First off, elevators are poorly designed. I mean, they are not designed for someone with their arms full of books, who has to hit the buttons with her elbow. And this is a college, so I bet that happens all the time.

Bottom line, it wasn't my fault I ended up on the fourth floor instead of the second. But if I didn't go "let me call my friend and double check," I probably wouldn't've realized. And the only reason I did that was because I noticed all the doom room numbers started with 4 instead of two.

I don't know how I got my phone out, and I don't know how I hung up with my tongue. I left it on the pile of books, turned around, and then noticed the dog.

Well, not all of the dog. Just the wagging tail. On the third floor of a dorm. Where I was pret-ty sure dogs absolutely were not supposed to be.

It was behind a corner.

I looked around, didn't see anyone. Maybe there was a stairway at that end and the dog wandered up?

Turned out there wasn't. There were just two rooms on opposite sides of the hall, and a dead end. The dog was sitting by one of the doors.

Plot twist, it wasn't a dog. Not entirely. Not unless actual dogs look like a hot chick in fetish clothes.

Let me see if I can describe her to you.

First, there was the dog head. It was very realistic, except for the part where it was black and shiny. The eyes were all black, the tongue panted, and I swear I could feel the heat from her breath. The tongue even looked wet.

Next thing you noticed? The boobs. All four of them. Still shiny, still black. It was like someone had painted black over her chest, and it grew a second pair of boobs. Were they rubber? Were they falsies? Blow-ups? I didn't know.

And then there were the arms and legs.

It was like someone dipped them in black, but not evenly. The right arm only went up to the elbow, and the left leg only went up to the knee. But the right leg was a full thigh-high, and the right was like an opera glove. But it wasn't precisely painted, with an exact line, more like...spattered. Like some artist got messy with the brushstrokes.

Did I mention the big, goofy paws? I should've mentioned the big, goofy paws.

I mean, I assumed it was a "her". Maybe she preferred some different pronouns, I don't know. It's not like I could choose her gender identity for her. Until I learned otherwise, this was a girl.

My first thought was I just walked into someone's petplay scenario, didn't I?

Second thought was Maybe this is a prank just for me? Maybe someone got into my browser history? But that was impossible, considering I came up here by accident. Unless they happened to put the prank on the wrong floor.

My third was she's really hot.

You need to know I don't like girls. Not in general. But I do like...shiny things, if you get my drift. Just so you know, the dog head had sticky-up ears, not floppy ones. The tongue looked long and wet, and, yes, there were some scars and marks and stuff on her skin, it just made the whole weird situation seem more real.

I held out my hand, and went "whoa. Good girl. Nice doggie." And then I felt like an idiot, because I was treating a woman in a fetish outfit like an actual dog.

So I said "I do not consent to whatever kinky crap this is. I do not consent to be recorded."

I could've just walked away.

I should've just walked away.

I walked around to the back. Yep. She still had a tail. A wagging tail.

I walked back around to the front, faced her, and that's when I noticed she was about to pounce.

What happened next wasn't really my fault. I was still carrying the books. I couldn't move very fast. Anyone would've backed away.

Anyone could've stumbled.

On my way down, I feel something hit the front of my skirt.

Next thing I know, I'm sitting on the floor. I must've dropped my textbooks at...some point? Don't remember where, exactly. I know I should care, considering how much they cost, but...I don't. Anymore.

I swear a little, blink, and then I look around. And there's the dog. Right next to me. On her hands and knees. And I swear, this is the first time I notice the collar.

Or the cock.

It's very realistic. I assume. I can't see any straps, so maybe it's just the original equipment. The enhanced original equipment. I don't think most people have a dog cock on their crotch, and it usually isn't latex black.

So I sit there, staring, and I feel her breath on my ear. I turned, looked her in the eyes, and I'm pretty sure she smiled.

Then she kissed me.

It was a dog kiss, not a real kiss. Just licked my face, mostly my lips. Then she sat back on her haunches.

I got stung by a bee once.

I was playing in the front yard, and I just turned aorund, and - bang! - bee flew into my lip. Swelled up like crazy. So tender. Hurt every time I touched it.

After the dog kissed me, my lips started to feel like that again; puffy and swollen. But they didn't hurt when I touched them. They were tender, sure, but they didn't hurt.

