Max had always been the golden boy of the city scene, charming smile, sharp jawline, a body that turned heads on rooftops and in crowded bars. With his easy confidence and high-status circle, no one suspected the secret itch deep inside him: a craving to be broken, exposed, remade, owned. When he matched with the Dom on the app, the messages got filthy fast. “I don’t want a boyfriend,” the Dom wrote. “I want a brainless, drooling, cock-obsessed faggot who lives to serve.” Max’s pulse raced. He typed back with trembling fingers: “Transform me.”
They set the date for Wednesday at 10:00 PM sharp.
Max spent the whole day prepping—cleaning himself inside and out, shaving smooth, and stocking up on fresh poppers. By the time the Dom knocked, Max was already buzzing, two deep hits burning in his lungs. The door opened and the Dom stepped in: tall, commanding, radiating pure control. One look at Max’s glassy eyes and eager grin told him everything.
“On your knees, boy.”
The first hour was worship. Max pressed his face into the Dom’s boots, licking every inch while the Dom dangled a fresh bottle of poppers under his nose. “Breathe deep, faggot. Let it melt that pretty brain.” Max inhaled until the room spun, then moved up—kissing calves, thighs, until he was nuzzling the thick bulge straining against the Dom’s pants. When the cock finally sprang free, Max moaned like he’d found religion. He sucked sloppily, gagging himself, tears running down his cheeks while the Dom face-fucked him with long, deliberate strokes.
Hours blurred. Poppers. Cock. Feet. Edge. The Dom wouldn’t let him cum. Every time Max got close, a firm hand gripped his hair and yanked him back. “Not yet. Your orgasms belong to me now.” Max’s mind grew hazy, his usual sharp wit dissolving into desperate whimpers and mindless begging.
Then, after five relentless hours, it happened.
Max was on all fours, tongue buried between the Dom’s toes, poppers flooding his system, when something deep inside his head clicked. A switch flipped. The confident city boy vanished. His eyes rolled back, his mouth fell open, and a long, thick string of drool rolled down his chin. The Dom noticed immediately.
“Look at me.”
Max’s head snapped up instantly, eyes wide and vacant, tongue lolling out in pure ahegao bliss. His brain was empty. The Dom grinned.
“Good faggot. On the bed.”
Max obeyed without hesitation, he climbed onto the bed and presented himself—legs spread, back arched, ass up like a bitch in heat. The Dom circled him slowly.
“Show me that hole.”
Max didn’t even blush. He rolled onto his back, grabbed his legs, and pulled them up high, folding himself in half. His smooth, pink hole winked in the light, already twitching with need. One hand reached down to spread his cheeks wider while the other lazily stroked his leaking cock. The proud, popular Max was gone. In his place was a drooling, horny mess—grinning stupidly, eyes crossed, completely broken.
The Dom laughed low and dark. “That’s it. Look at you. Five hours and you’re already my perfect mindless faggot. From now on, this is your life. Poppers, worship, edging, and getting your hole ruined whenever I want. You don’t think anymore. You just obey and leak.”
The Dom pulled out his phone and took a nice picture of Max. “Smile!” He said.
Max’s only response was a happy, brainless moan as he pushed a finger into his own ass, staring up at his Owner with total adoration.
“Say it, boy.”
“I’m… your brainless… always-horny… faggot, please expose me to the world Sir” Max slurred, tongue still hanging out, drool dripping onto his chest.
“Ready to be exposed to the world boy? Here it goes”.
CLICK! The Dom submitted the image, and turned off his phone.
He then stepped forward, pressing his cock against Max’s eager lips. “Good. Now open wide. Training round two starts now.”
Max’s transformation was complete—and he had never been happier.