Flash Commission – A Demon’s Face

WARNING! This story has some real extreme stuff in it, and is definitely more of a horror story than an erotica story. This includes blood and knife play, extreme pain play, scat and demonic references. If any of that isn’t of interest to you, don’t read it!

The message had arrived for John as a bit of relief. His friend Aleks had grown more and more distant over the last year or so, delving deeper into the occult and demonology, beyond the sort of fetish play the two had always enjoyed over the years. The last time John had gone over there, the mood had been tense, Aleks not exactly high, but more than a little out of his mind. John had left, unsure of what to do, and when he’d expressed some concern, Aleks had lashed out over text and refused to reply since.

But now, months later, he’d finally gotten a message back. Short and to the point, Aleks had asked him to come over, there was something he wanted to show him. No apology, no real admission that he might have gotten a little too deep, but for John, he was happy he at least wasn’t dead or something. He got geared up in some leather pants and a spiked leather jacket, and headed for Aleks’s apartment to see what he wanted to show him.

When he arrived, though, it was quickly clear that everything was not exactly normal. The door wasn’t locked, and when he stepped inside, it was the smell that assaulted him at first. Something beyond musky or stale, perhaps even beyond rank. It smelled like something between a burning trash pile and a grungy locker room. He stepped inside, tested a light switch in the entryway, but the light only flickered for a moment before going out, and refusing to come back on.

Looking down the hall, the whole apartment seemed to be dark and maybe even empty. He went in anyway, despite a general instinct to turn tail and run, and as he approached the living room, a more familiar smell joined the rest, cigar smoke. Sure enough, he turned the corner, and there in the dimly lit living room was Aleks sitting on the couch in full leather, smoking a cigar. He even had on a full leather mask that John had seen him in a few times, which only made the whole look hotter still.

“Ah, there you are,” Aleks said, “I was getting tired of waiting.” He grinned, and John saw something strange–there was a light coming from the inside of his mouth. Aleks put the end of the cigar in his mouth, and again, something was off. The end of the cigar wasn’t burning, but he was still exhaling smoke out of his mouth. Aleks took off the dark glasses he had on, and John’s eyes went wide–his friend had no eyes underneath. There were just the holes in the leather mask, and behind that, there was just flame. “As you can see, I’ve made a few improvements to myself since the last time we saw each other,” he said, and when he talked, John could see the fire through his mouth as well. That explained the cigar–he was literally burning it inside his mouth. Aleks took another inhale off it, and John could see the thick plumes of grey smoke emerging not just from his mouth, but from his eyes as well. “Come on then, come have a closer look,” Aleks said.

Everything in John’s mind and body screamed at him to run, but the smell, the smoke, the light of the flame, all of it beckoned him closer. His limbs a bit stiff, he found himself lurching forward, the smell growing more intense, inhaling the smoke now, feeling his mind going a bit numb, his own cock stiffening in his leather pants. “Fuck Aleks, what the fuck did you do?” John managed to croke out as he came closer.

“Well, it turns out that selling your soul is the hard part,” Aleks said to him, “But once that’s gone, everything else is so much easier, you see. Demons will trade just about anything for a face. They use them to infiltrate our world, but not many people are willing to part with them. I feel like I got everything I wanted for mine though. Stop trying to fight it, John–my smoke can bend the will of any man now, my musk can corrupt even the most stalwart soul. Stop pretending that you don’t want to kneel before me, service me, it’s all you fucking want now.”

John could feel it, the hunger and desire welling up inside him. He couldn’t tell if it was his own–after all, they had imagined something like this together many times before, though only Aleks had really believed he could pursue such power. In the end, it didn’t matter. He could feel the smoke smothering all of the doubts, all of the fears, and he fell to his knees in front of Aleks, and shoved his face into his new master’s crotch, inhaling the scent of the musky leather.

One of Aleks’s hands cupped his chin and lifted his face up. “I always loved your face, you know, it’s so sweet–I’m going to get a great deal for yours, I think.” Aleks reached over to the table beside the couch where he was sitting, and opened up a switchblade.

“Wait…what…” John said, but his throat seemed too dry, his head spinning from the smoke.

“Your face, John. They want faces, and I will provide them. Don’t worry, I already know what I’ll be getting in return for yours. Now hold very still.”

The blade cut into his neck, shallow, but John gasped and tried to flinch away–only to find his body was paralyzed. Aleks drew the blade around his neck, and John could feel the blood drooling down onto his chest. Then, he drew it up the back of his head, following the spine, all the way to the crown of his head. That, it turned out, was the easy part. Aleks’s leather gloved fingers dug into the wounds at the back of his head, and began pulling the skin free of the muscle. John screamed then, the pain surging through his body and mind until he finally felt darkness overwhelm him, and he passed out.

In all honesty, he thought that was the end. When he awoke, the nerves of his face dully throbbing away at him, he thought he must be dead, now in some afterlife. He looked around at what he could see, and knew he was on a bed in a room he recognized as Aleks’s bedroom. Perhaps it had been a dream, or some hallucination. He tested his arms and legs, and while sore, they could move. He pushed himself up so he was sitting on the bed, and knew that there was a mirrored closet behind him. Terrified at what he might see, but knowing he had to look, he twisted around, and let out a groan.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in the mirror. The horrifying, bestial face, something between a gorilla and a wolf, staring back at him. The only part that he could still recognize were the human eyes underneath. He reached up, felt the greasy hair, the thick beard, the coarse skin, looked lower, under his neck, and let out another groan–whatever it was that was on his head now, it was…growing into him. He could see the veins of corruption spreading down into his chest and shoulders. He got up and went to the door–but it was locked. He tried to call out for help, but after a few minutes of that, he could feel the pain intensifying–whatever this process was, it wasn’t yet complete.

He spent the next eight hours on the bed, screaming in agony, as the demonic face fully attached itself to his head, spreading its corruption down into his body, deep into his soul. That was the most painful part, in fact, feeling that darkness, the horrifying chill, drilling deep into his chest, finding whatever light and good it could and snuffing it out. As it did, his body was growing, bones cracking and extending, muscles burning and flexing, a thick pelt of fur growing all down his back and chest. When the pain finally subsided, he looked over at himself in the mirror–and saw that his eyes were gone. His humanity was gone, corrupted away, just two pitch black eyes staring at him, a gnawing hunger deep in his guts, and an aching horniness in his groin. His cock and balls had not gone unaffected–his cock was larger now, easily eight inches, now with a sheath running up his abdomen. He got up from the bed, now nearly eight feet tall, tested the door with his claw tipped hands, but before he could rip the door from its hinges, it opened, and John dropped to his knees before his Master in the doorway.

The smell of him was not only more intense to his now bestial nose, but also smelled absolutely delightful. Filthy and musky and corrupted. Drool began flowing from his mouth faster than he could swallow it, and John pushed his face into Aleks’s crotch, snorting and huffing in his intoxicating stench.

