A New Breed

Michael was a smart man, and he was very protective of his younger sister, Sarah. They lived in the heart of the south in America, in the middle of Texas, where Michael, a mechanic by training, chose to work on his family's dairy farm, applying technology to streamline the entire process. He was just shy of 6'5", well tanned, and at 210 LBs, not someone that people chose to mess with. Sarah, on the other hand, was 5'8", with blond hair, eyes as blue as sapphires, and skin the color of milk; suffice to say, she was the kind that couldn't get people to leave her alone. But, as often as people fell for Sarah, Michael just as often let them know what was waiting should they so much as think of breaking his baby sister's heart; to Sarah's great frustration, it seemed her brother would scare away any and all of her lovers before anything serious could happen.

But, that would all change one fateful summer. Not long after she graduated college, as she worked on her family's dairy, deciding what to do with an expensive English degree, Sarah laid eyes on Keith, a tech guy helping her brother install new systems on the farm; Keith was in from up north, Ohio, she thought she heard her brother say, and he was the exact opposite of a Texas cowboy: tall, slim, with dark brown hair, green eyes, and a close cut beard. In a word, for Sarah, it was love at first sight. While Michael didn't trust him, and would just as soon chase him out, he also saw that his sister was happy, and decided to sit back for once and see what happened. Sarah and Keith courted for a short 16 months, after which Keith proposed to Sarah in front of her father with what she thought was a beautiful ring.

Not long after, they were married in Texas, and Keith moved to join her on her family's farm, at least until she found a job in her field, perhaps teaching. And, while all seemed well, and the couple seemed outwardly happy, Michael still had his famous cynicism and doubts. All too often, it seemed to him, he saw Keith making cellphone calls late at night, long after Sarah had gone to bed, and Keith seemed to vanish for hours at a time during the day, often to "check out other farms", and "see how they setup their tech." In Michael's mind, he was afraid it wasn't the milking machines that Keith was 'checking out', and he started to plan a stakeout.

Michael's first step was to place a small beacon, no bigger than a hockey puck, inside the wheel well of Keith's off-road jeep; the beacon had a gps antenna, and it confirmed over the next few weeks that Keith was indeed visiting other farms in the area, staying for a few hours and either returning back or moving to the next farm. While this relieved some of Michael's fears, he was still suspicious, and he began pondering how he could determine just what 'equipment' Keith was inspecting on his trips. Following the success of his first stage, Michael decided that he would travel to one of the farms himself, arrive before Keith, and place a tiny spy kit in the rafters of the milking barn.

The kit could record up to 12 hours of HD (albeit, black and white) video and then encrypt the files and send them to his email address, for later review. The kit had new advanced lithium batteries, as well as a motion sensing trigger, so it only recorded when something was happening. All told, it should record and transmit for close to 5 weeks, before using the last of its battery power to short circuit itself, removing all data left in the box. It was, Michael told himself, a foolproof plan, and it had no obvious flaws. Late one Sunday morning, when the rest of Texas was in church, Michael snuck into the nearest of Keith's stops, and set up the wide angle camera high above the floor, making sure to get as much of the barn in frame as possible. His work done, he retreated home, and began what he hoped (if not expected) would be a boring and featureless stakeout. Oh, how wrong he'd be...

-3 WEEKS LATER-

It'd been three weeks since Michael had set up his camera trap in the next ranch down the road, and, while he checked the video feed every night, he began to think he'd been a little paranoid, and that Keith was honestly just examining the latest in livestock handling equipment. That is, until one fateful Monday night, when, upon his daily video review, he saw what he had dreaded for so long: Keith, entering from the bottom of the frame and embracing the daughter of the rancher who ran the farm. After a quick hug, and kiss on the lips, the two laid down in the straw and began to make out and grope each other, slowly stripping each other in the process, till both were as naked as they day they were born. Keith then rolled the girl onto her knees and took her from behind, thrusting for several minutes, till both collapsed into the straw in each others arms. After what seemed like an eternity to the now

furious Michael, he saw Keith check his watch, dress quickly, kiss the girl again, and then jog out to his car to be back in time for Sarah's home cooked meal. The video was still rolling, showing the girl washing off quickly using a sprayer normally used to clean off the cattle, drying, redressing herself, and then tidying up the scene of the crime. Michael closed his laptop, fuming angry at the betrayal dealt upon his sister, made seemingly worse by the fact that she didn't seem to know that it was even going on. With a start, Michael realized that the video uploaded each night at midnight, and he watched each video the following night... meaning that Keith had done this the previous day, and was now sleeping next to Sarah as if he'd done nothing wrong.

