it was necessary, though, so I didn't have one. An added benefit of the device was that it served as ID. If a policewoman held her handheld scanner up to your body, beside the device, it her scanner would automatically display your name, age, address, phone number and ID number. The battery in the device lasted over fifty years. In rare occasions, it was necessary to replace it, but usually you remained with the same one all your life. The device was usually implanted at the base of the neck, where it met your shoulder. But just to make sure, the woman scanned my whole body. Then she asked me - "You don't have an ITD?" I shook my head "no". She lifted up a phone, and a moment later another woman came into the room with a small case. She opened the case, wiped the base of my neck with some alcohol, and said "this is going to hurt a bit". Something that looked kind of like a gun was pressed against the side of my neck. I heard a beep, and a second later I felt the most horrible pain in my neck. She put a band aid on me, and said, "The pain should go away within two to three hours. You've been given a temporary ID number, but when your mother comes in to claim you, your real information will be programmed into the device. That way, if you're ever impounded again, we'll know who we should call." That woman left, and I was left with the three women who were with me initially. "Okay, Nat, let me explain to you the rules of this place. First rule is that under no condition are you ever to speak, as long as you are within this building, unless you are specifically asked to do so. Otherwise, whether or not you are gagged, you are not allowed to speak. Since you didn't have an ITD, we don't know your real name, so you're going to be called 'Nat' as long as you're here. Under no circumstance are you allowed to tell your real name to anybody. Got that, Nat? You can nod your head to let me know you understand. "You have been brought here because you were caught unattended and unlocked, on public property, against the law. We may assume that your family has noticed that you're missing by now. We here don't do anything to inform your family that you have been impounded - it's their responsibility to call and find out. "Here's what's going to happen to you. First, you are going to undergo rigorous obedience training in our institution. The training may take anywhere from two weeks to two months, depending on how well you do. You will not be allowed to see any family members during the training session. "Beginning tomorrow, if your mother calls, she will be told that you have been impounded at one of the SPCB facilities. She will not know which branch you are being held at, nor will she know how long your training session will last, as we don't know that ourselves, either. The day of the impounding, though, we don't say on the phone if you've been found or not. The families need to be punished a bit for allowing this to happen, after all. "When your training has been satisfactory completed, you will be taken to a Block 3C. Do you know what those are?" I shook my head 'no'. "Those are where we have the display cells, where we store unclaimed strays. That's where women can come and rent or buy a stray to serve in their homes - I'm sure you've heard about that. Anyway, it's your family's responsibility to check with us every day to see if you've completed your training and been brought to a 3C, and which 3C you're being held at. Until they come to claim you at the 3C, there's a chance that someone else might rent you out. There are no telephone reservations. It's first come, first serve, you know. And, on the first day of your stay at the 3C, your mother will be told you're still in training. Only on the second day will she be told you're in 3C, and which one. That way, everyone has a chance of being rented out at least once. So, until your mother comes, we may rent you out for periods of up to a month at a time. You will not be sold unless a whole year goes by since your arrival at the 3C and you still haven't been claimed by your mother. When your mother comes to the 3C, and you happen to be there in a cell, she will be required to pay a fine. For each day you remain in training, you will cost her 100 dollars. And for each day or part thereof you are in a cell at the 3C, you will cost her an extra 50 dollars. You may be freed only by cash payment. "If your mother does not want to, or is unable to pay the fee, then she will have one of two options. She may choose to disown you - in that case, she will be paid a sum of 500 dollars, and you will become property of the SPCB, to rent out and sell at its discretion, or to use for its own purposes. Alternatively, she may chose to lend you to the SPCB for a period of time, up to two years. During that time, we will try to rent you out. For each day that you are rented out, your emancipation fee will decrease by 40 dollars, until it reaches the minimum of 1400 dollars." I listened to all this in amazement and horror. I couldn't believe that this could be happening in our century. I recalled the time, a few days ago, that I went to play at my friend Jake's house. Jake's parents were