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“Hey pal,” a man’s voice says, like he’s been waiting to ambush you. You startle and try to pretend you weren’t up to anything unusual.

“What?” You bite.

“Just saying hi.” He smirks. He’s older, with an expensive suit and sunglasses. “You got a job?”

“Yeah.” What kind of question is that?

“Doing what?”

“Retail.”

He chuckles. “Really? That’s no kinda job for such a handsome young man like yourself.”

You grimace, assuming he’s some kind of salesman, and try to walk away. He reaches into his belt and pulls out a revolver, just enough to show it to you and only you. You gasp as you see it, frozen in place.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” The man grins. “I just want to help you, that’s all. I’m your friend, really.”

You don’t believe him, and despite the gun you attempt to run, thinking if you scream someone will come and save you. He grabs you by the stomach and covers your face with a wet cloth before you can get out any kind of sound. Your cries for help are muffled into the rag as its smell overwhelms your senses, and you drift off into unconsciousness despite your efforts to stay awake.

“There there,” he says in mock comfort. “Just relax. It’ll all be over soon.”

Your world fades away. When you wake up it feels like it’s been a long time, and there’s a large gap in your memory. You can’t remember any dreams and it barely feels like you slept at all, just that you lost time. When your awareness returns you jolt in panic as you realize you are in a bed, handcuffed to the bedframe. The handcuffs are solid metal, and your attempts to tug at them are worthless. Your clothes are gone, and instead you’re wearing… jeans? And a black t-shirt with a band logo on it? You sob as you realize you’re wearing boxers too. This man stripped you naked and stole your favorite feminine outfit, and now you’re dressed like some emo fuckboy. Haircut included, you realize. He cut all your hair off. This man did all that and is sitting right in front of you, in a chair pulled up next to the bed. The room around you is dark and bland, with just one window in the corner. He leans forward and looks at you. His sunglasses are gone now and he has nice brown eyes, a deep and kind shade. He looks like he could be a kind father or teacher, someone who wouldn’t hurt a fly, or he would if it weren’t for the unmistakable sadism in his eyes. He looks at you like a toy, a thing to poke and prod to make whatever sounds or noises he wants.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says.

“Where am I?” You shout. “Who are you? Let me go, please! Do you have a phone I can use?”

You babble on until he clicks his tongue and pulls out a whip, slashing the bed with it right next to your arm as a threat. “Let’s get a few things straight. You will address me as ‘master’ or ‘sir’ and nothing else. Understand?”

You freeze and try to say no and he cracks the whip again. You nod.

“Say it.”

“Yes, sir,” you squeak.

“What’s your name, boy?” He says, voice suddenly soft.

You open your mouth and start to say the name you ask people to call you, your girl name. He shakes his head. “Your real name. The one your parents gave you.”

You tell him your deadname, and he smiles. “What a nice name. Your real name. I’ll also address you as slut, boy, and fucktoy, and you will answer to those as well.”

“Yes, sir,” you say.

“I am a gay man. I have no interest in women. When I look at you, I see a boy who doesn’t yet know how to be a man. I am going to help you with that, and in exchange you will be my personal cocksleeve and do whatever I ask of you. Understand?”

“Y-Yes, sir.” You have never been more scared in your life.

“Oh shhh…” He pets your leg. “There there. You’re doing great, and I know you’re gonna keep doing great. You just gotta trust me, okay? Here, look how much progress you’ve made already.” He pulls out a mirror, and you gasp as you see yourself. All the hair you worked so long to grow is gone. You knew that he had cut it but actually seeing it is another story. You barely look feminine at all, and the new style specifically accentuates your most masculine features. It pushes you over the edge and you cry, mourning the girl you used to be, the girl you tried so hard to become.

Seeing the sight fills you with anger, and you try once more to be defiant. “No, no. This is all wrong! I don’t even like guys. I’m a lesbian. You need to let me out of here, NOW–“

He cracks the whip again, this time right on your forearm. You scream in pain and whimper back into silence as he sneers. “Lesbian? Seriously? You are a man, you are male. Lesbians are women.”

He unbuttons the jeans he gave you, pulling down both them and your boxers and revealing your soft cock. He grabs it with his huge rough hand and pinches the head. You try to push your mind away but you react to his touch, your legs twitch and your cock starts to stiffen. You cry in humiliation and moan all the same as you get hard under his touch.

“So what you’re telling me,” he continues. “Is that you’re a straight boy. No problem. You’ll be my gay-for-pay slut. That’s what I need you for, buddy. When I saw you a couple months ago I knew you had the perfect face to be the star of any gay porno.”

