Date: Sat, 23 Jun 2001 08:26:46 EDT
From: BMW75Ks86@aol.com
Subject: Gunge Pig #1

This has been going on for almost two years.  I am an internet gunge pig.
A man online has used me for almost two years now.  I am a very obedient
gunge pig and this story tells the latest episode in my life as an online
gunge pig slave.

I awoke that morning very excited because I knew I was going to get used
that morning.  I fired up the computer and waited for my gunge master to
appear.  I waited, and waited, still no gunge Master.  He is usually so
punctual.  He is a very busy man though and gunge pigs need to learn to be
patient, something my online Master is not I have to admit.  He came on
line about 3 hours late, but I have learned to wait.

The first thing he always asks is, "What are you wearing boy?"  I responded
with what I had on, this morning it was jean shorts, boxer briefs, and a
sleevless white t shirt.  He first made me go the fridge and get some salad
dressing, I think it was Parmesean Peppercorn.  He had me pull out my
briefs and shorts and empty the entire bottle down around my cock and
balls, man was it cold.  He then wanted to know what else I had handy.  Did
I have any peanut butter," he asked.  I ran to get the peanut butter.  I
had to cover my ass with the peanut butter under my briefs and jean shorts.
During these sessions he usually requires me to be drinking a lot of
liquids.  This morning I had about a pot of coffee and was now drinking
huge glasses of iced tea.  I was feeling like I had to piss pretty bad but
knew I was going to have to wait as he had more instructions for me.  He
knows I sort of have a foot fetish and guess he does too.  The next thing
was to get my sneakers and some mayonise.  Had to empty the mayo jar, split
evenly, into my waiting sneakers. The came a hot dog bun, split in two and
dunked in my tea.  These halves were added to my waiting sneakers as well.
Then came the order to "Cram your feet in there boy!"  Oh what a feeling
those sneaks had on my barefeet.  I was really beginning to feel like the
pig I am.

He finally asked if I had to piss now.  Of course I was overloaded.  He
told me to fill up my empty mayo jar and put the lid on, we would use that
later. The next instructions were ketschup on my nips and chest under my
white t shirt.  I was really beginning to look and feel like a pigboy. He
knew he was going to have sign off soon as he had a meeting to attend to so
he began to bark out the instructions that I was to follow.  At first he
wanted me to be going to a public restroom to complete my tasks, but as I
am just in training he allowed me not to this activity but of course I had
extra punishments required of me then.  One of these was to fill my hand
with ketchup and then slap my face with it.  I complied.

I now learned I was going to be his mud and oil pig that day.  It had
rained all week here and was extremely muddy out.  He ordered me to the
garage and to dump at least a half of a quart of oil under my t shirt and
let it run down.  Man what a mess, all over my t shirt and dripping down my
jean shorts.  I then had to piss my shorts and dump the mayo piss over my
head.  I was such a pig.  He knows the boy likes this though and he knows
the boy likes mud.  I was made to go lay in a big mud hole and root in the
mud like a pig in my clothes.  Man what a mess and what a feeling.  With
the oil on me and the warm mud I was a big pig mess.  The instructions then
were to sit in the mud and remove my shoes and then my shirt and wallow
around some more.  He wanted pictures of me being his pig boy like this.  I
set up the camera and began snapping pics of me.  Then I was to get
entirely naked and cover my self in the mud.  I felt like the slave pig I
am, let me tell you.  There I was, my clothes in a muddy pile and me naked
covered in mud.  I tried to clean up the best I could to get back in the
house so I would be able to email the pics to him.  It was tough; I was
such a mess.

He looked over the pics and told me what a pig I was.  I knew that all
ready of course.  His final instructions were that I had to write this
story and send it to be seen or he would never use me again.  So is the
life of a slave pig boy.