The Cockpig Ch. 04

It was time for the faggot's final test. The big one. The one that mattered the most. This one, however, he had to take alone. This one took place completely in his own head. And it began with that long drive back home, stinking of my piss, sore inside and out from my abuse, his well-fucked hole plugged, his nub locked away and his balls sore, swollen, and aching for release. What happened next was critical to his training, and would help determine the course of the rest of his life. But it all had to happen in his mind, starting with that long drive where he contemplated what had happened to him and decided what it meant.

He texted me when he arrived home. I told him to strip, right then, and give me a video Skype call. I wanted him fresh from the drive, still reeking of my piss. Once we were connected, I made him display his hole so I could make sure he was still plugged, which he was. I asked if his roommate was home. The faggot blushed again and hung his head. He was, it seemed, and the pussyboy had made a mad dash to his bedroom without explaining his appearance. He told he didn't know what he would tell Cody (that was his roommate and best friend), but he'd think of something. I suggested he tell him the truth, and he blushed even deeper than before. Then I laid it out for the faggot.

"Listen closely, cumdump. This is the last time we are going to talk for a while. You've got some thinking to do, and some decisions to make. You've seen what I'm like. You've got a good taste of what serving me means, and it only gets more intense from here, fuckhole. So, you have to decide if this is what you really want or not. Only you know what's inside you. You are the only one that can figure out what you need most. You can stay there and live that nothing life you've got, and take whatever life hands you; or, you can go for what you say you really want, what you keep telling me you crave so badly - you can become my property. Like we've discussed, that's all you'll ever be to me: property. No limits. No rights. No choices. If you decide to belong to me, that's the last choice you'll get to make. Ever. Understand me, pig?"

He nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. You have a lot of soul-searching to do, cumdump, and an important decision to make. I won't accept half measures, nor anything less than full and total commitment. So, take your time. As long as you need. If you decide to commit, though, that's it. It's done and final." I paused, letting him digest that. "If you decide you want me to, I'll send you the key to the chastity cage. I'll overnight it to you, fag. You can remove it and go back to jerking your little nub all you want. If you choose that, I'll send you a box so you can ship the cage back to me. We'll be done. If you decide you don't want to commit, we are done. You'll never hear from me again, and you can continue to pretend you are a normal human, trying to convince everyone you are a man. We will always know differently though, won't be pissbreath?"

He hung his head. "Yes, Sir, we will."

"OK, cunt. That's it. Don't contact me again until you've made up your mind one way or the other. Dismissed." With that, I hung up.

See, this is the critical part. The physical transformation of a slave is the easy part. True transformation takes place internally, as the faggot comes to the slow and complete realization that being a subhuman slave isn't something he wants, it's something he simply is. Something that is an inherent part of him which can't be denied any longer. It's a tough thing for a cockpig to accept, this concept that it is truly inferior, truly born to serve. Once a faggot really grasps that, finally comes to terms with it, you'd be amazed as how much relief he experiences. Happiness comes from fulfilling one's true calling, and for a born cockpig, that means serving real men and worshiping cock, no matter what that requires. That's where my little ginger faggot was at, mentally wrestling with those concepts and his own internal identity.

For me, this is the toughest part as well. There is nothing I can do to make it happen. I'd laid all the groundwork needed to complete the faggot's transformation. He had to find the rest within himself. He had to make the commitment willingly, even beg for it. I don't have any interest in slaves that have to be captured or forced. I want the real faggots, the ones that are born with the need for cock, for degradation, for abuse. I felt the little ginger bitch was a perfect candidate. The question was, did he have the courage to live his truth or not?

A week passed with no word. I began to wonder about the pussyboy. He hadn't asked for the key to the cage, though, which was a good sign.

I figured he would break quickly. A week should have been about right for him. I was wrong, which is pretty rare. It took three weeks before he texted me.

"PLEASE SIR OWN IT FOREVER."

Which was exactly what I intended to do.