A pretty boy, short and slender.

As you pull on your stylish tank-top, your gaze falls on the small cage sitting at the foot of your bed. Your pet, John, is just stirring, rubbing his big, blue eyes. He stretches out as much as the cage can allow, stifling a small yawn. He's naked like always, his skin smooth and milky white. Some people dress theirs, but you've always liked the contrast it creates when he kneels at your feet, bare and , while you wear designer clothes worth almost as much as he is.

All he wears is a pretty pink collar round his slender neck, the heart-shaped tag inscribed with your name and phone number. Then there's the chastity cage between his soft thighs of course, the key to which he hasn't seen in over six months. He's strictly bound and blindfolded whenever you take it off to groom him.

You smile to yourself, feeling a flutter of pride at just how much he resembles a domestic animal, a dog or cat waking in the bedroom of their Mistress. All thanks to your strict training, of course. You took an ordinary boy, albeit a weak-willed submissive, and turned him into your prized possession. Even if you ever set him free, you doubt he'd be capable of living a normal life anymore. The thought gives you a hot thrill, and you feel an insistent warmth bloom between your legs.

He notices you're already up and his eyes widen in surprise. As if on cue, the lock on his cage buzzes and a light flashes green. That would normally be his signal to shuffle out and burrow under your covers so you can wake with his tongue lapping at your pussy. If he's not awake to respond, his chastity gives him a helpful reminder in the form of a sharp shock. Today though, you were up early and decided you'd let him sleep in. Not that it means he's allowed to shirk his morning duties.

You click your fingers and point between your naked legs. John hurriedly pushes his nose against the door to the cage, letting it ease open on oiled hinges. Not even a thought of using his hands anymore. The pet boy crawls forward, his back arched and his hips wriggling. Your hungry gaze drifts over his girly body, so smooth and perfect. His shoulders and waist are thin and slender, his thighs and bottom soft and plump. Even his little face is oh-so adorable and pretty. Long, light lashes, plump, pink lips and smooth cheeks that blush ever so readily whenever you find something that pushes his boundaries.

As soon as you saw him you knew you had to make him yours. No matter that you were only eighteen yourself then, and him the same callow age, the wheels were already turning in your mind, coming up with a plan to take this pretty thing and turn him into the perfect . As he crawls to you, kneeling at your feet, you find yourself reminiscing about how you made that dream a sweet reality.