Day 2 - Part 2

My master opened the door and I began to tremble in his gaze. I want more

than anything to please him, to be his pussyboy, to serve his needs. He

said, 'Let's take a look at you cuntlips. Turn around.'

As I turned he gave me instructions, 'Arms up! Let's see those pits. OK.

They look OK. Keep turning. Come on boy stand up straight! I need to see

that definition. Now open your pussymouth. I want to see that mancock

sucker. Is it ready for a busy evening? Keep breathing, keep breathing,

and keep your shoulders back! Now bend and present. Let's have a look at

your cunthole. It had better be spotless. Come on open it up.'

I did my very best to follow my master's instructions. I stood up

straight. I turned around. I sucked in my gut. I kept my elbows properly

bent. I made a full pussyboy display of my pits. and I prayed that I wasn't

sweating. If my pits were wet my master might think I hadn't dried myself

properly..he didn't say anything. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I

bent at the waist and pushed out my pussyhole. I hope it's perfectly

smooth. Fuck, did I check my cumbox with my fingers? I remember shaving,

but did I double check. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. One errant hair, one bit of

stubble and I'd be on my belly all night. But thankfully my master said

nothing. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. If I can just measure up. If

I can only please my master I will be so happy. It would be the best day of

my life if I could make my master smile.

'OK fuckface we are off to Doctor John. Come on let's get a move on. We

have a lot to do.'

My heart began to pound, 'Doctor John master, sir? We are going to see Dr.

John. Why master? Why are we going to see Doctor John?' Oh god. Oh god.

Oh god. Oh god. Why were we going to see the doctor? My temples were


'Listen shithead, if I want you to know your master's business I will tell

you. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you questioning me boy? Are you

trying to piss me off?'

'No sir master, no sir, noosir. I'm just a dumb cuntboy. I am stupid and

thick and I don't understand much, but master, sir I'm afraid. Master I am

so scared.'

He looked at me, 'Stop being a moronic little-girl pussyboy. You belong to

me body and soul; head to foot, pussymouth to cunthole; lock, stock and

barrel. Whatever I do, I do for your own good. Now stop your sniveling.

We'll be in the clinic in a minute and you will know what you need to know,

when you need to know it.'

I was totally confused. My master was trying to carry on a conversation

with me and that's just impossible. My brain is the size of a chick pea, my

head is thick as a post and I'm dumb as an ox, so I didn't understand most

of what he said..but his tone seemed steady. I don't think he was angry

with me. I sure wish I could understand the words he uses. I hate being so

stupid and difficult and recalcitrant and intransigent and refractory and

intractable and just plain dumb. Why can't I ascertain and absorb the

simplest subtext in my master's talks with me?

When we got to the clinic my master said, 'Listen to me asswipe, I'm going

to put this blindfold on you so you can not see what the doctor is about to

do to you. That way you won't be so scared. If you can't see what he's

about to do to you, how can it possibly scare you?'

I tried so hard to understand what my master was saying. I knew he was

right. He is always right. I am so lucky to have him to tell me what to do.

I am so fortunate. I heard what he said but I got frightened anyway, and

when he tied the bandana around my eyes and I couldn't see anything I got

even more terrified. Master touched my chin with his finger and I almost

jumped out of my skin. I could hear my master and Doctor John laughing.

Hands were on me, touching me. Someone was taking off my vest. Someone was

pulling my hands behind my back. Someone was tying my hands together. Oh

Jesus, what are they going to do? I was shaking all over. My fear kept

rising. The room was cold and that seemed to magnify ever sensation.

Someone blew in my ear and I nearly fell over..more laughter. I was led to

a post and I could feel them securing my feet and my waist and my forehead

with cording around the post. Shit, I couldn't move. What was Doctor John

going to do to me? What was he going to do? I could feel the sweat leaking

from my pits and rolling down my sides. The room was cold and I was

perspiring like a bitch in heat. Oh god what were they talking about? What

the hell was Doctor John going to do to me? Someone took hold of my

nipples; fingers began to squeeze and pull and pinch them. My boycock shot

to attention and started to hurt. My boypussy began to vibrate. The blood

was pulsing in my temples; sweat was pouring down my chest; my ears began to

ring; my nips were almost as hard as my kidprick which began to spooge. Oh

no, oh no, oh no. I still had the kilt on; the kilt my master gave me to

wear and I was leaking boysauce all over the inside. I was so hard and I

was caught up in the material of the kilt. I could feel the warm dicksnot

drooling out my boydick hole, soaking into the material and sliding down my

shaft to my pubes. Shit, shit, shit I was making a mess.a big mess. My

master was going to be so annoyed. Why couldn't I control myself? Why was

I so worthless? Why was I such a useless pussyslave cunthole?

