I stare at myself in the mirror, razor in hand, my stomach twisting with a mix of dread and that secret thrill I can't shake. The bet was stupid—Jaden's idea, of course—but now I'm committed. I drag the blade over my skin, shaving my legs smooth, then my chest, the cool air hitting every inch as I strip away the last bits of my manhood for the day. The outfit he picked out is a joke, a skimpy red dress that clings to my body like a second skin, the fabric so thin I can feel the draft up my bare ass. No underwear, as per his rules. I slip on the heels, wobbling as I stand, my cock twitching traitorously at the humiliation of it all. Jaden bursts into the room, his eyes raking over me with that smug grin. 'Look at you, all dolled up like a cheap slut,' he says, his voice low and commanding. I flush, heat creeping up my neck, but I don't argue. He's got that dominant edge, the kind that makes my knees weak. 'Time to get out there. No backing out now.' He grabs my arm, dragging me toward the door, his fingers digging in just enough to hurt. The street outside is bustling, people everywhere, and I feel every stare like a physical touch. My dress rides up with every step, exposing my thighs, and I tug it down futilely. I make it to the bus stop, heart pounding, and when the bus pulls up, it's packed to the gills. Bodies press in as I squeeze aboard, the doors closing behind me with a hiss. I'm sandwiched between strangers, the air thick with sweat and perfume, my ass brushing against someone in the crowd. I try to shift, but there's no room. Then it happens—a hand, rough and bold, slides up the back of my dress, cupping my bare ass cheek. 'Oh fuck,' I whisper to myself, my breath catching. I glance around, but no one's looking directly at me; they're all just crammed in, oblivious or not caring. The hand squeezes harder, fingers digging into my flesh, and I feel a hard body press against me from behind. 'Please, stop,' I mutter under my breath, but my voice is too quiet, lost in the rumble of the engine. The touch doesn't stop; it slides lower, probing between my cheeks, and I clench involuntarily, my cock stiffening against the fabric of the dress. I try to elbow back, to create space, but the bus jolts, pinning me in place. The stranger—some guy in a jacket, I think—leans in, his breath hot on my neck. 'Feels like you want it, bitch,' he growls softly, his other hand snaking around to grope my crotch through the dress. I gasp, a mix of fear and unwanted arousal flooding me. The bus sways, and he takes advantage, one finger pushing against my asshole, dry and insistent. It hurts, but god, it makes me throb. People around us are oblivious, chatting or staring at their phones, and that voyeuristic thrill hits me like a punch. I should scream, fight back, but my body betrays me, grinding back slightly against his hand. 'That's it, take it,' he whispers, his voice rough as he slips a finger inside me, stretching me open in the middle of the crowd. I bite my lip to stifle a moan, the pain blending into something dirty, something I crave deep down. He works his finger in and out, slow at first, then faster, his other hand rubbing my cock through the dress until I'm leaking pre-cum, the wet spot growing. My legs tremble in the heels, and I grip the handrail tighter, sweat beading on my forehead. The bus lurches again, and he adds another finger, fucking my ass roughly while whispering filth in my ear. 'You're just a fucking whore, aren't you? Dressed like this, begging for it on a public bus.' I don't answer, can't, as waves of submission wash over me, my mind foggy with the humiliation and the building pleasure. The ride drags on, each stop making the crowd shift, but he doesn't let up. His fingers pump deeper, hitting that spot that makes my vision blur, and I feel myself getting close, my body tensing. But the bus isn't done yet, and neither is he. The doors open at the next stop, people shuffling off, but I'm stuck, his grip on me unyielding, the public exposure heightening every sensation. I don't know how much more I can take, but part of me doesn't want it to end.