“Good, it took. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to incinerate your corpse,” Aleks said, wrapping one hand around the back of John’s head, tangling his fingers in his greasy locks. “I’m too fond of you to not spend an eternity with you as my thrall.”

Thrall. The word reverberated through him, and John could feel it. Their connection. He lived to serve his Master now, his soul was gone, and what had replaced it was a deep, undeniable desire to worship him. Aleks’ opened his burning mouth wide, reached in with a hand, and pulled free a metal chain glowing with heat, though his gloves were unburnt. He took it, wrapped it around John’s neck, and the beast howled in pain. Aleks pressed the metal into his flesh, searing it there, before gripping the free ends of the chain in his fist and melting them together into a knot, now impossible to untangle or remove.

The pain ebbed away, and John felt his flesh healing rapidly around the metal–in a matter of moments, it was like it had been fused to his body for years. “What…what have you done to me?” he growled out, words warped by his long inhuman tongue and sharp fangs.

“I took your face, and traded it for a demon’s. A lower one, a beast of filth and sloth and wrath. I knew it would suit you and your desires. You are hungry, are you not, my slave?”

John gave a growl, and Aleks’ turned around, pulled his pants down, and shoved his ass to John’s face. The stench was horrific and intoxicating. John pried his master’s cheeks apart with his claws, digging into the skin a bit, and drove his long, pointed tongue into his hole, tasting it, tasting what he desired now, more than anything. Aleks fed his thrall his massive load of shit, listening to the beast eagerly devour every last bit of it, and when he was finished, he turned around, and sprayed him down with a load of piss. It came out nearly hot enough to scald, steaming in the air, and John was in ecstasy, reeking of his Master now, belly full, cock aching to fuck.

“Now, why don’t we begin our real task, my slave?” Aleks said.

That night, John grabbed one of the other tenants from the building, and dragged him back to the apartment. Aleks took the face from the man, and replaced it with one of his own desire, a blank rubber gas mask, filling the man with his smoke until his entire identity had been erased, knowing nothing more than the fact he was a drone, a slave to his demonic master and his favorite pet. At last, John was given his reward, and mounted the their first drone, driving his monstrous cock into its tight hole, wrecking it, destroying it, filling it with as much corruptive cum as he could, watching the drone expand in size, growing more and more muscular as the rubber of the gas mask spread, encasing the drone’s entire body.

Soon, they would have a harem. Then an army. Aleks was not content, after all, with personal power. No, the demons had promised him much, much more, if he would assist them in their assault on the mortal realm. The time of man was in twilight, and the age of demons was about to dawn.

The FAT Retreat (Part 5)

***If you want to pussy out, now’s probably the time. Extreme scat, pain play, and humiliation ahead.***

– Day 5 –

Max had had a terrible night.

Of course, he’d had a terrible time ever since parting with Leon in the hallway, mostly because it had been that long since he’d had the chance to feel his amazing ass wrapped around his huge cock, and masturbation just wasn’t cutting it anymore. He’d slept fitfully, dozing for a few hours before waking up, angry and unsatisfied, jerking his cock raw, coating himself in load after load of cum while smelling the funk of the toilet that at this point was nearly brimming with his piss and shit, and all he could really feel now, as the lights in the room finally clicked on, was anger. He was angrier than he’d ever been in his entire life, and try as he might, he couldn’t find a way to bottle it up. Then again, he supposed that was the point of the last session he’d gone to.

After splitting up with Leon, he’d made his way to his own afternoon session, where a doctor and several assistants had told him he would be getting a few shots, and they would be monitoring his reactions to the drugs. They’d restrained him and then given him a large shot in his ass–nothing happened for a few minutes, and then he started to sweat, and he wondered if they were going to be wreaking his hygiene even more. In fact, the drug was what the doctor called a hyper-steroid–designed to do in a single dose what years of steroid abuse would do to a person’s body, without the need for constant application. Anxious, Max had asked the doctor whether that meant he would lose his fat and be muscular, and the doctor assured him that he would keep all of his fat–just bulk up underneath it.

The doctor hadn’t been kidding, and the entire session had been horrendously painful, as muscle tissue broke down and reknit over and over again, bulking up all over his body, filling him out, forcing the lab assistants to loosen his restraints every half hour as they became too tight for his growing form. True to the man’s word, Max lost none of his four hundred pounds of fat–he simply gained close to an extra hundred and fifty of muscle. By the time the drug’s effects began to subside, Max’s soft moobs had become huge, meaty pecs jutting out over his gut which, while still very flabby, was supported by a massively strong core. His shoulders and neck had grown thick, and nearly grown together, and his arms had bulked up to the size of a normal man’s leg, soft, but still capable of bending the iron bar the doctor gave to him to test his physical strength.

The men helped him stand up on legs as thick as trees, his thighs so wide he had to readjust how he walked, with a wide, heavy gait that could make the room shake slightly if he was heavy footed, his massive cock swinging from side to side, though it looked a bit more normal on him now, and the rush of hormones! He felt so damn powerful and aggressive, all he wanted to do was find someone to fuck, but the only person he wanted was Leon. At dinner, unable to find his roommate at the tables, he’d tried grabbing another cub, slamming him up against the wall and raping his ass, listening to him cry for help as Max rammed his cock in, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing felt like Leon’s ass, and that’s what he wanted–what he needed, and without it, he was growing angrier by the minute.

As he came again, he noticed something about the bed he was still lying on–it was wet. Well, not just wet, but kind of slimy, and…

Max sat up and looked at the bed, and saw that it was soaked with yellow. He’d pissed the bed in the night, and he hadn’t even noticed, and now that he was paying attention, he lifted his ass up and saw that he’d shit the bed as well, and apparently rolled in it all night long, judging by the way in was coating his thighs…He rubbed his hand in the muck and slathered it over his cock, helplessly jacking off again, unable to believe he’d made such a mess and loving it at the same time. That must have been what those other shots they’d given him had been for. he could vaguely remember the doctor shooting something into the ring of his ass, as well as into his taint. Had they made him incontinent? The thrill of it made him momentarily ashamed, but it was so hot that he couldn’t stop himself. But still, eventually he had to stop when the door to his room finally slid open, and the voice announced that it was time for breakfast.

He got up and pulled on the same set of clothes he’d been wearing the whole retreat, stinking of his sweat, piss and filth–although he could barely fit into them now at his new size. After his growth from the testosterone transference and the steroids, the pants were stretched tight across his thighs and could only reach the tops of his calves, and he ripped the shirt down the front, freeing his belly, the fabric stretched across his back and arms like a vest, and he ripped the sleeves off to complete the look, before leaving in search of breakfast. he was halfway to the mess when he felt something warm in the front of his pants–he was pissing, and he stopped, a bit embarrassed, feeling it puddle around his bare feet, but it felt so good he massaged his cock a couple of times to get off a shuddered load, and continued onward.

