Inescapable (Part 2 of 2)

Inescapable (Part 2/2)

by Optimizer


It took close to an hour to get the hair ready. Every morning. I always had to take a shower - most girls didn't wake up each and every day with cum in their hair. Shampoo and oceans of conditioner. I only went to the salon once or twice a week. Most days I'd have one of my 'sisters' help me blow dry it, usually Anong. If they were too busy, though, it took even longer. And then, tons of product to shape it just right.

They were somewhat annoying at times, but long earrings and long hair really worked together. I got my ears pierced - Gerry could create a non-fatal hole anywhere, painlessly - and wore dangling stuff every night. I just had to put up with it; every little bit helped.

A great deal of being a sexy woman was a hassle, actually. Heels demanded concentration for a lot of common actions like swerving through crowds or walking down steps. Skimpy underwear, even when it didn't chafe, was generally binding. In fact, most of our clothes were really tight, except for the exceptionally loose, light item... and those tore easily. Maintaining makeup is difficult when you've got a physical job like waitressing. I could go on and on.

But the cocks made it all worth it.


His name was Mershom, and he wanted to fuck me bad. Riley had traded tables with me right after she saw how he looked at me from across the room.

He was tall, six-two or so, and black. Not full-blooded African, but dark-skinned. Neither thick enough for football, nor thin enough for basketball. Maybe the right shape for baseball, just... balanced.

I was dressed kinda princess-y tonight. That white micro-dress and lacy panties combo Melissa had put me in the first day. But this time I was rocking the heels, and had traces of glitter on my face and shoulders. I hadn't gone for pigtails, but had some braids laced through the curls.

His eyes widened just a touch as I walked toward the table where he sat with a couple friends. Riley had been right. One of his pals elbowed him and laughed when he caught sight of me.

"Hey guys," I drawled, "Riley got called away. I'm Marci. What can I do for you?" As I asked that last, I looked in Mershom's eyes, then cast them down. Not exactly shy, but... my people-reading skills had a laser focus lately. He wanted me to be curious, a little excited... and a little intimidated. I could just tell.

One of his friends answered. "You can get me another vodka tonic. And vodka straight for my brother here."

"Coming right up!" I said brightly, and stepped away. Of course my gait was as sexy as possible without being too obvious about it, providing them a show.

The food order Riley had put in was ready, so I brought it all along, getting Lori to help me. She was the platinum blonde I'd seen the first night. It was partly an experiment. Was he specifically in to me, or what? Lori's persona was a fashion-model type. A sophisticated city girl; not worldly in the same way as Collette, just... kind of modern. Like everyone here at Gerry's, she could fine-tune her approach. Outgoing party girl, arrogant and wilful bitch in need of taming, decadent and shallow model desperate for validation of her looks, etc.

Mershom enjoyed looking at her; he wouldn't have been human if he hadn't. Yet his eyes lingered on me. As I exchanged a quick glance with Lori, we both suppressed shivers of lust - she'd noticed too. It was extra sexy when a guy responded really strongly to one of us.

As we took the trays back to the kitchen, I thought it over. My educated guess was that he wanted forbidden fruit: a privileged white girl. He wanted to take some rich, innocent white chick and do her raw and dirty, ruin her for white boys. And Marci came across about as close to "innocent" as any girl could, here.

I didn't judge him. I wouldn't even have done so before. We don't get to pick what gets us sprung - I'd had my face rubbed in that truth - and race relations in America affected people sexually, too. It was a common-enough turn-on, both ways. Destiny and LaShawna got so much white dick it was hilarious; noticeably more than Chloe, who was lighter-skinned.

Besides, thanks to Gerry's ring, I thought the idea was sexy as fuck because he thought it was sexy as fuck.

His interest hadn't flagged by the time I swung by again. But he wasn't making a move. Shy, ashamed, impecunious? Whatever the cause of his hesitation, I found it profoundly frustrating. If I was right, there wasn't much time. If he saw me do an under-the-table or VIP dance or whatever, my perceived innocence would suffer. He'd probably not want me anymore. At least, not so intensely.

How to quickly get him over the hump - or more to the point, over to humping? A stiffie was a terrible thing to waste...

I quickly decided on a strategy while I walked toward him. I would act shy, but strongly attracted and therefore flustered. It would play into his desires. So as I arrived, I said, "How's it going, guys? Everything good?" I met his eyes a couple times, but looked away, awkwardly. When you've got big hair, every head motion is more prominent, carries more weight.

"It's all good, shorty," his other buddy said.

"Yeah," Mershom agreed, gaze hungry.

I looked him. "Is there... anything else I can get you?" I shifted my eyes to the table, with a flush of lust that I hoped resembled a blush.

"Shorty's on your jock, my man!" his friend cackled.

He didn't say anything, just kept a smirk on his face, trying to play it off. I could see through it, though, and so could his crew.

"Shit, my man, you gotta do this," one of them said. "Fuck it, here's a hundred bucks, right now. Call it a coupon. But pay the lady and go have a good time." It wouldn't cover my fee, but it wasn't an insubstantial discount. That was all the excuse he needed. In a twinkling we were walking back to my room, arm in arm. I acted jazzed and energized, giddy as a schoolgirl. But a little nervous too, like someone about to make their first skydive or bungie jump.

He ate it up. You had to manage things right; some guys got cold feet or second thoughts on the way. Married or religious or whatever. You had to keep up the image that had lured them in. Often you had to maintain their focus on you, prevent them from falling back into their own heads. Fortunately, he didn't seem inclined to back out.

When we got to my room, I subtly moved us toward the bed and let the nervousness predominate. "So... whatcha wanna do?" There was a corner of my mind that was chastened at how I was demeaning myself, but the way he concentrated on me...

"I want to get those fucking clothes offa you." I let my eyes widen as he reached for me, pulled me up to a standing position, and started undoing my bra. I didn't help him, but I put up no resistance at all. I acted indecisive, pulled by lust, balanced by apprehension. The bra came off easily; few items of clothing were a challenge to remove here.

He grabbed one tit, palming a nipple. I let out a tiny moan as my lips parted. He kissed those lips, slipping in a tongue. He had that haven't-shaved-since-the-morning stubble many guys get by evening. It should have been revolting but his passion compelled me to kiss him back, my nipples getting even harder.

He got a hand down the front of my panties as our mouths pressed together, slid fingers into my moist crevices, tickled my pointed clit. I let it force a groan out of me, closed my eyes so he'd know I was savoring the sensations. That he was driving me wild. After a bit he got hands on either side of those panties and slid them down off my hips. They fell to my knees. Without pulling away or ceasing the kiss, I shimmied and stepped and dropped them to the ground.

He grabbed my ass with both hands and lifted. I wrapped my legs about his waist and ground into him. It still surprised me a little that I was small and light enough for a guy to just pick up like that, but if he wanted a lot of physical contact I just was not able to refuse. We made out passionately. I wasn't evincing any apprehension now.

Eventually his grip on my ass loosened, and I unhooked my legs and sank to my knees in front of him. Men just loved that pose, and he was no exception. Squatting with legs spread was almost as good. Better, if there were guys watching from behind; it displayed your ass to good advantage. Kneeling implied submission, though - and that added spice for most guys.

He was entirely on-board with me unbuttoning his jeans. I pulled them down, leaving the boxers; you have to be careful with cocks, not get them caught. Of course he was sporting a ramrod, pulling the fabric into a cone. I made sure to have an expression of daunted delight, shading toward awe. He was lapping it up.

And then I slid the boxers off, revealing him in full. The daunting and the awe both grew.

He wore a satisfied smile. "Ain't you never seen a real man before, honey?"

"I... I never..." I was speechless, staring. It was good-sized, but not huge. I marvelled anyway, like I'd never even conceived of one his size.

In truth, for most girls, size isn't that big a deal, and dicks could definitely be too big for comfort. Not only had I learned that as a man, but the girls I'd talked to here confirmed it. On the other hand, once they became Gerry's Girls, size really didn't matter. If it was a hard penis, it was perfect by definition. "From the tiniest little tadger to the world's biggest prick," as Monty Python sang.

But Mershom wanted me to be impressed and astonished, so that's what I gave him.

As if drawn by gravity, I leaned close, kissed it, licked it. I took the head in my mouth... He jammed it in, to the back of my throat. I opened my eyes wide; my startled squeal was understandably muffled. And so, a moment later, was my moan of pleasure...

I got him close. I took my time doing it, acting just inexperienced enough that he wouldn't suspect how much I was enjoying teasing him, right on the edge. But he broke it off, pulled me to my feet, then immediately flopped me on my back on the bed. "Time for the sugar, shorty."

I spread my legs, acting dazed, and he plunged in. Quickly I sensed that he was holding back. He wasn't trying to get off yet; he wanted to get me off first. That wasn't exactly uncommon. Nor was it unpleasant. I mean, think about it. I wasn't especially concerned about me coming; it was pretty much guaranteed to happen as soon as he did. All I needed to do was convince him I'd climaxed. However, the highest-probability way to convince him I'd climaxed was... to have a real climax.

So, once he got a thumb on my clit, I thought about him enjoying me, and had a screaming monster orgasm.

Once it was over, he pulled out. Showing little mercy for my gasping looseness, he flipped me over on the bed. "Get that ass up high. We finishing this right."

Gerry's Girls were never very far from a supply of lube. He grinned at my wide-eyed expression as I silently pulled open the drawer on the nightstand, got out a tube and handed it to him. He was further amused, and aroused, at my slight hesitation while I got on my hands and knees, butt facing him.

Before, anal had been a real turn-off. There was a stand-up comedian who'd summed up my feelings well: "Why go for that when you're half an inch from the happiest place on Earth?" A lot of guys disagreed strongly, though. And since my transformation they'd made me love it.

Since he was big, almost porn-star level, he filled me right up. But Gerry had engineered us with resilience, and I got off on how tight it was for him.

He was maybe a little rougher than he needed to be - most ordinary girls might have been discomfited - but so long as he was enjoying himself it was almost impossible for it to bother me.

Quite soon I was crying out. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, omigod omigod omigoooooooooood!" I sounded transported, overwhelmed, overloaded... so overpleasured it was almost painful. It was easy, because I was. His dick was so hard, I could tell he was loving it.

"Here it comes, bitch! Take it!" I came again when he shot his load, forcefully. I felt sure he didn't usually talk like that, but he was getting carried away by the experience. It just enhanced my pleasure to know I was getting him so hyped.

After a good thirty seconds of both of us just catching our breath, he pulled out, and found the wipes in the still-open drawer, as I'd intended. I rolled onto my back (exaggerating how weak I appeared in the aftermath) and looked up at him with adoring eyes.

"Jeez, I never got fucked like that!" I fibbed. Mershom was so chuffed I had a hard time keeping a straight face.

I don't think he was as pleased twenty minutes later, as I was slipping with evident delight under another table in the main room. But he'd had his turn.


You saw some weird things in a place like this.

Not just the costumes. Sure, you'd see girls walking the halls in all sorts of bizarre outfits - way beyond nurses and maids. I'd seen sexy plumbers, sexy scientists, even - I shit you not - a sexy balloon vendor.

No, there was genuinely surreal stuff. One time I had to stop Melissa on her way to her room and ask why she had blueberry pie filling smeared all over her ass. Or when the guy held up Destiny's legs and had her walk on her hands into her room. Or the guy who jerked off as we faced away from each other and rubbed our asses together.


My second client of the night had just left. I was in my bathroom, smiling and wiping semen out of my crotch, when I heard a loud bang. I scooted toward the hall as fast as I could in heels and yanked the door open.

Two rooms over, September's door was wide open. Broken open. Another bang sounded, something heavy hitting a wall. More girls down the hall opened their doors and peeked out. I ran over to September's doorway and beheld Duane, one of the security guards, struggling with a guy. Well, the man was struggling; Duane wasn't having any trouble holding him at bay, despite the fact that his opponent was huge. In fact, he was a pro football player, I recognized him.

September lay on her couch behind the guard, wheezing and holding her neck. The counter in the breakfast nook was damaged. I watched Duane block a sweep of his arm, then he made a vicious jab at the guy's gut. It knocked the wind out of him, and then Duane literally picked the brute up and slammed him back-first into the floor. He couldn't breathe at all now, and Duane was able to flip him over and lock his arm in a hold.

A rush of wind, a flicker in the corner of my eye made me look; Tony, another security guy, was racing up the hall at an Olympic record pace. I had just enough time to pull back from the opening so he could whiz through.

Tony immediately checked on September. She murmured something to him. He looked at me and jerked his head to summon me over. I stepped in the room and gave Duane and the man a wide berth.

"Can you help her out? Get her to Gerry?" Tony said.

"Sure, no problem," I said.

They picked up the client and moved him toward the door. He was able to gasp, wheezing, "You know who I am, motherfuckers?"

Duane, with unconcealed irritation, said, "I know exactly who you are. You give us any more shit, I'm gonna break both your knees and end your fucking career, got it?"

As they moved down the hall, I heard Tony say, ”Maybe you can beat up your girlfriend and get away with it, asshole. Yeah, I read the news. But nobody hurts Gerry's Girls." They were already a good distance off, but I heard a very solid thump and the running back groaned in pain.

I turned back to September. "Are you okay?" I said, a little doubtfully, as I helped her to her feet. She had curly dark brown hair, a button nose, and a long lean body with great hips, awesome legs, and cute B-cup breasts. In dark lingerie she was a vision, and just roped in guys looking for a little class.

"Yeah," she rasped. We moved toward the door. "He just started choking me," September said. "He wasn't even getting off on it. He just went crazy."

"Some guys are like that." Bruises had begun forming on her neck. I waved at Melissa to let her know the situation was under control, and she went back in her room.

Anong came around the corner, leading an Indian man toward her room. Instinctively, September and I adjusted our postures a bit to seem more casual, carefree. Anong noticed something wrong, though, and turned her smile on the guy to distract him. Her eyes promised me questions later.

We made it down the front elevator, the one for clients, without incident. It was the quickest route. Gerry was waiting at the door and ushered us into his office. "I'm so sorry, September." A wave of the ring as soon as the door closed, and she smiled in relief. The dark marks on her skin were gone.

"Thanks, Gerry," she said in a restored voice. "And thank the guys for me." She gave him a lingering hug.

"Of course," he murmured. "I just got off the phone with the team manager. I let him know that none of his teammates will be welcome here so long as he has a contract." A grimly satisfied smile. "He will be punished by his fellow players, I guarantee."

September was all gratitude. "Thanks, Gerry, I really appreciate it. When he got his hands around my..." She trailed off, shivered, and pulled him close. I'm a fast learner; I noticed exactly where her belly was rubbing him.

So did he. He glanced my way, then down at September, who turned her face up to his, lips slightly parted.

