Joey came into the bedroom naked, warm and damp from a shower. His skin was flushed pink across the chest, water glinting in the fine hair along his forearms, his thick cock swinging heavy between his thighs as he carried a matte black shopping bag in one hand and his half-empty gallon jug in the other. No towel. No words. Just that look in his eyes.
Justin sat up straighter on the bed, suddenly aware of the tight throb in his plug, the way his shorts stuck to the backs of his legs. Joey set the water bottle down on the dresser with a quiet thunk, then turned and looked directly at him, smiled.
“Strip,” he said. “Everything but the cage and the plug.”
Justin hesitated for just a moment, long enough for heat to rise in his face, then nodded. He peeled off his tank top, then pushed his shorts down over his thighs, stepping out of them barefoot. He stood there in nothing but the cold metallic cage and the dull ache of the plug seated deep inside. The cage caught the light, gleaming across its narrow bars. It hugged him tightly, the weight of his balls bare and pulled down, his pubes shaved clean and his cock neatly locked away.
Joey stepped in close, the bag still in one hand, and dropped to his knees. He set the bag aside for now. His hands went straight to the cage.
“I love this so much,” he murmured. His fingers cupped it like something sacred. “Do you?”
Justin nodded.
Joey brought his face close to Justin, rubbing the thick shaft of his own soft cock against the hard metal.
“You’ve got no idea what this does to me,” he said, voice low. “You walking around like this… plugged, locked… my princess, every second. You’re not just wearing it for show.”
He kissed Justin softly on the lips. Then looked at him with a soft questioning look.
“Do you ever want to take it off?”
Justin’s voice was soft. “Sometimes. When it rubs, or just… when I forget for a second why I’m wearing it. When I think about how good it’d feel to jerk off. But…”
He swallowed. “Every time I think that, I remember what it means. That we’re doing something real.”
Joey’s hand stayed on the cage, thumb brushing the metal. Justin looked right at him.
“Unless you want me to… I don’t want to take it off.”
Joey let out a slow breath. “I want you to keep it on always. As long as we’re together.”
Justin’s whole body softened, like something in him had been waiting to hear that.
“I want to have the only cock. And I want you to just have a pussy.”
Justin looked at Joey for a long second.
“Does that mean you really wish I was an actual girl? Because I’m definitely a bro…I just like this too…with you. Does that make sense?
Joey laughed and kissed him. “Yeah. And you don’t have to worry. I’m not really sure how to say this. But it’s like the fact that you have a cock and choose to cage it for me? That means more to me than if you never had one. That you’d be willing to do that. Wanting to do that! That’s just…fucking awesome.”
Joey reached out and pulled Justin, smooth and naked except for his cage and his plug, into him. Justin breathed him in, his sweat from his pits. Joey kissed him, hard and sweet, hands cupping the back of his neck, holding him there. When he pulled away, his lips were flushed.
“Open the bag.”
Justin knelt beside it and peeled the tissue back. The first thing he saw made his breath catch: a delicate, sheer pink lace thong covered in bows, feminine and tiny. Beneath it, a matching bikini top, soft pink with ruffled trim. Then a bubblegum pink pleated skirt, short and flirty. And tucked beneath them all, a pair of white fishnets with pink satin bows at the tops.
Joey’s voice was thick.
“I saw all of this and thought, ‘Yeah. That’s how my princess should look.’ Pretty. All dressed up just for me.”
Justin flushed deep red. “It’s so girly,” he whispered.
Joey raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. That’s why it’s perfect.”
Justin’s voice wavered. “You really want me to wear this?”
“I want you to be the one who wants this,” Joey said. “The one who gets hard inside his cage when I call him my princess. The one who wants to look pretty and soft for me. The one with a pink smooth cunt just for my big fat cock.”
Justin’s breath hitched. He didn’t say anything, but he started dressing.
Joey helped with the fishnets first, rolling them up each leg, slow, like he was wrapping a gift. The bows sat just above Justin’s powerful thighs, contrasting the muscle underneath. Joey kissed one, then the other. “So fucking pretty.”
Next, the thong. Justin picked it up delicately, uncertain. The lace was see-through, soft between his fingers.
Joey stepped in close and whispered, “Slide it up, princess.”
Justin did. The waistband snapped into place above his hips, the sheer pink lace hugging the cage tight. It framed everything—his balls, the base of the plug, the cold silver gleam beneath the pink mesh.
Joey ran his thumb over the front of it, slow. “That’s your pussy now. All locked up. All mine.”
Justin whimpered. Joey leaned in and kissed him again.
The skirt came next. Joey helped zip it up, then stepped back to admire it. “Turn around.”
Justin spun, showing off the full effect. The hem bounced just over his cheeks, barely covering the plug’s base. When he bent slightly, the lace peeked out from beneath.
