Bacon, Idolatry and other such Sacrilege.

"It's MISSES Robinson" corrected Corinna.

"Is it? My apologies Mrs Robinson" replied Mr Jeffers. "I had no idea you had married."

"11 years!" she returned as she held up her hand to show her ring.

"11 years you say? My, my that's an awful long time to be fucking the same man over and over" retorted Mr Jeffers.

Corinna's eyes widened in disbelief at this remark.

"Excuse me!? I don't think this is appropriate to discuss and I'm QUITE sure my sex life is none of your business."

"How long have you worked for me now Mrs Robinson?" He deliberately put emphasis on the Mrs part.

"A little over 6 months" she answered still annoyed. "But that does..."

"And in that time have you ever known me to be less than blunt?" he asked cutting her off.

She looked at him half enraged and half puzzled. Where was this conversation headed? Why had he asked her to stay after business hours only to verbally assault her? Who the fuck did he think he was to be speaking to her in this manner?

"Answer the question Mrs Robinson."

"You have always spoken your mind but..."

"So why then does this conversation seem so out of place to you?" again cutting her off.

Her mind drew a blank and she remained silent staring back at him in shock. She now felt exactly as if she were a deer caught in the headlights trying to cross a busy highway.

"Mrs Robinson, I'm asking you a question and I don't like repeating myself." He placed both of his hands on the desktop, leaned forward and stood up from his chair. "Perhaps you don't understand the question. Shall I rephrase it?" His hands moved toward his waist and he began to unfasten his belt. "Stand up Mrs Robinson."

She looked at him with terror in her eyes. What was happening? What was he doing? She knew he could be an asshole but this was taking things way too far.

"I said stand up, bitch." There was a calm but demanding tone in his voice with only the slightest emphasis on the word bitch. "I won't say it again" he said as he slid off his belt and began walking around the desk toward her.

She slowly rose from her seat but fear kept her from looking anywhere but at the desktop. She followed the grain of the wooden surface with her eyes as she tried desperately to maintain her composure. Her mind was racing in overdrive. What was happening? What was he going to do? How can she free herself from this situation?

He walked behind her and out of view.

"Place your hands on the desk Mrs Robinson" he commanded.

She hesitated only a moment as she considered her options. She could run, but he stood directly between the desk and the only exit from the large office. She could cry for help, but no one would be on the 45th floor this late in the evening. If she pretended to comply with his demands then perhaps she could escape when he let his guard down. This seemed to be her only option so she proceeded to place her hands flat upon the desktop.

"Now I'm going to ask you a few questions and if you don't answer them quickly and honestly I will strike you with this belt. Do you understand?"

"Yes" she said in a whisper as she nodded her head.

"I didn't hear you. Speak up" he barked.

"Yes" she said much more clearly.

She felt the sting of the strike before she even heard the snap of the belt as it slashed against her rounded buttocks. Her instinct was to immediately try and cover her behind with her hands but that was only met by being pushed completely over the top of the desk. He held her wrists behind her as he leaned in with his crotch against the crack of her ass.

"Don't you even think about covering that ass" he whispered harshly. "You will answer me with yes sir or no sir. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir!" she exclaimed as tears began to well up in her eyes. Her mind was now in pure panic mode and it was clearly reflected in her voice.

"That's a good girl" he said condescendingly. "I love a quick learning cunt."

She began to cry in earnest now. The reality of her situation was beginning to sink completely in. He would have his way with her and there was absolutely nothing  she could do about it. This acceptance did very little to ease her mind but there was something else happening...something far more terrifying than anything this man could ever do to her...something far more sinister than having her body violated in this way. She could feel the dampness begin to form in the crotch of her panties and from the heat now being generated from her pulsating cunt she knew in horror that she wanted...no...she needed this.

The following work of reality is nothing more than a shameless grab for attention (as if the parody in the title didn’t make that painfully obvious) and should only be viewed before eating a heavy meal...NOT AFTER.

Viewer assumes all liability, dry cleaning bills and cracked smart phone screens beyond this disclaimer.

The following story is only fiction. None of the characters or situations are based on actual persons or events. Any similarity between these and real individuals or events is unintentional. Some of the subject matter may be triggering for survivors of sexual assault. Sensitive subject matter includes rape, torture, violence, humiliation, psychological trauma, forced chemical dependency, forced impregnation, body modification/transformation and suggested beastiality. Reader assumes any liability beyond this warning.

