My little brother, my pet! Eighth and final part.

When we got married, I practically handed my pet over to Daisy; after all, it took over all the tasks in the house, and she was the one who commanded and supervised it.

In the first month, she put heavy iron rings on all his extremities, on the ears, nipples, and on the head of the cock. She drilled the holes and welded the irons without anesthetizing; she showed how to deal with the animal without pity or mercy. It was also a way to facilitate the control of the dog. She pulled it by the rings, hooked one call to another to immobilize it, or padlocked the rings to leave it trapped in some place or railing.

She didn't mind that I fucked him occasionally or that my fag gave me blowjobs before bed.

After Luis, our first child, was born, she was irritable, and one day she decided to cut a finger off his hand to punish him for burning our dinner. He cried a lot and seemed very sad, looking in dismay at where his finger had been torn off. The following year, Thelma, our second daughter, was born.

During those years, Daisy and I worked so much at the veterinary clinic that Charlie practically raised my children; fed them, bathed them, gave them their medicine, and put them to sleep. Daisy was the one who set the tasks; she was the one who punished him for every failure. Before Luis was five years old, my little brother only had his thumbs whole; the other fingers had already been cut off in full or in part. I was happy and excited to see how she punished him and her sadism and pleasure. She was a skilled and experienced veterinary surgeon; she would call Charlie to the table, and he would obey, crying and trembling with fear; she would take the enslaved faggot's hand and cut off a phalanx of the finger using chicken boning shears, then deftly and quickly sew up the end and seared with a hot knife. Then, to humiliate it, she would feed the cut part to Buddy, our dog.

On a typical day, with the children at school, while we had lunch, she said:

- My beloved, I decided to cut off the dog's dick; I don't like to see it hard and ejaculating with the kids at home.

I nodded in agreement with my wife and continued eating.

Charlie stopped serving us our meal and knelt at my feet, crying with his hands protecting his dick. I held him by the collar ring and spoke calmly.

- You shit fagot, stop making a scene, get the scissors, and I'll cut your dick off right now.

He dropped to the floor at my feet, shaking and crying in the fetal position. He hadn't said anything in years; I didn't even remember it could speak or its voice.

- For God's sake, my brother doesn't cut my dick off. I beg you!

Daisy and I were so irritated by that reaction that we ditched our lunch, carried the fagot to the car, put it in the trunk, and drove to our clinic. There, we anesthetized and tied the fagot to the surgical table and performed two more complex surgeries, the penectomy and the extraction of the vocal cords. After two days, when he was finally fully awake, we fed the severed penis to Buddy in front of him.

Weeks later, I called him to be punished, and while I was cruelly crushing its nipples with pliers, I saw the sperm flow from the hole where there used to be a dick. I whispered in its ear:

- Bitch, the pain was never a punishment for shit like you, and the only punishment is to cut your pieces and feed them to Buddy. I still haven't cut your balls off just to show your cum and pleasure in being treated like a pervert shitty bitch.

Over the years, as the children grew up, Daisy cut off the faggot's last fingers and thumbs, putting him back as a backyard animal. Without his thumbs, he could no longer hold even a broom.

Finally, one day while watching a football game with my old college friends at home, we cut his balls off just for fun.

In the photo above, you can see our family together, Thelma, twenty; Luis, twenty-one; Daisy, myself; Terry, my great-nephew, Jack's grandson, my older brother. Buddy had died a few years earlier.

As you can see, the shitty fagot was in deplorable condition. It had his ass so raped and enlarged that I couldn't hold the shit any longer. His ears were hideous, plucked off years ago, his nipples were misshapen, and the heavy hoops dangled like ridiculous earrings. There were few teeth left in his mouth, and it drooled all the time because blowjobs and harnesses had displaced his jaw; it couldn't chew his food without making a mess.

Beating and whipping were entertainment that occupied all members of the family. I remember when Luís, when he was five, asked for a cattle prod to torture our creepy pet. When Terry came to visit, it was he who spent whole afternoons perfecting his mastery of the long and short whips on the slut faggot tied to the backyard tree.

Terry enjoyed whipping and was a master of long and heavy bullwhips. Two weeks after this photo, he invited some friends from high school to have fun with him and show off his skills. The kids were so excited that when they left, they forgot the shit beast on the tree unconscious, not realizing it was bleeding from all his wounds.

