***WARNING*** Contains mentions of scat and bestiality.
Troy had expected, like before, that he would have no memory of that old life of his, but Leo had no real reason any more to lock them away–after all, Troy had no real desire to go back to his old ways anymore. Trying to describe it to himself, once his father’s eyes had returned to their normal grey, it was like he was trapped on the side of a sheer cliff plunging down into darkness. leo had been leading him down the side all weekend, but only now did he realize his predicament. He was now incapable of climbing the side of the cliff back to where, and who, he’d been, but more importantly, he no longer desired that self. Down there, into the darkness, there was someone down there, someone he could be who was far more interesting, far sexier, far more desirable than anything he’d been before, and he wanted to get there, he wanted to climb down as deep as he could go.
From that moment on, Troy rarely ventured up the stairs into the house proper. As far as his step-mother was concerned, he didn’t even exist. Leo, in an effort to help his son, brought in a number of private tutors he’d contacted online, who were more than happy to help guide his son deeper into the pit. Master Parker, an overly muscled power bottom, helped stretch Troy’s holes, taught him to eliminate his gag reflex, showed him how to take two big arms in his ass at the same time, and just how good a punch fuck could feel. Master Jack, a chubby, grungy trucker, oversaw his development as a true, full service toilet slave. Master Emerson developed his sadism, schooled him in bondage and pain, as well as the proper manners of a pig in his position. Troy eagerly learned everything he could, finding his way down the slope. Before too long, he discovered that the light was disappearing on its own. He could barely recall his old self, and he pushed it away, eager to be away from it.
Of course, he had to make money in order to pay rent. Leo was flexible, but he wasn’t about to have a son in his house who couldn’t pay his fair share. Much of his money, at first, came from renting himself out to private fetish parties, generally as a toilet, or occasionally as a fist hole for a group of tops to brutalize. His camshows gained a devoted viewership as well, watching him degrade himself in his rooms, fuck himself with massive dildos, eat his own shit off a plate. For a certain amount of money, someone could pay him to fulfill a particular fantasy of theirs–some were easier than others, but finding a farmer willing to let a boar fuck his hole in his barn took him and Leo several months of searching.
It was his idea to sell off his skin. For a steep price, including the cost of the tattoo, anyone could buy a patch of his skin and cover it with the tattoo of their choosing. His father actually purchased the first one–which turned out to be a fine business investment of it’s own. He had the name of his cam site tattooed across his forehead–www.fithpigtroy.net–and immediately he saw an increase in subscribers. Some people paid for more traditional tattoos, like the realistic turds tattooed on his cheeks, but quite a few others followed Leo’s example and used his skin to advertise their own fetish sites.
Years passed, and Troy began to notice something new–there were certainly plenty of men who watched him to see him humiliate himself, but there was also a group who wanted to be him. Who wished they could take the same steps that he had, who wanted to be pigs too. He offered an apprenticeship (serious applications only) and was swamped by the response. He eventually culled the applicants to one, and he moved his apprentice pig in with him, showing him the ropes, finding a strange pleasure in controlling someone and forcing them to walk their way down into the same deep pit of deranged filth that he himself now called home. And that was when the trouble started.
He and Leo started fighting more and more often. Troy was the one making him all of his money after all, so why shouldn’t he be able to keep it? Leo, finally, had had enough, and he tried to stare him down, only to discover his son had fallen deeper than he could control–Troy was his own pig now, and there was nothing he could do about it. Troy and his apprentice pressed their advantage, blindfolded him and chained him to a chair, and a new bidding process began. Tens of thousands of dollars later, it was decided–Troy shipped Leo off to a private bathhouse where he would spend the rest of his days chained in a bathroom, just another urinal for the men who visited there, and Troy’s empire grew. True, he may have fallen, and yet, who could have known that at the bottom of the pit he would find himself atop a castle of another sort altogether?
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