The 12-Step Cuckold Program Part 3
“The 12-Step Cuckold Program,” Part 3
by c.w. cobblestone
The YMCA basement reeked of sandalwood.
Bob swung the incense thurible to and fro. “Ohm.”
“Ohm,” the seven geeks in folding chairs intoned.
“Today, gentlemen, we are going to clear our minds … free our souls,” Bob said. “But first, we must calm our blood by relaxing … chanting … and inhaling the essence of the sacred wood of Karnataka. Now — one more time, with feeling: Ohm.”
“Ohm.”
“Great. Now, I want you to each think of the one thing that haunts you … if you could pick one thing to have disappear, what would it be? Think about that, and then we’re going to dig deep into these sore spots and free ourselves of these burdens. Chester, why don’t you start? If you could make one thing disappear from your life, what would you pick?”
“Well … um, probably my tattoo.”
Bob raised an eyebrow. “Your tattoo? Can you show it to us?”
“Yeah. Ugh.” Chester stood, wiggled down his pants and twisted so everyone could see the large tattoo on his left butt-cheek, an ornate “J” inside a black spade. “I got this right after Jamal moved in. He had Amy and me get matching spade tattoos as a symbol of ownership. Hers is identical, although it’s right above her … um, vagina.”
“Ah, and so you wish you could get rid of this tattoo, then?” Bob asked.
“If you had an embarrassing tattoo like this, wouldn’t you want to get rid of it?”
Wordlessly, Bob unbuckled his belt and undid his fly, exposing the area above his pubic region that bore the inked message “R&D’s Little Bitch” in thick red-and-black letters. He turned and showed off his other tats: “Faggot” on one butt-cheek and “Queer” on the other, written in hot pink script. The black end of a butt plug poked out from between Bob’s butt-cheeks. He pulled up his pants and smiled. “Since you asked, yes, I’d love to get rid of my tattoos. They bother me all the time, Chester. Ron and Debra had me tattooed about a year into their relationship, and I still despise it. Doctor’s visits are particularly embarrassing.”
“OMG, I HATE, HATE, HATE going to the doctor,” Chester said. “In fact, I’ve only been once in the last four years, and that was because my mistress told me she was tired of hearing me cough all the time. That was when I had pneumonia. Other than that, when I’ve gotten sick I’ve just dealt with it myself. I don’t think I can face having another doctor see my tattoo.”
Chisain piped up: “Yeah? Well, I’ve got a fucking brand on my ass, although that’s not the one thing I’d change in my life.”
“A brand?” Bob tucked his pen in his jacket pocket. “Would you mind showing it to the group?”
Chisain stood and dropped his drawers, exposing the raised-flesh scar of interlocking J’s to signify Jennifer and James. “You guys can cover up a tattoo; there’s nothing I can do about this shit, unless I got a huge chunk of my flesh removed.”
Carlton winced. “OMG, bro, did that hurt? Getting branded, I mean?”
“Gee, what the fuck do you think? Yes, it hurt, Foo-Foo — WTF kind of dumb question is that?”
Bob held up his hand. “Let’s bring it down a notch, okay? There’s no need to snap at each other.”
Chisain shrugged.
Bob shrugged in response. “Now, Chisain, you said there was something else you’d change other than getting rid of your brand. What is it?”
“Goddamn it, what do you think? My fucking name! I can’t stand this fucking name; I swear to fucking Gawd. Shit-Stain. Shit-Stain, Shit-Stain, Shit-Stain, Fucking Shit-Stain!!!!! ARRRRRGH!!! Why the FUCK did that cocksucker father of mine give me that fucking name and then run off, leaving me with an abusive mother and sister who literally treated me like a slave throughout my entire fucking childhood? Why??”
Bob rubbed his chin. “Gee, Chisain, it sounds like you’ve got a lot to work out.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Everything’s so fucked up. Nothing’s fair. IT’S NO FAIR, GODDAMN IT!!! Why the FUCK do guys like James get so much, and losers like us get so little? Just last night, my mother and Jenny’s mom and her two sisters were over, and they were all kissing and licking James everywhere all over his body while he kicked back smoking a blunt and watching the playoffs. The sonofabitch had literally FIVE WOMEN at his disposal, fawning all over him, giving him blowjobs, licking his balls, sucking his toes. And I’m stuck at the goddamn laundry sink washing his socks and boxers by hand, along with everyone else’s fucking dirty clothes. Because James gets the women — Shit-Stain gets the shit-stains. And then, when he was done, he sent me to the Pine Tree Hotel to clean all fucking night.”
Bob nodded. “And being in that situation … I mean at the laundry sink while your master enjoyed five women, including your wife and your mother … that made you jealous, didn’t it?”
“Well, what the fuck do you think? Yeah, it fucking made me jealous, jeez, with the stupid fucking questions.”