Chapter 10: Damage Control

There’s always a distinctly odd feeling when one wakes from slumber the morning after a life-altering event. Well, maybe not life-altering but certainly momentous. It begins with a sort of mental reevaluation or replaying of events and then moves warily into an acceptance phase. In light of the new reality, old plans are no longer relevant and so you are now forced to improvise accordingly.

I decided that my original plan had been rudimentary at best. It was sloppy and I hadn’t thought of every possible eventuality. I was lucky in the sense that Esther had been traveling alone. It still remained to be seen if anyone had previously been aware of her travel plans or destinations. At any rate, I needed to “tidy up” and rethink my first lines of defense.

I came to the foregone conclusion that the cars had to disappear immediately. I hadn’t done this as of yet simply because I worked alone and I had no way to return after disposing of them. The one thing I could do immediately, however, was shutter all of the windows on the ground level. I was very disappointed in myself for not having done this from the very beginning. I also decided that a locked gate, equipped with “no trespassing” signs, should be erected near the highway to discourage anyone else from turning off.

All of these things would take several days to complete and it meant that I would have to leave the barn several times throughout the process. I always tried to limit the time away from the barn and my work, mostly out of paranoia but also because of my obsession with all of it. I had much to do but for the time being I needed to see to my primary responsibilities.

I walked over to where Esther lay slumped over beside the wall. She was still breathing, evident in the labored wheezing coming from her gaping mouth. Her face and neck were covered in dried blood as were my own hands from hours earlier. She was still dressed in her fancy pantsuit and for me that just wouldn’t do. I slapped her across the face trying to rouse her to consciousness but her body would have none of it. I began undressing her starting with her jacket and blouse. Underneath she wore a lacy red bra that barely contained her heaping mounds of tit-flesh. I removed this and read the tag; 38 EE. I’ll admit I’ve always had a childish fascination with large breasts and these very much appealed to my more carnal desires. I used my knife to cut off her pants and thong panties which revealed her smooth and obviously waxed cunt.

Now, completely nude, I went over every inch of her body identifying any distinguishing marks, tattoos and piercings. She, in fact, had one tattoo on her right shoulder blade depicting the astrological symbol of a scorpion. Aside from that she had piercings in her ears, naval and clitoral hood. I also observed a short cesarean-section scar on her lower abdomen. I removed all of her jewelry (the piercings, two rings and a gold watch) and began to clean her up. She did not wake up or even stir throughout this process.

Once I finished cleaning her I added shackles to her wrists and laid her flat on her back with her head elevated only by an old seat cushion. I then blindfolded her so that if she did regain consciousness I could at least limit her ability to memorize her surroundings.

After I was satisfied with Esther’s securement I turned my attention to my other pets. For the last several minutes my shepherd pup had been whining incessantly for attention which I was inclined to provide now that affairs were coming together.

I walked over to the small cage in the corner of the room and pulled off the thick blanket I used to cover it during the night hours. I only wished to mask the time of day from my human animals. It would be unnecessarily harsh for me to force Sergeant Pepper to endure the same constant daylight conditions. I may be a monster but I’ve always felt that there is a particularly warm place in hell for anyone who is intentionally cruel toward dogs.

I opened the cage door and he immediately ran into my open arms. Here was at least one creature VERY excited for my attention.

“Who’s a good boy?” I asked affectionately. “Who’s daddy’s good boy?”

He panted and wagged his tail very enthusiastically as he ran about the room stopping on occasion to sniff this or taste that. I let him explore his domain freely as I went about my business of checking on Ashley. After a while he settled in the warmth between Bianca’s calves, curled up and went to sleep.

I was now adjusting the settings on the Carejoy milker and checking that the suction cups were securely in place over Ashley’s teats. I watched as she rhythmically swayed back and forth on the constantly invading dildo. Her cunt was so gaped at this point that the entire 13 inches of rubber cock AND balls along with an inch or two of piston arm were completely disappearing inside of her with each thrust. I couldn’t have been more proud.

I then turned my attention to Bianca. She had become a very rotund little beast and the mere sight of her giant brown ass never failed to stiffen my cock. Her belly was now hanging almost to the floor but I guessed it had more to do with the fat building up in that area than with her pregnancy. The size of her tits, however, could almost certainly be blamed on her “delicate” condition.

“You up bitch?” I asked while striking her upturned ass.

