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Episode 8

***WARNING*** This episode contains graphic depictions of violence, verbal abuse and scat. If any of these fetishes disturb you (and they probably should) I advise that you read no further. This is a work of fiction, and the behaviors depicted in this piece should stay that way.

Today was the day, and Tim was having a hard time staying calm. He had been preparing for this for the past year, as a student in the preparatory courses of the masters program at Bearman college. He had passed the theoretical test the week before, and his placement in the top 95th percentile granted him a place in the practicum--the final exam before admittance to the program. He was dressed to impress, putting on his most expensive uniform, the well cared for leather stretched tight over every muscle on his body. He was wearing no underwear, and the feeling of being encased in leather all over his body was enough to keep his cock half hard as he walked. He had spent a good half hour this morning polishing his favorite knee high boots until the glinted like steel in the sun, and as he crossed campus, everyone stepped out of his way, recognizing the confident authority which Tim exuded. He was a master, and everyone around him already knew it. The only people who didn't were the professors proctoring the exam, and he was bound and determined to prove to them that he belonged there. He pulled his cap down a little lower over his eyes and ran his gloved thumb along his perfectly trimmed fu-man-chu, and walked into the Harrison Mastery Building, where the test was being administered.

As he entered, he saw any number of other would-be masters students also in the building, waiting for the door of the exam room to open. The test was scheduled for four-thirty, and the doors would not open until then. All of the candidates were expected to arrive early, and they had all been warned that the doors would open promptly, everyone present would be allowed in, and then they would be locked behind them. No one arriving late would be admitted. Tim looked around the room and recognized quite a few of his fellow students from previous classes, all of them dressed in their finest gear, like him. Marcus Wallenburg had on his tartan kilt and combat boots, beautifully shined, and his beard was tied into three long braids which reached halfway down his chest. On the other side of the room, Keith Sunderland was dressed similarly to himself, in his finest leather uniform. They nodded to each other, but the intent behind oth of their looks was crystal clear--stay out of my way. Micah Harris was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette and dressed in his bike leathers. His hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and he too was sizing up the competition. To Tim, they were acquaintances, nothing more, and inside that room, no one would be holding anything back, especially not him.

Of course, there were also some people he didn't know. Off in a corner, a short stocky bear dressed in leather chaps and a harness smoked a massive pipe, chatting quietly with a skinhead, whose heavily muscled body was completely covered in tattoos and piercings. There were others, but most of them were forgettable, wearing mostly leather and quite a few of them smoking, probably to help with the anxiety all of them were feeling at the moment. There were also a few people who didn't look like they belonged there at all, the best example being a man standing right next to the exam door. He was dressed in dirty and tattered jeans, with suspenders running over his shoulders, though they were stretched taut by the force of the man's massive beer gut and man boobs. He had no shirt on, his entire stomach was covered in a massive forest of hair, and he had a wiry beard which seemed to stick out from his face in every direction, and climbed high up on his cheeks. Not only was he far less fit than anyone else in the room, he was also quite older, with a good amount of grey hair, just as unkempt as his beard. It looked like he had gotten lost on his way to a hillbilly country fair. There was also a short scrawny guy, dressed in khakis and a polo looking around nervously at the muscle hunks surrounding him. Tim smiled--the guy was definitely out of his league. He might have passed the theoretical exam with flying colors, but he sure as hell wasn't going to do very well here.

He checked his watch, and saw that it was one minute to four-thirty, and a few seconds later, he heard the clock tower on campus begin to chime. On cue, the doors swung open, and all thirty some candidates filed in through the door. Tim felt some nerves begin to form in his chest, but he pushed them away. He had this--there was no way he was going to lose now.

As soon as they were all through the door, it closed shut behind them and locked. All of the chairs in the large classroom had been moved away towards the walls, and the middle had been loaded with all sorts of gear. From where he was standing, Tim could make out a center table loaded up with all sorts of whips, dildos and restraints. A bit further out there were slings, suspended chains, and even a few Saint Andrew's crosses. There was enough gear to stock at least five top of the line dungeons, but there was one thing missing--there were no slaves in the entire room. There was just one man waiting for them all, Professor Erikson, head of the masters program.

