Favorite player

Michael was one of the top soccer players in the world. How did he do it? Well, magic.

You see, Michael’s line had some kind of demon in its distant lineage, and as a young man Michael learned two things. One, he had the ability to make his body perform better, run faster, be more coordinated, but it would cost him some of his masculinity. Two, he had the ability to drain the masculinity from any `willing’ male.

Now, willing was a pretty loose term, but some kind of consent had to be given. Usually this meant after the game he’d find some fan boy who really wanted an autograph and ask him to help out, and Michael would drain the guys masculinity until all that was left was a horny slut.

Tonight was a lucky night for Michael. Two of his fans came up and were arguing about which of them was a bigger fan. The look on their faces as they transformed into women, their jerseys transforming into body paint, was priceless as always. The look on their faces as they beg for him to squirt all over them was even better. Michael tried to cover his favorite with more of his cum, leaving her with a reminder of who was the bigger fan.

Of course, the looks on their faces when they realized the change was permanent, they had no IDs, and that they were naked and covered in cum inside the stadium would be even more priceless. At least they’d have the satisfaction of knowing they helped their favorite player score in more ways than one.


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