And the more they pulled and tugged and pinched my boy titties the harder

they got. I began to moan. I couldn't help it. The need was rising in my

guts. My cunthole was moving in and out, opening and closing, making its

own pussylube and I was beginning to writhe. I was so hot, so hot, so hot.

Jesus god I need my master's mancock in my cuntbox, my whore hole felt so

damn empty as its muscles squeezed and released, squeezed and released. My

hips began to gyrate and I fucked the air.more laughter. The wool material

of the kilt was rough against my pricktip. It was abrading my glans and

rubbing hard against my pisslips. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. I needed to

speak. I needed to beg my master to please fuck my useless boypussy. I

needed him to dick me hard and dick me deep. I needed him to be rough, to

plow my cunthole till I screamed and begged him to come in my guts. My

boycock was pumping and pumping. If my master said the word I could shoot

for hours. I could cum till I was dry. I could cum till I passed out from

the heat, cum till I was empty. I said, 'Please fuck me master. Please cum

in my mouth; cum on my face, cum in my cunthole, cum on my lips, and rub

your mancream all over my useless body. Please master let me worship at

your mancock; let me take it in my pussy mouth; let me suck your balls and

lick your ass. Please master fuck me. Please.'

I could hear them laughing and talking as I continued to plead and my body

kept aching...

'C are you certain he can't understand a single word we say to each other?'

'John he doesn't recognize the language unless I tell him to. I just spent

an hour testing and reinforcing his current programming. Unless I cue him

he is locked up inside his own world, obsessing over each and every detail

of his physical being. I've been control for a long time.'

'Well C you have to admit it's kind of a shame to mess with this kind of

perfection. This candidate, his appearance, my god the first time I saw him

I had to stop dead in my tracks and look at him again. I know people say

they do double-takes all the time, but I had never done it, and certainly

not with a guy.'

'Be careful John that sounded homophobic.'

'Fuck no. Don't be an idiot. It's just that I'm around 'ideal male

physical forms' all day long. We are hip deep in rock hard bodies and movie

star faces, but this kid. It's like he has an aura around him. He's the

best I've seen in....ten years'

'Have you even been here ten years?'

'Twelve years last Wednesday. I expected a cake and got squat.'

'I keep forgetting that you graduated medical school when you were..what

eight years old?'

'Yeah C, that's very funny. Just because I can't grow a nifty little goatee

you're never going to stop ribbing me. I am thirty six. I can't help it I

have the angelic face of a nubile teenager... Really C, Cunningham is

different. I mean talk about Goldie Locks, the way his platinum hair frames

his face, that square jaw. His torso is perfect; I'd give anything for the

definition in his pectorals and that crevice that runs down the center of

his abdomen. I've never been a bear freak but he has the nicest dusting on

his chest and I'm jealous of the way it's so naturally neat. It looks like

you spend hours trimming it. I can understand why you let him keep it.

Still, I've seen beauty before, but there's something else, something more

in this kid; if there is such a thing as charisma this guy exudes it. I've

just never seen it before, not all in one neat, tight, bubble-butted

package...and speaking of packages..'

'Enough John! We have work to do. This procedure, a physical alteration is

necessary for his progress. I assume you've read all my them

all..all the way from beginning to end?'

'Yeah sure. Hey, I took an oath. I can write prescriptions and push nurses

around. I've read it all and I agree with your conclusions..but even if I

wasn't certain I would always defer to your judgment. You wrote the fucking

book on MC.'

'Maybe not the whole book...By the way have you talked to your friend

Roberto? Someone needs to rein him in. The way he's playing with his

candidate.the Hispanic boysinger; he's playing with fire. As a field

controller he asked for the added responsibility of carrying on the

after-training of a subject in public. He swore he could deal with all the

intricacies and inevitable problems. Now he has the kid lusting after him

in every new song. People listen to those lyrics. I'm surprised the press

hasn't picked up on it and raised the issue of the kid's true sexuality. We

always toy with a subject's feelings and emotions, it's part of the program.

Christ, when we succeed and we always do, our subjects worship their

controllers, but Roberto is making the game far too public. It could blow

up in his face.'

'I know C, but it's happened before and it will happen again. We can deal

with it regardless.'

'John, that attitude is too cavalier. There's a first time for everything

even exposure. It's a stretch but it's possible. We don't control the

entire world, just the important parts,'

'If you ask me C, Roberto is far too invested in this one. I think he's in

love with the kid. He told me that the first time he had the boy sing to

him in public and the kid stuck out his lower lip and made his voice quiver;

Roberto said he came in his pants. That's a controller with a crush. But I

've got to admit, the boy is awfully cute, those dark eyes, that honey brown

skin, the way he pouts. Watching him crawl around on his stomach, begging

to lick my balls, and swallow my load.I almost came in my pants.'

