This disclaimer must
be read before reading further:
The following story
is fictional and contains explicit pornographic material; it is not for minors
or the close-minded.
Alex Streuth is the pseudonym of the author and a fictional
character in these stories. Any
characters, places, businesses and/or circumstances etc. described herein are
entirely fictional. None of the
following is based on real organisms or organizations, and any semblance to
anyone or anything real, living, deceased or imaginary, (except where
specifically noted in the ‘Continuity and Background’ and ‘Literary Notes’
sections) is purely coincidental.
This story is
copyrighted (June 2005) by the author with permission granted to make copies
only for personal use, they may not be redistributed to others.
The author cannot be
responsible for the existence or delivery of any content which some may find
offensive; reader be warned, by continuing further with this document you agree
not to hold any party responsible for the delivery or existence of its
contents.
Due to the extreme
nature of the following material the author advises anyone who has stumbled
across this document by mistake to destroy it if it is in the form of a hard
copy, or to delete it and then write over its memory address if it is a soft
copy.
Thank you and enjoy
the following quality presentation.
--
Continuity and Background:
This story takes place in the charming
dominion of
The prominent themes are
humiliation, degradation, mental conditioning, transformation, modification, bimbofication, objectification, big boobs, huge lips,
forced feeding, dehumanization, helpless females, Dominant males, and long term
suffering (mental anguish) and servitude.
---
About the Author: My hobbies include collecting, examining, and
designing. I sometimes come across
inspiring stories or goings-on about Cherish and have been asked by the “Committee
for the Preservation of the Historical Record of Proper Female Deportment” (the
CPHD) to assemble and detail these accounts for posterity.
Authorship Disclosure: The following material originates from
personal first-person observations, from video recordings, diaries, medical and
scientific notes and other privately held (and confidential) sources, as well
as from public town events and records.
I then transpose these accounts into the third person and pen these
tales in my free time. While this is
intended as a work of non-fiction for Cherish public record some dramatic and editorial license has been
taken to help increase readership interest.
Some stories take place outside of my normal purview and so some facts
cannot be 100% confirmed, nevertheless, I have diligently reconstructed the
particulars using primary sources to the best of my ability (filling in small
details perhaps, along the way.)
Also, as I am extremely busy
not all of the gathered data can be included in each presentation. If you are an accredited researcher with a
genuine academic interest you may be allowed access to more extensive
information. In order to request this
more thorough (and graphically detailed) explanation of certain material
presented, please send your request (noting with which area of record your
particular interest lies) to Streuthanasia@gmail.com.
Miriam Pitts
Introduction, Meet Ms. Pitt
Miriam was late for class: She
had just gone to the store to get some gum and instead had run into some of her
girlfriends and they had ‘just got to talking.’
They had wound up at a coffee shop where she had gotten a skinny mocha
latte, and, well, that had been at one and now it was almost three!
Her class started at
--
If she hurried Miriam might still make it, maybe. Her teacher was sometimes late, and this was one time she was glad to have her last name…
“Pitts?” A man nearby asked, looking at her incredulously.
“Excuse me, are you Miriam Pitts? The man seemed slightly surprised, and harmless.
Miriam glanced around, she would be late for sure, but who was this fellow who was acting like he knew her, she wondered. He looked like maybe he was a faculty or staff member, she could perhaps spare a moment to find out what he wanted… She stopped at the intersection, her curiosity getting the better of her. She had the ‘Don’t Walk’ sign anyway.
“Yes, I’m Ms. Pitts” she said cautiously, “And you are?”
“Oh I’m awfully sorry to bother you, my name’s Stanley, Stanley Bloom. I’m a friend of your father’s,” Alex lied. “I thought I recognized you from the pictures your father has sent me over the years. I don’t know if you remember me but I was at your parent’s wedding, oh silly me, of course, you weren’t even born yet.”
Alex put forth his best ‘absent-minded professor’ routine. “Well I was just speaking with your father the other day, and he mentioned that you were all grown up now and going to school here.” Alex smiled warmly and gestured magnanimously, “I’m a professor here, I teach English.” Alex continued to affect his kindest smile (His mouth starting to hurt after a few moments from the unnatural pose.)
--
Just before she was about to speak Alex started in with the rest of practiced act, “I’m sorry are you on your way to class? If you have just a moment I was hoping I might give you a few things to pass along to your father for me. I’ve been saving them all this time, mementos, and I’d rather not send them through the mail. I’m sure I can trust you not to open them?” Streuth played his role to the hilt.
Miriam looked crushed; this would take awhile if she followed him. Checking her watch she noticed that she was definitely tardy now anyway, so what did it matter. If she showed up to class now her teacher would just mark her absent anyway. “You knew my dad in the war?” Miriam asked, testing him.
“Hahah, no, no,” Streuth smiled, pleased at the play but confident in his research of his subject “Your father and I both spent the war in Canada together, that’s where he met your mother, but I say, you’re just like your old man, always cautious.” Streuth flashed her his best imitation of a friendly smile (starting to grow a little nauseous from being close to this unfettered, free young woman [so revolting, really, all this licentious walking around and spewing words and ideas out of their mouths, campuses were like filthy breeding grounds for feminist ideals.])
--
“What the hell,” Miriam thought, “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” Looking at ‘Professor Bloom’ she said, “Sure, and do you have any coffee?”
“Of course my dear,” Alex said smoothly, biting his tongue on: “Will that be one cube of sedative or two?” “Follow me, and I’ll tell you all about your father as a young man.”
Streuth led the succulent morsel, a carefully researched 20-year old with honey blonde shoulder length hair, smooth, tan skin, and gorgeous lips. She stood 5’ 5” and wore flip-flops and pajama pants. Her loose clothes obscured her fit, tawny body, its gentle hourglass figure accented beautifully by her perfectly round C-cup bosom which rose and fell as she walked beside Alex, her wide eyes drinking in his words.
