Jean’s Story

  You have been legally divorced for three years. You have had no boyfriends in all this time. The world has been changing, but in your current mind frame, you have had little interest in keeping up with all of the current events. A few coworkers, here and there, have mentioned things like “Male Domination” and “Feminist Party”, but you have been too depressed to even listen. You go about your daily routine, a waitress from 10:00 AM until 6:30 PM at Sony’s Grill, a local bar that serves food and alcohol. You work, go home, shower, eat fast food or quick microwaveable dinners, watch TV, and go to bed. This has been your life for the past seven months. Yes, you have had two men in the past two years that you have slept with, but the act itself was more because you were shit-faced-drunk and you can’t even recall if either of the two sexual encounters were very good or not. You never received a phone call (or text) from either of them, so you assume they were either married –and you were a one-night-stand, or the sex was bad.

    Occasionally, you see a small bit of the news broadcasts and hear a little bit about the changing trends in politics, but you never put together that the nation (and a large part of the world) is no longer fighting about tax cuts, racism, religion or terrorism. You are completely oblivious to what the world around you have become. You have no idea that right now, in your own country, there are only two major political parties! You know nothing of the Male Dominance party nor the Feminist Supremist party. The other parties still exist, but are looked at as small, unimportant political programs. You only wonder if you’ll make it through the next month with cable, internet, phone and food. As you crack open your fifth beer for the night, look at the microwave to see if your frozen dinner (Chicken Alfredo) is almost done, there is a knock at your door.

     ‘Fuck!’ You think to yourself! ‘It’s the God-Damned landlord! I’m only two fucking days late! What the fuck?’ You know the law and you remember the lease agreement. You have eight days before a twenty-five-dollar fee is attached to your rent for being late. The microwave chimes to let you know your food is ready. ‘Good timing!’ you think to yourself. ‘This will give me time to tell that little bitch that I’ll have the money in two days and then the tasty Chicken Alfredo will be cooled enough to eat while I watch some cheap-assed horror movie on Netflix!’ You walk over to the door and open it confidently. You look at the woman standing before you and realize that she is NOT the landlord!

     “Hello, Jean is it?”, the tall (Maybe six-foot tall) woman of approximately sixty years of age asks. Her greying hair is wrapped up tightly into a bun, but you can clearly make out that it was once blond (Or maybe dyed blond.) “I’m from the FRA, The Female Reclamation Agency.” Her eyes are still a beautiful blue, but at the moment, they seem very cold and almost frightful. The fact that her cheekbones are so crisply cut and almost masculine add to the apparent ferocity of her appearance. Her jawline is also sharp all the way down to her somewhat squarish chin. She’s not wearing any makeup and so you can’t help but see the pure honest distaste she has for you.

      You have NO idea what the “FRA” is. You inform her that you’re flat-assed broke and that you don’t have extra money for any sort of donations.

     “Well, fortunately for you, our services aren’t going to cost you any money,” the tall woman informs you. “In fact, we’re not here to ask for donations, we’re here to take you into protective custody and help you to begin a new life!”

     It is only then that you notice the two taller men standing behind her (both cleanshaven.) The one to her right is at least six-foot seven and probably two-hundred and fifty pounds. His brown hair (which perfectly matches his brown eyes) is cut very short (almost a crewcut.) The one to her left (sporting red hair and green eyes) has hair that is almost down to his shoulders and he is slightly shorter and leaner. They are both young (Maybe between the ages of twenty-five to thirty) and seem to be in quite good physical condition. The fact that they are both handsome doesn’t escape your observations either. Even as you begin to inquire what she meant by her statement about taking you into custody, the two men step around her and each grab you by a shoulder and forearm on each side of your body.

     “You have been reported as being ‘Non-Partisan,” she tells you as you try (in vain) to resist the two men’s hold on you. "You will be taken into custody and arraigned. At which point, your sentence, if there is one, will be carried out. Please don’t attempt to resist any further. Any resistance will result in further charges brought against you at your arraignment.”