'Look John, I know Roberto is a friend of yours. I know you were candidates

together; so you should talk to him. At this stage in his career a

reassignment could ruin him. It would be a shame, and I do mean shame.'

'OK C, I'll call him.'............

I could hear them laughing and talking as I continued to plead and my body

kept aching. After fifteen or twenty minutes my boynips were swollen and

sore. They were hurting like hell, but I kept writhing and gyrating and

fucking the air, and drooling everywhere. I could tell the front of my kilt

was soaked with boygoop. The inside was cold and slimy. There was dicksnot

drooling down the insides of my legs and dripping off my boynuts.

Then the fingers stopped torturing my boytitties for a second. and then they

were putting something hard and very, very cold on them. I could feel

liquid dripping off my nips. They were rubbing them with ice! Why were

Doctor John and my master rubbing my kidtits with ice?

Master said, 'Now shithead Dr. John is going to pierce your pussyboy nips,

and before you start with a thousand questions. He's doing it because it

pleases me. Not a word! I will tell you what he is going to do. If you

know what he's going to do you can't possibly be frightened. In a minute

Dr. John is going to very slowly; push a surgical spike through your right

boytit. Everyone knows if you do it slowly it will hurt a lot less. When

he's finished with your right nip he'll do your left one. And boy I do not

want you to budge..not an inch. Dr. John could really hurt you if you

move.So you won't! And not a sound. I want my cumdump to be as quiet as a

little, teensy, tiny mouse. Now, not a word, not a move, not a sound. Nod

if you understand me, or are you so thick that I have to explain this some


Before I thought better of it I asked my master, 'Please master sir, what is

a surgical spike? Please sir, I am very stupid, what is a surgical SPIKE?'

My master grabbed my boytit and pulled it out as far as it would stretch.

He moved very, very close to my face..his scent was overwhelming. I almost

came. Oh Jesus, he smells so good. My dick jumped, and pulsed and hurt

like hell. It was so engorged, so full. My tiny boynuts were packed with

my much jiz, and I wanted so much to cum for my master. I wanted to

kiss his lips and tongue his balls and taste his mancream on my lips and

feel his giant cock fill my useless, worthless boycunt and shoot me full of

his mancream. Oh god how I love my master. He said, 'Not a word means not

a word. Yes, you bet you're stupid, dumb as an ox, thick as a post, but I

know you understand what is means when your MASTER COMMANDS YOU TO BE


I couldn't help myself. I was wretched. HE WAS DISAPPOINTED IN ME...AGAIN.

And the tears erupted from my eyes and wet my blindfold. I tried to cry

quietly, but I couldn't, I was too miserable and sad, and so very sorry. I

wanted; I needed to fall at my master's feet and plead for his pardon. I

needed to be punished, and punished, and punished till I could please him

and learn to obey.

'Enough pussyslave! That is enough. Tell you what, I will answer your

question but that will be the end of it. No more shit from you. No more

disobedience. From now on I expect perfection. AND STAND UP STRAIGHT!!

You're not supposed to be leaning on that post; you should be holding it

up.. Boy, a surgical spike is like a nail. Does that answer your question?'

I held my tongue, but in truth I was confused.

My master said, 'You may answer cuntlips.'

So I said, 'Master, sir, when you say that it a kind

it Oh I know. Master is a surgical spike like a a

needle doctors use to give us shots? Is that it master?'

He answered, 'I suppose you could say it's a bit like a needle...except..its

a lot bigger and not so sharp. There you have it shit head...And that's

enough. I will not allow you to destroy the rest of my evening with your

childish prattle. You have all the information you could possibly need.

You know every detail dickbreath. Now, we have detained Dr. John long

enough. I want you to nod your head. That means you understand and you

want the doctor to, better yet, it means that you are eager for

him to proceed. Go on boy; show me how glad you are to continue. NOD THAT


My brain was swimming with thoughts and questions, but I had to nod or my

master would be displeased. I had already failed him again and again. He

was already very annoyed with my I nodded. I was so scared. I

had to stay still, but my legs were beginning to vibrate and I didn't know

what to do. Seconds passed and the room was silent. I could feel the

presence of my master and Dr. John. I could hear them breathing and I could

smell the intoxicating scent that drifts off my master's flesh. They could

blindfold me in a room full of men and I'd know immediately if my master

were present by his magnificent scent. When it fills my nose it makes me

swoon. I felt some kind of pliars grab my boytit. Jesus, it hurt like

hell. I moaned. Fuck, shit, piss, I moaned.