When we got home at night, seeing the animal's state, Daisy and I thought it best to shoot down and bury it in the backyard next to Buddy. I can say that the family knew how to respect nature and the wishes of this fagot; he had a happy life, and he lived the way he wanted to live his whole life!

They made him the happiest fagot in town.

These five guys had been neighbors since childhood; they grew up together in a country town in the interior of São Paulo surrounded by cane fields. Their families knew each other, went to the same school, the same church, and were the same age. Ever since their sexuality emerged during adolescence, they bullied the biggest, realizing he was submissive and faggot. Friends noticed before him his gay nature. His family was the poorest; he was bigger, stronger, and hairier, and he had a vast and beautiful dick, but he soon found out he was gay.

Instead of bothering or moving away from them, he did the opposite; he encouraged the humiliation and violence of his friends. They treated him like a bitch, took him to the cane fields and fucked him, made him suck their dicks, and spanked him. He was the first fuck for each of them, the first blowjob, and the one who knew how to jerk them off better than themselves. He obeyed, sucked, and endured everything willingly and with his hard cock, happy and horny.

They soon became his only friends as his family threw him out of his home; he had to drop out of school, work as a gas station attendant and live at the back of a gas station.

His four friends grew up, attended college and prospered, dated and married, had families, and started businesses.

The poor and queer friend could not go to his friends' houses nor be seen with them. They kept their friendship with him a secret from the group, and he willingly became the secret whore of the group of "straight" friends.

He did everything they ordered or asked, always available and willing. Almost every weekend, the four friends would pick him up at the gas and take him to the cane field to fuck, humiliate and beat him. 

They left town in one of their trucks when they stopped at bars and made him get off with a leash, barefoot, and pay for everyone's drink. They took from him all the money he earned; they always kept him without any savings.

"You don't need any money, right bitch? The only thing you need to be happy about is to keep your ass full of our cum! That's not it, you piece of shit!"

He agreed and handed over to his friends whatever little he earned weekly without complaint. He only had the money to pay for what he ate and old uniforms, and it was a miserable and empty life.

He would let his friends tie him to the same electricity poles to whip him violently for hours until he almost passed out.

Still tied to the posts, he resignedly accepted; when they squeezed and twisted his nipples and hard dick with pliers. He came during even the most violent tortures, even when he moaned in pain and lust. His cum jet confirmed his bitchy nature and submission to his friends.

At the end of the afternoon, they left him naked and covered in piss, spit, and semen in the cane field so that he could return alone and walk naked to the gas station.

He loved his friends profoundly and was grateful for everything they did for him. He would do anything for their happiness and dream of being theirs forever. They made him the happiest fagot in town.

An innovative startup created an app to sell live sex toys to wealthy people!

In the mid-21st century, when the big global technology groups eliminated states, neoliberal capitalism took over all areas and sectors of the economy. Police systems, armies, prison systems, and even justice were privatized. The legislative system and the government are managed by "managers" and "CEO's" in the service of investors, large banks, trusts, and companies. There are no more universal individual rights; now, there are only consumer and investor rights, and justice only takes care of contracts and commercial agreements.

People arrested for any crime or misconduct by the police enter the private prison system as a commodity. All prisoners have to pay for time and services while in prison; those who cannot afford to pay can do forced labor, be hired, or even be sold for any purpose. They usually regularly take blood, sperm, hair, and organs that can be sold.

After being slaughtered, all parts are used, each piece of meat, leather, bones, corneas, etc.

A very innovative Korean startup has proposed a more profitable way of slaughtering inmates. This web app allows consumers to own one of these inmates for fun, using them as sex toys until they die.

The application offers sex prisoner toys that can be chosen by type, size, and all the characteristics that please consumers. Buyers can choose the place to play; everything can be taken to buyers' homes or clubs, farms, or resorts. They can hire complementary services, choose sumptuous dinners, the type of food, drinks, and decoration, having live music and film crews. They decide whether they want one or two helpers, the types of pliers, chains, hooks, whips, paddles, sticks, or any instrument of torture. The sex toys that will be tortured can be muzzled if the client prefers to listen to ambient music or have their mouth free to hear their screams and moans. The toy might have a dildo locking its asshole to ensure it doesn't shit or have any orifices flushed out to be fucked by the group.

Experienced company technicians accompany all the fun of the customers, guiding the game to ensure that the toy does not die quickly, does not pass out or remain unconscious for a long time, but must also take care that it does not leave there alive, so as not to disappoint the expectations of the customers. He guides the more anxious or less experienced guests on where to hurt, how to hurt, and how to provoke pain and sincere screams without spilling too much blood or getting too dirty on their clothes or the environment.