It was hard to believe, but somehow he was even hungrier than before. Then again, he was feeding a body several hundred pounds heavier than usual. Luckily, he was able to commandeer entire tables with his size, and anyone who challenged him usually ended up with at least a black eye, if not something worse. It wasn’t that Max really intended to hurt them; but whenever one of them came near his territory, this unthinking rage seemed to take over his entire body, and before he could stop himself he’d tackled someone to the ground and was pounding their face in with his fists until the hunger dragged him off and back to the table. In the midst of his feast, he felt a fart rip it’s way out of his ass along with a load of shit, and his pants were so tight it just backed up in his crack, but he didn’t notice until he was already out of the mess hall and on his way to his assigned lab, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to make it through the day like this.

However, his concern was wiped away when he walked into the lab and saw the massive, tattooed man waiting for him, and his jaw dropped. What in the world had they done to Leon? It was no wonder he hadn’t gotten back to the room yesterday–he must have been in a lab all night if they tattooed him from head to toe–and it really was head to toe. However, that was all the attention he could give to the tattoos before Leon, who smelled Max’s filth as soon as he’d entered, started waddling over, eyes hungry, tongue out and panting, and Max slammed into him, throwing his roommate to the ground, rolling him over with one big foot and ramming his cock into Leon’s tight ass in one single thrust that made Leon scream out in a muddle of pain and pleasure.

It was as amazing as he remembered, and he could already tell that no other ass could make him feel like this. After two thrusts he’d already cum once, but Max was far from done, and as he fucked, it was like a flood of cum worked it’s way into Leon’s hole until it had been filled to capacity, and it just started spilling out every time max pulled his cock back. Leon just kept shouting and grunting, yelling at Max to fuck him harder, to make it hurt, but Max wasn’t listening–the entire world had disappeared as soon as he entered Leon’s ass, and all the anger that had built up overnight finally had a channel, and be beat that ass with his cock for what felt like hours, but it was only twenty minutes later that he finally regained some semblance of self-control and managed to withdraw.

“Thank you, that was a very nice control sample of your sexual dynamics,” someone was saying, and Max focused up, seeing a fat doctor making some marks on a clipboard. “I think you both are ready for induction. Both of you look here please,” the doctor said, holding up a strange, flashing light, and as soon as Max looked at it, he couldn’t look away, and then the whole world melted apart for a moment until he came back to himself, shaking his head and looking around the room, wondering what had just happened.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he heard someone say.

Max looked down and he saw Leon crawling towards him, but when he saw his roommate, he suddenly saw him in a completely different light. He wasn’t a hot fuck and a nice guy–he was a fucking disgusting piece of filth. In fact, just staring at him was making Max’s stomach turn, and when Leon tried to lick Max’s foot clean, he took a step back, sneered, and said, “What the fuck are you doing, you disgusting pig? What in the hell makes you think I want something like you touching me?”

Leon looked up at him, obviously wounded by the comment, but something had changed in him as well. Where the old Leon would have slung back with a barbed insult, or maybe even a fist, this new Leon, he knew that Max was right. He was disgusting. He was a pig. No one would want to have sex with him, why would they, really? But he wanted them, he wanted to make them happy, he wanted to service them. “Please, sir? Please? I just…I just want to clean your feet, I know I’m just a worthless pig sir, but I’m so hungry, and I promise I’ll be good, I’ll do everything you say, I swear.”

“Fuck off.”

“Please!” Leon said, begging now, his head against the ground, inches from Max’s feet, just staring at his filthy toes, “Please, I just…I just want to be a good pig sir, I just want to try and make you happy.”

“I’d be happiest if you were out of my sight.”

“Please don’t…don’t say that sir, please….please just let me try.”

Max looked down at the pig, a bit curious now. “Open your mouth.”

Leon did, and Max took his cigar and dumped a chunk of hot ash into the pig’s open mouth. The heat was nearly unbearable, but he knew what was expected of him. He soaked the ember in his spit and choked it down, before adding, “Thank you, sir.”

Max cocked an eyebrow, surprised at the pig’s eagerness. “Fine, you want to try to please me? A disgusting piece of trash isn’t worthy of my feet though. If you want to serve me, you’re gonna have to prove that you’re a real pig, that you’ll do anything for me,” Max said, and turned around, revealing his pants which were still bulging with the load of shit he let out into them earlier, “You’re gonna have to be my toilet pig. You want it? You want to eat my load of shit?”

Leon balked, and sat back on his knees, “I–I…I mean…”

“This is your only chance pig, either get your face in here, or get the fuck out.”

Leon stared at the brown seat of Max’s pants and at the door, and as much as he hated to admit it, the decision was easy–he just didn’t want it to be easy. he crawled up and started licking at the back of Leon’s pants, tasting the shit seeping through, and Max reached around with both hands, grabbed the pants and ripped them apart, the shit spilling out onto Leon’s face, and like a good pig he ate as much as he could, rubbing his face in the mess, eating it all up, Max urging him on. When he’d eaten everything out of the crack and started licking it clean, Max turned around and started picking up shit where it had fallen on the floor and crammed it into Leon’s mouth, packing it full before ramming his cock down the pig’s throat, listening to him gag and sputter, trying to breathe, swallow and pleasure Max’s huge cock all at the same time, and the huge brute came over and over, washing the shit down with torrents of his cum, skullfucking Leon without caring, and Leon didn’t want him to care. He wanted the abuse, he wanted to be hated, he wanted to be humiliated more than anything by this beastly god.

“Good, very good,” the doctor said, “Now if you could both look here again?”

It was the light again, and with his cock still down Leon’s throat, Max felt himself sucked back into the light, his world twisted upside down, and then he was spat back out, and he was looking down at the pig, and a flash of anger ripped through him, and he reached down, grabbed hold of the two huge rings the pig had through his fat man tits and gave them a wrenching twist, watching the pig howl in pain around his cock. “Yeah, that’s good, fucking scream, bitch!” Max twisted harder, watching Leon moan and twist, and he realized the pig was pulling away from Max’s hands, making it hurt more. The pig liked it–the pig was a glutton for punishment. Max let go if the pig’s rings took the cigar out of his mouth, grinding the hot butt against Leon’s forehead, watching the spot blister as Leon screamed, and then threw him to the ground and kicked Leon until he rolled over onto his huge stomach.

It was still slick with his cum from earlier, and that was all the lube he needed to slide his fist all the way inside of Leon’s hole, the pig sighing, and then Max was punching the pig’s insides, hammering at his prostate with as much power as he could muster, watching the pig shiver and quake, and then he started working in his other hand, stretching Leon’s hole to the ripping point, listening to him beg and shout for more–more pain, more fucking, and between both of his hands, Max slid in his still hard cock as well. “Your hole is so fucking loose I might as well climb inside your cunt,” Max said, jacking his cock with both hands inside of Leon’s ass, “Fucking worthless–you think an ass this loose can fucking please me? Why in the fuck would I want such a worthless, shitty pig? Still, you want me though, don’t you? You want me to hurt you so fucking much…”

“Oh god sir, please–it hurts so bad, but I deserve it, I need it. You can do whatever you want to me, I don’t care, but I need you sir, I need to be with you. I know I’m–I’m not worth anything. I know there are hundreds of pigs you’d rather have, but I have to serve you sir, no one can make me hurt like you do, no one can abuse me like you will…”

“Fuck pig, you may be disgusting, but you know how to get a guy horny,” Max said, and came again in Leon’s ass, milking as much of his cum out as he could with his hands, worming his way in deeper still, and the doctor comes up with his clipboard, scribbling more notes.

