AgainstMyWill@gmail.com
Sissy
October 2008
When you work in a stuffy office environment, there’s not much to do except gossip sometimes to keep things interesting. My office was about as stuffy and boring as it gets, and so the gossip was often the most exciting thing in my day. It didn’t surprise me one Monday when one of our mail room clerks, Natasha, hurried over to my desk with that You’ve-gotta-hear-this look on her face. But what she told me did surprise me.
“Greg started going to a therapist!” she hissed.
Greg was one of the guys down in receiving, and he was about as straight and macho as they come. Nothing touchy-feely, and not even usually so much as a smile. Mostly what he did was expressionless grunting, shrugs, and nods. I couldn’t believe he’d start seeing a therapist. In fact, the very idea was interesting because I was kind of a similar guy. Pretty macho, straight, stayed in good shape and got my share of pussy, but I’d been feeling a little depressed about my boring-ass job lately and actually the thought of going to a therapist had, albeit briefly, flashed into my head.
I decided to ask Greg about it as casually as possible. I ran into him in the cafeteria.
“Hey, man, I heard some crazy rumor you’re seeing a shrink,” I said, laughing as nonchalantly as I could and patting him on the arm.
“Aw, man, where’d you hear that? Yeah, it sucks, my wife’s making me go. Said a friend of hers recommended the guy. So far it’s just lying on a couch talking about my parents, but if it keeps that bitch off my ass about sleeping around, it’s probably worth it.”
“True, man,” I nodded, appreciatively. “Actually if you don’t mind, can I get the guy’s name? That sounds like a good plan, with the wife and all,” I said, trying to seem as spontaneous and casual as I could.
“Your funeral, man,” Greg said, with a chuckle, and scribbled the guy’s name down for me on a napkin.
I called Dr. Anthony Gibson later that day. “While I don’t discuss my other clients with you, and cannot confirm anything about this Greg you mention, I do work with many people suffering from job-related depression, and would be happy to talk to you.”
I made an appointment for the following Tuesday, and secretly felt a little hopeful.
The first few weeks were, as Greg said, pretty boring. Getting-to-know-you kinds of things, talking about my mother and father, kind of the standard psychoanalysis bullshit I’d always heard about. I was starting to get a little skeptical, but then finally I showed up one week for my appointment and Dr. Gibson said, “Today we’re going to do something a little different.”
“This,” he said, gesturing to a small helmet, “is an isolation helmet. I’m going to project onto the little screens in the helmet some visuals that are from a relaxation program we sometimes use to help people recover past memories.”
The thing looked a little freaky but I was just glad not to have to tell him all about what big bad Daddy and Mommy did to me for another hour, so I slipped it on.
The images were just static and colors moving around, vague shapes but nothing recognizable, and into my ears he piped soothing but atonal noises. It enveloped my whole field of view and I could hear nothing else. It seemed like no time at all had passed when he turned it off, and I was disoriented coming out of the helmet, especially to find it had been the whole hour already.
That said, I felt fantastic that day, and the next day still felt amazing. I was focused, calm, and cheerful at work. People started commenting on my disposition. Four days later it was starting to wane, so I began to eagerly anticipate my next session with Dr. Gibson.
When I told him excitedly the next week about how great my week had been, he just smiled and nodded. “Yes, this program often has that effect, and it should only become more pronounced and long-lasting with time.” He slipped the helmet on and once again everything turned into soothing, calming, relaxing imagery and sound.
Months went by, and every week I spent an hour in that helmet and every week I found the positive effects stronger and longer-lasting. After three months they lasted fully the whole week, after which it just started building on itself. By the sixth month I was basically blissed out all the time.
One day I showed up for my session with Dr. Gibson, swaying a bit unsteadily as I walked in, feeling as I did these days perpetually drugged and content. Dr. Gibson took one look at me and smiled and wrote something on a notepad.
“What’s that, Doc?” I asked, a bit spaced out.
“We’re ready for the next stage of your treatment,” he said.
“But Doc, I’m all set. I love it now, my job is great, everything is awesome, even my wife thinks so. Things couldn’t be better!”
