Amplified

Closing his eyes and rolling his head back, under the steady stream of warm water, Citi rinsed the soap from his hair and face. It was an odd time for him to shower, being relatively early in the afternoon - then again, it had become part of his new normal. His daily routine had been completely upended, ever since he’d taken Vinyl up on her offer and joined her on her tour.

The last month had been absolutely bananas. Having practically given himself to the well-hung DJ, she’d exerted control over almost every facet of his life. Where and when he slept, what he ate, how he dressed, who he was allowed to talk to - honestly, it was all pretty jarring, but he’d slowly adapted to it all. It wasn’t like she was completely heartless or anything - after all, she had allowed him to bring his cat and a few belongings along with them.

Most of his days started the same; at some point or another, typically after the sun had risen, he’d wake up to the titanic dickmare grinding her package on his face or, on the rare occasions when he got up before her, he’d give her a good morning blowjob. Regardless of who woke who, the result was always the same - Vinyl would pump a hot, rich meal down his throat.

Once he’d had his breakfast, he’d ask what his Mistress wanted him to wear. More often than not, she’d choose something remarkably skimpy or whorish. Many, many days he’d end up traipsing about the RV in a miniskirt, fishnets, and a skin tight top - not that he minded, since he rarely left the vehicle much. It wasn’t that he couldn’t leave, he was just content to lounge around and relax - that was after he was finished with his chores.

One of the most beneficial routines Vinyl had instituted for him was his daily exercise. He typically did cardio and calisthenics for roughly an hour every day, spending most of his time on a stationary bike or doing squats, although he also had a few free weights at his disposal. Working out definitely hadn’t been the easiest thing to get used to, since he’d never been all that active, but the discomfort of getting sore and sweaty was definitely worth the improvement to his health.

Another big part of his duties consisted of keeping the vehicle clean, ensuring the fridge and cabinets were stocked with snacks, exercising, and ordering or preparing meals for the two of them. Though the camper wasn’t quite as big as a house, it had all the amenities of a small apartment - as such, it had a decent kitchenette. Besides the routine housework, for lack of a better word, his top priority was to serve his Mistress.

Whenever Vinyl was around, he tended to her on hand and foot - not just because he was smitten with her, but because he’d come to know his place. If she unzipped her pants or pointed to her crotch, he dropped to his knees; when she told him to present, he bent over and prized his buns apart. He lived to please her in any possible way, because she was the only thing that could bring him pleasure.

She’d made good on his promise, keeping his stallionhood trapped within a tiny, restrictive cage almost constantly. The only time he was allowed out of the chastity was for his morning showers, while she was present, but he was locked up again before he could even dry off. Besides the contraption forcing him to use the bathroom like a girl, sitting on the toilet, it fully denied him any use of his equipment.

Originally, upon moving into her RV, he didn’t think the cage would be all that difficult to deal with, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Being around Vinyl every morning and afternoon was excruciatingly arousing; she would mercilessly tease him, emasculate him, and try to get him worked up, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get himself off - at least that’s what he thought, until she’d given him a small gift. Roughly a week after he’d joined her, waking up and finding the RV vacant, he’d discovered a parcel for him in the kitchen. Atop the box had been a little note, which immediately piqued his curiosity.

Babe, sorry I’m out so much. Not that you’d understand it, but I got a lot of shit keeping me busy. It may sound silly, but I almost feel bad for you. Since I’m usually at practice or side events most days, I figure you could keep yourself busy with this. Don’t have too much fun with it.

V

The package contained a modestly sized dildo, roughly half the endowment of his Mistress, and a pair of breast pumps. It was obvious enough what he was supposed to use the dong for, but it took him a moment to figure out why she’d given him the other items. Though he’d been a bit confused, but thankful nonetheless, he’d started using his gifts almost immediately.

Stepping out of the shower, he reached for a towel and started drying off. As he gazed at his reflection, eyeing himself up and down, his stallionhood struggled against its cage. Even though he’d only been traveling with his Mistress for a relatively short time, his body changed rather dramatically - sure, some of the alterations were relatively subtle, but he was keenly aware of each and every one.

For starters, he’d put on a fair bit of weight, namely around his hips, thighs, rear, and chest, but that was only the start of it. Vinyl had insisted he grow out his mane and tail, going so far as to have his hair bleached and dyed with streaks of pink. Besides the clearly visible differences, there were several subtle, less obvious developments.