Feeling his hands start to shake in anger, Michael quickly decided on a course of action that he felt would be perfect revenge, laughing darkly as he started to make preparations. He knew that Keith wasn't religious, and therefore he'd sleep in late on Sunday, even though the rest of the household would be away at church, Sarah included. But, that just seemed fitting... Come Sunday, Keith would be judged for his sins, even if it was on a farm instead of in a pew.

-SUNDAY MORNING-

Keith rolled over in the now half-empty queen sized bed, remembering that Sarah was away, at least till noon, maybe later, and he grinned as he drifted back to sleep. He never saw Michael edge in through door left ajar by Sarah, nor did he notice the cloth bag in Michael's hands, the bag that would've smelled sickly sweet, had he been awake. Michael slipped the chemical-soaked pillowcase over Keith's head, and, while he struggled slightly, he was no match for the strong Texan, nor the powerful mix of chemicals that made his whole world quickly fade to black.

When Keith awoke, his head was throbbing, and his jaws ached terribly. He felt like he'd been out for hours, while in reality it had been closer to 40 minutes. As he came to, he quickly realized something was very wrong: he was stark naked, bound, with a large ball of wadded-up fabric forced into his jaws. As he looked around the dim area he found himself in, he could tell he was suspended belly down in a spread eagle pose between two parallel rails, maybe 4 feet off the ground. His hands were bound in thick rubber mittens, attached to the rails with rollers, similar to his feet, with his cock hanging beneath him.

As all of this began to sink in, he started to thrash, as he immediately knew exactly where he was... the new experimental processing line he'd been working on with Michael...But the current rig that suspended him was new. The final design had called for a treadmill-like conveyer belt that the cattle would be carried along, secured by clamps. This meant some major modifications had been made...He didn't know what was going on, but he knew it couldn't be good, and he began to try and cry out for help, hoping that someone would hear him and release him; the improvised ballgag, however, made this rather difficult, and all that came out were panicked sounding grunts. As if on cue, Keith heard foot steps from both sides at once, each very different: from his left, he could hear the distinctive thud-rattle of cowboy boots with spurs, while to his right he heard the much lighter slap of bare feminine feet on the concrete floor. Out of the gloom stepped Michael on one side, a dark, malicious grin spread across his normally stoic face, while Sarah approached from the other, her face a mixture of heartbreak and fury. Now thoroughly confused, Keith stopped struggling and waited to see just what the hell was going on, and why he was strung up in the loading stage of a (newly modified) experimental livestock-management machine. Without warning, he felt two simultaneous pains: a vicegrip on his hanging balls, loose in the Texas summer heat, and a burning slap across his left ass cheek, both delivered by the normally sweet and docile Sarah. Just as quickly as he felt the double pains, he heard Michael begin to speak: he heard him describe how he'd grown suspicious of him and set beacons, ultimately resulting in the discovery of his affairs,with what could assumed to be several of the local farmers' daughters. He told Keith of how he'd brought the evidence to Sarah, after she'd refused to take her own brother at his word. How, after seeing her newlywed husband plowing some whore doggy-style in a milking parlor, she and Michael had begun planning her revenge. And thus, why Keith was strung up naked, in the machine he'd helped create.

At this point Keith began to quake, because, while unsure exactly what revenge would be dished out upon him, it could take a wide variety of forms, courtesy of the various stages that made up what he was beginning to think of as his own personal hell, not to mention whatever 'additions' Sarah and Michael had cooked up. Just as he began to think this, the pain renewed in intensity on both fronts, as Sarah slapped his other cheek, just as hard, and clenched with her other hand, hard enough to bring tears to Keith's eyes. Michael described to him that certain 'additions' had been made to the machine, for this, it's maiden test on another living being, just as Keith had already surmised. Just as Keith began to wonder what 'additions' Michael had made, he received one more hearty slap on the ass, before hearing motors begin to spool, pulling him towards plastic flaps that separated him from the first stage of his purgation.

