“I’m still me!”

You glared up at him. Or tried to. It was difficult to maintain anything resembling a convincing glare with your reduced stature and the palpable sexual tension between you. Plus you had to tilt your head far back just to meet his eyes.

Like a friendly reminder of your new existence the collar sat warm and snug around your slim throat, a constant soft pressure. But more importantly your now female body was so disproportionately smaller that looking up already felt like an act of submission.

“I want you to take this off.” You said. It was pushing your new buttons and that scared you.

“Do you?” Carrie asked almost sweetly. No he was smug. He knew. He stepped closer. One large hand settled at your waist, thumb brushing the soft skin just above the waistband of the sleep shorts. The casual touch sent a sharp little jolt straight between your legs. You knew in an instant he could pull them down. You had the memories to affirm it. In a second you could he naked, bent over and fucked. Why did that excite you so much?!

“Yes,” you said, but the word came out thinner than you intended as you imagined his thick cock thrusting into you. You tried to dispel the thoughts but they were too much a part of you now.

He smiled, slow and knowing, toying with your waist band, coming closer so his groin pressed against your back just above your ass. “Then ask nicely.”

You opened your mouth, ready with something sharp. But the situation was destroying your anger, replacing it with arousal, confusion, need and excitement. What emerged instead was softer, higher, ambiguous but far too eager. “Please, Master.”

You closed your eyes the moment the words left you. Heat flooded your face. The plea had felt natural. Worse—it had felt good. A small, traitorous pulse of wetness gathered between your thighs at the simple act of asking permission. His hand at your waist didn’t move. If anything, his thumb stroked once, deliberate, and your hips shifted toward him before you could stop them.

“Good girl.” He praised you, the resulting excitement pulsing low in your belly and bloomed outward. An embarrassing little shiver ran straight through you, tightening your nipples against the thin tank top. You hated that your body already had opinions and was not averse at communicating them. You hated even more that those opinions were wet and unmistakably female.