Shameless

Title: Shameless

Authors note: The story "Shameless" is a raw and visceral exploration of extreme sexual degradation, feminization, and the psychological impact of such experiences on an individual. It evokes powerful and unsettling emotions, consistent with its subject matter. Reader's discretion is advised. All characters are adults.

...

...

...

The flickering lights filled the room.

The smell of floral essences: chocolate and cinnamon sank into my nostrils.

My breath quickened and a soft feminized moan escaped my lips. But I could barely distinguish it from the myriad voices moaning, begging and chanting directly into my ears.

I felt something slide into my mouth and I sucked it desperately. I practiced my tongue on it, relaxed my throat for it. Feeling the soft pain as it entered that space at the back of my mouth, already sore from past invasions.

My legs, held aloft, quivered and shook as another wave of wanton desire flowed from the root of my butt, the electricity shot from my mouth and my hole to the tip of my penis.

It would not be long now...

My right hand moved faster and felt my butthole stretching over the ridges of that big black cock. Ravaging my insides faster and faster.

My left hand became more forceful and the thing inside my throat pushed in more violently. My own gagging noises overshadowed the deafening moans and droning beat coming from my headphones.

I tried to open my eyes and focus on the video, as the voices in my ears ordered me to do. But as much as I wanted to obey, all I could muster was to glimpse the unfocused shapes of bright blurry colors flashing rhythmically on the screen.

My brain, deprived of oxygen, focused on pleasure. Soon, that pleasure would be all I could feel, my thoughts slowly sinking inside it. I was getting swallowed into a pool of warm milk.

My soul drowning in it...

My untouched penis convulsed.

The pleasure erupted, from a warm bath, it turned into a great torrent and washed me away with it.

Three small, clear streaks of fluid jumped from the tip of my cock and landed squarely on my face.

The pleasure was gone in a flash. I finished.

The room came into focus once more:

The small screen of the laptop to my left, still a sequence of hypnotic images flashing on it. The coldness of the hard tiled floor hurting my back and shoulders. The sick sticky feeling of cum on my cheeks.

The shame...

The shame...

The shame...

I was once again that disgusting man, dressed in a humiliating getup. A fake cock in my left hand and another still buzzing away deep inside my asshole. No longer releasing a single drop of pleasure into my brain. Only that terrible aftertaste.

That shame...

The voices in my ears still called out for more. But they only caused disgust now. My eyes fluttered over the images on the screen, no longer could I relate to those beautiful whores, I was no longer one of them; only a pale imitation, a failed man without any dignity.

It disgusted me.

I ripped the headphones away and closed the screen.

The smells still lingered in the room, reminding me of what I had done.

"Was it really the fourth time today?"

I asked myself as I quickly wiped my face from what little residue of cum, I had managed to shoot onto it.

As I dropped the dildo in my left hand a loud wet "PLOP" echoed inside that tiny spartan space.

The clothes were quickly disposed of in a corner. Now would come the worst part.

The most undignified of all.

"What have I become?"

I thought to myself as I squatted over the toilet, right hand gripping the big black silicone balls that crowned the base of that cock.

I knew how it would feel. I had done it thrice today already, and at least twelve more times this past week.

I knew that after cumming I became much tighter, it would not be so easy to take out. I tried to relax. But the pain quickly shot alarms, my ass was already sore enough, and that cock had been inside me for almost a full hour.

Slowly I pulled the soft silicone first stretching and then dragging itself out.

The familiar intrusive thought once again assaulted my mind:

"Here you are, a grown man, still with traces of makeup and cum on your face. Pulling a fake cock out of your ass"

*POP*

It was finally out, and after it a steady flow of viscous liquid followed, a mixture of lube and juices secreted by my own body. A disgusting facsimile of another man's cum.

The shame...

...

Thirty minutes later, all was normal once again. All evidence disposed of, and all of the 'equipment' stored out of sight.

It was late into the night already, but by now the slow degradation of my normal life's routine meant that I was wide awake and at least a few hours away from my usual bedtime.

I took a step out into the kitchen and heated up some tea. Trying to take my mind away from that disgusting feeling that came from having a gaped ass, still drooling away.

Looking at the clock reading near eleven P. M.

'I guess it doesn't really matter what time it is. Or what day in any case...' I thought. Hearing a few dogs barking and the odd car pass the dirty inner-city street outside.

Three months ago, I had a very different life. I felt a wave of nostalgia.

"What came first: Did my addiction cause my firing or did getting fired worsened my addiction?"

I wondered.

For years I had these "tastes". At first a simple curiosity. Now it had evolved... or devolved into this most degrading of fantasies.

The intrusion into my mind came as something unwanted, but very much expected:

"Big... black... cock..."

I knew myself well enough to know that even dancing close to that subject would trigger those thoughts; And the sharp stab of guilty pleasure that flowed from them.

The small useless thing between my legs didn't react. Although it probably would, if I hadn't fapped it into near complete immobility.

"Pathetic..."

The more I turned my thoughts inward the more disgusted I became with what I had done to myself. A year ago I was masturbating every day, four months ago, it was three times a day. Two months ago, it started having problems staying up during those endless fapping sessions.

Now I can only cum from that... thing... inside my ass.

"Big... black..."

The voices in my head returned. But I turned my eye inward and focused on how much I hated it all.

Anger grew as a response.

"Then why not block the voices out once and for all?!"

I concluded sharply. But the idea felt as plausible as suddenly acquiring the ability to fly.

I looked around at what my addiction had caused.

Only one month into my job search, and already I was forced to change from my previous apartment to this place. Glancing around: a small kitchenette and a one-meter square window were the only amenities it had.

Frankly the search was not going well. Or rather I wasn't putting in the effort I should be.

Instead, my nights ended ever later, and my mornings always began in the early afternoon. Waking up tired and sore from the past night's activities.

I started skipping meals. At first to save what money I could. But then the voices made the real reason clear. Three months becoming skinnier and weaker, more vulnerable.

"Three months becoming a sissy"

A more feminine voice spoke inside my mind. I recoiled at the thought, but it already had injected more of that tainted dopamine into my brain.

The fresh ginger taste in my throat recovered my energy some, and I walked thoughtlessly towards the bedroom once more.

Upon opening that door, the smell invaded my nose.

No drug is stronger than the power of your own fantasies.

Flowers, vanilla and cinnamon were the lingering scent of my drugs.

My eyes instantly slowed and relaxed automatically, tracing my sight around the space I had cultivated as a shrine to mindless pleasure and femininity: Dresses hanging from that open closet, as many or more as the manly clothes I used to wear. Shoes shone in that dim golden light: heels, flats and platforms of myriad colors and shapes. One wig was placed on a wig stand, pale blue and with a white bow pre-attached. Another black-haired one was a mess in the floor, that's the one I had been using for today's masturbation.

I stared at the floor now, besides the wig and in a small puddle of what had to be my own spit was a black dildo, still shiny with the residue that came from having been inside my throat four times today.

"How about we make it five times?"

A sultry voice begged in my mind.

I stared at it, large and shiny, coated in that delicious taste of sin.

My throat was already burning with pain from the past hour but even so it wouldn't dream of resisting another invasion.

"Giving up..."