-INTAKE & PROCESSING-

As Keith rolled along, the effort of keeping his head aloft was already straining his neck; was it worse to see his fate coming (with a sore neck) or simply look at the ground... As he pondered this, he moved through the plastic curtain into the first chamber. The whole machine took up a long barn, longer than a couple football fields, with partition walls that could be raised up at intervals, thus breaking up the long distance into shorter 'chambers'. To both his relief and his confusion, the first chamber seemed unchanged from his and Michael's designs, aside from the addition of a catwalk near the ceiling, upon which Michael and Sarah were following his progress. From what he could see, the catwalk appeared to run over the top of the partition walls, and stretched off into the distance, its end out of sight.

The first chamber was the initial scanning room, where new livestock were scanned by a series of lasers, as well as weighed and blood sampled, all in order to determine their breed, size, and health; important information that had to be known before the cow (or bull) in question could be mixed with the rest of the herd. Thus the source of Keith's confusion... He was an (average sized) human, and no matter how many times they scanned him, he wouldn't match any known breed.

As if reading his mind, Michael began to laugh, before shouting down at Keith in his Texas drawl exactly what was happening.

"Sorry city boy, but we don't have no cows 'round here that are man-shaped... So, your wife and I, we decided to setup a new breed in the computer, so you could have yer little lesson this mornin'. We argued for a while on what to name this new breed, but we decided on Homo Fallax; latin, for lying man, according to miss smarty pants over here," he said with a dark chuckle, which Sarah matched, marking the first time she'd spoken that morning, if a laugh really counted.

"Now, irony aside, we had to tell the computer just what kind of thing this new breed was, so we set the standards to be just about a perfect description of you, city boy. I say just about because we might have... fudged... a few characteristics, but only to enhance the lesson we're trying to teach you. But, I'm talking too much. I'll let the machine do it's job, and I'll see you in the next chamber, city boy. Have fun."

With that, Michael and Sarah walked along the walkway and out of sight. As if on cue, the machine seemingly sprang to life, powering on the scanning lasers and moving Keith to the center of the chamber. The lasers played green lines over the contours of his body, creating a visible 3-D model on a wall mounted LCD screen. After a few seconds, the lasers turned off again, and the screen showed HOMO FALLAX in large letters. Then, after another few seconds, the speakers droned to life, announcing the next operation.

"Now commencing with full body depilation procedure for: Keith," the machine droned, using a recording of Sarah speaking Keith's name. "For your safety, please keep your eyes closed for the duration of the procedure" the machine added with irritating cheeriness.

Keith panicked, but ultimately obeyed, fearing for the effect the treatment would have on his sight. Closing his eyes, he waited in agonizing anticipation. Moving unseen were a whole cadre of robotic arms, similar to those used in Japanese auto factories, but instead of welders these ended in two-headed units, consisting of a small rotary scrubber and a spray nozzle. As the arms moved into position, the rollers on his legs moved forward, effectively putting him into a split. With the arms now surrounding him, Keith was doused suddenly with cold, high-pressure water from the various arms, which had impeccable aim, guiding intense jets along the crack of his ass, the base of his cock, balls, and his butthole itself. As quickly as it started, it stopped, leaving Keith cold, wet, and stinging. After a short pause, the sprayers fired again, this time coating him with what felt like a thick, warm gel. After coating his entire body, the scrubbers attached to the arms spun up to full speed and then moved in, bringing the gel on his skin to a white froth. The brushes left nowhere untouched, harshly scrubbing his balls, chest, back, and cock, with a special spinning bottle brush going to town on his ass crack. After what felt like an eternity of being flayed, the brushes stopped and pulled back... and then nothing. As Keith hung in his restraints, he looked for all the world like an accident from a marshmallow factory.

