One of the aspects of writing I like is creating characters from real people. Men and women I have interacted with and shared ideas, thoughts, compassion and many times, passion.
This is the first of four gay erotic pieces of work. These short stories reflect on our emails and chat room dialogues bringing their adventures to life. There is some mild sexual dialogue and reference but won't be too shocking or icky for the more conservative ones. Just look at how popular "Fifty Shades of Grey" has become.
My sexually related tomes will have "fifty shades of black" in their title since black leather is a main element of arousal and they can be many layers of black for those exploring the darker side of their persona.
I still see Charlie on the websites, he is called Andy in this story. After all these years he is still looking for someone to transform him, as in the following story, "transformme".
.....
"transformme"
by Bronson D. Smith
©2005
I sat quietly in the interrogation room. It was certainly not as arousing as what I had seen in the abduction videos. The cop across from me was hot. But this was a real one. He had arrested me last night with charges pending for kidnapping, assault causing bodily harm, and forcible confinement.
An officer I hadn’t seen before came into the room and threw a sheet of paper on the table.
“Make him sign it, and get him out of here.”
My hot cop read the form and shook his head.
“Well, Sparky, you’re a lucky dude. The family of Andre Malletti have dropped all the charges.
“Don’t you mean, Andy Malett?”
“Whatever. same guy. You’re free to go. Just sign here, and here.”
I quickly scrawled my name where I was told. I slid the paper back toward the hot cop. He co-signed the form and folded it in half. He looked at me straight in the eye.
“You can leave now, Sparky. But, ah, the warrant that was issued has only some of the details of this case. Sorry, former case. This file does not exist.”
My hot cop continued his stare. His blue eyes told me what I had already felt. His haircut was a high-and-tight military cut, his full lips were framed by a well trimmed thick moustache. And he had a belly straining the shirt buttons from the effect of too many donuts. Every day.
“You don’t have to, you can leave right now, but what happened?”
“I don’t think you’d understand.”
“You remember the skinny officer at front desk? He’s my bud.”
My hot cop smiled a sheepish grin.
“Eight years. A cottage in the hills.”
I sighed slightly. It was comforting to be with one of my own kind. And now I could think naughty thoughts about my hot cop without feeling guilty.
“It started off simply like any cyber setup. Checking out the personals and trading pix. Maybe dirty talk in a chat room. But this one ad caught my eye.”
- NON-CONSENSUAL TRANSFORMATION -
EXPERIENCED BOTTOM WANTS TO BE TRANSFORMED
INTO BIG FAT DUMB ASS PIG - MAKE ME YOUR PIG
- OINK -
reply to - transformme - box 106 - please include pix
He had a link at his personal website. I clicked on it and was surprised to see a well detailed site for a graphic artist. Andy Malett. It listed his national and international awards for magazine and newspaper design. His hello-poochie-coo clip-on toys were the rage last Christmas.
“And this guy wants to be a dumb ass pig”
I thought it would be interesting to see what made this man tick. From a sociological point of view.
My hot cop smiled.
“Sure.”
We carried on a series of emails in which I played the dominant top - my forte - and he was my willing pig boy. He listed his fantasies and begged me to make them his reality.
We progressed to nightly chats in a private pigbelly chatroom. The conversations became more graphic and refined. He sounded desperate this time.
transformme> I need to be a pig, SIR
> yes, pigboy, you are a pig
transformme> I want you to change me. I want a pig snout, SIR
> I can do that for you
transformme> you can? really, SIR?
> I got brass knuckles. Easy enough to break your nose - shove too pencils up the nostrils to keep septum straight. .. then angled them up and tape it in place for two days - that’ll allow the cartilage to set.
transformme> yea!
> you’ll have a pig snout for life
transformme> oink oin oink oink
> good pig
Andy sent me photos of himself. One in a serious pose and one smiling. I noticed his teeth. They were too perfect. Straight and even. Maybe needed a little bleaching. But too nice for a dumb ass pig.
> like the pix of you smiling pigboy
transformme> thank ou SIR
> but too nice for a pig
transformme> ? SIR?