--
Pointing towards the far end of campus he led the young Miram on a short jaunt, stopping to tie his shoe when he was certain that no one was around but the trees. He withdrew a pack of ‘gum’ from his pocket, pretending to put one in his own mouth before offering one to Miriam. The gum contained a strong sedative, masked by the wintergreen flavor, although it still tasted a tad bit bitter as Miriam chewed it thoughtfully, absorbed in the tales Alex was spinning about her father as a young man.
Stopping for a moment to plan out what she was going to do the next day, Miriam felt a little faint, and looked around for a bench to rest at. “It must be all that caffeine I had earlier, starting to let me down now.” Almost to the bench she started to fall, her mind feeling fuzzy as her legs buckled. Professor Bloom reached out to catch her as she collapsed, aghast at her plight, his face a mask of shock and sympathy.
Her eyes starting to droop, her mind growing fuzzier as her mouth slowed in its chewing, she felt that something was wrong, but she felt safe in the arms of Bloom who was showing such concern for her, and, as she was drifting into unconsciousness she hear him talking on his cell phone, calling for some ‘recovery team.’ She knew that they would help her to recover, although why didn’t they just call them ‘paramedics?’ Then when she was better she could do what she had decided to do tomorrow… Go shopping!
Chapter 1, A Taste of her new life
Miriam woke to find that her mouth was stuffed with caulk. Terrified she breathed raspily through the small hole that had been drilled into the translucent substance which now sealed off her mouth from the outside world. Alex smiled down at her happily and adjusted the I.V. which dripped life-giving stuffs into her beautifully transitioning body.
Her hair had been shaved off, giving her skull that fresh bald pate look that Alex found so becoming on female garbage. “You’re just a little useless silly stupid cunt, yes you are, yes you are, you silly shit-brained twat.” Alex cooed down at her condescendingly. “Who’s my empty-headed bimbo fucktoy? Who’s my wet-slitted waste container?” Alex continued berating the girl. “Who’s going to be a good receptacle for daddy, huh?” He continued to enjoy tormenting the girl as he glanced at the monitors.
Dr. Spencer would be returning shortly to continue with the procedures on Miriam, but, as he had stepped out to attend to a situation that had arisen elsewhere in the clinic, Alex had been unable to resist waking his sleeping doll in order to apprise her of her situation.
--
Pushing the button on the control panel nearby that dropped a mirror down out of the ceiling, Alex watched with malicious glee as the helpless Miriam’s eyes grew wide in horror and little mewling noises came out of the small airway that she now had. Her nose had been plugged with latex breathing tubes which did not lead to fresh air. Their ends had been mated to the waste-bag that her catheter and ass drained into. The only fresh air she would be getting would be the small amount that she would be able to breathe through the small hole drilled into her oral opening.
The whole affair was now taking place on one of Dr. Spencer’s hospital beds. Miriam was in one of the long-term care wards and was scheduled for an operation today. She had been sedated for three days so far and only minimal amounts of change had taken place as of yet.
--
Caressing her smooth scalp Alex cooed down at his lovely new toy, peering into her frightened eyes, soaking in the terror and the horror that grew there as her predicament dawned more fully on her, and the realization that this was not a dream, that this was real, settled more fully, weightily on her shoulders.
Guiding a funnel gleefully up to the small opening in her mouth (held permanently slightly open by the caulk job, Alex grinned in menace as he paraded various liquid possibilities in front of the eyes of the doomed damsel. “Perhaps you’d like a taste of the prune juice?” He asked, knowing full well he wouldn’t be giving her anything as simple as that. “How about some mud, does it make you thirsty thinking about it? Good clean mud, fresh from outdoors?” Alex was teasing her of course. Miriam shook her head no at each thing as he presented it to her, each more vile than the last. “Some cod liver oil maybe,” Alex continued.
Of course the real horror lay in her inability to resist, anything Alex wanted to drain into her mouth she would be forced to swallow since her tongue had been removed and there was no way she would be able to fight gravity.
--
Putting some more containers with clearly labeled ingredients up in front of her to look at Alex took delight in her reaction to each. She definitely didn’t want to drink a urine sample, she indicated, but she also said no to the liquefied dogshit. “Picky picky,” Alex tutted. “My my my, won’t you girls ever loosen up, that’s all you do all day is nitpick and complain.
“You’re whining right now when all I am doing is offering you a choice of refreshing beverages to parch your thirst.” Alex gazed down at her fuming face, her anger and hostility readily apparent, overshadowing her fear. He could see that she was starting to respond to his words, growing indignant and petulant, a growing hatred rising up in her bound face, her eyes seething with loathing for him and perhaps for men in general, it was too soon to tell, but Alex was working on it.
--
Glancing down at his notepad he made a checkmark next to her progress, adding next to it in longhand that she responded well to derision and patronage, and that continued exposure to mocking activities could further develop her hatred towards men. The ultimate goal here was not to have her hate Alex after all, that would only make her a good toy for him, and would hurt her resalability. If he could get her to hate men in general, well then she would have much broader appeal.
Just think of how lovely it would be to pour a fresh beaker of your piss or your semen into the beautiful, succulent lips of this helpless young maiden and see her fume and boil with anger and hostility, see her practically froth with sheer animosity towards every interaction you had with her, why, it was a simply charming ideal to strive towards, and Alex took pride in his work.
--
Satisfied with the documentation Alex lifted up the beaker he had known all along he would be pouring into his ‘lovely little girl, yes she is, so thirsty, oh so thirsty I know, here ya go sweetheart, drink up!’ as she made choking retching sounds at the intrusion.
Smiling sweetly down at her fuming face, its horror and hate glaring back at him, the mixed feelings of revulsion and anger alternating brightly in her facial response, Alex emptied the container of pureed slugs into her charmingly inviting face.
“Drink up little one,” Alex purred as she choked and gagged on the wretched slime. “Down the hatch,” Alex smirked as the vile concoction drained down the girl’s unwilling throat and pervaded her stomach. “That will smell just as good going out as it was going in, you can look forward to that my pretty little silly.” Alex laughed mockingly at her as he ratcheted back up the dial on the sedative and saw her glowering eyes drift slowly back into sleep.
