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Losing Control By Wesley Bracken

I'm not a fan of destroying peoples' lives, but sometimes they just deserve it. Being a wizard, it's important to not lose control and let your power go to your head. Of course, I feel that I have a certain duty to assist other people in realizing that they shouldn't let their power go to their heads either. For example, do you remember Mike, the quarterback?... No of course you don't remember Mike, Jerry's the quarterback now and always has been. Let me just tell you a story then. Let's say that there was this guy on campus, and he was a quarterback, and very popular, with a great body. All of those things would give a guy a lot of power, right? And a reasonably good person might use that power to do something good, right? You know...instead of picking on a wizard just because he would rather read a good book of spells than spend hours at the gym grunting like an ape, right? Well let's say Mike wasn't a reasonable good person, and that he did pick on a wizard, and that wizard felt like Mike was out of control. Or perhaps he had too much control. So all I did was make him lose a little. Ok, so it wasn't really a little, but let me get to the story.

Mike had just got home from a frat party where he had a wonderful Saturday night. Not only was there plenty of beer, but the girls had been almost as bottomless as the stockpile of kegs as well. If he counted right, he had made out with ten, gotten blowjobs from six, and fucked two. The girls went crazy over his six foot three, 230 pound chiseled body, and blue eyes. Of course, he may have lied to a few of them, like when they asked if he loved them. He didn't, but their bodies were damn hot, and that's all that mattered to him. He unlocked the door to his apartment off campus and stepped inside. Dodging a pile of old pizza boxes, he threw his coat onto the couch and stumbled into the kitchen for a final beer before going to bed. He should clean up his apartment, but he didn't really care that much. We wasn't here most of the time anyway, he reasoned. He opened the fridge, pulled a can out of the 12 pack box, and sat down at the table, shoving a stack of papers aside to make room. One of them fell in front of him, and as he picked it up, the salutation caught his eye, Dear Mike, the asshole jock. He read the first line a few more times, thinking it was the beer, but there it was, written in script on a piece of plain paper. Curious, he went on the read the rest of the letter:

Dear Mike, the asshole jock,

I doubt you remember who I am or what you did to me, but that's not important anymore. What's more important is what's going to happen to you tomorrow. I didn't want the surprise to kill you, so I thought I would warn you. Let's just say it's a little punishment for not being able to wield your power responsibly. While you could use your popularity to make peoples' lives better, instead you make them worse. You pick on the weak instead of protecting them. You exploit women for your own desires. In essence, you're out of control, so I've decided it's time for you to lose control entirely. I don't think you'll mind too much, since everything you do is driven by lust anyway. I've just prepared a little adjustment that will make your life match your personality a little better.

Think of it as a favor, The Wizard

"Wizard? Who in the fuck does this guy think he is?" Mike said as he crumpled the letter and threw it towards the trashcan. It bounced off the over flowing mound and hit the floor. "As if anyone can touch me." Forgetting the letter as he wandered off towards his bed, pulled off his clothes and passed out.

He thought it was his hangover at first, as he struggled to get out of bed in the morning. His whole body felt heavy as he trudged towards the bathroom to pee. He turned on the light, and squinted from the sudden light. In front of the toilet, he went to grab his dick, and ran into something that hadn't been there the night before. He opened his eyes, and stumbled back as he saw that his once washboard abs had exploded out into soft gut overnight. He looked in the mirror, but what he saw just scared him even more. Resting on top of his new gut were two fat tits instead of his tight pectorals. His biceps had disappeared under a new layer of fat. His whole body jiggled as he moved. His thighs had grown and he could see them rubbing against each other. His neck had shrunk as the rest of him grew, and he felt a little shorter. But his attention was drawn away from the fat by other additions that had occurred during the night.

Bright colorful tattoos had suddenly appeared on his arms and snaked their way down from his shoulders, where they stopped at his wrists. At the ends were two matching tattoos of leather bands, one marked with pig, the other with slave. His legs were similarly decorated, and they stopped at his hips. He turned around to look at his back, and saw another tattoo on his ass: an arrow pointing towards his crack with the words "insert cock here" written below it. The finishing touch was the word "PIG" written in large old English letters across his now massive stomach. Mike lifted up his stomach and saw that his cock had been pierced as well, with a large PA through the head and rings running down the bottom of the shaft to his balls. His cock looked like it had shrunk as well, but he hoped that was only the fat making it look small. His nipples had been pierced with rings as well, which pulled them down slightly.