While I was sitting there trying to figure out what it reminded me of, I looked down, and there was something wrong with my fingers. I didn't put on any nail polish that morning, but the first two fingernails were black. And longer than they should've been. I couldn't say the same for my pinkie and ring finger, because they were covered in black at the tip. Shiny, glossy black, like someone had cut the ends off some gloves and stuck them on me while I wasn't looking.

While I was looking, the shiny black slid a little farther down my hand.

I admit, I panicked a little. You ever picked your nose, and the booger wouldn't come off your hand? I tried that, tried shaking, tried flicking. Nothing happened. Some even got on my thumb and turned that nail black too. I could've touched it with my other hand, but touching was how I got in the situation in the first place.

Speaking of which.

I dug out my phone with my other hand, and put it on selfie mode. My lips were ridiculous. I looked like I had been to Doctor 90210. Or maybe on Botched.

And then I felt something under my skirt.

I looked down, and there was this big black stain on my skirt. And it was...spreading? Was that a bulge? Why did I feel so funny down there?

I reached down and touched it. It felt familiar, in a weird way.

I tried peeling my skirt back. It was my favorite red pleated skirt. Was. The black made it taut and shiny, like a mini. Thing is, it got stuck, somehow, and-

You know the feeling when you bang your funny bone on something? That electric-shock feeling? Imagine that, except it's from your crotch.

I'm not sure what noises I made. But when I stopped, I knew, I knew it was real, somehow, and it was attached to me.

They say the first stage of grief is denial.

"That...that can't be real."

I reached down. I think my hand was trembling. I...I touched it. It wasn't human. I know what human dick looks like. I mean-

I am pre-med.

Was.

In fact, it felt like a dog cock. I keep heading south, and, yep, the original fittings were still there. And kinda excited.

No.

I pull my hand back, look at the dog, and I go "What did you do to me?"

She cocked her head and wagged her tail. I thought They must've put some kind of motor in there somewhere. Maybe they put it in the dick, so they could make it vibrate.

I didn't mean to imagine her dick vibrating. It just happened. The imagining, I mean. Not the actual thing.

Since I was already infected or emblackened or whatever you wanted to call it, I tried pulling the "gloves" off. Nothing. Okay. I lifted up the new plumbing, and curled over so I could check underneath.

Yep, it got down there too. Perfect.

Wait. I wasn't supposed to be that flexible. What was this gunk doing to me? How far was I going to go?

There was only one target nearby, and I let her have it. I went after the dog with both barrels, like Grandma used to say. It felt good, real good to vent.

And clearly, I wasn't the only one to think so. First off, the dog freak did that puppy-eyes begging thing. I could see it was faking, I could see it was straining not to wag its tail.

And second, I got a hard-on. Big enough to poke through my waistband.

And I realized way, way too late to do anything about it but grab my sweater, yank it down, and hope.

Turned out to be a mistake. Wrapping a dick in a nice, thick pumpkin wool sweater can be pretty stimulating all by itself. My eyes rolled back in my head, and my mouth dropped open. I used to laugh at boys' O-Faces. Not any more.

Unless they're into that.

When it's all over, I'm staring at the big stain on my favorite sweater.

Well, crap.

I let my dick flop out, and stare at the dog. It somehow looked smug. "You son of a-"

My dick twitched.

...Right.

I bent over again, took a closer look at the stain. It had reached the bottom hem of my sweater, where it met my skirt and - were they merging? Yep, they were merging into some kind of shiny, slinky, one-piece dress.

I swallowed.

How were my hands doing?

The black had already reached my upper arm. And then it started to open up, like those shorts that turn into long pants with a zipper. It left the lower part like those sexy opera gloves I mentioned earlier. Bare shoulders.

Kinky.

I meant kinky.

Not sexy.

Well, crap.

I swallowed.

I went "Look- Look, Bi - dog, I didn't mean it. All that stuff I said earlier? I didn't mean it. So if you could just....change me back or whatever, "I'll-I'll do whatever you want. I'll even let you su-"

Wait, what am I saying?

My chest felt funny. The top half of my sweater just kinda...dissolved. Mostly. Now I was wearing those gloves, and one of those strapless dresses.

But there was something around my neck.

I reached up and touched it. You ever seen one of those goths with those kinda corset collars? The leather ones with the point at the bottom that points at the boobs? With the straps that go diagonally from the point to the sides of the boobs, making a nice, diamond-ish little frame?

