Boxx and I (Story by Teabag) (Patreon)

*****************************************

I posted this work long looooong time ago (back when Tumblr was a thing).

Now, with the power of AI, I've upgraded the resolution and added some visual improvements. 

Story was originally posted in the link below, and it's a part of a series I loved back then and still do now.

It's fun looking back at these items - I hope you re-enjoy them like I do.

Shweiky

https://www.studsinstone.com/stories/item/2856-boxx-and-i

*****************************************

I have made the decision careful and of my own free will. I am no longer satisfied with my current existence, my life as it is and wished to rectify it.
I messaged my master and he was happy for me, glad of my choice, he told me he was ready to receive me.
I auctioned off most of my possessions, my films, games and books, I no longer needed them not in the new life I hoped for.
The only possessions I had left were a few books, some clothes, a single pair of battered shoes and a rucksack.
The only link between my master and myself was a computer tablet with my entire search history and private, intimate message record between my master and myself.
This I took with me. I have told no one of my intentions or destination.
I managed to raise enough cash to get a passport and plane ticket to the USA along with a little spending money; I prayed it would be enough.
After touching down in America I followed the email directions to the letter, at each location I would discover a hidden note or letter that directed onwards, towards my eventual meeting place with my master.
I did not know how to feel over this, clearly my master didn’t trust me fully but in my heart of hearts I knew it were for the beats, this way would make it impossible for him to be located, to be trailed, tracked, my master valued his privacy and he must be protected
Eventually I met him. I had followed the latest instructions, written via cut out newspaper print, to a small, quiet town in a far away state. I was waiting near the bus station. It was quiet and nearly dark but I waited because I was instructed to do so.
I was busy staring across the road. I was alone and cold and hoped that my journey was nearing its end.
I didn’t even notice the man who approached, he seemed so regular, so ordinary, my thoughts were filled by what was to come and I didn’t even register the sudden motion of his hands as he forced a drugged piece of cloth into my face.
I struggled only momentarily out of reflex until I realised that my long awaited meeting was taking place. I opened my mouth wide to receive my masters drugged expression of devotion and swiftly darkness took me.
I awoke later, hours later as it transpired, in a large bedroom. My wrists and ankles had been bound in rope but the rope had been loosed for me now. I could feel the soft, silky sheets beneath me and I felt safe and warm.
On the besides table was a glass of water that I drank form when I felt well enough.
My shoes and backpack were propped up against the side of a shop bought Ikea style wardrobe.
I was only awake and moving for a few minutes when he arrived and I was properly introduced to my new saviour.
He came into the room confidently and so warm and charming was he I fell instantly under his spell. Even if I had harboured a secret second thought about my plan, I could never utter it in his presence such as it was, no man could displease him willingly, all I wished to do was serve him such was his power over me.
He looked average, plain but it transcended that, when I looked at him, I felt as though I looked upon every man, all men, such was the power of his being here, this man, this collector of men, his every movement betrayed his power, barely concealed, almost uncaged, to be in his presence was like being before a great demi-man like Hercules or Gilgamesh, a god amongst men.
He had blue eyes that pierced me with their intelligence, I felt as if there could be no secrets between us, that he would see through any lie I presented to him, I instinctively felt submissive towards this man who was the alpha to my omega.
He introduced himself and I thanked him profusely for what he was going to do to me, that I was unworthy to be in his presence.
‘Not at all’ Boxx said happily ‘always happy to meet such a fan and devoted servant and soon to be prize of my collection’.
We chatted a bit, about my progress and whether I had enjoyed the sites and places I had seen so far in America.
He put me at ease and I felt comfortable with him.
He wore a loose fitting dressing robe that was slightly open, underneath it he was nude, my eyes dropped every now and again, catching quick glimpse of dark, bushy pubic hair.
I felt an almost overpowering desire to loosen his gown by pulling its cord, drop to my knees and worship his thick cock and hairy orbs. To drop my own pair of jeans and underpants, to present myself to him, on all fours, to be taken by force.
‘Perhaps you would like to undress?’ he suggested and such was his power that his softly spoken request was a command that I obey instinctively, I only just stopped myself after removing my belt.
‘What I mean’ Boxx said at my sudden protestation ‘is that you may feel more conformable naked, certainly you will spend most of your new life here naked, save for when I decide to place you in something, a thong or change of clothes, for my pleasure and amusement, surely you’d like to do this for me?’