"Thank you, Marci," he said to me. "We'll speak later." I took the hint and left, controlling my frustration. Apparently comforting one of his girls was a 'special occasion'.

I took the back hall to the staging area, to find a makeup kit. I was too horny to head back to my room, thinking about what must be happening in Gerry's office right now.

Gerry obviously appreciated women. All the walking confections around here... You couldn't invent or imagine Gerry's Girls unless you loved the female form. I had a hunch - the kind I got sometimes in an investigation. I had no objective evidence for it, yet I saw a vision of Gerry as a failed artist, maybe, who couldn't paint or sculpt what he conceived in his mind. And then got the ring?

I didn't get jealous, really. More like I felt sad that there was something I wanted that I just wasn't going to get. And I was pissed that I wanted it that much.


"Jesus, is there a square foot in this whole building that doesn't have glitter on it somewhere?" I complained, shaking off my coffee mug before I poured another dose.

Anong chuckled. "Prob'ly not." Her smile was amused and superior. "It's a stripper thing. Like, traditional."

I sat down at the counter, and cut off another chunk of waffle. "I wonder how much of it I've eaten since I got here," I mused.

"Can't be that much. Does everything shine for you in the bathroom?" We both laughed.

I had breakfast with Anong most days. I was alternately intrigued and amused as she related the storied history of Gerry's Place.

She liked hearing tales from my private investigator career. But only once in a while did we talk about her life before she became Anong. That was... pretty common, I gathered. Not surprisingly, choosing to become a Gerry's Girl was usually driven by some intense desire or regret. Most of the women here tended to focus on the present and future.

Her room was set up in an Oriental style, as you would imagine. Her bedroom in back was set up a lot more like what I'd expect from a girl from Idaho - but even there, little related to her past. There was a single picture of an older couple, a man and a woman - her parents. I'd never seen a picture of what she had looked like before. She'd never even told me what her name had been, before.

She was Anong to a far greater degree than I was Marci. I had a life to get back to, though.


One of the most humiliating things about the situation was how I couldn't help loving Marci's body.

I didn't want to be female, exactly. I didn't feel like a girl inside; I wasn't even sure what that would feel like. But... I really wanted to turn men on. I craved making guys cum. And this body was a much better tool for that job than my old one. So I'd find myself feeling grateful for having tits, and a pussy, and a round padded ass, and even the hair. They were just so useful. I would've felt almost helpless without them. There were a lot fewer gay guys than straights.

And then I'd remember that, once I had my old body back, I'd have my old mind too. I wouldn't want guys to cum inside me anymore. By now, I couldn't remember - or even really conceive - what that'd be like, though.

Care and maintenance of that body sucked up an alarming amount of my attention. Not just the hair, although my hairstyle vocabulary was growing by leaps and bounds. (Beehive, bouffant, feathering and layering and waves and fringes and wraps, the endless variations of braids and buns - on and on.) Makeup was another whole field of study now, too.

Then jewelry on top of that. Like I said, I wore earrings a lot. Piercings were extremely common here. I was old-school enough that nose rings or lip rings weren't my style. So I added a couple more earring holes, and a jewel in my belly button.

I also got a stud in my tongue. Really opens up your options for blowjobs. That little extra tickle coaxes out the cum like nobody's business.

That's in addition to bracelets and anklets and necklaces and sometimes rings (though since we needed a lot of manual dexterity those weren't as common).


Remember the website menu I mentioned? There had been a special order. And they'd picked me!

But the details of the order gave me pause. D&S, bondage and humiliation. I had no real clue how to pull that off - and I was more than a little confused why a guy would pick a girly frou-frou princess for such a role, anyway. Since, as previously noted, I hated to be unprepared, I made a beeline for the local expert.

Diana was not confused. "Oh, Aaron, yeah," she said with an indulgent, reminiscent smile. "He's really into the whole humiliation thing. I've done him a couple times."

"Wouldn't you be better at it?" I asked. "Is he tired of you or something?"

Now I was the target of her indulgence. "You know how guys are. Always wanting the new hotness. He's tried a bunch of new girls." Then she paused, recalling that my knowledge of guys was from the inside as well as from experience.

I rolled my eyes, as if to say, 'whatever'. "But I don't exactly have a dominant build. How am I supposed to -"

She laughed, interrupting me. "Not all bottoms are the same!" She shook her head. "Some of 'em want to be physically dominated, yeah. So they have an excuse for giving in." Then she shrugged. "A lot of 'em want, y'know, emotional dominance. A lover or even a mother, someone who knows best for 'em."

I still didn't get it. "But..."

She held my eyes, as if to say, 'let me finish'. "But, some guys - like Aaron - want to be humiliated. Feeling pathetic gets them off."

The light dawned. "Oh! So if even a frilly little girl can push him around..."

"Right!" she replied.

Now that I had some understanding, now that I could picture it, I started to get turned on by the image. If he thought it was hot, that automatically made it hot, period. Diana gave me a lot of advice, not unlike Anong had with Samesh. I could see her getting almost as worked up as me, just imagining Aaron responding to me.

And then I had to wait all day. I was in a heady state of tension and anticipation and horniness, and distracted myself trying to pick a hairstyle. I settled on a loose side-braid with sweeps on either side of my face. It worked well - my skill level made it just amateurish enough to look like an experiment by a fashion-conscious girl who didn't have quite enough time to hit the salon.

I was sitting on my couch, watching the news with the volume low. When the knock came at the door, I shut the TV off, stood up, and spent a few seconds examining myself in the mirror over the dresser, just to check my appearance.

I was wearing a purple dress, not fancy - cotton/polyester blend. The skirt was short, but past my crotch and covered my butt. It had two straps over the shoulders, thin but not 'spaghetti'. Bra straps were visible - I was wearing white-and-purple bra and panties. The neckline was about even with my armpits, with only a modest scoop. In back, there was a wide strip of fabric across the shoulderblades that kept it from being backless. It was cute (and with my body, quite sexy) but not at all explicit. A girl could wear it to a family party with hardly a raised eyebrow.

I couldn't bring myself to delay more than a moment or two more. When I opened the door I did it casually, as if I didn't care. It felt weird to hold back - most guys wanted eagerness - but Diana had insisted. As I let him in, I hoped she was right.

Aaron was tall, thin, in his mid thirties. Shoulder-length hair, curly. Diana said he was a consultant in some tech field, had money to throw around. He wasn't wearing a suit; he had on skinny jeans and a tan sweater. He was a little hard to read; not exactly a poker face, but low-affect.

Since I wasn't Diana, her kind of style wouldn't work for me. We'd agreed that I'd be a typical teenage girl - by the standards of Gerry's Place, at least - and I would start out a little unsure. Not afraid, just not used to the idea of humiliating someone.

I spoke up, my eyes squinting. "So, like... you really want me to, like, take over?"

Still hard to read. "Yeah."

"Okay," I said, with just a shade of doubt. "Um... stand up straight. Lemme look at ya."

He did. After a second, I said, "Turn around," with a bit more confidence. He did. "Not so fast," I said. As he slowed down, I thought I saw the first flicker of interest.

"Huh. Not much to look at," I said, half to myself. I looked him in the eye. "So you'll really do anything I say?" I asked, with lingering disbelief.

He nodded.

I thought for a second. "Then take off that stupid sweater!"

He did, then stood still. I smiled slightly and said, "Okay, like, get your shoes and pants off."

He started to, but I barked, "C'mon! Faster!" More rapidly, his shoes were pushed off. He hooked a finger under a sock but I countermanded that. "I didn't say take off your socks!" I thought I saw his eyebrows rise for a second - almost the first emotion he'd displayed. Then his pants dropped, and he pulled his feet out of them. He was wearing briefs, which let me judge how tumescent he was pretty well. He wasn't cranked yet, but was getting there.

But I wanted to speed that along. I tilted my head and told him to pull down his underwear. He did, and...

"Ohmigod, is that your dick?" I scoffed, and tittered, exuding shocked and amused derision. That dick got harder. So did my nipples, but I had chosen a bra that would keep me from sprouting points through my dress.

"Ohmigod, you really are a pussy!" I exclaimed. His cock stiffened yet more.

I put him through some paces, my apparent delight growing with my scorn. He warmed to my discipline and mocking, but I didn't let him touch himself or do anything about the erection jutting out from his crotch.

Diana had warned me, but I hadn't really appreciated how incredibly difficult this kind of job was for Gerry's Girls. He wanted to be humiliated, dominated. He wanted me to be in total control at all times. If I got mildly aroused, that was fine - but he craved my contempt. Having a shrieking vocal orgasm was right out; it would ruin the mood. So would touching that dick that wobbled around, tempting me.

So I had to stay outwardly casual the whole time. Ever try to look snide and maybe a little bored while your pussy is literally quivering with lust? When he came the first time I only just managed to keep myself from whimpering. I turned it into a bout of laughter that didn't quite become hysterical.

Then I made him clean himself up. He had to lick his cum off his hands. We played more games and he came twice more. I ordered him to get dressed after that, and kicked him out with a few insults.

Once I shut the door I counted to ten, to give him a chance to walk away. Then I jammed my fingers past my panties and frantically fingered myself. In seconds I fell to the floor in the throes of a climax so intense it bordered on a seizure.


I heard some disturbing gossip the next morning. A car with two guys in it had parked toward the back of the lot, and they'd just sat there for a couple hours before Duane noticed them on the security cameras.

He went up to the roof, and checked them out with binoculars. They were set up for a stakeout, including binoculars of their own. Duane had flicked on a laser gunsight and pointed it at the men in the car. Once they noticed it, they started up the engine and peeled out.

Almost certainly Novinski, taking more active steps - since both Loft and I had clearly failed. This had been partly surveillance, but mostly a test of our security. It made me nervous. Since we'd demonstrated decent responsiveness, Novinski would simply adjust his tactics.


I got my period two weeks in. I woke up at a quarter of four, with wet thighs and red stains on the sheets. The blood in my veins felt as cold as the blood smeared on my crotch.

I went to the bathroom and wiped off what I could, and quickly realized I wasn't going to manage this alone. I wound up wearing a pair of panties, and stuffing another bunched-up pair of panties under the crotch. Nothing I had was really useful. Lace and satin are not famously absorbent. I wrapped my upper body in a gauzy robe that hid nothing.

Down the hall - for once, praying that no one would see me - I knocked on Anong's door. I kept trying, a couple more times, until she opened the door, blinking sleepy eyes.

"What's up?" she asked, yawning. I realized I'd woken her straight from REM sleep.

"I'm bleeding. Down there."

For just an instant, she looked annoyed. Then her brain kicked in. "Oh, shit. This is, like... your first."

"No shit."

She took my arm, led me back toward my room. "Nothin' to worry about. For us it's super easy. Barely three days, no cramps, not even much blood. Tampons, maybe a liner at night."

As we got to my door, I said, "I didn't think it was going to happen at all."

She stopped and frowned at me. "What?"

Nervously, I said, "I just... I just thought... You said we couldn't get pregnant, and I..."

"Hey, we're still women! We're not robots or some shit!" I'd offended her.

"But I was never a woman! I don't... I'm sorry, really, I just never..."

Anong closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "Fuck it, let it go," she told herself. I meekly followed her to my bathroom. She pulled out the bottom drawer of the cabinet under the sink.

"What'd you think these were for?" she asked, giving me an uncharacteristically jaundiced eye. The drawer held a supply of feminine necessities.

"Visitors," I admitted miserably. I hadn't really thought about them at all.

"Hah. When do other girls come here?" Anong said, annoyed. "Well, now you got your monthly visitor." Then she had me use the shower massager to clean my lower half, without getting the hair wet. We were about to set me up with a pad when she realized I possessed zero non-sexy underthings. She went and got me one of her pairs of 'granny-panties'.

While we were getting me situated, she reassured me again that it would be fine, that menses was easy for Gerry's Girls. "Worst you got to worry about is messy sheets." I wouldn't meet her eyes. "Oh fuck, really?" She stepped over to my bedroom door and glanced in. "Fuck."

She showed me how to call the night maids, and went back to bed, still shaking her head. About half an hour later, I was lying down on fresh sheets. It took me a while to fall asleep.


Anong brought breakfast, and Madison, over in the morning. "I shoulda thought of her last night."

I wasn't feeling too bad; my stomach was a little off, like I'd eaten something really spicy, that was all. Except my pad was getting full.

We left Anong to get out plates and stuff, and went to the bathroom. Maddy was fairly gentle about things. She taught me the stuff I needed to know - things that girls learned by their early teens at the latest. It turned out she'd helped Collette that way, too.

After, we ate breakfast in my kitchen. Anong explained that we got a vacation during our time of the month, "unless somebody asks for a girl on the rag, o'course."

That gave me pause. It had been one of the options on the website menu. Still... "No guys at all?"

Madison grinned. "Awww, poor baby."

Ears warm, I looked at the countertop. My tone had been embarrassingly plaintive.

She answered my question anyway. "You can try." She shrugged. "I mean, blowjobs, anal, that's all good. But if a guy wants to go down on you or fuck your pussy, you'll have to disappoint him."

That was not a sexy thought at all. I didn't want to be responsible for a dick going limp.

Anong added, "Lotsa the girls go out and run errands and pick up men for a quick beej or something. If they ain't paying for it, guys don't mind taking what they can get." Her expression became a little more serious. "But, y'know, here... it's safe. Carmina, one time, she was out at a bar and she sucked off one guy, and then later she was getting another dude in her ass and it pissed off the first guy. He punched her real hard in the face before the other guy started fighting him. She had this huge bruise before Gerry fixed her up."

That was sobering. I was way more vulnerable now. And more likely to put myself in dangerous situations. Of course... "I don't think Gerry would let me out anyway."

Maddy gave a discomfittingly casual shrug. "If you promised not to run away, he might."

I opened my mouth to scoff at the notion... and then I closed it again. You could trust a promise if you could read minds.

This was all more interaction with her than I'd had since that night backstage. Anong was good for that. She seemed to like me, and everyone liked her, so the other girls were willing to give me a chance.

We gossiped for a while. Maddy glowered at Anong and said, "Billy came by again. Got all pissy when it was time to leave."

Anong rolled her eyes. "He'll give up. Someday."

At my blank face, Maddy clarified. "He wants to rescue me from this life. He's in loooove!" She sounded almost disgusted as she drawled.

I understood immediately. Gerry's Girls had no use for romance except as a seduction tool. There was no conceivable way we could be exclusive. We probably couldn't make it through a date without fucking somebody - or some group. Let alone a wedding reception.

Normal prostitutes or strippers would have enjoyed guys like that, if only for the chance to draw more money out of them. But to Gerry's Girls they were complications.