Don't look at me like that. I was just curious, I could never actually afford one of those outfits.

Anyway, imagine one of those, but even shinier.

I'm not sure how I knew how shiny it was.

I reached round to the back. No buttons, no zip. It wasn't stretchy enough to get over my head. I'd have to use scissors or call 911 and ask EMTs to use their trauma shears. And with the way this morning was going, even that probably wouldn't work.

Maybe nothing would.

Maybe I'd be stuck with a dog cock for the rest of my life.

You ever have those moments when someone seems to turn up the gravity? To the surface of the Sun?

Yeah.

I don't think I even consciously let go. I just realized my knees had hit the floor. Didn't seem important right then.

I thought This is it. I'll be a freak forever.

And then someone, maybe some part of me, went "why not just enjoy yourself?

Good question.

Something sniffed, and I looked up, and the dog licks my face again.

Why not enjoy it?

You know that feeling when you're cramming for a test? When you just aim a fire hose of information at your brain and hope you can hold it all?

I just suddenly knew things. I knew I was going to get up. And I did. I knew I was going to walk toward a certain door. And I did.

Yes. Yes, I knew exactly what I had to do.

It's kinda hard to walk properly when one leg is covered in a latex boot-stocking that's dripped from your undercarriage somehow, and the other is...well, it's still a sneaker at the bottom, but only because the shoes and socks hadn't finished merging.

Plus, y'know, the massive dog-dick attached to my crotch.

The stocking spread down from the inside of my thighs. I didn't know what it was attached to. It was lighter near the top, more transparent. People's eyes are drawn to light areas, so someone would see the bare patches of skin on my hips, and their eyes would go straight to my cock.

Oh, yes.

Wait, were my boobs bigger?

Okay, I know my nipples weren't black this morning. Or that big. How do they f - oh. I straighted up a little. Oh.

Yes, my tits were nicer. As it should be.

Before we went in, I stopped. What was I...oh, right. I reached down to the dog without looking, wrapped my hand around her collar, and pulled away...another collar. Like mitosis.

It looked like a regular, rubber collar.

"This probably poses some serious existential questions."

Then I push the door open, and let her lead. "Thanks for leaving it unlocked."

I see her tail wag, right before she disappears under the bed.

"I'd apologize for the smelly shoes, but they're really your own fault."

She snorted, like she's laughing at the joke.

The table was a mess. Very familiar, except his was covered with books and plates and cups and wrappers. There's a spot where my tea would be, but on his table it was a half-finished bottle of energy drink.

I dug a hole in the landfill, climbed on, and made sure I was comfortable.

Right.

Game face on.

Let's get this started.

ENDF

"The Ouroboros, The"

Nequ 2019 CC By-SA-NC

---

Timeline, chronological:

• B appears in their room, next to their sleeping Past self.

• B leaves the room to find past Mistress.

• B finds past Mistress, transforms her to Mistress.

• Mistress and B go back to B's room.

• B hides under the bed. Mistress preps herself.

Story ends. Story begins.

• Mistress turns Past B into B.

• Mistress sends B to the same room, in the past.

• Mistress tells the B she originally met to come out from under the bed and get her treat.

---

Previous stories with similar elements and themes;

• The Spray

• 4 on the Floor

• Sloppycat

• Obeysance

---

Considered alternate titles;

• All You Doggies (All You Zombies)
• The Hermify Effect (The Butterfly Effect)
• Prime Her (Primer)
• Boop Her (Looper)
• The Time Traveler's Mistress (The Time Traveler's Wife)
• Dorm Room Time Machine (Hot Tub Time Machine)
• Gender Not Guaranteed (Safety Not Guaranteed)
• The Herminator (The Terminator)
• Life in Dorms (Life on Mars)
• Edge of Yesterday (Edge of Tomorrow)
• Happy Breast Day (Happy Death Day)
• Bootstraps (The Bootstrap Paradox)
• Reduce, Reuse, Recycle
• Roundabout
• Round-a-butt

---

Most TF story "triggers" fall into a handful of categories;

Pissed off witch trying to teach someone a lesson, the little shop that wasn't there yesterday, the little website that wasn't there yesterday, the mass-produced corporate product, stumbling across some ancient magical artifact, the zombie apocalypse but sexy, and "Aliens" but sexier.

