All Leon could do was watch. Watch as the homeless bum he’d picked up out of some alley sucked down all of his old life. The years on the street hadn’t been kind to him, but the exhaustion, the hunger, the addiction, it began to fade away. His hair and beard pulled themselves back into his face, which was becoming less lined with wrinkles, turning firm as the bones of his jaws and cheek grew harder and masculine. His flabby belly shrank as his chest expanded–not with fat, but with all of Leon’s lean, developed muscle from his years in the gym and out on the field, or rather, Ned’s years.
Those were his memories now–that was his life. I’d given this man a second chance, and from the look in his eyes, the hope there, I knew that he would do something better with it than Leon ever would have in a hundred years. The cigar was dwindling; my cock had revived and I was taking a second round on Leon’s hole, harder and faster this time. The pig still couldn’t believe what he was seeing, that his hopes had been dashed so utterly. I could see him struggling to reassemble that broken ego, but he could no longer convince himself that this would be temporary. I could feel him freeze up as I thrust into him, trying to not enjoy himself as I’d conditioned him to, trying to reject this body, this life I’d given him. It was only supposed to be temporary, a midsummer’s dream. How could this have happened to someone like him?
The cigar burnt down to the size it had been back in the trailer, when I’d taken everything Leon had ever held dear, and extinguished itself. Ned, blinking like waking from a trance, pushed off the lethargy and stood up from the chair, running his hands over his hard muscle, feeling the youth and power in his chest and gut, walked to a mirror, chuckling–then laughing. A happy laugh, if a bit maniacal. You’d be a bit crazy too, if it happened to you. I finished for a second time in Leon’s pighole, pulled out, and undid the chains holding him in place. I told Ned that he was free to go, but that if he still wanted that second thousand dollars, all he had to do was allow this fat, worthless pig to service him–one last taste of the life he’d taken for granted before saying goodbye to it forever. Ned was more than happy to take the money–Leon was resistant, but an order from me was impossible to deny. He sucked down the young hunk’s load, and then I caged him up, leaving him there in the dungeon while I drove Ned home, so he could get ready for college that next week. He was…incredibly thankful. I told him to just appreciate it–to treasure it as a true second chance. Then I returned home.
In the cage, Leon was sitting, knees pulled to his belly, eyes hollow and and distant. When I came down the steps, the tears started again, but I could tell, this time, finally, they were fearful. Good. He should be afraid. He finally asked, through the tears, what was going to happen next–I unlocked the cage, ordered him out, bound him to a chair and put the mask over his head. He knew the mask well, from the hours of forced smoking before–when I would pack cigar after cigar into the air tube, choking him out with smoke. Once he was secure, I was–for the first time–honest with him. I was going to destroy him. I had destroyed him, in fact, but now I was going to erase him, eradicate him, pulverize his entire personality, all of his memories, to dust. All that would remain, at the end, was a perfect, disgusting, loyal pigslave.
Oh, he fought, of course. No one can help fighting their death. I had selected the cigars ahead of time–two dozen of them. The first seven would obliterate him–his memories, his will power, his ego–the rest would build something marvelous in their place. And marvelous he was–no more inhibitions, no more shame, no more petty humanity. He could behave normally enough at work and in public, but as soon as he was alone with me, he’d collapse to his knees, oinking and squealing, begging for food, piss, cock, filth–anything to validate himself in my eyes. A perfect pet–but I’ve grown a bit bored with him over these last four years, to be honest. Still Ned is finishing college next month, and I think he deserves a proper graduation present. Who, in their right mind, wouldn’t want the perfect pig, after all? Perfectly broken, that is.
Bracken's Corner 