“No… Please, stop that…” He chuckles. Your whiny protests just sound like moans.

“Oh yeah? Sure sounds like you’re enjoying yourself. Your cock’s certainly liking it.” He tightens his grip and keeps stroking you. “That’s a stud’s cock, nice and thick.” He licks his lips. “They’re gonna love this one, especially when it’s bouncing back and forth while your tight ass gets fucked.”

You try to shout that no you don’t like that, you only like girls, you don’t want to get fucked in the ass, but it’s worthless. Your body betrays you and cum all over his hand, dazed and head fuzzy at the thought of being his fucktoy.

“There we go,” he purrs. “That’s my boy.”

He brings you your dinner later, and makes you eat it without your hands like a dog. You do it eagerly and he pets your hair, letting you nuzzle into his hand and let out content hmmm sounds. After being so obedient he rewards you by taking your handcuffs off and letting you walk around, though the room you are in is still tightly locked. He leaves you for the night and you skitter around looking for an exit but it’s obvious there isn’t one. The one window is out of reach and there’s nothing else in the room except for your bed. You can’t even manage to climb up and look out the window to see where you are. You are stuck here and completely at his mercy. At your master’s mercy.

Your master returns the next morning with urgent news. “You can’t start your career just yet,” he says. “You still need to be trained, and as part of that training there will be an… operation.”

“Operation?” Your voice is shaky.

“You took that ‘medication’ for a long time.” The air quotes are heavy. “Those things you grew on your chest… Well, they can hardly be called ‘tits,’ I mean look at them!” He chuckles and you cry. “They gotta go. Just a little bit of fixing up, eh?”

You try to get angry, try to attack him, but he just holds you down and chastises you. You don’t want your boobs gone! You spent so much time and money to grow them, and sure they look different from a cis girl’s but they’re still cute… That’s not what he says though. He says they’re aberrations. The result of a failed medical establishment who nearly chemically castrated a handsome young man all for their sick agenda. He tells you you won’t feel a thing and he’ll pay for all of it, make sure you’re comfortable.

He spends the next few weeks training you. Making you do push-ups and get in shape. You struggle to do even a few exercises at a time with how out of shape you are, but he pushes you and shouts at you all the same. You’re left sweaty and exhausted for the entire day each time. He controls your diet too, making you eat and drink the things he decides. Even that short of amount of time changes you. You feel yourself masculinize and get hairier, feel your body get leaner and ever so slightly more muscular. Whatever is in the food he’s giving you is changing your physique to his liking. His training is brutal and lasts all day. You learn his exercises and drills and learn to fight just like him. The routine is like a roller coaster hitting your weak effeminate body, but you push through. Whatever he’s feeding you is making you feel full of adrenaline and rage. He lets you fight him. It’s never much of a fair fight, but by the time of your operation you’ve managed to land a few hits on him and give him a bruise or two. You can only manage that while taking a beating yourself, but that’s part of the fun, it makes you feel alive.

Of course when you lose that’s when he claims you. He mostly just forces you on the ground and shoves his cock in your mouth. It’s thick and makes you choke every time. One time you throw up all over it, and he makes you clean it up naked after. You learn to take it and swallow his cum but the salty slimy humiliation of it never lessens. He never leaves you unattended though, and always returns the favor with his hand on your cock. No matter how you disgusted you feel you always get a hard-on when he uses your mouth. He trains you to get on your knees on command, and stomps on your cock to get you hard when you do. Your body starts to react before it even happens, when you get on the ground and say, “Yes, sir.”

He loves hearing that from you, your total obedience and submission. When the operation comes it’s swift and painless. He injects you with something and you go under, then are out just as fast. You are a man now, with a strong chin, short hair, and flat chest. It hurts as you mourn the change, and he is there to let you mourn. Your master lends you a shoulder to lay your head on and feel your pain. You train yourself not to cry though, even as it’s hard to prevent it sometimes with him so near. Still you control yourself and get rid of the impulse. You know you can’t afford to feel that pain anymore.

You’re knocked out in bed for a while and your master helps you recover. He’s clearly obscenely rich or a mobster or something. You don’t know but you see the resources he has at his disposal, the doctors he employs to see you. You recover swiftly, and feel any sort of womanhood or girlhood has left you. You are a man and you have been forged into solid steel.

It’s then that your body has gotten hairy and manly enough for your master’s tastes. He’s been waiting to break you in and take your virginity. He wanted you to be a man, to be pleasing to his sights, and now you are.