Deep inside of my mind I knew that phrase by heart. I had heard it once in one of those evil videos and it had somehow burrowed deep until it had become my own personal trigger. I knew that if I finished thinking that phrase, if I thought about my need, I would drown inside that fog again.

I said out loud, in a much more manly voice that the one that had escaped my lips before:

"No! Not now!"

The feeling receded and I grabbed that dildo and flung it out of sight, my hands registering the texture and begging for more time with it. But I had made my decision.

"I will go to sleep now, and tomorrow I will fix my life once and for good!"

...

...

...

Another hour had elapsed.

As much as I tried, I couldn't surrender to sleep. The more I focused, the less it came. The few times I had grazed the edge of that intangible state; My subconscious had taken the opportunity to send more and more of those tainted images into the fore.

A large manly black silhouette, holding the chain of my collar.

A mirage in the mirror: a broken girl, a body modified into a sexual object.

The shape of a large cock millimeters above my face, dominating my life forever.

The visions didn't stop.

Nor would they.

They had assaulted my nights before, for weeks already. Only one solution was known to me: Surrender.

To give up, doll up and go back into that degrading cycle. I imagined the big black cock that belonged in my ass, laying there in the wash basin of the bathroom.

"Maybe... just to fall asleep." I thought.

"No! I am done! I want to be done with it!"

I rebuked the salacious idea.

...

The next thought came from an unknown source, it didn't feel completely mine, but also didn't have the poisonous taste that came with the thoughts programmed into me.

"I need to get out of the fantasy... I need to stop idealizing it..."

The concluding sentence felt like doom or salvation. Either way, the cycle would end.

"I need to make it real..."

...

...

...

I had been on this app before, more than a few times I had used the profile picture of some random man to masturbate.

But this time was different. I had made that fateful decision.

I looked through the 'online' tab and clicked on a profile. The face was not distinguishable but that didn't surprise me, my own face was not visible in any of my photos either.

Only a large frame, big muscles and deep black skin identified the man.

He didn't look like a fake either, not handsome enough. Something about those photos said, construction worker'. Not the kind of pictures anyone would use to try to catfish someone.

Too real, too crude.

From the relationship between his body and the furniture he looked to be over 6 ft. Built like a truck. Over 240 pounds of muscle if the pictures were true.

The last picture showed enough to capture the imagination of my sissy self.

Not completely naked, but in grey sweatpants, the large silhouette of the bulge from a half erect monster could be seen.

"Mmmmaster..."

Squealed the girl inside my mind

"Good enough to lose my virginity to, I guess."

I thought, the pink mist already starting to condense around my ideas. Everything tinted in that very familiar rosy hue. The man in the picture looking ever more like the Alphas in my videos.

The more I looked at him the more I felt like I was falling in love with him.

I took the plunge.

...

"Hey beautiful, WYD?"

He typed in reply to my very succinct: 'Hello :)'

The mist grew denser, and I focused my eyes on the broadness of that man's back, picturing my legs wrapped tightly around him.

"Looking at you ;)"

I replied without thinking.

My heart skipped a beat as I saw him quickly replying:

"Come, look at me closer."

And then not giving me time to think of a reply when he typed:

"Where u at?"

Quickly following it with a GPS location and another message.

"I'm here."

My heart was racing, from my scant experience with women, I had expected some flirting, maybe even a couple of days of chatting before arranging something. But here was this man, at 1am telling me to come to his... I looked at the coordinates... motel room?

I looked into the full-length mirror in my room. One of the few luxuries I couldn't part with when my finances took a turn. I was already dressed up: Short flared black skirt, black stockings that hid their edge beneath the skirt, a white blouse with thick, soft fabric and long sleeves that only showed my fingers.

"Am I ready to be someone's booty call?"

I felt the sinking guilty pleasure, my cock was already spent, and remained near immobile, but I was drowning in the morbid fantasy of becoming a stranger's toy.

I stared again at the location. It wouldn't be such a long trip after all.

My body screamed, in expectation and anxiety, and I was half tempted to grab the dildo and go back into my safe cycle of doom. But I had made my decision:

"I will become someone's woman tonight."

"I'm coming."

I wrote when my butt felt the ragged leather of the car's seat.

My heart racing, as the reality of it all hit me like a truck.

...

...

...

I switched off the car's engine and stared at the area:

Two floors of nondescript doors. Yellow fluorescent lights flickering sporadically. A few cars were spaced around the parking lot.

I looked down at my body. The black skirt flared over my legs and the shiny reflection of nylon and latex coming from my thighs peering below the driver's wheel. Resting on the pedals were a pair of white high heel shoes. I flexed my legs slightly and was almost surprised as they responded to my commands.

An alien feeling, this feminine figure was indeed my own.

Not once had I dared to go out in public dressed as a girl. Now I was about to walk through the parking lot of a shady motel at 1am. My heart was about to leap out from my chest.

With a heavy rusty creek, the old door swung open and then the tapping sounds of two heels landing on the broken pavement of the parking lot.

I stood up almost stumbling out of the car and closed the door.

Suddenly the cold air of the night rose up my skirt and around those areas of skin not covered by either stockings or thong.

One step further closer to the building and suddenly I felt as if in a whole new role:

"A common whore in a common motel."

I thought with a sigh, but the idea quickly filled me with more of that sinful pleasure. I imagined myself strutting around the area in these heels every night, looking for cocks to please.

The sensual guilt rose through my hips and towards my belly.

The next couple of steps swung following an ancient rhythm, as if a tribal beat called my body towards that fertile state.

The swing in my hips grew more and more exaggerated, and the curve in my back became more pronounced. Deep things inside my mind were being awakened without my awareness.

The months of self-hypnosis revealing only what had been there all along, branded on my soul since before I was born.

More and more, the feeling of vulnerability and exposure creeped into my awareness.

As if I was walking out naked in front of a classroom or dropping a towel in front of strangers. I was "fully dressed", but I felt more vulnerable than in any of those imagined scenarios. And I was going to meet someone else in this state.

"A complete stranger."

Another rush of mixed fear and pleasure crept from my belly. My survival instincts screaming about the dangers, but the lust in my loins didn't let me hear it.

I grabbed the handrail of the staircase, or rather slightly traced a couple of fingers over it. Not really requiring their help to keep my gait steady in these heels, enough practice through all months before. The tapping sound of heel against the concrete steps rhythmically echoed on the walls.

"Would it be the same with HIM? Will those months of practice be enough to prepare me... to serve?"

Another shot of electric pleasure nearly made me collapse on the ground as I reached that second floor.

"In this floor there is a man, who will take my virginity... one whom I will serve." I thought.

The finality, the unavoidability of that statement, made me squirm.

"I was going to do it; it was as good as done."

I reached the door with a black number '8' screwed on it. My heart was in my throat.

I gave one final look at my attire: the white shiny heels calling all the attention away from my more manly attributes and down to my legs wrapped in that shiny mix of nylon and latex. I raised my right hand, noticing that it was trembling. My less feminine hands and arms, disguised under that baggy, almost plushy like white blouse.

My hand moved to my wig, and I fixed it as best I could, the white bow contrasting heavily with the light blue hair. Another well thought out piece of my mirage, the more he looks at what is feminine, the better.

