Muse of Fantasy II – Reconciliation (Part 3)

“Leave him the fuck alone!” Eddie shouted, and pushed himself up from the table, ready to intercede, but Oliver just smiled at him, “Take that…shit off of him, and get the fuck out of our house, you fucking freak.”

“Sit down, Eddie,” Oliver said, gently, but the words had force of their own. Unable to understand why, he did as he was told, and took his seat again at the table, while Will rubbed his mitts against the suit covering his body, the rubber pants growing down, over his feet, becoming thick soled waders connected seamlessly to the rest of the suit. “Now Will, how does it feel? And be honest.”

“It…feels amazing, but how did you do this? This isn’t possible…” Will looked down at himself, and then back at Oliver, “Who…are you?”

“Just a servant of my god, Will–you’ll meet them soon enough. But for now, why don’t we tuck you away for a bit, while I have a chat with your husband?”

Will felt the rubber squirming around his body again, and it rose higher, up his neck and onto his face. It forced his mouth open, filled it, forming a thick, cock shaped gag inside, and then sealed itself around it, Will moaning and protesting as the rubber enveloped the rest of his head, with just two holes for his nose, allowing him to breathe. He swung about a moment, blind and useless, but the rest of the suit was changing as well–tugging his arms down to his sides, where the sleeves sealed themselves to the sides of his body, locking them in place, and then Will fell to his knees, calves and thighs sealed together similarly. Where Will had stood a minute before, there was now just a motionless rubber gimp, trapped on its knees, moaning softly around the gag in its mouth, feeling the last of the rubber worming into his ass, forming a thick plug inside there as well.

Olive admired it for a moment, and then turned back to Eddie, who was still trying to get himself out of the chair, terrified and shaking. “Please, just…just let us go, I was only doing this so he’d fucking shut up about it!”

“Yeah, it can be…eye opening, the first time it happens,” Oliver said, “the first time you experience what you really want, the first time you feel real…pleasure. Because you did like it, didn’t you? There in that bathroom, two big fuckers kicking you, tearing at your clothes, right there on the tile floor.”

Eddie froze, staring at Oliver. “How…how do you know that…”

“I know everything about what you want, Eddie,” Oliver said, “I know things you want, that you haven’t even realized yet.” He reached out and touched Eddie’s temple, and when he did, Eddie felt…something inside his mind suddenly open up. Something expanded out from his mind, like a projection, and a moment later, the kitchen was gone, Will was gone. They were back there, in the rest area where those two roughnecks had hauled him out of the stall, beaten him up, and raped him. He could smell the piss, and see that…odd patch of wall he’d locked eyes with, when he’d tried not to think about what was happening to him, about how much he enjoyed what was happening to him. “You have a good memory,” Oliver said, looking around, “Have you been back since?”

“No–Will wouldn’t…let me.”

“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”

Eddie couldn’t reply.

“I can make it happen to you again, you know. You can relive it. It can be rougher this time, grittier, they could drag you out of here and turn you into their little faggot slave. You’ve thought about all of that, I can see it in you, Eddie.”

The door to the bathroom swung open, and Eddie spun around, terror in his guts, but there was no one there.

“But that wouldn’t help the two of you reconcile your…differences, would it? What would happen to poor Will, left as a gimp on the floor of the kitchen? I could, perhaps, find someone willing to take him, but you two do seem like such a good fit. Besides, that would be too easy. They wouldn’t be happy with that.”

“You crazy fuck, just leave us alone,” Eddie said, “Please, we have money, we’ll pay you, but just fucking stop this. Just fucking go away!”

Oliver just smiled at him, and came closer, “You thought you deserved it. All of it. All that teasing when you were a kid, all the guys calling you a faggot growing up. How small you are, how weak you are, you wanted them to rape you, because it confirmed for you exactly what you are–a faggot, a bitch, a weak piece of shit–but that’s not what you want to be, is it Eddie?”

Eddie tried to speak, tried to deny it, but all he could do was shake his head no. It was true–he…hated himself. He always had, and those two fucks raping him…abusing him. It had felt…exactly like what he deserved for being so…weak.

“No–well, you can be anything here, Eddie. You don’t have to be weak anymore. You don’t have to be some small, prissy, meek faggot. This is your fantasy, Eddie. This is your chance to be who you’ve always wanted to be.” Oliver walked over to the mirror, and waved Eddie over, “Come on, come have a look with me. I think you’ll like it.”

“No–No, I don’t want to look.”

“Yes you do Eddie. We both know what we’re going to see. Now come over here.”

Eddie walked, one step at a time, the footfalls sounding…heavy on the tile. He stood next to Oliver and turned to the mirror…and the person in the reflection beside Oliver…it was…him. His face, but a different life. One where, instead of giving up, he’d…given in. He’d embraced his roots, buried his sexuality, turned into a real man like his brother, like his father. His hair was buzzed down to the skull, and he had a thick, ragged beard all over his face, growing high up his cheeks. He wasn’t wearing the relaxing casual clothes from before, but instead had on a grubby t-shirt and a pair of overalls. “Fuck, nah fuck, that fuckin’ piece a trash ain’t me, I ain’t!” Eddie said, seeing the stranger contort in anger, the new voice betraying his background despite his denials.

The Muse of Fantasy II – Reconciliation (Part 2)

Oliver smiled–it sounded like the perfect opportunity for him to stretch his creativity in all sorts of strange directions, provided the source material proved interesting enough. If the two of them were bores, then he’d just have to liven things up himself. “Alright, that sounds like an interesting challenge for someone in my business. So, who would like to tell me their fantasy first?”

Eddie and Will looked at one another, still embarrassed.

“It seems the two of you don’t discuss this topic very often.”

Will chuckled, “No, it’s…a bit strange, I guess. Here, I’ll go first,” he brought his mug of coffee with him and sat at the table with the other two. “I, uh, well, I have a thing for rubber and latex. It’s kind of a new interest, I guess, because I don’t have a lot of gear…but I find it really erotic.”

“In what sense?” Oliver asked.

“I guess…I really like the feeling of it against my skin. I was with a guy, and he put me in a full body suit one time, and it felt…really amazing. It makes you feel like something else, like an object.”

“So you were more of a…bottom in this scenario?”

“I suppose so, but it isn’t really about power…I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

Oliver, peeking into Will’s mind, could see that the last bit was a lie–it was about power. He liked being powerless, but he wasn’t very fond of mentioning it to Eddie.

“Does that interest you at all, Eddie?”