Ssswatttt my master slapped my face hard. I felt my cheek fill with blood.

I didn't dare make another sound. More seconds went by. Then the pain

started..a small pinch at first that grew and grew into a head-splitting

sharp piercing ice cold stinging. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. I had to cry

out. I needed to cry out. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.

Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! You are killing me, but I tried to remain mute.

The skin gave way on the outer edge of my boynipple and the spike continued

to force its way into me relentlessly. Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Please

god, make them stop. Make them stop. MAKE THEM STOP!! I could feel the

sweat forming in my boypits, around my pussyhole, and under my kidballs. It

began to run down my sides, my legs and drip off my tiny boynuts. I was

flexing so hard, bearing down with so much force that I almost pissed

myself. Jesus no, please, please don't let me lose control. Oh fuck,

fuck, fuck hadn't I disappointed my master enough. No! No! No! I felt a

couple drops of pee leak out of my pisslips and run down my boyshaft toward

my balls. Oh please, please, please don't let my master notice. Pleeeze!

As my body shook a moan forced its way out of my guts. I wanted to scream

that it wasn't my fault; that it hadn't come from me; that my guts were

acting on their own, but before I could open my mouth my master slapped me

hard again. It felt good. It took my mind away from my boytitties for a

second. I hoped that my master would slap me again. Oh

fuck..fuck..fuck.the spike was pushing hard against the meat on the other

side of my boynip. OOOWWW. OOOWWWWEEEEE! It won't give way, its not

breaking through. The flesh won't let the spike through. I was in agony.

My knees wanted to buckle but I was bound tightly. I couldn't fall down if

I wanted to. I could feel my eyes rolling back into my head. AAwwww shit I

need to pass out. Please let me pass out. Oh please. Oh please. Oh

pleeeeeezzzze. Fuck..Fuck.Fuck it broke through. It felt like someone was

holding a flame to my poor kidnipple. Oh it hurt. Oh it hurt. Dr. John

let go of the spike and it fell against my chest dragging down my raped

boytittie. It felt like my nip was swelling up, blowing up like a balloon.

My master said, 'No John, get the larger ring, the one with the big silver

ball on it. Not that one either.the larger one to your right.'

Dr. John came back and before I could brace myself he pulled the spike out

of my boytittie. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. He was killing me. Before I

could react he grabbed my nip and pulled. Jesus, will it ever stop? Is

this going to last for fucking ever? As he held it tightly in his fingers

he yanked it forward. Oh Christ! Oh Jesus! Oh Dear GOOOOOOOOOD! He began

to force something else through the wound. I thought I was going to lose

it. My brain emptied. I couldn't think. I wouldn't have remembered my

name. I wouldn't have been able to speak. My mind was in the tip of my

boytit..and Dr. John kept pushing and forcing, and pushing and forcing, and

pushing and forcing. He was shoving the leading edge of the ring so hard

that his hand was shaking. It won't go in. It won't go in. It won't go

in. Fuck! Shit! Piss! It won't go in.STOP! STOP!! STOP!! STOP!!

STTTTTOOOOPPPPP ..It's not going to go in! IT WON'T GO IN! It just won't

go in. seconds became minutes; my whole body was heaving....and very, very,

very slowly the flesh began to give way and the invading steel began to

barge its way forward. Dr. John moved it in and around, in and around, in

and around.. for minutes, for hours, for days. Every millimeter was a lick

of fire, a whack with a hammer, till the circle of metal was all the way in

and it snapped shut. My boynip was thoroughly raped, through and through,

and the offending steel ring, the size of a basketball hoop was now a part

of me. When he let the awful, horrible, hateful thing go it dropped like a

stone; it felt like he had attached a brick to my kidtittie. It hurt like

fucking shit the way it dragged my whole boytit down toward my waist. I

must have looked so much more ridiculous. It's not as if I'm

not a train wreck inadequate tiny immature

insignificant boydick that is always sticking out and spooging like a leaky

faucet, my stupid unsymmetrical ass, my legs that are way too long for my

torso, my useless boypussy, my messy pits, my uneven elbows, my slouching

shoulders, the utter wretchedness of my WHOLE body. Everyone was going to

stare at me...point at me..laugh at me..even more than they already do. I

was now officially a freak; an ugly freak of nature, the twenty-first

century's Elephant man.

