Party Animal by Chris Bellows, Femdom
(Excerpt from Collared & Leashed)
Is it possible that the young man is getting turned on as the efficient and diabolical Nancy turns him into a human puppy?
Copyrighted © 2004 by Chris Bellows, all rights reserved.
At my age, young males are so easy to control. One just has to remain stern and matronly and every impressionable college age kid will respond to a woman in her forties, the approximate age of his mother.
So I arrive at Lenore and Chloe’s house fully aware that the task of painting some kid to look like a Dalmatian will not be difficult. It’s getting him into those special gloves and boots that will provide the challenge.
When Lenore showed me and demonstrated, I was both aghast and amused. The glove-like rubber fits over the folded arms and zippers closed to hold the arm bent at the elbow with forearm pressing against the biceps. At the elbow is an extension, a little hard rubber dog leg which the wearer can utilize to ‘walk’ on all fours. Likewise the boots fit over the folded leg and serve as extensions of the knee. The cleverness is that the long tubes of stretchable rubber can be zippered closed over the folded limbs, encasing such in latex which has been painted to resemble the hide of a Dalmatian. In place of hands and feet are attached canine legs and paws, the length of which is precisely measured to place the wearer on all fours, very much resembling a dog.
And with hands and feet tucked away and held immobile, the fingers of the wearer cannot be used to free the zippers.
The debaucherous woman who developed the curious garments is known to have quite the kennel in a secluded upstate New York location. And the neighbors are not burdened with excessive barking.
I am told the prospective wearer, our little party puppy, is quite athletic. And the woman from New York assures that the knack for walking about on all fours, elbows and knees shuffling to push about the four attached paws, is quickly learned, though the encouragement of a dog quirt was suggested.
The vision of our party entertainment nimbly crawling about on all fours amuses as I enter Lenore and Chloe’s house at the appointed hour. The boots and gloves are in the armoire where expected. I retrieve and move onward. With cosmetic case in hand, filled with black and white paint, a small bottle of pink, and a little chloroform, I find my way to the kitchen. I hear shuffling behind a door and know that my human canvass has arrived as instructed. Taking a deep breath to embolden myself and prepare my lungs to bluster commands, I abruptly thrust open the door.
There stands our compliant puppy, shaven totally and but for a comical mask, naked and hairless as the day he was born. Though the male gender does not stimulate my interest, naked subservience does. I feel a twinge in my loins. This will be both difficult and enjoyable.
“Hands behind your head! Spread your feet! Wider! ”
I use a stentorian voice and as expected, the diminutive naked male responds. I hide my evil smile.
Initial compliance is important in take down scenes and with his awkward pose and visually cumbersome mask, I quickly establish my authority. And the faux snout is an ideal place to surreptitiously place a cotton pad doused with chloroform.
It’s worked often enough. My prey will think it’s the smell of the body paint.
The woman is drill sergeant!
I have mentally prepared myself for an afternoon of frolicking about, naked, leashed and pretending to be a dog. But I did not think the makeup artist would be so demanding.
She opens her case to reveal bottles and brushes. A cotton swab of something is placed on the dog nose of the mask. She turns away and the room seems to fill with the scent of what I presume to be paint. It’s strong. The mask holds in the fumes. I begin to feel groggy.
“Hold your arm steady, point the elbow. That’s a good boy.”
Something is slipped over my folded right arm. I cannot see well through the mask. It tightens as she gruffly pulls it toward my shoulder. I hear a zip. My free arm receives the same treatment. It feels like I cannot move my hands and forearms but my brain lags and cognitive feedback comes slowly.
“Yes, that’s good.”
I am reminded of bath time when mother tended to me as a child. Standing naked, my youthful energy insisted that I squirm while my mother tried to dry me with a large towel.
