It was the day before my 9th grade graduation ceremony.
I was drinking a diet Dr. Pepper that I got from my local gas station.
My dad walks in with a new DVD.
It’s called “Hermie & Friends: Buzby, the Misbehaving Bee.”
He tells me that I should watch it.
I try to tell him that I’m 15, and don’t need to watch it, but he doesn’t listen.
He puts me in my room and inserts the DVD.
The episode is about a bee who sounds like Elvis, and calls himself “King of the Bees.”
Hermie and his friends try to give him the “Garden Golden Rules,” but he breaks them all.
Tim Conway and Don Knotts were good actors, but their characters don’t compare to Buzby. From that point onward, he turned me on every time he appeared onscreen.
He even sang a song about breaking the rules, which got me singing along.
It got really interesting when Buzby didn’t listen to God.
My peter was harder than it ever was, so I decided to jerk it.
But my mom walked in on me when I orgasmed to Buzby opening the gate.
She threw a baseball at me, denting my skull, and said I wasn’t allowed on the internet for the next 3 years.
I turned off the TV, and cried myself to sleep.
I woke up to the sound of buzzing.
“You don’t need them,” said a voice similar to Elvis. I instantly recognized who it was.
I bowed down before the King of the Bees, who was drinking his honey.
“Oh Buzby, my king,” I said, “Please take me away from these horrible parents. Let me stay with you, I want to be yours.”
Buzby nodded, with an understanding look on his face. “It’s time to take care of some bees-ness.”
He flew into my dad’s room, and handed me a glass of water.
I splashed it onto his face.
He was about to strangle me when he noticed Buzby.
“WHAT’S A BEE DOING IN HERE?!” he shouted, and got the flyswatter.
“You need a stinger. I got a stinger, but it’s not for you,” said Buzby, as he stung my dad’s eyeballs.
He waved the flyswatter like an idiot, breaking a window. But he lost his balance and fell onto the pavement, dying instantly.
The crunch of his bones woke my mom, who went to investigate. But all she saw was me and the King.
“Y-YOU KILLED YOUR FATHER?!” she screamed. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HONOR US!”
“I can’t hear you! There’s too much noise! Buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz”
He shoves my mom out the window. I notice his erection as he does so.
He looks at me and says, with a horny expression, “Fresh honey, fresh from my ‘hive.’ The ‘hive’ of the King of the Bees.”
I bow down before him, and begin to urinate in order to widen my penis hole.
I begin to shrink to his size, in preparation for his bee-lessing.
He shoves his stinger into it, and begins penetrating my bladder.
It hurts so much, as his stinger fills my tube.
My brother walks in.
“W-WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?! AND WHY ARE YOU FUCKING MY BROTHER?!”
“I’m cool; I’m King of the Bees. I break the rules; breaking the rules is cool.”
“Well whoever you are, GET OUT!”
But it was too late. My penis was sucked into my body and replaced with a birth canal.
My brother killed himself, because he was mentally scarred for life.
My testicles fell off, and Buzby placed them onto my chest.
They were sucked into my skin, underneath my nipples.
It was official: I was a girl now. But Buzby wasn’t done yet.
He pulled his stinger out of my pussy, and shoved his massive caterpillar sized cock into it.
I moaned extremely loudly in pleasure, and it wasn’t long before Buzby filled me with his sweet honey.
I felt something grow above my ass; a stinger.
Antennae grew out of my new, long hair, and my skin turned yellow with black stripes.
Ever since the whole ordeal, I dubbed a new title: the Queen of the Bees.
“I think you look cool,” said Buzby, as he pulled out of my cunt.
“Heh, thanks,” I blushed.
I spread my wings, and flew out of the window with Buzby. We sang his song throughout the entire trip to his hive.
I live with Buzby now, and we hold wild gangbanging parties with our new bug friends.
It’s time for me to go now, I have to help my husband take care of his sister’s kids, Beebee and Buddy.