Looking up, Mike saw that his head had been shaved bald and a number of new piercings adorned his face as well. Both of his ears had been pieced many times, and he could hear the metal clink as he swung his head. He had a barbell inserted above his nose, and several rings in his eyebrows. A ring hung in his septum, and a chain connected it to a ring on his ear. As he got over the major modifications, he began to notice some small changes as well. His eyes looked smaller, closer together, and their color was no longer blue, but closer to a muddy brown. His nose was shorter and wider, and the tip turned up a little as well. He felt something odd on his tongue and opened his mouth to look. Mike moaned when he saw that his once flawless teeth had become chipped and rotten. One in the front had even been replaced with a gold cap as well. A stud now pierced his tongue, and he figured it would be difficult to talk until he became used to its new weight.

Mike stopped the thought, "Used too? There's no way I'm going to be staying like this...there's no way this could even happen." He mumbled with a slight lisp. He pinched himself, but nothing happened. The pressure on his bladder became too much, so he sat down on the toilet to piss. He had to lift up his belly to aim his cock, and he let the stream loose. He tried to hold back tears as reality set back in. "Shit, what am I going to do...wait...that letter!" He hurried to finish pissing, and stood up. He turned around to flush, but stopped. Something smelled amazing. He leaned down towards the toilet and sniffed again. Suddenly he was incredibly thirsty, and he knelt in front of the toilet bowl and almost stuck his head into the water to drink before he stopped himself and pulled back. He pulled the flush handle, and sat back on the floor, listening to the tank fill. "What the hell was that?" He thought, "God, that piss smelled so damn good...Wait, no it didn't! I can't believe I almost drank that shit!" He hefted himself up using a towel rack for support, and waddled into the kitchen.

Mike bent down on the ground to find the note, but it was so messy, and he didn't really remember where he had thrown it. Annoyed, he sat down at the table and noticed a new sheet of paper on top of an old pizza box. He picked up the paper and recognized the script from the night before. He was about to read it when another aroma caught his nose. It was coming from the pizza box. He set down the note and lifted the lid. Inside were a few old pieces of pizza. When he saw them, Mike was overcome by a ravenous hunger, and he grabbed a slice and stuffed half of it in his mouth. Even though it was half a week old, Mike was in heaven. As he finished off the slice and moved onto another from the box, he read the new note:

Dear Mike, the pig,

Yes, that's what you are now. A pig. Since you can't seem to control your lusts, I thought I would give you a life that would allow you to exercise them without restraint. I'm sure by now you've noticed most of your modifications, but there are a few more I want to clue you in on. First, you are now gay. No more women for you anymore. Second, you are now a total bottom. The only thing that can truly satisfy your sexual lust is servicing another man, and the meaner, the better. I hope you enjoy your new life, I think it suits you. But, then again, you might disagree. So, let's see if you can prove me wrong. If you show me that you have the self-control to go for 24 hours after reading this letter without an orgasm, then all of your changes will reverse, and you'll never hear from me again.

Good luck Mike, you'll need it. The Wizard

Mike read through the note again as he finished off the first pizza box, and opened up another one. He grabbed another slice, took a bite, and suddenly realized what he had been eating. He dropped the note and ran towards the bathroom, where he puked up everything. He flushed the toilet again, and went back out to the kitchen to get the note. The smells of the room kept tempting him, and he felt himself getting hungrier and hungrier. He grabbed the note and waddled back into his room. The smell faded, and he felt his hunger decrease a little. He reread the note, and then set it on the bed next to him. The note had actually helped calm him down, now that he knew there was a way to reverse his transformation. All he had to do was wait 24 hours, and he'd be back to normal. And since it was a Sunday, he didn't have practice or anything, so he didn't have to worry about that either. All he had to do was wait. His stomach rumbled, and he felt the hunger returning. He desperately needed something to eat, but there wasn't any food in the house, and he wasn't going to go shopping or call for a pizza looking like this. The aroma was calling him, and resigned to the fact that it probably wouldn't kill him, he returned to the kitchen.