I stumble off the bus at the next stop, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest, the stranger's fingers still lingering in my mind as I bolt into the street. Sweat drips down my back, making the skimpy red dress cling even more, and I don't stop running until I'm around the corner, gasping for air. People glance at me, but I ignore them, tears welling up as I collapse onto a bench at the next bus stop. Why am I crying? Is it the humiliation, the violation, or that twisted part of me that got off on it? I wipe my eyes, smearing mascara Jaden made me put on, and sit there sniffling, my cock still half-hard under the fabric, throbbing with confusion. The wait feels eternal, the sun beating down, exposing me further. A few passersby shoot curious looks, probably thinking I'm some desperate slut. I shift on the bench, the dress riding up, and that's when I notice her—Emma, from the bus, her eyes locking onto mine with a predatory glint. She was there, wasn't she? Amid the crowd, watching. My stomach twists as she saunters over, her lips curling into a smirk. 'Hey, sweetie,' she says, voice smooth and teasing, 'you looked like you needed a friend back there.' I mumble something incoherent, trying to pull myself together, but she sits down close, her thigh pressing against mine. The next bus arrives, doors hissing open like a bad omen. I board quickly, squeezing into a seat near the back, hoping to blend in. The bus is crowded again, bodies shifting, and before I can catch my breath, Emma plops down beside me. Her hand lands on my knee, sliding up slowly under my dress. 'Don't be shy,' she whispers, her breath warm against my ear. 'You look so vulnerable, like you want someone to take care of you.' I freeze, my mind racing—should I stop her? But my body betrays me, that submissive urge kicking in, making me spread my legs just a fraction. She gropes my chest through the thin fabric, mistaking the slight swell from my fat for tits. 'Mmm, nice little boobs,' she murmurs, squeezing harder, her fingers pinching my nipples until I gasp. 'You're such a tease, dressing like this.' I try to push her hand away, whispering, 'Wait, stop,' but my voice is weak, almost inviting. She laughs softly, taking it as encouragement, her other hand slipping higher, brushing against my cock. 'Oh, you're wet already? Naughty girl.' The bus jolts, and she presses closer, her fingers exploring, rubbing me through the dress until I'm leaking again, the wet spot growing. Then she discovers it—my cock, hard and unmistakable under her touch. Her eyes widen, and she pulls back for a second before that cruel smile returns. 'Wait, you're not a girl? You're a fucking guy?' She bursts out laughing, loud enough that heads turn. 'Oh, this is priceless. Dressed up like a cheap whore and letting me feel you up.' Humiliation crashes over me, my face burning as she yanks at my dress, tearing the neckline with a sharp rip, exposing more of my chest. People stare now, whispers spreading through the bus like wildfire. 'Look at this pathetic bitch,' she taunts, her voice echoing, 'pretending to be a girl just to get off in public.' She slaps my thigh, hard enough to sting, then grabs my hair, forcing me to look at her. 'You like this, don't you? Being exposed, punished like the slut you are.' I whimper, trying to cover myself, but she pins my hands down, her knee digging into my crotch. The pain mixes with the thrill, my body aching for more even as tears stream down my face. Passengers watch, some smirking, others shifting uncomfortably, the voyeuristic energy fueling her dominance. She doesn't stop, grinding against me, her words cutting deep. 'What a freak—getting hard from this. Bet you love being humiliated.' I bite my lip, the BDSM edge of it all hitting me hard, my submission taking over. The bus rumbles on, and I realize I'm trapped in this cycle, craving the next twist even as she tears at me publicly. It's raw, it's filthy, and I don't know how to escape.