“Hey, Shit-Stain, how about you tone it the fuck down?” Carlton snarled. “You’re acting like a fucking dick today, man.”
Chisain balled his fists. “Fuck you, Foo-Foo — mind your own fucking business.”
“Yeah? Fuck ME????” The sissy jumped to his feet and almost turned his ankle on his high heel. “No, fuck YOU, Shit-Stain!” He smoothed the ruffles on his dress. “How about I kick your fucking ass?”
“Bring it on, sissy.” Chisain jutted his jaw. “I’ll rip that fucking dress off and shove it up your ass.”
“Guys, guys, come on, sit down, please, chill out, let’s reset.” Bob relit the incense. “Ohm.”
“Ohm,” everyone chanted.
Chisain sighed. “Listen, guys, I know I’m being cranky today and I’m sorry. I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep in four days. My master added three hotels to my plate last-minute Thursday and I had to scramble round the clock all weekend and Monday to get them all clean and keep up with my normal jobs. I’m wired up on these damn caffeine pills he makes me take, and I guess they’re making me irritable. I really apologize.”
“That’s okay, Chisain, thank you for apologizing,” Bob said. “You know, you don’t need to come to these meetings if you’re that tired.”
“No, my mistress wants me to come. That’s why she had me buy the book, too — she says she wants me to learn to become a better slave.”
“Oh, well, that’s nice.” Bob beamed. “Tell her I can get her an autographed copy if she’d like.”
“Nah, I don’t think she’d be interested. Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” Bob tightened his lips. “So, then, Chisain, let’s get back to talking a little more about the thing that bothers you most — your name.”
“Ugh, do we have to?”
“Yes, we do. As I say in the book, if we’re ever going to achieve Cuckold Salvation, then we need to face these sore spots, and pick at them, and figure out how to fix them.”
“Well, there’s no fixing this, Bob. I fucking hate the name, man — that’s all there is to it. My mom and sister called me Shit-Stain from the time I was born … once I got to school everyone there started calling me it. Then, Jennifer. Now, my master. And I fucking HATE IT!!!!” Chisain started crying.
“Ohm.” Bob angled the incense censer close to Chisain’s face. “Remember to embrace who you are. Okay? Now, I want you to repeat after me: ‘I deserve to be called ‘Shit-Stain’ because I’m an ugly cocksucker whose very existence is a shit-stain on the underwear of humanity. Ohm.’ Now, say it.”
“Um, I deserve to be called ‘Shit-Stain’ because I’m an ugly cocksucker whose very existence is a shit-stain on the underwear of humanity. Ohm.’
“Wonderful. Embrace the name ‘Shit-Stain,’ Shit-Stain. Before you know it, you’ll be well on the road to Cuckold Salvation.” Bob turned to Chester. “Now, back to you. So, you say the worst thing in the world for you is that tattoo on your ass?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Why does that bother you, Chester? When you look in the mirror, do you see a handsome man who’s worthy of being treated like a man looking back at you?”
“Um … no, not really.”
“Well, Chester, that’s because you’re not a man who’s worthy of being treated like a man — you’re a fat, ugly loser, and you should be proud that your master put his tattoo on that chubby, cellulite ass of yours. Now, please repeat after me: I’m a fat, ugly loser, and I should be proud that my master put his tattoo on my chubby, cellulite ass.”
“Um, I’m a fat, ugly loser, and I should be proud that my master put his … his tattoo on my chubby, cellulite ass.”
“That’s great.” Bob smiled at Lew. “You want to go next? If you could get rid of one thing, what would it be?”
“Well, I don’t know if this counts as one thing, but overall, I just wish Caitlyn would stop being so mean to me all the time. Ever since we were real little kids, she’s always been … just rotten. Evil. I think a big part of it is because our moms used to cheer her on whenever she’d do something mean, and so she saw it as positive reinforcement … I dunno, maybe?”
“Oh, that was definitely the case in my ******,” Chisain cut in. “My mom would reward my sister for doing fucked-up things to me. After my *** split, my mom adopted a femdom philosophy for her household. I think she was trying to avoid being hurt again — but in the process, she ended up hurting me. She hurt me real bad. Still does. And she fucking laughs about it, bro. She fucking laughs. When James has his big orgies with all the women over, my mom is the one who treats me the worst. I mean, they’re all cruel when they get together like that because they want to impress James, but my mom’s the worst for sure. After the big ice storm last February, she had me go in the backyard naked and lick the metal fencepole, like the kid in ‘A Christmas Story.’ They left the bedroom curtains open so they could look out and see me while they fucked, and I could see their orgy through the window while I was standing out there shivering. Good thing we live way out, so nobody was around to see me. I was praying the mailman wouldn’t come, although he’s used to us by now, and just shakes his head. I stayed bent over with my tongue stuck to the pole like that for more than two hours before Jenny’s sister finally came out, poured hot water on my tongue and told me to get inside and start making dinner.”
