So sensual, spending a weekend on the farm.

The taxi from the station, up the dusty road. Rained hard yesterday. Lots of mud.

I get off and go through the gate, closing it behind me, and go up the track, reaching the white stone. Once there I can't be seen from off the property.

I strip off, putting everything human into the empty "overnight bag" I carried with me. I go down on all fours in the mud on the track, head down, just waiting.

I can smell the rain in the earth. It's not cold: the air is moist. It will rain again soon.

Before long I lie down in the mud, squirming my fat belly in it, rolling over and wriggling happily. Not as good as the wallow in my pen, the dirt is hard, it's only muddy here because of all the rain. But it's nice being naked fat pig outdoors, all muddy and dirty.

Then She comes, my human owner. She isn't angry I've got muddy already. She laughs and gives me a treat. She pumps some lube up my hole and pops in the pig tail.

She moves me up the track using a pig paddle. She guides me to the pen.

I trot inside. She smiles and leans over the wall to scratch my head. "Someday you're not going to want to leave, piggy," she says kindly. "And when that happens, I'll know." She goes away and leaves me alone in the pen.

This is where I live. There is a shelter with a heater for the night-time or when it rains. There is a camera in the shelter and in the pen, so my Owners can see me from the house. There is a panic button where I can operate it with my snout if I need to. I get hosed down when I leave the pen. The rest of the time I'm just muddy pig. They have dog and pony shows here, and sometimes another pig comes to visit. But usually I just hear the farm workers talking about human things over the pen wall. I don't know if there are any other animals like me who live here.

She pours hot swill into the trough. This is always my favourite time. I put my head down and gobble up the hot food. There are scraps of leftovers in it always, but mostly just warm thick porridge. Belly-filling amounts. I have to clean the trough, enthusiastically, or She will punish me.

She likes to watch me eat. Sometimes for fun She takes me out of the pen to feed me. Then she gives me a huge enema to empty me out and she immobilises me and fits a feeding-gag in my mouth, and then She pumps liquid food into me til She knows I can't take any more. I always gain weight pig weekends but when She wants to have fun feeding me I sometimes can't fit into the clothes I came in. She likes it when that happens. She buys me new clothes.

This time I eat all the swill fast and greedily enough to please Her. She takes out the tail plug. The reward is to be allowed to crap in my pen, not be taken out by one of the farm workers and given an enema. They don't like it, they think I'm a dirty pig and they slap me and tell me so, but it's less trouble for them than cleaning out my pen. They think I'm a human pretending to be a pig. What She and I know is that more and more as this pig lives in the pen, this pig is a pig that sometimes acts like a human.

Food gurgling inside pig belly. Urgency in pig guts. Pig trots over to corner of the pen pig uses. Pig can feel something human inside her slipping away.
Pig hopes there will be more swill soon.

This has never happened... yet.

She's all eagerness and excitement. I'm a toy she can play with. She's so much younger than me this seems harmless. She enjoys stripping me naked, mocking me, slapping my belly and breasts. She likes having me kneel at her feet, mouth open, as she hand-feeds me her scraps.

She invites me round for a party.

I'm the entertainment, or part of it. She strips me and hoods me.

In her bathroom, she fills me up with one enema after another. The warm water bloats my gut, makes me squeal and cry. She laughs and laughs. Tells me I'm so full of shit and she's going to empty me out. Then she greases me up with a fat handful of lube, pushed well in, and she takes me out to her living room.

 There's a big dildo fixed on to a bench. I whimper and shiver at the sight of it, understanding why she cleaned me out so thoroughly.

"You're going to be such fun," she tells me, and pushes me over the dildo. She makes me squat, pushing me slowly down on the big shaft, giggling at the look on my face. "Nice fat pig," she says. "Nicely impaled."

I'm filled so full when my fat buttocks touch the table. I open my mouth and whimper at her. She giggles.

She said she would hood me so that no one would see my face, but she just puts a little half mask on my face, the one that makes me look like a pig.  She goes away to put out food on the buffet table, and get changed into her party clothes.

And then her friends start coming in. She's a student at the college. Lots of her friends are students too. Some of them knew me. None of them knew what I was to her. Now they do.

Everyone feeds me and handles me. I squirm and wriggle. When I cry, I get titbits. Someone I knew once is fondling my udders, tugging at the nipples. "did you think of bringing her into milk?"

"Maybe I should," my owner says, "she's such a fat pig, it would make her useful."

