Tyler Grayson was the kind of man who oozed testosterone. Six feet tall, gym-sculpted, beard always perfectly trimmed, voice always a little deeper than it needed to be—especially around women. He crushed beer cans with one hand and watched MMA like it was scripture. A man's man. The kind of guy who'd spit on the sidewalk just to feel tougher.
But inside?
He was a fraud. A trembling, shame-soaked fraud.
Every night, Tyler locked his door, muted the porn volume, and typed "feminization breeding whore" into the search bar. He devoured hentai of busty sluts in mating presses, moaning as they were used, flooded, and filled. He envied them. Envied their bodies. Envied their purpose.
He wanted to be them. He wanted to be bred.
He didn't dare tell a soul. Instead, he grew louder, angrier, more "alpha" each day.
Until that night.
It started with a dream. Or what he thought was a dream.
The room wasn't his own. It was dimly lit, with sheer curtains flowing from the ceiling. The bed was massive, silk-covered, and inviting. He blinked, confused.
"W-what the hell…?"
His voice. It wasn't his voice. It was soft. Feminine. High-pitched and sweet.
He looked down and froze.
Breasts. Huge, perfectly round breasts. Not fake-looking. Real. Heavy. Bouncing as he moved.
His waist was impossibly narrow, his hips wide, thighs thick, ass round and jiggly. His skin was flawless, warm caramel, his waist-length black hair cascading down his back. His nails were painted. His lips plump and glossy.
He gasped and felt the weight of his breasts jiggle again.
"Oh my god…"
His hands slipped between his legs. Nothing. His cock was gone. Replaced with…
He bit his lip and sank trembling fingers between his thighs.
Wet.
Already.
He wasn't horrified. No. He was aroused. More than he'd ever been in his life.
And then the door creaked open.
A man stepped in. Tall. Shadowed. Muscular beyond belief. His face was unreadable, like smoke and starlight, always shifting. Tyler—or whatever name fit now—backed up on the bed, but his thighs trembled.
"Wait—who are you?"
The man said nothing. He undressed without a word. His cock—long, thick, veined—hung between his thighs like a weapon. The sheer power of it made her moan involuntarily.
"This… this is a dream, right? This has to be a dream…"
But it felt too real. The air. The smell. Her heartbeat.
And then he was on the bed.
Over her.
Between her thighs.
She whimpered, spreading her legs. Her body ached with need, soaked with desperate arousal. She was trembling, nipples hard and leaking with sensitivity. He looked into her eyes, then grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.
"I… I want it," she whispered.
"Say it right," he growled.
"I want… to be bred. I want you to fill me up."
His cock pressed against her slit, teasing the wetness.
"You want this slut body ruined?"
"Yes. Please."
With a brutal thrust, he entered her.
She screamed.
It was too much. Too thick. Too deep. Her back arched off the bed, tears slipping from her eyes as her insides stretched to accommodate him.
"Ohh f-fuck…!"
He pulled back and slammed in again, deeper.
The wet sounds echoed in the room as her juices coated his length.
"Such a needy little hole," he grunted. "You were made for this."
"I am! I am!" she sobbed. "Just a fuckhole! Please, ruin me!"
He pounded her, faster now. Skin slapping skin. The bed shook with every thrust. Her breasts bounced violently, nipples aching from the friction of silk against them.
Her voice was a stream of moans and incoherent begging.
He reached down and slapped her ass.
"You're dripping. You want my cum that bad?"
"Yes! B-breed me! Fill me!"
He flipped her over. Her face hit the sheets. He yanked her hips up, exposing her soaked pussy.
And then—mating press.
He pushed her down, folding her in half, her knees beside her ears. He plunged into her again, pinning her with his full weight. Her cunt clamped around him, spasming with overstimulation.
"I can feel it! I'm gonna—gonna cum!"
"Do it. Cum on my cock like the little bitch you are."
Her scream shook the air.
She came. Hard. Violently. Her pussy milked him like it had a mind of its own.
He wasn't done.
He kept going.
He didn't stop.
Three more orgasms followed, each more intense than the last. Her brain melted, drool leaking from the corner of her mouth.
"B-breed me again—again—!"
Her legs were jelly. Her voice hoarse. She wanted more.
And then, he came.
He slammed into her one final time and unleashed a flood of cum inside her. She felt it—thick, hot, endless—filling her womb, overflowing out of her.
She moaned, dazed.
The man pulled out slowly. His cum poured from her twitching hole in creamy streams.
She laid there, legs splayed, body ruined.
"Thank you…" she whispered.
But when she blinked, he was gone.
She was alone.
Tyler woke with a gasp.
Back in his bed. Male. Sweaty. Hard as a rock.
"F-fuck… Jesus Christ…"
He ran to the bathroom. His cock was still throbbing. He looked in the mirror. Same face. Same body.
Just a dream. A wet, depraved, perfect dream.
He groaned, hands slipping down his briefs.
But then… he paused.
There was a mark on his inner thigh.
A fingerprint. Glowing faintly. Like it had been seared into his skin.
And in the corner of the mirror—
Just for a second—
He saw a man.
The same shadowed face.
Smiling.
Watching.
Gone.
Tyler's breath caught in his throat.
He looked again.
Nothing.
But on his sheets… a single pearly stain that didn't smell like his. The god licked his fingers, watching from the veil between realms.
Another satisfied customer. Another fantasy fulfilled. Another soul touched by depravity.
He licked his lips.
Time to visit the next.