Continued from here:

Trent tried to fight them–the thoughts in his head that told him that this was normal, but he wasn’t supposed to look like this, no matter how much he loved looking at himself in the mirror. The overly tanned body, inflated pecs, the disgusting porn star mustache ..he was supposed to be some rough and tough marine, not this disgustingly hot and sexy faggot. He flexed and tugged on his cock, his worries suddenly distant, the moment of clarity over.

“Ready for your big debut?” a voice said behind him–Master, his owner, his love. Every doubt suddenly evaporated, Master coming up and yanking on Trent’s teats, making the muscle man groan in a high pitched voice. “I think the men are gonna love you tonight, especially your dance with Rudy.”

“Ooo, yeth Thir,” Trent purred, “I love danthing.”

“I know you do bitch. Now get out there and make me proud.”

Trent took one last look in the mirror, trying to remember what he’d been thinking about, but it was gone. Dancing mattered more anyway, he thought as he pulled on his green jock, and walked out to his waiting fans.

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