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When Dad called my brothers and me into his den at 10 AM on a Saturday morning last September, I was nervous. I knew what it was all about, of course, because dad filled Lionel and me in the day before. When I got to the den, there was Lionel, my oldest brother, 22, lounging on the couch next to dad in his easy chair, and Nick, 20, wearing his ever backwards baseball cap, standing with his hands in his pockets chatting with Lionel. Nick, seeing me, said, “There’s our little Simon. Baby brother is always the last!” How horrible it suddenly seemed what dad was about to announce to Nick. I suddenly felt like I was some evil conspirator, and really wanted to be away from here.

Dad motioned for me to come in, so I went and sat on the couch next to Lionel. As Nick asked me what my plans were for the day, dad got up and went and closed the blinds on the two windows in the room, causing Nick to give Lionel and me a questioning look. As dad closed the blinds I noticed a large box on the table from Hoffmeyer’s Uniform Emporium. Dad sat back down, picked up a folder of papers from the arm of his chair, placed them in his lap, cleared his throat, and began, “Nick, I think your brothers and I have decided on a workable course of action for you.” I didn’t like that ‘brothers and I’ stuff. Dad simply told Lionel and me what he was going to do, and we just listened. We didn’t make any decisions on this matter.

“Nick, as you are about to turn twenty-one, your brothers and I have had to decide what to do with you. As you know your probation officer suggested that I contact a psychiatrist for help in dealing with you, and in making a decision regarding your future. You know, Nick, I love you dearly. And because of that love your steady string of arrests since you turned 18 not only caused me and your brothers, intense grief, but it has started to affect my health. I was worrying night and day about you, couldn’t eat and couldn’t sleep. So that spurred me to take your probation officer’s suggestion and seek counseling for myself, as well as obtain the advice of one of the most highly regarded criminal psychiatrists in the state, Dr. Emmanuel Raggers, as to what would be the best course of action for me to follow regarding you.”

Nick shifted on his feet, as he so often did while enduring one of dad’s lectures.

“Having reviewed all the information that I was given and having consulted with the county corrections’ officials, the time came for me to decide where we go from here.” Dad then nodded to Lionel and me to go stand next to Nick.

“Nick, dear, we have considered three options. The first, to simply leave you on your own, is from my standpoint, immoral. Dr. Raggers asserted that your likelihood of reoffending is 96%. In short, you are well on the road to a life in prison. I could not, as your father, tolerate that.” Dad paused, looked Nick in the eye, and impressed his sincerity.

Nick shook his head, “Dad, my so called crimes are joyriding, speeding, getting kicked out of a bar! I can’t believe this, Dad!”

“Son, son, calm down. Are you forgetting vandalizing Mrs. Ferber’s garden, and sexual assault???”

“Dad that was Grace pissed at me because I went out with Helen, so she filed a complaint!”

“Nick, you know the list goes on and on. But what is important is what Dr. Raggers said about it all. The pattern, the consistency of your anti-social behavior, is set. Things will only get worse and worse. This is science, son. Dr. Raggers assured me it was ‘hard science’. You are not going to change!”

By this time Lionel was standing on Nick’s left and I was standing next to him on the right.

Dad continued, “The second option was simply to have you registered as a slave and get you handled through one of the local auction houses.” Nick let out a loud, “Dad!” and a wild frown. Lionel grabbed Nick by his upper arm as if offering support.

“Don’t worry; we’re not going to do that. We simply couldn’t do that! You’re my son and Lionel and Simon’s beloved brother.”

“The final option and it is the one we have decided on, is to keep you in the family, but in a new role. Son, the papers I hold here in this folder are your enslavement orders, officially in effect as of 10 AM this morning. Nick, you have been a slave for almost 15 minutes already. You are not going to auction because you will remain with us. You are now our family slave!”

I grabbed Nick’s upper arm at this moment, as dad instructed I should do when he announced Nick’s new status. Lionel was already holding on to Nick’s upper arm with one arm, and with his other arm he was rubbing his back. I offered similar encouragement to Nick by putting one of my arms on his shoulder, and lightly patted him. Nick looked like he was gulping for breath and Lionel whispered, “Take it easy, Nick. We’re with you man!”

