Debbie, Lisa and Nicole are just pretending to ...
Family's New Shrink Ray
chapter 19
by
copier
· original author:
arca88
Derek's world collapsed. The pain in his stomach intensified with each beat of his heart, but it was nothing compared to the agony tearing at his soul. His mother, his sisters… they glared at him with hatred. Their words—"Filthy servant," "our future husband," "our beautiful lover"—echoed in the cavernous space of the rat's den, each syllable a dagger in his being. He saw them, naked and exposed, posing like triumphant warriors beside the grotesque rat, their bodies, once so familiar and innocent, now seemingly offered to their captor. The ironic spasm of his own young member, quickly crushed by Lisa's disdainful trampling, only deepened his humiliation.
He sobbed, hot tears mingling with the dust and grime on his face. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. His family, his protectors, his everything… had turned against him. The rat's triumphant laughter filled the air, a vile symphony of his utter defeat. "Now you see who your master is and who these women belong to," the rat boasted, its round eyes shining with malicious satisfaction. Derek choked on his tears, his vision blurring. He was alone, completely and utterly alone, at the mercy of a tyrannical rodent and his seemingly corrupt family.
But as Derek's tears fell, something stirred in Debbie's eyes. A fleeting, barely perceptible flicker of despair rivaling his own, yet mingled with icy determination. He didn't see it through his veil of grief, but Debbie, Lisa, and Nicole watched the boy's every movement, every tear. The rat's whip had been a brutal shock, and the terror of losing Derek had been even more so. His promise, "We'll do anything," had been spoken with the desperation of a castaway. And the rat, cunning and cruel, had immediately demanded its price.
There was no time for regrets. As soon as Derek collapsed unconscious, the rat, with a depraved grin, had begun to "claim" his new "females." First, the humiliation of forced nudity, the imposition of paper clip collars, the display of his "prize." Then, the threat: if they didn't cooperate, if they didn't act like his submissive pets, Derek would die. And not just die; he would slowly torture him in front of them. Fear had been a relentless teacher. They had had to act. Act the part of submission, loyalty, even… attraction.
And the hardest part of all had been the blow to Derek. Every kick, every word of contempt, had torn at their very souls. But the rat watched, always watched, with its bright, shrewd eyes. Any hesitation, any sign of real affection for Derek, and the game would be up. So they had hit, they had insulted, they had acted with a coldness that chilled their blood.
As Derek lay bruised and moaning, the rat gloated. “My lovers have proven their loyalty,” he purred, licking a whisker. “Now, slave, you too will learn your place.” The rodent reared up on its hind legs, its foul member still visible, though now less erect. “Your first job will be to clean this nest. I want every crumb of food, every bit of cotton fluff, organized. Food here, lint there. And make sure my lovers have a clear path to move around. I don’t want them tripping over your garbage.” The rat gestured with its paw at the vast, nauseating expanse of the burrow, a mound of organic waste, food wrappers, and animal detritus.
Debbie, her heart sinking, barely dared look at Derek. She knew he was suffering torture beyond the physical. But she had to maintain the facade. With a superhuman effort, she stood up, moving her small, naked body with forced grace toward the rat, and whispered, “My lord, if I may suggest… the slave is injured. Wouldn’t it be more efficient if his mistresses, who are unharmed, assisted with the task?” Her words were poison on her own tongue, but the rat seemed to taste them.
“Oh, my beautiful concubines wish to work for their lord?” The rat grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Hmm, such devotion. But no. That worm must learn his humility. And you… you have other, more… pleasurable tasks. But if you wish, little one, you may supervise his efforts. Make sure he doesn’t slack off.” The rat’s paw grazed Debbie’s shoulder in a sickening way, making her shudder inside.
Debbie nodded, her face a mask of submission, and approached Derek. Lisa and Nicole followed, their expressions also veiled by a mixture of revulsion and a terrible need to act. As they approached, the three knelt beside Derek, their naked bodies a constant reminder of his vulnerability.
“Scum,” Lisa whispered, her eyes fierce, as she shoved Derek with her foot. “Stand up. Our Lord has spoken. Or do you want me to punish you myself, like last time?” The threat was real, though the intention behind it was to save him. Nicole, with tears in her eyes that simulated anger, grabbed a piece of dry pie crust and threw it in Derek’s face. “Move it, lazy bum!”
