James – Part 7

By Thunder

“Uncle James”? Wow, I had forgotten this was what Cody called me when he was a little one. Back then his father and my business partner, Warren, used to bring him to the office when he was out of school for some reason, but mostly at that point the business was small and personally we were broke, so it was the only effective way to do this. He always busied himself on one of the extra computers, so we didn’t have to worry about it. As the years went by I followed his high school graduation and entry into college with great zeal, but somewhere around his sophomore year, Warren stopped talking about him and would go very vague when questions were asked, so I just stopped asking, assuming he had an issue with grades, etc.

But, before he could say anything else, Todd grabbed Cody’s leash and pulled him down and gagged him. Todd said that tonight I was to practice my sucking skills with a new live volunteer, and he placed Cody just in front of me where I could engulf his dick while still being impaled by the machine. Cody was specifically told not to climax, no matter what, so secretly I made it my mission to do my best to make sure that happened because I wanted to see for myself what “no matter what” actually meant. However, I did my best and got him close, but he was, apparently quite well trained as when I would feel him swell, I could immediately feel him control it as well. It wasn’t long before Todd, looking tired, announced it was bed time and told me to go the bathroom, do my business, and then head to my cage which just was starting to sound normal to me. Leaving Cody in place where he was, I looked back and smiled before heading out.

A few minutes later Todd met me outside the bathroom, made me sit, and he buckled an open-tube gag in my mouth saying I would be fine to sleep with. He then followed me to the kennel, shut the door but didn’t lock it, and left without saying a word. However, about 15 minutes later I could see the door open and Todd was leading Cody on all fours toward my cage. As they got closer I could see that Cody had locking mitts on, a tail in like mine, a gag identical to mine, and, most importantly, a metal dick just like mine. The kennel door opened, and Cody crawled inside in a position on top of me before Todd locked the door. He said, “I know you two have a lot of catching up to do so I thought you could spend the night reminiscing, and, oh, talk as much as your gag allows.” Fuck, he was so sadistic as we laid there with our tubes each filled to the maximum, our hands locked in mitts, and two gags which left us basically staring at each other for eight hours before Todd came back in followed by a stern-looking older man and told Cody to come. He crawled out and I wondered if that would be the last I would see of him, and it killed me to not know his story or if I ever would.

I heard the main door shut and a car drive away and waited until Todd to came down dressed in his uniform for work, which meant I was going to, once again, spend the day chained in the yard. He helped me take care of my morning requirements and then walked me to the secluded area of the yard where I could access the kitchen if needed, hooded and gagged me again. He didn’t say anything about a dog walker coming today, so my hopes of seeing Cody were diminished. As he drove away, I made my rounds around the perimeter of my access area making sure everything was the same (something that actually caught me off guard as it was natural, when I thought about it) and then quickly went and found the makeshift bed Todd had designed and fell fast asleep having not had much sleep the night before staring at Cody all night and literally inhaling his breath.

I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke up I woke up fast, as I was suddenly in the shadow of a person standing over me. It was terrifying until I realized it was a fully dressed Cody standing there with a keychain in his hand ready to take more for our walk. He had a bag with him, and when he unlocked me he then removed my paws, unplugged my ass for a brief moment before switching the tail to a large world’s most comfortable plug, which went in with ease. I was still hooded, gagged and collared, as usual, but he pulled out a pair of my really nice jeans, my shoes, some socks and underwear that surely came from Alan and told me to get dressed. It had been well over a week since clothes had touched my body and I have to say that it felt really odd, though maybe it was me still being in a thick leather collar with hood and gag locked in place.

After I was dressed he walked me to his car, which was quite nice for what appeared to be a 24-year-old, put me in the front seat, buckled me in and he came around to get in and began to drive us down the drive to the highway. At the end of the driveway, he put the car in park and walked around to my side and removed my hood, gag and collar before getting in and driving. When he sat down, the first thing he said was “no talking yet,” which made me suddenly resent getting orders from some slave who could be my son, but my dick filled my tube telling me that deep down I had to have liked it. He said, “we will talk about it all, but right now you need to know that you are starting your acclimation back into the muggle world where you are going to co-exist as a man, a boss, a husband, and a dog almost every day of your life. This is not as easy as it seems and is why you have not been able to see Alan, but, as you know from your nightly letters he loves you and is very proud of you for going through this FOR HIM. Today we are going to lunch, the mall, and then I will leave you for Todd to pick up later. Any questions?”