As soon as he entered, Mike went into a trance, eating everything he could find, no matter what condition it was in, and he loved it all. Everything tasted good, and with every bite, he felt like he could eat even more, but after an hour of gorging, his stomach finally told him that it was full. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was a mess. His hands were covered with grease, as was his face. He had toppings all up and down the front of him. Disgusted with himself, he went into the bathroom to take a shower. With the water started, Mike pulled out the scale and weighed himself out of curiosity. The needle stopped at 260 pounds. He looked at himself in the mirror, and saw that a his face looked a little chubbier after his feeding, and that he now had a pronounced double chin covering his almost invisible neck. The tattoo on his stomach had changed as well, and now read "DIRTY PIG." He was a little freaked out by the new change, but figured things couldn't get much worse than they already were.

Steam was pouring from the shower, and Mike went to get in but stopped when he saw the stream of water. His knees began shaking, and he couldn't even bring himself to touch it with a finger. He closed the curtain and sat down on the toilet, trying to get control over his body. "It's just water," he thought, but he couldn't get rid of the ball of fear in his throat. He stood up, and hesitantly stuck his hand under the water. The anxiety increased, but Mike pushed against the fear, and climbed into the shower. He washed himself down as quickly as possible, resisting the urge to puke from the water touching him. He briefly considered soap, but the fear swept over him so hard at the thought that his knees almost buckled. When most of the grease was off, he climbed out and toweled off, slowly recovering from the fear. When he was confident that his legs would support him, he went back into his bedroom to lie down.

He walked over to the bed and saw another piece of paper beside the note from the morning. He reached over the bed and picked it up, reading the new message:

Dear Mike, the dirty pig,

If you're going to make a mess of yourself and love it, then there's no reason why you should enjoy being a clean pig anymore. From now on you will be deathly afraid water and soap, so get used to being dirty. I'm sure you'll learn to love it.

The Wizard

P.S. In case you feel the urge to leave, I've changed your wardrobe to better suit your new persona.

"Like I'd leave looking like this," he thought as he crumpled up the letter and looked at the clock. It was 11, only two hours had passed. He lay back on the bed and tried to get comfortable with his new bulk. Sleep evaded him however, and his thoughts kept returning to the wizard and how much Mike wanted to find the guy and beat his face in. Plus, he felt uncomfortably clean, and had to resist the urge to go find some dirt to roll around in so he would feel better. Just as he was about to doze off, a new aroma hit Mike.

It wasn't food, and it smelled even better. He got up and started sniffing around for the musky scent. His search led him to his gym bag, and when he opened it, the smell poured over him, He stuck his head in, and breathed deep. He found that his cock was painfully hard, and he began stroking it with one hand as he pulled out his jockstrap. He put it to his nose, finding it was the most satisfying thing he'd ever smelled. His cock began to pulse, and he jacked harder. He draped the jock over his face so he could use his other hand to play with a ringed nipple. He was about to shoot, when he realized what he was doing. He threw the jockstrap away from him, and held off his orgasm. He took a few deep breaths and his dick began to calm down, although he could still smell the jock in the hallway where he had thrown it. And that smell was being joined by many others from his room, and his cock began to twitch again. He realized that he didn't have a choice. If he didn't want to get lost in lust, he would have to leave. Trying to ignore the growing smells, he went to his closet to see what he could wear.

He opened the door, and saw that it was almost completely empty. All of his designer shirts and pants had disappeared, and had been replaced by a couple pairs of ragged jeans and a few stained and stretched wife beaters. He picked up one of the shirts, and saw that almost all of it was a faded yellow, with spots of darker colors mixed in. The jeans were just as bad, with shit stains up the ass crack, and all sorts of stains down the front. The one item hanging up was a beaten leather jacket. He didn't see any underwear, and knew that none of his old clothes left on the floor would fit him. Also inside was a pair of engineer boots with two ragged socks sticking out of them. He dragged out his new clothes and put them on, stopping only to take a whiff of the socks before sliding them on his feet. After buckling on the boots, he stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. A simple-minded skinhead thug looked back. The wife beater was stretched low by his gut, which hung over his jeans by a good inch. While he felt like a freak with the shaved head and piercings, at least the jacket covered most of his tattoos, although his wristbands were still visible. The smells around him were getting stronger, and he quickly grabbed his keys and wallet before walking out of the apartment, taking a small sniff of his jockstrap as he walked out.

Mike was thankful no one saw him leave his apartment, because they probably would have called the cops. He saw that his car was still there, so he walked over and tried to climb in, but couldn't fit. He pushed the seat back as far as he could, and plopped behind the wheel. He shut the door, and pulled out of the apartment complex.