It was several seconds later when Keith, recovering from his brush treatment, began to feel a strange sensation all over his entire body. It quickly moved from warmth, to tingling, to agony. Just as he thought he would surely ignite, the jets came on again, dousing him again with hard hitting jets of cold water. After being thoroughly rinsed, the feeling subsided. Afraid of what he'd find, Keith slowly opened his eyes and looked back along his stomach... to find himself pinker than an embarrassed flamingo, and with less hair than a newborn. He felt utterly humiliated, and then suddenly terrified... because there were still a good number of chambers between himself and the exit. As these thoughts were going through his head, several things happened in rapid succession. First, a needle punched into his left buttock, and drew back a blood sample. Then, another punctured his right cheek, but it implanted what he knew to be a radio tag. To the system, he was now an animal, to be processed accordingly. As soon as the needles withdrew from his now smooth (and still tender) butt, he heard a new sound that brought a new wave of fear washing over him... the click-whump of an igniting gas torch... The kind he had installed on the machine to heat the end of the branding arms.

Keith began thrashing against his restraints, and trying desperately to do something, anything, to save himself from what he knew was coming... He knew full well that the pain it would bring would make his previous treatment feel like a relaxing massage. Eventually, he stopped, knowing that there was nothing he could do, and he tried to face his next punishment with dignity. Around this time, the wooshing of the gas torches fell silent, and the two arms, each ending in a steel plate, swung into position, one over each ass cheek. The arm on the left bore a large, block letter HF, and the right a six digit number, 000001. Without any warning, the two red-hot plates plunged down, planting firmly on either side of Keith's ass with a sizzle, followed shortly by a primal scream that could wake the dead. After 2-3 seconds, they lifted away, leaving angry red welts that would permanently scar over in the near future. Keith's ass was doused again in cold water, this time to Keith's overwhelming joy. This stage of his torture complete, his legs were brought back into a more normal posture, and he was moved along the tracks to another plastic curtain, and the next circle of the hell he'd built himself.

Passing through the hanging flaps of plastic, which irritatingly dragged along his sensitive and now-hairless skin, he arrived in a chamber he didn't recognize. Looking up, he spotted Michael and Sarah on the catwalk, now wearing matching yellow rain ponchos.

"Gotta say, those marks really fit you, city boy. I wasn't really sure if we should brand you, but sis' here insisted... You know how she is. She wanted you to suffer and remember; what kinda brother would I be if I couldn't support her?" Michael drawled out.

"Ya might be wonderin' why we got rain coats on... Let's just say that, even after you got the shave-job you did, Sarah here wanted to really make sure you got clean... And neither of us want to share the experience with you."

As Michael said this, Keith looked up and noticed... arches... in front of him, and what could have been large red and blue barrels, mounted on some kind of axle; some vertical, others horizontal. With a start, he realized that, to his growing horror, they were the type of wraparound brushes seen in automatic car washes; Michael's comments about cleaning suddenly took a dark twist.

"Sorry, city boy, you're probably still sore from the last room, but we can't wait all day. As for this room, did you know that the old power-wash down the road went out of business? We got a whole carwash's worth of stuff for dirt cheap!!" Michael grinned as he said this, seemingly genuinely excited.

"Now, I dunno that we'll use this stage for the cattle, but you're a special breed after all... nothing but the best for you."

"Gotta say, I was sad I couldn't watch the first room's festivities," Sarah added. "But, I helped pick out the parts for this room, and I'll enjoy watching you finally get your act cleaned up, Honey," the final word dripping with contempt. "Oh, by the way, we had our pick on brushes. I picked the firmest ones, I know how much you value keeping clean." With this, Sarah retrieved what looked like a large remote, and pressed the green button, setting the man-wash into action.

Keith again tried to fight, but again realized the pointlessness of his endeavors. He began rolling forward, for what would be his second, and hopefully last, harsh cleansing of the day. As he neared the first arch, a neon sign off to his side blazed to life, which read 'Manual Pre-Wash'. Before he could register confusion, he saw Sarah step in from his side, wearing the same poncho, as well as a pair of swim goggles, and holding what looked like a cross between a push broom and a pressure washer. Without a word, she activated the wand, set the temperature setting to maximum, and loaded a canister into it which read 'Super Solvent! Now Removes Road Tar!'