“You’ve got a deal,” he said. “I’ll meet you at the same hotel bar next Thursday at 8. Wear those heels again,” he said, nodding to her white stilettos, “and a tight dress,” he added. “I like my women slutty.”
“At your service sir,” the blonde purred in return.
CHAPTER TWO
The alpha sat in his office, thinking about the blonde prostitute. He usually hooked up with call girls. He was a pimp, after all, and it was in the name of market research. He needed to keep an eye on the competition, not to mention the various sexual kinks that were out there.
But there had been something about the blonde that had hit him deep. It wasn’t her personality, they had barely talked. It was her looks. The long blonde hair, the pink mouth that pouted, and the body. God, the body was worth remembering. Big Double D breasts narrowing to a tiny waist, with ample hips that swayed.
All of a sudden, he knew who she reminded him of. That little slut Kim, who’d gone off to see her boyfriend Peter. Goddammit he was angry. With Kim, and with himself.
As a pimp, he shouldn’t get attached to girls, they were mere cock holsters in his line of work. But the anger told him that he was already feeling too much for Kim. Fuck this, he needed to find something else to think about.
He heard a knock on the door, and didn’t bother to reply. Insistently, the knock came again, and Chris stood up, strode to the door, and flung it open.
“What do you want?” he growled.
A girl cowered before him, shapeless and unattractive. She was pudgy, wearing a white lab coat with greasy hair, mud-brown eyes and a nose so big it deserved a prize. As a connoisseur of female beauty, Chris tried to avoid looking at her.
“So what do you have for me, doctor?” he asked, sitting back down at his desk.
“Sir, the research you ordered is finally ready,” the mousy brown doctor replied. She produced a pill from her pocket and put it in front of him. It was blue and looked small and harmless.
“So what am I supposed to do with this?” Chris said nastily.
The doctor recoiled. “Sir, it’s what you ordered,” she said. “You know, the bimbofication pill. Anyone who takes this will transform into a bimbo, complete with a luscious body and vacant personality.”
“But what am I supposed to do with this?” asked Chris again. “Am I supposed to take the pill myself?”
“Well … well …” the doctor stammered. She hadn’t been prepared for this. She’d only thought to the pill itself, not who would actually take it.
“Doctor, I’m very unhappy with the results,” said Chris sternly. “You’ve given me the results of the research but with no proof that it actually works. What am I supposed to do, believe that this little pill is magic?”
“But … but ….” The doctor was tongue-tied.
“I have a solution,” said Chris. “I want you to take it. You could definitely benefit from some beautification,” he said, “And besides, the transformation isn’t permanent, right? You’d be a bimbo for 24 hours and then revert back to your current, pudgy self.”
“I guess that’s right,” said the doctor slowly. “I guess I could take it, if you insist.”
“I do,” he said, holding out the blue pill to her.
The doctor slowly took the pill from Chris’s palm. Her company had been paid a lot to do this research, and if the customer wasn’t happy, her career would be over.
Slowly, she swallowed the pill.
“Good girl,” said Chris, looking her in the eye for the first time. “Come back to my office tomorrow morning and let’s see what you look like.”
CHAPTER THREE
A soft knock sounded on Chris’s door the next morning.
“Come,” was his grunt, and the door swung open on its hinges.
Chris was blown away. A bubbly blonde stood in the doorway, dressed in a pink mini-dress with matching high heels. Her legs were long and shapely, and her bust was to die for. Double H’s, practically popping out at him through the thin fabric.
Fuck, he thought, temporarily speechless.
“Hi there,” said the bubbly blonde. “I’m Krista.”
She sashayed over to him and perched her delicious ass on the edge of his desk. “I understand you wanted to see me?”
“That’s right,” he said, slowly regaining his ability to think. Evidently, this Krista was pretty dumb because she didn’t even remember exactly what she was here for.
“Dr. Smith sent you to me,” he said smoothly. “She wanted me to look you over in case you were having health problems.”
