In Preparation for Him
(gay/authoritarian, mind alteration, cliffhanger ending) (other stories by me can be found by searching Nifty for the same email as this one's under)
I parked the car for what would almost certainly be the last time and stepped out. I smiled proudly towards the Delgate Center and headed inside. I pushed open the glass door and checked in at the front desk, leaving my keys with the lovely Wanda who I'd talked with every time I came.
They were prompt, as always, and at 10AM I was waved in to see Dr. Adea.
I sat across a desk from her at her office. This time was a bit different though.
"So it's been a year since we began. You haven't dropped out of the Complete and Total program. In fact, you didn't even wait a day after the year minimum waiting period to make your follow up appointment. I'm guessing you'd like to proceed."
I nodded eagerly. "Yes. No regrets at all. I know it's extreme, but I haven't changed my mind. In fact, I want to do it more than ever. I want to be owned. I want to be erased."
She smiled "That's what we like to hear. I sent your sponsor a message as soon as you made the appointment. He is still definitely interested in moving forward. He said, and I quote, 'I'm tired of not fucking your thick ass.'" She giggled at that.
My heart raced and I couldn't help but grin. These were the first words I'd ever heard from my sponsor, whoever he was.
"Let's see how your goals have been coming along, make sure we're actually ready to progress." She pulled up a drawing on her computer and tilted the screen to me. It was a collection of images I knew extremely well. They'd been hanging on my wall, printed out, all year. My target body. What my sponsor wanted me to look like.
She looked at the pictures and then back to me. "Hair is the least important, we can change that, but it does look right, a good sign. Short cropped and maintained. And black. That's dyed right?" I nodded.
She looked lower. "I can see the progress on the body. We were concerned about it before but this looks very accurate." she gestured to the picture which had "piggyboy" in the margin notes, with an arrow pointing to a plump belly, round ass, and noticeably pointy man-boobs.
It had been pretty difficult gaining the fifty pounds it took to look right, but I got there. Plenty of second dinners, to say the least. I had gotten in the habit of accompanying my twice-daily toy fucking routine with belly rubs and nipple twists, activities listed in the request notes. The practice made them much more sensitive. I had to be careful how I walked with a shirt on or else I might draw some attention with little moans. How much better the toy felt when I was bouncing on my nice soft ass for padding and had a little belly jiggle was a bonus.
"And I trust the requested sexual training has been going as planned, yes?" she pointed to the diagram showing a chastity device holding the cock trapped close to the body, and a small dildo with an arrow pointing at the ass. "tight ass" it said.
I nodded. I stood and undid my pants, revealing the one inch metal cage keeping my cock mostly inside of me and away from my meddling hands. "It can be washed without removal. So as soon as the hair removal on my crotch was done I put it on permanently. Hasn't been off in nine months."
"And your ass?"
I nodded "it's tight now." I'd had to give up my big toys. Really all I'd had for the whole year was a couple molds of the sponsor's cock. I tried not to show my disappointment when they arrived and I found my new owner was rather underendowed. Four and a half inches. But they told me I'd be programmed to love it if I didn't already, and I wasn't about to complain in any case. Boy was I in for a surprise when I sat down the first time. I may not have been stretched but it made me moan instantly.
I chalked it up to excitement at my impending submission. But when I messaged Dr. Adea about it, she let me know that my sponsor had only asked for two pieces of information when selecting who he'd sponsor: a recording of a moan while being fucked, and the depth of the prostate. Mine was exactly the length of his cock. He had picked me without seeing a picture of me, without hearing a word I'd said, without any of the other thousand pieces of information Delgate had on me from the days they spent measuring and interviewing me when I signed up. He could have had it but he didn't care. To him I'd be nothing but a piggyboy who his cock would be able to make squirm and moan.
She nodded "good, that's what we needed. The rest we can finalize with a little plastic surgery." I had worked so hard on getting the rest of my body to look like the sponsor's fantasy. Soon a little silicone would perfect the job. My body would be completely changed for the whims of a man who I had never met and did not know the name of. I bit my lip in excitement.
She shrugged "I see no reason not to proceed then. Of course, we'll have to read you the brief one last time. Legal requirement, you know."
I nodded and sat back down, heart beating fask. I folded my hands in my lap to hear the disclaimers yet again.
She read from a form. "You are aware that by submitting to this procedure you are giving us the right to alter and manipulate your mind and body as we see fit, and to transfer you afterwards to the care / ownership of your sponsor."