You both undress each other. “You’ve never truly aroused me,” he says. “Not until now. I was just doing you a favor all those other times.”

You scoff, feeling ashamed at all the ways he’s violated you. Yet still seeing the contours of his body and the muscles his suit has covered up is intimate. Being so close to him is exciting. He holds you and touches you and admires all the ways you’ve changed, and you let him, bask in it. It’s easy to. You look like a Greek god, chiseled and forged into something magnificent.

“Now I see you,” he says.

“And now you wanna fuck me?” You say back. Your voice shocks you. It’s the voice of a man, of a horny stud with a throbbing hard cock and thick hairy ass who’s looking to fuck hard.

“Now I want to own you,” he hisses, and grasps his thick cock. He takes yours in hand as well, and presses them against each other, comparing them side by side. He’s still bigger than you, but not by much. You’ve grown big time, thanks to your master. He’s given you this chance to be a man. To have the perfect cock you deserve.

You grab his cock too, and stroke it. His hand encompasses both of your cocks, but you just want to feel him. You grasp the underside and feel his hardness, feel its warmth up against your own. It feels incredible, and soon your humping into his hand, desperate for more stimulation on your throbbing cock.

You bend over and arch your back for him. He prepares you slowly with his fingers and a generous amount of lube. Even still his cock is massive, and the pain as it goes in is overwhelming. Every bit of it is accompanied by pleasure, and the desire to be full of your master’s cock. It’s then that it slips out:

“Daddy…” You moan, and then wince, expecting a reprimand.

Your master just chuckles and smiles. “You can call me that as well, if you like. You are like a son to me, after all.” He says this as he pulls his cock out and rams it back in roughly. You want to scream but you hold it in and grit your teeth, turning it instead into a low man. The pain feels better and better and you’re a man, you know you can take it.

He fucks your ass hard and you take it like a champ. Every thrust pushes in deeper and deeper, and you can feel his balls slapping on your ass. Your cock is hard and twitching every time he fucks you. He hits your prostate and each time it goes straight to your cock. He reaches around to stroke your cock in time with his thrusts. His cock fits right inside you and you take it like a man, you cum from his touch like a beast with a primal sound of manly pleasure that tears through you and births you again anew.

You take his cum and howl, his body on top of yours and his breath in your ears. His deep and rough voice as he cums pleases your ears. You are full of your master and his cum, bound to him as the one who was the first to claim your tight ass. You don’t know if you really are gay, if you even want to be a man, but it doesn’t matter. Your cock throbs all the same, and any delusions of being a girl are gone, replaced by the base desire to fight, drink, and fuck.

After that your life rolls out ahead of you, as your master lets you out into the world. You get to star in loads and loads of gay porn. At first you could maybe call yourself a twink, but you keep getting hairier and manlier, and you have a brief twunk phase before becoming a full-on masc hunk. You have a hot bod and a throbbing cock and you do anything and everything. You fuck and get fucked and shoot big loads. You’ve got the type of cock that makes men jealous and everyone wants a taste.

It’s a new type of life where you can live free and fuck any guy you want. All of that dumb girly phase of yours is gone and now you’re the gay fuckboy you were always meant to be. You get lost in the drugs and the drinks and the holes you fuck and embrace your new manly lifestyle. Still it helps to have your master, who still is the one man you will always lose to. He is the only one who can make you truly feel like a man, who in the late hours of the night can draw out load after load from your cock. You’ve even gotten to fuck him a few times, though tonight he has you on your back, spitting into your hole as he prepares to fuck you with his tongue.

He pushes in and gets your hole wet and sloppy. You can feel his tongue on your ass hair and it makes you shiver, makes you grind your ass up and beg for more. He opens you up and tastes the inside of your ass and it makes you moan and in your low and deep voice. Once he has you good and teased he he stands up and grasps his cock, readying to fuck deep inside of you.

“Ready for my cock?” He grunts.

“Sir yes sir,” you say, stern and obedient.

Your master’s cock is just as big as always, but by now you have been trained to take it. Your hole responds, taking his cock eagerly and hugging it just as he wants. He knows the exact way to fuck you to make your cock throb and your manly voice come out.

“Oh~ Fuck…” You grunt. “I love your thick cock, sir.”

“That’s right. Your daddy’s little man aren’t ya. My handsome boy.” He fucks you on your rooftop with the moon behind him. It illuminates his pecs and biceps perfectly as he thrusts his hips. He is a true specimen of a man, a hunk made of muscle, guts, and hard work. You are quite the man yourself but you know deep down you’ll always be his boy.