The Attendant

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of gay male sexual content.

In a world where gay men have been stripped away of their basic human rights through the "Attendant" status, Peter becomes a slave in his own household. Soon, his step-father and younger brother learn to take their roles of "Masters" very seriously.

This is a dark, authoritarian, dystopian fiction. It includes numerous elements of non-consensual BDSM, dom/sub practises and sex, including slavery, and rape, as well as incestuous relationships. The story does not, in any way, reflect the views or political opinions of the author.

If you know me through the "My First Year in College" story, this one will be very different both in tone and subject matter. You have been warned!

All characters are above 18 years old.

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The Attendant.

Chapter 03: The adjustment.

After 17 days of torment, finally, I had been authorized to leave the Attendance Formation Centre and go back home to my step-dad and my brother.

I knew that this evolution would be very difficult too: I would not be authorized to work, to have a girlfriend, to have a life of my own. I would be forced to stay inside the house most of the time and could only go out merely naked, with a stupid grey apron on. But at least, I would be out of this hell of a training Centre surrounded by sadistic guards. Most importantly, I could be with my dad and brother again.

In my position, this was the best outcome I could hope for.

The atrocious new system could not realistically be in place for very long and surely, the Attendant status would crumble soon. Until then, I just needed to keep my head down.

I had already planned to tell my father all about the barbaric things which happened since I had been taken away, to me, but mostly to others, the ones who had been castrated, beaten, electrocuted, shot, or taken who knows where.

I got out of the van in my grey apron, my step-father came out on the doorstep. He was suited up and was wearing his military insignia on his broad shoulders. I had to fight back my tears, seeing him again.

I almost ran to hug him but something in me stopped me from doing so. I was supposed to be his Attendant now, not his son. I knew that Captain Philips, the vile guard who brought me here, would be quick to escort me somewhere else, in a way less favourable home, if I misbehaved.

I almost said "dad" but I corrected myself.

"Owner", I said, kneeling down in front of my step-father. For a split second, that seemed to be a shock to him as well.

"Attendant" He nodded. "Welcome to the household you will serve for now on."

"Thank you, Owner", I said, continuing the comedy.

My step-dad went to discuss with Captain Philips and the chauffer while I remained on my knees on the ground, before our door step. I noticed my brother peeping out from the window. He seemed very concerned at first, then, his gaze moved slightly below my face and chest. I realized that in this position, my dick was slipping out of the apron, I readjusted it. I looked back at the window but my 18 years old brother was no longer to be seen.

My step-father talked for a few minutes with my tormentor. I could not hear them but to my despair, I heard them laughing together at several occasions.

After they had vigorously shaken hands, my step-father walked towards me and said in a firm and cold tone:

"Attendant, you may enter the house now."

I stood up and went to reach for the doorknob but then my step-father barked, relentless:

"No need to get up!"

I was stunt. I had gotten used to the guards talking to me like this, but hearing this from my own dad, that was something else. It was embarrassing enough to be in that stupid apron in my front lawn where my neighbours could see me - they sure were watching, probably fascinated to see the Clarck's eldest son returning as one of those "Attendants" everyone was talking about, - but being publicly corrected by my father, prohibited to get up. That hit something deep in me.

I obliged though. Captain Philips was watching the whole scene, laid back against the hood of the van. I reached for the doorknob on all fours and then painfully entered the house.

My dad followed.

"Thank you again for your service Gentlemen." He said to the chauffeur and Captain Phillips. Yes, thank them for abusing and torturing your own son, that's right, I thought.

Then, he shut the door.

I was still shaken up by what had just happened when my brother came to the entrance, he was hesitant at first but after a few seconds, he ran to hug me. He got on his knees too so he could take me in his arms. It was the first amicable, friendly, lovely touch I had felt in weeks and I immediately started crying, not even bothered that my brother was touching my naked body. I smelt him... Family!

"Peter... Oh God..." He murmured, looking at me, at my apron, touching my body.

"Cut it off both of you!" uttered my dad. Again, with this tone, so aggressive, so cold.

"Dad...." I said, looking at him, puzzled. I had just come back from hell; he could not be so harsh with me.

