Just wanted to take a chance to thank everyone who has contributed to my Patreon so far. I’m currently up to $251 dollars a month, which is just $50 dollars shy of me increasing the update schedule to four days a week instead of three. If you’re feeling generous, you can donate over here. Everyone who donates will get access to an archive of unreleased stories, over 200,000 words worth covering nearly every fetish and transformation you can imagine. For $5 a month, you’ll also receive exclusive stories I’m writing for contributors, as well as free digital copies of any stories I release for sale in the future. Here’s a sample from the archive, the start of a story called “The Pig Program.”
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The phone was ringing. Billy pounded on the door to his apartment, calling for help, but the sudden constriction of the device clamped around his cock and balls made his stomach twist into knots, and he nearly collapsed. Still, the phone was ringing, had been ringing, would probably keep ringing until he answered it, but he didn’t want to know who was calling him. He didn’t want to know who was behind all of this.
He had gone out Friday, like every Friday before that, to the leather bar, dressed in his harness and jeans, looking for a daddy to give his ass a good pounding and help him explore the whole BDSM scene. Billy had always been…curious about it, but only recently had he worked up the nerve to actually put himself out there. He’d had a few tame sessions with some local Sirs, and he’d enjoyed them immensely, but he was timid, and a bit scared. He might have been a chubby bottom cub, but he did like to stay in control of himself. However, something else must have happened on this Friday–he had no idea what. All he knew was that he’d woken up fifteen minutes ago with his cock and balls locked in chastity, all of his hair shaved from his body, and his apartment door locked from the outside.
He’d tried to figure out how the chastity device worked, but everytime he tried to tamper with it, it would clamp down, crushing his balls, and he’d immediately feel nauseous and leave it alone. He’d resolved to leave the apartment and get help, but his closet was empty of all of his clothes, and his door…there was a strange electronic lock on it, keeping him inside. Every window was locked as well–he couldn’t get out. And always, the ringing phone. His cell phone was gone, and a landline had appeared mysteriously on a side table, and it wouldn’t stop ringing. He picked up the receiver and hung up quickly two or three times, but it would begin ringing again as soon as he slammed it back down.
Now he was pacing the room, trying to think of what to do, but the ringing–he couldn’t think through it. He picked up the phone and shouted into it, “What the god damn fuck do you want? What did you do to me?”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and then a soft chuckle. That laugh–he knew it from somewhere, but his mind was a blank–no face, no body, just that…chuckle, and a voice. “Hello Billy, welcome to the program. This is your headmaster calling–I doubt you remember me very well, but I’ve certainly become quite intimate with you as of late.”
“You sick fuck! What the fuck did you do? How do I get this…thing off of me?”
“Oh? You were so excited when we put that thing on you last night–you were pleading for it in fact. After all, we didn’t do anything which you didn’t ask us to. We don’t admit anyone to the program without their complete approval. I have all of the paperwork to verify it in fact. I included copies of every document in the back of your manual.”
Memories. Fragments really. Signing some documents, his cock hard. “What happened? Why can’t…why can’t I remember what happened?”
“Now, I’ve been lenient thus far, but you must begin addressing me properly. Then, I will answer one question for you.”
Billy swallowed, his throat dry, and then spoke, “Why…why can’t I remember any of this…Sir?”
“Because I don’t want you to remember it, pig. That ruins the whole effect. Now, your training begins today. Read through the manual on the table, and then–”
“Wait! That’s not an answer. That’s fucking bullshit,” Billy said, but his balls were suddenly crushed harder than they’d been all morning, and he screamed–but it didn’t stop. “Please! Please no. Sir! Sir, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please Sir, please…” and they were released, and he sobbed on the floor. He could hear the Headmaster from where he’d dropped the phone, yelling, telling him to pick up the receiver, and with a shaking hand, he did.
The headmaster was shouting, but he was not out of control. It was a voice of command, not of anger. “…that pig? You are not a free animal any longer. You do what I say, when I say it, understand?”
“Yes…yes Sir,” Billy managed to sob.
“Now, as I was saying. Your training begins today. You will read your manual on the table. You will then watch training DVD number one. It may be Sunday, but no rest for pigs. Now get going–and remember, I’ll be watching…” and the phone clicked off–no dial tone–nothing.
“Sunday?” Billy said to himself. It was Saturday, right? Had he lost an entire day with this freak? That would explain how so many changes to his apartment had been made in that time, but how could he lose an entire day’s worth of memories? What in the hell had the headmaster done to him? He tried dialing 911, but there was no answer, so he set the phone down and looked around the room. They had to have set up cameras to watch him, and probably microphones too. He needed to just play along with this insanity until they slipped up, and he could escape.
He walked around the couch and saw a thick book sitting alone on the coffee table, with the picture of a collared pig’s head on the cover and nothing else. It was thick, but not so much so that he couldn’t read it in a single sitting, but he flipped through it, finding it full of a long list of rules, the respective punishments for breaking those rules, and a description of what he could expect his days to be like from now on, and as he read through it–he couldn’t help but feel a kernel of sexual arousal amidst all of the anger and terror. From his read, he learned that the pig program had four grades–and that he was currently in the first grade. To the rest of the world, it would appear as though everything were normal–he would still go to work and engage in various approved activities–but inside the apartment, he would be trained for the next grade. He would have no freedom, his every decision dictated by the headmaster, and in most cases, disobedience would cause the chastity device to crush his balls–which explained the horrible pain he’d experienced throughout the morning. After he’d finished, it had done little more than destroy what little hope he’d had for himself. This Headmaster had obviously thought many steps ahead of Billy–and he could already tell that escape would be nearly impossible.
