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The remainder of our walk back to my parents' house was calm and uneventful, albeit as we reach the front gate, I pause and look at her. “Are you coming inside at all? My parents have instituted a new nudity rule that I have to live under.”

“Wait, you have to be nude at all times?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Inside the house, yes, I can only put clothes on when I need them,” I answer.

“Why?” she asks, not angry, but definitely curious.

“It's because I'm a faggot and should be easily accessible at all times,” I answer, “Even if the reprogramming is really only temporary, I am a faggot right now, and faggots don't get to wear clothes in the Grennan household, so I have to be nude.”

“Oh, huh, yea, that makes sense,” Amy muses thoughtfully, “I mean, I'd have a similar rule for you, myself, if you were to be mine. Do you want me to tell my parents you're living under that rule? They'd institute it at our house if I tell them.”

“Yea, it would probably be best that way,” I nod, “I mean, make sure to let them know the rule is only while I am under the current brainwashed status, too. If once you deprogram me I don't ask to be reprogrammed ... I mean I don't wanna ...”

“You don't want to have to undress and have it be awkward because you're not still living the life you're living right now,” Amy provided, and I nod, “I get it. I do hope you ask for permanent reprogramming, though. You seem so much happier.”

“I am still processing it,” I answer, “You're most likely right. You have an extraordinary track record for being right about stuff, but this is ... it's a huge leap, you know? I mean, this is a therapeutic awakening to be certain, but it's very one way.”

“Oh, yea, absolutely,” Amy nods, “You ask me to reprogram you, permanently, not just for a project, then there is no going back. I will have to take you to be registered. You'll need to decide whose property you become. Ideally that would be me.”

“Or your parents, or the twins,” she adds immediately, “I would prefer me, and you would never have to call me Mistress. I'd register you as property of whoever you decide you want, though. The twins and your parents, both would be good.”

“Yea,” I nod, letting it settle in my subconscious where it can percolate independently, “and you're right. I'm actually a lot happier, it's true, it's just ... it's a big leap. I want to be deprogrammed, first, when your one-week project is fully finished.”

“So that I can think about it with a totally clear head,” I tell her, “and then I will probably ask you to reprogram me totally and register me as your property, since you're probably right and if you're right then you certainly deserve to own me.”

“Of course I'm right, bitch,” Amy grins at me, and my cheeks warm, but I smile back at her as programmed, even though I know the smile is because she programmed me to. Even still, I decide to lean in. I wrap my arms about her in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Amy,” I tell her, pulling back and brushing loose strands of my hair from my face, “I actually also love being able to just ... smile like that. No embarrassment, no shyness, no looking around to make sure no one heard you call me it.”

“You're absolutely welcome, slut,” Amy says, and I smile, happily, “Also, I think I will come inside. I need to talk to your mother and father about something. Do you want me to take your clothes from you?” I nod, and Amy waits while I strip.

It's a little awkward, stripping nude on the sidewalk, but the sooner I have my clothes off, the better. In terms of being seen to be obeying the rules, I've always preferred to err on the side of caution. No clothes in the yard seems reasonable.

Garment by garment, Amy takes them as I strip them off, until my shoes stand atop a stacked mound of abandoned fabric. Amy doesn't shy away from looking over me, standing nude on the sidewalk, as I turn and open the gate. I gesture gently.

“Come on, let's go,” I say bravely, then lead the way across the yard to the front door. I reach up and get the key, unlock the door and replace the key, then step in. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the house, and settling myself in.

“Mom! Dad! Enzo! Juno! I'm home!” I call out.

“Kitchen, faggot!” Mom calls back, “I'm making dinner for those of us who still eat at the table!” I motion and Amy nods, following me to the kitchen. Mom half-turns to look while she's stirring whatever food I don't get to eat for dinner, now.

“Oh! Hello, Amy, darling!” Mom greets my best friend like a second daughter, and Amy beams at her, “I didn't know that you were coming over, tonight. Are you staying for dinner?” Amy grins and nods enthusiastically in response, sniffing.

“Ooh! You're making spaghetti, tonight? Hell, yes! I'll stay and help feed this bitch for sure!” Amy laughs happily, which forces me to smile, too, not just because she called me a bitch. Her laughter always lights up my face like a new sunrise.

“Actually, though, I wanted to ask you for something else, Misses Grennan,” she says, and Mom looks at her inquisitively, prompting Amy to motion toward me, “He produces milk, right? Do you think it would be possible to bottle some for me?”

“Don't be silly, Amy, dear, of course we can do that!” Mom answers, cheerfully, turning back to her stirring of the sauce, as she speaks, “You heard Amy, slut. You are not to waste any of your milk from here on. You'll bottle every gram for Amy.”

“Yes, Mom!” I answer.

“Thanks, Misses Grennan!” Amy replies, beaming with contentment, “So, this slut told me he's not allowed to wear clothes in this house anymore. Are there any other rules you have for him that I should know about, so I can help enforce them?”

“We would prefer he only consume phallic milk for the duration of your experiment,” Mom answers, looking over at Amy, over one shoulder, “and he will only be allowed to play games when everyone in the house has been properly satiated.”

“He is, after all, in all ways that matter, now a cock slave,” Mom says, “His first and foremost duty in the household is the servicing of cocks. If any cock needs service or attention, it is his job to take care of it. He can play games only afterward.”

“A fair rule, absolutely!” Amy agrees readily, “No other rules?” Mom shakes her head in answer.

“No, we felt it would be unreasonable to put too many rules, or too complex of a system of rules,” Mom replies, “He's not stupid, by any means, of course, but he is still a cum-fed slut. It doesn't seem reasonable to have tons of rules for that.”

“As for you, faggot,” Mom says, then, turning her attention to me, “Dinner is in thirty minutes. I will expect you under the table in twenty-seven minutes. You are to be under the table, and silent, before dinner is put on the table. Understood?”

“Yes, Mom!” I answer, “Come on, Amy, let's relax for a bit until dinner. I don't know how long it will take me to get you a full bottle of milk, though.” Amy rolls her shoulders a little at my forewarning, casually following me to my bedroom.