Chapter 2, A New Wardrobe
Miriam was nearing completion. Dr. Spencer had completed all of the major surgeries and was just cleaning up the specimen for final dressing. The denuded girl still sported a fetching bald pate and stoppered mouth, but her ears had been covered over with a gummi substance that reduced her hearing to almost nothing. Her eyes had been widened and permanently dilated to give them a wide-eyed dolls’ appearance, and her arms had been bound behind her in a back prayer.
The girl’s nose had been upturned like a pig’s snout. The nostrils were slightly stretched as though they were being pulled upwards and indeed initially the effect was achieved with wires which wound back up over the girl’s head. The desired affect was reinforced by the application of a resin to the upturned crinkles in her nose which, once dry, held the nose in place when the wires were removed from her nostrils.
The caulk in her mouth had been colored red to resemble an apple and the stopper which could be placed inside (in effect suffocating her when her nostrils were also stuffed) was shaped and colored like an apple stem, replete with leafage. Her modified face had been coated with liquid latex as though it had been dipped in pink bubblegum and gave her a charming swine complexion. Fake ears had been glued on over the gummied, useless appendages she had sported before, and to all appearances Miriam’s face was the complete picture of contemporary pig-girl fashion.
--
Not content to only mock her face Alex had designed her chest for a bust increase. Slowly, through hormone infusions, as well as some creative surgery to implant her chest cavities with bountiful silicone baggage, Miriam now could more astutely be referred to as Miriam Titts. The little name tag which perched upon her leather collar said as much.
The rest of Miriam’s body had been streamlined, the arms had been bound behind her, and her legs had been amputated at the thighs. A set of prosthetics had been affixed to her stumps to allow her to waddle around on her newly shortened legs. The prosthetic legs were modeled after pigsfeet and offered the demure young lady the absolute best that modern technology had to offer in allowing her to move around at her reduced height.
--
The new limbs had excellent traction and would serve her well even when moving around in slippery conditions such as mud. However, in an attempt to ‘soften the blow’ of her transformation, literally, Streuth had made sure that her mammories were of sufficient proportion so as to absorb the brunt of a fall if the girl were to slip in such a substance.
In fact, a harness had been attached to the girl’s waist which would allow an operator to lift the girl back up if she were to fall while walking upright around such a mud-filled pen.
--
The waking Miriam was in for a fresh set of horrors, as the mirror was lowered once again to afford her a view of her new body. She wiggled the stumps of her legs in an attempt to disprove the sight but they nevertheless responded in their utmost to simple lie there, performing at maximum mobility for a set of thigh stumps.
Dr. Spencer winked down at her and began attaching the prosthetic limbs which also were a beautiful pink swine color. He happily flipped the parceled girl over onto her new tits which squashed under his ministrations as he tightened the prosthetic legs straps onto her waist and made sure that the ‘seat’ of the artificial lower body apparatus fit well inside of her anus:
The legs themselves served as only part of the whole treatment her rear would receive. The artificial limbs were attached in the middle by a latex moulding which would rest over the girl’s ample butt and fit inside of her anus with a firm dildo (the dildo had ridges to help hold it in after being inserted.)
This apparatus (which allowed her to walk around on her new legs) also held firmly onto her nether regions and contained the facilities to serve her waste routines. The plumbing was all neatly done with tubes and latex coatings to ensure that the rough-and-tumble setting of the pigsty Miriam was to be placed in would not upset her new legs.
--
The whole affair was finished off with a cute curly-Q pig tail which jutted from the rear of the prosthetic posterior. Some liquid latex and hypoallergenic glue was used to seal the new addition (the leg, seat, nether region latex apparatus) to the young lady, supplanting her already existing lower waist and stumplegs.
Chapter 3, This
little piggy cried Wee-Wee-Wee
Miriam could be heard (mutely) to be screaming and hollering in protest as her new ‘dress’ was fitted into her. Her piglegs attached, she was then grabbed by her back harness, which had been strapped around her waist, and helped upright onto her two legs.
With her arms bound behind her back the girl was sprayed down with pink liquid latex on her torso and then any other exposed skin to complete her piggy complexion.
--
The nostril tubes were fed down behind her shoulders and passed through the harness to continue down, securely, to her hindquarters.
There they were each fitted into the waste draining areas, located inside of her new ‘pants’, one each for her bladder and colon, respectively. The plan was to have a healthy amount of her excrement stored here for smelling before being directed down into the muck that she would be walking around in.
She would be given ample incentive to maintain an upright position while moving: If she ever fell down she would topple forward (being increasingly more and more topheavy as the days passed) to land in the muck.
--
Alex explained all of this to her, he outlined the basis of her new life, watching with delight as her eyes radiated both horror towards what he was describing and hatred for the men responsible.
Streuth made sure to introduce Spencer and each of the technicians who made her new life possible. “Bob here designed the robotics for your new legs,” Bob waved at her, “Larry here prepared the pen you will be staying in,” Larry blushed at the extra credit Alex was giving him, he hadn’t really ‘prepared’ it all himself, he just obtained the waste to fill it with, “and Charlie here will be maintaining you in your new place.” Miriam glowered at each of them in turn.
Alex leaned forward to inspect her nametag which said “Titts” in big, friendly, cuddly letters. Satisfied with the outcome of his newest creation Alex put his initials on the nametag, signing off on the final product.
Chapter 3, Mr. Desago
During the design and implementation stages Alex had been working
hard to sell his new design to a buyer in town and had eventually received a
suitable offer from Mr. Desago who owned a nice rural
plot in one of the more lush and fertile areas of Cherish. He was a nice laid back man, who had migrated
to
It was with relish that he had moved to Cherish, making a sizable donation to the ‘Cherish Endowment for the Endowment of Cherish’s Endowments’ [CEECE] (A fancy way of saying, “Money to preserve Cherish’s way of life and provide for security and defense for the town.”)