“That’s better, I think one more time, please.”

He held up the light and Max felt himself blink, and one second he had his cock and both hands buried in Leon’s cunt, and the next he was standing up on the other side of the room, and something felt different. He was clothed, not in his rags, but in a set of filthy, worn leathers–chaps, motorcycle boots, leather harness strapped tight against his fat and muscle, a muir cap tipped forward on his head, and there across the room, his fucking worthless pig slave, naked, covered in shit and cum, his hands bound up in mitts, it’s disgusting face well hidden behind the hood moulded to look like a pig’s head, and hood sealed to it’s neck by a thick steel collar.

Max reached down and felt the heavy wooden paddle hanging on the belt of his chaps, and he hefted it up, striding around behind the pig, smacking it softly against his gloved hand, letting the slave know what was coming, but the first blow connected not with the pig’s ass, but with the top of his back, behind the shoulder blades, hard enough for the pig’s arms to collapse, and then Max started slamming the paddle against his raised ass with glee, taking a break on occasion to grind the pig’s face into the tiled floor with a boot before paddling him some more, not stopping until the pig’s ass was bright red and welted, and then he threw the paddle to the side and started fucking his pig.

Yes. His pig. He owned this pigslave, it was his property. Sure, it was disgusting. Sure, he despised it, but it served him eagerly and there was something to be said for that. As he was fucking him, ramming his hips hard against the pig’s sore cheeks, he felt a warmth as well, and he realized he was actually pissing in his slave’s ass. He buried in deep, making sure the pig knew what was happening. Making sure the pig knew it was just a toilet, a urinal, an object–nothing more. Making sure it had no illusions. That Max didn’t care about it, didn’t love it, didn’t respect it. Making sure it knew that as soon as it could no longer serve, it would be abandoned at the first rest area they passed, chained to the wall for anyone to use and take if they wanted a worthless, broken down, second hand pig. And Leon did know it. He knew it all, and he accepted his role with all his heart. He wanted it. He didn’t want to be loved. He didn’t deserve love or respect. he hated himself, but he was happy serving. He was happy to be of some small use to a beautiful, brutal god like his master.

The doctor let Max fuck his pig for the remainder of the session, and when it was time for lunch he gave Max a leash for his pig, and he led Leon back to the mess hall on his hands and knees, Leon behind him the entire time, watching his master’s ass in case Max had an accident that he might need to clean up quickly. For the first half of their lunch, Max was the only one eating. Leon would follow behind him, only allowed to eat the scraps that fell to the floor as Max ate–that and Max’s shit. As his master was devouring a massive cake with his hands, Leon saw his master’s ass start to distend, and he quickly moved to catch the shit and devour it as quickly as he could like a good pig toilet. Max didn’t even notice–all he could focus on was making sure he kept up his bulk.

When Max was satisfied, he parked Leon next to a table and started stuffing food down his throat as fast as he could, Leon eating more than he’d ever managed to before, his master taunting him the entire time, telling him how disgusting fat he was going to be, telling him that if he was going to be a pig, he was going to be the biggest, fattest pig on the face of the planet. Leon was just happy for the attention, happy for the acknowledgement from his master, happy being fed, knowing that he wouldn’t be wasting away today, that for the moment he didn’t have to be afraid of withering.

Before long, Max wasn’t shoving food in with his hands, but with his cock, and suddenly he threw Leon to the floor and was ramming his cock into his pigslave’s hole. Leon struggled to get down the pile of food still in his mouth, and with his hands reached down and yanked on the rings through his moobs, feeling his worthless cock seep cum into his fatpad. Looking around the room, he could see that the rest of the men at the retreat had formed a wide circle around them, with most of them just staring. All of them looked to have gained a substantial amount of weight since they’d arrived, but none of them looked to be as extreme as him. He was the lowest–he was always going to be the lowest, and that was where he deserved to be. In his dull mind, he tried to connect back some of what he thought he could remember, how he’d arrived just days earlier, muscular and ready to help a bunch of fat men lose weight, but how could he have gone from that to this so quickly? He could barely remember everything that had happened to him, and with his poor memory, everything he seemed like it could just have easily have been imagined from horny fantasies in his mind.

The doors had slid open, signalling the end of lunch, but as far as Max was concerned, lunch wasn’t finished until he was satisfied. A good ten minutes later, the room almost entirely empty, he finally withdrew, picked up Leon’s collar and yanked him along, the two of them directed by the orderlies to another lab. Leon was still in his strange head space of trying to figure out what was going on–in his simplified mind, it seemed to amplify everything around him in the present. Nothing was permanent to him, nothing could seem to stick in his memory, rendering it as a dream, and he prayed with each moment that he wouldn’t wake up, that he wouldn’t go back to that skinny body, near death, without his master. Nothing could be worse than that, could it?

The lab, it turned out, was the same lab, with the same doctor, they’d been with in the morning, however, the room had been sanitized and scrubbed clean, and there were two chairs surrounded by electrical equipment which they were directed into. Max settled into one on his own, but the doctor and his assistants had to help Leon into his. For some reason, standing up and sitting down felt so awkward and human to him. It wasn’t a position which came naturally to him any longer. The doctor and his assistants began wiring up them both, and the doctor explained what would be happening in the session, although Leon and Max understood almost none of what he was saying.

It was, the doctor said, to be a two stage process. First, long term memories would be scrubbed and withered with targeted EST, and then the write on would begin, scribing new long term memories in their place, enough that they both would be able to fill in the blanks on their own. Leon wanted to know more, he was secretly afraid that he would be returning to his slim body that he could remember distantly, but before he could get his concerns out, a sharp pain ripped through his head and face, sending him into a violent convulsion, and in the mental space that remained as he shook, there was…nothing. No memories of himself, he felt like a clean slate, all of his concerns, all of his memories of that horrid body he may or may not have had wiped clean, and in their absence, a relief Leon couldn’t explain overcame him. Everything was going to be ok now, he was safe. He no longer knew what he was safe from, but it was gone–gone forever.

The second wave of shocks were less painful, but only because they were so powerful that they knocked both Leon and Max out the moment the struck. Max resisted more, as hard as he could, his hardened will and aggression no longer willing to cede ground, but the force of the electricity overwhelmed him, and room faded to black, and he something began to swim to the surface of his mind, memories, but not his memories, surely. But if not his, then whose?

