Owned

**Day 9**

You woke with your chest heavier again.

The new weight settled against your ribs the moment you shifted. Your hands rose on instinct and cupped soft, dense flesh that had not been there the morning before. The breasts sat fuller, rounder, the nipples already tight and dark against the thin sheet. When you squeezed, a low sound left your throat and clear fluid leaked from the smooth mound between your legs where your cock and balls had once lived.

Nothing remained outside.

The shaft and testicles had finished retracting overnight. All that existed now was a soft, puffy pubic mound with a tiny vertical slit nestled in the center—hooded, smooth, and constantly wet. You pressed two fingers against it and felt only yielding flesh and the faint ridge of what used to be a urethra. No shaft to stroke. No balls to tug. Just a sensitive, leaking button that stayed soft no matter how you touched it.

Steffy was already awake and filming.

She sat against the headboard, phone braced on a small tripod, thick cock already hard and resting against her stomach. The camera pointed at you.

“Show the camera how much bigger they got,” she said. “Hold them up. Squeeze.”

You obeyed. Your hands lifted the new breasts, thumbs brushing the nipples. Clear fluid immediately beaded at the tiny slit between your legs and ran down the inside of one thigh. Steffy zoomed in on the wet trail, then on the smooth mound.

“Look at that,” she murmured for the recording. “No cock left. Just a soft little pussy mound that leaks whenever she plays with her tits. Say it for the camera.”

“I don’t have a cock anymore,” you whispered. The words came easier than they should have. “Just a wet little mound. And bigger tits.”

Steffy smiled and crooked a finger. “Come sit on it. Slow. I want the whole thing inside while the camera watches your face.”

You straddled her hips. The fat head of her cock pressed against the tiny slit, found the entrance lower down, and began to stretch you open. Inch after thick inch sank into your ass while your new breasts bounced softly with every downward movement. When you finally bottomed out, the smooth pubic mound sat flush against her pelvis, leaking steadily onto the base of her shaft.

Steffy reached up, pinched both nipples, and started fucking up into you in short, deep strokes.

The orgasm hit almost immediately—clear, watery fluid pulsing from the tiny slit in weak, continuous streams while your hole clenched around her cock and your mind went briefly white. You kept bouncing because she told you to. Another orgasm followed, then another, each one just more clear liquid running down her cock and pooling on her stomach while the camera recorded every wet sound and every dazed expression on your face.

By the time she flooded your guts you were floating, tits heavy in her hands, mound soft and soaked, the only thought left in your head the thick meat stretching you open.

She kept the camera rolling while you stayed seated on her softening cock, clear fluid still leaking, and whispered to the lens how good it felt to be empty between the legs and full in the ass.

**Day 10**

Your breasts had grown again by morning.

They sat heavy and soft on your chest, the nipples larger, the undersides fuller. When you stood, they shifted with a slight bounce that made the tiny slit between your legs leak in a thin, constant trickle. The pubic mound was smoother than yesterday, the residual ridge of your old shaft almost completely gone. Touching it produced only a soft, wet give and a fresh pulse of clear fluid.

Steffy filmed you in the shower.

She made you soap the new breasts slowly for the camera, lifting them, squeezing, letting the water run over the nipples until you came standing up—clear fluid mixing with the shower water and running down your thighs while your hole clenched around nothing. Then she stepped in behind you, bent you forward under the spray, and pushed her thick cock into your ass in one long slide.

The camera sat on a waterproof shelf, recording every thrust.

“Tell it what you are,” she ordered, hips slapping against your wet skin.

“I’m a soft little leaking thing,” you gasped. The words felt fuzzy and true. “No cock. Just tits and a hole. I get wet when she fucks me. I come clear. I need her meat.”

Steffy reached around, pinched your nipples hard, and kept the same deep rhythm until you orgasmed twice more against the shower wall—each climax just another rush of clear fluid and a blank, submissive float that lasted longer than the day before. When she came she stayed buried, grinding, letting the camera watch the thick white leak out around her shaft every time she shifted.

Afterward she dried your chest carefully, made you hold your breasts up for close-ups, and recorded a short clip of you spreading the smooth pubic mound so the tiny wet slit was visible.

“Day ten,” she said to the lens. “Tits bigger. Cock completely gone. Just a soft leaking mound and a hole that stays open for me. She’s getting dumber every time she comes. Aren’t you, baby?”

You nodded, eyes hazy, already leaning forward to lick the leftover cum off her cock without being told.

**Day 11**

The bra Steffy bought you barely contained them.

Soft pink, push-up, the cups overflowing when you moved. Your breasts had grown enough overnight that the nipples sat higher and darker, constantly stiff against the fabric. Between your legs the pubic mound was completely smooth—no ridge, no hint of the shaft that had once existed—only a soft, puffy vertical slit that leaked clear fluid in a steady, embarrassing trickle whenever you walked or sat or thought about Steffy’s cock.

She filmed you doing housework in the bra and nothing else.

You washed dishes with your new tits resting against the edge of the sink, the pink bra damp from the constant drip of clear fluid running down your thighs. Every time you reached for a plate the breasts shifted and another pulse of wetness left the tiny slit. Steffy sat at the kitchen island with the camera, thick cock out, stroking slowly while she gave instructions.

“Arch your back more. Let them hang. Now say what happened to your cock.”

