Kipper & Cylus 2

Kipper & Cylus
by ntvrbbrboy

**Thank you, Kiba, for the helpful edits.

Chapter II: Cylus

Dr. Abraham Whittle walked into his kitchen with Cylus obediently crawling behind him. Unclipping the dog’s leash, the doctor ordered Cylus to complete the nightly work, while the exhausted physician opened the day’s mail, or rather mail pile. Opening and examining each letter was tedious for Abraham as he was occupied with the day’s events, and a growing concern for the future of his treasured dog-boy. He sighed in relief once every bit of correspondence was filed or tossed. Five new boys today, he thought, leaning back in his favorite chair. “That’s a record for this city,” the doctor said out loud.

Cylus returned nude except for his restraints and collar. Dr. Whittle quietly admired his dog-boy’s economy of movement and lithe physique. Cylus tuned the television and turned down the lights around the room, so the white haze of every lit bulb did not detract from the soft, earthy shade of the walls and wood furniture. Master needs to relax, Cylus thought. The boy was stopped by the doctor just before stepping into the kitchen, “No coffee this evening, Cylus.” The dog-boy joined his master when the doctor whispered, “Come sit next to me.”

They sat quietly watching Sid Caesar bounce around on television. It’s a shame Master doesn’t watch this program every week, Cylus thought. The doctor’s mind was not on the program; instead he was focused on an old picture of Cylus. “You had such wild hair, boy.” The doctor stopped speaking, lost in thought, and the two, man and dog, sat quietly for the remainder of the night’s broadcast.

Cylus craned his neck when the doctor began to scratch behind his ear. The dog was surprised by the doctor’s sudden interest, but never refused his master’s hand. Cylus was annoyed when he realized his master was fast asleep, because the he failed to find the perfect spot in time. Cylus sniffed about his master’s side, and Abraham jumped suddenly. He mumbled, “You were so small when we found you…” Cylus was struck by a mix of strange emotions while waiting patiently for his master to continue speaking. The doctor only snored. I’m 28 years old, Cylus thought. Six years since Master found me. He was uneasy next to his beloved doctor and looked for a private place. I am grateful he found me, he thought as he crawled away in tears.

Dr. Whittle woke up to the television station’s identification card and its wretched companion, the tone from hell he called it. Abraham looked around the room, but he did not see Cylus. Finding something to settle his hungry stomach was more important than tracking down his dog.

“Did you not have time for dinner, husband,” said Mrs. Whittle pulling off her coat.

“Five boys today,” the doctor said closing the icebox door in frustration. “They were all wonderful children—”

“But, we all know the highlight of your evening is spending time with your dog.” She gave the doctor a passionate embrace and they pecked each other’s cheek, “I love you Dr. Abraham Whittle.”

“Yes, Mrs. Adriane Whittle, I love my dog more than you.” Adriane gave her husband a painful, yet playful, jab in the ribs and made her beloved a sandwich. “How was your dinner party,” he asked?

“Debutantes and socialites having a fine time looking pretty for each other.” She handed a heavy sandwich to her husband and sighed, “It was dreadful.” The doctor watched his wife walk away in her exceptionally slinky dinner gown. The back of her dress drooped exquisitely so, exposing Adriane’s ivory shoulders.

Biting into his sandwich the doctor said softly, “Cylus will sleep downstairs tonight.”

Adriane said from the foot of the stairs, “Sweetie, the garage door is open and your headlights are still on.” The doctor thought to himself, sandwich first, car second, wife third.

“Wonderful plan,” Abraham said out loud.

Mrs. Whittle found Cylus kneeling under the window in their bedroom. He was gazing at the night sky through the oversized window, and did not seem to notice his mistress step in. She pulled her jewelry off and began to undress. “Come here boy,” she whispered. The dog crawled to her and nuzzled against her bare leg, admiring the scent of her perfume. Adriane rubbed her dog’s shoulders observing, “You look like this every time you meet a new set of boys.”

“Master,” Cylus growled.

“I know, my darling,” Mrs. Whittle comforted her dog, holding him tightly for a moment. Cylus studied himself in the vanity mirror, illuminated by the soft lights for a few moments. I don’t look any different, he thought. The dog bog boy silently watched his mistress organize her messy vanity. She always made certain everything was in its proper place. Adriane hummed a familiar song while she worked, and didn’t seem to mind Cylus using her bare thigh as a head rest. Adriane asked, “Darling start the water, please.”

Mrs. Whittle followed her dog into the large bathroom after wiping off her make-up. She carried with her a small hand basket stuffed with her bathing accoutrements. The dog-boy always admired his Mistress’ ability to prepare for each and every possibility, even for something as simple as bathing. Cylus also admired his Mistress’ body, especially nude, as her statuesque frame was near perfect. But, the dog-boy could not understand why his Master was often driven crazy by the sight of his wife. Able men are strange, Cylus thought.

