Why yes, yes it is a man…

Soft, light. Your mind returns to you once again, you feel well-rested this time at least. You shift yourself slowly, feeling the smallness of yourself, the air caressing every millimetre of the near overly sensitive skin you now possess. Your new small body feels light, easy to move like someone is pulling on you helping you along. The feeling fades quickly and suddenly though as unconsciousness fades and awareness returns. Your mind focuses and your chest feels like it’s sporting a giant pair of new weights, like a pair of basketballs, that have been tied onto and sunk into you while you slept. Basketballs that someone’s fingers are currently digging into and grabbing hard, kneading your tits like dough, twisting harshly then gently caressing your nipples, letting your breasts fill their hands only to pull them away completely. These wonderful hands expertly pull you along, allowing pleasure to build inside of you then dissipate just as quickly to keep you on the edge. A seemingly endless dance of harsh gropes uncaring for your feelings, undercut with gentle warm caresses, allowing you, nay wanting you too to share in the pleasure and enjoyment your newest enhancement can provide. Finally, you can’t hold back, writhing under the hands your eyes shoot open as you let out a long moan and, you spurt another load, cum shooting up into the air, milked out of you almost; as your breasts are squeezed together tightly. Like the hands are trying to engulf them into their palms eliciting another distinctly feminine moan as you stare into the eyes of the first real man you have ever seen, he pauses time long enough with his gaze to permit you to fall into his eyes, a predator securing its prey. With sadness, the echo of the moment passes suddenly, as your cum falls from the air splattering across your thighs.

“Hahaha ah, what an adorable, near bimbo?.” His voice and naked body command you in an instant your entire attention, nothing matters but him. Everything comes to a stop when he deigns to permit you to bask in him. “Don’t worry sweetie, just because you’re not there yet doesn’t mean you can’t still act like one.”. Power, sex, lust and a craving to be held and protected by him. Dominance. All other thoughts flee your mind as he reaches down and scoops up easily your entire mess from your beautiful legs. effortlessly he inserts, without hesitation, question, or the slightest hint of needing permission, his fingers into your mouth and down to your throat. You gag, muffled as you clean up your love juice from his gifting hand. “After all, a bimbo does not need to sully herself with juices she shouldn’t have.” You nod reflexively to his words.

A true man. That is all you can describe him as nothing like you before your transformation began, and you’re certainly nothing like him now. He towers over you, far above six feet tall, his white skin tight on his body showing not an ounce of fat. Broad thick shoulders, high collar bones, one of his arms is easy twice the thickness of your own. His muscles are blatant and on full display, but not obscenely large, merely manly and powerful by every description and metric. For this to him is clearly but merely a natural state. You gaze upon his chiselled face, a strong jaw bone, those piercing eyes and immaculate hair. He applies just the slightest bit of pressure to his fingers as you stare, immediately the room echoes with the sound of your gags as your spit flows from your mouth. “Relax your throat.” Your muscles obey his command without waiting for you, your body does not require you to obey him. His fingers slide down deeper, stretching you, bulging your throat out, dragging your eyes with them. He holds himself there. You ****, you **** more loudly, the sounds bouncing off the walls, your cock twitches, your sight gets spotty, you spit coats his fingers. He smiles and finally pulls back and out. His hand drips, coated in your new mess but now at least fully cleaned. Your mind knows you have served him, you could orgasm just from the knowledge of it. He looks up disregarding you for a moment as your spit drips down onto your face, he nods to the glass, then smiles at the cameras stepping to the side ensuring those watching your treatment are provided with the best possible view. He casually wipes his hand clean on your massive tits, the flesh jiggling as only a natural pair can, your spit providing a glistening shine to them. You want to thank him, you want to worship him, you want to look to the cameras and wonder at just how is watching you, you want them to see you be used, you want-

SMACK!

A hard hand across your tits. You moan out loudly in discomfort and pleasure. “Bimbo.” A hint of an angered growl escapes him. He controls you here. He has your full attention. He decides where your gaze is permitted to land, and your thoughts allowed to go. His hand moves to your neck, powerful things wrap around it. Clenching into a fist gently, but tightening. He wants you to bask in him, to give him your entire mind's attention forgetting everything else. You know what he wants, and you want it too. You can tell, you can feel it, you hope, you crave to be allowed it.

He shifts himself, his body on display to both you and your viewers fully now. His chest is as broad as his shoulders, muscles upon muscles oozing power. He looks as if he could have been sculpted from granite as the likeness of Zeus. A predator, an apex, a man. As your eyes make the long trek down his body, you finally settle at the altar you shall pray to him at. His pillar of meat points proudly upwards, gravity seeming to not be permitted to affect it, you're given a full display of it as he shifts himself just slightly. The room seems to warm as you can tell he smiles pleased by your behaviour, he permits you an even better view. You **** loudly, how long has passed? seconds, minutes, hours?. His fingers tighten more around your throat, tears stream down your face, it’s getting harder to see. You master yourself and focus, you know to not drink all of this man it would be utterly unforgivable. You need to worship men. You need to show them you are willing and eager. His fingers tighten harder, you know to him his grip is enough to lift a glass to drink from, his strength more than enough to apply the required **** to overwhelm you. You look more, a single ball is three times the size of your own, how much glorious cum could they contain?. You need to find out. His cock twitches slightly, your gaze moves up, you're running out of time. Veins bulge as blood flows through it, with the thickness of a coke can it’s like someone took the masculinity from a hundred men to add to the length, girth, glory and beauty of this cock. How many inches? double, triple your own?. You want him to use you. You want him to take you, to use you… it’s getting dark. You can see his head twitching, a bead of precum forming. You want it. So, so, so badly…

“I’ve got a feeling you’ll be the best yet.” Your heart flutters, your vision goes black, and his fingers finally leave your throat.