“No, this has just been addressing the surface-level issues,” Dr. Gibson calmly explained, “but you have much, much deeper issues we need to sort through, and I think we’re ready now to start digging.”
“What?” I asked, concerned, “What kind of deeper issues?”
“Oh,” my therapist replied, “Well, your job and wife are part of the problem, here. See, after months of working with you, it’s very clear to me that you’re really just a big sissy deep down, and we’re going to let that sissy come out.”
I was confused, now. “What? I’m not a sissy, doc. Are you just trying to get me mad or something?”
“No,” he continued, “I couldn’t get you mad if I tried, I’ve got you so zonked out after all these months of the hypnosis. Which is why we’re ready for the next phase. If we’d started earlier, you would have been able to resist, because your current persona will not like these changes, will want to fight them. But I know they’re what’s best for you so I lulled you into this nice sweet little trance so your resistance won’t be too hard to overcome.”
“What? Doc, you’re freaking me out,” I said, but noticed my heart rate remained slow and steady, and my voice was still placid and calm. I couldn’t seem to get anxious even if I tried.
“Come in here,” he said to me, taking my arm and leading me into his office.
He laid me down on the couch, even as I tried to resist. He climbed on top of the couch and unbuttoned his pants. He slid them down and then leaned forward, shoving his brief-clad crotch right in my face.
“Doc, what the fuck?!? What are you doing?” I still couldn’t even get very worked up, but inside I knew this was very, very wrong.
“Turning you into a sissy. Now smell my nuts, sissy.” He swabbed his underwear-clad nuts over my mouth and nose and I smelled the strong scent of sweaty balls fill my nostrils. I started to gag, but it was a halfhearted attempt. He really had me docile. I was trying to fight but he pinned me down like I was just a third grader.
He slid his underwear down and his cock, half-hard, fell out along with his hairy nuts. I grimaced but he just kept wiping my face with his nuts and shaft.
“Yeah, sissy, taste my nuts. You love that taste, you little fucking sissyfag. Taste them.” One of them slipped into my mouth and I spat it out as fast as I could, but not before the sweat had mixed with my saliva and the flavor of Dr. Gibson’s balls was streaming down my tongue and throat.
“I love this part of my job,” he hoarsely whispered, “Freeing you to be a total queerboy, a total... fucking... queerboy” he moaned, as he jerked himself. Just as the last words left his mouth, he shook and his cock squirted a huge load of cum all over my face. I felt it drench my face and start running off the sides and I tried in my shock to lift my hands to wipe it off, but Dr. Gibson held me down on the couch and slid the helmet on before I could struggle free. I felt it resting against my slick, cum-coated face and saw the familiar images as it started to life.
Only this time things were a little different. I could almost make out a voice in the audio, almost make out shapes in the video, and I had the very distinct and unpleasant sensation of having my mind stretched wide open, almost like he was performing open-heart surgery, opening me up, but instead of my body it was my mind. By the time he took the helmet off, my heart was racing with fear, but I lay, unable to move, eyes and mouth wide open, a receptive vessel for his instructions. I remember lying there like that, trying with all my might to move, but completely paralyzed.
“From now on our work together will be helping you realize what a sissy you are,” Dr. Gibson spoke. His words echoed in my head and sounded faint and far-away. “You’ll steal and wear your wife’s panties instead of your own underwear. And next week you won’t want to come back here, but you will anyway to continue our work. It’s very important that we continue our work. And any time you stop to think about what’s happening to you, any time you feel the slightest hesitation or doubt, it will be drowned out instantly by the realization that being a sissy is really fucking hot, and it turns you on big time.”
I stared at him, the words soaking into me like marinade. “Repeat that last part back.”
I found suddenly my mouth could move, and move it did, forming the words I heard myself utter, “Being a sissy is really fucking hot. It turns me on big time.”
“Again.”
“Being a sissy is really fucking hot. It turns me on big time.”
“Again, but this time lisp it, like a real fag sissy would.”
“Being a thithy ith really fucking hot. It turnth me on big time.”
“I want you to say it again as sissified as you can. Squirm like a sissy, talk like a sissy, and get hard like a sissy does when he’s being a depraved little queerboy.”
