"First, tell me I'm not living in a fool's paradise, that you really are innocent."I stopped, looked at him in disbelief; then realized it was his car...eer, too. "Arthur," I said, "I never touched the little bitch. What's the second thing?" Second," he said, "stop pacing around with that FUCKING CA..."He had stopped, dead in his sentence. "Cane," he finished softly.I stopped.He stared at my leg. He reached out and grabbed the cane. "Walk toward me," he commanded.I complied."Old war wound?" he. Kyle said, “If I knew Santa Claus was such a dirty old man, I would’ve been much naughtier.” Santa who even still had his beard on, said, “You haven’t even seen how dirty I can get,” and proceeded to get Kyle up on all fours while he rimmed his own cum out of Kyle’s ass.They fell asleep in each other’s arms, Santa finally slipping out of his outfit because he had to be at work in it the next day, and it was his only Santa suit. Kyle told him that he needed to fulfill that fantasy, and that if. I can't hold off any longer."Master, may I please cum?" I ask breathlessly. There's no answer, just the feeling of the plug, going deeper every time he pushes it in. I feel owned, completely submissive to his will. I will give him whatever he wants, let him do whatever he wants, I just want him to let me cum. "Please" I ask again, having trouble getting the words out, "Please, Master, let me cum." Still no answer. He reaches underneath me, and begins rubbing my clit, still ramming my ass. It felt comfortable, no, natural, to be standing there.He took a deep breath and looked down again. The hair on his arms was gone. There was none on his chest or legs either. His arms seemed thinner, asif the muscles were fading, being replaced by delicate, feminine curves.His hands were thinner, too, and his fingers had become long and slender.He felt the material of his undershirt moving against his chest - movingout. He - he was growing breasts. "You never said I'd become a girl,".