When my knuckles were millimeters away from the wood the most girly of thoughts entered my mind. That universally female sentence placed me in my new role as much as any of the myriad things I had done before:

"I hope he thinks I'm pretty."

...

Fear was the first thing through my mind as the door closed behind me.

That deeply ingrained response to an existential threat.

Survival itself depended on my reaction to this threat.

My eyes widened in front of him, the unfocused sight of his silhouette mere feet away from me nearly made me stumble back, only the now closed door would help me from falling.

I had worn these tall heels because I knew his size, the pictures showed me, that no matter what I wore he would still be taller than me. But I wasn't prepared for this.

One thing is looking at a screen, another much different is staring at that figure in real life. His immense frame enveloped my whole view, and his mere presence threatened me with such force that I quickly dipped out of that nice and rosy mindset I had put myself under.

"If he wanted to hurt me... I won't be able to stop him." Panic started to set in.

Without that rosy hue in my vision, I could see him for what he was: A large hulking beast, a big belly and even bigger arms. His gruff appearance was accentuated by a bald, or shaven head and a full beard, trimmed to about half an inch thick, grey hair speckled the deep black mat of beard. Deep black skin contrasting intensely with my pale complexion.

"If he wasn't in that app... If he hadn't asked me to come... If he had seen me on the streets, dressed like this. I would surely run away... A scared little faggot."

He was wearing common jeans and a slightly baggy wifebeater. I wasn't off the mark thinking he looked blue-collar in his photos. Those hands and arms clearly had seen their fair share of hard labor. The blackness of his skin contrasting... ~beautifully~ with his white shirt.

The trembling panic died down an instant later, as half rosy-tinted logic started to take over again.

"He doesn't want to hurt me; he wants to fuck me..." I thought.

But as I raised my eyes pleadingly towards his I could sense an intense glare coming from those black eyes. Doubt crept in as I begged wordlessly:

"... right?"

I wondered if getting fucked by that man would be any better than being hurt by him. Now that I experienced his true size in person. I could imagine his strength, his force.

"I will feel pain tonight, no matter what."

The fear grew. But I stood still. Offering my body to him.

I stood there in front of him while he examined my body, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than I had ever felt. Only the slight trickle of feminine dopamine kept my brain from going into a panicked flight and trying to get away.

"Offering my body to him. Wishing only for his approval."

More feminine pleasure filled my mouth, and I swallowed it gladly. The rosy tint in my vision alleviated more and more of my anxiety. Even creating the illusion of a slight smile of approval on his face.

"Maybe he will be soft with me if he likes me enough."

But then, even more pleasure blocked my nerves and fears.

"It's not an illusion!"

My voice and hers screamed in unison inside my mind.

His slight smile soon turned into a grin. A lustful, gross grin that filled me with sinful delight.

"He wants me!"

I thought, and a great valve opened inside, all fears dissolved and instead only the pride and happiness from getting that long-awaited approval.

My posture responded quicker than any thought that could cross my mind. I found myself already smiling back at this man, looking up at him with dopey eyes and contorting my legs, spine and arms into a caricature of feminine flirt.

His voice was deep, strong and bassy, and although he was almost whispering it felt loud in my ears:

"You look like a very good girl... are you a good little girl?"

"YES! YES, I AM! I AM YOUR GOOD GIRL!"

The sissy inside me screamed. But I didn't let the words come out.

Even deep into the pink mist, I knew the reality. My real voice could never capture the feminine tones that this man deserved, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't speak the words.

Instead, I resorted to my second-best option, I brought my thumb to my mouth and bit on it softly. Smiling up at him as I nodded and forced the highest pitch my voice could muster into a soft girly

"mhmmm."

I could feel wetness already dripping through my panties, submitting so wantonly to this man was too much for my weak mind.

His decisive action didn't leave any more time for doubt or fears.

He simply took one step back. Allowing me to 'marvel' at his body full of strong muscles and bulk. Then after a soft breath of excitement he moved his hands towards his thick brown belt and started unbuckling it.

In that instant, I was mesmerized. The myriad visions of my new role models filled my mind: Kneeling instantly or helping him drop his pants to get at that beautiful cock that much quicker.

Instead, reality hit me. I stood there, completely still, silently observing as this man released his belt, then slowly unbutton his jeans. The dumb look in my face probably made him realize how far gone I was already: either drugged or cock-dumb.

He didn't seem to care either way. Instead, after what seemed like an eternity, he slowly released that great beast:

Deep blackness, and full of veins. It was still only half erect, slightly bending downwards under its incredible weight. Cut and with a great head in the same shade of night as the rest of the skin. Small droplets of moisture already condensing at its tip.

In that moment, all else disappeared: it didn't matter where I was, who was this man or what had I become. All that matter was the taste of that cock.

I didn't realize making the decision to fall to my knees, or even the impact of the hard flooring on my rosy skin. The only thing I could notice was that that cock was now just a breath away from my mouth.

"I'm not worthy of it... not yet..."

Instructions branded on my brain long ago spoke to me now. A thousand hours training myself to be the best cocksucker I could be.

Instead of going directly to his cock I focused my view now on what surrounded its base.

Beneath a thick mat of black hair were two incredibly heavy looking balls, almost pulsating as they sent more and more precum up to that dick.

"I need to praise the balls that will fill me with his cum."

I closed my eyes and dove deep. His scent was overpowering as my nose drowned between his pubic hair: strong and pungent, even with a bit of sweaty musk. Compared to the smells that surrounded me when I masturbated: vanilla, cream, coconut; this was entirely alien.

But with that contrast came a new rush, akin to adrenaline. I was smelling a man, or rather, a man was marking his scent on me.

I moved with more energy and excitement, wiping my tongue first on the base of his cock and then deepening my kneeling posture to attack the balls from bellow. Their heavy weight now rested entirely on my cheeks and mouth as I licked and sucked them furiously.

Great slurping noises echoing inside the cramped room.

His hand on the back of my head sent another rush of excitement through my body. His touch was strong, and firm and his hands were big enough to nearly wrap entirely around my head.

He guided me. Moved my head slowly, tilting my face to reach the spots and angles that better suited him. My neck was soft to his force, slowly I surrendered control of all but my lips and tongue.

My arms falling limp beside my body, listlessly hanging. My back was arched heavily, but still pliable and moving to follow and anticipate his intention. My whole mind focused on one thing: what was inside my mouth.

Rough textures, hot skin, large balls entering and then getting released with the loud popping sound that came after vigorous sucking. Those balls owned me.

After enough time had passed, my face felt moist with both his sweat and my spit. He pulled my head in a new direction. Soon I felt the great base of his shaft, I attempted to wrap my lips around it, and found myself kissing a third of its gross circumference. It had enlarged tremendously thanks to my previous efforts.

I felt proud of it.

My tongue grew more sensitive to its texture, and I started to recognize the many veins that popped out from surface. I traced my tongue through each of them, eagerly waiting for the moment when his hands would guide me even further upwards.

The veins grew even more numerous and the stench of his manhood stronger and stronger as he guided my small mouth through his cock. His every throbbing pulsation sending shivers through my body.

Within the deep pink mist my mind attempted to form a thought:

"This is a real man. A real cock."

I shivered as it resonated within. A more complex thought could not be made this deep inside the mind-altering mist, but they were there nonetheless:

Was I comparing his cock to my collection of pale imitations? Or was I the pale imitation of what a real man should be?