He set down the book and just stared at the TV in front of him, and the DVD stand which had manifested next to it, filled with numbered cases. With shaking hands, he pulled out the top DVD, labeled “#1” and turned it over. What was on it? What harm could it do, really? Maybe he could follow the letter of the rules and still manage to resist the spirit of them. Maybe they would just give up if he didn’t advance like they wanted. Still, he did want to watch it–wanted to know what they wanted him to watch. He’d be lying if this entire scenario hadn’t been ripped from some of the darkest of his fantasies, and so he opened the case, took out the blank disk, put it in the player, sat down on the couch and started the movie. There was a blast of sound, a dazzle of color oversaturating his vision and then he was staring at the suddenly blank TV screen, bouncing up and down on the thick dildo which had worked its way into his ass, and took a deep drag off the thick cigar somehow stuck into the gag strapped in his mouth, forcing him to inhale the thick smoke into his lungs.
His mind reeled–looking at the clock on the wall, he saw that eight hours had passed in the blink of an eye. He tried to stop fucking himself on the dildo, but couldn’t–his body was moving all on it’s own, and the stimulation on his prostate was making his cock leak uncomfortably in its confinement. The same with the cigar–for some reason, he couldn’t not smoke it. He’d never smoked a day in his life before now, and all he could do was fuck himself, feeling his thighs and hamstrings burning with exertion, and watch the cigar slowly burn itself down to a nub, and fall away from the gag, when control finally returned to his body. After undoing the gag and gasping for fresh air, he hauled the nine inch dildo from his ass, but before he could stop himself, he licked the entire shaft clean before setting it down on the coffee table. He heard words come out of his mouth under his breath, but not words he’d meant to say–“Rule 46. A pig’s toys are vitally important, he must care for them and clean them after every use.”
What had that DVD done to him? He scraped his mind, but couldn’t remember anything other than that flash–had he really blanked out for eight hours? And where had the dildo, gag and cigar even come from? He hadn’t seen them earlier in the apartment. His hands finally put down the dildo, now spotless, and he sat there–wondering what other triggers there might be–what other hidden tricks that DVD had put in his mind. He got up and went to the DVD player to look at it again, but DVD #1 wasn’t in there anymore–it was DVD #3. He’d switched them without even knowing? Billy’s stomach twisted as he realized how little control he had…but also because he was starving. He hadn’t worked that hard in ages–and when was the last time he’d gone eight hours without eating?
He got up to go into the kitchen, where his jaw dropped. On the kitchen table were two extra large pizza boxes, both still warm, with a two liter bottle of soda next to them. He looked around, expecting someone to be there who might have brought them, but he was alone. Still–he was a big guy, and he had a healthy appetite, but there was no way he could eat all of that. As though in reply, he felt himself speak again, “Rule 3. A pig is a glutton, and will eat everything put on the table for him.” The terror at his own words couldn’t stop his feet from walking him up to the table, or his hands from picking up the first slice and slamming it down his throat. He begged and pleaded through the mouthfuls, looking for cameras, asking them to let him stop–to let him go–but he had to eat.
It took him an hour to polish the table, before he waddled back into the living room, laid back on the couch, rubbing his distended gut and started crying. He was exhausted, and he’d only been “awake” for about two hours today. When the phone rang again, he sobbed. He didn’t want to answer–didn’t want to pick it up, but when he felt the device begin constricting his balls again, he heaved himself up and answered it, the words popping out without thinking, “Yes Sir, how may I proceed with my training, Sir.”
“That was very good, pig. You must really want this life for the programming to cement itself so well in your mind.”
“What do you mean, Sir? Please, please let me go, Sir.”
“Again, this is what you asked for pig. Now, I think that this was enough for your first day. After all, you have a very busy week ahead of you. Your work has been contacted, and you will be using your week of vacation for your initial training before returning. I don’t like having my animals running around outside their cages without at least a week of solid conditioning first.”
“You mean, I’ll be able to leave, Sir? Please, just let me go, I swear I won’t tell, I swear Sir.”
“No Pig, you’re far too beautiful to let you roam wild like you were. Trust me, with some training, you’ll be a far better pig than you’d have ever imagined yourself being. As for work, all animals at level one must remain somewhat active in their old lives. It eases the transition into the program, and allows us to sever any ties the animal might have had with others before they graduate to level two. Now, that’s enough questions for now. Complete your smoking quota for the night, and then go to bed. There will be instructions for you when you wake.”
“Smoking quota, Sir?” Billy stammered, “I don’t–”
“Slave, tell me the cigars remaining on your quota,” the headmaster commanded.
“Two, Sir.” Billy replied automatically.
“Good. Now, for questioning me, Smoke both of those cigars with your ass plugged, and recite the rules from memory until you’ve finished both. Good night.”
“Good night, Sir,” Billy said, and hung up the phone.
Bracken's Corner 