There's some overlap - EG stumbling across some ancient magical artifact in the little shop that wasn't there yesterday - I've made jokes about madlibs these cliches on occasion (EG Weredogs of Chicago), but mostly I just don't bother to explain. (I've noticed Kotep often does something similar.) In The Overflow, I basically wrote a cross between "sexy zombie apocalypse" and "sexy Aliens".

But instead of a metaphor for the Vietnam War, mental illness, or the inevitable nature of death, it's about TFs as an inescapable force of nature. Hence the name, and all the water-related phrases. Because they're like a flood, you see. Even the coffee dragon breathes steam instead of fire.

I suppose the logical extension of the idea "the source of the trigger doesn't really matter" is a bootstrap paradox. Where the trigger has no apparent origin, it just causes itself, forever. This is probably related to that time I read Tim Powers' "The Anubis Gates" in high school.

Oh, uh, spoilers for a book that's probably older than you.

PS: This is actually my second shot at this idea. My first one was just some guy meeting his sexy self from a few minutes in the future, with obvious Terminator reference. His future lizard self changes him (this count as twinning?) with creative use of corrupted kitchen utensils, then she throws him into a time vortex to start the loop all over again. But it wasn't as fun to write as this story. It was basically just a standard issue sexy viral TF, even with the predestination themes.

---

---

But I wonder, where were you? When I was at my worst Down on my knees And you said you had my back So I wonder, where were you? All the roads you took came back to me So I'm following the map that leads to you -Maroon 5, "Maps"

Let's get this started.

Power is a funny thing.

Think about it. Let's say you have a truck, a brand new truck. Lots of horsies, lots of torque.One day, you're out driving, and you get stuck in mud.

And all your power is useless. You're just spinning wheels, going nowhere. Does it even count if you can't use it?

No, wait, maybe that's a bad metaphor. Let's say you're a train. You have a lot of power, but you can only stick to the rails, go certain places at certain times to do certain things. Well, you don't have to, strictly speaking, but if you go off, well, that's a gigantic mess for everyone. Very chaotic, nobody really knows what's going to happen.

So.

The first thing I do is put the collar on. But he doesn't wake up. I poke him in the back of his head with the toe of my boot. Is it a boot? Or is it...part of me? Does it even come off? Note to self: check later.

I'm sitting on his desk. It's next to his bed, but higher. I've got my legs spread wide.

He's tall, black, skinny. Sleeps in his boxers. Still cute, tho. Even the stubble.

'Bout to get a lot cuter.

And a lot less stubblier.

He rolls over, opens his eyes, sees me. He goes "Who are you, and how did you get into my room?" But, y'know, ruder.

"You left the door open." I point to the door, which is open.

"And you just happened to be in the area, looking for open doors?"

I raise my right boot, and bring it down toward his head. His eyes go wide, he moves out of the way, falls off the bed, lands on the floor on his hands and knees. Stands up immediately-

Tries to, anyway.

"Hey!"

Just as planned.

He landed directly in the black spots I left on his carpet. Pretty sure he's not getting his deposit back. He goes "what-?", tries to pull himself free, but he's stuck like a rat in a glue trap.

I step off the table. Funny thing about the human eye; it's drawn to light areas. In this case, it's the gap between my shiny 'stockings' and my skirt. Which, naturally, also draws the eye to the big, black dog-cock between them.

He stares. Wouldn't you? His mouth falls open. I can just take him right now...

No. Not yet.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and shouts. "Help! Somebody help me!"

I let him. We weren't be interrupted. Finally, he stops, because he's gone hoarse, because he's out of breath. He hasn't noticed how the black has crawled up his arms, his legs.

I bend over, look him in the eye. He's so cute. So scared. So I kiss him.

He fights it, at first. At least, he pretends to, tries to jerk his head away from my grasp. His stubble scrapes my skin. But there's a moment - just a moment - where he leans into it.

Good.

Hard part's over.

So to speak.

As long as he keeps his eyes on me, doesn't look around.

You ever see one of those photos? Two people kiss, break, and there's a little curve of drool that goes between them? It's like that. Except the drool is black. His lips are as dark as mine, but not as big, not as slick. Not yet.

Much better.

I kiss him on the nose, and smile at him.

Then I hook my fingers into his nose and pull.

His nose slides out into a muzzle just like that, easy as pulling your cutlery drawer open to get a spoon for your Wheaties. He tries to look at it with both eyes at once. It's adorable. I giggle at him.

