Bennett’s sense of time failed him. The colt remembered going into the basement with Ace’s father, Mr. Moore, where he then submitted to the leather hood and became a gimp. The ram then interrogated him, asking Bennet questions as if Bennett wasn’t there. In a way he wasn’t, the hood robbed him of identity and personhood. He knew he shouldn’t be referring to himself as Bennett right now as the hood was still on, but he had difficulties staying in the mindset. 


Primarily because he’d just spent hours locked in a cage by what he assumed was Mr. Moore’s bedside. After his baptizement, Mr. Moore set about training whatever he wished on the hooded colt. His gag was removed only to suckle the ram’s gloved fingers like a cock he’d seen in porn. Whenever teeth were felt, his master would reprimand him. “You are a tool for pleasure, not pain.” He’d say.


When the master’s other gimp returned from dishes, Mr. Moore had it hold Bennett so he could remove the anal hook. The young colt found its absence wanting. His master complied. Not with his cock, as much as Bennet wanted that, but with a thick plug that filled his ass just as well. He struggled to stand with it. Finding that unacceptable, Mr. Moore tied a rope around his younger gimp’s sack and pulled it taut. Bennett complied quickly, blindly following the ram up the stairs, into another room, and then the cage where he lay now. His master left him alone to ponder, returning much later exhausted and smelling of sex. Envy crawled up the colt’s spine but the ram ignored him and went to sleep. Those next hours of trying to sleep were when Bennett started referring to himself as himself again. 


Why hadn’t his master fucked him? He wondered. Why did the ram seem so keen to use his fingers rather than his cock? The colt had yet to see it, wondering what size it could be. It must have been big, too big for him to take. That made the gimp want it more. In his cage he spread his legs as wide as allowed, exposing his plugged rump to whomever would see. Not his master, he was too busy sleeping. So no one. Bennett huffed, struggling to sleep while horny and having no way to fix it. The cage woke him up several times, but with the blindfold, he found it uneventful. 


His master ignored him when he awoke, taking to a shower as the young gimp lay in the thin metal cage by the bed. After a short shower, the gimp was coaxed from his cage and led back down to the basement, further in than he expected from the sound of locks opening beyond the sliding door. 


“Open your mouth.” Bennett obeyed once his gag was removed, though he was confused as to why as the young colt still stood rather than kneeled. His master was taller, but not tall enough to fuck his mouth at standing height. Unfortunately for him, he tasted no cock but the minty freshness of toothpaste as his master swabbed it over his teeth. The gimp recoiled by instinct, earning a tighter hold by his master. 


“As a gimp, everything you are is no longer yours. You must earn the right to clean yourself, which means until you do I am the one to clean you.” The ram directed the gimp’s head and told him to spit. Bennett did so, repeating the process until his master was satisfied. “A hole for pleasure must be pleasing to look at.” He stated as he unlatched the gimp’s blindfold. 


Hours in darkness forced the colt to blink for adjustment. The room was new, though he was certain it was part of the basement by the concrete walls. There was a sink but no mirror, and a shower with a handheld showerhead and a handlebar but the walls around it were black, unable to reflect the light coming from the single blacklight bulb centered around the room. 


“When I took on the gimp I realized my house was not suitable for the lifestyle I wanted to pursue.” Mr. Moore explained, noticing his young slave’s question from the gaze alone. “I had much of the basement rebuilt and moved my storage and shop to the garage. Aside from sleeping quarters and a playroom, I installed a bathroom. It made no sense to have my gimp use mine like a person, and in the few times it needed out of the suit for maintenance then there would be too many reflective surfaces for it to see itself. The hardest part was the water.” He turned the faucet to explain, “I thought about finding a way to make water non-reflective, but everything I found didn’t make it drinkable. Then I figured it better to change the light itself. The shade is good enough to make it hard to see, but not impossible. A gimp should have no other reminder of their identity than the hood they wear.”


The young gimp thought for a moment about the older gimp still locked away in its trunk. How long had it gone without seeing its face? Ace said his father had the gimp for a few months, but it must have been longer given the construction. None of it terrified the colt, it only intrigued him. 


From a cabinet, his master pulled out a catheter, a urine drainage bag, and a small bottle with a pointed tubelike head. He then directed the gimp over to a drain in the far corner of the room. There he pushed the catheter in, easy to do with the sound in place, and then made him turn. “Even on a steady diet of slave shakes I need to do an enema every now and then to keep your backdoor clean. Since this is your first time,” he pulled the plug out with a soft twisting tug, leaving the gimp waiting for the tube stopper, “I ask you to hold it in until I return. I just need to grab the other gimp for morning maintenance.”