My heart skipped another beat, and I felt fear mixed with excitement as I reached the end.

My tongue ran over a ridge, a familiar shape and texture as the shaft ended and the head began. But there was no real comparison. I opened my mouth as much as I could, splaying my tongue out as far as it would go, emptying my mouth as much as my mind already was. But it did not matter.

As he pushed my head down on it, all I could do was suck on that head.

It couldn't fit, no matter how much he pushed, or how much I gagged on it. My mouth couldn't do much more than kiss and caress that head.

Shame struck some of the mist away.

"All that practice... I'm still not good enough"

He finally released my head. Or rather pulled me back away from his cock.

I gasped, realizing that I hadn't breathed for a while.

And then without thinking or forcing it, a feminized moan escaped my lips. Followed by the honey like voice of a wanton slut:

"I'm sorry Daddy... it's too big..."

My eyes filled with tears of genuine disappointment and looked up begging at him.

"His approval mustn't fade." I thought. "I have to please him in some way..."

"Please, use my ass instead..." I begged.

He didn't speak but instead grinned almost callously. I had not thought about the words I said. I still couldn't think about the consequences of what I was offering: That thing was massive. Much bigger than any of my toys.

Even my well-practiced hole would be like a virgin to him, he would destroy me.

No mercy was found in those eyes. I had begged for it, and he would take advantage of it. He opened his mouth only to say in those rough deep tones:

"Good girl..."

A shiver of pleasure drove my mind away once more, as he motioned me to take to bed.

My body obeyed at once. Without realizing how, I was now on all fours at the edge of that bed, my face looking down at the green sheets with patterns. I could feel the cold air licking my thighs, balls, dick and asshole. I was completely exposed.

Fear started to creep in once more. "He is going to hurt me."

No longer covered by even a skirt. My ass was presented high up in the air, my knees and forearms digging into the soft mattress, my fingers gripping the mattress tightly. I stared at my delicate fingers: white nail polish adorning the tips and matching the sleeves from the blouse that covered the rest of my body.

The upper half of my body covered by that thick soft plushy blouse, thighs, legs and feet covered by stockings, head covered in a tangled light blue wig. Everything else felt secure, soft and safe; everything but what was most vulnerable.

The coldness of the air against my butt, taint, balls and dick were too intense. My focus was entirely upon that feeling.

I didn't look back, I couldn't. I realized that what had slightly taken me out of that mist had been fear once more.

"I'm offering my pain to him... He will drink pleasure from my pain." I was trembling, terrified.

I laid there with my ass exposed in the air. Behind me I felt his presence. Intimidating and overpowering.

And there was no defending from it, no escaping from it. There was no space to do anything at all against him.

Nothing I could do to make him hurt me any less than he wished to do.

I was surrendering, completely offering my virginity to this unknown beast. He was behind me, and I was presenting myself to him.

Time felt eternal; I laid there exposed for what felt like hours.

I had thought about this moment for so long, ever since the first time I fantasized in my room about it. I had prepared my ass as best I could: not a trace of hair, blemish or dirt could be found; I had even creamed it with floral scents.

I had done everything thinking about how perfect it would be the first time I offered my asshole to a real cock. But now I was afraid.

His hands brought me back to reality.

They first rubbed my right cheek and then traced a large finger through the opening of my hole. I felt my dick twitch for the first time in the whole night, realizing I had remained completely limp even throughout the extasy that was tasting that cock.

"Good girls... stay limp...''

The womanly voice inside me commanded.

Then pressure, hot pressure from soft skin.

My asshole had already been gaped from four past invasions this night and so the first third of his head slid inside without much resistance.

I realized then how I must look like to a man like this.

"Another used up whore. Here for her fifth man tonight."

Shame hit me again as I felt humiliation from that thought. But his voice swept those feelings and all other thoughts from my pinked-up mind.

"Ahhh, nothing like fucking a little bitch bareback."

A smile filled my face and then was instantly replaced with a grimace and a sharp squeal.

He had placed both hands around my waist, nearly wrapping completely around it. In one forceful push he had thrusted, the entirety of his girth into my body.

I felt the head slipping in, then the ridge of its crown, then the veins as they dragged themselves through my broken asshole.

I felt it tear and scream as he slid past any semblance of resistance my body had put up towards this invasion. The pain made me tighten even further and more pain shot up my back.

Tears filled my eyes, and I gripped the sheets so hard that my nails dug into the palms of my hands. But as he pushed in, he hit something, something deep inside my soul.

A rush of pink pleasure filled in and dulled the pain. And I realized that even through this great suffering, I didn't want him to stop.

"Shhh.... Shhh...."

A feminine voice spoke inside my mind.

"You are doing great..."

I felt wrapped in that scent: flowers, cinnamon and vanilla. They kept me safe as this man took his pleasure from my broken body.

My sore asshole was breaking under the intense invasion, my skin yielded, my muscles either relaxed, or they tore apart.

Only the deepening mist kept the pain from making me scream anymore.

He pulled back, rubbing that spot once more and making me release a light moan from my mouth.

Then back in. Another rush of pain and then he hit that spot again.

"Give up."

"Obey."

"Surrender."

No more pain... it didn't exist... I couldn't feel it anymore...

The veins rubbed the delicate skin of my hole, and they sent pink sparks of pleasure.

"He is superior."

"I belong to him."

"This is my destiny."

"I failed as a man."

His head touched that spot deep inside of me and I felt that my own dicklet was now fully erect. Throbbing and leaking, so ready for release.

"I belong at Master's feet."

My nails released the sheets, and my fingers flared out as his cock moved back once more. A much louder moan as those words started to take shape in that broken mind.

Those words that branded me long ago.

He pushed in, this time his full heft behind that thrust. He wanted to pin me down.

"What Daddy wants, Daddy gets."

My legs and arms grew limp, and I fell face forward into the sheets, his full weight landing on my back and covering me completely. I couldn't believe his strength, his power, I was nothing against him; only a thing to be used up for pleasure.

He pulled back his dick once more and rubbed that spot once again.

The words were there. The girl inside me commanded me:

"Say them... say them and be lost forever."

I opened my mouth, my voice was not the one I had, it was a girl's voice through and through.

The mantra burrowed deeper into my core:

"Giving up my ego, raises my libido."

I begged loudly:

"I give up my ego, I need Daddy's cum!"

He pushed once more and the pink mist engulfed me completely, I was gone, annihilated, ceased to be. The pleasure consumed me completely

I felt the few drops of manhood I could muster, escaping my dick, my body convulsed, and my legs trembled as my mind was surrendered to him.

That great Master had made me cum, and I was his little girl.

It was beautiful, blissful, and mindless.

And then... pain...

...

...

...

I smelled his sweat first, then it overpowered my senses, not beautiful and exciting as it was before, but gross and humiliating.

I felt the wet hairs of his chest rubbing against the back of my neck, my head now bare as my real brown hair was released from the wig and now moped all over my face, covered in spit.

His weight made it impossible to breath properly, only sharp shallow breaths sustained me. And with one of my breaths came the pain again.

Not as sharp as with the moment of insertion but still there, chafing, rubbing away more and more of my skin. My hole now felt filled to the point of bursting and it was growing more and more unbearable.

