Happy Amy

“I am proud of you, slut,” Amy tells me firmly, stroking my hair lovingly, “You kept quiet that entire time ... I don't think Dean's ever been that quiet in his whole life.” My lips twitch, but having never lived with him, I cannot comment on that.

“Even prouder you know better than to speak, right now,” she smiles, “You've always been a wonderful friend. You made me really happy by letting me be the one who gets you. You do know I will sell you in a heartbeat if you ask me to, right?”

“Hm?” I ask, tilting my head. She strokes my face gently, happily, smiling at me with all the warmth I've ever seen on her face. I can tell she doesn't like talking about this in particular, but she must, probably because of some legal ramifications.

“If you decided you wanted to belong to your parents, or to your little brother and little sister,” Amy says, “I'd be quite sad because I like owning you, but I would still sell you to them. Your new status means you don't get to decide for yourself ...”

“I wouldn't want to own you if you wanted to be sold to someone else,” she tells me firmly, “You're my best friend, I love you. You're a faggot, but you're my best friend and I want you to be happy, too. So if you don't want to be my property ...”

“No,” I say firmly, kissing her thigh, “Thank you for letting me be yours, and wanting me to be yours.” Amy smiles at me, bright with delight, stroking my ass with her foot while cupping one side of my face with her hand and stroking my cheek.

“You're very welcome, faggot,” she leans forward, kissing my forehead, “You're going to make me a very, very happy girl. Everyone at university is going to be super fucking jealous of my new accreditation, and of the sweet faggot I've acquired.”

“Am I still gonna be going to university, myself?” I ask, and Amy tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows in confusion, as she looks down at me. “I mean, I'm nothing but a faggot, so who cares if I won't be as educated as I potentially could be?”

Her leg flicks and she snaps her foot down on my ass in a hard spank. “I care, faggot. Of course you're going to continue to go to university with me. I want you to be educated. I want you to be able to freely pursue whatever profession you want.”

“Sure, you're a faggot, and you'll probably be sucking your coworkers' cocks on a regular basis, because you're my faggot,” she says, tilting her head, “I mean, assuming I like your coworkers, they'll have full access to your body, but nevertheless!”

“And I expect you to put proper effort into your schoolwork, when we get back to university, too!” she says with the hard, crisp firmness of a woman who literally owns me, now, “I don't want a dumb, uneducated fag. I am PROUD you're smart!”

My cheeks warm, and I kiss her cock submissively, apologetically. She focuses an austere gaze down on me for a moment, “Okay, okay. I'm sorry.”

“Good faggot,” her expression softens as I lick her from her hilt to her crown, apologising with more than words from my mouth, and she strokes my cheek. “I love you and I want you to have a full life. You're going to be a cum-fed fag, but still.”

“Thank you, Amy,” I purr against her cock as she strokes my hair, “I love you, too. I'm glad I volunteered for your thesis.”

“I'm planning to write a dissertation on you,” Amy tells me, “which is why I wanted to do a temporary reprogramming ... but you asked for permanent, and I'm bad at saying no to you. I do still get to do a dissertation, just a different one, now.”

“I'll also still need to get some volunteers for temporary mental reprogramming, because one test patient isn't sufficient,” Amy mulls on it, as I worship her cock with my mouth, “I mean. Empirical science demands a study of more than one fag.”

“Not that I'd necessarily reprogram every volunteer into being a faggot cock slave, obviously,” she looks down at me with a smile, “I mean, that was the obvious choice with you, faggot, but, I'd let the volunteers explain what they want from me.”

Her stomach rumbles, interrupting her, and she looks down at her belly, then back to me, “Oh, shit. I was reading for quite a while, wasn't I?”

“Mm-Hmm,” I answer, kissing her crown affectionately, “Yes, you were, Amy.”

“Are you hungry?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“I could eat, but you did just feed me some milk,” I reply, and she grins at me, but gently pushes me. I back off obediently, and watch her get off the bed. I follow off the bed and get dressed, because I don't have permission to be nude house-wide.

“Good, faggot,” she says, motioning, “Come on. I need food, slut.” I nod, quickening in getting dressed, and then follow her out into the rest of her parents' house. In the kitchen, Dean is at the counter, looking freshly-showered, making his lunch.

“Hey Amy. Hey fag,” he greets us as we walk in, “Thanks for letting me use him, earlier, Amy.”

“Thanks for keeping quiet while I was reading,” she replies, and he looks over his shoulder at me while Amy opens up the refrigerator, “What're you making for lunch? I'm fucking starving.”

“Just a turkey and provolone sandwich,” he replies, “I was doing some reading. There have been some weird observations about human evolution with the resurgence of your profession. There's considerable secular scientific interest in all of it.”

“I am absolutely not going to volunteer to help you with this one, though,” he adds, “I don't trust you to not turn me into a cum-fed cocksucker.” When she turns to stare at him, he sticks his tongue out, grinning mischievously while Amy groans.

“Psh, asshole,” she replies, “Seriously, though. I want him to eat lunch, do you want to feed him?” Dean glances over at me then back at Amy and nods.

“Sure, if you don't mind the faggot sucking your brother's dick right under the table while we're eating,” Dean answers.

“You heard my brother, slut,” Amy says, glancing over at me as she peruses the refrigerator, “Under the table, faggot.”

Author's Note:
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