Damn… You are truly terrified… It seems it’s best not to anger Mr. Touby…

One might think that the absurdity of the situation would calm your mind, allowing you to dismiss this whole nonsensical farce as nothing more than a silly fantasy with no basis in reality.

Yet, for some reason, an irrational terror seeps into your soul and takes hold of your consciousness.

The muzzle of a pump-action shotgun, pointed straight at your face…

A grimace of pure, furious rage contorting the man’s features as he holds the weapon…

You are… absolutely terrified…

Paralyzed by this fear, you begin to tremble slightly and let out small, choked sobs - on the verge of breaking down into tears.

"Fucking dumbass bitch, cut that shit out - you’re really pushing it!" - it’s clear that if you don’t stop, the enraged janitor might just pull the trigger.

"Oh… No… Please… Please… Mr. Touby…" - you plead, sounding utterly debased and on the brink of tears.

"Motherfuckin' collar! Now!" - the man’s loud, aggressive tone makes it clear: you have no other choice.

Still sobbing, feeling the first tear roll slowly down your cheek, you drop to your knees…

The floor is cold…

Your trembling fingers reach for a leather collar, emblazoned with a shameful, humiliating word.

You bring the object - the kind of thing you’d find in a sex shop - closer…

A moment later, you fasten the leather collar around your neck. The unfamiliar sensation of the black leather collar against the delicate skin of your neck…

"Ahem… Much better… Kneeling suits you, you little whiny snowbunny-gurl! Heh… But now, there’s something else you need to do… Take off all your clothes! Hurry the fuck up, you dumb bitch!" - an older black man, wearing a chilling grin, continues to force you into absurd acts under the threat of a weapon.

It seems your will has been broken…

You are too afraid to even offer a verbal protest…

You simply strip off all your casual clothes - sweatshirt, jeans, sneakers, underwear - and drop them onto the floor.

It’s chilly…

Your defenseless, naked body feels the draft of cold air.

You clumsily try to cover your genitals with your hands…

Your penis and testicles have always been very small - and now, thanks to the cold, they’ve shriveled up even more.

"Heh… Heh… Heh… A laughably pathetic, tiny sissy-clit, and a pair of testicles that look more like little peas! Don’t think you can hide that fact, Billy! Soon, everyone will know about your shame! And now… Turn around!" - mr. Touby’s voice sounds confident (as if everything is going exactly according to his plan).

Shuddering all over (from both fear and the cold) you turn around and see…

A table.

An ordinary table, the kind you’d find all over your college cafeteria.

But instead of discarded plastic cups or torn snack wrappers, there is clothing lying on the table. Clothing that is clearly not intended for a man…

At the very least, a real man would certainly never put such things on his own body…

"You understood everything perfectly, Billy… Be a good gurl… and get all this on - quickly!" a voice says from behind you.

At the same time, you feel the cold touch of a shotgun barrel against the back of your head - a silent, lethal threat.

With a heavy sigh, you begin to dress your smooth, hairless body in this "outfit"…

To be honest, it could truly be called a "slutty outfit".

Your eyes take it all in as you pick up each piece, feeling the texture of the fabric.

So…

A black, slutty ensemble: a thong, a miniskirt, nylon stockings with a garter belt, a strappy crop top, and women’s boots with thick soles.

The term "slutty" should be taken quite literally here - the miniskirt and crop top bear the exact same inscription as the collar from a sex shop that’s currently fastened around your neck…

The entire outfit looks incredibly… provocative… and, in a way, even perversely horny…

Before long, you are fully dressed in this "slutty" attire.

"Ow!" - you cry out, feeling a sudden, sharp pain in your right buttock.

A satisfied laugh from behind you makes it clear: Mr. Touby was quite taken with the sight of your plump booty - and he’s swatted you so hard that it’s likely to leave a mark.

"Heh… Such a sexy sissy-gurl's butt! This outfit suits you so well, Billy! It’s way better than those boring boy clothes you were wearing before… Just look at yourself! Now your appearance finally matches who you really are!" - the janitor says.

You turn around and see a glint of malicious amusement in his black eyes.

The pump-action shotgun is still pointed menacingly in your direction…

You glance down at yourself and blush with shame… It’s clear that you look like some kind of slut right now…

"Slut"…

That’s exactly what’s written on your collar, your miniskirt, and your crop top…

"Please… sir… Mr. Touby… let me go…" - you plead in a small, pathetic voice, feeling a few tears dampen your cheeks.

"Hah! Dumb lil’ hoe! The fun’s only just begun! Remember what I said? You look perfect on your knees in front of a real man… Gurl, stop trippin’ like a little bitch and just get on your knees!" - the command is delivered in a loud, authoritative tone that brooks no argument.

Glancing fearfully at the weapon, you drop to your knees before this intimidating, older black man.

He slowly steps closer to you.

"Lock eyes with me, bitch!" - he stares unblinkingly, as if trying to peer straight into your thoughts.

You look up with your large, beautiful blue eyes and meet his gaze…