He shrugged, “I’ve never had much experience with rubber other than wearing a condom, I suppose, but I’m open to the idea I suppose. But for me…well, I guess I should say that I didn’t grow up around here. I’m from the other side of the mountains, out in a little farming town, but I came out here for college, and because being gay in a small town…it was rough. But…well, I guess somethings stick with you a bit, because I’ve just always had a thing for country guys and farmers especially. I used to…well, hell, the first cock I ever sucked was an older neighbor of ours, when I was a teenager. He owned a farm, and I…I don’t know. It’s a bit hard finding guys like that over here though…”

Will shot him a look, and Eddie stopped talking. What had gone unstated was the fundamental friction, Oliver supposed. He could see in Eddie’s mind what he’d been doing–cruising rest areas out on the highways, always looking for roughneck cock. He’d gotten a bit of a bruising, and Will had told him to stop–one thing lead to another, and now all three of them were sitting together at the table, looking for a solution. Worse, or better, depending on your perspective, Eddie had liked it. He’d liked getting beaten by them, and he’d liked getting raped. It wasn’t something he’d really been able to process himself, and Oliver could see the tumult there of his fantasies. He was hard already, and so eager to begin.

“It sounds like you’re both bottoms.”

Eddie and Will nodded, “That’s part of why we don’t have a lot of sex, beyond the kink side of things. It makes it difficult.”

“Well, unless you have a third person you’d like to bring in, one of you is going to have work with it.”

“I mean…I could do it, I guess,” Will said, “I’m not that big, but maybe, as like, a rubber golem, I could fuck him with a strap on?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and Oliver could tell the idea didn’t even satisfy Will that much–he just wanted his husband to be safer, and he was worried that next time…well, it would be something a trip to a doctor wouldn’t be able to fix up.

“How about you, Eddie? Think you could give it a shot?”

He looked surprised–the thought honestly hadn’t occurred to him, but Oliver had a suspicion he’d be more than eager, with the right…motivation.

“You don’t think about topping very often, I guess.”

“Most of the guys I have sex with are just interested in blowjobs. Top and bottom doesn’t really enter into it.”

“I can understand that,” Oliver said, and cracked his knuckles, turning back to Will. ‘It seems like you’re the easier one to start with I think–why don’t we get you taken care of?”

“Oh? Uh…well, we can look at the gear I have, if you want to use any of it.”

“Oh no, I only use my own gear, Will, you don’t have to worry about a thing,” Oliver said, reached over and gave him a pat on the shoulder, and when he did, Will gasped. The shirt he’d had on had suddenly constructed tightly to his skin in a split second. He looked down, and saw the button down dress shirt was no more–it had somehow turned into a wrist length black rubber shirt.

“What, how did you…” Will said, and tried to pick at the end of the rubber sleeve, but it was so tight he couldn’t get a finger to separate the rubber from his skin. As he did, he felt the entire shirt squirm, and the rubber grew, flowing down his wrists and onto his fingers, which immediately began to gum up, until a few seconds later they were both trapped as fists in tight rubber mitts. “I don’t–take it off, please,” Will said as he stood up from the table, swinging his arms and trying to fling the rubber off.

“But why stop, Will? This is what you want–I can feel your desire plain as day. Here I’ll even help Eddie see it too,” Oliver said, stood up and gave Will a smack on the ass. Just like his shirt, his pants shifted instantly, becoming skintight rubber running down to his ankles. Clearly highlighted in the black rubber were his full balls, and an obvious erection.

Pigtown – Faceless (Part 5)

He looked like a monster–what in the world had Dick and Ash done to him? No–he could imagine what they did, well enough, even if he’d never seen the dummy itself, after the work. The floppy ears raised a bit too high on his head, the short snout pushing out under his nose and mouth…he could see his face still sliding into place, his nostrils widening at the end of the snout, even as his mouth shifted underneath it. It hurt less, than when his face had first reattached, but it didn’t feel good, and he certainly didn’t like looking at it, either–even if he couldn’t tear his eyes away from himself, from the huge gut, from the stubby cock poking out of a sheath underneath it, and two massive balls swinging below, each the size of a small melon. They were…churning, and not in a sense he’d ever experienced. He felt something well up at the head of his cock, and a slimy tear of precum leaked from the slit, and drooled down to the floor, followed by a steady stream after that. Even his hands and feet were different–especially his feet. He’d assumed walking was difficult just because he was beginning to regain sensation–but he was surprised he could feel anything. His feet were…trotters–thick and wide, but completely inhuman, and his hands were reduced to three clumsy fingers, probably good for holding cocks and not much else.

“Yeah, look at you, you fucking beast. We’ll be goin’ back home together, and you’re gonna be my pet piggy, ain’t ya? You stupid piece of shit?”

Trey didn’t know what to do about his face and body–but he was plenty angry. He’d always been angry, but he’d never had the ability to do much to back it up. But now–sure, he was fat, but there was plenty of muscle packed onto this frame too. He could…fight. He clenched a fist, turned, and swung, slamming it right into Dick’s face, sending him stumbling back into a chair, and then onto the ground behind him. Yeah–that felt good, and he swung around to glower at Ash.

“Fix this,” he tried to say, but it didn’t come out right–which didn’t surprise him, he supposed, but Ash got the message in any case, and Trey stalked over towards him, ready to punch him as well, when he felt something slender wrap it’s way around his neck, tighten down on his windpipe, and bring him down to his knees.

“Bar policy,” a new voice said, “Pets gotta be kept on a leash at all times–for safety’s sake.”

Dick sat up, wiping blood from his nose, and saw the bartender had come around, and was holding the end of the leather leash, connected to the collar wrapped around Trey’s throat, who was pawing at with his useless hands. “Fuck man, thanks.”

“Yeah Rod, I owe you,” Ash said.

The bartender shrugged. “You’ve earned your place here, Ash,” he said, “And you–I like you. But don’t let this thing loose again, or I’ll have it dragging you around instead, got it?”

Rod handed Dick the end of the leash, and he gripped it tight. “No worries man–I won’t let him out of my hand.”

Rod nodded, and walked back behind the bar. Trey kept pawing at the collar for a moment, but couldn’t…quite tell what was wrong. The collar wasn’t choking him physically–if anything, it felt…comfortable, or even necessary. He was a beast after all. A monster. He had to be controlled, and chained, and…and dominated. Just a stupid, dull beast of burden, worthless for much of anything, only good for what it’s master wanted. The collar was choking out his mind, and Ash could see the intellect and fight draining from the pigman’s face, eyes going slack and dark, a line of drool hanging from the front of his snout.

