Earning Human
Annaleise Marie
cross-posted from livejournal
username: girlgotagun

Part Two

AN: This chapter contains the one instance of elimination kink I will probably ever write. It involves the use of an enema in medical context. It is coincidental that the enema use is the treatment for the issue presented, and I would like to remind future prompters not to request elimination kink. Thank you. (Note refers to prompt page on livejournal.)

X

There were a lot of rules to properly rehabilitating a hound, according to the courts. They were all typed out, neat and tidy, in the information pamphlet that the veterinary aid had given Dean once he had Sam's leash in his hand as they prepared to leave. He was trying to ignore Sam as he looked through it—well, not ignore him, really…more try to spare the kid from being stared at. Because when Sam had moved, when he had gotten off of the exam table and shifted to get on his knees on the floor, the plug had shifted inside of him, pressing against his prostate. The tears of shame had fallen harder as he grew hard despite his best attempts to stop it, a strangled sob escaping his throat.

But anyway, there were a lot of rules, Dean realized as he read down the list.

Not one of them looked good for Sam.

The first month was a nightmare as they navigated their way through the rules of Owner and Pet.

X

Any time that a Pet is in public, they must be on a leash and under the full control and command of their Owners. Pets are not permitted to walk upright. Freedom of movement is a human privilege.

Sam didn't like to go out much. He had crawled obediently to the Impala after they left the courthouse, the pavement hurting his knees and palms, scraping the skin raw as his body flamed with humiliation. After that, he preferred to stay home, safe in the house or in the far less public backyard—not that it was much of a sanctuary. The neighbors could still see him, could still stare over the fence as they wondered what he had done to warrant such a punishment.

Dean didn't push too much for Sam to go out with him when he left, allowing Sam to stay at home. When he did, he had to be on a lead in the yard, a long chain attached to a spike in the ground limiting his movement to a twenty-foot radius.

But when Dean was going to be gone for long periods of time, he insisted that Sam go with him. He was worried that leaving Sam unattended too long would be viewed as negligent of his rehabilitation, so on longer trips he clipped the leash to Sam's collar and walked as slowly as he thought he could without appearing to be making special allowances for his brother, trying to be as easy on his knees and hands as he could be. When Sam slowed, or if Sam refused to move for a minute, Dean's chest tightened as he commanded him to heel, trying to keep his voice stern and steady.

He didn't like to command Sam; didn't like to treat Sam like an animal. But he kept reminding himself that if he didn't play along, if he didn't hold up his end as Owner, that he would end up in the same position as Sam, and that they would both likely find themselves in a world of trouble when they were adopted out at random from the Pound, likely separately.

And if he didn't do his part to convince the courts that Sam was properly rehabilitated, and he wasn't granted manumission by the end of ten years, he would have to surrender his brother to be put down. And ten years seemed like a long time, but the scary thing was that according to the statistics listed on the back of the pamphlet, less than five percent of Pets were granted manumission.

"How can that possibly be right?" Sam had asked on the way back to the Impala the day of his sentencing. "How can they keep this system in place when it's producing no results?"

Dean had panicked, had smacked his flank and commanded him not to talk before hurrying to the car, Sam struggling to keep up as the leash jerked.

X

Pets may speak only when spoken to in the privacy of their home. Pets may only answer direct questions; they may not issue commands. In public, Pets are to limit the use of language to emergency-only situations, and in such situations they may speak only to alert their Owner to the situation. Communication and interpersonal relationships and the dynamics involved in such are human privileges.

It was one of those rules that Dean bent a little for Sam. In their home, he let Sam speak freely. But Sam didn't have much to say to him after the harsh command to shut up when he had questioned the effectiveness of his punishment. They spent long hours in the house, not talking to each other, watching TV as Dean stretched out on the couch and Sam knelt on the floor. Every now and then Dean would sort of pet him, the care he felt for his brother urging him to comfort him.

Sam would pull away most of the time, disgusted by the pity his brother was showing him, sure that Dean must be forcing himself to touch him after all that he had seen.

