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The Slippery Sissy Slope By Throne
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 11:12:32 +0000 UTCThe Slippery Sissy Slope
By Throne
The Slippery Sissy Slope by Throne It all happened so quickly. Ron had been out of work for two weeks when his wife Tracy caught her unmanly husband spending time with online porn. Worse, she found him playing with his undersized dick while he ogled hot slutty video-girls in kinky scenarios. On top of all that, he was paying a lot for what he watched. She was disgusted. "Here's what's going to happen," she told him. "I'm going to find you a job and you're going to take it. In fact, I know someone who might have just the perfect opening for a pervert like you." So it was that, a few days later, he found himself taking a bus into the city and getting off where she had instructed him to. He checked the street address she had written down for him and found the place where he was reporting for work. It was a bar called Quickies, where the gimmick was that the waitresses were young and cute and wore abbreviated outfits. Since he obviously couldn't do that job, and didn't know how to cook, he figured he'd be a dishwasher. Instead, he was horrified to learn that he was expected to dress up girly and become one of those servers. "I can't do that," he told the manager, a guy named Chet, who was young like himself. "Why not? You're short and could practically pass for a girl already, with that fairy face and long hair. The owner, Burke, told me you were coming and what the deal is, so I found a uniform in your size. One of the girls will help you with your make-up." Despite the shock, Ron knew he was stuck. Tracy had told him that he was expected to stay there for at least a month, to pay back the money he had squandered on internet smut. If he lasted less time than that, it was divorce court for him, and he knew he would end up with nothing. So, when Chet took him into the backroom and showed him his locker, Ron reluctantly accepted the uniform that was inside. There was even a bra included, that had padded cups, along with panties. He guessed that his wife had caused those items to be present. Considering how angry she was with him, it made sense. He did enjoy freaky scenes like girl-on-girl, light bondage, and spanking, but only when the guys were dominant. Crossdressing was definitely not for him. He stripped naked and was about to start putting on his uniform, when a female suddenly entered. She was cute, with blue eyes and an upturned nose. Her short blond hair had red streaks in it. With a smirk and a shake of her head, she told him, "I'm Penny. Chet told me what the deal is with you. I'll do your face, but it'll cost you something from your tips. Right?" He stood there with his hands over his crotch. "Uh, sure." "You don't have to hide anything. I've seen plenty of those before." She gestured for him to uncover his genitals. When he did it, she laughed. "Damn. I've seen a lot of dicks, like I said, but never one that small. Maybe you should have started wearing panties long ago." "Please," he said nervously. "If I could just get dressed..." "Nobody's stopping you." "Right. I'm Ron." "That's not what it says there." She pointed to his locker door, where there was a label in the space provided for a name. It said RONETTE. "Get suited up, Ronette. The lunch rush will start soon." He hurriedly donned the panties, which were golden, satiny, and bikini- cut. Then came the yellow top, which had short sleeves. He had only the finest blond hair on his arms, so that was no problem. The brief pleated skirt, of the same color as the blouse, left his legs bare. There was a tiny red apron. Black stockings had been provided, which would hide the limited growth of hair on his legs. There were shoes which, because he would be on his feet a lot, were practical flats. They were, however, yellow with red laces. Penny pulled his long hair back into a ponytail. She sat him down and selected a few cosmetics from her own locker. Working with practiced confidence, she soon had him made-up to her satisfaction. Then she put him in front of a panel mirror that was near the exit from the room. There was a sign over it which read, "Do You Look Alright?" What he saw brought him to a standstill. OMG. Ron honestly could have passed for a female. There was blush on his cheeks. His eyes had been done heavily, giving him the look of a cheap temptress. That image was furthered by heavy red lipstick with a coat of gloss over it. Tracy was already in her uniform. She fussed with her hair and added a fresh coat of lipstick, which was less bold than Ron's. While she did that, she gave him a quick rundown of how to do his job, which didn't involve much. The place served a limited menu and offered drinks. Her final advice was, "This joint attracts a young crowd that loves their alcohol. You can expect to get your ass pawed by any guy who comes without a girl. I'll show you which tables are yours when we hit the floor." She pinned a name tag onto him, which said 'Ronette'. Then she spritzed him with her own perfume, making sure to get some on the hollow of his neck, so he would have to smell it continually. They left the back room. The eatery was fairly large, with two servers