I try to protest, but my owner pops a piece of cake into my open mouth. "I like to fatten her up," she says.

"She's gross. God, to think what she used to be like, and look at her now!"

"But such fun to play with! Look at how her fat jiggles when I slap her." She slaps me and then they all do. I squeal at each slap, high piggy sounds.

 It takes four of them to get me off the dildo when they decide to have more fun with me. They hobble me on all fours and have me trot about the room cleaning spills with my tongue.  One of them has brought a slave of her own along and they make me bring the slave to orgasm with my mouth. I suck and lick greedily.

 They're taking photographs. They take photos of everything.

 When I wake up, tethered to the foot of my owner's bed, she shows them to me.

 "You're just an animal now," she tells me. "Like you told me you wanted to be. Everyone knows it. You're just livestock: my pet pig."

this has never happened.... yet

Locked up in a cage and taken out (or not) to be fattened.

It's very simple. But it's very exciting.

Why do so many people react to that with "Want to be bred?"

No.

She writes to me quite explicitly: she's slim, she's bi, she has no interest in me sexually, but she very much wants to own and abuse her own slave pig, to fatten me and then display me.

She visits me regularly. Each time is like heaven. She makes huge quantities of swill-like food. She takes me shopping to the local big supermarket just when the bread goes on sale, and buys silly quantities of 2nd-day bread and rolls and own-brand soup and baked beans. She makes me eat big bowls of it, she won't let me stop until my belly is so full i can eat no more, and she judges when that is. Often she has to paddle my fat bottom hard to make me keep eating. she loves this.

She keeps telling me that i'm pathetic, not heavy enough for a big prize pig, my bely doesn't hang down far enough, i need more fattening. i beg her to take me on as one of her stock and she keeps saying only when i'm fat enough, i need to be a huge fat pig to be entered for a pig show. 

She has her friends come round and lets them feed me, have them prod, poke, pinch  my flesh. She moves in and keeps me in a cage, letting me out only for well-controlled periods of gentle exercise, constantly making me eat under threat of punishment. the meals get bigger and bigger.

finally she agrees, i'm just fat enough now to be one of her porkers. she loads me into a special cage and has me carried out of the house. it takes four people to lift the cage into the back of the truck. she's put a plug in my butt to keep me happy and a feeding-tube fastened into my mouth so that i can keep being fattened.

on the way to the pig farm... this is my destiny now.

this has never happened... obviously

i really love Dominant women who like to abuse and control a fat pig.

This pig very much wishes to become an obedient, well-trained pig. This pig wishes to become your pigslave in fact, and as a first step towards this, it voluntarily accepts your training both online and in real life to become a pig as outlined in this e-mail and as discussed in conversation on Yahoo Messenger. This pig hopes it will become acceptable to its Mistress.

Summary:

You contacted your pigslave on CM and we discussed your wish to own a pig and this sow's wish to be a pig. You made it clear to your pigslave that if it was turned into a pig, living as a pig full time/real life, it would be very hard for your sow it come back to function "normally". your pig agreed, and said it would prefer to try this out for a short time only initially. You suggested your pigslave might visit for a weekend to try out being a pig, and your porker was excited and eager to do so. You and your pigslave moved the conversation over to Yahoo Messenger to discuss this possibility.

You suggested that, subject to previously agreed-to limits, your pigslave should be treated for the entire weekend - from arrival to some agreed-on time before departure - your pigslave should be treated as befits its nature, as a pig.

your pigslave's limits are: not into scat, safe sex only, no broken skin, no public display, and is vegetarian and exclusively lesbian. ("No public display" means no photos or webcam: and for the first weekend of or from a bowl or a trough on the floor?): pig to be kept in bondage throughout the first weekend, restraints allowing only comfortable sleep at night and comfortable movement as pig during day: pig to be gagged or permitted only pig noises. Pig training to include moving bowels or pissing like a pig, not as a human.

You invited your porker to describe its sexual "expectations", while making it clear that pig had no decisions to make in this area, Mistress sets rules. Your sow explained it likes anal better than vaginal, but comes mainly or solely through clitoral stimulation. Your pig is excited by the role of being a pig, and in role as a pig sex becomes less important. Your pigslave explained that being a pig is not entered into with a wish to be humiliated, but to be made into a good pig, punished for being a bad pig
or for attempting to act in ways that are not piglike.

Your pigslave was instructed how to behave when speaking of itself to you, and instructed to be naked, hams wide apart, whenever it writes to you from home.