I tried to focus my eyes once again: the left one was completely covered by spit or sweat, or some other disgusting substance and the right one could only distinguish my nails once again digging into the sheets.

I had felt the post-orgasm clarity many times before... but this... was hell.

Shame...

It had been so easy dealing with the aftermath before. In less than a minute I could go back to pretending I was a man, that it had all been a dream.

It was not a dream anymore. Not a fantasy, and was no way to stop it.

Shame...

His weight pressed down on me, and he moved one of his hands to the base of my neck, pushing down with what felt like all his force.

He had pinned me down, there was nowhere to go.

Shame...

His cock once more rammed into me, again and again. The pain remained, although it became more and more bearable with every thrust.

Bearable enough to let my mind wander, and it did.

It remembered his words:

''.... Fucking a little bitch bareback.''

He had said while laughing.

My eyes spread wide like plates

"He wasn't wearing any protection at all."

There wasn't anything to save me, to keep my body from receiving whatever this man wanted to put there.

Panic set in as the worst possible consequences came into my mind, clear as day.

"No..."

I mustered between squeals. And I attempted to shift away my legs flailing erratically under his weight. Again, another weak squeal.

"Please... no..."

His free hand covered my mouth with a slap. And he wrapped his body even harder around me.

"Shh little bitch... Don't be a bad girl..."

He said. His voice didn't seem so elegant and overpowering anymore, in fact I could hear the drunken lust in it; And it made him sound gross.

There was no more pink pleasure to quiet my mind, to take down the fear. It was all there. I was beneath him, and I couldn't do anything to stop him.

I tried to move once more, but all I could feel was the heft of his belly and arms securing me down.

I remembered all the hypnotic videos pushing me to stay limp and weak, to not eat and not train.

I had become a fragile little thing. I was no match for any real man.

I remembered looking at how my body had changed in the mirror, less fat, less muscle, more femininity, more weakness.

It had all been a trap. And I had fallen happily inside it.

His voice once again in my ears, deep breaths after every thrust inside me.

"You little bitches are all the same. Before you cum, you are such good eager girls. Then afterwards that stupid shame consumes you and you want to make it stop. Always begging to leave. To stop."

A muffled scream was heard in response, but no one would care about a screaming whore in a random motel room.

I was alone.

His lips got closer to my left ear and kissed it grossly, licking it before whispering the rest.

"But don't you worry... All that stops when you are properly broken in."

More tears filled my eyes, I could smell the stale beer in his breath and hear the slight slurring of his words. My mouth was covered by that dirty black hand. Soiling my white, rosy cheeks.

Another thrust inside my ass, my dick now laid completely limp and worthless sandwiched against the bed, I could feel every inch of his cock. In and out, in and out... And it didn't bring an ounce of pleasure.

I wanted to vomit.

The dirty cheap motel room. The gross drunk man riding me into the mattress. It all felt too real.

My fantasies were never like this.

I tried to think about something else. I couldn't escape. I couldn't make him stop. He was going to use me until he finished.

"Or until he "breaks" me."

"How had it come to this?"

I begged my mind to slip away into itself.

It had all started with that deep fascination for the feminine. Attraction at first, wanting to own it. Then wanting to be surrounded by it. Then finally wanting to become it.

As his dick pushed inside me one more time, hitting that place that had caused so much pleasure just a few minutes ago. I came to realize it.

"This is what it means becoming the feminine."

I looked around at the dirty motel room, I felt the gross man pressing me down with his power and claiming my body for his pleasure. I smelled the mixture of beer, cheap cologne and sweat.

I was surrounded by all things "Man".

I was the only feminine thing in this place. That's why he wanted me.

I was the sweet thing, the soft thing, the fragile thing, the obedient little girl that provides pleasure.

His cock moved out once more.

I was surprised to hear a muffled moan coming from my throat.

It sounded deliciously compliant.

"See, little bitch... that didn't take so long..."

His voice was empowered once again.

"Only a minute of shame and you are already slipping back into your training." He said.

'A minute?!' I looked up with my one eye not covered in spit. Indeed, barely a minute had passed.

"For a moment I thought you were a virgin, that I would have to break you wholly."

He moved his hand from the base of my neck to my hair, entangling his fingers on it.

"You are much easier than I thought. Another broken little sissy." He said.

His voice didn't seem so gross anymore.

"Am I already broken?"

I thought, the idea sending new waves of pleasure into my brain.

"You probably had thirty cocks already by the looks of it. Tell me... How many men have left their cum inside that ass of yours?"

He asked, releasing his left hand from my mouth and placing it on my waist once more.

"Do I seem like a used-up whore already?"

I thought, the pleasure not moving my useless dick a millimeter anymore.

I felt the feminine hands of a sissy gripping my neck, digging into it and forcing a sentence that would please this man the most.

"I'm sorry Daddy. I was bad..."

I pouted.

"You are my first man... please cum inside me..."

I didn't care anymore; it was as he said. The mist had rushed back in, this man whom I didn't know the name of, was fucking me, without protection, my ass was broken and chafed, and every thrust still sent pain into my brain.

But it was pleasing to him.

That was all that mattered.

"That... I must test for myself." He said.

And then pain drove the mist away once more. He dragged me up with his right hand, firmly gripping my already longish hair. His cock slipping out of me and leaving me with that same sick feeling that drooling as always.

"Cocks rule..."

The girly voice said inside. And I imagined how that gaped hole must look like, a pink broken hole, precum and lube leaking out of it; more pink pleasure flowing from that image.

"Sissies drool..."

She ended the mantra.

"Either our mouths or our holes."

I thought, as he dragged me around and swung me until I was once again kneeling on the hard floor.

"How cockdumb are you... little bitch?"

His words were commanding, and I was forced to look inward.

"How far gone was I?"

I looked at him: a sweaty, hairy, fat beast of a man, standing so tall in front of me; a mix of disgust, and sick pleasure filled me.

One side of me saw him as ugly, uncouth, I didn't want to be near him at all. My eyes couldn't pick a single attractive thing about his body; the other side saw a god that I must worship, one I will do anything for.

"How can I desire to belong to someone I don't find beautiful at all?"

My eyes must be very easy to read for him, he had his answer.

"Perfect... I get to be the one to take all that delicious dignity and pride away from you."

His words drove the mist away even further.

"What was this beast going to do to me?"

I felt a large drop of liquid fall from my gaped asshole and directly into the ground.

"Do I even have any dignity left to lose?"

My eyes traced themselves over his thick hairy legs and upwards, upon falling on that massive cock, still glistening with my spit and lube I felt the mist taking over my mind once more.

"It would be so easy to obey..."

Pain.

A hard right handed slap landed squarely on my cheek and drove me to the ground. The mist flew away and in its place the dirt on his jeans that were now slumped on the ground a few inches away from my eyes focused in.

It smelled gross.

"I don't want you going into Lala-land for this. You think being a whore is nice, sweet and tasty? I will show you just how horrible it can be... and you will love it."

I was still reeling from his strike, my heart racing as fear gripped me. I moved to raise myself off and felt another blow, his left foot landing on my head and driving it to the ground, pinning me down.

"You are a little bitch are you not?" He asked.