I felt very güvenilir bahis awkward, so I tried to offer some support, “Nick, relax. You’re going to be staying with us. That’s all that counts. Nothing really is changing man.”

Dad followed up on my comment, “Simon is right, Nick. Once you get accustomed to the new arrangement here, you will forget that you’re a slave. Of course, there are a few state guidelines, items of protocol, that you, as a slave; your brothers, as your chief overseers; and I, as your owner, must comply with. First, of course, you have to get collared, so Lionel and Simon will be taking you to the registration center in a few minutes to get you fitted. And then, also, you will have to be uniformed and monitored at all times. And the only other major change, which I can think of at this moment, is that you have to submit to weekly performance reviews by your regular chief overseers. I have designated your brothers, Lionel and Simon, as your chief overseers for the reason that one of them will almost always be around the house, whereas I am so frequently away from the house on matters of business.”

Nick couldn’t believe any of it, “Dad, this is fucking crazy! Why do you want to do this?”

“Because, and only because, I love you too much to see you end up in prison. And I was assured that this is the only course of action to insure that.”

Nick stammered, “Why….how can you say such a crazy thing is going to help me, Dad?”

“Son, do you remember the last time I spanked you, when you were 17?”

“Of course I remember it Dad, it was totally humiliating. You stopped spanking Lionel and Simon when they were six years old, but me you never stopped spanking until I turned 18.”

“And son, what happened then? That was when your trouble with the law and string of arrests began. As long as I was spanking you, you at least kept your wild behavior toned down somewhat. When you finally turned 18 I decided that you were an adult, and to just let you act like one on your own. But of course, your behavior became ever more self-destructive. One of the reasons I decided on enslaving you is that it gives your brothers and me full legal right to resume the use of physical discipline on you. As a slave we can do that to you now for the rest of your life to help keep you under control.”

Lionel tried to ease the blow of dad’s words, “He’s right Nick, and you know it. Dad really wants you out of trouble. He’s doing this to you to protect you.”

Dad stood up and came over to Nick and patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll be okay, Nick! All that is being proposed here, really, are few changes in your life style. Just a few easy changes.” He rubbed Nick on the head, tousling his hair, “When you boys take Nick to get collared he’s also going to need a code haircut and shave.” Dad stood back, took a look at Nick, “Okay, let’s move you over there to the table so we can get you into some proper clothes.” Dad walked to the table and opened the box from Hoffmeyer’s Uniform Emporium, as Lionel, leading Nick to the table, said, “Let’s get your clothes off, Nick.”

Nick was kind of dazed, and didn’t react so Lionel started unbuttoning his shirt. Dad nodded to me, and I then started loosening Nick’s belt and opening the fly of his jeans. Lionel pulled Nick’s shirt off and set it on the table. He then took off his baseball cap. “I guess you have to say goodbye to your baseball cap.” Nick shuddered a bit, and then started crying. Lionel pulled his tee shirt up, raised Nick’s arms, and pulled it off.

Dad comforted him as I pulled his jeans down, “Now son, everything is going to be okay. You’ll see. You’re with us, and that’s the important thing.” We took off Nick’s clothes without hurrying, trying to be gentle with him because he was sobbing like a baby. I knelt down and untied his running shoes, pulled them off, then stood up and told him to step out his jeans. He did so unthinking, preoccupied in his thoughts.

Lionel took the waistband of his white briefs and slid them down; bending over to remove them while telling Nick to lift his legs so he could pull them off. We all looked Nick over, now standing totally bare in front of us. Dad said, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you son, and I’m glad to see you’ve been keeping yourself in shape. It’ll make your job at the quarry seem like a piece of cake.”

Nick suddenly recovered from his reverie, “What job, Dad?”

“This Monday you start a full time job at the Kettleman Quarry. You’ll be working 8 to 4:30 each weekday. It will be a nice environment for you because you’ll be working with other slaves there. It’s a government run operation so you will be given the most up to date guidance and treatment.”

“But Dad, we had agreed that if I buckle down I could start college next semester.”

“Nick, that plan is no longer going to work. I suggested that as an option back when I still had some hope for you making it as a free man. Your school days are over, son.”