Your pigslave is writing this naked, hams spread wide, smelling its wet pigcunt.

Your pig's fantasies are full of transformation - of becoming a pig. 

Also of living like a pig - of being helpless and vulnerable and naked. having no glasses - being very shortsighted - makes the pig more piglike, more animal. your pig is excited by the idea of being fattened, but isn't sure about the reality: but the idea of it creeps into many fantasies. your pig is a member of a couple of yahoo groups for feeders/feedees, and has posted some straightforward "fattened slave" stories there, though your pigslave's feelings are not that of a "normal" feedee - the idea of being fattened goes along with being a pig. your pig told you how good it feels to be referred to as an animal, how exciting it is to think of itself being discussed over its head, in animal terms - hams, udders, trotters.

your pig's only difficulties with being naked are the cold! your pig fantasises about being kept outdoors in a sty with mud to wallow in, just always behaving like a pig 24/7, but only, this pigslave admits, when it's possible to imagine a very warm climate!

your pig has a couple of big food bowls for dogs that your pigslave bought for itself a couple of years ago. your pigslave uses them sometimes to eat piggy meals - preparing "swill" and eating it from one of the bowls, naked and on all fours. your pigslave strips  down as far as possible to prepare the swill (some windows are unavoidably overlooked by neighbours) and strips off completely to eat it, it found that from the first time it did this, it seemed very natural to eat the piggy meal grunting and gobbling, making lots of pig noises, slurping up water from the other bowl.

your pig hopes this e-mail pleases you, Mistress. your pigslave has tried to be honest and open.

Why do I love cages so much?

I love being caged even better than when the gag is popped inside my obedient open mouth and speech is taken away from me, silent pig can't talk.

I love being caged even better than the butt plug that slides so deep inside me, making me wriggle and squirm.

I love being caged even better than being thrashed with the paddle on my fat piggy bottom, making me squeal and cry.

I love being caged even better than being fed, gobbling up the hot mush, grunting and snorting, filling my piggy belly.

I love being caged even better than enemas or laxatives, losing control, giving myself totally up to being pig.

I love being caged even better than when the human strips me and orders me down on all fours and calls me a pig, her pig, her fat pet pig.

I love it even if I'm on my own, when being human is too much, when all I want to do is strip down to my skin and crawl inside the cage and curl up, feeling the metal bars hold me, a naked animal in a cage, free to be just pig.

The only thing I would love more than being caged... would be an Owner who would cage me, keep me, silence me, plug me, thrash me, feed me, control me... make me totally her pig.

And keep me in a cage.

"I need a servant for tonight's party. That's going to be you."

 "No thanks - I'm busy tonight." I didn't like her parties. Too crowded and too full of sadists. I like being dominated, I'm not much of a masochist.

 "Cancel your plans. You're going to work your fat ass off at my party tonight, and if anyone complains, you're going to take a public caning on your fat hams."

 I blushed - and she grinned.

 "Yes  you're going to come home with me and do whatever I want," she told me, "because I know who 'fattened slave'" is. I know all about your 'pig' games. I like your fantasies on your journal, and either you work for me at my party tonight, or I'm going to print them off and show them round and tell everyone who wrote them - and you know that if you tried to deny it, you'd just get all red in the face and no one would believe you."

 "Just one party."

 "Of course."

 The party would have been more fun if I hadn't been wearing a tight little outfit that gaped whenever I moved, and if there hadn't been so many people there who'd been told they could handle me and slap me around as much as they wanted - I liked it. Mistress had told me all I could say to anyone who tried to talk to me was 'I have been ordered to be silent'." At the end of the evening my going-home treat was to be bent over the back of the big sofa while all the remaining guests counted up all the strokes of the cane I'd earned all night."

 There were lots of leftovers on the buffet table when the last guest had been ushered out. I was to help them on with their coats and they most of them enjoyed themselves with a last smack on my ass.

 When I came back into the big room, Mistress was clearing up the buffet table, and I was disappointed, I'd not been allowed to eat anything all night and I hoped to be offered some food before I left.

 "You start doing the dishes in the kitchen," Mistress told me. "When I've finished clearing this, we'll have some coffee."

 She put some coffee on to brew in the kitchen and started to put leftovers away in the big fridge. She threw a big pile of scraps into the bin. She poured out coffee into her own mug and called me over. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Look, why don't you have something to eat?"

