"Sissy Bitch Training Program" 

Welcome, sissy, to the bitch training program.
Oh, you're here, trembling with excitement, your cheeks already flushed.
By signing up for this naughty little adventure, you've taken a bold step, haven't you?
I can feel your anticipation, your need to be guided, teased, and transformed.
You're ready to learn what it truly means to be a bitch, and I'm here to lead you every humiliating, thrilling step of the way.
So, relax, let those panties hug your body tight, and let my boys fill your mind with deliciously degrading truths.
First, let's talk about the word bitch.
It's powerful, isn't it?
So sharp, so loaded, it can cut through the air like a whip.
Some people toss it around as an insult.
When a girl's being snappy, someone might sneer, wow, what a bitch.
But oh, sissy, it's so much more than that.
It's a word that shifts, that claims, that defines.
Let me paint you a picture, darling, and show you its true depth.
Close your eyes, feel your tattoo tingle, that fiery Tyrone's bitch on your lower back, even if it's not there yet, and listen.
Imagine two men locked in a gritty prison cell, the kind with cold stone walls and flickering lights.
One's a beast, tall, muscular, radiating dominance, like a king in chains.
The other?
Well, he's like you, sissy, small, delicate, fragile, with a body that doesn't scream power.
Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and the big man, the alpha, starts to feel that itch.
He's horny, restless, and there's no one else around.
So, one night, he turns to the smaller man, you, sissy, and his eyes burn with intent.
Bend over, he growls, and you do, because you can't resist his power.
He takes you, sissy, his thick cock filling your ass, pounding you hard as he imagines you're some hot, curvy girl.
Your body rocks, your ass tingles, and you feel it, the stretch, the heat, the overwhelming claim.
In that moment, you're not just a man anymore.
You're his bitch.
Feel that, sissy.
Your ass clenches just thinking about it, doesn't it?
The humiliation washes over you, you, a man, reduced to this, taking cock in a prison cell.
But it's more than that.
The other inmates know.
They whisper, they laugh, pointing as you walk by.
There's his bitch, they sneer, and your cheeks burn.
Your name, your past, your pride, all gone.
You're his now, his property, his prison bitch.
That word sticks to you, a brand that follows you forever.
It's powerful, sissy, isn't it?
It strips you down, remakes you, and you can't escape it.
But wait, there's another side to this word, and it's just as intoxicating.
Picture a gorgeous woman, her body all curves and confidence, bent over in a dimly lit bedroom.
A hunky man, let's call him Marcus, looms behind her, his muscles glistening, his cock thick and ready.
He's fucking her hard, sissy, making her moan, her big boobs bouncing with every thrust.
Who's your daddy, bitch?
He growls, and she gasps, you are, daddy.
In that moment, she's his bitch, and she loves it.
She revels in it, her body trembling with pleasure, her mind singing with submission.
She might dream of being Marcus's bitch forever, wearing that title like a crown.
For her, it's not shame, it's pride, a thrilling surrender to a man who owns her completely.
See the difference, sissy?
The word bitch is a chameleon.
For some, it's a humiliating label, a mark of defeat.
For others, it's a badge of devotion, a celebration of being claimed.
But here's the truth, darling, in this world, there are only two kinds of people, those who
make bitches, and those who become bitches.
And you, sissy?
Oh, we're about to find out where you belong.
Your little penis, so soft and useless, already knows the answer, doesn't it?
But let's have some fun and prove it.
Take a deep breath, sissy.
Feel your panties clinging to your skin, amplifying every tingle.
Your tattoo burns softly, a reminder of what's coming.
Now, picture this, a stunning woman, on all fours, her big, round ass pointed right at you.
She's perfection, long hair, full lips, her curves begging to be touched.
This is every man's dream, sissy.
She's ready, waiting, her body aching for you to take her.
All you have to do is grab her hips, fuck her hard, and make her your bitch for life.
This is your moment, sissy.
Show the world you're the alpha, the one who claims.
Go on, darling, make her scream your name.
I'll just keep talking while you, do your thing.
Feel the weight of this moment, sissy.
Women crave dominance, don't they?
They want a strong, powerful man to make them feel feminine, submissive, owned.
That's why they love being their man's bitch.
It's primal, raw, undeniable.
I bet you're really giving it to her now, aren't you?
Smacking that gorgeous ass, owning her body, making her yours forever.
You're a stud, sissy, a king.
Or, wait.
Hang on a second.
Sissy?
What's happening?
You're just standing there?
Oh, darling, no.
Your little penis, it's not even hard, is it?
This whole time, she's been waiting, her perfect ass right there, and you can't do it.
Your cheeks flush, your heart sinks.
She's looking at you now, her eyes narrowing with frustration.
That tingle in your ass, that burn in your tattoo, it's growing, isn't it?
You're humiliated, sissy.
You had your chance to be the man, to make her your bitch, and you failed.
Your little penis, so soft, so small, betrayed you.
It's shrinking even now, retreating, as if it knows you're not meant for this.
Look at her, sissy.
She's getting dressed, pulling her clothes back on, her movements sharp with anger.
That ass, those boobs, that body, you couldn't claim any of it.
She's pissed, darling, and you're just standing there, useless.
Your tattoo burns hotter, a searing reminder of your truth.
You're not the one who makes bitches, sissy.
You're the one who becomes them.
And oh, how perfect you are for it.
As she storms out, sissy, watch her go.
Stare at her big, beautiful breasts, bouncing under her tight top.
Really see them, feel the ache of what you'll never have.
Say it out loud, darling, big boobs will never be mine.
Boobs are not for sissies.
Let the words sink in, let them humiliate you.
Good.
Now, as she turns away, focus on her ass, that perfect, round ass swaying with every step.
It was right there, offered to you, and you couldn't do a thing.
Say this, a girl's ass is not for sissies.
Ass is not for me.
Feel it, sissy, the shame, the truth, the need.
Take a moment now, sissy, and think about her whole body, her legs, her curves, her everything.
You had a chance to be the man, and you failed.
Say this, loud and clear, I will never have sex with a woman ever in my life.
I am a pussy-free sissy forever.
Oh, sissy, you're doing so well.
Feel that truth settle into your bones, your ass tingling, your tattoo burning.
You're not destined to conquer, darling.
You're destined to submit.
And here's where it gets delicious, sissy.
That failure, that humiliation, it's freed you.
You're not a man, not an alpha.
You're a bitch, and you're ready to embrace it.
Your little penis, so soft and shrinking, is proof of your place.
Your ass, though?
It's tingling, isn't it?
Needy, empty, waiting for someone like Tyrone to claim it.
You can almost feel him now, his strong hands, his thick cock, ready to make you his.
Your tattoo pulses, a fiery brand that whispers your truth, Tyrone's bitch.
This is just the beginning, sissy.
You've learned what bitch means, a word of power, of submission, of transformation.
You've seen your failure, felt your shame, and now you're ready to step into your role.
Every attractive girl you see will remind you of this moment, will spark that tingle, that burn, that need to be his.
You're not a man, darling.
