The Cockpig Ch. 03

Finally, I pulled my cock out of the fag's throat and stood up. Like a dog waiting on a treat, he stared up at me, pleading, begging, whining for me to pull the plug out of his hole. I made him bend over the side of the tub with his ass in the air, then grabbed the plug and pulled it out with one swift motion. The faggot yelled, then clenched his ass cheeks with his hands. As much fun as this was to watch, I finally allowed him to sit on the toilet and void his bowels. Of course, I stood there and watched him while he did it, to reinforce that he didn't deserve privacy. Once the fag was done, I made him stand up so I could inspect the toilet to see how clean his ass was.

"Hmm...looks to me like it's not quite clean in there faggot. So, should I give it another bag, or just fuck it and let it lick any mess off my cock when I'm done?"

He couldn't even look at me. "Please, Sir..."

"Well, fuckhole, which one you are begging for? Speak up, cumdump!"

"Please Sir, another bag, Sir," the faggot pleaded.

That one had to be hard for him. But that's how those walls and barriers are broken down, how they are chipped away one step at a time until the transformation is complete.

I filled the bag again, then emptied it into the pig's guts and replugged his hole. I grabbed his leash and led him outside, then put him on his knees to wait until I was ready to unplug him. He knelt there in the grass while I puttered around the garage, giving the cramps time to work their magic on his brain.

After about ten minutes (which probably felt a lot longer to the little cunt) I grabbed his leash and led him on hands and knees to the back of the yard, to the same spot where he'd pissed earlier. Time for a replay. When I asked if he needed to shit, he nodded his head vigorously, desperate for the cramps to stop. I reached around and again pulled the plug in one swift motion. He knew better by now than to release without permission, but I made him wait a minute or two, just enjoying listening to the little whining sounds he made. Finally, I snapped my fingers and gave him permission, and he squatted and released his bowels right there on the lawn like a good little animal. The relief he was obviously experiencing was mixed with the humiliation of shitting outdoors like a dog, while someone - a real man, a human - watched. But he did it. And as he did, another barrier fell, another piece of his humanity was gone for good.

And his transformation from faggot to cockpig continued.