Whatever this Nancy placed on the mask is removed. The air freshens but I remain groggy. My knees begin to buckle. The stern but unctuously speaking woman guides me to the floor. Concerns over her presence and my nakedness seem to evanesce. I kneel. She pushes my head down and as I bend at the waist something touches the linoleum to stop my elbows before reaching the floor.
I hear the woman cackle.
“Now be a good boy and lift your left leg. Bend it at the knee so that your ankle presses against your hip. Yes, such a good puppy.”
A similar shroud of rubber material is forced over my left knee, calve and thigh. I hear a zip. When she pushes it downward, something again seems to touch the linoleum before my knee reaches it. I am told to raise and likewise fold my right leg. For some reason this woman is to be obeyed. So stern...so exacting...and strangely, my brain cannot resist
She finds the leather collar and encircles my neck. In my stupor I find I cannot move hands, forearms, calves or feet.
“Stay still like a good doggie while I work, then perhaps you’ll get a nice biscuit.”
I expected to hear an afternoon of canine references and mentally prepared myself. I am grateful I cannot be identified.
Wow! What some kids will do for fifty dollars!
Once the strange binders are zipped in place, this kid is all mine. The effect of the slight whiff of chloroform will dissipate as I paint. It was just enough relaxant to counteract any resistance, though I may not have needed it. This little guy, though quite muscular, is most docile.
Using the pattern on the latex as a starting point, my skilled hand works with alacrity. He’s done quite a job shaving, and though male, young pink flesh can arouse even my philogynist preferences. I feel moisture between my thighs as my hand works to coat every square inch of skin. When finished with back, shoulders and buttocks I command and push and he compliantly rolls to one side to reveal his torso...the doggie’s underside.
While working his chest and stomach, the effect of the chloroform wears and he slowly tumefies. As expected, a virile nineteen-year-old male, naked in the presence of a fully- clothed female, can be so effected and I suspect his healthy uncircumcised manhood will be quite the attraction at the party.
Lenore slipped me a little pill that will assure great entertainment. Though not needed at his age, a tablet of Cialis will amuse the girls and frustrate our handless pup. Thus before his wits completely return, I tuck the little pill under his tongue and offer a large glass of water. He drinks as I hold the glass, his helplessness just beginning to dawn on a foggy mind.
The black and white is done. Now for the coup de grace which will serve to so delight Chloe.
A fresh brush and a bottle of effulgent pink body paint will highlight that which an authoritative woman so seeks to control. My puppy’s hairless scrotal sac will be exquisitely painted in the most revealing of colors. No girl will miss the symbolical display of bound and leashed male virility.
As I playfully dab, the caress of the soft wet brush causes further stiffness. I must congratulate Lenore on her choice. The lad is not only well hung but the chloroform has served to ameliorate all inhibitions. Willie seems most naturally subservient. All defensive male bravado has eroded to reveal a natural affinity toward subjugation.
He will be quite the hit.
A hand pats my head with exaggerated affection.
“Good boy,” the demanding voice suggests with soothing calmness.
I hear the rattle of chain and recognize the sound from my meeting with Miss Lenore. It’s my leash, which the woman proceeds to clip to my collar. I cannot see well in the mask but feel tension on my neck as she evidently hooks the free end to piping near the utility room’s washing machine. She leaves a modicum of slack.
“Lenore will be in shortly. I can already hear some of the guests arriving.”
Her words no longer echo in a fuzzy mind. The grogginess is gone and my cognizance sharpens as I feel a soft hand reach under my stomach and gently squeeze my penis.
For the first time I realize I am incredibly erect!
“Very nice, Willie.”
Her mocking tone of voice is irritating, and I cock my head up to see her open the utility room door and leave.
How could I agree to this? As I attempt to move about, the full awareness of my bonds becomes evident. My fingers and hands are useless. I can unfold neither arms nor legs. And though I kneel on all fours with folded forearms placing my hands at my shoulders, the position is strangely comfortable. My elbows rest on something which holds my shoulders and chest at the level of my hips.