Joey drank more water. His cock was hard now, hanging heavy and flushed red.
“Last one,” he said.
The bikini top settled awkwardly across Justin’s chest, soft triangles of fabric resting over firm pecs. It didn’t hide anything, but it didn’t need to.
Justin stood there, fully dressed, trembling with arousal and fear. Joey’s eyes were glazed, reverent.
“Show me,” Joey said.
Justin posed—shifting his weight, twirling slowly, running his hands down the front of the skirt. He turned his back to Joey, lifted the hem, let him see the plug framed by the lace thong. His whole body burned with need, but he loved how it made Joey look at him.
When he turned back, Joey was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, cock hard and leaking.
“Come here,” Joey said.
Justin stepped between his knees.
“Sit in my lap.”
Justin climbed up, straddling him carefully, the skirt riding high. Joey’s cock pressed hot between his thighs. Justin settled into the weight of him, eyes fluttering.
Joey leaned in close.
“Hold my cock,” he whispered.
Justin reached between their bodies, wrapping both hands around Joey’s thick shaft. He held it tight, feeling the pulse of it, the raw difference between his soft, caged self and Joey’s hot, powerful length.
Joey kissed his chest, then slowly nudged the bikini top aside. He lowered his mouth and suckled one nipple, wet and rhythmic, while Justin held his cock and whimpered.
“You look so good like this,” Joey said against his skin. “You’re perfect, princess.”
Justin trembled in his arms, and knew it was true.
Joey suckled slow and steady, tongue circling Justin’s nipple while one hand caressed the side of his thigh through the fishnets. Justin sat perfectly still in his lap, thighs spread wide, hands still wrapped around Joey’s cock. The sensation of his nipple being kissed, tongued, softly nibbled—it made his spine melt. It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t teasing. It was intimate, like Joey was drinking something from him.
“Mmm,” Joey hummed around the flesh in his mouth, sucking a little harder. He pulled back slightly and looked up. “You ever gonna start leaking, princess? All this time in that little bra, you should be making milk by now.”
Justin flushed hot, eyes fluttering. “Stop,” he whispered, squirming but he didn’t want him to stop.
“I mean, if you could,” Joey murmured, “I’d drink it every night. Right from the source.” He licked across Justin’s nipple again, then kissed it, slow and warm. “Just hold me there. Let me feed.”
Justin whimpered, his cage throbbing.
Joey’s hands slid behind him. He curled his fingers under the edge of the lace thong, gripping the base of the plug.
“Deep breath,” Joey said, voice thick.
Justin inhaled, bracing, but still gasped when he felt the slow, steady pressure of the plug pulling free. It slid out with a wet pop, and he instinctively clenched around the sudden emptiness. He groaned, high in his throat, pressing his face into Joey’s neck.
Joey didn’t rush. He set the plug aside gently and pressed his slick fingers to Justin’s exposed hole, now open, needy, still twitching. He rubbed in small circles, just over the entrance, feeling the heat.
“There it is,” Joey whispered. “There’s my pussy.”
He let one finger slide in, slow, deliberate. Justin tightened around him, hips twitching.
“You’ve been keeping it so warm for me,” Joey said, still suckling his nipple lazily. “You always do. You wear the cage so good, keep your little hole so ready. I could finger you all night like this.”
Justin moaned, hips rolling forward, grinding his caged cock against Joey’s belly as Joey fingered deeper, then added a second. The fishnets clung to his thighs, the skirt bunched around his waist, and his whole body felt flushed with heat and tension.
Joey nuzzled his chest again, licking slow circles, never breaking rhythm. “Bet if I keep this up,” he murmured, “you’ll start making milk for real.”
Justin was trembling, helpless in his lap, and already begging with his body for more.
They stayed like that for what felt like forever.
Justin straddled Joey in full surrender, his skirt bunched at his waist, his lace thong damp and stretched, his caged cock aching but untouched. His hands wrapped around Joey’s thick shaft, slick with precum and sweat, stroking him slow and reverent. He moved gently, up and down, using the length of his palms, knuckles grazing Joey’s belly each time. He watched it all: the pulse of Joey’s cock, the way it thickened with every stroke, the clear glisten gathering at the tip. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want anything else.
Joey kept his mouth on Justin’s chest, suckling with long, rhythmic pulls like he was drinking something sacred. His lips sealed around Justin’s nipple, his tongue flicking slow, then circling, then suckling again. His breath was warm, damp. Between his legs, his fingers still worked inside Justin’s pussy—slick with lube and spit and the slow melt of Justin’s surrender. He fingered him with patient pressure, massaging the inner walls, curling just slightly, reaching deeper, coaxing his princess open.