Liquid surged into the gimp’s ass and up his lower intestine. He clenched, feeling it swish and swather inside his body. Fists balled as he pulled into his restraints, his legs pumping as if needing to pee. He did, and the catheter would avoid a mess but he feared making both if letting one go. True to his word, the ram returned with the other gimp in hand and gave the young gimp permission to let loose. By the end, he swore he dropped in weight and was thankful to be filled by a plug yet again. His urine was stored in a bag that Mr. Moore held at his side while emptying his own snake into his gimp’s mouth before it brushed its teeth. 


Breakfast came with a slave shake for each. Knowing what was in them, Bennett cringe at the sight of the other gimp downing it as Mr. Moore held it up his gimp’s maw. His mouth wavered at his turn, even with the gag off and his eyes closed. It tasted bland in the worst way, the kind that made one wish to hurl if they could. It took the combined efforts of Mr. Moore and the gimp of holding Bennett’s nose and massaging his throat to get him to swallow. “Eventually you will get used to these. Though your personal ones will have some different sources of the special ingredients.” 


After breakfast, there wasn’t much else. Blindfolded, Bennett was led back upstairs and made to kneel by what he assumed was Mr. Moore’s living room chair on account of the TV turning on. Boring morning news stuff that he couldn’t care about at all, but his master was engrossed by it. Or as engrossed an adult could be with keeping up to date. When the ram got up he told the colt to stay, returning with a drink before changing to something else. Something boring. Bennett leaned at the chair’s side, imagining the ram’s cock waiting for him. Why be bored and watch the news when a literal fuckhole was kneeling beside him? It didn’t make sense.


Occasionally Mr. Moore would get up and lead the young gimp along. A myriad of sounds played throughout the day. The typing of keys on a computer, the ambient noise of television, the leather squeaks, and lustful grunts from a cracked basement door when Mr. Moore latched Bennett upstairs to it. One phone call in particular made Bennett want to bash his brains out when Mr. Moore talked about the process of his garden, citing how his secret fertilizer has been helping his tiny crops grow exceptionally. 


It was in the leatherworking garage where Mr. Moore finally addressed Bennett. “I have no doubt that you are bored. A young mind needs to flourish after all. But being a gimp, being an object, does not always mean hot, demeaning, and restrictive sex. You are to be useful or stowed away. Because this is just a taste I am letting you stay by my side despite your slouching and impulsive jittering. How else are you to get a taste of what life is like outside of sex?”


He wanted to know what the sex life was like as well, but the young colt held his tongue. Even with the gag impeding his words he feared any grunt of discomfort would displease his master and end the experience early. He very much wanted it to continue with small hopes that eventually he would taste the ram’s cock on his tongue. To be used like that was a dream. A recent dream, but a dream nonetheless. 


So he nodded instead, keeping his head arched low despite the blindfold. Mr. Moore had him raise his head for a tape measure wrapped around his neck, then said nothing and returned to work. The only communication between them for the rest of the night was commands and the young gimp’s ability to follow them. What intimate moments he’d been given were split between latex-covered fingers pushing into his throat to suppress his gag reflex, probing his asshole, and the tender strikes of his master’s flogger when the young gimp got too greedy at the sound of the ram enjoying the older gimp. 


He was property. Something to be trained and prepared for his master’s pleasure. But his master already had a pair of holes with which to pleasure himself. By Saturday’s end, Bennett realized that Mr. Moore may have been his master, and it may have been temporary, it was not what he seemed it to be. When he guessed what, his heart seized as the evening fell upon him, locked inside the tiny cage.




***




“Thanks for the ride, Anne.” Ace tried to pick up his pack from the backseat of the car. His mother’s girlfriend smiled as he tried to reach for it, giving him enough chances before she yanked it to the front herself. 


“Glad we’re on a first-name basis now,” the cow woman said. Ace looked at the way her nose ring bounced when she moved and wondered for a moment how it’d look on someone else. 


“Of course. You make my mom happy. Like how my dad used to.” He wasn’t completely blind to the things they did with one another. Truth be told, he used to wish they’d get back together and show him the ropes. But some relationships didn’t work out in the long term. Fortunately, they still cared for each other enough that these weekend trips weren’t a hassle. Besides, Anne let him help with the fun parts rather than only having him do the boring maintenance. 


Ace patted the trunk of Anne’s car before waving off. A gagged, if happy, mumble echoed from underneath it. Back inside Ace found a note waiting for him from his father explaining he wasn’t to be disturbed from the basement until he went up to make dinner. The sheep-boy looked at the clock and rolled his eyes. He’d have hours to himself, possibly the entire day if his dad was too engrossed. 