The hot water in the bath filled the room with an eerie mist; each color was more intense than it had been before. I never notice these things sometimes, Cylus thought. He knelt quietly next to the tub, and every few minutes Mrs. Whittle would gently pet him. Abraham stepped into the bathroom a few times, but he did not disturb his companions. The doctor knew better than to be a menace. “My darling, rub my leg please,” Adriane asked. She sat up so Cylus would fit in the tub with her, and the dog-boy slid in effortlessly. Cylus massaged Adriane’s sore leg from hip to ankle slowly and methodically, making certain every muscle was attended to.

Cylus would do anything to please his mistress, anything. He would go well beyond what was required of any command when she gave it, because obedience was driven by overwhelming guilt. She broke her leg on his account, because he was reckless. However, that was the day he found out what he truly was, not what his parents have taught him was something to be disgusted with. He whispered, “Thank you, Master.” Adriane only heard him sighing deeply.

“Thank you, my darling. Fetch me a towel, please,” Adriane’s voice was soft and tender. Cylus quickly stepped out of the warm water and returned with an oversized towel. Mistress’ favorite kind, he thought. She whispered thank you, once again, as Cylus wrapped her slender form. The dog-boy quickly returned to tub to clean out the basin. Mistress does not like water stains, Cylus mumbled softly. His self-given commands were barely audible as more than grunts.

Abraham lay patiently on his bed waiting for his wife to finish her time consuming bathing ritual. He learned many years ago, disturb Adriane’s routine and the good doctor doesn’t get what he wants. When the dog-boy closed the shower curtain he was called by his master. The obedient dog crawled into the bedroom and rubbed his head against the doctor’s hand. “You’ll be sleeping downstairs tonight.” Cylus grunted affirmatively and scurried towards the door. Mrs. Whittle joined her husband in bed as Cylus pulled the bedroom door closed. Abraham said seductively, “Adriane Whittle, you are the most beautiful creature on Earth.”

Downstairs is cold, the boy thought to himself. He wasn’t too upset with the idea, considering his owner’s would not keep him up all night. Lying on his overstuffed bed Cylus meditated, “I am a companion of men, and an obedient friend to those whom have chosen to carry the burden of my life. I shall want nothing more than to offer myself to those with whom I am placed, without coercion and without entrapment. I am neither a slave nor am I solely an object for pleasure. My place is to fill the void left by the rapture of days past, which allows this Great Society to continue its progress. I am a dog-boy.” Cylus tossed some of the bedding around to tuck his feet away, and after curling into a comfortable position, sleep came easily. Thank you for the warm bath, he thought.

Morning came too fast for Cylus. His dreams were short and violent. Cylus despised the nights when his mind fixated on memories of his old family. He hated them for what they had done, and was grateful for the doctor finding him. Master is better, Cylus said repeatedly in his mind. Once the sun was high enough to annoy him, Cylus ventured out to find his Master. He crawled through every room, but neither his Master nor his Mistress was home. He was curious where they had gone to, but he decided the grumble in his gut was more important.

Cylus crawled to the wash box to start his morning. The small shower stall was tucked away in a corner of the laundry room. He unbuckled his restraints and stepped in closing the hatch. Turning the red knob started the warm jets of water from every direction. Cylus twisted from side to side rinsing thoroughly. The fresh water stopped and was followed by a bitter tasting, spongy foam from each nozzle. Cylus never enjoyed this as much as the first blasts of warm water. The foam always burned his eyes and his skin, but it was required.

Cylus opened his mouth allowing the vile suds to pile onto his tongue. Swishing the offensive fluid in his mouth, his gums cried retreat. He reached down and pulled out his plug, thinking it always takes so much effort. Cylus placed the rubber device against the foam spray to give it good coating. Another dose of warm water flew from the nozzles relieving him of his torment. More like it, Cylus thought. He spit the foam out with a gasp and sighed aloud. Twice more, he assured himself.

Cylus hated these daily baths, but there are requirements of all dog-boys to protect their health and safety. This dog-boy, however, saw through each of the excessive rules. We must be different or society would not accept us, he thought. He conceded that he rather enjoyed latex, required by law or not. Cylus was lost in thought when the next round began; reminiscing on how the hair on his head would grow in strange directions. “No longer,” he sighed. The second volley of foam was as bitter an experience as the first which was followed by another blessing, a warm rinse.

Cylus pulled a nozzle off its hinge as the final cycle started, and replaced the missing plug with it. Releasing the switch, his bowels began to fill with a warm cleansing gel. The last and longest rinse began; Cylus returned the nozzle to its socket, squatted and emptied his bowels. He then urinated, checking the color. Clear means healthy, he thought. “Clear gel, clear urine equals no problems,” Cylus grunted softly. Cylus exercised his sphincter before replacing the plug. Every morning from start to finish, he thought. He mumbled, “Never disappoint Master.”