As lust would have it Mr. Desago had a penchant for young busty beauties who served men as farm animals. He had a growing stall of young honeys that had been prepared by Streuth and Co (or sometimes one of Streuth’s competitors) to imitate faithfully (but with the proper proportion of intact femininity, womanhood, and mental faculties) the animals of the barnyard.
“Miriam will serve as a great new addition to your farm,” Alex had pitched to Mr. Desago, who agreed after seeing some video of the trussed babe, and pencil sketches of the finished design by Streuth, who had amassed a formidable reputation in town.
“Is the work guaranteed?” Mr. Desago had queried, a little twinkle in his eye referring to the occasional weird mishap that Streuth’s designs had caused over the years.
“No one is perfect,” Alex had said the last time he has sold a unit to Mr. Desago (The design had called for the wrong kind of bondage and eventually the girl had suffered gangrene and had to be put down, at great cost to Mr. Desago.)
Streuth had taken to self-insuring his work after that point and each unit sold by Streuth Industries now comes with a money-back guarantee and a warrantee for the life of the unit (not the lifetime of the girl, “It is always possible to repurpose or refurbish the unit later, or simply retire it to serve as a waste processor, or an object of burden, appliance, or utility not meant for male consumption or interaction with,” one of Streuth’s salespitches towards older females goes.)
--
At the moment though, as Streuth pitched to Mr. Desago, he continued “Let us not speak of past failures my esteemed Sir, let us talk about the future, of the possibilities, of the vision of perfection we mutually share and wish to see come to women. This is a time for…” Mr. Desago cut Streuth off, not wanting to hear a blustering salespitch:
“Is the work guaranteed?” he repeated.
“Yes, of course,” Streuth looked mildly offended, “Every work [nowadays] comes with a guarantee.”
“Well then I think we are in business my good Alex. Now, let us drink to new found fortunes.” The two shared a robust red wine and took a tour of the facilities of Mr. Desago’s Farm.
--
“And over here is where I shall keep her.” Mr. Desago pointed to a small fenced in muck pit which was six feet deep and two feet full of a mucky, slimy substance. “This is my new pigsty, I have been building it for the past few months, playing around with the idea of adding a new breed of sow to the farm.” Mr. Desago smiled at Streuth, finally showing the designer that he had had every intention of buying this unit, and had in fact, given the timeline, probably heard about the idea from the very get-go.
“Well,” Alex said, taking this all in, “I see you prepared, Mr. Desago. May I ask what you mean by new breed?”
“Of course, my good Alex, of course... As you know I have several ‘regular’ models of sow on the farm, here for my amusement, they are fed and kept as pigs and I enjoy watching them and keeping them. In the Cherish tradition they are all young women who have been imported.” Both men nodded, this was an implied facet of their mutual interest.
“But these sows which I keep, they are not very modified, they are usually just bound girls who have been forced to endure this lifestyle through the use of the lash and through the eventual acceptance of their forced bondage.” Streuth nodded at Mr. Desago’s words. “The new breed I speak of is a wholly more pliant, more fully realized vision, a pig-girl who looks a lot more like the animal, and who, with, of course, the proper amount of feminine attributes…” Mr. Desago grinned as he said this, neither man really truly wished to see a woman (designed for public male comsumption) who did not have large chest orbs or a moist, vulnerable twat. “Who would appear and behave more as a pig does in its natural state. I am looking to introduce animals to the farm that, aside from their natural womanly features, might pass as a real animal to a casual observer.”
“Ahh, I see Mr. Desago, I see,” Streuth responded quickly, the idea simple enough. “So instead of having women who are put into animal like settings, as in a pony girl who is bound and trotted around, you would like a pony girl who is surgically altered and made to behave as a horse through more basic means, such as prosthetic limbs and the inability to function as a normal woman anymore.”
“Exactly Mr. Streuth,” Mr. Desago gestured towards the rest of the farm, “If I were to unbind one of the other ‘animals’ and clean her up, wash her off, feed her some regular food and dress her in a pink dress, she would pass as a wife or consort. What I am looking for here,” and he gestured towards the new pigsty that was being developed, with the revolting muck being added to as they spoke by a mixing machine which spewed forth mysterious foul-smelling substances down into the mix in a manner not uncharacteristic of a sewer drain, “What I am looking for here is, is, a new kind of animal…” Mr. Desago seemed at a loss for words to succinctly describe his vision.
“I understand,” Streuth was quick to take up the verbal slack, knowing full well what it was that his client was trying to communicate, “What you need is an animal who you will never think of as a woman, something you will never know as a female, whose history will remain foreign to you. Something which will arrive in a box and will look like an animal, act like an animal (with a little coaxing) and which will never be able to interact with you as an equal or as anything resembling a human.” Mr. Desago made a small frown at the frankness Streuth was espousing, but then he nodded at the logic of it after a few moments had passed.
--
“Yes, that sounds about right,” Mr. Desago grudgingly admitted after a few more moments of consideration.
Streuth flashed a winning smile, confident of his ability to deliver the perfect specimen: “Sign here,” he said, winking and then heading off to finish designing Miriam’s new specifications.
Chapter 4, Someone to be your friend, someone to tend, your own,
personal, product
Streuth hummed as he worked, filling in the lyrics in his mind “Down by the bay, down by the bay, where the watermelons grow,” he glanced over at the bust Miriam had achieved during the hormone treatment thus far, and then started to sing to her out loud “Back to your home, you shall not go…”
Smiling to himself he finished applying the last coats of ‘Wet’ to her body: His own mix of latex and bodyglue, ‘Wet’ bonded to the skin and to itself to create a breathable adhesion that gave the subject a wet, shiny look. It wasn’t perfect, it would eventually degrade and have to be reapplied, but it was a lot better suited for the task than ‘Hard’ which created a less breathable seal, was permanent, but eventually caused suffocation in the subject (suitable only for temporary or terminal designs.)