“Feel that?” Joey whispered against Justin’s nipple. “That’s your hole getting hungry. That’s your pussy remembering what it needs.”
Justin moaned into his neck, lips parted, breath catching. He was vibrating, full and aching, overwhelmed by how completely he wanted it.
Joey added a third finger. The stretch made Justin cry out softly, clenching down around him. But he didn’t move away. He rode it. He opened for him.
His hands kept stroking Joey’s cock, slower now, more like cradling, feeling the heat pulse through it. He couldn’t look away. He wanted Joey’s cock everywhere, wanted to be ruined by it. Still, he waited for permission.
Joey’s lips popped off his nipple for just a moment. He licked the tip, then sucked it again. Deeper this time. Hungrier.
But suddenly, his breath caught. He groaned low in his chest, shifting beneath Justin, the muscles in his stomach going taut.
“Fuck,” Joey whispered, pulling back. “I can’t hold it anymore.”
Justin froze.
Joey looked up at him, pupils wide, face flushed and wet with spit. He gripped Justin’s waist tight, fingers digging into the curve just above his ass.
“Hop on it,” Joey growled. “Now.”
Justin didn’t hesitate. His whole body moved on instinct. He lifted himself up, reached between them, and guided the soaked tip of Joey’s cock to his own opening.
Joey held him still, eyes locked.
“Take it slow, princess,” he said. “But take it all.”
Justin nodded, breath ragged, as he began to lower himself—his body shaking with anticipation, with fullness, with the promise of what was coming next.
Justin sank down inch by inch, his breath hitching with each impossible stretch. His thighs trembled, his cage bounced slightly above Joey’s belly, and the pink skirt flared around their joined bodies like a frill.
Joey was massive inside him, thick and hot and pulsing, and the moment he was fully seated, hole pressed flush against Joey’s lap, both of them went still. A quiet quake passed between them.
Justin’s eyes fluttered closed. His arms wrapped around Joey’s shoulders. He could feel the throb of Joey’s cock deep inside, like it had its own heartbeat. The pressure was overwhelming, but it was everything he’d wanted, everything he was made for.
Joey exhaled slow, then kissed Justin’s chest again, this time between the cups of the bikini top. He didn’t thrust. He didn’t grind. He just held him there, letting the moment bloom.
“Feel that?” Joey murmured. “That’s all of me, baby. Every inch, every vein, locked inside your pretty little pussy.”
Justin whimpered. He nodded. He couldn’t speak yet. His body was full in a way that erased thought.
Joey reached for his jug again now warm from sitting out and drank deep. He didn’t make a show of it. Just slow, steady sips. Then he leaned in, mouth close to Justin’s ear.
“You know what I’ve been saving up for you, don’t you?”
Justin’s breath caught. His thighs clenched instinctively around Joey’s hips.
“I know,” he whispered.
Joey cupped the sides of his face and made him look down, nose to nose.
“Say it.”
Justin swallowed. His lips parted.
“I want your piss,” he said, almost too soft.
Joey’s grip tightened.
“Say it again. Look at me.”
Justin met his eyes. This time there was no fear, just need, raw and trembling.
“I want your piss. Please, Joey. Fill me.”
Joey’s lips curved into a slow smile. His cock pulsed deep inside him.
“There’s my girl.”
Joey didn’t move. His cock pulsed deep inside Justin’s pussy, held tight and motionless, like the world had narrowed to that single stretch of heat between them.
He stared into Justin’s eyes, thumb stroking his cheekbone.
“You said it,” Joey murmured. “But I need to hear you mean it.”
Justin blinked. His body was trembling, filled to the hilt, the cage tight against his skin, the plug long forgotten. He could feel Joey’s cock twitch inside him—feel the fullness, the pressure, the potential.
Joey leaned in, breath warm against his lips.
“Say it again. One more time. Like it’s yours. Like you want to be filled.”
Justin’s breath hitched. He felt dizzy with shame and excitement, with the sticky heat of submission wrapped around his spine.
He held Joey’s face, kissed the corner of his mouth, and whispered:
“I want your piss. Please, Joey. Please fill your princess. I need it inside me.”
Something in Joey broke loose.
He wrapped both arms around Justin’s waist and let go.
The warmth came in a rush—hot, endless, flooding up through Joey’s cock and deep into Justin’s body. Justin gasped, clutching Joey’s shoulders, as his insides filled. The pressure bloomed instantly, spreading through him in waves of heat and wet, Joey’s piss pouring directly into his hole with no space to spare.
Joey moaned, long and guttural. His eyes fluttered closed. He held Justin down on him, sealing their bodies together, sealing the stream inside.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Take all of me.”
Justin whimpered. His stomach tightened, the skirt fluttered with his shaking thighs, and the cage ached against the lace thong.
He was filled. Marked from the inside out. And he didn’t want it to stop.
