.um...why is it so warm?She took her left hand away from the grip of her gun to fan her face, though she still kept her gun pointed at me. She shifted...her hips, her eyes growing a little unfocused. And then she giggled and stared at her gun for a moment.“Why am I angry at you?” she asked as her butch-short, brown hair began sprouting. It fell into long, luxurious waves about her face. Her squat appearance vanished, the pudginess retreating, leaving behind soft, feminine features. She actually. (Only later did I learn that my whore of a mom heard my cries but deliberately ignored them, as she had found a young stud to dominate her, and decided to leave me defenseless before my father.)Funny thing is, I grew to LIKE being defenseless after those first few violations of my soft, supple young body. I would actually choose which garments to wear for bedtime, deliberately selecting those most likely to arouse Dad, as I had begun to climax under the steady, unyielding authority of his big,. More

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