already on duty. He could barely believe that he was in such a public place while dressed like a girl. Tracy indicated the portion of the room which was his responsibility. Two guys had just entered. They went to the long bar that ran along one wall and got drinks. Then they found a table which was, to Ron's dismay, one of his. He hurried over to them. "Hello," he said, keeping his voice high and soft. "I'm Ron. Ronette." He gave them menus. While he was still standing alongside one of them, the guy patted Ron's backside. That touch made him flinch but he tried not to react further. Keeping this job was essential, no matter what it involved. Remembering how waitresses acted when he was out with Tracy, he said, "I'll give you a few minutes to decide what you'd like." "Hold on," said the closest guy. "What do you recommend? I've got a big appetite," he added with sly insinuation. Ron squinted at the open menu. He zoomed in on appetizers and said, "The chicken wings are popular." "Let's start with an order of those." There was a pad in Ron's apron pocket, along with a pen. He took them out and noted the item. The kitchen was nearby and he headed there, to place the order. The cook, an older guy, eyed him up and down. Ron cringed inwardly. The cook said, "Okay, new girl. That'll be up real soon. Watch for it at the pick-up window." Ron left and put himself where he could see the completed orders being put out. Another of the servers came up alongside him. She glanced at his name tag and said, "Hey, Ronette." "Oh." He checked her ID. "Hi, Gloria." Business picked up quickly. Ron fell into a rhythm in his undemanding but fast-paced job. The hardest part was how the largely male clientele ogled him and how free they were with their hands. More than one surreptitiously touched his stockinged thighs. The female customers saw him with evaluating eyes, estimating if he was competition for them. He wished Penny hadn't given him the appearance she had, but was mollified when she pointed out that it would generate larger tips. After he had finished with a few tables, he slipped his private cosmetics consultant some bills. It was probably more than she expected, but she didn't comment on that. Toward the end of his shift, Ron was frazzled. He had gone through the lunch and dinner crowds. Now it was settling down to the evening clientele, who were there mainly to drink and, as the name of the place, Quickies, suggested, to succeed with pick-ups. Ron had to watch others flirting and leaving together. When Chet told him he was done, he toted up his tips, which came out to an acceptable amount. He then told Ron that he could wear his uniform home. "But my wallet is in my pants." He pointed toward his locker. "I need bus fare." "Where do you live?" Without thinking, Ron told him. "That's not far out of my way," Chet said. "I'll give you a lift." "But my clothes..." "Hey. I'm the manager. You want to stay on my good side. Let's go." After they were in the car, Chet gave the unwelcome news that, "I don't mind that you're some kind of sissy who wants to play dress-up. If I mess with one of your kind, that doesn't make me gay." He chuckled. "It just makes you fruity." "I'm not like that," Ron told him. "It's just that..." "Don't bother me with details." They were several blocks from the club. "Unless you want to get out and walk, be sweet to me." Chet took Ron's hand and placed it on his thigh. A wave of nausea swept over the feminized male. Being kicked out of Chet's car was not an option. When there were getting close to Ron's destination, Chet pulled off into a shopping center. He parked at the outer perimeter, where no other cars were. "You don't have to get your sissy-self upset," Chet advised. "I just want a hand job. You don't have to suck my cock, at least not yet." He undid his belt, opened the top of his pants, and lowered his fly. After he yanked his trousers and shorts down to the tops of his thighs, his cock was exposed. Ron's stomach tightened. He got his hand on the waiting member, which rapidly engorged to impressive dimensions. "Take your time. I like lots of slow stroking, Ronette." "Okay." "And you know what'd be fun? While you're priming my pump, talk about how you'd rather be sucking it." Ron recoiled mentally at the sick suggestion. Even so, he had no other choice than to do what Chet wanted. As he ran his hand up and down the rigid pole, Ron spoke in a sultry voice. "Mmm. Your penis looks delicious." "Cock," Chet corrected. "Call it a cock or something else but not a penis. That sounds so clinical." Ron amended, "Your cock looks delicious. I'd love to get my mouth on it. It's so..." What would Chet like to hear? "... big. A girl could choke on that thing. And I want to..." He tried to reuse words he'd heard in his online visits to porn sites. "... want to lick your balls. Your big... heavy... sweaty balls." "You like that, bitch? Want my sweat? Get your nose down there and take a whiff. Go on." Hating what he was doing, Ron dipped his head nearer to the straining rod. He closed his eyes and inhaled, smelling Chet's male musk and the accumulated perspiration from hours of working. The unwilling participant fought back the need to gag. To keep his victimizer happy, he went in for one more sniff. Ron miscalculated and the