Pet Shop Part 1

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

I glided into work 10 minutes early, feeling calm and relaxed. It was Friday, I was only scheduled for one shift, and I had a beautiful girl with a big bottle of wine waiting for me at home. Nothing could ruin a day like this one. I winked at my favorite boy on my way past the cages to the back room. He caught my eye and smiled back, the little minx.

I adjusted my visor and name tag in the undersized and overcrowded break room. It’s important to look nice; pride in your appearance gives you pride in your life. Everyone knows that, or should, anyway. And my appearance was superb, per usual. I was exactly the sort of girl I would want to talk to at a pet shop: cute, friendly, and inviting. I pulled my straight, brown hair back into a tight ponytail that gave my hair a lustrous sheen under the florescent lights. I had absolutely nailed my makeup before class, like 10/10, and barely had to touch up my cheeks and eyeliner. I used my favorite blush with a slight glitter effect. I wore the new shirt that management had finally ordered for me, one that fit nicely and showed off my chest, which I had arranged perfectly, thanks to the only good bra in the world. It didn’t pinch or squeeze and it didn’t look like a frumpy old-lady bra either. Of course, no one could see it, but they can see the confidence a good bra gives you. The old lady at the department store a few shops down told me that. She also told me to do little favors for my girlfriend, just to keep her happy and interested. It was that advice that led me to wear my cutest, lacy, pink panties underneath my drab work khakis. When I turned around, I could just barely see the outline around my butt. No doubt Danielle would be happily removing them with her teeth later. What a way to start the weekend!

But first there was the shift. I fastened my name tag to my chest, careful not to poke my bra with the pin. The name tag wasn’t a shitty type-and-tape job, mind you, this was a full-color, custom designed, engraved name tag, with my name, Tori (dotted with an heart), in cool blue on a white background. It was truly a name tag befitting the youngest assistant manager of a BoyWorks location. Everything in the store, or nearly everything, was white or chrome. It was all very futuristic and modern, and very, very now. Girls were jealous when I first got the job, more so when I told them about the benefits, and doubly so when I was promoted. BoyWorks had truly revolutionized the industry of boykeeping almost overnight with their apps. At the same time, they pushed out all the smaller boy shops with their more traditional services. The result was a staggeringly popular new brand. It seemed like boys had gone from being an antiquated and dying oddity to the hippest accessory almost overnight. And I was right here, on the front lines of the boy revolution. What a time to be alive!

I grabbed my tablet and headed out to the front line. People streamed through our open doors—the most eye-catching in the entire Southern Cherry Hills Mall. The iconic gear logo in white, backlit with cool blue, could stop people in their tracks. When we first opened, the line stretched past the pretzel shop, almost to the sunglasses kiosk. I walked past the rows of boys, past the app demo table, almost to the front doors when I spotted Margot. Margot was a sales associate, and as such worked for me. That said, she was a few years older than me and orders of magnitude cooler. She found clever ways to express herself with her hair, her nails, and she rolled up the sleeves of her work shirt over her shoulders. It was truly cool. But she had already made it her “thing,” so it couldn’t be my thing too.

She caught me staring. I played it cool and waltzed up to the front of the store, whistling. Not whistling, actually, but more like tuneless hissing. She totally noticed. How embarrassing.

I checked the docket and there were two appointments, but first I had some time to help an older woman wandering around the cages. “Ma’am, have you been helped?” I asked her.

“I’m just looking at the moment. Are all of these boys trained?” she asked.

I nodded. “They’ve been through the BoyWorks patented training system, a six-week intensive program at our headquarters in Gursy, hailed as the most humane program in the industry by the Commerce Division’s survey last year. It’s humane, but it’s rigorous too. You see, they use the BoyWorks patented chastity enforcers to help in the training. You can see them hanging from each boy’s boy parts, see?”

The woman peered into a cage. Her wide, oval glasses slipped down her wrinkled nose as she leaned in. Her hair was gathered in a tight bun held together with hair clips. Classic old lady style. She clutched her giant clutch over her belly roll and fiddled with the clasps. “I see that.”

“It’s the absolute latest in boy-rearing technology. Have you ever heard of a shock collar?”

The woman gasped and covered her chest with a long-nailed hand. “I’ve heard horror stories.”

I laughed instinctually, nervously. “I have heard that there were issues with the technology in the early days. But I can honestly tell you, in the three years I have been working here, I have never seen a serious malfunction of a device. Not only is the technology totally safe, it is proven effective in training centers around the country. And the best part is how easy it is. Come here,” I said, leading her to the demo station. Her fingers groped the clasps of her bag ever more urgently. She had sale written all over her face.

“This is the BoyWorks app. You just register the device with the app and voila, total control. Let me show you. Here we have the whole wall of boys. Which one do you want to play with?”