     You resist as much as you can, but the two males are much stronger and more capable than you thought. You manage to knee the younger one in the testes, but he doesn’t relent and you quickly find yourself face down on the floor. You hear the older male (the one on the left that is maybe thirty years old, tell the younger male, probably only twenty-four to twenty-five years old) to start cutting. The next sound you hear is the sound of your jeans being cut with what you assume is scissors. The boy wastes no time and you quickly realize that your jeans have been reduced to a very short skirt! (One that doesn’t even cover your privates!)

     “Remove all articles of clothing, boys,” the tall woman instructs them. “Remember… until its trial, she’s an ‘It’, not a she, her, or any other pronoun that could be used to describe a human!”

     “But, mam, if we remove EVERYTHING, won’t she be completely naked?” the younger male asks.

     “You are new to the program, aren’t you?” she scoffs at him more so than asks as she rolls her eyes and waves her left hand in a dismissive manner. “Just do as you’re told.” The younger man then proceeds to cut your jeans from the waist down until you feel what was left of your jeans fall away from you.

     “It just seems to me that if we wanted to make sure she wasn’t carrying a weapon, we could have just frisked her,” the younger man states as he begins pulling on your panties. He’s having trouble removing them as you have spread your legs to hinder his efforts.

     “Dipshit! That’s what the scissors are for! Just cut the damned things off!” barks the older man.

     “Please do not refer to ‘it’ as ‘her.’ It is no longer given the privilege of being a human being until its sentence is carried out,” the woman instructs the younger male. “The purpose of removing its clothing is NOT to ensure that it has no weapons, but to ensure that all who see it know that it is not to be treated as one would treat another human being. You should know all of this.”

     “Yes, mam, but still, it’s hard to adjust to the new laws and things. Sometimes I just forget,” he responded. “Five years ago, everyone was equal and now, they’re not.”

     “Ha! Five years ago, everyone was most definitely NOT equal! TODAY! Today, everyone is equal,” she admonished him as his scissors made quick work of your T-shirt and bra. “Five years ago, there was racial and gender inequality! Now, all that has been eliminated! What are you? Are you a Feminist?” she asked him.

     “Mrs. Derrent, we aren’t allowed to ask those questions on the job,” the older male chirped in. “It’s against the law to ask a coworker which party they are affiliated with. It is perfectly legal to inform other coworkers what party you, yourself are affiliated with, but it is illegal to demand that someone tell you what party they are registered with unless it is part of an official police investigation.”

     “I KNOW the law, Officer Bryant! I was being sarcastic,” she very nearly spat at him. “Now, let’s get it up on its feet and in the van. In one final last-ditch effort to avoid being paraded outside in the nude, you argue with the woman. You swear that you are a registered Republican.

     “So, you swear that your political registration is up to date?” she asks you. Both men begin to laugh –in spite of their obvious attempts to remain quiet and not interrupt what is transpiring between you and the old lady with the beautiful blue eyes. “You swear that you are a Republican?” You swear to her that that was what you registered yourself as when you first started voting and you never changed it.

     “That’s really cute,” chuckles Officer Bryant. The old woman gives him a scornful glare –which silences not only his laughter, but the younger male’s laughter as well.

     “So, you’re a Republican, but what side are you affiliated with?” she asks. “Are you registered with the Gynarchic Republicans or the Patriarchal Republicans?” 

     You answer as best you can, but you haven’t paid attention to politics in the last ten or maybe even fifteen years. You scream at her that you are a Republican –Gynarchic or Patriarchal, whichever! You’re a Republican!

     “Oh, sweetie! What rock have you been hiding under? Yes, that party still exists, but as a faction of either the Gynarchy or the Patriarchy. The factions, either Republican or Democratic, are just minor players in today’s game! My God! You have no clue, do you?” she asks.

     “I’m betting she’s going to get a harsh judgment at her hearing,” the younger male chimes in.

     “Officer Benko, please keep your thoughts to yourself!” Mrs. Derrent scolds him.