Derek, stunned, slowly sat up. His clip-on collar scraped his neck, and the clips on his legs and waist prevented him from truly moving. He crawled toward the pile of rubble, every movement painful. The humiliation of being forced to clean up the rodent's filth, under the supervision of his own family, was almost unbearable.
But as he bent down, Debbie leaned closer. "Derek," his mother whispered, so low that only he could hear it, her voice barely a breath of air against his ear. "Fake it. Please. It's the only way."
Derek's world stopped. Was he faking? What was he faking? His mind, clouded with pain and confusion, took a second to process. He looked at his mother, and this time, he saw something beyond the mask. He saw the fear in her eyes, the terror mirrored in his own. He saw the slight, almost imperceptible, jerk of her chin. And then, he understood.
Her "hits," her "insults," her "loyalty" to the mouse—it was all a charade. A desperate, horrible act to save him. A glimmer of hope, cold but undeniable, cut through the darkness of his despair. He was no longer alone. They had a plan, or at least a survival strategy.
With that revelation, the anger he'd felt toward his family transformed into a surge of respect and steely determination. He had to play the role. He had to be the "filthy servant." He had to endure.
"I'm sorry, my lady," Derek murmured aloud, his voice shaking in a way that would have sounded submissive to the rat, but was actually the tremor of suppressed emotion. "I'll get to work immediately."
Debbie nodded, returning the rat's gaze with a forced smile. "The slave seems willing to learn, my lord," she said aloud. "Perhaps he isn't so useless after all."
The rat laughed, happy with his dominance. “Good. Now, my concubines, come to me. We have plenty of time to get to know each other better while our servant works.”
Nauseated, Debbie, Lisa, and Nicole returned to the rat's makeshift throne, their string collars tugging at them. They sat or lay at the rat's feet, desperately trying to avoid any physical contact with the beast while feigning intimacy. Their faces were a mixture of terror and forced submission. The rat began stroking Lisa's hair with its furry paw, making the young woman flinch inwardly, but keeping a pale smile on her face. “My little Lisa is so docile,” it purred, and Lisa could only force herself to nod. While the rat was distracted by its “lovers,” Derek worked. He didn't just clean, he observed. Every corner, every crack in the earthen wall, every rotten object. Desperation had transformed into sharp focus. Now that he knew the truth, every humiliation, every task, became an opportunity. The rat was complacent, smug in its victory. That would be its downfall.
He worked for what seemed like hours, sorting through the decay, the bread crumbs, the animal hair. The stench was overwhelming, but his mind was elsewhere. He was reconstructing a mental map of the mousetrap. The entrance they'd come through, the long tunnel, the "throne room." Were there other exits? Other passages?
Every now and then, the rat would grow bored with its "lovers" and snap at Derek or laugh at his apparent submission. The women, in turn, followed his cruel behavior, occasionally scolding Derek or even giving him an "accidental" kick that was actually a shove to move him toward a specific area they needed him to explore.
"Slave, what's taking you so long with the food?" the rat suddenly growled. "My lovers and I are hungry. Bring the large breadcrumbs here, immediately."
Derek hurried, scooping up the largest crumbs and carrying them to the throne. As he passed Nicole, the girl, with an expression of utter disgust on her face, licked her lips in an exaggerated manner and said, "Yuck, this food is so dry. I don't like it!"
The rat, who had been about to take a crumb, stopped. "Shut up, you insolent little thing! It's your food, and you'll enjoy it." But the rat hesitated, eyeing the crumb with slightly less enthusiasm.
Derek quickly got the message. Nicole was giving a clue. The rat was a picky eater, despite her condition. That was a weakness. If they could make the food seem undesirable or the living conditions uncomfortable, the rat might decide to look for a new den, or at least let its guard down.
"I'm sorry, my lady," Derek interrupted, "this crumb seems a little moldy. Perhaps it would be best to find others."
"The slave knows what he's talking about, my lord!" Lisa added, her smile failing to reach her eyes. "He was always very good at finding the freshest food in our world."