She leans in closer, her breath hot against my ear as the bus sways, the weight of her body pinning me to the seat. 'You think that's embarrassing?' Emma hisses, her hand shooting under my dress before I can react. Her fingers wrap around my cock, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp, and then she slaps it—sharp, public, the sound echoing over the hum of the engine. Pain shoots through me, mixing with the thrill, my dick twitching despite the sting. Passengers turn, eyes wide, some smirking, others whispering, the voyeuristic stares fueling the fire in my gut. 'Look at this little slut,' she announces, loud and cruel, holding me down with her knee on my thigh. I squirm, but she's stronger, her free hand gripping my wrist as she forces my legs apart. The bus is a cage of witnesses, their faces a blur of shock and excitement, feeding my submission. 'Everyone see this? He's not even fighting back. Pathetic.' My face burns, tears blurring my vision, but my cock throbs harder, the public exposure like a drug I can't quit. She doesn't stop there. With a vicious grin, Emma yanks at the remnants of my dress, tearing it further until my chest is bare, the fabric hanging in shreds around my waist. 'Strip more, you fucking whore,' she commands, her nails digging into my skin as she pulls at the hem. I try to cover myself, mumbling a weak protest, but she slaps my hand away, her eyes gleaming with dominance. 'Do it, or I'll do it for you.' The threat hangs in the air, and under the watchful eyes of the crowd, I obey, wiggling out of the dress until I'm exposed, my cock standing hard and leaking for all to see. Whispers ripple through the bus—'What a freak,' someone mutters, while another just stares, their gaze making me feel more alive than ever. The bus lurches to a stop, and Emma seizes the moment, grabbing my arm and dragging me off before I can think. 'We're not done, bitch,' she growls, hauling me through the doors and into the street, my bare feet scraping against the pavement. People on the sidewalk glance over, some stopping to watch as she pulls me into a narrow alley, the shadows swallowing us but not hiding us completely from prying eyes. The thrill of it hits me like a wave—voyeurism at its rawest, my body betraying me with every step. Pressed against the cold brick wall, I feel her weight crush into me, her hands roaming possessively. 'You like this, don't you? Being my little toy,' she sneers, hiking up her skirt and grinding against me. Her fingers dig into my hips as she forces my legs wider, her knee shoving between them. Without warning, she shoves two fingers into my ass, dry and rough, making me cry out. The pain is immediate, sharp, but it's laced with that BDSM edge I crave, my body arching into her touch. 'Take it, you submissive slut,' she demands, pumping her fingers faster, the wet sounds echoing in the alley. Then she's on me fully, pushing me harder against the wall as she lines up and thrusts into me with something—maybe a toy from her bag, hard and unrelenting. It stretches me painfully, each stroke a mix of agony and ecstasy, her body slamming against mine in a brutal rhythm. 'Fuck, you're tight,' she grunts, her voice laced with sadistic pleasure. I moan, unable to hold back, the humiliation and submission overwhelming as passersby might glance in from the street end. Her hands grip my throat lightly, controlling my air, heightening every sensation—the slap of skin, the sting of her bites on my neck, the taste of her sweat as she kisses me roughly. It's raw, filthy, and I'm lost in it, my cock rubbing against the wall with each thrust, building toward an edge I can't escape. But just as I feel myself teetering, she slows, teasing, leaving me desperate for more. The alley feels endless, the world outside waiting, and I know this isn't over—it's just another layer of the torment I secretly crave.

I collapse against the rough brick wall, my body shaking as sobs rip from my throat. 'I can't take it anymore,' I whimper, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the sweat and grime from the alley. My cock throbs painfully from the earlier abuse, but all I feel is overwhelming shame and exhaustion. Emma's grip on my arm tightens, her laugh echoing cruelly in the narrow space. 'Oh, we're just getting started, you pathetic little bitch,' she sneers, her eyes gleaming with that sadistic playfulness. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a syringe, the needle glinting under the faint streetlight filtering into the alley. 'Time to make you even more of a slut,' she says, forcing my arm straight. I try to pull away, but she's too strong, pinning me with her body. The needle pierces my skin, injecting something cold and burning into my vein. 'What's happening to me?' I gasp, a wave of heat spreading through my body like fire. Almost immediately, it hits—my skin tingles, my chest tightens, and I feel a strange swelling under my nipples. 