Mail Order Slut

"Yo Evan...foods on the table -- come and get it while its hot!"

Shooter Ellis yelled this out as he plated two portions of spaghetti and placed them on the small dining table along with a loaf of garlic bread. Through a bedroom door Evan Peters emerged...21 years old, small in stature at 5'5", and finely featured with a slender build. Having felt suffocated in the small town in rural Idaho in which he'd lived his whole life, after finally saving enough money for the move he'd headed west to the coast, with no intentions of ever going back.

Shortly after arriving in California, Evan had found work at the diner owned by Shooter, and the 55 year-old widower had taken a liking to him right away. Not only did Shooter offer Evan a job, but also a place to stay until he got on his feet. Shooter didn't mind having the company, and although Evan had been slow to trust the relative stranger who had become his employer, and his roommate - he had eventually settled in and was enjoying his routine.

The unlikely pair sat down to dinner and Shooter told Evan for the millionth time to take a larger helping of food so that he could start putting some meat on his bones... "you are way too skinny boy -- we need to fatten you up a bit". As they ate, they chatted about sports, work, and Shooter asked Evan if he had any plans for what he wanted his next adventure to be once he had some money saved up.

Was he planning to stay on the coast, or maybe return to family and friends back east? To that, Evan insisted he had no intention of looking backwards, and felt no connection any longer to his old life in Idaho. Shooter reminded him that he could stay as long as he liked, and not to worry about rushing to find another place to live. "Take your time" Shooter told him... "you're only young once!".

While Evan did the washing up, Shooter sipped on a strong black coffee and texted back and forth with someone on his phone. The older man reminded the younger that he would be away for the next three or four days, visiting his sister in Nevada. While he was gone, a guy named Musa would be moving in while his place was being fixed up. He was the delivery driver for the fruit and vegetable distributor Shooter used for the diner.

Shooter said Musa's apartment building had experienced a gas leak and all of the tenants had to relocate for a few days while it was fixed and deemed safe to re-occupy. Musa was 28, very tall and slender, and had moved to LA from Nigeria about 10 years earlier. Evan was not looking forward to him moving in while Shooter was out of town as the youth had never felt comfortable around him - something to do with the way that Musa leered at him when he thought Evan wasn't looking.

The following day passed slowly, with Shooter having left early in the morning and Evan free to putter around the apartment on his own. It was about 4:00 pm when he heard a key scraping in the lock meaning Musa had arrived. Standing 6'5" tall but weighing about 170 lbs, the African was tall, skinny, wiry, and strong from his years spent slinging crates of produce and other merchandise.

He had close cropped hair and wore a red bandana around his forehead. Spoke accented English with a deep rich voice, and looked more like a basketball player than a delivery man owing to his size 15 high-tops, the tank top, and the baggy shorts that he always wore. Musa nodded and muttered a few words to Evan, and proceeded to drop his bag on Shooter's bed which would be his for the next three nights.

Later that evening while Evan had gotten up to go to the bathroom, Musa casually dropped two pills into his glass of soda that rested on the coffee table in the living room. Peering over the edge of his magazine when Evan returned and watching him gulp down the rest of the soda, Musa pulled out his phone and sent a brief text message that read... "package will be ready in two hours." Ensuring that the text message transmitted properly, Musa kicked back with his size 15's on the coffee table, and waited.

About ten minutes later Evan began to feel really strange. It started as a heaviness in his limbs and progressed rapidly to a total inability for him to move a muscle. His arms and legs were limp, and even his mouth hung open at an awkward angle rendering him unable to speak. He looked frantically at Musa, desperate for assistance, and tried to mumble "help me" as the tall African simply ignored him and kept reading his magazine.

By twenty minutes later, Evan was totally paralyzed although fully conscious, and able to take in everything that was going on around him. He watched in confusion as Musa got up from the couch, went to his bedroom, and returned with a duffel bag. Musa cleared off the coffee table in front of the younger man and sat down on it with an evil look on his face.