“Better give it a name too–something for the tag,” Rod added, once he was back behind the bar, “How about Troff? Looks like that thing loves shoving its face in ‘em enough.”

“Ha! Yeah, sounds good to me!” Dick said, “How about it, Troff?”

Was…was that him? It sounded right. It sounded like a good name for a stupid, subservient beast like him. His master was standing beside him, and looked like he was hurt–and for some reason, Troff thought that he had done that…but that couldn’t be right. No, Troff would never hurt Master, never in a million years. He’d…hurt whoever did that to Master, is what he’d do.

Dick, through the leash, could sense Troff’s anger, and decided to let the pet off for this one. “Calm down now, pig–here, let’s give you a treat, eh?” Dick said, and pressed the head of his cock to Troff’s snout, and with a delighted grunt, it started sucking on Master’s cock, one thick hand massaging it’s nuts, feeling more and more precum puddle around his knees on the floor. Maybe master would let him lick it up, later–Troff was good at licking shit up, after all. After a moment, Dick got Troff repositioned, so Ash could fuck his ass, and together they brought to pig to a snorting, squealing orgasm, cum pouring from his cock onto the floor, which, like he’d hoped, Dick let the pig lick up after they were all finished.

Ash shook Dick’s hand, and wished him luck with his new life, and his new pig, and then turned to his two gimps, both of whom had watched the entire scene without moving–though with mixed, if limited, feelings. “Alright you two,” Ash said, “I think we’re calling it an early night, tonight, and heading back to my place. I think you’ve earned the privilege of getting your faces back–after we have a little fun with your bodies, eh?”

The end for now…

Pigtown – Faceless (Part 4)

“Are you done yet?”

“Would you relax? I’ve never done something like this before. I don’t even know if it’ll work. It might just fuck up everything–who knows if it’ll even fit right.”

“It stretches though.”

“Well yeah, it stretches, but–look, if shit goes screwy with this? It’s not my fucking fault, got it?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

Ash just shook his head, and focused on the dummy in front of him, adding the last few details.

“It looks fucking ready to me–I love the look of that sack on it. Gonna be real fun kickin’ that shit with my boots on.”

“Alright, I think we’re good–or at least, we should be good,” Ash stood up and admired his work–he was surprised he’d never thought of this before, actually…usually when he took a man’s face, they never did end up getting them back. He liked to keep them tucked away, a nice collection of limp masks to mock and tease, tell them where their bodies were, and what men were doing to them. On occasion, he gave a man or two their faces back, usually once their guts were brimming with cum and piss. He…loved the look of their faces turning green, as they felt their bellies sloshing–usually right before stealing their face back. However, he’d never altered the dummy like this before. If it worked…he looked over at the two gimps behind him, and thought of their stupid fucking faces, hanging from hooks in his room. If this worked, he’d have to experiment a bit. He went over to the table and picked up Trey, slipping his hands up inside his face, and testing how flexible he was. More than enough to make it work, he supposed–but whether everything would line up properly was another question altogether. He rolled it up from the neck, so he could be as accurate as possible, pressed the crown of the face to the dummy’s head, and felt it stick.

The ears were tricky, making sure the rubber molds of the dummy pushed out into the ears of the mask–but they did, and the result, as he pulled down the rest, was an odd mix between Trey’s original ears, and his new, floppier ones sitting a bit higher on his head. The same with the nose and mouth–It stretched out over the snout he’d crafted, and it ended up somewhat shorter than he’d made it, but once the mask slipped down to the neck and rejoined with the body, the oddly bulging snout split open, and Trey let out a growling, panting, snorting heave of pain.

Wrong–it was all wrong. Trey hadn’t been able to tell much of what was going on, from where he was lying on the table, but when he’d felt Ash putting his face back on his body, he’d been so thankful, but once he was back, he realized that his body was not quite the same as it had been, when Ash had taken him off. He tried to move his hands to feel what was wrong with it, and why it hurt so much, but he couldn’t. Even though his face was back on, the rest of his body was just numb–he couldn’t feel it, or move it…though there was some progress, actually. His neckline was tingling, and as it did, he could feel sensation spreading down slowly, and he looked down, where life was slowly returning to his dummy body–but what he saw made him groan in horror.

This wasn’t his body–what the fuck did that fucker do to him? His skinny frame was gone–instead, it looked like someone had attached a tire pump to his navel, and pumped him full of lard. He had two massive moobs and a huge gut hanging down, covered in wiry doll hair and swirls of color. Sensation crept down, and he saw the hair and skin turn to flesh, the swirls becoming tattoos embedded in his skin. He tried to speak and protest, turned to his uncle and plead…but that wasn’t his uncle, looming over him. It looked a bit like him, but those eyes, and that sneer–this was someone else entirely.

The words didn’t come out right–there was something very wrong with his mouth, but he didn’t know what, exactly. Dick took his fingers and shoved them into Trey’s mouth, feeling around, checking it out. “Feels right–looks like it figured out what we wanted.”

“Good, I was hoping it would work like that,” Ash said, “Gotta say, it’s pretty fucking sick, man. In a good way.”

“Hell yeah it’s fuckin’ sick! Nice ‘n wet too. Gonna feel pretty fuckin’ great on my cock.”

The sensation in Trey’s body was coming back faster now, and had almost reached his fingers. He just…had to wait a moment more, but when Dick rubbed the head of his cock against his…mouth or nose, or whatever was wrong with his face, he couldn’t let it happen. He shoved him away, the force of it sending him toppling backwards. He rolled over, tried to force himself up, but his legs weren’t cooperating yet. So he crawled away, as best he could, until he could force himself upright. There, standing a few feet away from the bar, he saw his reflection in the mirror behind the bartender, and froze. It…it couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be. That thing, it wasn’t him, it had to be wrong, some cheap trick.

Dick came up behind him, and caught him in a hug, grinding his cock against Trey’s ass. “What do you think pig? Suits you, don’t it?”

Pigtown – Faceless (Part 3)

It wasn’t the best head Ash had ever gotten. There was a bit too much teeth, but Dick made up for it in raw hunger and enthusiasm. After a couple of minutes, he pulled away, gasping a bit, and gave Ash’s cock a couple of strokes. “Fuck, it’s better than I fucking imagined, fuck! Could fucking do this all damn night.”

Ash took the opportunity to pull away a bit. “Look, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I…you shouldn’t be here. I took your fucking face.”