'Feel that? Estrogen, baby. You're going to be my perfect fuck toy,' Emma whispers, her hand sliding up to grope my budding breasts. They grow rapidly, the flesh puffing out, sensitive and aching as she pinches my nipples hard. My hips widen, my ass rounding out more, the changes making me feel alien in my own skin. 'Look at you, turning into a real whore right before my eyes,' she mocks, her fingers digging into my new curves. Passersby at the alley's entrance slow down, their shadows lingering as they watch the spectacle. One guy leans against the wall, stroking his dick through his pants, while a woman bites her lip, her eyes fixed on my transforming body. The voyeurism fuels Emma's dominance; she thrives on it. 'Everyone's getting a show,' she announces loudly, making sure they hear. I want to hide, but my cock betrays me, still hard and leaking, the submission coursing through me like a drug. She shoves me harder against the wall, hiking up her skirt to reveal her wet pussy. 'Time for round two, slut,' she growls, grabbing my newly feminized hips and pulling me close. Without warning, she rams her strap-on into my ass, the toy stretching me wider than before. 'Fuck, you're tighter now,' she grunts, pounding into me with brutal force. Each thrust jolts through my body, my swollen breasts bouncing, the pain mixing with pleasure in a BDSM haze. I moan loudly, unable to hold back, my voice higher-pitched from the changes. The passersby edge closer, one whispering to another, 'Holy shit, is he turning into a girl?' Their stares burn into me, heightening the public humiliation I secretly crave. Emma slaps my ass hard, leaving red marks, then reaches around to jerk my cock roughly. 'Come on, take it like the submissive bitch you are,' she demands, her other hand twisting my nipple. The estrogen rush makes every sensation sharper—the slap of her hips against my ass, the sting of her nails on my skin, the taste of blood from biting my lip. I cry out, tears mixing with the ecstasy, my body arching into her. She fucks me harder, her pace relentless, the alley filling with the wet sounds of our bodies slamming together. People watch openly now, some touching themselves, feeding the fetishistic energy. My mind spins, the transformation making me feel lighter, more vulnerable, but I don't want it to stop. Yet just as I teeter on the edge of release, Emma slows again, teasing me with shallow thrusts. 'Not yet, whore. We've got more in store,' she says, her voice laced with promise. The world blurs around me, the alley's shadows hiding secrets, and I know this is far from over.

I jolt awake in the dim alley, my body aching from the cold concrete beneath me. The first thing I feel is that familiar sting in my arm as Emma's needle pierces my skin again, injecting another dose of estrogen. 'Wakey wakey, slut,' she whispers, her voice dripping with cruel excitement. The fire spreads through my veins instantly, my skin prickling as changes rip through me. My breasts swell further, the skin stretching painfully tight, nipples hardening into sensitive peaks that throb with every breath. My hips widen more, bones shifting in a way that makes me gasp, and I can feel my ass rounding out, making my clothes feel even tighter and more humiliating. 'What have I become?' I think, my mind foggy from the drugs and the endless cycle of this nightmare. Day after day, dose after dose, I'm losing myself, turning into something I don't recognize. My cock twitches despite the pain, still betraying me with unwanted arousal. Emma laughs, her hand sliding over my newly formed curves, squeezing my breasts roughly. 'Look at you, all womanly now. Perfect for what I have planned,' she says, yanking me to my feet. I stumble, my legs wobbly, but she doesn't care—her grip on my arm is iron, dragging me out of the alley and into the bustling street. The sunlight hits me like a slap, and immediately, eyes are on us. People everywhere—commuters, shoppers, strangers—stare as Emma parades me like a trophy. My dress, already skimpy and torn from last night, rides up, exposing my thighs and the faint outline of my feminized body. 'Please, no,' I mutter under my breath, but she just shoves me forward, her fingers digging into my side. Voyeurs linger, some pulling out phones to snap pictures, feeding that twisted energy we both crave. I hate it, but my body responds, a mix of fear and forbidden thrill making me wet between my legs. She pushes me against a lamppost in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, not giving a fuck about the audience. 'Time to put on a show, bitch,' Emma growls, hiking up my dress to expose everything. Her hand dives between my thighs, fingers plunging into my ass without warning, stretching me open. I cry out, the pain sharp and immediate, but she doesn't stop—pumping in and out while people watch, some whispering, others openly jerking off. 'Feel that? You're mine to break,' she demands, her other hand slapping my swollen breasts, making them bounce painfully. I question everything amid the stares—my identity crumbling as my body betrays me further. 