I felt a little guilty at his logic and my irrational decision, of course I should go naked before the master I thought it was only my upbringing, my conditioning by society that made being naked before my fellow man feel strange and unusual.
I would feel better when I no longer had to make awkward and difficult decisions.
I stripped fully nude before him, after all had I not sent my master preliminary images of myself for his pleasure. He already knew what I looked like and I was just being foolish. Underneath our layer of clothes we are all naked and I shouldn’t feel ashamed of myself, after all hadn’t master Boxx told me I was beautiful just the way I was, hadn’t he wanted me for his collection despite the fact I was no way near as handsome or perfect as his other trophies.
Naked as the day as I was born, I neatly folded my items of clothing onto the bed, all under the careful and watchful eyes of my master, who watched me bend and move, examining me from a distance and at an angle.
He approached to look at me closely and I instinctively covered my genitals, cupping them in my hands and squirming internally.
‘Now’ Boxx said ‘there is no need’ and his hands went down, under my hands and he cupped my balls.
I blushed even redder I am sure.
He touched my chest with his other hand, stroking my nipples that hardened at his skilful touch; his fingers knotted the hairs on my chest, rising up my body higher.
He stroked my face.
‘It feels nice’ he said as he brushed my beard ‘I like you with the short beard, newly shaved I see, just for me?’
I nodded.
I had no speech, no voice to answer him, I gulped, my throat felt dry.
‘Good’ he said ‘you remembered’.
His eyes almost seemed green, then blue, I wasn’t sure, all I could do was look into them and become lost. I felt unworthy, not hairy enough, not attractive enough, not muscular enough, not big enough, too fat, imperfect.
‘They are very light’ Boxx said ‘but I can still see ever hair on you, you are beautiful, no matter what, I desire you, I want you in my collection, never forget that, it was I who choose you’.
He gave my balls one gentle squeeze; my shrivelled dick grew at his touch.
I blushed at his last remark and we walked around the facility. I was being given a rare gift: the guided tour. I noticed all the doors were firmly locked, with either keypads or multiple chain locks although escape was the furthest thing from my mind at that moment.
I felt exhilarated and drank in all the sights and experiences of this strange, new world.
He introduced me to his statues, frozen, plastic men, of various size, ethnicities, age, he had collected all types of men but concentrated mostly on the hairy, bear like men.
I felt confident; soon my arms were swinging form side to side; I had a spring in my step, I felt joyful, happy.
My smallness grew larger in the gathering of fine trophies. Always a grower, not a shower, my fat cock stood at half mast, my masters eye never leaving it as we joked and laughed and told stories.
We kissed before a pair of hairless bodybuilders in tight red speedos. He fondled my balls as I admired his naked Asian man trophy with a lean, tanned body.
He disrobed by the Greek bodybuilder posed as Atlas. I gave him a blowjob beside a statue of a black man in leather chaps and blue y fronts. He returned the favour when we visited a statue of a Hiker and Cyclist.
With a bottle of lube he fingered and opened me up as we sat beside a statue of a half dressed cop. I watched it as cold fingers spread me open, admired the cold metal rod up his arse as a thick digit penetrated my own, I wished to become just like it as Boxx slipped a second finger inside of me.
He took me in the manner of the beasts, me on all fours as he ploughed me from behind, beside a pair of wrestlers, one short with ginger hair, and the other with dark hair.
With difficulty and some reluctance I persuaded him into allowing me to rim him. I lavished my tongues attentions on his tight, puckered hole, exploring the hairs around his magnificent gluteus and I firmly gripped and held his magnificent buttocks as my tongue penetrated and sucked at his tightness. Salvia dipped my tongue explored his hanging balls, his taint and hole tasting him. I savoured and caressed him with my tongue, feeling closer to him and safer.
Boxx shuddered and twisted as I forced as much as my tongue into him as I could. I held his buttocks firmly as I pushed my face as far into him as I could. I wanted to please him, to experience him in every way possible. I felt him judder and smelt his semen as he ejaculated onto the stone floor.
Boxx moved forward, his hole glistening from my ministrations and I lapped at his fallen seed, cupping it up, not wanting to waste a drop, he motioned for me to come to him and he stroked my hair gentle as I sucked and suckled at his penis, licking it clean off excess cum.
Happily spent we went for a shower and a quick lunch before we resumed our tour.