Anong brought up another kind of problem client. "At least you get to fuck him. I got a talker on Sunday." She scoffed in disgust. "Who springs for a hype ballin' hooker just to have some fucking conversation? I mean, come on!"

I laughed in sympathy. It had happened to me once already. "Like hiring a Lear jet to go pick up groceries." That got a both of them laughing, too.

Again, the vast majority of hookers would have probably enjoyed the chance to get paid without putting out. For us, however, they represented an unwelcome and irritating challenge. On the bright side, since we were in fact world-class hookers, at least half of the 'talkers' proved seducible. They found themselves getting more physical than they'd planned.

I kept them laughing as I told the story of how I'd corrupted my talker. Then Madison taught me some alternate strategies for dealing with them. It was as pleasant a morning as I could imagine for my first period.


Ultimately I chose to stick around. Some of it was safety. And some of it was wondering if I could promise Gerry not to spill, and mean it. I still hated his guts. Initially, of course, that had been because he'd turned me into a wildly promiscuous woman. But things had shifted somewhat.

Now I was furious because he'd obliged me to love being a wildly promiscuous woman. That was driven home by the fact that, for the moment, I lacked the ability to be promiscuous. And I missed it.

I spent a lot of time experimenting with different looks and styles and accoutrements. Like hats. A cute hat could really make a hairdo shine. A little off-center bolero on top of a fall just drove the boys wild. A pillbox added some vintage glam. For some reason, small gloves worked well with a beret.

I also put in hours of studio time each day, practicing. Ms. Ep declared that I might actually get on stage as a background dancer later that week. Symptom-wise, I had nothing more than very mild cramps. Although I didn't feel quite as cheerful when I got up in the morning. Maybe it was because I couldn't look forward to making any men come.

I did reflect on my situation, of course. What would it be like when I turned back? How would my mind process all the memories of this time as Marci?

Facing that problem was inevitable. Even with how much I enjoyed getting men off, I had absolutely no intention of staying here. There was no future in it, and I had people I loved in my old life. Not many, but I loved them a lot. Especially Amy.

That said... I felt nothing but excitement and relief when my period was over and I could get back to work.


Ben wanted me. No doubt about it. The second I came up to his table by the dance area, I knew.

For some reason he wouldn't seal the deal, though. I was using every stratagem I'd learned, but he just would not take the bait. Something held him back.

A decent-looking guy. Average height, shaved head, light-brown beard and mustache. A little body fat, but the kind of muscles that took regular workouts to maintain.

He watched longingly as Kristall danced. We had ways of covertly signalling each other, and I let her know he was interested. But when she swung by after her set, he didn't take her up on a quite explicit offer. The problem wasn't money, so far as I could tell. He tipped well on the meal and drinks.

I even caught him looking with envy at a patron while I was standing up from an under-the-table. He struck me like a kid looking through the window of a locked candy store.

I had to do something. The whole situation was intolerable. Finally I just came out with it. As I brought his fourth drink, I blurted out, "The great thing about Gerry's Place is you don't gotta play games. You want me, I want you. Let's do this. Fuck, I'll give you one free. No obligation, or whatever."

He looked tempted - God knows I knew how to recognize that by now - but also pained. Practically grieved. He fumbled for words. "I... Marci, that's... I wish..."

"Ain't no ring on your finger. What's the problem?" I had a sudden suspicion. "You sick? AIDS or something?"

It took him one extra moment to answer, a tiny beat. "Something like that."

That was bullshit, an excuse. I just knew, before he opened his mouth. It couldn't stop me. I smiled triumphantly and said, "Fuck that, we got female condoms. Not as much fun, but better than just looking." My smirk got lascivious. "Way better. I got skills I promise you ain't never seen...

Still he fought. "It's more... physical." He showed signs of definite discomfort now... alongside maybe a sliver of hope.

Now it made sense. A deformity, or an injury. Maybe just a tiny dick. He still liked girls, but he didn't believe he could do much for them.

As Marci, I couldn't possibly have cared less. I looked him in the eye. "Honey, I promise, whatever you got down there, I'll find a way to make you happy. Free of charge." I meant every word.

He stared at me for a second. Then he nodded. "I'll pay. But I'll hold you to that."

I wasn't worried. He'd never met a girl like me. Any dick at all was fine, whatever the shape. My smile was genuine as I took his hand and waved to Vena for a takeover. Ben was still nervous on the way to my room. Hiding it well, but I could see. Hope and anxiety all swirled together. I guessed it had been a long time for him.

We got the door closed, and I did a happy little striptease for him. Better to keep him focused on me, not let him sink inside his own head. I had his attention; my tits and ass were relevant to his interests, you might say.

He got tense again when I went for his belt. But he was turned on, I could see it in his eyes, his stance. I couldn't see a bulge at his crotch, but I paid that no mind. I pretty much expected that by now. I got his pants down... and froze.

No scrotum. Just lips. It was... it was a pussy! With a giant clit. It stuck out an inch, inch and half.

It was a very close thing. The situation hung in the balance. The magic effectively made me attracted to men. My previous history made me like women. Neither one made me attracted to women who looked like men.

Ben didn't seem at all surprised at my expression. He was hurt... but not guilty or ashamed. His voice when he spoke was... determined. "I've been on T since I was fifteen."

Testosterone. A transsexual. I thought of Madison... but he was still talking. "My parents thought I was a tomboy for a long time. I never wanted to dress up or play with dolls. I wanted to play with boys, but I wouldn't let them make me the princess to get rescued." A pause as he grit his teeth at some memory. "I wanted to be the knight, the soldier. I wanted to be the rescuer."

He sighed. "I'm a man. But if you can't get past my birth defect, I understand."

If it had been my first night, I would have bailed for sure. But it wasn't. My perspective had undergone a fair amount of forcible expansion. Enough to entertain the thought... what if?

What if he were a guy? I sure as fuck accepted Madison as a girl now. At this point I even believed she had been a girl, in some sense, all along. Was it so difficult to take Ben at his word? Hell, in my heart of hearts - despite all evidence - I still thought of myself as a guy. And my body was way less manly than his. Shit, my old body hadn't been in that kind of shape. Of everyone here, I should be the last one to doubt him.

I could feel myself warming to the idea - literally. Here was a guy who was seriously hard up. Who needed to fuck a beautiful girl, and make her come. And his 'dick' might be small, but... I mean, c'mon! A guy who could have multiple orgasms? What Gerry's Girl could possibly resist?

So I nodded, smiled, and started sucking on his nub. He gasped, only partly in surprise.

Sure, it was weird. But now that I'd accepted him as male, the magic breezed me past that. Fundamentally, just another blowjob now. One that required some specialized techniques, granted... but as thoroughly sexy as the rest.

He grunted a little as I tickled that stub with my tongue. I held his eyes with mine - it was vital he knew I was enjoying this. That I found it - found him - sexy. One of my hands flowed carefully past the lips. I read a flicker of tension in the muscles of his legs (lots of my skin was pressed against his, there). It was quick and, I think, subconscious. It told me that he didn't want to be penetrated.

I could understand that. Better than almost all Gerry's Girls. In fact, at this point I was honestly glad that I was the one he'd picked. I don't think even Collette could have understood him so well.

So, straight male techniques only. To the extent possible, treat him like a guy with normal equipment. In moments I had a whole set of strategies and tactics laid out, and was proceeding with a plan of attack.

My own equipment had been pretty run-of-the-mill, back in the day. Even then I'd worried sometimes about pleasing a woman. Clearly Ben had issues about that. I recalled my first night here, how much it had meant to me that Collette enjoyed me, and I resolved to give Ben the same experience.

A disadvantage of his anatomy was that I didn't get a mouthful when he came. It's hard for a guy to fake that. You know he's come, then. The way Ben groaned and twitched, though, I had no doubts. I came along with him, naturally.

He sat on the bed, and while he caught his breath I unbuttoned his shirt, then pulled off his undershirt. His chest had scars where breasts had been removed. I made sure to run my fingers over his pecs, admiring the work he'd put in. They trailed over his shoulder, and down to linger on a bicep. In truth, he was decently developed. Women ogle, too, but they're generally more subtle about it. I was demure enough to be womanly while being sufficiently obvious to pump his ego.

I moved in close for a deep kiss. Although he'd taste some of his own juices on my lips and tongue, it was the 'normal' thing to do. I took up a position on his lap, pulling him close. All he could see was my face and neck and breasts, framed by the hair. My lower half pressed in close against him.

He got worked up enough after a few minutes to turn over and lay me on my back on the bed. I had considered this quickly but carefully. Woman on top was out. Doggie style wasn't gonna work. Even standard missionary would present difficulties. Fortunately there was a good option that was even fairly common amongst the young and limber.

He was getting ready to go down on me. I held his arm and arranged myself invitingly, sliding up the bed a foot or so. With my legs flat on my stomach, knees at the bottom of my breasts, rump raised, he had easy access to my pussy.

He smiled, nodded, and got himself arranged.

It shows up plenty in porn, but real-life lesbians don't actually rub their pussies together all that much. Oh, it happens... but it's seldom a 'go-to' move. Fingers and tongues are way more precise and dextrous.

However, Ben's 'clenis' could actually get inside me some. Hardly deep inside, of course, but most of the nerve endings are at the front of the channel anyway. And for my part, what I really cared about was how it felt for him. I gave him every impression of taking pleasure from his efforts, which boosted his confidence. A clit is lower down than a dick, so his hips were somewhat offset, but it worked.

We came, and then he insisted on eating me out. It probably won't shock you to hear he was better than average. Nor that we kept going for a good interval after that. After quite a while, we both pretty much collapsed.

At least ninety percent of the time, guys didn't care to linger once they'd had their fun. A handful wanted to rest or talk entwined with the beautiful woman they had just came in, or on. Ben was like that. But not the way you might expect - not like a post-orgasmic woman wanting to cuddle, to share closeness and affection.

He just... wasn't ready for it to be over. He wanted me to be womanly, to be a little stereotypical, and cling to him some. Ordinarily it would have been annoying - I'd have been looking forward to my next fuck - but this situation was a bit out of the ordinary. For one thing, Gerry's Girl or not, I was a human being, and I'd just had a lot of closely-spaced orgasms. For another, it was a chance for him to talk with someone who knew, and accepted, a central aspect of himself that he'd had to both fight for... and hide. I got to hear a chunk of his life story. I was only the third girl he'd ever bedded - and naturally the most successful outing he'd had, by far.

He'd worked several jobs in his life, including security guard, but for the last several years he had been a firefighter in Denver. That had taken an assload of work, and he'd had to go through a bunch of shit to prove he could do the job and earn the trust of the others. Firefighters have to trust each other, and a lot of prejudices were against him. But he was accepted now, by most of his co-workers. I could see how much he cherished that.

He had that puppy-like gratitude lots of guys showed when their fantasies come true. These days I understood why women were sometimes willing to do things for their guy that they didn't particularly enjoy, just because they wanted to see him happy. There's a difference between pleasure and joy - and Ben gave me a rare combination of both. Pleasure was easy for Gerry's Girls, but we seldom made a major positive difference in someone's life.

I was a good reader of people. Security guard, firefighter... knight... As he was getting dressed, I spoke up.

"I think there's someone you need to meet."


The wardrobe department had a few logistical bonuses. We only had to stock shoes in three different sizes - women's 5, 7, and 9. Gerry had us 'standardized'. Which was good because we needed so many kinds - boots, sandals, pumps, wedges, and especially heels. Plus the guys couldn't tell - and wouldn't have cared - that most of our clothes were cheap knock-offs and copies. Which was good, considering how many things got torn, stained, or otherwise ruined per night.

There was a lot of teamwork here, keeping up appearances. We all kept an eye on each other for makeup damage, clothing failures, hair problems, etc. Ensuring everyone looked their best was a communal duty.

Normal females were often hostile to attractive, sexually-available women. Competition, mostly. But being jealous of each other's looks here was silly. It'd be like tulips being jealous of roses or orchids. We were all gorgeous, just in different ways.

Besides, we liked being around sexy ladies dressed - or undressed - provocatively... because of the delicious effect it had on men. I didn't really care if a guy got hot for me, or Melissa, or Jessie, or Anong, or Collette - all that mattered was he got hot.

I mean, it was awesome when I got to make a guy spurt. It felt great, I came every time. But I got a nice frisson of pleasure just knowing another girl was going to get him there. If I could tell, say, Reika would really do it for some client, I'd make sure to send him her way. And they all made sure to steer guys in my direction if they thought they'd get the most out of me. We were all in it together. A weird kind of sisterhood, but... no cock-blocking here. Or rather, box-blocking.

It wasn't like we were going to run out, after all.


The Emperor's Room was big - a couple thousand square feet, with an extensive array of amenities. A full bar, a large Jacuzzi in one corner, an oversized bed big enough for a dinner party, a spacious lounge area, and a spiral staircase up to a stately bedroom with "just" a king-size bed. Large windows offered a view of the desert sunset outside from the top floor of Gerry's Place.

It was a decadent space, suitable for fulfilling a wide range of fantasies. Within very few limits - Gerry refused to provide even the illusion of illegal entertainments such as underage companions or real violence - clients could arrange for their heart's desire. If they were willing to part with mucho dinero for the privilege.

I hadn't seen it up until now. This morning Melissa had stopped by and informed me I had an assignment here tonight. I'd gleaned as much information as possible from Anong and other girls during the day. A few seemed jealous that I'd gotten the opportunity.

I adjusted the formal, dark pink dress with white trim. It exposed ample cleavage. Then again, I now had a lot more cleavage to expose. I was taller, about five foot six, with shoulder-length pink hair (and pink pubes). I was now at least a hundred sixty pounds, plump and plush, with big pendulous breasts. A little further magic had endowed me with pierced nipples and a hole for a lip ring. Gerry couldn't create tattoos as such, but an artist painted some designs on my skin, and the ring sank the pigments down below the surface. He could remove them later just as easily.

It was surreal. I didn't look a thing like Marci anymore. Not even a "big beautiful" pink-haired version of her. My eyes were a different color. The face was pretty - no duh, right? - but definitively not Marci-related. And it felt so weird to turn my head without feeling the hair shifting and sliding all down my back. By now, it felt wrong.

Melissa was still blonde, but also transformed. Zaftig and padded, with breasts bigger than mine plus a sizeable round rump. All the girls in the room were well-rounded, in keeping with the client's specifications. Only Melissa was clad in white lace and brocade, however. The rest wore the same dark pink dress as me.

The client wanted a wedding party of plus-size women. It was a preposterous setup - he was a male stripper coming to a bachelorette party, and would wind up fucking the bride and all the bridesmaids. Gerry had a rep for being able to tease out what a client really wanted... and the most they were willing to pay. Telepathy is a killer edge when negotiating.

