7500

As per usual, feeling the cold draft on his bare buttocks made Pet’s stomach churn and sent shivers down his spine. The breeze indicated that someone has entered his cell, meaning his brief period of rest has ended and he was looking forward to some kind of use again.

At best, the visitor was one of his jailors who came to clean and feed him. In his case, “cleaning” meant a cold hosing, some rough scrubbing with a soapy horsehair brush and a through enema or two. Feeding was even less complicated: a bottle of liquid food was poured into the breathing pipe strapped into his mouth, leaving him without any oxygen until he swallowed it all. The meal was always the same: a thick protein soylent mixed with health supplements, aphrodisiacs and more often than not his own piss or enema fluid. He still hated the taste, even though by now he could barely recall the last time he tasted anything else.

Maintenance visits were few and far between, however, so it was way more likely that the draft announced the arrival of a guest. Which guest it was, he could never know until the session started. He had over a hundred regular visitors, mostly women but also some men, who varied greatly in kinks and temperament. He has never seen their faces and rarely heard their voice, but over time he gave some of them made-up names based on their usual behavior. 

Among the nicer ones there was Snow White, who was obsessed with making him cum repeatedly, or Big Bertha with her amazingly huge strap-on cock and tender attitude. The worst were probably Lady Cruella, the Sicko and the Professor, who never even fucked him. They just kept returning to torture his helpless body for hours on end, and they never seemed to run out of new, creative ideas. Between the two ends of the spectrum were the usual suspects who would tease him a bit with the whip, the cane or the cattle prod until his useless wriggling made their pussy wet, use his mouth or ass, then vacate the room for the next visitor.

Pet heard his earphones switching on. This narrowed down the list of possible guests considerably – most of them liked him as a headless fuckdoll, but a few would take pleasure in saying mean things to him while watching his reactions on the screen. It could be the the German… Lady Cruella…

“Hello, Pet!” the female voice said into his ears. A smiling voice, a voice full of fake sugar syrup and happiness. A voice Pet hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Surprise, it’s your Goddess! You know what day it is, sweetie? It’s your Queendom anniversary! You are 1 now, can you believe that? Have a very happy anniversary, honey!”

—

Pet had lived a relatively ordinary life until age 62 when his wife died and he found himself in a modern fairytale – in this case, “Cinderella”. He was ‘adopted’ by Goddess Voltairine and her two live-in slaves. After he agreed to sign a power of attorney and transfer all his financial affairs to her, she spent no effort anymore to hide her disdain towards Pet – he was called old, fat and dumb, shouted at and slapped day after day. He was made to wear the old clothes of his step-slave brothers, oftentimes the same clothes for days, while denied of soap and shampoo – then ridiculed for being filthy and disgusting. His after-work hours and weekends were filled with grueling housework while Goddess and her slaves were enjoying movies in the living room. Goddess threatened him that once his ‘trial period’ was up he will be made to “earn his keep”. Pet didn’t know what she meant by that exactly, but he assumed he’d continue on as their slave forever.

It didn’t quite work out as he thought.

On his 1 year ‘adoption’ anniversary, Viola drugged his drink, knocking him out for several hours. By the time he regained his consciousness he was naked and shaven completely hairless. Secured in a kneeling position, his head and wrists were stuck through a wall, shamelessly exposing his ass and genitals to any visitors on the other side. 

It was the same position he has spent the next year of his life in.

—

“You know, I’ve put others in your place once or twice, honey” Viola told Pet, taking a seat on his buttocks. “The first boy I arranged to be the star in a BDSM flick of this crazy German woman called Hanna Fitzgeralt. She is a frequent guest of the Queendom. She called it “The Fuckbooth”. It seemed like a weird idea but turned out to be, like, really popular. Later I hired him out twice for gay gangbangs, locked into the Fuckbooth all night. The guys just loved it. Hanna once told me: “Voila dear, if I had heem as meine sklavin, locked up in zee booth all day, I’d make a zouzand dollars ein veek!” So when you were about to reach the one year mark with me, I called Renee at the Queendom and told her: “Let’s say we can have an old dude locked up in a cage all day, every day. No one will have to see his ugly old face, just his ass, cock and balls. Could you help me make a thousand dollars a week out of him?” Needless to say, she said she’d love to try! She took care of both the booth construction and the clientele… all guests and slaves of the Queendom. Me and the boys only need to keep you, like, clean and fed, and enjoy the free cash. 

She laughed and whirled the ice cubes around in her cocktail. She took a sip, then continued.

“It worked out even better than I thought. You had over 7500 visitors in the past year, did you know that? Like, twenty a day on average. Your tip jar over-floweth my dear! You have already paid all the college fees for Mun, next year you’ll cover me as well. I’m thinking I’ll go back for a Ph.D. And after that… I dunno, I’d like a yacht. Perhaps a private jet. You know, ha ha, I better plan ahead, because I don’t think you’ll be able to do this for more than, like, seven years. After 70 you are going to, you know, fall apart by the seams, as they say. Your ass gets loose, your bruises heal slower, you just can’t take being fucked and whipped all day the way you used to. Believe me, I know. So I guess eventually I will need to get rid of you. By then, however, you will be the boy who has served, like, fifty thousand very evil women and men, which will make you sort of famous, I guess. I can imagine a big auction… crazy rich perverts from all around the world… Ladies and gentlemen, the next item is the legendary Fuckbooth! Ha ha ha!”

“Nah, don’t worry Pet. That won’t happen. As a matter of fact, I have some… rather extreme plans in mind for you.”

“When you arrive back home to Cathexis, you will be knocked out with sleeping gas and by the time you wake you will have your vocal cords removed. Since you have never used your safe word even once in the past, I think you will have no need for it in the future either. From then on you will be just a pet, something that has no say in whatever happens to it. You will be a pony, a cow, a mule, a dog, a guinea pig… anything but a human.”

“Then after a few years maybe, your transformation will proceed to the next stage. Once we have a woman surgeon at the Queendom, I will arrange to have your limbs amputated right above the knees and elbows, turning you into a true boypet! Your life will consist of crawling around on your stumps, fetching stuff, licking boots and pussies, those sort of things. I guess it will be a lot of fun to watch and it will entertain us all for a few more years, but eventually I’ll decide it’s time to retire you…” She let that thought linger in his mind.

“Ah, fuck me, I’m sorry. It’s your anniversary, after all. I even brought you some chocolate cake, even though I have no idea how I’m going to feed you with it. Ah well, I’ll just blend it down with some of my pee. The best way is the usual way, right? That’s it… bon appetite, sweetie!”

Pet heard the pump working and soon a sticky, disgusting, salty-bittersweet puree filled his mouth. Trying to fight down his “birthday cake” before suffocating finally broke something in him and as soon as he finished with the last gulp, he erupted in hysterical weeping. Even though no sound seeped through the walls of the Booth, even Viola could see his desperation as he started to struggle against his bonds with all his strength, trying everything to break free. All his efforts were in vain, of course.

“There, there”, his tormentor consoled him. “Everything is all right. Look at what my ugly little slavling grew up to. Imagine! At 63 he is already one of the most booked BDSM whores in the world, with 7500 guests in a single year! Goddess is so very proud of you! You have a very, very exciting future ahead of you. And your Goddess will make sure you get everything you deserve from life.”

She stood up and patted Pet’s backside.

“And now I’ll leave you to your friends. There are plenty of ladies and gentlemen outside who just can’t wait to celebrate your anniversary with you…”