4 Hours

For four hours, I lay on my bed on my stomach, reading a book by Terry Brooks, titled as The Sword of Shannara. It's sat in my book cabinet for a while, waiting for me to have a moment that felt proper. I lay down with it, and I read, contentedly.

I've been well-fed, if a bit degraded, but my reprogramming doesn't allow me to feel humiliated by it. For me, at least, my role demanded nothing less. If anything, I'm proud of having served my role, and having served it well, enough to eat well.

Eventually, a knock on the frame of my door draws my attention, and I reach for the bookmark. I haven't finished, but I'm close, and it's a fun read. The fact I'm not done yet doesn't matter, though. Someone knocked, and that's my cue to focus.

It doesn't matter who it is. Mom, Dad, or my little brother and little sister, it's someone who is entitled to my attention, to my body, and to my compliance. I look to see that it is both Mom and Dad, and mentally prepare myself for a bit of work.

Instead of summoning me, Mom motions me to sit up, and they walk over, sitting down on either side of me. Mom puts a hand on one of my thighs, and Dad rests one on my other. I look between them, and Dad speaks first. “Amy called, faggot.”

“She wanted to let us know that she prefers you to remain enrolled at university,” Dad tells me, “We've spoken about it as a family, and the twins said that since we cannot afford to send three to university they want to work their way through.”

The fact they had a family meeting without me makes me blink, but I know better than to interrupt. That was the kind of thing that got you frowned at, and that was before my reprogramming. I am absolutely not permitted to interrupt, now.

“Enzo and Juno asked that we should take the leftover that we could afford to spend on college and set it aside for them,” Mom takes over, and I look to her. “They asked us to split it into three equal portions. One for you, and for your future.”

“You should know we were very happy to receive Amy's phone call,” Dad continues, bringing my attention back to him, once more. “You're a cock slave, but you're also still our son, and we do still love you, faggot, and care about your future.”

“So we were only too happy to agree to Amy's request that we continue your History education,” Dad proceeds, without a major hesitation, “and to agree to Enzo and Juno's request. We'll put $15,000.00 into each trust fund, each year, basically.”

I appreciate that Mom and Dad see me, even as a cock slave, as also still their son, and worth talking to like this. It's vital information, and it makes me smile to hear it. More than that, I really was enjoying university, and I was making friends.

It occurs to me, though, that while universities don't ban cock slaves from enrolment, especially if you can afford tuition, the rules for cock slave students might be different. I lift one hand from between my thighs, to ask permission to speak.

“Umm, does Stanford have any, er, unusual rules, for enrolled cock slaves?” I ask, once Mom and Dad both nod permission for me to speak at all. It is possible that Stanford doesn't, because the world has been changing at a rather breakneck pace.

Global religions, so far, haven't reacted or made decisive statements about ongoing human evolution. Many Universities, Colleges, and other higher-educational institutions, may not yet have decided new policies, or have not announced them.

“I don't know, slut,” Dad answers, when I look back to him. “Amy will be coming over in the morning, to share breakfast. She'll be calling the university, herself. As she is your Owner, the university needs her confirmation that you are allowed.”

I nod, having been aware some Owners preferred dumb cock slaves, or, at minimum, ones less educated than them. The viewpoint was understandable to me, even if I didn't fundamentally agree with it. Fortunately for me, Amy didn't, either.

“So we will all learn tomorrow what will be asked of you at university,” Mom says, forcing me to turn my eyes back to her, now. “Point is, we love you. You're helping Amy achieve her dream. We want to see you achieve your History doctorate.”

“The world also needs to be reminded, in my opinion,” Dad adds, and I look back to him. “The fact someone is a cock slave does not mean they are an invalid, or a dumbass, or intellectually deficient. You can be a cock slave and a brilliant mind.”

“Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad,” I smile at both of them. “I love you both very much. Do you need service, now, before I go to bed, or?” Mom and Dad both grin at me, but shake their heads, as Dad stands up, and Mom pulls the blankets back for me.

“No. Get in bed, slut, and sleep,” Dad orders, “You should be well-rested. How are you enjoying your new diet?”

“I miss my favourite foods,” I answer truthfully, sliding into the bedding as Mom tucks me in, which makes me blush, but I don't object. “I can't complain, though. I like the milk, too. It's delicious. Plus Amy says I still get to have chocolate treats.”

“Good. Sleep now, faggot,” Mom says tenderly, stroking my cheek before they stand up and walk out, Dad flicking off the light before following Mom out of the room. I rest my head on my pillow and close my eyes, and smile.