The situation was technically possible, sure. More plausible than a lot of notions people stroked off to, in fact. But would everybody be dressed in bridal gown and bridesmaid dresses, plus full makeup, for a party? Our job was to sell the fantasy, however, and for the price he was paying he deserved good service.

Gerry had given the client a little boost. First, a pill he'd been told would give him extra stamina. Actually just a placebo - but accompanied by a covert magical enhancement. Few guys could fuck six women in a row naturally. He even got a slight upgrade to the size of his dick. Not enough to be suspicious; merely enough to enhance his confidence.

A few minutes remained before he arrived. We were milling about, making sure we knew our characters and the rough outline of how the night was supposed to go. It wasn't the kind of thing that could be scripted in detail. For these sorts of jobs, the girls who were best at improvising got selected. In a way, it was flattering that I'd been tapped.

I was talking to Jessie. She was a brunette tonight, and as upholstered as the rest of us. "Feels weird, huh?" I nodded my head at her very different figure. Her waist was likely four times its normal - or rather, usual - circumference.

"It's nice to do something different sometimes," she said, unconcerned. Her voice was higher. It was hard to psychologically connect the girl in front of me with the exaggerated spectacle I'd seen before.

"What's it like?" I was compelled to ask after a moment.

"Being a freak?" she teased.

"You know I didn't mean that!" I protested. Weakly, though - in a way I had meant exactly that.

She laughed a little, not appearing offended. "It's actually pretty cool. Guys get..." She thought for a second. "They get kind of in a weird place, y'know? They do things they'd never do with a normal girl."

That was an aspect I hadn't considered. And it made sense, come to think of it. I found myself actually feeling a mite jealous.

Before I could muse on that much, the show started. A knock came at the door, which Riley answered. Her face flashed anxious dismay, segueing to thoughtful appreciation. And then she pulled the door fully open.

In stepped the client. He wore a cop uniform, albeit unusually tight-fitting. No gun, but a truncheon of a suspiciously convenient size. And he carried a small bag. We all looked his way, apparently surprised.

"I'm sorry, ladies," he began. "I'm afraid we've had some noise complaints." He looked around. "I'll have to ask you all to move over here." He motioned us to the lounge space. A circular carpeted area recessed a few inches into the floor, surrounded on three sides by long, plush, curved leather couches that faced a giant screen on the wall.

Each of us stole glances at him as we followed meekly along. We all preened ourselves, subtly, the way a woman does when she's interested in a guy and making sure she looks good for him. Adjusting clothes, changing posture, covertly checking makeup. I reached to toy with my hair, but it was shorter than I'd gotten used to. I played it off as a nervous tic.

"Everyone sit down," he ordered sternly. We did so, though some of us were giggling and whispering to each other other. Reika was playing "Maid of Honor", so she elbowed Melissa and muttered something in her ear. They both laughed.

Once we were arrayed on the couches, he shook his head. "Like I said, people have been complaining about the noise you're making." He glanced at all of us, trying to be cool about it. He didn't do a perfect job; we'd been restructured to his specifications, and he couldn't help appreciating our looks somewhat. We acted just a bit nervous and cowed.

He continued. "You don't really seem like the noisy type, though." He frowned, and unzipped the bag. "Looks like I'll have to..." A portable speaker system emerged. "... bring the noise!"

"Whooooo!" we all called, laughing and smiling. Our glances at him became openly lascivious while the music started up and he set the speaker against the wall. Then he commenced to dance.

He would not have made it as a real stripper. He was only in average shape, and of average height. Not a bad face, though. His dance skills... well, Ms. Ep would have called him 'teachable'. Plus he was nervous at first. I think he was realizing how silly his chosen scenario was, wondering if we were judging him behind our rapt expressions. But as we played into it, it turned him on. He became more aroused... and that was incredibly seductive. We didn't have to pretend at all now. Soon he really was driving us wild.

I shifted in my chair, and licked my lips. All the women were paying close attention, looking flushed. He was getting us too turned on, making us lose control. Exactly what he wanted.

He grabbed Chloe's hand and pulled her to her feet. Then he danced around her. We all hooted and made catcalls - actually quite reminiscent of the main floor downstairs, only in a higher register. He got in her personal space, with hands and crotch. She was like a mouse hypnotized by a predatory snake, paralyzed. Obviously tempted but unsure. His cap and sunglasses came off, and then his shirt. We all drank him in, making little titters and cries of approval.

His caress wasn't particularly skillful, nor were his moves especially slick. On one level, I was amused by his attempted seduction. On every other level I was completely enthralled. Any expression of male sexual interest, however clumsy, is hot to a Gerry's Girl. Finally he leaned in and kissed her. The dam broke and she clung to him, kissing back ravenously. We all shrieked in delighted shock and surprise.

He kneaded her ass and pulled her in tight, getting no resistance whatsoever. And then he got a hand on the back of her dress and slid the zipper down. Our catcalls stopped, and our voices dropped to whispers.


"What the fuck?"


The top half of her dress fell from her shoulders, bunching at her waist, exposing her breasts. (Few women with breasts of the size we now possessed would go braless in real life, but this wasn't exactly real life.) He manhandled one while continuing to kiss her, his other arm holding her waist close to him. Chloe appeared to have completely forgotten where she was, or anything but getting busy with the stripper who was all over her.

He let go of a breast and used his hands to push her dress down past her waist. She started fumbling at his belt, but he broke off and spun out of her grip. Her expression became bereft for a moment as she stood there in panties and stockings and heels, reaching helplessly for him. But he smiled and shimmied and took off his belt, then slid down his pants, exposing a banana hammock that was bulging. There was a kind of collective sigh...

Chloe knelt before him and kissed that bulge. Then she pulled the brief briefs down and away. His cock was only slightly above average, but now there was a collective gasp. While the awe might have been exaggerated, the sheer lust it engendered in the crowd was entirely authentic. My panties were soaked.

Chloe started sucking him desperately, like a drowning woman snatching at a lifeline. It was his turn to breathe deeply, but before long he pulled out of her mouth. Then, in swift order, he got her up and laying on a couch, relieved her of her underwear, and plunged into her dripping snatch. She screamed and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in.

We were all staring in shock, mesmerized and avid, some moaning softly. I and Jessie were softly, apparently unconsciously, rubbing our nipples and crotches through the fabric of our dresses.

They came. As you might guess, it was dramatic. Perhaps even melodramatic; Chloe was not at all subdued. As he pulled out, there came a delicate moment. How we acted at this juncture was critical. We had to maintain the mood.

Jessie was closest. She knelt down in front of him to 'take him in hand', staring in amazement at her own stroking fingers. More "ohmigods" and other, coarser expletives were uttered as the girls exchanged uneasy glances - to the effect of, "Are we really going to do this?" But no one tried to stop her. In seconds the apparent misgivings had faded, and the pair had an invested audience.

I was so invested that before long my skirt was hiked up and I was rubbing my pussy through my panties. My colored hair and tattoos bespoke a level of impulsiveness, so it had plausibility. And this gave the other girls cover to gradually up their own game.

Riley was usually the hair-dyed and tattooed one. (The under-the-table I saw that first night was hers.) For tonight's engagement, she was a plump - of course - bleach blonde with dainty hands. Those hands had extricated a small vibrator from her purse and removed enough clothing to put it to good use. The only woman not self-stimulating in some way was Melissa. She was frozen, unable to look away.

Jessie and the client got to an explosive climax. Riley and I didn't exactly fight for who went next, but it was clearly a competition. Riley still had some clothes on, whereas I was naked by then. Unburdened by clothing or a vibrator, I got to him first. He was barely out of her before I had my mouth around his member.

I wasn't the top cocksucker at Gerry's. LaShawna was a fucking genius at it. But, false modesty aside, I was one of the smartest girls. I'd learned fast, and I had the advantage of knowing what they felt like on the receiving end. It only took him a couple minutes to get hard again. I can't take all the credit for that, though. Magic helped, plus being the center of attention for a lustful crowd of women was, obviously, kind of a turn-on for him.

Once he was good and stiff, he pulled out of my mouth and lifted up on my shoulders. After my transformation, I was too hefty to just manhandle. Since I wasn't fighting him at all, though, he maneuvered me into his desired position with no trouble.

I was bent over, ass up and elbows on a couch. He plunged into me from behind and began pumping, claps sounding as his belly and hips hit my new bubble-butt. It felt strange, being so much more... hefty than before. But I felt... comfortable for him. Padded, upholstered. And his dick, ramrod straight for the third time that night, told my kink that he loved my form, so I was thrilled. And when he shot off, I was ecstatic.

Riley and Reika got fucked in turn - Riley between her tits, and then Reika from behind, like me. He was slowing down a smidge by then. Still having fun, though. All of us bridesmaids were cheering him on. And conspicuously pleasuring ourselves or one another.

The client wrapped up with Reika, leaving her collapsed and panting on a couch. He was breathing pretty deeply himself. Nowhere near what a guy who'd just come five times in a row should have been, though. I'd have suspected drugs if I hadn't known about magic.

Therefore, it wasn't very long before he set his eyes on the 'bride'. If Chloe had been a mouse to his snake, Melissa was a rabbit staring down a drooling wolf. She wasn't frozen, she trembled with confusion and need. He stepped - stalked - closer, as his cock lifted yet again.

Jessie spoke up after a few seconds. "Melissa, come on! You gotta try him!"

Riley chimed in. "Fuck, Mel, he's amazeballs! I never came like that! Not even with my Rabbit!"

"I'm getting married tomorrow..." she wailed. But her eyes never left the dick hovering in front of her.

I stepped up to her. "Mel. It's your last chance." I pulled her hand, lifting her up off the cushions. "You gotta." She stood, then fell to her knees before him. He smiled, almost cruelly, and rolled his hips. Clearly lost to his fantasy, no self-doubt or misgivings anymore.

Her resistance blew away like dust in a strong wind. With a moan, she leaned the few inches forward and ran her tongue up his shaft. Several of the girls were rubbing their twats, transfixed with lust. Chloe and I were rubbing each other's pussies, and kissing, but kept stealing glances as he plowed Melissa. Soon we were joined by Riley. Jessie and Reika began making out.

He took his time. It was several minutes before he took her on the plush carpeted floor, skirt hiked up and panty-crotch shoved to the side. Mel's innocence had vanished, a wicked leer lit up her face as she relished his every thrust. "Oh fuck oh fuck fuck me fuck me fuck me..." she chanted.

He came with a roar, a tenor note anchoring the alto and soprano groans, shrieks, and cries as everyone in the room orgasmed at once. I grasped now why Emperor jobs were so popular. Fucking a series of guys was excellent, but focusing on one man and making his wet dreams come true... that was a special treat.


Remember the security guards I mentioned before? Maybe you're wondering why they were willing to sign up.

Gerry had thought carefully again. He had to screen applicants aggressively, but he had a unique benefits plan. In return for at least a year of service, they got paid well, and received bodies on a par with Captain America - strong, fast, tough, with incredible endurance, which they could keep after their term so long as they agreed to keep quiet.

And they had plenty of time for martial arts practice, or time on the gun range. Since they couldn't be tempted by us, we couldn't be tempted by them. We were friendly, but only friendly. You might expect that would limit the takers, even with the other considerations. Why bother working at an ice cream shop if you don't want sweets? And you'd be right... except Gerry had one more thing to offer as an incentive.

A retirement party.

On their last day, they got the Emperor's Room for the night, and their pick of the girls. And an entire year's unleashed libido in a body powerful enough to express it. All of Gerry's Girls looked forward to those nights.

Tonight, Tony was saying his goodbyes. And he'd picked a series of girls to enjoy. Astonishingly enough, I was one of them. He knew who I'd been, but wanted me anyway? It got me wet, thinking of lust so strong it could overcome such reservations.

On the top floor, near the service elevator, there was a little dressing room for girls to get prepped for an entrance. Tonight it was an undressing room; he wanted his ladies au naturel. Clarissa was in there as I arrived, putting on a robe.

"How's it going? Any tips?" I asked.

She wore a satisfied smile. "He's still going strong. Seems to like starting out gentle and gets kinda heavy at the end."

"Thanks," I said, filing away the info as I ditched the lacy nightgown I'd worn on the elevator ride up. I inspected myself in the mirror for any makeup issues or cruft in my hair.

I passed inspection, so I draped my hair over my breasts and down my stomach. If I leaned my head forward the ends just covered my pussy. Sometimes it was more about what you concealed than what you showed. The chance of an accidental reveal could often be more exciting than letting it all hang out.

I stepped - almost strutted - through the door. Off to the left, Tony sat naked and at ease on one of the couches around the 'lounge pit'.

Obviously he was a physical specimen. Almost any heterosexual woman would have felt her heart flutter. His dark hair was cropped short, but longer than a crew cut. There was a manly amount of body hair, he wasn't plucked clean like a model; but neither was he a gorilla. His muscles were ample yet didn't bulge; they were hard and sharply defined, not grotesque. Same for his cock; it was generously sized but not - quite - intimidating.

His physical charms did nothing for me, however; I wasn't actually a heterosexual woman. What I appreciated was good cardiovascular health and stamina, plus libido and confidence. That is to say, I was looking forward to a guy who would have zero trouble getting it up, and keeping it up. His dick was limp for now, but I knew that would change soon.

"Hey there," I said, archly.

He just stared at me for a moment. "Hey."

Something was wrong. He was looking at my face, my body - a heterosexual male almost couldn't help that - but not the way he should. Abstract, not concrete. Like a guy looks at a naked statue. Sexy, maybe, but not something you could do anything with.

I tilted my head - and my hips - slightly. I had a confusing sense that I needed to get things going quickly, or things might not get going at all.

I stepped closer. The smell of sex was in the air; he had unquestionably been busy. I was doing my level best with my walk and my face, but his dick remained stubbornly limp.

He held up a hand for me to stop. "I saw you when you came in the first night. I got you dressed after Collette took you out." He shook his head. "And then you were a sucking cock like a pro the next fucking day."

Yes, something was definitely wrong. He kept going. "Before, it didn't bother me much. It was funny." His head lowered, he gazed up at me. "But now I got my mojo back. Got some perspective." He scoffed. "How could you let him do that to you? Were you a fag before?"

Sex wasn't going to happen, obviously. He was just... disgustedly curious. I wasn't horny anymore, I was irritated and ashamed. And a good chunk of that shame was because I felt disappointed and frustrated. So I was all acid as I replied, "No." I even went on the offensive. "Were you castrated until this morning?"

He sat up sharply at that, glaring. "I was still a man."

I almost blurted, 'so am I'... but it wasn't true in any way he'd accept. Struggling for an alternative, I stammered, "You... don't know what it's like... I didn't choose this."