Though he’d never had well defined pecs, his torso had taken the appearance of a somewhat flat-chested mare. He couldn’t exactly explain why it looked like he was starting to sprout bosoms, but they’d developed all the same. It may have been his imagination, but he could swear his nipples and areola had grown a bit as well. The little buds of flesh seemed rosier and larger, not to mention extraordinarily sensitive.

He felt sure that the breast pumps Vinyl had given him played some part of his slow transformation, but there had to be something more to it. It was impossible for his Mistress to be dosing him with anything, since he either ordered or made most of their meals, so there had to be some other factor at play; it wasn’t that important, in the grand scheme of things, because he had other things to occupy himself with.

Truth be told, he’d been overjoyed when Vinyl had seen fit to give him a dildo. The sculpted dong may not have been nearly as big as her cock, but it was his best and only option to relieve his maddening sexual tension. With his stallionhood all but neutralized, trapped within its tiny steel prison, the only way he was able to get off was through prostate stimulation. Whether or not his Mistress ended up literally fucking the cum out of him became less of a concern, since he could screw himself on his new favorite toy.

Grinning to himself, having dried off, he traipsed into the living room and towards the couch. His trusty dong and a bottle of lube rested on the coffee table, right where he’d left them. With his cleaning and exercising for the morning done, and nothing better to do, he thought that a small reward for his hard work was due. Laying the towel over the sofa’s cushions, making any potential messes easier to clean up, he eased himself down.

He really wasn’t sure where Vinyl was most days, but he was too timid to ask. Occasionally she’d mention attending an event, visiting a friend, or simply going out to get laid, but that was a rarity. All he knew was that she’d leave for hours at a time, before coming home and expecting to find a spotless RV and an eager bitch waiting for her.

Despite her openly bragging about knocking up or plowing groupies and fans, her sexual appetite was insatiable. He’d woken up to having his face or ass fucked more times than he could count, he’d grown accustomed to the sensation of cum leaking out of his ass, and there was rarely a day that went by where his holes weren’t violated in some form of fashion. As depraved and ravenous as his Mistress was, he’d grown to love serving her.

Easing himself down, with his head resting on one arm of the sofa, he reached over and grabbed the nearby dildo and lube. There was no way in Tartarus that some paltry sex-toy could ever match the intensity of a colossal dickmare in rut-lust, but it was the only option he had. Lifting one leg, resting his ankle on the back of the couch, he slathered the silicone stallionhood with the slick lotion and brought it to his rear.

With the barest bit of effort, the toy slipped into his pucker. He really couldn’t say if it was sad or funny - months ago, before he’d ever met his idol, he would have laughed if someone told him he’d be screwing himself with a dildo; now everything was different. Expertly angling the molded shaft, fixating on his p-spot, he gnawed his lip. While it wasn’t nearly as amazing as getting plowed by the genuine article, he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

His free hand wandered to his chest, softly squeezing and fondling one soft breast. It really wasn’t much of a bosom, barely enough to cup in his palm, but it was leagues bigger than it used to be. As his fingers wandered to his nipple, gently grazing the perky bud, he stifled a groan. His teats were definitely more sensitive than they’d been before and, much to his shame, he’d grown to love having them played with, kissed, suckled, or bitten.

Closing his eyes and raising his waist, imagining some lusty young stallion or dickmare taking advantage of him, his chaste stallionhood drooled pre-cum over his coin purse. Savagely twisting one nipple, pulling on his breast, he did what he could to up the intensity. As pathetic and wanton as it sounded, he wished Vinyl would have given him a bigger toy - that or possibly some sort of sex machine. Besides being comparatively small, the stupid dildo didn’t even have a suction cup or proper base - still, he did the best he could with what he had.

He was so caught up in getting off, attempting to scratch his sexual itch the only way he could, that he failed to hear the keys in the door until it was too late. A slam and a series of footfalls rocked him from his depraved stupor, causing him to roll from the sofa. He’d never had anyone walk in on him screwing himself before, let alone Vinyl, and he was not about to find out if his Mistress would react to such an indecent sight.

Dashing towards the bedroom, being sure to grab the towel, toy, and lube, he closed the door and stashed the lewd items. The only person with keys to the tour bus was Vinyl, which meant two things; for starters, he’d need to get out there to tend to her fast - secondly, and more prudently, he’d prefer she didn’t know he’d been playing with himself. It wasn’t like she wasn’t aware of what he did with his gift, but some shred of his dignity still remained.