She immediately responded by trying to get away from my blows. I kicked her left udder.

“I can’t hear you cunt.” I wanted a verbal response, though, lately they were limited to grunts or groans.

“Y..y..y..ye..yes.” Her voice was very tiny and completely lack in spirit but I wouldn’t press her any further today.

I injected another small dose of Propofol into her IV port and watched as her body slumped over as far as it could with all of the chains and securement apparatus in place. I lifted the hoist around her torso so that her enormous weight would be lifted off of her hands and knees as she slept and then went back over to Esther.

I had no idea what to with her. If she eventually died then I would dispose of her in some fashion but the bitch just kept on breathing. It was looking more and more as if she would pull through despite the fact that she had not yet regained consciousness. I decided to go ahead and put her on an IV drip to keep her hydrated for the time being and went about the business of setting up her port. After she was situated I sat back down in my chair. I was still covered in dried blood and dirt as I had not showered since before the morning of Ester’s untimely arrival but then again I had been quite busy.

Sergeant Pepper or Pepper as I had been calling him came over to where I was sitting a began licking my hand.

“Hey boy” I said cheerfully. “How’s my good boy doing?”

He tried jumping up several times but his short stubby legs weren’t quite strong enough to launch his chubby little puppy body that far up just yet so I reached down and pulled him into my lap where he then proceeded to try and lick my face.

“Such a good boy” I chimed. “Such a good, good boy.”

The following story is only fiction. None of the characters or situations are based on actual persons or events. Any similarity between these and real individuals or events is unintentional. Some of the subject matter may be triggering for survivors of sexual assault. Sensitive subject matter includes rape, torture, violence, humiliation, psychological trauma, forced chemical dependency, forced impregnation, body modification/transformation and suggested beastiality. Reader assumes any liability beyond this warning.

Chapter 9: Esther’s folly

I began my experiment under the strictest of guidelines. I had fully intended to adhere to these guidelines with the utmost dedication to procedure and my own artistic license.

When I had the barn built I chose a place so very remote that the chances of any door knockers or traveling salesmen, while not completely nonexistent, were still very highly unlikely to ever come calling. Unfortunately I apparently underestimated (or hadn’t counted on) the determination of a certain U.S. Republican Party political volunteer.

It had never crossed my mind that anyone would ever see the turn-off from the main highway and assume someone lived at the end of the very long and very winding, two mile, muddy, dirt road through thickened forest and discouraging undergrowth. The sheer determination of said individual was impressive if not highly presumptuous.

I had been cleaning the floor beneath and around my two human-animals when I observed the car pulling up outside on my security monitor. I watched as it came to a park just outside the garage entrance and a lone passenger stepped out; a young black female dressed in a very smart looking pantsuit carrying a brown briefcase and looking rather lost. I watched and waited to see if anyone else would exit the vehicle but no one did. I decided it best to wait and see if she would just leave but after watching her walk all the way around the barn and adjoining workshop, peering through windows and then several attempts to open various doors, I decided confrontation would be necessary.

I removed my rubber apron and gloves and changed into my street shoes, all the while watching the monitor to see that she was still outside, but now leaning with her back against her car and looking at what appeared to be a map. Her body language suggested that she had not seen anything alarming but I couldn’t afford to risk the chance that she might have seen something that could later be used to connect my barn to any missing persons’ cases.

I walked upstairs into the garage area and made my way to the door. I peered through a small hole drilled in the center of the wood panel and saw that she was still studying the map.

I unlatched the bolt lock and pushed open the door. The sudden opening of the large door startled the woman and she yelled out.

“Shit!” she exclaimed. “Oh, darnit...I’m sorry...you scared me!”

“May I help you, ma’am?” I asked commandingly, but polite.

As I stood before her I could see that she was a very petite woman; shorter than 5 feet for sure, thickly padded all over and very busty.

“Oh hello...my name is Esther Parker...I’m with the Gregory campaign and I was just wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about some of the things that you might be concerned about within the community...I’m sorry...Misterrr...?”

She was quite lively and very obviously enthusiastic about whatever bullshit she was about to try and sell me.

“The Gregory campaign?” I asked, deliberately avoiding her opening for an introduction. “I can’t say that I’ve heard much about it, though I admit, I don’t usually follow political campaigns as a rule.”

“Well, in that case I’d be happy to answer any questions you have...address any concerns..?” She gestured toward the barn as if to ask permission to come inside.