He wasn't impressed. "Yeah, you did. The ring can't make you do anything."

At that, I recovered some will. "Made you leave more than three dozen gorgeous, horny, experienced 'sluts' alone for a couple years."

He took a deep breath. He was getting angry - and I suddenly felt stupid for challenging him. He was the kind of guy who'd never hit a girl. If he decided I was a man, though... he was probably a full order of magnitude stronger than me.

But then he sat back and took hold of his tool. "And you can't leave these alone."

I couldn't keep my eyes from following his hand as it stroked up and down. Was his manhood stirring? Maybe? "That's not fair."

"Go ahead. Choose to walk away." He slid his foreskin back a bit.

I nearly did. But I stared just a second too long; I had just started to turn when I realized his prick was getting stiff. I was drawn back.

He laughed. "You really can't do it, can you?" And his prick lifted a bit.

That tore it. I understood. Or, at least, suspected. I thought I saw a way to get him going. If I'd still despaired, I could have left. But knowing that the option existed...

By now, seducing was a reflex. It didn't take any conscious reflection. I bit my lower lip, the angle of my hips shifted, et cetera et cetera. Not all at once; my collapse was gradual. A progressive loss of self-control, over several seconds. An act finely calculated to arouse.

He'd seen that act thousands of times before in his time as a Gerry's Guy. It shouldn't have worked. Before, though, he hadn't had the vulnerability of a libido. Now he had the same motive other guys did to buy the act. And he did.

Besides, it became less of an act, over those same seconds - since it worked. His dick got hard. My guess was right, he enjoyed my weakness. Which automatically made me want to be weak. Which could be dangerous...

"You want this?" he asked. "Get on your knees." Was there a trace of huskiness in his tone?

I dropped. "Please, don't..." I whined. "I don't..."

"Shut up. Pussy."

I had a handle on him, from gossip and the incidental interactions we'd had. He wasn't a bad guy. He had a lot of respect for women, and wanted to protect them; otherwise Gerry would never have hired him. But he had kind of fixed ideas of how men and women should be. Old-fashioned in some ways. As far as he was concerned, men had a duty to honor and care for women. Women had the luxury of that protection and nurturing, to carry out their own necessary functions.

It was kind of like the attitude of many soldiers toward civilians. They took pride in putting their lives on the line to defend others, considered it honorable. But they felt it made them superior to civilians in some ways, too. That also meant a man accepting womanhood was fleeing that duty, like a soldier deserting their post.

So here, before him, was a sexy creature who deserved, in his mind, to be humiliated. An outlet for desires he'd normally never consider acknowledging, much less indulging.

"Beg for it." He stood, and his cock stood out from his crotch.

I didn't say anything. I just gazed with longing at his shaft.

"Beg, bitch."

I broke. "Please," I whispered, reaching toward it. "Please let me..."

He batted my hand away. "No."

I turned and fell forward. I was on my hands and knees, raising my ass to him. My hair slid to either side. "Please, fuck me, oh God please! I need you to fuck me!"

I heard and felt him crouch behind me. "Oh, you want this?" he said, and the tip of his dick brushed against my lips. I moaned, "Yes, I need it, please..." I pushed back, trying to envelop him.

He slipped back and gave me a good spank on one cheek. "Nuh uh, bitch. You don't move."

I melted down onto my elbows, but kept my rump spread and available. "Fuck, oh fuck, you've got to do me, I can't stand it, oh God please..."

He knew I'd been a man, not three weeks ago. And here I was, desperately whining for him to fuck me doggy style. He wanted me to feel humiliated... and I did. And the more humiliated I felt, the more it got his rocks off. And that drove me wild.

We were caught in a loop. The more I debased myself, the hotter he got. And the hotter he got, the more I wanted to debase myself.

I kept pleading with him. "Fuck me, stick it in, oh God I need it, please oh God please..." I was trembling slightly. I had a great ass; I was very confident he'd crack soon.

And again I was right. He roughly grabbed my hips and shoved into me. "Here you go, cunt! Take it all!"

He slammed into me again and again, almost brutal, with little appreciable regard for my feelings. He wasn't completely out of control - he'd probably have broken my hips, otherwise - but he was definitely punishing me. Taking his pleasure from me.

And I loved it, screaming in mixed pleasure and pain. The pain, indeed, making the pleasure more intense. Shrieking and moaning so he'd keep doing it.

Abruptly he pulled out. With one arm, he flipped me over onto my back. The rug was deliberately padded, so it didn't hurt, but it took my breath away for a moment. Naturally my legs were spread.

In that moment, he got on top of me. He penetrated me again, but one hand covered my mouth. I could still breathe through my nose - smelling his fingers, he'd definitely been playing with many women tonight - but my cries were muffled as he thrust repeatedly, giving me a serious pounding.

He locked eyes with me. I could almost hear his thoughts. 'You're helpless. I can do anything I want to you and you can't stop me. This is what you chose. This is what you are now. A toy for men, that's all.'

He came and I squealed in humiliated, submissive ecstasy. It went on for longer than I expected - he was enhanced and optimized, after all. For a few seconds, he stopped, panting - even he was out of breath. Then he got up and walked to the bar, wetting a washcloth to wipe himself off.

I laid there for a time, limp. He looked my way and said, gruffly, "Get out of here." I could tell he was embarrassed, and using anger to cover that up. Just like a man.

I climbed to my feet and left, walking funny. The door was closed behind me as soon as I was in the hall.

A lingerie-clad Riley seemed a little startled when I came into the dressing room. We were familiar with all different kinds of "just been fucked" looks, and she hadn't been expecting the "rode hard and put away wet" style from an encounter with Tony. "What happened?" she exclaimed.

I sighed, and said, "Special, uh, circumstances. It's cool." A shade sardonically, I said, "He's probably gonna want to be gentle and take his time with you. Be a lady." As she absorbed my words, I added, "A naked lady."

She understood that, and began unhooking her bra. It would be a little tricky for her - it's not easy to put out a 'lady' vibe with her tattoos and piercings and dyed hair. But I knew she could pull it off. I picked up the nightgown, and made my way to the elevator, lost in thought.

We had learned things about ourselves, and each other, that we weren't proud of. We'd brought the worst out in each other. I think we were both glad we wouldn't see each other again. And I resolved to never get near a serious sadist before I was a man again.

But holy fuck had it been hot.


Halloween at Gerry's Place was next-level. Customers had to pay a large fee to get in that night, but it was all-inclusive. Dinner, dessert, drinks, entertainment, and all the girls they could fuck until midnight. (Although, in practice, few guys made it past two.)

Gerry seemed to really enjoy it. He got to let his creativity range free. Costumes could be impressive as fuck with judicious use of magic.

He had transformed my hair yet again; still the same length, but now black with white stripes, styled into a windswept mane. Even the tuft of pubic hair over my shaved lips had stripes. Some body paint - which the ring turned into tattoos - and I became a zebra girl. A buttplug gave me a literal ponytail. (The ring couldn't give us non-human traits, sadly.) The only other thing I wore were white and black wedges - very steeply sloped, of course, to give my ass a wiggle. As I walked, they clattered like hooves.

There were other animal themes. Melissa was a splotchy cowgirl; her breasts were, for the night, producing milk and her nipples were oversized and fat. Anong was a fox, with a cute bushy tail. Jessie was a rabbit, wearing bunny-ears. Collette, hair curled in ringlets, was - what else? - a French poodle. Chloe had orange-and-black lingerie that matched the monarch butterfly wings she wore with a little headband with antennae.

Animals weren't the only type of costume, naturally. Sexy nurses, sexy superheroines, sexy witches, sexy vampires, even Madison as a sexy Pokémon catcher.

The mood was festive on the main floor. I mean, lots of people let their freak flag fly on Halloween, step outside their usual characters - and morals. You can imagine how we did everything possible to take advantage of that. Our flirting behavior was even more blatant than usual.

I got in five under-the-tables in the first hour. Enough that it impacted my effectiveness as a waitress, but we had the whole staff circulating. Even the ones on their period; LaShawna and September were dressed as BDSM slaves with chastity belts. Made for an excellent excuse.

I figured out pretty fast that Kevin would be my first fuck of the night. He was just fixated on me. Like he couldn't get over my costume. I think the only reason he didn't have me take him back first thing was he was pacing himself. But I felt his eyes on me the whole time.

I was excited. I remembered what Jessie had said, how a really different girl caused guys to push their boundaries some.

An hour in, I swung by his table and gave him a smoldering look, imitating Collette my first night. He grinned and stood up before either of us said anything. Of course we talked some on the way back to my room. He was in his mid twenties. He was in banking, and had just broken up with a girlfriend. I absorbed every detail, just in case it would prove helpful when it came time to get to business.

We stepped inside; I kept the lights low. I led him to the center of the room, and kissed him. Reverently and silently I disrobed him; I tried to emphasize the animal, the sensual. To make the experience almost dreamlike. When I knelt and played with his cock, I sniffed at it first, obviously aroused by the aroma.

I didn't intend to get him off that way, at first. Just to get him excited. I did a smidgeon of ass-play as I suckled. From his reactions, I could tell that (a) he hadn't had that done to him before, but (b) he found it enhanced the experience. When he got close to shooting off, though, I disengaged with a teasing smile and stood languorously. I turned away slightly - making sure my rump drew his attention - and he moved in.

He stood pressed up behind me; his erection lay across one of my ass-cheeks like a promise. A hand curled around and cupped my mound, another stroked my breasts. I looked at us in the mirror; I really was otherworldly in this costume. I stared in his eyes in the mirror, then lifted my face to him. He kissed me over my shoulder. I knew I was going to make him come hard, and his hand rubbing my labia got wet.

He pushed me down onto the rug - which, as I noted before, was soft and comfortable for a reason. He turned me and we grappled facing each other for a time. Then he slid down, spread my legs, and got his face in my crotch.

A fair number of guys only do oral under duress. They don't like going down on a woman but do it to make her happy - or at least, to increase their chances of getting a blowjob. On the other hand, plenty of guys do enjoy cunnilingus - but let's face it, there aren't a hell of a lot of males that ejaculate from licking pussy. And guys who are paying for sex understandably tend to focus on what gets them off.

So Gerry's Girls didn't get oral as often as you might think. Even were they inclined, most guys are so frantic to get with us that sticking that dick in is all they can think about. But there were clients that enjoyed foreplay, and got genuine pleasure from pleasuring us. He was one such. I think since there was no time limit he felt like appreciating the experience.

He spent a little too much time with his tongue inside my vagina; most women prefer more focus on the clit. But since he was having fun, I had no complaints. And while I had denied him release, he made sure to make me come.

We didn't slack off, though. We stayed on the ground, but he turned me again.

I lay on my side, the 'tail' running up my rump and back between us. He spooned with me, chest to my back, my hair pressed between. His legs and hips against mine, he entered me from behind. The buttplug moved interestingly with the pressure. And with my legs together, my lips moved over my clit. It felt nice.

I kept things nonverbal. My whines and whinnies had an animalistic tinge, but were fundamentally human. He grunted, and moaned, and panted. I let out a cry when he came inside me. We rested together, in no hurry to part. Eventually I stirred and lapped him clean, slowly and with relish. He got erect again as I worked, and this time I gave him release that way, to my obvious, uninhibited delight.


I spent my third weekend making videos. They were great advertising and naturally we got a share of the revenue they brought in. I fucked four guys and five girls and had a lovely time.

Porn star guys are weird. They have to keep their rods stiff, without coming. And we did it in weird positions that looked good but were less than totally practical. At least thinking about guys jerking off to me made it fun. And at Gerry's Place, there was no need for fluff girls. In fact, we had kind of a reputation - we kept trying to get them to go off early. (Said reputation was entirely justified, of course.)

Most of the plots and situations were pretty standard, though the production values and passion were unusually high. One was a little different, though. Even more expensive to shoot, but Gerry himself had made the request. A lot of that one was shot underwater.

It took forever to dry my hair after getting in the pool. Looking at the dailies afterward, though, I knew it was worth it. The long-hair freaks would go bananas. When I swam around, I was followed by a great flowing trail of auburn. When I was low in the water, I became surrounded by a halo of floating strands. The effect was multiplied in the scene where I blew one stud standing in the shallow end. Only my head stuck out of the water, and my hair rippled in time with my bobbing motions.

I didn't feel pride when they showed up on the video menu and the website that night. Some corner of me felt - not shame, not anymore - but embarrassment. Although I couldn't help taking a few minutes to rub myself and picture all the guys yanking their puds because of them...


Gerry and I maintained a wary relationship. We didn't see each other very often. He knew as well as I did - literally - my determination to leave the moment I could. I was willing to go as far as a truce, simply because the realities of the situation demanded it. I'd leave him alone if he left me alone; but I wasn't going to help him at all. And I'd have loved to get him back - if it were possible.

Still, I had saved him some trouble finding a replacement for Tony. After reading Ben's mind, he'd extended a job offer. Given the unique benefits Gerry could offer, I hadn't been at all surprised Ben took him up on it.

I was glad that the security force wasn't under-strength, that Ben was being trained. I knew that soon Gerry's Place would need all the guards it could manage. On my way to the salon one morning, I got a chance to see him power-lifting - and it was awe-inspiring. He did a clean-and-jerk, and I couldn't even count the plates. But the bar curved, almost scarily, with the weight. When he dropped it on the padded floor, the whole basement echoed.

He was still recognizably Ben, but idealized. Much less body fat, wider shoulders, narrower hips, a couple inches taller. He caught sight of me and waved. I waved back and started to move on, but he said something to Chris, who was coaching him, and loped over to the door to talk to me.

Like all the security guys, he looked at my face, and his eyes didn't wander to my body. By now it felt weird not to be ogled. "Hey," he said, "I just wanted to thank you again for everything."

He'd been fulsome in his gratitude, understandably, the handful of other times I'd seen him. It got to the point of awkwardness; I was avoiding him anymore. "No big deal."

"Hey, it's everything to me."

I shrugged. "Yeah, well, we both want the same thing."

That penetrated a bit; he had the grace to look embarrassed. "Uh... yeah. It'll be soon, right?"

"Ten days." I shrugged. "I got to go get my hair sorted out. Glad it's going well for you."

He took the hint. "Yeah, okay. Have a good day!" He waved and went back into the gym.

I wasn't sure what I felt as I headed to the salon.


"Fuckin' A, let's go!" I whispered. The other girls grinned at me, but I could tell they were eager to get going, too.

I was super excited, and at this point I wasn't even bothering to be ashamed of how eager I was to get out on stage and dance for all the men to see.

And then Destiny waved at me and we stepped past the curtain.

The extra practice during my period had helped a bunch. Ms. Ep had finally given me the go-ahead to be a backup dancer. Chloe was one of the first girls, and she was retiring in just a few days. This was kind of her 'grand finale'.