"Martin, back off, go to the living room! Do you want us all to get arrested?"

"But dad, look at Peter!" Protested my brother.

"Shut up Martin, their car has not even passed the driveway yet!"

This concern was reassuring in a way. My father only wanted to keep up the appearances. He knew -- and I knew as well -- that any misconduct might drive me, and maybe them too, straight to prison, or worse.

"Go Martin. Dad is right." I told my younger brother.

Both of them went to talk in the living room, I could only catch part of what they were saying while I was waiting, still on my knees, in the entrance. My dad seemed furious.

"We talked about this Martin! (...) He's been here for less than a minute and you already forget everything we spoke about (...) Nobody is happy with that (...) We must do what is expected of us (...) You heard General Thompson last week..."

Finally, they both came back, my brother standing a foot behind my dad, frightened to look at me.

"Dad, this was insane back there, I..."

He cut me off again:

"Peter, we need to talk."

"Yes, we do."

"Please, come to the living room."

Just a "please" was all I had wanted for the past couple of weeks. Someone talking to me as if I was not a piece of garbage. It was still a command though, but it was polite, as if I was authorized to say no. Was I? I wondered.

I finally stood up, made it to the living room and I hesitantly sat down on one of the armchairs while my dad and brother sat on the couch. At the Centre, we learnt that we would not be authorized to sit on the sofas or other comfortable sittings. Most likely, we would stand, be on our knees, or sit on the floor beside our Owner.

"This is going to be an adjustment." Explained my father, but this time, it was my turn to cut him off. Did he not realize the extent of what I had endured?

"An adjustment? Dad! This is... The things they do, the things they say! It's not an adjustment, it's inhumane!"

My step father put his head on his hands and sighed heavily.

"Peter... This is the World we're living in. You thought you could do what you did, in my own house, and it would come without consequences?"

I looked at my brother, almost wanting him to confess that he was the one watching gay porn. This was so unfair! Then I corrected my own thought: him or me, the whole thing was unjustified and wrong anyway.

"So, you agree with them? With what they do?"

"What I think does not matter."

"It does! For me, it does! This Attendant Code, this bullshit, you think it's right?"

"Fuck Pete! Don't even think of lecturing me on the Attendant Code or on your condition!" My dad was fuming now. "If you still have rights, if you are still alive, if you still have a roof above your head, it's only thanks to me! I was the one pushing for article 4 you know? The Attendant should be considered as a being. That was me! I was the one pushing to avoid cruelty! And I was the one putting my own reputation, my own life on the line, to welcome you back in my home! You have no idea of what I had to sacrifice to get you back here!"

I remained silent. I had never seen him that angry. He continued:

"You know Pete, some have it worse than you! Way worse!"

"Don't you think I know that dad? I saw them shoot someone, right before my eyes! They beat us!"

My voice broke as Martin intervened:

"Guys, please don't fight..."

"Fine Peter, if you saw the atrocities that they were capable of in the formation Centre, I assume that I don't have to explain to you the risks we are taking?"

"No... You don't." I replied, looking at my dirty bare feet.

"As I was saying, this is going to be an adjustment. But we have to make it work, if we don't, your condition will get far worse than it is, you might be sent to Prison, to clean chemical waste, or maybe worse than that, to another household where I can promise you, you would not get the chance to argue about your status. I could get condemned too, making sure that my Attendant follows the Attendant Code is my responsibility as Owner. Just letting you speak to me that way could get me sent to prison!"

I had not really considered that.

Since my expeditive trial, all I thought about was to come back home, but that was not that simple. By being in anyway cordiale to me, my father and my brother were actually breaking the law. How sick was that.

"You mean you want us to follow the Attendant Code?" I said after a while, with great fear in my voice.

"No, of course not. As far as I am concerned, you are still my son."

The relief was immense but short lived.

"However, we are under great surveillance. Not everyone is too happy that the man responsible for the laxest regulations -- I am already considered as an ally for the homosexuals by my peers -- has been authorized to welcome his own fag son back to his home. They will try to get us! The guard who brought you here just invited himself home for dinner tomorrow night."

I felt a lump in my throat. The twisted Captain Philips.