     “Sorry, ma’am,” Officer Benko responds –as he bows his head down and his grip on your left shoulder tightens slightly as he and officer Bryant lift you to your feet. Once standing on your own, Officer Bryant clasps both of your wrists and pulls your hands behind your back. A second later you feel and hear the handcuffs as Officer Benko closes them around your wrists. As you try to free yourself, Officer Bryant delivers a quick blow you your kidneys. It’s not hard enough cause any damage, but it stings and you stop resisting.

   “The socks, gentlemen,” Mrs. Derrent says –as she motions to your feet. “Don’t forget the socks.” Officer Benko drops to his knees and proceeds to remove your socks. Even as he removes the second sock, Mrs. Derrent moves forward and pulls a leather collar from the right pocket of her grey trench coat and secures it around your neck. From the left pocket of the coat, she produces a long chain-link leash with a leather handle. She attaches it to you and you begin to explode with profanity and threats.

     You scream at the top of your lungs –mostly about how absurd this all is. You swear that you will get a lawyer and sue all three of them, as well as the city for this insane and inhumane treatment. You bring up the punch to the kidneys that Officer Bryant gave you and threaten to press sexual assault charges against all three of them as well. As you continue to rant and rave about how incredibly unlawful this entire situation is, you never notice that Mrs. Derrent is now holding a ball gag in her hands. By the time you see it, it’s too late. Officer Bryant quickly takes it from her and crams the ball into your mouth as Officer Benko secures it behind your head. At best, you can only grunt, moan and cry. Your vision is now blurred from the tears filling your eyes and flowing down your cheeks.

     “Let me remind you,” Mrs. Derrent says, “That you are now only a ‘THING’ and that at the time that you opened the door… No, that’s not right! As of three thirty-five this afternoon, long before you opened the door for us, you have not had ANY rights as a human being! Any charges you might wish to file against us would have to predate the time that you were officially classified as a thing!” The tears well up in your eyes and your vision is completely blurred. You feel a sharp tug at the back of your neck and realize that Mrs. Derrent is pulling on the leash! Helplessly, you stumble forward and, as the shock of what is happening to you fades away to the reality of your situation, the tears stop and your vision clears.

     “Don’t fight it, Jean,” Mrs. Derrent says, as she tugs on the leash. “The two men I have brought with me could easily drag you behind them by this leash. I believe it would be in your best interest to remain upright, on your own two feet, and walking –as opposed to being drug along like a fucking garbage bag!” You follow her out of the doorway to your apartment and proceed to follow her into the elevator. Once all four of you are in the elevator, she pushes the button for the ground floor. You live on the third floor, so the trip down shouldn’t take too long, but as the elevator reaches the second floor, it stops and two young men – maybe twenty years old or less, step in.

     “What’s this?” asks the young pudgy man with short blonde hair and standing about five foot-seven inches tall.

     “Dude! I think this bitch is like one of those Feminist bitches that are getting arrested for being bitches!” the other man, about six feet tall with long brown hair that almost reaches his shoulders says.

     “Really?” the blonde asks.

    “Yeah, dude! I think that’s what this is!” exclaims the other male.

   “For your information, gentlemen,” Mrs. Derrent said, “This thing is a not registered to any of the political parties and has therefore lost all rights and claims as a human being, referring to it as a ‘bitch’ could only mean one of two things, of which, neither would be appropriate. It has neither the rights of a woman or a dog.  You wouldn’t call a bench or a public urinal a ‘bitch’ now, would you?”

The two younger men looked at one another and then back at Mrs. Derrent as the elevator doors closed and the five of you descended to the ground floor.

   “I guess not,” said the pudgy youth. As the doors opened on the ground floor, the pudgy kid quickly grabbed your right breast and gave it a squeeze just before running out of the elevator and through the foyer and exiting the building.

  “You’ll need to get used to that!” Mrs. Derrent informed you. “You have absolutely no rights at this point. The zipper on Mr. Bryant’s jeans has the same rights as you do at the moment.” The four of you walk across the same forayer as the young punk that squeezed your right breast had so recently ran though.

   You are led out into the public, totally nude with a collar around our neck.