In spite of myself I felt my cock start hardening in my pants as I started wriggling girlishly on the couch under Dr. Gibson, swaying my head to and fro and wiggling my butt around on the cushion.
“Being a thithy ith really fucking hot!! Like, it turnth me on big time!”
“Good! What a good little sissy you are.”
As the doctor spoke those words my cock exploded in my pants and without even thinking about it I let out a high-pitched girlish squeal. He smiled down at me and then let me up.
I thought about stopping to use his bathroom on the way out to wash the cum off my face and clean it out of my pants as best I could, but suddenly it occurred to me how hot it was to have my face and crotch soaked in cum just like a real sissy. I got hard again as I walked straight to my car and drove home.
The next day, my wife had already left for work by the time I was up and showering. I chose my clothes out of my dresser, but then remembered the doctor’s orders and walked over to my wife’s dresser and picked out the girliest pair of panties I could find. For a moment, as I held them, I thought how disgusting it was for a grown man to be stealing and wearing his wife’s panties, but again almost immediately it dawned on me that wearing lacy panties like a sissy really turned me on. My cock got hard in my pajamas. I couldn’t wait to slide the sheer silky panties over my hard shaft, with my cock head still sticking out the top all day. I almost put them down to go shower, but then I realized, Dr. Gibson’s dried cum from the day before was still clinging to my face, and my crotch still smelled like my load, and realizing that only a real queer sissy would go to work unshowered with another man’s dried cum on his face, I just slipped into the panties, threw on a suit over it, and got to work.
Midday, I went to use the men’s room, and walked up to the urinals only to see Doug Kempley standing at the one right next to me. Doug and I did not get along. We were peers, and constant rivals, but Doug was a bit of a sleazebag, not at all above doctoring his numbers to look like he was getting more done than he really was. I didn’t have much respect for him at all. But I was so focused on thinking how much I disliked him that I didn’t notice him glance quickly over the urinal divider and give a start when I pulled down my pants to piss in the urinal.
“What the hell? Is that... pink? Are you wearing pink underwear?”
I hurriedly adjusted my pants so he couldn’t see any more, but the damage was done.
“Well? Are they? Is your underwear pink?”
I was beginning to blush pink at this point, but I tried to defend myself. “No, that’s crazy, Doug, they’re not pink.”
“I saw pink. So if you say I’m seeing things, you gotta prove it. Or else everyone’ll hear about your girly pink underwear.”
I blushed an even deeper red but sheepishly bowed my head and slid my suit pants back a bit, revealing my wife’s lacy pink panties, barely able to contain my throbbing hardon.
“What the fuck? Holy shit, Doug, are you a faggot?”
My blushing only got darker. I was pretty sure it was crimson by then.
“Come on, man, are you? Are you a faggot?” Doug stared me in the eyes and asked the question, pointed, aggressive, triumphant.
Even as I opened my lips to speak I knew no good would come of it, but I even startled myself when I blurted out, in the mock voice of a young girl, “I’m a thithy.”
Doug’s eyes went wide and his mouth curled into a wide grin. “Oh my God, I should have known! You, a total fucking perv queer. Well, glad to find out now. Guess my troubles with you are over. From now on you’ll answer to me—if not in the office, then certainly here in the bathroom. Get down on your knees, sissy.”
I was beet red with embarrassment but my cock was throbbing like a drum in time with my heartbeat as Doug ordered me around. I sank to my knees and he turned to face me.
“For starters, you can finish this off,” he said. He drove his soft cock into my mouth and abruptly let loose with a torrent of piss. It filled my mouth and ran out the sides and out of my nose as I sputtered and coughed. “No, no, drink it, you fucking fag! Drink it all, don’t waste any!” I tried to gulp it down but it still spilled a bit. My white dress shirt was stained an obvious yellow where the piss ran onto it.
Then Doug grabbed his drained cock in one fist and started pumping. “Tell me that again,” he said.
I knew what he wanted. I stayed on my knees and continued blushing and said, quietly, “I’m a thithy.”
“Louder!”
“I’m a thithy!”
It didn’t take long for Doug to spurt up a big load of jizz all over my face. He told me not to clean it off, and if anyone asked, to tell them exactly what it was. I was so humiliated.
