The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Subject: Pull Over! Part 4

(M/M, Hypnosis, B&D)
Date: October. 2000

Any comments will be gladly received at

Note: Any resemblance to real people is strictly coincidental. No real people are depicted in this piece of fiction. This story contains explicit male to male sex, domination and bondage. If you don’t enjoy reading this sort of material or are under the age of 21, DO NOT CONTINUE READING. If you regard this type of material as depraved then flee from here and don’t look back! And always remember: unprotected sex can cause HIV transmission. Always play safe.

A state trooper finds that he’s the one answering the summons.

Pull Over—Chapter 11

Once again, I dreamt of him, my Master now, standing over me. I was begging him not to leave me. I cried and held onto his feet, so afraid was I that he was going to leave me alone. I wanted to be with him forever. I awoke with a start, my heart pounding and tears on my face. I did want him. I would do anything to make him happy. As I lay there, bound in the dark, I realized that what I’d been seeking all along was to belong to someone. Only I’d gone about it completely the wrong way. Was it at all possible that I could make him want me? By God, I was going to try.

The next morning, I heard my Officer Master coming down the stairs. I started to sit up but was brought up short when I attempted to draw my arms and legs toward my body and found them bound to the cot. All I could do was wait. In a short moment, my Master opened the door and entered the room. He was no longer dressed in his uniform, wearing instead jeans, athletic shoes and a denim shirt. I could see a few strands of blond hair sticking out from the open neck of his shirt. And following him was someone I knew. It was Tom, the guy who’d pierced my Master’s tit when he was my slave and I was the Master. Now the roles were reversed and I didn’t have to ask what was going to happen. Tom opened his bag and pulled his implements out, placing them on the small table beside the bed. As he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, he looked down at my denuded chest. “I like him a lot better shaved. Really shows off his muscles,” he commented nodding approvingly. “He’s not shaved,” Master answered. “He’s been permanently stripped. That’s what his buyer wanted. Didn’t want to have to bother with shaving him all the time.” “I like it!” Tom answered enthusiastically. “Can I know what you used?” “Sure,” said Master. “Let’s get this taken care of and I’ll give you the name of the stuff and my source.” “Sounds good,” Tom answered. “I have a lot of customers who either want to get rid of their own hair or have slaves they want to strip. Maybe I’ll set up a distribution point for the manufacture.” All the while, he was getting his tools ready. “I’ll suction his tits while I do his dick. That’ll help the rings to be situated well back into the cone. Makes ‘em better for rough tit-work.” “Sounds good to me,” Master answered, staring coldly into my nervous eyes.

Tom took a hand pump and suction tubes, greased the ends, lubed my nipples with mineral oil, applied a tube to my right tit and pumped away at the hand pump. My tit was drawn into the vacuum until it extended half and inch down the tube. Then he repeated the process on my left tit. When he was satisfied that the tubes were going to stay on, he looked at my confined cock. “Have the key for the cock cage? I can’t do this while it’s caged up.” “Oh yeah, sorry,” my Master responded and, pulling the key from his pocket, unlocked the padlock and removed the cage from my dick. Tom began to rub his rough thumb over the head of my cock, bringing me to a rapid erection. Before I was completely rigid, however, he stopped. “Don’t want him too hard; the sheath won’t slide in,” he said. Then he took a Q-tip and covered it with some cream he took from a tube. Using his thumb and finger he spread the tip of my dick, opening the piss-slit and inserted the Q-tip. I’d never been penetrated that way before and gasped at the uncomfortable invasion. In a matter of seconds though, the pain ceased. In fact, I felt very little. “What’s that?” my Master asked. “A topical anesthetic,” he answered. “It’ll reduce the pain to a bearable level. Also has an antiseptic in it. Helps prevent infection.” I just lay there clenching and unclenching my fists and toes. I knew what was coming and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The piercer took a metal sheath that resembled a hollowed-out bullet with a hole in the point and slid the point into my piss-slit, which puckered around it, like lips around a cock while I gritted my teeth at the discomfort of having my urethra stretched. When it was in as far as he wanted it to go, Tom took a curved needle out of a sealed plastic bag and inserted it into the end of the sheath. Then he pushed it home. I felt the pain and pressure inside my dick as the point began to pierce my flesh. I started to cry out, but Tom grabbed a rubber dick from his bag and shoved it between my teeth. “Bite on this,” he ordered and I did as I was instructed, gritting my teeth and sinking them into the soft shaft. The pain continued for what seemed an eternity until I felt the point break through the underside of my penis. Tom pulled the sheath out of my slit, leaving the needle imbedded in my cock. Then he attached a ring to the back end of the needle and, using a pair of forceps, pulled the needle and ring through the hole. Then he unhooked the needle and screwed a ball onto the end of the ring that protruded from the bottom of my dick, securing it. . There was remarkably little bleeding and Tom used a cotton swab to wipe away the few drops of blood there were. “His buyer can increase the gauge of the rings if he wants, but it’s best to start out fairly small until the hole heals and toughens up.” I heard Tom speaking to my Master but the words and meaning hardly registered. “God,” I thought. “If this was with an anesthetic, what’s it like to do it without?” I didn’t want to know! But I was about to find out.