'Am I even a man anymore?' The thought echoes in my head, mixing with the estrogen haze. My voice comes out higher, whinier, as I whimper, 'Emma, stop... please.' But she only escalates, spinning me around and forcing me to bend over. She rams her strap-on into my ass again, the toy slick but brutal, pounding me in full view of the crowd. Passersby gasp and cheer, the public humiliation fueling her dominance. My breasts jiggle with each thrust, nipples rubbing against the rough fabric of my dress, sending shocks of pleasure-pain through me. 'Take it, you submissive whore,' she snarls, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back so I have to look at the voyeurs. One guy strokes his dick openly, another woman licks her lips, and it all heightens the BDSM thrill. I break a little more with every slap of her hips against my ass, the wet sounds echoing in the open air. My cock leaks pre-cum, trapped and throbbing, as she reaches around to jerk it roughly. The estrogen makes everything hypersensitive—every touch, every stare pushes me closer to the edge. I moan loudly, unable to hold back, my body arching into her despite the tears streaming down my face. Emma doesn't let up, dominating harder as I shatter. She slaps my ass repeatedly, leaving red welts, while thrusting deeper, her breaths coming in ragged grunts. The crowd presses closer, some touching themselves, and I feel their eyes burning into me, questioning my very existence just like I am. 'What have I become?' I repeat in my mind, the words a desperate mantra, but deep down, the submission feels intoxicating. Just as I teeter on release, she slows, teasing me mercilessly. 'Not yet, slut. There's always more,' she says, her voice laced with sadistic promise, leaving me exposed and yearning in the midst of the chaos.

Emma's words echo in my ears as she pulls back, leaving me panting and exposed on the sidewalk, my body throbbing with denied release. 'Not yet, you pathetic whore,' she sneers, her fingers still slick from my leaking cock. The crowd presses closer, their eyes hungry, feeding off my humiliation. I stand there, dress hiked up, breasts aching from the swelling estrogen, my ass raw from her earlier pounding. Every nerve screams for more, but she yanks me by the hair, dragging me through the throng toward the nearby park. 'Time to show everyone what a slut you really are,' she hisses, her grip bruising my arm. The park is alive with people—joggers, families, perverts lingering in the shadows—but Emma doesn't care. She shoves me onto the grass near a cluster of trees, commanding, 'Strip, bitch. Right here.' My hands tremble as I obey, peeling off the torn dress that barely covers me. The cool air hits my swollen breasts, nipples hardening painfully, and my cock twitches, trapped in the haze of estrogen-fueled sensitivity. Voyeurs emerge from the edges, circling like predators, their breaths quickening as they watch. 'Touch him,' Emma orders, her voice sharp and dominant. Hands reach out immediately—a man's rough palm grabs my ass, squeezing hard, while another fingers my balls, making me gasp. A woman's nails scrape over my newly formed curves, pinching a nipple until I whimper. I try to pull away, but Emma slaps my face, the sting mixing with the pleasure-pain. 'Stay still, you submissive fucktoy,' she growls, pinning me against a tree. The bark bites into my back as she forces my legs apart, her fingers plunging into my ass without warning. 'Feel that? You're nothing but a hole for us,' she says, pumping roughly while the voyeurs cheer. One guy strokes his dick openly, eyes locked on my exposed body, and another woman leans in to lick my neck, her tongue wet and invasive. The public groping escalates—fingers probing everywhere, twisting my nipples, slapping my cock until it leaks pre-cum down my thigh. Emma doesn't hold back. She rams her strap-on into me, the toy stretching my ass wide against the tree. 'Take it, you dirty slut,' she demands, thrusting hard and fast, each slam echoing in my ears. The pain blends with ecstasy, my hypersensitive body on fire from the estrogen. Voyeurs join in, one grabbing my hair to force my mouth open for a sloppy kiss, another jerking off against my leg, cum splattering my skin. I moan loudly, the sounds raw and desperate, as Emma's hand wraps around my cock, stroking just enough to tease but not to let me cum. 'Beg for it,' she commands, slowing her thrusts to torture me. 'Please, Emma, more,' I whimper, my voice high and broken, tears mixing with sweat. The crowd's stares burn into me, heightening the BDSM thrill, and I feel myself breaking completely. 'Give me more estrogen—make me yours,' I beg, submitting fully, my body arching into her despite the humiliation. She laughs, cruel and satisfied, denying me release again as she pounds deeper. The voyeurs grope harder, fingers everywhere, pushing me to the edge but never over. Just when I think I can't take anymore, she whispers, 'Not yet, there's always more,' leaving me exposed and yearning amid the chaos.