Chloe was up front, singing. Anong, Destiny, and I were dancing in a line behind her, occasionally lip-synching the chorus. It was a pretty raunchy chorus, but all my attention was on moving in sync with my fellow dancers, hitting my marks.

Well, not all my attention. It wasn't as good as my imagination in some respects. The stage lights made it hard to see the crowd. But we could hear them over the music, and they were as raucous as I could've hoped.

Chloe had a more elaborate stripping routine, but us backup girls weren't wearing many layers. A dress, bra, and panties. So we just took off an item at three different points in the song. I knew it was a seriously sexy routine; I'd been seeing it in a mirror for a week. And Chloe, in addition to being a hell of a dancer, had an incredible voice. So by the time we were done, we got a standing ovation. And the guys stood and clapped, too.

After, when I took up my waitressing tasks, I had several guys compliment me on how I "shook that ass", and at least two guys came back to my room because of that advertising. I knew on some level it should have still bothered, me, but I felt nothing but pride of accomplishment.

Ms. Ep had a sharp critique of my performance the next morning. I hadn't been up to her standards for Gerry's Place. "Any slut can wiggle her hips and get a stiffie going. Here, we're giving them dream girls. Better than their dreams."

The guys who fucked me last night seemed pretty happy, I thought to myself. But I meekly buckled down for more practice.


I got to see Chloe before she left, when she came to say goodbye to Anong. She had a new identity, and looked different. Still stunning, still a biracial young woman, same hair color and eye color and general build. But the face and body shape were just different enough that she was definitely not 'Chloe' anymore. Nobody could blackmail her with pictures from her time at Gerry's Place.

She gave Anong a hug. She only nodded to me, but it was friendly, and I was the 'new girl', after all. "Gerry fixed your brain?" Anong asked, curious.

"Yeah," Chloe said, smiling.

Anong was clearly curious. "What's it like?"

Chloe snorted. "It's sorta fucked-up. I remember doing all kindsa stuff, and being all into it." She shook her head in wonder. "I just can't understand why anymore."

I hesitated, but had to know. "Do you feel... um... ashamed?"

She squinted at me, but seemed to figure out why I'd ask that. "Sorta. Not really." She thought for a second. "Like, when I was seven or something, I was all about Justin Bieber. I'm a little embarrassed about it now, but I just... I dunno, I know better now, or something. It's kinda like that. I liked it then, I don't like it now, so what?"

"You still like guys?" Anong asked, curiously.

"Yeah, sure. But I don't need 'em anymore.” She smiled. "And I'm gonna make sure guys treat me right from now on. Do stuff for me in bed. And they're gonna have to work to get there."

It sounded fair. And it fit with what I'd seen of Gerry's m.o. It wasn't simply that he was a shrewd businessman, valuing his workers and compensating them well. He had an almost paternal interest in his girls, and wouldn't send them off scarred. (Of course, they cynic in me pointed out that a dissatisfied Gerry's Girl could cause problems for him...)

Anyway, I asked, "What are your plans now?"

Chloe's smile was sunny. "Gerry got me hooked up with a producer. I'm gonna try to be a singer."

"You'll be superstar!" Anong said excitedly. I agreed. If there were any justice, Chloe would be huge. She could sing without Autotune, she could dance at a high-end professional level, and she was world-class gorgeous. Plus she wasn't desperate for money; she had a much better position to negotiate contracts than most artists starting out.


I woke up Thursday with my now-usual good cheer. But as I showered, I realized that it was my last week at Gerry's Place. I would transform back in six days. It felt very strange. I was in a a weird mood as I went over to Anong's room. After she helped me dry my hair, we had breakfast.

She'd noticed I was being quiet. "Okay, what's wrong?"

It crystallized for me then. I knew what the problem was. "I need to get out. Just for a while. Just to remember that there is an outside world."

"You'll be outta here pretty soon anyway."

"Yeah, but... I dunno. I don't think I've even been outside since Gerry did this to me." I looked at her. "I just... I gotta get out. Just for a while."

Anong only hesitated a moment. "Okay. We should be able to do an overnight. I'll come with." Her smile turned into a leer. "You should see how fun things can be when you're a hot girl ready to party!"

When I went to Gerry's office, it was almost anticlimactic. I went in and asked for permission to head out the next day. He looked at me for a moment; then his eyes got distant as he thought about it. He could see that I wasn't planning to run away or make trouble for him.

"Fine." He gave me a very serious look. "But you take Diana with you."

I saw the point immediately. If I changed my mind, I'd be dragged back anyway. Since I really had no intentions of doing that, I had no objections. "Sure." In an odd way, it took the pressure off, anyway. Not to have to plot an escape and all.

The next morning, Anong and Diana and I went on a road trip to Las Vegas. It's not like I had forgotten what the real world was like - it had been just barely over three weeks at Gerry's - but I did find it cleared my head a little. I wasn't constantly thinking about sex and seduction and all that. I could remember - could see - that most people had other pursuits and priorities, too.

Some things were different, though. I never flashed my boobs at truckers before. And when we got into the city, parked, and took a walk... we also took pictures of each other in public, squatting with our panties pulled to the side, or flipping up our skirts, or lifting our tops, so we could post them on the website when we got back. Some guys really got off on that stuff.

And seeing regular women was really strange, for a couple reasons. For one thing, Gerry's Girls varied quite a bit, as I said. But we had a lot in common, too - guys prefer faces and body shapes in a certain range, after all. Ordinary women with ordinary imperfections came across to me as almost exotic by now.

The other reason it was strange was the hostility those regular women greeted us with. Bordering on hatred, often enough. Gerry's Girls didn't compete with each other... but we were out of that bubble. Females frequently were the most vicious about policing social norms for women's behavior and appearance - and we were hardly genteel and demure in our looks and manners.

Clerks and waitresses and even ladies simply walking by would glare. We were ambling down the strip, and one woman deliberately bumped into me, hard. I would have fallen over if Anong hadn't caught me. Diana reacted with startling speed, 'accidentally' tripping the woman on the rebound. The woman and her friend yelled at us anyway. We ignored them and moved on, but it was a fair stretch before my mood returned to normal.

There was another incident, uncomfortable in an entirely different way. We went to a diner for lunch, and some teenage boys sat down a couple tables over. Young teenagers - like fourteen, fifteen. They couldn't stop staring at us. Just mesmerized.

Of course it got us turned on. I could tell we all wanted to whisk them somewhere out of sight and milk them dry. But... they were kids. It would be just plain wrong.

Another reason for us to stick around Gerry's Place. We rushed through our meals and got out of there. After that, though, we were so worked up we had to do something.

'Something' turned out to be a dive bar down the street. No under-21s there. Just a bunch of older drunk guys. Within ten minutes we each took one or another out to their cars and blew their minds, among other things.

We went back to our car, and in short order got a room in the Bellagio - two double beds - and went in to change. We were all psyched. "Told you it was fun to be a sexy girl on the make," Anong gloated.

I couldn't deny it. Being conspicuous in public was a new experience; private detectives tried to blend in, be anonymous. Marci was a center of attention, inevitably. Marci plus Anong plus Diana drew every eye in range.

Still, I was regaining some perspective, being away from Gerry's Place. "You don't want to do this forever, though - right?"

Anong paused, halfway into applying some lipstick. "Nah, not forever. I do want kids someday." She shrugged, lips quirked. "A few more years, I'll have enough saved up to retire. Gerry can take away the cockhound spell and I'll be rich and gorgeous. Won't be too hard to find a guy willing to marry me and knock me up."

I nodded, working a mascara brush, then smiled myself. "Look me up then. I'd be honored."

She appeared as though she didn't know how to feel about that. Flattered, embarrassed, perhaps even sad? But she smiled and gave me a quick hug. "Maybe I will."

Diana was dressed in a clingy, metallic silver dress. She leaned into the bathroom. "You ever gonna let me use the mirror?" We laughed and I hurriedly finished my makeup. I went to the wall mirror to work on my hair as Diana took over my station in front of the sink.

Once we were ready, we quickly figured out which club we were going to and called an Uber. (We didn't want to have to worry about managing the car all night.) As we walked out, I realized something disquieting. I'd just been alone in a hotel room with two extremely attractive women in various states of undress, who were both doing their damndest to be as sexy as possible. Yet I hadn't really scoped them out, even once. I'd been looking them over some... to make sure their clothes and makeup and hair were right, though. I'd enjoyed the view, but not with the kind of intensity I should have.

Instead I'd mostly been focused on making myself as sexy as possible. It preyed on my mind on the way to the club; the Uber driver was female so I had no distractions.

The clouds over my mood were swept away the moment we got out of the car. The doorman didn't even let us move in the direction of the line, he immediately waved us in. Ludicrously sexy girls are always welcome at such a venue. We hit the floor almost immediately.

I was barely good enough to be on stage at Gerry's Place. For picking up guys in a club, though, I was massively overqualified. You didn't need to be a pro to grab the spotlight, you just had to look good and know a few moves.

Naturally, we were the sexiest girls there. We never lacked for partners and every man around was watching us. Some of the other girls got pretty bitchy but we were having a blast. And we had no need of money; guys argued over who would pay for our drinks, not quite coming to blows.

Then Diana got kicked out. She'd taken a guy to the men's room. And taken him, in the men's room. 'Taken' was precisely the right word. He'd gotten a blowjob, but not exactly the way you'd picture. She'd lifted him up and held him against the wall so his dick was at a convenient height to suck on. Rocked his world. However, the action was a little too dramatic for the bouncers to ignore, what with his head peeking over the top of the stall.

We left with her, of course, several guys following us out the door as though they were tethered to us. A brief discussion wound up with three guys driving us back to our motel. And then, well, you can imagine we didn't fall asleep for rather a long while. Diana had some Viagra in her purse.


I woke up to the sound of Anong moaning.

I opened my eyes. My guy was still out. I lay on one of the beds. Diana was on a couch, still asleep, very snuggly with her gent. I turned my head; Anong had her legs wrapped around her man's hips and was getting gently plowed. I eased myself from the grip of my guy and joined them. I threw my hips over Anong's face and kissed her partner passionately. Threesomes always got men hot.

Within a few minutes, the others woke up. My guy came after me, but I stayed with Anong's beau. I wound up sucking him off, and my guy fucked me from behind, a classic spit roast. Anong went off to help Diana with her fellow, a large and strapping buck.

Eventually we sent the boys on their way, and got cleaned up and dressed. We'd worked up a substantial appetite, of course, so we went down to hit the buffet. I grabbed a bunch of smoked salmon - always loved that stuff - along with various carbs for energy. We didn't have to be back to Gerry's until the evening, so I was sure we could get in at least one more sexual escapade before we drove back.

I noticed Anong over by the sweets area. She had the same idea; she was picking up a guy for an after-breakfast treat. I grinned, getting ready to do the same myself... and then I felt a surge of adrenaline. I recognized the guy she was hitting on. One of Novinski's enforcers.

My eyes darted about. By one of the exits to the buffet, I saw another thug. I didn't know the guy hanging out by the other exit I could see, but he was of the same type.

I had switched to full-on 'emergency strategy mode', analyzing the situation and evaluating contingencies. They wouldn't just be following us; this had to be an attempted abduction. They wouldn't want to do anything in public if they could help it. If they realized we'd made them, though, they might well escalate.

I put on a fake smile and touched Diana's wrist. She turned from gathering a high-protein breakfast, and I said in a quiet voice, "Hostiles. Covering exits. We need to bug out."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. I watched her repeat my assessment. Then she put on her own fake smile and nodded. "Get Anong over here. Stay behind me if anything goes down."

I did a little wave, caught Anong's attention. Come here, I motioned. Right now! my expression said.

She gave me a puzzled, slightly annoyed look. I'm having fun! Unfortunately, the guy saw it and sharply glanced at me.

Maybe I'd lost some poker face as Marci; in any case he decided to make his move. He grabbed Anong's wrist and commenced dragging her to an exit. He waved at us, and the other guys moved in our direction, closing in.

Diana and I both made a beeline toward Anong, who was still indignant rather than scared. But we were intercepted by two toughs, who got in our way and said, "You're coming with..."

That's as far as they got. Diana moved fast. She blurred. Suddenly one guy was curled up and puking, and the other was half-conscious on the floor with a dislocated - and, I think, broken - jaw. She whirled, and before I knew what was going on she'd shoved me off my feet behind a table.

I shot up to my knees, hearing a struggle; another guy was flat on his back. Diana was locked with a fourth goon; her hands gripped his forearms as he strained to grapple with her.

No, one hand held a gun. My heart rate had just enough time to shift to an even higher gear before Diana squeezed that arm and the guy yelled. The gun dropped from a limp hand. An instant later her knee rocketed into his gut and sank inches deep.

He collapsed, helpless and semi-conscious. She kicked the gun across the tile and under a buffet table, then spun and dashed in my direction. I had just managed to stand up. She got a grip under my shoulder and more or less carried me, at speed, after Anong.

I heard alarms screeching as we turned a corner. An emergency exit was open onto blinding daylight. Diana brought me to rest against the wall next to the door, and peeked around the jamb. I heard a gunshot and she jerked her head back fast. Tires squealed outside.

Diana peeked out again, and cursed. Then the casino's security arrived. I watched her visibly consider fighting them too... but she powered down and cooperated.

It took a couple hours to sort out. Four injured men, guns, etc. A review of their security footage cleared us and led to the thugs getting arrested for assault and attempted kidnapping. But it was half an hour before we could even call Gerry to let him know what happened. And then we had to answer endless police questions about the successful kidnapping of Anong.


Once released, we flew down the highway at way past the speed limit and were back at Gerry's in barely an hour. Then we waited. For them to call, or visit, or anything. But there was nothing, for hours. I knew how to get in touch; the only thing keeping me from doing it was that Novinski would see it as weakness. It would put all the other girls at risk.

At more risk. Goddammit.

The mood wasn't as festive as usual on the floor that evening. Everyone knew about Anong and, fetish or no, that's going to impair any human being's erotic inclinations. Everybody liked her.

Diana and I stayed in Gerry's office, waiting. Then there was a scream outside. Chris raced in carrying a red and brown bundle. Diana screamed too, but I just got icy once I realized it was Anong. They'd cut her - everywhere - and dropped her off in the parking lot. Her face looked like raw meat. Her thumbs were gone.


I spent a couple hours holding Anong in her room as she trembled and cried. She was fully healed - all hail the ring - but those motherfuckers had put her through hell. She'd been brought to Novinski, who looked her over and told them to tie her up. Later they pulled her out of closet, attacked her, and left her bleeding in a car trunk lined with plastic. She passed out somewhere on the ride from blood loss. They hadn't even interrogated her, figuring a whore wouldn't know anything important.