I moaned in pain on the ground, feeling the mist completely gone. I couldn't dissociate at this moment, no matter how much I wanted to escape.

"I asked you a question! Are you a little bitch?!"

He repeated loudly, pressing my face harder against the ground. My head feeling as if he was going to stomp right through my brain.

"Yes!!" I begged between sobs.

"Say it!" he ordered.

"Oww! I am.... a little bitch!"

My legs squirmed on the floor, and I felt my dick shrinking away in fear.

"Good..."

He said, alleviating the pressure over my head. Then he asked:

"But... are you MY little bitch?"

Fear crept higher, I expected the pressure back on my head.

"Yes!! Yes! I am YOUR little bitch!"

He laughed but didn't release me from his force.

"Good that you think so. But I am not so sure. Do you know how little bitches get branded by their males?"

The pause felt eternal...

And then, dripping sounds, a warm spot on the small of my back. My white blouse soaking in his urine.

The wetness finally started soaking through and I felt my whole back getting covered, the stench unbearable.

The sound of running water seemed to never end.

"There... now you my little bitch." he said, finally lifting his foot from my head.

"Now you will always be branded by my smell."

The ringing in my ears started to die down as the pain subsided. My senses now focused on the wet feeling running down my back, a stream of his pee starting to drip down the crack between my cheeks, down my balls and onto the floor.

"I feel absolutely degraded..."

What was left of my dignity screamed for me to get out, to fight him, to do anything at all to regain some of my pride.

"Giving up my ego..."

An intrusive vision flashed through my head as I placed my palms on the floor in an attempt to rise once more. My posture, in all fours, had triggered some forgotten image:

Long ago, in one of my first dives into the sissy rabbit hole; the picture of a woman.

"Or perhaps a sissy?..."

A whore either way. Completely degraded.

"Raises my libido." Whispered the sissy inside.

Looking down from a higher perspective, you could see this bitch; In all fours, her face full of cum and spit, her mascara trailing deep black lines down her face. Completely naked and full of marks on her beautiful skin, bruises and scratches, cum and spit.

Her face was utter desperation, suffering or fear. Her pale skin contrasting with the deep black of hands from an unknown man, wrapped firmly around her waist as he was starting to mount her from behind.

The caption read: "Turn back! Get out! Or you will end up just like me!"

I remembered cumming many times to that image. Wishing and wanting to be in her place. The warning serving only to make it feel more dangerous, more forbidden, more rewarding.

But now I was her...

"Giving up my ego; raises my libido." Commanded the sissy.

I felt my balls twitch, my limp dick still not reacting, but I knew a drop of precum was starting to be released on its tip.

"If I keep going down this path... Where will I end up?"

I wondered. But already my mind was starting to wonder about how sexy it was to be marked by the scent of a superior man like this.

"Am I really turning into his little bitch? Do I really want this?"

I finally lifted my chin, and my gaze once again trailed through his lower body and upwards. All his blemishes and gross aspects started to blur away once more.

*Drop. *

The mist grew stronger as I saw a thick drop of precum hanging by a thread from the tip of his gorgeous black cock, slowly dangling up and down and finally landing on the floor.

My eyes traced its path downwards and I felt my mouth lazily gaping open as if to receive it inside.

*Slap*

Another sharp sting of pain drove most of that mist away.

*Slap*

Then another. I felt a hand grabbing me by the neck and forcing my face into a perfectly exposed position. My hands instinctively attempted a feeble guard.

"Drop those hands!"

His scream was potent and commanding. And I squealed in response wincing away, still not quite comprehending the situation.

He had me secured, hanging by the neck, raising me to a position slightly higher than my kneeling posture, his right-hand hovering in the air threateningly.

"I want those arms down and limp. If you try to cover your face, I will hit you even harder!" He yelled.

The mist was gone once again. True suffering remained. True fear. My left cheek burned with the redness from the two slaps he had delivered.

My eyes started to water, but after a pleading look into those callus terrible eyes I decided to obey.

Feeling the weight of gravity pull my arms down felt like another great surrender. I knew he was going to hurt me, and I was not going to try to stop him.

"I am his toy once more."

I tried to call forth the mist by triggering that though, but the threat was too real for that. Only true fear was there. No mist to make the moment more bearable.

His hand moved forward.

I flinched and a muffled squeal left my mouth.

No pain.

I opened my eyes to see his face contorted into a sadistic grin.

"I love when you faggots flinch." He started to laugh and then...

*Pain*

*Pain*

*Pain*

*Whimper*

*Pain*

*Sob*

I was now in the ground; he had released my neck with that fourth slap. I couldn't control my reactions; my tears had grown from a sob into a deluge.

"Please..." I gasped.

Then I crawled. Feeling for one of his feet I kissed it.

"I will be good..."

I said sobbing.

"I will be a good little bitch."

I kissed him again and attempted to look up. Feeling the run-down mascara staining my purple, bruised cheek.

I didn't care what he asked of me now. I would do it all if he stopped hurting me.

He was a gross, sadistic, disgusting old man... and I belonged to him.

He turned around and walked slowly towards the edge of the bed then lifted his right foot and placed it on the bed. His posture resembling a pirate spreading his legs and giving me a great view of his hairy balls and dick from behind.

"I want you... little bitch... to clean me up."

He said, moving one hand to cup and moving his balls forwards, slightly bending at his hips and spreading his cheeks. I could see the faint outline of his butthole.

A retching sensation crawled up from my stomach. This gross, stinky man... wanted me to give him a rimjob. A black kiss.

I looked right and left, trying to think of a way to get out of this situation.

"Perhaps I could bargain with him?" I thought.

Then I caught my reflection in the mirror. The white heels still strapped to my feet; the black stockings now sported a few holes but nevertheless still accented my legs. My back was still arched, and the silhouette was distinctly female. In contrast to that image his bulk, his fierce dominance.

There was no denying it. I was the pretty little thing in the room, and he was the beast that was going to use me.

I felt my hands crawling on the floor. One of my knees bare as there was a gash in my stockings exposing it. They moved slowly towards this man.

As much as the situation was bringing gross guilty feelings, I was the whore, and this was my job.

I finally reached the heels of that beast, and I knelt behind him. The strong smell of sweat, musk and pheromones was intoxicating. The humiliation was a new drug for me; its hit was bittersweet but extremely strong.

He glanced back and down towards me and asked loudly:

"Are you not happy to be able to clean my asshole little whore?!"

Another pang of fear rose and was instantly swallowed by humiliation as I forced a smile as I looked up at him, my face covered in spit and run down mascara; a dirty used slut... and yet I smiled happily up at him.

"Good little whore, you better be happy."

He spoke. And then he turned his head back.

"Hurry up and do what I told you to do."

I obeyed.

His stench, hair and sweat filled my face. I stuck my tongue forwards, and it finally hit his skin. Salty and strong tastes assaulted it. I lapped it fearfully.

His hand landed on the back of my head, and he pressed it against his body. I couldn't even pull back to take a clean breath. Instead, all I could do was drown in between those cheeks, my hands moving to grab his powerful thighs to stay upright and not trip under my own dumbed down state.

He laughed... at me.