I should state here that beyond the doors of my barn, on the ground level, there was nothing evidently suspect that would indicate to anyone that any kind of sinister act existed just one floor below; except there was. Many months back I had driven Bianca and Ashley to my barn in Bianca’s old and worn out Caprice and there, in the garage and uncovered, the car still remained.

At first I thought it best to make some plausible excuse to make it seem as if I were too busy to discuss the campaign but it occurred to me that, one, she would probably just attempt to reschedule another time to come back and, two, she had already peered through the windows of my barn and probably seen both the vehicles parked within. That may not mean anything to her in the moment, but she might make a connection if she were ever presented with any kind of missing persons information at some point in the future. It was for that reason I decided to humor her proposition; or at least lead her to believe that I had.

“I’d be delighted” I said cheerfully with my very best and welcoming smile. I gestured toward the door as I opened it invitingly. She smiled, reached down to pick up her briefcase and walked inside.

Once she stepped through the doorway I closed the door behind me and discretely bolted it shut. After I had secured the door my heart began beating faster as I was quickly working up the nerve to do what needed to be done. I felt that any kind of hesitation or further chit-chat might give away my intentions so instead I immediately decided to resort to more primal measures. As she unsuspectingly turned to address me I reared back my arm and then punched her with all of my strength, directly in the center of her face. The initial blow didn’t render her unconscious but it stunned her enough that she hadn’t had time to formulate any kind of reaction. She staggered backward tripping over her own feet but recovered short of falling down. Blood began to pour from her nose as her hands flew up to cradle her face. I quickly lunged at her before she was able to react, punching her again and again several times directly in the face and head.

She fell hard to the ground and I began kicking her in her side until she stopped moving.

Once I was satisfied that she was unconscious or dead, I went through her pockets finding a cell phone, car keys, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I opened her briefcase and found several flyers, a few pens and an iPad. I attempted to open the phone but I couldn’t gain access so I immediately destroyed it. I opened the iPad and found that it had no internet or data connectivity so I turned it off and put it back in the briefcase with the other contents. I then opened the barn doors, went outside and moved her car inside. I re-secured the doors and went about the next order of business; Esther Parker.

After I succeeded in carrying her lifeless body down into the cellar I then proceeded to check her vital signs. Surprisingly enough she still had a pulse and seemed to be breathing though rather labored and weakly in my opinion.

I’m not a doctor nor do I have any skill at anything beyond basic healing. I had no idea if she would survive my assault or if anything could be done to aid in her recovery. I honestly didn’t care either. I hadn’t planned for this eventuality but I had a firm understanding of the consequences if she were ever to report my location to anyone. If she died, she died. I would figure out the rest later. In the meantime, I chained her ankles to the same eye bolts used to secure Ashley’s wrists. I propped her against the wall and decided to wait and see if she regained consciousness.

Ashley was far too preoccupied with her constant fucking and milking to notice any outside noise and Bianca was still in a Propofol stupor.

I went to my desk and sat down in a very familiar mindset. With my now blood covered hands firmly rubbing my temples, I leaned back, closed my eyes and began to contemplate my next course of action.

The following story is only fiction. None of the characters or situations are based on actual persons or events. Any similarity between these and real individuals or events is unintentional. Some of the subject matter may be triggering for survivors of sexual assault. Sensitive subject matter includes rape, torture, humiliation, psychological trauma, forced chemical dependency, forced impregnation, body modification/transformation and suggested beastiality. Reader assumes any liability beyond this warning.

Chapter 8: Sergeant Pepper

The next few months seemed to go by rapidly and it was now approaching September. Bianca was seven months into her gestation and was already becoming quite large. At her last weigh-in she was a plump 207 lbs. Most of her weight gain was showing up in her ass and her now heavy, milk laden tits which had swollen to a staggering 40 DD. She was very nearly twice her original size and I thoroughly enjoyed the way she jiggled as I raped her cunt over and over. In the last few months she had become my sole cum receptacle and I was dumping a fresh load into her cunt every couple of hours. She had long since stopped struggling and resigned herself to mostly silence. Every once in a while I’d catch her crying and it would make me so incredibly hard that I’d have to stop what I was doing and pump another hot load of cum into her as she sobbed.