>maybe they could have one of them chipped?
transformme> squeal !
> good pig
transformme> oh yes, SIR
transformme> I want you to transform me
> yes pig
transformme> NOw
>excuse me?
transformme> NOW, SIR PLEASE !
> you don’t shout at me, pig
transformme> sorry SIR ... I was so excited
transformme> sorry SIR
transformme> I wanna to be good pig
Over the next couple of weeks, I arranged a trip out to visit him. He footed the bill for the airline ticket and I would be staying at a hotel nearby. Just in case it didn’t work out. I did not expect to fulfill any of his fantasies. Just some role playing and a mind fuck or two. Just for fun. Safe sane and consensual. Or so I thought.
He stood in the waiting area of the airport, holding a sign, “SAM PARKINSON, SIR”. I smiled at his public affirmation of his submission to me. Other than that, he looked like any other gay dude who wanted to be turned into a big fat slobbery dumb ass pig of a security guard with a dick for brains.
My hot cop was not impressed.
“That’s security guard, a cop wannabe, not officers like you. He’d never be up to your standards.”
“Quit the bull, Sparky. What happened next?”
While in the car, he would point out local eating landmarks and how much he ate in each one. He would look at me and smile. “I wanna be a good pig.”
He drove me back to his home. It was a modest place. A bungalow in a middle class neighbour. I felt comfortable enough to not question his motives. If it didn’t work out, I could always go to the hotel. He set up my clothes in the guest bedroom. Everything was neat as a pin. A place for everything and everything in its place.
“Certainly, not the home of a dumb ass pig.”
A different voice spoke from behind me. It was the front desk officer. My hot cop’s bud.
“Whatever. Get to the good stuff.”
He sat down by his partner. Both set of hands went underneath the table.
Andy had set up an itinerary even though I was the one who was supposed to be in control. But as all experienced Tops know, it is the bottom who pulls the strings in the scene. Usually to the tune of , “More, more, more!”
“I have the next four weeks off work. That should be enough time for you to make me into the pig I want.”
“I don’t think that’ll be enough time.”
The doorbell rang.
“Then we better start. Now.”
Andy opened the door and greeted a pizza delivery boy. Pocked face and a little confused.
“Is this the Malletti house party?”
“That’s Malett. And no, the pizzas are for me.”
The delivery boy handed over the six extra-large pizzas and left. We could hear him mutter, “Gonna make him a fat pig, all that shit.”
Andy smiled.
We took the pizzas down to the basement which doubled for Andy’s dungeon. As said before, he had his transformation all laid out and planned. I was just the vehicle to make everything happen.
I strapped him into a dentist chair that was in the corner of the room. I angled it to the right level to allow for ease of use. For me to feed him and to have him service me. When I wanted. When I needed it. His submission was overwhelming. I had to take back control.
I switched on the DVD player and watched a vintage porn piece while feeding the pig. He eagerly gobbled up pizza one and two. Each one was a different mix so he would not get bored. I poured beer down his throat to help ease the tight belly he was feeling. It was tight as a drum. But I knew my role in the fantasy. I was there to make it real.
When we got to pizza three, the ratio was one piece for me and three for him. I was getting a good bloat (the benefit of being a Gainer Top Dom) and buzz from the beer.
“I need more, SIR.”
“You’re getting all of the rest of the pizza boy. I am stuffed.”
“Make me your pig.”
“What?”
“Make me your piggie.”
“You didn’t say it right , boy”
“Maybe pigboy needs a lesson.”
Smack! I hit the side of the chair. I stared at the pig in the chair. He was covered in pizza sauce. He munched on a remnant of a pepperoni slice.
“BELCH!”
“What?”
“That is belch, SIR.”
“Good Pig.”
He finished off the pizza and ten beer. I had just five. I like the buzz, but love the control. And he had fallen asleep, or should I say, into a stupor. Time for stage one. I went into the bathroom next to the St. Andrews Cross (he was a very well stocked and kinky man). I found a series of bottled chemicals for future use and a set of barber shears.