It wasn't until after he turned onto the road that he realized that he had no idea where he was going. He had filled up the night before, so he had close to a full tank, but he wasn't sure how much he could spend. At a stoplight, he pulled out his wallet and took a look. In it was a driver's license, and the picture and stats changed to match his new body. He was surprised to see that his height was only 5'11. Somehow he had lost four inches. His new weight was listed as 265. The man in the picture wasn't smiling, making it look more like a prison mug shot than a license photo. All of his credit cards were gone, but he still had about a hundred dollars in cash, plenty to keep him going for a while. He decided to just drive, and see where he ended up. His thoughts turned towards discovering who exactly the Wizard was. None of the notes had given very many clues, he was still struggling with believing in magic, but there was no other explanation for his sudden transformation. Mike figured it was someone who he had teased or beaten up, but there were so many targets...how could he be expected to remember every single one? He went through the most memorable ones in his head, "There was Little Willy, but he left a year ago. And that new Asian kid, but he can't even speak English, let alone write it. Or maybe that fag my friends and I forced to drink out of the toilet last week. God that sure was hot. I would love to get down on my knees and drink the water from a toilet--Shit why am I thinking about toilet water!"

Mike stopped himself from reaching for his now rock hard dick which was poking him in the belly and refocused on driving. Somewhere along the line he had turned onto the freeway and was now outside the town. He drove for another hour or so, trying to avoid thinking about his transformation or the Wizard. Eventually, his new belly pressing down on his bladder was making him worry about pissing his pants, although he was more worried about the voice in the back of his mind that was telling him that pissing his pants might be hot. He saw a sign for a rest area up ahead, and pulled off.

He parked the car, and was glad that aside from a few trucks, the area was pretty empty. Behind him, a biker pulled into the lot as well, and Mike found himself staring. The biker was tall and heavily muscled, with a thick black beard. He was wearing a leather vest and chaps, with thick, hairy forearms covered in tattoos coming out of his black t-shirt. The biker parked, pulled off his helmet and began fiddling with his bike. Mike couldn't help imagining the biker bending him over the bike and fucking him up the ass. Mike tore his eyes away and noticed he had been rubbing his cock through the jeans, which was again hard. He got out of the car and walked over to the restroom as fast as he could, wanting to piss and then get back on the road.

The restroom smelled of piss and shit, and Mike was paralyzed after he stepped through the door. He walked up to a urinal, and pulled out his rock hard cock, trying to calm down enough so that he could piss and leave. The door swung open behind him, and Mike heard the clack of boots on the concrete floor. The biker from outside stepped up to the urinal next to him, pulled out his dick, and began to piss a heavy stream of yellow. The stench hit Mike, and all he could do was watch the biker piss and admire his huge dick and yellow stream. The biker saw him gaping, stopped and turned towards Mike. "Enjoying the show, pig?" He said, waving his dick in Mike's direction, "How about you help me out?"

Mike's knees gave way and he knelt on the ground in front of the biker. The biker's cock was dirty, the foreskin covered in cheese but he wrapped his mouth around the biker's cock eagerly. The stream started again, and Mike felt his taste buds light up, and he felt his cock grow rock hard. He sucked down as much piss as he could, but the stream eventually stopped, and he felt the cock harden in his mouth. The biker grabbed the back of Mike's head and thrust his cock deep into Mike's throat. He gagged, but the biker was merciless, pounding his cock in again and again. Mike felt himself loving it, relishing the smell of the biker's sweat, the taste of the biker's precum, and he found himself jacking his cock, powerless to stop himself. The biker suddenly pulled out and shot his load all over Mike's face. Mike, reveled in it, jacking his cock and playing with a nipple as the biker zipped up and left the room, saying on the way out, "That was fun pig, if you want some more, find me at Pigtown tonight. I'll be expecting you."

Mike took his other hand and began scooping up the cum and eating it, all the while jacking furiously. But as the rush began to fade, Mike realized what he was doing and took his hand off his cock before he could cum, but he couldn't resist finishing the cum the biker had shot on his face. When he felt like he could stand up again, Mike got up to leave, but saw his reflection first.

