That next morning Dan struggled up from his bed and onto his hind trotters. He was hot and sweaty from having slept the night in the pig suit, his arms, legs and head encased in a rigid plastic/latex mix. His arms, or front trotters, were cramped and stiff from being clipped under his chin all night. Once out of bed, he stayed standing on two legs with effort. The leg elements of the pig costume kept his knees bent and his feet arched up like he was wearing high heels. This threw him forward and to balance he had to almost squat in a very undignified was with his arse stuck out behind. He clomped around in this ungainly pose wondering how he was going to manage the shower and toilet, his morning enema and so on.
He didn’t have to wonder long. The slave quarters door slid open even as Dan was thinking about these problems. Mary arrived in briskly.
‘And how are we today?’ She asked brightly as she unclipped Dan’s piggy front trotters from under his chin.
‘Oink, oink,’ replied Dan dutifully, sticking to the limited piggy vocabulary that, as Mary had advised him, painfully, yesterday, was all he was allowed to use while in piggy mode. She proceeded to remove the trotter gloves. This was to allow Dan ‘prep himself for the day’ as she delicately put it. Mary promptly left, bringing the trotter gloves with her. She told Dan, over her shoulder, that she would see him in the kitchen shortly. Not going to get her hands dirty, Dan thought.
When he joined her in the kitchen later, with his slave dildo shoved firmly up his ass for the podcast performance, Mary had Dan stretch out his arms while she refitted his front trotter gloves and fastened them securely. Mary had placed two kibble filled bowels on the floor and added milk. On Mary’s command (eat, piggy!) Dan flopped down on all fours in the corner to slurp up his breakfast while she got her own cereal.
No harm to see her do a bit or housework for a change, thought Dan, as he gulped down the mush. Make her appreciate the benefits of having a slave. Afterwards, Mary had wiped Dan’s piggy snout clean when he finished. A touching scene; Dan the helpless little piggy getting his nose wiped by his Mummy. Mary then dressed him in his pink frilly tutu. She told him she was going into the office for a few hours and Dan was to standby in the slave quarters ready to be called to do the podcast.
‘By the way, Bette will be coming later and I’ll be bringing home your replacement at lunchtime,’ Mary shouted over her shoulder as a parting shot.
By the time Dan managed his dutiful ‘oink, oink; she was gone.
So, he really was being replaced, Dan realised with apprehension. Enough apprehension to drive out the usual apprehension that accompanied the announcement that Bette was heading his way. Strange days ahead, he thought. Silence reigned. It took Dan a while to realise what was different. Alexa was mute. She hadn’t starting listing out a series of tasks for Dan to do, nor had she asked him to pleasure her. Dan guessed that Mary has switched Alexa off until the new regime was established. Until old Dan had been replaced by new Dan, that is.
Dan waited patiently in the slave quarters, practising walking on his trotters, flexing his knees, attempting his podcast dance moves, until the sharp double zap of his shock collar summonsed him to the iPad. The ‘Year of the Pig’ podcast duly happened. Less said about it the better. Dan’s heart wasn’t in it. Went only so-so. Dan had to get a lot of help from the dildo in shock and vibration mode before the money shot happened. In the end he came, jerking and twerking to the background music. He spilled his load unseen by himself because of the frilly pink tutu sticking out around his middle and the fact the piggy mask severely restricted his vision to the front and below him.
Afterwards, Mary berated Dan on his poor performance saying it was no wonder the podcast subscribers have voted for a replacement.
‘It’s only what you deserve, she said callously, offering no easy let down for Dan. ‘You’ve been pathetic these last two podcasts, and it’s not good enough, Dan. So suck it up. Let’s see if you can make a better job of being a pet pig.’
Since ‘oink oink.’ was the only response allowed, Dan said nothing. The iPad went quiet and Dan was left waiting for Mary’s return. She’ll be bringing the replacement with her, he thought mournfully. At least she hadn’t put him in the T-Bar as punishment for his poor performance. He decided the T-Bar is only for slaves, not for pigs. Besides, a pig — a human pig – could just pull its trotters out of the cuffs.
After a while Dan felt that he might as well have been in the T-Bar anyway because he couldn’t release himself from his trotters or his mask. He could do nothing. He couldn’t sit on the bed out of hours. He squatted on all fours over the hole-in-the-ground toilet and had an animal like pee. His aim was approximate. He couldn’t see what he was doing or where. This is what it must be like for an actual pig, he thought, with a shudder, as he tried to shake the last drops of pee out of his dick. He slowly trotted over and back waiting for his replacement, feeling anxious, as anxious as only a grown man trapped in a latex pig outfit can feel.