“Coming,” he bleated, praying she wouldn’t barge in on him.

Though he couldn’t be sure, he could swear his voice had taken a slightly higher pitch since shaking up with his Mistress. Hastily concealing the items within his underwear drawer, he snatched up an electric blue skirt, as well as matching leggings, top, and thong. It didn’t take him long to get dressed, slipping into the outfit in a flash, before he rushed back out to greet her.

As he burst through the door, spotting her trotting away and to the sofa, he froze. She had a cold beer in her hand, meaning he’d already fucked up. Even if he knew she was coming back from a meal or a party, it was part of his duties to offer her a drink or something to eat. Forcing a smile, hoping to make amends, he sauntered over to her.

Vinyl flopped onto the couch, throwing one arm over its back, and disinterestedly watched him approach. “Where are the heels?” she flatly asked, cracking her can open and taking a sip.

Citi flinched, stopping dead in his tracks. He was supposed to be practicing with a pair of stilettos she’d gotten for him. The footwear made it difficult to do much of anything, causing him to unsteadily wobble around in them, which was precisely why she’d instructed him to wear them at all times. Hanging his head, with his shoulders sagging, he turned away.

“I didn’t say you could leave, did I?” she growled, leaving him frozen in place. “If you want to make up for your fuckups, come over here and get to work.

With the chance for redemption still within his grasp, he trotted over to his Mistress. As he drew nearer to her, passing through the tiny kitchen, she lazily spread her legs. They both knew what was expected of him, so there was no point in subtlety. Coming before her, stepping between her knees, he slowly sank into a deep squat.

His eyes wandered from her smugly grinning face, down her rack and abs, and to her groin. She’d likely just come from some social event, since she was adorned in a simple t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts, but he had no way of knowing for sure. Gazing at the bulge at her groin, feeling himself starting to salivate, he lovingly ran one hand up her inner thigh.

“Rough day?” he softly inquired, unable to look away from her barely concealed package.

Vinyl shrugged and took another draught from her beer, before nonchalantly reaching forward, grabbing his head, and pulling his face into her crotch. “Eh - it wasn’t that bad. Had lunch with a friend of mine, got some lunch, ended up face-fucking some cute stallion in a bathroom,” she chuckled. Seeing the pain in his eyes, she rolled her head. “I didn’t say stop! Besides, it’s not like I don’t have enough foal-batter to share.”

While she did have a point, Citi couldn’t help from feeling the slightest bit hurt. He’d done everything she’d asked, going so far as to sell most of his belongings and quit his job, yet she would still go out and have the casual lay here or there. Though he tried not to let it get to him, he’d become just a bit covetous - wanting her all to himself. Slowly closing his eyes, attempting to clear his thoughts, he deeply inhaled through his nose.

As her rich, earthy scent flooded his sinuses, an all too familiar tingle of excitement shot through his spine. Besides having the body of a veritable amazonian goddess, her musk was downright ambrosial. He wouldn’t be surprised if the smell alone was enough to cause females to ovulate, causing his pucker to hungrily clench and wink in anticipation. Though he may not be an actual mare, his place was clearly being bred by such a glorious deity.

With well practiced, mechanical precision, he undid the button on her shorts, pulled at her fly, and gently slipped his hand within her trunks. Guided by feel alone, his fingers softly stroked her semi-flaccid length. Feeling her glorious tool, paired with virtually having his face pressed against her fragrant loins, reminded him of his role - that he was meant to serve her.

“There’s a good mare,” she hummed, as he fished her shaft free. “Such a devoted little thing you’ve become, and so quickly too!”

“Y...yesh,” he slurred, dragging his tongue over her sheath.

The salty, almost bitter flavor of her endowment was as amazing as ever. She’d been out all day and, of her own admission, gotten a bit of action earlier, leaving her equipment sweaty and unwashed. While it was faint, almost ephemeral, there was the barest hint of stale cum on her stallionhood; mopping her clean, slathering her member with saliva, he worked his way to the broad head of her cock.

The moment he reached the tip of her length, he wrapped his lips around her. As much as he would have liked to present himself, or possibly mount her, that simply wasn’t an option. He was there for her, expressly doing as she asked, and she almost always allowed him to open with oral. She’d said that being on his knees was a reminder of what he was, an outlet for her carnal wants, and that was where he belonged; as loathe as he was to admit it, she’d been absolutely correct.