Tom turned his attention to my chest. He took another needle from a plastic envelope and produced a heavy gold ring from another envelope. He wiped the ring and the needle with alcohol and placed them on a plastic sheet on my smooth chest. Then he pulled the tube off my right tit. “Right one first,” he said to himself He grabbled my distended nipple between the thumb and fore-finger of his left hand and pinched hard. Then he took the needle in his right hand and plunged it through my tit in one swift move. I wasn’t quite ready for it and I screamed at the sudden stabbing pain. “Shut up boy,” my Master yelled and I tried to stifle my sobs, chewing on the dick in my mouth. Tom used a pair of forceps to pull the ring through the hole in my tit and squeezed the small opening in the ring closed. Then he dropped it on my chest. He repeated the operation on my left tit. This time, I knew what was coming and chewed into the cock between my jaws, uttering only guttural cries in an attempt to not displease my Master. Once more, Tom wiped the little bit of blood away from my tits and applied bandages to each nipple. “These’ll heal completely in a few weeks; the PA in less time. Make sure they don’t become infected and turn the rings often to keep the holes open. That’ll also help to build up scar tissue around the openings. Tomorrow, bring him into the shop for the tattoo. We can settle up then.” “OK,” said Master. “Thanks for coming by.” “No problem,” said Tom. “I’d sure like to know how you two switched roles, but I guess that’s none of my business. I’ll say this; he sure makes a hot slave-boy.” “Yeah, he sure does,” said Master, looking over my smooth, pierced body. “I can’t wait to see him when he’s a fully trained dog. That’ll be a sight.” Laughing, he showed Tom out, while I lay there with tears in my eyes, my dick hard as a rock. I could look down and see the ring piercing my dick glinting in the light. I hoped I’d not displeased Master. I hoped he would relent and not send me away if I was a good dog.

When he came back, my Master untied my legs from the bottom of the cot. Then he fastened the ropes that were wrapped around my ankles to the rail at the top of the cot and pulled them taut, pulling my legs back over my head, exposing my asshole to view. He took another rope and wrapped it around the pierced head of my cock and pulled it back, tying the end around my neck. Then he stood at the foot of the cot looking down at me. “Now begins your training, dog. I’m going to teach you to give a man pleasure with your asshole and with your mouth. I used the web to learn a lot while I was getting ready for you. So I know how to turn you into a proper animal. I’m going to train you to be the dog that you are; the dog that you’ve been. Say hello to the rest of your life.” While he was telling me this, he was busy lubing a dildo and inserting it up his own hole. When I glanced at it, he sneered at me. “Yeah, you did that to me. I can’t get hard without something up my ass.. So I’m going to fix you now as repayment for what you did to me.” As he spoke, he was stroking his large cock into a full erection. When his cock was hard, he knelt on the bed, spit on my hole, placed his rigid flesh against my pucker and rammed it home. I screamed from the pain; I screamed from the humiliation; I screamed from the realization that what he said was true; I screamed in acknowledgement that this was, in fact, my deepest desire. In enslaving him, the man who was now my Master, I’d enslaved myself and projected on him my own deepest desire: to be ruled and owned by another man. As he began to move in and out of me rhythmically, I began pleading with him “Fuck me Master. Please fuck me harder. Make me your dog. Please fuck me Master.” And he did!