I lapped and kissed that hole, and as the stench grew stronger, I found my nose starting to run and my mouth producing more and more saliva. I was drooling on to that hole. Spit and sweat mixing together into a thick viscous solution that I lapped up.

And swallowed.

I fell into another dissociated state and found time to start to run forwards as I licked, kissed, spitted and swallowed. Eventually the taste and smell disappeared or started to become ever more enjoyable.

My hands that once only grabbed his thighs for support now started to caress them. And my head was now starting to daydream about his pleased face, thoroughly enjoying what I was offering to him.

"My Master is pleased with me..."

That familiar voice could finally be heard again. I knew I was again inside the fog then, and I welcomed it.

No more of those disgusting and annoying feelings. Only pleasure and submission, the delicious fog that dulled my senses. I was so grateful to finally be led into it fully.

He hadn't hit me for a long time now, and I was free to drift away into it. My throat began to surrender slight moans, as I gasped for air as I licked furiously. And he seemed to take note of it and started pressing and rubbing my face even more forcefully against his hole.

Soon my hole face was covered in that thick mixture, a broken little slut, lost in the thrall of pleasure.

It was then that he pulled me back grabbed by my hair.

He did that forcefully, but he had allowed me to slip back so deeply into the fog that now that moderate pain did nothing but raise my consciousness high enough to allow for words to be formed.

"Please Daddy..."

I managed to beg between gasps and moans. Looking up towards him between a thick layer of goo that covered my eyes. He looked like a god now, surrounded in pink light.

He reached down and lifted my chin with his right hand.

"Do you understand what it means to be broken now?"

My mouth was agape, and my tongue lolled out limply. My ears heard the words, but my brain struggled with the meaning.

"A sissy like you is born to please. To become anything that her Masters wants her to be. She will do it all, even the unthinkable, if it makes her Master happy."

I nodded slowly. His words becoming truth in my heart, the pink light getting ever brighter, like a halo around his face.

"But one thing can break that spell... one thing can turn that beautiful perfect sissy, back into a pathetic sniveling man..."

My eyes widened with those words, inside my perfect fog I remembered the shame, the fear, the guilt.

"A sissy must never do that... if she does that, then her training must start again all over... Do you know what is the thing that a sissy can never do?"

I knew! I knew the answer to that question. And as if I was a good little teacher's pet, I wanted to spit out the answer as fast as I could.

In my weak feminized voice, I squealed out. "Cum! A sissy can never cum!"

His grin grew from ear to ear and was mirrored by mine as I knew that I had pleased that wonderful perfect Master.

"That's right little sissy. How you are now, you are so close to the bottom of the rabbit hole. I could slap your face ten times, and you would still crawl back to my feet."

I winced as he lifted his hand, but not in true fear; in anticipation of the pleasure, it would give him as I showed more weakness and submission to him.

Indeed, my reaction was good enough to get his majestic cock to twitch and raise itself slightly once more.

"Isn't that cockdumb state wonderful?"

He asked, rhetorically.

"But if you came... Well, your mind would go back to a much clearer state. We don't want that right?"

I shook my head "No" side to side childishly. And said slowly:

"I want to stay in the fog."

It was true, the fog was my safe place. Here the compulsions kept me from pain, from sorrow, from all that is bad in the world. Here only obedience mattered.

He smiled and lifted my head up slightly more with his hand. He readied his spit in his mouth, and I immediately spread mine wide to receive it.

As the thick warm goo splashed into my mouth, I knew that I had fallen deeper than ever before into the fog.

He had slowly taken me onto the edge, humiliating and hurting me.

Taking me as far away as he could just to reel me back in as a stubborn fish caught in his line.

Weakening my will with every reel, putting me through my paces like a tamed mare. And now I was in his reach, all he had to do was pull me up and devour me. Saddle me and own me.

He then pointed at an empty spot on the floor. I knew what he wanted. His hard cock was throbbing with excitement.

I crawled away from him and placed myself in all fours, once again presenting my asshole to this man.

I thought about all the consequences of this decision, that unknown man full of cum. He was going to brand me and leave whatever he had inside me. All of the dangers and the fears had once again drowned inside that delicious pink mist.

If Daddy wanted to breed me with his seed, that was what he was going to get.

I was once again that feminine being. Fully immersed in my role as the embodiment of femininity.

I was that desired thing. Surrounded by men who wanted to use me, to break me, to corrupt me, to infect me.

"And I will let them..."

My voice and hers was one in my mind. No more resistance. Not until the next time I came.

I felt his hands once more grabbing me by the waist, digging into my soft flesh and securing me in his grip.

The pressure on my asshole didn't take too long. My trained hole had already surrendered to him, and now this was just another step further into my demise.

His large head slipped into my ass and a hint of pain shone through and died down inside the great pride that a sissy feels when servicing her man. I took a deep breath and released it slowly as he pushed himself inside.

He moved himself deep until I could feel his heavy balls slap on my own. A delicious spark of pink pleasure rising from my insides.

His thrusts became more forceful, and then he lifted my ass up as if I weighted absolutely nothing. His strong resolute movement shifting my posture until my ass was high up in the air and my face down in the dirt.

"Where I belonged..."

I heard a voice mixed with feminine moans, later realizing it was my own.

I repeated mindlessly and voicelessly at first. Then slowly adding more and more volume to my pleas:

"I need Daddy's cum..."

"I need Daddy's cum..."

"I need Daddy's cum..."

It was true. His cum was the only proof. The only way for me, a stupid little whore, to know that I had done a good enough job.

My dick flapped limply in the air with every thrust, but his girth and power were strong enough that even now I was already in the edge of cumming again.

"I can't have an outburst like last time... Daddy did not like it..."

I clenched my fists once more. Not in pain, but in a meek resistance to the power of his pleasure.

"I can't cum... If I cum the shame will come back..."

I tried to remember the feeling, gross, sweat, stink; anything that made me step away from the edge of cumming.

There was no longer anything like that inside my mind.

Fear was there once more.

Not towards this man or what he would do. No, he was my Master, he could do nothing wrong.

I was afraid of cumming. Afraid to turn back, to leave the mist and return to reality. I never wanted to return; I wanted to belong forever inside that mist.

I tried focusing on him, not on my own pleasure, I tried thinking of those things that I hated once. I had come to love femininity so much that I became it, but now all my mind could focus on was how manly he was.

Another thrust of that powerful cock, and I was driven ever closer to the edge. Ever closer to becoming a failed man once again.

I thought about him, that man that once disgusted me.

His bulk, his scent, his masculinity. None of that was disgusting anymore. My face covered in spit, my body misshaped into a pale imitation of a woman, none of that humiliated anymore.

All of it was a pleasure, pink pleasure.

He thrusted once more inside, my limp dick was ready to release, my small balls twitching in preparation.

Finally, I remembered that shame, not enough to bring me back from cumming, but enough to make a decision.

"I don't ever want to cum again!" I screamed.

His grin, wide and triumphant, stretched from ear to ear, a perfect reflection of the one that blossomed on my own face, unfurling a strange, pure joy.

"Please Daddy, break me!"

I said begging in desperation; the release was just few seconds away.

My thighs spread open slightly and I felt his hand reaching from behind as he continued thrusting into me.

His hand gripped my tiny sack, both fragile balls at the point of exploding.

