(NEW STORY) Bimbofied Betrayal: Marcus’ Obsession with Desiree 🫣 (Patreon)

📌 NOTE: This story is a more in-depth look at the “Marcus’ Transformation” Comic and explains exactly how Marcus got tied up with Miss Jugg and The Unclean Hooves Club

Chapter 01: Descent Into Loserdom 🤭

Marcus found himself caught in the web of Miss Jugg, the queenpin of the Unclean Hooves Nightclub, along with her goons. He’d been chasing after his ex, Steph—who'd now adopted the moniker Desiree—only to end up captive, like some bitch.

Miss Jugg played him like a fiddle, messing with his head, teasing him with the knowledge that Desiree was now under her wing. Desiree, the girl who once was his whole world, had transformed into one of the club’s new acts. She’d gone from sweet and innocent to a full-on seductress, a Bimbo who knew how to make a buck or two on her back.

It gnawed at Marcus, watching her strut around like she owned the place, her body now on the market for any Joe with the green. He was losing his mind, thinking about how she'd gone from his exclusive to... to this. She was pulling in the dough, and not because she needed to, no way. She came from money, had the whole trust fund deal, so what gives? How'd his sweet, innocent Steph become the talk of the town in the prostitution biz? It was like she’d found a new calling, and it was all about the flesh trade.

Marcus was in deep, and his love life just got a whole lot more tangled. It was a real mess, but he just couldn't cut the cord. No way. He kept dragging himself back to the club, night after night, weekend after weekend. He'd given up on the charade of trying to talk to her; every attempt was met with a bouncer's rough hands pulling him back. That treatment made him feel like dirt, like he was less than a man, but he didn't care. He was hell-bent on chasing after her.

He'd stand there, watching as she led men—and women, for that matter—by the hand into those hidden rooms. All sorts of folks, but when she grabbed a big, buff guy, that's when Marcus’ jealousy would really get the best of him. Yet, he'd return to the club, unfazed by the disdain or the looks, his eyes glued to Steph, who now seemed worlds above him. She wouldn't even glance his way, but Marcus? He didn't care. He was there, staring, stalking like some kind of hopeless loser.

He got so used to feeling like a loser, he started to savor the taste of it. Wallowing in his own self-pity became his thing. He bought into the idea that he was, in fact, a fucking loser. So, every weekend, after stumbling home drunk from The Unclean Hooves club, having watched Desiree escort one body after another into those back rooms, time and time again, he'd be lost. He had no clue what to do with himself, so he'd resort to jerking off.

He'd stroke himself to the image of her pleasuring others, his mind painting vivid pictures of her with those big guys, her being overwhelmed by multiple partners. The jealousy coursed through him like an electric shock, and he'd channel it into his arousal, jerking off with increasing fervor until he'd explode, imagining himself as the pathetic little cleanup crew at the foot of the bed, dealing with the aftermath of someone else's conquest. The thought of licking up the mess, of being that low, it would send him over the edge—ZAH-AHH-AHHHH-BOOM! 🍆💦 A massive eruption of his own frustration and lust.

And that's when he'd hit rock bottom, truly feeling like shit. When the deed was done, and he was left with the realization that he was hooked, that he was addicted to this twisted cycle, and it scared the living shit out of him.

(To be continued)

- Written by Miss Jugg 🖤

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