While traveling through the east coast, I stopped to see a friend who was having a small problem. It seems he had bought a pig from some guy in California, but when the kid arrived, he was most unsatisfactory. He was listless and did not suck or fuck with any enthusiasm. He did not respond to pain stimuli and just seemed totally fucked up and burned out. The pig was only sixteen and should have had lots of years of abuse ahead of him. So, my friend asked me to see what I could do.
Here is something of the cunt’s history, although we can’t be sure it is one hundred percent accurate. The dad was a typical drinker, fucker, all-around jock type. The stepfather took a belt to the pig’s ass when he was only three. The pig, whose former name was Alan and whose old name we will use here to avoid repeating the word pig repeatedly, was beaten almost daily. When the boy’s mother complained, she was beaten too.
His father started fucking the boy’s mouth when he was four, and Alan often had to lick his father’s prick clean after he had fucked the boy’s mother. He sometimes had his buddies over to watch TV, and Alan had to suck their dicks as well.
Things progressed from there. Alan’s father fucked him when he was six. His rectum tore, and Alan was taken to hospital where, of course, the damage to the boy was seen. His father was put in prison, but the mother blamed Alan. I guess she preferred a man who beat her to no man at all. Alan’s mom ignored him and took up with a black man who started to pimp her out.
The black man took one look at the sweet, blond-hair boy and his angelic little ass, and the cash register in his head rang. Well, why not, so Alan became a hustler at seven. He went to school sporadically, and by the time he was nine, he was seriously behind. Alan was not behind his cocksucking or getting fucked, though. He was turning into a real pro.
The pimp enjoyed making Alan fuck his own mother, which fucked the boy up mentally a bit. The pimp fucked Alan as well and passed him around to his black pals. Here things get hazy. It seems that this went on until Alan was about twelve when he ran away from the pimp. He wandered the streets of Los Angeles and was picked up by an older gentleman who was a sadist, who took Alan in and introduced him to pain.
Alan’s catalog of accomplishments quickly expanded to include: getting fucked by and sucking off dogs, tit torture, ball torture, catheters, fist fucking, burning, piercing, piss hole stretching, and, of course, toilet games. Alan became a full-time toilet for a bunch of guys, learning to drink piss and eat shit like a good little thirteen-year-old.
It seems there was a period of time when Alan was kept in a cage for nine months, only let out to be fucked, suck cock, or to be tortured. During this time, every single meal served to Alan was mixed with shit and piss. Alan was taken to a farm where he was made to mate with goats, pigs, dogs, and forced to suck off horses. He had to eat horseshit right off the stable floor to entertain customers.
By fourteen, his body stank permanently of shit. It gets in the pores, you know, and it’s hard to get rid of the smell. It fills the sweat. Alan had been fist fucked so brutally that his asshole required surgery from a private gay doctor who was into the scene himself.
Alan was sold to a Latino gang who used him as a toilet and cum dump and kept him locked in a basement. And then he was sold again to the guy who sold him to my friend.
The boy looked amazingly good considering all he had been through. The shit residue was cleaned out of in his system, and he smelled fresh. He was adorable, although his body was thin and somewhat battered, and it seems all the life had been fucked or tortured out of him. And this was my friend’s problem. How could he have any fun with the boy, if he could not get the pig to respond to humiliation, abuse, or torture? What fun is it to torment a kid who does not seem to care?
I said we had to make a few tests on the pig to see where he was at mentally and physically. We had to see if there was any level of pain that he would react to. His tits had been stretched out like sow titties, which was really cute. You know that I like sow tits on a teen, so stretched that he cannot even go out into public without getting stares, so, of course, we make him go out every chance we get. I started out by nailing Alan’s tits to a board.
I gave him five hours of extensive tit work, and although he chewed his lip as he winced and cried a bit, he did not respond enough to make it any fun. I put big nails right through his nipples, but the kid took it in stride. I then tried nailing his cockhead to a board as well. This got a little better reaction, but I was concerned that to get any fun from the boy that we would have to mutilate him, and this would certainly limit my friend’s activities.
I watched him writhe silently in pain, and for some strange reason, I just had to lean in and kiss his full young lips, and, lo and behold, he started to shake. His eyes opened. I realized that the one thing the boy was not used to was affection. He had been abused and tortured so consistently for such a long time, no one had shown him any affection. Now you and I know pain and affection can go hand in hand. You can build up a boy’s hopes and dreams with affection either real or faked, and then shatter those same hopes with withdrawing that affection. You can temper humiliation and abuse with gentleness and kindness, and by doing this, you can actually get a boy to want to please you by suffering.
I licked his face and slowly let my spit drop into his mouth. He tilted his head back to get the spit. I changed position slightly, so he would really have to stretch his nailed tits and dick head to reach the spit. He did, almost tearing his tits off.
I whispered in the pig’s ear, asking him if he wanted to suck my cock. His eyes glazed over, but he nodded his head. This was on Monday, and my friend said he had not had cock since Friday. The boy was used to sucking fifteen to twenty dicks a day. Getting off a cock addiction can be worse than heroin or cocaine.
I un-nailed the boy and let him drop to the floor. I handed him a butcher knife. I told him I would allow him to suck my dick if he cut his own cock off. With no hesitation at all, he brought the knife to his teenage dick. I stopped him just in time, but I had learned that the boy had been taught to follow orders, no matter how extreme. I also knew he had lost his will to live. This was the most fascinating case, so I asked my friend if I could take Alan home with me for some personal study and work. He said the boy was useless to him the way he was, so why not.
The pig is now in a cage in my home. I have several things I want to try. I need to find some way to get him to respond. The spark of affection was the closest thing to life I had seen, so I have been very gentle and very kind to him. I let him suck on my dick while I watch TV. He has very little enthusiasm but seems to like to suckle on it. If I could get even one more good solid pain session from him, knowing that I had thus finally drained him completely, that would at least be something. Is there anything I wonder, which would or could still humiliate or shame him? We shall have to see.