The first item Musa retrieved from the bag was a hairbrush. He parted Evan's hair down the middle and gathered it into two pigtails that were secured by elastic hair bands adorned with pink plastic baubles. He took out a pair of scissors and cut away all of Evan's clothing, leaving him pig-tailed and naked on the couch while he retrieved a yellow sundress with white polka dots and a lacy square neckline. It was draped over Evan's head, and by manhandling his body Musa managed to gradually pull it down until Evan was positioned in sitting with the mini-dress barely covering his tiny white penis.

Evan's feet were next...first slipped into white cotton ankle socks, followed by shiny black patent leather maryjane shoes which Musa buckled tightly into place. Lastly, the big black man tipped Evan's head back so that it was resting against the high back of the couch and pulled out a small zippered make-up case. Bright red lipstick was liberally applied, slathered around Evan's slack-jawed mouth making him look like a cross between an oversized schoolgirl, and a whore. Perfect.

Standing up to admire his handiwork, Musa stared down at Evan with pure lust written all over his face. Evan was terrified and would have screamed out for help if he could...the fear of not knowing how or why he had been rendered immobile yet to dawn on him.

Wide-eyed and unable to look away, he saw the 6'5" African move his huge left hand to his crotch to play with himself through his shorts. Musa used both hands to push his clothes to the floor, revealing an eight-inch cock that bounced in front of Evan's face like it had a mind of its own. Its head was dark purple and was leaking a steady stream of pre-cum as the African reached out and took hold of both Evan's pigtails. Pulling Evan forward and using the slut's hair as handles, Musa aimed his prick right at the gaping mouth and slid in his bulbous cockhead with ease given the amount of drool stringing from Evan's ruby lips.

Working Evan's head back and forth, Musa gradually buried more and more of his meat into his cocksucker's throat, which also having been paralyzed offered up no resistance whatsoever. Deeper and deeper Musa plumbed his cock until he was able to feel his cum-filled balls against Evan's chin, resting briefly before rocking Evan's skull back and forth in a steady rhythm.

Jerking off his thick cock using only the constriction of Evan's esophagus, it took Musa longer to cum than when he had a bitch sucking and working his meat. Eventually though after fifteen minutes the tall African bully grunted and pumped an enormous load of cum straight into his victim's gut, with Evan nearly passing out from having his airway blocked by the girth of Musa's shaft.

Slowly retracting all eight inches of softening cockmeat, the bulbous head fell out of its warm and wet receptacle, slapping against Musa's inner thigh. A few pearls of semen beaded at the corners of Evan's mouth, and Musa simply released his hold on the pigtails and allowed the cum-guzzling whore to flop back onto the couch with his head tilted at an awkward angle like a broken doll.

Evan's lipstick was smeared, and the cum dribbling out of his mouth made him appear like a wanton strung out sissy-girl slut, all gussied up in a sundress and maryjanes just to get a belly full of mancum. He wanted to scream and run away from the scene of his assault, but he remained paralyzed and totally under Musa's control.

The African man lit a cigarette, and enjoyed the relaxation that always followed pumping a huge load of cum into a greedy bitch. Kicked back with his size 15's on the cocksucker's lap, he casually played with Evan's limp sissy-gurl clitty using the toe of his sneaker. Sundress pushed up, tiny clitoris exposed and being pushed around by a big basketball shoe, Evan looked and felt even more like a whore that he could ever have imagined possible.

The terror reached new heights when the doorbell rang, and Musa got up to answer it, greeting another man with familiarity. As they rounded the corner into the living room Evan heard Musa say.... "well, Bro...did I lie to you? Fucking sexiest white boy-bitch ever. Came from some backwater town in Idaho...just exactly what you said you were looking for am I right? Gives one fine blow job too, even with her mouth and tongue paralyzed by that shit you gave me to keep her quiet and obedient."

The newcomer was someone Evan had never seen before. Black...Nigerian...just like Musa, but totally different in appearance. This man was older at about 45 -- 50 years of age and stood about 5'10". Musa was tall and lanky with a basketball player's build, but the house guest looked like an NFL linebacker with bulging muscles and a stocky heavyset frame. A bald shiny head and extremely thick neck which disappeared into a starched white shirt.

Evan could see the man's barrel chest and huge pecs through his clothing, and the muscled shoulders and arms tapered down to exposed forearms that would have made Popeye jealous. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and on one wrist he sported a heavy gold watch. Several fingers were adorned by chunky gold rings, and his outfit was completed by dark blue suit trousers and shiny black wingtips.