Across from my cow was my fat little piggy, Ashley. She was by far my champion weight gainer. She had surpassed Bianca’s weight gain several days ago and had climbed up to a whopping 224 lbs. Her formerly non-existent tits were now 42 DDD and producing more milk than I knew what to do with. Most of it went right back into their bodies as I mixed it in with almost everything they ate. But still a good portion would be poured down the drain as I had no feasible plan set in place before I began her transformation.

At this point in her development she had ceased speaking any words whatsoever and was mostly grunting, squealing and moaning just like the fat little piggy she was starting to resemble. I had switched her dildo attachment 2 more times and now she was being constantly cunt-reemed by a rubber cock 13 inches long and 6 inches around. She took every bit of it without even the slightest discomfort and was even humping back onto it as best as she could trying to hasten her next orgasm. These had also increased in frequency and were now only separated by 5 to 7 minutes.

By now I had discontinued 24/7 penetration by the fucking-machine to allow a 6 hour daily rest period to see that she slept long enough to keep from burning out. The only issue I ran into was that she had become so addicted to the constant pleasure that as soon as I switched off the machine she would violently protest with raging tantrums of animalistic noises and thrashing about. I eventually solved this by injecting her with Propofol a few minutes before the rest period. I would use the times that she was out cold to clean up the massive pools of vaginal fluids that gathered on the floor beneath her and to clean and sanitize the milking apparatus.

The constant sucking stimulation caused by the Carejoy milker had transformed her tiny nipples into 3 inch teets topping off her massive udders. Soon I would be hooking up the machine to Bianca as well but not until after birth. Once that was over with and I could dispose of the infant, it would be necessary to do so in order to maintain her constant milk production.

With everything running smoothly I decided it was time to begin preparing for my next experiment. This preparation would take several months to complete before I could begin and since I was satisfied with current conditions I was confident that I would have the necessary free time to begin training a new playmate for the girls.

When I made my final decision as to the right breed of K-9 to purchase for my specific needs I had to take into account a couple of different factors. Firstly, I needed an animal large enough to both mount and deeply penetrate each of my captives taking into account the enormity of their now very large and extremely prominent asses. Secondly, I needed an animal with a distinctly Dominant Alpha temperament.

At first I was thinking a Pitbull would fit (no pun intended) nicely and I’m sure he would have aggressively claimed the both of them but after seeing the average size of an adult male  German Sheppard’s cock I was completely sold on the breed. I made a few phone calls and after being pointed in the right direction I was able to contact a breeder with several 15 week old pups and he had 3 males left. He was asking $900 a pup but I was able to negotiate the price down to $750. The next day I drove out to the breeders home and completed my transaction.

On my way back I was listening to the radio. “Sergeant Peppers lonely hearts club band” by the Beatles blared from my stereo speakers and as I glanced over at the pup I smiled and dubbed him “Sergeant Pepper.”

The rain fell unrelentingly as I made my way up the muddy road. Cascading streams of filthy brown water rushed downward, along the path at my feet. My clothing and boots were completely saturated down to my innermost layers. The conditions were absolutely miserable and many more treacherous miles lay ahead.

I had missed my bus earlier that morning and was informed that there would be no more buses traveling into the river lands until after monsoon season. This could be several days, if not weeks, and I had to make it to the next oracle before sunset this evening.

As I trudged along through the downpour it occurred to me that I did not know exactly where the oracle would reside; only a strong feeling that I would find him or her along this route.

After several hours I noticed fewer people walking along the road with me and those that did seemed to be going back the way I came. Eventually I was walking alone as the road began following a raging river.

The path began to incline upward taking it above the flood plane and I began to notice the beginnings of a levee constructed out of earth and old tires. As I walked further uphill increasing my vantage the base grew wider and a mountain of tires began to take shape. The levee curved with the bends of the river and as I winded the path it seemed to continue on upstream for quite a long way.

The rain slacked off a bit and I decided to scale the levee in an attempt to see how much further the road continued on. As I neared the top I glanced to my right and I saw what looked to be the largest tire I had ever seen. It was still a long way off and higher up but it clearly dwarfed any of the other tires used in this construct. I adjusted my course and began working my way toward the behemoth.

As I neared my destination I observed what appeared to be a person sitting atop the great tire. The individual seemed to be sitting Indian style with their head turned downward. I could not tell if this was a man or a woman and the individual’s attire did little to assist in that assertion.

When I was about 20 feet from the tire I heard a voice call out to me.

“Do’n ya be walkin’ no fader see der.”