“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that, Chisain … I really am,” Bob said. “But … um, just now, it was Lew’s time to talk.”
“Oh, oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s these damn caffeine pills; they’ve got me jabbering a mile a minute, sorry.”
“That’s okay, Chisain. Now, Lew, you say Caitlyn has been mean to you since you were kids?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what it is about me that brings that out in her, because she’s so sweet with everyone else.”
“But, Lew, I know it hurts you, but do you see yourself as someone who’s worth being treated better? You’re not, you know.”
“I … I know. It’s just … well, sometimes, I wish—”
“Now, Lew, what do I say in the book about cuckolds and wishes? ‘Cuckolds and wishes are fragile like dishes.’ We cucks shouldn’t wish, Lew. Now, I want you to embrace Caitlyn being mean to you, okay? Because you don’t deserve any better, and you know it. Repeat after me: I’m a scrawny little prick, and I’m lucky my mistress takes the time out to notice me, even if she’s mean to me.” Bob waved the incense under Lew’s nose. “Ohm.”
“Ohm. I’m a scrawny little prick, and I’m lucky my mistress takes the time out to notice me, even if she’s being mean to me. Uh, ohm.”
“See? Doesn’t it feel better to just admit it?” Bob smiled. “Okay, Isabella. What would you most like to get rid of?”
“Well, right now if I could have any wish, it would be that Darlene not get pregnant again.”
“No?” Bob frowned. “Why not?”
“Because babies are so much fucking work, that’s why. It seems like I just got Alecia out of diapers, and the idea of doing that whole thing all over again — the constant waking up in the middle of the night, the potty-training … it makes me cry. Like, I literally stay up at night with tears in my eyes thinking about it.”
“And I assume you get no help from your mistress or master?”
Isabella scoffed at Bob’s question. “No way — unless by ‘help,’ you mean letting me know when a diaper needs changing! Neither one of them does a damn thing. It’s all on me. And I don’t want to fucking do it again, man. I don’t!”
“I understand your frustration,” Bob said. “But try to embrace this thing that’s bothering you so much. Think about it: should your wife get have to up and change her baby’s diapers?”
“Um, no, of course not.”
“Should your master?”
“Change a diaper?” Isabella chuckled. “No, that’s never gonna happen.”
“Well, then, why are you sad about Darlene possibly getting pregnant again? After all, they’ve got a pansy-ass sissy around to do all the dirty work; why wouldn’t they want another kid? They get all the benefits and you have to deal with the shit. Literally. Now, repeat after me: I’m a little pansy-ass sissy who should be proud to get up in the middle of the night and change the diapers of another man’s kid.”
“Um, I’m a little pansy-ass sissy who should be proud to get up in the middle of the night and change the diapers of raise another man’s kid.”
“Feel better?”
“Um, not really.”
“Oh, sorry, I forgot the most important part. Here.” Bob swung the incense holder close to Isabella’s face, causing the sissy to gag. “Now, say it again, please.”
“Agggh … I’m a little pansy-ass sissy who should be proud to … gaaack … change diapers.”
“Wonderful. Now, do you feel better?”
“Um, kind of. But my eyes are burning.”
Bob smiled. “Yeah, sandalwood does that. Okay, then. Marco, why don’t you go next?”
“Shit, I don’t know.” Marco massaged his temples. “If I could change one thing, I would stop Carmen from cheating on me all the time. I mean, I know that’s not a specific thing — but isn’t that at the heart of all our problems? Our wives are fucking other guys. That’s what this whole group is about, isn’t it? It fucking sucks, man. IT SUCKS! I’ve got a wife … and I love her … but she fucks around on me constantly. And I know, I know — I’m a fucking dweeb with a little dick who deserves to have her cheat on me. But what the fuck, man? Can’t a guy catch a fucking break once in a while?” Marco started crying. “I mean, I do everything for her! I never ask for SHIT! I buy her whatever she wants, no questions asked. But she couldn’t even get through the goddamn wedding without fucking the best man and one of the groomsmen in a side room right before the ceremony. When I kissed the bride she tasted like cock! And she hasn’t stopped fucking around on me since. It’s been a fucking nightmare, man. Why me, Bob? WHY ME????”
“Now, Marco, I know it’s hard. But as I say in the book, as difficult as it is, you need to learn to embrace this pain. Remember the chapter, ‘Hug the Meanie?’ That’s what I want you to do, Marco. Hug the meanie. Yes, your wife cheats on you. Have you looked in the mirror? Now, you just admitted that you’re a fucking dweeb with a little dick who deserves to have Carmen cheat on you. Do you truly believe that?”
“Y-yes.”
