Models: Carolina Sweets & Rob Piper
Her yellow-nailed fingers coiled around the bars of the cage in which she lived most of her life, the woman groaned as the huge black bull imprisoned with her tugged on the chain attached to her tight leather collar. Her pink nipples poked through the holes of her revealing mesh bodysuit and she shivered as she imagined his broad tongue sucking on them roughly, his thick fingers pinching them until she screamed.
She had forgotten her name several days ago. Still, the gradual corruption of her mind had not yet robbed her of her need for identity, and so she had taken to identifying herself by the name the men and women who visited her always called her: Whore.
Whore had forgotten the name of her former boyfriend even earlier, although she suspected he wouldn’t have responded even if she had addressed him with it, for he hadn’t been the man she had once loved for months now.
At least, she thought it was months. Locked away in their cage, it was impossible for either of them to tell.
Though her memories grew more fragmented with each passing day, there was still enough of the woman she had been left for her to know that everything was all her fault.
She could remember loving her boyfriend but loving the thrill of X-Change even more. She could remember spending all their savings on her addiction, desperate for just one more night spent fucking some horny stranger in the body of a black goddess or a plastic bimbo or a skinny slut. She could remember how, once the funds ran dry and the legitimate dealers had refused to sell to her, she had turned to shadier suppliers, stealing and pickpocketing to pay for more.
Through the misguided love of her twisted mind she had even gone so far as to spike her boyfriend’s drink with the black market drugs. Her betrayal was only intensified by the fact she knew full well the formula was ten times more addictive than any legal variety.
Whore could still just about recall what she had told herself as she watched him transform into the colossal black goliath now tugging on her leash: he’ll be happier this way. We’ll be together and he’ll finally understand what it feels like to let the deviant within take control.
But in the first few days after being locked away together, her former boyfriend reduced to a primal, gas-masked beast alongside her, Whore had realised the truth. She hadn’t wanted him to be happy at all. She hadn’t even wanted him to understand. She just hadn’t been willing to let go of the only one who had stood by her even as she dragged him down by her side.
And now that man was gone.
The sound of the door opening dragged Whore from her thoughts. A rush of arousal tore through her as her dealer entered, a slightly drunken stagger to his stride. He met her eyes with a lustful grin, making a show of locking the door behind him.
In the few seconds it took for him to cross to and unlock their cage, Whore was already dripping. She craved her dealer’s arrival more and more each day, the promise of his perfect body pushing aside all her worries with effortless ease. In his presence, her inner slut took control, the salacious instincts that had earned Whore her new name driving her into a state of mindless cocklust.
Most days there were others with him – hunky men and beautiful women who were eager to use his captive hedonists – however today he was alone, his tanned, muscular torso bare.
The instant the cage was open, Whore found herself being dragged onto the bright red sheets of the bed which filled most of the small room. As her dealer stood aside, her former boyfriend threw her down roughly, his massive cock already released from his trousers by the time he joined her on the bed.
In the first few days after being imprisoned, Whore had hesitated before going down on him – somehow, despite everything, it had felt wrong fucking him in his new body knowing what she had done to him.
But now she moved on instinct, quickly engulfing his dick in her hot, wet lips. She groaned as he burrowed down her throat, the bulge in her neck almost painful yet her insatiable craving for more urging to take him deeper still. Every fibre of her being begged for the pleasure she knew he could give her and, hungry for more, she instantly fell into a frantic rhythm.
The bull groaned as she worked his dick, his head tilting back as the wet slurping sounds of her worship filled the room. And though muffled by the thick rubber of his mask, the noises of his pleasure only catalysed her sluttiness.
All at once, her dealer was behind her, his strong hands lowering the red-lensed goggles from their position nestled in her hair. He had given them her on her first day of imprisonment, assuring her they would help her enjoy her new life.
‘What have I told you, whore? You should wear your goggles more often. It makes me happy. You want to make me happy, don’t you? Promise me you will wear them every day from now on.’
Whore was about to pull away to answer when the goggles snapped into place. Immediately, a barrage of hypnotic images flashed before her vision, a mesmerising display of sordid words and pulsing lights and glowing porn.
The effect it had on Whore was instantaneous: in the next breath she had swallowed her bull whole, all the way to the base, her eyes streaming behind the goggles as she lapped hungrily on his balls.
Through her tears, Whore watched her dealer retreat to a seat in the corner. Releasing his cock, he began to stroke it slowly, his swelling erection whipping Whore’s raw hunger into a frenzy. He looked like a god, every inch of his figure carved into the very epitome of masculine perfection.
Even so, a brief streak of bitterness tore through her: of course he looked like a god. He only indulged in high quality drugs, so it was hardly surprising he was constantly able to enjoy a body any other man would kill for.