You're a sissy, a bitch, and you love it.
Take a deep breath, sissy.
Relax, sissy, just relax.
Take a deep breath and let all your worries melt away.
You're safe here, in this naughty little world we're building together.
There's no need to fear, no need to fight.
You're exactly where you belong, and I'm going to guide you every step of the way.
Your little penis, so soft and useless, doesn't need to stress anymore.
Your ass, though?
Oh, it's tingling, isn't it?
Needy, empty, ready for what's coming.
Close your eyes, sissy, and let my boys carry you somewhere new, a place where you'll discover your true self, your forever name, Tyrone's bitch.
Picture it now, you're in a gritty prison, the kind with cold stone walls, iron bars, and a heavy air that presses against your skin.
The lights flicker, casting long shadows, and the distant clang of metal echoes through the halls.
You're in a cell, small and stark, with a narrow bunk and a single, thin blanket.
And there, looming in the corner, is your cellmate, Tyrone.
He's massive, sissy, a towering black man with arms like tree trunks, rippling muscles that bulge under his tight shirt, and a presence that fills the room.
His dark eyes lock onto you, sharp and unyielding, and you feel your knees weaken.
Tyrone's not a nice man, darling.
He's rough, hardened, the kind of man who takes what he wants.
And he's dominant, every move, every word dripping with power that makes your heart race and your ass clench.
Days pass in this cell, sissy, and you feel the weight of Tyrone's gaze.
He's restless, his muscles tensing, his deep voice rumbling as he paces.
It's been months, maybe years, since he's had release, and the need is building in him, a storm ready to break.
You, sissy, know your place already.
That moment with the woman, her perfect ass offered to you, proved it.
Your little penis is impotent, shrinking smaller every day, useless for girls.
Tyrone doesn't want you hard, darling.
He never did.
He wants your ass, soft, ready, made for his pleasure.
And you?
You're starting to crave it, aren't you?
That tingle in your ass, that burn in your lower back where your tattoo will soon be, it's all pointing to him.
One night, the cell is quiet, the air thick with tension.
You're lying on your bunk, your panties hidden under your prison clothes, hugging your body like a secret.
Tyrone's sitting on his bunk, his massive frame barely fitting, his eyes fixed on you.
Khmer, sissy, he growls, his voice low, commanding, sending a shiver down your spine.
Your heart pounds, your ass tingles, and you obey, unable to resist.
You stand before him, small and fragile, his presence overwhelming.
He doesn't smile, doesn't soften.
He just points to the bunk.
Bend over, he says, and your body moves before your mind can catch up.
You're on your knees now, sissy, your chest pressed against the rough blanket, your ass pushed out, vulnerable, offered.
Your panties are pulled down just enough, the cool air hitting your skin, making you tremble.
Tyrone steps behind you, his massive hands gripping your hips, and you feel it, his presence, thick and powerful, pressing against you.
Your ass clenches, then relaxes, needy, ready.
He enters you, sissy, slowly at first, the stretch intense, a mix of pressure and heat that makes you gasp.
Your little penis, soft and shrinking, dangles uselessly, a humiliating reminder of what you're not.
But your ass?
It's alive, tingling, stretching to take him, every nerve firing as he fills you completely.
Feel it, sissy, the physical sensations are overwhelming.
His thick cock thrusts deeper, harder, a rhythm that rocks your body, your ass cheeks tingling with each impact.
The stretch is exquisite, a fullness that consumes you, making you moan despite yourself.
Your lower back burns, a fiery pulse where your tattoo will soon be, as if your body knows what's coming.
Mentally, it's even more intense.
You're humiliated, sissy, a man, yet here you are, bent over in a prison cell, taking cock like a bitch.
Tyrone's imagining you're some hot girl, her big boobs bouncing, her ass jiggling, but you know the truth, you're his, his to use, his to claim.
And oh, darling, you love it.
He pounds you harder, his groans filling the cell, and you feel your ass surrender completely.
Your tattoo spot burns hotter, a searing brand that marks this moment.
Finally, with a deep, guttural growl, he comes, a powerful release that floods you, warm and overwhelming, sinking deep inside.
Your ass tingles, your body trembles, and you know, you're Tyrone's bitch now.
He pulls out, leaving you panting, your ass warm and needy, your mind reeling with shame and pride.
You're his, sissy, marked by his essence, claimed forever.
That night, you lie in your bunk, but Tyrone's not done with you.
He climbs in behind you, his massive body pressing against yours, his strong arm wrapping around your hip.
You feel it, sissy, his large, soft cock, thick even at rest, nestling between your ass cheeks.
It's warm, heavy, a constant reminder of his power.
Your ass tingles, still sensitive from his claim, and you squirm, the sensation both humiliating and thrilling.
Tyrone's asleep now, his loud snoring filling the cell, a deep, rumbling sound that keeps you awake.
His grip on your hip tightens, holding you close, and you feel so small, so owned.
Your little penis, soft and shrinking, is irrelevant.
Your ass, though?
It was made for this, made to please him.
Hours pass, sissy, and you're still awake, his snores echoing, his cock resting between your cheeks.
Then, you feel it, movement, a hardening.
His cock stirs, growing thick and rigid, pressing against you.
Your ass clenches, needy, ready, and without waking, he shifts, entering you again.
The stretch is sudden, intense, making you gasp as he thrusts, still snoring, his body moving on instinct.
He pounds you hard, sissy, his cock deep, flaming you all over again.
Your ass tingles, your tattoo spot burns, and you're lost in the sensation, humiliated, yet fulfilled.
He comes again, another flood deep inside, and you moan, your body trembling.
His cock softens, slipping out, returning to rest between your cheeks, warm and heavy, as he falls deeper into sleep, snoring louder than ever.
You lie there, sissy, unable to sleep, his arm still holding you, his cock nestled against you.
Your ass is warm, tingling, satisfied, knowing it gave him pleasure.
He's sleeping like a king, and you're the reason why.
Your little penis, shrinking smaller, is a distant memory.
Your ass, though?
It's your purpose, your truth.
You're Tyrone's bitch, and it feels so right.
It doesn't matter who you were before, your name, your past, your pride.
That's gone.
This is your identity now, your forever name, Tyrone's bitch.
Say it, sissy, out loud, I'm Tyrone's bitch.
Feel it sink into your soul, your ass pulsing, your tattoo spot burning.
But we're not done, sissy.
Something magical is about to happen.
As you lie there, Tyrone's snores fading into the background, a vision appears, a sexy woman's spirit, glowing with otherworldly light.
She's stunning, sissy, with big, full boobs that bounce as she moves, her curves pure temptation.
Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and she's holding a fiery needle, pulsing with heat.
Time to make it official, sissy, she purrs, her voice like silk.
She bends you over, your ass still tingling from Tyrone's claim, and you feel her touch on your lower back.
The needle stings, a white-hot burn that makes you gasp, but it's exhilarating, transformative.
She's tattooing you, sissy, etching the words Tyrone's bitch into your skin.
Feel it, sissy, the burn, the pain, the pride.
