Cumming down and cumming back for more.

You wake up in excruciating agony, which is to say, you feel perfectly normal, but it feels like a living Hell after spending so much time in Heaven. You don't even have the mercy of blacking out yesterday's all day fuck party. You have full faculties and can regrettably recall every sticky second of it. As much as you hate to admit it, you want more. More dreamy ****...more dick, and hopefully more than one at a time. The thought repulses you, but you also know that once you get stoned and shafted, all your shame and regret will melt away...at least until the next cum down, but you'll worry about that later...

You text Dirk. "Good morning, Master, your sissy slut **** needs her dick fix." You hate being such an obvious whore, but you are too strung out for subtlety. You wait for what feels like days, a hot shower does nothing to make you feel any cleaner and food tastes flat and does nothing to satisfy your true hunger.

You start picking out some possible outfits for the day, hoping it will save time between hearing from Dirk and getting **** up and dicked down. You get impatient and start blowing up his phone with ever increasingly **** texts. By the time you reach "I will sell my soul to suck your balls" you finally hear back.

"Haha these texts are pure gold. Your dad is loving them. Put on something sexy from your mom's closet this time and wait for the taxi downstairs." You don't have time to register the depths of shame you feel at your dad reading your "fuck me" texts. You rush to your mom's closet and are surprised to find some outfits in back slutty enough to rival Brandi's.

You settle on a black leather mini dress that could better be described as a series of interwoven belts that leaves most of your flesh exposed. You notice that you are ever so slightly curvier than you were yesterday, but not so much that you don't still have to hold your dress up to keep some bands from slipping down. You know that all too soon you'll be filling out the dress if not nearly bursting it.

You rush to the taxi with your head hanging low and your cheeks blushing bright. Luckily the driver seems to know where you're going, because you don't want to say a word. By the time you find the shop, a Hansel and Gretel looking facade outside and an adult novelty candy store inside. Dirk spots you slouching in and motions for you to follow him in back down a dimly lit hallway past a secret door hidden behind a shelf of chocolate cocks. Your mouth waters for something sweeter than candy cocks...

"So first things first, if you're going to be a shop gurl here, we can't call you Brian. What's your REAL name?" You hate the way he phrases that. But he's right...you have already reported for work as a sissy sales slut. Hell, you begged for the right.

"My name is Barbie." You wonder where the name came from. You didn't even have to think about it. It sounds so natural tripping off your pouty lips. It is your REAL name after all...

"Barbie, eh? I like it. So today you have a...heh heh FULL day ahead of you. We're going to get you to fill out that dress, but the customers are going to get to decide what other candies you sample." You meekly nod and take the Titilotion and Bimbonin he hands you. You are a little relieved you will be high and hazy and dick dumb for the rest of your surely torturous day.

You swallow the pill and waste no time rubbing the lotion onto your chest. The oddly familiar blush spreads over your skin and the sweltering swelling stretches your dress out until your breasts are brazenly stretching the black bands. Everyone can see all but your hard puffy nipples and your ass is almost entirely exposed and easily accessible. "Oooooh fuuuuck. I feel like all slutty an' stuff. Can you pwetty pwease fuck me to take the edge off 'fore the customers get here?"

Dirk lets out a soulless, hollow laugh which makes the sound of a boot crushing dead leaves. "Sorry, Barbie, you have to earn your fix. Go out front and wait for customers that ask to see the 'back stock'. Don't worry, they'll give you what you need." You writhe in exquisite agony, **** for release, but you know better than to argue.

You saunter out to the sales floor and try not to look as hungry, high, and horny as you feel. You find a middle age loser with a paunchy belly and male pattern baldness, and you still hope he pulls you into the back and fucks you senseless. You lean over giving him a view of absolutely everything and coo, "Hiya, mister. My name's Barbie. Can I help you with ANYTHING? Maybe something...in the BACK?"

He shifts awkwardly and stammers, "No, I was just looking for the gummy bear sized butt plugs and chocolate lube." Fuck. There's nothing worse than a boring bottom boomer. You throb with need and lead him to his purchases.

You find most of your customers are of this variety. That or wannabe studs without the connections or cash to know about the secret stock. Still, you do an admirable job flirting and flaunting your wares and upsell ever sad sack and lustful loser.

Finally, you see a well dressed monster of a man walk in like he owns the place. He looks like a gaunt Gordon Gecko, all sharp angles and sinister smile. "Good afternoon, miss. My name is Mr. Desaad. I'm a colleague of the proprietor of this quaint little establishment."

Oh fuck! You know who he is! Your dad always described this fellow financier as even more ruthless than he was. He makes Dirk seem like Mother Theresa in comparison. Still, he has the coin to take you in back and give you what you need, no matter how hotly horrible it ends up being. You go into autopilot, chirping, "Hiya, mistah sir. My name's Barbie. Can I help you find anything? Maybe...in BACK?"

Mr. Desaad smiles viciously and takes you by the hand, silently leading you to the back and past the secret entrance. Once inside he hands you a Masochix, a pill that transform pain into arousingly amplified pleasure. You swallow it down eagerly, then remember you're on the clock. "I'd luv to play with you, sir, but I might have other customers."

Mr. Desaad walks over and slips a hand underneath your dress and twists your nipple so painfully that you are reduced to a wet, whimpery mess. It hurts more than words can say, and the excruciating agony is transformed almost instantaneously into euphoric ecstasy so intense that you sissygasm, and fall shuddering into his arms.

"Hmmm...Titilotion and Bimbonin make a heady cocktail combined with Masochix. I could spend all day...and night torturing savage sissygasms out of you before fucking you stupid. Well...stupider, I should say. And don't worry, Barbie, I've fronted your Daddy more than enough to pay for the privilege of punishing you."

And that he does...groping your soft flesh...twisting your tender nipples...spanking your ample ass and full, fertile breasts...sending snarling, searing sissygasms through you until you are delirious and dick ****, begging with your entire bimbo body for his cock.

By the time he bends you over and shoves his slender, eight inch cock into your hungry cunt, you're grateful for the **** and the sweet release of his ragged rutting. When he finally fills you with his stud seed, you are incoherent and eagerly embracing your stupefied, sissy fate.

"Hmm, definitely worth the price. I'll recommend your 'services' to my friends. But be warned, not all of them are generous lovers like me." Mr. Desaad leaves you lying on the floor, glowing and giddy and eager for any further mistreatment.

Dirk finds you there and takes you on the floor, brutally fucking what's left of your brains out and sending you deeper down the sissy spiral until you go blissfully blank and slip into merciful oblivion.

As you slip away you realise that tomorrow there will be even less of you to slip away. A sick, sissy part of you looks forward to it, knowing you'll only sink deeper and deeper until there's nothing left of the shameful straight boi inside you.

Tomorrow will be another day, and you can't wait to "cock" in for work...