He showed me all 78 statues he had in storage, standing on plinths or giant jars, posed and ready for any action he desired and soon I too would join them, become like them, forever. Men of all shapes and sizes each frozen, trapped in a state of pure ecstasy.
It was a dangerous intoxicating thought.
One day he told me he would have a different statue for every day and I would help him make his wish real by becoming statue 79.
I joked that I would prefer to be statue 69 and we both laughed a hearty laugh at my joke.
We retired to the bedroom after the tour, minds and hands busy with ideas and lusts inspired by our walk.
He made love to me on the bed, slowly, carefully, with plenty of foreplay, stoking and groping.
Taking lube and condom form the side table drawer he slowly opened me up and plunged, gently, into me.
I moaned with pleasure as his thick cock slowly filled me and I ended up screaming out my orgasm ten minutes later when I shot my load onto my hairy round stomach.
I embraced him with my mouth, sucking his hard nipples, stroked his clenched buttocks and groaned as he fucked me again and again.
I awoke in the morning, sore and sticky after our hours of lovemaking, my master escorted me to a shower room where I got ready for my transformation.
I must be clean and fresh for my master I thought.
My lover is naked and he leads me past his other trophies, my rivals for his affection, until we reach the chamber.
The room is bare, save a large clear vat shaped like a coffin; it is made of glass and metal. Control cable lead to a small console before it. The room is well lit and a little cold.
My nipples are stiff and I exhale steam but despite the cold my cock is hard, already at half-mast.
My master instructs me to get into the upright capsule.
I obey.
He tells me to look at him.
I obey.
He approaches and adjusts my penis, pulling back the foreskin, exposing my dark purple tinted head. Pre cum oozed forth at his touch and I see him wipe it with his finger and put it to his mouth. I see him close his eyes, exhale and savour it. My seed, my taste, it is his to own.
He fits the cover of the capsule over the opening.
I wait.
He returns to the control.
My heart beats wildly, I breathe out and my cock throbs and my balls tighten and shrink into me to safety.
I wait.
He manipulates the controls.
Cold, semi liquid plastic oozes through tubes and holes in the capsule. Slowly but surely it is getting filled. I almost jump as the first batch of cold goo touches my foot.
From holes higher up it oozes onto my back, my chest, my arms and the back of my head.
I shiver despite myself.
I wanted this I remind myself I wanted this.
I wait.
Get it over with.
The clear substance is up to my knees now, almost a quarter of a way there.
Get it over with.
I wait.
My breath quickens, my pulse races, I fidget.
It is cold, like getting into a bath of freezing water.
I wait.
Lets get this over with.
I swallow and gulp the air.
The plastic liquid is up to my groin now; it’s encasing my tip.
The cold liquid touch on the head of his knob is exhilarating, almost worth the discomfort.
I fidget but my feet are firmer now, my knee moves only a little, the liquid resists my movements.
The liquid engulfs my testicles and reaches my arsehole, both feeling indescribable good and better off for the experience.
Good I think everyone should feel this, even if its only once, even for just a moment, the pleasure was unbearable.
My cocks twitches and throbs underneath the weight of the plastic sea. My balls ache and my arsehole puckers and widens as icy plastic fingers work their way upwards, filling me with pleasure, with plastic, the two are the same, long live the plastic I think.
I think I came but I am uncertain the pleasure I felt was so intense, it may have been the plastic and not my own orgasm, the plastic is clear but I cannot see any cum, perhaps it is trapped within me, within my cock and balls and that is why I cannot see it.
I want to see it my last discharge I… I… I wait.
The plastic is up to my chest now, just below my nipples, my hands flail in the clear liquid, it is so cold now, my cock should shrivel up and die but its still there, still firm and hard, erect, I can feel another orgasm gathering pace, nearly complete.
I raise my arms, I touch the edge of the box, the capsule, it feels hard like I am becoming.
I plunge one arm into the plastic solution, it makes a wet sound as it sinks, resisting me, I force it down until it can move no longer and find that I cannot withdraw it, it is stuck, it is now fixed in that position.
I am not sure if I am happy with it like that. The position that is, although now that I think about it perhaps I am having second thoughts.
Maybe I don’t want to be a mannequin after all it might get tedious after a while.
I try to speak but my chest feels heavy and I cannot make a sound.
The liquid continues to rise, I try to bang the glass with my free hand but it too is stuck, I can barely move it now. It is like moving through cement my arm barely making an impression in the semi-solid/liquid solution.