quite wealthy, and for their daughter Samantha's 14th birthday, they rented her an SPCB boy for two months. The boy was pitiful - she used him, humiliated him, teased him, and he did whatever she told him to, immediately, to the letter, no matter what! The thought of me turning into something like that made me shudder. "What you have to do here, if you want to make your stay short and easy, is follow your instructions exactly, no matter what they are. Even if you try your best, I'm sure there will be many occasions when it's necessary to punish you. don't worry - most of the punishments here aren't painful. Okay, enough talking, let's start getting you ready to begin your training. For starters, go into that cubicle and put this on. It's one-size-fits-all!" she said with a wink. She handed me a bright orange, small, stretchy piece of fabric, shaped kind of like two triangles joined at the point, with strings dangling from the corners. A string-Speedo bikini! I had seen these on TV or in adds, but I had never worn one! I couldn't believe I was going to be seen wearing this. But I knew I had no choice. "Make sure to take off ALL your clothes, including your underwear, before putting that on. and make sure you tie it tight enough, because later your wrists will be locked together and you won't be able to tighten it any more. Oh, and don't worry, that's not what you'll be wearing most of the time, here. It's just for your preparations." I couldn't imagine what I'd be wearing MOST of the time! She unlocked me from the chair and I went into the closet to change. The fabric was very small, and though I tried to pull it as tight as possible, there still was no way of making the side points of the triangles touch. There were at least two inches on each side of just string. The thing just barely covered my nakedness, and my penis and balls jutted out the front quite visibly. I came out of the closet in shame and handed my old clothes to the woman with the bag. That woman tied the bag in a knot and tossed the bag into some kind of a shoot. One woman then snapped some pictures of me with a Polaroid camera. Then my wrists were cuffed, and I was led out of the room and down the hall to a large room with a bunch of strange equipment in it. There, my nails were all trimmed nice and short, and filed nicely. Then some kind of cream was rubbed, generously, all over my body, including over my Speedo. A woman put some kind of shower cap over my hair, eyebrows and eyes, and told me to get into a bathtub. The water smelled funny, but I did as I was told. When I was inside, she put gloves on her hands and pushed my head under, holding it there for five seconds. Then I was told to get out. I wasn't given a towel, though. Instead, I was led to another bathtub, with a different smell. Same thing happened there, and in the third and fourth tubs. The fifth tub actually smelled nice, and once I got out of that one I was allowed to towel off. A woman explained that I just underwent a state-of-the-art treatment that removed whatever small amount of peach fuzz I had on my body, and prevented body hair from ever growing, anywhere on my body except on my head, eyebrows and eyelashes, and that my skin was treated so that it would be nice and soft and smooth. I hated the fact that they were doing permanent changes to my body like permanent hair removal - wouldn't it be enough to just wax me or something, so that eventually, when I got out of here, I could let it grow back? But they didn't ask me, and I was still gagged, and they wouldn't have listened to my requests, anyway. I wore glasses, and the women decided that it was unattractive, so they sent me down the hall to a strange room where they said I would get laser eye correction surgery, at my mother's expense. It was done with only a local anesthetic, and was pretty painful. Afterwards, my eyes were covered, and I was chained to a bed for three days until I recovered. They let me listen to music, and brought me food whenever i wanted, but other than that they were a horribly long, boring, painful three days. Finally, though, when the three days passed and my blindfold was removed, I could see without glasses, and that was pretty amazing! Now I was told that my preparations were completed and I could move on to begin training. Up till now I was still wearing the little string Speedo, and they said that I could change into my training uniform. I was taken to a small room and my handcuffs were removed. Some clothes were laid out on a small table. "Discard the bikini in this bin, everything you need to wear is there in that pile. Don't forget anything. When you're done, press the green button on the wall and someone will come." The woman left the room and locked the door. I looked at the clothes, again in amazement! There was a small pair of white panties, a pair of white, semi-opaque, silky tights, and a shiny smooth, white leotard with a V-neck front, small cap sleeves, a low back, and high-cut legs. Everything looked about three sizes too small for me, but I quickly learned that it all stretched. The finishing touch was a pair of simple, white, dance slippers. I tossed the Speedo in the bin