Need More Pics

"What the fuck am I doing?!" I wanted to scream, but my mouth was clamped around a bottle of red nail polish, and if I loosened my lips even slightly, it threatened to slip out — which, for some goddamn reason, I really didn’t want to happen!

I was kneeling on a soft cushion, arched so deep my back formed a seductive curve, and my jeans were pulled down low enough that a thin strip of thong peeked out, making my pose even more sexual. The tight, clinging top hugged my fucking tits — every breath stretched the fabric over the soft, heavy breasts I still couldn’t get used to.

My brain was boiling with humiliation. I was a normal guy just recently! And now... now I was sucking on a nail polish bottle, posed like I was begging to be taken right here and now.

Click.

My phone finally took a photo, and instead of standing up and ending this shameful mess, I just clenched the bottle tighter between my lips, as if afraid to lose that damn toy. My whole body felt like it had a mind of its own — my hands went up to fix my hair, letting it fall freely over my shoulders, deepening the image of a "naughty little slut," while my hips lazily swayed in the air.

Click — another pic.

Click — and another.

The bottle slid a bit deeper into my mouth, and I instinctively wrapped my lips around it, sucking, licking, like... like I didn’t want the polish, but something else entirely. I felt my nipples harden painfully under the top, sending itchy, almost aching sensations with every movement of my chest.

– Fuck... What the hell is this?.. – I moaned under my breath, but my hand reached for the phone again. More pics. More. More...

Each new image made my heart pound harder, and a torturous, sweet tension grew between my legs. I needed more. More proof of what I’d become.

Somewhere deep in my mind, a memory surfaced: when I made that wish on the old, rusty coin at the Wishing Park, I’d said, “I want a slut who can’t get enough of herself and jerks off to her own pics.” I’d laughed back then, picturing slutty Insta chicks.

And now here I was — on my knees, sucking on a polish bottle, arching my ass, filming myself from the dirtiest, filthiest angles. My cheeks burned with shame, but I couldn’t stop.

The phone blinked again, catching the moment I gripped the bottle with both hands and leaned forward slightly, showing off even more of my shamelessly jutting boobs. The thong stretched tight across my hips, practically digging into my skin, and from beneath my half-pulled-down jeans peeked a bit of my brand-new, womanly ass.

And I... I caught myself thinking about someone looking at these pics... jerking off to me. And instead of disgust, a strange, sweet heat spread inside me.

Click. Click. Click.

– Come on, baby... – I almost whispered to myself through the bottle, still taking pictures, like I was hypnotized.