 She put a big bowl of edible scraps down on the floor. "You can get out of that tight little outfit and change into your own clothes afterwards," she told me sympathetically. "I know what you like, after all. Just fill your belly the way you enjoy it."

 I hesitated, but I was hungry, and I was longing to get out of the horrid tight maid's outfit she'd put me in. So I got naked and then I got down on the floor, and started eating the scraps. This was the way I liked to end an evening, even though I hadn't expected to be able to do it here.

 Mistress got up and started moving around the kitchen, sometimes I heard scrapes of dishes or the tap running, but I just went on eating. Even the scraps were delicious, and I always enjoyed eating.
When I'd eaten the bowl about halfway down, she poured some coffee in for me, and I lapped it up and went on eating.

 "It's late," Mistress told me. "You may as well sleep here tonight."

 She tossed me a blanket and pointed at the cupboard. There was a comfy big-style doggy bed inside, and I figured this was her last little whim, so  I crawled to the cupboard ... and only realised, as i turned round before she had closed the door on me, that she was holding a video camera.

 Then the door closed and locked from the outside and I knew better than to yell or make a noise. I was very indignant, but I went to sleep, and sure enough, in the morning, she let me out... into a different world.

 She showed me the video. She had started it when I went down naked on all fours to eat the food. I blushed to see how greedily I'd eaten, and how stupidly I'd never noticed, never looked up, just gone on gobbling and gulping. The video ended with me on all fours trotting off to sleep in an animal bed in the cupboard.  Worst of all my face was quite obvious. Anyone who saw it who knew me, would recognise me.

 "Now I think you realise what I can do with this video," she said. "Don't worry. All I want is a nice little servant for my parties. And I'll feed you and let you sleep here afterwards. So long as you do exactly what I want, no one will ever see this..."

This has never happened...

The first evening my owner sent for me and had me kneel on all fours in the drawing room, while she sipped an after-dinner glass of white wine and had me tell her everything I had been fed since she delivered me to the kitchen. She nodded at each item, and then told me of a couple of things I had missed telling her: the big pat of butter in the bowl and the teabags and coffee grounds that had been dropped into it after I was punished.

"Why did you forget to tell me about those, pig?"

I quivered and squirmed. "I don't know."

"Don't you?" My owner smiled thoughtfully. "Oh well, time to tenderise the pork. I'm going to have you caned on your hams tonight, three times each side, I want to hear piggy squeal. But if you can tell me why you forgot about that big greasy lump of butter, and the scraps for the compost heap that went down your fat gullet, I'll let you have a nice fat plug in your piggy bottom to keep you happy while you're caned."

I looked down and burned with humiliation. "I felt so much like a real pig," I told her quietly.

"Louder, pig."

"I felt so much like a real pig!" I shouted at her. "But at supper tonight I had to sit up at table and use a spoon and eat what everyone else was eating, but more of it, and their leftovers afterward."

"So you would have liked to eat from a bowl on the floor," my owner said. "Well, you will, soon. But not tomorrow." She rang a bell, and the housekeeper came in.

"Put the pig over the punishment stool, pull down her pig pants, and give her six with the cane," my owner told her. "I want to see three clear marks either side on her hams, and of course I want to hear my pig squeal."

Each stroke was vicious. I am a stubborn pig and I often don't cry out when I'm punished. The first two strokes just made me gasp. The next two were harder and I cried. I felt the cane prod and tap at my fat flesh, and then the last two zingers burned their way into my skin.

"That's it," my owner said approvingly, to the housekeeper. "Good girl. That's the noise I want to hear from the pig when you tenderise her. Leave her there, I'll take her off to bed when I'm ready."

this has never happened yet

At any point, of course, you can stop the process, my new owner told me. You can use the safeword. Of course, she said smiling, if you're serious about wanting to be a pig, you won't want to.

I had been to her house before - a big farmhouse with a barn, a couple of Jersey cows and a bay horse in the barn, two big dogs who trotted at her side, and staff: all female. A gardener, a housemaid, a cook, and the housekeeper. They were, I understood, my owner's slaves: the housekeeper had been with my owner for twenty years, half her life.

My owner took me into the barn. The pigpen had been built, specially designed for a human pig. I touched the pen wall. I knew eventually, if I didn't stop the process, this was where I would be.