rounded end of Chet's cock hit him under the nose. It must have been leaking pre-cum, because a wet spot was left near Ron's nostrils. "Whoa," Chet exclaimed. "You sure do want to get me in your mouth, Ronette." "Oh, I do," Ron lied. "I want to go down on it so bad. I'm starved for cock." His hand kept moving. Chet's breathing accelerated. He seized Ron's wrists to stop him briefly. There was a box of tissues on the center console, from which he plucked several. When Chet fitted the disposable wipes over the knob of his cock, he told Ron, "Finish me off, sissy. Make me bust my nut." Not liking it but at least with a chance to get it over with, Ron speeded up his efforts on the shaft. Chet went tense and gasped. His body trembled. Ron knew he was ejaculating into the tissues. He didn't slow his manual assistance until it was over. Chet removed the messy tissues and used two more to finish cleaning himself. He took all of them and, catching Ron off guard, stuffed them down the front of his blouse. The waitress felt warm stickiness against his skin. Chet sent him an air kiss and resumed driving. He dropped Ron in front of his home. Not wanting to be seen in a skirt, Ron scurried up the walk and got inside. Tracy was waiting for him with a glass of wine in her hand. "So," she wanted to know, "how was your first day on the new job?" He broke down into unmanly tears. Instead of keeping secrets about his embarrassments, he let everything out in a flood of confessions. Somewhere in his mind, Ron had imagined his wife would give him sympathy. Instead, she just cackled and declared that he was getting the paybacks he deserved. She also made him hand over his tips. She decided that, since he was going to work in drag, he could sleep the same way. Tracy gave him an old babydoll nightie of hers to wear to bed, with no panties. In the morning, he had to get back into his abbreviated uniform. She applied make-up, duplicating the look he'd had the day before. He asked, "How am I supposed to get there, like this?" "Take the bus, Ronette. I'll give you some money from yesterday's tips. that will be deducted from what you owe me." He was shocked. She expected him to show himself outside? His wife worked from home, doing some sort of expert computer tasks that brought her a hefty income. She could take the time to drive him to his job but didn't offer. He dejectedly went on foot, hurrying past his neighbors' homes. On the bus, he was aware of male attention being directed toward him. When he reached Quickies, he was relieved to get indoors. He found that his male clothes were no longer in the locker. His time to think about that lasted only until he had to go onto the floor. When he saw Chet, he would ask him about the missing property. The shift was much like the previous one, with even more male hands on him. When he got to talk to Chet, the answers he got were vague to the point of uselessness. After work, no ride was forthcoming, which was both a relief and a cause for more stress. At least Tracy had doled out sufficient money to pay his bus fare both ways. At the end of his first week, he was told to go to Burke's office to be given his pay. He found the middle-aged man sitting behind his desk, which was larger than it needed to be. He was chomping on a smelly cigar and undressing Ron with his beady eyes. "Here's the thing," Burke began without preamble. "I'm not sure if I can keep you on." When Ron acted like he wanted to speak, Burke waved him to silence. "You're doing okay, but I need to see some demonstration that you're willing to go the extra mile for me." He waited and, when Ron didn't appear to know what was expected, Burke huffed and told him bluntly, "I know you've jerked off Chet a couple times, when he gave you rides. You own me more gratitude than that, so let's have a blowjob." "I can't do that," Ron told him in a strained whisper. "Fine, if you'd rather be fired." "NO. My wife says I have to make it to the end of the month." "That's what she told me when she explained what a jerk you'd been." He gave an elaborate shrug. "But that's not my problem. I want a blowjob or you'll have no job." "You mean right here?" "No. I'm going to rent us a suite at The Ritz." He scowled. "Yes, I mean right here. Get your ass under my desk and open your sissy mouth." Ron wanted to repeat his assertion that he wasn't that sort of guy, but his experiences with Chet told him it wasn't worth the effort. He sniffled as he approached the business owner. Burke rolled back his chair. Ron crouched down and backed into the kneehole. The head man stood and dropped his drawers to his ankles, revealing a long dangling cock. He sat down and moved forward, crowding Ron back. Burke slid to the edge of his chair to make himself more available. Ron sobbed and wrapped his fingers as far as they would go around the impressive cock. He couldn't deny that it was much larger than his own. Duplicating some of his moves from those rides with Chet, he rapidly had it standing at attention. There was a lump in his throat as he fitted his mouth over the business end of Burke's business. It touched Ron's tongue and the roof of his mouth at the same time. He sealed his lips behind the knob. There was no time to delay. He had to suck or sink, with the loss of this job leading