Hey, Pink Fairy, I don’t believe in your magic at all. I mean, it’s not like you can turn my best friend into a muscled leather pup who is into hardcore shit like fisting and piss. In fact, I dare you to do it. Heck, if it works, I will ask your little purple friend to make me his slut… Oh wait, you can’t! Haha!
Next year, I’m starting college. I was targeted by a bully because I was gay, in a Southern state. Jason was the worst of them, and it didn’t help that he had a hot, thick southern accent and the shape of someone who works the field.
Yet, there is a thin line between love and hate. I want you to turn him into even more of an imposing bull. I would like it if, by the time I go to the first day of college, that he has the body of a power-lifter. Give him a nose ring and a mohawk that fits the bull name.
However, I want to brand his ass with my name. You don’t need to change his personality much. Maybe make it so that my hand slapping his butt makes him moan like a needy bull, like he needs my hands to milk his breeding bull balls.
I want a story, oh mighty Fairy — a story about an innocent virgin boy finding his purpose and becoming a chastity-wearing rubber puppy where I am unable to remove my suit and I am forever fed cocks and cum of my master and the strangers he presents me to.
I know the Purple Fairy is the epitome of the Alpha male, a cosmic entity who comes and goes. But does he ever wish for a constant slave? A faggot who has no powers (unlike the Pink Fairy), but who is constantly at his service whenever he needs it?
A faggot who would no longer have a life or an identity beyond serving the Purple Fairy for eternity? If it pleases him and the gods, I would like to ask to be made into this faggot so he may always have the pleasure he deserves.
My husband and his brother have always had a bit of a strained relationship. My husband is intelligent and responsible; my brother in law is a stoner and sort of white trash.
My husband works hard while my brother in law would rather sit in his boxers drinking beer and searching his crotch. Could you bring them closer together?
There’s this guy at college who I’ve been wanting to ask out. He’s this adorable little Asian twink with a cute, ditzy lisp and whenever I’m near him, I can smell his sexy musk.
I was planning on finally going to him this semester when I learned he’s going to Europe to study abroad! I wanna be with him forever and I don’t want to lose my chance. Can you make me into his jockstrap so I can never leave his side?
Hi Pink Fairy, my partner thinks they are mostly vanilla… I wish you could help awaken in them the desire to dominate me.
Could you help get them to a point where they take over control? Please make sure they enjoy themselves as much as possible — even when that means I’ll sometimes regret making this wish.
The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat snaps you back to reality. You blink your eyes. You hadn’t realized that you’d zoned out, though honestly you can’t remember what you were doing before you did. The only thing that you can think of right now is the strange but already-fading dream that you had. The once-vivid and life-like images of that daydream leave nothing but dregs, the faintest flash of a neon pink sign, the feeling of cold rain on your skin, the sound of a bell jingling above a door as you push it open.
You feel fuzzy, and while it’s pleasant, it’s not necessarily the right frame of mind that you want while you’re at the office. But you can’t shake it. No matter how hard you try, it’s like there’s something dampening your thoughts, making it extremely difficult to process what’s going on around you. It isn’t until your companion calls your name out a third time that you realize they’re talking to you. And when you do finally turn your head toward them, you realize with a jolt that it’s your boyfriend.
“Hey, were you listening to me?” he asks. “I told you, we need to get this project finished or the boss is going to have our asses.” The words go in through one ear, but it’s like they refuse to stick to your head. The fog in your skull thickens, making it feel like you’re trying to think through molasses. You just stare at him, uncomprehending, as his words and their meaning slip right off your brain. “Hello?” he says, looking exasperated.
You mumble something incoherent as you turn to look around you. It’s hard to think but at least you recognize the place. It’s one of the conference rooms at the office. Outside, it looks like the sun’s just about to set. It doesn’t look like there’s anyone else there, either. “Look, I get it, I tired you out last night, but I need you to pay attention to me right now,” says your boyfriend, this time with an edge of irritation in his voice. “Hey! Look at me! I’m talking to you!” he snaps, as you fail to comprehend his command.
The sheer authority in his voice makes you snap to attention. You look at him and blink, as though you’re seeing him in a new light. He shakes his head. “God, I knew they should have never let them hire you as my assistant. Look, you’re lucky you’re cute, but you need to stop spacing out like this. I know you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I need your help right now.”
You stare at him. His assistant? You were the one with the cushy office job. You were the one making the money. Or were you? You’re not sure anymore. It’s hard to think. It’s so much easier to just believe what he says. So you do so. And you suddenly feel shame. “I…” you start to say, freezing as you realize how low and how dumb your voice sounds. Your eyes widen. A part of you screams in terror. But more than that, your cock twitches in your pants.
Why are you turned on by being so dumb? You don’t know. You don’t understand it. You try to figure it out, but it’s like your smarts keep dancing just out of your grasp, slowly fading away, melting like wax from a candle. Drip drip dripping out of you through the pre-cum now staining the side of your leg. “Oh god,” your boyfriend says, as he gets up and starts to undo the buckle of his belt. “Right, well, obviously I need to fuck your head straight before you can help me so let’s get this over with,” he says, with a smirk.
You giggle. For some reason that’s apparently exactly what you wanted to hear. You chew on your lower lip and bend over the desk, shimmying your pants down your legs. Your mind continues to fog up, the haze getting thicker and thicker until it’s impossible to think anything other than what your boyfriend tells you.
You wiggle your ass as he puts a hand on it and lines his cock up with your hole. “Not that I’m complaining,” he says. “I could use a break, to be honest. But after this, we’re going to finish this project, understood?” You nod, even though you both know you’re not going to be much help here. As your old, smart self melts away, replaced by this new, dumb, dependent slut that you’ve become, you can’t help but giggle to yourself at how airheaded you got.
But it’s not like you’re going to be able to regret what happens from now on. You don’t have the brainpower for that. Besides, obviously your boyfriend’s taking charge now, just like you always wanted. It occurs to you that maybe you should just quit since you’re no good for him here at the office, anyway, and you can just be his good little slut, waiting for him at home, ready to help him blow off the day’s steam.
You focus on that image, breathing a dreamy sigh, as he pushes his cock inside you, sealing your fate.
Hi! Can you write a list of rules for a dumb illiterate twink house boy slave? Maybe things with keeping his mind dumb, what he has to wear, what he should think about, and how he should act?
Thanks. 🙂
Hi Pink Fairy. My boyfriend said he was getting tired of me always talking back and that I should just be there for his pleasure and to clean up after him.
Would it be possible to give him the ability to turn me into his own personal fleshlight? And when he needs someone to clean up after him, or provide two fuckable holes, could he turn me from the fleshlight into an obedient suited slave?
He said that I looked best in a nice grey suit and tie with a nice crisp white shirt and shiny black shoes.
“Please, my friends will take me…”
The intake clerk huffed. “We have to observe you for 36 hours. We can’t have omegas running wild.”
“I’m not subbing!”
“The officer that found you skinny-dipping in the town fountain this morning disagrees.”
“I was drunk!”
“If it is a mistake, we’ll find you an omega for free. If not, we’ll make sure to find you a great Alpha. I’ll be back.”
Alan sighed, watching the clerk leave. He’d window shopped for omegas before. He’d never thought he’d be on the other side.