Yes. Yes, I have questions but not about the day, but about Cody. The first thing out of my mouth was “How did you get here? Did you know it was me? Does your Dad know you are back in town? Are you a slave?” The questions just came faster than I could stop them, it was almost as if I were barking them out. He stopped me and said that he would give me a very high level snapshot and proceeded to say the following in almost list-like form.

“1, yes, I am a slave. I was a dog, am still a dog at times, but my Master says I am not good enough to ne a dog yet.

“2. I did not have a clue it was you until I walked in last night. Dad had said you were out on an extended holiday, but I didn’t ask because I didn’t really care. When I walked in and saw your face I wanted to die a bit, but that was immediately replaced by the other desire which was to fuck you.”

“3. Yes, Dad knows I am back in town and have been here for over two years. You may remember him being distracted two years ago, but when I was at the beginning if my second year, I got in with the wrong crowd, did drugs and stole from my Dad. He sent me to rehab once, but it didn’t stick and I used again a few days after coming home. My Dad was furious and said that since I could not help myself, he was sending me to a special boot camp that one of his former military officers now runs. His name was Major Carlton, and he would train me to never need a substance again.

“4. The next morning Dad dropped me off at the Major’s farm and, to this day, he owns me as a slave and sometimes dog or pony. My Dad and I are much closer now and he visits me every two weeks or so, so please don’t worry if he knew your secret because he doesn’t care.

“5. But, the rest of this is me following my orders to help you, so no more talking and just relax.”

Holy fuck. I so wanted to know more and really wanted to know about Warren visiting his son as a slave, but also found myself very impressed with Warren as well. He will eventually learn all about me and Alan and, in fact, at the start of this story I told you about a dinner party, well, Warren was one of the four at the table feeding me French fries from his hand.

About five minutes later Cody pulled up in front of a unisex hair shop in the gayest neighborhood in the city and said, “Your hair is awful as you have major hood hair.” He handed me $80 and a sealed envelope and told me that I was to go in, hand the stylist the envelope and that I was just to sit back and watch what he does remembering you have no say or choice in the matter. There was not an appointment for me so I had to wait until the next stylist was available. As I sat there on the bench it felt like I should be on the floor and I honestly had to fight the urge to not just drop down. I remember I watched the stylists in action and they ranged from a hippy woman in her 30s to two or three really flaming homosexuals and then one guy with the last chair who was stunningly masculine and handsome. He looked like a fighter pilot who had just stopped by to cut some hair. I prayed I didn’t get him because, well, I wasn’t feeling my most humanly masculine at the time.

A few minutes passed while I continued to try not to crawl in the lobby when I heard a deep voice say “James?” and, yes, it was him, the fighter pilot. He said hello and asked me how I wanted my hair cut while running his hands through my hair trying to figure out why it looked the way it did. He asked me if I’d been locked in a motorcycle helmet for a month and I laughed and said “close to it,” but he looked at me wondering if I were serious. He asked how I wanted it cut and, despite humiliation and the fact I felt my cock crawling up into my cage, I told him the decision was not mine to make and asked him to open the envelope. As he read it, he laughed out loud and said, “Dude, you must have really been bad if your friend is making you do this, and, for the record, I was almost right, a hood is close to a helmet (I wanted to die), Sit tight and let me go in the back to see if we have that color,”

What the fuck? That color? Is this my life now? Why am I getting hard again?

When he came back he was just holding some clippers and nothing else. He said the note told him he had the right to do what he thought would look best and that all I needed to know was that he thought a military high and tight is an incredible look for any slave. I think he saw me turn nine shades of red and then he said, “fuck I am good, I guessed right again as the letter says nothing about that. Oh, and by the way, my name is Michael, but my boys call me Sir and one can bark Master.”

And, now we have met the other man at the table.

More to come in Chapter 8 as the return to human life unnerves James!

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Metal would like to thank Thunder for this story!


3 thoughts on “James – Part 7”

  1. I’m really enjoying this story so far, and look forward to the next chapter. It is hot, to be blunt, and stokes my strong desire to be placed in a similar position as James. Thanks for posting.

  2. Thunder your stories are amazing. I only wish I could live this life.

    Will we ever find out what happens to Thunder in your previous story Every Dog Has His Day?

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