My instructions were explicit. I was to go home for the weekend and prepare myself for Mr. Anderson on Monday. I was to remove all obvious traces of my masculinity “excluding your faggot sissy-stick of course” in order to prepare myself to be his fuck toy. This meant shaving my body hair, clipping and painting my nails, sanding my calluses, and waxing my eyelashes. Anderson wanted my ass especially smooth and gorgeous. “I’m not interested in using any bitch with a hairy hole.” He said. “I want your little pussy clean.”

I knew how my girlfriend Bella would react. It’s enough that I don’t deserve her, that she’s a drop dead knockout, that she attracts stares from men who are much larger, stronger, and more successful than I am. She has to put up with all that and now I was going to ask her to date a drag queen? How could I expect her to ignore the men who catcall to her on the street when we walk arm and arm?

The men who yell, “Baby, why don’t you leave that shrimpy faggot, and date a real man?” or “My dick weighs more than your boyfriend baby!” After all, its not like I was going to be a faggot, I already was a faggot. Just yesterday I had dropped to my knees and sucked another man‘s cock. I allowed him to cum on me. No, that’s not right. Allowed is the wrong word. I had begged for it. I was eager for his spunk. Now, ostensibly to keep my job, I wanted her to put up with me shaved and dressed like a slut everyday. There was just no way.
Bella is a bombshell, just incredibly sexy. She’s about 5’6” with long black hair; she’s thin but with a ripe round ass and nice natural tits, big enough to look hot in a tank top but not so large that you think she has implants. She works as some sort of cocktail waitress, I don’t really know, she dresses sexy and stays out late and she always tells me how much she appreciates me for understanding. Who knows? I was lucky to have her as a girlfriend. I was in no position to complain even if it was true that she virtually never allowed me to touch her anymore. It was always ‘not tonight dear’ or ‘I think I have a cold, you better not kiss me’. I didn’t ask many questions, I was happy just to be allowed in her presence. Given that I would soon be a painted little fuck whore for Anderson my only hope of keeping her was to simply avoid her. I figured she would dump me eventually, I was just hoping to postpone it as long as possible.

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