I couldn’t place the accent but the voice was unmistakably feminine; very feminine in fact. It was probably the loveliest voice I had ever heard.

“Ya hare meh now? Sti ware ya’er.”

I could barely decipher what she was saying but I got the message. What was this accent?

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just curious.” I replied.

“Whad’ya got ta bay karius bout?” she asked.

She lifted her head to take a better look at me but I was still unable to make out any of her features.

“I was climbing to get a better look at the road ahead when I saw your tire. I’ve never seen one so large before and I didn’t expect to find anyone.” I answered.

“Thet gotta bay soom kindi kariusty fuh ya ta jes moch on ep an guh lekkin et sum edders huss.”

It took me a moment to translate what she said but I gathered that she was referring to the tire as her house and that she was accusing me of trespassing. This was no accent that I had ever heard anywhere in my travels and if this was her version of English I knew her native language must be far removed from modern society.

“Please, I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude upon you.” I turned as if to walk away. “I’ll go.”

“Wadda beg, fet wyt min doin ere fire?”

(What’s a big, fat white man doing here for?)

As odd as her accent was I seemed to have no problem understanding her. I turned back toward her.

“I’m supposed to meet someone soon.”

“Ya crizi wyt min, ya dun mit sumon ayedi.”

(You crazy white man, you done met someone already.)

I gave her a puzzling look.

“Yes, I suppose I have.” I replied. “Are you the Oracle?”

“Crizi wyt min. I’on kno wit yi bi tekkin bot, bit yi bedda com ishide’o ere.”

(Crazy white man. I don’t know what you be talking about, but you better come inside of here.)

She gestured toward the giant tire.

“Inside? Of where?” I was very confused.

She stood up and the cloak fell away finally revealing her face. She was beautiful. Her skin was the darkest shade of brown without any sign of age; smooth but smudged with dirt. Her full, pouting lips seemed to curl into a permanent smile at the edges. Her hair was completely silver and twisted into long, unkempt locks; her hazel eyes peeking from behind.

“Com ishide’o mi huss.” she beckoned me as she turned and then jumped into the center of the tire disappearing from my line of sight.

I walked up to the tread of the tire. Even laying on its side it was at least a foot taller than I. I looked around for a place to climb up. It seemed she used the ancient, worn down tread as a sort of ladder. I reached up, slide my fingers into the groove, found a foothold and began scaling the side.

After a few moments I hauled myself onto the side wall and stood up. I could see a great distance from this vantage and I peered as far down the path as my eyes would allow. The levee continued onward beyond my limited range.

I looked down at the giant tire I stood upon. “What great beast of a vehicle was this tire made for?” I thought to myself. It was about 7 feet wide and at least 30 feet across. “How did it even get here?” I wondered.

“Aye ya comin wyt min?” she called up to me.

I walked to the center and looked down. There she stood, bare feet in the mud, looking up at me with an urgent look across her face.

“Yes.” I answered.

She ducked down and disappeared inside the tire.

I sat down on the bead and slowly slid off into the mud below. What I saw down in that pit took me by surprise.

A sort of curtain dangled down from the bead almost all the way around the interior; a kind of canvas protection from the outside elements. Light escaped from a small partition in front of me.

“Com, com.” said the voice from within.

The rain began to fall again as I bent down and walked into the tire’s mysterious inner chamber.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim candle light within but soon I was aware of several shelves filled with many strange objects lining the walls. To the right sat a small table covered in scattered bones, several dishes and a stack of large and very old rectangular cards. There were candles everywhere throughout the interior. Some still burned with tall flames where others were little more than smoldering heaps of formerly molten but now solidified masses of candle wax. I walked the entire circumference of the makeshift dwelling observing many oddities. Strangely I had completely disregarded my hostess as my intense curiosity gained the better of my nature.

“Wey ya com ere wyt min?” she asked breaking the silence.

“You invited me in.” I replied avoiding her meaning purposely.

“Ya kno wha’d ya trine ta due wyt min.” she promptly interjected. “Aye don’a min ya bin innorants tuh ya’self bit donna bi tryna full may.”

Her words seemed harsh but the intention behind them appeared almost playful as if she were teasing me. Shadows cast by the candle light danced across her face and her eyes seemed to glow dimly. The oddness of my surroundings coupled with the slight smell of old rubber and smoldering incense began to affect my easy mindset, yet still I seemed drawn to her.

An eerie smile crept across her face.