Nick started crying again. He just looked down, sobbing. türkçe bahis He raised the back of his hands to wipe away his tears. I tried to get Nick to look at the bright side of things, “You always moaned about having to go to school. So no more worries. You never have to go back to school again.”

Dad took over, “That’s right Simon. On Monday Nick starts work bright and early at the quarry.” I touched Nick on his chest to comfort him. He felt warm and strangely soft and subservient. Dad continued, “Nick, you can be proud of yourself now, because all of your earnings from your quarry job are going towards Lionel’s and Simon’s education. Next week Lionel begins graduate school, and Simon enters college as a freshman, and the state counselor told me that one of the biggest sources of pride and contentment for the enslaved is to know that their labor is going towards positive causes.”

Still sobbing, Nick questioned, “But what about me Dad? What will I do for money?”

“Son, that’s one of the beauties of this solution, you no longer need money. Everything will be provided for you for the rest of your life.”

“But I don’t want to have to ask you every time I need some cash, Dad!”

“Nick, you’re never going to be buying anything for yourself, so you have no reason to ask. I will buy everything you need.”

“But what about CD’s and videos and magazines?”

“Son, please listen. You can’t own things anymore. When Lionel and Simon get you back from your shopping trip today, the first thing they are going to do is go to your room and divide all of your things among themselves. They will be happy; I am sure, to let you use their things from time to time. But you as slave cannot own things, Nick. That will seem strange at first, but once we get settled in here you will see that the system works very well.”

“Daddy, no. No!” Nick sank down to the floor on his rump, sobbing. He covered his face in his hands. Dad knelt down, and put his arms around Nick. “Son, you will see you won’t be needing the same things you used to need. When you’re not working at the quarry, you will be in charge of the full upkeep and care of the house. Lionel and Simon will be directly in charge of you most of the time, and they will be sure you have everything you need to do your job, as well as anything you may need for recreation. Son, from now on you’re going to be too busy to watch TV, listen to CD’s, or play video games with anywhere near the frequency you used to.”

“What do you mean Lionel and Simon are going to be in charge of me, Dad?”

“Well, things like making sure you do your duties, are polite, mind your manners, and aren’t lazing around. Remember, as your chief overseers now they are legally obliged to make sure you perform all of your duties. On the weekends one of the boys will wake you at 4:30 AM, and then they will go back to bed while you clean the house, and prepare an 8 o’clock breakfast for us. There will be so much for you to do that you won’t even have time to think about the way things used to be.” Nick let out a loud sob. “Son, you will see that keeping busy will provide you with just the kind of structure you need in your life, and that means that you, at last, are going to be truly happy with yourself; something you have never been before.”

After Nick’s sobbing subsided, Dad stood up, and gently pulled Nick up along with him into a standing position. “We bought you some very nice new clothes. They’ll make you feel better. So let’s get you kitted out in your new outfit, so you can stand proud and tall when your brothers take you in to get collared.” When dad opened the clothes box from Hoffmeyer’s Uniform Emporium Nick panicked, “Dad, if I’m going to be living here, why do I have to wear those?”

As dad took out the slave pants and unfolded them, he explained, “This is on the recommendation of the state Slave Authority guidelines for domestics. For someone like you, with identity problems, which have caused antisocial behavior, a uniform helps provide a stabilizing environment.

The uniform truly was the most embarrassing version of the most common slave outfits. They are brown shorts that go to three inches above the knee, but the crotch and butt of the basic shorts are totally open, and the coverings for these two openings are two heavier fabric pieces, darker in colors, which are fastened on with buttons. They call attention to the groin and butt in a mildly comic way.

The matching shirt was of similar material, and like the shorts, the nipples are exposed with four-inch circular holes. The coverings for the nipples are of a similar heavier and darker colored fabric as the butt and crotch covers, and are also affixed with buttons.

The slave sandals were actually rather handsome, with straps that went up to above the ankles.

Nick cried the whole time he was getting dressed. As a finishing touch, Lionel tied a yellow slave scarf around Nick’s neck, gave it pat, then put the matching yellow slave cap on Nick’s head. “There brother, you look good! güvenilir bahis siteleri I think we’re all ready to go and get you collared, barbered, shaved and then we’ll be off to do a little shopping for essentials!”