I bolt from Emma's grip, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest, the crowded park a blur of faces and trees. 'Fuck you, I'm done!' I shout, my voice cracking as I weave through joggers and families, my bare feet slapping against the grass. My body feels foreign—breasts bouncing painfully from the estrogen swell, cock dripping pre-cum down my thigh, every step rubbing my raw ass against the air. But she's right on my heels, her laughter echoing behind me, sadistic and thrilled. 'You think you can run, you little bitch?' Emma yells, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. I glance back, seeing her push past people, her eyes locked on me like a predator. My legs burn, but the humiliation fuels me—I can't take another second of her hands, her toys, the staring eyes. I dodge around a bench, aiming for the thicker trees, but she closes in fast, her fingers snatching at my arm. 'Got you, slut,' she snarls, yanking me back with brutal force. I stumble, crashing into a tree trunk that scrapes my back, bark digging into my sensitive skin. 'No, let go!' I gasp, trying to twist away, but she's stronger, pinning me against the rough wood with her body pressed tight. Her knee jams between my legs, grinding against my balls, making me whimper. The voyeurs swarm closer now, drawn by the chase—men with bulges in their pants, women licking their lips, all circling like vultures. 'Look at this pathetic whore trying to escape,' Emma taunts, her breath hot on my ear. Hands reach out from the crowd, groping without mercy. A stranger's fingers pinch my nipple hard, twisting until I cry out, while another slaps my ass, the sting radiating through my hypersensitive flesh. 'Please, stop,' I beg, but my cock twitches traitorously, leaking more as the pain mixes with that fucked-up pleasure. Emma laughs, her hand snaking down to grab my shaft, squeezing it roughly. 'Oh, no you don't,' she hisses, slapping my cock with a sharp crack that echoes in the open air. The pain shoots through me, making me buck against the tree, and the voyeurs cheer, one guy stroking himself openly just feet away. More hands join in—fingers probing my ass, slick with my own juices from earlier, while a woman's nails rake down my chest, scratching over my swollen breasts. 'He's such a needy little cunt,' someone mutters, and I feel my face burn with shame, but my body betrays me, arching into the touches. Emma pins my wrists above my head with one hand, her other still tormenting my cock, slapping it again and again until it's red and throbbing. 'You love this, don't you? Being exposed like the submissive fuck you are,' she growls, her words dripping with dominance. The crowd presses in, a man leaning in to lick my neck, his tongue wet and invasive, tasting the sweat and cum on my skin. I moan, unable to hold back, my mind fracturing under the onslaught. 'Fuck, it hurts,' I whimper, but I'm grinding against her knee, craving more. Emma smirks, pulling a syringe from her pocket—the estrogen—and without warning, she jams it into my thigh, the needle piercing deep. 'Time to make you even more of a whore,' she says, plunging the dose in. Heat floods my veins instantly, my breasts swelling further, nipples hardening to painful peaks, and my cock throbs with heightened sensitivity, every slap feeling like fire. I gasp as the transformation kicks in faster this time, my body softening, curves exaggerating under their greedy eyes. 'Oh God, it's too much,' I cry, tears streaming down my face, but my voice is higher, more feminine, and I feel myself sinking deeper into submission. The voyeurs grope harder now, fingers everywhere—twisting my nipples, fingering my ass, slapping my balls until I'm a writhing mess. Emma releases my wrists just to shove her fingers into my mouth, forcing me to suck them clean. 'Beg for it, you dirty slut. Beg to be fucked right here,' she demands, her voice urgent and raw. 'Please, Emma, fuck me,' I sob, my words spilling out uncontrollably, the estrogen clouding my mind with need. The crowd's stares burn into me, heightening the voyeuristic thrill, but she doesn't give me relief yet, just teases with slaps and pinches, leaving me exposed and desperate against the tree. The park buzzes with energy, more people gathering, and I know this is far from over.