They didn't talk about it, and they both hurt.

X

In the home, Pets are to be fed from their own designated bowl, which is to be placed on the floor. Pets are not permitted to use their hands or utensils to eat. Eating with humans and with concern of dignity is a human privilege.

Three times a day, Dean made meals and scooped half of them into a dog bowl. He set his own plate on the table and then bent over to put the bowl down in front of Sam. At first he had tried to make things that Sam liked, tried to use the lack of rules regarding a specific diet to do what he could for his brother. After the first disastrous attempt of Sam's to try to eat a salad hands-free, however, he had started going for foods that were easier to eat in such a manner. That meant mostly meat, fruit, and raw vegetables.

Sam wouldn't eat from the bowl at first, embarrassment eating away at him as he imagined what he would look like, his face pressed into the bowl and food smearing over his mouth and nose. He and Dean had gotten into a full-out fight over it.

Eventually the hunger wore out, and Sam ate everything in the bowl, humiliation coloring his skin red as he tried to make as little of a mess as he could. By the end of it he had been a complete mess, Italian dressing and bits of lettuce stuck to his face. Dean had cleaned him up patiently as tears burned at Sam's eyes.

"Why can't I even have a fucking napkin?" he grumbled.

Dean sighed. "It's against the rules, Sammy." He made one last gentle pass over the mess on Sam's cheek and then ruffled his hair the way he had when they were younger. "Just be patient, okay? We get this right, and it'll be over before you know it."

Sam really hoped that Dean was right.

X

Pets are permitted in establishments that have chosen to allow their admittance. However, they are not permitted to be seated as a human. They must remain on the floor and at their Owner's feet. If the establishment serves food, they may only eat what their Owner offers them from their own plate. Pets are not permitted to partake in their own meals in this situation. Dining out is a human privilege.

They only ate out once, when Dean had to be out of the house all day and they couldn't go home for dinner and the hunger finally won out. It had taken forever to even find a restaurant that would allow Sam inside, and he had sat as close to Dean's legs as he could, trying to hide under the table. Everyone was staring at him, surely wondering what he had done, eyeing his naked form as he huddled over himself, trying to hide his genitals. He didn't like public places, didn't like people looking at him. Walking on the leash was one thing—he could at least focus on his movement, on not scraping up his hands and knees too bad, ignore the stares and whispers and—occasionally, horrifically—the lecherous grins of shadier men and women.

Dean had ordered a steak and a baked potato before he thought better of it and asked the waitress for fries instead. He had picked up small pieces, his hand moving under the table for Sam to take them in his teeth from between his brother's fingers, his face burning with embarrassment but too hungry to resist.

It had torn Dean up to see the way people stared at Sam, the way they laughed. He wanted to pull his brother up, let him sit in a chair and push his plate across to his brother, let him eat like a person while he beat the shit out of anyone who dared to say anything.

"It'll be over before we know it, Sammy." The mumbled reassurance was more to comfort himself this time. It did nothing to quell the humiliation that constantly raged through Sam.

X

Pets are to remain on the floor. They are not permitted to sleep, rest, or socialize on furniture. They may make use of dog beds or animal-designated shelters as their owners see fit. Comfort is a human privilege.

The only other time that Dean broke any of the rules was when he would let Sam curl up at the end of his bed to sleep. There was a dog bed on the floor beside the king-size bed, but the first night Dean had stayed awake, watching Sammy shiver and toss in his sleep, his heart breaking for his brother. He couldn't let Sam actually sleep with him, couldn't let him slide under the covers for Dean to hold him and comfort him the way he would even when they were younger, even before they were lovers. Couldn't risk it in case there was a surprise inspection by Sam's court-appointed behavior and rehabilitation expert. Especially with Sam's slip-up with the veterinary aid, now that their relationship before the transition was likely on record.

But he let Sam curl up on the end of the bed, covered him gently with a blanket to keep his naked body warm.