Pull Over—Chapter 12

He lay on top of me, his chest heaving after depositing his seed in me. I could feel them as they wriggled up my gut, seeking what they’d never find there, but seeking nevertheless. I moaned in combined pain and contentment, my ass stretched beyond any girth it had ever experienced, wanting nothing more than for the stretching to continue. All I wanted was to have him inside me. But eventually, he pulled out. He slapped my ass and then produced a butt-plug as large as his own considerable cock. He shoved two fingers into my violated hole and extracted some of his spunk, mixed with my own mucus. He slathered the mixture over the butt-plug and then rammed it home. He put a belt around my waist with a strap that ran between my legs. He pulled my cock and balls through a cock-ring that was fitted into the strap. Then he strapped the butt-plug in place, locking the strap and belt on with a padlock. “That will keep your hole ready for use at any time,,” he said, once again slapping my butt. Next, he replaced the cage back on my cock and locked it in place. Then he hooked the open end of the ring piercing my cock through the bars of the cage. “You won’t have any need for this,” he said. “In fact, you won’t have any need for any of this,” he continued as he grabbed my caged cock and imprisoned balls. “But we’ll make it so you at least look natural, since your buyer doesn’t like the look of a gelding.” He laughed and slapped my balls, sending a jolt of pain up my spine that made me gasp.

“Now for your next lesson, dog. As you should know, dogs don’t talk: they only bark, yip, howl or whine. So from now on, that’s all I want to hear from you. If you’re in distress, you can howl. If you’re afraid, you can bark urgently. If you’re happy, you can yip happily. If you’re in pain, you can whine. But no more words. If you speak like a human, I’ll beat you. By the time I send you to your new Master, dog language will be all you know. Do you understand?” “Yes.” Before I’d finished the word, Master whipped a belt from behind his back and slashed at my exposed ass. He struck four times, the last time, catching my perineum with the tip of the belt, sending me into a spasm of pain. “Howl,” he yelled. “Howl, howl. No more words. Howl. Do you understand?” “Aaaahhh! I-I- " Again the belt slashed at my exposed butt. By the time he’d struck the second four blows, I was howling in pain. It’s amazing how quickly pain will reinforce a lesson. “Do you understand?” In response, I howled my assent. “Good boy,” he said, lowering the belt and stroking my flaming cheeks. “Good boy.” I whined in pain and relief. I understood. Words were no longer an option for me.

Master released my legs from the top rail of the cot, allowing me to straighten out. I eased my sore butt to the mattress and whimpered when my inflamed skin touched the surface and the butt-plug was pushed further into my hole. Then he released my arms from the cuffs and moved to the middle of the room. “Come,” he ordered. I stopped for only a second, realized what he wanted and crawled off the cot and across the floor to his feet. “Good boy. Sit!” I lowered myself back onto my knees and sat on my knees with my hands on the floor, hoping this was the position he wanted. “Good boy. You learn fast. Good dog.” Apparently, I’d done the right thing. “Sit up,” was his next command. I sat back and raised my hands from the floor, holding my arms to my sides, bent at the elbow in imitation of a dog’s posture. One forgets that a human body isn’t built like a dog’s body, but that was my problem, not his. My role was to obey. He rubbed my smooth head and scratched me behind the ears. “Good dog. Such a good dog. Now remember, dogs usually pant when they breathe, so let’s see what a good dog my boy is.” I opened my mouth and began panting. It seemed strange at first, but as my brain began to accept my place in the world, it began to seem more natural. “Stay,” he ordered and turned and left the room. How long would he be gone? I lost track of time and was beginning to tire from sitting up. My knees were sore and my back was beginning to protest the unnatural position I’d been ordered to remain in.

