I’m an AMAB nonbinary person and there’s this guy I would really like to dom, but right now he’s the dom and I’m his pup.
I would be totally willing to sacrifice my intelligence to have him turned into my mindless latex pup.
It’s altogether too subtle when it happens. You don’t remember any serendipitous epiphany, or some ceremonial exchange of power. No. All you have to go off are the half-forgotten imprints of a faded dream in the back of your head, the sensation of cold rain against your skin, the bright pink flush of a neon light in an otherwise bleak gray city. Even now, you’re not sure when, exactly, it all began. But then again, you don’t know much anymore.
One day, you just seemed to notice that the guy you liked was deferring to you a little bit more. Not by much. But in enough of a meaningful way that you see it. He’s being gentler, more tender in his ministrations. He asks you if you’re okay with what he’s doing a lot more. You’re not sure how you missed it, but then again at the time you had been dealing with troubles of your own. Not being able to focus on work. Zoning out in the middle of the day. Just sitting there at your desk, doing nothing but staring at a blank computer screen for hours.
It was almost like a haze had descended upon your mind, had made your thoughts a little bit slower. Well, at first they were only a little bit slower. By the time that you noticed that your roles were slowly reversing, the haze in your head had already made it impossible to think of anything other than sex. You had changed. And your coworkers knew it. Your bosses knew it. You knew it. You were going to be out of a job before long.
But surprisingly, you had difficulty even caring. You felt better about yourself than you had in a long time. You had even started going to the gym more, taking charge more at home. One time you had even managed to top your dom, though it was framed as more of service topping. From there, things progressed. Things changed. And before you knew it, you were the one with the riding crop, and he was the one groveling on the floor at your boots.
From there it was only a matter of time before you got him into a puppy suit. One that he has only taken off if absolutely necessary ever since. He’s eager. Playful. Everything you could want in a pup. He’s even delightfully dumb. Which is great for you, because you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, either. At least, not anymore.
But at the very least you got what you wanted. And you were happy. Well, you would be happier if the little bitch got over and pleasured you with his mouth instead of chasing that cute little rubber tail of his around the living room. But that was okay. Even in paradise life couldn’t be perfect all the time.