My name is Jessy Hutchens, or at least it used to be. Now I suppose it is just Jessy, at least to me it is. I am nineteen years old close as I can figure. I am unfertile and not at all bitter about it considering my present situation, but more on that later. I am tall for a girl, at just over six foot, and two inches. I am lanky, awkward, and my posture is horrible. When I stand up I have a tendency to shrug my shoulders forward giving the appearance that my arms reach all the way to my knees. I have a nearly flat chest, 32B cup-size. I am a “strange mix of psycho and crybaby” as my “owner” likes to say. I have short blonde hair that is kept just long enough for a person to grab in a handful. I have sharp features and overall my body is toned and muscular, with one exception. I seem to have the perfect bubble of an ass. As I have been told many times over the last year, it’s my only valuable asset, if you’ll pardon the pun (for the hundredth time).
When I was growing up in norther...
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