“Aye knows whit yi com ere fir.” she said as she leaned forward. “Aye knows wit’all min wans.”

She slowly pulled apart the cloak that she had been wrapped in all along revealing her small but perfectly shaped breasts. My head was swimming and though I knew something was very wrong with this I began to approach her. She leaned back against the wall and parted her thighs revealing her sex. The same silver hair that adorned her head crowned her womanhood in short, tight curls. She glistened with desire.

“Thit’sa gud wyt min. Lit mi tek’m buddens eff’a yi mend.”

Her voice seemed to resonate inside my head though her lips never moved. Nothing but her voice mattered. My task, my life and my entire existence all became unimportant and insignificant. The only thing that existed was my desire for this strange and intoxicating beauty.

The following story is only fiction. None of the characters or situations are based on actual persons or events. Any similarity between these and real individuals or events is unintentional. Some of the subject matter may be triggering for survivors of sexual assault. Sensitive subject matter includes rape, torture, humiliation, psychological trauma, forced chemical dependency, forced impregnation and body modification/transformation. Reader assumes any liability beyond this warning.

Chapter 7: Cow and Piggy

Over the next few weeks many visible changes were taking place in both my little fucktoys and it was a very exciting time for me.

Ashley had now been on her new drug regiment for 6 weeks and her body and mind had been adapting to the effects very nicely. As her appetite increased so too did her food intake. She had gone from a mere 500 calories a day to a whopping 4500 calories a day in just a little over 4 weeks. I decided to weigh her on the third day just to get a semi accurate starting weight. She was far below what I had originally guessed. She had lost almost 20 lbs since her abduction and at the time was down to 89 lbs. In the first 6 weeks I managed to increase her body weight to 122 lbs. The Somatotropin combined with the constant stimulation from being penetrated and milked 24/7 had helped nicely to increase her bust to a full B cup and she had even began to lactate a little.

After the first 48 hours of constant fucking while under the influence of MDMA and Provestra something incredible had happened, though, I hadn’t noticed right away. It eventually occurred to me that she had not only stopped trying to get away from the dildo, but was now doing her best to fuck back onto it. She was taking all 8 inches of the dildo with ease and it looked like I would have to increase the girth and length very soon. Upon closer inspection and scrutiny over the video feed from inside the box I discovered that she was in fact having orgasms about every 15 to 30 mins. It was hard to tell at first as most of her facial expressions had left her permanently due to the trauma associated with her abduction, but there were moments in which her breathing would suddenly increase, stop and then resume as her eyes visibly rolled back. She made very few vocalizations at this point and the few sounds she made were limited to grunts and animalistic whimpers. She had ceased acknowledging Bianca altogether and only stared off into space when not sleeping or feeding. Any modestly she had clung to vanished completely and she no longer struggled to hold back her shit or piss. My filthy little piggy was coming into her own.

Bianca had undergone a few changes also. Her appetite had increased as well and I added lots of fast food to her diet. She was consuming around 3500 to 4000 calories a day and had packed on the weight like a champ. She had gone from 123 lbs to 168 lbs in no time at all and her B cup had increased to almost a full D cup. She still stubbornly refused to let go of her intellect and would occasionally still attempt to appeal to my humanity. However, I am not easily persuaded, so this only succeeded in getting her cunt raped repeatedly.

Her belly had started to show but I wasn’t sure if it was due to the pregnancy or just belly fat starting to build up. It was probably a combination of both. At any rate I was very pleased with my cow’s progress.

Around the 2nd week of pregnancy I ceased to call either of them by name. I referred to Ashley as “Piggy” and Bianca as “Cow.” I called both of them “fucktoy” so frequently that it must have often confused them as to who I was referring to. I enjoyed the idea of letting them guess.

One notable observation took place while Bianca was eating a bowl of chicken McNuggets mixed with fries and ketchup. Ashley, who was usually otherwise oblivious, started to stare at Bianca’s food bowl and then visibly begin to salivate. While I had not offered her the same dietary sustenance, Ashley had been eating more than just the mash. I treated her to several hostess snack cakes and occasional bags of potato chips throughout her weight gain. I purposely fed them differently to see how it would affect their sense of fairness and now there was clear evidence of an imbalance.

Over the next few days I stopped giving Ashley her treats and increased the amount of tantalizing dishes I gave to Bianca. Shockingly Bianca continued to eat the food without a second thought while Ashley stared with increasing jealousy. I began to wonder what would happen if Ashley’s hands were suddenly free to go for Bianca’s bowl. I’ll admit curiosity almost got the better of me but I decided to stick to the boundaries of my overall project.