–He was climbing out of his beat up F-150 a few years ago, before he’d been laid off from the plant and started trucking cross country, heading up the steps of his single wide where he lived with his son, Leon. What a disappointment. Max was a man’s man. Burly, hairy, muscular, tough, and his son was nothing like him. In his heart, he’d always secretly wondered if he was even his, whenever he looked at his fat frame, his hairless body, it had always been a bit disgusting to him, actually. He climbed the steps and let himself in the trailer door, and stopped short, when he smelled sex and his brother’s brand of cigars, and there on the couch, Randy was balls deep in his son’s ass on the couch, Leon moaning and grunting like a whore.

Randy, wide eyed, had stopped fucking and looked back at Max. He’d always been littler than his big brother, and he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The brothers had fooled around plenty since they were kids, but, well, fucking your nephew was territory he hadn’t expected to enter. Still, Leon had begged him for his cock, getting him all horny, telling him how half the football team had been using his fat ass as a cum dump for months now, how he’d always wondered what his uncle’s cock might taste like, how it might feel in his pigcunt, and how could Randy say no, really?

Max however, wasn’t surprised, but he was angry. Not at Randy–he was a horndog who’d stick his cock anywhere. Not even really at Leon, not directly. The boy was a pig–of course he was a worthless fucking bottom. But indirectly? It was somewhat his fault, his fault for siring a fucking pig–but if Leon wanted to be a pig, then Max was happy to oblige. He dropped his pants, letting his huge cock flop out, and walked around to Leon’s face.

“Not a fucking surprise. You’re a fucking slut, aren’t you? What a fucking disgrace.”

Leon tried to say something. An apology? A request for his dad to fuck his face? Before he could say anything Max had already delivered on the second, and when he and Randy were satisfied, they’d tied Leon up and Max made a few calls to all of his friends and fuck buddies in the county, announcing open season on his son’s hole–

Darkness, memories coming faster than either of them could process now, and they would occasionally catch larger snippets of them as they passed by.

–Leon had thought he’d wanted this. Thought he’d wanted to his dad’s slave, his pig, but tied to a chair, being force fed food for hours on end, he was begging for his father to stop. Max, however, would have none of it.

“You told me this is what you’d wanted, and from how hard that little clit cock of yours is, I’d suggest you open up and shut up, bitch.”

It was during one of their marathon feedings that Max had discovered something new about his son–how sensitive he was to pain. More than that, pain made him compliant. Pain seemed to make Leon…happy. Max didn’t understand it. How could such a worthless piece of trash be his? He considered selling him off, but yanking on Leon’s tits, listening to his scream for more, slapping and punching him around was so satisfying–

Even faster, and more vivid now. The electricity was just a dull hum in the room, each of them rigid. Max was still trying to fight them, but it was purely instinct. There was nothing he could do to stop these thoughts, nothing at all. But still, looking at what he’d done to his son, he was so proud of what a man he’d been. This had been the right thing to do, and he liked having a pig, but he didn’t love that slave, couldn’t love him, not really…could he?

–They were coming along great. His son would never be able to hide his pig self now, not with tatts all over his body, not with piercings slammed in everywhere Max could fit them. Even better, this was actually his pigs reward! Leon begs him to go get more tattoos and piercings, he loves how the guns and needles feel in his body, he loves the pain. This one is a reward for being a good little pig and learning how to drink down all of his daddy’s piss, and this next week, well, Max isn’t planning on using the toilet ever again. Leon doesn’t know what’s coming, but from now on, he’s going to be a full service pigtoilet, and Max has a feeling he’s going to love it–

Next to him, Leon was spasming, his puny pig cock leaking piss, the sheer eroticism of what his dad had done to him making him so happy. Still, his mind was so wrecked that as soon as a memory occured they simply faded away almost immediately, forming a long haze of abuse and pain stretching back as far as he could reach.

–”You’re going to eat it.”

“No, dad–”

“I’m not you’re fucking father, and you’re not my fucking son, you fucking know better bitch!”

Max punched Leon in his face, feeling his son’s nose fracture, blood gushing down onto his tattooed chest and belly, but even though it must hurt, all Leon can do is grunt and moan in pleasure at being abused.

“You’re going to eat it, or here’s what’s going to happen. I know a biker gang, I met them on my last trip out to Cali, and they’re always looking for pig slaves, but they ain’t as nice as I am. First, they’ll rip out your teeth, and pop out your eyes, and cup off your hands and feet, and chain you to the fuckin’ wall, and that’s where you’ll fuckin’ stay for fuckin’ ever, a real fuckin’ toilet, and if you’d rather have that, by all means keep doin’ what you’re doin’ slave, because I’m gettin’ real tired of this bullshit of yours.

Leon was crying now, and when Max squatted over his face this time, he didn’t protest.

“That’s a good pig, eat up for daddy,” Max said, yanking on Leon’s tits, listening to him gag–

They were rocketing towards the present now, and the memories were growing clearer, but still shooting by at an incredible pace. The electricity was dying down as they entered the last couple of years, and FAT came into their relationship.

–Truly the Fat Action Team is the best thing Max had ever found. He’d never known that there were so many guys in the world who would pay to watch him fuck his fat pig slave of a son on their cross country drives. Of course he’d do anything the Fat Action Team told him to do, he’d already made plenty of sacrifices to increase his ratings. He’d happily taken on the steroid treatments, but sure, he’d balked at the incontinence. Still, he loved the sensation of pissing himself night and day, of shitting the back of his pants, and the guys watching his cams loved it too. He owed the Fat Action Team everything, he’d do anything for them, because they were everything to him–

Finally, the rush was sowing down, they could start coming back to themselves, move their bodies, but the memories kept coming, pushing out all of their old lives. They didn’t exist anymore–this was their past and their reality–their lives.

–Fuck, they were giving it to him rough, but Leon was a real trooper, Max thought, holding the camera as the two huge bikers took his pig from both ends in a rest stop bathroom. Over the last year, ever since working with FAT, he’d started to appreciate his son a bit more for the pig he was. Sure, he was a disgusting piece of filth, by damn, when the pig wanted something, well, he had a way of getting it. Kind of like Max, as much as he hated admitting it. Maybe the two of them had more in common than he wanted to believe.

The biker’s finished up and Leon thanked them for letting him serve their cocks. Max turned off the camera, and walked over to Leon, getting down and rubbing his son’s smooth, tattooed head, “Ya know, you might actually manage to make me proud one day, pig,” he said, and Leon smirked. Max gave him a playful slap, and then gave his son a kiss, tasting his foul mouth, piss sweat, shit, cum, ash–

The doctor shut off the electricity, and watched the two subjects sag in their seats, pleased with the memory induction, and certain it would take hold. Now, however, the subjects would sleep until morning, he was sure. He called for several orderlies, and together they all managed to heft both huge men into wide wheelchairs and drive them off to their room. Another successful retreat, the doctor thought with a nod, excited to do it all again with a new batch of men next week.