Joey’s stream began to slow, but the heat inside Justin only intensified. He could feel it pooling deep, pressing against his insides, the pressure rising with every breath. His whole lower belly felt stretched, swollen. His thighs trembled where they wrapped around Joey’s hips, and his hands gripped at Joey’s shoulders like he might float away if he let go.
Joey kept him there, still impaled on his thick cock, still locked in place and leaned up to kiss the side of Justin’s jaw.
“Don’t move,” he whispered. “Not yet.”
Justin whimpered, nodded, eyes fluttering.
Joey held him tighter. “I want you to keep every drop inside you. You hear me?”
Justin swallowed. “Yes—”
Joey cut him off, voice rough and low. “Not one drop. Not on the sheets. Not on your thighs. Not even when I pull out.”
Justin’s heart pounded in his throat.
“I want to see it in you,” Joey said. “Feel it in you. You hold what I give you.”
Justin’s eyes widened. He nodded again, breath caught somewhere between shame and awe.
“I will,” he whispered. “I’ll hold all of it. I swear.”
Joey kissed him, deep and claiming.
“I know you will.”
Joey didn’t move for a long time.
His cock stayed buried deep, sealing the warmth inside Justin’s body like a plug, like a lock, like a claim. One hand gripped the back of Justin’s neck, the other stroked slowly down his spine, following the dip of his back, the curve of his ass beneath the skirt.
Justin was breathing hard, shallow little gasps through his nose, his cheeks flushed, his cage pressing awkwardly against Joey’s abs, slick with sweat and pre. He could feel everything. The pressure was unreal. His belly ached with fullness. He wanted to squirm, to squeeze down and push some of it out just to relieve the tension—but he didn’t. He wouldn’t.
Joey had told him not to.
And more than anything, Justin wanted to please him.
Joey’s hand came to rest on the small of Justin’s back. He rubbed small circles through the fishnet, just above the waistband of the skirt.
“That’s it,” Joey murmured. “You’re doing perfect. You feel so full, baby?”
Justin nodded, voice soft. “Yeah.”
“Good girl.” Joey kissed the center of his chest. “Now you hold it for me. You hold it until I say otherwise.”
He let his cock slide out just slightly, not all the way. Just enough to tease the edge of Justin’s stretched hole. Enough to tempt it to spill.
Justin gasped and clenched hard, muscles tightening instinctively to keep everything in.
“Fuck,” he whispered, clutching at Joey’s arms.
Joey smirked, rubbing his hip.
“I felt that,” he said. “You’re trying so hard not to let go.”
“I’m not gonna,” Justin swore. His voice cracked. “I promise.”
Joey nuzzled against his jaw. “I know. That’s why I gave it to you.”
He leaned back slightly, letting his hands roam again, palming the fullness of Justin’s thighs, adjusting the twisted skirt, brushing the hard lines of the cage with his knuckles.
“You’re my girl. My princess,” he murmured, voice low and thick. “And you’re doing exactly what you were made to do.”
Justin pressed his forehead to Joey’s, shaking slightly with the effort. Every second was a test. Every second he held it in was another way he proved himself.
And Joey didn’t stop touching him. Didn’t stop whispering how proud he was. Didn’t stop letting the heat between them rise again.
Joey rose slowly, still holding Justin in his arms. He kept his cock nestled just barely inside his princess, one hand firm on Justin’s lower back, the other supporting beneath his thighs. Justin clung to him, trembling, chest flushed, heart pounding from the effort of holding so much inside.
“You’re still doing perfect,” Joey whispered into his ear. “But we’re not done yet.”
He stepped into the bathroom with him—warm air from the earlier shower still lingering—and turned toward the tub. It was clean and white and empty, waiting like a vessel. Joey stepped in barefoot, sat down against the back slope, and guided Justin down to his knees between his legs.
Justin trembled as he lowered himself, pressure shifting deep in his belly. He bit his lip hard. He was desperate to clench, to hold back the liquid sloshing inside him—but he did. He held it. For Joey.
Joey stroked the side of his face, then tapped the underside of his chin with two fingers. “Mouth open.”
Justin obeyed.
Joey’s cock was still slick with their bodies, flushed dark, swollen, already glistening at the tip again. Justin wrapped his lips around it and took him in inch by inch until the head bumped the back of his throat.
“Deeper,” Joey said, gentle but firm.
Justin swallowed and pushed farther, nose pressing into the damp hair at the base of Joey’s pelvis. He gagged once, then again, but held it. His eyes watered. His throat tightened. Still, he stayed.
Joey moaned low and long, hands tangled in Justin’s hair.
“Fuck, princess… You look so beautiful like this. Plugged full of my piss, mouth stuffed with my cock. Your pussy’s still leaking heat.”