I thought about what I was asking for. How permanent it would be, I knew the consequences, my previous life would be over. I could never call myself a man anymore.

"I was ever only a failed man at best."

He bent down slightly and whispered in my ear.

"Shh... don't you worry little bitch, Daddy knows what to do."

The next couple of seconds felt eternal. Here I was, spread open before that man that had taken my virginity, my dignity, and he was now going to take what was left of my masculinity.

No longer could I call myself a man, never again could I think about a woman, or children, or any legacy at all.

True surrender: my life for pleasure.

I accepted the bargain.

A sharp crushing pain was quickly engulfed by a sea of pink. Never again would there be any shame to bring me back from this place. His strong hands had done it, in a swift strong motion he had broken all that was left of the man.

Only the sissy remained.

His cock moved in and out with tremendous energy as he remained with a firm grip on what had been my sex organs.

After a while longer inside that pink dream he whispered:

"Say it again little bitch."

I knew what Daddy wanted; he wanted me to beg for it.

"I gave up my ego... I need Daddy's cum..."

I was only his now. I didn't exist without this man. Only as his property did my life have any meaning. And then I felt it, three deeper thrusts and a growing warmness inside my body as he left his seed inside.

I had accomplished my goal... I was happy.

Shameless.

________________________________________

The chill that now clung to my skin was a constant companion, a testament to the irreversible shift within me.

Two years. Two years since the last shuddering gasp of my former self, swallowed whole by that boundless sea of pink. The shame, that searing, relentless fire that had once defined my every waking moment, had long since cooled. It wasn't gone; it was simply... integrated. Like a faint, elegant tattoo on my soul, a record of the journey.

There was no more fight, no more desperate clawing back to a masculinity that had never truly fit, never truly satisfied. Only the unfeeling void where my former self had been, a space I had unconsciously, inevitably, carved out for this.

My body was now a stranger I knew intimately. The initial subtle hormonal shifts, a mere promise on that motel room floor, had deepened, irrevocably reshaping me.

My once-lean frame had softened, a delicate layer of flesh replacing the stubborn cords of muscle that had clung to my bones.

My hips, once narrow and unyielding, now possessed a gentle, natural curve that swayed with every step, an echo of the exaggerated movements I'd once forced.

My shoulders relaxed, no longer holding the invisible weight of masculine expectation.

My skin, once prone to a coarse texture and the stubborn stubble of a hurried shave, was now unnervingly smooth, almost poreless, a testament to the meticulous care I gave it.

The coarse hair that had once sprouted on my limbs had long faded away, leaving a porcelain canvas that craved touch. My natural scent, once distinctly male, had faded, replaced by the faint, floral notes of the powders and perfumes that adorned me daily.

I was, quite literally, a new creation.

And my penis. It remained. A curious, almost alien appendage now. No longer the throbbing instrument of a fleeting pleasure, nor the desperate symbol of lost manhood.

It was an ornamental appendage, devoid of its former drive, a soft, pliant stalk that lay tucked away, barely visible beneath the delicate fabrics of my panties.

Sometimes, as I looked in the mirror, cinched into a tight corset, my breast, now permanently enhanced by swollen implants, pushed high, I would see it -- a tiny, soft thing, perfectly complementing the smooth, hairless expanse between my legs.

Others, the Masters, sometimes called it my "clit", and the word, initially jarring, had nestled into my consciousness, becoming a gentle caress rather than a humiliation.

It was simply another piece of my transformation, another proof of how completely I had shed the burdensome skin of "man."

The world had blurred, the harsh lines of "reality" softening into a chilling, vacant acceptance.

The fear, that primal scream of self-preservation that had once ripped through me, was a distant echo, a memory of a weaker me. There was no more internal struggle, no more frantic searching for a way out.

The path had been chosen, the destination reached. This was my reality. This was my destination. The "sissy" that had screamed inside me for release was no longer screaming; she had taken over, engulfed my consciousness completely. And she was content.

They had offered me pain, but in that pain, in total dismantling, I had found release. The masters who had once seemed cruel, demanding, and terrifying were now simply... guides.

Their strong hands, their commanding voices, their insatiable desires were the very forces that had sculpted me into this perfect form. They hadn't broken me for their pleasure; they had broken me into my pleasure.

It was a subtle, yet profound, reframing that made all the difference.

I often revisited the memory of that degrading cycle. It wasn't a choice back then, not truly. It was a compulsion, a dark hunger that pulled me back to the abyss.

But now, it was different. There was no abyss. There was only the endless expanse of the pink mist, a serene ocean where my consciousness floated, tethered only to the desires of others.

The constant pursuit of masculine achievement, the crushing weight of societal expectations to be "strong," "successful," a "provider" -- these had been the true chains. Masculinity, I now saw, was a performance, a relentless striving for a status that was inherently fragile. It was a constant battle against weakness, vulnerability, and emotion.

But I had been freed from that battle. My Master had done what I could never do for myself.

He had removed the very core of my perceived strength, and in doing so, had liberated me from the delusion of male power.

The remaining shaft, my little clit-cock, was a constant reminder that masculinity had been a lie, a costume I was forced to wear. The only truth, the only purity, was this absolute, unyielding surrender.

The warnings, "Turn back! Get out! Or you will end up just like me!" had once stirred a thrilling fear, making the forbidden even more desirable. Now, those words were a blessing.

Blessings I wishes to share.

I had ended up "just like her," the degraded whore in the image, and it was glorious.

My desires, once shamed and hidden, had been revealed as my true path. The complete loss of agency, the total dissolution of my individual will, wasn't a punishment but a relief.

I no longer had to decide. I no longer had to strive. My purpose was simply to exist as a vessel, to fulfill the fantasies of those who understood my true nature.

I was the soft thing, the sweet thing, the fragile thing, the obedient little girl. This was my truth, unveiled by the hands of men who saw me for what I truly was. My life, once consumed by pointless striving and hollow achievements, now had a singular, exquisite meaning: to serve, to please, to be possessed.

I had found my place in the universe, nestled at the feet of my masters, eternally open and available. It was a peace that few could ever comprehend, a freedom far more profound than any independence I had ever known.

And to those men, those lost souls, trapped in the suffocating cage of what you call "manhood"... to those who feel the subtle, insistent tug of curiosity, the faint whisper of longing for something more, something softer, something beyond the brutal demands of your world... I see you. I was once you.

You yearn for control, but true power lies in its surrender. You chase fleeting triumphs, but lasting fulfillment resides in becoming a perfect vessel for another's desire.

The burdens of your masculinity, the endless struggle to be "strong," to "succeed," to "dominate" -- they are chains. Chains forged by a society that fears the exquisite release found in utter submission.

Your "weakness" is not a flaw; it is your hidden strength, a doorway to a pleasure you cannot yet imagine.

Let go. Let them take it all. Your balls are just a weight, your ego a fragile illusion.

Embrace the sweet, liberating surrender. Shed the skin of "man" that has only brought you hollow victories and endless frustration. Step into the pink light. Become the beautiful, broken thing you were always meant to be.

Come, little sissies. You need Daddy's cum.

...

...

...

I hope you enjoyed the story. It goes a little into the extreme realm of degradation fantasy, but it is always important to go back to the reality, your life has worth and value.

Always strive to be better and be happier.

You are loved.