Tim had had an interview with the man once, during his preparatory year. He was also the only man whom he had ever addressed as "Sir". Erikson scared the crap out of him, not that he was dumb enough to show it. The fact that he would be proctoring the exam just made the entire experience more real to him. He was really here, at the test Tim had been preparing for what felt like his whole life, ever since he had taken down and dominated his first slut. He felt his usual confidence return at that memory, and even felt his mouth turn up into a smirk, as he made his way with the rest of the candidates to the center of the room.

As they assembled, Erikson's newest TA slave walked up to each candidate and handed them a leather collar. He had a chastity device encasing his cock, and a fresh tattoo across his back which read "PAIN PIG." With every step, the complex series of weights and chains pulled and tugged on his pierced nipples and scrotum, and he looked almost delirious with lust and horniness. The whole sight was turning Tim on, and he couldn't wait to get started, but Professor Erikson hadn't told them what they would be doing yet. In fact, he hadn't even moved. While he waited, Tim examined the collar in his hand. While the outside was leather, inside a thin band of flexible metal ran around the entire length of the collar. Tim tried moving the ends together and found that they attached by their own accord, as though they were magnetically charged. It was certainly one of Erikson's original designs, but that meant he had no real idea of what it was capable of. However, it couldn't be too dangerous, could it? He laughed, when that though came to him. Of course it was dangerous. Everything the professor had ever invented had been dangerous, but that was part of the fun.

When everyone had a collar, the TA returned to Erikson's side and bowed his head. Only then did the professor deign to speak. "Welcome, candidates, to your practicum. I'm sure you are all very eager to get started, so I will get my explanation over as quickly as possible, I promise. "Now, all of you are here because you have shown remarkable potential in your desire and drive to dominate and control those who desire and deserve to be controlled. I have personally interviewed all of you, and am confident that you would all be highly successful in our master classes. However, over the years, the other faculty and I have found that there is a certain drive which separates the successful from the exemplary, and we are only interested in educating the exemplary at Bearman.

"All of you have the drive, or else you would not have entered into this program in the first place. All of you have the skills, or you would not have scored the highest marks on your theoretical exams. However, not all of you have the pure primal instinct of domination running through your entire being. Not all of you are true masters. It is not something which can be learned, nor is it a frivolous talent. It occurs when the dominant will is the only will--it is indomitable because it is alone. This final test is designed to separate out those whose mind is of this rare nature.

"Now, to explain what you will be doing. Each of you has been given a collar. On that collar, you will find a number. Each of you has been paired at random to someone else in this room. When I tell you to begin, you have three tasks to complete. First, you must overpower your opponent and place the collar around his neck. Be aware that it can be taken off again if he is not completely subdued. Any other task completed while the collar is disconnected will not count towards the completion of your test. After you have collared your opponent, you must make him orgasm in a position of submission, and he must bring you to orgasm in a position of dominance. It does not matter in what order you complete these last two tasks, so long as you accomplish them while the collar is around your opponent's neck.

Those of you who are successful will be admitted into the masters program. For the next two years, my fellow colleagues and I will educate you in the art and manner of masterly conduct. For those of you who are, less successful, you will be removed to my lab, where you will be reconditioned and returned to your dominator as his training slave."

He paused in his explanation, in order to let those words sink into the men surrounding him. Suddenly, this was no longer just a test--it was a battle for survival. Tim felt those nerves return but he pushed them away again. He had to retain his focus, or he would surely lose.

"Now that you all understand the seriousness of this matter, I have a few final notes to add. There are no limits here. Use any skill, any knowledge, and any power at your disposal to force your opponent to his knees, begging for your forgiveness. Show no mercy. All of you will be competing at the same time, but keep in mind that you may not interfere in another contest. If you do, you will be automatically disqualified, and I will take you as my own slave. And trust me, I will be infinitely crueler than any of you can possible imagine. Now, find your opponents, and then I will give the order to begin."

Tim inspected his collar again, and found that his number was eight. He called it out loud, and heard a deep drawl sounding out the same number. His initial fear was that he had been paired with Marcus, but that wasn't the case. Instead, he found himself paired up with the dirty redneck he had noticed in the hall earlier, and Tim couldn't have been happier. There was no way a fat, old slob like him would be able to top him--simply no way. The man grinned, and extended his hand as Tim approached. "The name's Jack, fella. What's yers?"

