Won't you be my neighbor?

You can't believe you are crawling towards your next door neighbor, Mr. Roberts, front door. He has always shown you nothing but disdain, calling you soft, spoiled, and a disrespectful punk. Whether for cutting through his yard, playing your "Gee Dee girly girl music too loud, or just because he didn't like the look of you, you never crossed paths without him shouting abuse at you.

Now here you are, knocking on his door, kneeling naked, caged, plugged, and collared...and you don't want to know why that's making your tiny cock throb painfully hard in your little cage. You just know you have to get off the street before the neighborhood bullies discover you. "What the eff is this bull hocky?"

The door opens and your gruff, grizzled, gracefully greying slab of a neighbor stands intimidatingly over you. He has to be in his late fifties if he's a day, but he's built like a linebacker and if it weren't for the few wrinkles at the corners of his scornful stare, and the salt in his peppery buzzcut, you'd swear he was a fit thirty.

"Sorry sir, my bad widdle doggy here is too much for me to handle. I was hopin' a big strong silverback like you could keep him in line." You look up at Becca with a horrified yelp. Is she really going give you to your next door nightmare? You see a look of repulsed recognition glimmer in his hateful eyes, and you know you are doomed.

"Well I'll be Gee Deed. I don't know what you two hussies get up to, and I sure as H don't want too. But I've been wanting to teach this little punk a lesson in respect for years. I'll take him off your hands." You feel a painful tug on your collar as you are dragged fearfully into Mr. Robert's house, unable to even turn your head to look at the snickering sadists already slinking away.

You hear the heavy door slam behind you, hear the clicks of his system of deadbolts, feel his rough callused hands slide across your soft, shuddering skin before squeezing your thick cheeks, sending aching throbs throughout your body and making your cage sing in esquisite agony. "Darn, boy. I always knew you were soft, and I had my suspicions you were a bit of a sissy, but look at you, you're a full blown deviant faggot."

A blush of shame and futile fever burn across your exposed flesh. You want to curse him out, and not in the quaint little stand ins he uses out of some old fashioned since of propriety. But the cock gag would only make muffled moans, and it's not like you ever stood up to him before. Now, sissy spurts still coating your soft sissy pussy, which stubborningly refuses to stop milking the hard, fat plug nestled inside it, your mouth drooling dumbly and helplessly open, your new name, Bitch, emblazoned on your pretty pink collar...you don't dare defy him.

"Well...it looks like I've got my choice of holes to break in my new Bee word. I'm not sure. Why don't you mumble out which orifice I violate first?" Both of your holes are hungry, aching to be filled, but this is the last person you want to beg to feed them. But as he steps out of his Sear's painter slacks, you see his thick, eleven inch if not a footlength cock, throbbing in front of you, and you know you can't help but beg for your doggy treat.