Day after day, week after week, the due date steadily approached and with it my patience and dedication becoming more and more difficult to contend with. I knew that the end would most definitely justify the means but the idea did very little to ease my increasing anxiety over the approaching deadline. When I wasn’t busy with my finances or taking care of my toys I was completely engrossed in the task of learning about different birthing techniques.

From what I had been reading and watching, the most challenging task was still to come and I began in earnest to prepare myself mentally for everything that it would eventually entail.

This one is fun but only for a truly masochistic submissive. This is how it’s done properly.

I use a small voltage electric fence generator. You can purchase them online or at your nearest livestock supply store. (Such as Co-Op feed and seed)

To set it up you’ll need a length of wire, typically around 3-4 feet. It’s pretty simple…you connect one end to the positive terminal and the other end to the negative one…thus completing the circuit and creating a live wire. Make sure when you’re connecting the wires that the generator is unplugged.

Next you’ll need a seat. I use a wooden chair that I’ve cut a large round hole into the bottom. It sort of resembles a medieval toilet. I place bucket underneath the hole and rig the wire just over the center. You can bend the wire several times to create a kind of wavy pattern to maximize the area it will cover.

Now that it’s set up you just need a naughty sub to punish.

Basically you sit her down in the chair and lash her ankles to the legs. Then you bring her arms down behind the back of the chair and lash them together. Make sure you secure them to the back of the chair as well. To limit her amount of wiggle room, tie her arms as high as possible behind her.

Next is the fun part. You begin by making her drink water or juice or whatever drink she prefers. Keep making her drink it over an extended period of time. I find that running water in the background speeds up the process. Once her bladder is full then the torture begins. If she pisses, the stream will hit the wire and send a current right into her cunt. Anyone who’s ever whizzed on an electric fence knows the kind of pain this can cause.

Remember to use safe words and always practice responsible pain play. Playing with electricity can be very dangerous so make sure you learn the equipment before exploring this method. Also as a Dom I suggest taking a piss on it yourself so you get an idea of the pain it produces.

You are both married, but not to each other.

You live in Seattle, she lives in Miami.

You are both deeply in love but will never meet in person.

She wants to serve her master but life keeps getting in the way.

He wants to be a good Dom but has trouble finding time between work and kids.

We all have needs, wants and desires that are often trumped by circumstances beyond our control. Letting priorities get in our way can sometimes make us feel inadequate or unworthy. These feelings can be overwhelming when one partner is unsure if the other is satisfied with the relationship and can often lead to misunderstanding, arguments or just general unpleasantness. This is especially true in a D/s relationship where the two partners aren’t living together.

It’s not something that can be prevented 100% of the time but can be resolved through proper communication. Doms should always reassure their submissives that they understand that life’s priorities will always trump their ability to complete some tasks. Remind her that you love her and how much she means to you. Don’t allow her to feel like she has failed you. It’s not her fault so make sure she knows you aren’t disappointed in her. There will be disappointment, sure, but make it clear that she understands it’s only about the specific thing and not about her in general.

At the end of the day nothing is ever perfect. There will be downright disastrous days that will leave you feeling empty and alone. Those are the hard days that make you doubt yourself and your relationship. The one thing to remember is that where there is love, there is always a way. That way is always through communication. Don’t brush problems under the rug and pretend they aren’t there. Talk about them. Really, truly talk about the things that bother you with your partner. Make sure they understand not only what the issue was but also WHY it was an issue.

If you find yourself with someone who just won’t talk about it then honestly they probably don’t care enough about the relationship and you should probably reevaluate your entire association with that person.

You’re both in it together so make use of your most valuable resources; love and trust. If both are strong then any obstacle can be overcome with simple communication.

I know that sometimes when you look in the mirror all you can see are your blemishes, scars, stretch marks, fleshy tummy, cellulite, and all the other little imperfections that make you feel unworthy or unattractive.

But when I look at you all I see is a beautiful, delicate thing that I want to hold in my arms and protect. I’ll softly whisper into your ear all of the things that warm your heart and make all of that insecurity melt away.

You are the most beautiful “you” that has ever lived. Never compare yourself to someone else because, even in a million years, they could never pull off all the nuance of your unique intricacies.