--
The question of ethics never crossed Alex’s mind, as far as he was concerned he was doing ‘God’s work’ (a tongue in cheek reference to the dogma that was fed some of the Cherish youth, since Streuth appreciated the tautology) and the less he concerned himself with the propriety of what he was doing, and the more he concerned himself with the actualization of ideas and execution of designs the better.
He lost no sleep resting his head between the mammoth, bulging, artificially implanted tits that served as his pillow each night (while he preferred overfilled ‘hard’ implants in his designs he realized the need for ‘soft’ bladder implants for a good night’s sleep.)
--
Surveying his handiwork Alex nodded at the finished aesthete: No inch of skin showed on the girl, everything was covered in a soft, flexible pink ‘Wet’ latex, layered on to make the girl look like she was molded out of plastic. Her head appeared covered in a hood, her pig ears sticking out cutely, her eyes hidden slightly behind their own prosthetic covers (minimizing vision but making them look ever so adorable) and her mouth the vision of a spitted pig, stuffed with the ‘red apple’ that Alex had lovingly crafted earlier. Removing the ‘leaf’ portion of the apple allowed the stuffed piggy to resume breathing, her nostril tubes giving her only minimal oxygen from when the waste in her bag occasionally, very rarely, would be replaced and there would be a few seconds interregnum between new bags.
Breathing rapidly through the small opening afforded her, the little piggy, “Titts” as her name tag said, struggled to supply herself with air. Alex brought a latex rebreather out of the box to his side, and, grinning maliciousy at the girl, slowly attached it to the mouthhole. Under ‘normal operating conditions’ this addition would not be used (unless Mr. Desago wanted to, but it seemed he wasted the more ‘natural’ look, and a latex bag hanging off of her head might disrupt the pig look) so Alex was having fun with it before final delivery occurred.
Letting her have some ‘alone time,’ she needed to dry anyway (The ‘Wet’ needed to dry), Alex closed the door on his creation and walked out into the hallway of Spencer Labs.
--
Crating the girl up later Streuth watched as Spencer took her ‘birth’ measurements, noting the weight, size, and shape of the girl for when she left in order to properly document her ‘factory settings.’ “Bust size is 42 inches,” Spencer spoke into his recorder, documenting the girl as a medical examiner does during an autopsy.
Streuth had dictated a larger chest size “We don’t want the client to feel like he is getting ripped off, a smaller chest indicates an inferior product, we want him to get his money’s worth,” but Spencer had noted that the size was impossible given the timeline, if one wanted to minimize the risk of tearing.
The hormone treatment, therefore, would continue at the farm, and Streuth apologized to Desago profusely for the small bust size but noted that it was offset by the quick turn around time. “Yes Streuth this is fine, we shall just put the hormone in her slop, she will continue to grow.” Desago had said this with a twinkle in his eye and Alex wondered just what plans the Tycoon had for the girl.
“You will have to promise me the ability to check up on the animal from time to time, to insure that my work is holding up [and to see what it is that you will be doing with her you delightful, sadistic old man],” Streuth didn’t say this last part, but he thought it, and smiled as he delivered the package, handing it over to Desago’s farmhands.
“Just sign here to certify that you received the order,” Mr. Desago signed as Streuth indicated, “And in a few days I’ll come back to make sure that you are satisfied with your purchase and/or to make any small ‘personalization’ changes that you may desire.” Streuth finished his business perfunctorily and then smiled, winked at the man who took after his own heart, and then turned and whisked away, briskly returning to other business.
Mr. Desago smiled after the retreating Alex, and then motioned to his farmhands, barking to them in his native tongue, instructing them to get the animal ready for its pen. A terrified Miriam could hear very little of what was happening outside of her crate, indeed, she would be hearing very little of what was going on around her at all with the gummi substance in her ears, but she was terrified nonetheless; it didn’t take a genius to know that she was now in the hands of the sadistic farm owner that Streuth had, so lovingly, told her about. It would have been a blessing not to know what was to come next. She had been given a small taste of some of the contents of the sludge earlier (having had it shoveled into her food pipe against her will) and so she knew that she wanted nothing to do with what awaited her.
Chapter 5, Life on
the Farm
The days of her carefree college existence, chatting idly with her friends, gossiping and carrying on lackadaisical girly conversations that wasted time and served no purpose other than to espouse fluffy notions into the air, warming up the air and showing everyone how infantile the female mind truly is, were finally over: “Welcome to your new home…” a banner proclaimed, Miriam had scant moments to read it, and, as she got to the last word “…piggy” she was unceremoniously dumped out of the crate, a crane hook affixed to her back harness. Eyes widened in shock, backpedaling as much as her restrained and reduced form would manage (which was very, very little) she tumbled into the muck of her pen.
She landed facefirst in the mucky sludge, getting a full mouth of it shoved in through her mouthhole, her wobbly tits getting covered in the mud before the crane went into motion and stood her upright onto her ‘hindlegs.’
Standing precipitously on her prosthetic hindquarters, her hands uselessly bound behind her back, the unstable Miriam lasted only a few seconds before falling down into the muck again, where she got another faceful of the slimy mixture and had the brown stuff splashed all over her bright pink ‘skin.’
Her bosom heaving and tears springing to her eyes she was unable to right herself and was forced to drink the toxic-tasting sludge or else choke on the stream that was now flooding slowly into her mouth-hole.
--
Mr. Desago laughed merrily down at the scene, his new piggy getting acquainted with her new home, knowing full well that it would take her a while to get used to her new legs and more than happy to watch as she learned to take her first ‘baby’ steps.
Setting a lawn chair down to watch the antics he broke out a case of drinks and a video camera to record his piglet’s training. Whenever she fell down the crane would yank her back up by her harness and set her back down on her hind legs.
--
Eventually the broken girl might give up and/or try to kill herself so Mr. Desago would eventually have to settle in for a little bit of ‘work.’ This basically entailed his threatening to kidnap the girl’s young sister or some such nonsense, nothing he would ever actually plan on carrying out (as it would entail too much work to benefit him above and beyond the merit of what simply making the threat would do.)