to much greater losses. He sucked. He ran his tongue around the widest part of the head. He took in two more inches before reaching his limit. He bobbed his head on the hard organ. Burke sighed. "Damn. Nobody sucks better than a sissy does. They know what a man likes, even though they're not exactly men themselves. Just keep on like that. I've got some time to spare, so there's no rush. And lick my balls while you're down there." Ron repeatedly disgraced himself as the oral ordeal progressed. He wished he could shut his ears to the wet sloppy sounds he was making. When Burke was near to finishing, he told Ron to make sure he swallowed every drop. Because the man's cock wasn't too far in, when he blasted, most of his spunk flooded Ron's mouth, with only some of it going straight down his gullet. That meant the guy under the desk had to make an extra effort to gag down the majority of the cream. Burke ordered him to lick his rod clean. When it was at last over, the business owner retreated, rose, and got pants back up. He ordered Ron, "Get to work, Ronette. Don't waste any time washing your mouth out. You probably enjoy tasting my goo anyway. Right?" Still trying to recover, the employee said, "Yes, Sir." Burke pushed his paycheck across the desk, as if it was remuneration for what he had just done. "I'll be seeing you in here, as needed, sissy." At home, he again shared his tale of woe, and once more was met with amusement rather than caring. During the evenings, Tracy delighted in putting her spouse in humiliating fashions. There were cheerleader and French maid outfits, as well as a corset that gave him an hourglass figure and made it difficult for him to breath. She commented, "I'd rather spend money on your new wardrobe, Ronette, than have you throwing it away for online smut." "Yes, dear." At the end of his second endless week, Ron got another unwelcome surprise when he went for his paycheck. After the obligatory blowjob, he had to stand on the other side of Burke's desk and wait to find out what the man had to say. "This is the deal," the top man stated. "I don't want you to get shorted on tips. That nice wife of yours explained how much you owe her for your porn sprees. That's why I'm sending you to someone who will give you a beauty treatment. An enhancement." He winked, as if they were both in on a shared secret. "You can take a few hours off tomorrow to go there. Naturally, you won't get paid for that time. And I'll be deducting the cost of what you're getting done from your next several paychecks, starting with this one. It'll be worth it to you in the long run." He waited while Ron remained silent, with his tongue covered with seminal fluid. When the male waitress had nothing to say, Burke waved him away with, "Back to work, dick-gobbler." His appointment for whatever was going to be done to him was several days away. He was on pins and needles while he waited. The amounts that were being taken from his pay would require him to work longer to pay back his wife. When the time came, a car arrived to pick him up. He was whisked across town to a tattoo and piercing shop. Inside, there was a girl in a leather vest and matching pants waiting for him. Her hair had been dyed black and intentionally given a ragged cut. She had plenty of the results of the two main services the place offered. "But that's not what you're here for," she informed him. "I'm starting something new. Your boss is paying for what he wants done. But his money won't cover the entire amount. So, if you want the work done, you have to let me do something else, so I can show off the results to other guys like you who want it done to them." To Ron it was like he was on a downhill run with no way of stopping his descent. If he didn't agree, the repercussions would eventually reach back to Tracy and he couldn't afford that. "I'll do it," he said in surrender. "Could you at least tell me what I was sent here for?" "Sure. That's easy. Burke wants your lips filled out, so you'll get better tips from the dudes in that place where you work." "Will what you do be temporary?" Her expression said that his question was too stupid to have been asked. He took that to mean that the results of his treatment would not be permanent. She directed him to a chair like a dentist would use. She produced a needle and some attachments, along with the material that would be injected. Before starting, she gave him a pill to take, which she said would relax him. It began to go to work as she administered the first stinging jab. He couldn't see the results but hoped they wouldn't be too obvious. When she was done, the woman held up a big hand mirror for him. He was appalled. What he now had was what people called 'duck lips'. How could he go anywhere with his mouth like that? His emotions were kept under control only by the effect of whatever drug he had ingested. He grew sleepy and drifted in and out of consciousness. She had him stand while she ran some instrument all over his body. After that, sitting again, he was only dimly aware that something was being done to his chest. When he came out of his induced slumber his torso felt different. He glanced down and saw two breasts, like a pair of inverted cupcakes, on his chest, which was now hairless. Ron needed a few minutes