Armand strode into the store like he owned the place. He had been
watching from the bench in the mall, and had stood as soon as Mike had
begun to change. Mike had barely lain on the counter 10 seconds, when
Armand's hairy paw scooped him up, and held him up for examination.
Mike felt so helpless and naked in the giant Armand's grasp. Armand's
building size chest was covered with a matted forest of black kinky
hair. His shirt was open to his navel, and he had a half dozen gold
chains around his neck. Armand stuck all five fingers inside Mike's
new form and flexed them stretching Mike. Armand frowned.
"You're too small to wear as a bracelet, Mike. I know!" he grinned
evilly and walked back into the dressing room area.
He tried a couple rooms before he recognized Mike's stuff, and
stripped down off his pants and his yellow torn briefs. Mike was
trying to digest the fact that he was now a rubber bracelet like the
kind Lance Armstrong's foundation sold, except maybe a smaller
diameter. It was just too much to fathom. If he could have shaken his
head or pinched himself to wake himself from this nightmare he gladly
would have done so. But Mike couldn't move. Armand held Mike up to his
face and whispered to him.
"You shouldn't have hit on Magda. She's my woman. You were a fine
jock, though I think you'll make a fine cock ring," Armand said with a
grin as he stretch Mike again. He slid the stretched ring over his
cock and pushed his balls through the rubber band ring, and let Mike
snap tightly around Armand's cock root. Mike could see his yellow
body partially hidden by Armand's dense pubic thatch. Mike then
watched as Armand stole Mike's underwear.
"You got good taste in boxer briefs, and you really help my cock and
balls fill out the pouch. Very nice, Mike, I know you had plans for
pro-sports and a career afterward as a Sports Commentator, but now you
won't be disappointed if you don't make it. 'Cause you won't make it.
You'll be my cock ring, and that's all you'll ever be," he said with a
chuckle.
Mike didn't know whether Armand stole the rest of his clothing or not.
He just wanted off, and out. He wanted to pound Armand into pulp. He
wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. The only thing Mike could do was
feel Armand's blood pumping and his body warmth and smell his sandal
woody musky scent. After all Mike was only a cock ring and that's all
he would ever be. He knew that Armand would never take him off -
ever. It was sad, Mike didn't give a rat's ass about Magda. He was
just a flirt. Now his flirting had ruined his life, and there was
nothing he could do about it.