I went back to my desk, beet red with shame, and along the way I got some pretty strange looks, but fortunately nobody spoke to me. I wanted to go wash my face but something was wrong, I couldn’t even think about disobeying Doug. Probably something Dr. Gibson had done to me, messed up my head. I just hid at my desk for the rest of the day, even though I really needed to piss by the end of the day, I just ran to my car and drove home.
My wife was home from work and cooking when I got there. I tried to sneak in and change, but she caught me on the way in and leaned in for a kiss. She spotted the dried jizz on my face, though, and stopped and gave me a strange look.
“Honey, what is that?” she asked.
I didn’t even have time to think before my mouth opened. “It’s Doug’s cum.”
She stopped, stunned. “... What??!”
“It’s Doug’s cum. And mine’s in my pants. And that’s his piss on my shirt collar, what leaked out of my mouth before I could drink it.” I spoke the words calmly but inside I was panicking.
My wife just stood there in disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!?”
“I’m a big thithy.”
“Did you just say you’re a sissy? Did you just lisp that you’re a sissy?”
“Mmm-hmm, I’m a thithy queerboy.” Even as I spoke the words aloud I noticed I was rubbing my crotch with one hand, and my cock was getting pretty hard. I was so mortified, but I couldn’t help myself. Fucking Dr. Gibson and his reprogramming. I was a straight man with a wife!
“What?? What is happening? Is this something that therapist put in your head? Why are you doing this?” My wife was shaking and looked on the verge of tears, confused and shocked.
“Yeth. Dr. Gibthon showed me what a thithy faggot I am.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. What is happening to you? We’re going over there right now.” She grabbed my arm and over my protests dragged me to the car and shoved me in. I told her his office address and she sped over like a madwoman. I was terrified and hoping he wouldn’t be there, not knowing what I was going to do in any case. But when we arrived, his light was on. She yanked me from the car and strode, furiously, to his office door and began pounding on it frantically, in a total rage.
Dr. Gibson opened the door and she just started screaming at him. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE YOU FUCKING PSYCHO TO MY HUSBAND, YOU BETTER FUCKING EXPLAIN YOURSELF TO ME RIGHT—”
And then Dr. Gibson, smiling, quickly gave her a small shot in the neck, and my wife crumpled to the floor.
“I thought you might be here tonight. Come in,” he said, and like a big dumb puppet I obeyed.
“I have a little program for your wife, too,” he said, with a wink, as he dragged her unconscious body through a nearby door. I stood still, immobile, as I heard some thumping, a few thuds, and then a few clicks, and Dr. Gibson reappeared.
“She’ll be alright in no time. Now, while you’re here, let’s go ahead and do a little work. What’s that on your face?”
“It’th Doug’th cum,” I said, now apparently unable to do anything but lisp gaily.
“Oh? And who’s Doug?”
“I work with Doug, and I hate him, but he thaw my pantieth in the bathroom and pithed in my mouth and jerked off on my fathe.”
“Is that his piss on your collar?”
“Yeth.”
“Very good. I see the lisp is really taking. Let’s work on some other mannerisms.”
Dr. Gibson slipped the helmet on me and laid me on the couch. Over the din of the noise in the earphones, and timed with the images and forms projected into my eyes, he began talking in a soothing voice.
“You want to be the best sissy faggot you can, so you’ll do everything you can to seem as faggy as possible. Let your wrists go permanently limp. Swish your hips when you walk. Let your lower back dive inwards so your butt sticks out. Exaggerate it. I want you to be like a comic book character, a caricature, the sissiest little fag anyone’s ever seen.”
I felt that same stretched-open sensation, like he had opened up my skull and was pouring his words right into my brain. I tried to fight them but they were stronger than I was, louder than any other thoughts I could muster. I felt them sink in. I felt my wrists go limp. I felt myself rub my ass against the couch.
At that very moment I heard, in the background, some loud banging and my wife’s voice, shouting, screaming hysterically. I couldn’t make out words, but she was obviously restrained and trying to escape. It went on for quite a while, but Dr. Gibson told me it was OK.
“Don’t mind your wife’s screams. I’m just helping her understand you better. Soon she’ll understand and accept you for the sissy you really are.”
