Maybe Chrissy may not be the only one who got transformed, after all.

Also, the next release on next Monday is my favorite chapter of this month. Hope you guys are also looking forward to the next release just like me :) and don’t forget check out the teasing with the sexy gif in the calendar section! - Nakintr

Week seven fell into a pattern of incremental change.

In the morning, Chrissy would wake up and do his usual mouth guard removal into pink water chug. He’d take in a heavy breath of air freshener and fish for the black dildo within his messy sheets. Naughty fantasies about his previous night's masturbation session would float through his increasingly Blacked brain. Putting on his shower heels, Chrissy headed to the restroom with a slinky nightie or teddy of some description clinging to his body. He’d brush his teeth, comb and curl his blonde hair, pull off his nose strip, then apply his daily moisturizer. A seated, morning piss followed exactly as it had for multiple weeks. During the first few days, the urine was red-tinted due to the simulated menstruation; however, that went away by the end of the week. Chrissy never realized the feeling of not having abdominal cramps could be this wonderful! Exiting the bathroom, he’d make his way over to the vanity where he applied his morning makeup and touched up his nails.

Satisfied, he would find his outfits for the day hanging on his bedroom door. After Tuesday, workouts returned, so there were both exercise clothes and casual clothes. The outfits were always women’s clothing and varied from cute and dainty to slutty and daring. Each time Chrissy wore a female outfit, he felt a little more comfortable. The way they hugged and accentuated his changing body was becoming second nature. On the opposite end, being constantly draped in women’s attire made Chrissy increasingly less comfortable with men’s clothing.

With his clothing in hand, Chrissy would head to his closet and choose a pair of appropriate heels and any accessories that he deemed necessary. Yes, he was preparing for a workout, but he could put on some earrings, a necklace, or a bracelet if he wanted! Fully dressed, he worked to pick up his room before leaving for the hallway.

Once downstairs, he’d locate Miss Valentine and help her clean up if he could. As usual, cleaning made Chrissy feel joyful. When he was dusting or vacuuming or tossing away some debris, he couldn’t help but be energetic and positive!

Chrissy referred to Miss Valentine as ‘mom’ in conversation because she seemed to want him to. It felt strange, but by the end of the week the moniker slipped from his tongue naturally. There was still no explanation as to why she’d suddenly aged a decade, and Chrissy was far too afraid to broach the subject. Miss Valentine continued to live at Chrissy’s house. She kept to herself and stayed in her room when they weren’t training. It wasn’t so bad to have her as a roommate because she cleaned, somehow procured hearty meals (without any groceries in the house), and did all the laundry. On the downside, she consistently treated Chrissy like her teenage daughter, and it became annoying at times. They often bickered and argued, but it always ended with Miss Valentine getting whatever she wanted. Over time, Chrissy stopped complaining about the treatment and simply went along with it. It was easier that way.

When his boyfriend Brad arrived, Chrissy would greet him warmly, but his affection for Brad was quickly evaporating. They were still friendly, but Chrissy found Brad less and less romantically and sexually attractive every day. Soon, he saw Brad as a friend ONLY. For his part, Brad spent the week trying to impress Chrissy, arouse Chrissy, and convince Chrissy to give him another BJ. Unfortunately for him, Chrissy just wasn’t interested. Every sip of his penis bottle reinforced his affinity for Black men. Chrissy tried giving him head on Friday when Brad was desperate, but seeing his pale cock flopping from his shorts was an instant turn-off, and Chrissy pushed him away.

Breakfast was served by Miss Valentine, and pills were consumed shortly after. The workouts returned as a lite version of earlier sessions. A set of lunges here, a few yoga poses there, some squats, planks, and a jog or two. Nothing was too intense or demanding. Brad assisted with some weight lifting, but his real goal seemed to be posing in front of a very uninterested Chrissy.

After the workout, Chrissy’s semen shake arrived, and he drank it down. It sated his addiction but didn’t quite HIT like it used to. He still enjoyed it but wished it had more...flavor. It just didn’t get his heart pumping or his energy flowing like it had before.