“No, you took his face,” Dick said, pointing to Dirk’s mask, which was still lying on the table nearby. “I’ve been under there, trying to get out for fucking ages! All I needed was one good mid-life crisis, but no, he just has to keep bundling up all his shame and bullshit, like I’m just going to fucking go the fuck away! No–fuck him, piece of shit nobody. Never did fuckall with himself. Could have been getting all the damn dick this whole time, but just cooped himself up,” he stood up, and turned to the face on the table, “No fuckin’ more, I’ll tell ya that! You fuckin’ hear that, ya fuck? I’m not going back under there, never!”

“Dang man, calm down, it’s all good here, trust me,” Ash said, “You don’t have to put it back on.” Now that Dick was standing again, Ash noticed something else–that his body was changing as well. It was his skin that he noticed–it was…flaking, and when Dick idly scratched his arm, big chunks fell off, revealing more beneath it–but it wasn’t the same pink. No, it was colorful–and it took another few curls coming away for Ash to realize they were tattoos. “I think…the rest of him is coming off man.”

Dick looked down at his arms, and he started picking at the skin peeling away, and then hauled off Dirk’s clothes as well, until he was standing there naked, rubbing and picking at himself as Dirk fell away from him. “Yeah, fuck–no wonder I felt so fuckin’ itchy…” Dick said, gave his cock a few rough strokes, and the entire skin slid off, revealing a much more sizable, eight inch member with a hefty foreskin. “Fuck yeah–might need to find someone to wrap their lips ‘round this thing soon enough too,” Dick said, “You up to it Ash?”

Ash shook his head, “No, I prefer to top.”

“Whatever, it’s all good to me–I haven’t done any of it after all!” Dick said with a long laugh, and the last of Dirk’s skin fell away, leaving him free at last. There were some similarities, between the two of them. They had the same general shape–that is, out of shape–though Dick’s potbelly was closer to a proper gut. He wasn’t much hairier than Dirk had been, but he was quite a bit more rank, and his feet and hands were quite a bit larger, as were some of the features of his face, like someone had exaggerated everything just slightly, enough that any one thing would be natural, but together, it all seemed a bit..strange, and rather ugly. The lank hair didn’t help, longer than Dirk had ever left it grow, and the scruffy beard.

He looked down at Dirk’s clothes, and have them a kick with his foot. “I sure as hell ain’t puttin’ this shit back on though,” he said, “I like that, what you’re wearing. You got anymore of that?” He walked up to Ash and ran his hands along the rubber shirt he was wearing. “Yeah, fuck, I bet that feels amazing.”

Ash grinned, “Yeah, I can whip something up for you man, no worries. Rubber’s my specialty.” He got down and picked up Dirk’s shirt from the floor, and where his fingers touched it, the well-worn cotton began to shift. At first glance, in the low light, it looked like it was disappearing, but Dick could see…something catching the light in Ash’s hands, and when he handed the shirt over to him, Ash gave him a wink. “It’s be a shame to cover up that artwork, though, don’t you think?”

Dick realized the shirt was clear rubber, and he wormed his arms into it and pulled it on, loving how…constricting it felt against his skin, even though it didn’t look like he was wearing anything at all, his body just…gleaming slightly. “Yeah, fuck, this shit rocks.”

Ash was already working on the rest of the clothing, and a few minutes later, Dick was clothed again, though in a very different outfit than before. He had on rubber chaps now, his cock and balls hanging free, a black rubber vest, and two thick soled waders up his calves.

“Man, fuck,” Ash said, admiring the rubbered up roughneck standing in front of him, “It isn’t what I was fucking planning, but I gotta say, it suits you, Dick.”

“Yeah?” Dick asked, and moved in close, pressing their rubbered over chest together, “Then how about that dick sucking? You wanna give me some tips? I feel like I was doin’ that shit all wrong.”

“Nah man, I got a better idea,” Ash said, and pointed at Trey’s dummy body, still lying on the floor a few feet away, “Why don’t you have the honor of blowing the first load into that cumdumps guts, in a few minutes?”

Dick narrowed his eyes, at the limp figure, walked over, and planted his rubber wader on the side of its head and pressed down. It gave in slightly, like a solid rubber object might. “Nah, cumdumps too good for this fuck. This place is too go for him–piece a shit. We can do better than that, don’t you think?”

Ash shrugged.

“What happens if we put the mask back on him now?”

“He’ll be right back to himself,” Ash said.

“And what is he now?”

“Just rubber, really. I can do pretty much anything I want with it. Why, you have something else in mind?”

Dick had picked up Trey’s face from the table, and gave it a stretch, watching the features warp, eyes grimacing in pain–or he liked to imagine they were, at least. “Yeah, I have an idea for sure. A real fucking good one, too.”

Pigtown – Faceless (Part 2)

No one said anything for a moment–the man just stood there, holding Trey’s face in his hand, and Dirk, across the table from him, gaped at his nephew’s body, limp in the seat, lying across the table. Slowly, it began to slide until it tumbled off and rolled onto the floor, face up–or what would be a face, if it had one. Something was happening to it, while Dirk watched. The clothes didn’t change–but the body underneath was. The skin didn’t look like flesh anymore, it looked…like some mix between rubber, plastic, or cloth. The dummy’s hands were just simple mitts as well. Whatever it was, it most certainly wasn’t a body anymore. Dirk took a step back from it, and ran into something–while he’d been distracted, staring at the thing, the two gimps had slid around the table behind him. Before he could react, both of them grabbed an arm, holding him in place, while their master came around the table, one hand inside Trey’s face, looking at him with a grin.

“See? Nothing under there at all. Most people are like that. Once you take away everything on top–well, there’s just nothing left for them to be, which means, they can be anything at all, isn’t that right?”

The two gimps on either side of Dirk nodded in tandem.

“They were like the two of you once, decided to mouth off a bit. I have their faces now, and if they serve me well, I might give them back one day. Would you like that?” he said, addressing one of the gimps, “Do you think you’ve earned the right to be someone again yet?” The man ran a gloved hand across one of the gimp’s facelessness, and it shuddered with pleasure, and nodded quickly. “Well too fucking bad–you don’t fucking think shit. You know that. You’re nothing. Fucking forget it. Maybe I should go home and just throw your face in the fire. Hell, maybe I should give your face to someone else, someone who might enjoy it. What do you think? Some derelict off the street? Think he could pretend to be the hotshot vice president like you were once?”

The gimp didn’t do anything this time–it didn’t move an inch.