The first thing that caught his eye was the new tattoos on his head. Large tribal tattoos covered his crown and went all the way down his neck. His once smooth chin now had a wiry goatee covering it, and he saw that he had piercings in his lips, and that most of his previous piercings had increased in size. He took off the jacket and saw that he looked even fatter than before, his man tits stretching the wife beater even more. Both the nipple rings had grown, and weights were now attached, so that his nipples were stretched abnormally long. Through the tight wife beater, he saw that the writing on his stomach had changed. Curious, he pulled off his shirt and saw that his belly now read "DIRTY PISS PIG." In addition, across the top of his chest now read "PISS ME." He turned around to look at his back, and saw that it too was covered in tattoos, some of them pictures of fat pigs being pissed on or fucked. Words also crossed his upper back reading, "BIKER SLAVE." He pulled out his driver's license and saw that he now weighed 300 pounds and had shrunk another two inches to five foot nine He was getting ready to pull his shirt back on when the door swung open.

Mike swung around to see a trucker step through the door. Mike found himself looking up at the man even though from his old height they probably would have been level. The trucker had a long unwashed beard and a large gut with a cigar planted in the corner of his mouth. He looked Mike up and down, "Dirty piss pig eh? Well, then I suppose you wouldn't mind a drink would you?"

The trucker pulled out his cock, and Mike, feeling the lust build up again, dropped to his knees and got ready to take the dick into his mouth, but when he got close, the trucker pushed him away, "A scum mouth like yours isn't good enough for my dick, pig." He let out a stream that hit Mike right in the face. Mike opened his mouth to try and catch it, but the trucker kept moving, soaking him and his clothes instead. When the trucker finished, Mike found himself licking the piss up off the ground before it could run into the drain.

"My my my, you are a dirty pig. So pig, would you like me to cram my dick up your ass? Would you like that?"

Mike looked up and replied, "Yeah, fuck me."

The trucker stepped forward and kicked Mike in the gut, "That's sir to you pig!"

"Ye...Yes sir," Mike wheezed as the trucker laughed.

"Well get up pig, and let's go have some fun." The trucker opened the door and left. Mike scrambled up, grabbed his shirt and jacket and followed the trucker out.

The trucker was waiting by a truck, and Mike waddled as fast as he could. He briefly considered why he was doing this, and why he wasn't running away, but the voice of reason was quickly overpowered by the voice of lust. The trucker opened the door to the condo behind his trailer, and Mike climbed in after him.

"Strip pig." The trucker said.

"Yes sir." Mike quickly took off his shirt and dropped his pants. Released from its bonds, he was amazed how fat he had become since only that morning. The trucker took a long draw on his cigar and drew Mike into a smoky kiss. He found his cock growing harder as they passed the smoke back and forth.

The trucker broke the kiss and shoved Mike onto the bed. "Get on there pig, I need to open you up."

Mike crawled onto the bed, and he felt the trucker push a finger up his ass. He moaned loudly at the invasion; it was the most powerful emotion he had ever felt. His dick became even harder, and he backed his ass onto the trucker's finger. The trucker quickly moved up to four fingers, and with every addition, the feeling in Mike's ass became stronger. Then the trucker without warning, shoved in his fist and buried half of his forearm in Mike's ass. Mike howled from the pain of the intrusion and the pleasure coursing through his body as the fist pummeled his prostate. "Yeah pig, you're loving this aren't you? You love my fist up in your ass? You're nothing but a dirty slut, Aren't you?"

"Yes Sir! Fist me sir!" Mike yelled. The trucker's hand went in deeper.

"You're ass is wide open now pig. You ready for my cock?"

"Yes sir."

The trucker pulled his arm out of Mike's ass. He was surprised to miss the feeling of fullness. The trucker held out his arm, slimy with Mike's shit and held it out to him, "Clean off my arm and I'll be glad to fuck you."

Mike grabbed the man's arm and started licking up his own shit. He found that he was hungry again and the shit tasted better than anything he had ever had before. He cleaned every area, very careful to eat everything, even digging under the trucker's nails. When he finished, the trucker pulled out his dick. It was the largest dick Mike had ever seen, close to eight or nine inches. His asshole twitched with anticipation. "Better lube this up pig, get it nice and wet."

Mike went down on the dick, trying to swallow as much as possible. He heard the trucker moan and redoubled his efforts. After a few minutes, the trucker pulled Mike off the dick.

"You're a natural born cocksucker pig. Now get back on the bed so I can fuck you. I want you on your back this time."