“It went away,” you answered, voice soft and slightly slow. Thinking felt harder today. “It retracted. It’s just a wet little mound now. I leak all the time. I don’t make sperm anymore. Just clear stuff when I come.”

“And what do you need?”

“Your meat stick,” you said immediately. The words came without effort. “I need it inside me. I get stupid when it’s not stretching me.”

Steffy smiled and stood. She bent you over the counter without ceremony, pulled the bra down so your breasts spilled free against the marble, and pushed her cock into your ass in one smooth thrust. The camera recorded the way your hole opened around the thick shaft, the way clear fluid leaked from the smooth mound onto the cabinet, the way your face went slack with the first prostate orgasm.

She fucked you through four clear, watery climaxes while the camera watched, each one leaving you a little slower, a little more focused on the single point of fullness inside you. When she finally filled you she kept the cock buried and made you look at the lens.

“Tell them what you are on day eleven.”

“I’m Steffy’s soft leaking girl,” you whispered. “Big tits. No cock. Just a hole that stays wet for her meat. I get dumber every time she uses me.”

You stayed bent over the counter with her cock still inside long after the camera stopped, clear fluid dripping steadily, mind pleasantly empty.

**Day 12**

You could no longer remember what it felt like to be hard.

The thought tried to form while Steffy filmed you on your back, knees pulled to your chest, but it dissolved under the heavy bounce of your breasts and the constant wetness of the smooth mound between your legs. The tiny slit leaked in a thin, unbroken string onto the sheets. Your hole was already soft and open from the morning session. Steffy’s cock slid back in with almost no resistance.

She recorded in close-up: the thick shaft disappearing into you, the way your smooth pubic mound sat flush against her pelvis, the clear fluid that kept pulsing out every time she bottomed out. Her free hand played with your tits—squeezing, lifting, pinching the nipples until another clear orgasm rolled through you and your eyes went briefly unfocused.

“Getting stupider,” she said for the camera, still thrusting. “Look at her face. Every load I pump into this hole makes her softer in the head. Say it.”

“I’m getting stupider,” you repeated, voice dreamy. “I think less. I just want the meat stick. I leak when she plays with my tits. I come clear and it feels better than anything my old cock ever did.”

Steffy leaned down and sucked a nipple while she fucked you deeper. The dual sensation triggered two more watery orgasms in quick succession. Clear fluid soaked the sheets under your hips. Your thoughts narrowed to the single thick presence stretching your hole and the heavy softness of your chest. When she came she stayed fully buried, grinding in slow circles, and kept the camera rolling while you floated in the aftershocks.

Later she made you sit on her cock in reverse and hold your own breasts for the lens while you bounced. The words she told you to repeat came out automatic and soft:

“I don’t need a cock. I need this. I get wetter every day. I get dumber every day. Steffy’s meat stick is the only thing that makes sense.”

You fell asleep still seated on her, the thick shaft keeping you open, clear fluid leaking around the base, mind quiet and warm and empty of everything except the next time she would use you.

**Day 13**

Your breasts were heavy enough that your shoulders ached in the sweetest way.

They sat full and soft on your chest, nipples dark and permanently tight. The pink bra Steffy had bought no longer closed properly; the cups overflowed and the underband dug into soft new tissue. Between your legs the pubic mound was completely smooth and constantly wet—a soft, puffy slit that leaked clear fluid in a steady trickle no matter what you were doing. The last faint internal ridge of your old anatomy had vanished. Nothing remained but a sensitive, hooded little opening that produced only clear, sterile wetness.

Steffy filmed almost everything.

She recorded you waking up and immediately reaching for your tits. She recorded the way clear fluid already slicked your thighs before you even stood. She recorded you on your knees in the living room, bra pulled down, breasts hanging, while you licked her thick cock from base to tip and told the camera in slow, slightly slurred words how much you needed it inside you.

Then she bent you over the arm of the couch and gave it to you.

The stretch was easy now. Your hole opened for her like it had been waiting all night. She fucked you in long, deep strokes while the camera watched from the side, capturing every bounce of your heavy breasts, every pulse of clear fluid from the smooth mound, every dazed expression that crossed your face when another watery orgasm rolled through.

“Day thirteen,” she said, voice low and pleased. “Tits keep growing. Cock and balls completely gone—just a soft leaking mound. She comes clear every time and leaks even when she’s not coming. Getting dumber. Hornier. More open.” She reached under and pinched both nipples hard. “Tell the camera what you are.”

“I’m Steffy’s soft little cum-sleeve,” you answered, the words automatic and foggy. “Big tits. Wet mound. No cock left. I think less every day. I just want her meat stick stretching me. I leak for her. I come for her. I stay full of her.”

Steffy kept thrusting until you had lost count of the clear, shuddering orgasms. When she finally flooded you she stayed buried to the root, hips pressed tight, and held the camera so it could see the thick white slowly leaking out around her shaft every time your hole fluttered.

She left the cock inside while she locked the phone and settled her weight over your back.

“Sleep like this,” she murmured against your ear. “Full. Soft. Stupid. Tomorrow your tits will be heavier and you’ll be even more desperate for it. And we’ll film that too.”

You closed your eyes with her massive dong still buried deep, clear fluid leaking steadily from the smooth mound onto the couch, mind pleasantly blank except for the thick, living heat that kept you open and owned.

The only thought that remained was how good it felt to be nothing but tits and a wet hole for Steffy’s meat stick—and how much more of yourself you were willing to lose tomorrow.