My eyes are wide with panic. Surely Boxx can see me, see how uncomfortable I look, how panicked I am, surely he will stop it and let me out.
I want to be let out.
I want to be released.
I wait to be released.
The liquid reaches my hairy chin and I am still waiting.
Please help me I think I can’t wait much longer.
I think I may have had another orgasm but in my panic it is drowned out by my fear.
I do not think Boxx will release me.
I wait.
Slowly the liquid rises up my twitching nervous face, I hold my mouth shut as the cool goo flows over my features but the liquid enters me via my nostrils and ears, it is so cold and I gasp out, panic stricken, for air unable to hold my breath.
It is endless; the liquid keeps coming, never stopping, no escape, no escape whatsoever.
It is freezing cold as it flows down my gullet, engulfing me, swallowing me as I swallow it; I am completely consumed by it.
I want to escape, I regret my choice but now I have no choice, my fate is sealed, inescapable.
The tank is slowly filled to the brim but it is over, I am unable to move a muscle, any muscle, not even a twitch of my cheek or a blink.
I remain inside the box for a long time. Outside the box I can make out a blurry shape of a bear of a man, it must be Boxx, he seems to be very busy, inspecting parts of my casing, the controls, and such.
After a while the liquid starts to warm, to bubble and boil, my petrified heart is incapable of fluttering, of beating out the panic I feel, my eyes are staring, unable to convey my fear, I want to scream, to run, to burst out of my tank, to escape from the boiling liquid but I cannot move.
The water boils before my eye, the level in the tank slowly dropping, I can hear it bubble and seethe as the liquid drops below my face, my features undamaged from there immersion within the boiling cauldron of liquids.
I am heatproof, bulletproof, and free from harm.
I want to scream. I can still feel. The water is warm, unbearably so but I must take it, I cannot protest, cannot change my fate or environment, I must simply wait.
My skin is a sleek, shiny Barbie plastic pink. My hairs are careful preserved in a light clear resin, standing stiffly, firm and darken.
Steam bellows about my tank, I can hear it hissing away, dissipating into the atmosphere.
As the liquid in the tank heaves around me I experience wave after wave of pleasure, my plastic, crystallized member releasing orgasm after orgasm until my mind is fogged, distorted, near blank.
I feel the liquid slosh and lap against my stomach, the water frothing with bubbles and the steam rising and hitting my face.
My orgasms subside in frequency and strength as the tank empties, the liquid no longer having sufficient contact with my sensitive plastic sheath.
Within half an hour the water is drained to my pinkies, my bright pink flesh now harden into plastic.
Boxx careful removes the front of my case, placing it against the wall of the room.
He stands before me. I would make a sound, thank him, beg him for help, but no sound can form, let alone escape my lips, my throat, my lungs, silent and immovable.
Boxx is magnificent. He is naked, his sizable erection glistens, as does his body, drenched in sweat, slick, wet, strong and hairy.
I want him to fuck me.
My groin aches; my erection is firm and stiff and also forever stuck that way. My arsehole needs, wants, craves to be filled by this magnificent, beast like man.
Boxx gentle strokes my body, my face, my chest, my groin, balls and dick.
I’d shudder in pleasure if I had any muscles with which to do so.
Another orgasm strikes my, thundering through my nervous system and sending fireworks through my brain.
I love this man, this state I am in, this new life in which I have to experience it, and I was a fool to have second thoughts.
‘A beautiful specimen’ Boxx says softly ‘a fine, hairy bear cub for my collection’.
He makes a brief playful bark and lunges at my chest, engulfing my left nipple in a gaping biting maw. Another orgasm wipes my thoughts form my mind as he skilful milks and suckles at my plastic bosom, his hands stroking and exploring my stiff back, my buttocks and open hole.
‘You need a nice thick pole in here’ Boxx says as his fingers squeeze and explore ‘keep you standing stiff and upright, can’t have you falling down, just like you wanted’.
Like we wanted I think to myself.
He leaves the room and returns a minute or two later with a goods cart and a shiny metal pole, the tip of which is a small metal orb.
He dabs a big glob of lube upon the pole tip, working it into the material so that it is thickly spread and then, bending to his knees behind me, he gently forces it between my aching, spread cheeks and into my arsehole.
The pleasure is intense, if I were my living, breathing self I would have cum buckets from the penetration, the sensation of which I am now engulfed.
He moves my body carefully, deliberately onto the cart and wheels me out of the room, shiny metal pole embedded in my buttocks.
