City Analyst to Naked Property

You know I don't do happy endings.  If you haven't read City Analyst, you should do before reading this or it won't make much sense.

City Analyst remains the story most people ask me about.  I know it holds a special place for some and I have been inundated with requests to continue it.  I have never considered it because there was nowhere to go.

But a flash of inspiration and Christmas spirit maybe.  New Year is a time for new beginnings.
Enjoy... (And this really will be the end of it!)

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I guess the Human spirit endures.  When all appears lost we find a way.  Master Lewis became complacent.  He assumed that I was broken beyond any prospect of escape.  It's true he had taken everything from me.  My life, freedom and dignity was gone as his slave.  But when you have nothing, your mind slowly realises that you have nothing to lose.

And so it came to pass.  Left alone to scrub the floor naked as Master was out with his friends, I took my opportunity.  Finding the scraps of his clothes on his floor, I pulled them over my abused body as a man for the first time in years.  A hoodie, a pair of sweat pants.  Nothing more, - no underwear and barefoot - I escaped from slavery forever.  Through breaking a window, I stole into the darkness that night to seek my freedom.

The road was hard.  I ran and ran.  For weeks, I lived alone in the outdoors alone.  A frightened animal regaining my humanity.  Finding shelter, scraps of food wherever I could as I found quiet roads to get away from Lewis.  As far away as I could.  I stole a pair of training shoes from a garden, a shed provided me with tools to cut away my collar, my tongue piercing, snout ring and allowed me to release my cock from its prison.  Alone one night, I lay in a darkened barn and felt my cock explode with cum for the first time in years.

Freedom felt good.  The simple pleasure of freedom, and the dignity of making choices for myself.  Slowly I recovered and began to feel human again.  I knew I could never return to my former life, and could never reveal myself to him.  I  could only imagine how furious he was at my emancipation.  

My confidence remains shattered, my stutter remains.  I am nervous of people but I am working hard to rebuild a basic existence out here in the countryside.  With help, I found a small place to call my home and a new identity.  Far from the city.  With time, I rebuilt a small, meagre life of humility and self sufficiency.

I worked hard to become a man again.  I remain hairless but other than small signs that I was once a slave I now appear as a free man again.  My body remains toned and I eat only staple, simple food.  I appreciate the simple freedom of my life.  I build again.  I allow no one to get close to me.  I appreciate my independence now.  Alone in my home at night, I sit naked out of choice, and I have relearnt to sit on chairs, sleep in a bed and eat at a table instead of from a dog bowl.

Three years later, through working simple jobs, my savings allowed me to buy a small roadside cabin and - with hard work - I built a simple cafe.  I work seven days a week, serving travellers.  Mostly truck drivers and tradesmen.  A cafe menu of breakfast and lunch, it pays for my simple life and my cafe is popular, my customers loyal.  I am humble polite and have learnt to speak without the demeanour of a defeated slave.

I am happy.  I will never be a city bigshot again.  Material gain is of no interest to me now.  Slavery re-trained my brain and I have emerged the other side as a wholesome better man.
And so to the present.  I have my dignity back,  I have a sense of purpose again.  As the cafe closes on this Tuesday afternoon, I open the cash register and count my steady income.  Pocketing the day's profit, I prepare to cycle home to my small house.

Locking the front door, I enter the rest room.  It feels so good to be allowed a cock again, and - with a sigh of satisfaction - I let loose my piss in the single urinal before turning off the light.
Slowly I make my way down the 14 steps to my store room, located under the rest room.  I unlock the heavy padlock and switch on the light.

The bare brick cubicle sized room illuminates.  And I take in the sight before me with a smirk.  The large, clear thick plastic box attached to the far wall dominates the room, the plumbing pipe from the urinal above redirected into a hole at the top of the box.  The frantic, red eyed inhabitant of the box pleads at me with his sunken, desperate eyes.  Shaven and naked, his arms and legs are spread with small chains to the four corners of his upright plastic world.  He stands and shakes.  His naked body glistening with sweat and piss, his locked cock pathetic between his legs.
He shakes his head and cries.  The locked mask on his face hides any possibility of speech and I see the tube from the urinal above slowly releasing my piss into his opened mouth.   He has spent the day as a part of the plumbing as usual.  The drain for my urinal keeping him busy.  All piss from my loyal customers directed through his open mouth and through his body.  A fully functional urinal, day after day after day. His sole purpose to gulp down fresh man piss.

I will feed him tomorrow.  It's the only attention he ever gets from me now.  His life is to live alone in a box, as a urinal.  I stand before him and look into his eyes.  I smile triumphantly.  "Hope you enjoy the lingering taste of my piss overnight.  Night night Lewis.  See you tomorrow slave."

Turning out the light and locking the door, I enjoy the thought that he only ever sees me now.  For minutes every day.  Otherwise he exists alone in the darkness for my pleasure alone.  He has a new life now.  Pure and simple too.  Plenty of time to consider how he ever got to exist as a toilet.

Life is sweet now.