Musa started in again..."well bro...like I said man...did I lie or what?! Tell me that ain't the sexiest little piece of lily-white ass that you have ever seen dude?!"

A broad smile spread across the larger man's face revealing one front tooth made of solid gold. "Too right Musa my brother...this little sissy's gonna make me some damn good money. Once we're done turning her out like a little sissy faggot she's gonna bring in top fucking dollar. Which reminds me -- here's your finder's fee -- now help me get this bitch packaged up and you can get on with the rest of your work here man."

Issac Okocha pulled a fat envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Musa - the agreed upon sum of $40K was inside. The 28 year-old pocketed the money and then retrieved a large rolling suitcase. Unzipping it and flipping it open on the floor, the two black men easily hoisted Evan up off of the couch and folded up his petite body so that he fit nicely into the suitcase. As his captors were zipping the case shut he heard Isaac say to Musa -- "get rid of every trace of the little fucker and make it look like she took off."

Evan began to cry and felt nothing but despair as the suitcase tilted upward, and he was rolled out the door and bumped down the stairs by his new owner. His life would never be the same again.

Hoisted into the trunk of a car and driven to a location he could not possibly identify, Evan Peters passed out in the suitcase partially from the stale air, partially from the paralyzing drug, and partially from exhaustion. He woke up still dressed in the yellow sundress and the maryjanes, his hair still restrained into pigtails.

The one difference was that a metal collar was now fastened around his neck and connected to the sturdy metal frame of the bed he was on by a long length of chain. No amount of tugging and pulling on either the collar or the chain provided even the slightest glimmer of hope for escape. With his muscles now fully awakened and the effects of the paralyzing drug worn off, Evan called out for help as he continued to yank on his metal leash.

The futile attempt for freedom continued until the door or the sparsely furnished room swung open and three men walked in. Evan flattened himself against the headboard of the bed in fear, recognizing one of the men as the muscle-bound guest who had arrived at Shooter's apartment and stuffed him into the suitcase to be abducted.

"Well well well" Isaac Okocha mused... "look who finally woke up! Bitch, I thought them drugs Musa fed you was gonna keep you out for the count like Sleeping Beauty for fucking ever!" Recognizing that Evan was about to cry out and no doubt demand his freedom, the big black man warned him not to say a single word unless he wanted a beating added to the degradation he had already suffered.

"Keep your little mouth shut my little sissy bitch, and I'll tell you what's what from here on out as far as you're concerned...ok?"

Evan stared wide-eyed at the trio of men while still trying to make sense what Musa had done to him...where he was now...and why he was dressed in school girls' clothing. He decided that maybe keeping his mouth shut as Isaac had demanded was the best decision for now. Slowly, he nodded his head and waited for the muscular bald man to continue.

Isaac went on to tell Evan that he was a businessman -- a leader in a very particular type of industry that included everything from drug dealing, pimping of hookers on the streets, producing and filming porn videos on line, and fulfilling special requests for discerning clients who had enough money to make anything they wanted materialize as if by magic.

That, Isaac said, was where Evan came in. He learned that Isaac, like Musa, was originally from Nigeria and that there was a substantial illicit market for human trafficking - particularly in white slavery. New money Nigerians enjoyed having submissive white slaves procured in the west, and sent over to Africa for their ownership. Most ended up as maids or house servants performing domestic duties as indentured chattel, but a rare few were shipped over for a much darker purpose.

Isaac specialized in fulfilling these more custom types of orders, and had become exceptionally wealthy himself in the process by making sure that every one of his customers was fully and completely satisfied. Bespoke slaves provided to crazy-rich clients to live a life of servitude as property of their new owners, and to be used however their masters decided.

"You see baby, a bigtime Yoruba Chief back in the old country hired me to find him a submissive little white boy like you who could be feminized and turned into a simpering little gurl whore for the purpose of serving in his house, and serving him personally if you know what I mean. You fit the bill just fucking perfectly so when I found out about you, I messaged the Chief and told him the right merchandise had been located, and he could expect delivery as soon as we could get you ready for shipping."