“So, then, if you’re truly a fucking dweeb with a little dick who deserves to have your wife cheat on you, then why would you get upset if she cheats on you? After all, you’re nothing but a fucking dweeb with a little dick. You said so yourself. So, what do you have to get mad about?”
“Um, I dunno.”
Bob dangled the incense. “Ohm. Repeat after me: I’m a fucking dweeb with a little dick who deserves to have his wife cheat on me. Ohm.”
“Uh, I’m a fucking dweeb with a little dick who deserves to have his wife cheat on me.”
“You’ve got to say ‘Ohm’ or it won’t work.”
“Ohm.”
“Doesn’t that feel nice, Marco?”
“Uh, sure … okay.”
“Great. Alright, Carlton, you’re next.”
“Pissing.”
Bob frowned. “I’m sorry, Carlton, what was that?”
“I said ‘pissing.’ If I could change one thing, I would stop Terrance from pissing on me all the goddamn time. What the fuck! I mean, the guy takes my wife from me, moves into my house — how much more does he have to prove?”
“My master pisses on me all the time, too, bro,” Chisain said. “My mistress, too. In my mouth.”
“I don’t mind it so much when my mistress pisses in my mouth,” Monte added. “But, ugh, Tom’s is so damn strong.”
“Especially in the morning,” Chisain said.
Monte made a face. “Ugh, morning pee is the worst. I’ve been drinking it for years and still can’t get used to it.”
Bob stuffed his hands in his pockets. “So, Carlton, you say your master pisses on you a lot?”
“Gee, I dunno, would you say 3-4 times a day is a lot? Every time he has to go, almost. No matter what time of day or night, no matter what I’m doing, he’ll holler out through the house, ‘get in the bathtub, sissy.’ And I have exactly 10 seconds to be lying in the bathtub or I get the shit beat out of me. Since there’s no time to change, I always have to put on a new dress when he’s done, because my clothes get soaked with piss … unless he drags me out of bed when I’m undressed, which happens a lot, too, especially if he’s been drinking. Sometimes, if he’s really *****, he won’t even bother pulling me out of bed. I’ll be zonked out and dreaming that it’s raining, only to wake up to find Terrance pissing on me. When he does that, he makes me sleep in the wet bed. Man, I swear to holy hell, I’m so goddamn tired of piss, I can’t even tell you.”
Bob swung the incense decanter near Carlton. “It’s okay, Foo-Foo, now, repeat after me: I’m a little sissy queer who should be grateful that my master takes the time out to grace me with his sacred wine.”
Carlton’s lip curled. “Sacred wine? Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me with this bullshit?”
Bob sighed. “Carlton, you really need to get with the program here. Until you learn to embrace your inferiority, you are never going to find your Cuckold Salvation. That means, yes, you have to start thinking of your master’s piss as sacred wine. Now, say the mantra and breathe in the sandalwood.”
“Ugh, jeez, I’m a little sissy queer who should be grateful that my master takes the time out to grace me with his sacred wine. Okay?”
“Say ‘ohm.’”
“Fucking ohm, already.”
“Feel better?”
“Not really.”
“Don’t worry, you will. Just keep reading the book, you’ll get it eventually.” Bob smiled at Monte. “Well, you’re last. What would you change in your life, Monte?”
“Well, I’ve been locked up for eight years, so I’ll give you three guesses.”
Bob nodded. “You’d like more orgasms.”
“Well, shit, I’d like at least ONE. You know? Just one nice orgasm — and not from getting fucked up the ass by my master’s gay brother, either. Is that too much to ask? Just one fucking orgasm in eight goddamn years?”
“But, Monte, you DO realize that you’re an ugly, redheaded, gap-toothed loser who deserves being denied orgasms, right?”
“Yeah, I know. Bring that incense over here and I’ll do the thing, I guess.”
Bob held the thurible under Monte’s nose. “Okay, say it: ‘I’m an ugly, redheaded, gap-toothed loser who deserves being denied orgasms.’”
“Ugh. I’m an ugly, redheaded, gap-toothed loser who deserves being denied orgasms.”
“You forgot ‘ohm.’”
“Ohm.”
“Feel better?”
“No, Bob, to be honest, I still feel like shit.”
“Well, as I say in the book, we all must—”
Bob’s budding, self-important soliloquy was cut short by the roar from upstairs: “MY GAME’S OVER, LET’S GO, FAGGOT!”
“Uh, sorry, everyone, gotta run.” Bob glanced around at all the group members. “Next week, we’ll talk about rules. Think of one unfair rule your masters have imposed on you that bothers you, and we’ll discuss it. Hope to see you all next Tuesday.”
“LET’S GO, QUEER, OR I’LL TEAR YOU A NEW ASSHOLE!!!”
Bob managed a weak smile. “Bye, everybody.”