The burst of annoyance was enough to stir more of Whore’s fragmented memories – although even as things came back to her, she continued to slobber over the bull’s massive meat, her whole body singing with slutty desire.
The only small shred of relief Whore had felt in the aftermath of her boyfriend’s transformation was that he never realised what hit him. The change had been rapid and intense, his howls of ecstasy ringing through their house as his skinny frame tripled in size. His clothes had torn to shreds, unable to contain the huge, muscular body growing within them, and in a matter of seconds he had towered over her, his massive cock swaying between thighs like stone pillars.
The moment she met his eyes, however, Whore’s pussy had instantly started to drip. There had been nothing of the man she loved left in them, only a mindless sexual beast, and in that moment all she had wanted to do was fuck him until they both passed out.
Fortunately, the sight of her had stirred his dick into motion, his immense meat rising to attention.
The rest was all a blur of skin and pleasure.
It had been the most erotic night of her life, but when they both awoke the next morning still in their transformed bodies, she had known something was wrong.
Rushing to her dealer, she had frantically explained their situation, panic rising as she began to consider the possibility that they might never turn back – that the man who loved her might be lost forever.
Whore’s dealer had not helped her though. Instead, keen to ensure word did not get out that his goods were faulty, he had drugged them, bound them, and dragged them away to the bleak, windowless room in which they now lived their lives.
In the following months, they gradually came to realise exactly how corruptive the flaws in her dealer’s defective batch truly were.
The Bull variant Whore had given her boyfriend, for example, was so potent it had infected his lungs, infusing every breath with more of the formula and resulting in a transformation that could not be undone. Worse still, over time his very breath had become infectious, capable of transforming anybody who came within a few feet of him into a similarly mindless bull. The remedy to this had been simple: a gas mask he never removed. Simple, true, but for Whore it was also savagely cruel, ensuring she would never see the face of the man who had loved her ever again.
Not that that mattered, of course, because the Passion pill Whore had taken was even more cruel. Apparently produced cheaply alongside both Forget and Continue pills, the formula had clearly been tainted by both other variants; not only did she gradually begin to lose her memory, but it turned out that the many orgasms she had experienced during her first night with her bullified boyfriend had been enough to keep her transformed permanently – not even his corruptive breath had been able to change her.
As the defects had taken their toll, Whore’s dealer had joked about how he would stop selling doses from that batch and keep them to use on anyone who crossed him instead.
As for Whore and her former boyfriend, they would remain as his personal slaves. In his own words, they were ‘far too fun’ to sell off, and so long as he had them captive he would never be left wanting, no matter what body he decided to enjoy on any given day: whenever in the form of a man, Whore was always willing to be fucked senseless, while if her dealer chose to transform himself into a woman instead, his captive bull would be only to eager to pound him into a drooling, cum-soaked mess.
Suddenly Whore found herself weightless, her bull’s arms suddenly wrapped around her waist and lifting her into the air. He flipped her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing at all, slamming her down again with a primal grunt. Then his powerful hands had torn the crotch of her bodysuit to shreds, exposing her glistening pink pussy.
Her very vulnerable pussy.
The violent motion had knocked her goggles back, and now Whore found herself dazed as the libido-enhancing effects faded away.
By now though, she didn’t need any technological assistance to maintain her sluttiness. Spreading her legs wide, she was begging before she even realised where she was.
‘Ruin me, sir. Fuck me so hard I split in half. Fill me, stretch me, use me. Please, sir, please, I’m your needy whore. I’m made to be used. I’m made for your pleasure. I need you inside me. I need you pummelling my tight cunt…’ The words tumbled from her mouth, her need for his cock increasingly agonising.
As the masked face of her bull drew closer, Whore could hear her dealer jerking off feverishly elsewhere in the room. He would join in later, she knew, but right now she could not tear her eyes from the fiery gaze of her lover, sealed away behind the glass of the mask’s lenses.
There was hatred in his eyes. Accusation. There had been since they day they were locked up together.
But Whore realised she could no longer remember why he would be angry with her.
As his enormous cock parted the lips of her pussy, a little bit more of the woman she had once been crumbled away and she screamed with delight. Deep down, she knew it would not be long before the only thing left of her old self was the insatiable craving for more, the addiction to the pleasure of her transformed body.
Right now, however, all she could do was stare up at him, her eyes silently pleading for his forgiveness as they both lost themselves to their own lust.
But she could not ask for it out loud. Because Whore was a good cumslut. And a good cumslut only ever begged for more…
Thanks for reading!
It may have taken me a while, but I feel like my ability to write darker stories is definitely improving. I don’t profess to be as good as some of my fellow creators, but this definitely feels much more taboo than some of my previous attempts at a darker tone. Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I do.