There were sounds much louder now and Paul knew they were real. If the sounds were real then maybe the box was real, and there was an inside and an outside to it. Lines and shapes were flooding across Paul's mind as the world started to reconstruct itself with an almost manic joy. Then a sensation of movement as the drawer slid open. And then there were great sounds as other things happened outside. And finally, beautiful and terrible light flooded Paul's eyes as the lid was removed.

  Paul lay there shuddering on Sarah's hand for several minutes not even aware of when she picked him up. All his sensations were re-calibrating themselves as he could look and hear again; and he lay there curled up as he took this all in.

  He looked up into he female face that belonged to the savior who pulled him out of his tomb. Katelyn? He asked himself. But no, it was Sarah; his savior had been his executioner, and she was looking at him with a look that combined disgust and pity.

  “Let's get you cleaned up.” Sarah said. She carried him to the bathroom where she turned on the tap. The cool water felt refreshing on his skin and helped center him back in this reality. Sarah put soap on her fingers and started rubbing Paul clean. In a different context this could have been quite an interesting experience but with Sarah it was just so impersonal and methodical, and he felt himself knocked about by his fingers.

  Sweat and piss now cleaned off of him, Sarah rinsed Paul and gave him a tiny towel to dry himself off. Sarah then handed him clothes instructing him to put them on. He recognized them as being from his smallhouse over in the tinyroom; Sarah must have retrieved them for him, or else had gotten Barney to do it. Looking around the bathroom he saw his other clothes laying in a small pile. What were they doing here? What could this mean?

  Paul looked up at Sarah, who let out a long, weary sigh before dropping the bomb: “I'm giving you to Brie.” Shock and confusion shot through Paul. Brie? What?

  “I'm...you're...what?” Paul asked.

  “I can't have you here.” Sarah said, a hint of a snarl in your tone. “You've caused so much trouble, but Brie's agreed to take you. Brie doesn't own any women, she only owns men and they're all athletes, so I don't think you're going to get in any more trouble.”

  “You're giving me...to Brie?” Paul gasped. As terrible as Sarah could be as an owner she was at least a known commodity. The only thing that came to mind when Paul thought of Brie was the chilling look of naked excitement when she saw him in the cage that first night.

  “You should be thankful for it, too.” Sarah said. “She'll be here in a few minutes. I'll get your cage.”

  Sarah left the bathroom giving Paul a small window of time to re-orient himself both in his surroundings and in the knowledge that his younger sister would be his new owner. There was plenty of light coming through the window, so Paul assumed an entire day had passed. This made the most sense to him, and now that he was out of his prison he began to realize that he was pretty hungry after a day of not eating.

  But Brie...Brie was going to own him. Brie had always been the hot to Sarah's cold; she was the feisty one, the unpredictable one. She and Paul had fought off and on as kids, always trying to get one over on each other. Sarah would make peace when she would care to, but usually ignored them, though if she did intervene she would invariably take Brie's side over Paul. He always felt helplessly outnumbered in a house with three women.

  But now it looked like Brie had gotten the final one over on him—she was now going to be his owner. Paul was trying to really understand what this meant when Sarah returned with a cage. Whether it was the same one he arrived in, he didn't know. Paul didn't need to be asked to get in; as soon as Sarah opened the door he entered on his own, sitting down in the center as Sarah tossed his clothes in.

  Sarah sighed as she closed and latched the door, looking almost relieved to be getting rid of him. “I want you to be good to Brie.” Sarah said. “Don't tease her or give her a hard time. She's a real saint for getting you out of my hair.”

  Paul didn't know what to say to this so he said nothing. It was only a minute later when a knocking sound rang out from the hallway. Sarah walked out to answer the door and a moment later Paul could hear Brie's voice as she greeted her older sister enthusiastically. They talked for a couple minutes before their footsteps got closer and then both of Paul's sisters came in sight, Brie letting out the tiniest high-pitched noise as she spotted Paul, looking at him as if he were a new puppy gifted to her at Christmas.

  “Now you're sure you want to take him?” Sarah asked.

  Brie waved her hand. “It's no problem at all. I can handle the little guy,” She said. Brie couldn't stop smiling and Paul found it very unnerving.

  “Well, his clothes are all in here, and that's about it,” Sarah said. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Nope!” Brie said. She walked forward and picked up the cage, Paul swinging slightly from the motion. “Everything seems fine!”

  “Well,” Sarah said. “Good luck with him. And I'll see you at mom's tomorrow night for dinner?”

  “Yep!” Brie said. She carried the cage out into the hallway with her as Sarah followed. Sarah opened the front door and Brie carried Paul out into the blinding light of the day. They said goodbye to each other and then Sarah closed the door behind her. Paul realized she never said goodbye to him.