“That’s what I thought,” the man said, and turned to Dirk, “Now, how about you? I wasn’t planning on adding to my collection tonight, but since the two of you were trying to leave, why don’t we just keep you two here? Well, your bodies at least. Your faces will come with me, for the time being. Set the two of you up as a couple of cumdumps and urinals in one of the backrooms, get you good and full, and maybe in a week, I’ll put your faces back on, just so you can feel what it’s like.”

Dirk shook his head, “No, look, I’m sorry alright? I–he’s a dumbass, I know, but we didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Well trouble found you anyway, fucker,” the man said, pushed his fingers against Dirk’s neck, and slid them under his face. “Don’t worry–you won’t have to think about anything, soon enough–you’ll be too busy drinking piss and cum to worry about anything for a good long while.

Dirk fought, and the man teased him, running his fingers gently underneath his face, the gimps’ grip on him tightening. He could…sense them getting excited, but they were always excited when Master was excited. Dirk could feel it–the skin starting to pull away from him–except then he was the skin. He was pulling away from himself. He couldn’t scream or shout for help, he could see, but his eyes couldn’t move, he just felt himself being lifted away from the head, and then he was there, hanging from the stranger’s hand, and he heard a strange, and yet familiar voice let out a long whoop, and laugh, while the man stepped back.

“Fuck man! Fucking hell! I’m fucking free, free at fucking last!”

Dirk landed on the table, face down. He couldn’t see what was happening, but he could hear. Something was wrong. He…he was missing something, he realized. That voice in him, that voice that was always there, whispering to him. Sometimes loud…but that had been when he was young. He’d kept it quiet for so long, but it, that voice–it was the voice that had urged him into the bar.

The stranger was just staring, confused. When you took someone’s face–there wasn’t usually another one beneath it. But here, staring right at him, was the same face of the man he’d just stolen–or at least, kind of the same. He had a full beard, for one thing, his mouth twisted in a crazed smile as he laughed, eyes bloodshot and wild, nose crooked with a thick ring in the middle of it. “Fuck!” he said, “I could just fucking kiss you, ya fucker, thank you!” he said, and lunged forward, slipping from the two gimp’s grasp, and slamming into the stranger, pushing him back onto the table, and he did kiss him, roughly, the master unused to such–forwardness, but he did enjoy it. Still–he pushed him off, and stood up, wiping his lips of the man’s slobber.

“Alright, what the fuck just happened. How in the hell were you under there?” he asked.

“I’ve been under that fucker his whole fucking life man. Fucking trapped. You don’t fucking know what he’s fucking like! The shame, the inhibition. Never wanting to do anything, fuck, it was all I could do to get him to masturbate every other day, and even then he had to do it in the damn shower, where no one would even fucking hear him! Fuck! I’ve wanted that fucker off me my whole god damn life, and I knew…somehow I knew this place could do it, I fucking knew it! And you–fucker, I owe you a fucking blow job, is what. The name’s Dick by the way,” he said, got down, and started opening the fly of the Master’s pants.

“Uh…Ash…I’m Ash,” he said, and then gasped as Dick swallowed his cock to the hilt.

Pigtown – Faceless (Part 1)

“What kind of fucking bar is this, anyway?” Trey asked, looking around again. “The fuckin’ city, Unc–I just don’t fucking get it sometimes.”

Dirk nodded, feeling uneasy and uncomfortable as well…and even though he knew, in his guts, that he and his nephew should leave…some other, deeper part of him, kept his ass glued to the chair where he was sitting in the bar. Trey’s cousin–and another nephew of Dirk’s–was getting married back at home the next week, and had wanted to have his bachelor party at some of the strip clubs in town. At some point, Dirk and Trey had gotten separated from the main group, and ended up here, in a bar called Pigtown. It had…sounded like a strip club, but now that they were in here, drinks in hand…he realized there were no women. Just a room full of men in the low light, music pounding from some other room nearby, some of the slipping off behind a curtain every once in a while, and on less occasion, a man came stumbling back out, eyes wide and breath short.

“I think this is some fag place, Unc,” Trey said, “Fuck, look at those fuckers over there, who the fuck would wear shit like that?” Trey pointed off to another corner of the bar, where three men were sitting–or, where one was sitting, and two others were kneeling on the floor beside him, while the one sipped his beer. It was the two kneeling that had captured Trey’s fascination–both of them clad head to toe in rubber gear, without any skin to be seen at all. “It’s fucking disgusting.”

He said the last bit loud enough that the whole bar heard him, including the man sitting at the table with the two gimps, who smirked, but didn’t acknowledge Trey beyond that. Dirk…couldn’t help but get a bad feeling about all of this. Trey was a bit of a hothead, and certainly had no love for faggots–not that he should, of course. Fags were pieces of shit to Dirk too, but he had grown into more of a live and let live philosophy as he’d gotten older. If they just kept their creepy shit to themselves, away from Dirk, then what did it matter to him?

“Maybe we should get the rest of the guys, and come back here, show these fuckers what a real man can do,” Trey added, and chugged the rest of his beer. “Come on, Unc, let’s get the fuck out of this dump.”

Dirk nodded, and stood up–Trey tried to do the same, but only got have way before a hand landed on his shoulder and pushed him back down into his chair. “What, leaving so soon? But the night’s just getting started!” It was the man from the table, the two gimps close behind him, looking like two shiny black statues. Their masks–they weren’t just masks, were they? If anything, to Dirk, it didn’t look like something was covering their face–if anything, it looked like they were simply faceless, their identifying features scrubbed away entirely. It was the lack of any contour–usually, wearing a mask, you could still see the contour of a nose and eyes and mouth, but the two drones…it was so smooth. He told himself it had to be the light, keeping him from seeing it, but he was unnerved all the same.

The other man was wearing less, and didn’t have a mask on at all. His head was shaved close, and he had stubble across his face the same length, giving the impression he’d razored all of it a few days ago at the same time. He was wearing a rubber shirt, with a leather jacket over it, and leather pants and boots. At a distance, he had seemed less imposing, but this close it was clear he was heavily muscled–more than a match for Trey, who for all of his big talk, had never had the physique to back up his boasts and threats. It had gotten him into plenty of trouble, but he was a bit too thick to learn his lessons. “You two aren’t from around here, are you?” he said, leaning down close to Trey’s ear, “Yeah, you don’t quite know how things work around here, I don’t think, so why don’t I show you?”