In fact:
According to Streuth the average ‘lifespan’, that is, the amount of time before behavior in a toy might cause detrimental performance (the amount of time before they might try to actively kill themselves, for example) is increased by about 10 years by simply making an empty threat. Actually carrying it out, or preparing materials to show that it could be carried out, only added an additional 3 or 4 years to the subject’s lifespan. An alternate form of ‘insurance’ could be bought through a more cajoling method, one whereby the subject is instilled with hope of escape or release, but it could sometimes be more elaborate to manage (some acting might be involved, or an elaborate ruse might have to be concocted.)
A simpler method for cajoling could be simply promising the young thing release after a few years, but the more intelligent ones sometimes discarded such promises out of hand, and such an act required the owner to ‘stoop’ to the thing’s level and actually have a sincere conversation with it. No, it was much simpler, all things considered, for Mr. Desago to simply make the threat to kill the girl’s family, or some other such rubbish, since it could be made through a subsidiary, one of the farmhands, for example, and he wouldn’t have to ‘get his hands dirty’ by conversing with the animal.
--
Miriam, or Titts, as Desago and his farmhands knew her (having requested no background info on the girl allowed Mr. Desago to disassociate her as a human being in his mind) had a heaving bosom which her owner appreciated as it frolicked in the muck.
It was not Mr. Desago’s intention to feed the thing’s hatred for men, as that would require work and personal attention, no he much rather preferred to use a low-maintainance type of relationship where the thing would eventually see his visits as a gift and his personal attention as nothing short of a divine blessing. To that end he left his farmhands to do most of the tending to her development. On this particular day he had decided to visit but not draw too much attention to himself.
--
On the few occasions when he would visit he was mostly businesslike, he wanted to check on its status and so on and so forth. As revolted as Miriam was by her circumstances, and as loathe as she was to grow complicit in this travesty enacted against her, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with her that this man who had obviously gone through a lot of trouble to obtain her might only stop by so seldom.
It made her pout a little actually, but only when her guard was down, to think that this man wasn’t appreciating her, even in her reduced state, and she began to think about why he might not like her… maybe she wasn’t attractive enough to him.
A woman is still a woman, and in her new circumstances Miriam still desired approval to compensate for her natural insecurities, especially in her new circumstances where all she did all day was look up, literally, at these men who looked down on her, and she saw herself as the animal that she had become (and which her owner always knew she had been.)
--
Perhaps if she did more of what he wanted, if she lived out his fantasy more, maybe that would please him, she thought.
If Mr. Desago had known that she had these thoughts he would have been very pleased, it was his desire to see Miriam acting like a pig, getting into the spirit of her new lifestyle, but he could not communicate this with her directly as it would be antithetical to how he wished to treat her.
So, instead he subtly encouraged her, by showing attention when she acted more like a pig, and ignoring her when she threw temper tantrums. Most importantly he treated and thought of her as he wished to, as an animal who belonged in a sty, and he kept her where she belonged and trusted that eventually she would come to see the reality of who and what she was through the repeated experience of her new lifestyle.
--
It brought a tear to Desago’s eye to think that he might finally have a suitable occupant for his sludge pit, a creature whose nature so perfectly matched her appearance, a little shit piggy to live in this filth and to be treated as an animal and an object while the farm went about its business and relegated her to her new station in life.
--
In his mind Mr. Desago watched himself as, in his fantasy he finished a piece of fruit from one of his orchards and then tossed the rind down into the waste pit below, happy to see that his combined compost and septic pit was finally able to house a companion of an equally revolting nature. The little piggy below rooted around for the rind and then happily devoured it while looking up for her owner’s approval.
All he had to do was wait, Mr. Desago knew, and he was a very patient man.
Chapter 6, Growth
The smell from the waste in her bag was only slightly worse than the stench from the pit, and shortly after moving her in to her new home Mr. Desago had removed the unnecessary accoutrements from her hindquarters so that the young girl could go naturally about her business. What was so cute was watching her try to hide herself while she emptied her bowels, her modesty intact despite being officially classified as an animal now.
What Mr. Desago found most endearing though was how the animal tried to maintain its cleanliness despite the circumstances. She was fed from a trough on one side of the pit, the slop being dumped in through a bucket to fill the feedtrough, and the dear thing always made a point of making toilet on the other side of the pit, as far away as she could manage.
Since the pen was about 16’ by 16’ it made it slightly more ecumenical for the young dear to at least be able to maintain some distance from her waste, and she was grateful to be able to breathe in some relatively ‘fresh’ air from her unplugged nostrils:
With the amount of time she spent facedown in the muck after taking a tumble Mr. Desago had thought it prudent to unstopper her snout. He had also, graciously, removed the plug from her mouth as well allowing her to greedily gulp from her slop bowl.
--
Alex’s design had been great but too controlled, Mr. Desago had determined.
The farm owner didn’t want to treat his piggy like she was in a lab. Here in her pen, out in the open, she was part of the ‘great outdoors’ (he snickered at how ‘great’ of an environment she was in) and therefore she should live like a wild pig.
To that end he had freed her face from its nostril and mouth bondage, but he wasn’t about to go ‘hogwild’ (again he chortled at his own joke:)
He still maintained her arm bondage and kept her nose upturned like a swine’s, appreciating the beautiful amount of resemblance she held to a pig’s while boasting such obvious human characteristics (such as her great big tits) that had been subverted for his own enjoyment.
--
Her namesakes protruded from her carriage and caused her to lose her balance often, an event that her owner never seemed to tire of. At this particular moment Mr. Desago was instructing the crane operator to carry out her weekly measurements.
In much the same way that a growing child is measured by their height with a mark on a wall, or a babies’ hands or feet are bronzed for posterity’s sake, Mr. Desago liked to commemorate the growth of his ‘piglet’ by hoisting her up in the air (through the use of the crane hook which had a constant bead on her harness) and taking impressions of her tits.