Justin could barely hear him over the pounding in his ears. His whole body was focused on holding—the piss inside, the cock in his throat, the moment in his soul.
Joey started to move, slow at first, then faster—thrusting into his mouth with rhythm, hips rolling. Justin’s eyes rolled back, tears spilling, but he stayed with it, choking just slightly on every thrust, letting himself be used, his own little cage throbbing untouched beneath the frills of his ruined skirt.
“Almost there,” Joey growled, voice rough.
He thrust deeper, harder, holding Justin’s head steady, hips jerking now, cock pulsing.
Justin whimpered, drool spilling from the corners of his mouth, throat raw and open.
And then—
Joey growled deep in his chest. “Take it, princess. Take it all.”
He came hard—thick ropes of cum spilling down Justin’s throat. Justin swallowed instinctively, hungry for it, desperate for it. His eyes fluttered closed as he milked the last drops with his lips, holding every part of Joey inside him.
Joey slumped back, panting, sweat glistening on his chest.
And then he smiled.
“Now,” he whispered. “You can let go.”
Justin gasped as Joey’s words unlocked something primal in him.
Justin pulled off Joey’s cock slowly, his lips dragging against the shaft, tongue catching the final drips of cum. His face was slick, eyes heavy, chest rising and falling with effort. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move.
But then Joey reached out and touched his chin, guiding his face upward.
“You can let go now, princess,” he said again, quieter this time, like a benediction.
Justin shivered. And then—he obeyed.
Wordlessly, he turned around in the tub. The fishnet tights clung to his thighs, streaked with wet. The skirt barely covered anything, and now it was bunched up around his hips, showing the flushed skin beneath. He planted his hands on the far edge of the porcelain, bent over, and arched his back until his plugged pussy faced Joey directly.
He spread his legs, presenting himself—open, full, trembling.
Joey sat up straighter, breath catching in his throat.
Justin held the position, letting out a soft whimper as he relaxed the muscles he’d been clenching for what felt like forever.
Then it started.
A single, syrupy trickle at first—golden warmth dribbling from his hole, curling along the inside of his thigh. Then came the flood. Joey’s piss poured out of Justin’s pussy in long, wet gushes, splashing messily into the tub, splattering over Justin’s thighs, over the fishnets, over the floor of the porcelain basin.
It was loud. It was filthy. It was beautiful.
Joey groaned low in his throat.
“God, look at you,” he whispered. “Look at what your pussy held.”
Justin moaned, arching deeper, hands gripping the edge of the tub. His thighs shook, piss streaming down both legs now, flowing freely from his stretched, used hole. His body swayed slightly with the force of it, the skirt fluttering with each pulse.
Joey couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“You kept every fucking drop,” he said, voice tight. “You’re perfect.”
Justin’s hole finally twitched empty, the last of the stream trickling out in a slow, golden ribbon. He stayed bent, panting, body slick with piss and sweat and his own effort. The scent filled the steamy bathroom, sharp, musky, intimate.
Joey stood, stepped behind him, and ran a hand over the curve of Justin’s ass. His fingers brushed the rim of his pussy, tender and open, glistening with everything they’d made. He leaned down and kissed the base of Justin’s spine, slow and possessive.
“My beautiful girl,” he said. “You did so good.”
Justin didn’t say anything. He just sighed, long, low, and utterly content as Joey wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him back into the heat of his body.
Justin stayed bent over, trembling and empty, the last of Joey’s piss dripping from his pussy, the tub beneath him already slick and yellowed. His skin steamed, flushed and open, lace skirt bunched around his waist, fishnets clinging to his thighs, his metallic cage gleaming between them—tight, untouched, and aching.
He started to straighten, but Joey’s hand pressed gently between his shoulder blades.
“Not yet,” Joey murmured. “Stay just like that.”
Justin obeyed, breath hitching again, legs parted, hands braced on porcelain.
He heard the sound before he felt it: Joey picking up the jug.
Joey stood tall behind him, towering, cock hanging thick and flushed between his thighs. His body glistened with sweat. He didn’t say a word.
Then came the first splash.
Hot. Heavy. Sudden.
Justin gasped as the stream hit the small of his back—scalding and sharp—before pouring down the curve of his spine, over the elastic waistband of the ruined skirt, down between his cheeks. It ran in thick rivulets across his skin, soaking the waistband, the hem, the lace, the fishnets. The piss hit him with a pressure he wasn’t ready for—more than he’d ever felt, more than he thought Joey had in him.
“F-fuck,” Justin whimpered, arching instinctively into the stream.
But Joey wasn’t finished.