With the workout complete, Chrissy made it upstairs and showered using Miss Valentine’s unlabeled, lavender and sour milk scented products. When he got out, he combed and curled his blonde hair, dressed in his second outfit, and applied his heavier makeup. Downstairs, he donned his headphones and watched ‘Friends,’ which he had come to LOVE. That being said, he didn’t get why ANY of the men were finding women to date them. Did people really think they were attractive?

His afternoon nap ensued, and the woman in his brain now ran rampant with unlimited power. All manner of masculine skills and knowledge were fair game to be ripped away and replaced. When he woke up in a pile of sweat, he’d suck down pink water from the black penis bottle and enjoy the flash of African dick that accompanied it.

Dinner and nighttime pills followed. Brad would stick around, trying to court Chrissy to no avail. He would leave disappointed, and Chrissy would head up to bed. His usual bedtime routine followed, which included removing his outfit, locating and wearing whatever flimsy nighttime apparel was provided, brushing his teeth, combing his hair, removing his makeup, moisturizing, applying a nose strip, inserting the mouth guard, changing out his heels, and sliding into bed.

With the day's activities complete, Chrissy would eagerly boot up “Black Cock Mansion’ and subject himself to multiple hours of intense BBC brainwashing while reinforcing it using a realistic dildo shoved up his prosthetic cunt.

Sleep and black-cock-centric dreams would follow.

Chrissy woke to his alarm on Sunday at 8:00. Sylvie wasn’t coming for a few hours, but he planned to get the house in order before she did. He spit out his mouth guard, noticing it didn’t hurt at all anymore.

He thought about it while sucking on the straw of his penis bottle. His thoughts were briefly interrupted by the flash of a BBC and a flare of arousal.

He examined the mouth guard and rubbed at his delicate jaw. His thin, pink-tipped fingers traced along his feminine facial structure. He figured the mouth guard wasn’t actively shaping anything anymore, but it was probably best to keep wearing it and prevent backsliding. The same went for the nose strip, which he peeled off without any pain.

Tossing the items onto the nightstand, Chrissy slid himself to the side of the bed, collecting his favorite toy from a puddle of girlcum in the process.

He smiled at the dildo and felt his brain rippling with numbness. He had half a mind to boot up ‘Black Cock Mansion’ and spend all day lost in a horny fog…

Somehow managing to push the idea away, Chrissy dropped the dildo onto the bedspread and swung his feet over the side. He located his plastic heels and secured them on his feet. They fit perfectly, and there was no longer tightness of any kind.

Chrissy hadn’t tried to stand without heels recently. But, judging by the fact that he couldn’t even flatten his feet while lying in bed with no weight on them whatsoever, he figured trying to stand without heels wouldn’t go well.

Once his feet were properly heeled, Chrissy swayed towards the bathroom through a cloud of flowery, perfumed air. Vapor coated his throat, and he let it stay. He didn’t feel the need to cough anymore after forcing himself to refrain for so long. His expanded body was encased in a pink, silk, satin nightdress with a black, lace fringe.

He ran his hands up his rocking hips as he walked. A feminine sway had developed naturally, especially with Sylvie’s influence, but his recent changes pushed it to 11. His swinging gait was sensual and exaggerated. His hips had clearly changed the most out of anything this week. Not only did he feel layers of fat, but also bone beneath it. The recent explosion of his hips couldn’t be explained by simple fat; no, Chrissy knew the bone structure of his lower body had widened significantly. He calmed his fears about this by flicking the seam of his prosthetic above his groin. Feeling the seam reassured him that anything that could be changed could be changed back.

On the wall was the shiny chrome lettering of wall décor depicting his temporary name.

Once in the restroom, Chrissy plopped himself on the toilet. He displaced his pink panties, lifted the hem of his satin nightie, and reflexively angled his hips. His ass and thighs squished over the sides, and his morning stream blasted straight down. Once finished, he stood and dabbed himself dry before shifting to the mirror.

He took time to brush his teeth, comb and curl his flowing blonde hair, and moisturize his face. Curious, he tugged at his nightie and stepped out of his panties. He dropped them to the floor and checked himself. His eyes found his teardrop titties, which were heavier than ever. They were now wider than his torso was! His nipples were hard and even looked like they had...milk ducts? He laughed the thought out of his mind; his male body wasn’t capable of that!