--
The crane operator lifted Titts up into the air, holding her there for a moment until dropping her swiftly back to earth, plopping her tits forcefully into the muck, making sure to get them nice and wet. Then, her form always securely in the grip of the hook, she is lifted up, out of the pen (where glances aroud fleetingly at the outside world she will never know) before being squashed down so that her tits smoosh onto the parchment that is laid out for this purpose.
Each week her tits are ‘measured’ by taking an impression of them, the operator dumping her chest down into the muck, making sure it gets a good solid coat of the brown waste sludge, and then lifting her back up to slam her down onto a fresh, large piece of parchment. Each week Titts’ namesake ‘stamps’ down onto the paper and forms a visual imprint of their size and tumescence.
Each week Mr. Desago fawns over her like a baby girl getting her first baby tooth, and clapps excitedly as he records the girl’s chest, her form still dangling from the air by crane hook, with a video camera and a digital photo. The parchment is then allowed to dry and then rolled up for storage in a nearby shed.
--
No one is allowed to talk directly to Miriam, they only talk about her, or, when talking in her direction, to her tits, congratulating them on their new size and dimensions, and encouraging them to further growth. It is extremely condescending and Miriam has cried on more than one occasion.
When she does this, since Mr. Desago thinks it extremely rude for this hanger-on (Miriam) to interrupt his conversation with the growing bosom, he motions for the operator to drop her back down into the pen, where she is deluged in the muck and is cut-off mid sob by the invasion of the mucky sludge into her mouth and nose.
--
Being stood up again, with the aid of the crane, and shaking off the stuff before too much of it crusts on, the fully degraded Titts has nothing else to do but wallow around in her filth and explore the sides of the pen, thinking about what she did (acted like a person) and she might act better (like a piggy) to receive better treatment in the future.
Looking up at the sky above and dreaming of life ‘on the surface’ the dejected Titts grapples with the reality of her life and tries to make sense of it all. The only conclusion her frustrated mind can come to is that she is not behaving well enough, she needs to ‘take to her new life’ better if she ever hopes of escaping.
Her defeated mind doesn’t even go through the motion of playing out the ‘I’ll just let them think they’ve won, and then, when they least expect it’ preferring instead the less cumbersome, ‘Let’s just do it, whatever they want, and maybe it will get better, maybe, if I just behave more properly’ which requires less thinking and makes the miserable life of the simple girl so much easier to handle. In fact, the less she thinks about it the easier it is to deal with.
In essence, since she knows that she will never be able to escape to the outside world, her mind slowly is escaping inside of itself, shutting down under the immense pressures of her disgusting life, and instead leaving her body (which is all her owner really wants anyway) to fend for itself. In this manner her mind can maintain some sanity (although she will still always be quite aware of what is going on around her as her mind reverts to this more basic ‘animal’ state which revolves around stimulus and environment. This is what Mr. Desago wants her to concentrate on anyway, just like a perfect little piggy.
Chapter 7, Her new life
Piggy Titts walked around in the slop, trying not to fall over, getting the brown paste on her pink skin and making her way over to the slop trough, she was hungry. She leaned forward, guiding her tits down the sides of the trough carefully (they acted as pseudo arms for her when she braced herself) so as not to slip while she bent over. She ate from the slop heap and swallowed the gruel. It had an oatmeal consistency and looked light-brown with specks in it that were black or white depending.
She was sure that there were insects in it, but she had trouble distinguishing when she ate. She knew that there were bugs in it because she saw them crawling out or flying in occasionally. Flies would also hover around her waste corner so she had to share the pen with them.
Often during the day the pen was serviced in the manner that it was originally intended, a bunch of food waste was dumped in to compost, or the pipe that drained into the pen would blurp and spew forth a bunch of especially noxious smelling soup. Miriam hoped that it wasn’t a septic drain, and that perhaps it was simply dishwater or something, but she stayed away from it as much as she could. She was careful to try not to slip on any of the more wet spots in the pen as she walked around because she hated it when the mushy stuff ended up in her mouth. It was so much worse than eating her slop, so she tried to keep her balance and maintain her ‘dignity’ by staying up out of the ‘mud’ (as she liked to think of it in her own mind.)
--
Every once in awhile the slop pile would burble and Miriam could swear it was like a drain backing up, which led her to question where her slop came from. It sure tasted like crap but she couldn’t bring herself to actually believe that it might be made out of the stuff. Furthermore the farmhands had taken to playing with her in a game they had created where they through things down into the pit and expected her to eat them. If she didn’t catch them in her mouth they expected her to get on her belly and root for it and then eat it.
A lot of the time it was actually decent stuff like a melon rind or the leftovers of a sandwich but sometimes it was mucus or a wad of mud and dirt from a workboot. If she ever refused to eat it or wasn’t quick enough the farmhands would push the sewer pipe a bit so that the angle changed, causing Miriam much anxiety. If they had cause to push it far enough it would drain down into her sloptrough, tainting it. When this happened Miriam would try to wait until right after her slop had been delivered and then eat from the ‘top’ of the slop as quick as she could before it had a chance to mix in or fall further into the yucky contents that had accumulated up in her feed trough from the pipe, but she wasn’t always successful.
Sometimes, in her haste to reach the trough right after the feed was emptied into her trough she would fall and the crane operator would take his time letting her back up onto her feet, letting her wallow in the muck and know that each moment that passed was one in which her food, as low-quality as it was to start with, was mixing in with the drainpipe’s contents.
--
Of course, each day was another day in the mess of her hellhole existence. As bad as it got at some moments there was always the constant degredation of existing upright at the crane operator’s whim. He could always ‘tug’ on her to cause her to fall over, and then take his time letting her back up. There was always the constant fear that her hindlegs might fall off (as the prosthetic had occasionally dislodged during a particularly violent tussle with the crane hook) and she would be stuck down in the mess with no way of getting up other than the yank on her back harness which would pull her up and out of the muddy stuff.