‘Ding-dongggg… Your attention please. The cabin crew with shortly be moving through the cabin serving a light meal….’
Dan was snapped out of his piggy reverie by the announcement. The idea that someone would be serving him, slave Dan, instead of the other way round was such a novelty. For the previous three years he had been preparing, serving and cleaning up after his wife — and himself. Nobody had done anything for him. Lots of people had been doing things to him. And now he was being served. He had a silly smile on his face as he watched the catering trolley slowly move down the aisle towards him. They are going to serve me, he thought, giddily. Dan felt like royalty as the smiling cabin crew passed the tray to him. Dan didn’t care if they gave him just a drink of water. To have somebody hand him something with a smile and to be able to take it was enough. It made him realise what he had been missing, and reinforced his determination to make a run for it in Paris.
The trays were handed out, the tea or coffee moment happened. A bit of juggling of condiments with his neighbour as sachets or sugar and creamer were swopped over and back. This led to names being exchanged and the inevitable polite conversation. Sophia told Dan she was going back to Paris where she had lived for the last three years. She’d been visiting the folks back home and buying some material for her new business venture. She had a house in the suburbs of Paris that her grand-aunt left her in her will. Her grandparents had moved from Paris to New York after the war. Nice, thought Dan. No chance some distant Irish grand-aunt is going to leave me a thatched cottage in Kerry. Having asked all the appropriate questions, without seeming too nosey, Dan told a few appropriate white lies about himself in return. He was taking a year off to travel. Going to Paris because he had always been fascinated by the city. He had never travelled to Europe before. Hoped to pick up some work there.
Once the trays were collected, Sophia opened her laptop once more and Dan took the hint. He gazed out the window some more and his thoughts returned to when the reality of being permanently trapped in the pig suit really hit home.
After the failed podcast, Mary eventually returned from her workplace. She quickly called Dan out of the slave quarters, with a ‘here Piggy, this way.’ Instead of leading him towards the kitchen, she opened the side door and sent Dan out into the back yard. She suggested, in a rather condescending manner, that now that he was a pig, he might enjoy rooting around in the shrubbery. He wondered if that meant he wasn’t supposed to use the slave toilet any more. Since she kept reminding him that he was now a pig, Dan decided he’d have a go at an outdoor pee, doggie style. He could only manage a few drops, but he didn’t care. Dan kind of hoped Mary was looking at him out of the kitchen window. You can only go so low, and then it doesn’t matter anymore. He wondered if his replacement, new Dan, was in the kitchen too, also looking at him out of the window. Hope he enjoys wiping my ass when I have a shit, thought Dan spitefully.
When Mary brought Dan back inside and into the kitchen, she put him eating his midday bowls of kibble. No sign of the replacement yet, mused Dan, as he gulped the mush, though already feeling rather full since his big breakfast of mush. Suddenly, a toolbox landed on the floor beside him. He recognised, with trepidation, that it belonged to Bette. The Enforcer had arrived. Never a good thing from Dan’s point of view.
‘Now Piggy,’ said Mary, in that high pitched weechy weechy voice usually reserved for talking down to toddlers or pet dogs, ‘ Bette is going to do a little modification to make you more pig like. Nothing major. No need to panic. Nothing is being cut off. I was only giving you a fright last night.’
‘Okay, Bette? I’ll leave you to it. ‘
When on all fours on the floor, Dan’s vision was more or less restricted to knee height. Even so, he had no difficulty recognising Bette’s dungarees and work boots when they appeared a few inches in front of his snout.
‘Up, Piggy,’ she commanded, all business, ‘you can eat later.’
Bette pulled Dan upright and stood him against one end of the kitchen table, pushed him back to lie flat with his head almost off the far edge of the table. She strapped him in place, with loops binding his four trotters, each to a table leg. Tied in place like that, face up and spread eagled, Dan could only see the kitchen ceiling above him through the piggy mask. Suddenly the Enforcer’s face loomed over Dan’s telling him to open wide; like at the dentist. She quickly inserted a large rubber ball gag and tied it tightly behind his neck, keeping Dan’s mouth stretched open. He could hear her rooting in her bag for more equipment.
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