chapter 2

You are still sobbing in pure agony when he orders you to follow him in the living room.
The place is sparsely furbished and badly lit. It reeks of stale beer and urine and has a pile of dirty underwear and wife beaters just next to the brown sofa: that pile is your own pig bed, where you spend most of the time while Master is away.
Since you are only allowed to relieve yourself in the backyard a couple times a day, sometimes the pressure in your bladder has the better of you and you dribble some drops on your bed. Sometimes, it’s even a bit more than that. As long as you don’t stain the carpet, Master doesn’t mind too much about your incontinence, but it’s been quite some time since he bothered to provide some “fresh” dirty laundry so by now the bed has turned into a deep yellow mess. You instinctively head yourself towards the pile, but Master calls for your attention: “Here, pig. Since you are so eager to relieve yourself, let’s see how much you’ve got closer to our mutual goal”
He stands up next to your pig scale, which consists of a metal platform surrounded by steel bars and an LCD display that shows statistics about your weight and body fat. The first time you even mounted on that scale, you still were allowed to stand up and weighted about 96 kgs. Back then the mirror put in front of you showed an humiliated chubby human being, with a saggy belly, a pale white skin and some hints of moobs. You always refused to look into your own eyes, but you could not avoid to stare at the misery of your own tiny cock retreating into your nether belly fat.
As you step on the scale, the reflection in front of you now shows a whole different animal. The skin has turned bright pink with red stretchmarks. Your cheeks have plumped up into piggish red apples and your big tank obstructs any possible view of your pathetic, throbbing prick. Your swine look is completed by the remains of your last meal, which start to solidify in a crevice formed by one of your multiple chins.
“153. Up 10 kgs from last month, 65% body fat. Boy, I wonder how you can even be able to move all that fat” Master giggles.
Suddenly you feel his hand slowly caressing your back with a regular motion. His fingers barely touching your sensitive skin, falling down your sides exploring every fat roll. You are able to see in the reflection that he’s loosening his belt, revealing a green pair of old, strained boxers that can barely cover his burgeoning manhood. With a quick sniff you sense his strong musk. He has clearly jerked off today already, or maybe fucked one of his coworkers: you can smell the intense aroma of dried cum that complements the faint notes of old piss. He proceeds removing his jeans and underpants, revealing his member already at half mast. His abrasive, but gentle hand moves towards your scruff as he moves forward with heavy steps. You realize his uncut penis has just entered your direct field of view. He’s well endowed, very well endowed. You are mesmerized by his elegant superficial veins and huge, engorged, red glans that is starting to peek from his foreskin. Only about 40 cms separate you from eagerly kissing his treasure. His odor is so strong now that you can basically savor it in the back of your mouth as it mixes with your own saliva. This is what you’ve been waiting for: your taste buds have become so much desensitized by the, bland, sloppy food you stuff yourself with, that their response for a rich taste of your Master’s scent is completely out of scale. You almost faint with pleasure and you try to reach for him behind the bars. You try to turn around, but the structure is way too narrow for you to have any wiggle room. The cold, unforgiving metal cuts through your soft left thigh and your fat neck tries to extend towards your goal. You can see that all these strains are clearly pleasuring Master as his big cock keeps arrogantly growing in front of you. You try to extend your tongue, but to no avail: by the time you feel like you’ve managed to close the gulf that separates you from your Master, his glorious penis has already passed the 90 degrees mark and now towers triumphantly unreachable over your head. You whimper, defeated.
“It’s ok, piggy, don’t be sad. We’re gonna spend some quality time this night”.
You finally are told to step down the pig scale and waddle towards your bed at the feet of the sofa. There, your master sits his firm butt while switching the TV on and opening a cold one.
You place yourself in the usual position, belly up, as he carelessly rests his musky feet on top of you, one just below your navel and one between your moobs, where you can distinctly smell its arousing odor.
He puts on some raunchy and loud porn and starts to whip his still erect member, already drooling from precum.
You already know what’s going to happen, since you are now used to be his foot rest for the entire night, so you are starting to fall asleep, thinking about all those calories that are going to fill your fat sack of lard. As your eyes starts to close and your pathetic clit initiates its usual, useless night ritual of aimless erections, you feel a sudden pressure on your side. With a sudden leg movement, Master rolls you over and sends you on the nearby carpet ass up.
“I’m not over with you tonight, sow”, he whispers, with a devilish tone.