My owner then walked with me into the house. She led me upstairs to a pleasant guest room. On the wall, in a poster frame, was my safeword, very large. "All you have to do is say that word," she said. "But if you don't, I will slowly take away every scrap of your humanity, everything that makes you not-pig. I will dehumanise you completely, and make you what you've told me you've always wanted to be." She pointed at my case. "You brought luggage."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Take off all your clothes and put them into the case. Everything in your pockets." When I was done, she pointed at the wardrobe. "Take out what you find in there and put it on."

It was a set of bright pink sweats. There was a piggy face on the front of the sweatshirt. They were baggy, a bit big for me. There was also a pair of bright pink panties, and bright pink exercise socks. I put them all on.

She pointed at the bathroom. I opened the door. There was a round tub with a shower over it, and a squat toilet.

"Those clothes you're wearing are your piggy clothes, pig," she told me. "You're not allowed to take them off, or even pull them down to use the toilet. You're not allowed to use the bath by yourself, and if you want to use the toilet, you have to find a human who will pull down those piggy pants for you, watch you squat, and then flush the toilet for you afterwards. Other than that, you can use anything in the bathroom or this bedroom without asking special permission." My owner smiled. "You'll find that there's less and less for you to use, of course, as we go on."

She snapped a pink cuff bracelet around my wrist. "My slaves wear collars, but you're not my slave. Slaves are human. You won't ever take this off." She snapped a leash on to one of the D-rings, and walked away, tugging on the leash to make me follow.

The four slaves were sitting round the table in the kitchen, clearly about to have lunch, when my owner walked in. "This is my new project," she told them, unclipping the leash from the pink cuff. "Pig will be staying here in the house either until it uses the safeword," and she told them what it was, "or until I can move it into the pen we've been building in the barn."

They all nodded. Evidently they all knew about the pigpen. I squirmed a bit, blushing, and felt the loose sweatpants start to slip, and clutched at them.

"Pig is wearing its piggy clothes. The pig isn't allowed to take them off, which means if pig wants to shit or piss, it will have to find one of you and ask you to take those piggy pants down. If any of you decide the pig's getting a bit smelly, you can strip the pig naked and scrub her. Ellen will have fresh supplies of piggy clothes as required."

"The pig isn't allowed to eat except what one of us humans feeds her. It's important you all understand this - pig isn't a slave like you, pig isn't human. It's here to become a pig, and you're all free and encouraged to treat it as a pig - feed it, slap it around, play with it. At the moment, pig is allowed to use human speech, but the less it uses, the better."

"Are we allowed to take the pig out of the house?" the gardener asked.

My owner shrugged. "If you make sure to keep it on the leash. I don't want it to get too much exercise, don't think you can use it to work the garden." She pulled at the waistband of the piggy sweatpants. "Look, these are far too loose on the pig. The pig is too skinny. I want all four of you to make sure the pig gets fed enough that these piggy clothes are tight on it. I want to see the pig flesh bulging out of the piggy clothes. It can eat your leftovers, and mine, but I want you to make sure it gets big pans of nice fattening swill. Put some recipes together and we'll discuss them."

"Is the pig allowed to eat at the table?" Ellen asked.

"For now," my owner said. "And it can use a spoon to eat with. Ellen, I'll see you in the office at three." She walked out.

Ellen sighed. "Pig, sit down." She pointed at a chair at the far end of the table. "Frannie, you open a couple of tins of beans, and put some bread in the toaster." The maid jumped up and ran to do as she was told. I went to the chair and sat down. "Nicola, do you mind?" she said to the cook. "Would you grate some cheese, we'll put that on the pig's meal. Gill, would you get one of those big mixing bowls down, we'll feed the pig out of that as long as it's allowed to eat at the table."

"Shall I butter the toast?" Frannie asked Ellen.

"Yes, plenty of fat," Ellen said.

The slaves were eating a simple lunch of salad and cold meat and baked potatoes. In the big mixing bowl Frannie layered eight pieces of buttered wholemeal toast and two whole tins of baked beans, heated in the microwave, and covered the top with a thick layer of grated cheddar cheese. She put the bowl down in front of me, and handed me a big soup spoon, before she went back to her own place.

Ellen nodded to me. "You eat all of that before we're finished our meal, pig."

I dug in with my soup spoon. It was hard at first, but as I ate the warm beans and toast, beginning to feel comfortably full, I realised that I needn't try to be tidy or neat, or eat slowly. I was here to become a pig, everyone knew it. And they obviously approvd of anything their owner did. So I ate quickly, making grunts of pleasure, squirming a bit at the enjoyment of being able to fill myself and go on eating.

