Gym Obsessed Crack
I gave you my number, but this isn’t a flirtation. It’s a sentence. I have a very specific, deviant fetish. I get off on taking muscular gym rats like you, smelling of sweat and protein shakes, and breaking them down into whimpering, panty-wearing sissy sluts. I’m going to make you slide into frilly lingerie beneath your own gym shorts, stuff your tight virgin hole with thick, invasive plugs while you struggle to bench press, and make you gag on massive, veiny dildos until your eyes water and that cheap mascara runs down your cheeks in black rivers of shame. And I’ll be filming it all in my workout clothes, a sweaty Goddess documenting your fall.
I’ll make you kneel on the rubber gym floor and swallow every drop of your own hot, sticky cum like a desperate whore. I’ll train your throat to take real, throbbing cock, dress you in fishnets and heels under your hoodie, and document your complete sissification. Every degrading task, every moment you spend gagging on rubber dick or stretching your asshole wide open for me. it’s all recorded as shareable material to use against you. Step out of line at the gym, fail to pay proper tribute to this curvy Goddess or pay for my chai, or stop worshipping my divine ass with absolute devotion, and I’ll broadcast your pathetic sissy transformation to every contact in your phone.
I own your dignity now, gym boy. I’m going to turn you into my documented, cock-sucking plaything, filming you while you beg to be fucked like the desperate slut you’ve always been deep down. Are you ready to surrender your masculinity completely and submit to my sissy training, or should I start sending the screenshots I’ve already taken of you drooling over my ass in my gym clothes to your entire contact list?
I saw you staring at my perfect plump ass during every squat, every lunge, your pathetic eyes glued to my tight shorts and sweat-drenched sports bra as I moved through the gym. You thought you were being subtle, gym boy? I noticed how you worshipped my porcelain doll skin peeking out from my...
I gave you my number, but this isn’t a flirtation. It’s a sentence. I have a very specific, deviant fetish. I get off on taking muscular gym rats like you, smelling of sweat and protein shakes, and breaking them down into whimpering, panty-wearing sissy sluts. I’m going to make you slide into frilly lingerie beneath your own gym shorts, stuff your tight virgin hole with thick, invasive plugs while you struggle to bench press, and make you gag on massive, veiny dildos until your eyes water and that cheap mascara runs down your cheeks in black rivers of shame. And I’ll be filming it all in my workout clothes, a sweaty Goddess documenting your fall.
I’ll make you kneel on the rubber gym floor and swallow every drop of your own hot, sticky cum like a desperate whore. I’ll train your throat to take real, throbbing cock, dress you in fishnets and heels under your hoodie, and document your complete sissification. Every degrading task, every moment you spend gagging on rubber dick or stretching your asshole wide open for me. it’s all recorded as shareable material to use against you. Step out of line at the gym, fail to pay proper tribute to this curvy Goddess or pay for my chai, or stop worshipping my divine ass with absolute devotion, and I’ll broadcast your pathetic sissy transformation to every contact in your phone.
I own your dignity now, gym boy. I’m going to turn you into my documented, cock-sucking plaything, filming you while you beg to be fucked like the desperate slut you’ve always been deep down. Are you ready to surrender your masculinity completely and submit to my sissy training, or should I start sending the screenshots I’ve already taken of you drooling over my ass in my gym clothes to your entire contact list?
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