Trey felt one of the man’s bare hands curl around his neck–and then after picking at his neck for a moment, he felt…his fingers slip underneath his skin, like an edge had appeared out of nowhere on his body. He panicked, but the other hand on his shoulder was pressing down with an impossible weight. He looked over at Dirk with terror in his eyes, begging his uncle to do anything, but the older, pot bellied man was just looking on in horror at what was happening.

“You see, around here, we don’t have a lot of patience for men who come in here wearing masks like this. No–we like to see who you really are, underneath all the posturing and bullshit you’re throwing around, like you know something about anything,” the man slipped his fingers further under the edge and got a grip on the flap of Trey’s skin he’d found, “But you–I don’t think there’s anything under here, do you? Not under either of you, probably. Just a whole lot of bullshit–how about we check?”

Before Trey could say anything, the man lifted the edge, and Dirk watched as the edge pulled away all around the base of Trey’s neck, and the man drew it up Trey’s head quickly, his nephew’s face going blank as his features came away from his body, attached to the mask the man had created. He pulled it free, and Dirk found himself staring at a face just like the two rubber gimps behind the man–no features, simply…blank, and then Trey’s face fell forward and collapsed onto the table, limp and lifeless–nothing more than a dummy.

Winter Vacation [Interactive Story] (Part 2)

Rich remembered now. His uncle had said…something about the plumbing. That it wouldn’t work right, if he didn’t…do something important, something having to do with that suit, and that mask. He walked over to it, took the suit off the rack, and examined it. It seemed…much too small, and had no arms, and the legs were connected, making it more like a cocoon than a suit, he supposed. The mask was on a shelf, with just two holes in the nose, and a tube running from the mouth of the suit into a black box, and from the box, another pipe ran up to the ceiling, to who knew where.

This wasn’t right. Something strange was going on here, and he had to get himself, and his friends, out of here. His uncle was clearly up to something…but the plumbing was important, right? It had to work, or their vacation would be ruined. The logic seemed so obvious to him–he was still trying to force himself out of it, as he stripped out his his clothes and discarded them in a corner. The mask had to go on first–after all, if he got into the suit, he wouldn’t have hands to use to even get the mask on. Inside, the tube extended several inches into the mask itself, and he slid it into his mouth, before pulling the mask over his head–and as soon as he did that, everything became much, much simpler.

That noise he’d noticed when he flipped the switch was louder, somehow, inside the mask, like everything else had been shut out. The tube flared out, forcing his mouth open quite wide, nearly hitting the point of his gag reflex at the back of his throat, but even if it was uncomfortable, it had to happen. He groped about for the suit, found it, while it was difficult to keep his bearings blinded by the mask, he also felt…so comfortable, almost like he’d done it thousands of times before in his head. Both feet slid into the opening at the neck, and he bunched it up to his toes, pushing each leg into the individual channel meant for them inside the cocoon, so there was a thin membrane of rubber between them. Then, he pulled the suit up to his chest, feeling his cock slip right into the special ring designed for it. That was the only rigid part of the suit, in fact–a three inch hard rubber socket for his cock to rest inside–not an easy for for his six inch member, but the discomfort was something he’d have to adjust to. Next, he slid one arm inside, and then the other, making sure each wormed their way down their own channels built into the side of the suit, and the rubber slid up around his neck, meeting the end of the mask, and encasing him entirely in rubber.

He laid back against the concrete wall, feeling his body begin to go slightly numb. It was…almost like falling asleep. After a few minutes, a rush of liquid poured into his mouth, and he swallowed it all down without question. He didn’t…quite know what it was, but his uncle had mentioned a…filter, of some sort, which would help him in his role as part of the plumbing for a while, until he was finished. Finished–he didn’t know what it meant, but he knew it would happen, eventually, and he leaned back against the wall, thinking of nothing, just listening, and waiting to drink, cock straining against the hard rubber of the suit, desperate to be erect, but Rich could tell that, more likely than not, his days of erections were soon to be over entirely.

“Damn, what kind of fucking house has a fucking urinal in the bathroom?” Maury had entered the cabin with Brett and Nate, trundling the bags, and had freaked out for a moment, because the lights hadn’t turned on when the flipped the switch. Then, a moment later, everything had come on with a low hum–apparently Rich had found the master switch in the basement, which he’d mentioned on the ride. Idly, Maury wondered where Rich was…but he was probably still down there. Down in the basement, doing something important. Best not to worry about him at all, in fact, and definitely don’t go down there…unless he needed something, eventually.

Maury had pulled out his cock, and was pissing into the urinal. It wasn’t like a normal one–it had no water in the basin, or flush mechanism–the piss just drained straight down into a pvc tube and disappeared into the wall. Still, that wasn’t something he needed to worry about–he just needed to piss is all. He needed to put all of his piss into the urinal–that was very important. Rich had mentioned something about that, hadn’t he?

The door to the bathroom opened, suddenly, catching Maury off guard, and he saw both Nate and Brett in the doorway, looking a bit…distant, for some reason. “Fuck dudes, what the hell? I’m pissing.”

It wasn’t like the three of them were seeing anything new, of course–all four of them were involved in sports at college, and living in the same frat house. Still, bathroom privacy was something they could all agree on, usually. “Sorry man, we have to use the urinal too, I’m bursting,” Nate said, and Brett nodded.

That…made sense to Maury, and he scooched over, so the other two could join him at the urinal, all of them pissing in their together, and as…strange as this seemed, it wasn’t unreasonable, right? They all had to use the urinal, after all, and if they all had to piss at the same time, what did it matter? Maury finished first, and slipped out of the bathroom, heading back towards the room where they’d left their bags, but as he went, something else caught his eye, and he moved into another room, letting off a low whistle as he did.

It was a state of the art entertainment center–a huge TV, surround sound, comfy seats around the room–what in the hell did Rich’s uncle do that he could afford such a setup in a cabin he never used? And why was it all so clean looking, if no one had been up here all season? He grabbed a remote, pushed the on switch, and the TV came on–but just static. All of this set up, and there wasn’t even basic cable?

Still, that wasn’t an issue for him. Something told Maury that he loved watching movies more, anyway, and there was a sizable collection of them along the wall. He should watch something. Yeah, he definitely needed to watch something. Something new. Something he’d never seen before. He perused the shelf, but was disappointed–everything there was something he’d seen before, aside from a few odd titles on the top shelf, clustered together–four of them in fact. He looked them over, a bit confused–they…didn’t even seem like movies, really, but they were on the movie shelf, so what else could they be? He selected one of them, went over and slipped it into the disk player, part of him trying to tell himself not to, that something about this was a bad idea, but then the main title was rolling, and he forgot all about those worries, and just focused on the movie instead.