Bobbing his head, steadily working her into his muzzle, one hand drifted to his chest. With his pitiful colthood locked away, useless and wholly neglected, his perky little tits served as one of the only ways he could heighten his pleasure. He could have fingered his greedy ass, but he abstained; when she decided to rearrange his insides, he wished to savor what little tautness his hole had while it was ruined.

Tightly gripping his skull, the mare forced her toy downward. “Fuck,” she growled, as her dick slipped into his throat, “you’re getting pretty good at this.”

He would have thanked her for the compliment, had his airway not been stuffed with cock. Gently choking himself with one hand, while twisting and teasing one nipple with the other, he skillfully plied his trade. Vinyl said he was a natural and, coming from a she-stud of her caliber, he considered it high praise.

There were times when he still choked on her, usually when she was being particularly forceful, but those instances were becoming less and less frequent. He’d learned when to breathe, how to pull back just enough to get a sip of air, and his gullet had gradually acclimated to the routine abuse. The lack of oxygen was part of the excitement, spurring him to push his limits with her as often as possible. All told, her size, strength, and domineering will never failed to excite him.

Without so much as touching his prick, his cage drooled pre-cum to the floor below. The last genuine erection he’d had was over a month ago, shortly before he’d agreed to accompany his Mistress, and he was starting to forget what it felt like to be hard. In lieu of getting a boner, his backdoor eagerly winked; as pitiful as it was, flying in the face of what a real stallion should be, it excited him all the same.

Dragging his lips over the colossal dickmare’s throbbing length, while his throat was thoroughly swabbed, he sensed her grip slacken. His heart skipped a beat, his eyes cracked open, and he peeked up at the woman; there’d been a time when he would have worried that he’d done something wrong, that she may have been cross with him for some unfathomable transgression, but no longer. As she released his head, allowing him full freedom of movement, she reclined and rested her arms across the back of the sofa.

“Quit looking and fuck yourself on it,” she growled, impatient and expectant.

And just like that, Citi bolted to his feet. Weeks prior, when she’d first invited him back to her hotel room, he’d bumbled his way through preparing for his first anal experience. Now, after serving her day in and day out, he was primed and ready for her stallionhood at any given time. He’d even developed a routine to keep himself ready for her, which included regular cleaning, stretching, and administration of lube to his backdoor, since his hole was used so often.

Stepping onto the couch, he turned away from her and swung one leg over her waist. It was a calculated decision, choosing to mount her in a reverse seated cowgirl, but she’d shown an affinity for his ass. As he knelt down, he reached back and clasped his soft, supple buns. His fingers sank into the twin mounds of flesh, leaving her shaft sandwiched in the cleft of his ass.

Besides his little A Cups, his tush had filled out considerably. The few articles of clothing he’d brought with him no longer fit properly, if he could get them on at all, making his new wardrobe not only more alluring but more practical as well. Releasing his rump, placing his hands on his knees, he rocked his hips forward and back.

Though it was a small tease, it elicited a frustrated or possibly excited grunt from his Mistress. He knew her well enough that some taunting wouldn’t get him in trouble, so long as he immediately followed through. Raising his waist, bringing the bloated tip to his pucker, he drew a breath, slowly exhaled, and began his descent.

His once virgin hole yielded with perilously little resistance, as the broad head of her cock popped into him. The sensation was as wondrous as ever, vastly better than the flimsy toy she’d gotten him, and it was the only thing that gave him true gratification. Gradually, savoring every inch of her mighty tool, he impaled himself. All but resting on her lap, feeling her girthy medial ring settle on his prostate, he halted.

“Well?” she barked, slapping his behind and causing him to yelp. “You gonna sit on it like the dumb bitch that you are or are you actually going to do something?”

Nodding eagerly, unwilling to disappoint her, he started bouncing. Relaxing on the plunges, while clamping around her length with his ascents, he milked her stallionhood like a needy harlot. Accommodating her sizable member was by no means what he’d call easy, although it had gotten less traumatic and more pleasurable as time had gone on. As long as she let him do the work, he didn’t have too much to worry about.

Periodically mixing his routine with a sensual gyration or subtle shift, his excitement grew. Being in control meant that he could decide on the pace, depth, and exact positioning, ensuring his p-spot was stimulated almost flawlessly. He did love when she took the wheel, brutally fucking him like some common whore, but that was a different experience entirely.