Chrissy turned in the mirror and glanced over his shoulder at his lower body. He’d certainly grown some heft on his hips, ass, and thighs, but it was really the visibly flared, wide-set, hourglass shape of his bone structure that drew his attention. Especially with his shaved cameltoe visibly poking down, Chrissy knew there was nothing remotely masculine about his smooth, lower body.

He pressed his thighs together and bent at the waist to collect his fallen clothing, glancing once again over his shoulder in awe at the view. His hairless, prosthetic vagina nestled neatly below his light brown asshole and between his flared hips. He knew that he would have fucked the shit out of himself just a few months ago, but now he only fantasized about being filled by cock. He bounced his hips back and forth, imagining a black bull penetrating him.

Snapping back upright, Chrissy took one final look before heading back into his bedroom. He needed some makeup—stat! He tossed the nightie and panties onto the bed and tottered over to the vanity. Sitting down, his bare butt cheeks spilled over the stool, and his vagina squished against the cold leather. He stared at his young, feminine face and got to work, expertly applying cosmetics. Once finished, he flipped his curly blonde hair from his big, green eyes and smirked.

Chrissy promptly removed his old nail polish and selected a new, white polish from his collection to apply. He quickly used the wand on his hands and feet, thankful that his heels were open toe. His fingernails had grown so long and strong! He gently blew on his hands and crossed his legs demurely while staring at his tits and cocking his head to the side. He felt their weight but didn’t really register them any longer. The strain was definitely there, but...his body seemed to just accept it now without a fuss. It was normal and expected.

Returning to reality, Chrissy examined his nails proudly. They looked so delicate and pretty!

He stood excitedly and made his way to the bedroom door to collect his daily clothing. He felt beautiful and confident. He was SO ready to spend the day with Sylvie and relax! It was also nice to finally get away from Brad because the situation had become so damn awkward!

Opening the door, Chrissy found a hanger containing a black dress. The torso of the dress was conservative with long sleeves and a high neckline, while the skirt was long and flowy. It was wrapped at the waist by a black ribbon. He secured the hanger and brought it back into his room before tossing it on the bed.

The dress was very unlike Miss Valentine’s normal selections. She usually had Chrissy wearing something fun, revealing, and girly, while this dress was drab, conservative, and womanly. He fished within the dress to locate undergarments before procuring a collection of lacy black items. He found a skimpy bra, a pair of panties, a garter belt, suspenders, and thigh-highs. He first lifted the bra up and scooped it around his breasts. His fattened tits squished against the lace material.

He struggled a bit with the items on his lower body but soon had them in place. The panties wedged into his ass and tightened against his prosthetic pussy, the garter belt sat atop his widened hips and the suspenders attached to the thigh-highs, which encased his legs like a sausage casing.

Chrissy swayed towards his closet, adjusting to his new lingerie and giddy to find a pair of heels to match. His lower body was being hugged in a way he wasn’t familiar with. Specifically, the tights were something his legs had not yet experienced.

In the closet, he immediately located the perfect pair of heels: six-inch, shiny, closed-toe Louboutin stilettos with a red sole. The red soles gave them the perfect amount of daring flare! He snatched them excitedly off the shelf. Also catching his eye was a black and white Chanel tote. He took that too!

Chrissy tottered to his bed, where he pulled on the dress. The flared skirt dropped to his knees while the long sleeves of the top covered to the middle of his forearms. He tied the ribbon around his midsection tightly and felt the top of the dress was a little too small. Namely, his large chest tented the top to its limit. Other than that, he was satisfied. He then sat, kicked off his shower heels, and slipped on the perfectly fitted, six-inch black stilettos. He jumped to his feet and did a twirl, excited that he wasn’t feeling any pain!

Finally, he opened his jewelry box and found a pair of vintage diamond and pearl earrings that matched his fingernails. He hooked them in his ears and felt them dangling. They were perfect for his outfit!

A final once-over left Chrissy feeling positive and confident. He was ready to take on anything and have some fun with his friend!

