Dinky's dilemma

Dinky let go of his knees and sat up, but his stomach felt like it kept sinking.

Oh, no! What did I do! I just wanted Brock to want me, not be so girly!

"Whatcha waiting for, honey?" asked Brock, with his face nearly touching the floor. "Come on and pound me!"

With worry wrinkling his thin eyebrows, Dinky scooted to the edge of the bed. He wanted to have sex, and he wanted to have it with Brock, but not like this. Even bent over and lisping, Brock was still too hot to ignore, though. Maybe the little femboy could try it? He stayed on the bed for the extra height as he shuffled close to the naked, wiggling ass. Then he lined up his dicklet and pushed.

"Tee-hee! That tickleth, thweety!" said Brock. "Now thtop teathing and put that cute little thing in me!"

Dinky rubbed his floppy two-incher up and down along Brock's crack. He grabbed the man's hips with his tiny hands and pumped with all his frail might. He even spit on his hand so he could massage his flaccid cocklet to life, but to no avail. After a few minutes, he began to cry.

"Aw, what'th the matter, honey-bun?" asked Brock. "Little Bo doethn't want to peep inthide my hole?"

"I-I cuh-can't get it u-up no more!" bawled Dinky. "I-huh-I j-just wanted you to like me! Buh-but now you're s-super gay! I th-thought gay people f-fuh-fucked other men!"

"Oh, honey, that'th totally what I want," said Brock. "I'd love a nithe big dick to ride on all night long, but you're the one I love! I thuppothe I could try to put my dingy in you but...well, that'th jutht tho butch! Yuck! Oh, wait! I know! Where'th the phone?"

Dinky rubbed his teary eyes and pointed to where he tossed the silver device. Hope began to beat in his little heart again -- Brock would fix it! He was smart! Dinky's asshole began to pucker with anticipation.

"Okay, let'th thee," lisped Brock. "Oh, you naughty thing! You made thome changeth to me, didn't you? I totally usethed to be thraight...like five minuteth ago! Did you change me jutht tho we could do it?"

As Brock spoke he waved his hands in the most exaggerated feminine motions while rocking his hips back and forth like a cat-walk model. There was nothing womanly about the display -- it was far too over-the-top for that.

"Well, I gueth I gotta change back, don't I?" he said with a fish-faced pout. "I thould jutht change 'really really gay' to 'heteroboring.' But I jutht can't do it! Ath a matter of fact..."

Apparently, knowing that he was changed was not enough to make Brock want to go back to his original orientation. Perhaps it was the second "really" in his profile, or his new love for Dinky. Regardless, he simply could not bring himself to undo his sexual preferences.

But he did have a few other ideas.

First, he just had to fix his look. Much to butch. Redheads are hot, so after a few clicks the biggest, waviest, curliest mane of red hair grew from his head. His face needed better cheekbones, fuller lips, thinner eyebrows, and a cuter nose. Tap, tap, tap, and done. Oh, and measurements! Memories of Funbags still lingered in his pretty head, so he kept his chest as it was, but that did not mean he could not have a 20" waist and a 40" ass! Just two little numbers to type and he had a backside that would make straight men blush. And get hard.

What else? Smaller hands. Smaller feet! And he might have a hard time getting through doors wearing pumps at 6'1", so those numbers became 5'8". Wait, pumps? Was Brock a crossdresser now? Well, might as well make it official! "Crossdresser," "Makeup Artist," "Dancing Queen," and "Expert Deepthroater" were all added to his traits.

Brock walked over to the vanity mirror to admire his new look. His nine-inch cock still poked out like a flag pole, but he was far more impressed by the mountainous ass cheeks on the other side. As he made kissy faces at himself, he noticed Dinky sitting on the bed, arms crossed and frowning.

"Aw, don't worry, honey!" said Brock. "I didn't forget about you! I did thith for uth! Now, let'th find the thlutieth thingth in the clothet, cuth' we're going to the club!"