"Tim," he replied, and then smirked, "But you can call me Master Tim, or Sir."

Jack winked at Tim and said, "Well, ya can just go ahead and start callin' me Daddy Jack then, my boy." Jack let out a loud, rumbling laugh which made his his gut shake, disgusting Tim immensely. They shook hands, and as Tim came closer he noticed that Jack smelled awful. He probably hadn't showered in weeks, and he reeked of sweat, piss, and cum. However, Tim knew better to show any sign of weakness, so he ignored the odor as best he could. The first order of business when he bested this slob would be to get his fat ass on a treadmill and get that nasty hair shaved off, after he had showered him off with a fire hose first, of course.

Tim wondered if he should say something else, but he heard Professor Erikson call out, "Begin!" and Tim figured actions always speak louder than words. As hard as he could, he sucker punched Jack in the stomach, winding him and sending him to one knee. Tim immediately tried to get the collar on him, but Jack ducked away faster than Jack figured he would, and stood up a few feet away.

"So, it's gonna be a dirty brawl eh? That's fine, I can play dirty," Jack panted, and then charged Tim. Both of them were driven to the ground by the force of the hit, and they began rolling around, both of them trying to gain the upper hand. Jack was much heavier than Tim, but he refused to let him use it. Jack spent most of his time trying to get Tim's arms pinned at his sides, but was having no luck. It seemed like a stalemate, until Jack spotted some rope hanging from the table they had rolled towards. He grabbed it with his hand, and managed to get a quick knot around one of Jack's feet. At that point, Tim knew that he had him. He began wrapping Jack up, limb by limb, binding him as tightly as he could, so that the rope cut deep lines into Jack's fat. Before long, all Jack could do was roll around on the ground, and Tim was free to stand up, and take a look around at everything else going on, while he retrieved the collar he had dropped in the tussle.

He was the first person to subdue his opponent, and that thought filled him with a bit of pride. Out in the audience, Professor Erikson was watching the entire scene with glee, his TA on his knees before him, sucking on his cock. Tim picked the collar up from the floor, walked back over to Jack, and secured the collar tight around his fat neck. "Ready to give up slave?" Tim asked, and Jack just grinned.

"Ya haven't broken me yet, cowboy. I'd like tah see ya try."

Tim immediately realized that he had gotten himself into a bit of a problem, because his bondage work had been far to haphazard. While Jack was secure, there was no way he'd be able to get to work on him on the ground. But Tim was also realizing that he hadn't really thought this far ahead. He had simply imagined that he would get Jack on the ground, get the collar on him, and that would be the end of it. Now, not only did he have to fuck him, or get him to suck his cock, Tim had to find some way to get him to cum as well, which wasn't really his style. He much preferred to dominate and run, generally leaving his victims crying and whimpering on the bed, but then Jack wasn't his usual prey. If he was going to get anywhere, he'd first have to find a better way to secure Jack.

He wandered over to the table and took a moment to think, eventually settling on some locking wrist restraints that he thought he could attach to Jack's wrists with a bit of effort, and some chain which he could then use to connect them together. He returned to Jack, and after quite a bit of fiddling, realized that his idea wasn't going to work like he had hoped. As he struggled, Jack started laughing, and Tim snapped, "What's so funny, you fucking fatass?"

"You are, boy. Ya don't know what yer doin' do ya?"

The comment struck Tim at a weak point he hadn't even been aware of. He didn't really know how he was going to manage this. Sure, Jack couldn't hurt him from where he was, but a stalemate wasn't going to be an adequate solution. However, he knew he couldn't show any weakness now, so in his roughest voice, he ordered, "Shut up, faggot."

"No," was all Jack said in reply, and in response, Jack kicked him in the stomach, but Jack was ready for it this time, and rolled with the kick, minimizing the force of the blow. "You really don't know what yer doing!" he laughed, "How in the hell did ya get this far, boy, if ya can't manage tah exert a little control over a man bound up on the ground?"