Neither of them slept very well, anyway.

X

Pets are not permitted to use showers or bathtubs. Bathing will be performed by their Owner outdoors. Independence and discretion in issues of personal hygiene is a human privilege.

By the third day, Sam reeked. They had been avoiding this particular brand of humiliation, putting it off as a task that wasn't necessary daily. But eventually Dean had accepted that it needed to be done and ordered Sam into the backyard. He hosed him down, trying to ignore the startled cries of discomfort that the cold water brought from his younger brother, the sharp sting of the water pressure turning his skin bright red.

He lathered up his brother's hair, his body, washing every inch quickly and efficiently, trying not to let his hands linger as Sam tried to jerk away. He even cleaned the tail, figuring that the thick, fluffy fur probably held a lot of odor, careful not to tug on or jostle the plug.

Finally, he rinsed Sam off and then dried him quickly with a towel before opening the screen door to let his brother crawl quickly into the safety of the house.

Before Dean went inside himself he flipped off the neighbors who had gathered on their back deck to watch.

X

Pets are not allowed to use facilities designated solely for human use, such as bathrooms and showers. A Pet is expected to void their bladder and bowels outside. This is the only time that their tail is permitted to be removed, and it must be replaced immediately after. Privacy and discretion regarding toilet habits is a human privilege.

This rule proved to be the biggest problem for the brothers.

Sam didn't have a problem with pissing outside. He had been raised camping and hunting, and being a guy it was relatively simple. The fact that he couldn't stand made it awkward, and he actually did have to raise his leg to manage to pee far enough away that he wouldn't end up putting his hand or knee down in it when he moved away, but it was still the same general principle. Besides, he was naked at all times. It wasn't like there was the awkward moment where he had to whip it out and risk horrifying anyone who could see him.

The problem came with the idea of shitting outdoors.

Sam was stubborn, and though his pride had taken a hard hit with the ruling and the subsequent insertion of his tail and systematic stripping of his dignity, he still had enough to make it absolutely out of the question for him to void his bowels outdoors, where anyone could see.

It wasn't even just the actual act of squatting out in the open and shitting in front of someone, although that idea was horrifying enough. The bigger issue, though, was the removal of the plug and the reinsertion of it. He couldn't bring himself to do that, to work the wide plug loose, exposing his gaping hole to the world before he could defecate. And he definitely couldn't imagine having to work it back in, to slide it back inside of him as his rim clutched at it, disappearing inside of his body to the base.

Within four days he was in more pain than he had ever imagined possible. He routinely had to double over as his intestines threatened to rip themselves apart. He began to think that he might shit anyway, unable to stop it, pushing out the plug and all, regardless of where he was or what he was doing. He stopped eating, but that barely helped.

It wasn't long after that that Dean noticed as he walked through the yard that there was nothing for him to do with the pooper scooper. "Sam…haven't you…"

Sam glowered, hunched over in the grass, his arms circled around his stomach as he rode out the sharp, stabbing pains. He tried to give no outward sign of his discomfort.

Dean looked around as though expecting to suddenly find Sam's top-secret shitpile. "I don't get it, man, have you been using the toilet? You know if you're caught doing that we're both in trouble."

That had been Dean's reasoning as he enforced all the rules, and Sam was getting pretty sick of it. He understood it—he definitely didn't want his brother to be in his position. Especially because, with their lack of family, it would likely end with them both in the Pound. But it still really, really sucked that his brother was unwilling to break the rules, even in their own house.

It finally hit Dean, after asking Sam questions that went unanswered for the better part of an hour. "Dude, you seriously haven't shit in nearly a week?" His eyes were wide in shock as Sam glared up at him. "Why not?"

"I'm sorry, would you like to remove a fucking plug, shit where anyone can see, and then shove it back up in you?" Sam snapped.

Dean cast his gaze around, checking that none of their neighbors were out. "Okay, Sammy. I got it. Look, would it help if I took it out and then put it back?"