Mike laid down and lifted his legs up into the air. The trucker grabbed his ankles and lined up his cock. With one swift thrust, he penetrated Mike's ass all of the way to the hilt. Mike groaned and he felt his cock throb, though he could no longer see it over the rise of his gut. The trucker looked down and saw Mike's cock, "You call that a dick, pig? That little four inch thing? That's nowhere near a dick. You're not even a pig are you? You're a sow! I'm ramming my huge dick into your little sow pussy and you're loving it aren't ya?"

Mike found himself grunting and snorting with approval as the trucker pounded harder and faster. With a mighty yell, the trucker came into Mike's ass. As he felt the cock in his ass throb, he felt his own dick pulse close to orgasm, the only thing that stopped him was when the trucker grabbed onto his balls and squeezing, "Oh no, you little sow. No cumming for you. You're not worthy of an orgasm." He pulled his dick out, "Get over here and clean off my dick."

Mike eagerly got down on the floor and cleaned off the truckers cock, loving the taste of his ass and the truckers cum. He could feel the trucker's load dribbling down his legs. Even if he tried to hold it in, he couldn't get his asshole to close all of the way.

When the dick was clean the trucker opened the door to the condo and booted Mike onto the ground naked, "Thanks for the fuck pig. Here's an extra treat for you." He started pissing on Mike, who turned around and tried to catch the stream in his mouth. The trucker laughed and threw Mike's clothes out before slamming the door shut. It was now late afternoon, and the rest area was still empty. Mike threw on his pants and headed back into the washroom to empty his dripping ass.

He entered one of the stalls, grateful that the room was empty. His head was starting to clear a little, and he finally began to comprehend the enormity of his two sexual encounters. Not only had he given a guy a blowjob, but also he had been doused in piss three times, been fisted and fucked, and ate his own shit off a man's arm and dick. But the part that scared him the most was that he had loved every moment of it. He emptied the massive load of cum into the toilet and flushed it before he felt compelled to eat it too. He got up and walked to the mirror to take a look at himself. He wasn't surprised to see that he had changed again.

His forehead had seven, two-inch spikes jutting out from where his hairline had once been. The goatee had become a full beard of greasy black hair, long and full of tangles. His face looked a different too, and it took him a little while to figure out what. His eyebrows had grown together into one and his brow had become more pronounced. His nose looked like it had been broken a few times, as it was now more of a bulbous mass. The tip had been pushed up so that his nostrils were visible. The effect reminded him of a pig's snout.

Of course, he had gotten fatter as well. Checking his driver's license, he was now 340 pounds and had lost two more inches, bringing him to five foot seven. Turning around he saw more tattoos had been added to his back. Across the back of his neck read, "FIST PIG," and he saw something odd on his ass. When he lowered his pants to check it, he saw that what had once been an arrow was now a fist and forearm with "Enter Here," printed below it. Exhausted, he went back out to his car and drove home.

He snuck back into his apartment without anyone seeing him and locked the door behind him. The aromas hit him at once. The smells of sweat, sex and food sent Mike's nose and dick into madness. He concentrated, and managed to get the urges under control, and walked into the apartment. On the table he noticed a new sheet of paper. He hurried over and picked it up.

Dear Mike, the dirty piss & fist pig,

I see that you enjoyed your time outside. Those two performances were quite spectacular; I enjoyed watching them. Three close calls so far, and you're only halfway through. Not very heartening, you're going to have to keep better control over yourself for the next twelve hours if you want to reverse this. But after watching your performances today, I realized that you need a name worthy of your status. So from now on, your name will be Pig. And I don't think a guy named Pig would be going to college, he sounds more like someone who dropped out after the fifth grade.

Enjoy yourself, The Wizard

After finishing the letter, a fierce headache suddenly came upon Mike. He sat down in a chair and held his pounding head until the pain subsided. When he could open his eyes, Pig felt different, although he couldn't really pin his finger down on what. For some reason, he had this feeling that his name was different, but he had always been Pig, so that didn't make any sense. His stomach growled, so Pig opened a nearby pizza box and started eating a slice. For some reason, he also thought that he had been in college, but that was silly too. The last class he had taken was back in elementary school before he ran away from home. He hadn't paid much attention, math and English had never been that important to him.