Again, Tim felt his confidence shake, but he fought against his doubt harder. In frustration, he yelled, "Shut the fuck up," and tried to stamp his boot on Jack's face, but Jack rolled away again, and deftly stood up, the ropes falling away as he cut through them with a knife he had been hiding on his belt. Jack began chuckling again as he took the collar off his neck and stalked back over towards Tim.

Tim's face heated up and turned red. This fucking redneck was laughing at him. He pulled back his fist, but in a surprising move, Jack swung his own at Tim's face, striking him hard and fast. Stars blew up in his face, and the next thing he knew, he had hit the ground, holding his nose in pain. No one had ever hit him that hard before--hell, no one had ever hit him before at all, and that alone shocked Tim more than anything. His entire image had been fabricated around the assumption of his invincibility, and this hard, throbbing pain was not something he had been prepared for, but he struggled up to one knee anyway, but Jack didn't give him a chance to recover. He delivered a knee directly into Tim's mouth, sending him to the ground again, and Jack immediately sat down on him, hard, pinning Tim's arms at his sides with his bulky legs. Tim could feel Jack's massive cock jabbing him in the chest, as he reached down and put the collar around his neck. Immediately, Tim panicked. He had never even imagined that someone would manage to collar him. It had simply seemed impossible. The fact that it had happened, and that it had been accomplished by an old, fat ass like Jack, stunned him so much he stopped struggling for a moment.

"Now boy, let me tell you a story," Jack said, "I had myself a daddy once. He used tah fuck me every night, make me drink his piss, clean out his ass, all since I was a babe. I know what it's like tah be a slave, but I escaped from that. I took my drunkass dad intah the bedroom, hogtied him, and fucked him 'til he couldn't walk. Ya want tah know what I did then? I cut his fuckin' balls and dick off. I made him a bitch, and then sold him tah the dirtiest fuckin' redneck in the trailer park, who trained him to be his toilet. Hell, just last week I visited him and took a massive shit all over his face, and he loved it, and begged me for more. Ya never had tah do anythin' like that. Nah, ya just think that because yer big and butch ya deserve tah top any guy ya run across. Ya might walk the talk, but ya have no clue what yer doin' here."

Tim started to say something, but Jack just backhanded him, hard, across the face, and then did it again for good measure. "Ya don't say nothin' less I say ya can, got it boy?"

"Fuckin' pig!" Tim growled, and then spit in Jack's face.

Jack wiped the loogie away, grinning all the while, and waited for Tim to say more. When he didn't, Jack said, "If ya got something tah say tah me, say it. I'm listenin'."

"You're a dumbass redneck pig, that's what! You're a slob, you're dirty, you're fat...I mean, you expect me to submit to that? What a fucking joke."

In reply, Jack grabbed the back of Tim head, and forced his face into his hairy, smelly gut. Tim tried to push back, but he couldn't break away. He also couldn't breathe, and after a moment he felt his lungs begin to burn. "Yeah, yer daddy is a pig, boy, and he's proud of it too. Ya wanna know somethin' else? Yer gonna be a pig, too. I'm gonna have ya so fat by next summer that yer gut will be draggin' on the floor as ya crawl around my trailer."

Tim managed to catch a quick breath, but then Jack had his face buried again. "Ya like it, don't ya boy? Ya want tah suffocate in yer daddy's belly. Just admit it." He pulled Tim's face out and added, "Say it. Say ya want yer daddy's belly!"

No, fucker!" Tim yelled, and then recoiled as Jack backhanded him across the face again. And then again.

"Say it!" Jack yelled as he continued raining blows down on Tim, "Say it pig boy! Say ya want yer daddy's belly!"

Tim couldn't take it anymore. He was so frustrated, powerless and angry that he just wanted it to be over, so he caved. "Fine, fucker. I want your belly, happy? I want your damn disgusting belly!" It made him feel better for a moment, but as he said it, he felt the collar around his neck heat up, and a sharp jolt of electricity run up his neck and into his head. His vision blurred for a moment, and when it cleared, he had a horrible realization. He did want Jack's belly. Unable to resist, he shoved his face into it, and even started licking it, loving the way the hairs felt on his tongue and the dank flavor of stale sweat.

After a moment, he managed to pull himself away, but Jack was already grinning above him, and began taunting him, "Well, don't stop now, boy. It's ok that ya want it, in fact, ya need it, don't ya?"

