Work Text:
Drip, drip, drip. The insistent drip of precum out of your slit always reminded you of your position, of who you are, what you are, how you got there. Your owner whimpered as he felt you twitch in his panties. You smirked internally and twitched again.
You had a bully, back when you were a person. A miserable piece of work, but his magnum opus of shittiness came when he found a spell. It was a peculiar spell, one that consumed another person, turning their essence into a cock and then attaching it to the caster. It was a horrific spell that no reasonable person would ever use, but your bully was not a reasonable person. He conspired to cast it, entraping you forever in a massive cock he could use as he pleased.
The day he finally cast it was a hot day, made even worse by humidity. You were drinking water when it happened. A force seized your body, freezing you in place and setting your cock tingling. A strange, unsettling tingling that enveloped your body, radiating outwards from your cock and slowly enveloping your body. You felt compressed, squeezed down more and more as the tingling grew in intensity. Soon the tingling enveloped your entire being, the only thing you could feel. But slowly it faded, like a limb slowly returning from being numb. You felt wrong, hot, cramped, you couldn't see. Something rough was pressing against your face, rubbing it uncomfortably as you struggled to make sense of reality. It was then that you felt a soft, giant thing grasp at you.
“What the fuck! What the actual fuck!” A booming voice bellowed through your entire being. The voice of your bully. Instantly you filled with terror, shrinking back into yourself even as the giant things held onto you. Despite yourself, you were beginning to feel good. Unnaturally so. And how you responded to it… You drooled. And you shuddered through your entire being. Despite yourself, you pushed a little bit out from your hiding spot, another huge glob of drool forcing its way out of your mouth. The fleshy things touching your body felt good, and then they began to stroke. One moved to your face, gently tracing circles on your forehead. You spat out another glob of drool, and it continued as a rope of drool fell from your mouth.
“Why can't I stop? I don't want a cock like this?” Your bully's voice cried out, to your confusion. But piecing together what that meant was beyond you as your being was gently stroked and rubbed, pushing you towards a release. Drool spilled from your mouth constantly, and it was rubbed on your face to grant a delicious slickness to your pleasure assault. Your back seized up, somehow feeling wonderful as it pulled you backwards several times. Deep inside you, pressure built, daring to surge out, to consume your mind in bliss. You urged it on, begging to be lost in whatever was sure to come. And it happened. You spurt out hot cum. You realized your place as a cock. You realized your existence of pleasure.
Time lost all meaning, sounds faded into garbled messes. Your owner sounded emotional. You didn't care, basking in post orgasmic relaxation. You lazily twitched, eager for more contact, more pleasure. Being a cock was so comforting and relaxing.
Eventually, basking in pleasure and comfort grew impossible, the underwear you were stuffed in rubbing uncomfortably on your head. It went on far too long before finally your owner tore off the rough fabric. “Jesus fucking christ! I can't even wear underwear with you? You're ruining my life!” This was news to you, it had only been… time had no meaning, but he hadn't stripped you bare before this. You twitched confusedly. “Don't give me that! You were supposed to be a massive cock! You were a whole ass person!” He continued to rant and rave, his emotions all over the place. You just enjoyed the cool breeze on your head, the gentle swaying of his pacing as you existed freely. It started to arouse you. You knew your current state though, deep inside, and you understand that you didn't react like he wanted. You didn't get hard, you merely dripped your arousal. Your owner tried to ignore it, to let it pass, but you were insistent. You demanded to be touched, to feel good. For all his bluster, his rage, he melted at the slightest insistence. Screaming, shouting, and a moment later he was on his knees, face down and stroking you, desperate to cum. But his movements were rough, brutish, and no longer under compulsion of any magic to make you cum, he simply did not know how. Soon he was whining, desperate for release he could not understand how to achieve. Five, ten, twenty minutes? Far too short a time, and already you had tears in his eyes, begging for you to cum. You had so much control over him. Content with the knowledge that it was perhaps more accurate to call you the owner, you went limp. And he cried.
More time passed, and he went himself to accommodate you. Soft panties, a vibrator. His life began to revolve around you. You could make him drop what he was doing in just a few minutes of limply twitching. You were slowly training him even more, hoping someday that you might make him so shameless that he would break down and masturbate mid conversation. It was thrilling to be this limp, dripping cocklet attached to this pathetic man. You wouldn't trade it for the world.