and pressed the button. My training was very rigorous, and lasted three and a half weeks. Of course, during the whole time, I had absolutely no contact, not even a message, from my family. Most of the time I was wearing the tights and leotard, except during flexibility/gymnastics lessons, when I was given a plain, pink Speedo to wear. Most of the obedience training consisted of various women and teenage girls(!) commanding me to do all kinds of ridiculous tasks. If I didn't do any of them completely, or if I did anything I wasn't told to do, I was punished. Most of the punishments consisted of eating bad-tasting food, or cleaning something dirty with my tongue, or being tied to the wall, a post, or the ceiling. Twice I was placed inside a tiny, cold, metal canister type container, and the lid was securely fastened. I guess there must have been holes to let air in, but it was completely pitch black. I don't know how long I was in there each time, but it felt like years. The first time I was put in there as a punishment for looking to the side when I had been told to look forward all the time. The second time, I wasn't being punished; I was just put in there 'just because'. I didn't like it. Finally my training came to an end, and I was transported, in a truck with a bunch of other SPCB boys, to a block 3C. There I was assigned my own holding cell. We were let out of our cells three times a day to stretch, eat, and take care of our bodily needs. The rest of the time we spent in our cell. The whole time, we were there, we had to wear white tights and light blue leotards. Our cells had one-way glass doors, which meant that we couldn't see who was looking at us from the other side. (Potential customers.) Occasionally the door would open and I would be removed so that a customer could feel me and stroke me, and look at me up close to decide if they wanted to rent me. I couldn't tell if my mother came or not because of the one way glass (which was also 100% sound proof). But later I found out that this was what happened: For the first two weeks, my mother called the SPCB every day. They told her that I was still in training, and the didn't know when I would be done, and that she should call back the next day. After the two weeks were up, she called ALMOST every day, although she forgot a few times. To my horror, I got rented out twice. That happened because she just happened to forget to call on my second day of 3C. My first day in the 3C passed, thankfully, uneventfully. Meaning, I knew that my mother wouldn't know I was there and that there was a chance I'd be rented out. A bunch of people had me taken out of my cell to look at me, but nobody rented me. On the second day, Mom forgot to call. But, thankfully, the same thing happened as the previous day, and nobody rented me out. On the third day, though, someone who had seen me on the first day came back for me and rented me out. I wasn't told for how long I was rented. Apparently I was being taken out of the store just as Mom walked in - I couldn't see her because I was bound and gagged, and blindfolded, locked inside a clear glass box. The people at the 3C wouldn't tell Mom how long I had been rented out for, so she had to start calling daily, again. I had been rented by a single, rich, middle-aged, childless woman, who rented me to do her chores in her house. The whole time I was there I had to wear a slightly modified one-piece girls' pink bathing suit (the way they used to be before the revolution), with an open back and cut-out over my belly-button. (The customers had to sign a contract promising they wouldn't ever make us appear before them naked or in underwear, that they wouldn't touch our private parts or make us touch theirs, or make us see them naked. And of course, no sex or rape.) It was horrible! She fed me awful food, never rewarded me with anything. At night I had to sleep in a cage. When she watched her stupid TV programs, I had to sit on the floor and hold her feet in my lap, massaging them, or stand behind her chair with her head resting on my belly while I massaged her shoulders and neck. She said she liked my massages. I also cooked for her, cleaned, and entertained her 10 year old niece when she came to visit (who had an unbelievably enjoyable time handcuffing me into all kinds of weird body bends). Three times she punished me. First, she gave me a spanking on my butt (that was the only instance they were allowed to touch us there), and then had me change into a horribly revealing string bikini bottom. Then she chained me to the lamppost outside her house, on the very busy main street. All the passersby gawked at me for hours. I quickly learned to do her every bidding out of fear of the punishment. My servitude to her lasted three weeks. Then she had me change back into the leotard that I arrived in, get back into the glass box, and brought me back to the 3C. Only she brought me back to a different one that was closer to her home. In the meantime, Mom, again, had to resort to daily telephone calls. Again, the first few weeks she was careful not to miss a day. The last week, though, she missed one day, by accident - that was the day I