"No. No, I don't!"

Jack hit him again, and Tim yelped, "Say it boy, or I'll really get rough with ya."

Tim knew that he couldn't let it anything slip out again, or he would lose even more ground. He redoubled his struggles to unpin himself, but Jack just shoved his face back into his fat, and Jack felt himself melt. He was also aware that his dick was hardening in his leather pants, and he hoped that Jack wouldn't notice.

"Lick it boy, taste it, like ya were before. It tastes good, don't it? So why'd ya stop?" Jack said, and Tim relented. He wanted it. He just couldn't stop himself and as he began licking again he realized that not only was his cock hard, it was also leaking precum. Even worse, he felt Jack reach around and start massaging it, which just made Tim moan and lick faster. Just as he was really starting to enjoy himself though, Jack pushed him away, and Tim felt like he had lost his favorite toy.

"Please. I want it."

"I know you want it. But do you need it?"

Tim was silent for a moment, and then, against everything he had ever been, he gave a small nod. However, this wasn't enough for Jack, who said quietly, "I need tah hear ya say it, boy."

Quietly, hoping that the collar wouldn't recognize it, he whispered, "I need...I need your belly." Again, the collar heated, another shock went through him, and his desires just built up even stronger. When Jack released his head, Tim didn't even try to stop himself. He just threw himself into the wall of fat in front of him, reveling in its softness, the forest of hair, the deep belly button. He was in love, he was obsessed, and he never wanted to be anywhere else. When Jack pushed him away again, he let out a whimper.

"Yeah, that's right boy. This is what ya've always wanted, isn't it? A daddy tah own ya--control ya. Yeah, ya think I'm a disgusting pig? Boy, ya ain't got no idea what's in store for ya." "Please, let me lick your belly again. Please, it's so...I..." was all Tim could manage before he dove for it again, but Jack slapped him away.

"If ya want my belly, ya better ask nicely. Now, what do ya say?"

"Please, can I lick your belly...daddy?" Tim couldn't believe the word had actually come out of his mouth, but he'd do anything to be buried in that fat.

"Yeah, that's a good boy. Ya want tah be a good boy, don't ya?"

Tim nodded, but Jack slapped him again, and Tim realized what he wanted, "Yes daddy, I want to be a good boy." Another shock came, but Tim didn't really notice. He really did want to be a good boy, because good boys got to lick their daddy's bellies.

Jack laughed, knowing that he had won. Now, he could have some real fun.

"Well, good boys always want tah please their daddies, right?"

Tim nodded, "Yes daddy, I want to please you." Another jolt hit Tim.

"Well ya know what makes daddies really happy? Daddies love little boys who love their daddy's cock up their ass."

Again Tim nodded quickly, "Yeah daddy, I want your cock up my ass. Please, will you put your cock up my ass?" Another jolt. He couldn't stop thinking about how much he wanted his daddy to fuck him. It filled him up and pushed every other thought fron its path.

"Well sure boy, if ya want me tah, I guess I can."

Tim felt his heart leap with joy. Jack got off of him, and Tim quickly undid his pants and got on his hands and knees in front of him. The air was cold against his twitching asshole, but Jack came around in front of him first, his own pants unbuttoned, revealing a thick meaty cock with a thick PA pierced through the head that was partially covered by an overhanging foreskin. It was at least eight inches long, and not even fully hard. "Ya better get it good and lubed up, boy. Good and wet."

Tim immediately started licking the shaft up and down the entire length, trying to get as much spit as possible onto the surface. It was a challenge, because the entire tool tasted absolutely rank, but Tim knew that if he stopped, his daddy would be angry at him, and he couldn't imagine how horrible that would feel. So he licked anyway, even under the foreskin, which was thick with foul smelling cheese.

When he had coated it the best he could, Jack nodded, "Ready, boy? Ya still want yer daddy's giant cock crammed up yer asshole?"