The FAT Retreat (Part 4)

– Day 4 –

They woke up in the same position, the lights coming on in their room, and Max grunted and rolled away from Leon, who fumbled with his mask for a moment, forgetting what it was and why it was there, until the memory of what had happened the day before came roaring back over him, and he was able, for the first time since arriving at the retreat, to have a moment of clarity, to think about what had happened, and he just laid there, still, the mask on, trying to sort out fantasy, reality and his past.

He’d come here as a muscular man. He could remember that, a fucking stick on the verge of death, right? But that didn’t seem like it should be right. He hadn’t wanted to be fat, but why not? He’d been afraid, terrified really, but now he couldn’t even begin to comprehend that. He ripped the mask off his face and tried to sit up, but found it more difficult than before, when he’d gotten up from floor in the therapist’s office. Looking down at himself, he saw that his gut was bigger–actually bigger than it had been the day before. In fact, it wasn’t even really a gut anymore, it was an apron, and he sat on the side of the bed, hefting it up and down, feeling his heavy moobs, amazed at what had happened over the course of a night.

Max had headed straight for the toilet and with the first load of shit he dumped into the bowl, Leon felt the desire for Max well up in him again. Hefting himself up, he waddled over and got down in front of the trucker again, breathing deep of the stench wafting up from the bowl.

“Heh, looks like someone grew last night,” Max said and got up off the toilet, “Come on, I bet ya gotta go, after all you ate at dinner last night, and I hogged the toilet.”

Leon did have to go, but he couldn’t go with Max there, could he? He’d always been a bit piss shy, but he let Max help him up, and his roommate sat him down on the unflushed toilet, the stink of Max’s shit and piss wafting up around him, and he felt his cock harden up into his gut. Max came up, working both of Leon’s moobs in his dirty hands, rubbing his hairy gut in Leon’s face, and after he’d shat, he just sat there, Max’s hands working down lower, underneath his new apron, working Leon’s cock over with his hand until he came with a shudder.

“Go on boy, piss–need to wash my hand off with something.”

It took Leon a few minutes to work up to it, but he finally let his bladder loose all over Max’s hand, feeling him smear the piss around up in his new gunt and between his thighs, shivering from the trucker’s touch, and when he’d finished, Max licked his hand clean with relish, and then whipped out his cock.

“I didn’t piss this morning either yet–hold still.”

He sprayed his piss across Leon’s big belly, watching it dribble down, some of it into the toilet, some of it onto the floor, and then finished the rest off across Leon’s face, watching him shudder with lust, nearly cumming again all on his own, and Max leaned down and kissed him, licking the piss off of him, when the door slid open, the intercom letting them know it was time for breakfast.

Max helped Leon up off the toilet, and turning around he realized it was still unflushed from the night before, and now full of their moring shit and piss as well. He went to hit the lever but Max stopped him. “Leave it,” he said.

“What? Why?”

Max came close, fiddling with Leon’s fat nipples, “Think about how nice the room’ll smell when we come back later, stinking of out piss and shit. I know you got a dirty mind boy, we’re gonna have lots of fun tonight, just you wait.”

Leon didn’t want to like the idea, but he did–he liked it a lot. And so he left the room with Max, joining the throng of men as they headed for the mess hall, admiring Max’s ability to cut through the crowd with his stink, and happy with his immunity to it. In the mess hall, they worked together, both of them crowding out tables and then stuffing food into each other’s mouths, rubbing themselves and each other down as they did, Leon finishing up on his knees, sucking on Max’s cock while the older man stuffed himself. Still, the whole time, when Leon wasn’t enraptured with Max’s stench, he couldn’t stop exploring his new body. He was bigger–he was bigger, and that made him feel so good. No, more than good, it made him feel safe. The bigger he was the less fear he needed to carry with him, and beyond that, he was hot. He caught a few other guys looking at him, probably wondering what he was doing with a slob like Max, but while Leon was a bit curious what it might be like to have sex with someone else, he didn’t think he could be away from Max’s stinking body for that long.

Too soon for anyone’s liking, breakfast ended, and they all filed over to their doors. Max and Leon found they had been assigned to the same lab, and together they made the trek through the facility, arriving at a large lab outfitted with several gurneys, and Max and Leon found they were joined by other pairs of men, some of them obviously together, but others seemed to have never met before. They were all paired off and led to pairs of gurneys with a large piece of machinery between them, large enough that Leon and Max couldn’t see each other around it, and the lab technicians began strapping them down, before they inserted the needles. When Leon saw where they were putting them, it was no wonder they strapped him down first–they were inserting the needles into his balls, through the scrotum, and even though they applied an anesthetic, it still was uncomfortable, and he struggled, trying to get free. From Max’s protests, he assumed the techs were doing the same thing to him, and they eventually strapped masks over them both, the gas sedative calming them down and rendering them compliant as the machine between them came to life and began pumping.

Even so, Leon let out a groan as the crushing pain in his balls began. It felt like the machine was sucking the life out of him, and it was like someone has his balls in a vice and was slowly squeezing them into paste. He mumbled to the technicians, begging them not to take his balls away through the mask, and they reassured him:

“Calm down, subject 436–this isn’t a castration procedure, merely testosterone transference.”

Still, that did little to make him feel better, especially when he noticed his body hair starting to fall out. The technicians would occasionally go over his body, tugging at the hairs there, and it was his pubic bush that went first, and he watched them pull out huge clumps of hair, but the rest of his body was equally bare before too long, and he could tell that his face was changing, his stubble disappearing as his facial hair stopped growing altogether, leaving him perfectly smooth. He wasn’t sure whether it was the sedative or not, but he was also feeling…calmer. And his dick felt numb, and he knew that wasn’t the anesthetic. He could feel it, sure, but when the techs lifted it and inspected it, he didn’t get so much as a shiver of sexual arousal, and it felt…smaller almost. There were other changes, things he couldn’t quite see or feel, his jawline softening, his hips and ass swelling with more fat than before, his nipples growing larger and more sensitive.

He didn’t know how long he had laid there before the techs lifted his legs and put them in stirrups, revealing his ass, which they began probing with any number of tools, eventually piercing something in his ass, and he felt something start growing a bit painfully in there. It was his prostate, he realized, they were making it bigger, but it was more than that–he could feel them working in his ass, it was so much more sensitive suddenly–and with a gasp, he felt his balls contract painfully and let out a spurt of cum as they worked in his hole, and it happened again, not soon after, before they pulled out, apparently finished with their work. About an hour later, they switched off the machine, pulled the needles out and took off the mask, and Leon laid there, waiting to feel normal, but he didn’t feel normal at all–he felt so different. Calmer, more at ease.

When they took off his restraints, the first thing he did was reach down to feel his cock, and much to his horror, he realized that it had indeed shrunk–substantially in fact. He couldn’t see it, but it couldn’t have been more than two inches long, and it was flaccid the entire time he fiddled with it–he couldn’t get a response from it at all. His balls were just as unlucky, now about a quarter the size of what they had been, smaller than grapes, and then, a bit tentatively, he rolled on his side, and tested his hole, and gasped.