"Why on earth would that help?" Sam was ready to cry in anger and frustration.

Dean looked panicked at the fact that Sam was talking so loudly. "Okay, okay. Calm down." He took a deep breath, appearing to be thinking hard. "I don't know, Sammy, but you're gonna have to shit, you know? You look like you're in pain."

"Of course I'm in pain!"

"Would you calm down?" Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'll keep a lookout, alright? And you…do your thing."

Sam still didn't want to; still wanted to stubbornly refuse. But Dean was right. He was going to have to do it eventually, and the stabbing pain in his gut was getting to be too much. He nodded sullenly, and Dean turned away, scanning between the backyards on either side of theirs.

It took Sam awhile to work the plug free. His rim had tightened around the slim base, and removing it was nearly as painful as its placement had been the first time. He finally got it out, a sob of relief escaping his throat, and started to bear down, hoping to get the whole humiliating process over with quickly.

After a minute he started to panic. He definitely had to go; he could feel the pressure in his abdomen, could feel the muscles contracting as he tried to go. He pushed so hard that he thought he was going to have a coronary. The more time that went by, the more the fear built.

"Dean…" He gasped a breath, trying to stay calm, to keep the waver of fear and pain out of his voice. "It won't come out."

"What, the plug?" Dean turned, his eyes widening when he saw Sam, the plug in hand as he squatted, face red and contorted in pain. "Oh shit."

X

Pets do not have the right to seek out medical care or to reject medical care. Veterinarians will be visited as their Owner deems appropriate, and the Owner will decide upon appropriate courses of action in such context. All medical care must be performed with the Owner present. Privacy, discretion, and personal agency in medical course is a human privilege.

"Dr. Masters? Really, Dean?" Sam gaped at his brother when he was informed who Dean had decided they would go see about Sam's…bowel issue.

"She was very gentle with our cat when we were kids." Dean shrugged. He hadn't known who else to call. It wasn't like they had a vet on speed dial. They hadn't actually had a pet since they were kids, and Sam wasn't allowed to see their GP anymore.

Sam tried to gauge whether his brother was joking or not. "She put Mittens down!"

"Okay, yeah, but gently. Out of mercy!"

"I don't think that's a great indicator of her prowess in actually treating problems, Dean! I'm trying to avoid euthanasia here!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, you better bitch it out now because we gotta leave in an hour and you know you're not allowed to do it once we leave the house."

Sam didn't speak to him again before it was time to leave.

Dr. Meg Masters was a short, brunette woman with a wry smile and a voice dripping with irony, regardless of whether she was speaking ironically or not. It made her a hard person to read, and so Dean spent most of his time in the corner of the exam room just trying to figure her out.

She ran her hands over Sam's abdomen, one palm pressed against his lower back as the other prodded at his lower stomach, a tight frown on her face. She worked the plug loose and slipped two gloved fingers inside of him, a look of concentration furrowing her brow as she felt around.

"Yup," she muttered, withdrawing her hand and shucking off the gloves. "He's full of shit, alright."

Dean frowned. "Yeah, we knew that. The problem is, he can't go."

"Oh yeah, I figure he can't. He's pretty impacted. Acquired megacolon." She turned her back to them, scrubbing her hands, and then pulled on another pair of gloves. "It's a fancy term meaning that he's held it too long and the water in his colon has been completely absorbed and bonded with the fecal matter, so it's essentially a rock. It's treatable, and he'll be fine, but it won't be pleasant."

"Shocker," Sam scoffed.

"Hush, you." Dr. Masters said, swatting his thigh. "Anyway, I'm going to have to administer warm-water enemas with a water-soluble jelly. That'll soften everything up. But to actually get him cleared and moving again, I'll have to manually break up and extract the blockage; his colon isn't going to be able to expel it naturally."

"You mean…" Dean's eyes darted from her gloved hands to Sam's ass.

The vet smirked. "Unfortunately, yes. Trust me, it's no picnic for me, either. But for some reason recently-transitioned Pets always do this." She looked at him expectantly. "Just need your go-ahead."