“Bye, Bob!” the group replied as one while their leader scurried up the YMCA basement stairs.
by c.w. cobblestone
The YMCA basement reeked of sandalwood.
Bob swung the incense thurible to and fro. “Ohm.”
“Ohm,” the seven geeks in folding chairs intoned.
“Today, gentlemen, we are going to clear our minds … free our souls,” Bob said. “But first, we must calm our blood by relaxing … chanting … and inhaling the essence of the sacred wood of Karnataka. Now — one more time, with feeling: Ohm.”
“Ohm.”
“Great. Now, I want you to each think of the one thing that haunts you … if you could pick one thing to have disappear, what would it be? Think about that, and then we’re going to dig deep into these sore spots and free ourselves of these burdens. Chester, why don’t you start? If you could make one thing disappear from your life, what would you pick?”
“Well … um, probably my tattoo.”
Bob raised an eyebrow. “Your tattoo? Can you show it to us?”
“Yeah. Ugh.” Chester stood, wiggled down his pants and twisted so everyone could see the large tattoo on his left butt-cheek, an ornate “J” inside a black spade. “I got this right after Jamal moved in. He had Amy and me get matching spade tattoos as a symbol of ownership. Hers is identical, although it’s right above her … um, vagina.”
“Ah, and so you wish you could get rid of this tattoo, then?” Bob asked.
“If you had an embarrassing tattoo like this, wouldn’t you want to get rid of it?”
Wordlessly, Bob unbuckled his belt and undid his fly, exposing the area above his pubic region that bore the inked message “R&D’s Little Bitch” in thick red-and-black letters. He turned and showed off his other tats: “Faggot” on one butt-cheek and “Queer” on the other, written in hot pink script. The black end of a butt plug poked out from between Bob’s butt-cheeks. He pulled up his pants and smiled. “Since you asked, yes, I’d love to get rid of my tattoos. They bother me all the time, Chester. Ron and Debra had me tattooed about a year into their relationship, and I still despise it. Doctor’s visits are particularly embarrassing.”
“OMG, I HATE, HATE, HATE going to the doctor,” Chester said. “In fact, I’ve only been once in the last four years, and that was because my mistress told me she was tired of hearing me cough all the time. That was when I had pneumonia. Other than that, when I’ve gotten sick I’ve just dealt with it myself. I don’t think I can face having another doctor see my tattoo.”
Chisain piped up: “Yeah? Well, I’ve got a fucking brand on my ass, although that’s not the one thing I’d change in my life.”
“A brand?” Bob tucked his pen in his jacket pocket. “Would you mind showing it to the group?”
Chisain stood and dropped his drawers, exposing the raised-flesh scar of interlocking J’s to signify Jennifer and James. “You guys can cover up a tattoo; there’s nothing I can do about this shit, unless I got a huge chunk of my flesh removed.”
Carlton winced. “OMG, bro, did that hurt? Getting branded, I mean?”
“Gee, what the fuck do you think? Yes, it hurt, Foo-Foo — WTF kind of dumb question is that?”
Bob held up his hand. “Let’s bring it down a notch, okay? There’s no need to snap at each other.”
Chisain shrugged.
Bob shrugged in response. “Now, Chisain, you said there was something else you’d change other than getting rid of your brand. What is it?”
“Goddamn it, what do you think? My fucking name! I can’t stand this fucking name; I swear to fucking Gawd. Shit-Stain. Shit-Stain, Shit-Stain, Shit-Stain, Fucking Shit-Stain!!!!! ARRRRRGH!!! Why the FUCK did that cocksucker father of mine give me that fucking name and then run off, leaving me with an abusive mother and sister who literally treated me like a slave throughout my entire fucking childhood? Why??”
Bob rubbed his chin. “Gee, Chisain, it sounds like you’ve got a lot to work out.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Everything’s so fucked up. Nothing’s fair. IT’S NO FAIR, GODDAMN IT!!! Why the FUCK do guys like James get so much, and losers like us get so little? Just last night, my mother and Jenny’s mom and her two sisters were over, and they were all kissing and licking James everywhere all over his body while he kicked back smoking a blunt and watching the playoffs. The sonofabitch had literally FIVE WOMEN at his disposal, fawning all over him, giving him blowjobs, licking his balls, sucking his toes. And I’m stuck at the goddamn laundry sink washing his socks and boxers by hand, along with everyone else’s fucking dirty clothes. Because James gets the women — Shit-Stain gets the shit-stains. And then, when he was done, he sent me to the Pine Tree Hotel to clean all fucking night.”
Bob nodded. “And being in that situation … I mean at the laundry sink while your master enjoyed five women, including your wife and your mother … that made you jealous, didn’t it?”
“Well, what the fuck do you think? Yeah, it fucking made me jealous, jeez, with the stupid fucking questions.”
