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Beg (MOTC24)

Ronnie gyrated his hips on stage, the shiny fabric of his dress catching the pink lighting of the Pattaya bar. He swiveled sensually around the pole, a move made perfect over countless nights working to pay off his debt to Mamasan Dao.

It had all started as a drunken bar bet. The first of many drunken bar bets that led the smashed American to rack up a ten thousand dollars of debt in one night. Reeking of whiskey and bravado, Ronnie had double downed, only just managing to stay conscious as he watched his debt double to twenty grand. The next morning, head pounding and wallet empty, he had tried to slink away, only to be caught by Dao’s goons. They had dragged him before the mamasan herself, a cruel sneer twisting her features. “You pay, one way or another,” she had declared. Then her eyes had raked over his flabby, hungover form speculatively. “I think…we make you girl. Squealing go-go piglet, work off debt on back.” He had protested, of course. Pleaded. But it was no use. Dao jabbed a syringe into his neck, flooding his body with liquid heat causing the world to go dark as Ronnie crumpled to the floor.

He didn’t know it then, but that syringe contained a cutting-edge nanotech serum: microscopic machines that infiltrated every cell, rewriting DNA on the fly. While he was out cold, the nanites swarmed through his bloodstream, devouring testosterone and Y chromosomes, excreting potent feminizing enzymes in their wake. Ronnie awoke later, groggy and aching, to find his body already changing. Stubble fell off his softening jawline, leaving baby-smooth skin behind. Muscles melted, bones shifted, hips and ass swelling into a juicy peach ripe for the picking. But the real stars of the show were his newly sprouted tits: a pair of plump DDs that would put any bargirl to shame. And with each passing minute, subtle mental shifts clicked into place. Neural pathways rerouted themselves, pumping out endorphins while conjuring images of serving cock. Dao cackled with glee as Ronnie sat up, wincing at the unfamiliar weight on his chest, only to moan as his new nanite-formed slit dampened with need. There was no lengthy recovery, no adaptation period. Within hours, Ronnie was chasing johns like a cock-starved nympho, offering up every hole for the taking. The nanites made it so rewarding to be a fucktoy. Soon, he was just another piece of Pattaya ass.

Now, as Ronnie locked eyes with a fat, sweaty German in the front row, he realized this was it: his final job. One more sloppy performance and he’d be free, debt settled, able to reclaim his old life. So why did that prospect fill him with existential dread? Why did the thought of NOT shaking his juicy booty for booze and baht leave him feeling hollow inside? Unbidden, his cunt clenched. His hips bucked. God, he needed it so bad: the stretch of a meaty cock burrowing into him, the hazy humiliation of being mounted and bred like a bitch. An anguished moan slipped from his blowjob lips. Tears carved dark rivulets through his caked-on makeup. He needed this geezer to pick him, to use him and discard him. He needed to feel like a well-worn whore just one more time before it all ended.

Jaw clenched, he doubled down, humping the floor, spread-eagled and seething with slutty desperation. In the pulsing whoosh of his heartbeat, he almost missed the mamasan’s raspy cackle from the corner. “Look at stupid bitch,” she sneered to another girl. “Surely too good a whore to be man again. Maybe she want stay like this? All she need is beg like dog!” Raw, unfiltered need seized suddenly Ronnie. Yes, his addled whore-brain hissed, seizing on the idea like a drowning man grabbing a life preserver. All he had to do was beg, to debase and degrade himself more completely than ever before, and he could stay like this forever. Stay a simpering semen-sponge, a cock-crazed cumguzzler. Awash in the perverse bliss of total submission, Ronnie dragged himself to Dao’s feet on hands and knees. He would do anything, would BE anything, accept any torment and thank her for it, as long as he never had to stop being her filthy fucktoy.

At long last, Ronnie had found his, her, place in the world: it was in the cum-smeared gutters of Pattaya, forever. Mamasan Dao smiled wide.

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