Your daddy doesn’t look very happy. Leaning on the balcony, his bare ass peeking like it’s begging for attention—he looks stunning, sure, but that pout says it all. Still sulking about your mom enrolling him in the Feminization School, huh?
Nah. He dropped the drama queen tantrums weeks ago. Not a single “I’m still a man!” scream since they waxed his legs and pierced his ears. Now he slips into heels without hesitation, even picks out his own earrings. That soft, round ass didn’t happen by accident—he’s been putting in the work. I think what’s really bothering him now is the attention—or rather, the lack of it. Those hot guys at the courtyard? Yeah, they’re all over the giggling blondes in short skirts and glossy lips, not even glancing up at the tall, pouting brunette with the tightest ass in the place. And he knows he looks fuckable. He keeps adjusting his posture, shifting his weight, trying to pop that ass just right. Maybe if one of them looked up… maybe if someone whistled. But they don’t. And he’s fuming. He used to bark orders. Now he tucks, pouts, and waits. Mommy didn’t just feminize him—she replaced him. And goddamn if he isn’t starting to crave it.
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