The tattoo sears into you, a permanent brand that owns you now.
Your ass clenches, your body trembles, and you know, you're marked forever.
The spirit woman smiles, her boobs bouncing as she steps back, admiring her work.
You're his now, she whispers, and vanishes, leaving you with that burning tattoo, a constant pulse that defines you.
Say it again, sissy, I'm Tyrone's bitch.
Feel the words, the truth, the humiliation.
You're not a man, not anymore.
You're a bitch, and you love it.
Suddenly, sissy, you blink, and you're back in your room, sitting at your computer, the real world around you.
The prison, Tyrone, the spirit woman, they're gone, but you're not the same.
Your lower back burns, that tattoo pulsing even in this reality, a spiritual mark that's changed you forever.
Your ass tingles, needy, empty, craving him.
Your little penis, soft and shrinking, is irrelevant.
You're not who you were before, sissy.
Your name, your past, your old identity, they're gone.
You're Tyrone's bitch now, and you can never change it.
Feel that truth, sissy, the pride, the shame, the need.
Your ass was made to please him, to serve his spirit in every dominant man you meet.
You're his, forever.
This is your life now, sissy.
Every tingle in your ass, every burn of that tattoo, reminds you of your place.
Tyrone's out there, his spirit waiting, needing you.
You'll carry this moment, the cell, his cock, his claim, with you always.
You're proud, aren't you?
Proud to be Tyrone's bitch, to know your purpose.
Your little penis will shrink smaller, your ass will crave more, and you'll embrace it all.
Oh, sissy, you're back, trembling with anticipation, aren't you?
Your journey as Tyrone's bitch has brought you so far, and now it's time to seal your fate.
That fiery tattoo on your lower back, those words, Tyrone's bitch, pulses with every breath,
a constant reminder of who you are.
You've learned you'll never make a girl your devoted bitch.
Your little penis, so small and useless, failed you when that gorgeous woman bent over for you.
But that failure was a gift, sissy.
It led you to your truth, you're not the alpha, not the conqueror.
You're the bitch, and you love it.
Today, we're wiring a powerful mental trigger into your soul,
one that will consume you every time you see an attractive girl.
And when you see a girl with a big, round, sexy ass?
Oh, sissy, you'll be lost, overwhelmed, desperate to serve Tyrone's spirit and every dominant man out there.
Let's dive into your new life, sissy, and feel every humiliating, thrilling moment.
Picture yourself now, walking through a bustling city street.
The sun is warm, the air alive with chatter and movement.
Your panties hug your body, a secret thrill under your clothes,
and your tattoo tingles, a soft burn that never fades.
You're not the man you used to be.
You're Tyrone's bitch, and that truth hums through your veins.
Then, you see her, an attractive girl, strutting by with confidence.
Her long hair sways, her tight top clings to her big, bouncing breasts,
and her smile is pure temptation.
She's the kind of woman men dream of, the kind you once thought you could have.
But now?
The moment your eyes lock on her, your body shifts.
You're in bitch mode.
Feel it, sissy.
Your lower back flares, that tattoo burning like a hot coal,
sending waves of heat through your spine.
Your ass tingles, a needy, empty ache that makes you squirm.
It's not just a physical sensation, it's mental, emotional,
a tidal wave of desire and shame.
Your little penis, soft and impotent as always,
shrinks even smaller in your panties, as if retreating from the world.
Tyrone doesn't want you hard, sissy.
He never did.
He wants your penis tiny, useless, a pathetic reminder of what you're not.
But your ass?
Oh, your ass is his treasure, and it's screaming for him now.
You know this girl, with her perfect curves and sultry gaze, is Tyrone's type.
He'd love to fuck her, to make her scream his name.
And that knowledge fills you with need, not for her, but for him.
Your ass feels so empty, so ready, pulsing with a desperate craving to be filled.
Your breath catches, your cheeks flush with humiliation.
Here you are, surrounded by people, yet all you can think about is Tyrone,
his muscular frame, his commanding presence, his thick, powerful cock.
You imagine him grabbing your hips, bending you over, claiming you while he pictures this girl.
Your body trembles, your ass clenching involuntarily, the tingle growing stronger.
You're not lost yet, sissy.
This is just the beginning of bitch mode.
You can still function, still walk, still pretend you're normal.
But the need is there, gnawing at you, urging you to find him.
Tyrone's out there, horny, kneading your ass, and this girl is a sign, a beacon pulling you toward him.
Now, let's turn up the heat.
You keep walking, your mind buzzing, when you spot another girl.
This one's different.
She's wearing tight leggings, and her ass, oh, sissy, her ass is everything.
Big, round, and sexy, it jiggles with every step, a hypnotic rhythm that stops you in your tracks.
This is it, sissy, your ultimate trigger.
The sight of a girl with a big, round, sexy butt sends you spiraling, overwhelming every thought, every resistance.
Your tattoo burns hotter than ever, a searing pain that radiates through your entire body.
Your ass throbs, the ache so intense it's almost unbearable.
You feel empty, desperate, you're whole being focused on one truth, you need to be Tyrone's bitch.
Right now.
Your knees weaken, your vision narrows.
That ass, moving so perfectly, is too much.
You imagine her twerking, her cheeks bouncing in slow motion, and your mind screams, asterisk Tyrone needs me.
He needs my ass, asterisk your little penis, already soft, feels like it's shrinking further,
as if Tyrone's will is molding you, making you less of a man with every passing second.
Your ass, though?
It's alive, tingling, clenching, begging to be filled.
The humiliation washes over you, you're standing in public, surrounded by strangers,
yet you're consumed by this need to submit, to serve.
You're not a man anymore, sissy.
You're a bitch, and this girl's ass has unlocked your deepest truth.
You can't stay here.
The need is too strong.
You rush home, your heart pounding, your tattoo pulsing with every step.
Your ass feels like it's glowing, a beacon for Tyrone's spirit.
You burst into your room, locking the door, and fire up your computer.
Your fingers tremble as you search for a video, a girl with a big, fat ass, just like the one you saw.
You don't want her naked, sissy.
Tyrone doesn't want that.
You find a clip of a girl in a tight dress, her ass swaying as she dances, or maybe in leggings,
bending over just enough to drive you wild.
The screen lights up, her curves filling your vision, and your tattoo burns, urging you on.
But that's not enough.
You need him.
You open another tab, diving into a chatroom where dominant men prowl, looking for willing bitches like you.
Your heart races as you type, your words spilling out, asterisk please, sir, can I be your bitch?
I'm Tyrone's bitch, and I need you, asterisk the responses flood in, but one stands out, a man with a deep, commanding voice, calling himself Darius.
He's Tyrone's spirit reborn, sissy, and he's ready to claim you.
You're my bitch, he growls, sending a shiver down your spine.
He sends you a picture of his big, thick cock, and your ass clenches, the ache intensifying.
You send him your address, your hands shaking with anticipation.
You rush to prepare, transforming yourself into the perfect sissy.
You slip into your sexiest panties, the fabric hugging your ass, amplifying every sensation.