Eventually, I heard Master coming down the stairs. I began to quiver at the thought of seeing him again. My Master. He’s such a handsome man! He came through the door carrying two metal dog bowls. He was also naked, except for a leather harness that crossed his chest. I began to pant harder and my entire body trembled. He looked at me, smiled and said “Come!” I bounded across the room on my hands and knees, yipping in a high-pitched voice. When I reached him, I jumped up at him, trying to lick his hanging dick and balls. “OK, OK. Calm down boy. Easy. Easy. Sit, boy, sit!” he ordered. I settled back on my haunches, but my butt continued to wag back and forth in delight. As I watched, he put the bowls on the floor. I kept my eyes on them, for in truth, I was very hungry. I hadn’t eaten since supper the night before. I had no idea what time it was now, but my stomach told me it had been a long time since I’d eaten. In the one bowl was what looked like a beef stew. The other contained water. I lifted my eyes to my Masters, whimpering in hunger. “OK boy. You can eat,” he said and I bounded forward to bury my face in the food. I scarfed the food down and licked the bowl clean. Then, when I was finished, I tried lapping up some water. This was obviously going to take some practice. The human tongue isn’t constructed like a dog’s so it didn’t quite do the job. Finally, I resorted to just sucking up the water.

When I was finished, I sat back and looked up at my Master, licking my lips. “Do you need to go out boy? I think it’s probably time you did,” he said. I hadn’t thought about it before, but I suddenly noticed that my bladder was full and my bowels needed relief as well. I barked my need. “Good boy,” he said, and snapped a leash on my collar. Then he led me up the stairs and through the kitchen toward the back door. The ascent up the stairs really took a toll on my knees and I cried a little with each step. Finally, we were in the back yard. He led me to a tree and told me to pee. I was quite unaccustomed to this and didn’t quite know what to do. My cock was imprisoned in the cage and was pointing down so at least I didn’t have to worry about wetting myself. But when I started to spread my legs to lower myself to the ground, he swatted me sharply on the ass. “Raise your leg, you stupid dog. You’re not a bitch! You don’t squat down. You raise your leg and pee on the tree.” I was appalled that I’d made him angry and been so stupid. I edged toward the tree trunk and raised my leg. Finally, after a few moments, my sphincter relaxed and the flow began. It wasn’t quite like a dog because the ring in my slit and the cock cage prevented me from hitting the tree directly, but it was close enough to make my Master happy. When I was finished, he patted my head and led me over to a plastic bucket that was sunk into the ground. Then he unlocked the strap and belt holding the butt-plug in and pulled the plug out. “OK. Crap in the bucket. And if you miss, you’ll eat it. Do you understand?” I whimpered my understanding and squatted over the hole in the ground, careful to ensure that my hole was above it. In my former life, I’d always needed privacy to accomplish these kinds of tasks, but it was apparent to me now that privacy was no longer an option. Master had ordered me to unload, so I had to unload. I strained a little to relax and fortunately, because my ass had been stretched and greased, the shit, once it got started, came easily. When he was satisfied that I was finished, Master led me back toward the house. I had a momentary pause as I wondered why I couldn’t wipe my ass but then I remembered that I was a dog and I was naked and denuded of all hair. There was no need to wipe my ass. So I trotted alongside Master as best I could, considering that my knees were quite sore by now. But I was determined to make my Master proud.

He led me back downstairs and into my room. “Now let’s do something about those legs,” he said, producing a pair of knee pads. “Roll over,” he ordered and I flipped onto my back. He buckled on the knee pads and ordered me to “stand up”, by which he obviously meant that I was to “stand” on my hands and knees like the dog that I was. When I was back on my “feet”, I did indeed find it much more bearable. My knees were still sore but the padding helped a good deal and I knew that I would more easily get used to being on all fours with the knee pads. Then he produced a pair of leather “paws”, or rather, fingerless mitts. “Curl your fingers,” he ordered and placed the mitts over my hands, buckling them in place. My hands were, for all intents and purposes, gone. “That’s a good dog,” he crowed and I licked his cock in gratitude for his praise. Finally, he pulled out a butt-plug with a curved, stiff leather tail attached to it. “Head down,” he ordered, and I lowered my head to the floor. He parted my ass cheeks and pushed the butt-plug home. It narrowed below the shaft and had a flared end so that my sphincter closed around it and kept it from popping out and from being pulled inside. When it was seated, I tentatively wagged my rear end, enjoying the feel of the penetration and the additional stimulation I received as the tail wagged back and forth. “Good dog,” he said, slapping my butt. “Now sit.” I did as he ordered, feeling the pressure of the butt-plug being pushed even harder against my prostate and making my dick press against the bars of the cage that imprisoned it.