“Hey, Shit-Stain, how about you tone it the fuck down?” Carlton snarled. “You’re acting like a fucking dick today, man.”
Chisain balled his fists. “Fuck you, Foo-Foo — mind your own fucking business.”
“Yeah? Fuck ME????” The sissy jumped to his feet and almost turned his ankle on his high heel. “No, fuck YOU, Shit-Stain!” He smoothed the ruffles on his dress. “How about I kick your fucking ass?”
“Bring it on, sissy.” Chisain jutted his jaw. “I’ll rip that fucking dress off and shove it up your ass.”
“Guys, guys, come on, sit down, please, chill out, let’s reset.” Bob relit the incense. “Ohm.”
“Ohm,” everyone chanted.
Chisain sighed. “Listen, guys, I know I’m being cranky today and I’m sorry. I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep in four days. My master added three hotels to my plate last-minute Thursday and I had to scramble round the clock all weekend and Monday to get them all clean and keep up with my normal jobs. I’m wired up on these damn caffeine pills he makes me take, and I guess they’re making me irritable. I really apologize.”
“That’s okay, Chisain, thank you for apologizing,” Bob said. “You know, you don’t need to come to these meetings if you’re that tired.”
“No, my mistress wants me to come. That’s why she had me buy the book, too — she says she wants me to learn to become a better slave.”
“Oh, well, that’s nice.” Bob beamed. “Tell her I can get her an autographed copy if she’d like.”
“Nah, I don’t think she’d be interested. Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” Bob tightened his lips. “So, then, Chisain, let’s get back to talking a little more about the thing that bothers you most — your name.”
“Ugh, do we have to?”
“Yes, we do. As I say in the book, if we’re ever going to achieve Cuckold Salvation, then we need to face these sore spots, and pick at them, and figure out how to fix them.”
“Well, there’s no fixing this, Bob. I fucking hate the name, man — that’s all there is to it. My mom and sister called me Shit-Stain from the time I was born … once I got to school everyone there started calling me it. Then, Jennifer. Now, my master. And I fucking HATE IT!!!!” Chisain started crying.
“Ohm.” Bob angled the incense censer close to Chisain’s face. “Remember to embrace who you are. Okay? Now, I want you to repeat after me: ‘I deserve to be called ‘Shit-Stain’ because I’m an ugly cocksucker whose very existence is a shit-stain on the underwear of humanity. Ohm.’ Now, say it.”
“Um, I deserve to be called ‘Shit-Stain’ because I’m an ugly cocksucker whose very existence is a shit-stain on the underwear of humanity. Ohm.’
“Wonderful. Embrace the name ‘Shit-Stain,’ Shit-Stain. Before you know it, you’ll be well on the road to Cuckold Salvation.” Bob turned to Chester. “Now, back to you. So, you say the worst thing in the world for you is that tattoo on your ass?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Why does that bother you, Chester? When you look in the mirror, do you see a handsome man who’s worthy of being treated like a man looking back at you?”
“Um … no, not really.”
“Well, Chester, that’s because you’re not a man who’s worthy of being treated like a man — you’re a fat, ugly loser, and you should be proud that your master put his tattoo on that chubby, cellulite ass of yours. Now, please repeat after me: I’m a fat, ugly loser, and I should be proud that my master put his tattoo on my chubby, cellulite ass.”
“Um, I’m a fat, ugly loser, and I should be proud that my master put his … his tattoo on my chubby, cellulite ass.”
“That’s great.” Bob smiled at Lew. “You want to go next? If you could get rid of one thing, what would it be?”
“Well, I don’t know if this counts as one thing, but overall, I just wish Caitlyn would stop being so mean to me all the time. Ever since we were real little kids, she’s always been … just rotten. Evil. I think a big part of it is because our moms used to cheer her on whenever she’d do something mean, and so she saw it as positive reinforcement … I dunno, maybe?”
“Oh, that was definitely the case in my ******,” Chisain cut in. “My mom would reward my sister for doing fucked-up things to me. After my *** split, my mom adopted a femdom philosophy for her household. I think she was trying to avoid being hurt again — but in the process, she ended up hurting me. She hurt me real bad. Still does. And she fucking laughs about it, bro. She fucking laughs. When James has his big orgies with all the women over, my mom is the one who treats me the worst. I mean, they’re all cruel when they get together like that because they want to impress James, but my mom’s the worst for sure. After the big ice storm last February, she had me go in the backyard naked and lick the metal fencepole, like the kid in ‘A Christmas Story.’ They left the bedroom curtains open so they could look out and see me while they fucked, and I could see their orgy through the window while I was standing out there shivering. Good thing we live way out, so nobody was around to see me. I was praying the mailman wouldn’t come, although he’s used to us by now, and just shakes his head. I stayed bent over with my tongue stuck to the pole like that for more than two hours before Jenny’s sister finally came out, poured hot water on my tongue and told me to get inside and start making dinner.”