It just as well, he could spend it on Boxworld. Entering his room and flicking on the light Ace noticed a figure standing in the room. No, standing wasn’t the right word for it, that implied it was entirely of its own power. The figure, taller than him but shorter than his father, was situated in a one-bar prison. A tight leather harness emphasized pectorals that were on their way to matching a stud’s dream. The leather cuffs at its ankles led Ace to believe another match was locking the figure’s arms behind its back. Steady breaths stretched the leather as a line of drool seeped out of a thick black rubber ballgag, matching the blindfold attached hood covering the golden-tanned furred colt’s face. 


It didn’t move despite his entrance, breaking character with just an ear flick for a half-second. Ace smiled upon seeing the sticky note slapped over the gimp’s hood. He swiped it with nonchalance, reading it in silence as he put his bags away. Another message from his father, claiming that the gimp waiting for him is a gift to him, sullied only by his father’s hands to test the depths of orifices. On his desk, he just noticed several tools from the dungeon. A paddle, a flogger, a sounding kit, and more. They were all too advanced for him, he knew that. His father did too, but he knew how eager Ace was to use them. On this gimp, he would hold off. It deserved that. Only that.


To begin he just watched and listened. Every chain jostle, gagged breath, and shiver was delightful to him. The sheep added shudders to it with a finger tracing along the exposed fur. No latex, a pity, but his father likely had his reasons. The balls were heavier than expected. A few days of denial would do that for someone like Bennett. Ace shook his head and squeezed, his body tingling at the gimp’s hushed cry. Bennett was his best friend. This gimp before him wasn’t Bennett despite their body and builds being identical. It was a gimp, a toy, plain and simple. 


“What does my father have you refer to him as?” Ace asked, pulling the gag off to let it hang around the colt’s neck. The gimp stretched their mouth first, then stifled a breath as if catching a mistake. 


“Master or sir.”


“From now on, you refer to him as sir. I am your only master. Is that clear?”


The gimp nodded. “Yes, master.”


“Good. Now let’s get you off that prison and on your knees.” It took him some effort to get the gimp off. Ace had to wrap his arms around the colt’s chest to keep it steady while undoing the bar with a button. Once that was settled the gimp rested on its knees, head down like the one his father owned. 


Ace couldn’t help but feel giddy at what this meant for him. Absconding with his clothes, the young sheep boy clasped his hardening cock with one hand, peeling back the foreskin to let his head pop out. Anne mentioned he was big for his age, suggesting he’d probably grow bigger than his dad according to what his mother told her. It was still nothing to his best friend, but a chastity cage made that comparison redundant. 


He held it before the gimp’s snout, letting it take in the scent with every breath. The colt’s body twitched, leather straining at the cuffs holding its arms back. It wanted it, that much was clear. Ace wanted it too, but he needed to be sure of something else. Something his father and Anne made sure to train in their partners; discipline. 


Satisfied with the gimp’s restraint, Ace issued what felt like his first real order as a master. “Suck it.” The gimp's lips parted for the cockhead, greedily taking the warm cock into its maw. It huffed through its nose with each inch down the shaft, tongue slathering it as it made its way to the Ace’s base. The young sheep shuddered, taking hold of the gimp’s hooded head with both hands for balance. It wasn’t his first time in another’s mouth, but in those cases, the maw was held open by a gag that had him thrusting in. He gave the gimp free reign to do what it wanted, and Ace couldn’t hold himself together as he came quickly. The gimp didn’t pull away. It slurped his seed without question until Ace stopped shooting, leaving a thick strand of saliva between his cock and its mouth when he pulled away. 


“Sor–” Ace stopped himself from apologizing. He shouldn’t need to with a gimp. It wasn’t a person despite who it was underneath the hood. It could not grow used to the expectation of disappointment or apologies from its master. It was a toy, meant to satisfy. He shoved the gag back in and pulled the gimp by its straps. “Up, on the bed,” he ordered, pushing the boundage-covered young colt to his bed. “Ass up. Now!” He decreed, spanking the colt’s backside to speed it along. 


“This ass reminds me of someone I know,” Ace spread the gimp’s cheeks, revealing a waiting hole trained by fingers. The gag stirred in confusion, waiting for an answer that Ace happily gave. “I have this friend, Bennett. My best friend really, or at least that’s how it is now. When we were really little we’d race a lot. I let him win all the time because I liked seeing his butt. Now he’s faster than me, but I still get to see his butt. Who’s the real winner? The one crossing the finish line, or the one seeing what they want?”