He doesn't like that one bit. His heart rate speeds up, like it's trying to jump right out of his chest.

His chest.

Right, that's next.

He tries shaking his head to get his new nose off. It's still wet, black, dripping, but that's a mistake.

Some of the drips land on his chest. And when they hit the hairs, those hairs kind of liquify, like Jello left outside in an Arizona summer, like a drop of water rolling down a rainy window. Soon his chest is half-covered in black. Three...two...one...

"What's going on? What are you doing to me?" He tries to look down, can't see past the muzzle. "Why does my chest feel heavy?"

"Are you a breast man?"

He gives me the are-you-crazy? look.

"Do you like tits? Hooters? Boobies?" I grab my top, and squeeze. Ugh. "Do you like these?"

He doesn't answer, just stares. His muzzle opens, his tongue slips out a little-

I don't think he even realizes he's panting.

"Good. Because you're about to have some of your own."

His eyes go wide, and he jerks around in his bonds. What's he...? Right, trying to shake off the black, to stop that massive pair that's trying to plop out of his chest.

Remember that metaphor with the window? Ever tried tapping the window? All the shaking, the vibration, just makes the water run faster.

He's not a moron. He realizes it's not working, bends his elbows so his head is closer to the floor. Of course, it's already too late, and physics are really optional at this point.

And if it had worked, it would've just covered up his head faster. Maybe if he had gone sideways - no, that would've just gone to his arms or legs.

So.

There he is. Basically presenting.

What is a girl supposed to do with that? He was begging for it.

So while he shakes his thang, tries to shake his new boobs off his chest, I just walk around back, crouch, and grab him in both hands.

Well, one cheek in each hand. You know what I mean.

I don't remember when my tongue got long, when it got black at the end, but I do curl it around his buttcheeks. I tease his anus. He tenses, tries not to whimper.

Fails.

I kneel, reach under him, and slip his boxers off. He tries to lean away, but I already have a grip on him.

"Relax. I'm not going to rip it off. Quite the opposite, actually."

You ever see a potter at a wheel? Ever see how they just touch the piece and it just shrinks under them? That's kind of what I did.

But in reverse.

Every time I run my hand up or down him, I add another coating, another layer. I change the shape a little. The black isn't opaque, it's like those semi-transparent shiny dresses.

You can still see his OG cock under there, but it's like putting fruit in Jello. The new equipment is just as sensitive, maybe even more. Pointy at the tip, knot at the base -

He likes it. It feels good. He's disappointed when I stop. He wouldn't admit it, of course.

Not yet.

Funny. Heels put a lot of stress on the body. But I've been squatting on them just fine. My thighs don't burn when I stand up. Not even a little.

I bend over, and reach between his legs from behind. Trail my fingers through his pubes. They just kinda melt, just like his chest hair. Perfect.

I draw my fingers back. Through the black, down his cock, up his taint. I feel him feeling my fingers on his knot, as I cup his nuts -

Wrinkles are so passe. Let's go with a hexagon pattern.

• draw the Black over his taint.

Do I....? Nah. Maybe later.

Past his taint. I run a finger around his ring. He's so cute when he squirms. A swipe of the finger to seal it up, and I continue to his coccyx.

Heh. Tailbone.

I look down at him. What next, what next... Right, fill the tank.

It takes about a second to attach his dick to his belly button. Only temporary, of course. Like scaffolding.

Have you ever seen a leech?

I do something like that. Except...backward.

I don't know where it comes from. I just know it comes up my throat, and goes into him, through the backdoor. It's like chugging a drink, but in reverse. It's thick, sloppy, and it doesn't all stay in. It's dark. I know that, somehow.

Some of it runs down. Past the taint, over his balls, down his cock, off the tip. Drip, drip. He feels every inch, every centimeter.

I gotta say, I don't like the taste. Not until he's properly coated in black back there, like he's supposed to be. Good, a little closer.

And, well, we all know what boys do when you stimulate them properly.

His dick starts pumping. For those of you trying to figure out the logistics here, it goes from me, through his butt, to his dick, and into his belly. And I can see you going "so why didn't you just put it in his belly directly?"

If you're saying that, clearly, you haven't been paying attention. Didn't you get the train metaphor?

Anyway, I pull free, it goes pop! I run my hand across my lips. Slick black smears across my gloves. How's my future pet doing?