“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that, Chisain … I really am,” Bob said. “But … um, just now, it was Lew’s time to talk.”
“Oh, oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s these damn caffeine pills; they’ve got me jabbering a mile a minute, sorry.”
“That’s okay, Chisain. Now, Lew, you say Caitlyn has been mean to you since you were kids?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what it is about me that brings that out in her, because she’s so sweet with everyone else.”
“But, Lew, I know it hurts you, but do you see yourself as someone who’s worth being treated better? You’re not, you know.”
“I … I know. It’s just … well, sometimes, I wish—”
“Now, Lew, what do I say in the book about cuckolds and wishes? ‘Cuckolds and wishes are fragile like dishes.’ We cucks shouldn’t wish, Lew. Now, I want you to embrace Caitlyn being mean to you, okay? Because you don’t deserve any better, and you know it. Repeat after me: I’m a scrawny little prick, and I’m lucky my mistress takes the time out to notice me, even if she’s mean to me.” Bob waved the incense under Lew’s nose. “Ohm.”
“Ohm. I’m a scrawny little prick, and I’m lucky my mistress takes the time out to notice me, even if she’s being mean to me. Uh, ohm.”
“See? Doesn’t it feel better to just admit it?” Bob smiled. “Okay, Isabella. What would you most like to get rid of?”
“Well, right now if I could have any wish, it would be that Darlene not get pregnant again.”
“No?” Bob frowned. “Why not?”
“Because babies are so much fucking work, that’s why. It seems like I just got Alecia out of diapers, and the idea of doing that whole thing all over again — the constant waking up in the middle of the night, the potty-training … it makes me cry. Like, I literally stay up at night with tears in my eyes thinking about it.”
“And I assume you get no help from your mistress or master?”
Isabella scoffed at Bob’s question. “No way — unless by ‘help,’ you mean letting me know when a diaper needs changing! Neither one of them does a damn thing. It’s all on me. And I don’t want to fucking do it again, man. I don’t!”
“I understand your frustration,” Bob said. “But try to embrace this thing that’s bothering you so much. Think about it: should your wife get have to up and change her baby’s diapers?”
“Um, no, of course not.”
“Should your master?”
“Change a diaper?” Isabella chuckled. “No, that’s never gonna happen.”
“Well, then, why are you sad about Darlene possibly getting pregnant again? After all, they’ve got a pansy-ass sissy around to do all the dirty work; why wouldn’t they want another kid? They get all the benefits and you have to deal with the shit. Literally. Now, repeat after me: I’m a little pansy-ass sissy who should be proud to get up in the middle of the night and change the diapers of another man’s kid.”
“Um, I’m a little pansy-ass sissy who should be proud to get up in the middle of the night and change the diapers of raise another man’s kid.”
“Feel better?”
“Um, not really.”
“Oh, sorry, I forgot the most important part. Here.” Bob swung the incense holder close to Isabella’s face, causing the sissy to gag. “Now, say it again, please.”
“Agggh … I’m a little pansy-ass sissy who should be proud to … gaaack … change diapers.”
“Wonderful. Now, do you feel better?”
“Um, kind of. But my eyes are burning.”
Bob smiled. “Yeah, sandalwood does that. Okay, then. Marco, why don’t you go next?”
“Shit, I don’t know.” Marco massaged his temples. “If I could change one thing, I would stop Carmen from cheating on me all the time. I mean, I know that’s not a specific thing — but isn’t that at the heart of all our problems? Our wives are fucking other guys. That’s what this whole group is about, isn’t it? It fucking sucks, man. IT SUCKS! I’ve got a wife … and I love her … but she fucks around on me constantly. And I know, I know — I’m a fucking dweeb with a little dick who deserves to have her cheat on me. But what the fuck, man? Can’t a guy catch a fucking break once in a while?” Marco started crying. “I mean, I do everything for her! I never ask for SHIT! I buy her whatever she wants, no questions asked. But she couldn’t even get through the goddamn wedding without fucking the best man and one of the groomsmen in a side room right before the ceremony. When I kissed the bride she tasted like cock! And she hasn’t stopped fucking around on me since. It’s been a fucking nightmare, man. Why me, Bob? WHY ME????”
“Now, Marco, I know it’s hard. But as I say in the book, as difficult as it is, you need to learn to embrace this pain. Remember the chapter, ‘Hug the Meanie?’ That’s what I want you to do, Marco. Hug the meanie. Yes, your wife cheats on you. Have you looked in the mirror? Now, you just admitted that you’re a fucking dweeb with a little dick who deserves to have Carmen cheat on you. Do you truly believe that?”
“Y-yes.”