“Oh, are you a doctor too?” she asked perkily.
“Not exactly,” he replied. “But I have a lot of experience giving women check-ups,” he said.
“Well, let me know how to help you,” Krista chirped.
“You could start by taking off your dress,” he replied.
With a flash, the dress was off and she was standing before him, completely nude in high heels only.
“Oh I don’t wear underwear,” said the new Krista. “I don’t need bras either because my tits are so perky,” she said. “See?” She lifted one up in her hand and dropped it, the globe miraculously maintaining its perfect ovoid form.
“I do see,” said Chris. “I see very closely.”
He angled her closer so that she was standing between his legs, and leaned forward to take a taste of her nipple, swirling his tongue around her areola. The girl giggled delightedly, loving the feel of the alpha’s mouth at her boob.
“Hey big boy, keep doing that,” she breathed.
Chris obliged, sucking the breast deep in his mouth. With his hand, he reached between her legs and stroked up one thigh. The skin was smooth and firm, absolutely flawless.
He ran it up her haunch, testing the firmness of her ass, and found it juicy and toned. Squeezing it with approval, the alpha then turned his mouth to her other breast. It too was deliciously perfect in shape, soft and luscious, nipple already hard.
“Mmm, I see Dr. Smith has done a very good job,” Chris rumbled. “Turn around and let me see you from behind.”
The girl turned around and bent over, exposing her luscious ass to him. As a precaution, Chris spread her ass cheeks, taking a close-up look at her pussy and anus.
They were gorgeous. The little brown hole was puckered perfection, clamping tightly as a waft of cold air swept over it. Her pussy was pink and gleaming, its folds wet and engorged, with a clit at least an inch long.
“Mmm,” groaned Chris, leaning in for a taste. He ran his tongue all the way from her clit up to her anus, and Krista gave a little yelp of surprise.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were going to do that!” she burbled.
“Just a thorough test of the goods,” soothed Chris, burying his face is her cunt. The feel of a man’s tongue and lips on her twat was exciting, and Krista began to pant heavily, her breasts heaving as Chris’s tongue buried itself in her hole.
“Oh oh!” she whimpered.
With his face deep in her cunt, Chris took the opportunity to unfasten his pants. His cock sprang out, the full ten inches engorged and rock hard. The smell and taste of her pussy had done it for him, and he needed to get into her, stat.
“Krista,” he said. “The final test of your womanhood is to see whether you can take my cock in your pussy. Do you think you can do it?” he asked.
“I can try,” she said timidly, a bit intimidated by the huge monster which rose from his groin. The head was giant and purple, and she wasn’t sure she could get it into her either lengthwise or width-wise. But she didn’t want to disappoint this Dr. Smith, whoever she was.
Krista straddled Chris, and gingerly lowered herself into his lap. With her right hand, she took the tip of his penis and directed it to the entrance of her cunt.
“Like this?” she asked.
“Just like that,” he reassured her.
Krista pushed the tip of his cock in with her hand, and gasped at the penetration. Somehow, she knew
she hadn’t been fucked by a man in a long time. A really, really long time. This was her chance to get her pussy stuffed, and she didn’t want to waste the opportunity.
Slowly, her pussy adjusted to the girth of the massive dong, and Krista began lowering herself on the shaft. Chris groaned with pleasure, her cunt was incredibly tight and wet.
Krista kept going, and soon enough, his entire ten-inch length was buried in her twat, pussy lips pressed up against his balls.
“This feels really good!” she cried excitedly.
“That’s right, baby girl, it does, doesn’t it?” Chris groaned.
He began grinding his hips into her, loving the feel of fresh twat squeezing his hard dick. He’d been in thousands of women, but few were as tiny as this. He fucked her a little harder, lifting her hips so that she bounced up and down a bit.
“Oh that’s what you want me to do,” she giggled, and began bouncing up and down on her own.