before he could breathe right. The leather girl decided out loud, "That went great. The lips, that hair removal, and giving you a lovely set of boobs." "But I'm a guy," he said with no power behind his words. "You sure as hell don't look like one," she declared, followed by a snorting laugh. "I'll see you when you come back, so my new customer can see how well your bust turned out." After a short recovery time, which meant more lost pay, he was driven back in the same car. Had it been waiting for him, running up yet another bill? Chet admired Ron's new face and chest. He told him not to bother putting his black stockings on again, as they would not be needed to cover up any male hirsuteness. Was he saying that the hair removal was permanent? Then Ron had to report to Burke's office. He ended up on the older man's lap, with the front of his blouse unbuttoned all the way down. The businessman took deep pleasure in fondling those Ronette tits. Their owner found out that his nipples were very receptive. He got an unwanted erection from having them diddled. It left him panting, as if he wanted more. While he worked the final hour of his shift, Ron got drooled over much more than he was accustomed to. Guys also were more hands-on with his bottom, presumably because his altered appearance sent out slut-signals. At home he wept his concerns to Tracy. Her response was to gift him with a new bra and panty set, in champagne pink, in celebration of his altered image. The bra's cups had cut-outs, so his nipples could peek through, which led to her fingering them until he was half crazy from overstimulation. He hadn't been permitted to finish often since he started at his new job, and his balls ached from not being emptied regularly. When he had been allowed to cum, it was by masturbating, while Tracy watched, made disparaging comments, had him squirt into the palm of her hand, and then made him lap up his spilled seed. There was one more week to go on his sentence. He had not forgotten that he had also incurred a non-monetary debt to the leather girl, which had to be repaid. He was summoned to her presence at the end of a shift and once again driven there. At least it wasn't during his work hours. When he was dropped off and went inside, she was waiting with a dignified gentleman and a simpering sissy, the latter in unisex clothing. It turned out that the well-dressed man wanted to give his pansy-boy breasts like Ron's, but needed to see a finished pair that had been done by the woman. Ron had to strip to the waist, so they could be observed up close and personally. The man sized them up but that wasn't enough. He palped each one and then both together. After he toyed with the nipples and noticed how that left Ron breathless, he had the subject get out of his skirt and panties, so his erection could be evaluated. He fingered it and manipulated Ron's scrotum. The gentleman wanted to know, "Was this sissy's dick always so tiny, or is that something you did to it?" "No," she said. "It was pitifully small from the start." Turning to his companion, he said, "Why don't you give those tits a few squeezes? See what you think." The feminine male was only too happy to comply. He openly fondled Ron's boobs. With a mischievous smile, he ducked in to fasten his carmined lips to a nipple, while still lightly tweaking the other one. Ron writhed from the overload of pleasure. His penis dripped. With a giggle, the other switched from foreplay to kneeling, for some spirited dick-sucking. Though Ron's instinct was to push him away, it had been too long since he had relief. His head went back, his eyes closed, and his mouth hung open. Because he had been involuntarily celibate for all those days, it didn't take many minutes to drive him to the edge. "Oh my," remarked the gentleman amusedly. "If I made my wimp stop now, his new friend would certainly be left in a state of frustration. On the other hand, from what I've been told, the femme who's getting sucked hasn't been initiated this way yet. Once he spurts into the mouth of one of his sisters, he'll be a full-fledged fag." Ron heard that. He didn't want it to happen, especially because his wife now expected full accounts of these incidents, and insisted that she would know if he lied or else omitted anything. At the same time, he was desperate to stop the ache in his balls. With a terrible groan, he surrendered his self-control. Only moments later, he blasted into the mouth of the happily suctioning fellow flit. Ron's waves of relief were followed immediately by even stronger ones, this time of pure guilt. His one consolation was that the driver took him from the shop to his home. That didn't lessen the sting of having to make this latest confession to Tracy. With only days remaining to work, Tracy made another decision. She announced that, because her husband had taken so well to his sissification, he deserved some outside help to take him the rest of the way. That involved costly subscriptions of several porn sites devoted to effeminate guys being dominated by a variety of men and women. Ron was appalled when he found out he would be expected to spend extensive time viewing them. The reason was that Tracy was going to be out, several nights a week, to spend time with a new friend, whose identity was