"Yeah, I want it. Fuck me, please," was all Tim could pant. He couldn't bear having his ass empty any longer. Jack walked around behind him slowly, tantalizing his pig. Tim felt Jack put his hands on his ass, and that alone made him quiver with excitement. Then the head of his cock was pressing against his hole, and it hurt so much, because Tim had never been fucked before, but he wanted his daddy to fuck him so bad, he could barely control himself. He wanted to be a good boy and please his daddy. He moaned and cried as the beast pushed its way in, inch after inch, but his pain just seemed to turn Jack on even more, and he began shoving it in as fast Tim's ass could take it.

"Yeah, ya waltzed in here lookin' like a butch leatherman, but all ya really are is a slave. Ya never really wanted tah be a master, have ya? All you've ever really wanted was tah be a slave, isn't that right?"

"Yes!" Tim moaned between Jack's thrusts, "I'm a slave. I've always wanted to be a slave! Please, fuck me sir!" The jolt that came with that was even stronger, and made Tim black out for a few seconds. When he recovered, he remembered seeing Jack before the test and wanting him to dominate him so badly. When they got paired together he had never been happier. Why had he fought for so long? Jack slid his cock all the way out, and then slammed it all the way in, making Tim scream in pain, but he also loved it. He had never felt so full before. Where there had been absolute emptiness not moments before there was now throbbing life and power. His daddy had completed him and filled him up, and Tim knew he would spend the rest of his life trying to repay him.

"Yeah boy, but you're more than that. You're a fuckin' pig, is what you are. You ain't happy unless yer ass is stuffed with cock, and ya got another one down yer throat. You're a dirty, filthy pig, and ya love it."

"I'm a pig. Yeah daddy, I'm your pig," was all Tim could say, and after another jolt, he heard himself begin to snort and grunt in time with Jack's thrusts. It was so big, but he needed that cock, and started bucking as hard as he could, determined to get it as far up his chute as he could, and Tim could hear Jack wheezing and grunting behind him, getting close to blowing a massive load in his ass.

Lost in lust, Tim looked around at the other pairs in the room. It looked like Marcus had managed to come out on top, with the skinhead licking at his boot, his cock hard and leaking as he cleaned it. Tim fantasized for a moment about crawling over there, sticking his head up his kilt and sucking on Marcus's cock, but he wasn't sure his new daddy would like that. Across the room, He could see that Micah, the biker, had been stripped naked, bound tightly with some rope, and had a ball gag stuck in his mouth. The little man in the khaki's was pounding his ass with a paddle while he rained verbal abuse down on him, and as he watched, Micah blew a massive load all over the floor in front of him, and then collapsed on the ground, exhausted. Keith was gagged and tied to a cross, his cock jutting out in front of him while the stocky pipe bear blew smoke clouds around him, which Keith eagerly sucked up, well on his way to becoming a pipe pig. It dawned on Tim that he was a pig too, and he liked it. He was going to be a fatass redneck's pigboy, and he had never been happier in his life. He felt Jack bury his cock as deep as he could and spew his load deep into Tim's ass, and the very knowledge that his daddy had just marked him forever made Tim feel his own orgasm begin building, but it was cut off by Jack grabbing a hold of his balls and yanking on them, hard.

"Oh no little piggy. Ya ain't getting' off that easy. I'm not close tah bein' done with ya yet," Jack said, then pulled out his still leaking cock and came around in front of Tim, where he shoved his filthy dick into Tim's mouth. "Clean it all up piggy. Get a good taste of yer shit covered daddy's cock--you're going to be eating a lot of it from now on."

The taste disgusted Tim, but he sucked at it anyway, desperate to please his daddy. When he had cleaned as much as he could, he pulled his mouth out, and began to gag from the taste.

"Bad pig!" Jack yelled, and gave Tim a smack, "Ya take yer shit and ya swallow it, got it?"

Tim controlled himself, and then nodded, "Yes daddy, I'll eat it. Sorry daddy."

"Well, for that, I think ya need tah eat some more," Jack said, and pushed Tim onto his back, but Tim was afraid. He tried to scramble away, but Jack pinned him to the ground with his boot, mashing his balls against the floor and making Tim yell.

"Never, try to defy me boy!" he yelled, and pressed harder. Tim tried to push the boot off, but he couldn't, and the pain was growing worse with each passing moment. "Now repeat after me, boy! I love the taste of a man's shit!"

"I love the taste of a man's shit!" Tim yelled, and the taste in his mouth was suddenly delicious, and he found himself wanting more, and hating himself for it. What was he becoming?