Once outside the doors of your apartment complex, you feel the cold sting of the early February cold on your bare feet. You are led along the sidewalk, as your feet feel the undissolved salt pellets and the slush with every step between your toes. You are actually thankful when you are shoved into the back of a black van parked just outside of your apartment complex.

                The van had two bench seats running the length of each side. Officer Benko had jumped up into the van and took your leash from Mrs. Derrent. He quickly sat in the center of the passenger-side bench and pulled on the leash, forcing you to kneel down before him. The van’s doors slammed shut and you could only make out the muffled sounds of Mrs. Derrent and Officer Bryant talking to each other just outside the van. Officer Benko is smirking at you as you realize that your face is now only a few feet away from his crotch. As he leans back, he slowly pulls on the leash, forcing your face closer to his crotch. As you feel the van’s engine turn and start up, he reaches down and unbuttons his pants, unzips the fly, and reaches in to pull out what is easily the longest cock you have ever seen in real life. It is already hard and, you think to yourself, incredibly wide!

                “I’m going to remove your ball gag. Then you’re going to suck my dick. If you give me any trouble, I’ll put the gag back in and then, well, it’s at least twenty minutes before we get to the station for processing. I can only imagine the world of hurt I can put you through in twenty minutes,” he tells you. As he removes the ball gag, your first thought is to scream for help, but you remember Mrs. Derrent’s words…

                “You’ll need to get used to that!”

                You begin sucking the huge dick. On a few occasions, Officer Benko had placed his hand at the base of your skull, grabbing a handful of hair, and tried to push your head forward onto his massive member, but you begin to gag and nearly vomit. It’s too huge to deep throat. Your muffled cries and the tears streaming down your cheeks only seemed to excite him. He chuckled as he told you things like, “Take it all!” and, “Quit being such a little bitch!” the ride to the station seemed more like two hours than it did twenty minutes. Finally, at long last, Officer Benko shot his load! Thankfully, his massive cock was at the back of your throat as what seemed like a gallon of cum raced down it. Officer Benko pulled his dick from your mouth, put it back into his pants and put the ball-gag back on you. Seconds later, the van came to a stop. You were pulled from the van and led into a building. The sign, huge and brightly lit up, read, “Female Reclamation Processing.”  Mrs. Derrent grabbed your leash and led you inside. 

                “This is where your fate will be decided,” she told you. “I strongly suggest that you don’t be a little bitch about things. Either decide if you are a patriarchist or gynarchic. The world is accepting of both, but not anything in-between.” That were the last words that any of them ever spoke to you. Once you were left in the institution, you were assigned a case manager.

Chapter 2: Sentencing

                You are taken by a female dressed in what looks like a police uniform into the building. She announces your name to a man behind a desk and is informed as to where you are to be held.  After leading you down several corridors, she positions you in front of a jail cell and pushes you inside. She leaves you there after closing the door and inspecting it to make sure that it won’t open. You slept on an uncomfortable cot only to be awoken the next morning and ushered into a small room –maybe ten feet by ten feet. The walls are all windowless and bright white. There is a small table in the center of the room with two chairs positioned opposite each other. You are forced to sit naked in the chair facing away from the door. Both of your wrists are hand-cuffed to the arms of the cold wooden chair. In only a few seconds, you hear the door open and someone walks in.

                “Good morning, Jean. I’m calling you that because your rights haven’t been totally stripped from you yet,” said your case worker. She was tall, about five-foot ten inches with shoulder-length blond hair and bright green eyes. She’s dressed in high heels, a beige suit with a white blouse and looks every bit like one would expect a female trial lawyer to look. You note that she is maybe thirty years old and quite attractive. Her voice was high-pitched and not what one would expect from a tall woman such as her. “I see here that you failed to register for either party. That’s not really such a bad thing, if you’re just undetermined. So… What are you?” she asks.

                You tell her that you are a Republican! You begin praising both of the Bush presidencies. You tell her how much you loved Ronald Reagan’s leadership. You go so far as to state that you would suck any republican’s dick! She looks at you with distain. As she sits down and then closes the folder in front of her.

