(((Short overview/treatment of my newest story...check out previews of Chapters 2 and 3 at https://locked-boy-toy.bdsmlr.com. Everything is fiction, as always, all characters 18 .)))

JOSH'S NEW HOME - Chapter One (Overview/Treatment)

In the darkness of the closet, Josh began to come back to himself…as he did several times a day.  The human thoughts floated back in, debris in the rising tide of his awareness.  He had hands, he had a body with four legs and – no.  No that wasn’t right.  Josh blinked, hard.  Two legs.  Two legs, and hands.  Not paws.  He reached up to his face, feeling his nose.  A nose, not a snout.  His face was wrapped in leather…this word came back to him too, muzzle.  As the boy fumbled clumsily with his rediscovered fingers, he touched the padlocks at the buckles of the muzzle, remembering them at roughly the same time.  Josh grunted in frustration, as he did every time the pieces fell back into place.  His words were returning to him, he could scream for help if he weren’t muzzled.  He could stand, if he weren’t locked in a reinforced kennel.  He couldn’t even remove the collar that was locked on, along with the little dog tag, reminding him of his situation every time it touched the nape of his neck.

As Josh’s doggy brain receded, its obsession with immediacy vanished too, the boy’s memories flooding back to him all at once.  He had no way of knowing how long it had been since his room-mate had forced him to live like this.  His earliest memory – which felt like weeks, but could as easily have been months – was of his new room-mate offering him some tea.  Josh remembered the tea had tasted a bit funny…strongly of lemon, with something musty in the background…and then…it was a blur.  Josh remembered waking in the cage, exactly like he had now.  Every day in the cage seemed to blur together.  The earliest cage-memories were of long, extended periods of hardcore gay porn from a screen built into one of the walls of the closet, while a voice spoke to him.  The voice was kind, gentle, and despite what must have been panic and fear (it was hard for Josh to remember that far back), he eventually found himself listening, and then obeying.  Obeying the voice as it told him that he was going to be remade into a good, obedient dog.  Obeying as the voice directed him to stare deeper and go deeper, the pictures and videos showing other men kept as dogs.  

Josh had nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at.  The tea in his stomach on that first day (or, rather, the drugs in the tea), made the images pulse and flow in a trippy concerto.  Man-dogs eating out of dishes on the floor, playing fetch, sitting, begging, raising a leg to piss.  Man-dogs staying, heeling, obeying their masters.  Eventually, man-dogs sucking dick, presenting as their masters bred them, or humping other man-dogs.  Their tail plugs wagging, their balls swinging, their muscled asses clenching as they hump.  The drugs in the tea made Josh hard, artificially raising his heartbeat and encouraging blood to his boy-dick.  Whether Josh had been straight previously or not, he was forced to watch, forced to obey.  Over time, with repetition of the voice, repetition of the imagery, Josh’s will broke down.  He didn’t know how long he was there that first night, couldn’t remember anymore the 36 straight hours that he was kept initially, forced to watch, forced to listen.  The only respite, the periods when the voice reminded him via command to piss in an empty 1-gallon bottle in the corner of the cage.

It only took a few days of that level of conditioning, before Josh emerged with only puppy thoughts.  

Josh had, in fact, been gay before…which probably made it easier.  For his part, Robbie couldn’t have dreamed it would work so well.  He’d scoped Josh out for months, the young barista was perfect.  A mess of curly, dirty-blonde hair was the icing on the twink cake that graced Robbie’s mornings, and from the first latte macchiato, Robbie knew he had to have him.  He began chatting up the younger man – the two were about the same age, and Robbie’s cut build and trimmed beard caught Josh’s attention instantly, much to Robbie’s delight.  Their conversations gradually turned more personal, until Josh was giving daily updates on developments in his life unprompted, basically as soon as he started making Robbie’s drink.  That was how Robbie knew that the poor boy’s lease would be ending soon, and that Josh hadn’t managed to find a place yet.  Robbie offered a room at his house immediately…accommodations are so hard to find in the city, and he’d do anything to help a fellow hard-working professional.  All Robbie had to add to this was a bit of a smile, a hint of seductive tone…and Josh was thinking more with his dick than with his brain, and agreeing to move in immediately.

Josh showed off the guest room, they brought Josh’s things in, and then had the tea to celebrate.

The rest…well.  In the first 36 hours, while Josh was prepping in the guest bedroom’s closet, Robbie built a book-case in front of the guest bedroom and sound-proofed it.  Josh’s things were disposed of, and Starbucks was sent an email from Josh’s personal computer declaring that he’d quit.  Another was sent out to family, simply saying that he was taking an extended vacation overseas with some funds he’d saved up.  Both emails were sent from spoofed IPs, at a different physical location, and everything that previously belonged to or identified the young man previously named ‘Josh’ was gone before the boy next glimpsed light.