Nick was frantic, “Dad, please don’t make me go out in public like this!”

The cell phone rang and dad answered it; “Seth, hi… I’m afraid Nick can’t come to the phone right now… Listen Seth; a lot has been going on here. Rather than try and explain what’s going on, why don’t you arrange to have as many of your and Nick’s friends as you can round up, and come over here for a barbeque tonight. Nick has to run some errands right now with his brothers, but I think it would be a real morale booster if you and his friends could come for dinner tonight. Nick will fix you and your friends up something special, and serve you around 7 PM. How does that sound? Great… We’ll see you all then.”

Nick turned red. Dad stood in front of Nick and patted the sides of his shoulders, “You look good. I am proud to have you not only as my son, but also as my slave. Nick, this really makes me happy. I feel so certain that we finally did the right thing for you.” Dad glanced at the wall clock, “We’d better hurry! It’s time for your brothers to get you registered with the Slave Control Authorities. After that you boys are going on a little shopping trip. You and your brothers have always enjoyed your shared shopping trips in the past. This will be just like old times. You will have a good time, just as always.”

Dad spoke to Lionel and me, “Make sure you get everything that’s on my list, and remember to buy some manacles and paddles for your own use. If you don’t get those things today, you’re just going to have to go back and get them in the near future. You’ll see.” As we turned to leave dad realized he had to impress the importance of good behavior on Nick. “Nick, I want you to obey your brothers, do as they tell you, and no back talk. Will you promise me that?”

Nick, still dazed, nodded ‘yes’. Dad took Lionel off to the side, gave him some papers and a list of supplies, and whispered something in his ear.

When we walked out to the car Nick rushed ahead and got in the back seat as fast as he could so none of the neighbors could see him. He slouched way down in the seat. Once on the road Nick realized that his yellow cap was causing passerby’s to look at him in the back seat, so he took it off. Lionel, in the driver’s seat, saw Nick in the rear view mirror, “Put the cap back on, Nick!” Nick said, “Come on, Lionel”, but Lionel shouted back, “You heard what dad said about obeying us. Put the cap back on, now!”

Nick put the cap back on, frowning, seething, embarrassed, and reclined on the back seat to keep out of view. I tried to comfort Nick, “Come on Nick, don’t be a slouch. If we’re not ashamed of you, you shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself.”

Nick stayed slouching, hiding below the window line in the car. Lionel was firm, “You heard your younger brother, sit up straight! Dad wants you looking proud! That’s one of the reasons dad had to do this; you don’t have enough self pride.”

By the time we got to the Community Special Services Center there were clear feelings of animosity hanging in the air between Nick and us. Nick seemed intent on taking a negative view of things or at least, of refusing to see dad’s side of various issues.

‘Special Service’ was our state’s euphemism for ‘slave’. The Community Special Services Center was a place where all matters and business pertaining to slaves took place; containing everything from the State Slave Control Headquarters to a shopping mall for all slave related items. It was a government run operation, but with private market franchises. It was always a bustling place, but, with my family never having owned a slave before, my visits to it were infrequent, but memorable. It looked almost like a typical suburban shopping mall, with the exception of the Center’s chief tenant, the State Slave Control Headquarters. The Headquarters was large, taking almost a third of the Center’s space, and its building was not dressed like the other shops, designed to entice shoppers. It was a brick utilitarian typical looking very large two story government office building. It housed both the County Slave Processing Center, and some offices of the US Army and Marines Slave Divisions.

The Slave Registration Center was on the first floor of the Headquarters building, and as we walked towards it we passed many shoppers, single folks and large families, most with slaves in tote loaded down with shopping bags.

As we got nearer to the entrance we heard some grunts getting gradually louder and louder, and suddenly, turning a corner and coming into view were a group of about 50 Army soldiers dressed in nothing but shoulder pads and army boots, accompanied by a female drill sergeant shouting march commands and wielding a training whip. The sight of the 50 naked, tough and ferocious looking slaves marching, swinging and raising their arms and legs in synchronization was frightening and sent chills down my spine. I am sure Nick and Lionel were thinking the same thing as I was at that moment; if fortunes changed, if something happened to dad, Nick could end up as just such an army slave.