Goodbye I think as I leave the place of my rebirth.
I am pushed past his gallery of men, supple, nudes, erect bodies posed and flexed for my masters viewing pleasure, I am just like them now, I have become them, they are my brothers, my fellow travellers in seeking new sensual pleasures.
I recognise the room I am wheeled into. It is his bedchamber. Memories of our pleasurable evening returns to me, a warm sensation spreads throughout my body starting from my crotch.
Boxx tips the cart forward and I land face first into the soft bed. Out of the corner of my eye I see Boxx rummage around my backpack, pulling out books and clothing.
He carefully pulls up a pair of woolly socks over my pale feet. ‘Can’t have my newest favourite getting cold toes now can I?’ Boxx says matter-of-factly.
With some difficulty he managed to get a pair of thick, suitable for hiking, walking boots onto my petrified feet and made sure to lace them up correctly.
He slapped Teabag on his bare behind. ‘Can’t have you tripping on them my love’ Boxx said as he grinned a predatory grin ‘you could get hurt and I don’t want my new mannequin hurt’.
He went through Teabag luggage, strewing the pieces he disliked upon the bedroom floor, the ones he liked he placed upon the bed.
‘Can’t keep everything’ Boxx said ‘I go through everything, get rid of what’s not needed, there’s not enough room for it all, what I want we’ll keep in storage, then do it again a few years later’.
‘Not very adventuress with your underwear’ Boxx said as he discarded a boring pair of beige boxer shorts to the floor.
In the end Boxx ended up placing the clothes he didn’t want to keep for his mannequin into a black bag that he planned on donating a thrift shop in a neighbouring town.
Only a few items of clothing survived the purge. A pair of white, black and yellow patterned boxer briefs that Boxx thought looked tight upon my frame and therefore kept them. Another pair of blue boxer briefs that fit me better, looser, my master enjoys undoing the flys on it when I am wearing it or shoving a hand under the waistband to cop a feel of my maximus-glute or testes. A tight white pair of jockey (jock strap) that gave him unreserved, unobstructed access to my exposed bare buttocks, I like them a lot and so does Boxx when he makes me wear them. A yellow shirt that was fading, frayed and a little too tight on me with an image of a boxy robot saying ‘You are nothing without your Robot, Nothing’. Boxx thought it was awfully apt because I was his Robot Mannequin, stiff and without power and so he kept it. An old faded red rugby top that was again too tight for my form but Boxx sometimes got it out, fitted me with jockstrap and gave me a rugby ball to hold in my folded arm and with the boots on it felt as though I was a rugby sport star. I felt good for his master, I felt special in his masters company. He kept a few pairs of socks for me to change into now and again. A fuzzy, woolly hat to keep my head warm, my room could get cold at night, especially with as few as clothes as I now owned or rather that my master owned for me.
I did not own a pair of bottoms that Boxx liked so they were all thrown out. ‘You cant hike in jeans’ Boxx said as he admired me ‘and those shorts you came with are old and have got holes in them, you’ll be done for indecent exposure if you came with me like dressed like that’.
Box grinned, barked out a brief laugh and stroked my leg. ‘Better you not wear any distracting trousers, not when you’re with me, better that I can see your legs, your thick hairy legs’.
I would nod if I could. I want to agree with him. He is right, I am his object, his possession, everything he decides is right for me.
Boxx stroked my legs again. The softly plastified hairs resisted his stroking motions at first before succumbing.
The light ginger hairs were almost invisible at a distance but this close Boxx could count them, examine them at his leisure, stroke and caress them, twist and curl and play with them with his fingers.
I felt the familiar build up, the sensation of pleasure growing within me until I once again succumb to an orgasmic finish.
Boxx did keep a belt I owned and I sometimes saw it on his person, I think Boxx liked to wear his subjects previous possessions, sometimes anyway, to signify his mastery over his trophies, his conquests or maybe he did it to feel closer to them, to empathies with his creations or maybe he’d just done a load of laundry and grabbed them in a hurry. I did not know, could never know. It was my master’s will.
Eventually my master settled on me wearing a tight turquoise thong, the material pf which almost see through especially when wet which was given my masters fondness for oral sex quite often, my crooked erection filled it obscenely, my hairy resin soaked plastic billiard balls bulged and threatened to pop out, my hairs sticking out at all angles. A light trail of hairs led down to it like a secret pathway.