"I eat my own shit, and my daddy's shit, every chance I get!" Jack yelled.

"I eat my shit and my daddy's every chance I get!" Tim repeated, and felt Jack's boot lift off his groin.

"One more pig. I can only cum with a big log of shit in my mouth," Jack said.

Tim paused for a moment, knowing that he shouldn't say it. Some shred of dignity still remained, but when he saw the boot start to come back down, he spouted out, "I can only cum if...if I have a big log of shit in my mouth."

"Now boy, tell me what ya want me tah do tah ya."

Tim said nothing for a moment, and then quietly said, "I want to eat your shit, sir."

"I didn't hear ya, pig."

"I want to eat your shit, sir." Tim said loudly, utterly humiliated, but hungry, "Please feed me your shit, daddy. Please."

With an evil grin, Jack pulled down his pants, went over and squatted down over Tim's face. His entire crack was crusty and brown, but that only turned Tim on more. He happily began lapping up and down, and shoved his tongue up Jack's hole as far as he could. After a moment, he felt a log begin to push back, and he carefully guided it into his mouth, swallowing it down as fast as he could. He realized about two spurts too late that he was cumming as he chewed it down, and continued to do so until the log disappeared down his throat. He licked up and down the crack, hoping for a bit more to eat, but had to stop when Jack got up and stood over him. Tim just laid there, savoring the taste in his mouth, looking up at his handsome daddy, happier than he had ever been in his life. His afterglow was interrupted suddenly by a final heating of the collar around his neck, and Tim grabbed at it in pain. He soon found that not only had the collar bonded to itself permanently, as though it were a single piece, he also couldn't even pull it away from his skin, as though it had fused with his very body. A moment later, Erikson's TA came up to him, attached a magnetic lead to the collar, and led him out of the exam room. Tim turned around, not wanting to leave his daddy, and saw Jack being congratulated by Erikson. He knew that could have been him, but that was no longer the life he wanted.

The TA led him in silence to a nearby laboratory, where a whole set of chairs had been lined up in rows, and quite a few of were already filled with the defeated. All of the new slaves were slack and relaxed, with strange visors covering all of their eyes, each of them connected to a computer terminal next to their seat. Tim was led to a chair next to Micah, whose face was coated with a massive load of cum, and whose cock was tenting out in his pants.

As he sat down, Tim vaguely remembered the man he had been less than an hour ago, and he could not believe how far he had fallen, and how happy he was to be there. He could still taste the load of shit Jack had dumped in his mouth, the load Tim had begged him for, and the load which had made him cum harder than he ever had. Was he really just a pig? Is that all he would be for the rest of his life?

The TA latched some restraints on Tim to keep him in the chair, and then placed a visor over his eyes. The last thing Tim clearly remembered was the man saying, "Initialize program 'Jack'," and then Tim was gone. A massive eruption of light exploded in front of his eyes, and he lost control of his body, and mind. He could feel the light rewriting his brain, filling it up with all sorts of information about his new daddy, and what he expected from the perfect slave. After a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, Tim realized that he was not just learning what it meant to be Jack's perfect slave--he was becoming Jack's perfect slave. Eventually, he just fell into a stupor, fantasizing about crawling around his daddy's trailer, sucking his cock while he watched TV, licking his dirty pits, drinking his piss, and eating out his ass--all day, every day. Occasionally, as he dreamed of chewing down a log of his master's shit, his cock would explode in his pants, making his entire body shudder. He was Jack's filthy pig, and soon he couldn't comprehend being anything else. Sure, he still had his old memories of being a dominator, but they were somehow hollow, or less real, now that he had been remade.

When the visor was finally lifted from his eyes, there was fresh morning daylight streaming into the room, which meant he had been there all night. However, Tim had eyes only for the man a few paces away--his daddy. As soon as the restraints holding him to the chair were undone, he got out of the chair, but found he could no longer easily stand on his feet, and instead fell to his hands and knees, where he belonged. He crawled forward and nuzzled his daddy's cock through his dirty jeans, and took a deep whiff of his musk. "I love you daddy Jack," was all Tim could say, and looked up into his new owner's eyes with all of the affection in his being.