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. All his hair was gone in a shot. Just left on the floor, on his chest and swollen belly. He squirmed a bit while it was being done. I’ll let him clean it up later. I picked up a pair of fabric shears. They did good work cutting off the designer duds to show off his piggie body. Fat, bulbous and a delight to my perverted eyes. A work in progress. Fuck. That made me hard.
I went back upstairs to the guest bedroom. I got my series of toys that I was able to bring with me. I returned to the basement dungeon to see my project still unconscious.
“He won’t know what hit him.”
I put on a pair of latex gloves, and patted the pig’s face. He moved a bit. I thought it would be best to get him to a deeper level of sleep before I proceeded.
I brought out the chloroform. I shook a bit on a cloth and held it tight over his mouth and nose. He arched upward and struggled for a second as he fought for air.
And then he fell back down into the chair. Just where I wanted him.
The benefit of living near the gay ghetto in my city, was you got to be friends with a wide range of queers and queens. I got to borrow an ear piercing gun from a hot little twink who loved to rub my belly while blowing me between appointments.
I brought out the gun and adjusted the clamp. Now for the left ear. BLAM! - ear hole number one. I added a white gold stud. BLAM! - ear hole two. I added a stud to that hole. BLAM! - I used a grommet I got from the bodypiercer I fuck on the 13th of each month - don’t ask. Perfect addition for a cocksucking pig. A leather strip through the hole to get him right to the spot and hold him there.
I repeated the routine for the right ear. And swabbed it down to stop any bleeding. A shaved head. Punk pig pierced ears. And more to come. Time for a good night’s sleep for me. I went upstairs to the master bedroom and collapsed.
I woke up the next day around noon. I was a little groggy from the beer and the airflight. But I had a stiff pecker. Even after I pissed out all of the beer to be recycled later. Tupperware still has its use in modern society.
When I turned on the light to the basement dungeon, I was not surprised to see the pig awake. Still in the dentist chair. With a big fat piggie grin. He stared at my crotch, showing it state of arousal.
“Pig hungry, SIR.”
“Good pig.”
I fed the pig my tube steak. He slobbered on it greedily. I held onto his still sore ears and had his face pound the underside of my belly.
“Good pig. good pig. Gooooooooood”
I shot my load like a horny sailor on furlough. Suck me dry and call me dusty. I was spent and drained. The pig smiled a toothy grin, covered in my cum. A drop started to slip out of his mouth but his talented tongue caught it in time. Nothing was wasted.
“Did you order anything for lunch, pig? Since you did such a good job last night.”
“I keep a standing order at all of the takeouts. Just pick a number on the speed dial and I’ll eat whatever you order. SIR. “
There was a moment of silence. He was measuring me up. Was I gonna be able to control him on day two.
“Of course you will, boy.”
He smiled.
“But we are gonna have to do something about those teeth of yours. Boy. My pig boy. My fat slobbering hungry for food and hungry for cock pig boy. My pig.”
He pointed to a wooden box by the DVD player. The DVD player was still playing the porn from last night.
“OINK. SIR.”
I checked out the different bits on the hobbycraft drill. I chose the grinding bit that I was familiar with. I tightened it with the wrench. And held the drill in front of the pig. I like to introduce the submissive to whatever toy I choose to use on them. Whether it is the paddle or spanking glove. A whip or my favourite flogger. Part of the arousal is the sensation. Part is the anticipation and the thrill.
I brought out the chloroform again. Time to the pig go to sleep and wake up a different man. My pig in progress.
The buzz of the drill did not disturb him at all. I used two pieces of cloth covered wood to hold his mouth in place with the front teeth and canines accessible.
I choose to work on the upper right front tooth. A noticeable chip ws created in a few seconds. Sort of an Alfred E. Newman look. And then I ground down one of the canines so it appeared to be a side gap, without affecting his bite.
I looked around for any other toys I could use on him. But I preferred his conscious submission. This was too easy. The basic transformation was done. All we needed to do was work on his pig body. And his pig brain. I slipped another porn DVD in the player, and settled in with a cold beer from the fridge. There was no need to wake him up right now. Good fat gaining time. The less movement. The more fat. Good pig. I’ll call the next speed dial number once he is awake. Nice to have a surprise for myself. I rubbed my own belly. Nice.