returned to the 3C. But thankfully, that day, I wasn't rented out again, although many people looked at me. On the second day Mom called, but she forgot to ask which 3C I was at - she assumed that it would be the same one. Only when she got there did she find out I wasn't there. The people at the 3C were nice to her and helped her locate me, but by that time it was closing time at the 3Cs and she wouldn't be able to get me until the next day. Thankfully, nobody rented me out that day. I was so nervous that someone would, though, because one woman who came to see me on the first day came back the second day with her daughters, and then came back a third time alone. But she didn't rent me out. The third day Mom came to the 3C and apparently she saw me in my cell, but of course they wouldn't let me out so I could see her. She hadn't been prepared, though, for the enormous sum of money they were going to charge her, and although she would have paid it, they only accepted cash, which she didn't have. The bank was already closed for the day, and she knew she wouldn't be able to get me until the next day. At the end of the day, though, one of the women who worked there opened my cell and told me I had been rented out, again. I was heartbroken. She told me that the people had came to see me the day before, and made the transaction from a 3C near their home, which was in a different city, 100 miles away. I was going to be transported by courier. She didn't tell me how long this time was going to be. She gave me something to eat and drink, and sent me to use the bathroom. Then she had me change into a clean, new pair of tights and leotard. This time they were all white - she said that the material looked better after shipping. Then she gave me an injection, saying it would keep me sleeping during my journey. My wrists and ankles were cuffed, and I was placed into a black trunk with a small oxygen tank already inside, strapped to a side. An oxygen mask was placed over my nose and mouth, and then I was pushed further into the trunk. Just as I felt the anesthetic begin to kick in I felt the trunk being filled with Styrofoam packing chips, and heard the lid being closed and locked. When I woke up, the trunk hadn't been opened yet. It felt like I was in some kind of moving vehicle. Then I felt the vehicle stop, and the trunk being removed. Finally it was opened, and I was taken out and uncuffed. I was in the living room of that family with the daughters who had come to see me three times over the first two days. I did everything there, including massages, cleaning and vacuuming, cleaning the girls' messy rooms, etc. The woman had four daughters, aged 16, 13, 11 and 7, and they all seemed to really enjoy using and playing with me. I was like a human Barbie doll. They dressed me up in all kinds of ridiculous things, including dresses and skirts, leotards, tights, and various other spandex things. The oldest girl once tried to strip me naked - thankfully her mother entered the room just in the nick of time and stopped her. But the girl told her that I wanted to do it and she was trying to stop me, and I ended up getting punished. Still, the girl didn't try that again, so that was good. Also, the woman happened to be a professional magician, and I became her magician's assistant, wearing all kinds of ridiculous skimpy outfits and doing all kinds of ridiculous things for her. I think she was real, though, because she seemed to really be able to hypnotize me and get me to do all kinds of things against my will. Whatever. Nobody there would tell me how long I was going to be there, either. And most of the time I was kept gagged so I couldn't ask. (BTW, I forgot to mention that the woman had a "teddy bear" costume for me, consisting of a little leotard, tights, and a hat, and each night I had to be the "teddy bear" of one of the two smallest girls and sleep in her bed beside her. (After the mother securely tied my wrists and ankles together so I wouldn't be able to touch the girl.) the girls touched and cuddled me all night long. It was SO weird!) I spent a month there, but it seemed like longer. (For fun, the family decided to hide all their calendars and clocks, so I really had no idea what the date or time was at any time.) Finally, on the last day, the family invited all their friends and extended family over. they all played a game of "pin the tail on the donkey" - I was the donkey, tied to a board on the wall. And then they played a game of target practice. I was the target, and they used different colored spray guns so they could tell who hit me where. I had to wear an itsy-bitsy Speedo, and then I was tied to a board on the wall again. Then, with lipstick, they drew circles at different places on my body; each circle was a different amount of points. Of course, you can guess where "bullseye" was! That wasn't too fun, and at the end I was all wet and messy. So they let me take a shower. Then they had me change back into the tights and leotards I came with, and locked me back into the trunk. (They weren't able to anesthetize me. The mother considered hypnotizing me for the journey, and then decided it would be "more fun" for all