He likes these the best so I am often kept in them but he sometimes, when the mood takes him, changes my outfit, exchanging the items he kept for something different. He stores them, keeps them in my old backpack that I wear. I feel no fatigue from this, no backaches, nothing at all; I feel only pleasure from my new state of being.
I stand in a corridor of Boxx’s vast trophy warehouse, in a section that he often visits and so I see him passing by even when he is not after me specifically.
Sometimes I see him bring in his latest creations, prone and drugged people ready to be transformed but rarely, maybe once or twice a year, I see he has secured a willing and eager devotee.
I am often reminded at such moments of how Boxx and myself meet, all those years ago, it seems so long ago now.
Once he stopped before me with a new subject.
Boxx was as magnificent as always, dressed in cargo shorts and a black vest top, his new friend was naked, pale skinny, lanky, baby faced save for his dark goatee, and a weakling but he had a long, thin penis and hairy crotch.
He looked young, just out of school, maybe 18 or 19 years of age.
Boxx pointed me out to him and he explained to him how he processed his subjects.
‘Cool’ the new mans tone was bored. He didn’t appreciate the gift he was about to receive but he would soon understand once it was over he would worship Boxx with the proper respect he deserved.
‘Doesn’t he look perfect’ Boxx said.
I was wearing my woolly hat, socks and boots, my backpack of course as well as my thong. I felt proud and happy that my admiring owner as taking the time to show me off to his friends.
‘Yeah’ the man said passionlessly.
Boxx motioned for the man to come up to my body.
‘Go on’ Boxx said ’touch him, he doesn’t mind it, its what he wanted, what you want’.
The young man hesitated before he walked closer.
‘Not my type’ the man muttered.
Taking him by the scruff of the neck Boxx gripped and forced him forwards.
‘I don’t think you understand me’ Boxx said ‘I am your master, you are my object, you obey me and show me the proper respect that I deserve’.
He forced the lad forward and onto all fours before my dais. Taking a hold of the lads dark hair Boxx forced his face into my crotch. His voice was muffled, vibrations rippled through my plastic shell. ‘Stop’ get…off’.
‘Need to be taught a lesson’ Boxx said as he dropped his pants ‘no respect for authority, I’ll have to teach you if you are to become a statue in my collection’.
The lads open mouth was now pressed against my bollocks, his spluttering tongue touched and wetted the material of my thong, I could feel it and a tingle start to force within my balls.
Behind him Boxx pressed his fat dick into the squirming lads tight ass, its delicious length vanishing into his backside, the boy bucked and shook but Boxx held him firmly, his face pressed against the statue, his ass against Boxxs member.
Thrusting into the man Boxx started to teach him a valuable lesson.
Getting into it after a while the man wriggled and swayed along with Boxxs capable thrusts, moaning into my crotch, lapping at my balls and penis, his hands resting on my hips.
Boxx released his grip on the boy’s head and instead took a firm grip of the lads thighs as he thrusted and fucked him with the vigour of a wild animal.
‘Come on Mike’ Boxx said ‘this will be your fate, your new destiny, my forever fucktoy!’
The man, Mike, moaned and arched his back as he shoot out a load of his man cream onto the floor.
Moaning Mike his face slick with perspiration snatched at my turquoise thong and pulled it down my immobile legs to gain better access to my equipment. He swallowed and sucked at my hard cock and balls, his tongue exploring my testicles as he gulped down my dick.
Putting his full length in Boxx reached his climax and after a satisfactory slap on Mike’s ass, rose, gripped the head of his penis with one hand and with the other grabbed Mike’s head. He pulled him off my member as I experienced my first orgasm of the day and releasing his grip on his dick, unleashed a volley of cum upon Mikes upturned baby face.
Slathered in cum Mike grinned. ‘Fantastic’ was all he could say.
Boxx pulled him up. ‘Now come along’ Boxx said ‘we’ve got a lot to see and the you can begin your new life here’.
Grinning and shaking and covered in sweat and cum Mike started walking down the corridor, Mike with his head leaning against Boxxs chest, Boxx beside him with a firm hand on Mikes sore, red ass cheek.
I thought to myself as the couple walked further into the facility what a good couple, they are compatible, the boy is pliable and open to the master’s suggestions, desires and needs, Mike will make the master happy for years to come.
I am happy, standing here, as a plastic statue and soon Mike will be as happy as I am.
The master is happy; he has a new subject to transform, to explore, to use and that is all that matters.
My masters’ happiness.