If and when Vinyl took charge, the game changed. She cared little about him getting off, viewing him as little more than a walking fuck-toy who’s only purpose was to satisfy her. Some part of him lamented being considered a sexual object, but a deeper, far primal portion of himself absolutely adored it. The differences in their size, strength, endowment, and downright will was obvious, cementing his subservience to her; it was only natural.

Slowly increasing his speed, sensing himself growing closer to the limit, his thighs began to tremble. One definite benefit of being her bottom bitch was the revelation that, like an actual mare, he could have multiple orgasms; it wasn’t uncommon for him to cum again and again, until his tiny nuts were depleted and he was blowing dry loads. Panting over her, gnawing his lip, he neared the threshold - that was until a pair of hands crossed under his arms and to his chest.

“Looks like someone’s really enjoying themselves today,” Vinyl snickered, her fingers gliding towards his nipples.

“Y...yeah,” he croaked, only slowing slightly. Though she hadn’t asked him to stop, focusing on her, in case she gave him an order, was a priority.

“You know,” she sighed, tracing her digits around the twin buds of flesh, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in heat…”

At the mention of the word, Citi’s motions ground to a halt. She’d often tease or taunt him, telling him she was or would breed his ass, and he absolutely loved it. It was an insane notion, one which no rightful stallion would consider alluring, yet the thought of being knocked up by such a magnificent creature never failed to set his heart fluttering. Turning his head, glancing back at her, he met her eye.

“Is that what you want?” she whispered, as one hand shifted to the bulge in his abdomen. “Do you want me to pump a foal into you?”

“Y...yes,” he sputtered, unable to deny his depraved desires.

“I said,” she continued, languidly bucking her hips upward and driving the imprint of her cock into her palm, “do you want to be my little broodmare?”

Citi gulped, while his cage leaked pre-cum over his package and onto her massive balls. “Yes, Mistress.”

Vinyl shifted, bracing her legs and moving both hands to his budding breasts. Fiercely pinching his nipples, causing him to moan out in bliss, she darkly chuckled to herself. “If you keep up with me, I might give you what you really want - if not, you can lick my cum off the floor.”

With no further warning, she started fucking the femcolt on her lap. Every buck of her hips sent his entire body upward, nearly lifting him entirely off the couch, as her dominant streak took to the fore. Caught unawares, essentially plowed like a ragdoll, it took Citi a moment to reciprocate. Between the unimaginable bliss of being pounded, the honeyed promise of being bred, and the threat regarding his possible failure, his mind reeled; there was no way in Tartarus he’d disappoint her, not after everything she’d given to him and done for him, so he willed his body to comply.

Realistically speaking, there wasn’t all that much he could do, but that didn’t mean he was totally helpless. Placing his hands on his head, giving her a clear view of his back and jiggling rump, he lustily gazed back at her. Her hands groped and squeezed his little tits, her stallionhood molded his depths, and her nuts slapped against his inferior equipment. He was hers, in mind and body, so it was the least he could do to show his appreciation.

As his hole greedily constricted around her pistoning length, he rolled his head back and loudly moaned. He was still exceptionally close to the edge, but that was no longer important; the only thing that mattered was that his Mistress got off, preferably as deeply as possible, and that she was pleased with him. Laying his hands atop hers, ensuring she gripped his bosoms, he drew a breath.

“Harder!” he bleated, shamelessly rocking back to meet her thrusts, “Feel me, use me, fuck me, breed me! Claim me and ruin me for any other stallion or dickmare!”

Vinyl grunted and redoubled her efforts, railing him like an industrial jackhammer. The change of pace caught him by surprise, literally forcing him to climax on the spot. His back arched, his limbs shook, and his hole spasmed around her, as weak, watery seed dribbled out of his cage. As much as he would have loved to howl out, giving voice to his thanks, his higher functions briefly left him.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, while his mouth hung open and drooled over his chest. It was almost like a zen-like state; there he was, fulfilling his purpose, and the universe had rewarded him for it. If surrendering himself to such such exquisite creatures was to be his nirvana, he would gleefully embrace his role with open arms. Standing at the precipice, feeling as though he may lose himself, he was wrenched back to the present by a singular, unmistakable sensation - the feeling of her flaring within him.

One hand shot to his gut, squeezing his belly below the expanding crown of her cock. Even on the cusp of losing himself, the deepest parts of his being knew what was expected of him. Effectively jacking her off through the flesh of his stomach, he reclined on her and brought his muzzle to her ear. It was a brazen move, doing something so impudent, yet he felt emboldened by her impending climax.