                “How the Hell can you be so ignorant?” she asks. “You’re not even the least bit aware that the entire planet, every… single… nation… on every… single… continent has converted to only TWO major political forms of government –the Patriarchal or the Gynarchic,” she nearly screams at you. Leaning back in her chair and folding her arms over her chest, she glares at you with blatant contempt. “You know what?” she asks, “I was feeling sorry for you, but now… not so much! We’re done here. Tomorrow morning you will stand before the court and I will recommend that you be entered into the Education Program. You’ll be stripped of all of your rights, put into the Education Program and, after two years of ‘learning the ropes’ you’ll be brought back here and asked to choose a Political Party. I’m only doing this because I feel there is no other way that you will come to understand the gravity of your situation.” She then stood up, grabbed the folder off of the table and abruptly left the room.

The following day, you were sentenced. Standing (still naked and handcuffed) before the judge –and old, pudgy, balding man with large bags under his eyes and big bushy eyebrows, you began to slowly get a slight glimpse of what was happening and what would happen to you. Your case manager stood beside you –you still didn’t know her name. There were about thirty other people in the courtroom as well. Maybe seven of them were lawyers, dressed in suits, but most of them were women, naked with their hands cuffed behind their backs just as yours were. The ages ranged anywhere from thirty-something to eighty something. You noticed that there were also a few men that were naked and handcuffed as well, but you only counted seven of them. One of them looked to be in his seventies. You were becoming very nervous after hearing a slightly pudgy woman –her name was Sarah Green, being ordered to spend the next two years in the Education Program as a “cow.” You nearly fainted when you heard the judge issue her sentence.

“Sarah Green, it is this court’s decision that since you refused to select a political party, but still benefited from the government’s welfare program, you will live the next two years as a cow on a dairy farm! You will no longer be called by your human name as you have now been reassigned as a cow!” he barked at her. She immediately broke into tears and began pleading to be allowed to join the Gynarchy. “You had your chance, cow! You’ll have another in two years!” he shouted at her. Turning to a bailiff, he barked the orders, “Get this damned cow out of my courtroom and ship it off to one of the registered dairy farms!” She was led out of the courtroom kicking, screaming, and bawling.

“Ouch,” said your case manager as the two of you, along with everyone else in the courtroom watched her be escorted out. “I hope you don’t get reassigned as a cow. That’s brutal! The way they shoot you up with hormones and force your breasts to swell with milk. Then there’s the milking machines! Ugh! Could you imagine being milked twice a day for two hours with those machines mercilessly sucking at your teats?” You weren’t given much time to think about the horror that poor Sarah was going to have to endure as you were next and the judge seemed to be in a hurry.

“We will now hear the case of Jean Knox,” he seemed to growl.

“Your Honor, I am Wendy Bennet. I will be representing Miss Knox today,” said your case manager. The judge looked quickly at her and then down at some paperwork that he had in front of him.

“It says here that Miss Knox has no knowledge of the political system, laws, regulations, etcetera. Is this true?” he asked her.

“Amazingly enough, yes, your honor. It would appear as though she’s just been living under a rock and just chasing her own tail. She’s been employed the whole time of the transitioning into the New World Order, was divorced just as it was coming into effect, she pays taxes, contributes to the economy, but has absolutely no idea what is going on,” Wendy informed him. He was silent for what seemed like an eternity as he looked over the paperwork, sometimes flipping back to re-evaluate what he had already read. After some time, he cleared his throat and addressed you for the first time.

“Jean Knox, it is this court’s decision that you have been very ignorant and undisciplined for the past several years. This court believes that you should be educated and taught to behave in a manner more befitting of the current state of the world. As Miss Bennet has pointed out already, you’ve been ‘chasing your tail’ and that is why this court believes you should spend the next two years in the Education Program as a dog in a kennel. You will no longer be called by your human name, as you have been reassigned as a dog!” your case manager put a hand on your shoulder and turned you to face her. There were tears in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, girl! You be a good little puppy and learn how to behave. In a couple of years, you’ll be ready to rejoin the human race.” She started to say more, but her voice trailed off as your consciousness left you, the world went dark, and you passed out. When you awoke, you were back in your cell. Sitting up on your cot, you began to sob.

