Hi, I’m Vivianne. Tonight I was playing with a little Granini bottle as if it were the comfort no one gives me, and it almost got stuck with the damn cap inside. What a puppet I’ve become. I, who not long ago was “a man,” found myself in the room with my ass open, sweating, my hands smeared with oil, trying to pull a glass container out of my sissy pussy because I got the stupid idea that my ass wants more than can fit in you. And the best part: it wouldn’t come out. The bottle fat at the bottom... (Gay stories.)
The first time your Master talked to you about hormones was on a Sunday afternoon, after an especially rough session with three retired truckers. You were kneeling in his living room, your little dick caged, your panties full of dried cum and your ass open like a mailbox. “Vivianne,” he said to you, sitting in his armchair, his fat cock hanging between his legs. “You’re a good whore, but you’re missing something. Your skin is still a guy’s. Your tits are a guy’s. You smell like a guy.” You start... (Gay stories.)
I'm going to give you what you ask for, Vivianne! A fat Master, the kind who, when he sits on the sofa, his belly hangs between his legs and he breathes deeply every time he bends down. He has a big dog, the harness kind, with heavy balls and that look that doesn’t understand caresses, only smelling an open ass and mounting it. And you. The submissive whore of the house. You get up and the first thing you smell is the dog’s cushion. The Master orders you to get on all fours and rub your face aga... (Gay stories.)
I raised my head and looked at him. For the first time since I had started telling the story, my eyes held something that was neither pain nor submission. They held something like peace. “Don’t be modest, Topsecret, you are all three things,” and I adjusted my crotch because I felt the call of the wild approaching. “You are the next link,” he said. “Tradition says that the sodomized one must continue the chain. And I have sodomized you. I have had you in my bed, on my cock, in my life. You are m... (Gay stories.)
Every morning, at seven-thirty when I left home for work, I would go down to the second floor, open the door with a key and get into his bed naked until he woke up. I would say, “Good morning, love,” I had to turn my back to him, positioning myself so he could enter me spooning… like that, every morning. I left that room with my ass sore… from love, and my vitamins that would last me until night, when it was time for my other dose, this time by mouth. At midday I often ate with him and before th... (Gay stories.)
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