As his words sunk into my brain I felt his hands fumbling at my crotch. I felt the doctor undo my pants and then slide them off. Even as the helmet kept me lying, dumbly, like a receptive mannequin, Dr. Gibson slid my lacy panties off, grabbed my hard cock and gave it a squeeze, and then hefted my legs up so my calves were resting on his shoulders, or so I assumed.
He stopped talking momentarily and I heard a sucking noise; a moment later I felt something prodding at my asshole. It slipped in, and from its size I assumed it was a finger. I was apparently correct.
“A real sissy knows his holes are for real men to stuff full as they see fit,” he said to me, and like melting butter on bread it oozed into my brain, and within seconds it seemed I had always known it to be true. I frantically tried to hold onto my identity, but I couldn’t even remember what that was. Of course I was a sissy, and of course that meant my holes were there to be filled. I began to feel empty.
And just as I did, I felt Dr. Gibson’s finger slip out of my hole and felt the head of his cock pressing against it instead. I gasped as he plunged his cock into me, and I felt his balls slap against my ass as he drove it all the way in. It hurt a lot, but the pain only made me horny. I was a sissy, I heard myself say.
“Oooh,” I cried out, “Yeth, thlip that big man cock into my thithy butt hole!” Dr. Gibson laughed, pulled it out, and slammed it in again.
“That’s right, look what a fucking fairy you are. I knew the moment you stepped in here, this was what you really were. I’m doing you a favor by unlocking it in you. I think you should thank me.”
Deep down something was screaming in me with anger and terror that no, I shouldn’t thank him, something was very wrong, but I couldn’t really remember what. As the doc pounded his big cock into my ass over and over I smiled. “Thank you, doctor, for showing me what a thithy fairy boy I am.”
As I thanked him, he drove himself all the way in and stopped. I assumed he was going to fill my ass with cum, but when I felt the warmth begin inside me and the pressure start to build I realized he wasn’t cumming at all, he was pissing.
“Sissies love being used like the dirty fags they are,” he said, while he inflated my colon with a giant load of piss. “That’s what you want, to be abused and treated like a filthy slut.”
“Yeth, doctor, fill me up, I want my butt so full of your pith I feel it sloshing around when I walk!”
Dr. Gibson laughed, and as he finished pissing, gave me one or two more thrusts, these ones pretty painful as his urine washed away any lubrication, and gave one quick shout as he pumped a big load of cum into the ocean of piss already inside me.
“Hold your hole closed when I pull out, don’t let any drip,” he ordered. I did as he said, and I felt him replace his cock with something much bigger. I screamed in pain as he drove it in, but I felt my butt suck it the rest of the way in once it passed the biggest part, and while I was still stretched wide open, it was lodged in there and not about to fall out.
“A sissy fag like you, a real whore, needs a nice loose snatch. Wear this plug every day to stretch out your pussy hole so real men can fuck it more easily.”
Again, I heard his loathsome and twisted orders and tried to resist them, tried to deny them to myself, but beyond my control I just felt them slip right through my grasp and bury themselves deep inside my mind. I was suddenly ashamed at how tight my asshole was. I suddenly wanted very badly to turn it into a wide-open boy-cunt for real men to fuck.
Dr. Gibson finally slid the helmet off and I noticed that at some point my wife had stopped yelling. The doctor opened the next room door and walked in, and minutes later walked out followed by my wife, who was now calm and smiling.
“I’m sorry I was yelling at you, Dr. Gibson,” she said, a slightly glazed look to her eyes.
“Oh, it’s quite alright, Darcy,” Dr. Gibson replied, smiling, “I trust you know what really needs to happen, now.”
“Yes, of course. I should have been yelling at him!” She turned to me, “I should yell at you for being such a fucking sissy!” I’d never seen my wife like this. Her face curled into a snarl as she strode over to me. “Look at this, how fucking pathetic. My husband, a sissy fagboy. You’re a disgrace. Now get in the car.” She dragged me by the arm out of there. Dr. Gibson smiled as he shut the door behind us.
“Honey, what—what are you doing??” I asked, now confused and scared.