“Knock me up,” he mewled into her ear.

He couldn’t say if it was good timing or dumb luck on his behalf, but his wish was granted at that very moment. Thick, hot, creamy foal-batter surged through her wildly throbbing shaft, rushing into his depths. Her output, despite having orgasmed at least once earlier that day, was jaw dropping. His guts churned, expanding and swelling with the tsunami of her cum, as he was stricken with a second climax of his own. It was all he could do to grit his teeth and pray he didn’t pass out, riding out the insane maelstrom of satiating someone so much greater than himself.

As the flow of her seed tapered off, leaving him dipping in and out of consciousness, he wearily peered down at himself. Between the tiny mounds of tit-flesh, his stomach appeared absolutely obscene. Though he didn’t have a mirror handy, he had little doubt that he could pass for being several months pregnant - a fact that his she-stud was all too quick to point out.

“You like it, don’t you?” she purred, gently rubbing his belly. “If anyone saw your dumb ass like this, they’d be asking who the father was.”

The thought of being knocked up by her was, in a perverse sense, exceptionally romantic. Had he a womb, he would have sired foal after foal for her, birthing one before quickly being inseminated with the next. Contentedly wiggling his rump on her, clamping his stuffed hole, he lovingly kissed her neck and cheek. She really was a wonderful mare, and she’d shown him what true happiness was.

Looking around, completely ignoring his affection, she scrunched her nose. “Where’s that damn plug?”

“The glass one?” he responded, cocking his head to the side.

“Wait - there it is,” Vinyl remarked. Wholly uncaring for the impaled femcolt on her lap, she leaned over, reached behind a lamp, and wrapped her fingers around the girthy, crystalline plug. “Here,” she instructed, handing him the item. “Unless you want it going in dry, lube it up.”

Citi didn’t question her, obediently licking and slobbering over the sizable toy. She often liked to keep him plugged, especially if he had a heaping helping of her spunk sloshing around within him, while they lounged about the RV; traipsing about with the toy corking his ass, trapping her jizz within him, had been embarrassing at first, although he’d come to savor it. Walking around, while his innards marinated in her essence, was almost as hot as having her blow a load down his throat - almost.

Handing her the slickened item, knowing the routine all too well, he grabbed his behind and shakily pushed himself up. The trick to the maneuver was to clench just as her stallionhood pulled clear of his pucker, assuring he didn’t waste any of the precious, creamy cargo. As he gradually unsheathed himself from her slightly softened shaft, he came to the fat tip of her cock.

Feeling the cold plug resting against his ass, just above his entrance, he hauled himself off his mate. In the blink of an eye, perhaps a bit more forcefully than was required, Vinyl crammed the giant plug into his battered hole. He shuddered, his prick dripping yet more of his worthless pre and spunk to the floor, as the toy settled into place.

“Well,” Vinyl began, getting to her feet and stretching beside him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. You want a bite to eat?”

“Uh-” Citi blurted, unsure of what to say. He was pretty hungry, but it was very, very odd for her to ask him if he wanted to eat. Slowly nodding up at her, he noticed all too late the nefarious grin creeping across her muzzle.

“Perfect! You go get dressed, then we can go out. I’m thinking that fancy pizza place that’s in town,” Vinyl remarked, trotting towards the bedroom.

Instinctively following after her, the cum-bloated stallion’s thoughts raced. He barely had any clothes that fit him normally, let alone when he had the body of an expectant mother. At best, he’d look like a positively gravid whore, so there was no way he’d be allowed into some upscale eatery! Moving to her side, with his anxiety keying up, he pawed at her arm.

“What - uh - what do you want me to wear?” he softly asked. It was a long shot, but she may have suggested they go out before realizing how off he would look.

“You know that really small tube top - the pink one - wear that,” she remarked, stripping down and throwing her dirty clothes into a nearby hamper. “Oh! And that super skimpy micro-skirt! You’ll look just perfect!”

A cold knot formed in Citi’s stomach, realizing the outfit she’d meant. It wasn’t just that she intended to take him to a fancy restaurant, while in drag and appearing heavily pregnant, that set his nerves on edge - no, it was the fact that the thought excited him. Though people may not know who he was, or if he was a he at all, they’d have no doubt as to whom had bred him. Shambling after her, plastering himself to her side, he moved into the bathroom with his Mistress. If nothing else, something told him he was going to have a very interesting outing.