Make no mistake: creating a real cockpig takes work. It's like doing battle. You have to deprogram the faggot from the nonsense its been taught all its life, about how self-esteem is important, how it should respect itself, all that crap. See, with a cockpig, all that is turned upside down inside its little faggot brain. Nothing makes it more unhappy than trying to live like a normal person. The need to be degraded and used, the need to grovel in front of a real man and debase itself - those needs are constant. They never go away. The older the faggot gets, the stronger those desires become. A cockpig's brain functions the opposite of the way a real man's does. A normal man wants respect; protects his dignity and reputation; works to avoid pain and humiliation.
Not a cockpig. It craves abuse and humiliation. Deep down, the faggot knows how it deserves to be treated, and repeatedly seeks out alpha males that recognize it for what it is and who will use it accordingly. Just like a real pig, which delights in eating garbage and rolling around in mud and shit, nothing makes a cockpig happier than being abused, degraded, and forced to suffer for the pleasure of a real man. At first, of course, this really fucks with the cockpig's head -- the faggot hates the treatment, but craves it constantly. That's cognitive dissonance, which is what causes most faggots to run away from their dark desires. It is that conflict which keeps them from fully submitting, from giving in to what they know is right for them despite everything society tells them, from living their truth. For the few who do, though, the true cockpig faggots - they achieve a satisfaction in their submission that most cock worshipers never find. Once they let go of any attempt at self-esteem or respect, once they completely surrender all dignity in exchange for true obedience, they finally achieve the contentment they've always sought, even if it's to be found in a cage, or encased in a gimp suit, being subjected daily to what others would call torture or abuse.
With the little ginger fag, the battle was about half over. Transforming a faggot into subhuman property doesn't happen overnight. That's the mistake most of the so-called "masters" make. They try to make the transformation happen suddenly, in one fell swoop. That almost never works. It takes time. You have to make the transition happen slowly, step after inexorable step, allowing the faggot to overcome his fear at each stage before moving on to the next. Otherwise, he'll spook and flee, just like any other dumb animal you try to tame and break.
The ones I look for are like my ginger cunt -- born inferior, and they know it. They've always known it, and now are finally ready to admit it. Like AA teaches, admitting the problem is the first step to becoming happy.
Now that my pussyboy had taken some time to himself to consider his future and had decided he wanted to live as my slave, it was time to put that commitment to the test. Time to take the transformation to the next stage. Not in one big move, but in a series of small ones. Just like boiling a frog: start off in cold water and heat it gently. By the time the frog realizes what's happening, it's too late.
The first step was exerting control from a distance, taking away the faggot's freedoms one at a time. I wanted to gradually but relentlessly chip away all those things that made him feel like a normal person. The chastity cage had already removed his ability to touch his little drain or pleasure himself, not to mention his ability to piss standing up. Every time the bitch had to sit like a woman to use the bathroom, it reinforced the differences between him and real men.
The next step was taking away his identity in more concrete ways. I started by making him surrender his online accounts, beginning with his social media. He sent me the user names and passwords for his Facebook and IG, his Grindr and Recon accounts, and then finally his email. Of course, I immediately changed all the passwords so he had no access to them anymore. He didn't need them, and they provided me with a wealth of information about him, including a list of his family and friends which would definitely come in handy. The dumb bitch didn't realize it, but he'd just given me plenty of ways to expose his true nature to the world if I chose to do so.
Those accounts were hard for the faggot to give up. Taking away his online connections really reinforced in his mind that he had no control and no privacy. But to accomplish the full transformation, I needed to take it further. Much further.
I shipped him two small IP cameras, with instructions on how to install one in his bedroom and the other in his bathroom. Once they were in place, it gave me 24/7 access to watch him any time I wanted to. The cameras were wonderful training tools. They included full-color digital video and sound. He immediately recognized the loss of privacy. Even his bathroom was no longer private. I made it clear to him he was monitored and observed at all times: when he slept, showered, even when he took a dump.
You should have seen the look on his face when I started dictating his schedule. No more free time or leisure time. Slaves get neither. I made him send me his work schedule, along with any other commitments he had, then structured his days and nights, including long periods where he was confined to his room, where I could watch him if I chose. The cameras were always on, and he had no control over the feeds. He had no idea if I was watching or not at any given time. All that mattered was that I might be watching, which was enough to ensure he was in that room, naked and ready to obey any order I gave at any moment. Of course, I had far more important things to do that spend my time watching over a faggot, so I set the camera feeds to record, allowing me to access them at any time if I wanted to check up on the pussyboy and verify his obedience. Since they were IP cameras feeding directly to the web, I was able to watch from anywhere, or allow any of my buddies to watch the fag any time they wanted from the comfort of their own homes. I made sure the faggot knew I could give out the pass code to observe his camera feed if I chose, to anyone I chose, at any time. Hell, I could even live-stream it on the web if I wanted to, allowing anyone who so desired to see him taking a shit, or displaying his hole, or groveling on the floor and begging to be used in nasty ways. It took the lack of privacy to a whole new level, really fucking with his head, carving into his brain that he was totally out of control, completely subject to my whims and desires. Another message was clear as well: your entire life is nothing but entertainment for me and other alpha males.
After that, I started giving him regular orders. Some were daily routines: wake up and get down on all fours facing the camera, face on the floor, arms outstretched like you are praying. Stay that way for 20 minutes while contemplating what it means to serve a real man. Then, 20 minutes with your ass in the air pointed toward the camera, cheeks spread and your hole on display for me, just like you are begging for it to be used, filled, fucked. Nothing like a little quiet obedience upon waking up to set a faggot's mind right for the rest of the day. Plus, the camera allowed me to make sure he woke up and went to bed at prescribed times, regardless of how tired he was or what he had planned. I changed the times daily, so the bitch didn't get too used to a routine, explaining that a slave must always be available for its owner regardless of the hour, and should be just as thankful for any opportunity to serve as it is for any rest it's allowed.
In addition to the faggot's daily routine, I included plenty of random use via the camera: fucking his hole with a dildo I sent him; drinking his own piss while I watched; regular and random inspections of his chastity cage to make sure it was secure, along with inspections to make sure he was groomed and dressed as ordered. I selected what he would wear; sometimes on a day-to-day basis, sometimes for the entire week. He was required to ask permission to go anywhere or do anything which deviated from his required daily routine. Visit a friend? Beg. Go out to dinner with your roommate? Grovel and plead for permission. Sometimes I gave it, but more often, I didn't. I wanted the faggot to get used to being denied pleasure, and I wanted to force him to face the humiliation having to of make excuses for why he couldn't go. Each element, each order, was designed to reinforce certain concepts: you have no privacy and deserve none; you have no choices and deserve none; all control and decisions are mine, as they should always be.