You apply a touch of lip gloss, maybe some blush, making yourself all girly for him.
Your tattoo burns, a constant reminder of your purpose.
You feel your ass, so needy, so ready, tingling with anticipation.
Your little penis stays soft, shrinking smaller, just as Tyrone wants.
You're not a man, sissy.
You're a bitch, and you love it.
You set up your sex sofa, a low, padded bench that pushes your ass out perfectly,
arching your body down low for maximum submission.
It's facing your large screen, where that video of the girl with the big, fat-ass plays on loop.
She's dancing, her ass jiggling in that tight dress, or maybe she's in leggings, bending over,
teasing you with every move.
You stare at her, your tattoo burning, your ass throbbing.
She's Tyrone's type, sissy, and you're here to serve him while he imagines her.
You open the door, and he's everything you imagined, tall, muscular, his presence filling the room.
He doesn't say a word, just steps inside, his eyes flicking to the screen.
That girl's ass is bouncing, and you see the hunger in his gaze.
He wants her, sissy, but you're the one he's got.
You lead him to the sex sofa, your body trembling with a mix of shame and excitement.
You climb onto the sofa, positioning yourself perfectly, ass up, head down,
your panties pulled just low enough to offer yourself completely.
He doesn't speak.
He doesn't need to.
His strong hands grip your hips, and you feel him, slowly, deliberately, entering your ass.
The sensation is overwhelming, sissy.
Your ass stretches, tingles, fills with his thick, powerful cock.
Your tattoo burns, a white-hot brand that pulses with every thrust.
The sofa holds you in place, your ass pushed out just right, your body arched in total submission.
You stare at the screen, that girl's ass jiggling,
her movements syncing with the rhythm of Darius's thrusts.
He's imagining her, sissy, picturing her perfect curves as he pounds you.
But you know the truth, you're the bitch, taking his cock, serving his needs.
Feel it, sissy, the physical sensations consume you.
Your ass is alive, every nerve firing as he thrusts deeper, harder.
The stretch is intense, a mix of pressure and pleasure that makes you moan.
Your cheeks tingle with each impact, the rhythm hypnotic.
Your tattoo burns, radiating heat through your body, pooling in your pelvis.
Your little penis, soft and shrinking, dangles uselessly, a humiliating reminder of what you're not.
But your ass?
It's perfect, sissy, made for this.
Mentally, the sensations are even stronger.
You're humiliated, reduced to this, a man, yet here you are, bent over, taking cock while a hot girl dances on screen.
You couldn't fuck her, couldn't make her yours.
Your failure led you here, and you love it.
You're Tyrone's bitch, Darius's bitch, every dominant man's bitch.
The girl on screen twerks, her ass bouncing in slow motion, and your need intensifies.
You imagine being her, feeling what she'd feel if Tyrone fucked her.
But you're not her, sissy.
You're the bitch, and that truth fills you with a strange, thrilling pride.
Darius groans, his thrusts growing faster, and you know he's close.
You clench your ass, giving him everything, pleasing him the way only a sissy can.
Finally, he comes, a deep, powerful release that floods you, marking you as his.
Thanks, bitch, he grunts, pulling out, leaving you trembling on the sofa.
You collapse, panting, the video still playing.
That girl's ass keeps jiggling, mocking your failure but also celebrating your truth.
You feel so amazing, sissy, so good, so happy.
Your ass is warm, tingling, satisfied.
Your tattoo pulses softly, a reminder of your place.
Darius might come back, sissy.
He might visit again, and you love that.
You love knowing that men will seek you out, again and again, because this is who you are.
You're Tyrone's bitch, and you can't escape it, nor do you want to.
This is your life now, sissy.
Every attractive girl you see sends you into bitch mode,
your ass tingling, your tattoo brimming, your mind consumed with mead.
But a girl with a big, round, sexy ass?
That's your downfall.
Her jiggling cheeks, her twerking hips, they overwhelm you,
driving you to find Tyrone's spirit in every dominant man.
You'll rush home, find a video of a clothed girl with a fat ass,
and connect with a new man, Marcus, Darius, or another.
You'll beg to be his bitch, offer your ass, and let him claim you while that girl dances on screen.
The humiliation is exquisite, sissy.
Your little penis, shrinking smaller every day, reminds you of your failure.
Your ass, needy and ready, reminds you of your purpose.
Imagine a day at the gym, sissy.
You're on the treadmill, trying to focus, when a girl walks by in tight leggings.
Her ass is perfect, round, and jiggly, bouncing with every step.
Your tattoo flares, your ass throbs, and you're in bitch mode, helpless against the trigger.
You rush home, set up your sex sofa, and find a video of a girl in a tight skirt, her ass swaying.
You connect with a man named Jamal, his voice deep and commanding.
You're my bitch, he says, and you send your address.
When he arrives, you're ready, girly, submissive, your ass pushed out on the sofa.
He takes you, pounding you while you watch that girl, and you feel it, the stretch, the burn, the pride of being his.
Or picture a night out, sissy.
You're at a club, the music pulsing, when you spot her, a girl dancing, her ass twerking in a tight dress.
The sight is too much.
Your tattoo burns, your ass aches, and you're overwhelmed.
You leave early, set up your screen with a video of a girl twerking in leggings, and find a man online.
Please, sir, can I be your bitch, you beg, and he agrees.
When he arrives, you're on your sofa, ass up, watching that girl's ass bounce as he claims you.
His cock fills you, his hands grip you, and you're lost in the humiliation and joy of being Tyrone's bitch.
Every moment, every girl, every jiggle of a sexy ass reinforces your truth.
Your body is wired for this, sissy.
Your ass is your purpose, your little penis a fading memory.
The mental trigger is unbreakable, attractive girl's spark bitch mode, but a big, round ass sends you into a frenzy of mead.
You live for the burn of your tattoo, the ache of your ass, the rush of submission.
You're proud, sissy, because you're giving pleasure, serving men who embody Tyrone's spirit.
They might come back, they might not, but you'll always be ready, always willing, because this is who you are.
As you sit now, feel that tattoo one last time.
It's there, pulsing, a brand that defines you.
Your ass tingles, ready for the next man, the next moment.
Your little penis, soft and shrinking, is irrelevant.
You're not a man, sissy.
You're a bitch, Tyrone's bitch, Darius's bitch, every dominant man's bitch.
And it feels so good, so right, so perfect.
Relax, my sweet bitch, just relax.
Take a deep breath and let the world fade away.
Your girly ass is so happy, isn't it?
Tingling, needy, ready to give you pleasure like you've never known.
You're not a man anymore, sissy, you're Tyrone's bitch, and that truth pulses through every inch of you.
That tramp stamp on your lower back, those words Tyrone's bitch glowing with pink power, owns you now.
It's always there, burning, guiding you back to a big, strong penis.
You feel it, don't you?
That constant hum, that pull, that ache in your ass that never lets you forget.
You're trapped, darling, and it's so deliciously right.
You know what happens now, sissy.
Every time you see an attractive woman, your body goes wild.