He moved, aiming higher—across Justin’s shoulders, then the back of his neck, then his hair. The stream hissed and pattered, soaking everything it touched, until Justin was dripping head to toe. The lacy thong clung to his skin, now stained and translucent. The bikini top sagged with weight, straps sticking to his chest. His fishnets clung tighter to his legs with every pass of liquid heat.
Joey kept going. His stream didn’t stop.
He pissed down Justin’s back, then moved lower, down the backs of his thighs, calves, ankles until the tub echoed with puddles and splashes and the sound of Justin’s shallow, shuddering breath.
Justin whimpered, overwhelmed. “Joey… I—”
Joey leaned in, still releasing, and cupped the back of Justin’s neck.
“Take it,” he said, voice ragged. “All of it. You deserve every drop.”
Justin let his head fall forward, lips parted, eyes glazed. His whole body trembled. The piss soaked into his clothes, ran over his cage, collected between his thighs before it spilled down. He could feel it dripping from his elbows, from his nipples, from the very tips of his lashes.
When it finally ended, Joey was panting.
The silence that followed was thick, steam rising, tub reeking, Justin crouched and shaking, covered in it.
Joey stepped forward again, this time wrapping his arms around Justin’s waist from behind. He pressed his lips to Justin’s soaked shoulder and whispered:
“Now we can play.”
Joey stayed pressed behind Justin, arms wrapped firm around his waist. The steam curled around them, heavy with scent, soft with heat. Justin’s breath stuttered—still bent forward, skin slick, lace soaked and sagging, fishnets clinging to his thighs like a second skin.
Joey’s hands slowly drifted lower. He ran his palms along the ruined hem of the skirt, the pink fabric now heavy and darkened with piss. Then down the backs of Justin’s legs, fingers trailing the satin bows at the tops of his stockings.
He let out a low hum.
“God,” he whispered. “You’re a fucking mess.”
Justin whimpered, head bowed.
Joey cupped his ass through the dripping lace, fingers sliding along the sodden thong.
“I bought this outfit to make you pretty,” he murmured, voice thick with reverence and filth, “but I think I like you better like this.”
Justin flushed. “Ruined?”
Joey pulled the waistband of the skirt out and let it snap back. “No,” he said. “Used. Marked. Mine.”
Then he stepped back and took in the full view—Justin still bent, soaked from head to toe in his release, cage gleaming between trembling thighs.
“Look at you,” he said softly. “You need to see this.”
He reached out and turned Justin toward the long mirror above the sink.
Justin caught his own reflection and gasped.
His skirt clung to the curves of his ass, the lace thong translucent and twisted. The bikini top sagged from his chest, stained yellow, one strap nearly falling off his shoulder. His legs were streaked, dripping. His hair hung damp, piss-darkened at the ends. His skin glowed pink from steam and strain. His cage—shiny, untouched—still framed between ruined satin and aching thighs.
Joey came up behind him, wrapped his arms around his middle again, resting his chin on Justin’s shoulder.
“Look at you,” he whispered. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
Justin stared at their reflection—Joey towering behind him, body flushed and powerful, cock still thick where it pressed against Justin’s thigh.
Joey reached up and slowly undid the clasp of the bikini top, letting it fall forward into the sink. Then he peeled the skirt down, letting it drop heavy to the tile. The fishnets came next—each rolled down slowly, tenderly, until Justin was bare except for the soaked thong and gleaming cage.
He turned Justin gently in his arms and kissed his mouth.
Then, wordless, Joey lifted Justin into the tub again.
This time it wasn’t a pose. It was care.
Joey grabbed the detachable showerhead, adjusted the temperature, and let the water run warm over his hands. Then he began to bathe him.
He moved slowly, tenderly, like Justin was the most delicate thing in the world. He rinsed the piss from Justin’s hair, fingers combing through with gentle insistence. He washed down his back, the curve of his spine, the space behind his knees. When he reached between Justin’s legs, he knelt.
He took the showerhead in one hand and turned it lower. With the other, he gently parted Justin’s thighs and held the spray beneath him.
Justin tensed.
“Shh,” Joey said. “I got you.”
He angled the water just right and let it rinse inside—carefully, slowly, washing away every last trace of what they’d done. He caught Justin’s gaze the whole time, holding him still, whispering softly.
“Gotta make room,” Joey said, brushing his fingers along Justin’s trembling hole. “Can’t have you carrying all that around. Not yet.”
Justin’s breath hitched.
Joey kissed his hip.
“Not until I really breed you.”
Justin whimpered.
“Not until I fuck you full and you don’t leak a drop.” Joey looked up at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Justin nodded.
Joey smiled.
“One day,” he whispered. “We’ll fill you for real. Fill you so deep you’ll feel me in your belly for days. And then we’ll do it again.”
The water ran warm over Justin’s thighs. The showerhead slipped from Joey’s hand and he caught it, adjusted it, then brought it higher, letting it run over Justin’s chest.