"Ok then, we will have to act the part in public, as we did when I arrived." I was already sort of expecting that but actually suggesting it was still difficult.

"Act the part and more than that! Martin, I'm talking to you too. We cannot slip up, not once. We must always be prepared, anticipate everything. Someone could come to the house right now and if we were caught having this discussion, that would be it, we would all be done! For starters, we should accustom ourselves to use the appropriate denominations to address one another or we will, for sure, slip up."

"I shall call you Owner then?" I asked my step-father, not wanting to believe it.

"And you should call your brother Sir."

"Dad, are you sure? Are you sure we have too?" Asked Martin. He was more collected now. The initial shock had passed.

"For fuck's sake! Can you both be a bit more mature? Yes, I am sure Martin."

In this discourse, I did not sense much consideration from my dad regarding what I had personally gone through. Neither that I felt consideration for the fact that if we were to act those sick parts, my own role would be far worse than his. But ultimately, my step father was right and we were all smart enough to know that.

"I think we should do it, Sir." I bluntly said to my little brother.

He nodded but did not say a word.

"Let me show you your room Attendant, well the room I will let you sleep in."

Article 5 of the Code: The Attendant cannot own or possess anything.

My dad could only let me occupy a room but this would no longer be "my own room". One important lesson we learnt back in the Centre is to forget about the word: "my". When you do not own or have anything, there is no longer any sense in using "my" or "mine". When a fellow Attendant at the Centre objected that there were still occasions which could come up, such as "I hurt my leg", the military instructor responded: "Your leg belongs to your Owner idiot" and tased him for good measures.

"Thank you, Owner." I replied to my father while climbing up the stairs.

We went upstairs and I entered the room which had once been my bedroom. It was now entirely empty except for a mattress on the floor and a wooden desk (without a chair) on which the Attendant Code was placed.

"Now Peter, err, sorry, Attendant. I think the most crucial time will be the first few weeks. We will have a lot of eyes onto us and we will need to be extremely cautious. I took Captain Philips suggestion and I think I will invite more people at dinner tomorrow. The more people we can convinced from the start, the easier it will get on the long run. So, until tomorrow night, I think we should all practice, act as if we were fully implementing the rules of the Attendant Code. Commander Hudson told me you were one of the best applicants during training."

Finally, he was showing some sort of recognition. I felt weirdly proud of myself.

"I did my best to make sure I could come back here... Owner."

My dad smiled faintly. I tried to smile as well but I physically could not do it.

"It's lunch time, I think you should start your chores by preparing us a meal Attendant."

"Of course, Owner. May I take a shower first?" I dared asking.

My brother seemed still very unsettled by the way My father and I were adressing each other. I had been in the Centre for the past 17 days and my dad was visibly very aware of the Attendant condition, consequently, for us, the roles we should be playing were pretty clear but it was all new for Martin.

"I'll allow it Attendant. But do not permit yourself such request when we are not alone. As a general rule, do not permit yourself any request at all when we are not alone. And Martin, know that our orders to the Attendant should be way more... let's say, direct and firm, when we are in public. To the eyes of the law, the Attendant is no longer my son and no longer your brother, it is merely our servant."

My brother gasped. Maybe because of the use of the "it" pronoun. I got somewhat accustomed to it in the Centre.

"Martin, you should give the Attendant an order so you can practice."

"I... I don't know what to ask him, I mean, to ask it."

"Let's start easy. Tell it to go get a shower."

Martin looked at me. At least, he seemed to hate this as much as I did. All I wanted to do was screaming. All I wanted to do was to shake my dad's head and remind him that I was still the same Peter, the one he was sharing family times with, just three weeks prior.

Instead, I said to my younger brother:

"Go ahead Sir. Give me your command."

"Attendant, go take a shower, now." This felt so wrong.

"Of course, Sir". I replied politely.

I thought I could never get used to that. Sadly, I would.

I went to the bathroom but before I entered, I asked: "Dad... uh... sorry, Owner, what should I wear after shower?" I could not wait to get out of this awful apron and finally to wear clothes again.