Hearing its name didn’t seem to terrify the gimp. If anything it made its ass more inviting for Ace, who lined up his cock against the waiting hole and pushed. His father’s note stated only his fingers sullied this entrance, but from how he slipped in he figured something more was used. 


His first ass. Neither his father nor Anne let him use anything beyond a mouth. It was tighter than a mouth, the lack of tongue most noticeable. Yet that pressure urged him on, to cover his entire cock in the warm embrace. He started slow, more for his benefit than the gimp but its heavy breaths implied that it was enjoying the sensation. Of course, it would, Ace sneered. He was helping it fulfill its sole purpose. 


“Everyone thinks Bennett will grow up to be a stud. He’s an athlete, a young olympian in the making. They couldn’t imagine him being someone’s bitch, taking dick up the ass, could they?” Ace slapped the gimp’s ass with his next thrust, eliciting a gagged squeal. “Well, don’t worry, Bennett. No one else will know. I’ve always hated sharing.”


The hooded colt named Bennett did not cringe at its name. It welcomed its master’s speeding and heavy thrusts, bucking its head back at the onslaught of pleasure and humiliation. When Ace filled the hole he cleaned his cock off before shoving it back into the gimp’s maw, facefucking him until satisfied to take the ass again. The locked cock bounced uselessly, earning little more than a tap from Ace when swapping positions. Eventually, the cuffs were unlocked. The gimp offered itself for new restraints, but Ace was more interested in fucking without them. The gimp obliged, but earned a flogging for trying to suggest something before its master. 


Sunbeams lowered in the shades as the day went through its course. His room stank with sweat and sex. Ace’s chest heaved as he lay on his back. The gimp lay beside him, panting for air without its gag impairing it. 


“I wonder…I wonder how…” he huffed, clapping his lips and realizing how dry they were. “I wonder how we can do more of this. I mean, you can’t stay here. Your parents would freak.” 


The gimp said nothing, instead curling into its master until the sheep wrapped his arm around it. He thought about removing the hood to bring Bennett back if only to talk, but he liked how it looked too much. He’d not even removed the blindfold. 


“I see you both have enjoyed yourselves.” Glenn, Ace’s father, said from the doorway. Ace got up to see his dad leaning in the frame, smiling but having his hand before his nose as if to dismiss the smell. “Dinner will be ready in ten. Remove the gear and have Bennett use your shower.”


Bennett didn’t say much once the gear was removed. He looked disappointed by it. The last item left on him was the chastity cage, of which Ace had no key. The ram boy considered sharing the shower with Bennett but decided against it. He needed time to decompress, especially after two days as a gimp. He knew his father had something planned when he asked Ace to invite his best friend for a sleepover on the weekend visiting his mother and Anne, but even he was surprised by how well Bennett took to it. 


His father’s gimp was cooking dinner for them. Steaks, pan seared. His father owned a grill but wasn’t ready to have neighbors complain until he had higher fences to shut out peepers. Ace and Bennett sat next to each other, still having not uttered more than a sentence. Ace wondered if he went too far, that he was too eager to enjoy the open holes offered. Bennett couldn’t look him in the eye and kept trying to curl a finger through a mane long since buzzed off. 


“I talked with Bennett’s parents today over the phone,” His father said, “I explained their son’s fascination and our lifestyle. They were hesitant at first, but when I explained who would be taking the reins they eased. Apparently, I’m the only one who hadn’t noticed how close you both were.” 


The two boys exchanged glances, blushed, and looked away. 


“However, they argued Bennett is too young to do this full time. Too young to make that choice. I agreed, but knowing Bennett would want it we made an arrangement. From now on, every Saturday morning to Monday morning you are to come here to be trained as my son’s gimp. I will supervise most of the training, but give you both enough personal time to do as you please. This is, of course, if you have finished with your homework on the weekend. If you accept this, the collar I measured will be ready by your return. If not,” He shrugged, “Well, I hope we can forget this entire weekend.”


Bennett spoke up before Ace could think of anything. “Will I get let out of this cage during the week?” He asked. 


Mr. Moore smiled and slid his son a pair of small keys. “That’s something to take up with your master. As with anything you both do outside of this house.”


Ace held the keys in his hand. There was a rush of power within him, but also a wave of uncertainty. He looked to Bennett for clarity, finding the young colt blushing and biting his lips. The sheep smiled, “I’m sure we can work something out, buddy.”


Bennett bowed his head with a subtle smile. The gimp offered the steaks. They were all too pink for their liking, much to Mr. Moore’s dismay.