  Brie lifted up the cage so she could look at Paul as she walked. “Wow, you really tried to fight Barney, didn't you?” She said with a little giggle. “Don't worry, I have a medic on my team, I'll have him look at your injuries. You're in good hands with me!”

  Brie carried Paul's cage next to her hip as he tried to enjoy the view around him. He didn't know when if ever he'd get a chance to be outside again. It was a truly beautiful day—the weather had warmed up considerably in the last couple of weeks and it was almost hot. It seemed to be mid-afternoon and school must have been nearly out. For a brief moment Paul entertained a fantasy where Hannah would be leaving school and recognize Brie, then realize what she was carrying and negotiate a price for him. But by now even such fantasies seemed completely unreal.

  Brie's house was not very far from Sarah's. It was a smaller house, and Brie had complained when Doris bought if for her. Doris had pointed out that Sarah actually had a full-time job when Brie didn't have one. Brie worked a couple days a week as a clerk at a nearby store, but she fashioned herself a soccer team owner and spent most of her time trying to put together and train an elite soccer team. She always said that once she won a few big tournaments she would pay her mom back for everything but as of yet the team had only had a few slivers of success.

  Brie opened the door to her house and stepped inside. To her left was a staircase leading up to her bedroom, and to her right was a room almost completely taken over with a tiny soccer pitch, complete with league-approved fake turf, sideboards, benches, and lights. Brie had clearly spent a tremendous amount of money on the facilities for her team—this was top-tier quality stuff—and it made Paul wonder how much Brie had spent on the team itself.

  Instead of stopping here or going upstairs Brie walked straight through a doorway with its door removed into a second, slightly smaller room. On one side of the room was a chair and a small table with a few knickknacks that Brie used in her normal life. But on the other side of the room and taking up most of the space was the living quarters of the team.

  This was not Sarah's professional, partitioned setup. This was a complete open plan that sprawled across most of the room. All the player's cots were lined up in a row near the left side of the room; the same cheap furniture found in Sarah's house was scattered around in a chaotic mess. They had tables and chairs and what looked like a per-fabricated kitchen. Along the right wall was a prefab open-air shower facility where all the showers were completely open in a long row. Behind them in a semi-concealed area there were toilets. There were shelves stacked with clothes, games, and other knickknacks, and a large television overlooked the whole area, though it was currently off. All of this was completely open and there were no secluded areas as far as Paul could see.

  Brie lowered the cage to the ground and only then could Paul see the team. The entire team was standing together in front of their living quarters, their eyes looking between their owner and their new arrival. They were all young and athletic—they seemed to be in the prime of their career—and every single one of them was male.

  Brie reached down and undid the latch on the cage, swinging the door open. “I would like you all to meet your newest housemate, my kid brother Paul!” Brie said with excitement. “Come on out, Paul, don't be shy!” She cooed.

  Paul stepped forward out of the cage and onto the floor. Brie's leg rose like a massive white pillar to his left side and the team stood right ahead of him. He counted eleven men in total, all of them extremely jacked. The youngest seemed to be about his age, the oldest no more than mid-20s. Apart from a couple that were around his height they were all significantly taller than him, and more than a couple looked like they could have taken Barney in a fight.

  Paul didn't know how he should great these people but before he could he was spooked by the sudden motion of Brie removing her shoes. To his surprise she casually kicked off her shoes right in front of the tinies' living quarters, her left shoe even bouncing forward and knocking a few pieces of fake furniture off position. The unmistakable odor of sweaty feet started to waft out.

  “Hey,” Said one of the tallest, beefiest men in the group. “Come on over here. We won't hurt ya.”

  Paul stepped tentatively over to the men who each introduced themselves in turn. They each gave Paul a terrifyingly strong handshake, and Paul—whose hand was still sore from throwing that punch yesterday—felt as though his hand were going to fall right off. At least this greeting was kinder than what he received at Sarah's.

  “Any special instructions for the runt, Boss?” Said the man who had introduced himself first as Kyle.

  “Just look him over and make sure he's not seriously hurt.” Brie said. “Other than that just get him settled in. I'll be back for evening exercises!”

  And with that Brie left the room, the floor shaking with each of her bouncing steps in her sock-clad feet. Now Paul was alone with eleven soccer players he just met.

  “I'm the captain of the Mashers,” Kyle said. “When Boss isn't here I'm in charge, you dig? Jeff here is our physician, and he'll take a look at you.”

  A leaner but still quite muscular man stepped forward. “Damn, dude!” Jeff laughed, looking at him. “You really got yourself into quite a scuffle. Let me guess. 'You should see the other guy'.”