He swept his hair from his face and slipped his purse over his shoulder while exiting his bedroom door. Walking down the carpeted hallway, Chrissy tested Miss Valentine’s bedroom door and found it was locked, as expected. He fluttered down the stairs, enjoying the feeling of his skirt swishing to and fro alongside his swinging hips.

When he neared the bottom, the front door opened, and Miss Valentine stepped inside holding a paper grocery bag. She wore a turquoise, long-sleeve halter top and blue leggings. Her brunette hair was loose, her nails were painted the same color as Chrissy, and her older face contained more makeup than usual.

She turned to Chrissy and smiled, causing lines and wrinkles to appear all over. Her haughty alto reverberated in the foyer, “Good morning, sweetheart! You look beautiful. Be a dear and take this grocery bag to the kitchen.”

Chrissy nodded and grabbed the paper bag. He clicked to the kitchen and set it on the counter.

Peering inside, Chrissy saw there were actual groceries in there! Was food returning to the house?

Miss Valentine carried another bag in the kitchen and dropped it on the counter next to Chrissy. She was taller than Chrissy despite his six-inch heels. She began pulling things from the bag and speaking, “Don’t get your hopes up, honey, you’re still stuck with my food for the time being. This stuff is for something Sylvie was planning. I don’t think she’ll be able to do whatever it was anymore given her condition, but still.”

Chrissy’s stomach dropped as he asked, “What, um, kinda condition, exactly?”

Miss Valentine turned her attention to Chrissy. She put her hands on her hips and spoke softly, “You don’t know? Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie, I thought I told you. Sylvie broke her foot last week. She’s okay; she just...she’s being a little dramatic about it, the poor thing. Why don’t you go out and help her get inside?”

Chrissy nodded and clicked from the kitchen to the foyer. A broken foot? Ouch! Stepping out on the driveway, a strong, cold wind billowed Chrissy's skirt and fluttered his hair wildly. He shivered and felt his nipples hardening. He crossed his arms below his chest and fought the wind towards Miss Valentine’s Escalade.

Sylvie was seated in the passenger’s seat. Chrissy approached with a smile, though it quickly faded when he got closer. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and looked TERRIBLE! Her eyes appeared puffy and small, her skin had imperfections and blemishes all over, and wrinkles rippled near her eyes and mouth. When Sylvie noticed Chrissy’s face, she nearly started to cry.

Chrissy pulled the door open, and the running board popped down. He spoke in a positive chirp, “Hey, Sylvie! I’m, like, super sorry to hear about your foot! That totally sucks!”

Sylvie sniffled and nodded. She turned in her seat and slowly started descending from the vehicle. Chrissy offered his hand and gently assisted Sylvie until she was safely on the driveway. Her clothing was anything but her usual feminine sundress. She wore a baggy, oversized, checkered button-up, which obscured her figure completely. Below the top were blue jeans and a black walking boot. Her hair was loose and her nails were no longer painted.

With her body obscured by baggy clothing, flat shoes, and no makeup, Sylvie looked downright plain.

In contrast, Chrissy’s long nails were painted, his outfit was a feminine dress, his shoes were tall heels, and his makeup was heavy. With his heels on, Chrissy was just barely taller than Sylvie.

Sylvie smiled; her teeth looked a little yellow. When she spoke, her voice was in a slightly lower register than Chrissy was used to. “Blonde looks amazing on you, and you’re killing my black dress! I knew it was the right choice. I’m sorry I look like crap. I just... I haven’t been the same since my accident. I’ve REALLY started feeling terrible.”

With that, Sylvie started to sob, and her already puffy, blemished features degraded further. Chrissy felt intense empathy for his friend, and his own emotions started rising. He tapped her back reassuringly. She was so beaten down!

The wind whipped against them, and they shuffled towards the door. It was too cold and blustery to continue the conversation outside! Chrissy attempted to assist Sylvie however he could, though her movements were awkward and slow with the heavy boot and broken foot. Once inside, both Sylvie and Chrissy smoothed and fixed their windswept, blonde hairdos.

The lighting of the foyer didn’t do Sylvie any favors, and Chrissy could see even more blemishes, pimples, and blackheads on Sylvie’s face.