not disclosed to Ron. The videos and still images, along with collections of drawings, took over his mind. They depicted swishes being used and abused in endless ways. There was a mini-movie of a mincing guy and three musclemen, a large rubber sheet, and a bottle of cooking oil. Another showed a purported husband, like himself, whose wife entered their bedroom wearing a large black dildo in a harness. He was shaken by one more that featured a tranny with boobs bigger than his own, and similarly outrageous lips, who was owned by a Black couple. What kind of man would allow himself to be dragged to the depths occupied by the submissive participants in these awful creations? Who could accept such mortification? On top of all that, he would be expected to pay for those expensive subscriptions, though how he would find the money when he was soon unemployed again, Tracy did not say. During his final days at Quickies, Ron found himself giving head to Chet. Burke bent him over the desk and, though he didn't violate him, he did invade his anus digitally, and proved that Ron could become wildly stimulated from that. After his last shift, when he got home, Tracy rewarded him with a fat faux phallus, with which he could practice deepthroating. He didn't know why that was necessary, but by then automatically did as he was told. Sometimes he worked to eliminate his gag reflex with the dildo while doing his prescribed viewing. Because he was no longer employed, there was more time to watch the online porn. It was strange to sit there, perhaps in lavender latex bra and panties, in full make-up, with his lengthening hair in pigtails, while congratulating himself on passing an additional inch of the fake cock down his throat. What was even more bizarre was to discover that his little dick was erect more often than not during those times. When he told Tracy he had beaten his gag reflex, she treated him to injections to give him an expanded butt to go with his bust. It turned out that what his wife had been doing on those evenings when she went out was to date a man named Daryl. She explained that, with Ron having proved himself to be a true sissy, she felt free to seek sex elsewhere. Her husband was devastated to learn that he was now a cuckold, like some of the men in those videos. She flaunted her new lover, bringing him to the house and inviting him to stay overnight. Ron often spent time outside her bedroom door, ordered to stay there so he could listen to the two of them having vigorous and noisy sex. During those times, Ron was always dressed appropriately, in ruffled panties and a push-up bra, or in a fishnet body-stocking. Daryl was tall and athletic. He often went around the house semi-nude or even naked. The first time Ron saw his cock, which put what the sissy had to shame, it was a blow to his already battered ego, one from which he couldn't recover. It turned out that one of the reasons Tracy had gotten into her affair with Daryl was because he was bisexual. That meant that the interloper not only had sex with her but sometimes included Ron in their activities. "Ronette," the newcomer would say, "give Tracy some licking love, to get her ready for sex with me. After all the time she only had your laughably little pecker in her, she needs some assistance to manage something as big as my cock." Or he might remark, "You're so charming in that peignoir, Ronette. It's really turning me on to see your hairless body, with those delightful tits, not to mention your fat cocksucker lips. In fact, you've got me so overheated that I have to insist that you do your sword swallower routine with my weapon and make me unload into your guts. What room shall we do it in this time? Shall I call Tracy to watch?" The final indignity was something that Ron hadn't foreseen. It turned out that Burke had a friend who had a friend who happened to be the owner of those several sissy smut sites online. That person wanted to recruit Ron as his new star. He would specialize in performing the scenes that the more willing cast members refused to do, or that the owners of the unwilling ones didn't want to subject them to. He mentioned a sequence that he'd dreamed of producing, in which a single sissy, in a harem girl costume, would service a seemingly endless line of hung men, gulping down a load from each. More concerning was some of the bondage techniques he wanted to employ, including those with restrictive clothing made of rubber or leather. There was even mention of giving Ron outrageously huge knockers and an ass to match. The list went on and on. One especially difficult long-form video in which he had the lead was Ronette and the Leather Men. He had a half dozen hairy muscular costars in that feature. After the grueling production was over, he was retrieved by Tracy and her bedmate Daryl, who had enjoyed viewing the production as it took place. In the car, Tracy turned to look at him from the front seat. She said, "Isn't it ironic, Ronette? This all started because you were so into watching porn, and now you're actually in porn. That's what I call a happy ending." ********* (This one could have been longer but I wanted to keep it short and punchy. I tried to make Ron/Ronette's trip down the rabbit hole convey to readers the momentum he would have felt.)