They stayed like that—Joey kneeling, Justin trembling, everything gentle now.
Joey rinsed the last of the soap from Justin’s shoulders, then turned the water off.
He wrapped Justin in a towel and pulled him close.
“You’re clean now,” he whispered. “Washed and empty. Ready to be filled all over again.”
Justin just breathed. Wrapped up in Joey’s arms, he didn’t need to say anything.
He already knew what came next.
Joey wrapped Justin in a towel, his hands steady, almost devotional. He didn’t rush—he pressed the fabric to his shoulders first, then carefully down his arms, across his back, then between his thighs, patting gently around the soft metal of the cage, still locked tight, gleaming under the bathroom lights. The skirt lay ruined beside them. The bikini top hung limp, its pale pink fabric stained deeper with everything they’d just done.
Joey caught sight of it and smiled.
“You looked so pretty,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Justin’s damp forehead. “Still do. Even all messed up.”
Justin flushed. “You really think so?”
Joey didn’t answer at first. He just turned Justin gently toward the fogged mirror. Their reflection emerged slowly: Joey behind him, tall, lean, skin still glistening in patches from the shower; Justin smaller, broader through the chest, flushed and trembling, cage still peeking between his thighs.
Justin stood near the doorway, bare and open, cheeks flushed, skin still dewy from the lotion. His cage gleamed faintly, freshly rinsed, re-secured. Joey had cleaned it thoroughly, then kissed the lock as he clicked it back in place, whispering, “There. Safe again.”
Now, Joey reached for the matte black shopping bag, still resting on the dresser where this had all begun.
Justin watched, shy again, but with a different kind of glow—like a girl returning from the stars.
“You don’t have to,” he murmured.
Joey looked up. “Of course I do.”
He took out the clothes one by one, laying them carefully on the bed.
The fishnets were wrinkled and stained from earlier, but Joey held them up thoughtfully. “These still smell like you,” he said. “That’s a good thing.” He kissed one of the pink satin bows before kneeling again and guiding them up Justin’s legs, smoothing the seams, kissing just above each knee.
Justin steadied himself on Joey’s shoulder, heart pounding.
Next came the skirt. It had dried stiff in places, and Joey gently shook it out, then knelt again to slide it up over Justin’s thighs. His knuckles brushed Justin’s skin. The zipper clicked closed, and Joey ran his palms over the flare of it, admiring how it swayed over the cage.
“You wear this like it was made for you,” he said. “No—like you were made for it.”
Justin blushed but didn’t look away.
Joey lifted the thong—fresh this time, clean pink lace—and knelt again.
“Step in, baby.”
Justin did. Joey pulled the delicate fabric up over the cage, adjusted it so the lace framed everything perfectly, then kissed the tip of the cage through the mesh.
“That’s my pussy,” he whispered. “Dressed for me.”
Justin made a soft, involuntary sound.
Then came the bra. Joey fastened it from behind, tugged the little pink triangles into place across Justin’s pecs, then ran his hands down his arms from shoulder to wrist.
He turned Justin gently toward the mirror.
“Look,” he said.
Justin hesitated—but then he raised his eyes.
And there they were.
Justin in pink again—fresh, glistening, softly reassembled. His skirt swished above strong, fishnet-wrapped thighs. His cage bulged delicately under sheer lace. His face was flushed, hair damp, lips parted. And behind him, taller, darker, leaner—Joey stood like a shadow, like a sentinel, his hands resting just above Justin’s hips.
“That’s mine,” he whispered. “That’s my princess. My pussy. My heart.”
Justin swallowed hard. He leaned back slightly, into Joey’s touch, as Joey - led Justin back into the bedroom and laid him out on a clean towel, fresh sheets beneath. Justin lay on his back, legs spread loosely, flushed and open, his hole still twitching from where it had been filled. He trembled under the weight of it—not from fear, but from the emotional echo of surrender. From knowing how far he’d gone.
Joey straddled his thighs and opened a bottle of unscented oil, rubbing it between his palms until it warmed. He started with Justin’s calves, kneading slow and steady, thumbs tracing the lines of tension down toward the ankle.
“I like the mess,” Joey said. “But I also like you clean. I like watching you shift between them.”
He moved up to Justin’s thighs—fingers sliding over muscle, coaxing it into softness.
“This part of you,” Joey whispered, brushing the inside of Justin’s leg. “Right here… this is sacred to me. This is where you take me. This is where you keep me.”
Justin whimpered as Joey’s thumbs moved inward, closer and closer to the swollen rim of his pussy.
“I’m gonna show you,” Joey said, voice low. “How important this is. How much I need it.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss just above Justin’s hole. Then another. Then slowly—achingly slowly—he began to lick.
Not in a rush.