“Mmmf,” was Chris’s only reply as she rode him. The pill had gone beyond his wildest dreams. Not only was the blonde gorgeous, but she was dumb as rocks too. She’d be perfect for his stable because it’d be ridiculously easy to get her to do anything a customer wanted – including anal, double penetration, and all the good stuff.
But right now, he just wanted to sample her pussy. She was really getting into it, slowly pulling herself up and down his shaft, her pussy sticking to his cock like glue. Heavy drags of vag cream were beginning to stream down his dick, she was so turned on that her hole was producing it in gallons.
Chris put his finger to her clit, rubbing it slightly as she rode him, and that was enough to put her over the top. Krista came, her pussy spasming hotly around his dick, female nectar gushing wetly to drench his balls.
Never had a sight been more beautiful. He loved when women came on his dick. With a roar, Chris came as well, his load spurting in hot ropes into her twat, mixing with the delicious pussy juice.
As the lovers came down from their orgasms, Chris pulled his dick out of her pussy and said, “Krista, there’s something I want to show you.”
He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a condom. “Now what we did is called going bareback, meaning that we had unprotected sex,” he said. “But when you fuck other men, you have to be sure that they wear a condom so that you don’t get pregnant, ok?” he asked.
“Oh, of course,” bubbled Krista. “I know what a condom is. I just forgot, you’re so hot and I really, really needed to come,” she said ditzily.
Hmm, mused Chris. Clearly, this was not a girl who was fazed by unprotected sex. Dollar signs began flashing before his eyes.
“Krista,” he said. “If you don’t use a condom during sex, we’ll both get a bonus,” he said.
“What kind of bonus?” she asked bewilderedly. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Clearly, the chick couldn’t handle anything other than clothes, boobs and shopping, so the pimp switched directions.
“The bonus is that you and I will have more sex,” he said smoothly. “Double the amount of sex for you,” he said, tapping the tip of her nose fondly.
“Oh yay!” she cried, bouncing up and down in his lap. “I can’t wait for more!”
And Chris knew that the transformation was complete. Because of the little pill, he had a true bimbo on his hands.
THE END
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A SNEAK PEEK
SOLD AT THE AUCTION
By Cassandra Dee
CHAPTER ONE
Ellie
“Seriously El, you can’t wear that,” said my friend Rachel.
I looked back at her, a little miffed.
“Why not?” I asked plaintively. The jeans I had on were nice, a dark denim wash, and I’d paired them with a long-sleeve top, crushed velvet with a scoop-neck. “Looks okay to me.”
Rachel snorted.
“Seriously El, we’re in Vegas for the week. We’re going clubbing at a place that doesn’t even have a name, it’s so hot. You can’t wear the stuff you usually do, now take it off,” she commanded.
I thought about refusing flat out, putting down my foot and digging in. But the thing is my friend is the one with the fashion sense, Rachel always looks amazing, knowing exactly how to do herself up for every occasion. In comparison, I was a little frumpy, dazed and confused most times, my brown hair unfashionably curly, my curves unfashionably round. So yes, I got invited to good parties because I was Rachel’s friend, but I didn’t look like any of them, skinny minnies all.
And frankly, it was amazing that Rachel and I are friends at all because we’re so different, she’s swan-like, thin and elegant, with a modeling portfolio, whereas I’m round and small, an A-student. So our interests are poles apart, not to mention our paths in life. But we’ve known one another since we were five, and have seen one another through thick and thin again and again. Take last year, for example, when Rachel’s parents got divorced. I was her confidante, her therapist, and her anchor when she was lost at sea, adrift on waves of sadness. And I know she’d do the same for me if our situations were reversed. So despite the fact that outwardly, it looks like we have nothing in common, in fact we have a bond that goes deep, far further than mere clothes or personalities would suggest.