  “Not likely,” One of the others said; others responded with a derisive chuckle.

  “Yeah, I got into a fight.” Paul said, seeing no need to hide from it, and thinking that such an aggressive action may gain him respect with these athletes.

  “By the looks of you I wouldn't advise doing that again.” Jeff said. Everyone laughed again, Paul felt himself turning read. “Come over here, let me take a look at you.”

  Jeff led Paul over to a nearby couch and sat him down. He called for one of the others to bring him his kit, and soon Jeff was cleaning up dried blood and putting bandages over certain spots. Most of the rest of the team had wandered off, but Kyle stuck around.

  “Well, it looks like nothing too serious.” Jeff said after a few minutes of work. “Just try not to reopen any of these cuts and you should be fine.”

  “Thanks,” Paul said, but Jeff waved him off with a dismissive gesture.

  “So, what good are you for anyway?” Jeff asked. Paul was slightly taken aback by the question, but he remembered that all tinies had to have a purpose, and as far as they knew, he didn't have one.

  “Uh...” Paul started.

  “He's going to be our manservant.” Kyle said, laughing. “That's what he used to do at Boss's sister's house of fags before he got himself kicked out.”

  “Red card for fighting, I see,” Jeff laughed. “Well, if you get that banged up fighting some faggot I wouldn't recommend starting anything here.”

  “I...was more of a janitor than a manservant.” Paul said. Kyle laughed.

  “Semantics; you were just the Op's bitch.” Kyle said, laughing. He reached out and ruffled Paul's hair roughly, and said: “Nah, you're all right, kid. Just know your place and don't ruffle any feathers and you'll do all right here.”

  Paul didn't know how to respond but just nodded. Jeff left them and Kyle walked slowly to the center of the room. Paul felt as though he wanted him to follow so he did. Kyle stopped in the middle and gestured around him.

  “You want a tour?” Kyle asked.

  “Uh, sure.” Paul said. Without moving, Kyle pointed to each area of the room.

  “Beds, kitchens, rec area, toilets, showers.” Kyle said. “There, tour over. Any questions?”

  “Um, where will I sleep?” Paul asked.

  “Second bed from the right is empty, that'll be yours.” Kyle said. “But don't go thinking you can lay down any time you like. We sleep together, we rise together; we're a team. You might not be a Masher but if you live here you play by our rules, and don't think you'll be getting any extra favors because of your past with Boss. She told us flat out that you're nothing but another dude here and you have to earn your keep just like everyone else.”

  “I see.” Paul said. His hopes of being treated any better than he was by the models were being dashed by the minute.

  “So during unstructured time like this you're free to do as you like.” Kyle said. “Just don't step on anyone's toes. If the chair you're sitting on turns out to be a Masher's favorite chair you'd better hop right off. Got it?” Paul nodded.

  “Now: bed, meals, practice, showers, and team building exercises are all communal, so don't skip any.” Kyle said. “We don't expect you to play but we expect you to earn your keep in other ways. You're going to be doing a lot of running around getting things for the team while we practice, and you're probably going to take over doing our laundry as well. If you can cook you're going to be making us a lot of meals, if you can't cook—well, you're going to learn.” Paul nodded. It certainly seemed like these guys wouldn't be cutting him any slack—he'd be working even harder here than he had been at Sarah's.

  “You better store your clothes in that cabinet there.” Kyle said, indicating the small cabinet behind his bed. “And don't go far—Boss will be back soon and it'll be time for our evening exercises.”

  Kyle walked off leaving Paul to carry his clothes from the open cage over to his new bed. It only took one trip, and these were the only possessions he had. Truthfully they weren't even possessions, he was the possession, these were just his accessories. The cabinet was small but even so he doubted he would ever have enough to fill it. The bed was a lot firmer than his old bed had been but at least it wasn't lumpy.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. The men were occupying themselves with various things around the room; some were working out while others were lounging, playing games, or chatting. There were even two men chilling on top of Brie's discarded shoe—Paul could smell it from here; he couldn't even imagine what it smelled like up close.

  Paul still hadn't eaten all day and he was feeling very hungry. However Kyle had said that meals were communal and Paul didn't dare raid the kitchen on his own. He didn't see anyone else snacking and he wasn't about to ask. Instead he was just happy to be neither locked in a box nor carried around for a moment, so he just sat there on the edge of his bed.

  A few minutes later there was a rumbling as Brie came down the stairs on the other side of the wall. She re-emerged into the tinyroom wearing tall brightly-colored socks, shorts, and a sweater. Paul noticed something at the top of one of her socks: it was Peter—Brie's companion—hitching a ride. He pulled himself out and dropped down as Brie stood in front of them.