I move to add slack to the leash. Right knee then left knee shuffle back...right elbow and left elbow follow. I am perched on something and look down to see hard rubber legs and paws propped under my bent elbows! The high collar inhibits head motion but I strain to lower my mask-covered chin toward my chest. I see similar legs and paws under my bent knees!
This is bizarre!
And I am most firmly erect.
How can I find this situation to be arousing?
As time passes, I experiment and find that movement is surprisingly possible... even easier than if I was crawling about on hands and knees. Without the restraining leash, I could most aptly get about.
Someone ingeniously calculated the length of these faux dog legs and painstakingly replicated paws to facilitate movement on all fours.
So despite the tightness of the latex enveloping thighs, calves, biceps and forearms, I have astonishing mobility...as long as I move about on four paws...as would a dog.
I expected to endure some degree of humiliation but mollified my apprehension with thoughts of a quick fifty dollars; more, counting the generous advance for shaving supplies, and the understanding that one afternoon...one spent in anonymity...was all that was required of me.
But I cannot seem to control my member. And I am most curious as to what the woman did with my balls. Though the fumes of the paint placed me in a fog, the application of wet softness and her giggling left an impression.
My thoughts quickly disperse as the utility room door swings open. It is Lenore. And her attire stuns. I wonder if the sound of my gulp can be heard.
Wow! Nancy is good. Before me is this little guy Willie completely painted in black and white to resemble a Dalmatian. And that woman from New York with the arm and leg restraints! I must visit her kennel some time.
Well, many guests have arrived and Chloe has returned from the nail parlor and been completely surprised by the back yard gathering. More are expected and in waiting I thought it best to check on our canine entertainment.
So here I stand in the expected attire of our little group....knee-high black leather boots, black thong, skintight bodice. And though Willie’s mask covers all facial expressions, it seems the brevity of my attire makes an impression. Or perhaps it’s the walking stick I hold in my hand.
“Hello, pup,” I graciously greet my leashed friend.
“I want to see the rest of you. Nancy does great work, wouldn’t you agree?”
I step to the washing machine and take the free end of the leash. If Willie realized how easy it is to incapacitate him when bound in latex he would be most concerned. Nancy merely flipped the leather-looped end of the chain once around the drainpipe. No locks, no knots, no clips. But for Willie, there are no fingers. Thus he will require the prehensile assistance of a woman for any freedom of movement this afternoon.
I tug firmly, establishing my authority. The sudden tension brings an abrupt gasp as the collar tightens. Willie is forced to right himself at the waist.
With knees perched on the faux paws and feet drawn up to his hips, he’s about as awkward as a real dog standing on hind legs. Thus my powerful hand grips the chain near his collar to steady him as I stand to his side to enjoy Nancy’s handiwork.
“Goodness. It appears our little doggie is in heat!”
I wish I could see his face as I comment on the massive erection. The Cialis has kicked in with the expected effect on the priapic teenaged male. The appendage is totally beyond his ability to control and I am happy to see he’s uncircumcised. It makes for such an enticing display; the moisture of the smegma causing the purple tip to glisten. And Nancy has comically painted his scrotum such an alluring pink.
I cannot help tapping at the aroused organ with my stick. The flat end is designed to produce a slapping sound, sometimes more of a message for the ears than for the pain receptors.
With my nearness and grip on the leash I feel Willie shudder when I touch his precious male parts. So wonderfully sensitive.
“Can you see your balls, Willie? Nancy has outdone herself. I’ll want you to concentrate on crawling about with those hind paws well parted. Your precious testicles are nicely highlighted for the guests and I’ll want them fully displayed.”
He begins to reply and I tap more firmly. He lurches when the stick nips his balls.
“Dogs don’t talk,” I am forced to remind him.
I release my grip and he lowers himself to all fours.
“Come. You should practice a bit before being presented.”
I tug. He of course follows the straining chain. It’s nice to demonstrate feminine power. I have a naked male on a leash. It’s going to be quite a party.
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