And since my body changed, my friend’s fashion advice was even more important. Because gone was the old Ellie from two years ago, an underweight mouse shaped like a broomstick, and in her place was the body of a woman, like Venus de Milo incarnate. I have big boobs now, a huge ass that sways when I walk, and generous hips making it hard to fit any type of pants. In fact, it’d been a struggle getting into my jeans tonight, I’d had to hop up and down desperately a couple times before they squeezed on, and the button was threatening to pop off any second.
So I sighed again.
“I don’t have anything else,” I repeated plaintively, gesturing with open palms. “There’s nothing else, look at my suitcase, nothing, nada.” And flipping open the purple travel case to reveal the interior was uninspiring. There was nothing haute couture or racy, just a couple more colored tops and a pair of grey jeans to mix things up.
Rachel pulled a face.
“Really, you didn’t bring a dress? Something a little slinkier?” she asked, picking through the stuff in my bag.
I shook my head.
“Nope, you know I don’t wear dresses that often,” I reminded her. “I’m more of a tomboy.”
Rach pulled another face.
“Tomboy, schmomboy, El, you’ve got a body now that’s decidedly not tomboyish anymore,” she emphasized. “Come on, you’re gonna have to wear something of mine then.” And with that she began pawing through her things, flipping through the closet where she’d hung a million outfits, each one colorful and gaudy, some even with pom-poms and sequins.
“No, Rach, no,” I pleaded. Even if I wore something of my friend’s, we weren’t the same size, not even close. My blonde friend was your typical petite vixen, about five one and a size zero. Whereas now, I was up to a size fourteen, maybe. Possibly a sixteen, it depended on what I’d had for breakfast, or sometimes dinner the night before. There was no way I could squeeze into one of Rachel’s outfits, I’d rip it at the seams like a juicy tomato busting out.
But my friend couldn’t be deterred.
“How about this one?” she asked brightly, pulling a dress out of the closet.
I groaned. It was terrible, all psychedelic colors, oranges swirling with purples, great big globs of green here and there.
“No Rach,” I said firmly. “Absolutely not, I’m getting a headache just looking at it.”
She sniffed, her pert nose wrinkling.
“Just so you know El, this dress is by Missoni, they’re a famous Italian design house known for their zany patterns.”
I shook my head still.
“I’ve never heard of this designer, but no Rach, it’s like an acid trip,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t.
”
Rachel sighed dramatically, hanging it back up.
“How about this one then?” she asked.
I paused for a moment, stunned. The dress wasn’t even a dress, really. It was more like a band of cloth across the bust paired with a skirt, with the tiniest piece of material connecting the two vertically, enough to hide your belly button.
“What is that?” I asked, horrified.
“What you’ve never seen cut-outs before?” my friend scoffed like a grande dame. “This here is an Azzedine Alaia, I love his work,” she cooed. “So sultry, he knows a woman’s body so well.”
I shook my head again.
“Rach, that’s more like a swimsuit, I can’t go into a club wearing a swimsuit.”
And my friend laughed.
“It’s not a swimsuit, the material’s not waterproof,” she said airily. “Besides, look what I’m wearing,” she said slyly, untying her purple fur jacket. And I gasped because beneath the fur, the blonde had on something that looked like a violet handkerchief, a triangle bound around her breasts, dropping to a point that barely shielded her snatch. One flutter, and everything would be visible. I goggled, astounded.
“Will they let you in the club like that?” I stuttered.
“They better,” Rachel said cheerily. “Otherwise Miles will be soooo disappointed,” she cooed.
And I shook my head again. We’d been invited to this no-name disco by a bunch of guys we’d met at the hotel pool earlier this afternoon. Miles was the one Rachel had homed in on, an overly-tan muscular dude whose swim trunks left nothing to the imagination. I didn’t want to go out with them tonight, not really, but Rach was determined to see Miles again and I was just along for the ride, the best friend slash sidekick, always the voice of reason.
“Okay, this one then,” my friend said with finality. “Seriously El, lighten up, this would look fantastic on you.”
His Captive: A Revenge Marriage Romance Page 98