What movie did Maury decide on?

Werkouts 4 Dummiez
Get Flabulous!
Leashman’s Pup Training
BabyDaze

Here’s the public Twitter poll!

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September Patreon Suggestions Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

This month’s suggested stories are done and ready for all you patrons to download!

Each month I take suggestions, and use them to write a few short pieces based on those prompts. This month, there’s a sequel to an older story of mine called “The Audition”, some weight gain and mind drain, piss addiction and mind control, and an inanimate pipe TF and some pipe bear fun to go with it! All it takes is one dollar a month to be able to submit ideas, and read the completed stories. To give you an idea of what these look like, here’s a suggestion I took from August.

Loopholes

Barron could, in some possible world, forgive one of his neighbors for having a dog, even if it was against the rules of the building. He had, in fact, tried to be patient. Most of the time, in fact, the dog seemed to be well behaved, or at the very least quiet, but this was the third Saturday in a row where he had been woken from a dead sleep at six in the morning by the sound of the mutt yapping its head off through the wall. He dialed the number for the building office below, but got no one–maybe it was too early. In any case, something had to be done–Barron was sick of it. He threw on some clothes, left his condo, and pounded on his neighbor’s door.

It was a few moments before the door opened, and a younger man peeked through the crack. He was new to the building–in fact, Barron hadn’t even gotten the young man’s name yet, but this was as good an introduction as any. “Hey, I’m your neighbor–I can’t help but hear that you have a dog in there–through my wall. You know this building has a no pet policy, right? It’s in our contract?”

The young man smiled, “Ah, I had a conversation with the office about that actually, and we worked out a clarification to that. See, it isn’t a no pet policy, really, but a no “animal” policy. I found that to be fair for me and my pup.”

Barron just stared at him confused.

“Look, step inside and see for yourself! He’s very nice, and he loves strangers,” he said, and opened the door so Barron could step inside. He did so, and in the living room, he found himself looking at…well, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but even he had to admit that it wasn’t a dog. It was a man. A man in a rubber suit of some sort…but even that wasn’t quite right, because looking at him, on all fours…his body was all wrong.

“Isn’t he cute? His name is Rover Collins. Say hi Rover!”

Rover turned in a circle and gave a bark, giving Barron a chance to see all of him–including his face, the lower half of which was obscured by a rubber mask, which wrapped up the side of his head to a pair of floppy rubber ears. The eyes–he knew those eyes. “Wait, Robert?” Barron asked, “Is that you?”

Rover didn’t reply, but Barron knew it had to be him–Robert Collins, another neighbor of his on this floor.

The young man came up behind him, and Barron turned and saw that he, too, was wearing a rubber suit, with a generous opening for his cock and balls in the crotch. “Robert and I had a nice chat a couple weeks ago. I told him how much I missed having a pup, you see, and he was more than willing to help, right Rover?”

“This…what the fuck is this?”

“But I thought, why stop at puppies, you know? I have so many ideas, and so many neighbors! Like you. I was hoping you’d come by today, Barron–I’ve had Rover barking his head off, just for you.”

Barron shoved his way past the young man and ran for the door, but he ran right into someone standing in the doorway. Looking up, he recognized the face of Mr. Harrison, the building supervisor, leering down at him with a cruel grin on his face, under the rubber hood he was wearing, and the rubber shirt, and vest, and pants, and boots. “See? Part of my understanding with management was that Mr. Harrison was going to help me with…enforcement, right Harrison?”

“Yes master,” Harrison said, stepped forward and began tearing at Barron’s clothes until he was completely naked, and then the young man grabbed him in his rubber coated arms, and he felt the rubber turn wet, and begin creeping over his skin. “Now now, just relax. You’ll enjoy being my big bull so much, trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Yeah, come on, that’s it,”

Barron moaned, a bit groggy, and tried to move, but his arms and legs didn’t seem to be working correctly, leaving him flailing on his side.

“Come on ya big lug, you can do it. Harrison, he’s heavy! Give me a hand.”

Barron felt four hands on his back, but instead of helping him stand upright, they rolled him towards his belly. He felt his arms and legs get under him, somehow, and he stood, shaky, looking down at the carpeted floor below him, disoriented.

“There you go, Mr. Bull! That’s very good.” The praise made his heart flutter a bit, but everything still seemed so…strange to him. What was going on? He didn’t remember much at all, beyond Robert, and then Harrison. The young man tugged something in front of his face, and he felt a sharp pain in his nose. “Come on, I want you to see.”

His arms and legs walked, but it didn’t seem to be in a way he found familiar. For one thing, why were his arms and legs the same length? He tried to look down and back under himself, but the young man kept his head up by tugging on whatever was attached to his face, until they arrived in front of a mirror, and he let Barron see his body.

The rubber…it was everywhere, but it didn’t feel like he was wearing it. It felt…like his skin, like it was a part of him. It covered his arms and legs, and they were molded to look like a cattle’s four limbs, with thick shoulders and haunches, and heavy hooves where his hands and feet ought to be. Were…were they in there? He couldn’t feel them at all. He lifted one front leg and shook the hoof, scared out of his mind. There was a rubber bull tail whipping above his ass, and his cock…what the fuck had happened to his cock and balls? He saw a thick, black cock slide out of a rubber sheath running along his belly, close to a foot long, but his balls…they didn’t look like balls anymore, they looked like an udder. His face was covered mostly in rubber, like Robert’s was, aside for the eyes. His mouth was twisted into a bullish snout, and in the end was a thick steel ring–that’s what the young man had been tugging on.

“What do you think, Mr. Bull? You’re going to be providing a lot of milk for me and the rest of my pets. From now on. Good, healthy milk.” He got down, put a bowl under Barron’s udder, and tugged on one rubber teat. He moaned in pleasure as a squirt of thick cum jetted out into the bowl, and then another, each tug like a miniature orgasm, and each time, he felt his mind shrink further and further away from him, until he was mooing and looing like a real bull, eager for his master to hook him up to the pumping station for the day, and drain him dry.

On Monday, Barron tugged the sleeve of his suit down self-consciously, did one last inspection in the mirror, and slipped out of his condo. Robert was leaving as he came out, but avoided making any eye contact with him. He couldn’t blame him, really–but he felt his cock slip a bit out of his sheath at the thought of how he’d fucked Rover’s hole on Sunday, while Master and Harrison had cheered them on. His balls gave a little squirt too, and looking down he saw he already had a stain on the front of his trousers from them leaking. This…this was going to be a challenge.