He’d just touched the ring, and the amount of pleasure he’d felt was astounding. He didn’t know what they’d done to him, but it was hundreds of times more powerful than his cock had been, and he slipped a finger in with a moan, revelling in the increased sensitivity, as he heard Max start cussing, demanding that the techs release him and let him up. Leon knew he should get up too, he could see other men in the lab getting up and heading off to lunch, but he couldn’t stop touching his ass. As the men filed past, he saw that all of them were either smoother or hairier than they had been when they’d walked in, but only one looked to have lost more testosterone than him, his cock not little more than a clit, and Leon couldn’t even see his balls at all.

Max finally was released, and he got up off the gurney and walked around to where Leon was, and when he saw his roommate, his jaw dropped. Max had already been fairly hairy, but after getting almost all of Leon’s testosterone production, he was one of the furriest men he’d ever seen, and he fucking reeked. The increased development hadn’t done Max’s musk any favors, and if anything it made Leon want him more, made him want Max to dominate him, to rule over him, to be his alpha, his master…

He came suddenly, although most of the sensation of his orgasm was in his ass now, his flaccid cock dribbling a bit of cum out, but he didn’t care about his cock really. He needed something up his hole, and looking at Max, he knew just what he needed. Max’s cock had grown substantially, close to ten inches, and his huge balls hung heavy below, almost churning visibly, cum leaking out of the head like a faucet. Leon noticed something new there as well–a thick, overhanging foreskin that hadn’t been there before, and he licked his lips, wondering what might build up in there by the end of the day, but he couldn’t wait that long, he needed something now. “F–Fuck me, please…” Leon moaned, his voice higher than before, “Shove that huge cock in my hole Max, come on, I need it…”

Max didn’t need to be asked twice–it was clear that he was horny as hell, and would be horny nearly every moment for the rest of his life, and he walked around and rammed his cock deep into Leon’s ass, and there was no resistance like he’d expected–it just slid in like it belonged there, and when the thick shaft started running up against Leon’s newly enlarged prostate, it ached with pleasure, making him clutch the side of the gurney in need, Max fucking him like an animal.

While Max fucked Leon, he was busy exploring his own body, feeling his massive amount of hair, his thick, wiry beard which had grown out the whole time during the procedure, his smooth dome where the hair on his head had fallen out, his thicker muscles, his cock, his balls–his huge fucking balls. He’d never felt this horny in his life, and he came quickly, flooding Leon’s ass with his cum, and then just kept fucking, cumming a second time moments later, and then a third time, each load nearly as big as the last, and the technicians just sat off to the side, watching, fooling with each other’s cocks and fat while enjoying the show.

Lunch was already half over by the time Max forced himself to stop fucking Leon’s hungry hole, and they both hurried down the hallways to the mess hall, devouring as much as they could in the time they had left, but both of them were distracted. Max had to stop every few minutes to jack off his huge cock, and Leon spent most of the meal with as many fingers as could reach buried up his ass. As much as the two of them wanted to keep fucking, it was a bit of a relief when they discovered that they were going to separated for the afternoon sessions, Max going to something vague called a Body Modification Session, and Leon was going to something called a “Personal Style and C.D./M.M. Session.” Still, they had one more rough fuck in the hallway, several fat men gathering around to watch, masturbating while keeping a healthy distance due to the stench rolling off of Max, before they split apart and headed their separate ways.

Leon walked down to the lab he’d been assigned, and found that he was in a smaller lab than he’d been in previously, and there was no one else in the room aside from a doctor and several scantily clad lab assistant cubs. “Ah, subject 436–welcome to your personal style / C.D. session. Now, if you could just lay down here, we’ll begin.”

This time, instead of a gurney, it was a chair that looked like it could be adjusted to a wide variety of positions. Still, he took his seat and waited for the assistants to strap down his arms and legs, and then, when his body was fully secure, they began attaching something to his head, a large constraint which he soon found made it impossible for him move his head or neck in any direction at all, though he could still speak. “So…uh…I get the personal style part, but what does C.D and M.M stand for?”

“Cognitive Disability and Mental Manipulation,” the doctor said, “In other words, making you stupid and messing with your head.”

Leon waited for a couple of beats, expecting the doctor and the assistants to start laughing at the obvious joke, but they weren’t laughing. And he had a feeling that they might not actually be joking. “Wait…you mean, you’re actually gonna make me…what, dumb? How in the hell are you going to do that?”

“Brain surgery. We usually like to reserve a large block of time for the C.D/M.M. process, but considering the fact you spent two days growing, we’ve had to combine a few steps in your program. Don’t worry, the neurosurgeon ought to be in soon, but we’ll get started with your styling in the meantime, with your tattoo work and hair removal.”

Leon tried to break out of the chair, but by then all of the restraints had been well secured, and he couldn’t move an inch in the chair. He couldn’t turn his head to see the doctor’s expression–and he had a sinking feeling in his gut that this wasn’t a joke at all. The cubs started working around the room, gathering around what looked like a large, colorful blueprint up on the wall, and then they each picked up a tattoo gun and began work on Leon’s body, two on his arms and a third and fourth on his legs. As they worked, the doctor shaved off all of the hair on Leon’s head, and then took a small laser and swept it slowly over Leon’s scalp, burning the follicles out and leaving his head perfectly smooth. The combined pain of it all was terrible, and Leon spent the entire time screaming at them to stop, begging them to at least do only one thing at a time, when the door to the lab slid open, and another doctor came in. “So, has the patient been prepared?”

“Just finishing his hair removal, and then he’ll be all ready for you–I hope you don’t mind that we got started.”

“As long as his head and neck are frozen, I can work,” he said, and then approached Leon, “I would shake your hand, but you seem to be a bit busy at the moment, subject 436. Now, what we are going to do today is three things. First, some moderate cognitive erosion. Second, we will create a state of advanced dyslexia. Third, we will perform a pain pleasure swap. Now, we’ll go ahead and open up your skull and proceed with the operation. This will take some time–all night, most likely, so I’m afraid you’ll be missing dinner. Don’t worry though, we’ll keep you well fed.”

Leon started screaming as the doctor applied local anesthetic to his skull, and then began cutting into the bone with an electric saw, but there was nothing he could do. He wasn’t even paying attention to the work the cubs were doing as they meticulously worked on his tattoos, all of them adjusting his restraints to access every side of his limbs. It felt like the doctor was sawing into his head forever, and the only measure of time he had was the slow progress of the tattoos. The cubs had nearly finished both his entire arms to the shoulders by the time the neurosurgeon was ready to begin the operation, and he signaled the cubs to stop their work for the moment.

The doctor behind him started clinking some tools together, and then spoke to Leon. “Alright subject 436–while I work, I am going to be asking you some questions. I need you to answer them to the best of your ability. Do you understand?”

“Please–please just let me go, please don’t do this…”

The neurosurgeon sighed and turned to the first doctor, “I believe we might need Sedative T9 for this operation. Would you administer a dose please?”