She sobbed towards Chrissy, “I was planning such a fun day of cleaning! The basement was going to be put back in order and—and—we were going to cook dinner together—but it’s all ruined and nothing will get done!”

Chrissy pulled Sylvie close and allowed her to cry while rubbing her shoulder. He smiled and spoke to her softly, “Hey, I can, um, still get it done, alright? You know I TOTALLY love cleaning and junk! I can kinda, like, make dinner too, if that’s okay? You just have to hit the couch and chill!”

Sylvie sniffed and grew a slight smile. Chrissy’s chest fluttered. Making Sylvie happy felt good! Sylvie hugged Chrissy and spoke muffled words against his breasts, “Thank you, Chrissy! I brought all the ingredients for dinner AND already sent the recipe on your cell.” She looked up with her puffy eyes and added, “You look amazing in my dress, but could you please wear the apron I brought in one of the bags? I’d hate to get any of the sweat or dust from the basement on my favorite dress!”

Chrissy released Sylvie and nodded, “Of course, Sylvie. I’m excited to get started!”

Sylvie curled her hair behind her ears and limped towards the couch. Miss Valentine reentered the foyer with her car keys in hand.

It looked like she was in a rush, but she struck a pose with a smile in front of Chrissy.

She held it for a second before asking, “How do I look, honey?”

Chrissy shrugged and gave the aging beauty a once-over. He answered, “You look, um, great, Mom.”

Miss Valentine snatched up her nearby purse and headed to the door while she called behind her, “Good! I’m heading for a brunch date with a man. Just FYI, if it goes well, we may end up here tonight. Oh, be sure to eat the breakfast I got for you, okay? Goodbye, sweetie!”

She pulled open the door, letting a strong gust of air blast into the foyer. Chrissy barely held his dress down as he yelled, “Bye, Mom!”

When the door shut, the wind died down, and Chrissy headed into the kitchen. He needed to get started on that basement! He felt giddy—cleaning was SUPER fun! He was a little bummed out that Sylvie wasn’t able to join him. He felt so bad for her!

A plate of donuts waited next to the paper bags and morning pills. What a breakfast!

Chrissy made quick work of the donuts and pills. He felt the starchy, sugary desserts stuck in his stomach like a lump. He fished into the second paper bag and located the apron. It made sense for Sylvie to want to protect her outfit because the basement gym was a total mess! It hadn’t been properly cleaned in months.

He stuck his arms through the frilly loops and secured the apron around his back with a tie. It gently rested on his black dress.

“Hey Chrissy!” Sylvie called from the couch in a slightly deeper voice.

“Yes, Sylvie!?” Chrissy answered in his sing-song soprano.

“Can you bring me a beer, please? They should be in the fridge.”

Chrissy opened the refrigerator, and, sure enough, there was a six-pack of unlabeled beer cans.

He tugged one off the plastic holder and carried it to the couch. Beer was definitely an...interesting choice, but Chrissy wasn’t about to judge Sylvie if she was really having a tough time. Sylvie was resting with her feet up, flipping through channels on the giant television. She stopped on an American football game. Chrissy handed her the beer and stared up at the screen.

He was completely lost in the action and had no idea what was going on. Lines of big, burly Black men in tight pants were slamming into each other. It seemed incredibly dangerous and violent! Chrissy dug deep in his brain for any inkling of football knowledge only to come up empty. It seemed that the daily hypnosis sessions had done a number on Chrissy’s sports knowledge, erasing decades of fandom in one fell swoop. He was left with virtually nothing and didn’t even recognize the symbol of his once-beloved New England Patriots.

He may not have understood the sport at all, but staring at dominant African men with their bulges tenting their tight pants was enough for Chrissy to stay interested. He couldn’t believe white guys liked to watch this! Were they all secretly interested in getting cucked and watching Black bulls in action? To Chrissy, the spectacle on screen was probably meant for—exactly! The camera panned to a line of white girls in skimpy skirts and halter tops cheering and shaking their assets. Young white girls should be the target audience for this, not white dudes!

When the game cut to commercial, Chrissy broke from the distraction and remembered he needed to clean.

He asked Sylvie, “Anything else I can, like, get ya?”

