#sploshing

She has to put gloves on her pretty hands, of course, can't let herself be corrupted how she's corrupting you. You hear the snap of rubber and then watch as she squeezes a big glob out of the tube, a glint in her eye as she glances from you to the shiny gel on her fingertips.

Perhaps she's a mad scientist, a cerebral woman with the sole intent of crafting a man out of you for whatever reason, perhaps she sees your potential.

Your thoughts drain out of your head all at once as the cold shock of gel glides against your skin, rubbing into your increasingly taut muscles and all over your body, and you can do nothing but writhe in your restraints as she describes in great detail her plan to make you into her perfect husband.

It's your position to be beneath her, as she sculpts you into her willing servant; here to carry big heavy things and go to work for her, pay her bills, give her money to buy Sephora and Coach and to get her perfect nails done, fuck her on demand when she wants it.

She'll take care to make you appear presentable. Of course, you will be distinctly masculine beside her, but none of that nonsense about smelling awful or being greasy in a wife beater because some simpleton thinks it's manly.

You might think, you're just a guy, you don't need much. Don't worry your big stupid head about any of it. She will arrange your wardrobes; suits and ties and nice shoes and cologne.

Can't have her arm candy looking slobbish! No, you will be her Dapper Dan as she wishes. You'll have all the time in the world to be absolutely filthy with her in the sheets, after all.

She touches your growing tdick with her gloved hands, bringing you back down to the moment once again when she gives it a few quick strokes and laughs at your responses, twisting and jerking at the sensation.

You're so sensitive now!

At last, she decides that you are ready. You look down at your newly grown tdick, hairs sprouting in rough stubble across your face, a happy trail, and hairy thighs that would take forever if you wanted to shave, the hairs inevitably sprouting right back.

You realize how permanent this is, what she has done to you, and all at once it makes you insanely horny. You want to pin her down and fuck her, the woman who did this to you.

She happily welcomes it, orders it even, but swats your sweaty hands away from her until she's led you to her bedroom. Stupid boy, show some restraint.

You get to the room and she strips, and she is so beautiful, such a contrast to you now, to how you always had been, on the inside. She is graceful and feminine and smooth as she walks, you feel so clunky and awkward, but she looks at you with admiration in her eyes at her work.

Wet and messy.

You’ve seen it. All those social media models who party in Dubai.

I’m a real influencer now—got invited to model in the golden desert city. It was supposed to be a week of all-expenses-paid fun, but things went downhill fast. It started with my “model inspection”.

I understand why boys fly here. I understand where the money comes from.

Dripping with honey, chocolate smeared across my body. Huffing underwear while they shave my head, stripping away my old culture. Sniffing balls and posing for photos. Lying back while party guests slather me with pudding. When men have infinite power and resources, their cravings grow warped.

Yes, I understand why boys fly to Dubai. I understand where the money comes from.

I’m a real influencer now.

I thought I'd go into more detail on why I love pig play. Of course there's the power play dynamic of it. As well as the (consensual) humiliation and dehumanization.

The other reason I love it, is the sploshing! I love the sound of mud squelching! I love how it feels on my skin. I also love eating sloppy. On my hands and knees with food cakes all over my face.