The creation of his pig nose was as I described before. Two smacks on the nose with the knuckle busters and the cartilage was mush. The two pencils were replaced with two hard plastic tubes (for ease of breathing) and taped in place.
The pig woke up after an hour. He was sore and in a little pain but couldn’t focus on where and when. I gave him some aspirin with codeine and called the second number on the phone pad.
Another twink of a delivery boy showed up at the front door with a carry bag of fresh fruit, 4 cartons of milk, four large tubs of icecream.
“I wanna be a healthy pig, SIR”
“A sick pig is of no use to me. Good pig.”
“OINK!”
He worked on the fresh fruit, eating it out of a bowl I held in front of him. It was like feeding day at the little zoo near where I lived as a child. He washed it down with the milk.
I melted the first of three tubs of icecream in the microwave. It took three minutes to melt and the same amount of time for the pig to chug it down. The icecream spilled over on his face and saggy pecs and belly. His belly felt cool after he finished off the last of crunchy bits at the bottom of the tub.
“I have to go to the bathroom, SIR.”
“Aright pig.”
I untied him and helped him off the chair. His legs were wobbly and he held onto the wall as he walked to the washroom. I thought of wiping down the mess on the chair, but decided that the pig should live in the squalor he desired.
The pig flushed the toilet and he appeared to be a little more steady on his feet. He walked upright but had his eyes focused on the floor. The pig stood in front of me and raised his eyes to meet mine. They were a dark brown. An even colour with gold flecks in it. They appeared to be still strong and lucid. He pointed to a area at the other end of the room. There was a tarpaulin covering something there.
“Pig wants to live there.”
“Show me, pig.”
The pig waddled over to the tarpaulin and removed it to reveal a classic style white wood picket fence pig pen.
“Pig wants to live there.”
The pen was about six foot by six foot in size. There was straw on the floor and a plastic food trough at one end. I pointed to the pen.
“Pig will live there.”
“Thank you, SIR. I wanna be good pig.”
“What did you say.”
“Thank you, SIR. I wanna be a good pig, SIR.”
I scritched the back of the pig’s ear. I checked the holes to see if the piercings were alright. Everything was going fine. As per his schedule. I mean, my schedule.
The following weeks passed quickly. We showered at a minimum and did not shave. We avoided the first floor (except for the delivery boys) so to maintain the fantasy of his realm of transformation. He became fatter and fatter each day. More soft and rounder and pudgy. His speech became fragmented and childlike. Me pig. Pig want. Pig need eat. But always with the SIR at the end.
I did some changing too. I finally accepted the fact that I really do love to have control over other men. And to be a fat bastard. An obese Top Dom Pig. A kind and loving and sadistic fat pig. And instead of barking orders at him. I’d oink or grunt.
It was a good life. Pigboy and PigDad. But it had to end. I had to go back to work and try to explain to my boss how I grew this beard and this fat belly. And time for him to get his new role as a security guard.
“I had him gather up the beer cans, boxes and clean the dungeon so it was spick and span again. You could eat off the floor. Hey, he already did that before. Anyways, I was at the airport, waiting for my flight back home when you guys, I mean, officers, picked me up and charged me.”
My hot cop glanced my way.
“And you didn’t know who he was? One of the heirs to the Malletti Winery Empire?”
“Nope. to me, he was always just graphic artist, Andy Malett. My pig. Well, you know what I mean.”
Months later, I got a message on my answering machine. It was from Andre’s father. He asked me to visit his son at their south district warehouse. At his expense. And I did.
I parked my rental car and approached the security entry. A portly little lump of a man was slumped down in his chair in the security gate hut. A rerun of “Family Affair” was playing on his tiny portable DVD player. He looked at me and then at my crotch.
He managed to swing his chair around and he unzipped my fly and pulled down my pants and briefs. He sucked on my cock like a hungry man who had not been fed in days. The excitement of being blown out in the open made me shoot my load quickly.
The fat man looked up at me and smiled.
“Me good pig.”
- 30 -
No comments:
Post a Comment