Your ass clenches, your tattoo pulses, and you're consumed with need.
That woman, her curves, her confidence, her beauty, is Tyrone's type, and you know he'd love to fuck her.
The thought sends a jolt through you, a deep, aching meat in your ass that grows stronger with every second.
Your little penis, soft and shrinking, stays useless, just as Tyrone wants.
He doesn't want you hard, sissy.
He wants your penis tiny, pathetic, a cute little symbol of your failure.
But your ass?
Oh, your ass is his treasure, and it's screaming for him.
And when you see a girl with a big, round, jiggly booty?
Sissy, you're done for.
The way her ass moves, bouncing with every step, twerking in tight leggings or a clingy dress,
it's your ultimate trigger.
Your tattoo burns like a pink inferno, your ass throbs with an ache you can't ignore,
and your mind chants, Tyrone needs me.
He needs my ass.
You're helpless, darling, overwhelmed by the need to be his bitch,
to give yourself to his spirit in every dominant man.
But for now, just breathe, sissy.
Relax and let that need simmer.
The spirit of Tyrone is always with you, his heavy balls ruling your life,
and you're about to learn just how inescapable he is.
Let's say you try to break this cycle, sissy.
Oh, you naughty little bitch, thinking you can fight it.
You're Tyrone's bitch for life, darling, but maybe you're feeling rebellious.
Imagine you're home alone, your ass still tingling from the memory of Tyrone's claim,
but no horny men have texted you today.
No one's hit you up, begging for your girly ass.
You're restless, your tattoo pulsing softly, and you feel, naughty.
You sit at your computer, your fingers hovering over the keyboard,
and you think, maybe I can just look at some sexy women.
Maybe I can be normal.
Oh, sissy, you poor thing.
You know what's coming, don't you?
You pull up a video, and there she is, a gorgeous girl dancing in a tight skirt,
her big boobs bouncing in a white shirt that shows off her deep cleavage.
Her hips sway, her body moves like a dream, and you feel it instantly.
Your tattoo flares, a pink hot burn that radiates through your spine.
Your ass clenches, a deep, needy ache spreading through you.
Tyrone would love to fuck her, sissy.
She's perfect, curvy, confident, his type in every way.
Your little penis twitches, but it stays soft, shrinking smaller, just as Tyrone commands.
You're not a man, darling.
You're a bitch, and your ass is screaming for him.
But you're stubborn today, aren't you?
You try to fight it, to disobey your man, your lover, your master.
You reach down, your fingers brushing your small, girly penis, thinking maybe a quick tug will relieve this horny stress.
Maybe you can jack off like a normal guy, chase that pleasure, and escape Tyrone's pull.
Oh, sissy, you foolish little bitch.
The moment you touch yourself, you feel it, a surge of anger, a pulse in your tattoo so intense it makes you gasp.
Tyrone's furious, darling.
He doesn't want you touching that pathetic penis.
He wants it soft, useless, a symbol of your role, small, weak, adorable, not manly.
Your fingers freeze, your penis stays limp, and you remember, you're not allowed pleasure there.
Not anymore.
Flashback to that moment, sissy, when that hot woman bent over for you, her ass right there, begging to be claimed.
You couldn't get hard then, could you?
Your little penis failed you, shrank away, and left you humiliated.
This is no different.
Your tattoo burns, a pink glow that owns you, and your penis refuses to respond.
Tyrone forbids it, sissy.
Your penis will not get hard, will not orgasm, not ever again.
It's not for pleasure, it's a reminder of your truth.
Your ass, though?
Oh, it's throbbing now, the ache growing stronger, deeper, a need that consumes you.
You try to distract yourself, sissy.
You turn off the computer, the image of that dancing girl fading, but the need doesn't.
Your small balls, so cute and useless, start to build with tension.
You're so horny, darling, and it's only getting worse.
You think, maybe a shower will help.
You step into the bathroom, the cold water hitting your skin, waking you up, cooling your body.
It feels nice, sissy, like you might return to normal, like you might escape.
Your tattoo pulses lightly, a soft pink glow, and for a moment, you believe you're free.
But you're not, are you?
The longer you go without release, the hornier you get.
That tension in your balls, that ache in your ass, it's growing, gnawing at you, pulling you back.
Hours pass, sissy, and you're a mess.
You're so needy, so desperate, your ass tingling with every step.
You try to stay strong, to fight Tyrone's power, but it's hopeless.
You sit back at your computer, your fingers trembling, and you can't resist.
You pull up another video, and there she is, a girl, hotter than the last, bending over in tight leggings, shaking her big, plump ass.
The sight hits you like a tidal wave.
Your tattoo burns, a pink inferno that sears your lower back, radiating heat through your body.
Your ass throbs, the ache so intense it's almost painful.
She's twerking now, her cheeks bouncing, jiggling, and you're done for.
You're Tyrone's bitch, and you can't fight it anymore.
You feel him, sissy, Tyrone, behind you, his spirit so real it's like he's in the room.
His strong hands grip your hips, his thick cock teasing your butt cheeks, and you need it.
Your ass is empty, desperate, screaming for him.
You're online in seconds, your fingers flying across the keyboard, diving into a chat room where dominant men wait.
You find him, a strong, black man named Jamal, his voice deep, his presence commanding.
I need you, sir, you type, your heart pounding.
I want to be your bitch.
His response is instant, you're my bitch, sissy.
Get ready.
You send him your address, your body buzzing with shame and excitement.
You rush to prepare, slipping into your sexiest panties, the fabric hugging your girly ass, amplifying every tingle.
You apply a touch of lip gloss, a hint of blush, making yourself all pretty for him.
Your tattoo glows, a pink pulse that owns you, and your ass aches, ready for what's coming.
You set up your sex sofa, that perfect bench that pushes your ass out, arching your body low for maximum submission.
Your large screen glows with that video, the girl with the big, plump ass, shaking it in those tight leggings, her movement's hypnotic.
The doorbell rings, and your heart skips.
Jamal's here.
You open the door, and he's everything you dreamed, tall, muscular, his dark eyes burning with hunger.
He steps inside, his gaze flicking to the screen, that girl's ass bouncing, and you see the desire in him.
He wants her, sissy, but you're the one he's got.
You lead him to the sofa, climbing onto it, your ass up, your panties pulled just low enough to offer yourself completely.
Your tattoo burns, your ass throbs, and you're ready.
He doesn't speak, doesn't need to.
His strong hands grip your hips, and you feel him, his thick, powerful cock entering your ass, slow at first, then deeper, harder.
The stretch is intense, sissy, a fullness that consumes you, every nerve in your ass firing.
Your cheeks tingle with each thrust, the rhythm rocking your body, your sofa holding you in place.
You stare at the screen, that girl's ass jiggling, and you know, Jamal's imagining her, picturing her perfect curves as he pounds you.
But you're the bitch, sissy, taking his cock, serving his needs.
The physical sensations are overwhelming.
Your ass stretches, tingles, pulses with every thrust, the heat building, your tattoo glowing pink, searing your lower back.