The company is an absolute success story; it put its services online less than a year ago, generated thousands of jobs, has an award-winning environmental policy, already has its shares on six stock exchanges, earned millions of dollars, and won many investors and loyal customers in more than twenty countries.

Celebrities and digital influencers share nights of pure lust and pleasure on their networks using the services. Groups of companies, sports teams, and university classes hired the services for commemorative and educational events with different purposes. His films produced for pornography are among the most accessed and sold.

What surprised its managers is that it had to create the reverse system quickly, with clients willing to be tortured to death for money or lust. Hundreds of poor or indebted men sought the app pending to be sold so their families could have their bills paid. Or even hundreds of masochistic perverts offer themselves free of charge to be traded. These sex toys have gained particular buyers who are particularly horny for these profiles, some reaching exceptionally high values at auctions.

In this image, a group of wealthy friends is excited to use the pliers on the toy's nipples, tongue, balls, and penis while one whips it. They booked the support team and lounge for at least eight hours of fun. They paid dearly; they didn't skimp on the chosen toy, as they loved its big soft nipples, its heavy balls in a very long scrotum and its colossal cock. The company prepared it to guarantee a beautiful and hard erection for hours.

It was never nor wanted to be human.

One day he told me that since childhood, he acted differently from other children; He didn't like the same activities and games and enjoyed being bullied and put down by his peers.

He said he got his first erections when he was beaten or humiliated. Even working here at the company, every time he received a slap or was reduced, we could see his hard cock with joy!

He stopped studying early; He had no ambitions; he just wanted to be a shitty fagot; He wanted to be a nobody, a loser bitch, fucked up by everyone and his life.

I noticed that he teased every man he met until they rape and beat him; He did this with his co-workers, with everyone he met... Over time, he withdrew from everyone; he didn't have friends or make friends; He wanted to be hated, despised, and lonely.

When he got to work in our pig slaughterhouse, it was clear to me that a slut fag like him wasn't by chance or coincidence that he came to work in a place where he could be a piece of shit; Here the work is hard, brutal, and poorly paid; low wages for such a stressful job.

The pigs arrive practically at the point of slaughter, and the intelligent animals are stressed, scared and seem to know what will happen to them. They cry and scream in fear in the pigpen, listening to others being slaughtered.

Several workers resigned within a few days; only the poorest with no alternatives or crazy people were left in this brutal insane job. He, on the contrary, seemed to love; indeed, he looked as if he envied pigs, identified with them, and wanted to be one of them.

One day he came to me, his Boss, and asked to be placed among the pigs, like one of them. I soon understood what he wanted, his fantasies, and what excited him, and I replied: "It's what you want most, isn't it, you stupid creepy? Getting naked and being treated like a perverted pig, fucked and beaten by everyone, isn't it?"

He knelt before me and begged: "Boss, that is what I want most! Please make me just one of the pigs here! This is my place and my biggest dream!"

I got my dick hard in front of the bizarre faggot, took him by the arms to the locker room, and, in front of all the other employees, violently ripped off his uniform, pissed on him, fucked him, and made him suck the dicks of all the slaughterhouse employees. He showed everyone his hard cock, as proof of the fagot's vocation as a whore, and I ordered them to put him in a pigpen among the other pigs.

In a few weeks, it became part of the company's routine. The servants put the pigs in the sty where he was; he stayed among them as part of the group and ate what they ate, naked, dirty, and on all fours like the pig he wanted to be.

The only difference is that in the late afternoon, I took him out of the sty, whipped and brutally spanked him, fucked him, and made him suck the dicks of the whole team. Then we pissed on him while he jerked off and returned him with the other pigs.

I never saw him resist or avoid the beatings, rape, or humiliation. He accepted everything obediently, with a horny smile and his cock hard with lust and happiness. He didn't say anything; he endured everything silently and occasionally thanked me in a low voice: "Thank you, Sir."

He stayed there, always in the pigsty, getting stinkier and dirtier each time.

After months without leaving the pigsty, he spoke softly while I was fucking him: "Sir, can I make one more request?" I nodded.

"Can I fulfill my destiny as a pig and be slaughtered along with the others?"

"Is that really what you want, fagot?" I asked.

"With all certainty, my Owner is what will make me even happier."

I felt my cock in his ass even harder! 