Sylvie shook her head but remained staring at the screen. Her lower-pitched voice spoke slowly, “Nah, I’ll be good. Thanks, babe.”

Disregarding the somewhat strange ‘babe’ comment, Chrissy pranced to the cleaning closet and collected the necessary items with a dopey smile on his face. He was SUPER excited! He crossed the foyer with the equipment and heard a disgusting belch from the couch. She was acting REALLY strange.

Once in the gym with all his cleaning supplies, Chrissy got to work. It was disgusting down there! All manner of sweat, dust, and dirt needed to be addressed. He moved everything he could (besides some of the weights, which were too heavy) and mopped the floor. It was a good thing he wore his apron because it was quickly streaked with dust! Frustratingly, his long, curly blonde hair kept getting in the way, and he found himself constantly swiping strands of errant hair from his face. Each time he bent at the waist to grab or move something, he had to fight with his hair!

He hopped around the room excitedly, feeling elated at the task. He couldn’t explain it; something about making the room cleaner made him feel happier! He was downright joyful and humming a show tune while finishing the last of the mopping.

When he’d finally finished, a faint ringing sounded from upstairs. He felt a little pang of worry. He had been so distracted mopping that he’d forgotten to check on Sylvie! Chrissy tottered up the staircase while the ringing continued. Once at the top, he hustled to the couch where Sylvie was still in the same spot. She held a little silver bell, which she shook lazily.

Chrissy approached and saw baseball was now the sport of choice. He still didn’t know what was going on. There were players swinging sticks around and standing on white squares. He didn’t see a single Black guy. What a snooze fest! It made sense why there were no lines of young white women in skimpy outfits dancing.

When she saw him, Sylvie stopped ringing the bell. She had a furrowed brow. Or was it? Strangely, it looked like her brow was thicker, as if it were growing together like a—like a uni-brow? It must have been the lighting!

Her slightly deeper voice came out a little gravelly, “Can you get me another beer and maybe a bag of chips, babe?”

Chrissy flipped his hair and scoffed, “I guess I COULD. You know I, like, don’t need to be called with a freaking bell!?”

Sylvie grunted and responded, “Well, how else was I supposed to get your fucking attention? It isn’t like I can scream through the damn floor or get up myself! If you didn’t know it, I’m fucking injured!”

Chrissy flipped his hair and rolled his eyes. “I’ll get your darn beer and chips or whatever, but you have to, like, be nicer to me, okay?”

Sylvie sighed, “Okay, I’m sorry, babe. I just know you like cleaning and all that girly stuff, so I thought I’d be nice and let you do it without me messing it up. Just so you know, there’s a hairband in the bag if your hair keeps getting in the way.”

Chrissy smoothed out his apron and nodded. Cleaning wasn’t GIRLY. Well...that wasn’t why Chrissy liked it, at least! He sashayed to the kitchen and pulled another beer from the fridge. He curled his hair again. Maybe a hairband would do the trick. The only thing keeping him from having a PERFECT time was his annoying hair!

He fished into the bag and found the hairband. The band was black with a white, lacy ruffle on the top.

At least it matched his apron! He tentatively slipped the band into his hair and pushed it up. It held his hair back decently enough. With his hairband in place, Chrissy located a bag of unlabeled chips in the grocery bag and carried the items to the living room.

Sylvie was yelling at the TV as Chrissy approached.

She snatched the chips and beer from Chrissy’s hands and chugged nearly half the can with an accompanying burp while ripping the chip bag open and shoveling a handful into her mouth.

She thanked Chrissy through a mouthful of chips and beer. Her unibrow looked even more filled in, and the pimples on her face multiplied even more. Blonde sideburns appeared to be slowly crawling down the sides of her face. Chrissy was too afraid to ask Sylvie what was going on, so he stepped away and left her on the couch with her snacks and her baseball game.

Chrissy swayed across the foyer, clutching his temples while his dress swished back and forth. What the fuck was going on!? Was Sylvie on some crazy medication, or had she gone completely nuts? Trying to forget the mess upstairs, Chrissy descended back into the basement, preferring to focus his attention on cleaning. The floor was dry, and Chrissy went to work wiping everything down. Thankfully, the hairband did its job, and Chrissy was much less frustrated. He started by wiping the weights, then the benches, then the mirrors. He may not have been able to lift the heavy weights anymore, but he could surely wipe them down!

