Quoted By:
>Mr. Smuther is my boss. He gave me a job even though I made him sick, even though he loathed the sight of me from the start. My smell surrounded me. I smell like putrid marmalade. I smell like jelly. He should have thrown up in my face, but he hired me, even though he hated me. I deserve anything he dishes out. I want him to dish it out. Every day I find ways to make him degrade me without becoming so sickening that he fires me. I'd die if he fired me. I worship him. I need him because he crushes me. He demands that I live up to his requirements and he punishes me when I can't. I don't know why he hasn't fired me because I'm weak. I always make mistakes. I love his hairy arms and his hairy chest and his hairy back. I dream about chewing his hair while I masturbate. Then, when I don't cum, I feel good, because I didn't deserve to cum. I only cum for him when I'm not masturbating. When I cum for him it's because he makes me cum, when I don't expect it, so I'll feel bad. But later, when I'm lying in bed thinking about it, I feel good. He knows how to use his authority. He makes me feel like a fat deformed child. I'm sitting in the corner in my diapers and against my will I shit until it forces its way out onto the floor. My parents come in and scream at me and beat me. Then, when they leave, to show them that I wanna be good, I scrape it up with my pudgy hands and I eat it. I prove to myself that I can get rid of it and be good. That's how he makes me feel. I like to feel that way. He pays me to feel that way. He doesn't pay me much money. I'm a fat slob, I don't deserve to be paid well. I wanna hide in his world. I want him to hide in my world. He feeds me, I never want to leave him. I get depressed when I have to go home from work, away from him. He makes me feel goo
