It was the third day of the convention and I was still struggling to adjust to life as the kitten-sized lizard dad had transformed me into. Worse than a pet, I was a cosplay accessory, made to sit silently on his shoulder as he prowled the convention floor, flaunting the tits that had once been mom to anyone who would look. Which was every male there.
He craved attention, and had intentionally garbed his feminised body in as little clothing as he could, only avoiding being thrown out for indecency by a discrete fondle of the security guard’s genitals. He posed and preened for the cameras, pushing the two succulent halves of his wife together into a spectacular display of cleavage.
It was the evening and he’d seated his derriere at the hotel bar while I curled my draconic form around the jar of peanuts, picking at the food with my snakelike neck. Unfed by our ‘owner’, me and my brothers had resorted to scrounging scraps off the convention floor - half eaten hotdogs and doritos. Dad was deeply drunk - only a few beers in but he’d yet to compensate for his reduced tolerance. His loose-fitting sapphire blue dress had slipped down around his creamy breasts to expose his nipples, and none of the men in the place had the heart to tell him.
A man sat beside him, shirtless and covered in stenciled-on tattoos. “Daenerys,” he addressed dad with a wolfish grin. Dad’s lopsided gaze examined the fellow cosplayer.
“Drogo,” he mumbled in recognition.
“Those things real?” the man asked. His question might have been addressed to the two fake dragons, myself and my brother, whom many at the convention had already mistook for animatronics. Yet his gaze and his question was directed firmly at dad’s tits.
“Why don’t you touch them and find out?” dad murmured.
The man needed no further invitation. Dad gave a girlish mewl as "Drogo's" hands enveloped his breasts, squeezing and groping roughly, the loose dress falling down about his waist.
“Wa-wait, I- ooooohhhh,” dad moaned. His dainty hand gripped the man’s thick arm for a moment, the show of resistance falling away as a heady pulse of estrogen hit his brain.
I rose in agitation, noticing dad’s heavily lidded eyes as he shifted closer to the other man, pushing the soft orbs of his wife against him, grinding his nipples against his palms. The tits, formed from female flesh, were designed to maintain his hormones like that of a woman, but each fondle turned his blood more into a hormonal slurry, his mind more into a lascivious slut. “W-we mustn’t,” he gasped. “I’m a ma-aaaahhh”
A quiet, feminine yelp escaped his lips as they were taken by the other man. They gasped and grunted as their tongues explored each other's mouths passionately. Dad was trapped in a vicious cycle - the more his body was played with, the more his mind was feminized. The more he was feminized, the more he urged the man to treat his body - no, worse, mom - as a plaything.
Realizing the situation was escalating out of hand, I hopped up onto my four paws, scrambling along the bar counter to intercept them before dad did something he’d regret. Dad was already slipping into the man’s lap, grinding his ass eagerly against him.
“This is a family bar.” The bartender interrupted the lurid scene. “If you've got a room, take it there.”
“Gladly,” smiled Drogo, sweeping the silver-haired slut into his arms.
Dad curled again him, cooing in drugged delight.
I followed, snapping at the man’s heels, though he paid me little notice as he continued to ravish the ex-man with his tongue. At his hotel room, he gave me a hard kick, sending me sprawling. “Scram, pest,” he hissed, slamming the door against my snout.
My talons scraped pointlessly at the door, trying to ignore the squeals of delight and moans of orgasm that emanated from within as Daenerys’ pussy was penetrated for the first time.
No comments:
Post a Comment