"General Thompson told me his Attendant is always in the nude at home so it does not get any wrong idea about owning anything. I think we should do the same, especially tomorrow night when the guests will be here..."

"But dad..."

"Attendant!" My father hissed, impatient.

"But Owner, I... I thought I would be allowed to wear normal clothes around the house. This is authorized in the Code!"

My father sighed again. He looked at my brother, nodded at him.

Martin looked at me and spoke:

"Attendant, you are now forbidden to wear any clothes around the house."

From all the abuse I had encountered in the past weeks, this sentence, pronounced by my little brother, whom I was protecting all of this time, was the worst of all. I was so disturbed; I felt paralyzed.

My father probably noticed the look on my face.

"Attendant, this is only so we get used to it before the dinner tomorrow, we will reconsider afterwards."

In the corridor, between what used to be my bedroom and the bathroom, I took my apron off in front of my dad and my brother. They had never seen me entirely naked; we would always have at least our boxers or a towel on around the house. They both seemed shock. This was what I wanted, for them to realize what they were making me do.

My brother's eyes were glued to my flaccid penis, hanging between my legs. And I was the gay one? How could my step father not see that?

"No chastity cage". My father noted casually. He bit his lips. I did not respond.

I turned around and made my way into the bathroom.

"Attendant, do not close the door. Same goes with the bedroom. This is a common rule among Attendants, they do not have any personal space."

I was aware of that; it was the subject of one of the lessons at the Centre.

"Of course, Owner."

I should have felt better than the day before. I was back in my house, I was in my bathroom, I did not risk to be beaten up by a guard. Although, what had just happened, the reality of my condition, even in my home which was no longer "my own", it hit me badly. I was more unsettled than I could explain, being forced to call my brother Sir and to obey at his every command.

I remained in the shower a long time, trying to wash myself from my shame and my indignity. I had not had a warm shower in weeks, at least, resting under the hot water felt good.

When I opened my eyes, I saw my brother looking at me from the doorframe. How long had he been there?

"Dad was worried... I mean, your Owner asked me to check if you were ok?"

Again, Martin had troubles keeping his eyes above my dick.

I turned off the water.

"I am ok. Sir." I insisted on the "Sir", adding some defiance in my tone. This was not on purpose; I just could not help myself.

"Dad is not here; we can cut the bullcrap." My brother said, releasing myself from a heavy weight. I smiled at him.

"Thanks, little bro... But...." I stepped out of the shower; it was so weird being naked while he was dressed. "Dad... I mean Owner, is right you know. They are ruthless. The tiny reason we would give them, I would be sent away..."

"Those bastards. It was so scary when you were gone. Dad was never home; I really do think he moved mountains to get you here. He seemed under so much stress. I was afraid I would sever see you again."

"I know Martin."

"Did they do that to you?" He pointed out to a few bruises I had on my lower abs, maybe that's where he was looking at, all this time.

"Yeah... But I'm here now. I'm safe. We just need to be careful."

"Yes, we will. We have to."

"Look, we keep the charade going, at least for the next few days and then we will take the time to really talk about it and figure this shit out. We just need to get those inspectors out of our backs first."

"I guess..."

"Sir, may I use a towel to dry myself?"

"Of course! I mean... Yes, Attendant, you can use a towel." He looked gloomy at me.

"Thank you, Sir."

"I will wait for you downstairs."

Feeling very weird wandering around the house naked, I went to the kitchen. My brother had relaxed a bit but my dad seemed very tense, still.

"Attendant. We have been waiting for 30 minutes. I should have never allowed you that shower in the first place. If only I knew you would act so spoiled!"

Again, that hurt. I thought to myself, this is only an act, you just have to play your part.

"I sincerely apologize Owner. I wanted to be presentable for my first day at your service."

Did he note the hint of irony? I was not sure.

"Ok then, Attendant, go ahead, cook us something to eat."

He went to sit at the dining table with my brother. I burnt my dick while cooking a steak. Shit, I would have to get used to cook in the nude.

I brought their hot meals to my father and brother and asked if I could eat my own lunch, I had prepared an extra steak for me but had not touched it yet. My father authorized me to eat back in the kitchen while the two of them ate together.