She was quiet for a long time. I thought maybe she'd fallen asleep, but then she turned in my arms and looked at me. "Did you really work for that asshole?"

"He hired me," I said, reluctantly.

"Did you know what he was like?" It wasn't precisely an accusation, but I knew our friendship was on the line.

"Yes," I admitted. "But I didn't think anybody in the business was better." Before she could break in, I said, "If you don't believe in magic Gerry seems too good to be true."

She closed her mouth and considered that. "It was still a dick move."

I wasn't forgiven, but I wasn't dead to her yet. I decided to play my hole card.

"I got that a lot. I picked a bad job for someone with my name."

She looked at me quizzically. At least I was distracting her from recent events.

"Before I was Marci, I was Richard Bordreaux."

Even if it was at my expense, I was glad to hear her laugh. "Holy shit! You were actually a private Dick?!"

I looked sheepish and said, "I always hated that joke."

We sat silently for a while. Very softly, she asked, "Are they coming back?"

"Probably." I could feel my face harden. "I've got some surprises in mind for them, though."

She did fall asleep shortly after that, seeming less troubled. I slipped out, carefully. Then I marched down the hall toward the stairs.

I was angry in ways I'd never experienced before. I'd never made any really deep friendships. An only child growing up, I'd never had a sister before - but Anong felt like one now.

And Novinski had hurt her. He'd had two of his goons mutilate her. For life, so far as they knew. Treating her like a thing, like a scrap of paper to write a message on. He'd threatened this whole family. Which I realized I cared about, a lot.

I'd show him what a whore's feelings were worth.

I burst into Gerry's office. He was in a deep conference with Chris and Duane. He looked up at me and his face went wooden. I wasn't surprised; if he was reading my mind it wouldn't be a fun experience.

Without preamble, I pointed at the ring and said, "I need to know exactly what that thing can do. What's its range, anyway? I've seen you don't need line-of-sight."


The meeting was about to begin. Following my advice, Gerry had utterly refused to leave home ground, and after a brief back-and-forth Novinski had agreed to come to Gerry's Place. He was sure he had nothing to fear, anyway. An attack there would start a war, and further involve law enforcement. He'd even brought his son Denis along, as I'd hoped. On-the-job extortion training, you might say.

His bodyguards weren't convinced. In fact, they were acting a little intimidated - his security chief most of all. They had the background to perceive something of how physically dangerous Gerry's Guys were. On top of Diana wrecking four of their mates singlehandedly. Especially when neither Duane nor Murtaugh were bothering to conceal their displeasure. Hostility filled the room.

Novinski seemed more annoyed than unnerved, unfortunately. Several of us were watching from a room down the hall, over a camera. Diana, me, Collette, and Chris. Anong didn't feel up to it.

Zeke, and a nervous but game Ben, were handling regular security out on the main floor. They were ready to respond to Novinski's group if anything went down, though.

Within fifty feet, Gerry could get advice from Collette and me by reading our minds. That didn't cost much magic. Which was fortunate, because the ring was dangerously low. He hadn't budgeted on transforming me and healing September and hiring a new security recruit in the same month as Halloween, plus an Emperor's Room engagement, plus a security retirement party, and Chloe leaving.

Novinski got right to it. "I am your new partner. You will take on manager. My man. He will run books. You will keep fifty percent of profits. We will have use of the girls. Put some of them in our facilities. I will need to speak to your sources, make sure they understand new arrangement."

He was playing up his accent and Russian lack of copulas. Suggesting a brutal, gang-leader vibe. I knew in reality he could speak English rather well.

"That will not be happening, Vadim." Gerry sounded just like I'd hoped, stern and assured.

Novinski sat up straighter, inhaling, but Gerry didn't give him a chance to break in. "You should have taken the hint when your spies failed. They've been dealt with, of course."

A small laptop sat on his desk. He turned it to face the Russians. Novinski's eyes narrowed as he took in the video that played on the screen. Everyone else's eyes widened, or looked away.

The screen showed me in bondage gear - male me, though starved, skinny, and ill-shaved - getting fucked in the ass, my boner wobbling in the air. When the guy fucking me came, so did I. You couldn't fake the pleasure in my eyes. We'd had a couple hours to set that up. Gerry had changed me back physically, but left the fetish in place. That had been my suggestion; it would aid the verisimilitude, and conserve limited magic energy for later.

But that was our cue. "All right, then. I'm up," I said. My voice sounded weird and low to my ears. Chris grabbed me and flipped me over his shoulder - casually, like a dad playing with a toddler. All of Gerry's guards looked strong... and were actually much, much stronger than they looked.

He walked down the hall and came into the office as the video wrapped up, throwing me on the floor in front of them. Novinski's eyebrows flicked up, briefly - surprised I was still alive.

I had on different leathers, leg chains, and handcuffs, but was still mostly naked. I felt extra naked without my long hair. I cowered, sitting on the floor, and said, "Novinski. Oh, God, get the fuck out of here! You got no clue how bad you fucked up!"

"Silence," Gerry said, mildly. In the back of my head, I thought maybe he sounded too much like a movie villain, but I immediately shut up and pulled my knees up to my chest, softly keening in fear.

"You have stumbled into something beyond you," Gerry noted. "Perhaps Semyon should have been notified, but this is above even his need-to-know."

Novinski had been building up to an explosion, but as soon as Gerry mentioned 'Semyon' he took on a very neutral aspect. Some of the former KGB had gone into politics, some had gone into business, some had gone into crime, some were still in intelligence in the FSB. A Russian human trafficker was guaranteed to have intelligence-related contacts; Gerry had plucked the name out of his thoughts. I'd pinned a lot of hopes on that.

"My real manager didn't want to disrupt things too much, but you failed to display any wisdom. We get valuable information here; men from all over the world. Businessmen, diplomats, Saudi princes." He frowned at Novinski, and said, with authority, "Leave now, stay away, never speak about any of this to anyone, and you will live. Do anything else, and you will simply vanish."

Novinski blinked. He looked at me, then at Gerry. Then he said, "Bullshit."

He shook his head once. "If they want lawyers and rag-heads, I can do it. You bluff, badly. You have nice girls, decent muscle. No more." He almost laughed. "I am killer. You are just bank teller."

Gerry looked no more than mildly irritated. I was proud of him. "I told him you were stupid. Go home. Set your guards. If you are still there tomorrow morning, then you can tell me you're a 'killer'."

Novinski bolted upright in anger... and got very still. Duane, Chris, and Murtaugh all had pistols pointing right at him. Drawn faster than I could even follow, in an eyeblink, like a magic trick. Their expressions were totally without mercy, or even concern. His bodyguards had barely begun to react; they froze, uncertain.

I moaned again, and curled into a fetal position, just to enhance the effect.

For the first time, Novinski actually seemed taken aback. Gerry stood up, placed his hands on the desk. "Leave now, or your son dies too."

Novinski shot a look at Denis, then appeared to relax. "I go. But I come back tomorrow with manager." He turned and opened the door - not quite fast enough to trigger an attack, just fast enough to be a challenge.

"No, you won't," Gerry said. The rest of them filed out. Duane and Murtaugh put their guns away and followed them. Closely.


Once the guys returned and reported the invaders had left, Chris undid my restraints. Diana and Collette joined us in the office.

Gerry looked at me. "You were right. Denis would like to take over, but isn't planning to move for at least a few more years." All the anxiety he'd been masking came out. He shook in reaction. "I was hoping he'd back down."

Collette spread her hands wide. "I know, but this is better. He would try again, and might catch us by surprise. You got everything?"

Gerry was already nodding. "From him, his son, and his bodyguards. Locations, passwords, all of it."

I took a deep breath. "Then we move tonight. Let's hear the layout."


The Russians' place was outside of the city, in the foothills of the mountains. They wanted to be isolated, which worked just as well for us. Plus, because they expected trouble, they'd cleared out any noncombatants.

It was funny, in a way. In all my years, I'd never come close to a situation so much like a Hollywood movie. The big bad boss, barricaded in his manor, guards patrolling. A handful of good guys, assaulting.

Reality did intrude, somewhat. The 'manor' was just a nice McMansion, not a multi-acre estate. He only had about ten guards, instead of dozens. Some of them were probably ex-military, and several carried automatic weapons, but it wasn't like infiltrating the Pentagon or anything.

Like movie heroes, we had good intel. Gerry could tell us where the outlying guards would be. Unlike the movies, Gerry was also our best weapon. It looked incredibly stupid, but Chris carried him piggyback.

They jogged around the perimeter of the place, quietly, and Gerry zapped the guards with the ring, from fifty feet out. Putting people to sleep took hardly any juice. They never even heard anything. One second they were awake, the next they were out. Like a switch. Took about a minute and a half. The guards had radios but only checked in every ten minutes.

Once that was done, the guys sprinted for the house along one of the few blind angles (a pair of the now-sleeping guards had covered that approach), carrying Gerry. One lap around the outside of the house, and everyone on the ground floor was zonked. It was a big-enough place, but how many homes have you been in where you can get more than fifty feet from every outside wall?

The back door wasn't locked - to let guards back and forth - so they simply stepped in, and did a quick walkabout on the ground floor. Now the people in the basement and upstairs were taken out, too. From start to finish, under four minutes.

Once things were secure, they called me in from the van we'd parked down the road. As I stepped through the door - still getting used to walking with narrow hips again - Chris, Zeke, and Murtaugh were gathering everyone up and zip-tying hands and feet together. Duane was busy wiping all the security footage and records from tonight, using their own passwords.

"You got them all?"

Gerry smiled in relief. He really wasn't the action-hero type. "Nobody saw anything. They'll all wake up with bad headaches tomorrow morning. Like a drug hangover."

I smiled. Another Hollywood-ism I'd never seen before, the perfectly executed plan. Of course, that was more likely when you had actual magic on your side.

They might as well have been hit by ghosts. The entire estate taken down without a shot fired, without any alarm being raised, and zero traces left behind? When they were explicitly told to expect an attack? That was beyond even organized crime. It took a nation-state to pull off a hit like that, and in reality even they fucked up from time to time.

It'd put the fear of God into them. Especially Denis, at least for a while. He'd be busy taking over his father's operation anyway. No solution is permanent, but this would buy Gerry's Place a couple years breathing room, most likely.

Anong wasn't a fan of violence. She had pleaded that no one else get hurt. As Chris carried a limp Novinski out the door, however, I savored a different class of incipient revenge. I'd talked things over with Gerry and Collette, and we'd pooled our creativity. She liked the proposal we'd come up with.

Not all of the revenge would be nonviolent, however. Duane stared meaningfully at Gerry, who hesitated and licked his lips. He was a little squeamish. Duane's glare became impatient. He eventually broke and pointed out two men, on different sides of the room. "They're the ones."

Duane and Murtaugh picked them up, no expression on their faces. "Don't worry. No one'll ever find 'em," Murtaugh stated. The goons who'd hacked up Anong had brief but vastly unpleasant lives to look forward to. She was well-liked, friendly with everybody; I was far from the only person thoroughly pissed about what they'd done to her.

Maybe she didn't like violence, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.


Gerry and I sat in his office. It was a weird mix of the first and second times. I was a guy again, but I still wanted to get him to come. In this male body, though, there was no hope of doing so. It helped me ignore the urges.

He was speaking very earnestly. "Thank you for your help with... everything. We all owe you a great deal. I wish I could reward you properly. Immediately. But there's simply not enough power left to remove the fetish." He opened his hands apologetically. "At least you only have to wait two more days."

I looked him in the eye. "Do you have enough power to make me Marci again?"

His eyebrows shot up. A few minutes ago, he'd just about drained the ring dry. "Barely, yes, but... is that what you want?"

I grinned. "Can't you tell?"

"I... can't afford to read your mind right now." He looked uncomfortable.

I scoffed, good-naturedly. "You should get some practice figuring out people without that crutch." More seriously, I said, "Whatever I want, you're sure that's what you want. You're too smart not to see three reasons to keep Marci around, right off the top of your head."

He tilted that head, inviting me to elaborate.

"First, if Richard Bordreaux reappears, it'll shatter the illusion we just worked so hard to create for the Russians. Everyone'd be in just as much danger, all over again, right when the ring's useless."

He regarded me thoughtfully, then granted the point. "It would make many things simpler if Mr. Bordeaux were not seen anywhere for a time." It was interesting, analyzing his expression. Cautiously hopeful, but still puzzled.

"And then there's the other wrinkle. Legally, Marci is an assault victim and kidnapping witness thanks to the thing in the casino. The law's gonna want her to testify. And if she doesn't, if she goes missing... Gerry's Place can't afford that kind of legal attention either. That's a whole different class of threat."

"Having Marci available for the next few months would be... very helpful." He looked genuinely confused. "But why not wait until you break the spells - especially the one on your mind? Then have me just change your body?"

"Because I don't actually want to be a girl." I sighed. "With or without the kink, guys'll be hitting on me. Unless I sit in a room the whole time, which'd drive me bonkers." My lips quirked. "So if I gotta be a drop-dead-sexy girl for a while - which I do - I might as well be in a state of mind that lets me appreciate and use the equipment."

He shook his head in wonder. "And now we'll owe you even more." He shrugged in defeat. "I confess, however, that I can't see what the third reason might be."

I smiled in anticipation. "I suppose not. You aren't ruthless enough." He still looked puzzled. "Even with that hint, you still don't see?"

I waited a beat, then let him off the hook. "It's the perfect way for me to greet our new guest downstairs."

Gerry was kind of a stiff, and kept a certain reserve. But at that, he chuckled, then chortled, then laughed uproariously.


"Wakey wakey!" I sang, giving her nipples a good pinch.

She jerked her head up, squealing. She was strapped to a column already, so she didn't have far to go.

Most bondage equipment isn't really intended to restrain an unwilling victim. Especially the amateur crap. Gerry's Place, however, had invested in the good stuff.

The main strap was around her torso, right below her breasts. A collar circled her neck, with a short chain also hooked to the column. The chain was loose for now, but could be pulled tight when needed. A horizontal bar went through the column behind her neck; her arms were spread and hands lashed in place at shoulder height, elbows at about a forty-five degree angle. Her feet rested on the ground, but were chained so they remained a few feet apart. A completely defenseless position, but one that could be enforced for hours without physical risk.

The ball gag suited her well, I thought. Really complemented the ensemble. Aside from the gear she was naked, of course.

Middle Eastern and lovely. Long straight black hair, luscious dark eyes with long lashes. A tight, graceful body; I couldn't wait to see her belly-dance. I pictured her in a jeweled headdress and bangles and silks; she'd drive the guys wild, alright. A true desert flower; Gerry had done it again. He said he'd gotten the idea from Novinski's 'rag-head' crack.

