He did such a good job with my girlfriend so I figured he could offer me the same. I figured he could make me better.
He was the top trainer in the whole city, and when he agreed to take me on I was so excited. It’s been weeks now and the changes to my body are undeniable, they just aren’t what I expected.
He made me soft and smooth. He made me toned in all the wrong ways. He accentuated my curves and only now do I realize why.
He made me into what he wanted. He made me into his perfect little sissy. He made me his in every single way and I can’t deny the truth.
I want to be his woman.
Excerpt
I was torn between my trust for Ryan and my growing concern at the changes in my body. Torn between knowing that something wasn’t right but liking the results all the same. Torn between what I knew I should be doing and what I wanted to do. What I craved to do.
And nowhere was that confusion more pronounced than when I was working with Ryan.
Since that day where I had first noticed my changes, I noticed a shift in the way he worked out with me. He explained we were in phase two of our exercises, and that meant more intense guidance. All of which translated to a much more hands-on approach.
There is little in this world that makes me burn with shame quite as much as the memory of his hands on me. Not because I didn’t like it, quite the contrary. I couldn’t get enough of it.
My whole being ached for his touch. For the firm and steady guidance of his hands as he moved me. For the press of his body against mine as he held me and spotted me while we worked out.
I had memorized every inch of him, all of it clear in my mind and mapped out from the press of him on me.
And I do mean every single inch of him.
It was intense, the craving in me that would overwhelm me at times. That would make it difficult to focus on my breathing or my movement as I burned with shame while he didn’t explode with frustration. Ryan was so patient with me, guiding me with a sure hand a steady voice.
I couldn’t get enough of our sessions.
Or enough of what happened afterward, because more and more often I would have this itch after working out with him. It would prickle at me the whole time I was in the locker room. The whole way out the door and while I sat in my car trying to steady myself for the long drive home.
I fought it most nights, but there were some nights where it was just too much for me.
Where I would pull aside with a head too cloudy to drive and I would plunge my hand into my pants. I would touch myself, eyes closed as my hands roamed over the body he had made while I played through the touch of him on me. The entirety of my focus on the feel of him against me and the way that he made me feel.
And I would cum. I would cum over and over again. Spilling my seed into my hands and my whole body bucking and vibrating in my driver’s seat. I wouldn’t be able to help myself and I would go until I drained myself completely. Until my body ached with satisfaction and I could finally drive the rest of the way home with a head approaching clearness.
Ryan was a part of my dreams and fantasies now. When I closed my eyes I saw only him.