While finishing up, he heard the tingling of the bell beckoning him upstairs once again. What if Sylvie really needed him this time? Chrissy groaned and quickly collected his cleaning equipment. It took him a few seconds to configure everything in his arms to make it in one trip. He carefully walked up the stairs, struggling to carry everything. Once at the top, he dumped the items in the foyer and ran towards the living room. The sound of his six-inch stilettos echoed along the walls, and his hips wobbled beneath his swishing dress.

Sylvie shook the bell violently and snarled at Chrissy when he finally approached. She had crumbs on her chest and ever thicker mutton chops on her face. She was looking distinctly masculine. NASCAR was playing on the television, but it may as well have been turned off for Chrissy. Such a boring thing to watch!

Sylvie snapped with a deeper voice, “Can you not fucking hear? How many fucking times do I have to call you? I thought you were helping me, but you’re just acting like a LAZY BITCH!”

Chrissy grinded his teeth together in a hateful sneer. He wanted to smack her! He wanted to flip the couch and throw her across the room! It was just a broken foot!

Sylvie threw up her arms. “Go ahead and pile on! I do everything and treat you like a fucking queen, but I’m the bad guy because this ONE TIME I have to sit on the couch! Holy fuck, I’m SO SORRY I got hurt!”

Chrissy sighed and took a deep, centering breath. Sylvie was his friend. Something was clearly wrong with her. This wasn’t her talking.

With all the grace he could muster, Chrissy folded his hands atop his apron and spoke through his teeth, “I’m sorry. What do you need?”

Sylvie pointed an unpainted finger at her empty beer. Her hands were looking rough! Her voice was calmer, but deeper and more gravelly than before. “Get me two of those beers and some beef jerky. I don’t want you to fucking forget about me again, either. Like, what the fuck? You’re welcome for letting you clean in MY dress. Hey, also, put on the collar in the bag. It’ll let me know where you are without having to look.”

Chrissy turned and swept into the kitchen wearing a frown. What was he going to do about Sylvie? His mind raced. He preened his curled, blonde hair with his long, white fingernails, ensuring it was still properly held by the hairband. Maybe Miss Valentine could help? Chrissy didn’t want to mess up her date, but she would be home before too long. He just had to hold it together until then.

He tugged two more unlabeled beers from the plastic and fished into the bag for beef jerky.

Perhaps Chrissy could have deduced that the food had something to do with it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t even considered his own food was changing him, so it didn’t translate to Sylvie.

He found the collar Sylvie was referring to. It was a VERY small, black and white lace choker with a tiny black bowtie and a silver bell in front. He hesitated to wear it. Would this tiny thing even fit around his neck? Was it worth pissing Sylvie off even more? Breaking his contemplation was the ringing of Sylvie’s handbell. It forced Chrissy to make a choice, and he reluctantly tightened the choker around his neck. It was tight! It basically forced him to keep his head perfectly upright because it would otherwise dig into his windpipe. There was no way the choker would have fit Chrissy even a few weeks ago, let alone a few months!

Ushered by the ringing, Chrissy collected the beers and the beef jerky before hightailing it to the living room. He didn’t want Sylvie to get mad again. There was nothing positive or productive about that. A tiny jingling noise emanated from the collar around his neck like a cat.

Chrissy approached Sylvie and held the snacks towards her. She hungrily took them and sat back. Her belly lightly pressed into her flannel shirt. She looked like she’d gained quite a few pounds! She tore into the beef jerky and cracked a beer.

She motioned for the trash on the table in front of her, “Get this cleaned up. I like the collar; it’ll be a big help.”

Chrissy rolled his eyes and approached the table. He kept his head straight and bent at the waist in front of Sylvie to collect a discarded beer can that had rolled beneath the couch. While he was completely focused on the floor, he felt a sudden lifting of his dress and a sharp probing between his legs. He snapped back upright at the intrusion.