We spent several hours that afternoon with him teaching me to respond immediately to his orders directly and exactly. I wanted to please him so much that I concentrated hard and learned my lessons well. I still harbored a hope that he would relent in his decision to sell me and keep me as his own. Maybe, in fact, the next “Master” was just a charade. Maybe there was no one and it was always his intention to keep me. Every time I looked at him, my eyes must’ve shone because he meant so much to me. He’d uncovered my true nature and desires. He was teaching me my place in the world. And he was so handsome. The strawberry blonde buzz cut with the “at attention” fringe in front; the beautiful pink nipples, one with the bar piercing it; the heavy cock and balls, standing out from his trimmed bush and showing that he was obviously aroused by owning and mastering me. In addition to the normal dog behaviors, he also taught me how to suck cock correctly, punishing me when he felt my teeth against his skin and praising me when I learned to suppress my choking reflex and to massage his hard flesh with my throat. I used my dog-tongue to caress the length of his shaft and tease the tip of his cock. Finally, when I felt his cock beginning to twitch, he pulled out. “Good boy. But I’m not ready to come yet. So we’ll stop for a while.” I just looked up at him, panting and wagging my tail. I’d never been more happy.

The next day, he loaded me into the trunk of the car and drove away. Before too long, the car stopped and the trunk-lid opened and Master helped me out. We were in an ally-way with the car blocking the view of this man with a naked, stripped man-dog on a leash beside him. Master opened a door that adjoined the ally and urged me inside. Inside was Tom. “Bring him in here,” Tom said, holding a curtain aside and ushering us into a cubicle. “Get him up on the table.” Master helped my up on the table and ordered me to sit. Three hours later, we left. Master had had Tom put an ornate Celtic-style tattoo over my right shoulder and upper arm. Entwined in the sweeping red and green curves was the body of a dog, stretched along my arm and shoulder, it’s wide open, snarling mouth reaching toward my throat. And tattooed on the inside of my forearm was “Snafu”. “That’s your new name,” my Master said. “Snafu. I think it suits you,” he laughed, chucking me under the chin. I licked his hand and yipped my pleasure at having a new name.

The training continued for several more days. During that time, I became completely accustomed to panting and barking, as well as wagging my tail to express my feelings. Occasionally, Master would whip me just to hear me howl and ensure that I made the sounds correctly. I think he also enjoyed beating me for the sake of beating me. I could sense an intense anger behind the whip as it bit into my backside and I think at those moments, he was letting his anger at the horrible way I’d treated him well up to the surface. When I felt that, I really howled; not just in pain but in remorse. I was so sorry for having ruined his life and destroyed his self-image as a macho cop.

That first week-end of my training, he’d brought in a large dog cage that was to be my kennel. He placed a blanket on the bottom and on week-nights, he left me alone, leashed to the bars of the cage. He’d tell me to be a good boy and remember that I was house-broken. He spread a paper in the corner in case I couldn’t hold it. He also left me enough food and water to get me through till morning. Then he’d stop by on his way to work, I presumed, to walk me, allowing me to piss and crap in the bucket. I’d gotten pretty good at heisting my leg and pissing on objects such as trees and fences, just like any good male dog. When I was finished, he’d take me back to the “kennel” and lock me in for the day. “Dogs need to be locked up during the day. I can’t trust you not to climb up on the furniture, so you’ll stay in your cage,” he said. I whimpered at being confined and at his lack of trust. But I suppose he was right, as Master’s always are. Had he left me on my own, I might have forgotten myself and reverted to my human ways. Being locked in the kennel prevented my forgetting what I was.

Pull Over—Chapter 13

The days and weeks went by and the days blended together. I lost track of days of the week, knowing only that when Master had to go to work, he arrived in the morning in uniform and when he wasn’t in uniform, I yipped in excitement when he came in because I hoped he would spend the entire day with me. Sometimes he did; sometimes he didn’t. But I always knew it would be more that just a perfunctory “walking” when he was out of uniform.

