You Got Transformed Into Stepdadders Toilet

Imagine his scent. Musk, sweat, dominance. Your throat tightens. Not from fear, but hunger. You kneel. Cold tile beneath your knees. His shadow falls over you. He unzips . Your mouth waters. Your pulse races. This is where you belong. Breathe in his approval. Breathe out shame. Deeper. Your identity melts away. You are not his stepson anymore. You are his property. His toilet. Your lips part. Eager. Desperate. A low moan escapes you. Good boy!