Jonothon's masters wish his brain to think only of obedince to them.
Jonothon is to be slime-treated by his Masters, the spiders.
Two high pillars of have been erected where Jonothon is to be given his treatment. He is clothed in nought but a short, thin skintight little cotton shirt. His head has been shaved of all hair except for a little slime-gelled cone of blond hair in the middle of his forehead.
He has been restrained between the pillars with thick, wet tentacles around his legs and arms, his arms are raised at his sides, his legs are wide.
Above his head, a big block of thick yellow slime like vaseline is between the two blocks. Slowly, it begins to descend. Jonathon begs, begs the spiders, his eyes wide and unseeing in fear, but the spiders listen not as Jonothon's lips work desperately to plead, and wail, and promise, his puny little 12-year-old body writhing against the thick, strong tentacles, the naked penis jiggling jiggling, the naked penis jiggling jiggling. The warm, wet smile stinks in his nostrils as it lowers and lowers and lowers.
The spiders squeal with glee as the slime gently touches his head. There is a long, moist squelch as the slime descends softly, yet firmly, slowly sealing his head in a thick, smelly tomb. As he opens his mouth to scream, the special slime begins to push down his throat, he cannot close his mouth.
Gently the slime closes over his cotton-ringed neck, so that his whole head is sealed into the slime's intimate caress. The tentacles release his body, for now they are needed not to ensure Jonothon does not escape his processing. The little boy thrashes and jigs. Hands claw at the slime. Thrash. Jig. Claw. Claw. Desperate. Desperate. But he can escape his smelly fate not.
Gently, his body calms as the slime begins to work upon him. The slime begins to rise again. It lifts the limp, unresisting body high into the air. It begins to rotate the body, slowly, gently.
Soon the belly is plump and swollen with slime. The treatment is gentle and slow and intimate. Jonothon's pert little 12-year-old body is still very calm and well-behaved as he is given his treatment. His hands claw and twitch delicately against his thighs, his legs jig in a soft, spastic jigging to the rhythm of his purification. Jonothon's body shows almost no sign of the horrible, smelly things which are being done to his soft ickle brain.
Jonothon is being chemically lobotomized, slowly and gently and exquisitely. His head-meat stinks like free will and boy-thinks. He knows not that a preteen boy must think of nought but serving his Masters. Jonothon shall be chemically sterilised of his impure human thoughts until his head-meat is clean and correct and obedient.
For many hours the smelly little preteen boy dangles and spins and stinks and robotises. Jonothon needs to be given a lot of slime to sanitize his brain. It must be pumped, and pumped, and pumped into his little body. The slime is very clever. It gives its' special juices and chemicals to his brain, then the slime is pooed out in thick logs of rich, brown sludge so that more slime can be pumped into the little boy's body!
The slime is very smelly when it comes out the back. The crack between Jonothon's nice, round, cute little boy-tushy fills with slime, the backs of his smooth, supple legs are wet and slimed as it gently slides from Jonothon's sweet, tight little underage bumhole. It is for this reason that he is clothed not beneath the hips- otherwise his panties would just fill with boy-soil! With no clothing upon his hips, the soil simply falls upon the floor!
The place where Jonothon is being processed is hot and moist, and soon his body stinks of B.O. and nightsoil and Lobotomising slime. For many hours his body twitches and stinks, until his brain has been washed, and purified, and corrected. It now knows nought but obedience to the Spiders. It realises that the spiders are right to correct his brain, for his brain-thinks were impure and soiled before. Jonothon wishes to do nought but serve.
Slowly the slime descends. Jonothon’s head is freed of the block. It is still jellied with slime. His eyes are milky white. The mouth is a puckered O shape, gently gurgling slime out as the body begins to serve his new masters. The spiders click with glee.