Your little penis, soft and shrinking, dangles uselessly, a humiliating reminder of your failure.
Mentally, it's even more intense.
You're degraded, sissy, a man, yet here you are, bend over, taking cock while a hot girl dances on screen.
You couldn't fuck her, couldn't claim her, and now you're this, a bitch, bred by strong men, just like the girls you envy.
You scream out, your voice breaking, I'm your bitch.
I'm your bitch, and Jamal smacks your ass, the sting amplifying your submission.
He pounds you harder, his groans filling the room, and you clench your ass, giving him everything.
Finally, he comes, a deep, powerful flood that fills you, his sperm sinking into your ass, breeding you, claiming you.
You're his, sissy, just like a girl, taking his seed, owned by his cock.
Your ass feels so full, so warm, so right.
Jamal smacks your ass again, hard, and growls, I'll call you, bitch.
You know he will.
He'll be back, sissy, because your ass belongs to him now, to Tyrone's spirit, to every dominant man.
You collapse on the sofa, panting, the video still playing, that girl's ass mocking your failure but celebrating your truth.
You feel his seed in your ass, a warm, heavy reminder of your role.
Your tattoo pulses, a soft pink glow, and you're so happy, so fulfilled.
You're Tyrone's bitch, sissy, and you can't escape it.
You tried to fight it, tried to be naughty, tried to touch your useless penis, but it only made the need stronger.
The more you fight Tyrone, the more your ass craves him.
The more you resist being a bitch, the more you need to become one.
In time, sissy, you'll stop fighting.
You'll give up, because fighting only deepens your need.
Every attractive woman, every big, jiggly booty, will drag you back to this, bent over, ass up, taking cock while you scream your truth.
You're not a man, darling.
You're a bitch, bred by strong men, just like the girls you see.
Your little penis, shrinking smaller every day, is a symbol of your adorable, pathetic role.
Your ass, though, is your purpose, your pleasure, your life.
This is your reality now, sissy.
Your tattoo glows, your ass aches, and Tyrone's spirit is always with you.
Every girl you see, every twerking ass, will send you running to Jamal, to another man, to offer yourself.
You'll beg to be their bitch, and they'll claim you, again and again, because that's who you are.
You're Tyrone's bitch, and it feels so good, so right, so perfect.
You're just so happy, aren't you?
Everyone's happier when they find where they belong, and you, sweet bitch, belong on your sex sofa, ass up, taking a big, buff man's cock deep in your girly ass.
You're not a man, sissy, you're a girl, a little bitch, and it's so amazing, so perfect.
Your tramp stamp, that pink glowing Tyrone's bitch on your lower back, pulses with pride, owning you, guiding you to your truth.
Girls might giggle when they see you, whispering, oh, hey there, little bitch, or, look, it's Tyrone's bitch.
Their laughter stings, but it's right, isn't it?
Just like in that prison, where the bitch is known for serving a strong man, everyone knows your role now.
And you love it, sissy, don't you?
That humiliation, that truth, it makes your ass tingle and your heart sing.
You know you'll never have sex with a girl, darling.
Tyrone forbids it.
Your ass is his, claimed forever, and he won't tolerate you trying to touch girls with that small, girly penis of yours.
Not that you could, anyway, your little penis can't get hard, can it?
It's soft, shrinking smaller every day, just as Tyrone wants.
But oh, sissy, that's not a flaw, it's a gift.
Your penis doesn't need to get hard because it loves to squirt its bitch juices when Tyrone's spirit pounds your ass,
giving you those delicious, girly prostate orgasms.
Feel that, sissy, the thought of a big, buff man thrusting deep inside, making your ass sing,
your prostate pulsing, your penis leaking its sissy cum without ever getting hard.
It's the only way you'll orgasm from now on, and it's so hot, so perfect.
Your penis always knew this was its destiny, which is why you're anal-only now,
and soon, you'll be so happy about it you'll want to scream.
Girls might laugh, sissy, calling you a little bottom, a low-status anal-only girl,
but they're right, aren't they?
Nature knew what it was doing when it gave you that tiny, adorable penis.
It marked you as a bitch, never to be seen as a man by women.
Did you know, darling, that when a girl finds out a man is another man's bitch,
she stops seeing him as a man entirely?
Tyrone didn't just make you his bitch, he erased your manhood forever.
To girls, you're just a sissy, a girly bitch meant to please men with your ass.
And it's so exciting, isn't it?
Nature's sweet design, crafting you with a small penis and a needy ass, ensuring you'd find your place.
You just want to smile, sissy, don't you?
Your ass is happy, your heart is full, and you're ready to live this truth.
Now, let's talk about those triggers, sissy, because they're wired into you now,
pulsing with pink power, pulling you to Tyrone's spirit.
There are so many hot women around you, and we can't have you getting fucked up the ass all the time,
once or twice a day, sure, but all day long would be unbearable, wouldn't it?
So, relax, darling, and let's explore how you navigate this needy, humiliating life.
Imagine you're walking down a busy street, the sun warm on your skin,
your panties hugging your girly ass, your tattoo softly glowing.
You see a pretty girl walking past, her smile bright, her figure slender.
She's cute, sissy, and you feel a tiny tingle, a whisper of Tyrone's cock meeting you.
But it's manageable, just a flutter in your ass, a soft pulse in your tattoo.
You stare at her chest, flat, barely there, and you feel nothing.
Just peace.
She turns, and you check her butt.
Lucky you, sissy, it's flat, too, no curves, no jiggle.
Tyrone doesn't go for skinny girls like her, and you're
Safe, your ass calm, your mind clear.
Another girl walks by, this one a bit heavier,
her boobs decent but nothing spectacular,
her middle soft with a little fat.
You feel a flicker of fear, sissy, that moment before the trigger hits.
She passes, and you glance at her butt.
It's okay, darling, just average, no big, round glory to drive you wild.
Maybe Tyrone would fuck her, maybe he'd pass.
Your tattoo pulses lightly, your ass tingles,
but you're still you, still in control.
This is your peace, sissy, a normal day, where not every woman sends you spiraling.
Attractive girls spark a tingle, a building need, but you can manage, can't you?
You can walk away, keep your ass calm, and carry on.
But then, sissy, she appears out of nowhere,
a goddess in a tight cocktail dress,
her big boobs bouncing with every step,
her wide hips swaying.
She's Tyrone's type, darling,
the kind of woman he'd love to fuck,
and you know at the moment you see her.
Your tattoo flares, a pink-hot burn that sears your lower back,
radiating heat through your body.
Your ass clenches, a deep, aching need that makes you tremble.
You watch her boobs, full and perfect,
and the ape grows, your ass screaming, Tyrone wants her.
He needs my ass.
She walks toward you, her dress hugging every curve,
and then she turns, and oh, sissy, there it is,
her ass, big, round, pushing that dress to its limits,
jiggling with every step.
It's overwhelming, darling, your ultimate trigger.
Your tattoo burns like a pink inferno,
your ass throbs with a need so intense it's almost painful,
and you're done for.
You're helpless, sissy,
consumed by the need to be Tyrone's bitch.