The rat eyed Derek suspiciously, then at the crumbs. "Hmph. I don't have time for maggot complaints. Bring something better then! And make it quick, or you'll be the appetizer!"
Derek nodded and returned to the pile of rotten food, but this time with a purpose. He would not only clean, but he would seek out the stalest food for the rat, and the most "palatable" (as far as he could tell) for his family, if they could find a moment when the rat wasn't watching them eat.
He sobbed, hot tears mingling with the dust and grime on his face. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. His family, his protectors, his everything… had turned against him. The rat's triumphant laughter filled the air, a vile symphony of his utter defeat. "Now you see who your master is and who these women belong to," the rat boasted, its round eyes shining with malicious satisfaction. Derek choked on his tears, his vision blurring. He was alone, completely and utterly alone, at the mercy of a tyrannical rodent and his seemingly corrupt family.
But as Derek's tears fell, something stirred in Debbie's eyes. A fleeting, barely perceptible flicker of despair rivaling his own, yet mingled with icy determination. He didn't see it through his veil of grief, but Debbie, Lisa, and Nicole watched the boy's every movement, every tear. The rat's whip had been a brutal shock, and the terror of losing Derek had been even more so. His promise, "We'll do anything," had been spoken with the desperation of a castaway. And the rat, cunning and cruel, had immediately demanded its price.
There was no time for regrets. As soon as Derek collapsed unconscious, the rat, with a depraved grin, had begun to "claim" his new "females." First, the humiliation of forced nudity, the imposition of paper clip collars, the display of his "prize." Then, the threat: if they didn't cooperate, if they didn't act like his submissive pets, Derek would die. And not just die; he would slowly torture him in front of them. Fear had been a relentless teacher. They had had to act. Act the part of submission, loyalty, even… attraction.
And the hardest part of all had been the blow to Derek. Every kick, every word of contempt, had torn at their very souls. But the rat watched, always watched, with its bright, shrewd eyes. Any hesitation, any sign of real affection for Derek, and the game would be up. So they had hit, they had insulted, they had acted with a coldness that chilled their blood.
As Derek lay bruised and moaning, the rat gloated. “My lovers have proven their loyalty,” he purred, licking a whisker. “Now, slave, you too will learn your place.” The rodent reared up on its hind legs, its foul member still visible, though now less erect. “Your first job will be to clean this nest. I want every crumb of food, every bit of cotton fluff, organized. Food here, lint there. And make sure my lovers have a clear path to move around. I don’t want them tripping over your garbage.” The rat gestured with its paw at the vast, nauseating expanse of the burrow, a mound of organic waste, food wrappers, and animal detritus.
Debbie, her heart sinking, barely dared look at Derek. She knew he was suffering torture beyond the physical. But she had to maintain the facade. With a superhuman effort, she stood up, moving her small, naked body with forced grace toward the rat, and whispered, “My lord, if I may suggest… the slave is injured. Wouldn’t it be more efficient if his mistresses, who are unharmed, assisted with the task?” Her words were poison on her own tongue, but the rat seemed to taste them.
“Oh, my beautiful concubines wish to work for their lord?” The rat grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Hmm, such devotion. But no. That worm must learn his humility. And you… you have other, more… pleasurable tasks. But if you wish, little one, you may supervise his efforts. Make sure he doesn’t slack off.” The rat’s paw grazed Debbie’s shoulder in a sickening way, making her shudder inside.
Debbie nodded, her face a mask of submission, and approached Derek. Lisa and Nicole followed, their expressions also veiled by a mixture of revulsion and a terrible need to act. As they approached, the three knelt beside Derek, their naked bodies a constant reminder of his vulnerability.
“Scum,” Lisa whispered, her eyes fierce, as she shoved Derek with her foot. “Stand up. Our Lord has spoken. Or do you want me to punish you myself, like last time?” The threat was real, though the intention behind it was to save him. Nicole, with tears in her eyes that simulated anger, grabbed a piece of dry pie crust and threw it in Derek’s face. “Move it, lazy bum!”
Derek, stunned, slowly sat up. His clip-on collar scraped his neck, and the clips on his legs and waist prevented him from truly moving. He crawled toward the pile of rubble, every movement painful. The humiliation of being forced to clean up the rodent's filth, under the supervision of his own family, was almost unbearable.