“Shut up, you little cunt boy,” she snarled, “Dr. Gibson helped me understand what a pathetic little sissy you are, and so that’s how you’ll behave at all times. From now on, you’ll never fuck me again, although I suppose being such a sissy fag you didn’t want to anyway. If you’re lucky I’ll let you suck on my tits like a little sissy baby, but mostly you’ll be cleaning my ass and feet with your tongue, you pathetic lowlife.”
I couldn’t help but get hard and all the mannerisms Dr. Gibson had just burnt into my skull were really taking effect. I started rubbing my ass against the car seat and breathing heavily, and stuck out my tongue just a little like a desperate, horny sissy.
We stopped at the Victoria’s Secret in the mall on the way home, and my wife led me through by the arm, plucking the laciest, frilliest panties, garters, bras, and nighties off the racks she could find. She shoved me into a dressing room and forced me to try them on and then come back into the dressing area and model them for her. I walked out of the dressing room in nothing but a pair of frilly red panties that rode into my ass crack like a thong and hardly covered my rock-hard dick at all, a tight bra, lacy garters and a sheer nightie that only came down to my belly button. Two other shoppers saw and, horrified, fled the area. My wife just laughed.
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about,” she hollered loudly into the rest of the store, “Just my bitch-boy husband wearing his new outfit.” And laughed again.
She let me slip my jeans on but I walked out of the store with nothing showing but jeans, a bra, and a tiny silk nightie. The clerk was a young gay boy, his face unfortunately covered in acne, wearing tight jeans and a skimpy t-shirt. He stared in disbelief at me, until my wife interrupted his stare. “He’s wearing them out because he’s a real sissy.” The clerk turned to her, speechless. She smiked and continued. “You wanna fuck him? He loves getting fucked.”
The clerk’s shocked expression slowly faded into a mischievous smile. My wife smiled back and asked, “You have any friends around here who might want to fuck a sissy at the same time? He loves getting his holes filled.”
The clerk was fully grinning by now, clearly no older than 18, and hollered into the next room. “Hey, Jason, you’re not gonna believe this!” Another thin, twinky gay boy with a blond faux hawk sallied into the room and took one look at me.
They escorted me into the back room and shoved me over a desk. I probably could have resisted, but for some reason my arms and legs went weak when they started bossing me around. Jason slid my pants down and laughed at my panties and garter. “Look at this guy, he’s a total fucking slut!” The other boy, with the acne, just dropped his pants and shoved his pimply butt back in my face.
“I love getting rimmed, bitch, so start licking!” I had never licked a man’s ass, let alone a pimply 18-year-old’s, but something about the way he was talking to me and the position I was in made me so hot I just craned my neck forward and stuck out my tongue. As I licked his sweaty ass crack, I felt Jason slip my panties off.
“Oh my God, dude, he’s got a butt plug in!” Jason started to pull it out and I heard a wet sucking noise and felt the same agony shoot through my body as it stretched me wide open.
“Oh my God, dude, it looks like someone took a piss inside his ass!” Jason was staring at my gaping hole and could see inside the ocean of piss still distending my stomach.
The other boy stopped, pulled his butt away from my face, and turned around. “What? You fucking pig, you like piss? Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. I really was trying to plead with him to stop, to leave me alone, but when I opened my mouth, what actually came out was, “Yeth, I’m such a thithy boy, I want you to treat me like a dumpthter.”
He heard my lisp and started laughing hysterically. My wife, from the side of the room, was snapping photos, and piped up. “Yeah, he’s basically a totally filthy fucking cunt, do whatever you want to him, as nasty as you want, he’ll love it.”
The boy in front finally stopped laughing and continued staring, incredulous. “Wow, OK. Hey, Jason, you gotta go?”
Jason, from behind me, said, “Yeah, I’ve needed to for the last 30 minutes but I haven’t had a break!”
The boy in front laughed. “Same here. Guess you’ve got a lot coming to you. Ready?”
I nodded vigorously. “Yeth, yeth, I want it!”
He laughed and slapped me across the face with his cock, hard. “I wasn’t talking to you, sissy. Jason, ready?”