‘What the hell does being reassigned as a dog even mean?’ you wondered. ‘Am I supposed to learn stupid pet tricks? Roll over and sit on command? Will I have to eat dog food?’ You weren’t given much time to think about it as you were startled by the sound of your cell door opening. A short, fat, middle-aged man in denim overalls, wearing a red baseball cap, plaid shirt and work boots stood in the doorway. He was holding a collar –the chain choker type, in his right hand and a leash in his left hand. Next to him stood a male officer. The officer was black, rather handsome, at least six feet tall and musclebound.

“Come ‘ere, girl,” he said to you. “Come ‘ere!”

“You are NOT putting that thing on me!” you told him. Your voice was shaky from a mix of emotions. The man took off his cap, revealing a balding head. What hair he had left was an even mixture of brown and grey. He looked down the corridor and addressed someone you couldn’t see from your cell.

“I’m going to need the muzzle and some zip ties,” he said to the unseen person. “Go out to the truck and fetch ’em for me. This bitch is feral!” Turning to you he looked very cross. “You’re going to do as I say, bitch! You may be feral now, but in two years, you’ll be a good little bitch that knows how to obey orders!” The anger and fear that you had been harboring erupted all at once and you charged the old man, but he simply stepped aside and allowed the guard to grab you. With his huge arms wrapped tightly around your body, pinning your own arms to your sides, you could only kick. He had very little trouble spinning you around and holding you tightly against him. With your back firmly pressed against his chest, your feet dangled a few inches above the floor. Still, you tried to kick, but the old man stayed well beyond your reach and you came nowhere near the guard’s crotch when you tried to bend your knees back. The old man chuckled and let you squirm as you struggled in vain to escape the guard’s grasp.

“You’re a saucy little bitch, aint you?” he said as you began to calm down. “We’ll get you back to the kennel and get you squared away in no time.” This did not calm you at all. You started kicking at him again with a renewed vigor. He simply laughed, put his hat back on his bald head and took yet another step away from you. It was at this moment when you saw the silhouette of a large woman waddling down the corridor toward the three of you. As she approached, you could see that she too was holding items in her hands. As she walked up to the old man, you took a moment to get a good look at her.

She was also middle-aged. Her hair was died a very dark (unnaturally dark) red. She wore makeup which accented her features quite nicely, however. She was very attractive. Even though she was only about five-foot tall (if that) and weighed at least two-hundred pounds, she had huge breasts and her figure was still somewhat shapely. She was dressed in tight blue jeans, cute little blue flip-flops and a tight white tank top that accentuated her cleavage to the maximum. Suddenly, you realized that the guard noticed her as well due to the huge erection you felt pressing against your lower back. His grip on you tightened, but even as you began to calm yourself, you couldn’t tell if it was from the appearance of the woman or if he just wanted to ensure that you wouldn’t break free. The red-haired woman handed the middle-aged man a handful of zip ties which she had been holding in her left hand. As the middle-aged man took the zip ties, she stuffed a leather-banded ball-gag into her cleavage and stepped away from him. As she did so, she reached behind her back with her right hand and then pulled out a pistol that must have been tucked into the waistband of her jeans. This action brought your squirming and resistance to a complete halt.

“There you go,” said the middle-aged man, “You’re getting the bigger picture now. That’s a good girl! Now I’m going to just secure you better before we take you to your new home. Be a good little puppy and give me your paws.”

“Are you sure about this?” asked the guard, his voice was deep and a little intimidating. The middle-aged man nodded and the guard released his grip on you. Your first impulse was to jump at the middle-aged man and claw his eyes out, but you noticed the red-haired woman pointing the gun at you.