Immediately, before she was even fully conscious, she was struggling to free herself. That lasted for a few seconds. Suddenly she froze, finally picking up on some unusual sensations.

Anong leaned in close and cupped the new pussy, curling a couple fingers inside. "How do you like it, bitch?"

It wasn't exactly a scream she made. More like a confused yell. But her eyes got really, really wide. Hard to tell if it was from the fingers up inside her, or the sight of Anong, unhurt - without even a scar.

Gerry's Place did not lack for full-length mirrors; an evil grin on my face, I rolled one up from behind the column so she could get a good look at what Gerry had wrought.

She tore her eyes from Anong and saw herself. Her face couldn't go pale, not with her new coloring; but I swear it turned a shade of green. Her expression, her whole body could have been made into an animated GIF titled 'Horrified Confusion, Melting Into Pure Horror'.

"It's real," Anong said, just as she began to shake her head in denial. "Your name is Ayesha now." Anong winked. "But I think we'll call you 'pretty slave'."

Ayesha said something that sounded belligerent - or tried to, anyway, around the gag. Anong slapped her face, hard. "Be quiet, girl!"

Anger began to creep into the new girl's eyes... and then puzzlement and fresh horror. I watched her nipples get stiff.

"That's right," I piped in cheerfully. "You now have, well, kind of a thing for being dominated. And humiliated." I reached around and gave her bottom a solid slap.

"Don't you glare at me, pretty slave!" Anong barked, as she pulled the neck chain tight. The girl did stop glaring, mostly because her eyes were rolling in terror... and mounting passion.

"I said you had no idea how badly you fucked up," I noted, rubbing a remarkably hard nipple with my fingertips. "This is just the beginning." Her eyes slewed to my face in shock, then her knees trembled; by now she had to be a whirling mess of emotions. I watched her make the connection, grasp who I was. Her head shook again at my vulpine leer.

Anong let her fingers glide up Ayesha's slippery labia, extracting a helpless groan. "Don't come, you slut! Don't come - or you'll be punished!" She went to work on her clit. Not thirty seconds later, the freshest Gerry's Girl shrieked and writhed in her first female orgasm.

She sagged against the restraints after, struggling for breath. Just as she looked up, Anong switched her across the belly with a riding crop. It left a long red mark. "You were warned, pretty slave!"

Ayesha's eyes bulged. Intently, I checked off the flow of expressions: pain, fading to pleasure, fading to horror at the pleasure. I was hoping for tears, but not yet. The corners of her eyes glistened as brightly as her pussy lips, though. Oh well, I could afford to be patient.

"Pretty slave, we'll leave you alone with your thoughts," I announced, unable to stop grinning at the way the nickname made her shiver. "But don't worry, you'll have some entertainment."

Anong was rolling a TV on a stand into her line of sight. She switched on the porn and we left. It had been all kinds of fun, picking out an educational sequence for her - hours worth. It started with handsome gay men doing their thing, but moved on to increasingly depraved stuff that starred attractive women with escalatingly ugly dudes. The fact that that she wouldn't be able to look away, yet wouldn't be able to masturbate... demoralizing indeed.

Her muffled shrieks were already switching from enraged, to fearful, to - dare I say - longing by the time we closed the door.

We hadn't told her about the third mental change. She'd find out soon enough. Mind stuff was expensive, and as I said it had just about exhausted the ring's reserves... but Gerry was willing to invest in Ayesha. She now had a phobia about physical violence. Even imagining trying to attack someone would leave her frozen in terror.

In a few hours Diana would head in to begin her training. I kinda hoped Ayesha would try to fight her anyway.

Anong's smile did my heart proud, but it faded as we walked down the hall. "What if she doesn't give in? What if she changes back?"

I leapt to reassure her. "Novinski's a tough cookie, sure. But the Gerry's Girl kink, plus masochism? She'll undermine herself, I promise. She'll want to feel weak, and ashamed!” I suppressed a shudder, remembering my episode with Tony; instead I shook my head. "Trust me, I know. After a month, she'll be begging to stay here."

That seemed to make her feel better. I didn't bring up the fact that we knew the exact day and hour she'd make the choice. If Novinski did reappear, he'd be surrounded by several pissed-off supermen. And he would cease to be, period, some time after.

Thoughtfully, she mused, "Do you think it's too mean?"

I was filled with hope to hear that. If she could feel sympathy for Ayesha, it meant she was moving on, recovering from what had been done to her. I wasn't ready to forgive, but for Anong's sake, I said, "If she's a good girl then maybe, once she can't go back, Gerry can back off on her kinks."


I wound up sleeping next to Anong. She had been through a lot, and wanted someone to hold. She was out pretty quick, to my relief. But even though I was exhausted, my head kept spinning for almost an hour.

In about a month, the ring would be charged enough to be useful, at least for healing people. Making me Marci again really had finished it off for the time being.

So I would be back to work tomorrow night, making money for Gerry's Place. At least it was fun work.

And frankly, I was starting to think it was a better career than my old one, anyway. I still got to use my people-reading and acting skills. I still got to solve puzzles, work out people's motivations. Now, though, I made people really, really happy, instead of producing ammo for divorce court, or getting someone fired. Besides, this place needed some people with my experience, to advise on complications like gangsters.

The one issue was Amy. She had a stepfather, but I still wanted to be part of her life. And I couldn't do that as Marci. With some careful planning and online messaging, I could avoid having my old self declared dead for at least a few months. After that... well, I'd have some decisions to make.

There was a possibility I kept to myself. A daydream, almost. Maybe I'd leave when Anong did, and become a guy again permanently. And maybe I'd get a few improvements so I was worthy of her. And maybe we'd live happily ever after. It was something to hope for, anyway.

At least imagining it helped me finally fall asleep.


About a week after the unpleasantness, I got a summons from Gerry. I went to his office, curious. I didn't bother to even finish getting dressed - I was just wearing tight panties and a brassiere.

The deadline had passed, days ago. I'd sensed it - a strange experience. For a few moments, everything felt like a dream - like I could wake up, if I chose. I was strongly tempted to make the effort of will that would shatter the spells... but I let it pass. The feeling dwindled, and everything was normal again. Well, normal for Marci.

I wasn't sure what Gerry could want, now. When I sat down, I had to keep a sharp rein on my body, my voice. A big chunk of me really wanted to seduce him.

He started with a topic that helped distract me. "I've hired an Arabic tutor for Ayesha. With Diana enforcing, she's making excellent progress. She nearly has the accent down at this point, and her vocabulary is growing by leaps and bounds."

I grinned. "Let me guess - she doesn't get chastised unless she begs in Arabic?"

Gerry let that go, but he smirked briefly. Then he mused, "There have been many clients I've turned down - despite a rather tempting profit potential. Ones who've proposed scenarios of... excessive degradation. Even if some of the girls would be willing, I simply couldn't bring myself to subject them to that sort of thing." The smile he made then was quite out of character for him; sadistic, almost. "Ayesha, though... I think she might find such encounters... instructive."

He chuckled, I giggled. In Marci's body, near a male, I couldn't completely shut it off. That thought, however, sobered me a little. Gerry noticed, and said, "What's wrong?"

In some corner of my mind, I was relieved that he wasn't reading my thoughts. Yet that didn't really lift my spirits that much. I met his eyes. "You know how I feel about Anong."

He shrugged delicately. "I... yes."

"After seeing me do... all the things I've done. After me choosing to stay like this for a while..." I swallowed a lump. "She's not into girls, herself. Could she... ever see me as a man?"

He recognized that I was asking for his expertise, his judgment. After a moment's reflection, he said, "I think so, actually." At my skeptical expression, he elaborated. "Don't forget - she has a vested interest in believing that what someone does under the influence of magic doesn't define them."

My eyebrows went up. That was a very salient point. She couldn't look down on me without condemning herself to some degree. Granted, people often chose to be hypocritical about that stuff. Yet... Anong had a good head on her shoulders. And more importantly, a good heart.

And I was coming to the conclusion I should work on being the kind of person someone with a good heart would want to be around. At least I knew I'd have some time - it's not like Anong would be pairing up with a boyfriend for the forseeable future.

But that was a thought for another time. I could feel my fetish pressing on me; it was time to get down to business before I embarrassed myself. "Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Gerry paused; he looked serious. Then he said, "I need a successor."

That brought me up short. I'm sure I just looked blank. Then I began to get concerned. Quickly, he said, "Not immediately." He looked down at his desk. "But... I'm not a young man. I hope to have another twenty years here, at least. Yet..." He looked up at me. "My old career taught me that contingency plans are important. And this latest episode has only underscored that."

Of course I had my suspicions. I was glad to see him pick up on them without using the ring. "And yes, obviously, I'm considering you as the backup, should something happen to me."

I pondered that for a few moments. Of course it had its tempting aspects, but... "Wouldn't Chris be a better choice?"

Gerry sighed. "He's an excellent security chief, of course. He'd try his best. But he lacks the experience - and more importantly the imagination - that a general manager requires."

I looked him right in the eyes. "I don't know if I could trust myself with that kind of power. If anyone should trust me like that."

He gave a judicious nod. He knew me, inside out, as well as anyone could. "I understand, and share your concerns. However..." He held my eyes, now. "These recent events have caused both of us to... reevaluate. Ourselves as much as our circumstances." He shrugged delicately. "Would the Richard Bordreaux of a month ago have chosen to remain Marci to help protect a gaggle of whores?"

That was a good point. And hadn't I just thinking about becoming the kind of person Anong would one day want to marry?

He pressed on. "Indeed, I've come to think that whoever inherits the ring should probably spend some time as a Gerry's Girl first. It would help with empathy, I should imagine."

Not a terrible idea. Still... "I'll... have to think about it."

"Certainly." Gerry was unruffled. "In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?"

I had a quick mind, used to manipulating people. Instantly the whole chain of reasoning snapped into place. "Actually, there is one favor you can do for me..."

His eyebrows elevated. "As I said before, we owe you a great deal. I can't do anything magically..."

I interrupted. "Fuck me."

At that, he became wooden, silent.

I stood and posed. "You can't convince me that Marci isn't a fantasy of yours. Gerry's Girls are your art. We're your masterpieces." I turned and pushed my hair aside. "I mean, if this ass isn't crafted in loving detail..." I turned again, undoing my top. "I'll eat this bra."

I had seldom seen Gerry uncomfortable, at a loss. And certainly never because of a woman taking off her clothes in front of him.

His mouth opened and closed. I noticed he didn't look away as my breasts emerged from behind their cloth-and-wire casement. I twirled it on my fingers, then flicked it off into a corner. I took a step closer, then stopped and put a hand on either side of my hips. My thumbs hooked under the waist of my panties and I slid them off with endlessly-practiced skill.

Naked, I stalked closer to my flustered prey. I shook my head, spreading my hair out more, like the cape it had been when I'd first awoke as Marci. "You did this to me. Take some responsibility and get involved yourself." I came around the desk and leaned forward, arms on his, resting on the armrests, face right in front of his. His eyes were very wide...

I moved the inch further, and kissed him. He didn't pull back, but it took a few seconds before there was any cooperation. In the meantime, my hands were working - by now I was just as good at undressing men as I was at stripping myself.

I didn't go all the way. I just got his pants and underwear off. His dick was getting stiff, I think against his will. It was delicious. He was so turned on it was overriding his resistance. It was drowning out the part of him that considered me a man. The idea of him being that tempted, lusting for me that much, made my pussy walls actually twitch. I felt swollen and damp.

I climbed into his lap and took him into me, in one smooth motion, still locking lips on his. His breath came faster. I felt his hands on my back - or more precisely, through my hair draped all over my back. He was moving underneath me, thrusting. I was doing most of the work, but I had won.

I had a complex mix of emotions when he came inside me. But, since I was a Gerry's Girl, the foremost emotion was lustful enjoyment.


I milled with the other girls in the waiting room. Anong had gone out with the first group, so I was chatting with Destiny.

I had on a hip-hop outfit. Low-riding hiphugger jeans, a baby-doll tee plus an open hoodie, blinged-out sneakers. An equally-blinged baseball cap covered the crowning feature - my hair was in cornrows. It had taken the ladies in the salon half a day. The ends of the braids had beads on them; they clattered as I moved, like I'd hung a beaded curtain off my back.

A major effort, but the Instagram comments were already pouring in. I was pretty sure it would be worth it.

Madison caught my eye and, winking, blew me a kiss. Gerry had visited both her and Collette in the last couple days. Making up for lost time, so to speak.

In fact, here came the man himself. He periodically left his office to check how things were going. I excused myself from Destiny and went over. Once he was done talking to Diana, who had hostess duty tonight, I caught his eye.

"Yes, Marci?" he said politely. His eyes wandered in a delightful way, though.

But I was serious. "I'm not ready to say yes, yet. But I'm thinking about it." I shrugged. "Anong's okay with it. With her watching me, I could probably even stay... moral. But I'm not sure I could ever be as 'elegant' as you with the ring."

He squinted at me for a moment. "A test, then." He leaned in closer. "There's a physical change beyond the obvious." My brow furrowed, and he smiled. "You're a smart girl. If you figure it out on your own, perhaps there's hope for you."

So I was distracted, pondering that. It even percolated in the back of my mind when I went out to waitress. But, all modesty aside, I am smart, and with that hint I finally figured it out in the middle of my first under-the-table of the night. Well, actually, at the end, right as he spurted down my throat.

You bastard, I thought. You unbelievable, magnificent, fucking bastard!

Maybe you've seen the articles. They show up every six months or so, in this age of clickbait. "Who Needs Prozac? Semen Is A Natural Anti-Depressant!"

It's mostly bullshit. They're all based on one study, never replicated, that compared college women who used condoms to ones that didn't. They found that the women who didn't use condoms were a bit less likely to be depressed than the ones who did.

They didn't even check to see if maybe depression made women more likely to use condoms. They just assumed that the prostaglandins in semen were absorbed into the bloodstream and had an antidepressant effect.

But suddenly I was pretty sure that it wasn't bullshit for "Gerry's Girls". I'd bet my next ten fucks that sperm was like a drug to us now.

It wasn't just satisfying my fetish. It wasn't just all the endorphins from multiple, daily, mind-blowing orgasms. Spunk itself made me happy. I had two addictions now, not just one, that reinforced each other.

I could recognize it now, as I milked my clients' wilting tool, as I swallowed every drop I could get, greedily. I'd been feeling it every time a guy came in me, or even on me. I was just... cheerful. Content. Like all was right with the world. The way I felt every morning, waking up after a big dose of spunk. How I couldn't get depressed.

I was so fucked. And I was going to be, over and over, for another few months at least.

I couldn't wait.


If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
85 users have voted.

And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks. 
This story is 25868 words long.