Cabin Pressure (Part 5)

WARNING: Extreme Modification, Castration


Darkness. The same smell as before, but damp, mildew. He couldn’t see any detail around him, but he was confined in a tight space, something that could barely confine him, crouching on a hard surface. He kept expecting something to emerge from the black surrounding him, but all it did was press into him, fill him with a deep sense of unease and disgust. Why was he here? Who had put him here?

He felt woozy and sick. He couldn’t focus, and he felt a sudden sense of vertigo–like he’d fallen and remained upright at the same time. Something was in the darkness–a person? No, it didn’t feel like a person, but it was around him, inside him. He could see…flashes of memory, but nothing was clear, nothing that he could remember beyond broad strokes. Pain. Abuse. Humiliation. Screaming, his own screaming, so much screaming. He tried to put his hands over his ears, but he couldn’t stop hearing himself, his throat raw, his skin feeling like ants were crawling all over him, a dull ache in his crotch.

The dull ache drew his attention, even as he tried to ignore it. He’d…wanted it, as long as he could remember. His father had told him he’d never be a man, even as he’d raped him. The boys at school, calling him a sissy and a bitch. He didn’t know what he was, but he wasn’t a man, he didn’t want to be a man, he didn’t deserve to be a man, and…and so when he finally had…had the chance…

He’d done it before he’d drugged him, without anesthesia. It had hurt so much, he hadn’t believed anything could feel so gut wrenchingly terrible, but it was done, and the ache was easing already, several months later. He felt so much better, now…now that he wasn’t a man. He’d never been a man, of course, but now–now he was exactly as worthless as he’d always known he was. But everything else was a blur, a terrible, painful blur. Three months of his life, total freedom with his body, that was the price. Was it worth it?

Voices from the dark. It didn’t matter what he wanted. Master had wanted it as much as he had. Master, his master. He felt terror, a desire to serve, but couldn’t…remember him clearly. Who was his master, why couldn’t he see him? Why didn’t he know his name at least, why didn’t–


It was jostled awake by the plane coming to a rough landing, not that it could move much, hemmed in as it was, between hits own flabby body–500 pounds now–and Master Brian leaning on him. Home. It was home, finally. It had been named Jeff before this, but it didn’t have a new name yet–his Master had promised one when it had returned from it’s vacation. Seeing that it was awake, Brian tugged the chain connected to the thick leather collar around the thing’s fleshy neck and the thick gauge ring pierced through it’s septum, hauled him close and mauled his mouth, exploring its cavity like mouth.  It had woken in the dungeon from his drugged state, and discovered it had lost not only its teeth, but its tongue had been split down the center, and pierced in several places–the better for pleasuring cocks, it had been assured. It would have to be fed by a tube from now on, which he was rather used to anyway, with its master at home. So far it had only been fully conscious again for a day, and still hadn’t quite come to grips with the body it now had–a hundred pounds heavier, missing its balls–and its cock, which had been taken without his permission, since it was so small anyway. The man had rerouted his urethra between his taint, allowing it to piss while sitting down.

Master Brian made it wait until everyone else had exited the plane, so they’d have more room to move. It was thankful–it hadn’t gotten used to all of the stares it was getting…now that it was awake. Then again, it was hard not to stare, at the tattoos all over it’s body and face, the piercings, the foot long, unwashed beard, the huge body barely contained by the wife beater and shorts it was permitted to wear out in the world, showing off the cruder tattoos which covered its body proper. Master Brian was its escort for the trip home–it had been escorted by someone else on the way there.

They lined up for passport control. No one could believe he was the same person as the man in the photo–he was interrogated for an hour, but eventually released, after Brian muscled his way in, and suggested the officers might just think of it as an object, abuse it for a bit, and then let him take it with him. Brian collected his luggage, and it wanted to disappear–so many people…just staring at it. Was it really worth it? But everything was worth it, if its master wanted it–his…master. It still couldn’t remember him, but it didn’t matter. Master Brian would escort him home, and it would be back with it’s master, and everything would be alright.

Once they were out in the airport proper, Master Brian made good on his promise, dragged the thing into the bathroom and fucked it’s loose hole, making it beg loudly, making sure people knew what they were doing, that it didn’t care, that it wanted them to know, that it anyone wanted it’s hole, it would give it to them without question. After its escort master had cum, they caught an Uber. The thing gave the disturbed young man it’s address. Master…Kevin, he had said? It sounded like it could be right. Once it had it’s master, once it had it’s new name, everything would be fine, ancd maybe, finally, he would stop feeling like he was under so much…pressure.

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