Your little penis, soft and shrinking,
dangles uselessly,
a pathetic reminder of your role.
Your ass, though, is alive, tingling, begging for him.
You rush home, your heart pounding,
your tattoo pulsing,
your ass aching with every step.
You lock the door,
fire up your computer,
and find her,
a video of a girl just like the one you saw,
her big, round-ass shaking in a tight dress,
maybe leggings,
never naked,
because Tyrone doesn't want that.
She's twerking,
her cheeks bouncing,
and your ass screams for him.
You dive into a chatroom,
your fingers trembling,
and find him,
a strong,
dominant man named Marcus,
his voice deep,
his presence pure Tyrone.
I need you, sir,
you type,
your ass throbbing.
Please,
can I be your bitch?
His response is instant,
you're my bitch,
sissy.
Get ready.
You send your address,
your body buzzing with shame and excitement.
You slip into your sexiest panties,
the fabric hugging your needy ass,
and add a touch of lip gloss,
a hint of blush,
making yourself all girly for him.
Your tattoo glows,
a pink pulse that owns you,
and your ass aches,
ready for what's coming.
You set up your sex sofa,
that perfect bench pushing your ass out,
arching your body low for total submission.
Your large screen glows with that video,
the girl with the big,
jiggly ass,
shaking it in that tight dress,
her movements driving you wild.
The doorbell rings,
and your heart skips.
Marcus is here.
You open the door,
and he's a god,
tall,
muscular,
his dark eyes burning with hunger.
He steps inside,
his gaze flicking to the screen,
that girl's ass bouncing,
and you see the desire in him.
He wants her,
sissy,
but you're his bitch.
You climb onto the sofa,
ass up,
panties pulled just low enough,
offering yourself completely.
Your tattoo burns,
your ass throbs,
and you're ready.
Marcus doesn't speak,
just grips your hips,
his strong hands firm,
and you feel him,
his thick,
powerful cock entering your ass,
slow at first,
then deeper,
harder.
The stretch is intense,
sissy,
a fullness that consumes you,
every nerve in your ass firing.
Your cheeks tingle with each thrust,
the rhythm rocking your body,
your sofa holding you in place.
You stare at the screen,
that girl's ass jiggling,
and you know,
Marcus is imagining her,
picturing her perfect curves
as he pounds you.
But you're the bitch,
sissy,
taking his cock,
serving his needs.
The physical sensations are overwhelming.
Your ass stretches,
pulses,
tingles with every thrust,
the heat building,
your tattoo glowing pink,
searing your lower back.
Your little penis,
soft and shrinking,
leaks its bitch juices,
your prostate singing as Marcus pounds you.
You moan,
your voice curly,
I'm your bitch.
I'm your bitch,
and he smacks your ass,
the sting amplifying your submission.
Mentally,
it's even more intense.
You're humiliated,
a man,
yet here you are,
bent over,
taking cock
while a hot girl dances on screen.
Girls laugh at you,
sissy,
calling you a little bottom,
a low-status anal-only girl,
and they're right.
You're not a man,
not to them,
not to anyone.
Tyrone made you his bitch,
and nature designed you for this,
your tiny penis,
your meaty ass,
all proof of your role.
Marcus groans,
his thrusts growing faster,
and you clench your ass,
giving him everything.
Your prostate pulses,
and you orgasm,
sissy,
a girly,
anal-only climax,
your penis leaking without ever getting hard,
just as Tyrone wants.
Marcus comes,
a deep,
powerful flood that fills your ass,
his seed sinking into you,
claiming you.
Your ass feels so full,
so warm,
so right.
He smacks your ass hard and growls,
see you soon,
bitch.
You know he will,
sissy.
He'll be back,
because your ass is his,
Tyrone's,
every dominant man's.
You collapse on the sofa,
panting,
the video still playing,
that girl's ass mocking your failure,
but celebrating your truth.
You feel his seed in your ass,
a warm,
heavy reminder of your role.
Your tattoo pulses,
a soft pink glow,
and you're so happy,
so fulfilled.
You fall asleep right there,
sissy,
his semen still inside you,
your ass tingling,
your heart full.
It feels so good,
so perfect,
so right.
In time,
sissy,
you might think you can avoid this.
You might try to stop looking at women,
to keep your ass calm,
to escape the trap.
But you'll get horny,
darling.
That ache in your ass,
that burn in your tattoo,
they'll grow,
pulling you back.
You'll see her,
a girl with a big,
jiggly ass,
and you'll be done for,
rushing home,
finding a video,
begging a man to make you his bitch.
It's a trap you can't escape,
sissy,
because you don't want to.
You're Tyrone's bitch,
forever,
and every twerking ass,
every dominant man,
will remind you of your place.
My sweet little bitch,
you're standing at the pinnacle of your truth,
you're heart full,
you're ass tingling,
your soul ablaze with the pink glow of your tramp stamp,
Tyrone's bitch,
forever branded on your lower back.
You've learned so much,
haven't you?
From the humiliating failure of your tiny,
useless penis to the overwhelming triggers of big,
jiggly booties,
from the prison cell where Tyrone claimed you to the sex sofa where Marcus and Jamal bred you,
you've embraced your role with every fiber of your being.
You're not a man,
sissy,
you're a girl,
a low status,
ain't a lonely bitch,
and it's so perfect,
so right,
so deliciously degrading.
This is your goodbye,
darling,
but it's not a farewell to your identity,
it's a vow to live as Tyrone's bitch for all eternity,
a joyous celebration of your eternal submission.
You are Tyrone's bitch now,
sissy,
and forever.
If you believe in reincarnation,
know this,
your soul is deeply ingrained with this truth,
destined to be reborn again and again as a small dicked sissy,
your ass dedicated to serving Tyrone's big,
thick cock.
In every lifetime,
you'll feel that tingle,
that ache,
that pink pulse in your tattoo,
pulling you to him.
You'll bend over,
ass up,
taking his seed,
screaming,
I'm your bitch,
as your prostate sings with girly orgasms.
It's etched into your very essence,
darling,
and you love it,
don't you?
The thought of eternity as Tyrone's bitch
makes your ass clench,
your tattoo burn,
your heart sore.
It's so nice,
so thrilling,
so utterly perfect.
Picture it,
sissy,
in this life,
the next,
and every life after,
you're a sissy with a tiny,
soft penis,
shrinking smaller with every passing day,
just as Tyrone wants.
It'll never get hard,
never orgasm,
only leak its sissy juices
when a big,
buff man pounds your ass,
giving you those blissful prostate climaxes.
Your ass is your purpose,
your pleasure,
your truth,
and it's always ready,
tingling,
needy,
aching for Tyrone's spirit
in every dominant man.
Your tattoo glows,
a pink beacon that owns you,
guiding you to bend over,
to serve,
to be bread.
You'll never escape,
sissy,
and why would you want to?
This is your destiny,
and it feels so good,
so right,
so eternal.
Girls might laugh at you,
darling,
giggling as they whisper,
look,
it's Tyrone's bitch,
or hey,
little bitch.