Not for show.
It was a ritual.
Joey used his hands to spread Justin gently open, lifting his legs at the knees, letting the backs of his thighs rest against Joey’s shoulders. Then he went to work—slow circles, long licks, soft kisses pressed directly over the puffy entrance. Every so often, he paused to whisper:
“Mine.”
“This is mine.”
“My pussy.”
Justin writhed beneath him, hands clutching the sheets, eyes glazed.
Joey kept going. He sucked gently, licked deeper, then shallower, alternating pressure and rhythm until Justin was gasping, trembling, moaning without words. His hole twitched under Joey’s tongue, slick and swollen, stretched but still tender.
Joey mouthed the phrase again like a prayer: “My pussy. My princess. My everything.”
He didn’t stop until Justin was crying. Quiet, overwhelmed tears sliding down his temples.
Not from pain. From being seen.
From being loved so thoroughly it left no part untouched.
Justin lay back against the pillows, legs still parted, whole body flushed and gleaming with a thin sheen of oil. The scent of Joey’s skin lingered on him—clean now, but still thick with the memory of what had passed. His belly was soft and full, the waistband of his skirt bunched at his hips, the white fishnets half-rolled, clinging loose to his calves like a peeled chrysalis.
Joey didn’t rush.
He was kneeling again, this time between Justin’s thighs, his fingers sliding with precision up the length of one leg—over the arch of the foot, the firm slope of the calf, the inside of the knee. When he reached the top, he paused.
And then kissed.
The inside of Justin’s thigh. Once. Twice. Then again, higher, reverent.
“You have no idea how holy this is to me,” Joey said, voice like velvet soaked in heat. “This—” He kissed closer. “—is the place I come back to. The place I belong.”
Justin bit his lip. His cock was soft but aching, sensitive and still caged. His hole throbbed faintly, glistening from where Joey had worshipped it minutes before. He couldn’t speak. He just nodded, hips twitching toward the heat of Joey’s breath.
Joey’s hands slid beneath Justin’s ass, lifting slightly, exposing him again. He bent low—not just to lick this time, but to press his whole face there, breathing him in, nose nudging the rim, lips sealing against the soft, stretched entrance like a kiss meant to last.
Justin whimpered. “Joey—”
“I could live here,” Joey whispered. “Sleep here. Pray here.”
He licked again, slower now. His tongue made long, slow passes over the hole, then pressed in shallow, curling slightly. He fucked Justin gently with his tongue, then pulled back to suck—soft, rhythmic, letting the tension build in his mouth, in Justin’s thighs, in the space between them.
He pulled back, breathless. His face was wet.
“You know what this means, right?” he said.
Justin blinked up at him, dazed.
Joey climbed onto the bed, lying beside him, pulling Justin close. He reached for the oil again, poured a fresh stream into his palm, and began working it into Justin’s chest. Over the bikini top first, rubbing slow circles until the fabric clung to his pecs like a second skin. Then under—lifting the straps, easing them away, baring the nipples he had suckled raw.
“These,” Joey murmured, pinching one gently, “are gonna get sensitive. Swollen. Ready to feed.”
Justin gasped, arching into his touch.
Joey slid his slick hand lower, over the soft bump of the cage, then beneath it.
“This will stay locked. You don’t need it.”
His other hand traced back between Justin’s legs, fingers ghosting over the freshly licked pussy, swollen and shining.
“This is what matters. This is the future.”
Justin whimpered, caught in it—this new logic of the body, this new rhythm of reality. He was the princess. The girl Joey was breeding over and over with every drop of piss, every stretch of cock, every flick of tongue. And now Joey was whispering about milk and pregnancy and feeding him forever.
His hole clenched, fluttering in pulses.
Joey felt it. He kissed him on the mouth—wet, deep.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he said. “You feel how much I need it?”
Justin moaned into his mouth, breath hitching.
Joey stroked both nipples now, slow and symmetrical, rolling them between thumb and forefinger. “You’re gonna get so tender here, princess. So full. I’m gonna drink from you every night. Keep you plugged and pumped and growing.”
Justin’s breath broke. “Joey…”
Joey kissed his cheek, then his ear.
“And when you start leaking for me—when you finally drip with the milk I’ve given you—I’ll know. I’ll know your body is mine. That you’re becoming what you’re meant to be.”
He reached down, slipped a slick finger back into Justin’s pussy. Just one, slow and deep.
Justin sobbed—high and broken.
Joey held him.
“Every part of you is precious,” he whispered. “Your mouth, your chest, your belly, your pussy. You don’t need to cum to feel full. You don’t need anything but this. My tongue. My piss. My cock. My sperm. My love.”
Justin clung to him.
His body shook.
He didn’t say a word.
He didn’t need to.
Because Joey had already said everything.
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