"He's got a real thing for having little sissy white boys stretched around his big black cock and working his sluts over until they become nothing but the most obedient mindless little sex crazed whores for black cock that you ever did see. I don't envy you where you're headed bitch, but you are gonna make me a whole shitload of money when you get. there. You may as well start getting used to the fact that the life you knew before is long gone now. You're property bitch. You belong to a superior black man now."

Evan was dumbstruck by what he had heard, and finally found his voice to reply to what Isaac had just told him. Within the space of a minute, the American sissy went from demanding his freedom telling Isaac that slavery was illegal he had no right to sell him to this African Chief or anyone else, to bawling and begging for Isaac to show mercy and let him go.

The black man laughed, slapped Evan hard across the face, and without saying another word began to remove his clothes...as did his two companions. Isaac was muscular and powerfully built while the other two men had average bodies -- all three however, had larger than average black cocks that were thickening and growing to full erection as they licked their lips staring at the captive sissy displayed in front of them.

As Isaac approached the bed, he informed Evan that his new owner wanted to personally oversee most of the modifications to his slut after delivery, but wanted her to arrive in Nigeria trained to worship and pleasure superior black cocks.

"Because I insist on customer satisfaction bitch, me and the boys here are gonna make sure you get plenty of practice over the next week or so learning just what your proper place is...and how you'd better make those holes of yours eager, and open, to be stuffed and seeded by big fucking black cocks. You're a goddamn cum-dump now, gurl."

Over the course of the next six days, Evan was kept chained to the bed 24/7 except for when one of his trainers took her to the bathroom. Repeatedly every day, she was raped and used by all three of the men who now controlled her. She learned that the other two were named Malik and Hakim, and all three were merciless when it came to working their cocks deep into either her mouth her new gurl-cunt. She was given daily injections of what Isaac said were hormones to block her pathetic amount of testosterone, as well as boost her female hormone levels to assist with the changes her new owner wanted made.

She was always referred to as "she", and was kept dressed as a sissy-gurl. By the time her buyer was done feminizing her, she was told how she'd have huge tits, thick dick-slurpling lips, and eraser-like cow-udder teets for any man she was shared with to enjoy.

The hard, thick cocks of her trainers were not the only things used to abuse her fuckholes. A variety of dildos, strap-ons, and objects like large vegetables opened and dilated her throat and ass, and gags, butt plugs, restraints, and other sex toys cemented her humiliation and degradation into the mindset of a slave with no opinion...no say...no power...no identity...and no purpose other than to be used as her betters saw fit.

After only six days, both of Evan's sets of lips - on her mouth and around her cunt - were swollen, puffy, thickened and inflamed. The hormones had begun to make her nipples feel extremely sensitive and in response to the pinching, twisting, pumping, and clamping that they received on a daily basis, they too were becoming engorged - perpetually erect and standing at attention.

At the end of the week Isaac unlocked the chain and removed Evan's collar, informing her it was time to ship her to Nigeria and into the clutches of her new owner. Her willpower destroyed by the repeated rapes and psychological abuse, she did not even attempt to run once she had been un-tethered from her bonds. She was showered, and slathered with a thick cream that was applied to her face and body. The greasy ointment not only stunk, but burned her skin as it was left in place for thirty minutes before being rinsed off. As the cream washed down the drain, its purpose became crystal clear. She had never had much body hair, but what had existed was now and forever obliterated by the intense depilatory that had burned out her hair follicles, making it impossible for the hair to ever re-grow.

Hair dyed platinum blonde and given some ringlet curls bunched up with pink and yellow ribbons, Evan was dressed as a slutty cheerleader in an outfit custom ordered by her buyer and delivered to Isaac.

On her feet were bright pink canvas high top runners...two sizes too small in order to pinch and hurt as she was laced into them as tightly as Isaac could manage. They had three-inch platform rubber soles, and peeking out from the top were frilly ankle socks with tiny bows embroidered on them. Bare legs, and she sported a one-piece thick rubber cheerleader's ensemble with a flared miniskirt in pink latex to match her shoes, while the bodice was constructed of snow-white rubber adorned with the word "slut" in stylized script across her chest.