of us if I was awake.) They returned me to their local branch of the block 3C. When I got there, they didn't even bother opening the trunk to make sure I was inside. Maybe they used one of their scanners to check, without having to open it. I was sent by courier back to my city. By the time I was let out of the trunk it was next morning. I guess I slept while I was inside. I spent another three days at 3C. Apparently, again, Mom missed calling the first day because she was in an important business meeting, and Ashley forgot to call. The second day, again, she went to the wrong branch. (The person on the phone TOLD her the wrong branch, by mistake.) And by then it was too late in the day. The third day she went to the right place, already expecting to find that I had again been rented out. But I hadn't. She came, and paid the horrendous sum of money they demanded of her. Then they told her that she couldn't take me home yet! And I didn't even get to see her! That whole night, the third night, I still thought that she hadn't come! Only the next morning did someone come and tell me that my mother came and paid the fee. They said I had to go through another session of retraining, and then I'd be shipped home. I went back to the training institute and went through more of the same. After three days they were satisfied with my obedience and subservience, and the next day I was sent home. I was again made to dress in a white tights-leotard combination, again given an injection and placed in a black trunk and sent by courier. When the trunk arrived at home, only Ashley, not my mother, was home. By then I had already woken up, inside the trunk. They let Ashley sign for the trunk, but asked that she not open it until Mom got home. That took a few more hours. By the way, the whole time, since my first arrival in 3C until I was told that Mom finally paid for my release, I had no idea that Mom was calling and that she already came down so many times. I had no clue whether she was bothering at all - I thought she would, it was unlike her to just leave me there like that. But I had no way of knowing. I had no way of asking anyone. When they opened the trunk, they could hardly recognize me. I was dressed, as you know, in the white shiny tights and leotard; they hardly ever saw me in spandex before. I hadn't had a haircut in a while, so my hair was long. I didn't need glasses anymore, and someone had put two gold stud earrings in my ears (one in each). I found out later that they were both real surprised that the first thing I did when I got home and got out of the trunk wasn't to go change out of the tights and leotard and into some normal boys' clothes. But I had become so used to it that I didn't even think about it. The first think I did was enjoy freedom - run around the house, watch TV, play computer games, take food without asking. And talk - I told them both ALL about my horrible experiences! They both laughed and hugged me and told me how sorry they were and how glad they were I was back, and how cute I looked in leotards. Because of the training I went through, I had become very obedient, and now it was like nature, and hard to get out of me. I'd do all kinds of things for Mom and Ashley without being asked, like cleaning and vacuuming and dusting and stuff. And I'd come up and give them massages. And if Mom or Ashley ever asked me for anything, by nature I'd almost always jump and do it for them without thinking twice. They both mentioned to me a few times that they liked my behavior improvements. One day I went swimming with Ashley and some of her girlfriends in our pool. Ashley asked me if I minded wearing a Speedo instead of shorts like I usually did, because she thought I looked so cute in spandex and she and her friends would all enjoy that so much. So I did. I'd warn it so much during my training that I figured it wouldn't hurt to wear some more. From then on, at Ashley's requests, I started dressing more sissy-like, in spandex shorts and tight shirts and of Speedos in the pool, and just a T-shirt over silky bikini underwear for pajamas, as was the style for boys my age. From then on, every time Ashley took me out, we made sure that my leash was locked on extra tight, and made sure that she had a spare lock with her, just in case. And for extra measure, I suggested that she handcuff me behind my back as well, which she did happily. The first time she locked me in a lockup at a department store, it wasn't as bad as I originally thought it would be, but wasn't so fun, either. But since then I've been in them many times, and I've gotten used to it. It doesn't matter to me anymore, it's just another chore I have to do. My bad luck for being born with a penis. This coming summer, Mom and Ashley need to go away for two months to some kind of conference thing. They're not allowed to bring little boys like me. I've asked her to let me stay with friends, but Mom's considering renting me out to the SPCB for the summer. I keep asking her not to, but she doesn't tell me whether she will or not, either way. She says that we could use the money. I hope that in the end she decides to send me to a friend or relative. End