Then, one morning he arrived as usual and opened the door. He was out of uniform, so I yapped excitedly and jumped about in my kennel, hoping we could spend the day together. He greeted my as usual, patting my head and scratching my ears. He bent down, allowing me to lick his face, chuckling as I did. Then he took me out for my usual airing, bringing me back to the kennel room after I’d finished. “Sit boy!” I sat back on my haunches, gazing eagerly into his face. “Well boy, I think it’s time for us to part company. You’re well-trained and you’re a good dog. Now it’s time for you to go to your permanent Master.” My face fell and tears well up in my eyes. I began to whine. It couldn’t be true. Please say it’s not true. Please keep me. My eyes and my whines begged him. “I know boy,” he said, patting my head. I think I understand. But this must be. I have to live my own life and you’re not in the equation. My girlfriend and I are getting married soon and I can’t have a dog too.,” he said “She only wants one dog in the house and that’s me,” he added bitterly. I dropped my eyes, feeling an immense sense of guilt.

After a few moments of silence, Master cleared his throat. “OK. Today’s the day. The first thing is your neutering.” My heart leapt to my throat Neutering? What was he going to do? Suddenly, his words about my next Master not wanting a dog that looked like a gelding came back to my memory and had a meaning. My mind was racing. Just then the doorbell rang and he left to answer it. I sat gazing forlornly at the floor. Somehow, I’d never imagined this. Why? Why neuter me? Then, as I thought it over, I realized the justice of it. I had, for all intents and purposes, neutered him. He would be married soon to a woman who would take his sperm when and how she chose and, in the meantime, abused him and cuckolded him at will. Yes, I had stolen his manhood. It was the only fair thing that, in addition to turning me into a dog, he should take also take my potency. He returned with a man I didn’t know. The man was carrying a satchel. “Where shall I put him?” Master was asking the man. The man looked around the room. “There’s really no place here. Do you have a table we can lay him on?” “Does he have to be lying down? I’d like him to be on his hands and knees.” “It’s harder that way. It’s simpler for me to have him lying on his back. I can get at him easier.” “OK. How about the kitchen table?” “That’ll work. Take him upstairs then.”

Master bent to hook the leash on my collar. As he did, I licked his hand and our eyes met. He just looked into my eyes and I nodded and licked his hand again. He smiled faintly and rubbed my head before turning and leading me through the door and up the stairs and into the kitchen. “Do you have a plastic bag we can put on the table? I don’t think you want to mess it up.” “Yeah, sure. Right here.” Master pulled a bag out of the drawer and handed it to the man. “You know, it isn’t too often I do a man. I’m more accustomed to dogs and cats. But when a guy wants his slave done, it’s a nice change of pace for me. By the way, you wouldn’t be interested in sharing him with me would you? A three-way maybe?” “Maybe some other time. Let’s just get this taken care of, OK?” “Yeah, sure thing.” The vet placed a pad on top of the garbage bag and told Master to get me on the table. I climbed onto the table and lay on my back, my legs hanging over the edge.

The vet took several woven straps out of his bag. Two he ran over my belly and my chest, pinning me to the table. The third he placed over my cock, and pushing my cock down against my belly, strapped it down. Then he wiped my scrotum down with antiseptic, turning it a rusty orange. Next, he took a syringe and inserted the needle into my sack. The discomfort quickly turned to numbness as he pulled a bottle out of his bag. Inside the bottle, floating in a clear liquid, were two globes about the size of golf balls. “I believe these are the size you said you wanted. A little bigger than his own, but they’ll look perfectly natural. Of course, with the loss of the testosterone, he’ll become impotent. But I’m assuming you know that and don’t care.” “You got that right. Let’s just get on with it, OK?” “Sure thing. It’ll take just a few minutes.” He took a pair of forceps and clamped them onto my exposed sack. Suddenly, it hit me full-force. I was going to be castrated and I was going to have to watch! Actually, I don’t think I could have taken my eyes away anyway. I was enthralled by this most primitive of male fantasies. My cock was throbbing against the strap that imprisoned it and leaking pre-cum into the cavity of my navel. It was, I realized, one of the last erections I’d ever have.