I felt full long before I had finished. Surreptitious glances told me that the slaves were almost done eating lunch. Frannie jumped up to brew tea for all of them and coffee for Ellen in a French press. Ellen opened a biscuit tin and they all helped themselves to one biscuit. I still had two pieces of toast and about half a tin of beans to eat. I wriggled, feeling my bloated belly shift, stuffed full of food, and went on eating.

"Pig enjoyed that," the gardener said, nodding to me.

"Everyone scrape their leftovers into the pig bowl," Ellen said. "Nicola, for now we'll feed the pig four times a day. Pig, you go lie down somewhere out of the way."

I got up, planning to waddle back to the bedroom and lie down on the bed and enjoy feeling so fatly stuffed. I got halfway there and realised I would need to take a shit soon: foolishly I speeded up and got to the bathroom and only then realised I would need to ask one of the humans to pull my pants down. My guts were churning inside me.

I waddled as fast as I could, clenching my sphincter muscles, back to the kitchen, and found it empty except for Nicola, preparing vegetables at the sink.

"Please, Nicola, I need to take a crap."

"Well, you'll have to wait, I need to finish these."

"Please," I squirmed, "I don't think I can wait."

"Well, you'll have to, pig. Down on all fours, that should make you happy."

I dropped to all fours instinctively and knelt there, my belly fat, udders dangling plump and round beneath me. I kept squirming my fat bottom, trying to hold it in.

Nicola laughed at me. She slapped my bottom as she passed on the way to the fridge. "We need to fatten you up, pig. Here, these cream is just on the turn, and this butter is almost at the use-by date." She put them both in a flat bowl, and added some bits of stale bread and some vegetable scraps. "You take your mind off how much you need to crap by eating these up."

The bowl of beans and toast had been huge but it had looked like human food. This was just a mess of scraps, a big pat of butter and a mound of cream and bits of bread and scrapings from potatoes and carrots and some pea pods. I put my head down and took a mouthful of cream and scraps, and realised as my mouth was full and I swallowed that I was very happy: one of the humans was feeding me, properly like a pig. I'd got to do this only a few times before, eat food scraps like a pig, and always before I'd had to go back to being human. But now I wouldn't. I could just gobble this up. I was a pig being fattened. That was all I was.

I got a big mouthful of butter next time, and as I swallowed it with the food scraps, I felt my anal sphincter give way: a rush of soft crap started to fill the pink sweatpants. It was a great relief. I went on eating,

"Are you crapping yourself?" Nicola said, sounding astonished. "Fuck. Dirty pig! Where's the leash - "

I went on shitting myself, feeling the crap just pour out of me, and went on eating, until  Nicola clipped the leash on to the cuff and pulled me away, out of the back door of the kitchen into a wet muddy yard. She left me belly down in my filth while she cleaned the kitchen floor and got a fresh set of pink sweats, I suppose, and then she came out and stripped off the dirty sweats and hosed me down with cold water that made me squeal and cry. She spanked me when I was clean, very hard, telling me I was a dirty stinking pig, and then she dressed me again in pink sweats and led me back into the kitchen by the leash on the cuff.

The half-eaten bowl of scraps was on the floor. Nicola added more vegetable scraps to the bowl, and spilled three teabags and some coffee grounds into it. "You eat that and lick the bowl clean, dirty pig."

I thought she was rewarding me, and ate eagerly, but she moved to stand behind me with a big spoon, and my fat bottom got paddled hard as I ate, filling my belly with the scraps and grunting as she hit me.

I spent a  lot of time in the kitchen with Nicole, being fattened.

this has never happened... yet

Cooking control

"Tonight you get to show off your cooking skills, piggy," my Owner told me, before I could go to my hands and knees and be stripped naked. She tapped my mouth and pushed a ball-gag in and strapped it on. She pushed me against the wall, placing my hands against it, and pulled my skirt up and my panties down to slide in a fat, lubed buttplug, and fastened it in with a harness. Then she pulled my panties up again and smacked my bottom. "Come along, don't be lazy."

Sometimes my Owner makes me cook huge meals and she eats a portion for one and I have to eat the rest, till my belly is stuffed full and then she paddles me until I eat more.

Sometimes my Owner just feeds me her scraps from through the week, cooked into pigswill with plenty of oats and water.

Sometimes my Owner makes me cook huge meals and then freeze portions for her to eat later in the week, and only lets me eat her leftovers.