My master said, 'Here we go again shithead,' and Dr. John grabbed my left

tittie and the whole thing started over. My bladder gave way and boypiss

began to run out of my kiddick. It shot out and soaked the already sloppy

kilt. It spewed everywhere. I could feel the warm piss running against my

legs as it rained down like a tropical storm and drenched my beautiful,

brand new wool socks and filled my loafers. Oh fuck, Oh fuck, Oh fuck. I

wanted to throw myself at my master's feet. I wanted to plead for his

abuse, to beg for his immediate punishment. What I had done was

unforgivable, but before I could say a word the surgical spike broke through

my tittie skin and I blacked out.

I must have been out for a while. When I woke up I was lying on a couch.

The blindfold was gone. Christ my boytits were on fire! At the same time I

felt a gnawing pain in my mouth. I realized my mouth was slightly agape and

filled with thick boyspit which had leaked out and was all over my face and

neck. I opened my eyes and there was blood everywhere. Blood trails from

each of my nips to my waist. I was still wearing the kilt which was

saturated with every offending fluid filthy pussyslaves produce. As I

raised my head I could see the red tinged spittle all over my chest. Oh the

pain. Thick drying spit was all over me, my boypecs.... my tongue. Jesus,

there was something on my tongue. No wait a minute. There was something IN

MY TONGUE and it was huge and there were hard round balls, like a marbles,

one on top of my tongue and another one under my tongue. The pain was

inexorable. Everything was throbbing. The sharp pain was gone and in its

place were all kinds of new miseries, besides the pulsing in my mouth and my

chest, I was consumed by the dull ache pounding in the same places. I was a

fucking mess. As I struggled to pull myself up the voice in my head

returned and I was..............g o n e


Daily Progress Notes Re: J. Cunningham

Subject Cunningham has been in hibernation state for two weeks. The time

was needed for proper healing of his piercings. I used his down time for a

thorough debriefing and further coaching. I progressively reinforced his

various verbal triggers as well as the long list of physical cues he's been

trained to respond to. I repeated the fourth level of successive hypnotic

induction, the Walker series. I hope to have more success using the

techniques of reprogramming to address some of the goals we failed to

achieve with the first series. (refer to the session tapes and my notes for

a play by play) Let me just say that I am doing my best to isolate the

precise area a in this subject's psyche which continues to oppose full

acceptance and total indoctrination. (refer to Quarterly Report)

The results of his regularly scheduled physical exam were as expected of all

candidates. After a complete assessment (including a full panel of blood

work, urinalysis, an EKG, an EEG, a brain scan an MRI and a stress test),

Subject Cunningham is in the best condition of his life. His overall

results place him above the 99th percentile on the AMA's scale for healthy

men 18 to 25.

Parts of our psychological appraisal that require long interviews had to be

postponed while Subject Cunningham's tongue continued to heal. The special

treatments, the various drugs and topical ointments, developed in

conjunction with our partner labs and pharmaceutical companies show his rate

of healing at better than 4 times the norm. All incisions have closed and

in each case subsequent scarification is complete. The candidate can return

to all regular physical and psychological activities.

Using our ability to adjust his temporal sense when the subject is returned

to his conscious state he will believe that approximately 12 hours have

elapsed. I will induce in him the same degree of pain and healing he

perceived at his last moment of remembered consciousness. To that end he

was taken off all hypnotic drugs and pain meds at 12PM. (A few short years

ago the use of these drugs was held to be utterly superfluous. That's just

a comment, not an opinion...but we should review the decision).

We have assaulted the candidate's sexuality, his masculinity, his

self-confidence and sense of self (Wilson scale degree of disconnect. 7.86).

Those were the major ego components. Subject Cunningham's superego was much

easier to assail due to his weak ties to family and religion (Wilson scale

degree of disconnect. 9.7). As I have indicated many times we stand at odds

with this subject's massive intellect. You will recall that his actual IQ

number is difficult to assess using traditional tests (Stanford-Binet and

WAIS). For our purposes his intelligence places him beyond the 99th

percentile. In spite of that I am confident we can bump up his Wilson

score, ego portion, by at least 1.5 points. (For more precise information

refer to Prelim Evaluation and Quarterly Report.)

I am hopeful that something as simple as the piercings will serve to focus

the remainder of this subject's consciousness on his various transient

external sensory-involved struggles. If that succeeds it could prove to be

the exact stimulus that will cause him to transition. (Who said that every

difficult problem had to have a complicated solution?) If that is

accomplished it should put this candidate inexorably on a course that will

yield his total surrender of will. As always careful scrutiny and constant

surveillance is of the essence.



[email protected]


Rate Story Choose rating between 1 (worst) and 10 (best).

Bookmark and Share

blog comments powered by Disqus