Chapter Twenty-seven
“Why are you doing this to me?”
A woeful Sammy looks in the mirror. Ostensibly he complains of his lengthy n*****s, now encased in two inch extenders and soon, when I prepare to leave for the day, to be weighted most cruelly.
“I want you to feel like a girl, Sammy. Having you look like a girl with nice long n*****s will facilitate that process.”
“But can’t I touch them... just once?”
‘Them’ are his n*****s and undersized breasts. As with all pubescent girls, Sammy has developed an adolescent curiosity about certain anatomical parts. The deluge of progesterone has physically awakened those sentient pink nubs. My psychological barrage has likewise brought a pubescent like cognizance to his psyche, bringing awareness to his slow transformation.
“Now why would you ne