But as he bent down, Debbie leaned closer. "Derek," his mother whispered, so low that only he could hear it, her voice barely a breath of air against his ear. "Fake it. Please. It's the only way."
Derek's world stopped. Was he faking? What was he faking? His mind, clouded with pain and confusion, took a second to process. He looked at his mother, and this time, he saw something beyond the mask. He saw the fear in her eyes, the terror mirrored in his own. He saw the slight, almost imperceptible, jerk of her chin. And then, he understood.
Her "hits," her "insults," her "loyalty" to the mouse—it was all a charade. A desperate, horrible act to save him. A glimmer of hope, cold but undeniable, cut through the darkness of his despair. He was no longer alone. They had a plan, or at least a survival strategy.
With that revelation, the anger he'd felt toward his family transformed into a surge of respect and steely determination. He had to play the role. He had to be the "filthy servant." He had to endure.
"I'm sorry, my lady," Derek murmured aloud, his voice shaking in a way that would have sounded submissive to the rat, but was actually the tremor of suppressed emotion. "I'll get to work immediately."
Debbie nodded, returning the rat's gaze with a forced smile. "The slave seems willing to learn, my lord," she said aloud. "Perhaps he isn't so useless after all."
The rat laughed, happy with his dominance. “Good. Now, my concubines, come to me. We have plenty of time to get to know each other better while our servant works.”
Nauseated, Debbie, Lisa, and Nicole returned to the rat's makeshift throne, their string collars tugging at them. They sat or lay at the rat's feet, desperately trying to avoid any physical contact with the beast while feigning intimacy. Their faces were a mixture of terror and forced submission. The rat began stroking Lisa's hair with its furry paw, making the young woman flinch inwardly, but keeping a pale smile on her face. “My little Lisa is so docile,” it purred, and Lisa could only force herself to nod. While the rat was distracted by its “lovers,” Derek worked. He didn't just clean, he observed. Every corner, every crack in the earthen wall, every rotten object. Desperation had transformed into sharp focus. Now that he knew the truth, every humiliation, every task, became an opportunity. The rat was complacent, smug in its victory. That would be its downfall.
He worked for what seemed like hours, sorting through the decay, the bread crumbs, the animal hair. The stench was overwhelming, but his mind was elsewhere. He was reconstructing a mental map of the mousetrap. The entrance they'd come through, the long tunnel, the "throne room." Were there other exits? Other passages?
Every now and then, the rat would grow bored with its "lovers" and snap at Derek or laugh at his apparent submission. The women, in turn, followed his cruel behavior, occasionally scolding Derek or even giving him an "accidental" kick that was actually a shove to move him toward a specific area they needed him to explore.
"Slave, what's taking you so long with the food?" the rat suddenly growled. "My lovers and I are hungry. Bring the large breadcrumbs here, immediately."
Derek hurried, scooping up the largest crumbs and carrying them to the throne. As he passed Nicole, the girl, with an expression of utter disgust on her face, licked her lips in an exaggerated manner and said, "Yuck, this food is so dry. I don't like it!"
The rat, who had been about to take a crumb, stopped. "Shut up, you insolent little thing! It's your food, and you'll enjoy it." But the rat hesitated, eyeing the crumb with slightly less enthusiasm.
Derek quickly got the message. Nicole was giving a clue. The rat was a picky eater, despite her condition. That was a weakness. If they could make the food seem undesirable or the living conditions uncomfortable, the rat might decide to look for a new den, or at least let its guard down.
"I'm sorry, my lady," Derek interrupted, "this crumb seems a little moldy. Perhaps it would be best to find others."
"The slave knows what he's talking about, my lord!" Lisa added, her smile failing to reach her eyes. "He was always very good at finding the freshest food in our world."
The rat eyed Derek suspiciously, then at the crumbs. "Hmph. I don't have time for maggot complaints. Bring something better then! And make it quick, or you'll be the appetizer!"
Derek nodded and returned to the pile of rotten food, but this time with a purpose. He would not only clean, but he would seek out the stalest food for the rat, and the most "palatable" (as far as he could tell) for his family, if they could find a moment when the rat wasn't watching them eat.
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November 12
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