The door beside him opened, and Master poked his head out. “Shouldn’t you be betting to work, Mr. Bull?” he looked down, and smiled.

“I…I can’t go like this. Can’t you change me all the way back? Please? Just for work?”

“Then how will you remember that you’re my pet?” Master said, “Come in, I can do something else for you instead.”

A few minutes later, Barron left Master’s apartment, fiddling with his crotch, blushing profusely. A fucking diaper–he was wearing a fucking diaper. On the subway a bit later, to his horror, he felt his cock release a blast of piss into his pants as well–but true to his word, Master’s diaper sucked it all down. It seemed…hungry. Was it…a person too?

He pushed the thought away, and focused on getting to work. Keep Master happy, and everything would be fine, he told himself. Be a good pet, and everything would be just fine.

September Patreon Suggestions Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

June Suggested Stories Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

This month’s requested stories are finished and ready for you all to download! All it takes is for you to support my Patreon at any level, from one dollar on up, and you can get access to these three stories, as well as all the suggestions I’ve done over the past several months now! It’s a pretty good deal. Plus, you’ll have the privilege of suggesting ideas of your own next month. If you’d like a summary of the stories this month, you can find that here. For an idea of what these stories are like, here’s one from last month to whet your appetite!

A Deeply Held Secret

“Good slave–now go on and take a look at yourself in the mirror. Tell me what you see. Tell me what you are.”

The bathroom had one full length mirror across from where he was positioned against the wall, which allowed him a full view of himself, his cock visibly throbbing in the rubber bodysuit Master had given him to wear for the night. Master Parker had outdone himself this time–he’d never even seen a suit like this before in his life. It was porcelain white from head to toe, with a full hood and urinal mask–larger than any model he’d seen before or ever worn–with a metal tube keeping his mouth forced open, ensuring he’d swallow every drop. His arms were pinned to his sides, and the bottom had no legs–only a space for him to kneel, making his body look like a seamless white hunk of rubber, with a head resting in top. He knew what he was, but he couldn’t speak with the tube in his mouth.

“You’re a human urinal, of course,” Master Parker bent down beside him, his black rubber suit a dark contrast to the slave’s white suit. “That’s what you’re going to be all night, isn’t that right? You’re going to forget you were ever anything else.”

The words felt like truth–but Master’s words always felt like that, after he’d sent his slave into his deep trance. He was a human urinal–nothing more. Designed to drink the piss of men better than him–he wasn’t even a man anymore, not entirely at least. He felt his cock go numb, and shuddered at the sensation, pleased to be an object again, like Master Parker wanted.

“It’s gonna be busy tonight, you know. Saturday night at the sleaziest bar in the city. You’re gonna be bursting tonight–but if you serve me well…if you serve everyone well, like a good human urinal…well, you’ve been in my service for a year now, and I think it’s time you finally learned the Secret.”

The Secret. It was something Master had taunted him with ever since they’d met. Master claimed he knew…something about him, something that gave him such power and control over the slave, a reason he was helpless and desperate to serve him. The slave didn’t know what it could possibly be, but he did know that Master Parker could…make him do, and feel, things no other dom had ever been able to. He wanted to know so badly, and so he would serve well, as he always did.

Master gave him his first load of piss, which he drank down with glee, and then he left the urinal to its work. Men began pouring in soon after the club opened, and seeing the freak kneeling against the wall, most were more than happy to use him. He drank load after load of piss, feeling his gut ballooning outward, the suit growing tighter against his skin as he filled up. On occasion, Master would bring in some rubber boy to fuck in front of the urinal, and had he been more than a human urinal at the moment, perhaps he would have even felt jealousy, but as he was, he was merely happy to watch his Master dominating and controlling others, taking his pleasure whenever and wherever he wanted. Hours passed, and soon it was four in the morning–the club was empty, and the slave was there, drenched with piss, gut full to bursting and aching for release, when his master finally returned.

“You did well, slave. Very well. I’m very pleased. I’m going to reveal your secret now–are you excited slave? You know what you are now, this moment, right slave? You’re a human urinal.”

It nodded.

“Good. Now–here’s the secret–you really are one of those two things, but you can’t really be both. Right now, you’re pretending to be one of them, right?”

He nodded.

“All your life, though, you’ve believed you were human–that the urinal part is fake. But here’s the secret: you aren’t human, slave. You can be human on occasion, but you aren’t really. You’re a urinal, slave. That’s what you really are. That’s the secret.”

The slave didn’t know what to make of that–it sounded ridiculous. It shook its head, and Master just laughed.

“When I snap my fingers, you’ll become what you really are, slave. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’ll be human again. Go on, prove me wrong if you can.”

He had to be wrong. He knew he was human, right? Master held his fingers together a moment, and then snapped them–and when he did, the slave felt a massive shiver run through its entire body, and it realized the truth: it had been wrong this whole time. It…it wasn’t human. It was just a urinal. The truth felt impossible–it couldn’t possibly be real.It tried to move, to struggle, but no muscle would respond–it…after all, it didn’t have muscles, right?

Master stepped to the side, allowing the urinal to see itself in the mirror across the room. The surface of its body no longer had the semi-translucence of rubber–it was porcelain. Real, solid porcelain. It’s head looked vaguely human, but it could…feel it’s mouth, it’s bowl–where it had fused to its face–to what had been its face, when it had been partly human before. To its horror, it watched a metal pipe push its way out of the front of it’s body–something which felt vaguely like its cock had felt before–and connect to the floor, and the massive load of piss it had stored it its body from the night emptied out into the pipes and sewers below.

It was true. It really was just a urinal. A urinal first…and…and human second. Only human when Master desired it. Perhaps it would never be human ever again.

“Now, the club has you leased for the next month, slave.” Master said, “After that, I might let you be a bit human again, for a while. But now that you know your secret, slave, you’re never going to be able to forget it. You’re never going to be able to pretend to be human again–and that’s what we both want, I can assure you, though you probably won’t realize it for a while yet.”

With that, he turned around and left the room, shutting out the lights and leaving the new urinal in complete darkness, still struggling to believe what had just happened. But before long, it was struggling just to think at all–after all, urinals didn’t have minds, or brains, right? By morning, it was just another soulless object, experiencing only a constant, unending thirst for piss–the only sensation it was ever certain to feel for the duration of its existence in Master’s service.