Ask Drew to 'help' you again.

It kills you to have to turn to your friend for help getting off, but being boned and blue balled and burning up with fever and everything aching makes for a powerful motivation to ignore your pride and head over to Drew's dorm. You just hope he that with as wrecked as he looked this morning then he'll skip class and be more than willing to pay his penance for 'helping' you into this mess in the first place.

Your 'good' luck just won't quit. Drew answers the door wearing a ratty robe that is splayed open shamelessly. His breasts spill out brazenly and his thick shafts hangs for God and everyone to see. You kick yourself for licking your lips, but you both know what you're here for, even if you aren't quite ready to admit it to yourself. You barge into Drew's dorm, demanding, "Okay, you said you'd help me out. So suck my cock or get me a better plug or something, because I am starting to feel really sick...and really WHIMPER slutty."

Drew sighs looking exasperated and beat, but that doesn't stop him from boning up. He sighs, sounding half horny and half harried, "Look...I am happy to help in way I can. I just...last time you ended up crying after spending hours working on a single spurt. Then you begged me to fuck you until you blacked out. If that's what you need, I can do that. I just want you to know it's okay if you want to skip to the begging part." He sits on his bed, still slipping out of his robe and showing off his delicious D-cups and soft, supple skin. You wish you could say that's what you were staring at. You wish you could just walk over there and fuck his face until he shut up about your whimpery weakness last night. You wish you could stop staring at his strong, sinewy muscles hiding beneath his feminine flesh and wish you could stop drooling at his most impressive throbbing between his legs.

You feel your knees buckle, a purely physical reaction, of course. You don't want to crawl over to your friend on all fours with your ass arched and swaying submissively, but it's like your body's on autopilot. You feel a hunger deeper than starvation and a pain worse than any injury you could imagine surviving. Your vision blurs and your eyes water and the only thing you can seem to focus on is Drew's meaty cock. You try to pull yourself together, but it's like the real you, the one that want to stand on his own two feet and skull his friend, is locked in the back of your head...watching helplessly as you start nuzzling your buddy's balls and nurse on his nuts.

You feel so excruciatingly embarrassed. You want to say something, anything, to try save face, but what's the point when you are slobbering on Drew's sack? If only it didn't taste so scrumptious, but that's not your fault is it? No, it's your traitorous, tainted tongue. If only you weren't moaning so loudly, that even muffled by a mouthful of his nuts, Drew can clearly hear how hungry and horny you are for him, but that's just your sickness, right? You don't love tasting testes...except for that one time which was really the weed's fault...it's just a symptom of the bimbug. You've almost half convinced yourself that you are still a straight boi on the inside when you manage to mumble between slurps, "Okay, so I need LICK cock every so MMPH often just LAP like you, but I'm SHLLP still a SUCK stud where it MMM counts!"

Drew looks at you with kind, understanding eyes as he runs his fingers through your hair and coos, "That's right. You're just my studly buddy and I'm just scratching an itch for you. No one ever has to know and I won't think less of you no matter what happens." You could cry from how tender and touching the tombimboi's words are, but that would just make you feel even more emasculated. Instead, you peel off your boi clothes so that you are just wearing your silk thong and stockings with your titanic tits pushing out your sheer baby doll up and out. You don't shed a tear as you wrap your breasts around your bff's boner and slide down his shaft so that you can wrap your plump lips around his wide cockhead and suck deep and hard and hungry.

It's worse than you worried it would be, by which you mean so much better. Even just jerking Drew off with your creamy breasts is almost to intensely erotic to endure. It's like your most sensitive nerves on the end of your cock were replicated by the billions, rearranged to cover your beautiful breasts and achingly hard nipples, and rewired to be a googillion times more sensitive. You feel your own barely fucktioning cock swell and spurt untouched as you feel your first titgasm, but unlikely your last. Another cruel change to your bimbug afflicted body is your arousal levels. Normally after cumming, your libido drops and you feel sticky and ashamed and ready to clean up. With your new bimboi body, cumming just makes you hungrier and hornier for Drew's dick milk, and you begin sucking deeper down his shaft, burying your face in your own breasts and almost blacking out from lack of oxygen.

Ironically, even with almost no air reaching your lungs, you feel less out of breath than you did before you had a sweaty shaft sawing in and out of your tight throat. Your illness seems to find ordinary healthy behavior sickening and responds to depravity and degeneracy as if they were wholesome. Your new nerves are even naughtier in your hungry hole than on your tempting tits. They are overwhelming in number and overpowering in potency. This can't have been cloned from your cock, because the nubs and nerves humming and vibrating with such erotic enormity couldn't have come from any body part you ever possessed. It's like your tender, taut tissue is coated with countless clits, climaxing and cancerously spreading sissygasms across your corrupted cells.

You can't remember what you did during your pink out last night, but somehow you know that you will remember every sordid detail of this as if it were seared onto your brain. You know you will feel humiliated when this is over, and probably hungry for more. You don't know if you will ever be able to even attempt to be a man again now that you know all too well how much more euphorically explosive your orgasms are using your throat than they were when you used your dick.

You reach down and are surprised to find your shaft is soft yet still dribbling cummies. You stroke it faster, but even when you manage to time your hand to the sucking spirals of your lips on Drew's dick, you still only manage to get it half hard. Defeated and delirious with lust, you let your body do what it wants and begin deep throating your friend's futa fuckstick with eager earnest. It hits even harder and deeper when you do, setting off another string of sissygasms bombarding you with bliss like a clusterfuck of climaxes. By the time you feel your friend throb and twitch and flood your throat with gallons of milky medicine, you have already done the damage. You know that no matter what other phyrric victories you manage to eke out as a man, they will taste like ash compared to this awe inspiring ambrosia.

You fall back beaming and blushing but finally feeling almost content. You lick your lips, looking up lovingly at Drew before he snaps out of his own dreamy daze and notices. When he looks back at you with the same naked affection, you feel ashamed and lower your gaze. You feel so strange. The really real you wants to throw up, but it's taking all his focus to convince the rest of you not to let your pal taste his load on your lips and tongue. You realize that this might be as much relief as you can safely endure, and you excuse yourself saying, "Uhm...thanks I guess. Can we find a time to do this maybe once a day? If I can delay the worst of the symptoms, maybe I can get better at resisting them entirely over time."

Drew nods, but looks as if he's politely agreeing to a lunatic knowing reality will just set them off. You ignore his disbelief, telling yourself that's just because he hasn't found a way to resist his cravings. You tell yourself you won't be as weak as him...or as you were just a few minutes ago. You tell yourself that somehow, some way, you will resist your siren sissy side and build callouses and courage until you are manlier than Drew is. You tell yourself that soon you won't even be tempted to make these little house calls. In fact, as strong as you are feeling with your chum's cum still warm on your tongue, you are half convinced you won't ever need to come back for another injection ever again.