Tonight she was very specific and detailed about what her piggy should cook, and what size of portions. When everything was done, she put me down on the floor on all fours and stripped me at last, and led me to the cage, set up in Her bedroom, near the door. She filled the bowl with drinking water and sent me into the cage with a big slap on my bottom.

Then the doorbell rang. My Owner flung a cloth over the cage - a sheet I think - and told me to be quiet, and then she went to let the guests in. She showed them into her bedroom and they put their coats on Her bed, and I think there were five of them, and Her of course. They would eat the food I had cooked. It smelled good, delicious, I knew it would taste good. I had drooled a bit, cooking it, careful to hold my head back so I wouldn't drool on the food.

I was so hungry. Fat greedy piggy, locked naked in the pig cage. I squirmed quietly, feeling the plug fill me, trying to think about my Owner's enjoyment of me, hoping she was pleased by the food her piggy had prepared, hoping she would come in and enjoy the sight of me. I squirmed and wriggled, enclosed in the cage, wanting my Owner.

I held still whenever the guests were near. I could hear their voices in the distance, not hear what they were saying. Sometimes I heard them laugh and wondered if they were laughing at the fat piggy in the cage, so hungry and greedy.

The guests left and the cloth was pulled off the cage. My Owner opened the cage door and let me out, rolling me on to my back and slapping my fat belly as she often did, laughing when my belly rumbled and I lay there whimpering through the gag. She encouraged me up on all fours and let me trot through to the kitchen at her side. She put the food bowl down just in front of me and began to fill it with leftovers, scraped from the plates and the dishes. I whined through the gag, so hungry-greedy.

When she took the gag out and let me eat, I gobbled the food down greedily, filling my belly with the scraps. Tasted so good. My Owner fed me well.

This has never happened.... yet.

"Well, girls, this is a party with a difference," she told them. "This lady - " she pointed to me " - is really just a fat pig. She knows it, and she's agreed we should make her act like one."

 I looked round. They were all smiling. They were all thinner than me, and they were dressed smartly - I had known with a feeling of delightful dread what was going to happen once I accepted this invitation, and I'd dressed in clothes I knew I wouldn't see again. As She'd told me, the Lady who would own me after tonight,  the panties I was wearing - and the bra - were both too tight. Billows of fat were wobbling under them. I knew I'd be marked.

 Across the other side of the room was the cage and the trough. The buffet - I'd be eating the scraps - was laid out, looking attractive and appetizing. I said out loud, nervously, "I changed my mind, I'm not really a pig."

Several of them looked disappointed. She only grinned more widely, and nodded to her best friend. "Go lock the door. She's given me a safe word - " she told the group what it was " - and if she really doesn't want us to make her be what she wants, what she knows she is, she can use it."

"No," I said. "I really did. I'm not a pig." My voice was getting high and nervous as they all turned towards me again, all of them looking pleased now and amused. "I'm not. Please don't do this to me."

I knew I could use the safe word. I knew in my belly I didn't really want to. I knew it was going to take all of them to make me.

She knew it too. That was why she set up the party. I was grabbed from behind and I tried to pull away and I heard the cloth rip, and as if that was a signal they all set on me. I was stripped without dignity, the women laughing as they pulled at the clothes, slapping at my fat flesh. I struggled and fought and cried but there were too many of them. When I was naked and crouching on the floor, trying to cover myself with my hands, four of them grabbed at my wrists - two each, and pulled me over on to my back and held me down, laughing as I kicked and squirmed and wailed.

"Look at that fat belly on her! She's such a pig. Let's get the collar and cuffs on her."

They all prodded and handled my bulging plump belly, slapped at my pig-udders, squeezed them and told my owner she could get me in milk. They got the cuffs on my ankles and wrists and locked ankle to wrist, so I was helpless on the floor. My new owner put the collar round my neck, a pink leather one "good for a pig," she said.

"Please," I whimpered. "I'm not, I'm not a pig..."

"Fat pig," one of them told me, slapping my belly hard. "Look at that porky flesh jiggle. I bet you'd beg to be fed, wouldn't you?"

My belly rumbled, and I heard them all laugh at me. They went to get food, and dropped bits in my mouth, laughing at how greedy I was, how I squirmed and wriggled.

They got the electric razor and shaved me, all over, my head now bald as a pig's. "I'll keep her this way," my owner told them. "She'll be easier to clean when she wallows. She likes mud."