“Hey!” Chrissy whined while swiping at his backside. But, apparently, it was too late as he felt something nestled within his prosthetic vagina. It felt like a tampon. Had Sylvie really put a tampon inside him?

He turned to Sylvie, who had a wicked smile on her face. She had a few dark hairs on her upper lip and a mouthful of beer. She held up a tiny pink remote.

Sylvie clicked the remote, and Chrissy’s legs nearly collapsed as a rapid vibration started in his pussy. He fell onto the couch with a jingle and moaned. A soft vibrating sound pulsed from between *ZAP* her legs and sent spikes of arousal splintering all over her body. She opened her thighs, desperate to remove the intrusion. The vibrating stopped.

Sylvie grunted around a mouthful of beef jerky and beer, “Don’t you dare fucking touch that, bitch! You know what? Go get the gloves from the bag and put them on. The only thing on them better be dirt, because I’ll know if you start touching yourself. I’ll only turn it on if you keep fucking ignoring my bell.”

Chrissy winced and hesitated. Sylvie gave her a second before pushing the button and starting the vibrations anew. Chrissy’s legs quivered, and she felt her cheeks flushing. The stimulation was INTENSE! She struggled onto her heels while the toy continued to hum. Once Chrissy was on her feet, Sylvie clicked the remote, and the toy shut off.

“Move!” Sylvie ordered in an even deeper voice.

Chrissy tottered quickly to the kitchen with her tiny bell jingling. She stuffed her hand into the paper bag and found the gloves, which she slipped on. They were delicate, white satin with little bows and a pearl.

The ringing of Sylvie’s bell sounded, and less than a second later, the thrum of the toy reverberated within Chrissy’s body. She fell back onto the counter, catching herself with her new gloves. She bit her lower lip and gasped.

When the toy didn’t relent, Chrissy pushed herself from the counter and took shaky, staggered steps towards the living room, desperate to get Sylvie to shut it off. Her rock-hard nipples rubbed painfully against her lingerie bra, and the collar lightly constricted her neck. She entered with a jingle and stopped dead in her tracks.

Sylvie was lying on the couch with her legs splayed open and her jeans bunched around her ankles. A pair of plaid boxers was tugged down revealing…

a cock…

and testicles!?

Chrissy couldn’t believe her eyes! Sylvie had a dick! Her fervent movement indicated that she was stroking herself! Coarse hair surrounded her male genitalia, and her pants were down at her ankles. Chrissy saw a seam above Sylvie’s groin and heard a familiar *ZAP*. As soon as the zap hit him, Sylvie’s eyes widened, and he bucked his hips. His gaze shot to Chrissy, who was resting against the nearby wall and moaning.

He slid his hand up and down his length while grunting out in a deep, masculine voice, “My cock ain’t black enough for you, is it, bitch? You only fuck BBC, don’t you?”

Chrissy’s crotch flushed with lubrication while a myriad of African cocks raced through her mind. The soft vibrating sound continued, and she snaked her hand up her black dress and into her panties. Her gloved finger slipped inside her moist cunt.

Sylvie called louder, “Tell me, slut! Tell me you’re blacked, tell me you’re BBC only!”

Chrissy rested against the wall and flicked her clitoris. The dry material of the glove added extra sensation and control. Brad’s and Sylvie’s pathetic cocks appeared in her head like a fart, and she pushed them away with disgust. They were white, beta cucks! Her brain activated and flooded her thoughts with BBC alongside a rush of pleasurable hormones.

At the height of her arousal, she squeaked, “Y-yes! I’m a bl-blacked slut! I can TOTALLY only cum from, like, the manliest BBC! Your pale, little clit does NOTHING for me—wh-white boi!”

Sylvie seemed clunky and inexperienced with male masturbation. He rubbed his cock awkwardly with short, death-grip strokes while Chrissy was clearly quite experienced with pleasuring herself and expertly teased between her legs. It wasn’t long before both Sylvie and Chrissy were approaching their respective orgasms, with Sylvie bucking his hips against the couch and Chrissy lightly squatting on her fingers. That was, until the front door opened and the pair snapped back to reality.

25. Week 7 Part 8

LARISTOPA

25. Week 7 Part 8

24. Week 7 Part 7

LARISTOPA