He's panting. His...juice sloshes around in his belly, which should be impossible - but like I said, physics is not in right now, please leave a message. It's like he's twelve months pregnant. Even if I turned him loose, he wouldn't be able to get far. He'd just waddle down the hallway, with a dog face, his dick hanging out and flopping all over the place, leaking-

Right. Getting sidetracked.

I've had gas before. Usually after I look up from my desk, and it's 2 AM, and I missed dinner, and the only place still open is Taco Bell. You know that...bloated feeling, the next day? He kinda feels like that.

What next, what next...

I swing my leg over him, straddle his back like I'm riding a mechanical bull. So he acts like the mechanical bull.

"Calm down, boy. Nobody can hear you." Wait, that's not quite - "Nobody's coming to interrupt." That's accurate.

He quiets down. I run a finger up his back, feel the knobs of his vertebrae under my fingers, until I reach the back of his neck. He has his hair cut short on the sides and back. I think it's called a 'fade'.

Mine.

I run my fingers through his hair. When I pull them away, there's slick black on his head, and it's trying to get to its friend on his nose. I can't see it, but he can feel it.

It's so hot.

I bite my lip, grab his shoulders, and start squeezing his waist with my thighs.

Now, if you had asked me that morning, I would've said what I'm doing is impossible. But I've done a lot of impossible things since breakfast. Mass doesn't normally just move around in someone's body like a tube of toothpaste.

And suddenly, he has a second pair of tits. Not as big as the first pair, but still respectable. Still...something you want to squeeze.

I want to, anyway. Among other things.

There was a little stubble that wasn't covered by the black just yet, and it...poofs out, falls to the floor. Along with any other body hair that wasn't covered, changed already.

I keep squeezing.

Fun fact: women and men have different pelvic structures. Women are wider, because of the whole "have kids" thing. We walk different, we stand different.

I'm not sure how my squeeze remaps his skeleton, but it does. His waist goes in, his hips go out. And his booty gets phatter too.

He breathes faster. He's fighting it.

There's a bubble over his anus and tailbone. He feels the pressure. Something trying to escape. I loop my finger through the back of his collar, and pull back.

His face is completely covered now. The black is creeping over his eyes. Are those...tears? Even has cute little doggie ears. I scratch him behind them.

"I know you're afraid. I'd be scared too. I was scared. But I know how this will end. We wouldn't be here if it didn't."

He shakes his head. As much as he can, anyway. I get a little closer to one ear. My heart is beating so loud. Or is that his?

"Wag."

He's still fighting it. The bulge in his caboose gets bigger, and he forces it back in.

I've there's anything my really expensive college education has taught me, it's the power of positive reinforcement. Rewarding people and animals for doing things right is more powerful than punishing them for doing wrong.

I give him a minute or two. Time to let her guard down. Then I kiss the back of his neck.

"Wag, girl."

It takes a second to sink in, then he goes taut under me. His tail explodes out of his anus, and starts wagging, hard. Hard enough to get droplets of black on me, on the rest of the room.

Almost there. Almost finished.

He's hard, so I'm hard, so he feels my cock pressing into his back, and that just makes him harder, and that makes me harder -

I lean in and whisper "you're a bad boy. But a good bitch."

That does it.

She shudders, shakes, and splatters all over the floor. Lots of it, deep enough to completely cover the rig around her, enough to splash on her lower thighs, enough to splash on my boots.

I let her. Then I swing my leg over her head, get up, and walk in front of her.

She's panting. She looks up, sees my cock, and pants even harder. Her tongue stretches for it-

Not quite close enough.

And getting farther.

She looks down, realizes she's sinking into her own mess, looks up at me, and makes that confused-dog wheen? sound.

I scratch her behind the ears, and she leans into it. Then I push down.

"You'll get your treat when you get back."

She blinks, wags, sinks a little further, and then she's gone. Doesn't even leave a puddle.

What's that, Timmy? Lassie's fallen down a time hole?

And...that's it. That's the end of the path. I'm out of the loop. I can do whatever I want, from here on out.

So what do you do, if you're a woman who can do anything?

Well, for one thing, I need to visit a pet store at one point. Buy a bowl and leash.

The bedsprings creak under me. I adjust myself on the bed, then spread my legs. Let a few drops of black drip off the end of my cock, onto the floor.

The other bitch breathes faster.

Then I pat the ground in front of me.

"You can come out now."