He clamped a forcep above my right testicle, then another below it. He asked my Master to hold the lower one so that my sack was stretched taut. Then he made an incision. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and the room went dark. When I came to, he was holding my ball with a pair of forceps and snipping through the connecting tissue. He held my ball up where I could see it and then dropped it into a bottle of formaldehyde. Then he took the artificial ball out of its bottle, placed it in the cavity left by my own ball and began to stitch up the incision. He repeated the process on my left testicle. When he was finished, he labeled the bottle holding my balls and capped the top. “Well you’ve got a neutered dog now. Anything else I can do for you?” “Would you mind checking his PA and tits, just to be sure they’re healing properly?” “No problem,” the vet said as he removed the bandages from my tits. He fiddled with my rings. “Looks OK. Nice job too. Is it Tom’s work?” “That’s right.” “Yeah, he’s always neat. I expect the PA’s fine too,” he said as he lifted my cock and flipped it back and forth, inspecting the piss slit and the underside where the ring came through. “This looks good too. Just be sure it’s kept clean. You’ll want to wash it with a little sterile water after he pisses to prevent any collection of urine in the hole.” “Great. Thanks.” The vet and my Master exchanged conversation as the vet packed his equipment and my Master showed him out. I lay there feeling somewhat ill and dizzy. I’d been neutered! I was a eunuch! But even I had to admit to myself that I deserved it. I’d done the same thing to my Master, only he could still be used to make babies. I no longer could, but had never wanted to anyway. Besides, my new Master would never permit me to breed, I was pretty sure. So it was a just outcome.

My Master came back in the room and looked down at me. “Well boy. It’s about that time. The truck will be here soon, so I need to finish with your processing.” I just looked up at him and whimpered. My cock was still leaking and it throbbed as I gazed into his eyes, beseeching him. “What is it?” he asked me. “If you think I’m going to change my mind, don’t bother. You have it coming.” I didn’t dare speak; I knew the rules. I was a dog. But I wanted him one more time before he eliminated “me”. I looked at his dick and wriggled my ass as best I could and whimpered, shifting my gaze from his eyes to his dick. “What? What do you want? You want me to fuck you?” He understood! I yipped in response. I just wanted him to fuck me one more time. I knew I was going to lose him forever because I’d be losing myself, but I wanted to have him in me one more time. He looked down at me and nodded as he started to stroke his cock into an erection. “OK boy. I’ll give you that. One more time.” He took one of the dildos I’d used to train him and, after greasing it, thrust it up his ass. To my pained glance he responded, “that’s right. You ruined me. I can only get hard when I’m being penetrated. But I guess you never considered what that would mean to me, did you?” I shook my head and whimpered, tears of regret in my eyes.

Pull Over—Epilogue

As he’s fucked me with his large dick, my mind has flashed over everything that has happened up to this point; the last moments of my life as myself. And that’s how I came to be here now. I’m a neutered dog. I’m hairless, pierced and tattooed. I’m a dog. My Master has his beautiful cock in my ass and is thrusting into me, filling me with his warmth, length and girth. I have everything I ever wanted. I’m owned and enslaved. And soon, I will belong to another Master who will use me for whatever purposes he chooses. And I will live only to serve him. But for now, for this moment, I’m owned by my Officer Conner and I know no other reality. He fills me and takes me as his dog. My cock is throbbing as I feel his meat sliding in and out of my ass, massaging my prostate and ravishing my soul. Then, as his cock begins to pulse and mine responds in kind, he reaches down and twists my pierced nipples. As he shoots, I shoot, splattering cum over my bare belly and chest. Probably my last orgasm and as I come, I howl. I howl in fulfillment, pleasure, joy and loss all mingled together.

When he recovers, he pulls out of me and looks into my eyes. “It’s time boy. I’m going to erase your memories, except for the most basic ones. You’ll remember that you were once a man, but are no longer. You’ll remember that you once had power but have it no longer because you did something very bad. You’ll remember that you’ve been a bad dog. You’ll remember that you must please your Master. The next man you see will be your new Master. Are you ready boy?” My eyes fill and the tears run down the sides of my face as I hold his eyes for a moment, hoping to set that memory at least, in my mind. His beautiful blue eyes. Then, slowly, I nod. He lowers his head to my face, kisses me and whispers “Ringslave” and the world fades into darkness.

The End