It was all worth it that third day when, after 36 hours of continuous drug-enhanced hypnosis, and 12 hours of rest, Robbie’s new pup emerged from the cage.  The boy couldn’t understand how to stand anymore, had forgotten how to use his fingers, and knew only to obey the man holding his leash.  Every time he opened his mouth, the young man barked – no words could form in his mouth.  Best of all, meeting Josh’s eyes, Robbie saw only the glazed excitement of a puppy living in the moment.  As Josh looked up into Robbie’s eyes, there was a simplistic, optimistic confusion.  No complex thoughts drove behind those eyes.  Only a naked boy, kneeling at his heel, excitement throbbing in its little doggie dick.  The boy on the ground squirmed in excitement as Robbie’s fingers absently wound into the boy’s beautiful hair, glistening with sweat.  The man-dog’s hips waggled back and forth, and its dick, already leaking precum, rubbed tentatively on Robbie’s lower leg.  Blankly, desperately, the boy whined.

“Good boy…”  Robbie said, a smile growing on his face.  The boy that had been Josh waggled harder, leaked harder.

That first session had cemented Robbie’s decision, and the puppy boy now spends most of its time caged, except when Robbie trains or uses him.  His short-lived room-mate had been renamed, ‘Buddy’, after Robbie’s childhood pup.  The hypnosis repeated daily for Buddy, and every weekend his water was laced with more hallucinogens, stimulants, and sexual performance enhancers, re-melting the pup’s brain, lest it ever gain too full a grip on reality.  And yet, every day, the hypnosis would begin to wear off about an hour after being triggered.  This wasn’t such a big deal, around the house.  …but in the cage, the boy would start to remember who he was, where he’d come from…that the bedroom that acted as his solitary confinement cell, was once supposed to be a bedroom he was renting.  That was what made Robbie shift tack:  Buddy’s trigger word now, the one thing that would turn him immediately into a helpless puppy, was the pup’s very own name.  ‘Buddy’ was engraved on the puppy boy’s collar, ensuring that even if he escaped, even if he was found as his brain began to return to him, the first person to read the tag and try to speak with him as he barked would only reinforce Buddy’s enforced pup-space, ensuring that he couldn’t communicate, ensuring that he would always be trapped.  Only when he was caged, muzzled, and completely alone was Josh able to come back, gradually, to the surface.  And, each time, he knows that it’s only a matter of time before its ripped away from him again, before his identity, his very being, is buried by that one word, and everything that comes behind it.

“Good morning, boy.”  The speakers crackled to life, and the screen flashed into pictures of men dragged behind their owners on leashes, forced to walk on all fours, forced to crawl…tears began to fill the corners of Josh’s eyes as he realized that his awareness was short-lived.  That any minute now, he’d be forced to obey…that any second now, his mind would be swept out to sea, replaced with only the tricklings of doggy thoughts and behaviours that his room-mate had seen fit to leave him with.  That even if he came back to awareness within that body, that he would be unable to fight it.  Josh remembered flashes of coming back to stare from behind those eyes.  Remembered how he could occasionally control a limb, or sometimes even all 4…but that his hands would never open, his paws would never allow him to stand…and that every word he tried to speak, he would forget, and it would be replaced only with barking.  It was humiliating, and completely terrifying.  Tears rolled down his face as he choked into his gag, not even bothering to beg anymore.  He knew nobody was listening.  He knew nobody was coming.  He was stuck, and it was so, so fucking–

“Who’s my good Buddy?”

Buddy’s eyes glazed over, as he forgot what he’d just been thinking about.  His hips began to waggle, his nose snuffling.  Somewhere there was the smell of Master…where?  Buddy began to paw about the cage, his arms easily formed into thin, delicate paws that only bent at the wrist.  He pawed at the front of the cage, something in the blanket there smelled stronger.  As he pawed, he suddenly heard a sound from the outside.  Buddy sat on his haunches, and huffed, momentarily distracted.  Smells!  Master smells pulled him back, and he spun back toward the front of the cage, head dipping down.  Finally, he found Master’s boxers!  He buried his nose in the crotch lovingly, the smell sending a wave of pleasure through his dick.  Buddy tried to wiggle a paw, but his paws wouldn’t come near his dick.  He whined into his muzzle – he couldn’t touch himself with his paws, they wouldn’t reach.  Maybe Master would let him hump Master’s leg later…

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP …. ZHHHHHHHHZHHZHZ

“Whmph!  Whpmh! Whgpmh!”  Buddy barked into his muzzle, excitedly.  That was the door!  The door!  Master’s here!  Master wants to play!

Buddy popped up onto his haunches, Master’s boxers forgotten in promise of the real thing.  His hips waggled excitedly, doggy dick bouncing in the air, just a desperate, horny puppy…eager to please.