I nodded. She handed me a pen and I added my initials above the paragraph.
"You are aware that following this procedure that there is no expectation that there will be any attempt to fulfill your needs or desires beyond basic survival necessities, except to the extent that the sponsor desires."
I initialed.
"You are aware that we intend to remove any part of your personality, memories, or preferences that are inconvenient to your sponsor. Your desires will be shaped to match your sponsor's exactly, which may cause you to desire and experience things you would not currently choose to do."
I swallowed and my skin crawled. When I'd first interviewed at Delgate I wasn't entirely confident this is what I wanted, but hearing this part of the disclaimer... That's what sold me. I initialed, hand just a little wobbly.
"You understand that information about your sponsor and what they will have you do has been withheld from you, under the premise that your preferences on these matters are irrelevant."
I initialed.
"You understand that you have the legal right to leave this arrangement at any time, but that we will be removing your ability to consider the possibility of leaving."
I initialed.
"You understand that we will make arrangements for the liquidation of any of your possessions, and that you will have no possessions of your own. Since you have not specified a benefactor, the proceeds, as well as your share of the sponsor's fee, will be donated to a charity of the sponsor's choosing."
I initialed. Signed at the bottom. Dated. I breathed out, slowly.
I thought back to when I first found out about all this. My first college roommate had been wealthy. Very wealthy. Only in the dorms rather than a mansion for the experience, I guess. He did as he pleased, and who. I admit I jacked off listening to him and his nightly conquest, man or woman, many times.
Eight years out of college we reconnected and he invited me to visit. Introduced me to his wife. They were not shy about the fact that they had no attraction to each other at all. It was more a corporate merger than a marriage. Her family was even richer than his was.
Uninterested in each other, rather than regular maids and butlers they bought four slaves, two for each of them. In addition to the cooking and cleaning, they were completely available for sex, and seemed to love serving above all else. Even if they were given a vacation they'd want to spend it scrubbing floors.
I was entranced immediately. The slightly distant look in their eyes, the sheer joy when they got to obey. Watching how they wandered around wearing very little, snapping to attention at a moment's notice. I stole away to the bathroom to jack off maybe half an hour after arriving.
At dinner, my roommate and my wife asked if I minded them getting head from their slaves under the table while they ate. A nightly ritual. They offered me a slave too. After a moment of rock-hard thought, I looked at him. "actually... I was sort of wondering..."
A few minutes later I was under the table sucking his cock. The slave who was originally going to do it whispering secrets about exactly how Master liked his cock sucked as I did it.
I ended up staying a month. I cleared out of the guest room and stayed with the slaves. I cooked, I cleaned, I got plenty of swats on the ass when I didn't respond to an order as quickly as the others did.
By the end of the month I could take no more time off work and had to leave. Hard to keep from crying on the train ride home. But on my way out, saying our goodbyes, my old roommate took my shoulder.
"This has been fun," he said. "But we aren't looking for another permanent. Plus, we don't like having to think about your needs instead of our own. We're just too selfish to accept those BDSM norms. Too much work. Not afraid to admit it. Anyway, take this." He handed me a business card. The Delgade Center.
I'd tried to put it behind me. After all, what they offered was so permanent. So untenable. So scary.
But as time went on, and my one-night stands shifted more and more exclusively in favor of men who would order me around, tie me down, spit on me when they left... The idea grew. I couldn't think of anything else. I lasted six months before calling to set up my screening.
And here I was. One year later. Everything is signed, everything is finalized. The doctor ordered me to strip and then follow her down the hallway. I came after her, naked except for my chastity cage. I saw someone coming in for an appointment, staring at me wide-eyed with fear and excitement. I smiled.
She led me to a moderately sized operating theater. Up behind a tinted window was the outline of a man. Was it him? I couldn't see. Dr. Adea put me on a table and strapped my arms, legs, and forehead, then positioned a strange metal device just flush with my skull.
She looked up to the shadow, seemingly for approval. He gave the thumbs up. That was him!
She smiled and turned back to me. "We're going to knock you out now. First we'll root around in your brain and change anything inconvenient. Then the plastic surgery, then a few days of recovery."
I said nothing and just breathed, the metal table cold on my back. My cock strained at its confining cage.
"In about a week you'll wake up. Different face, different life, different person, if you consider what you'll be a person."
She wasn't asking for my final approval. I knew nobody needed my approval for anything any more.
I closed my eyes.
I saw black.