In the following weeks, I got even more pleasure from torturing and fucking him. I made him masturbate successively until the last drop of cum was exhausted. I crushed his balls, his dick, and his nipples with pliers and burned them with cigars while asking:

"What do you want me to do with that dirty pig?"

Loves to see him moaning in pain and horny as he replies: "Sir, please slaughter me and make minced meat with this body! I beg you, Lord, I'm a filthy pig like the others..."

I never saw the slightest hint of doubt in his eyes.

I watched the day we placed him in line with the others to receive the fatal hammer blow. His mouth and asshole were filled with cum from everyone who worked for the company. He came just before the hammer blow.

I really love working on this farm.

I really love working on this farm. The boss is very stingy and greedy; the work is heavy, monotonous, and pays poorly; the boss only thinks about his profit. He buys these slut fags from the penitentiary system; he prefers the youngest, between 18 and 22, to transform them into sperm-producing calves. 

The farm's veterinarian is a real butcher; he cuts the vocal cords without the slightest care and the foreskins of those he still has without the slightest hygiene. With the complete transformation in a few weeks, the ex-prisoners, ex-humans, become mindless beasts that moan, cry, and howl constantly.

Daily we inject so many hormones and sexual stimulants that in a short time, they become stronger, very hairy, sexually excited, lustful, and somewhat aggressive. Their penises get bigger, and their tongues and nipples get huge and sensitive. Sexual stimulants are vasodilators that allow for longer and more intense erections, but because of this, animals are more vulnerable to injuries, and their wounds bleed easily. The ropes that bind the wrists and ankles violently scar the leather and wound until it bleeds. All the beatings we give cause very dark and lasting bleeding and bruising. Bites from mosquitoes, fleas, and other parasites injure their skin. 

However, the worst wounds are on the animals' penises, kept inside the milking suckers. The milking equipment is old; its adjustment is neither easy nor safe; sometimes, the pressure is too intense and hurts the penis, and sometimes, it even sucks the entire organ into the tubes. The animal howls in despair, but even if we turn off the equipment, the damage is already done, and what's left of the penis must be removed from the tube with a spatula. The worst thing is not even the loss of a pig; when that happens, that day's production is lost in blood.

These milking animals are kept in precarious, poorly built, hot, and poorly ventilated sheds. The space stinks of sweat, feces, urine, and blood. Hanging by their ankles for many hours, the animals shit on themselves. The noise in these sheds is loud, as the animals moan and cry in pain and pleasure when they are milked; the equipment also makes a lot of noise.

We hung them up for milking for six hours daily, every day, without a break. After being milked, they are dragged to the pigsties to rest, fed, and washed. Foods are the farm's special rations enriched with drugs, vitamins, stimulants, steroids, and hormones, balanced so that they are permanently horny and happy.

That's why they are always kept doped with drugs and tied up. If we let go of their hands, they would masturbate endlessly; they are sexual, stupid, and horny animals. With their wrists and ankles tied in the pigsty, the animals lie on each other and rub, lick, and suck each other non-stop. Some bite and lick the dicks and nipples of others intensely; even when they sleep, they seem permanently horny, caressing each other sexually. Being stimulated by each other all day and by the effect of food and drugs, a healthy and productive animal can produce half a liter of sperm daily.

The caretakers must keep piglets rubbing against each other but ensure they do not come; sperm must be saved for milking time. To separate them, they use the cattle prod, discharging violent electric shocks in the dicks and nipples and tongues.

Milking animals can produce sperm in this rhythm for a few years, not more than three or four years. Many die of heart attacks or exhaustion before they run out of production. 

Those that survive, when they become sterile and no longer produce enough sperm, cannot be sold for slaughter and average meat production. Hormones and steroids entirely take over their bodies, so they are slaughtered on the farm to feed the younger dairy animals; they are turned into the farm's special ration.

Like the other workers on the farm, I could look for other jobs, better paid or less brutal, but we end up enjoying what we do. We like to spank, torture, and fuck these animals. The owner encourages us to be cruel and violent in dealing with pigs; he encourages our sadism; he knows that daily violence transforms and addicts us.

I love to see the young men, still wearing prison uniforms, handcuffed and scared, like other young men, looking like ourselves when they arrive.

When we are tasked with slaughtering and dismantling one of the exhausted animals, they no longer have any human characteristics; they are disgusting, whining pigs. I bring the hammer down on their heads in ecstasy without the slightest pity.