“So, then, if you’re truly a fucking dweeb with a little dick who deserves to have your wife cheat on you, then why would you get upset if she cheats on you? After all, you’re nothing but a fucking dweeb with a little dick. You said so yourself. So, what do you have to get mad about?”
“Um, I dunno.”
Bob dangled the incense. “Ohm. Repeat after me: I’m a fucking dweeb with a little dick who deserves to have his wife cheat on me. Ohm.”
“Uh, I’m a fucking dweeb with a little dick who deserves to have his wife cheat on me.”
“You’ve got to say ‘Ohm’ or it won’t work.”
“Ohm.”
“Doesn’t that feel nice, Marco?”
“Uh, sure … okay.”
“Great. Alright, Carlton, you’re next.”
“Pissing.”
Bob frowned. “I’m sorry, Carlton, what was that?”
“I said ‘pissing.’ If I could change one thing, I would stop Terrance from pissing on me all the goddamn time. What the fuck! I mean, the guy takes my wife from me, moves into my house — how much more does he have to prove?”
“My master pisses on me all the time, too, bro,” Chisain said. “My mistress, too. In my mouth.”
“I don’t mind it so much when my mistress pisses in my mouth,” Monte added. “But, ugh, Tom’s is so damn strong.”
“Especially in the morning,” Chisain said.
Monte made a face. “Ugh, morning pee is the worst. I’ve been drinking it for years and still can’t get used to it.”
Bob stuffed his hands in his pockets. “So, Carlton, you say your master pisses on you a lot?”
“Gee, I dunno, would you say 3-4 times a day is a lot? Every time he has to go, almost. No matter what time of day or night, no matter what I’m doing, he’ll holler out through the house, ‘get in the bathtub, sissy.’ And I have exactly 10 seconds to be lying in the bathtub or I get the shit beat out of me. Since there’s no time to change, I always have to put on a new dress when he’s done, because my clothes get soaked with piss … unless he drags me out of bed when I’m undressed, which happens a lot, too, especially if he’s been drinking. Sometimes, if he’s really *****, he won’t even bother pulling me out of bed. I’ll be zonked out and dreaming that it’s raining, only to wake up to find Terrance pissing on me. When he does that, he makes me sleep in the wet bed. Man, I swear to holy hell, I’m so goddamn tired of piss, I can’t even tell you.”
Bob swung the incense decanter near Carlton. “It’s okay, Foo-Foo, now, repeat after me: I’m a little sissy queer who should be grateful that my master takes the time out to grace me with his sacred wine.”
Carlton’s lip curled. “Sacred wine? Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me with this bullshit?”
Bob sighed. “Carlton, you really need to get with the program here. Until you learn to embrace your inferiority, you are never going to find your Cuckold Salvation. That means, yes, you have to start thinking of your master’s piss as sacred wine. Now, say the mantra and breathe in the sandalwood.”
“Ugh, jeez, I’m a little sissy queer who should be grateful that my master takes the time out to grace me with his sacred wine. Okay?”
“Say ‘ohm.’”
“Fucking ohm, already.”
“Feel better?”
“Not really.”
“Don’t worry, you will. Just keep reading the book, you’ll get it eventually.” Bob smiled at Monte. “Well, you’re last. What would you change in your life, Monte?”
“Well, I’ve been locked up for eight years, so I’ll give you three guesses.”
Bob nodded. “You’d like more orgasms.”
“Well, shit, I’d like at least ONE. You know? Just one nice orgasm — and not from getting fucked up the ass by my master’s gay brother, either. Is that too much to ask? Just one fucking orgasm in eight goddamn years?”
“But, Monte, you DO realize that you’re an ugly, redheaded, gap-toothed loser who deserves being denied orgasms, right?”
“Yeah, I know. Bring that incense over here and I’ll do the thing, I guess.”
Bob held the thurible under Monte’s nose. “Okay, say it: ‘I’m an ugly, redheaded, gap-toothed loser who deserves being denied orgasms.’”
“Ugh. I’m an ugly, redheaded, gap-toothed loser who deserves being denied orgasms.”
“You forgot ‘ohm.’”
“Ohm.”
“Feel better?”
“No, Bob, to be honest, I still feel like shit.”
“Well, as I say in the book, we all must—”
Bob’s budding, self-important soliloquy was cut short by the roar from upstairs: “MY GAME’S OVER, LET’S GO, FAGGOT!”
“Uh, sorry, everyone, gotta run.” Bob glanced around at all the group members. “Next week, we’ll talk about rules. Think of one unfair rule your masters have imposed on you that bothers you, and we’ll discuss it. Hope to see you all next Tuesday.”
“LET’S GO, QUEER, OR I’LL TEAR YOU A NEW ASSHOLE!!!”
Bob managed a weak smile. “Bye, everybody.”
“Bye, Bob!” the group replied as one while their leader scurried up the YMCA basement stairs.
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