I felt Jason’s hard cock shove its way into my gaping hole, still filled with Dr. Gibson’s piss, and the boy in front drove his hard, uncut dick into my mouth. I began to gag on it but he grabbed a fistful of my hair, firmly, and drove his pelvis forward, hard, shoving his dick down my throat. It hurt like hell, and I barely managed to gasp a large breath in before he sealed my airway shut.
And then I felt it. The vibrating in the cock in my mouth and the warmth in my throat told me he had started pissing, and it was going directly down my throat and into my sissy belly. And I heard the hissing noise of Jason’s piss spraying into the huge volume of piss already in my intestine.
I hoped they’d hurry because as hard as it seemed to make me, I was starting to feel a little light-headed and couldn’t breathe. But they kept on going. I felt my stomach starting to swell a bit and spread against the desk I was so unceremoniously splayed out on, and I felt my lower abdomen start to fill out a bit with all the piss being pumped into my colon. I started to see spots. Just as I felt like I was losing consciousness, the boy in front slid his cock out and I gasped in. But he hadn’t stopped pissing, so I choked on his continued golden stream and gasped for breath as I sputtered and piss went all over my face. I finally regained my breath and just took the head of his cock into my mouth and sucked my lips shut around it. He kept pissing for a good while and I tasted it as it filled my mouth and ran down my throat as fast as I could swallow.
On the sidelines my wife was laughing. “Look at this sissy cunt I married,” she said, “Good thing I know how to take care of him now.”
I felt Jason shove the giant plug back in my ass and came around front so both boys were standing in front of me. I kept burping up gas from my stomach and it tasted like the acne-crusted boy’s piss. I felt so humiliated and disgusted with myself, but there I was, lying on the desk, with a raging boner. I watched the two teenagers grab their hard dicks and start stroking them and I kept my eyes open as they both came in unison all over my face.
When we got home my wife put me over her knee and spanked me so hard I was crying. She kept calling me things. Told me what a cunt-boy I was, what a pathetic sissy I was. All I could do was nod and agree and thank her in my faggy lisp. Every time her palm hit my butt cheeks, the stinging pain brought me a brief moment of clarity where I realized that this was horribly wrong, that something very bad was happening. I used to have a normal life. I’m a straight man! I have a wife! I like fucking her!
But then I’d feel the piss sloshing around in my guts and feel the plug holding my hole stretched wide open and hear my wife’s degrading words as she slapped my ass and I couldn’t remember anymore. All I could remember was what a disgusting little sissy I was, how I couldn’t wait to make myself into a little sissy slut and try to get everyone I could to use me like a bitch-boy.
After she finished spanking me my wife left me wearing some of the underwear we’d bought and proceeded to sit down on the couch. She kicked her shoes off and put her feet up on the ottoman. “Alright, if I’m going to have a dumb fag cunt for a husband the least he can do is shit I don’t want to, like clean my feet. Get to it, bitch, start sucking!”
Her feet smelled strongly, having been jammed into nylons and heels all day, but I couldn’t help myself. I started licking and sucking at her feet, between her toes, and she just watched me with utter contempt. She’d shove each foot into my mouth, gagging me with her toes, and then finally, eventually, let me stop. “Time for dessert,” she said, and dragged me into the bedroom and threw me down on the bed.
She stood over me and stripped off her clothes. I saw her pussy between her legs straddling my head, and for a moment had a memory that seemed very far away. I used to love that pussy, I thought, I used to put my cock in it. But as suddenly as the memory appeared, it vanished. That was ridiculous. Pathetic queerboy sissies like me didn’t fuck pussy. And so I smiled as she knelt down over me and then sat back, her ass coming down onto my face.
I could still see, staring up the curve of her back, but her nice full ass was covering my nose and mouth, smothering me. I felt her grind against my face, shoving me down into the pillow. “A fag like you must be in heaven right now, being smothered with ass. I guess you’d probably rather it was some hairy man’s ass, you sick fuck, but this’ll have to tide over your sick appetite for now, sissy. Start eating.”
I was hard as a rock, indeed, being such a sissy the idea of being smothered by a butt really did turn me on. And just as I started to see stars from the lack of air, I was licking furiously at her butt and heard her continue to taunt me. But her voice got fainter as I started to asphyxiate, her smothering ass suffocating me, and finally I lost consciousness.