Sam's stomach sank as he heard Dean give the vet permission. He didn't want any of what she had just described to be carried out in front of Dean. He had used enemas before, discretely, especially when he had been coaxing Dean through his discomfort with the taboo of their relationship. There was nothing attractive or suitable for the spectator's eyes about the whole process, and he absolutely did not want Dean to witness it. Just the thought made his throat swell with humiliation and shame.

He should've just swallowed his pride and shit in the yard. Why not? Everything else had been taken from him, every last bit of his dignity.

"Please," he choked out, taking a chance with speaking. If ever there was an emergency situation, this was it, in his opinion. "Please, don't do this in front of him. Let him wait outside. Please." Tears burned his eyes and his voice broke as he pleaded.

Dr. Masters actually looked a little sorry. Sam figured that she must have some sort of soft spot for animals, if this was the sort of shit—no pun intended—she went through in her chosen profession. "Sorry, sport. By law, he had to be here."

Sam didn't understand why. Animals were dropped off at the vet for medical procedures all the time and picked up later. He was sure this was another rule that was designed to break him, to humiliate and shame him. And it worked. He couldn't imagine anything humiliating him as much as this would.

He whimpered, pressing his forehead against the cold metal of the exam table as he listened to the woman gather up the supplies she needed. He wanted to apologize to Dean, to say something that would make what he was about to witness less horrifying, less disgusting. Sam was pretty sure that after this, even if he eventually earned manumission, that Dean would never be able to look at him the same.

Dr. Masters placed an IV in his arm, explaining to Dean that it was an electrolyte drip, as the procedure had potential to dehydrate him, and if it was too severe it could cause heart failure. She explained this to Dean, not Sam. Sam was an animal and had no say, no right to his medical treatment. Medical professionals would explain nothing to him that they wouldn't explain to a real dog.

Sam managed to hold it together until he felt the sterile tubing being pushed past his rim, the process eased by how much the plug had opened him. At the first rush of warm, slick water, he broke, his chest heaving with gasping sobs as the warmth spread through him, flooding his colon and filling him to bursting. He could feel excess water leaking out of him, running down his leg to pool on the exam table.

"He's doing fine." Dr. Master's voice was quiet as she addressed Dean. Sam wanted to scream, wanted to call her a liar, wanted to tell her that he was not fine; that he was probably never going to be fine again. He wanted to apologize to Dean.

He couldn't force the words out, could barely breathe as the sobs wracked his chest and shoulders. He felt Dr. Masters moving behind him, flipping a switch on a small machine, and then the water was drawn back out with an obscene suction sound. The saturation of the back-up increased the urge to go, and Sam tried to resist it, despite the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to anyway. He was imagining shitting himself right then and there, the blockage suddenly dislodged, and the imagined embarrassment alone was enough to make him cry harder.

He wanted to curl in on himself, make himself as small as possible, hide from sight. He thought that the aid inserting the plug had been humiliating, or the resulting erection, but that was nothing. He would go through that a hundred times before he would have signed up for this.

Dr. Masters withdrew the tubing and pressed her fingers into him again, feeling the obstruction, prodding gently. The fingers withdrew and the tube was reinserted. Sam braced himself as the second rush of water flooded forward.

He remembered, the first time that he had used an enema himself, the water had been too warm. Slightly above body temperature. It wasn't enough to cause any damage, but as the heat rushed through his nerves, washed over his prostate, he had quickly and violently reached orgasm.

He prayed that wouldn't happen now. Prayed he wouldn't even get hard. He wasn't sure if he could take that in addition to what he was already dealing with.

The suctioning sound began again, and the excess water was once more drained. Dr. Masters checked the obstruction once more and Sam held his breath, praying that whatever she was checking for would be enough, that she wouldn't have to flood him again. The need to shit was getting increasingly stronger, almost impossible to ignore, pain lancing his gut as the blockage was unable to move but was now hydrated enough to need to.