"Can we watch that?" one of the guests asked her. She was feeding me a piece of cheese on a cracker. "I'd like to see her gobbling her food out of the mud, getting filth over her face."

"Next party," my owner promised her.

When they'd all eaten their fill, they started scraping the leftovers into the trough. When it was full, and the table was empty, they got me up on to my hands and knees, lifting me by force and turning me over to crawl like a pig. They fitted me with the pig tail my owner had told me I would wear except when I was being emptied, a plug that slid into my asshole and ended in a little curly tail.

I squealed as it went in, and lifted my bottom to it, loving being filled. I felt the weight of it inside me, and squirmed, feeling it shift. "Please," I begged out loud.

"What have you to say, pig?" my owner asked me.

"Please let me eat?" I begged.

"We'll put the pig in the cage first," she decided. "That'll help her work up an appetite for her food."

It took all of them to get me into the cage. I begged and struggled. I wanted to be at the trough, gobbling down the swill. My owner and her friends set up the plasma screen, and I heard her explaining to them that there were cameras in the pig sty, they would be able to watch me settling down for the night. She could switch between angles to get the best view.

They drank wine and talked and nibbled and watched me squirming in the cage, dripping and eager, impaled on the piggy tail. Finally my owner opened the cage door and clipped the leash on and let me out. She opened up the laxative and let each of her friends sprinkle some on the food - a big dose.

"Now little one, you're going to eat all of this. Anyone who likes can paddle you to tenderise the meat. And then I'll take you to your sty and leave you there for your first night as my fat, greedy piggy. We'll all watch as you empty your guts in that pig pen."

I put my head down eagerly to the pile of multicoloured swill and scraps, gobbling it eagerly at first, needing the paddle to encourage me as I was eating my belly full, feeling the food stretch me. I wobbled and lurched, belly stuffed, as she led me to the sty, feeling the first crampings of the laxative.

I knew they would see my face, turning from human to pig, as  I lost myself helplessly in the pen....

this has never happened... yet....

One of my dreams had come true: she was going to make me into a pig and then show me off in public. She instructed me to wear my best suit and high-heeled shoes when I came to stay, though as soon as I walked through the door, she instructed me to strip them off.

"I'm certainly not going to waste any time," she told me.

I stood there naked: she walked round me petting and prodding my flesh. "I'm going to treat you completely as an animal," she said, looking me in the eye. "That's what you keep saying you want, you keep begging for. Now you're going to get it. Down on all fours, pig."

I was excited. Obediently, still just a human pretending to be a pig, I crawled as she directed. I let her blindfold me and I didn't suspect even when the floor changed to metal. Then the door closed on me and I realised I was in a cage.

She locked the door and laughed at me. "You're going to spend a month in this cage. I want you fattened up, pig."

When I spoke human language, she used a cattleprod on me that made me squeal. Soon I learned that a pig only grunts and squeals.

She fitted a mouthpiece between the bars of the cage. She fed me through it, effiiciently pouring high-calorie liquids into me, filling my belly. She made me press my fat bottom up against the other end of the cage for her to plug my ass or empty my gut with enemas. Unable to move or speak, I ate greedily, I squirmed my plump carcass on her impaling buttplugs for her amusement, I even loved the warm enemas she flooded me with. The human who had crawled into the cage became pig, and all pig knew was pleasing her Owner.

Pig hardly knew what to do when the cage door opened and Owner pulled her out. Owner bathed her and pampered her, prodding the billows of plump flesh. Owner put her in strange clothing, not for a pig, and made pig balance on her hind legs, in high-heeled human shoes. Owner tethered pig by the door and made her wait.

Owner took pig out of the house. Pig looked around at everything wide-eyed. Owner was holding the leash and smiling with pleasure to see pig teeter along. Clothes didn't fit pig, pig had too much plump flesh spilling out. Owner led to pig to another place, and ordered cakes and a coffee for Owner. Pig knelt down on all fours in front of Owner, hoping for a treat. Owner laughs and puts pieces of cake on her shoes, and pig puts head down happily and gobbles them up, licking the sweet treat off her Owner's shoes.

Deep inside some part of the human remembered this was the coffee shop she used to have her morning coffee in before she became pig: before she left her human life behind her forever. She knew and she left it behind.  

Owner takes her time finishing her coffee. One of the baristas pours pig a bowl of water, and laughs to see pig snort and snuffle as she drinks it up. Now pig was only pig, and everyone who saw her knew it.

This has never happened... yet!