The woman was bashful, but decisive. “Maybe that one on the right, top row, third from the right.” It was my favorite one. He had a cute face that almost reminded me of my brother. His eyes pleaded no, but he being merchandise and me being a saleswoman, there wasn’t much to be done.

“Alright, I just hit his number and his information comes up. Now on the right you can see all the relevant stats: heart rate, temperature, perspiration and days since last release. From these inputs, the program is able to tell what mood he’s in or if he’s lying. See, it’s telling us that he’s nervous right now. How cute! I bet he’s in love with you already.”

The woman blushed.

“Down at the bottom you can see all the actions we can take. So let’s say he’s been a good boy, and he no doubt will be a very good boy for you. I mean look at the guy. So, let’s give him a little love. If I turn this up to 5, it will gently stimulate his pleasure centers through his prostate. It gives him a warm, fuzzy sensation. They compare it to a warm bath or how a dog feels being pet. See, he’s smiling. Isn’t that nice?

“Of course, there’s going to be certain reasons why you must discipline him. In the BoyWorks booklet that you receive free with your purchase, it suggests that at least once a week he receive some form of punishment simply to keep him focused and alert. So let’s say he didn’t fetch you something quick enough or didn’t come when you call. You could give him a little light shock. Let’s do a 2.”

The boy let out a little scream, barely loud enough to interest his neighbors.

“Trust me, if he’s sleeping, 2 is enough to wake him up. Isn’t that right, licker?”

“Yup, yup,” the boy yelped, loud as he could.

“You see, he gave the correct response. But let’s pretend like he hadn’t. Then we maybe turn the shock up to a 5. Do you want to press the button this time?”

The old woman babbled bashfully, “I couldn’t really,” she explained, “I only won this contest you see. I’m not the sort who would ordinarily be boy shopping. I’m an all-woman woman myself. Keeping boys is really a young persons’ thing.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” I agreed, “the culture has changed a lot. But let me ask you this, have you ever sat down to read and realized your glasses are across the room? Did you ever want something nice to eat but don’t have the inclination to make it? This boy is trained to do all of that. Now give him a little gittyup.”

She reached forward with a cautious hand and gave the screen a light touch. The effect was instant. The boy howled and grabbed for his crotch. He would have grabbed it too except that he had exhibited that sort of behavior in the past so we had shackled his hands to the front and his feet to the back of his cage. He let out a long series of whimpers.

“Do you think that would get the point across?” I asked her.

“Um… oh yes, that would work. That’s only a 5?”

“Only a 5.”

“My goodness. I can’t imagine. What a threat.” Was she smiling? Everyone knows that true Homos have no sympathy for boys. Could she have been telling the truth instead of just being bashful?

“BoyWorks really tries to provide every option available to the boyowner. We don’t want to limit any interaction because we know that each relationship is special. We only hope that each owner takes their responsibility seriously and treats their boy well. It’s very important to us.”

“Oh yes, of course,” she agreed. “It’s so sad to see boys mistreated.”

“Absolutely. I would never do that because I love boys. Ever since I was a little girl I would come look at the boys in the shop windows. I’ve always wanted my own, but, you know, these are something of a luxury item.”

“Oh of course. I only won a competition so I thought I might try it out.”

“Well how about this,” I offered, “Why don’t you loan one for a week, and then you can make up your mind if you want to keep him. Depending on what sort of promotion you won, the additional cost would be minimal. You just keep him around the house and bring him back if you don’t like him. Does that sound like a deal?”

Of course it did, so we got around to the choosing. I showed her the labels on each cage. Here was a cook, here a whipping boy, there an anal slut (the favorite type of the ultra-wealthy, or at least the ones with TV shows), but the woman had made up her mind the second she walked in. She picked my favorite, the cutest little licker we ever had in the shop. I pried his lips apart with my fingers, “See,” I showed her, “he only has molars left for chewing. The front of his mouth is smooth and wet. Believe me when I say that no-teeth is definitely the way to go. And this guy here has a fabulous tongue. You’re a very lucky woman.”

She leaned in close and whispered, “I’ve never even had a boy down there. Like I said, I’m not really Hetero, I just want to try.”

I winked at her. “No questions,” I said. “Just bring him back in one piece if you want your deposit,” I replied and handed her off to processing. That would be twenty-five bucks commission for the rental and another hundred if she kept the boy. That would buy the better part of a party dress with matching shoes. There was a little black number up on the second floor that looked stunning without going overboard sexy. Naturally it would just look silly on me, but I could always wear it to late, boozy parties. I didn’t mind grabbing a few extra eyes and neither did Danielle. And there were these black heels at the footwear store inlaid with the most gorgeous mauve. I’d just need matching lipstick and I’d have a real stunner. And that was just the first customer. What a job!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5