The squeaky clean dog-boy stepped out his wash box and dried off quietly with his favorite towel, double-checking every corner of his skin. Cylus was relieved there was no hair present; otherwise he’d have to stand through the entire aching cycle once more. The dog-boy quickly inspected his stall and its hardware for wear. Satisfied, Cylus unfolded his relief stool, lowered himself onto the swiveled seat and inserted his eager organ into the cool, lubricated sheath. It’s been a few days, he thought, I’ll take my time since Master is not home.

Abraham leaned into the laundry room, “Cylus you’ll leave with me shortly. Restraints and full suit please.” Cylus growled in desperation. “No muzzle and no boots,” the doctor shouted from the other side of the house.

Unfolding a fresh suit, Cylus was again distracted by the grumble in his stomach. Meal will be missed this morning, he thought, and no release either. The suit slid on without much complaint, and Cylus made certain his personal bits were positioned well in their compartments. Wearing the required suit is always a challenge for Cylus, and most likely for all dog-boys. If he was to remain excited the entire time he was in public, then he preferred not to bulge in an obscene direction. Able people always notice, he thought. Cylus pulled the suit over his shoulders and let the neck go with a pop. Only a few minutes since he last pissed, he was struck by the urge once again. His only way out of the suit is through the neck which is five times harder than pulling the suit up from his feet.

The doctor slid into the laundry room in an excited manner and hurried Cylus with his restraints. “You look worried, Cylus?” The dog-boy made the hand sign for piss. “You won’t wear the suit for long,” replied the doctor. Abraham clipped on the leash and walked forward, dragging his companion behind him. Cylus pulled against the leash before they reached the front door. The doctor knelt down, “What is it boy?”

Cylus made the sign to speak, and the doctor gave his permission. “Do I look different, Master?” Cylus’ voice was deep and scratchy, and his eyes avoided making contact with his master’s eyes. “I— I am different since you found me, but do I look different.”

“Cylus, you look happier now than when we first met. Why this question again?” The doctor knew meeting new pups was always difficult for Cylus, but he was never disappointed by the example the older dog set for the young ones.

“Birthday soon— I will be 28 years— I wasn’t found like the Flint boy—”

“Cylus, you were identified as a boy, but your family was against it. They did not know how to cope with you when you began to change. You were as wild as the boys you see on those silly television programs. Your father locked you in the basement and forgot about you. They were afraid of you. They wanted to be rid of you.”

“I escaped, Master,” whispered Cylus.

“Yes, and I found you soon after. You almost killed my wife, but I found you,” the doctor finished with a smile and caressed his dog’s head with both hands. Cylus’ eyes were red with tears and he mumbled an apology for scaring Mistress that October morning. The doctor would have none of it. “I should say you found me, Oskar Czelestin. You are my dog. I care deeply for you, and that’s how it will remain.”

“Thank you,” Cylus muttered before falling into a fit of painfully human tears and sobs. Cylus could not properly communicate until his beloved Master helped him re-acquire speech. The greatest gift Cylus believed he received from the doctor was learning to speak his birth name. When he was found by the doctor, the dog-boy would only growl S-H-E-L-O-S when asked who he was or where he was from.

Once man and dog regained their composure, they made their way to the car, the doctor walking and Cylus crawling methodically behind him. Outside, a neighbor’s toddler boy ran up to Cylus and slapped him on the forehead shouting, “Doggie!” The child’s mother apologized after catching up to her son, and made small talk with the doctor. Cylus looked at the young boy sideways and thought to himself, He’s one too.

The drive was quiet and pleasantly short. People aren’t as different as they pretend to be, Cylus thought watching the stream of morning shoppers strolling past him. The doctor had stepped out of the car and went into a shop, but didn’t open the back door for Cylus. The dog peered through the car window and saw, “Imprinting” written in official letters on the large window pane in front of him. The urge to piss was beginning to annoy Cylus. Hopefully, Master will finish his business and we’ll return home, he reassured himself. Cylus didn’t notice Dr. Whittle walk up to the car door. The dog-boy was so startled when the door swung open, he barked in defensive reflex.

The doctor hushed Cylus and gave him the command to walk. A nice looking couple stopped the doctor and his companion before they could step away from the vehicle. The newlyweds were expressing a keen interest in applying for placement. “We’d like to own a dog,” the husband inquired. The wife didn’t say much other than comment on Cylus being excited inside his suit. The doctor apologized and mentioned that he rushed his dog-boy this morning. Hot concrete is burning my feet, the dog-boy thought to himself. Cylus never cared for small talk or nosey strangers. The husband said sarcastically, “You know those pups get friendly if you don’t have them done each morning!” Cylus thought that was the most absurd thing he has heard from an able man to date.

The doctor tugged on Cylus’ leash and walked him into the Imprinting shop after excusing both of them. The heavy door closed with a thump, startling Cylus once more. He knew better than to bark again. Dr. Whittle spoke softly, “Cylus, it’s time you were pierced and marked.”