After getting a mouthful of the revolting muck one day Miriam could have sworn that it tasted exactly like shit, and, glancing over into the corner where she normally took her dumps she noticed that the pile had disappeared. Furrowing her brow she glanced up as one of the farmhands flicked his cigarette past her, a common occurance in her state, being subjected to random pieces of garbage, didn’t phase her anymore, but she still glanced up as this one had seemed aimed at her. The next piece of garbage, an apple core, did smack her on the forehead and she saw two farmhands high-fiving each other in response.
Eager for some real food she rooted down in the waste pile, plunging her head down through the two feet of waste (confident that the vigilant crane attendant would pull her up as he did countless times a day) to find the apple core and pull it into her mouth. Munching on it as she was hoisted up into the air and then set on her hindlegs Miriam had a slightly content look on her face.
So what if she ate garbage, wallowed about in garbage, and shat where ate (and ate what she shat?) she was garbage. It had taken her awhile to come to this realization but there didn’t seem anyway around it. After months of being treated like an animal, having no real human contact and being subjected to degrading torture and casual abuse her mind had finally coped by ‘normalizing’ her environment to preserve her sanity. As far as her newly rationalizing mind was concerned, this was her lifestyle, this is where she belonged, and this is who she was.
Looking down at her large protrusions, he massive chest sticking out in front of her, wobbling as she took diminuitive steps in her pigsuit to maintain her balance, her brown-splattered skin still showing bright spots of pink from when she had last been hosed down she gave in to what was expected of her and dove right into her new lifestyle, squealing with delight as the noxious mixture oozed over her.
Epilogue, A visit to the dump
Mr. Desago had just had a visit from Alex and after showing how his animal was taking to her pen he had invited him back to the farmhouse for some lunch.
Later that afternoon, after showing Alex out, Mr. Desago stopped by the pen again to enjoy some lemonade and watch his favorite animal at play. He noticed with relish that she was rooting around in the muck like she had lived there all her life, taking to her environment so readily that he decided to reward her.
Taking his pants down a bit to expose his hardening member Mr. Desago whistled out to his pet, causing her to look up at her owner as he let loose a torrent of piss straight at her that caught her right in the eye as she turned. Smiling down on her he was pleased to see that she smiled back up, obviously happy to receive this blessing of notice from her owner.
Motioning with his head for her to open her mouth Desago quickly beat off and beckoned for her to crawl forward towards him. Almost drowning in the sludge as she fell forward to accommodate his request the young piggirl nevertheless eagerly anticipated his hot load on her and ‘swam’ through the sludge (which had now climbed to three feet deep during the past few months) using her large breasts as buoys to keep her afloat. Kicking with her legs she navigated towards him until she was almost under him and then, just as he was about to cum he signaled to the farmhand next to him to release the valve.
--
Smiling down at the pretty girl whom he owned and kept as an animal Mr. Desago shot his sticky mess out into the pen he kept her in, his ownership and authortiy unquestioned in his domain, happy to mark his claim over such a wretched little creature.
Taking a hard look at her voluptuous tits before closing his eyes he locked the image into his brain, her eager mud-filled mouth looking up at him, her face blubbering to stay afloat, her pigbody ridiculous looking with its preposterous proportions and plastic exterior, she was such a stupid little shit.
As he closed his eyes in ecstasy the young girl below came into her ‘birthright’, he baptized her in the filth that poured forth from the drain on queue. The farmhand opened it up all the way so that as she gazed up to be embraced by his shining copious seed (and not receiving it as it shot by her into the pen) she was instead drenched by a torrent of farm waste that covered her completely and buried her under the combined tonnage of animal crap, food waste and other odds and ends that a farm generated and housed in a septic tank.
--
Having expressed his full opinion on her, Mr. Desago zipped up and walked back to the house to catch the evening news, leaving the mess in the pen to sort itself out. Coughing and spluttering under the weight of the farm’s filth the piggy girl wormed her way out of the muck to fresh air.
She felt honored to have received such masterful attention from her owner, and knew that the dump he had taken on her spoke volumes about what he thought about her.
As she looked at the huge pile of shit and bubbling muck that had joined her in the pen she knew that it was a sign of just how much her owner cared for her to have given her such a large, new companion.
---
by
Alex Streuth
Literary notes: Alex gets his ‘toes wet’ in this one, so to
speak, actually going out and actively luring a young woman as opposed to just
calling in a retrieval team.
Additionally this story deals with the concept of animalization and life
on a farm in Cherish. These are all
firsts in my work thus far but the room is opened for more types of this work
with the introduction of the delightfully wicked Mr. Desago,
an older gentlemen whose proclivities include keeping
women as farm animals.
This story also marks a return
towards some more emphasis on apparel, as I feel that I don’t describe the ‘frippery’
often enough, and have not been using enough latex in my work thus far. Hopefully this is a bit of a step in the
right direction in that regard. In the
words of one of Mr. Desago’s farmhands ‘Y’all come
back real soon to enjoy the fruits of our labors, er,
the labors of our juicy female fruit.’
Cheers,
AS
--
My influences come from the
writings and imagination of Benson and Gord as well
as fiction from mygagorder.com, thundershrk,
h.grant and sickman.
I also appreciate the work of Bolo of
mygagorder.com for his wonderful restructuring images.
Keywords: Objectification degradation extreme
modifications modified enhanced swallowed piggirl choked
gagged puked vomited forced modified injected amputated helpless down into
mouth throat slave
--
Lastly, the author disclaims
that outside of the realm of fantasy none of these types of
behaviors and/or ideas are healthy much less conscionable. It is my intention to provide a well-written
adult story that allows the reader to indulge in their darker appetites. Feedback is welcomed, and you may write me at
Streuthanasia@gmail.com
--
Reader suggestions are always
welcomed and I am sure if you have a specific situation, person, item of
clothing, object, body part or interaction etc. that you wish inserted into the
busy schedules of the exacting Dr. Spencer and Mr. Streuth
please do not hesitate to contact me regarding it. I will see it I can fit your order into their
schedule, or bring it up at the next Cherish Board meeting. –AS
Please check out Alex Streuth's
Stories (www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Alex_Streuth/www/)
for my hosted collection.