“Come on! Be a good little puppy and give Daddy your paws,” coaxed the middle-aged man. This sent you into a frenzy! You forgot all about the woman holding the gun on you as you lurched toward him. A split-second later, you heard a subdued ‘popping’ sound and instantly felt a pinching pain in your side, just above your hip. Time seemed to be slowing down. the lighting in the hallway was getting dimmer. You ignored the pain and continued to reach for the middle-aged man, but he stepped back again, and then again, and then… everything was in slow-motion. He laughed. You saw him laughing and batting your hands away, but it seemed as though you were the only one moving in slow-motion. Then… darkness.

You awoke slowly. Your vision was hazy and you couldn’t quite remember where you were. Did you drink too much and black out? You couldn’t recall being asked to any party. You didn’t think you bought any alcohol on your way home from work. ‘Why are there so many crumbs in the bed? What day was it anyway? Were you going to be late for your shift?’

‘Oh, shit! What time is it?’ you thought. ‘If I’m late for my shift, Deanna’s going to be pissed!’

“Wakey, Wakey!” you heard. Your memory suddenly came spiraling back to you. It was the somewhat high-pitched voice of the middle-aged man from the jail that you were currently being held in. “Time to rise and shine!” your vision cleared immediately. There was nothing but dirt below you. You were actually lying on dirt! As you begin to lift yourself, you instantly feel a sharp pain in both of your nipples. You looked down to see that your nipples had been pierced and fitted with rings. A chain had been strung through both of them and padlocked to a metal eyehook imbedded in a piece of cement on the floor of the… cage?

You were definitely in a cage and outside. In the center of the cage’s dirt floor, a square cement pad about two feet by two feet set flush in the dirt floor. In the center of the pad a hole –about four inches wide and about three inches deep had a steel closed eye-hook in it. The chain hanging from your nipples had been secured in the eye-hook with a padlock. The chain’s length allowed you to sit up, but only just that. There was no way you would be able to stand, which would have been difficult to do anyway as the cage itself was only about four feet high. Slowly, you turn to see the old man crouching outside the cage. He’s holding a couple of thick blankets and a large over-sized pillow. As you look at him, he begins to raise the pillow and blankets.

“We don’t want you to feel like you’re not loved, little puppy!” said the middle-aged man.  As you try, in vain to stand, the pain in your nipples stops you and so you sit there and glare at him through the bars on the cage.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for you to stand up on your hindlegs!” he chuckled. “Just stay on all fours, like a normal dog. We’ll lengthen that chain a little bit once you’ve learned not to stand up on your hind legs like a person,” the old man said to you. “In the meantime, I brought you some blankets and a pillow to sleep on.”

“You fucking bastard!” you scream at him. Tears are welling in your eyes.

“Actually, I’m really not the ‘Bad Guy’ in this scenario,” he tells you. “I’m just someone that is available to help people like you,” he said just before his eyes rolled up in his head and he put his right hand up over his face. He looked a little disturbed and frustrated.  “I didn’t just say that! Damn it! I did not just say that!” he shouted. He took his hat off, whipped some sweat from his forehead and put his hat back on. He took a few more seconds to compose himself. You took advantage of this time to lash out at him.

“I never consented to any of this! When I get free, I’m going to get a lawyer and sue the living hell out of you!” you scream at him. “You pierced my fucking nipples!” He looked blankly at you with for seemed a long time, but was actually only a few seconds before he smiled and stood up.

“You’re a fucking dog!” he said. “Dogs can’t hire lawyers. Dogs behave themselves and do as their masters command!”

“I’m not a fucking dog!” you scream.

“Maybe you weren’t paying attention during your sentencing. I wasn’t there, but I have witnessed many other sentencings. I’m quite sure that, at some point, the judge made sure to inform you that you are no longer a human being, but that you are now classified as a dog!” he spat at you. His left eye began to twitch as a scowl formed on his face and his eyes narrowed with contempt.

“I’m a human being!” you shouted back at him. The old man turned his back to you and began to walk away. He had only taken a few steps when he stopped, spun around and glared at you.

“You know what? You speak too much! I’m going to fix that!” he half-laughed at you. “In the meantime, Sleep tight.” A sadistic grin formed on his face as he put both of his hands into his pockets, turned away and then left you there, in your cage, with a couple of blankets and a big pillow.