Apparently satisfied with what she found, Dr. Masters spoke to Dean again. "I'm going to use forceps to break apart the blockage. It's not going to be pretty, but we're almost done."

Sam repeated the last part to himself as he felt the cold, slick instrument slide into him, clasping and squeezing as it broke up the obstruction, occasionally withdrawing to deposit part of it in a biohazard bin on the table.

"Okay boy, pretty soon you're going to feel able to go, and when you do I want you to tell—"

Dr. Masters addressed him too late, and the sensation came on too suddenly.

Right there, before he could stop it, before he could say anything or really process what was happening, Sam's gut gave a violent twist and he was seized by the sudden need to push. Wet, loose stool and excess water surged out as Sam shit himself, the mess falling to the table as Dr. Masters moved quickly back, some of the thick, strong-smelling waste clinging to Sam's thighs.

He cried harder, in shame and humiliation and a twisted sort of relief and satisfaction. God help him, it felt igood/i to finally go, regardless of the circumstances, and that slight pleasure warred it out inside of him with the complete and total degradation that he was feeling.

He was never going to be able to look Dean in the eye again.

X

Pets may not engage in sexual activity with humans. To do so is considered tantamount to bestiality and is punishable as such by law. This includes previously existing relationships, and previously existing relationships with their Owner, including between married couples. Marriages, civil partnerships, and any similar legal bonds are considered suspended pending manumission. There are no exceptions to this rule.

Though they both already knew of this rule, Sam had let out a broken laugh when Dean had read it out loud, snapping bitterly about how sure he was that the courts never had to worry about Dean ever touching him again, both because of how disgusted Dean must be with him, and how disgusted he was with himself. He never wanted to be touched again.

Dean didn't know how to explain that the dehumanization thing was a major turn-off, that he was absolutely, one hundred percent sure that he would never be able to get it up while Sam was forced to act like a dog, but that he didn't not want Sam. That once his brother was granted manumission, of course he would still want him.

He missed Sam so much it hurt.

He didn't know how to say it.

"It'll be over before you know it, Sammy."

Sam had just snorted in disgust and rolled away from him, pulling the blanket at the end of the bed over his body as though to hide himself.

X

Pets are permitted to engage in masturbation. Special allowances for the preservation of their dignity or privacy are not to be made, however, and Owners are expected to intervene if such activity takes place in an inappropriate environment. Privacy and dignity regarding sexual acts are a human privilege.

When Dean had first read this rule he had sort of laughed. He couldn't imagine Sam being in the mood with everything that happened. But between the plug inside of him pressing against his prostate 24/7 and the steadily building frustration with the lack of contact between him and Dean, his brother was in a nearly-constant state of arousal by the end of the first month.

Dean wasn't allowed to knock before entering a room—Sam wasn't allowed that kind of privacy or consideration. This meant that Dean walked in on his brother jerking off way more times than he was comfortable with. More than once he had gotten up to inspect a noise, worrying that Sam was sick or hurt, and walked into a room just as Sam was blowing his load.

To make matters worse, Sam wasn't allowed to bathe himself, wasn't allowed clothes or things like napkins or towels. So that left only two options: let Sam walk around covered in his own cum, or clean him up.

Sam hated himself for it, hated the detached look in his once-lover's eyes as he cleaned him up after he climaxed, hated the disgusted look that flashed across his face when he walked in on it.

"It'll be over before I know it, right Dean?" His voice was bitter.

X

There was no logic in the punishment, Sam decided. How was a person supposed to learn to function as a human by being treated as an animal? He felt more broken, more ready to snap, to lose his mind than he ever had before the transition.

It was nonsensical. But all he could do was hold on, go through the motions and follow the rules, trust his big brother that it would be over soon.

He wasn't sure what would happen then, if he was ever granted manumission. Wasn't sure things could ever be the same. Knew beyond a doubt that he could never be the same.

But still, it had to be better than living like an animal.

Or at least, he hoped so.