He took another bite of pizza, and tried to read the piece of paper in front of him, but he didn't know most of the words. It was for some guy named Mike, but he didn't know anyone by that name. Or had he? Pig shook his head trying to remember. Hadn't there been a Mike who played football or something at a college? Something clicked, and Pig remembered that he had been a college student who played football last night, but he had no memory of ever being "Mike," he had always been Pig. But for some reason, Pig knew that he shouldn't cum, even if he desperately wanted to, because if he did, he'd never be Mike again. Even if he hadn't ever been Mike because he had always been Pig. All of this thinking was giving Pig another headache, so he decided to forget about it.

Pig picked up another piece of pizza and bit into it. A brief thought flickered across his mind that he shouldn't be eating week old pizza, but it tasted so good, and there was no reason to waste good food. Pig finished the piece and wandered towards his bedroom. On the way he picked up a jockstrap and sniffed it. In the room, he took a look at himself in the mirror. He looked hot with all of his piercings. He took another whiff from the jockstrap, and pulled out his cock. It was only three inches long, and so heavily pierced that he had trouble getting hard at times, but it still functioned most of the time. He draped the jock over his face and stroked faster while playing with one of his nipples. The stretching and pumping had been working great--his nipples were already oclose to an inch long.

He was getting close to an orgasm when he remembered that he's not supposed to cum. Reluctantly he put away his cock and the jockstrap, but he still felt horny. Then he remembered that the biker he had met at the rest area had said something about meeting him at Pigtown tonight. He had heard of the bar before, a gay club nestled in the harbor district where men go to find dirty sex. To Pig, it sounded like a great place for some late night fun. He thought about changing out of his still piss sodden clothes, but decided to not bother. He'd probably just get dirty again. Pig found himself getting hard at the thought. Stopping in the kitchen for another piece of pizza, Pig squeezed into his car and drove off.

Since it was a Sunday night, the club was pretty slow. Pig entered through the doorway. The main room was dark, and everything looked wonderfully dirty. A few men in leather were chatting at the bar, with other men kneeling beside them, silent. A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and Pig turned around to see the biker behind him. "So Pig, you came after all. I was starting to worry that you might turn down my invitation." The biker pulled Pig into a rough kiss and played with one of Pig's nipples. He felt his dick get hard as the biker thrust his tongue deep into his mouth. The biker broke the kiss and said, "Let's go into the backroom where we can have some fun Pig."

"Yes sir," Pig responded, and followed him into the backroom.

The backroom was even dimmer. As his eyes adjusted, Pig could see a few other couples and groups around the room. Most were using slings, one man was in a bathtub being pissed on. The biker slapped Pig to get his attention. "Listen Pig, from now on you call me Master. I own you. Now get down on your knees and be my urinal, and don't spill any."

Pig dropped and opened his mouth. His master started pissing and Pig swallowed it all.

"Now strip and get into the sling." Pig hurried to comply, although he needed a boost to get into the sling because he had a hard time lifting his large body.

The biker fastened some ankle and wrist bracelets onto pig, and then attached then to the chains on the sling. He took a finger and began to tease Pig's asshole. He moaned and tried to push himself onto the finger, but the Biker refused to enter. "You want me in you Pig?"

"Yes Master!"

The biker took his hand and pushed. While Pig's hole was still loose from his earlier fisting, Pig still groaned as he felt the fist enter him, but as the biker hit his prostate, Pig began to grunt and snort with pleasure. "Yeah grunt like the dirty pig you are. Nothing but a fat pig with no self-control. If somebody wanted to piss all over you in the street you'd do it wouldn't you? Cause you're nothing but a nasty pig, and you love it."

And as the biker said it, Pig began to realize the truth behind his words. He didn't have any self-control. In fact he didn't have any control at all anymore. But that wasn't a bad thing, he loved it. He loved being a nasty pig. The biker, his Master, fisted harder.

"What are you?"

"I'm you're pig, Master!"

"And what don't you have?"

"Control Master!" Pig felt an orgasm approaching, "Master...Master I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah you are Pig, because you're nothing but a slut with no control. And how do you feel about being my pig slave with no control?"

"I *grunt* I love it!" With a final squeal, Pig shot his load all over his stomach. As he did, he realized that all he had ever wanted was to be a nasty pig slave. He loved eating piss, shit and cum, and being fisted, especially by his Master. And he adored his Master for showing him his place in life as a dirty pig slave.

And so, Mike is gone forever. Good riddance I say. Is it true you ask? Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. Just remember, don't get too used to control, because you never know when you might lose it.