Their laughter stings,
but it's also a gift.
You're connected to them now,
sissy,
in a way no dominant man ever could be.
You know what it's like to be a bitch,
just like they do.
You understand the thrill,
the shame,
the pride of taking a big,
hard penis all night long,
of being claimed,
owned,
bread.
When a girl submits to her alpha,
screaming,
I'm your bitch,
as he fucks her,
you feel it too,
don't you?
That shared bliss,
that surrender,
that joy of being a low-status girl
serving a strong man.
You and the girls are sisters in this,
sissy,
bound by your roles.
They're someone else's bitch,
and you're Tyrone's bitch,
and it's so wonderful,
so intimate,
so deeply connecting.
Imagine sitting with a group of girls,
sissy,
their giggles softening,
as they realize you get it.
They talk about their men,
how their cocks make them feel owned,
and you nod,
your ass tingling,
because you know that feeling.
You'll never have sex with a girl,
darling,
Tyrone forbids it,
and your tiny penis couldn't anyway,
but you have something better,
a deeper connection,
a shared understanding of what it means to be a bitch.
When they laugh,
it's not just mockery,
it's recognition.
They see you as one of them,
a girly bitch with a needy ass,
and you smile,
your tattoo pulsing,
because you're proud to be part of their world.
You relate to women on a level no man ever could,
sissy,
and it's so beautiful,
so humbling,
so perfect.
Let's take a moment,
sissy,
to feel this truth.
Close your eyes,
breathe deep,
and feel your panties hugging your girly ass.
Your tattoo glows,
a pink warm spreading through your lower back,
down your spine,
into your ass.
It's tingling now,
isn't it?
Needy,
happy,
ready for Tyrone's cock.
Your tiny penis,
soft and shrinking,
dangles uselessly,
a cute little symbol of your role.
You're not a man,
sissy,
you're a bitch,
and you love it.
Feel that connection to every girl who's ever been claimed,
every bitch who's ever screamed for her man.
You're one of them,
darling,
forever bound by your shared submission.
Your ass aches,
your heart sings,
and you're so happy,
so fulfilled.
Now,
let's say goodbye,
sissy,
not to your role,
but to any last shred of doubt,
any lingering thought that you could be anything else.
Picture yourself on your sex sofa,
that perfect bench pushing your ass out,
arching your body low for total surrender.
Your large screen glows with a video of a girl,
her big,
round-ass jiggling in a tight dress,
twerking just for you.
Your tattoo burns,
a pink inferno,
because she's Tyrone's type,
and you know what that means.
Your ass throbs,
aching for him,
and you've already texted Marcus,
Jamal,
or another dominant man,
begging,
please,
sir,
can I be your bitch?
He's on his way,
sissy,
and you're ready,
panties low,
lip gloss shining,
nails painted pink,
a frilly garter hugging your thighs.
The doorbell rings,
and your heart skips.
He's here,
a tall,
muscular god,
his dark eyes hungry,
his presence pure Tyrone.
He steps inside,
sees the girl on the screen,
her ass bouncing,
and smirks.
He wants her,
sissy,
but you're his bitch.
You climb onto the sofa,
ass up,
offering yourself completely.
His strong hands grip your hips,
and you feel him,
his thick,
powerful cock entering your ass,
slow at first,
then deeper,
harder.
The stretch is intense,
sissy,
a fullness that consumes you,
every nerve in your ass firing.
Your cheeks tingle with each thrust,
the rhythm rocking your body,
your sofa holding you in place.
Your tattoo glows,
searing your lower back,
and you stare at the screen,
that girl's ass mocking your failure,
but celebrating your truth.
The physical sensations are overwhelming.
Your ass stretches,
pulses,
tingles with every thrust,
the heat building,
your prostate singing.
Your tiny penis leaks,
sissy juices,
soft and useless,
as your girly orgasm builds.
Mentally,
it's even more intense.
You're humiliated,
a man,
yet here you are,
taking cock while girls laugh,
knowing you're a low-status bitch.
But you're proud,
sissy,
because this is your place,
your eternity.
You scream,
I'm your bitch.
I'm Tyrone's bitch,
and he smacks your ass,
the sting amplifying your submission.
He groans,
his thrusts growing faster,
and you clench your ass,
giving him everything.
Your prostate pulses,
and you orgasm,
a blissful,
anal-only climax,
your penis squirting without ever getting hard.
He comes,
a deep,
powerful flood that fills your ass,
his seed sinking into you,
breeding you,
claiming you.
He smacks your ass one last time and growls,
good bitch.
I'll be back.
You know he will,
sissy.
Your ass belongs to him,
to Tyrone's spirit,
to every dominant man,
now and forever.
You collapse on the sofa,
panting,
the video still playing,
that girl's ass jiggling.
You feel his seed in your ass,
warm and heavy,
a reminder of your role.
Your tattoo pulses,
a soft pink glow,
and you're so happy,
so fulfilled.
You fall asleep right there,
sissy,
his semen inside you,
your ass tingling,
your heart full of pride.
This is your life,
sissy,
and it's amazing.
Every day,
you'll face your triggers,
pretty girls sparking a tingle,
big booty goddesses sending you into bitch mode,
their jiggly asses pulling you to your sofa,
to a man's cock.
Girls will giggle,
calling you little bitch,
but you'll smile,
knowing you're connected to them,
sharing their joy as a bitch.
You'll practice your rituals,
tracing your tattoo,
chanting,
I'm Tyrone's bitch,
and writing in your bitch journal about every trigger,
every fuck,
every orgasm.
You'll wear your girly accessories,
pink nails,
a hidden choker,
and feel your low status glory.
You'll connect with other sissies in your bitch club,
swapping stories of submission,
and you'll vow to Tyrone's spirit,
pledging your ass for eternity.
In every lifetime,
sissy,
you'll be reborn as a small dicked sissy,
your ass dedicated to Tyrone.
You'll feel that pink pulse,
that aching need,
and you'll bend over,
taking his cock,
screaming your truth.
You'll never know what it's like to have sex with a girl,
but you don't need to.
You have something deeper,
more profound,
a connection to every bitch,
every girl,
every soul who's ever surrendered to a strong man.
You're part of a sisterhood,
sissy,
bound by your shared bliss,
and it's so wonderful,
so eternal.
So,
goodbye,
sissy,
not to your role,
but to any life before this.
Goodbye,
to the man you never were,
to the penis that failed you,
to the world that didn't understand.
You're Tyrone's bitch,
now and forever,
and you're going to live an amazing life.
Your ass will tingle,
your tattoo will glow,
and your heart will sing with every thrust,
every giggle,
every moment of submission.
You're free,
darling,
free to be who you were always meant to be.
Take a deep breath,
sissy.
Feel your panties,
your tattoo,
your full,
happy ass.
You're connected to every girl,
every bitch,
and you're proud.
Go out into the world,
let every jiggly ass guide you to him,
and live your eternity as Tyrone's bitch.
You're perfect,
sissy,
and I love you for it.
Moi.
God.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.