The doctor nodded and injected something into Leon’s frozen neck–he screamed, but a moment later, stopped. He felt so calm suddenly, like everything that was happening to him was happening far away, and to someone else.

“Now, subject 436, will you answer my questions?”

“Yes, I can answer…” Leon replied, and he heard the neurosurgeon begin his work. Every ten or fifteen seconds, he would ask Leon a basic math question, beginning with multiplication and division. The first two or three he could answer, and then suddenly he found it difficult to formulate an answer. For two or three more, if he focused hard, he could come up with something he thought might be close to right, and then he just had to answer that he didn’t know.

“What is ten times ten?”

“I…I don’t know…”

“What is two times two?”

“I…I don’t know. Why are you asking me this?”

“Don’t worry about it. Tell me, do you know how many states there are in the USA?”

Leon knew that he should know, but it was like the answer had disappeared from his head. “I…I don’t know.”

“Alright, and how many bases on a baseball diamond?”

“I don’t know that either…”

“Alright, let the record show that the subject’s quantitative skills have been severely curtailed. Now, subject 436–I’m going to give you three words. I need you to remember those words and repeat them back to me when I ask for them, alright? The words are: house, boat, and bacon. Can you repeat them back to me?”

“House. Boat. Bacon.”

“Good, now keep those words in mind,” the surgeon said, and went back to work for half a minute. “Can you repeat those words back to me?”

“Horse. Bed. Bacon.”

“Good. Doctor, could you present the subject with the flash cards?”

The first doctor retrieved some cards and held the first one up in front of Leon’s face. “Please read the first card, subject 436.”

“The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.” The doctor then hid the card, and after a moment the neurosurgeon asked him to repeat what had been on the card. “The quick…no…the quivering food jumped…jumped over the large hotdog?” Leon replied. His head hurt, like he had a massive headache. Why couldn’t he remember? He was so hungry, all he could think about was food.

“Let the record show that the subject’s short term memory has been moderately compromised. That’s very good subject 436–now, onto the second task.”

The surgeon worked for a few moments, and then signaled the doctor to reveal the flash card again, “Please read what’s on the card, subject 436.”

Leon stared at the card hard for a few seconds, “uh…The…the…I don’t know the second word. The…fix pumped onto the…the blank god? That’s not…that’s not right, is it?”

“Let the record show that advanced dyslexia has been induced in the subject,” the surgeon said. “You’re doing very good subject 436, one last task, and this will all be over.”

The surgeon went back to work, fiddling with Leon’s brain, and he could feel the serum he’d been given start to wear off. He could fight again, but what was the point? They’d destroyed his mind already, there was nothing he could do but sit there and cry in terror. Finally, the neurosurgeon signalled one of the cubs to come over with his tattoo gun. “Would you please continue your work for a few seconds? I’d like to test the subject’s pleasure response.”

The cub returned to the line work on Leon’s thigh, and as soon as the gun started, Leon shivered and moaned. It didn’t hurt–it didn’t hurt at all–in fact, it felt amazing. The cub stopped, and before Leon could help himself, he was begging, “No–no, keep going, do it some more, come on…”

“Good–a sufficient response. Just give me a few more minutes to increase the dopamine response to induce a strong, addictive reaction in the subject…”

It was a few more minutes of work, and then the surgeon announced that he was done, and the first doctor told the cubs to resume their work while he and the surgeon put Leon’s skull back together. Now, however, the sensation of the tattoo guns wasn’t one of pain–but instead of divine pleasure. Leon was grunting and moaning, his puny cock dribbling out cum from his tiny balls the entire time, and soon, he found himself wanting it, wanting them to push the guns in harder, wanting them to make it hurt worse. “Come on, is that the fucking best you can do, fucking drill those things into me!” he shouted, shivering the entire time from head to toe. The first doctor grew tired of Leon’s shouting, and shoved a feeding tube down his throat, and Leon was silent for the next several hours the doctors used to sew him back up. Between the tattoo guns and the feeding, Leon was in heaven, the cubs finishing his arms and legs on both sides, before they all moved onto his huge gut, one of them even tattooing his tiny cock and balls.

Behind him, the two doctors were piecing his scalp back together, and then the second doctor took some strange goo and began smearing it across the incisions. “The FAT team here prides itself on making sure our members receive the best medical care–don’t worry about any scarring subject 436–by morning, you won’t even know we were in here. Of course, the tattoos on your skull would disguise it anyway, so you wouldn’t even need to be concerned.”

Leon, nearly seizing with pleasure from the tattooing, could barely comprehend what the doctor was saying. His sentences were just too long–he’d nearly forgotten what he’d said first by the time he was at the end. He felt so full though, and when the bonds holding his head in place were finally removed, and he could look down at his new tattoos. Looking at the work, it seemed like the cubs were actually being sloppy on purpose. All down both legs were massive motifs of fattening foods, all being devoured by huge men with pig faces. He couldn’t see his cock and balls to know what they’d done there, but both arms were done in tacky redneck–confederate flags, eagles, trailers, beer cans–the works, but it was his gut that attracted the most attention, where words and phrases had been tattooed all over him, all of them humiliating–“Gainer,” “Fat Ass,” “Slob,” “Toilet Slave,” “Whore,” “Trailer Trash,” they went on and on, and when they flipped him over and started on his back, the doctor was kind enough to tell him what they were putting there–a silhouette of a hog’s back, including a pig tail above his ass, so everyone fucking him would know that they were ball’s deep in nothing more than a disgustingly obese sow. His face was given a similar treatment with subtler tattoos designed to accentuate the size of his cheeks and jowls, two tusks curling from his upper lip up his cheeks, and the outline of a pig snout around his nose–and the word PIG repeated four times: on his forehead, across the back of his neck and head, and on both sides over his ears.

Now that most of the tattooing was done, though, two of the cubs brought over a huge collection of metal and began piercing his body. One cub focused on his cock and balls, inserting so many rings, bars and studs that he could feel the weight hanging off of him, every peirce of a needle another jolt of pleasure through his system. The other cub put two thick doorknockers through the flesh behind his nipples, keeping his thick aureolas intact–those were by far the most painful and thrilling, and then he began on Leon’s face. A thick ring in his septum, and then countless rings in his ears, eyebrows and lips, and after the feeding tube had been removed, ten studs in his tongue which made speaking nearly impossible. As a final humiliation, the doctor brought out a set of dentist tools and began prying teeth from Leon’s mouth, seemingly at random, leaving him gap toothed and in so much painful pleasure he could barely move. It was then that he finally felt the stress of the session overwhelming him, and the room faded from view, his last blurred image of the doctor slipping his mask over his nose and mouth, and the stench of Max’s filthy body and the sickly smell of his fat gas sending him off to sleep, and distantly, the sound of a voice in his ears, whispering to him, telling him new truths for the next day. In short sentences and with much repetition–Leon was just a simpleton now after all, and there was no going back.